The Book of Deacon: Book 03 - The Battle of Verril (36 page)

“We do what we have to do. If that makes us
criminals, so be it,” Myranda said.

“But he is a killer. Knowing what little I do
about you, I cannot imagine you would willingly help him,” Sandra
said.

“I cannot speak for what he has done in the
past, but he is dedicated to the task at hand,” Myranda
explained.

Sandra stared at her, considering the answer.
Myranda took a final bite of the cobbler that had attracted Ivy to
begin with. To taste such a divine concoction at a time like this
made her feel like a prisoner eating her last meal.

“Where will you go now?” she asked.

“I've two . . . three more friends that I
need to reunite with,” Myranda said, Deacon flitting across her
mind. “I will find them.”

“I . . . I cannot believe that I am saying
this . . . but I wish you the best. I hope that you find your way
to a solution that will spare our soil any more blood, and I hope
that you find it soon. The north needs people like you. You have
compassion. You are a healer. And the country is suffering,” Sandra
said.

“I shall do my best,” Myranda said, standing
up from the meal.

Sandra stood.

“Before you go, at least take a cloak,”
Sandra insisted.

She walked over to the hook upon which it
hung. A cloud of dust billowed into the air as she shook it
clean.

“You've done so much already, I couldn't-”
Myranda replied.

“It belongs to my younger brother. He left
for the front a few months ago. If giving it to you means he comes
home to find it missing, I don't think I will mind the scolding,”
she said earnestly.

Myranda took the garment from her and the two
shared a hug. Sandra turned to Ivy.

“Goodbye, Ivy. I am sorry for how I treated
you,” she said, opening her arms.

Ivy pounced upon her, offering up a more
enthusiastic hug than Sandra had been expecting.

“It's okay. You didn't know any better. Sorry
for scaring you,” the playful creature said.

“It is all right,” Sandra assured her.

With that, the two heroes set out, Sandra by
their side. When they reached the doors, their host stopped
them.

“Myranda,” Sandra said. “If they come to me,
I will tell them you were here. I won't keep this a secret.”

“Do what you think is right. That is all we
are doing,” Myranda replied.

Sandra pulled the doors open. Myn stood, her
eyes filling with excitement and relief as her two friends
appeared. Myranda offered a friendly scratch on the head. Myn
offered a raspy tongue on the cheek in return. The dragon looked to
Sandra with a vague look of recognition followed by a gaze that
instantly made it clear to the farmer that she should be holding
another bag of potatoes. Ivy scrambled onto Myn's back.

“Are you sure you want to ride there? We will
be flying again,” Myranda warned.

“I'll close my eyes. I don't want to be
asleep if something happens,” Ivy replied, wrapping her arms
tightly about the dragon's neck.

Myranda climbed atop Myn, taking her place
just behind Ivy. Sandra stepped aside and held the doors open. A
few powerful strides and one mighty leap later and the heroes were
soaring into the crisp night air. In moments the massive form was
nothing more than the quiet flap of leathery wings. A moment later,
even that was gone. Sandra walked slowly back to her home. For the
first time in months the veil of sadness was gone. For the first
time in years she felt something else. Hope.

#

High above the frozen ground, Ivy was
clutching Myn tightly enough to make even a dragon take notice. She
was trembling, her breath coming in swift, terrified hisses and
leaving in quiet whimpers. A blue aura struggled every few moments
to flicker to life, but Ivy managed to push the fear deeper
inside.

“Ivy, you need to calm down. Breathe slowly,”
Myranda urged.

“I can't. I can't. How much longer? Say we're
landing soon!” Ivy squealed in terror.

“We will be flying all night. I'm not certain
where we are headed yet,” Myranda replied.

Ivy responded with a louder whimper and a
flash of blue.

“Ivy. You are in no danger. Myn would never
let you fall,” Myranda said.

The word 'fall' shook Ivy, and she clenched
her eyes even tighter. This would not do. It was true what she'd
said earlier. If something happened it was important she be awake,
but to have her in abject terror would do no good at all.

“Ivy, do you trust me?” Myranda asked.

Ivy nodded stiffly.

