Key of Living Fire (The Sword of the Dragon) (13 page)

“Why must you go alone?” Ombre glanced at the stars. “If this key is so important, shouldn’t we marshal an army and invite the Megatraths to come along?” He pumped his arm and smiled. “I can picture it now! The dragon’s agent is waiting for you on the other side of that portal. It opens with a whoosh, and, expecting to see you, he steps forward. Instead the five thousand Elite march into the Hidden Realm. The light of their armor reveals every shadow and, behind them thunder the Megatraths. Immediately the wizard’s minion screams. She runs, but trips and falls just as you catch her and hand her off to your warriors. Mission accomplished, you lead your army back through the portal, waving to the agent of the dragon, and all in time for dinner with Vectra!”

“And”—Ilfedo shook his head—“because I never obtained the Key of Living Fire, a wizard hunts me down. Having stolen the power from the Hold, the sword is now useless to me, and he slays me in cold blood.” He let the scenario rest in the air for several minutes before drawing his sword. The Living Fire leaped from the blade, engulfing him, and he held it forth. “Now is not the time to make light of these things, my friend. Now is the time to steel myself for the struggle I will surely face—and I will face it alone.”

“Oganna will not be pleased with that,” Ombre said.

“Yet she will obey.” Ilfedo sped his pace, catching up to Caritha and walking beside her. “In my absence I would like you to include her in the business of being a Warrioress. She has proved to be more than your equal, and I will no longer hold her back.”

Caritha dipped a slow nod. “Then she will accompany me wherever I go. You have my word, my brother.”

Ombre caught up and kept pace on Caritha’s opposite arm. He smiled down at her, and she nodded back at him before setting her face forward. He frowned and Ilfedo caught his eye. “Give it time,” Ilfedo mouthed.

“I have” Ombre lipped back. And his countenance hardened as he, too, locked his gaze on the path ahead.

6

HOME AND GONE AGAIN

B
eneath the moon-washed expanse of the night sky, Ilfedo’s house took on a dreamlike quality. He hung back when Ombre and Caritha opened the front door, choosing to remain in the open lawn. Except for the night that the specter of Death had appeared on his doorstep, this place brought good, tender memories. Even Dantress’s death bore an element of joy for the child she’d delivered.

Laughter floated through the open doorway, and warm lamplight played on the patio stones. Ombre and Caritha exchanged hugs with the remaining sisters and with Oganna, their forms muted by the flashing firelight.

“Father!” Her form, so like her mother’s, stepped into the door frame and onto the patio. She held her skirt above the wet evening grass as she walked across the yard, and they wrapped each other in their arms, her head nestled against his chest.

He kissed her hair. The troubled kingdom he ruled and the cares of Subterran . . . faded into the night’s whispering breezes. Seivar and Hasselpatch screeched, shooting out the open door. Their white wings flew them behind his back. Flapping their wings, the birds gripped his shoulders in their silvery talons. There they perched, cooing and rubbing his cheeks with their soft, fluffy heads. It was good to be back.

Smiling up at him with her gold-blue eyes, Oganna pulled him gently toward the house. Ah, she had grown up. How long had it been since she giggled in her crib?

“Ooh yum! Now that’s an apple tart to smack my lips to,” Ombre’s voice said from the kitchen. He slapped something and Evela laughed.

Ilfedo stepped through the doorway and closed the door behind him. He slipped his cloak off his back, then handed it to Oganna. She ran to the pegs on the far side of the main room whilst he took in the warmth of home. This place had turned out exactly as he’d planned it those many years ago. And now, even with
her
gone, the Creator had seen fit to fill Ilfedo’s home with the laughter of true friends and a special offspring.

The dragon ring bit his finger with a burning sensation. He stared at the ring, and the dragon thereon growled up at him.

“Father, what is that?” Oganna stepped close with her brow furrowed.

Ombre frowned and crossed his arms, eyeing the strange jewelry.

But Caritha and her sisters sighed in unison. “It is a gift from the prophets, Oganna. It is a ring given to someone who must undertake a task within a certain time frame.”

Ilfedo glanced at the woman and held forth his hand. “You have seen this before?”

“Yes, though never have I seen it used.” Caritha stroked the white-gold dragon with her finger, and it stretched contentedly. “It is said a dragon ring will constrict itself around the bearer’s finger until that bearer nears his journey’s destination. It cannot be removed by force, and it will only relax its hold as its bearer fulfills his task.”

Oganna frowned. “Father, what task?”

Resting his hand on her shoulder, he sighed. “Dinner before questions, if you will, my daughter.”

Late that night, after a satisfying supper, Ilfedo opened his root cellar and brought out a mug of apple cider. Everyone sat around the fireplace, exchanging memories and laughing at Rose’el and Ombre’s occasional jests. Caritha situated herself next to Ombre and rose often to bring him cheese, cakes, and cider. Never had Ilfedo seen her more radiant. Ombre’s arm slipped around her shoulders, and she turned to flash a smile at him.

Ilfedo took his daughter’s soft hand and kissed it. Smiling into her blue-gold eyes, he felt the days to come rise within them, as if the future were a sunrise reflected in her soul.

Seivar waddled between Evela and Levena. He hopped onto the hearth and stretched out his wing. His beak combed each long white feather with great care. Soon Hasselpatch joined him. The birds snuggled and closed their eyes. But Seivar blinked at Ilfedo. “It is good to have you home again, master.”

