Theft of Dragons (Princes of Naverstrom) (29 page)

"They believed that time was an illusion, a tapestry woven of memories and people and places, and that time was just another place to visit on that great tapestry. And the voice that spoke to me in my dream told me this was true. At the end of each dream he beckoned me to a swirling portal of pure white light and said this was the entrance to the tapestry of the universe. But each time I was afraid and fell back and woke myself. I still feel like a coward, too attached to this mundane world. I just couldn't do it, because I knew my wife was sleeping at my side, and I didn't want to leave her alone...."

A vast ocean of sadness washed over his small, gaunt face. "And now she's gone."

Tael noticed Sebine lean forward as if wanting to hold the small man, and was surprised to find a tear dropping down her cheek at the sorcerer's story. The group had gone quiet and now only the sound of the wind rustling over the field could be heard. Tael found his eyes drooping and heard the sweetness of Sebine's breath gone deep and smooth.

"We must do it," said Master Greyth. "We must go there and search. There must be a power there in the ruins of that great city that can aid us."

Chapter Thirty

THE NEW DAY'S sun blazed red and gold and woke Sebine with eyes squinting at its power. She glanced around and saw Tael still sleeping by her side, and the soldiers and many of the sorcerers were asleep as well. Off at a distance, Master Greyth Shalinor and Master Vhelan stood side-by-side staring out over the field as the sun's first rays kissed the dew. Instead of enemies they stood together like old war friends contemplating a glorious past.

She pushed herself up and ambled over to them, stretching the stiffness out of her back and legs from riding too long the previous day. The cool morning felt invigorating as she inhaled and savored the sweetness in the air. Soon the sleep eased away from her mind.
 

The two old men stood calm in their gazing and did not turn as she approached.

"The dew glimmers gold," said Master Greyth. "A good omen for our journey. And you see over there"—he aimed a finger at the sky—"the way the clouds have bunched together. What do you read in the pattern?"

Hands around her eyes to block the sun off to the left and to focus her sight, Sebine studied the intricate intersecting lines and colors made alive by the rising light. After staring for a few heartbeats her mind rearranged those lines into what looked like a map, a map of some vast and great city. Then the wind stirred and the pattern was gone.

She told them what she'd seen and they nodded in understanding and sighed as if there was no escape from their predicament. At the foot of the hay bale Tael stirred and looked around in a quick fright, then relaxed as he spotted Sebine. She chuckled at his sleep-strewn hair and the hay stuck over his cloak made him look like a bedraggled scarecrow as he strode over to her.

"You're in good spirits this morning." Tael scratched his head and sent the hay flying from his hair, and shifted his gaze to the expansive sunrise.

"We've left a mess back there in Trikar," Master Vhelan said, his voice resigned and bitter. "Left the people in the hands of an unrestrained tyrant."
 

And you left your wife there,
Sebine thought, feeling the emotion and sadness in his words and a haunting empathy came over her towards the old man. At first she'd thought him cruel and vile for demanding a blood oath, but now she saw his determination and drive to defeat the darkness of Naverstrom. She believed his indifference for himself shone light on his passion and purpose for his people. But she still doubted him, she still doubted all the Hakkadians.

"The gulf is too wide now—an ocean of opposing force between us." Master Greyth turned away from the sight and looked west. "We've no choice but to journey and seek out that ancient city, the one the clouds have shown us so beautifully. She is waiting for us, beckoning us from ten thousand years ago, reaching out across the boundary of time. There's nothing to do but ride and ride hard each day until we can parlay with the Malathians." Master Greyth exhaled and sauntered over to the now cold fire. "If they'll listen to us."

The group ate the remaining roast and roused the dragons from their contented slumber. Sebine found her red dragon staring with curious eyes at her as she approached. She glanced at Master Vhelan.

"Do our dragons have names?"

