Faith Of The Dragon Tamer (Book 2) (31 page)

Both Neki and Nigel forced the sail to rise. The boat spun forward, but the creature was right behind them, tips of its wings coming out of the water like oars.

Nigel could feel the heat of its breath moving over the ship. He smelled the foul odor of the creature’s latest kill. Neki stumbled backwards, but it wasn’t fast enough. All Nigel could do was watch as the Druidonian opened his massive jaws to take in Neki’s body.

A ray of light shot past them, hitting the creature directly in the mouth. The Druidonian froze, its teeth barely grazing Neki’s flesh.

Their boat pulled ahead a safe distance. The creature didn’t follow. Its eyes stared blankly ahead. Nigel could hear his own breath coming in short gasps. He looked back, expecting to see Zorc’s coal-black eyes, open and fierce, but all he saw was the kota, down on her front knees, horn pointed in the direction of the Druidonian.

Neki collapsed where he stood. “And to think,” he said, “I tried to force her off the boat.”

A ray of light sliced through the darkness and widened like an opening curtain. He tried to rise, but he was too tired. A heat came from his chest. His eyes flickered to it, unable to remember what it was, yet knowing it kept him alive. He tried to reach it but his hands wouldn’t obey his command.

He looked at the light again and felt a soothing warmth filter through the darkness, warming his limbs. A shadow of a man stood in the light.

He tried to speak but only managed a whisper. He was dying, fading to nothing. The light could help him if only he could reach it.

Warm, strong hands looped under his shoulders, lifting him, carrying him to the light. Tingly sensations raced from his hands into his spine and then back again. The hands holding him had the power. He used to have that feeling. He wanted it back. It hurt to be separated from something so beautiful.

Light suddenly engulfed him. It was blinding in its intensity. A shadow bent over him.

He searched the face of someone he knew he should remember. His brow furrowed. The heat at his chest intensified. He tried to touch it, but his hands remained limp by his sides. The man’s hazel eyes looked at him with concern and then flickered to the heat. Two other men loomed above him, one dressed in black, the other in white.

The man in the black leaned forward, took his hands and placed them over the heat.

His memories came back in a maddening rush: Zier, Aidan, the Collective, the quest, the Oracle, the Druids, and the closing.

Ren rose to his feet and stared into smiling hazel eyes. “Markum?”

Markum grinned. “I found the right door, Ren.”

They stood on a walkway that wound in the darkness, dragon’s tails long. The light he had seen came from a lone torch dangling in the air beside an open door.

Markum’s eyes danced with the surety of a seer. Ren felt the Quy flickering inside him and turned to face the two men who had brought him to the light.

One looked at him with eyes he knew well, yet the face was older, thinner, and had been etched with anguish of unbearable proportions.

“Chris?”

As a slow grin spread across Chris’ face Ren caught a glimpse of the boy he once knew, but it immediately faded. Ren drew a worried breath before he turned to the man with the golden eyes. Age-old pain still shone in those eyes, memories of what the man had once been. Ren immediately recognized the Avenger.

Ren felt the Quy bouncing from Chris and Aaron back to him. His own power was still locked behind his door. He was using Chris and Aaron’s power to survive.

Ren drew a quick breath. It was the union.

He glanced through the open doorway into the darkness, his darkness. He was the Chosen. Without the power he was undefined, but he was also the synergy, or the union of the three stars surrounding his star. Grauss had said three others would help him, give him power on which to draw. Chris and Aaron must be two of those stars – two of the defenders of the Quy. He could draw from them and use their power. But he could also destroy them.

He turned back to the two men. “I’m draining you.”

They both nodded.

“We’re in the dream world, Ren. Your dream is in there,” Markum said, waving his hand in the direction of the open door. “But what you see here,” Markum turned in the darkness, bringing more torches to life, lighting up thousands upon thousands of doors with odd inscriptions and symbols, “is the land of dreams. I could choose any door to enter. Each door represents a person’s dream.”

“And if you had chosen the wrong door?”

“I would have been swept up in another’s dream, unable to reach yours in time. You would have been lost.”

Ren looked toward the open door of his dream. Somewhere inside his dream another door rose in the darkness, one with the symbol of magic etched on its surface.

