Dragonvein (Book Two) (20 page)

I’ll sleep outside on the grass tomorrow night,
was his final thought before drifting off completely.

*

A gentle touch on her arm woke Lylinora. Her eyes peeled open to see Renald standing over her, a grave expression etched deeply into the lines of his face.

“Come with me,” he whispered.

She sat up. The others were still sleeping soundly. “Where are we going?”

“To see the
sirean
,” he replied.

Lylinora’s heart froze. “Did they follow us?”

“That’s what we’re going to find out.”

She rose and followed Renald outside. The sun was only just breaking the horizon, and a cool southerly breeze caused her to shiver. Once they were well away from the house he stopped and turned to face her.

“If they are here, regardless of what happens, you are to do nothing,” he told her sternly. “If it is needed, I will protect you. Do
not
use your magic. Understand?”

“Do you think they’ll attack?”

“I don’t know,” he replied. “But if they do,
I
will handle it.”

Lylinora lowered her eyes. She had already made one tragic mistake from sheer ignorance. And as much as she disliked Renald, she was not prepared to make another. “I’ll trust you,” she told him.

He chuckled. “I seriously doubt that. You’ve far too much of your mother in you.
She
never trusted me.” He shook his head, smiling, before setting off once again toward the shore.

“You knew my mother well?” she asked.

This drew a hearty laugh from the old man. “Knew her? I almost married her.”

Lylinora’s eyes shot wide. “That’s a lie.”

He gave her a sideways glance. “Why would I lie about that? I was betrothed to your mother when I was thirteen years old. But sadly, neither of us wanted the union. She was too…aristocratic for me, and I too unsophisticated for her. Thank the spirits that your father and I were friends at the time. Otherwise,
I
might have been your father.”

Lylinora sniffed. “It’s funny that my mother never mentioned this.”

“Not at all,” he corrected, clearly amused by her unease. “It was not something either of us would care to remember, let alone talk about. When we refused to marry, it caused quite a stir. Almost to the point of a war between our families. Fortunately, your father was deeply in love with her and managed to persuade her family that he was the better choice of husbands.”

Lylinora tried to envisage the situation. The Dragonvein family was one of the wealthiest and noblest in all of Lumnia, and to cast aside a betrothal would have been a dreadful insult. Her father’s lips must have dripped honey for mere words to have had such an impact. Particularly on his mother’s family. They were strict traditionalists and took such matters very seriously indeed.

“I’ll tell you the story in full one day if you would care to hear it,” Renald promised. “Your father was really quite courageous.”

This brought a smile to her face. “I would. Most definitely I would.”

They continued on until catching sight of the dock. Their boat was still safely secured there, and from outward appearances, untouched. Renald veered right toward a narrow span of beach where waves lapped lazily onto the shore. He stopped just as he reached the water’s edge.

Lylinora looked out, but could see nothing aside from the gentle swells and a few seagulls. “Are they…?” she began.

His hand shot up to silence her. “Say nothing. And do not move.” He gave out a series of sharp clicks. After only a few seconds, the water stirred a hundred yards out.

A head popped up from the sea. Its face, though broader, was similar to that of the young one Lylinora had seen before, while its flesh was a burnt orange color peppered with coin sized spots of both black and red. As the
sirean
slowly rose higher, she saw crisscrossed over its muscular torso two black straps, both of which held a multitude of the same tiny white darts with which the children had assaulted them. The creature tensed, flexing its powerful chest and toned arms. In its right hand it held a long bone knife – poised and ready.

In response to its appearance, Renald spread his arms wide, palms upturned, and walked into the ocean, stopping when the water was up to his thighs. The
sirean
regarded him for a long moment before tucking the knife away behind its back and spreading its arms likewise.

The calm water immediately around Renald was suddenly transformed into a churning tempest of foam. From out of this bubbling mass, his body elevated until only his feet were touching the surface. Without making even the smallest movement, he glided toward the
sirean
, stopping only a few feet away.

From the corner of her eye, Lylinora caught sight of a second
sirean
watching Renald intently. This one was clearly female. Far more slender in frame and bare breasted, she had long, jet black braids and was armed with a bone tipped spear. Very soon another one appeared. Then another, and yet another. In almost no time at all, more than a hundred of the creatures had surrounded the old mage.

She tried to hear what Renald was saying, but the wind muffled the sound. She cursed the fact that he had told her not to use magic, otherwise she could have easily heard what was being said. Not that this would have been guaranteed to help her, of course. There was a very good chance she wouldn’t be able to understand the language they were speaking anyway.

Twenty minutes passed. The conversation then abruptly ceased. Renald bowed low, after which the
sirean
gave a curt nod in return and drew his knife. Lylinora’s tension rose sharply, particularly when she saw Renald pull open his robe to bare his chest at the now distinctly hostile looking creature. With thin lips twisted into a snarl, its hand shot out, thrusting the blade deep into Renald’s exposed flesh. Incredibly, Renald did not flinch a muscle. After a few moments, the
sirean
withdrew his blade and backed away.

