The Book of Deacon: Book 03 - The Battle of Verril (40 page)

“I really don’t think that suffices at all,”
Caya said with a furrowed brow.

“I’ll go into greater detail later. As for
coming to you, I need to reach Myranda and the others, and I am not
certain I can do so alone. She is moving very quickly.”

“Demon dragons move quickly,” Tus remarked,
eager to believe the stories about the hypnotized beast.

“Err, indeed,” Deacon conceded.

“Needed a bit of muscle to see your way
safely, did you?” Caya asked.

“Well, if combat was my only concern I might
have managed on my own. My difficulties lie virtually everywhere
else. I hail from a place very different from this. It has left me
ill suited to survival tasks,” Deacon explained.

“Can't handle the wilds?” Tus asked.

“Not particularly well, no. The cities are no
better for me, either,” the wizard admitted.

“Listen. I'm willing to lend you a few of my
troops, myself included, if it will bring us to Myranda, but how do
you expect to catch up with her?” she asked.

“We can't. But we can get ahead of her. I
know where she's going to go next. If they have been hiding the
others as they had been hiding me, then there is only one such
place that she hasn't visited. After that . . . well there is only
one target that makes sense. Northern Capital,” Deacon said.

Caya considered his words.

“What do you say, my brave warriors? Do we
help the wizard? Do we go to the capital? Do we take this war to
the very doorstep of those who prolong it?” she asked.

The earth shook with the force of the
reply.

“There you have it, wizard. You have the
Undermine. For now you can fix up the men and women that need it,
and warm yourself by the fire,” Caya said, snatching up a bottle
and placing it in his hand as she grasped him tightly across the
shoulders with the other arm. “And put a little fire in your belly
as well! And when the sun rises, we begin the march!”

#

The cold night drew toward its end, the faint
glow that the people of the north knew as a sunrise beginning to
hint at the edge of the mountains to the east. Myranda slept
sitting up, enfolded in Myn's front legs. Ivy was left undisturbed
on the shore of the lake to sleep off her outburst. Out of dead
sleep came a sharp gasp of air as the malthrope's eyes shot open
and her claws dug into the ground. Her mind had done her the
disservice of picking up precisely where it had left off, and it
took a few moments for her to realize that she was no longer
plunging through the sky toward the ground.

When her heart stopped racing and she'd
caught her breath, she climbed dizzily to her feet. Her eyes
scanned her surroundings. There was the lake. She'd seen it from
the air, so they hadn't gone too far . . . though it did look
different. Myn and Myranda were sleeping beside her. But there
wasn't anyone else. Had they failed to rescue anyone? She shook
more of the sleep from her head and looked again. There was food
for her and a fire. She squinted her eyes at an indistinct form in
the flames, the sight bringing a frown to her face.

“It was
you
we rescued,” she said
sulkily.

Ether stepped from the flames once more and
resumed her human form.

“Who would you have preferred?” the shape
shifter asked.

“Pff.
Anybody
,” she said, crossing her
arms and looking away.

“The antipathy is mutual, I assure you,”
Ether replied, scooping up the raw remainder of the meal that had
been set aside for Ivy. “However, the resurrection of that beast
has dispelled any doubt, or hope for that matter, regarding the
Great Convergence. She is the fifth, and we had indeed been united.
As such we are, by dint of poor consideration on the part of fate,
partners until the D'karon are defeated.”

Ether held out the food. Ivy eyed it
suspiciously. Hunger got the better of her and she took it.

“So does this mean you aren't going to be
mean anymore?” Ivy asked, mouth full.

“I will behave as I have. I will merely no
longer anticipate your death with eagerness,” Ether said.

“How nice of you,” Ivy said flatly.

“It is the circumstances that have changed,
not I,” she replied.

“The circumstances
didn't
change.
Myranda
told
you that the . . . “ Ivy began, struggling to
remember the appropriate word. “ . . . Convergence happened way
back when Myn died. If you'd have listened to her, you could have
been not hoping I die for all of that time.”

