Choice (Majaos Book 3) Page 10

  He wasn’t afraid to face his own death. It was in battle, which was something at least. His regrets were in the form of those he was letting down.

  I'm sorry, Callie, I thought silently. I should never have let you come with me. I was meant to do this

  alone. Then there was the young Catalyst, Eilidh. She would have need of strong warriors in the days ahead and he would have liked to have been one of them. She was a bright one, that girl. She would figure out what to do about Niltsiar, he was sure. He just hoped she would have the right people around her willing and able to do what must be done.

  The Fire Rage burned fiercer than ever inside the obsidian dragon, additionally fuelled after being abandoned by Air, quick as she was to save her own skin. It had felt like a physical blow, seeing Air shoot off at such an impossible speed. How could she? He hadn't pegged her for a coward, but he'd obviously misread her. It wasn't as if she could use some excuse about protecting the Penta Drauka magic. If that body died, another dragon - silver, blue or sapphire - would take her place as the new Elder Dragon of Air. If somehow he did live through this, he swore he'd have his revenge on her. She wouldn't fly her way out of that one!

  Oh well, he thought, resignedly. If I'm going to take a chance, now's as good a time as any.

  With a well-timed flick of his tail, he increased his battle speed to create some space, then he performed a complex roll and twist so he was heading straight for the chaos creatures. He waited until the last possible second and blasted them with all the acid he could muster. That seemed to have an effect. For the first time there was a reaction that might have been pain. Shame he couldn't just take another breath and hit them again.

  Down he plummeted, deeper and down, but the monsters were coming. They had been caught unawares, but they were gaining. Loric found that it was no longer the Fire Rage but his lungs that burned, desperate for air...or was that `Air`? Maybe he was hallucinating from lack of oxygen, but swimming up to meet him was a familiar silver-blue-sapphire dragon, heading a large wing of dragons, mostly bronze, a few emerald and one who seemed to be a blend of both, with an iridescent green tail. It was the Elder Dragon of Water.

  The sight made him gasp, involuntarily. His mistake was immediately and painfully obvious, as the sea rushed in to fill his respiratory system.

  His world faded to black as he sank like a stone, unmoving and lifeless.

  Chapter 8

  True to her word, Jayne had details of the locations of the four elemental Elder Dragons' homes, which Rochelle was about to mark on the map, but Eilidh stopped her. “Let's not jump to conclusions. At this point we're only speculating on the link between the Elder Dragons and the Life Eddies. I'd prefer to have some move positive proof.” Turning to Jayne, she asked, “Did you visit any of these locations yourself?”

  “Two of ‘em, Miss Eilidh: Fire and Earth.” “Excellent,” Eilidh said, This means we can confirm the presence of a Life Eddy at three out of four of the Elemental Elder Dragon homes. From that, we can extrapolate the fourth and safely conclude that Toli’s theory about a connection is accurate.”

  Jayne looked around, nervously, before tentatively voicing an objection. “Er, ’ang on Miss Eilidh, these Life Eddies they all look like the one I found near the temple fing?”

  “Pretty much, yes, why?”

  “'Cos, Miss, finking about it, I only remember seeing one at the Stone Table, not the Scorched Desert.” Eilidh and Rochelle looked at each other - they had both been so sure, but neither found any inspiration in the other. They had only confirmed two out of four. Could still be coincidence. They needed a third to be certain. It was worse that it was the Fire node that was missing. The desert was so clear and bright, one could see for miles around. A Life Eddy would be virtually impossible to miss. They weren't exactly inconspicuous. It was just unlikely that any one person had seen more than one or two and no-one had had any reason to connect them before.

  “I'm open to suggestions,” Eilidh said.

  The mages amongst them were all of the opinion that the theory seemed sound. It just made too much sense; it was almost inconceivable that it could be wrong. As it turned out, the best help came from the Knights, who seemed to have put aside their differences to an impressive degree, collaborating freely. Eilidh supposed their military training was the key - they had received orders from the highest level to co-operate and they were sworn to obey.

