The Sword And The Dragon (67 page)

Vaegon charged, seeing the terrible fate that was about to befall his young kingdom-born friend. Even as he did so, he knew he wouldn’t be fast enough to get between the demon and Mikahl. Stopping in mid-stride, he launched his weapon at the Choska demon’s head as if it were a javelin. At the same moment, a flash of white fur leapt onto Mikahl and Grrr’s growl erupted into a peel of savage barking. It all ended with a wet, sickening crunch. Then, from beyond the demon’s bulk, a skittering, crackling boom concussed through the whole forest like a thunderclap. 

The trees, the ground, and even the air, shimmered for a moment, like an expanding ring of desert heat exploding outward. 

Vaegon fell to his knees, and in the mind-numbing silence that followed the blast, he saw the Choska demon’s body twist crazily up and over his head. Its great bulk had been blown like a leaf off of the forest floor by the force of what ever had made that sound. The beast didn’t crash into the forest though. It threw out its leathery wings crazily, as it whirled over the treetops, and caught the air. With long, ropey strands of thick, black blood slinging away from its body, it righted itself, and winged away westward.

Vaegon ran to Mikahl’s side. He was lying twisted at a sickening angle, his thigh bone jutting up out of torn and punctured flesh. Mikahl rolled his head to one side and made a deep growling sound. He focused on something. Tears then welled, and spilled out of his eyes, just before they rolled up into his head. Vaegon couldn’t help but turn to see what Mikahl had been looking at.

There, on the ground lay Grrr, the pack leader of King Aldar’s great wolves. He was a bloody heap of mangled fur, still and lifeless, eyes open and empty. Huffa whined sadly, and sniffed at her mate’s unresponsive body. Oof whimpered as well, then suddenly looked up, and started searching for Urp. Urp was limping slowly over towards them, his fur a tangle of leaves, and debris, his maw bright with crimson gore.

Vaegon glanced around frantically, looking for Hyden Hawk. He spotted him, half in, half out of the forest, looking with wide-eyed bewilderment at where the Choska had just been. He was down on one knee. His right arm was outstretched, and his hand was open, as if he had just thrown something at the beast.

The well-armored lady wasn’t far away. She was staring up at Hyden, with a look of shock on her dusty face. She was ruffled, and had twigs and leaves in her hair, but otherwise seemed fine. She shrugged off the help of her plate armored soldiers, and with a look of disgust at them, strode over towards Vaegon.   

Seeing that Hyden Hawk was alive, the elf forced everything else out of his mind, and began using his magic to tend to Mikahl’s wounds. A moment later, he raised his head back, and let out a horrible, keening wail.

Mikahl had serious internal damage, more than even he could begin to heal. All he could do was what he had done. He stopped the bleeding, and put Pavreal’s last heir into a form of stasis that might, or might not, keep him alive a little while longer.

“Will he live?” The woman asked, with sincere concern showing plainly on her face. “There are extraordinary healers in Xwarda, if we can get him there.”

“How far?” Vaegon asked, with a glint of hope forcing its way through his anguish. His head felt like there was a hive of bees swarming in it, and his ears most likely had permanent damage from the Choska’s horrible scream, but he ignored his pain, and looked at the woman, waiting intensely for her answer.

“If he can ride, we can make it by dawn, I think.”

Vaegon closed his yellow eye a moment, and fingered the patch over the empty socket of the other. He doubted that the stasis spell he had cast to keep Mikahl alive would last that long. After a few deep breaths, he looked around, and stopped his gaze on Huffa. She was licking at Grrr’s unresponsive muzzle lovingly. It was obvious that she knew he was dead – it showed in her posture. It only made the sight that much harder to look upon. Her eyes met Vaegon’s gaze, and the elf could feel her sorrow. He could also sense the pride she felt in knowing that her mate had died trying to save another. An idea struck him then, and he looked back up at the Lady.

“If you can ride a wolf, then you can have him there by nightfall!” His inner ears hurt horribly, and his sudden excitement was intensifying the sensation. “I assume you can get him to these healers quickly once you get there?”

She nodded, and glanced at Oof for a moment, then nodded again, though with a lot less confidence about her.

