Book of One 04: A Child of Fire (10 page)

The din of the room returned, though it was not quite as boisterous as before, and most of the people were now discussing Toren, Ehlena and the mysterious mage who sat next to her. Most of them tried not to stare, but the Aghlars were not a particularly subtle people. Toren stared at his daughter, now very aware that there was a lot more to her than he had thought. While he was a little unnerved by what she had just done, and still somewhat skeptical of her claim, there was no doubt that Ehlena had changed, seeming to have become older and wiser as though overnight.

"I do not know if this is true that you are somehow the Lady," Toren said. "I do know that you are Ehlena, my daughter by birth, and that you appear to have gained powers like that of a mage, which is no small thing. I presume this has something to do with your theft of the Al-Andor?"

"I did not steal the ship," Ehlena said. "I merely borrowed it for a short while."

"You did not seek permission of her captain," Toren said. "The crew could be held for mutiny if Carlis wished it."

"He wouldn't dare," Ehlena said, crossly, though she realized that her words now sounded more like a threat, considering the power she now possessed. "The crew is not to blame. Besides, I did not come here to talk to you about the Al-Andor. There are other, more important things to discuss."

"And what would you like to discuss?" Toren asked and, by his tone, Ehlena could tell that his mood had darkened. Good, she thought, for the things she had to tell him were too important to dismiss with a shrug and a jest.

"War is coming," she said. "It is a war that threatens to engulf all the lands and the many peoples of this world."

"You speak of Kandara," Toren said. "I have heard Cerric and Calexis have marched on the mountain kingdom."

"Kandara has fallen," Ehlena told him.

"How can you know this? A rider arrived just today with word that the attack had only just begun."

"News travel fast by horse, and faster on the wind," Ehlena told him. "I can hear many things. King Eric and his brother, Duke Boric are both dead. The eldest son, Elric is prisoner and his younger brother, prince Borrican is lost. Cerric continues to strengthen his army and with the troops from the Xallan Queen, whom he has married, he commands a sizeable force. But that is not all, Cerric, like me has received the spirit of a god and he is immensely powerful."

"I have heard rumors that Cerric had some strange magic," Toren said, pondering what she had told him. "Which of the five gods has gifted him with such power?"

"That is something of a mystery," Stavros said. "Cerric claims to be the god, Kroma, patron of warriors, but his every act is a contradiction of the mountain god."

"I cannot be sure, but I believe he may be both Kroma and Kenra," Ehlena told them both, admitting something she had been pondering as she sorted through the memories of the goddess, who was now completely a part of her.

"Cerric is two gods?" Toren's brow furrowed in confusion and he took a strong swallow from his cup. "It is strange enough to think of someone being joined with a god, but to join with two?"

"Ehlena," Stavros said. "You did not mention this before."

"I did not want to alarm the others," she said. "And I did not know, but as we traveled back from the pirate island, a few whispers on the wind have made me almost certain."

"Whispers on the wind? Is that like scrying from a great distance?"

Ehlena smiled, the knowledge of the goddess helping her understand the mage's concept of seeing and hearing things with magic. Her ability to hear things was simpler, but, in a way, far more powerful. She had been learning to use the powers of the Lady, though since she and the goddess had become the same, which meant she already knew such things, the knowledge was more like remembering something and using the powers was akin to stretching one's body after having slept for a time. She was learning very quickly and expanding her abilities. Since the goddess had an affinity for air, if Ehlena wished, she could hear anything spoken aloud by anyone anywhere, though discerning who exactly to listen to was a greater challenge. At the same time, certain things that carried on the wind would attract her attention, particularly when someone spoke of her or uttered her name, and while most people in this age only knew her as the Lady, one voice had spoken to her from afar, addressing her as Ayra, and in a voice she recognized. Ehlena was curious when she would meet the other god. As much as she was a different person from the goddess he knew, it was as though she knew him well, for they had long been companions and even lovers, in a different age. She realized that she had not answered Stavros' question and she turned to him.

"If you speak my name on the wind, I will hear it," she told him. "That is but one of the gifts of the Lady."

"Ah," Stavros said. "You have long had an affinity for the elements, particularly the air. I see that your power has great reach."

"I am still learning," she told him.

"You mean to tell me that you can hear when someone speaks from a great distance?" Toren looked skeptical.

