Dragonstone (Eligium Series Book 3) Page 9

  Krystelle started forward, raising her sword. “Damn you!”

  He raised a hand, stopping her in her tracks. “I should kill you both myself, but my master was clear that I should let our apprentice deal with the two of you.” The dark wizard whirled away from them and disappeared into the blackness as another figure emerged from the shadows.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Krystelle and Sebastian stood, transfixed as the dim figure came in to view. Krystelle gasped, “Cenric!” Gone was the ill-fitting tunic and perpetual smile. The boy they knew had been transformed. His cheeks were gaunt and his eyes haunted, he was garbed in a tight-fitting tunic of black. Round his neck lay an iron chain and, hanging from it, the blood-red Eligius Muliach. With him came a handful of swordsmen also in black, a stylized representation of the Dragonstone embroidered on their doublets.

  “Cenric!” Sebastian started toward him. Lifting his hand, the fledgling sorcerer uttered a word of power, sending a bolt of energy at his erstwhile friend. Unprepared for the attack, Sebastian staggered back at the impact. Dropping to a knee to recover his breath, he turned to Krystelle. “Can you keep those swordsmen off my back?” She nodded grimly, flexing her sword hand. Rising, he faced off against Cenric. The boy released another burst of light towards him. Prepared this time, Sebastian threw up one hand instinctively to deflect the attack. “Cenric, we don’t have to do this!”

  “Ahhh, but we do,” Cenric’s voice, once grating in its enthusiasm, now grated with an unholy resonance. The young wizard circled to his left, contemplating his next attack. Narrowing his eyes, he uttered another power word. Sebastian braced himself, prepared to defend against another bolt. When none materialized he relaxed for an instant before he realized that tendrils of the sand beneath his feet were crawling up his legs, pulling him down. Within a few moments, he found himself halfway engulfed in sand and beginning to panic. Cenric laughed, and the sound chilled Sebastian to the bone. “As you can see, my master has taught me much. You are not so much of a threat as he thought.”

  With sand to his armpits, Sebastian forced himself to relax and think. The one thing he knew about elven magic was that it worked in harmony with nature, in contrast to human spells. Looking down at the sand that now encased most of his body he willed it to become sand again. In his mind he saw it fall away. And then it did. He breathed a deep sigh of relief. “You’ll not find me such easy prey! Cenric, please…stop this. Come away with us. We can help you.”

  “And what makes you think I want or need your help? You all treated me as a weakling. Poor little Cenric. I know that’s what you thought. And then you abandoned me. Sterling Lex has shown me the way to true power. Not for me the years huddled at the feet of old men protecting their secrets, waiting for whatever scraps they deign to toss my way. Now prepare to meet your fate!” Uttering a longer spell this time, Cenric formed a ball of fire between his hands and sent it hurtling through the air.

  Fire and ice. The words echoed in Sebastian’s head. Even as they did, a shield of ice materialized before him. The fireball struck the wall of ice, melting it and extinguishing itself. A spray of water washed over Sebastian. “Perhaps you should call your pet dragon!”

  “Oh, fear not, he’ll come if he’s needed.” Cenric raised his arms to the sky and uttered yet another word of power. Sebastian peered upward, but saw nothing. He felt his skin tingling and his hair raising up on his head and arms. A trio of lightening bolts exploded around him in a concussion of light and sound.

  Sebastian found himself face-down in the sand, ears ringing. He blinked twice to clear the pink after-image obscuring his vision, only to find Cenric standing over him. Through the ringing he could hear the young sorcerer chanting, preparing to cast one final spell. Somehow, he knew he couldn’t let the boy cast that spell. Rolling onto his back, he pressed outward on air that solidified with his thought, sending Cenric sprawling and disrupting his spell casting. He hauled himself to his feet and lurched toward the sorcerer. “It is time to end this, Cenric!”

  The boy looked up at him, eyes blazing. “Yes, it is.” Gripping the Dragonstone, he closed his eyes as the stone glowed a bright red. Two words ripped from his mouth, “Cadeyrn Seaghda!” Sebastian could feel the power of those words as the world shook with their passing. He braced himself for this new assault, yet nothing happened.