“Indeed. Her insight into the course of
destiny has been somewhat more accurate than I would have
expected,” Ether admitted.

“Yeah, because she
trusts
people. She
believes
in people,” Ivy jabbed.

“A practice that continues to confound me
with its success. I, for instance, would have never allowed your
little experiment in constructive cowardice,” Ether mused.

Ivy furrowed her brow and ran the words
through her mind again. If it had been spoken by anyone else she
would have asked what was meant by 'experiment in constructive
cowardice,' but she would not give Ether the satisfaction.

“When I fell from the sky, you mean!” she
spouted triumphantly after a moment.

“Indeed,” she replied.

“Oh, yeah, I guess that worked. I'm glad she
let me do it, but . . . I don't think I'll do it again,” Ivy said
with a shudder.

They were silent for a few moments. Ivy
looked about once more, her eyes locking on the lake, considering
it as she finished her meal. She remembered seeing it when she
broke through the clouds. The terrifying proposition of falling to
her death in its frozen waters had managed to cement the image in
her mind. As she looked at it now from ground level, she could not
shake the feeling that something was missing.

“Didn't there used to be an island, a little
one, right in the middle of this lake?” she finally asked.

“Something resembling one. Myranda's rescue
destroyed it,” Ether explained.

“Really? I . . . I think that means that
every place we've been held in, we've wrecked!” Ivy said, a
smattering of pride in her voice.

“If Myranda is to be believed, the arena was
still standing when she left it,” the shape shifter corrected.

“That's true . . . close though. Maybe we can
get another shot at that one later,” Ivy chirped cheerfully as she
shifted energetically. “I'm excited. I want to go now! Deacon's
next, or Lain! How long have they been asleep?”

“Long enough,” Ether decided. She told
herself it was because she wanted to waste no more time. The fact
that it was not until Lain's name was mentioned that she felt the
urge to move forward was irrelevant.

The shape shifter marched up to the sleeping
dragon.

“Awake, beast,” she stated in a voice
powerful enough for it to seem like a command.

Myn's eyes hoisted open sleepily, focusing on
Ether and narrowing into angry slits. Myranda stirred and managed
to pull herself from the dragon's grip.

“She has a name, Ether,” Myranda
reprimanded.

The wizard crawled out from under the
dragon's craned neck and found her staff. The sky was
brightening.

“We can't travel during the day, we will be
seen,” Myranda said, stifling a yawn.

“Now that you are not limited to the ground,
there is always cover to be had,” she said, gesturing toward the
clouds.

“Well, Myn. Are you up to it?” Myranda
asked.

The great beast sprang to her feet and
unfurled her wings. No sooner had Myranda and Ivy climbed onto her
back than she was in the air. A moment later and the windy form of
Ether was beside them. Myn wheeled and pumped her wings, spiraling
higher and higher in a less than subtle attempt to out fly her airy
rival. As she did, Ivy held tight and closed her eyes tighter.

“I thought you liked to look at the ground,”
Myranda remarked.

“I do. I like the way it looks from up close
and I like the way it looks from far away. It's in between I don't
like,” she explained shakily.

The trembling creature didn't open her eyes
until she felt the familiar damp chill of the clouds. When they
emerged above them, she thanked the gods that she had. The sky was
a tapestry, beginning in the deepest of star speckled blues and
progressing to violet and purple, to red, orange, rose, yellow and
blue. The feathery tops of the clouds were fiery yellow and radiant
gold. And the sun . . . It had never been so bright and glorious.
The biting chill of the rushing wind was tempered by the warm rays
that fell upon them unfiltered by the dismal blanket of clouds.
Only Ether seemed immune to the wonder before them. She looked upon
her fellow travelers with mild irritation, finally breaking them
from their trance.

“Why, might I ask, have you chosen to head in
this direction?” said the shape shifter.

“I hadn't made an attempt to locate Lain or
Deacon yet. I shall do so immediately,” Myranda said, realizing her
oversight.

“No need. He lies in that direction,” the
windy form said with a gesture.

“How do you . . . “ Myranda began, stopping
when she realized the answer.