The old man studied Sebine's dragon with a fierce, fixed expression on his face. "She has a name, as do all dragons, if you can listen and learn their language. A language only heard by listening inside the mind. She likes you, this young one, she likes your kindness and beauty and grace. I told her you wanted to know her name and she agreed to tell me."

"Might you teach me how to talk to her? I feel she listens to my will while I was flying. But I'd so love to listen to her and hear her voice." Sebine felt nervous and excited at the idea of knowing what dragons thought and felt and dreamed. Did they dream?

"Yes, I will teach you someday, after a time." Master Vhelan gazed with fond eyes at the rising, stretching, snorting beast. "Her name is Alyxaria and she hails from an ancient, royal bloodline, as the King commanded us to conquer only dragons of noble birth, and we were forced to slay many of the other dragons who lacked nobility in their blood. She shares a fondness with your friend's dragon, the proud young Kraithen, son of King Braxion's dragon Keraxes."

Tael wrinkled up his face in confusion. "How can a son fight against his father? Is Hakkadian magic so strong to break familial ties?"

"Stronger than you can imagine, though the mind of the dragon still retains self-awareness and knowledge of family and struggles against separation from loved ones, as would humans. Though your dragon's feelings for Alyxaria eases that pain. He is aware though that he shares a similar fate as does his father. The children born under our rule are easier to handle than their parents. Though one might say they lack the wildness and ferocity of their fore-bearers."

Sebine scanned the collection of dragons and noticed that only four of the dragons were of the size and strength of Master Vhelan's. "We only have four elder dragons?"

"Quite observant of you, Your Royal Highness." Master Vhelan summoned his massive gold dragon and the creature flapped its great wings and flew over to them, the air from the beast's beating wings blew Sebine's hair back and ruffled her robe. The dragon smelled of sulfur and smoke and roared at the sky, shooting a spiral of flames into the air.

"The King insisted on taking mostly elder dragons with him against the Malathians." The old sorcerer sighed as if disappointed in himself. "My fellow Hakkadians and my dragons, stolen right out underneath my foolish, old eyes."

"The day is ready for us—let us ride and allow our words to die in this field," said Master Greyth, his face firm and determined, and the old sorcerer nodded at him in a look of resignation.

They collected up their things and mounted the dragons, and Sebine whispered a silent thanks to Alyxaria as they took to the air. Tael rode alone as the sorcerer he had gone with before went to mount the riderless dragon that Master Vhelan had taken control over in the aerial battle. They were fewer in their group as they flew over the fields but lighter and swifter as well, and they aimed southwest for the Ferelian Sea. To the blue, to the sky, to the endless waves.

Late in the afternoon they passed over green rolling hills dotted with stands of Sycamore trees, and plunged down a series of steep hills until they found a broad grassy plain and a meandering river. Night was coming soon so the party descended low over the ground in search of cattle to ravage and found it in a group of goats along the water's edge. The dragons needed no guidance and dived down and dragged the poor creatures for a moment then tossed them up into the air, roasted them, and crunched merrily, blood spraying from their vicious jaws.

Sebine dismounted when Alyxaria had settled down, and with a flick of her wrist the dragon took this as permission and chased off after the other fleeing goats. She stretched her back and legs and hips to ease out the fatigue from riding so hard and long all day. At the river Tael scooped up the glistening water and drank his fill, and Sebine strolled over to his side and kicked off her slippers and felt the coolness wash over her toes and ankles. Fat, colorful trout glided in the shadowy deep while smaller, aggressive fish shimmied up to chase after insects pecking away at the surface.

"I never realized how uncomfortable it was to ride a dragon all day." Sebine rolled her shoulders around to relax the stiffness. "Far worse than riding a horse with all the dragons movements side-to-side and up and down."

Bishop Draven wore an agonizing grimace on his face and staggered like a man who's been shot in the ass with a crossbow bolt. "Nine more days of this insanity? Just leave me at a nice village along the sea filled with bronze-skinned girls and a bag of gold. I'll let the young and strong go off and save the world from evil."

