A Dark Tide (Book of One) (18 page)

"I will do what I can, good lady Aledra," Kroma said, able to speak once more. "I am surprised that the eggs would not be cleansed by truefire."

"It is a rare dragon that can breathe truefire enough to warm a clutch," Vana told him.

"That was not always so." Brian felt himself frown at Kroma's frustration. "There was a time when all dragons commanded the fire of truth with ease. It was with the help of dragonkind that the gods fought the shadow, driving it from the world, once and for all, or so it was believed. If the shadow has returned, then perhaps it seeks to weaken or destroy those with the power to oppose it."

"Then we are already at a disadvantage," Vana said.

"Perhaps," Kroma replied. "The shadow is adept at hiding itself, but if it were truly as powerful as it once was, then the world would already be a much darker place. I do not think that all is yet lost."

"Let us hope not."

"If you would like for me to drive the poison from you, I believe I still have the strength," Kroma said.

"What about the clutch?"

"If you are cleansed of the shadow, your fire should burn hot enough to save the ones that can still saved," Kroma told her.

"Would you prefer me to take another form?" Vana asked.

"It would be easier for me," Kroma said.

Vana smiled then she shifted, becoming smaller and turning into a woman who appeared youthful, though with a maturity of bearing and her eyes spoke of a long life already lived, serene yet with still a hint of her predatory dragon nature. Unlike her young daughter, Vana had a little more experience with the other creatures of the world, and she used her power to create the illusion of a simple yet elegant dress of light cream, embroidered with earthy green. While Kroma knew it was little more than a glamour, he appreciated how beautiful the dress was, though not nearly as much as the woman who wore it.

"I am gifted by your beauty, Lady Aledra" he said.

"You did not find my dragon form appealing?" she asked.

"On the contrary," Kroma replied with a smile. "Your power and elegance is transcended only by your grace on the wind, or otherwise."

"You are a little young to flatter an old wyvern," Vana said.

"That would be the young man, whose cheeks have no doubt turned blood red," Kroma said. "I am somewhat ancient by comparison. Perhaps it is my turn to say that you are very young, though I must also say that your thoughts speak of great wisdom that is a benefit to the wisdom of your line."

Vana smiled at him and then she sighed.

"I suppose we may as well begin," she said, and with a fingernail, which was sharp as a blade, she cut a slit down the front of her dress.

Brian slipped his hand through the gap and he felt the power of the god begin to flow through him. Vana twitched slightly at his touch, but she held her head high and stared straight ahead as the power pulsed into her body, working deep into her core.

It was a complete slaughter, and Quenta leapt atop a fast mount and raced through the forest, while winged Darga rained burning pitch and arrows down at him from the night sky above. His warriors had been overrun by the lizard men, and most of them were already killed, while the few that remained were now scattered throughout the forest, hunted by their attackers. There was little else the elven prince could do but to make for the city, to bring warning to the court of a threat that was far greater than he had imagined. He already knew that the Darga were dangerous, and that there was bound to be an attack upon the elven borders, but he had not anticipated how immediate things had become, nor that the very forest itself was in such dire peril.

Through the canopy of leaves and branches, Quenta saw a flight of the accursed creatures moving above and ahead of him, their winged figures dark silhouettes against the stars of the night sky. At first he thought they were readying arrows to fire down through the trees, but he saw that they were instead carrying sacks and flying far too fast to be looking for him. Remembering what the Maramyrian, Kaleb had described, as a precaution, Quenta pulled his wind root from his belt and clamped it between his teeth, and not a moment too soon as his horse rode through a cloud of smoke and its legs buckled, mid stride, already dead before it hit the ground.

As the beast suddenly collapsed beneath him, Quenta leapt from the saddle, landing on the branch of a tree only to feel it dying beneath his feet from the poison smoke that withered away its life. He ran, leaping to another branch, then he heard the distinctive sound of bowstrings snapping tight and he dodged to the side as several arrows whistled through the air, barely missing him. While the other Darga were throwing poison smoke through the forest somewhere ahead of him, another group of the lizard creatures had caught up to him, and he saw them circling around above readying to fire another volley of bolts. Quenta finally reached a tree that had not yet been touched by the smoke and he gathered strength from it, springing high into the air, pulling his sword as he emerged above the leaves. With a quick slash, he sliced the throat of one of the creatures then he dropped back into the trees, springing off a branch at almost a horizontal angle as the Darga he had killed fell behind him. Vicious bellows echoed across the sky as the creature's companions pursued him, staying above the thick branches, and avoiding the tangle of the forest.

