A Time of Darkness (The Circle of Talia) (6 page)

Jaz smiled with a closed mouth—she found humans sometimes mistook a toothy smile as a threat and figured it had something to do with her bountiful, sharp teeth. “Eventually I will find out why Drakon saw fit to murder one of his own, but I will let it rest for the moment. I won’t say I’m accepting of what happened to Symbothial, and I am still upset, but I do forgive you, Bronwyn, and Sinjenasta. I can imagine you have been placed in a situation where no decision was favorable. You have my pardon.”

“Thank you, Queen Jazmonilly. I appreciate your forgiveness.” Bronwyn curtseyed again, and the panther bowed his head.

King Valdorryn spoke up. “Now that’s all sorted, I think it’s time you two were off to bed. I’m sure you have a lot of work to do with my daughter while you’re here. I understand she’s teaching you the secrets of Talian magic.”

“Well, she’s teaching me. Sinje already knows how to do it.” Pride in her creatura shone in Bronwyn’s delicate smile.

“Ah,” said Valdorryn, “that’s to be expected, I suppose. Oh, how the world moves on without me. I can’t remember the last time I ventured out of Vellonia.” He sighed.

Jazmonilly patted his arm. “We like it here. It’s not like there’s anything to see out there that’s superior to our beloved home; is there?”

“No, love, you’re right. Anyway, enough of my complaining. You two have a good night’s sleep, and we’ll see you tomorrow.”

Sinjenasta and Bronwyn thanked the dragons again and left. “I told you everything would be okay, didn’t I?”

“Yes, Sinje, you did. Thanks for being so strong. What would I do without you? Hmm. Actually don’t answer that question. I wouldn’t be in this mess in the first place: I’d be somewhere with my aunt. I hope she knows I’m okay.”

“Agmunsten will tell her, and I’m sure Drakon would have let her know. And I should have told you this before, but don’t tell anyone Drakon talks to us. You never know what secrets are revealed by seemingly harmless words.”

“Oh, okay. Sorry. I won’t tell anyone anything. I thought it was a good thing you’re related to Drakon somehow.”

Sinjenasta coughed and said nothing. Bronwyn had a lot to learn.

***

Two days had passed. Realmists and creaturas reclined in the cool grass of Vellonia’s valley, under the retreating afternoon sun, awaiting Zim’s return. Blayke breathed honeyed spring fragrances and snapped verdant grass blades between slender fingers. “Arcese is such a slave driver.”

“I’m not complaining. Just look at everything we’ve learnt.”

“You would say that, Arie,” said Blayke. “You’re the fastest learner I’ve ever seen—not that I’ve seen much.” He laughed.

“You’ve got that right, lad,” Arcon’s blue eyes crinkled at the corners.

“Ha, ha, you’re
so
funny,” Blayke quipped, overjoyed at having his uncle back from the edge of death. Arcon’s strength grew daily, and after the latest review from Agmunsten, it had been decided they could leave Vellonia in another two days. Blayke’s brow furrowed when he remembered what he was trying not to think about—tonight they would have to undertake the first stage of the unlocking for his piece of quartz. When Zim arrived, he would be carrying the mineral that held a drop of blood—whose or what’s blood, no one knew.

Bronwyn quickly rose from her position resting back against Sinjenasta. “I think I see Zim!”

Her eyes squinted into the azure sky. The others looked up.

“How can you tell it’s him? That dragon’s too far away to tell anything.” Blayke placed a hand at his forehead, shielding his eyes from the glare.

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s not him, but I think it is.”

Arcon stood and observed everyone watching the dragon’s gliding descent. When he had finally woken the other day and seen his nephew sitting by his bed, enormous relief washed over him. That none of them had died seemed a miracle. Talia still had a chance, although with Leon’s greed and stupidity, it was yet to be seen whether they would stand united before the gormons arrived.

He looked at dark-haired Bronwyn and thought it a miracle that no one had asked questions. Well, they may know soon enough, but he wasn’t about to tell anyone their secret. Maybe when they caught up to Avruellen, the truth could come out. Goodness knew Bronwyn would have many questions, and her aunt would be the best person to answer them.