Closing his robe, Renald bowed once again and started back to the shore, his head downcast and his face dire. The
sirean
watched him go for a part of the way, then, after letting out an ear-piercing scream that was clearly an escape for all the anger and anguish bottled up inside, it plunged back into the depths. In a massive flurry of movement, all the others followed suit, their numbers churning the water’s surface to a boiling white foam.

When reaching the shore, Renald dropped to his knees, gasping for air. Lylinora was instantly at his side.

“I’ll be fine,” he said, waving her off. “Though I need a few moments. When beyond my wards, even small amounts of magic take a great toll.”

Ignoring his weak efforts to push her away, she helped him to his feet. “What happened out there?”

“You are safe. The
sirean
will not hinder you.”

“What did you say to them?”

“That is my business,” he replied. “You needn’t concern yourself.”

Lylinora scrutinized him for a moment longer. “You’re hiding something. And before you deny it, remember who my mother was.”

Renald regarded her as if she was an unruly child. Then, gradually, he began laughing. “She
was
quite adept at seeing the truth of matters,” he admitted.

He placed his hand on her shoulder and allowed her to assist him back toward the house. “Of course, I still won’t tell you what transpired. But I am being truthful when I say that you have nothing to fear from the
sirean
. Let’s just say that we came to an understanding.”

“How did you learn to speak to them?”

“Years of practice,” he replied. “The
y
spend much of their time on these shores. And I’ve had plenty of time to learn.”

It was well into the morning when they arrived back at the house, and the earlier chill had given way to the heat of the rising sun.

Ethan and the others were still sleeping, though Markus was twisting and mumbling, his face contorted into various fearful and angry expressions.

“I need to sleep for a while,” whispered Renald. “Wake me in two hours.”

“I will,” Lylinora promised, helping him over to the bed. His eyes closed the moment his head touched the pillow, and a few seconds later his steady breathing told her that he had already fallen asleep.

She sat on the sofa watching the old man slumber with the same question revolving around and around in her head. What bargain had he made with the
sirean
? What had he been able to offer that could convince a grieving parent to forgo vengeance for the death of their child?

No answer came readily to mind.

Chapter Seventeen

E
than cracked his
eyes open. For the first time in weeks his sleep had not been plagued by nightmares. His back was a touch stiff from the cold hard floor, but that aside, he was feeling refreshed and excited.

He glanced around the room. There was no sign of Renald, but Markus was sitting at the table with Kat – both of them looking exhausted in spite of having slept for quite a long time. Lylinora was reading quietly on the sofa. She smiled up at him and pointed to the table where a plate of berries and a bowl of steaming porridge waited.

Ethan crossed the room and took his seat. “Where’s he disappeared to?” he asked, nodding toward Renald’s disheveled bed.

Markus shrugged. “Search me. He was gone before I woke up.”

“He’ll be back soon,” Lylinora said. “He’s gathering some fruit for your journey.”

In fact, Ethan was just finishing his meal when Renald appeared. In his arms was a small basket of apples and what reminded Ethan of peaches – though they were a touch bigger and bright yellow in color.

“You needn’t take much with you,” the old man said.

“How long will we be gone?” Ethan asked.

“A day. Perhaps two. Or at least, that’s my hope. Dealings with dragons can be tricky.”

Ethan gathered a few things from his pack outside and tucked them into his bedroll. While he was doing this, Renald stuffed several pieces of the freshly picked fruit into a small satchel, which he then attached to the rope belt holding his robe together.

As they departed, the others followed them out onto the porch. Kat threw her arms around Ethan, only letting go when Markus tugged on her shoulder. Lylinora’s farewell was rather more personal. After draping her arms seductively over his shoulders, she brushed her lips over his ear.

“Stay safe,” she whispered.

Ethan’s heart pounded at her touch. Temporarily oblivious to the fact that he had an audience, he held her close. “I will,” he promised, kissing her lightly and allowing the contact to linger for several seconds before backing away.

Kat’s reaction was almost instantaneous. Red faced and with lips pressed firmly together, she spun on her heels and stomped back inside the house, slamming the door behind her. A sharp pang of guilt shot through Ethan. He should have known better. Such open displays of affection only served to hurt the poor girl’s feelings. Surprisingly, Markus also appeared to be a little put out by his actions. There was no customary approving smile from his friend. Rather, his expression was stern, and for a brief moment almost held a sour quality.

“
Just
like your bloody mother,” huffed Renald, glaring at Lylinora. He started off toward the path, mumbling and shaking his head.

Ethan gave her a final smile before hurrying after him.

“You should be careful with that one,” the old man said after about a quarter mile.