Chris swayed. Ren reached out to steady his friend. When they touched he saw everything that had happened to Chris and Manda. A blinding rage churned to the surface. “Alezza will pay for this.”

His friend smiled, but his smile was fleeting. “I’m sure Manda has made her pay dearly already.”

Aaron stepped forward and handed him three stones. “The Quy told me to give you these.” As their fingers brushed, the Avenger’s memories and emotions seared inside Ren with reckless speed.

Ren looked down at the three stones in his hand. One was clear as glass, the second white as snow, and the third had a hazy gray bearing with one large blemish of devouring ebony. Ren glanced at the Avenger, asking the silent question.

“I gave all I am to make the love and pain stone. My righteous hate, along with Chris’, formed the hate stone. But the hate stone isn’t complete. The third member of the union needs to be found.”

Ren nodded in understanding. It would take one more to make the union complete, to make the defenders of the Quy complete.

“My pain and love lasted centuries,” Aaron said. “Chris’ hate only lasted a brief time, and although it was intense, it wasn’t enough to complete the hate stone. You must find one other who can finish the task.”

Ren saw Aaron weakening and reached out to steady him. “What must I do?”

“Regain your power and release ours. Then find the other who will make the hate stone complete. Only when all the stones are complete will we be able to leave this place and help you defeat the darkness.”

Ren nodded. The magic that had formed the hate stone had drawn Chris and Aaron into the dream world physically. Unlike Markum, their souls were here. They would be released only when the hate stone was complete.

Ren turned toward the open door. A torch suddenly appeared in his hand. He nodded his thanks to Markum before stepping inside his dream.

The door slammed shut behind him. The torch flickered but didn’t die. The defenders’ power still pounded through his temples but he felt their strength waning. He had to hurry.

Ren strode toward the door with the symbol of magic etched on its surface. It floated before him, taunting him. Ren fingered the triangle, feeling his power throb beneath the door’s grain. He ached for it. The door had no handle, only a lock. He pushed on the door with all his might but it did no good.

Ren unsheathed his sword and struck the frame. Not even a divot appeared in the wood. Ren slammed into the door with all his strength. It didn’t budge. He walked around it, trying to see any other way to break it down.

He circled the entire door. Where did it open? He remembered his door in the land of dreams. It didn’t open where he was. It opened somewhere else. The thought didn’t calm him.

He sat down, feeling himself weaken, feeling Chris and Aaron weaken.

He studied the door again. How could you open a locked door? Not only that, but how could he open a door locked by minds, not by metal?

The symbol for magic mocked him: an inverted triangle inside a larger triangle inside a circle.

What did the symbol mean?

Ren looked closer and frowned. The larger triangle was raised slightly. If the smaller triangle was inside the larger, it should be raised even higher, but it wasn’t. It was on the same flat plane as the circle.

Ren traced the symbol’s lines with sudden understanding. The center triangle wasn’t a triangle at all: it was part of the circle. And what appeared to be a large triangle wasn’t one triangle at all, but three triangles, endpoints touching.

Three triangles were floating in a circle, like the union of the three to him.

He looked down at the three stones in his hand and felt their power. He glanced at his sword. The fierce eyes of the dragons glistened in the torchlight. One set was a deep sable, one set stark white.

“Choice, Chance, and Fate,” Ren whispered, reciting the words from the Oracle, “merged with pain, love and hate, can embrace the light, can embrace the dark. Heed us well, our Chosen.”

Ren quickly took the ebony stone, the hate stone, and placed it inside the open mouth of the sable-eyed dragon. He then placed the white stone, the love stone, inside the open mouth of the white-eyed dragon. They clicked into place and began to glow with power. The clear pain stone he placed inside the open area of the blade, within the hollow teardrop. It lit the darkness with crystalline glory.

He clutched the hilt, focusing on the stones. Beams of light went from each stone to the others, forming a perfect triangle, the same triangle he had seen in the Oracle. It was the triangle of the synergy.

The light emitting from the hate stone wasn’t as strong as the others, but it had to be enough to unlock the door. The only reason those who had been closed couldn’t open their door was because they had no power to do so. He did.