“And do you trust Myn?”

She nodded again.

“Then open your eyes,” Myranda requested.

“But . . . “ Ivy objected.

“Ivy . . . it will be all right,” she said
softly.

Ivy braced herself and fought her eyes open,
momentarily letting the fear through to the surface. She was
greeted first with nothing. Just a cold, black abyss all around
her. The flare of blue began to fade. Slowly she gazed upward. The
clouds were close. So close she felt as though she could touch
them. The moon was nothing but a pale glow behind them. She looked
down. Her head felt like it was spinning. It was the ground she was
looking at, but she'd never imagined it would look like this. The
fear fell far into the back of her mind, pushed aside by the very
same sense of wonder and beauty that had struck Myranda on her
first flight. She leaned aside to get a better look, then shifted
quickly to see what the other side offered.

“It's . . . beautiful,” she whispered.

Her wide eyes darted all over the spectacle,
eager to take in as much as she could. The fear was still there,
but it was tempered by exhilaration and discovery into something
different. Something new. She turned her eyes to the clouds.

“Can . . . can we go higher?” Ivy asked.

“Well, Myn?” Myranda asked with a smile.

The dragon angled herself toward the sky and
started to climb. The clouds drew nearer, then suddenly the world
vanished as they drifted inside. There was nothing but gray in all
directions, and the tingle of suspended particles of ice danced
across their skin. A few moments later Myn emerged from the top,
trailing a few streamers of mist behind her. She may as well have
traveled to another world. Below them the clouds stretched out as
far as the eye could see, like a stormy gray sea with cresting
waves frozen in place. Above was the sky. Not the dismal blanket
with rare patches of starlight that Myranda knew as the sky, but
the true sky. A field of stars, crystal clear and sparkling.
Myranda had never looked upon a cloudless night sky, but she'd
dreamed of it. Even her imagination paled in comparison to the
jewel-studded eternity before her. And the moon. She'd thought
she'd seen it before, but she was wrong. What she had seen could
not be the same glorious, mottled ivory disc that hung overhead. It
was like polished marble, and it gleamed with a brilliance that
seemed to rival the sun.

Ivy's mouth hung open in awe, the dazzling
sight sparkling in her eyes. Myranda was not blind to the beauty,
but to Ivy it was so much more. Her keen eyes traced marvelous
patterns on the moon's surface. Her mind, attuned to the finest
nuances of art in all of its forms, was buzzing with inspiration.
It was almost too much for her to bear.

“I never could have dreamed of anything so
wonderful . . . “ Ivy managed in a hushed voice.

Myranda reluctantly closed her eyes. She had
a job to do. Now that Ivy was calm, it was time to choose a
direction. Soaring through the icy sky on the back of a dragon
would not have been her first choice as a place to meditate, but it
would do. Myn was gliding smoothly and easily, and but for the
rushing wind, she could not have asked for more tranquil
surroundings. A night of proper rest and a decent meal had served
her well. A staff in hand, even the D'karon one, was a help as
well. She sifted over its enchantments one last time, hopeful of
something that might help her find the others, and wary of
something that might help the D'karon find her. Finding nothing she
could identify as useful or dangerous, she set her mind to the task
as she had before.

The cold air and howling wind slowly drifted
away as her concentration deepened. The galaxy of stars above
vanished and a duplicate seemed to appear below as the tiny burning
embers of the souls of her people revealed themselves to her.
Briefly she sought the others as she had before, but it soon proved
itself fruitless. She reached into her memory, scouring her
discovery of Ivy for clues. In the mind's eye the world was awash
with a mild, warm glow. It was faint, but it was everywhere.
Myranda had never been taught precisely what it was. Perhaps it was
the spirit of the very world. Perhaps it was the energy of nature.
Whatever it was, it was everywhere… Everywhere but where Ivy had
been. She turned her gaze to the staff she held. It was dark,
darker than its surroundings. So it was with everything that they
touched. She changed her search, seeking not light but darkness,
not fountains of life but barren voids. If the D'karon were hiding
the Chosen, then she would find the residue of their treachery.