Thankfully, the trees in this part of the forest did not grow as thick in circumference and their branches were closer together, making it far more difficult for the winged lizards to fly between them, which meant Quenta had a much better chance of evading them. He leapt as hard as he could, summoning all of his strength and letting the trees help him move faster and faster. The trees were whispering now, warning of the danger, which was now spreading through the rest of the living forest, and Quenta moved even faster, bringing word to every tree he touched. He heard another snarling roar far behind him and realized that he had outrun the Darga, but he did not slow down. It was not until he suddenly came to a dead place in the forest that he stopped.

Even under the starlight, he could see that the smoke was thick like fog and it was as though a wall of death had been cut through the forest, running in both directions, as far as the eye could see, and Quenta realized what they were doing. It was no great secret that the elven people could speak to the trees, indeed, it was one of the things that allowed for the defense of such vast forest by such a relatively small force of warriors. since the trees would warn of intruders. The Darga appeared to be aware of this, and with the poison smoke, they were cutting a circle around the advance of their army, cutting the trees off from the rest of the forest, preventing them from warning the other trees as well as the elves. It was a strategy that exploited one the elves' greatest strengths and had turned it into a weakness, for it seemed that they relied too much on the whispers of the trees, and it had left them blind to the threat they faced.

Quenta now knew why the Maramyrian commanders had been so insistent in their warnings. Even Nathas, who had been on the edge of death, had demanded that the healers carry a message to him, and Quenta had found himself surprised at the dedication and determination he and Kaleb had shown toward protecting the forest and its people. Now that he had seen what they had, he appreciated their actions even more, and he resolved that he would make an effort to respect their opinions a little more. They were capable commanders and they had proven their honor to him. Of course, for that to be possible, he would have to make it back alive.

Quenta scanned the sky for signs of the Darga and he watched the purplish black smoke waft through the trees in front of him, looking for a break in the smoke. He saw a spot where it was not as thick and, making sure his wind flute was gripped perfectly between his lips, he set off at a run, leaping between the branches as fast as he could, hoping that the poison smoke would not harm him. Thankfully he made it through, and before long, he reached an outpost where several elven rangers were stationed. He informed them of the threat, then he commandeered a horse and rode hard toward the elven city as the night slowly turned to morning.

"The forest is under attack," Quenta told the guards at the gate of the outer city as he dismounted and stormed past them. "Sound the bells."

"The bells?" one of the guards asked.

"The bells of war," Quenta said. "Ring them, for the court must convene at once."

"Yes, my lord," one of the men said, snapping to attention, and before long, the ancient bells of war began to ring.

Quenta made it to the palace grounds as the first members of the court were beginning to arrive, most of them roused early from sleep by the sound of an alarm they apparently thought to be nothing more than a dream. He spotted Rolan and the two of them walked together into the palace.

"What news, Lord Quenta?" Rolan asked.

"The news is grave, Rolan," Quenta replied. "We must call every tribe and clan in the forest. I had not thought it possible, but the enemy has already breached our borders. They are deadly and their numbers are many."

"Surely the guard will make short work of these invaders. You sound as though you have caught whatever fearful illness affected those two Maramyrians," Rolan said. Quenta heard the scoffing tone in his voice.

"A force of a hundred of our warriors was wiped out this night," Quenta hissed. "This threat is real."

"But the trees have said nothing," Rolan said.

"The trees are dead," Quenta told him. "The Maramyrians were right. Now we must assemble every warrior in the forest and deal with this threat."

"Certainly, the court must discuss these matters thoroughly," Rolan said.

Quenta turned and caught the elf by the front of his shirt.

"Rolan, we may agree on many things in the elven court, but you will not question my judgment on matters of war. Do you understand me?"

"Of course, my lord," Rolan choked, and Quenta released him.

"Come, we must convene the court before the enemy is directly at our gate," he said, then he turned and continued through the palace, leaving Rolan behind him.

Laurana was already upon the dais when Quenta strode into the chamber of the court. He nodded a greeting to her as he made his way through the still empty galleries.

"Quenta, the bells of war have rung only twice in a thousand years," she said. "What has happened?"

"The forest is dying, mother," Quenta told her. "The Maramyrians spoke the truth. The trees are being killed by a foul poison, fires are being spread through the forest, and an army has already crossed our borders."

"How is this possible? Why did the trees not give warning?"

"The Maramyrian commander, Lord Kaleb spoke true," Quenta grudgingly admitted. "The poison kills the trees before even a leaf can quiver, thus they can give no warning."