Ethan grinned. He could still feel the impression of Lylinora’s lips, and smell the lingering scent of her perfume. “And why is that?” he asked.

“The women in her family are known to be…how should I put it…cunning. They rarely act without purpose. And never give their hearts easily.”

Ethan’s grin quickly changed to a deep frown. “Are you saying she’s just pretending?”

“No. She may very well see in you all that she could want in a mate. Though it occurs to me that she has very little choice in the matter. I mean, who else is there?”

His words did not sit well with Ethan. The idea that Lylinora had only become close to him from lack of options rather than genuine affection was a sharp blow to his pride.

“What can you tell me about my father?” he asked, choosing to change the subject.

“What’s to tell?” Renald replied. “He was strong, bold, and often foolish. That’s not to say he was stupid. But he acted too swiftly and emotionally.”

“Did you get along?”

Renald shrugged. “As well as brothers do, I suppose. We had different ideas regarding magic and how to wield it. And in a mage family, that can cause quite a bit of tension.”

“How did you disagree?”

“If I explained it, you wouldn’t understand. Not until you’ve learned more. Praxis was the true embodiment of strength. His use of magic reflected that.” He cast a sideways glance at Ethan. “It is your mother who you should seek to emulate. Illyrian was a truly gifted mage, intuitive in ways that your father couldn’t comprehend. Where he would send a firestorm to destroy the enemy, she would make them forget why they were fighting in the first place.”

As they continued walking, Ethan noticed a small herd of sheep and a few cattle wandering the grassy slopes, as well as a well-tended vegetable garden. He kept up an almost non-stop barrage of questions about both his parents. It soon became clear that Renald had genuine affection for his brother, but even more for Lady Illyrian.

“I’m surprised that you know so little,” his uncle remarked. “Jonas should have told you at least some of this.”

“Jonas doesn’t seem to want to say much,” explained Ethan. “He pretends not to know, but I think he does.”

“He does indeed,” said Renald. “Jonas was quite close to Praxis. Much more so than is usual in a master and servant relationship. Your mother, on the other hand, he did not care for.”

Ethan’s surprise showed on his face. “Why?” he asked.

“I doubt it was anything personal. But her family was not exactly amongst the most highly regarded. Not that they were of low character. But they were mostly healers and mystics – caring more for others than for themselves.”

“You mean healers weren’t well thought of?”

“Healers, yes. Mystics….not so much.”

“So what’s a mystic exactly?”

“They center their talents on the world around them. Guiding people according to the will of Lumnia.”

Ethan furled his brow. “You mean like a fortune-teller?”

Renald laughed. “Most definitely
not
like a bloody fortune-teller. It’s a voice. A will. A consciousness. Mystics can hear its call and feel its intent. It guides them. And in turn, they can then guide others.”

“Like when I hear the dragon’s voice in my head.”

“In a way, yes. But this is infinite in its depth and wisdom. The elves understand it. Before Shinzan came, it was what guided their every move. It gave them the power of foresight.”

“But didn’t the humans and the dwarves defeat them?”

Renald frowned. “If you know a day ahead of time that a man will attack you with a sword, but all you have to fight back with is a stick, knowing what’s coming doesn’t save you. Elves were not equipped to make war with such people.”

“The ones I saw seemed pretty damn capable,” he countered. “Everyone I’ve met so far is scared to death of them.”

“That’s because everyone you have met so far is an idiot. Elves are not sinister or warlike. And in spite of what you might have been told, they were never the aggressors.”

Ethan thought on this. Markus clearly would disagree, having suffered at their hands. But he also remembered how they had allowed him and his friends to live when traveling through the forest on their way to Elyfoss.

“Lylinora told us there was a rumor you lived among them,” he said.

“For a time,” the old man confirmed. “Though it took almost three years to convince them to permit it.”

“Why did you want to?”

“To learn,” he replied flatly. “Humans wield magic. Dwarves forge it. But elves…they feel it - deep within their spirit. They are connected to Lumnia in ways that you and I can scarcely imagine. I wanted to understand that.”

“And did you? Understand it, I mean.”

Renald sighed. “Sadly no. I had hoped my connection with the dragons would help. But alas, I could never learn to see as an elf does. In the end I gave up and returned home.”

At that moment they crested a low rise. Here, the abundant grass and vegetation abruptly ceased. Before them lay a vast expanse of broken earth and jagged rocks. Unlike the shores, not even a few dead trees could be seen to suggest that there had ever been life in this desolate place. Stretching across the horizon was a line of jagged peaks looking uncannily like the shattered grin of a feral beast. Even the air was suddenly changed. It was dry and carrying a hint of sulfur on the almost non-existent breeze.

“This is what Shinzan’s power can do,” said Renald. “This is what we must prevent.”

Ethan was horror-struck at the sight. “He did this with magic?”

“Yes. He scoured this place of all life without a thought or hint of remorse.”

