Authors: Scott Appleton,Becky Miller,Jennifer Miller,Amber Hill
Obediently, she showed them to him. He sniffed them once and looked them over. “Good, you did not touch the blood. I was afraid you might have.”
“Miverē stopped me. I was going to touch it,” she admitted, lowering her head. “But I didn’t know any better.”
“I’ll have to thank that mischievous little fairy for that; he might have saved your life.” The dragon snaked across the room, glancing at the giant clock. The hour hand dipped below 1 o'clock. The library doors opened. Twisting his massive head, he gazed down at her. “I did not realize the time. Come now; it is way past your bedtime, my dear. I’ll see you back to your room. Tomorrow we will talk about the swords, when your sisters are awake, for this matter involves them as well.”
Dantress yawned and followed him out of the library. He brought her back to her bedroom door and opened it with one claw. “Goodnight, little one. Go to sleep this time.”
* * *
Dressed in identical dresses of royal purple bound at the waist with white sashes, the six daughters of the great white dragon stood in a half-circle, uncomfortably facing him in the moist chamber and taking turns glancing at the basin of blood and the rusted swords on the back wall. How close Dantress and her sisters resembled one another, Albino mused.
All of them had long dark brown hair, tinged with red. Their black eyes looked around intelligently. But Rose’el rose a few inches taller than the rest and Dantress bore a superior beauty. Perhaps it was her smile, bright and playful. Or maybe the grace of her neck and the way her eyes seemed to gaze into your soul. Albino put those thoughts aside and focused instead on their similarities; in that lay their strength; their great potential. In order for his plan to succeed he would need them to work as one unit.
He reached for one of the swords, the sword of Xavion. Slowly he growled and, keeping his pink eyes trained on the rusted weapon, held it forth for his daughters to see.
"Keep your ears attentive, my children, for what I am about to reveal has serious consequences for you all. It is the reason I brought you into the world. It is the reason these swords now rest in solemnity.
"A very, very long time ago . . ."
* * *
Albino hurtled toward the rocky slope. His maw opened with a roar of agony and anger so profound that the stones shattered and the five traitorous warriors dropped their swords to cover their ears. Xavion, his noble face mutilated beyond recognition, sprawled on the ground. His blood pooled around him and Letrias cowered next to him.
The young prince of Prunesia was gasping for air and Kesla's face streaked with tears as he lifted his head to see the dragon.
"My poor boy . . . forgive me," Albino heard the man say. But the deed was done; Brian pulled his white-bladed scimitar to him and broke its blade broadside across his knee.
Albino's heart flared inside his chest. The pain of loss exploded from his innermost being in a roar that knocked Auron, Hestor, and Clavius to their knees.
And at that moment he perceived the light of Brian's soul depart his body. The Grim Reaper congealed beside the sinful scene and wafted like a dark mist toward the body of the innocent victim. It raised the dreaded scythe and swept its blade downward. Once that serrated metal touched Brian's skin it would . . .
Albino crashed into the Grim Reaper and the ground split beneath him, forming a rift a dozen feet deep. His claws slipped through the wispy being as it tried to elude him. But his mind netted it with invisible bands that forced it to take physical form. Grasping the dark being, he missiled it into the mountainside. An avalanche buried the villain under tons of rock and dirt, but not before its hands and head reverted to smoky vapor.
Hestor and Clavius scrambled away from him. He snarled and pinned their legs to the ground with his claws. The warriors screamed and cried for mercy as their blood painted his claws.
He released them but as Hestor struggled to his feet, Albino turned him about so that he could look into his eyes. "What you have sown by this treachery you shall now reap!" He raked his razor claws down Hestor's front and dropped the man's limp body.
Dragging himself away from Albino, Clavius trembled. His fingers dug into the ground and he sobbed. "Dark spirits, why have you not come to my rescue?"
"Truly you have fallen from the heights of glory to the depths of darkness." Albino roared, drew back his long neck, opened his powerful jaws and snared the man. Grinding his teeth together, he broke Clavius in half. The warrior's soul faded into darkness.
