Dragon Choir (36 page)

A voice boomed
across the chasm like a wave crashing ashore. It was liquid in his
mind, slipping around in his skull. First it rolled around like a
pearl in a porcelain dish then it fused in place, solidified in
cognizance.

Be silent.

The voice knew
no language, it had only meaning and context. There was no room for
misunderstanding. There could be no error in the communion. It was
like the voice of a god.

Stone bloomed
from the central column. A great arm of rock reached across the
darkness, bridging the divide.

Approach.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Dragon
Choir

They
were compelled across the stone bridge, the voice so intense in
their minds that the word rooted in an unavoidable
reality.

Six figures
stood before six thrones; an undanae, an orc, an elf, an akiri, a
human and a muden. Such an unlikely council of disparate beings
astounded Elrin. Surely they must control the Dragon Choir, but how
did they reconcile their enmity. The young Calimskan’s readings of
history proved the only things shared by all these nations were
wars and transgressions, the blood spilt in ancient feuds and
territorial disputes. Humans traded while orcs raided. The
bird-like akiri guarded wind scoured mountaintop fortresses. The
muden patrolled inland rivers and marshes, defending crannogs deep
in the wilderness. While elves venerated the sun and knew the
secrets of life, undanae claimed the night and manipulated death.
Across the many lands of Oranica these nations had breached the
borders and beliefs of the other, yet here in the belly of a rock,
in the middle of the ocean, they held sway together.

Explain your
intent.

The six
figures sat down on their thrones. Elrin could not decide which of
the figures was the speaker. There was no obvious leader among
them, nor did any move their lips. Together they exuded an aura,
filling Elrin with both terror and elation. His body felt heavy and
his will stretched thin, drawn to them.

Jaspa stepped
forward to explain. “We have come to use the Dragon Choir.” Jaspa’s
voice was muted, a distant obscurity against the presence of the
voice.

From a throne
of smoky pink quartz, inlaid with iron, ivory and shell, the orc
spoke. “Who are you to use the choir?” Her charcoal tones echoed
through the cavern. Though the orc’s voice was not at all pleasant,
it was real. Much better than the compelling power of the anonymous
voice.

“
I am Jaspa Scrambletoe. This is my son Del—”

The undanae
tittered, disturbing the air with dark derision, his pale moon blue
skin and saucer eyes a shock against the black of his onyx throne.
“I do believe my dear sister was attempting sarcasm. We know your
name. We know many things. Yet we know not how you propose to use
the Dragon Choir? This you must tell us.”

Jaspa turned
to the others for help.

Delik stepped
forward. “We would send a mighty wind and have the choir sing.”

The guardians
laughed and the chamber shook with their mirth.

“
Glorious!” The undanae scarcely contained his glee. “Where
might such a wind arise?”

The human
stood from a golden throne, his purple robes flew about like a
storm and lightning arced around him. He thrust an accusing finger
at the undanae. “Enough Zarkas! You waste our time with your petty
amusements.”

The elf woman
peered down her nose at them from her silver throne, green silk and
steel scalemail hugging her lithe body. She swept her arms wide in
introduction. “We are the Dragon Choir.”

They were so
naive; no wonder the derision. The rebellion hoped for an object of
great magic to wield against the Jandans, but now Delik and Jaspa
could only wield sullen faces. Their mistake would cost them the
whole campaign. Elrin wouldn’t let fate laugh his own quest into
oblivion. There must be a way, if he could just persuade the choir
to aid them, all would be well.

Hurn had a
different notion, booming his doubt into the faces of the powers
before them. “You not choir, choir sings. What you sing?”

Elrin cringed
as Hurn stomped across his hope for a diplomatic plea for aid.

The muden,
reclining on a throne encrusted in coloured pearls, spoke with a
voice like a stream over smooth stones. “There is much here that is
beyond you.” Amphibious eyes blinked atop her head, then her
fleshy, half naked body quivered into motion. With lightning speed,
the muden’s wet webbed hands levelled a trident at Hurn. “Do not
call our words to question. Our songs weave life and death for
mortals.”

A drip of
doubt fell, stirring faint ripples in Elrin’s mind. He clutched his
dagger’s hilt for reassurance. It gave him none, instead granting
him eyes that shattered the illusion of the choir.

“
Dragons!” Elrin’s thought spilled upon his tongue and his
voice tolled like the tower bell at season’s first
shadow.

With that word
came a light; the truth. A flash of clarity exposed the company
they kept. The heads of six great dragons lurked over them, teeth
like racks of swords, eyes like the masters of the five hells.
Their size was difficult to comprehend in the flash, most of their
bodies were out of view in the darkness of the pit, though they
must have been ancient wyrms; larger than any dragon Elrin had ever
seen flying over Calimska. Bigger than any story he heard tell from
braggart or bard.

In that
momentary vision, the image of each monstrous head affirmed Elrin’s
fragile mortality. Each one was a different death; different
colours, spines and plates, feathers, fur and scale. All with
claws, fangs and unsettling appetite in their eyes. The instant
passed, yet the image was forever seen, seared in his memory.

“
How interesting,” said the elf in the elegant armour,
studying Elrin. Her voice was honey on ice, sweetness hardened by
winter.

The orc
slammed her fist down and rose from her throne. She was the most
imposing of all of the guardians, black iron plate and bone
armoured the warrior’s frame, the skin of a great brown bear
cloaked her shoulders. Her rage flared and she stormed toward the
man in the purple robes. “He shows clarity! Here! We should—”

The man in the
purple robes cut her off, his voice quiet and cool, yet strong as
the sun. “We should do the same.”

From the
throne of opal the akiri trilled, calling the attention of the
Choir. His shrewd eyes flicked between the robed man and the orc,
his curved beak clicked together, chastising them like a tutting
mother. “Come now, sit down. Let this be done.”