“How long did it take him?”

“He hunted the dragons for more than five years before giving up the chase.” His tone was a mixture of fury and anguish.

“Aren’t you afraid he’ll return?”

“No. It’s unlikely he’ll venture far from his palace any time soon. And none of his minions possess anything like the power it takes to challenge a dragon.”

They walked on for another two hours before resting. Ethan could see the fatigue building in Renald with each passing minute. The landscape was unchanging and brutal. He asked where they were going, but received only irritated grunts in reply.

Five hundred years, Ethan thought. How could anyone live alone for so long?

By late afternoon he was growing increasingly concerned that Renald would not be able to walk for much further. On several occasions the old man had halted, his legs wobbling and his face pale. But when Ethan tried to assist him he was pushed away with a strength surprising in one so old.

“It’s difficult being so far from my home,” Renald explained when finally realizing that Ethan was not going to give up on his attempts to help. “The power that sustains me is centered there. The greater the distance I am away from it, the weaker I become. But it’s not important. We’re nearly there now.”

He pointed off to the northwest. Ethan strained his eyes, but as yet could see nothing. Not even when they veered off the main trail to follow a barely visible path. But then, after they had walked along this for a few minutes, the top of a narrow canyon came into view. The path took them to the very edge of a sheer rock precipice that plunged down more than one hundred feet. Carved into its face was a walkway that zig-zagged all the way to the bottom.

Far below on the canyon floor was a circle of six, tall black pillars, each one crowned with a massive orb. Two orbs were white, two black, one crimson, and one blue. Set within the center of these was an octagonal dais carved from the same black stone as the pillars.

“From here you go alone,” said Renald. As if to emphasize his point, he sat down, joints cracking and moaning with relief at finally being able to rest.

“What do I do?” asked Ethan.

“I have no idea,” he replied, reaching into his satchel and retrieving an apple. “I suppose you’ll find out when you get down there.”

Ethan stared into the canyon for a few moments. Something was strangely familiar about this place. Despite its ominous appearance, he felt no fear. In fact, as he took his first step down the canyon wall, a sense of elation washed through him.

The way down was narrow, warning him to be cautious. But so great was his excitement, it took no small effort to restrain himself from bursting into a run.

When he reached the bottom, a low rumbling sound emanated from deep within the earth, shaking the ground beneath Ethan’s feet and compelling him to stop. It continued to rise in volume for more than a minute, echoing off the towering rock walls as if the canyon itself was the maw of a great beast poised to snap shut.

Then, as suddenly as it had begun, the rumbling ceased. Ethan approached the pillars with determined strides. The dragons were near. He could feel them – their eyes were watching his every move.

As he walked between the pillars, another, far quieter sound reached him. At first he thought it was distant thunder coming from high above. He looked up but the sky was clear blue, with not even a wisp of cloud to be seen. Then he realized that it was not thunder he was hearing. It was the sound of breathing - immeasurably deep and labored breathing, as though the source was struggling desperately for each gasp of air. He climbed upon the dais and stood in the center, trying to ascertain where it was coming from. He scrutinized the pillars one by one. Then it dawned on him. Looking even closer, he could now see the circumference of each stone expand and contract at regular intervals.

“They’re alive,” he whispered.

He moved toward the pillar topped with the blue orb, but after only a few steps his legs inexplicably lost all strength and he fell to his knees. Worse still, no matter how hard he tried to stand up again, his legs refused to support him. With no other means of movement available, he crawled back to the center of the dais. Instantly, his strength returned.

Panic was now starting to creep in. Trapped. But why? Surely the dragons didn’t bring him all this way simply to make him a prisoner. Gazing up the side of the canyon, he called out to Renald. His voice echoed repeatedly, but there was no response. He called again.

Barely had the echoes of his second call faded when a wall of fire shot skyward, completely surrounding the dais in a hellish inferno. With the sudden heat threatening to roast him alive, all Ethan could do was curl up into a ball and shield his face as much as possible. As he lay there, even above the loud roar of the flames, he heard the booming thud of something massive landing on the stone floor of the canyon.

His flesh was bubbling into tiny blisters, the pain covering him like a swarm of angry wasps. Then, just when he felt he could stand no more, a soft feminine voice whispered into his ear.

“Dragonvein.”

He peeked out from behind his hands. No one was there.

“Dragonvein,” it repeated. “We need you.”

“Please, make it stop,” was all he could manage to say.

But the heat only intensified.

“Coward!” thundered a different voice, this one masculine and coarse.

“No!” cried Ethan. “I’m not.”

He felt a slender hand touch his shoulder. “We are here. And we believe in you. Show them. Show them who you are.”

This voice was kind and compassionate. It reminded him of his mother when he was a small boy. He could see her kindly face looking down at him with the love and affection that only a mother can give. It bolstered his courage.