  Then he heard it…Floomp Floomp Floomp…something was coming. He peered into the sky, his heart sinking. Distantly he could just make out the shape of a dragon against the starlit backdrop. Turning back to Cenric, he saw the Dragonstone flaring with an inner fire. The stone, he realized, was allowing Cenric to control the dragon. Deep inside he knew that even the wild elven magic inside him could not stand against the wyrmm. He had to gain control of the stone, or at least break Cenric’s hold on the dragon.

  Closing his eyes, Sebastian focused his thought and his will on containing Cenric and breaking his hold on the dragon. He pressed his will around the boy and, as it closed in, he could feel the corruption Sterling Lex had planted in the boy. It was like reaching his hands into the slime of the pigsty back on his uncle’s farm. It was like an oily film that tried to infiltrate his mind, seeping in through any crack. Nausea rose in his belly at the feeling. Forcing it down, he could feel Cenric resisting his attack. He also knew the dragon was approaching, and he needed to end this.

  Redoubling his effort, Sebastian pressed in on Cenric’s mind. He could feel the Eligius Muliach as a throbbing kernel of energy. In his mind’s eye he saw the stone as a nexus of energies, red and orange, intersecting with a silver flame streaked with black oil. Three pulsating gray cables connected the stone to the sliver flame. He attacked the first cable, prying it from the Eligius. It snapped loose, its frayed end whipped about and retreated to the flame. He heard a howl of pain and sensed that the dragon was circling away. Two more to go.

  Power poured into the second cable, strengthening it. Spikes grew from the end and lodged themselves in the stone’s nexus. Sebastian reached out with a golden ray of light and drove it beneath the spikes, prying them away. First one, then the next. The cable darkened to ashen black as Cenric struggled to maintain the connection. It broke free, and the cable fizzled away to nothing.

  Sebastian turned his attention to the last cable. With the loss of the previous two, Cenric was pouring all his energy into this final connection. It was as thick around as the thigh of a strong man and had grown pitch black. The silver flame paled as life force flowed out to maintain the hold on the Eligius. Sebastian struck hard and heard the last cable break free with a snap. Cenric collapsed to the sand.

  Rushing over to the boy, Sebastian took the iron chain from Cenric’s neck and draped it around his own. Awareness of an ancient presence flooded into Sebastian’s consciousness through the stone.

  Dragon-master. What are your wishes? The thought pressed into his mind from within the stone. Overhead, he could hear the leathery sound of wings as the dragon circled.

  All he wanted was for the dragon to leave. Go away, he thought back. It was pure instinct.

  As you command.

  Sebastian felt the dragon’s presence recede as it flew off, only to be replace with a younger, more raw feeling. This one was more familiar somehow and very close. Why was it so familiar? He wondered. Then it clicked. Stretch? The little dragon did not answer, but he could feel a spark of recognition through the bond.

  His vision blurred and for a moment he could see not just Cenric lying in the sand before him, but also an image of Krystelle facing off against one swordsman. She was down on her knees and her opponent had his sword raised, ready to land a killing blow.

  Help her! He commanded the baby dragon. Light exploded in his head and then the world went black.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Facing off against the four swordsmen, Krystelle was not optimistic about the odds. Out in the open area amidst the ruins of Cale Uriasz she would be easy pickings for four experienced warriors. She was good, but not this good.
Looking into the eyes of the nearest, she could see he knew it too. He motioned to his compatriots to circle round behind her. She needed to draw them away from Sebastian and find cover for herself. At least they were not wearing more than leather armor, having been recently at sea.

  Drawing her sword along the sand, she ran toward the closest of the four. Using her forward momentum she swung the sword up as she darted past him, deflecting his counter-move with the ring of steel on steel. Not expecting her to go on the offensive, the sudden movement caught the man off-guard and he skidded to reverse his course, throwing up a curtain of sand.

  Krystelle’s move brought her into the warren of ruined buildings and she could hear the shouts of her opponents spreading out to follow. For a few moments she was out of sight, giving her a moment to switch her sword hand and draw a dagger. Stopping to listen, she heard the big swordsmen crashing their way after her. They were big and loud and she would beat them through stealth and cunning.