She could sense him already, without even
putting her mind to it.

“They aren't hiding him anymore,” Myranda
said, her voice edged with concern.

“That's bad?” Ivy remarked in confusion.

“It means that they want us to find him. It
means he is the bait in a trap,” Myranda said solemnly.

“Oh . . . “ Ivy replied. “Well, what do we do
then? Find Deacon? Try to get more help?”

“The other human is meaningless and there is
no one who could hope to offer aid. Lain must be freed,” Ether
decreed, bursting off toward her target.

With a word from Myranda, Myn was after the
speeding form. It required a good deal more effort than before, but
the dragon managed to keep pace with the determined shape shifter.
The golden sun rose slowly into the sky, but the beauty of it all
was lost to them now. Tense minds were focused about the task at
hand. Myranda ran a thousand possibilities through her mind, trying
to work out what sort of dangers she might expect. Ivy breathed
deeply and steadily, trusting that the others would know what to do
when the time came. Myn's mind was a razor, the whole of her being
focused on summoning all of the speed she could. She knew that Lain
lie ahead and nothing in the world would keep her from him. Ether's
mind was a torrent of conflicting thoughts and emotions. Lain's
soul smoldered ahead of her, weaker than it had ever been, and yet
she'd never felt anything so intensely. She needed to free him. The
purpose, the one guiding constant in the eternity of her existence,
should have been the first thing on her mind. It was the last. In
its place, she felt a symphony of emotions, most for the first
time, and all focused on him. Fear of what may have been done to
him. Hatred for those who had done it. Vengeance, desperation,
desire . . . A chorus of discord, but all in agreement on one
single thing. Lain must be freed.

#

In the capital, the king lowered his withered
form into the throne, the crown heavy on his head. He looked to the
portraits that lined the hall. Paintings of his predecessors. Each
head wore the same crown. For some it had been a symbol of their
leadership of the kingdom. That was long ago. The land was ruled by
no king now. There had been no ceremony, no coronation, but
nevertheless, the power had passed to the generals long before his
own time. He turned to the heavy door to his right. Raised voices
echoed from behind it. Names he'd heard spoken more and more
frequently, and with more and more fury, were again ringing out.
One name rang out above the rest. Myranda. The door burst open, the
general called Demont rushing out. His superior, Bagu, called after
him.

“I don't care about anything else. Keep the
Chosen from the capital! I shall punish you for your idiocy later,
just make sure that they find Lain, and that they do not leave,
understood?! Pull back your men from the front. Bring every
available nearman to the capital immediately! We are too close to
victory. There can be no more mistakes! I don't care about missing
papers. I don't care about stolen crystals. Nothing matters but the
gateway! Once it is open all else will be an afterthought! Now go,
you imbecile! Do as I say!” the General cried.

A smile came to the face of the king.

“Is something wrong, General? Feel as though
things have slipped from your grasp? As though you've lost control?
Perhaps you should seek my council. It is something I've had much
experience coming to terms with,” the King said.

“Silence, old man,” Bagu hissed.

“I held my tongue while you controlled my
kingdom thus far, because at least the land was protected, but I
can keep silent no longer. I have heard you order Demont to pull
back his men. What of mine?” the king challenged.

“They will fight and die as their fathers
did. They will learn what this war would have been if not for the
aid of the D'karon,” Bagu fumed. “It was not so long ago that this
was what you'd sought.”

“I'd sought for our men to lay down their
weapons, not lay down their lives. If you will not aid in the
battle, then the battle must be ended. If you will not support my
kingdom, then what use are you? Get me a messenger! No, get me a
carriage! I shall deliver the proclamation of surrender myself!”
the king demanded, leaping to his feet.

“I cannot allow that. The war is a necessary
distraction,” replied the General.

“The war was your only purpose! I will not
leave my kingdom in your hands! I will not forsake my people!” the
King raged.

Bagu's fists tightened.

“Your majesty, I've something to show you.
Something that might make things clear to you,” Bagu smoldered.

He disappeared into his office, emerging a
moment later with a sand timer.