Vaegon looked towards Hyden, who was struggling to get to his feet. 

“Will you help my friend?” he asked her. “I need him over here.”

Without another word, she went to help Hyden.

As soon as she had moved away, Vaegon gingerly straightened out Mikahl’s broken leg, and did his best to magically knit the bone back together. It was all he had the strength left to do, and he couldn’t even do a good job of it. The flesh wound there was deep, and uneven. He reverted to a more primitive form of healing, tore strips of cloth from his sleeves, and then bound them around Mikahl’s thigh. There was nothing he could do for the internal injuries. After trying to help the fallen ranger earlier, and what he had just done for Mikahl, he was drained completely. He hoped beyond hope, that he had done enough to keep Mikahl alive, until he could get better care.

Talon and Hyden fell to the ground at Grrr’s side at the same moment. 

“Oh, by the Goddess, no!” Hyden cried out, as he clutched his arms around the great wolf he had come to love. 

Talon let out a mewling coo of sorrow. Through the dead wolf’s fur, and his own unashamed sobs, Hyden asked Vaegon about Mikahl. 

Vaegon explained to him that if Mikahl didn’t get to the healers in Xwarda quickly, he was as good as dead. He explained his idea, and Hyden listened intently. When Vaegon was done, Hyden grabbed Huffa around her neck and hugged her close, while whispering desperately into her ear. She let out a rolling yelp of concern when he was done.

“Yes, we’ll look after him,” Hyden replied, speaking of the injured wolf, Urp.

Vaegon began re-rigging the pack harness that had been used to strap their supplies to Urp’s back during their long journey. Huffa yipped, nuzzled, and waggled at Oof’s side, then pranced over to Vaegon, and stood proud and still for the elf.

While Vaegon rigged Mikahl’s body to Huffa’s back, the lady ordered her men to gather the horses. The two armored soldiers, who had stood guard over her instead of helping to fight the Choska and its rider, threw the fallen ranger’s body over the lady’s horse as if it were a sack of grain. They were none too pleased to learn that, as punishment for their inaction, they would be walking back to Xwarda. It was clear that the woman held rank over these men. They turned over their horses, without a word of complaint, so that Hyden and Vaegon could ride them. The other Ranger, whose name was Drick, was to lead them to Xwarda. 

Hyden wondered who this brave woman was, as she mounted Oof’s back with only a minimal pause. It was just moments, after she and Mikahl’s limp body were racing away on the wolf’s back, that he realized that she might be after Mikahl’s sword too. A flash of panic swept over him, and he looked to Vaegon. The elf was sheathing Ironspike, and securing it to his saddle. This came as a comfort, all be it a slight one. If Mikahl lived, Hyden wouldn’t have wanted to be the one to tell him that they had lost the sword. 

Hyden wished he wasn’t so slow and dazed at the moment. He felt as if he hadn’t slept in weeks, and his head felt as if it were full of mud. He had done something out of sheer desperation, and had repeated the word he had heard the lady say as she released one of her lighting blasts. The explosion of power that had resulted from the word he used had been the concussion that had sent the Choska twisting up, and away from them. He had used magic, and now he was paying the price for it. His mind was a jumble of sorrow and confusion, and he couldn’t hold a thought. He was sure that a moment ago, he had been alarmed, or excited by something, but now he had no idea of what it might have been.

Drick urged them to get onto the horses. After riding on a wolf’s back for days and days, the saddles looked relatively comfortable.

As he swung a leg over the horse’s rump and settled into his seat, Vaegon asked the ranger a question, reminding Hyden of what it was that had alarmed him.

“Who is that woman?”

The ranger looked at the elf, and unease spread across his face as he took in Vaegon’s wildness. 

“I’m not sure you really want to know,” said the man. 

There was no hint of jest in his voice, and the look Hyden shot Vaegon, sent chills of alarm up his weary spine.

With the invasion of Westland complete, and the border now secure, Shaella found that she didn’t have much use for Claret. Through spells she found in her father’s library, she had learned to transport herself directly from her royal bedchamber to the tower library, so the dragon was no longer needed to fly her up to the gaping hole in the wall. 

