The rising, p.49
The Rising, page 49
part #3 of The Onis Chronicles Series
“Rath Salyaman! Tis good ta see ye!” They exchanged a friendly embrace, patting one another on the back before she continued, “I knows me be early, but me jus’ couldna’ wait. Tis only what, three more days ta the glootendally?”
Just then, their attention was brought to the castle entrance as the dark-haired elven beauty with violet eyes came strolling out, supporting a little high elf on her hip.
“Oh, Sal!” Glondora gleamed as she went over to greet Rathelle Shakiera and their little bundle. “The tike be more beautiful each time me sees ‘im. Ye know young Rathca Saluv tis gunna’ be fightin’ off all them laidens when ‘e be grown.”
Before Glondora could reach them, Shakiera smiled warmly as she set Saluv’s feet to the ground. The dwarf stopped in her tracks with tears twinkling in her eyes as the tiny elf took short, unsturdy steps toward her.
“That’s it, come ta Auntie Glondy, me boy. Oh, what a darlin’ ‘e be. And so strong already. Whoopsie!” she exclaimed when Saluv mis-stepped and landed on his bottom. Glondora hobbled quickly over to him and scooped him up in her arms. She kissed his chubby cheek and rustled the delicate dark-brown wisps of hair atop his head. “Ahh, I sees his eyes ‘ave settled. Bright violet, like ‘is mum. Aye, ye gunna’ be quite the ‘andsome young man wit’ yer mum’s beauty, and I bet ye’ll get yer paw’s stern jaw and brawn too.”
“Are you staying with us long?” Shakiera asked cordially.
“At least ‘til the glootendally, if that be alright. I couldna’ miss that. I brought the lad a mighty fine axe and helm from Lochlann fer the occasion.”
“Glondora, do you not think he is a little small for that?” Salyaman said with a raised eyebrow.
Squinting at the baby thoughtfully, she said. “Aye, yer right. Perhaps twill take some time fer ‘is ‘ead ta grow inta the helm. It be a bit small compared ta a dwarven lad. No offense, mind ye.”
Chuckling as he shook his head at the dwarf, Salyaman said, “That is not quite what I meant, but thank you for the gifts. And where shall the winds take you from here?”
“After the glootendally, Astry and me be off ta do some more explorin’. Tis been a whiles since we been ta the surroundin’ seas, and we ‘opin’ ta see some life returnin’.”
“Has there been any improvement at all?” Salyaman queried.
Sighing, Glondora handed Saluv back to his mother and shook her head. “Nay, but me not gunna’ stop lookin’ till there is, or until me can find the draikuhn mum and ask ‘er meself. Astry still wonna’ tell me where she be, but I suspect she knows.”
Sighing as well, Salyaman told her, “Yes, Masonel will not tell me either, though I suspect the same. There must be a reason.”
“Aye, but whatever that reason be, tis killin’ me lad. I fear Davion’s… well… I fears ‘e’s gone completely mad ta be ‘onest wit’ ye.” Glondora began strolling away, not wishing to talk on such things around the baby, and Salyaman joined her in her stroll while Shakiera and Saluv returned to the castle. “I jus’ left ‘im there in Roco. The lad ‘as everyone in ‘is power searchin’ fer Onis Caelis. That king been pressurin’ ‘im as well, demandin’ ta know why ‘is land not been replenished as promised, but methinks the lad jus’ be usin’ the king’s orders ta fuel ‘is own obsession. Since the day m’lady transformed, there be a look in the lad’s eyes that gives me chills. I dunna’ know why ‘e wonna’ let ‘er go.”
Shaking his head, Salyaman clasped his hands behind his back as he stared over at Masonel in the distance, lounging in the sun and licking his paw.
“We would all like to know why the land still suffers,” he said. “I have only seen Firemaster Davion on one occasion since that day, but I know the look of which you speak. Hopefully for his and all of Onis’s sake, she will show herself again soon and replenish the land as the prophecy had proclaimed.”