"Yes," Ehlena said. "Though I cannot hear everything."

"Can you hear what I just whispered under my breath?" Toren asked.

"You just said that it was nonsense and that I could do with a trip to the healers." Ehlena told him. "You are sitting right here, so it is hard not to hear such things."

Toren looked at Ehlena then at Stavros.

"If Cerric means to attack Aghlar, then we must prepare," he said. "We are a bold people and will not easily be cowed, not by an army nor by a god."

"Good," Ehlena said. "Cerric means to attack the elven lands first, so there is time, but I ask two things."

"What would you ask? "

"I wish to enter the royal treasure galley and the Hall of Kings," Ehlena said.

"The hall of kings is sacred ground, a place of honor for the great men and women of the history of our kingdom. Only the rulers of Aghlar may tread in such a place. The treasure galley is also forbidden. Not one piece of gold or jewel may leave that ship without the agreement of the people," Toren told her. "You have chosen two very serious requests."

"That was only one of them, in two parts. Since I am your daughter and you are the king, then I am a princess of Aghlar and I have the right to enter the Hall of Kings. I merely sought your permission to be polite. As for the treasure galley, I do not seek gold or jewels. I wish to look for weapons, much like the king's sword that hangs above the mantle in your chambers."

"There are plenty of weapons at Aghlar, all of them made with excellent craftsmanship. What need do you have for some old weapons?"

"Ancient weapons," Ehlena said. "Cerric has been searching for them as well. I had hoped he would not find them or discover how to use them, but he has accomplished both and I fear what he might do with such power."

"What powers do these weapons possess?" Toren asked.

"They are called godswords," Ehlena told him, though she held back some details about the weapons; she would tell him the rest later, when there were fewer who might hear. For the time being, it was best to keep things simple. "They are weapons made for killing gods."

"Weapons to kill the gods?" Toren frowned. "Who would construct such things?"

"The gods themselves," Ehlena said, with a matching frown.

"If Cerric has already found these weapons, as you say, meaning he has more than one, searching for one of these swords amongst the treasure of our people will be like attempting to find a needle in a stack of hay."

"I suspect that more than one may be hidden away," she said. "Once upon a time, there were many of these weapons."

"Why would the five gods create so many?" Stavros asked, thinking along the same lines as Toren. If there were five gods, there would be five of these godswords.

"The five gods did not create them," Ehlena replied. "It was the other gods, the ones who came before, and their numbers were many."

"You speak of ancient myths," Toren said.

"I speak of the second age, when the gods waged war between them and nearly destroyed the world." Ehlena struggled for a moment with the flood of memories that pushed their way into her thoughts, feeling a deep sadness as she glimpsed so many faces of those she once knew but did not know, moments long past in the life of the goddess, memories from a different life, but as real as if they were her own.

"How many gods were there, Ehlena," Stavros asked, curious, for he had come across mentions of the second age in his studies and had always thought the references to the gods suggested that there had once been more than the five gods who were known.

"There were many," she said. "Forgive me. It is difficult to think of them without profound sorrow, so let us not dwell on what cannot be undone. I still have not made my second request."

"By all means," Toren said, though his sarcasm was only half-hearted.

"I would like for you to meet with the pirates of Meer," Ehlena told him.

"The pirates? Why would I speak to those thieving cowards? That leader of theirs, Lanos, pretends that they have reformed, claiming that they have become honest traders, but I have good cause to believe it is merely a pretense."

"Lanos no longer rules the pirates of Meer Island," Stavros told him. "And I think you will find their new leader most intriguing."

*****

"I wish you would stay," Carly told Zachary as she rolled across the thick blankets and rested her head on his thigh. "You could captain one of the ships and help me whip these laggard pirates into proper shape."

"I've responsibilities of my own, Carly," he said. "I know Ehlena and Stavros want to handle Aaron with kid gloves, but I worry about the lad. Not that he needs whipping into shape, but I would like to help him with his power. It is the least I can do for the son I did not have the chance to raise."

"I understand," Carly said, sliding her hand up the inside of his leg. "I am merely being selfish. Truth be told, I'd keep you here, locked in my cabin if I could."

"Oh? Do you fear I might run off with some other woman if you let me out of your sight?"

