Harmonia's Kiss

Chapter I

Chapter II

Chapter III

Chapter IV

Chapter V

Chapter VI

About the Author

Summer Solstice

June 2010

It was time.

Erik Sorensson, leader of the
Pyr
, waited at the standing stones of Callanish, as agreed. It was close to midnight, the sky filled with dark clouds and the wind chilly off the Atlantic.

He waited alone. He leaned against the tallest stone, the one that might have been a finger pointing to the heavens, and listened.

Erik had no doubt that the Dragon's Teeth Warriors would keep to their commander's agreement. They were ancient, these warriors, remnants of a time long before his own. Erik was old, but the Dragon's Teeth Warriors were far, far older.

So much older that they were almost incomprehensible to him. He wondered what they wanted of him.

He expected it was permission.

But for what? He needed every talon in this fight against the
Slayers
, and was impatient to have the Dragon's Teeth Warriors committed to his ranks. He knew they had endured a great trauma and wanted to give them time.

The problem was that Erik didn't have a lot of time.

He hoped they requested something he could grant.

Erik sensed the Dragon's Teeth Warriors before he saw them. They had no scent, these ancient warriors. His awareness of their arrival was more a prickling at the edge of his thoughts, more a manifestation of his gift of foresight than the raw ability to smell his fellows.

Erik scanned the eastern sky and saw their silhouettes appearing through the clouds. The moonlight touched their dark figures, painting them with silver as if they came from a dream.

In a way, they did, having been awakened after centuries of spellbound sleep.

As always, the Dragon's Teeth Warriors were rigorously disciplined. It was as if a single mind drove their actions. Erik knew it was their military training, but still, he was impressed.

He wanted them pledged to the cause of the
Pyr
.

They approached in perfect formation, a single dark dragon at the fore of the company, then a pair immediately behind him. Two pair followed those two, leading several rows of their ranks. They numbered less than twenty, of all the hundred who had once been, but were still a fearsome force. Erik knew they were powerful fighting machines, partly because of their discipline, partly because of their devotion to the whole of the company.

That in itself spoke of a different era, when the individual was of less import than the survival of the collective.

Even the beat of their wings was synchronized. They were virtually indistinguishable from each other. That didn't change with proximity. Whenever he stood amongst them, Erik was struck that they were all dark, as dark as obsidian, and only different in subtle ways. Even in human form, they were markedly similar in appearance.

Their commander had taken the name of Drake, although Erik had no doubt it was not the name he had once been called. Erik knew that whatever Drake promised him was a vow from the entire company. His word was his bond, and whatsoever he commanded would be done. That said, Erik found Drake particularly hard to read and he watched the commander's approach with some trepidation.

Not for the first time, he wondered what Drake wanted of him.

This time, though, Erik wondered whether he could deliver it.

 

Drake did not imagine that this would be an easy victory. He knew only that he had no choice but to lead his men in a confrontation of their past.

And to do so, it was imperative that he ask the permission of the leader of the
Pyr
. The risks were not small, especially given the mood of his men, and further, Erik Sorensson was the closest thing to an oracle in these times.

Drake wanted not just permission but an augury of success. His own powers of foresight were minimal, but he felt dread at what might await his men if they returned home. At the same time, he sensed they had to go.

He needed advice.

He landed before Erik with precision. As soon as his feet touched the ground, he folded his wings neatly behind his back and inclined his head in deference. He held the pose while the rest of the company landed silently behind him, keeping their formation.

Only when they had all landed and all bowed their heads did Drake speak. “We thank you for your time, Leader of the
Pyr
.” Drake's voice had always been deep, his words formal. He was a
Pyr
of few words, always had been, but on this night, he had need of eloquence. “We appreciate the gift of your counsel.”

Erik nodded slightly, his eyes glittering. Drake sensed Erik's power and was reassured that this leader was not so different from those he had served in the past. “And I thank you for this courtesy of consultation.”