Master Greyth came over and gave the priest a bland look of fake mockery. "Look who is old and chasing around the world. You're just fat and spoiled from the creature comforts that wealth offers. Give yourself a month of hard life on the road and you'll chisel down to a fine tool."

"Tool? You know where you can shove your tool, wizard." The Bishop flashed a wicked grin at the old man's disgusted face. "I'll be using my tool"—he grabbed his crotch—"to chisel down all the young maidens in town. Pardon my crudeness, Your Royal Highness. I fear life up in the wilds of Perinith has produced damaging effects on my spiritual life."

"Your spirit seems lifted," Sebine said, and chuckling, glanced down at where his hand still clutched.

"Oh! She's a tart, she is. Watch out young master Tael, better keep her on a close leash when you get to the Malathian Kingdom. I've seen those handsome Malathians in Trikar before. All of them sunbaked and muscled—eyes and hair wild from being in the desert so long. They're fierce fighters as well, kind of like how you fight, but different, dancing and whirling about in a fitful glee. Where you're a water dancer, they move like the wind and fire, raging and hot. Rumors say they mix their martial dances with magic."

"I've witnessed their dances," Master Greyth said. Sebine shot Tael a glance and saw that his eyes were enraptured by their words. "Beautiful to watch, but ineffective and inefficient at scale and in the duration required of battle. Combat is considered an art form to the Malathians, a nine thousand year old tradition to be taught and cherished. Duels are a spectator sport backed by boasting and brokered bets. Yes, I've seen them fight many times, and I also cheered when my son beat them every time."

"Father fought the Malathians?" Tael held his sword, face beaming with pride.
 

"Of course he did, and he did it with the sword at your side. Balensaar is not only a bane to the undead but also legendary amongst the fighters in Shaar'el's grand arenas. Those were the glory days. Nights out stalking around the city, the lazy, full moon shining on the white marble buildings. Markets filled with spice, trinkets of silver and gold and bronze, food stalls with pig and lamb and goat roasting on a spit, and all the beautiful, exotic ladies wearing sheer silk veils with winking almond eyes."

The Bishop barked out a deep, diaphragmatic laugh and slapped his belly. "Wizard...I've given up my notion of a quixotic life along the Ferelian Sea. You've convinced me to stay the course and press on all the way to Shaar'el. I'll save my appetite for our arrival."

"Hate to be the bearer of bad news," the wizard said, "but the Malathians enjoy defiling Calathian priests and nuns sent as missionaries to their land. They reserve a special class of whorehouse just for such purpose."

Sebine giggled at the shocked expression on the Bishop's face, and Master Greyth placed his mouth over his fist and sang a sacrilegious sucking song. She recognized the tune as a wedding song the Calathian choirboys sang. Draven's cheeks went red with holy fury, but at the raucous laughter of the soldiers he joined them with a sputtering, spewing sniggering that sent drool dripping down the sides of his mouth. Sebine felt a blush explode across her face.

The sorcerers stood stone-faced at their merriment. Puzzled and ashamed, they tracked away along the river and prodded the depths with long sticks. Sebine left the coarse men to their ridiculousness and followed Master Vhelan along the bank's edge until the laughter faded away and the sound of crickets chirping chimed loud. Her master's voice was soft as if he were unwilling to disturb the tranquility.
 

"You mimicked our casting of moving objects." He paused as if treading carefully. "Heat you've mastered, though cold you should learn as well. Light and the elimination of light. Self-illusion and stunning. Applying a deadly curse to jewelry. Let's see, is that all you've learned? Ah, that's right." He exhaled with remembrance. "Our time studying was cut short by our move against the King. What would be prudent to teach you next?"

Master Vhelan poked the river with a long reed stick he had collected along the way. "Well, there are fish here so I suppose I could teach you a spell to catch fish."