The Breed giants that had sacked Portsmouth and Castleview had been rounded up and herded back northward, away from the Zard and human population centers. A big show was made about getting this done. Shaella came out looking like a savior, and her dragon, a fully trained pet. 

If the city folk had ever questioned her power, her ability to keep the massive red dragon restrained, then the ease with which she used it to get the marauding Breed out of the cities and towns, removed all of their doubt. Though she had no immediate purpose for the dragon to serve, she kept the collars in place. She wanted to be able to call Claret to her at a moment’s notice, but she released the dragon from duty until that time arrived. She also returned Claret’s remaining egg. The dragon had taken it, and flown back to her nest in the fang spire.

Claret lay on the smooth surface of the Seal.  She was curled protectively around the last of her eggs, deeply brooding. She could incubate the egg by bathing it in her fiery breath at any given time. She had refrained from doing so for centuries, because she didn’t want to have hatchlings to worry about while she was bound to guard the Seal. 

Now she felt guilty. Had she incubated the eggs sooner, they might have had a chance to survive. Now, she was bound to the collar. She couldn’t hatch this one, because Shaella could call her away at any time. She was used to these helpless and trapped feelings. She had been bound by the Pact for as long as she could remember. If it hadn’t been for that, she would have left this land full of pesky humans behind long ago.

It took her a few days to make her lair feel homey again. She flew down, and picked choice bones from her feeding grounds. She put her remaining egg on a pile of Zard skulls. Then, she scattered geka bones, and freshly killed snapper carcasses around the smooth floor, until it once again began to look, and smell like what it was.

At idle times, she tried to stretch, and rip the collar from her neck, but it wasn’t to be removed. Its ancient and powerful magical properties dictated that it could only be removed by the person wearing the collar’s mate. Claret knew that long ago. On another land mass, a place far away from this one, the collars were regularly used. When possible, dragons were taken when they were young and raised with the collars on. Those dragons grew up used to the idea of being servants. They never got the chance to know what it meant to be the highest predator alive, to be the ruler of the roost, to be the true master of all that inhabited its territory.

Claret had known those things, once. Long before she had been bound by that tricky human wizard to guard this place. She was once the Queen of a land not so much different to this one. She had watched those silly humans fight over this and that, each faction trying to prove dominance over the other. Every so often, she would swoop down among them, remind them of their folly, and give them a common enemy. She would burn down a few buildings, ravage a few herds, and maybe even snatch up a stray human or two. Then, she would sit back and watch, as they forgot their personal quests for dominance, and banded together to rebuild. A few years later, they would forget, and the whole process would start anew. 

She didn’t long for that sort of freedom anymore, at least not for herself. She would die content, and destroy half the world before she went, if she could guarantee that her last un-hatched egg would hatch, and live its full life free and unbound. 

She pondered these things while munching the meat from a snapper she had just roasted. For now, pondering was all she could do, but she knew that sooner or later the situation would change. With humans, it always did.

Shaella tried for the hundredth time to ignite the power of her father’s Spectral Orb. Claret had told her that she had seen Gerard crawl down into the Seal while her father had had it open. Shaella had no choice but to believe the dragon. With the collars on, there was no way that Claret could lie to her. 

Dead or alive, Gerard’s soul was beyond the Seal now, and according to her father’s books, the orb would allow her to communicate with him. First, she had to figure out the minute inflections of the chant that was supposed to activate the orb’s power. She wasn’t sure if it was her rhythm, or the pronunciation of the words that she was getting wrong. The only thing she was sure of was that she was getting it wrong.

She glanced out of the crumbling hole in the tower wall at the darkness. It was late. The moon was already sinking down into the black expanse of the Western Sea. With a heavy sigh of frustration, she went back down the trapdoor ladder, through the nest, and down into the library. With a flick of her wrists, she set flame to the dozen candles that she had spread around the room. She went to a book that lay open among many on the desk. She read, and then reread, the passages about calling out the orb’s power. Another passage, pertaining to the orb, followed the inadequate instructions that were trying her patience. The crystal sphere didn’t have to remain so large and bulky, it stated. She could shrink it so that it might be moved.

She had hoped to get it to work, at least once, before she attempted to move it, but she hadn’t been able to as of yet.