Ilfedo nodded at the faithful creature, smiling.

Slithering out of the kitchen, Oganna’s viper companion hissed out apologies as it slid across several sisters’ feet. It stretched around the birds and closed its eyes. But Seivar raised his head and aimed his silver beak at the creature. For a moment the viper seemed not to notice, then, inch by inch, it slithered off to its own spot, closer to the fire, and coiled there. Its forked tongue slicked in and out as it fell asleep, and Seivar relaxed, closing his silvery eyes. “Despicable winged creaturesss,” the viper hissed.

Oganna stifled a yawn and stood, placing a hand lightly on his shoulder. “So, Father, have you nothing to say of your trip?”

He set down his mug. “My trip?”

“Yes.” She smiled, picked up his mug, and brought it to the kitchen. As she picked up a jug and poured cider into his mug, she held his gaze with curious eyes. “You know . . .
where
did you go,
who
did you see,
what
did you do?”

He blinked his heavy eyelids. “Ah, that.” As she held up her skirt, stepped over Rose’el’s legs, and handed him the mug, he rested his head against the fireplace. Ombre and the sisters hushed their conversations and looked at him. “I suppose now is a good time to tell you, though I had hoped we’d hold off the serious conversation for tomorrow. I need rest.”

“Then rest he will, ladies.” Ombre stood, and before Ilfedo could so much as blink, his friend grunted and picked him up.

“Ombre! Set me down immediately.”

“No, my friend. You are right. Rest you need and rest you deserve.” Ombre flashed a smile at the women. “Ladies, if you don’t mind lending my tired arms some assistance, we shall carry our lord and master to his chamber and lay him down to sleep.”

Rose’el laughed and rose, wrapping her arms under Ilfedo’s armpits and around his chest while Ombre held his legs. “Do not struggle, brother. You are outnumbered in this battle,” the sister said.

The remaining sisters, as well as Oganna, followed with gentle smiles as his friend and sister lugged him up the stairs and dropped him, without ceremony, on the bed. Caritha bowed and wished him a good night’s rest. Ombre turned to follow her down the stairwell, but Ilfedo sprang from the bed and grabbed him from behind. In one swift move he lifted his friend off the floor and flipped him upside down, dangling him by his ankles and chuckling.

Ombre laughed and crossed his arms. Evela, Laura, and Levena patted his cheeks. “Good night!” They proceeded down the stairs, and Rose’el skirted the wall, making as if to go behind. Dropping his friend, Ilfedo jumped toward the tallest sister. She let out a bloodcurdling yell and burst down the stairs, pushing her sisters to the side. Rubbing his head, Ombre stood and backed toward the stairwell, holding up his hand. “You win! You win.” And he, too, left the room.

Oganna’s sweet laughter filled the room as he sat on the bed. They embraced, and he held her head to his chest, stroking her hair. Downstairs he could hear someone roasting corn kernels over the fire. As the kernels popped, Caritha and Ombre chatted about an early morning beach walk they had shared on their recent trip.

Oganna pulled away, stood, and kissed his cheek. “Sleep well, Father. I will see you in the morning.” She rose and blew out the lamp at his bedside.

As darkness flooded in, the fluttering of Nuvitors’ wings sounded in the stairwell. Seivar and Hasselpatch landed under each of his arms, and he closed his eyes.

“I love you,” Oganna said as she tiptoed toward the stairs.

He exhaled and whispered back, “And I love you. Sleep well. I will speak with everyone in the morning.”

“And I’ll make you breakfast.”

“Ah.” He smiled in the dark. “That, I would like very much.” He raised himself on his elbows and opened his eyes. The Nuvitors stirred. “Do we have any smoked pork?”

Oganna laughed softly. “Aunt Laura saw to it last time she went to market. Now please go to sleep, Father. You really do need to rest.” And her bare feet padded down the stairs.

Ilfedo settled his head back on his pillow.
Rest. Yes, rest before my next journey begins.

In his dreams that night, the shepherd and the albino dragon circled him. Flames and smoke roiled around him . . . and the sword of the dragon blazed in his hands. His armor of Living Fire radiated pure white light that drove back the smoke and pushed away the shepherd and the mighty dragon. Beneath his feet was desert sand, while before him rose a mountain of stone.

From the mountain’s peak a woman fell. She rolled down the mountain’s face and landed at his feet. He knelt and raised her chin. Her face was young and beautiful, her hair and eyes dark. But cuts and bruises marred her skin. She pulled back her arm and smote him in the stomach. He fell over her, and she rose with a laugh, running her fingers along his blade as it slipped from his grip. The Living Fire hissed as if quenched, steam rose from the blade, and she walked off into a wall of flames.

In the morning Ilfedo dispelled the dream from his mind. Only God knew the future. The dream? Well, it was only that—a dream.

The dragon ring bit his finger as he dressed. He glanced at his hand, then stared at his now-purple finger. The ring had tightened around him while he slept and now cut off all circulation. The little dragon flicked its tail and bit him. He grimaced.

The hammock swung gently as it cradled Oganna in front of the morning fire. She watched the tongues of fire as they licked at the seasoned oak logs and spread soft light throughout the room. Below her, curled on the hearth, the viper slicked out its tongue and rolled its eyes as its skin absorbed the warmth.

The Nuvitors flew over her and landed on the mantle above the fireplace, their white feathers flapping brightly. “The table is set,” the female bird announced. She spread out her left wing and began to preen its feathers.