"No, Zachary," she said, crawling her fingers up further and enjoying how his body responded to her gentle teasing. "I know better than to try to keep you, and Aaron needs you. When I touched him, I could tell how hurt and confused he is, but I sensed that he is stronger than he seems."

"He is immensely powerful," Zachary said, and the fact that Aaron's powers exceeded even his own also made him very dangerous.

"That is not what I meant. Aaron is his own man, just as you are. If you are to help him, then you will remember that."

Zachary sighed.

"You are far wiser than you let on," he said.

"I have seen much of the world, and lived many lives. I am not so wise as you might think, but I have discovered many truths, the clearest of them all being that people cannot be true to themselves if they remain bound by others. Thus, I will release you from your captivity, on one condition."

"Always a catch with the pirate queen," Zachary said as she slid her body under the thick feather filled blanket and crawled atop him. "And what condition must I satisfy that I might win my freedom?"

"Need I say it?" Carly leaned in and kissed him lightly on the mouth, her tongue teasing his lips as she felt his powerful fire begin to warm her watery depths once again.

"Please do. I very much enjoy the sounds you make," he said with a grin as he grasped her hair in his strong hands and pulled her into a hard kiss.

CHAPTER SIX

The air was thin and cold atop the snowcapped northern mountains and Borrican labored through the gusts of wind that sheared from many directions, pushing himself through the craggy peaks and sheer cliffs that descended to the rough trail below. He wondered why anyone would have created a path through such a forbidding place and was curious to know what might lie on the other side of the range. His question was answered when the mountains fell away, revealing a frozen land covered in ice and swirling with snow that fell from cloud covered grey skies. It appeared that the stories of the northern wastes were true, that it was a barren land, with little life and Borrican thought it was the perfect place for him to be to be while he struggled with his dragon form.

As he flew down from the mountains, he noticed several valleys, sheltered from the open lands ahead, and he saw some rough growth on the ground and patches of evergreen trees. He noticed some movement and saw the heat of small animals that lived in the sanctuary and his stomach growled with hunger. Borrican raised one of his wingtips and circled around high above and saw several flocks of wooly sheep roaming the short grasses at the bottom of the valley but he saw what looked like larger goats picking their way along the rocky slopes and thought they looked much more satisfying. After a quick meal, he worked his way up out of the valley and continued on toward the frozen lands beyond.

Borrican was surprised to see another range of mountains rising up on the horizon, with dark skies hanging overtop. At first he thought it might be signs of a storm and considered turning back to the valley, but then he scented smoke, and not the soot smell of a fire, but something sharper, acrid and sulfurous. No longer tired from hunger, Borrican pushed himself higher to get a better view and looked past the flat expanse of snow and ice, which he now realized was a very large frozen lake. He peered through the swirling snow and clouds of smoke and, before him he saw a land of molten fire.

As he neared the edge of the frozen lake, Borrican noticed what looked like a habitation of some kind, though it was nothing like any he had ever seen before. Sprawling at the edge of the frozen land, just before the fires and the smoke began was a kind of large village that looked to be made of a combination of ice and stone. He focused his dragon sight and saw people among the dwellings and wondered who they might be and why they would live in such a barren place. Most of them were dressed in white furs and leathers, which allowed them to blend in with the snow and ice, and when he looked more closely he saw that there were many more of them he had not noticed at first glance. Borican realized that they had seen him as well, as several of them pointed up at the sky in his direction. With his dark, black scales against the white sky he would surely stand out.

Since he had hoped to find a place to be alone, away from people of any sort, where he could do no harm, Borrican decided to continue on and within a few moments he passed out of the blinding snow of the frozen land to the black smoke and fire beyond. As he drew closer, he saw that the mountains that lay before him were hollow and filled with hot, molten lava that dripped out of them in slow moving rivers. On their far side, the terrain dropped into a landscape of craggy rock surrounded by rivers of fire that flowed in all directions and Borrican flew through the clouds of smoke and ash, wondering how far the flows of lava extended and what might lay beyond.