It didn't take long. A horrible darkness and
soul searing chill seized her mind. She focused on it. It was far,
but that word had come to mean very little once Myn had returned.
Associating true distance to its strange counterpart in the astral
plane was far from simple, but it was a task she'd been forced to
become adept at. Slowly the indistinct destination resolved itself
to a point on the map. They had their target.

“That way, Myn. More to the east,” she
guided.

Ivy turned.

“Who did you find?” she asked.

“I don't know,” Myranda replied.

“I hope it is Lain . . . or Deacon. Anyone
but Ether,” Ivy said, sneering at the offending name. “It is a good
thing she wasn't around to meet Sandra. It would have been a
disaster. I never would have heard the end of it, either.”

“You did take a big chance,” Myranda reminded
her. “You should have stayed hidden.”

“I know it. But sometimes I see a house, or a
city and . . . I don't know . . . I feel . . . wistful, I think is
the word,” Ivy said.

Myranda thought back to the throne room.

“That human, back in the castle. Was she . .
. “ Myranda began.

“She was,” Ivy replied.

“Then, should I call you . . . “ the wizard
attempted.

“No,” Ivy shook her head slowly. “That isn't
me. Not anymore. I might have been Aneriana once. That was a long
time ago. She couldn't have done some of the things I did. She
wouldn't have done some of the things I did. I'm Ivy now. For
better or worse. I couldn't go back . . . even if I could.”

She furrowed her brow at the last cryptic
line.

“Do you remember any of it now?” Myranda
asked.

“Some of it. Some of it is very clear now.
The last part. The rest is still a blur, except here and there,”
she said sadly. As her fists clenched, she seemed suddenly frantic.
“Uh, let’s talk about something else. Quick! When I think about
that I think about
him
and when I think about him I start to
feel that way again. The hate. I didn't like that. It wasn't the
same as the others. Anger and fear are bad, but at least they throw
me aside. I don't even remember it. When I felt the hate I was
still there. I remember it. I just couldn't stop it . . . It was
me
. I don't think it would have let go if I hadn't touched
that sword.”

Ivy paused to consider it, shuddering at the
thought.

“You know, I don't think you told me about
Myn yet. How did she get so big? And what happened to you? Did they
get you too?” Ivy asked.

Myranda explained her own trials since they
parted, and explained to the best of her ability what had happened
to Myn. It should have been a quick tale, but Ivy pressed her for
details relentlessly, eager for every last nuance. If Myranda
didn't know any better, she would have sworn that she was imitating
Deacon. After quite some time, when every last avenue of the ordeal
had been explored, Ivy turned to Myn's wing, eagerly seeking a
glimpse of the mark she'd failed to notice before.

“Is the mark big? I don't know how I could
have missed it. I guess . . . “ Ivy began, stopping suddenly.

When she spoke again, it was with a steady,
serious voice.

“Myranda. We're close to where we are
heading, aren't we?” she asked with little doubt in her voice.

“Yes. How did you know?” Myranda asked.

“You'll hear it before you see it, I think,”
Ivy said ominously.

Myranda listened closely. She heard the wind.
Aside from that was the beat of Myn's wings. The dragon seemed to
tense beneath her. Something had her on edge. She listened closer.
The leathery flapping was different. It sounded as though . . .
there was more than one pair of wings at work. Before long there
was no doubt, something else was in the air with them.

“Where is it?” Myranda urged. Her knuckles
were white around the stolen staff.

“There,” Ivy said, a finger indicating a
vague form blotting out a patch of stars ahead. “And there . . .
and there.”

The wizard trained her eyes on the darkness,
searching her memory briefly for something that might cut a bit
deeper though the pitch. It didn't make sense. The moon was nearly
full. It was more than enough light. She should see the threat as
plain as day.

“Do you think if I was to get afraid enough
to change it would help at all?” Ivy asked, flickers of blue making
their way through despite her best efforts.

“Anger would be better,” Myranda said, her
eyes finally making out the full silhouettes of three dragoyles,
each as big as the beast that had threatened them in the valley of
the dead.

“Yeah, it p-probably would, but f-fear is all
I've got to offer,” Ivy struggled to say.