  Sir Quentin, black skullcrested armour glowing in the lamplight, spoke up, “Mayhap if thou couldst affirm the presence of one of these nodes in the aquatic realm, thou wouldst be less concerned about the lack of same in the desert?”

  “Well, I'd still be concerned about the missing one, but only as an academic point. Jayne never went there, though, so we don't know about the aquatic one.”

  “If Jayne didst not travel there, we must needs find someone else who didst,” Hannah stated, incontrovertibly.

  “Katakaran!” Toli blurted out, suddenly. “Pardon?” Tanya wondered.

  “Of course, go ahead and explain, Toli,” Eilidh encouraged her friend. “Well, Mystaya wasn’t the only princess we met in Marina Fells. We met a bronze dragon called Taka – also known as Princess Katakaran, who we know has made diplomatic visits to the kingdom of Shakaran. Oooh, that rhymes: Katakaran in Shakaran!”

  “Oh, I see where you’re going,” Rochelle caught on. “If Shakaran has links with the aquatic kingdoms, it’s logical to assume the visits were reciprocated.”

  “Aye,” Granite concurred. “In which case somebody in this palace has probably seen the Life Eddy, if it’s there!” “You're all friends with the Prince,” Lady Tanya concluded, “so why not take advantage of that? He might even have gone there and seen the Life Eddy himself. If not, as you say, Granite, he must have sent envoys who, not realising the significance, may not even have reported it. But I bet they won't have forgotten!”

  “Who says there's never a Knight in shining armour around when you need one?” Bernice quipped.

  Tanya grinned and winked at her sumorityl friend.

  Those two were getting along famously, Eilidh noted.“That's a really great idea, all of you,” she commended her friends.

  After Toli had whispered something in Eilidh's ear, the Catalyst asked Bunny to go and ask the prince.

  Bunny dashed out of the room to comply, but before closing it behind her she popped her head around the door to ask, “Why me?” Toli then shared what she had suggested to Eilidh. “Because if he's busy and his guards tell us to go away, the rest of us would respect that and obey. But you won't care if he's holding an important war council or taking a bath. You'll slip past his guards, tap him on the shoulder and after he comes down from the ceiling, you'll get him to give you the information as a matter of top priority.”

  Tanya agreed, “It's what you do.”

  Bunny grinned, “Nice to be appreciated. If the prince really does co-operate, I guess I shouldn't keep quite so much of the stuff I've acquired since coming here.”

  Granite growled, “Ye have ne been stealin' from the palace, have ye?”

  Bunny was indignant. “Stealing? Me? The very idea!”

  Granite harrumphed. “Honest! But the prince really shouldn't leave so much valuable stuff lying around - why, anybody could come along and take it. But don't worry, when I see him, I'll give it back...well, not all of it, obviously. It's only fair I take my fee.”

  With that she disappeared but a moment later she was back.

  “Sorry, I just wondered, what if he's holding an important war council whilehe's having a bath?”

  “Then use yer initiative, lass, and hand him a towel!” Granite answered.

  Bunny cocked her headto one side, considering. “That's a good one,” she conceded. “For you!” she added, sticking her tongue out.

  Granite leaped at her, but she'd already shut the door and run halfway down the corridor.

  Toli looked at her Catalyst friend, worriedly. “You're not going to get angry and storm out a
gain, are you?” Eilidh ruffled the hobbit's hair. “No, I'm not, don't worry. The heavy -handed serious leader just isn't me. Humour helps people to cope and we've made all the progress we have thanks to everyone contributing in their own way. I'd lost sight of that for a while, but I've been getting some good advice lately. I'll just be glad when our entire company is back together.”

  “You miss him, don't you?”

  Eilidh didn't need to ask who.

  “Yes, Toli. I miss him.”