It was like a twitch of instinct, the feeling that he was being watched, then from the side something appeared through from the smoke, streaking toward him. Borrican felt the air rush out of him as he was thrown sideways, his wings folding over as he spun and fell from the sky. Rushing fast toward the lava, he managed to spin and catch the air on his wings and he swooped low over the molten rock. The drafts of heated air rising from the lava pushed him upward and he beat his wings hard, climbing quickly. He felt it again and Borrican ducked low, tucking his wings in tight and dropping as a dark shape flew over him and sharp claws raked across his armored back. He turned his head before it disappeared and, through the ash and smoke, he glimpsed his attacker, though the dragon within him already knew what it was. Just ahead of him, he caught sight of a shimmer of green and the gleam of metal in the dim, smoke filled air and he flapped his wings, trying to catch up to it, but a moment later, a large, green dragon appeared from the smoke right in front of him, rushing straight for him, its jaws wide open.

Borrican stretched out his wings, trying to stop, to avoid colliding with it, but the creature flew straight toward him, its arms outstretched and, with a great roarr, the dragon hit him hard, knocking him backward. Its claws gripped his shoulders hard, sinking into his flesh and Borrican's wings folded around his attacker as he plummeted toward the ground. He tried to pry himself free, but it was no use, for the dragon was larger than he was, and more powerful. A moment later, Borrican hit the ground hard, his armored back sliding rough along the rock and stopping only a short distance away from a moving flow of hot lava.

"What is your name?" the dragon growled from between its teeth. "Who are you?"

"Who are you?" Borrican asked, and he realized that he could hear the dragon's words ringing both in the air and in his mind as well. "Why have you attacked me?"

"The defeated do not ask questions," the dragon said. "Now answer me, who are you?"

Borrican could sense other thoughts behind the dragon's words, but he could not make them out. It was strange to hear things twice, with echoes in his mind mixed with the sound of the dragon's voice and there was something about the two sounds that did not quite match, at least not what he expected. The voice he heard in his head was softer than the dragon's growl, lighter in a way, but no less threatening, and even though the dragon had him pinned hard against the ground, Borrican was somewhat relieved to have discovered another of his kind. Since he could not move, and he was curious to know more about the creature, he decided that he might as well answer the its questions.

"I am Borrican Akandar, of House Akandra, Prince of Kandara," he said. "Who are you?"

The dragon stared at him hard with its reptilian glare, its nose nearly touching his own.

"Akandra," the dragon growled, and again Borrican thought the voice in his head was intriguingly incongruous, almost musical in a sense. "I know this name. By rights of battle, I claim you as my vassal. You will do as I say or I will have your head."

"That sounds lovely," Borrican replied. "If it is a choice between getting ordered around or losing my head, I suppose I will take orders for now. Are you going to tell me your name?"

The dragon stepped back and released his shoulders from its powerful claws and Borrican saw that while the creature was surely a dragon like his own current form, it was very different and he noticed that its body was distinctively female. Unlike his own, jet black coloring, the dragon's skin was a dark green with a metallic sheen that reminded him of gold and silver and the heavily armored scales that ran along its back, tail and limbs glimmered with the hues of amber and brown with an almost iridescent sheen running through them. The dragon also had long, sharp horns that looked as though they were encrusted with enough jewels to fill a king's treasure house. The gems were a variety of colors but most of them various hues of green and blue, which also encrusted the creature's sharp talons and even sharper claws. Borrican used his wings to push himself up from his back and onto his feet.

"I am called Vale and I am of the Aledra," the dragon said, with voice that was now less of a growl and a hint of something feminine to it. "You are now my vassal and you will do my bidding."

"Wonderful," Borrican said. "Are you the only dragon who lives here or are there others?"

The dragon called Vale shifted on her feet and tilted her head to the side.

"You speak strangely, Akandar, but you should not speak at all unless I command it."

"That's not going to be very helpful to me," Borrican said. "As for speaking, I was hoping to figure out how to do that properly. It seems you can understand me though."

"I hear your thoughts, but your voice is that of a wildling. Are you a wildling?"

"I don't know what a wildling is," Borrican told her.

"It appears that you know nothing," Vale snorted derisively. "Perhaps you will not make a good vassal. Come, vassal, I must bring you to the circle of elders."

"Elders?" At least that seemed to answer his question. "You must mean other dragons, older than you."

"I am old enough," Vale said, her tone showing her irritation. "The elders are very old and very wise."

"I will be pleased to meet them," Borrican said. "I will follow you."