Albino wheeled on Letrias, blood and guts leaking between his teeth as he parted his lips. He grasped a nearby boulder and crushed it in his scaled hand. As the fragments of stone rained on the ground, flames roiled in his half-open mouth.
Eyes wide with fear, Letrias spread forth his hands. Energy sizzled along his palms and his lips trembled. "You are not all-powerful, Albino. Hermenuedis is more than a match for you . . . and he has taught me how to wield"—his eyes radiated the bluish light amassing between his fists—"to wield mighty
power
!"
The energy shot from his hands, bolts as thick as his wrists sped toward Albino's chest. But they passed through his body as if he wasn't really there; as if he were only composed of air.
Storm clouds gathered. The sunlight faded.
"I will waste no more breath on you," Albino said. He drew back his head and threw a steady stream of yellow fire at Letrias.
But Letrias was spared incineration.
The clouds spiraled toward the ground and a giant winged man dropped to the dirt, crouching between Letrias and Albino. Then it loomed above the traitor and held out a black orb that absorbed the flames and grew in size until it became the size of a large boulder.
Albino's flames burned white-hot and a portion of sandy ground beside the Art'en wizard turned to glass.
"Be gone, cursed artifact!" Albino let another roar issue from his mouth as he stretched out his claws. He clenched his fist and the wizard's orb burst into a billion fragments.
"Hermenuedis," he rumbled "you have carried your wickedness to its final day!"
"No, Albino, thisss day isss mine!" The wizard screeched.
Suddenly, Valorian dove from the heavens. A ray of sunlight penetrated the clouds and glinted off the dragon's black scales.
Albino found himself roaring with delight; now two of his vilest enemies were within his reach. Long had he awaited this day.
Valorian folded his wings to his sides, forming himself into a living arrow. He shot toward Albino. But he passed through the white scaled body as if it weren't there.
Hooking the creature with his claws, Albino flung him down the slope. The black dragon's body furrowed another rift in the hard earth.
* * *
All six of his daughters had listened with rapt attention as he recounted the treachery enacted that day. Now he sighed and said, "The rest of the tale does not merit telling. And it is not a wound I want to open."
The sisters exchanged horrified glances. Rose'el and Caritha said they thought the atrocity merited retribution of the worst kind. The other sisters voiced revulsion; how could best friends turn so readily upon one another? And why did Kesla weep?
But he swept his hand toward the swords arrayed over the basin. “Behold the weapons of my trusted Six. Each of these swords was once a magnificent weapon of crystal, the blades were long,” he said. “Now they are diminished. The power I infused in them at the time of their creation is lesser now and the blood of the innocent caused the blades to shrink to what you see here now.”
To one side, Dantress raised her hand. “You have a question, child?” he asked.
She nodded. “Father, what happened to the rest of the Six? Were they killed?”
He regarded her in silence. This was the question he’d been dreading and the one that he had expected to hear.
Caritha, standing off to the right, frowned at Dantress. “Father will tell us what he wants us to know—”
“She’s right, you know,” Rose’el added. “Why do you always ask so many questions?”
“Because he said I could—”
Rose’el scowled, but Albino rebuked her with his eyes and turned to the curious one . . .
the special one.
“Some of the Six survived my attack. Letrias fled with Auron. And Kesla? Well,
he
escaped alone.”
He looked at the sword in his hand. Xavion had been a valiant man, a man bound by honor, and loyal. Letrias had robbed Albino of a dear friend on that horrible day and Albino would not forget that.
“It is of the Accursed Three who escaped that I wish to speak to you, for they followed the path of evil and Letrias did so with eagerness. He became strong in dark magic, almost as powerful as his former master, and Auron became his apprentice.
“Lesser in power is the other man, Kesla. But he is growing in strength and has been seen wandering the ruins of the wizard Temple of Al’un Dai.” He growled again. “In the ruins of that vast fortress built by Hermenuedis in his own honor, Kesla may yet discover the path to ultimate power and raise up enemies against me.