“Will you sit with me and tell me of your concern?” Erik gestured to the circle of stones and Drake surveyed the unfamiliar site. He immediately liked the resonance of the stones and felt relief. This place murmured of timelessness.

Like Delphi.

Perhaps Erik already knew of his request.

Erik shifted shape first, taking his human form in a shimmer of blue. Drake summoned his own change, and saw that same blue light dance over his hide. His men took their cue from that, a blue glimmer slipping over the entire company of Dragon's Teeth Warriors. It was evidence that they were all of the same kind, regardless of the differences between them.

Drake saw it as a portent of agreement.

In the blink of an eye, nineteen men stood behind Drake, each one olive-skinned, dark haired and dark eyed. Erik chose a stone and leaned his hips against it, then Drake faced his leader. He did not lean, but remained at attention.

Erik met Drake's steady gaze. “You are a corps of fighting men, drawn unwillingly from your own age into our own,” he said with care. “I sense that this is not a coincidence. I sense that we have need of your skill in these days, and I would know what you need in order to pledge your men to our battle.”

“You have the power of an oracle,” Drake said and bowed. He appreciated that Erik was giving him a way to begin.

“And I believe that the Great Wyvern sends us the tools we need to triumph over adversity. The
Pyr
face a challenge in these times, and I have dreamed that you hold the key.” Erik's eyes were no less bright in human form. “What would you ask of me?”

Drake chose his words with care. He did not want to appear unappreciative or indifferent, but he knew what he knew. “I am not certain that we can currently be of use to the
Pyr
in their quest,” he said quietly. “I am concerned at the change in my men.”

Erik waited in silence, but Drake knew he had the
Pyr
's attention.

“At your suggestion, we have traveled,” he continued. “We have learned of the customs of this time. I had hoped that this would aid my men in accepting their fate, but it has not been so.”

“What do you mean?”

Drake felt his lips tighten. “I know that you have need of every talon in this battle, but I fear that pledging my men to your quest will only lead to their slaughter. Already we are much diminished from our original count. Casualties are too high when we engage without our hearts. A warrior must want to win, must believe in the merit of his cause to fight his best.”

“And your men do not?”

Drake shrugged. “How can they? All has been stolen from them. They are consumed with dreams of returning home.”

“What do you propose?”

“To take them home.” Drake straightened. “To confront them with the truth, however harsh it might be. They are practical men and I believe that seeing this reality is imperative.”

“Why have you not done this already?” Erik asked.

“It might break them,” Drake acknowledged. “Or it might renew their purpose. The risks are not small, but I fear we must confront the past to have any future.”

Erik pursed his lips, unable or unwilling to hide his disappointment. He glanced over the waiting company and Drake appreciated that the leader of the
Pyr
gave consideration to his concerns. He fixed Drake with a compelling glance. “Tell me of your history for I know little of it.”

Drake nodded, relieved that Erik wanted more information before he decided. That was the mark of a good leader. “In our time, we were an elite corps, gathered from throughout the known world, a force created to fight a particular kind of vermin.”

“Vermin? What kind of vermin?”

“Our own kind, turned to darkness, to greed and slaughter.” Drake found understanding in Erik's gaze. “These vermin used their abilities to enslave men, and they did so by casting a potent spell. I suppose it to be a precursor to what you call beguiling. They survived upon the power of having others beholden to them, not upon food or other sustenance, although many offerings were made to them by their devout followers. And truly, they had no care for any riches other than this influence. In time, they lost the ability to shift shape and remained in dragon form, for in that form, they could best enchant men. We called them vipers, for they were more toxic than any other creature.”

“How so?”

“In lands where they held sway, there was always pestilence and famine and war, for these vipers were said to be in the service of Ares.”

“God of war,” Erik mused.

“And one much inclined to violence and strife. Men, however, had no ability to destroy the viper who caused their misery.”

“Why not?”