“I fears what the land may face if she doesna’. There be somethin’ in me lad more powerful than methinks came from the United ritual, and tis scarin’ me ta see ‘im wit’ all that darkness dwellin’ inside ‘im. Plus, wit’ that enormous and mighty Red sharin’ in ‘is grief…” Glondora shook her head at the thought.
Taking in a deep breath, Salyaman looked at her, saying profoundly, “I suppose it will be up to us to make sure he does not release that darkness upon the rest of Onis.”
* * *
Bracing himself at the window sill, Davion glared out at the setting sun of another frustratingly unsuccessful day. His teeth were grinding and temples flaring as he seethed. From his elevated quarters in one of the castle towers, he could see the city far below him skittering about. Merchants were putting away their wares. The thatcher was wrapping up his work on another roof of a rebuilt house. The blacksmith was turning over a freshly-shoed horse to the guard for the morning’s caravan to Mira. Signs in store windows were being turned as they shut up shop. Waving hands and hugs were exchanged as friends bid farewell to one another for the evening, and children were hurried along to their homes as the city prepared for its nighttime rituals.
Roco was recovering nicely from the devastation it had faced, and the general demeanor of the citizens was improved for the most part. Unfortunately, with the land still suffering from the plague, the Roconites worried about their continued lack of healthy crops and livestock.
While letting out a heavy sigh, Davion was startled when his door was gruffly opened, rattling as it struck the wall, and he turned to see two guards. They came in and stood at either side of the door upon entering, followed by King Lyson. The human king sauntered in slowly, stopping in the middle of the room.
“Your Majesty,” Davion said respectfully with a slight bow of his head.
“You know why I am here,” he said humorlessly.
“Yes, Your Majesty, but I regrettably have no news to offer.”
“It has been a whole cycle since the war has ended, and yet my land remains unchanged. I need to know why it has not been replenished, as was promised. How hard could it be to find the most enormous dragon that ever was?”
Stepping over to his cherry-wood desk with its elaborately engraved detailing, Davion went and stood behind it. He looked at the map atop it, covered in “X” marks from where they had had no luck finding the mother dragon. Shaking his head as he stared at the markings, he replied, “I don’t know why she won’t show herself, but I assure you, Your Majesty, that I am doing everything in my power to get you those answers.”
“Have I not given you enough men and resources? Have I not given you all that you have requested from me?” the king said, his voice raising. “Surely, your dragon must know something!”
Clenching his teeth, Davion took a moment to quell the fire he could feel within before stating, “My dragon can give me no answers either. But I promise you that I will not stop until I find her.”
After staring at the firemaster for an uncomfortably long moment with his hands resting firmly on his hips, the king finally spat, “Be sure you do.”
King Lyson turned his attention to a stack of unopened letters on Davion’s desk and asked, “Are those more applications?”
Glancing quickly at the letters before looking back at the king, Davion uttered, “Yes. I have not had a moment to look at them yet.”
“I told you before that you must take on an apprentice. The power and skills you possess are too great not to be taught to others of my kingdom.”
“Your Majesty, as I have explained, that is not how becoming a Rider works, and the ritual cannot be redone. The temple in Pynar is destroyed, and we no longer have an Omi Méa.”
“It doesn’t matter. I’m sure there is something they can learn from you. You are not just a Rider; you are a firemaster. One of the few human master mages left, I might add, and with more experience than most that I’ve known. There must be at least a few dozen requests there. Just pick one!”
Without another word, King Lyson turned and departed Davion’s chamber. The guards promptly followed the king out, shutting the door behind them with a clunk.
Davion slammed his palms on the desk and stared down at the map before him, feeling his fire boiling hot inside his chest. All the “X” marks were blurring together, creasing his brow while he shook his head fumingly. He growled with frustration and swiped the pile of apprenticeship request letters off his desk. As they went scattering in their paper fury all over the room, something shiny caught his eye whilst it soared through the air and clinked against the wall before tumbling to the wood floorboards. His anger left in an instant as he went and picked up the silver chain of his beloved, holding it delicately in his hands. He gently thumbed the Silver scale of Turathyl’s as he had seen Laila do a hundred times before. Tears welled in his eyes while he gazed at it, then he clenched his fist around the scale, holding it against his heart.