  Dodging around a fallen wall, she pressed up against it in the shadows, waiting for her prey. One of the swordsmen lunged into view and her dagger flew, blossoming in the man’s throat. Dying as he fell backward, he crashed into one building, drawing the other's attention.

  “There she is!” said the nearest, running towards her. Backed against the wall, she had little room to maneuver and braced herself to engage with him. As he ranged within a few yards, a sudden blast of flame and heat hauled their attention away from one another and toward the other battle that was taking place. Krystelle recovered first and swung her sword at the man, catching him in his midsection. Two down as much through luck as skill, but at least that evened the odds. Rather than take her chances she darted back into the shadows, seeking her next opponent.

  It did not take her long to find them. Having learned from their dead companions, the remaining two swordsmen were staying close together. Two against one were bad odds, but not the worst she had ever faced. She was hopeful that these two would underestimate her skill. She was a ranked member of the Order of Gabirel, and a Swordmaster, having trained for much of her life instead of the son her father had never had.

  Once again, she decided that her best chance would be to take them off guard. Stepping out of the shadows, she ran towards the two, sword at the ready to begin the dance. Nearing them, she threw herself to the side and flowed past the first swordsman. Faster than thought, she struck hard. Once…twice…three times. With each blow, she beat back the first of the two. In an instant, she was on to the second, lunging hard.

  He parried and lunged back with his own riposte. Up close she could see that this was a veteran of some serious fighting. A scar ran down his face from his right eye to his jaw, giving him an evil look. He was better than she had expected and she got her sword back up just in time. Sensing his advantage he pressed his attack, raining blow after blow down on her. In short order, her arm ached from the successive impacts. She needed to end this.

  Maneuvering backward, Krystelle put space between herself and Scarface. The three of them circled for a time, taking stock of each other. She got a closer look at the other swordsman and realized he was young. Probably this was his first battle. She could use that. Feinting towards Scarface she arrested her swing in mid-thrust and caught the young one under his chin, sending him reeling.

  At that moment, a trio of lightening bolts exploded from the clear sky leaving Krystelle deafened. Blinking to clear the spots from her eyes, she got her sword up in time to block another blow from Scarface. Down to just the two of them now, the battle entered a new phase as Krystelle and Scarface danced back and forth across the sand. Scarface had size and reach while Krystelle had speed and agility.

  Scarface pressed his advantage with a series of blows designed to throw his opponent off her balance. Seeing the endgame approaching, Krystelle sidestepped the attack and launched one of her own. Her legs and thighs were on fire from dodging through the sand. She could not maintain this pace for long. He began a new series of brutal attacks, pounding Krystelle into the ground.

  Falling to her knees, it was all Krystelle could do to keep Scarface’s sword from ending it all. Mercifully, he paused in his onslaught, taking a step back. Towering above her he raised his sword, preparing to bring it down for the death blow. Looking up into his eyes, Krystelle saw her death approaching.

  His eyes shifted upward, focusing past Krystelle and then the swordsman was stumbling backward. Before it registered, Krystelle felt something fly past her, slamming into the man. It was a dragon, a small one, but it made quick work of the swordsman. Pinning him to the ground, the dragon gripped both shoulders with its claws. Krystelle saw the blood oozing around the claws. The man gave one final scream as the dragon bit down hard.

  Frozen, Krystelle watched as the dragon turned toward her. Had it saved her only to make her its next victim? It flopped over to her and nudged her its head, then sat down beside the woman. “Stretch?” said Krystelle, not believing what she was seeing. The dragon nudged her one last time and flew off into the night sky. She sat there in the sand watching the dragon depart before coming back to herself. “Sebastian!”

  Breathing hard she ran back toward the center of the ruins where she had left Sebastian to face Cenric. Entering the clearing, she found both laying unconscious in the sand. With a glance for Cenric, she rushed to kneel beside Sebastian and laid her hand on the side of his face. She could feel the warmth in his face and saw his chest move with breath. Relieved, she called out to him trying to get him to waken.