He flexed his fingers and felt an ache he knew would take a few more days to dissipate. Shielding for so long had almost killed him, but it had saved Blayke. He would have to teach his nephew how to do it. Maybe there was a less dangerous way to shield using Talian magic? He would have to ask Arcese.

“See, I told you it was Zim.” Bronwyn’s comment jerked Arcon out of his reverie. He saw the black dragon that was almost upon them. It was now clear it was the prince.

Zim, sixty feet from the ground, swept in an arc parallel to the valley floor, beat his wings down with gusting, powerful strokes and dropped the last fifteen feet to the ground, crushing the flowers unlucky enough to be growing underneath. “Ah, I have a welcoming party.” His teeth-revealing smile caused the younger realmists to shiver. “So, you must have missed me?”

“Don’t flatter yourself. We needed some fresh air after being cooped up inside that mountain. We hadn’t even realized you were gone.” Agmunsten winked.

“Well then, you don’t want to receive the news I’ve brought, or the pendant I carry. Never mind; there are others who love me.” Zim sniffed and carefully wiped an invisible tear from his eye with the back of a clawed finger.

“He’s as good an actor as you, Arie. We should have shows and start charging. I knew there was an easier way to earn a living than being a realmist.” Agmunsten rubbed his palms together, while Arie rolled his eyes.

After everyone greeted Zim, they retreated into Vellonia to meet with King Valdorryn. It was time to plan, and then it would be time to bless the piece of quartz that would help decide Talia’s fate.

Bright candlelight reflected off the polished stone, and Blayke looked briefly at his faint reflection on the walls. Sweetly-scented smoke wafted around him before it curled into small vents at either end of the ceiling. The room was bare, save for a wooden bowl, which was the size of two cupped hands, sitting on the floor in the middle of this small, underground chamber.

As Avruellen and Augustine had done for Bronwyn, Agmunsten and Arcese had warded the perimeter and stood—Arcese hunched over in the restricted space—waiting for Blayke to take his position by the bowl. Blayke felt sweat on his palms. He looked down into the vessel and saw a chain and amulet, similar to Bronwyn’s, resting on a bed of herbs. Agmunsten grabbed Blayke’s left hand while Arcese slipped a leathery, clawed hand around his right, engulfing it.

Agmunsten looked at Blayke. “Are your hands always this sweaty?”

“No.” Blayke swallowed; smiling through his fear was too hard.

“It will be okay, lad. I can see you’re thinking about what happened to Augustine. If you pay attention and do your job properly, as we discussed, we won’t be in danger. Arcese and I are strong, and I have no doubt Drakon will help us. Are we all ready?” Agmunsten looked from Blayke to Arcese, who nodded.

Blayke hoped Agmunsten was as wise as his white beard suggested. He breathed in deeply and concentrated on the warmth from the head realmist’s hand and the cool roughness of Arcese’s large palm. They were standing close together, yet Blayke felt exposed, like he was standing out in the open, by himself, surrounded by Morth and his bandits. He focused on the amulet and what it signified and pushed aside his vulnerability—he knew it was there but chose to ignore it. It was time.

Agmunsten’s voice was deeper than normal as he intoned the rites. “We stand here today to unlink a piece of the chain that binds our salvation. I order you, Blayke, to link with Erme, the water corridor to the Second Realm.

Blayke tightened his stomach muscles against the rush of power as it filled him.

“Realmist Arcese, I ask you to link with Quie, the fire corridor to the Second Realm.” Even Agmunsten held his breath. This was where it had gone wrong last time, and Augustine had not known until it was too late. He waited for some sign from the dragon that he should continue. Arcese closed her eyes for a moment. In the seconds before she opened them, Blayke thought his resolve would snap—he wanted to run from this room and never look back. The air felt charged with energy, and goose bumps freckled his arms and legs.

When the dragon opened her eyes, Blayke thought he saw fear, but it was so brief he may have been wrong. She nodded to Agmunsten, and he let out his breath. “I now link with Zaya, the corridor to the gods, and I seek the blessing of Drakon, god of the dragons.” Agmunsten’s voice had been measured until now, but Blayke heard the tension in his elder’s voice as he spoke faster. It was as if he wanted to get it over and done with before something untoward happened. Blayke hoped, for the hundredth time that day, that none of them were about to die.