Ren released the power of Chris and Aaron and called on the power of the blade. It surged inside him, singing with shrill intensity. The triangle of the sword, led by pain, pointed down through the blade. When he used the sword the power of the synergy would be sent through the sword to the target.

As he stepped forward he felt the wonder of love, the torture of love’s pain, and the seduction of righteous hate. The sword glowed with a dazzling silver light. He inserted the tip in the lock and heard a “click.” The door swung open.

He stepped inside.

- - -

Ren opened his eyes and winced. His head throbbed as if the Mynher himself had laid claim to it. When he touched his scalp his hand came away with blood. He must have dashed his head against the pedestal when he fell at the closing.

Druids were everywhere, scurrying across the deck of the ship like mice after a piece of cheese. Ren observed his surroundings through slit eyes. He rested on a small bunk that jutted from the ship’s hull. His face was turned to the deck.

The wizard came into view, long dark hair flowing behind him. “Where?” he asked.

A Druid pointed. “It’s a small craft, but it’s heading this way.”

The wizard shrugged. “We’ll be well away before they arrive. Hurry the sacrifice. Ista is expecting us.”

Ren’s chest constricted. The Druids were working with Ista? Ren shuddered at his foolishness. Ista hadn’t pursued him because she knew the Druids would. But if the Druids were working with her, he didn’t need to go behind the door.

Ren clenched his fists. Ista would be able to control him at whim if he was closed from the power. He would be an easy target.

The wizard walked past, shouting orders to the Druids. A small hope welled within Ren. If the Druids were working with Ista, Zorc was an imposter. The One was still out there, searching for him. Ren still may have a chance to save Aidan.

His eyes drifted to his sword, resting just below his bunk. Praise the Maker the Druids didn’t value weapons or it would have been left on the island. The Quy’s stones were in the dragons’ mouths. Their light shamed the bright of day.

A commotion came from the lower deck. Curses and a few hollow slugs drifted to him. Five gray-robbed Druids exploded from the ship’s hull with a tall figure between them. Ren felt a stab of betrayal when he recognized Morrus.

Morrus’ head whipped around before Ren had a chance to feign sleep. Their eyes met. Ren tensed, prepared to leap from his bunk, but Morrus turned away, a hint of a grin playing on his lips.

The Druids shoved Morrus forward. Chains bound his wrists. Why had they bound Morrus? The ship lurched to a halt and Ren tensed to keep from rolling off the narrow, wooden bunk. One Druid unleashed two hinges attaching a small section of the railing to another. He swung open the section and placed a long plank in the gap.

A large rock jutted out of the sea like the humped back of a huge sea creature. Ren had read about the small island a few times. Agger Point legally belonged to Fyl, but the Druids used it for sacred rituals. Because of that, everyone steered clear of it.

The wizard approached, scowling at the progress. The Druids picked up the pace. Morrus turned and fastened his gaze on the wizard.

“May the Maker send you to the lowest realm for what you have done and what you will do.”

The wizard released a loud guffaw. “Your own kind send you to your death and you condemn me? Have no fear, I’m already among the damned, but you may want to start condemning your peers. Or do you still think them worthy of a godlike body?”

Ren’s breath caught. To his death? Some of the Druids stopped and turned to the wizard with unreadable faces. The tension was high. The wizard sneered, unconcerned. Ren’s brow furrowed. One wizard shouldn’t debase a ship full of Druids. It was suicide.

The five Druids pushed Morrus ahead of them. The look on Morrus’ face was unmistakable. Ren’s jaw tightened. Morrus hadn’t betrayed him. Morrus had been unaware of the Druids’ intentions.

Morrus looked to the sea before he turned to Ren. His gaze settled on Ren’s sword. Ren didn’t miss Morrus’ silent entreaty. A ship was coming. Ren needed to fight his way free. Morrus sprung out of the Druids’ grip, shouting and cursing like a sailor, trying to distract them so Ren could have a chance of escape.

“Not without you, my friend.”

Ren jumped from the bunk just as some of the Druids started beating Morrus with flails. The first Druid didn’t see his attacker. The second didn’t know much more. The third had a brief glimpse of him just as the wizard screamed a warning.