“Any warrior, no matter how valiant, was charmed before coming close enough to strike. Each enchanted man became trapped in the form of a tooth, each added another tooth to the viper's maw. Such vipers secreted themselves deep in the earth, matched the rhythms of their bodies to that of the elements, and lived long. Their spell was emanated from such depths that it became part of the rhythm of the land and the flow of the wind. It whispered in men's dreams, turning their thoughts, and ultimately it pulsed in their veins. These spells were insidious and potent.”

“But you hunted them?”

Drake bowed. “We were the best weapon against them.”

“Why?”

“There was once a warrior of our own kind known as Cadmus, one who led an army of men to retrieve his sister from Zeus. He was the first to find a viper. His men were dispatched to gather water at the Castalian Spring. The viper resided there and suffered none to take of the water he called his own. He killed the men of Cadmus, rather than enchanting them. Infuriated to lose so much of his company, Cadmus killed the viper himself in retaliation.” Drake met Erik's gaze. “Because he was
Pyr
, he had more resistance to the spell. We have a power to close our minds to the enchantment, although always there is danger that we will lose our focus and be lost.”

Erik nodded in understanding.

“Athena was enamored of Cadmus' mission and so she gave him magical counsel. She bade him cut the viper's teeth loose and gather them. Later, when he had need of more troops, she bade him sow those teeth in the soil. An army of fighting men sprang from the furrows, primed for battle. He threw a stone into their midst to distract them from himself and they fell upon each other in violence. He managed to intervene, but only five survived to make a truce. They became the founding men of Thebes, later known as Spartans or ‘sown men.'”

“A useful army,” Erik commented.

Drake drummed his fingers on the stone. “There were others, of course, teeth gained in similar manner by Jason, who slayed a viper with the aid of Medea's spell. That company, though, destroyed themselves without remorse. Not a one survived.”

“So those who awaken from the spell are volatile.”

“And why not? They have lived in the hearing of a malicious song for a long time, trapped so that they cannot escape its poison yet fired by its call to do damage. I understand their rage well, for I have felt it. To be freed from the spell gives one a tremendous desire for vengeance and violence.”

Erik nodded again. “Yours was turned against Magnus and his hidden Academy,” he said, evidently recalling the night the spell had been broken.

“It is a fleeting strength,” Drake noted. “For it is soon replaced by despondency.”

“How so?”

“Because life and love have become as dust while one slept.”

Erik flicked a glance over the company of men, his gaze assessing and sympathetic.

Drake cleared his throat to continue. “Cadmus, though, was no mere soldier. He began to hunt vipers, for material reward. He also kept the teeth for himself. And in order to do so more effectively, he gathered a force of
Pyr
like himself.”

“Because you could approach the vipers.”

Drake nodded. “It worked most well, and many vipers were destroyed in the world due to our efforts.”

“But?”

Drake's brow lifted an increment. “But ultimately, one viper snared us within his spell.”

“How?”

“Cadmus turned. He became what he had destroyed. He was plagued by bad luck throughout his life and came to believe it was a punishment for the death of the first viper, for slaughtering one of his own kind. He believed the vengeance of Ares to be upon him. I believe that he remained too long in dragon form, that he studied the power to enchant, perhaps initially out of curiosity, but that ultimately the power seduced him utterly.”

“I will assume that you hunted him,” Erik said quietly.

“You would guess correctly.” Drake eyed the leader of the
Pyr
, wondering how much more he had guessed. “But you might also guess that he, of all foes, knew how best to enchant even
Pyr
. He took his spell beyond the range of human hearing, he slid it into old-speak, and so it was that he snared us all.”

“But someone cut you free?”

“Not precisely.” Drake shook his head. “Cadmus aged and grew more feeble. He had had his firestorm and could not slow the aging process as much as might have been possible otherwise. Over time, all that remained was his ability to enchant. He lost his teeth. He lost his talons. His scales softened and grew pale, and he dragged himself deeper into the earth. He remained a viper but a toothless one, more of a worm.”