“You I have created, my beautiful daughters, so that you may stand against this tide of evil. This is your purpose, this is your calling.”
They looked at each other then back at him. “Us?”
Evela timidly offered “We’re not even of age."
Dantress’s eyes blazed and she stepped forward. “I can feel it, Father. I can feel the call of destiny.”
It was the call of their blood; Albino knew it to be so. His blood flowed through their veins, giving them that other sense. It was a dragon trait.
The other girls fell into silence, observing their sister.
“Can you not feel it as well?” Dantress demanded of them. “Don't you feel something powerful rising within you?” She reached out her hand and held Evela’s.
Evela’s eyes opened wide, “I
can
feel it!” She grasped Levena’s hand and Levena grabbed Rose’el’s. Rose’el nodded her head reluctantly and reached with her left hand, taking Laura’s, who responded immediately by completing the chain to Caritha.
Albino watched them, amazed. They were only twelve years old, rather young to recognize the powers he’d passed on to them. Yet here they were uniting their hearts with Dantress, an ability that many magically gifted creatures never gained.
The girls let go of each other’s hands. Rose’el’s mouth froze in a slight frown; Caritha looked somber. “Father, what do you want us to do?”
Their sudden willingness took him aback. He felt an urge to keep them forever at home in the palace, forever safe from harm beneath his wings. Could he really send them out into Subterran knowing what would happen? The end would be joy, but the path to that end was littered with suffering and sorrow.
Dantress walked up to him and rested her hand on his leg, looking up at him so that he had to twist his long neck to meet her gaze. “Father, what will happen to us?”
He felt tears burning in his eyes. How could he send her when he knew? But then, how could he not? Dragonkind and humankind—both their futures depended on her. But she was so young, innocent, and beautiful.
“There is much pain in your future, my daughter,” he whispered. “You will win and lose, both in great measure. But remember,
always
remember”—he passed his gaze over all his daughters, knowing that his next words would be their only comfort in the future—“I will be with you through everything, even when you cannot see me. I will never leave you alone! Do you understand?”
The sisters smiled, even Rose'el, and approached the blood-filled basin, eyeing the swords with new interest.
Handle first, he held out the rusted sword of Xavion. “To each of you I will give a sword of the Six. They will be yours to use in the cause of the innocent and helpless. With them you will fight as one, think as one; they will allow you to join strength as one. I will train you in their use and instruct you in the ways of warfare. Wield these weapons with love, and they will serve you well.”
In unison the five sisters standing near the wall reached up and pulled down the swords, their dark eyes gleaming.
"Be careful with those," he said. "Their edges may be rusted, but the blades can still sever your finger.
“Dantress.” He rested a claw on her shoulder and pressed Xavion’s rusted sword into her hand. "This sword I have saved for you. It belonged to Xavion, captain of the Six." Her mouth dropped open. Her fingers wrapped around the handle and then she grasped it with both hands and held it before her.
The blade glowed softly, a rusted red color. “This sword is special among its brethren,” Albino said. “It is the only weapon whose master was not a traitor and for that reason it may one day be returned to its former glory, transparent and beautiful. Watch over it with care, for it belonged to a very dear friend.”
“Look, Father! See what we can do?” Caritha, Laura, Rose’el, Evela and Levena raised their swords, touching the points together. He cried out for them to stop, but it was too late. Blue energy sizzled along the swords’ blades and joined between them, then dispersed harmlessly throughout the chamber.
The sisters exclaimed with delight, but then they gazed up at him.
"It is finished," Albino said. He shook his head.
Caritha's countenance fell and her smile faded into a frown. “Did we do something wrong?”
“It’s all right,” he sighed. “The five swords have now bonded as they did with the Six, only this time the sword of Xavion was not among them. I would have preferred that you join all six of the swords and then you might have functioned more perfectly as a single unit.”
They looked at the floor and shuffled their feet, but he waved his hand as if it was unimportant. “You will still be able to fight side by side with Dantress; do not worry! Come.” He headed out of the chamber. “I will show you how to properly use these things.”