  * * * * *

  “Yes, I miss her,” Phaer admitted. He had been out cold for several hours this time, following his collapse after communicating with the basilisk. His skin had started to bubble and crack in places, and his headache was back with a vengeance. It was strange: when he was concentrating on something, especially if it was something extraordinary, the pain diminished and sometimes it even vanished altogether. Then once the task was completed, the pain rushed back and his brain shut down to protect itself. Thus his life was filled with a mix of frenzied activity and unconsciousness, interspersed with periods of intense, immobilising pain. Worryingly, his periods of unconsciousness seemed to be steadily lengthening. He tried hard not to mentally extrapolate that trend to its logical conclusion.

  The ranger forced himself out of bed, thankful that the Knight presently assigned to be his personal guard made no attempt to keep him in bed. Apparently it had not gone unnoticed that he felt better if he was doing something. Archery was one such pastime, but looking at the contents of his quiver, he determined he really needed to fashion some more arrows. He still had about a score of the mithril-tipped arrows given to him by Taka in the Marina Fells mine, but those were far too valuable to waste on simple target practice. They had saved his life before and they might well do so again in the future. Mind, his targeting skills had taken a sharp upturn recently, almost as if some of his unseen voices belonged to archery masters who were coaching him, encouraging him to hone his skills. As a result, the damage he could do with regular arrows would most likely be more than adequate to deal with almost any threat he might face.

  Unfortunately, making arrows was not the sort of challenge he needed right now. He needed to be physically active.

  OK, he thought, I'll see if there's anyone in my head who fancies offering some hand-to-hand

  tips. It was amazing what a person could get used to, given time, Phaer considered. Hearing voices should have terrified him, and at first they had. Now he'd almost come to accept them and was prepared to take advantage of them. He could well imagine what people would think if he said that out loud, though, so he kept it to himself.

  Shaking his head to clear it of such thoughts - an act that felt as if his brain were bouncing against the walls of his skull - he approached his bodyguard and asked him to be a training partner. The Knight warrior was young and keen, and only too pleased to accept the challenge of a friendly duel. He in full silver steel armour, broadsword and shield versus the half-elf ranger, lightly armoured in leather and favouring a pair of short swords.

  The Knight offered a salute, which Phaer acknowledged with a nod, and then the pair began to circle, feinting, looking for an opening. Phaer struck first, the Knight blocking with his shield and quickly thrusting with his sword. Phaer jumped back and deflected the blow aside. As they circled once more, Phaer felt his head clearing, allowing him to focus keenly on the contest before him.

  They exchanged and blocked each other's blows for a while, then on sudden inspiration, Phaer feinted to his left and the Knight responded accordingly to parry the strike that never came, as Phaer executed an anti-clockwise spin to bring the flats of his short swords to bear on the Knight's left gauntlet. He connected with a load clang and the force was enough to make the Knight drop his shield on reflex. Phaer used the momentum to spin clockwise, further out to the Knight's left, well away from the anticipated counter-strike. The tip of the broadsword cleaved thin air a good couple of feet away from Phaer's body, in the ideal place for the ranger's continued attack. Crossing his short swords, he forced the Knight's broadsword down, and no matter how the Knight warrior tried, each of the next few blows were parried lower and lower until, in one explosion of movement, Phaer forced his opponent's broadsword down so hard, the Knight staggered forward a step, straight into the path of Phaer's crossed swords, as they shot upwards to trap his neck neatly between them.

  The Knight, of course, dropped his sword and said, “I yield.”

  Phaer stepped back to allowhis guard to retrieve his own weapons. “Shall we go again?” He asked in invitation.