‘Goth…’ Davion sent out reluctantly. But there was no response. ‘Goth, I know you can hear me.’
‘I was not aware that you were speaking to me again,’ Gothäzer sent back with a grumbling rumble in his mind. ‘It has been months, young Davion.’
‘And, yet, you never left,’ Davion stated. ‘I’m surprised you’re still here.’
Sending him a feeling of frustration, Gothäzer replied, ‘Is it really that surprising? You should know by now I will not leave you. So, if you wish to be angry with me for another month or for fifty-two, I will be here when you are ready.’
‘I suppose how much longer is partly up to you,’ Davion said morosely.
‘And how is that?’ Gothäzer asked, suspecting he already knew the answer.
‘Is there any chance you have changed your mind? Please, tell me she is still at least out there,’ he beseeched. ‘You can at least tell me that, can you not?’
After a long silence, the dragon replied, ‘Onis Caelis still lives, but that is all I can say.’
‘So much for being one,’ Davion muttered miserably.
‘My bond with you is great, young Davion. Do not ever doubt that, nor my loyalty to you. But I cannot ignore my fealty to the mother dragon. United or not, her command will always take precedent.’
‘And if I discover her location, am I to take my horse Helna there?’
Davion felt a comforting warmth from Gothäzer as he told him, ‘I am sworn not to divulge her location. However, if my United Rider wishes to fly to a certain area, I see no reason why I should deny the request. I suspect such a refusal would only be confirming her location anyway.’
A rattling knock came at his door, and Davion quickly tucked the chain into his pocket with one hand while wiping away his tears with the other.
“You may enter,” he declared. The door squeaked open, and Davion was relieved to discover it was his brother. “Lieutenant Colonel Collins,” he addressed with acknowledgment to Torrence.
Stepping casually inside, Torrence said, “As pleased as I am about the new title you’ve procured for me and my position here, you really can just call me ‘brother’ when it is the two of us, or even ‘Torrence’ would do just fine.”
Sighing, Davion looked at him stoically, not in the mood for banter.
“I’m worried about you, brother,” Torrence said in earnest as he looked at the letters scattered about the floor.
“Yes, everyone always is,” Davion grumbled. “But it doesn’t do me any good, does it?”
Leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, Torrence glared at Davion, perturbed, as he said, “Are you even aware that you missed my wedding? Do you even care?”
Davion winced in shame as he tried to recall what the current day was. “I thought it was next week,” he said honestly, rubbing his throbbing temples.
Sighing, Torrence told him, “It was next week—three weeks ago. I’m sorry, but I couldn’t make her postpone again. Twice was enough.”
“No, I’m sorry,” Davion said. “I will make it up to you, I promise. How is Crystillan? Is she at least pleased with the position I acquired for her?”
“Well, it’s not her own shop in Amillia, but as head seamstress for the queen, she has plenty of work to keep her busy and all the finest materials she could desire. Anyway,” Torrence continued, “I came here to let you know that I have just returned with my troops and to give you my report that there is still nothing to report. Honestly, brother, I think she’s gone.”
Davion felt his fire flicker with Torrence’s words, and he took a deep breath. “She is not gone!” he blustered. “She has to be out there somewhere! She told me that I could see her again. Why would she say that if she is no longer here?!”
“That you could see who again?” his brother asked, standing back upright. “The mother dragon or Lady Laila? I thought we were just searching for Onis Caelis, not your elf.” Torrence looked concernedly at Davion with a furrowed brow. “Really, brother. What do you expect to happen when we find the dragon? That she’ll just turn back into an elf so she can be with you? We’re talking about the most powerful dragon that ever was, the mother of all dragons and all the land. Who’s to say she could even turn back into your elf if she wanted to?” Pausing for a moment while he observed Davion becoming more aggravated, he said gently, “I’m sure she’ll heal the land in time, but, honestly, if she wanted you to find her, then you would have by now. I think it’s time to let her go, brother.”