“Do you agree to unlock this piece I present, thereby enabling the possibility of humans and dragons to defeat our oldest and bitterest enemy?” Agmunsten looked to the ceiling as if he could see past the tons of rock above, to the heavenly abode of the dragon god. Arcese and Blayke looked at the bowl. Blayke squeezed the hands of his fellow realmists a bit tighter. The air shimmered, and momentary dizziness swayed the young realmist.

“Ah, so it is you, humans, but with one of mine. Greetings, Arcese, my child.”

“Greetings, Father.” Arcese bowed her head in respect.

The shimmering air pulsed with Drakon’s voice. “I will help, but there is a price you must pay. It is a price set by the Realms, and a trifle compared to what you will lose if you don’t.”

Agmunsten stood taller, bracing himself to take the news on the strongest shoulders he could offer. “Tell me the price so we may get on with this blessing.” Blayke wondered what the price would be, and knew, from the head realmist’s voice, it would be a big one. He shut his eyes and drew a deep, calming breath.

“Listen carefully, and repeat this to no one. When the price is asked, you will have one chance to act. If you hesitate, the chance will be lost, and so will Talia. The two you must sacrifice are….”

All three realmists paled, and Blayke blinked back tears. When Drakon finished speaking, the energy flowing to the channels ceased, and as Blayke reached down to gather the quartz in his shaking hands, he wished he were an innocent child once again. He didn’t know how to carry this new burden and thought death would be so much easier. His fingers touched the pendant, and he fell to his knees. Agmunsten and Arcese stood in silence as Blayke knelt on the floor and wept.

Agmunsten covered his face with his hands. They had survived the blessing of the quartz, so why did it feel like they had failed?

Bronwyn
hadn’t thought she would be sad to leave Vellonia—since she doubted she would ever leave at one point—but found herself wiping her eyes as she said goodbye to the king and queen and all the dragons she’d met since coming here. The dragon she had spent the most time with, Arcese, was the one who was most difficult to say goodbye to. Standing on the shore of the underground lake, they embraced, and Bronwyn wanted to never let go. Even though Arcese’s leathery scales were not soft, she felt peace in the large creature’s arms. In the short time they were there, this dragon realmist had taught them all much about earth magic—knowledge that would be invaluable in the weeks to come. Arcese’s calm and kind nature had captivated Bronwyn. The young realmist wished she were more like the dragon.

Bronwyn stepped into the boat and sat behind Blayke and Arcon. Sinjenasta jumped in after her, making it rock so violently, she grabbed the side. He lay in the back of the boat. A strap uncoiled from the floor to secure itself over the panther’s back. Once all were harnessed safely, the boat glided away from the edge of the bank. Their belongings were being flown out by one of the dragons and would be waiting when they reached the outside.

Looking at the water, Bronwyn could see no evidence of Symbothial’s murder. Such a violent, sad moment—the ending of his life, and no sign to suggest it had ever occurred. If only she could erase it from her mind as easily.
I won’t forget you, Symbothial, and I’m sorry.

Bronwyn turned and waved until the boat rounded a bend and she lost sight of her friends. “I think I’m going to miss Vellonia.” After a minute, when no one responded, she spoke again, “What about you, Blayke? Are you going to miss it?”

He had been unusually quiet after the blessing of his amulet, and nothing Bronwyn asked could pull a reason from him.

“I will, for sure, if only because it could be the last peaceful time we get to have. I’m not looking forward to what’s out there.” Bronwyn didn’t have an answer, as she suspected it was true. Arcon stayed silent and tried to figure out what was upsetting his nephew. He had never seen him like this, and Fang had no ideas either. Maybe it was just that he was growing up and realizing the nature of what lay ahead. Maybe his distaste of killing was affecting him.

The boat jerked as the speed increased. They all held on—even Sinjenasta extended his claws, trying to gain purchase on the timbers underneath him. This time the boat didn’t drop, but circled, faster and faster, until Bronwyn thought she might vomit. Finally, the boat shot out of its whirlpool, spearing towards a hole barely bigger than the boat. The young realmists gripped the boat with strained fingers, and Bronwyn shut her eyes, not wanting to see the moment her head would bash against the rock of the hole that looked too small. She had tried to bend over and put her head on her knees, but they were travelling too fast—the force of the air keeping her upright.