  His eyes blinked open, and she helped him into a seated position. “Cenric?” he asked.

  “There,” she gestured toward the motionless boy. The Dragonstone lay dormant on his breast, the fire having gone out of both the stone and the fledgling wizard. Far overhead, the dragon let out one final screech and flew away from the island toward its distant home.

  “Help me up,” Sebastian said to her. Pulling him to his feet, she draped his arm over her shoulder and wrapped her arm around him. They made their way over to the stricken boy and she helped Sebastian down next to him.

  Reaching out, Sebastian took the chain from around Cenric’s neck and laid the Dragonstone to one side. Examining the boy, Sebastian looked up at Krystelle. “He’s alive, but barely.”

  “Is that a good thing?” she asked.

  “It is. Whatever Sterling Lex did to him, he’s still my friend.”

  “Ok, but he also could be dangerous.”

  “That’s a risk I’m willing to take. We’ll bring him with us back to the Dazhberg. Perhaps they can restore him.”

  “And just how do you expect us to do that? Our longboat will not carry us that far.”

  “I don’t know yet,” said Sebastian. “I’m sure a solution will present itself in the morning.” He looked over at the Eligius Muliach. “At least we’ve recovered the Dragonstone. I wonder how Sterling Lex got hold of it.”

  “I wish I knew. Right now I am more concerned that he has the Chronicles. He can use the book to anoint himself Arch-mage, with all the requisite power.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Sebastian’s words proved prophetic. The next morning a merchant vessel made port at Cale Uriasz and they convinced the captain to give them passage to Cale Conall. From there, they made their way to the Dazhberg. Coming over the last rise, Sebastian slumped in the saddle of the flea-bitten horse he had been riding since they made landfall just a few days prior. Seeing the fortress, even in its dilapidated state from the Krenon occupation, was a relief he had not expected. It felt just like coming home. A dusting of snow covered the ground and piled an inch deep in the lee of the rocks adjoining the road. Gray clouds hung heavy in the sky above, threatening more than a dusting.

  Looking back, he could see that Krystelle slumped in her saddle even more than he. If he was tired, she was bone-weary leading the mule dragging a small cart behind it. Whenever he looked back, it was all he could do not to rush over to the cart to try helping Cenric again. He had t
ried. Desperately tried to heal the boy several times on their journey, to no avail. He had not regained consciousness since their battle at Cale Uriasz.

  A flurry of activity at the ruined gates of the Maw brought his attention back to the present. A contingent of riders was sallying to meet them. There were four riders coming out in full battle garb. Apparently the guard was not taking any chances by letting them approach the gates without being challenged.

  Sebastian raised his fist for their little caravan to halt and pulled his horse short. The riders would be there soon enough, better not to appear a threat.

  As things turned out, he needn’t have worried. It was only a few moments before the riders closed on them, and as they approached, he recognized the man on the lead horse. “Lord Commander Teoma!” He half fell from his saddle in relief.

  “Sebastian! Krystelle!” the Commander reigned in his mount and climbed down from the saddle. “It is good to see you both. Although, I must confess my surprise.” To Sebastian’s eyes, the Lord Commander had aged in the few short weeks since he had last seen the man. His beard, normally carved into a pointed goatee, was uneven and grown long with hair now streaked with gray. Deep furrows in his brow and dark circles under his eyes spoke volumes about the state of things at the fortress.

  Knowing they would need to give a full accounting to the Council, Krystelle and Sebastian presented Lord Teoma with an abbreviated report of their travels, focusing on Gerhard’s disappearance, the devastation at Cale Uriasz, and Sterling Lex’s trickery. “This is ill news you bring, young ones, yet it explains much that has transpired. I fear a war is coming and Gabirel is less prepared for it than ever we have been. Yet, there is cause to remain hopeful. Not only have you brought young Cenric home, you’ve given us warning before Lex can consolidate his forces in the spring. Come now, let these men take Cenric to the healers. They have great skill in these matters. As for the two of you, rest and then we’ll convene the council for your report. There will be much to do in the days ahead. But for now…welcome home.”