“I will not let her go!” Davion barked. Flames burst from his fists at his sides, and the fire reflected in his eyes as he glared at his brother, fuming, “I don’t know what will happen when I find her, or if she can turn back into Laila, but I don’t care! It doesn’t matter what it takes, or how long it takes, or how many people and resources it takes! I can’t hear any more excuses! I don’t care if you have to kidnap one of the elf shamans and force them to lead me to her with their seer magics! JUST FIND HER!”
The flames engulfing Davion’s clenched fists flared up fiercer before he tossed them forcefully into the fireplace, and the wood within combusted to roaring intensity.
Having become used to his brother’s vexation and outbursts, Torrence remained composed as he firmly replied, “Yes, sir.”
“Lieutenant Colonel?” came a timid voice from the open doorway, and they both turned to look, discovering a young soldier.
“What is it, Sergeant?” Torrence asked.
“We have a lead, sir, on the location of Onis Caelis.”
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Renew
The salty sea air was carried in on the island winds, pleasing the senses of her nostrils that had been filled with the dank, musty smell of a cave for nearly an entire year. She squinted her eyes against the brightness of the sun that she had not beheld in just as long while she stepped thunderously out into the opening. Her body twinged as she lengthened her long neck and limbs, waving her tail widely back and forth with the satisfying ache of a good stretch. The island surrounding her cave past the immediate rocky terrain had become lush and thriving in her slumber, the earth spirit rejoicing her return. Its green hands had spread across half of the island, stopping where a sacred tree now stood in beauty and torment with its twisted bark and limbs.
Onis Caelis outstretched her massive wings, careful not to hit the tips of trees nearby, and found her balance before lunging into the air with a powerful downward thrust. It wasn’t long at all before she had reached the center of the island to pay her respects to her love before she would be moving along to her next destination. As she neared, she discovered the tree to be in full bloom displaying silver leaves and red flowers the same hue as Nikolean’s eyes had once been. However, she was surprised that she did not find the tree alone. Descending towards the Sacred Tree, a large Silver quickly moved out of the way whilst Onis Caelis brought her enormous form down nearby.
‘Hello, Turathyl.’ The mother dragon poised majestically before the new Silver monarch while Turathyl bowed with reverence before her. ‘How did you know where to find him?’
Remaining with her head low against the ground, Turathyl replied, ‘I could feel a pulling at my heart to come here. It wasn’t until I was staring at the stone within its bark that I truly understood what was bringing me here. I am sorry if I have disturbed you with my presence, but I come here from time to time so that I might feel the aching pull just a little less severely.’
Taking in a deep breath, Onis Caelis told her, ‘You need not bow to me, my friend, nor could you ever disturb me. You have as much right to visit this tree as I, possibly more so.’
Turathyl raised her head before the mother dragon, looking up at her with sad eyes. Onis Caelis lowered her head, touching snouts with the Silver. ‘I wish I could heal the hole in your soul that has formed by being parted from him.’ The mother dragon pulled slowly away as she added, ‘I trust that you have done as I instructed and aided the dark elves in his memory?’
Turathyl nodded at her while the mother dragon raised her head back high. ‘The Drakka have been very welcoming to my kind, thanks primarily to the one called Rogg. He is a good choice for their new leader and has even ordered his people to aid the elves in rebuilding their cities as penance for all the destruction caused by the drow elders. They are aiming to correct the wrongs of the past, and I couldn’t be prouder of how far they have come in such a short time. I think you would be very pleased.’ Pausing for a moment, Turathyl looked off to the side with a furrowed brow.
‘What is it?’ Onis Caelis queried.
‘Forgive me,’ Turathyl said timidly, ‘but even with all their good deeds, the dark elves still suffer in their dead forests, and I hate to see them struggling so. All the land has been abiding by your orders but is wondering why Onis remains afflicted by the plague.’
Releasing a heavy sigh, the mother dragon said, ‘I understand. I had stopped the plague from spreading further before I retreated to my cave, but it was not yet time for the land to be healed. Do not worry; you shall not see them suffer much longer.’