  “Oh, I insist on it,” the Knight replied. “Only fair that I should have a chance to reclaim my honour,” he added, good-naturedly. Seven times they fought and seven times Phaer won. It was like he always knew what to do. For every strike, he felt like he had plenty of time. Other challengers offered themselves, but none managed to beat him. These were not children or novices. They were trained warriors - more than that, they were Knights. Gold armour, silver or black made no difference so far as Phaer could see; there was no finer training anywhere in Mythallen. The ranger, on the other hand, was entirely self-taught. He would concede that his elven side might give him an edge in agility and eyesight, but that couldn't account for his newfound prowess. Had it been an archery competition, he could perhaps have dismissed such overwhelming success. But he hated close-quarters combat. Drawing his swords had always been a last resort, used to get himself out of a tight spot and into the open where he could revert to long range weapons. But here, today, it was like he couldn't lose, though he knew that was a dangerous idea and firmly dismissed it. A warrior who thought himself invincible was usually an easy target. In a real battle, a warrior had to win every fight to stay alive to die he needed to lose only once. Still, a dozen-or-so duels later, he decided he couldn't keep this up all day and he chose to let his guard reclaim some small measure of dignity.

  Phaer made his feint a little too obvious, the Knight saw it coming and suddenly the half-elf found himself with a broadsword pointing at his chest.

  “I yield,” he said, dropping his weapons. “Well done, sir.”

  The Knight sheathed his own weapon but refused Phaer's offer of a handshake. Face like thunder, he demanded, “Why did you do that?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Don't insult me any further with lies! You know damned well you let me win! Do you think I'm a fool?”

  “I-” Phaer began, but the guard cut him off. “You're a skilled swordsman, it was an honour to fight you and there is no dishonour in losing to a superior opponent. I was really enjoying this afternoon, and then you pull a stunt like that! I don't need you to worry about bruising my ego. I don't need your charity!”

  Phaer flushed deeply; genuinely contrite at his actions. “I'm sorry. You're absolutely right. I don't know what I was thinking. I certainly didn't intend to insult your honour.” He offered his hand again. “Please,” he prompted.

  The Knight took a moment to study the ranger's face, reading his intentions, and then accepted both his hand and his apology.

  “The thing is,” the half-elf began.

  The Knight gestured to invite Phaer to walk with him around the camp

  “The thing is,” he repeated, matching his guard's stride, “I'm not a skilled swordsman. At least, I wasn't until today,” he confided.

  “What do you mean?”

  Phaer did his best to explain without mentioning anything about hearing voices. The Knight seemed t o take it in his stride, however, with barely a shrug. “There are strange forces at work in the world today,” he offered. “Perhaps this is just some kind of side effect. It may even be a one-off thing...in which case,” he added with a wry smile, “I should challenge you to a rematch tomorrow. Maybe I'll have more success.”

  “Believe me,” Phaer assured him, “I would only be too pleased to lose to you -fairly, that is.” The Knight grinned and patted him on the back. The entire company of the Knights of Balance - barring a
few scouts that were out and about - was arrayed before them at the edge of the forest. From here on out, the foliage gradually thinned until practically nothing grew at all. The barren desert that was their destination lay ahead, the shifting sands stretching all the way to the horizon. The Knights had been busy while Phaer was unconscious. Trees had been felled and stripped and cut to size. Natural vines had been acquired to work in concert with the Knights' supply of rope, to lash the wood together. Various resins were collected with which to strengthen the wood and prevent splinters. Phaer was impressed with their knowledge of the natural world and its application. Ordinarily, he would have been distressed at such a wide scale clearing of a forest, but it was all in a good cause. There was plenty of work left to do, but already the general shape was clearly that of an oversize bier or litter. Something that might be used to carry an injured dragon to a safe place in which she might be healed.

  “Just a few days now,” said Phaer's guard, “and we'll be ready. As soon as your friend comes back with the Lady Consort, we'll go get your silver scaled friend.”

  “If we can get past the dragon predator that my people created.” “We'll find a way,” he insisted with typical Knightly confidence. “Don't forget, we don't need to try to kill the thing, just to keep it at bay long enough for the bier carriers to get Callie into the Corridor. Then we can beat a hasty retreat. Hey, I've just had a thought - itcan't follow us into the Corridor network, can it?”