They returned
to their thrones and the undanae pierced each with a barbed
smile.

The akiri sat
forward on his throne, adjusting his wings in a splash of blue,
orange and violet, flexing the banded leather armour over his
barrel chest. His voice lanced out, as sharp as the spear resting
across his beanpole legs. “You have come. You are before us as you
wished. What would you have us do?”

Jaspa was
silent, paralysed by fear, or failure. Delik stood beside him with
a hand on his father’s shoulder. He would speak for the group. “We
ask that you sing for the dragons return.”

“
Why would we call them before they are due?” asked the
undanae, his eyes even wider than usual.

“
Why would we alter our vigil on your whim?” sneered the
orc.

“
We are to battle the Jandan armada. They sail here as we
speak. They come with murderous intent. They want this place ...
They come for the treasure.”

Each of the
choir shifted on their thrones, discomforted by Delik’s
implication.

The akiri
twisted his head on an awkward angle, crossing his arms. “You know
this? Or you think this?”

“
I know they come to this place. I know their leader. He is
hungry for power no matter the cost. The magical treasures here
would make him very powerful.”

The choir was
silent, though the silence was thick, heated by the friction of an
unheard argument.

The orc jabbed
her finger at Delik. “Your words are deceptive. We will not
sing.”

Delik sank,
desperation flooding his words. “Pelegrin must be stopped. He’ll
sap your hoard and come for you next. You have to destroy the
armada.”

The undanae
fumed. “You do not make demands of us! Why do you care if they come
here for our treasure? Do you want it? If any mortal takes from
these hoards, they will face our wrath. We don’t need your
pathetic, self-serving warnings. We shall not sing for you or any
other mortal.”

The muden
stamped the butt of her trident on the ground. “We sing for the
weave.”

The man in
purple robes agreed. “We shall not sing early and disturb the
balance.”

“
No, we shall not sing,” said the elf. “However, I would hear
more of these Jandans ... more of the truth.”

“
Human, come forward.” The man in purple robes beckoned Elrin
closer. “Does this shankakin speak the truth?”

“
Does an army approach?” asked the akiri.

“
Do they seek our hoard?” asked the muden.

Elrin walked
before the choir, summoning all his courage to speak. “They do come
and they are many. They have black powder and the biggest ships I
have ever seen. We helped another, the pirate Kobb, to face them in
battle.”

The undanae
sneered. “Indeed. Our little parasite uses black powder also, does
he not? We’ve allowed him to float in the sanctuary and prey on
those who venture too close to our islands. He knows what not to
touch and when to leave, and so he is tolerated.”

“
Our desire is to end slavery. The Jandans trade slaves for
black powder with Calimska. Kobb would do this too if he defeats
the Jandan armada. He would be the only power over the
sea.”

Smooth delight
grew across the elven battle maiden’s face. “So, you wish them both
crushed. If either wins, you lose. What better than the might of
dragons to foil your enemies?”

“
We thought the choir was a device to use, to call dragons
here. We didn’t come here to offend you with demands. If we had
known ... We should have known.” Elrin wondered if he would have
been brave enough to seek out the choir, if he had.

“
Your words speak true,” said the akiri. “And yet, you desire
more.”

“
He covets our hoard!” roared the orc.

“
No! I don’t.”

“
Truly?” The undanae produced a sack and tossed it at Elrin’s
feet. Treasure spilt across stone. “You don’t lust after gold and
silver? You’re Calimskan, yes?”

“
Yes, but I—”

The orc
slammed her fist on the arm of her throne. “As I say, they come for
our hoard. At the end of this battle they will plunder our
birthright.”

Elrin was
insignificant. They twisted his words and ground him down. He
gripped at his dagger, searching for strength. “I didn’t come here
for your treasure! And neither did they.”

“
You set yourself apart from them.” The man in purple bore
through him, burrowing in his mind. “Your desire flows from a
different stream, yet meets the same river. Why did you come
here?”

“
I was sent to seek your aid to help my father.”

The undanae
chuckled. “What is it? Gambling debts? Is Papa locked up in some
dungeon ready for the axe?”

“
I don’t know where he is.”

The muden
croaked with laughter. “This is ridiculous.”

The man in
purple ignored his fellows’ amusements. “Who is your father?”

“
He’s a famous adventurer from the coast, he—” Elrin cut
himself short when he saw Delik’s face wrinkle in disapproval. If
the shankakin had never heard of his father then why would these
dragons know or care of his exploits.

The Akiri
leant forward, probing Elrin’s hesitation with avian eyes. “Reveal
not what he does, but who he is. Speak his name.”

“
Arbajkha.”

A moment of
emptiness engulfed the cavern, a drop of vacant time fell before
his father’s name exploded into chaos amongst the choir.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Advance the Armada

Uighara wrapped the last of the rations and
placed them in his pack, pulling the drawstring tight. He wished
for a stronger back to carry more, then thought better of it. Brawn
was its own burden. The Good Lord’s gifts would supply him with all
he needed. They had delivered him thus far and tomorrow they would
crown him in the glory he so rightly deserved.

Fatigue
weighed on his eyelids. He sat in his hammock, mentally ticking off
the day’s preparations, rubbing his forehead to relax. His brothers
in the Lord knew the ritual and while their part was simple, if a
few of them faltered, their sacrifice would only please the Lord
more. The clear weather had been a blessing and the pontoons were
taking the journey well. All was in order. It was time to rest.

Just as he
rose and blew out the flame in his lantern, the familiar rattle of
sacrificial bones caught his ear. A faint yellow glow danced with
two metacarpals upon the blackstone at his desk.

Uighara placed
his hands on the stone. “Almighty Lord, receive this sacrifice and
bless this communion.”