"It is as I feared, the poison of old," Laurana whispered to herself, realizing that the enemy they faced was not merely a god, but somehow tied up with the ancient power of the shadow as well. When Kaleb had described the dark stones and the poison smoke, something about it had jogged her memory and she had pored through most ancient archives. She had learned that only the power of the shadow could create such a poison, and it had been used against the forest before, very long ago.

"We must save the forest," she said.

"Then we must stop the lizard creatures," Quenta said, then he realized that there only a few members of the court had arrived and he could hear sort of commotion coming from outside the palace. Laurana heard it as well and they both started for the entrance of the court.

"What is happening?" Laurana asked aloud "The trees now warn of danger, close by, here in the city."

Rolan appeared at the entrance to the chamber.

"Queen Laurana, Prince Quenta, the city is under attack!" he shouted, and his words were followed by a bellowing roar.

Quenta dashed out of the hall with his mother close behind. They emerged from the palace to see their elven brothers and sisters taking cover as two enormous winged creatures, one of them a greyish white and the other a dark black, spiraled down toward the palace.

"Mother, stay back," Quenta said, drawing his blade.

The black dragon flared its wings, slowing its descent, then it suddenly folded them and dropped downward toward the palace yard. Instead of the heavy thud that would be expected from such a large beast landing upon the ground, a young man dressed in black appeared in a crouch, then he stood and walked toward Quenta and Laurana. Behind him, the white dragon landed heavily, its weight shaking the ground as well as the thick branches of trees that intertwined the palace yard. From atop the creature's back, a woman with fiery red hair and skin that glinted in the sunlight, wearing armor that shone nearly as bright, leapt to the ground, landing with the lithe balance of an elven warrior. Quenta recognized them both and he slid his sword back into its scabbard when the young man stopped before him, nodded, took one look at the queen, then dropped to one knee and bowed his head.

"I am Borrican Akandar, Prince of Kandara, and heir to the Dragon Throne," he said. "I ask your forgiveness for arriving in such an alarming manner, and offer what assistance I might give in the defense of this land."

Laurana stepped around her son and looked down at the young man as Ariana approached behind him.

"Rise, Borrican Akandar," she said. "We do not bow our heads in this land."

Borrican looked up at her, his gaze sharp and powerful, and his eyes glimmering with fire as he rose to his feet.

"Borrican," Ariana said as she took her place beside him. "You could have waited for me."

"I wished to greet Queen Laurana and Prince Quenta in a civilized manner," he said. "Such matters are important in the land of the elves, I am told."

"What, and I am not civilized?" Ariana chided, then she looked at her aunt and her cousin with an odd smile on her face. "Laurana, Quenta, I am glad to see you. Do you realize there is a really big army moving through the forest? They're burning the trees." As abruptly as she had smiled, she suddenly burst into tears. "Why would they do that? What is the purpose of hurting the trees? They didn't do anything, and neither did the elves." Ariana's expression turned dark, with a bloodthirsty glint in her eye and she turned and looked to the east. "I'll kill them. Borrican, let's just kill them."

"Are you all right, my dear?" Laurana asked, glancing over at the young Kandaran Prince, then back at her niece, and Ariana suddenly looked as though she might cry again.

"I...I don't know," she said, stepping toward Laurana, with a pleading look in her eyes. "I am glad to see you, and you too Quenta, if you promise to be nice."

"What is wrong with her?" Quenta asked, looking at Borrican accusingly.

"I don't know," he said. "She started acting like this just after we left Kandara."

"Please, there is nothing wrong with me!" Ariana exclaimed, suddenly exasperated, and her voice rising, then her eyelids began to flutter. "I am perfectly fine."

Ariana's eyes rolled back into her head and she collapsed. Borrican dashed toward her, but Laurana caught her, and gently lowered her onto the ground. She placed her hand on Ariana's forehead, her fingers briefly touching the crystals that now covered half of her face, similar to how Quenta described the way she had chosen to wear her mask. Laurana gently touched her hand to the center of Ariana's chest and closed her eyes for a moment, then she smiled.

"She will be fine," Laurana said, then she looked around and saw several elves standing nearby, tentatively curious about what was happening. "Please, take Princess Ariana to her chambers, and fetch the healers."

"Healers? I thought you said she would be fine?" Borrican growled.

"Of course," Laurana said, rising to her feet as several elves picked up Ariana and began to carry her away. "She needs rest and the healers will make sure that she rests properly. I think they would also like to learn how she came to have such strange jewels upon her skin."

"Ariana said it happened in the flows," Borrican said. "When she dove into the fire, she emerged with some changes."

"I see," Laurana said. "You will have to explain those things to the healers when there is time. Presently, will you please join us at court, Prince Akandar, we have much to discuss."