"No," she said. "You will fly ahead of me, where I can see you. I may have claimed you as my vassal, but you have not yet been bonded."

"Whatever you say," Borrican replied with a shrug, wondering what she meant, but he supposed he could ask the elders. "Which way is it?"

"You know nothing at all," she said with a sigh and Borrican caught an echo of what he thought was either disgust or disappointment, or perhaps both.

"I know a lot more than nothing, but I must admit there are probably a lot of things I don't know," he said. "Which way to the elders?"

"Fly beside me," she said and leapt into the air.

He followed her and together they flew through the clouds of smoke over the seemingly endless flows of lava. Wary of another dragon attacking him from the clouds of smoke, Borrican kept a watchful eye.

"Must you make so much noise?" Vale said, glancing over at him with what he thought looked like more of a glare.

"Am I flying too loudly?"

"No, you are thinking too loudly," she told him. "All of dragonkind can hear you. It is as though you want them to attack us."

"That is the last thing I want," Borrican said.

"Then quiet your thoughts."

"I don't know what you mean," he said. "Do you want me to stop thinking?"

Vale looked over at him again, seemingly confounded.

"Yes," she said after a moment. "It would be best if you did not think."

"Don't think," Borrican said. "I will do my best not to think."

"You are thinking about not thinking," Vale growled. "You know less than nothing. You are very stupid, Akandar."

"I am not stupid," Borrican growled, his irritation turning quickly to anger, and he felt the urge to attack her.

"If you wish to live beyond this day, you will not think about attacking me," Vale said.

"I was not going to attack you," Borrican insisted. "Can you hear my every thought?"

"Yes," she said. "You speak like a full blood, but you have the knowledge of a hatchling."

"A hatchling?"

"Yes, you are like a hatchling, a youngling at best. Now be quiet."

Borrican somehow felt like he had just been spoken to like a hatchling, the way a mother might scold a disobedient child. He grumbled to himself then he realized that Vale could probably hear every thought. Borrican wondered how he could think of nothing, since the idea of not thinking did not make any sense. Vale looked over at him and growled, so he tried to focus on things he saw, the lava, the rocks, the patches of grey sky breaking through the black clouds of smoke.

"Now you are describing where we are," Vale told him. "That is very unwise."

"Why?"

"We are at the flows," she said, which Borrican took to mean the rivers of lava below them. "At the flows, there are many contests, many battles."

"Between dragons?"

Vale glanced at him again and Borrican did not need to hear the echoes of her voice to know what she was thinking. He cleared his mind and thought about as little as possible, focusing on the feeling of the wind on his wings as he flew across the sky. They emerged from the clouds of smoke to a land of mist and steam that rose up from hot pools of water that flowed into streams that ran across the rocky terrain. Patches of green moss and short grass that grew longer and streams flowed together and became a river that meandered its way through the low, rolling hills toward a lake at center of a large valley that was surrounded by craggy peaks. It reminded Borrican of Kandara, though the land below was empty and there was neither a city nor people, but he saw that there were many dragons instead.

Many of them appeared to be resting, while others were gathered in groups, likely talking about whatever dragons might talk about. A number of the creatures turned their heads skyward and stared as Borrican flew past and he did his best not to think of anything, as Vale had told him. The last thing he wanted to do would be to offend or anger the dragons, especially since many of them looked to be much larger and more powerful than he was. Several of them leapt into the air and began following them as Vale flew toward the largest peak. Borrican saw a large opening, a kind of cave, on the side of the mountain, with a flat plateau of rock jutting out from its base and he followed the dragon, matching her flight as she swooped down then spread her wings and slowed her descent to land just outside the entrance.

Borrican followed her through the large entrance and into a very large cavern. After a moment, his eyes adjusted to the darkness and Borrican saw that the inside of the mountain was a large, round, flat surface and, above it, were numerous rock ledges with dark caverns behind them. Vale made her way toward the center of the circle and glanced back at Borrican with a look that said he should follow. She stopped in the center and thrust out her wing in front of Borrican, which he took to mean that he should stand a few steps behind her. Vale glanced back at him to make sure he had settled in place then she turned again and looked up to the many ledges in the cavern and let out a thunderous roar. The intense challenge in her dragon voice startled Borrican and the dragon part of him felt the threat in her call, which he found to be a strange way to announce oneself.