A troubling sight in desert white
A fateful meeting in the night.
“Oh no,” Ben gasped. “Oh, Gods…” He leaped from his saddle into the sand.
Araynia did likewise, as Flint thundered up behind them in a cloud of white dust.
Excitement and hope shattered into something much darker as they all stared at the unexpected sight before them.
The White Dragon lay in the sand, right in the middle of The Line. Groups of travellers had stopped to stare, forming a ragged circle around the obstruction; others continued their progress, forging new tracks through the sand on either side, giving the massive creature a wide berth.
“Is she… is she dead?” Ben could hardly breathe.
Araynia felt her own breath catch in her throat as well. She had glimpsed this Dragon before, just once, back at Castle Whiteshadow, but hadn’t got a good look at her before Ferrian rode off on an urgent mission to rescue his friend.
She had never imagined that any living thing could be so extraordinarily beautiful. Scales shone in the moon-glow with pearl-white, iridescent colours; all along her sinuous spine, plates and spikes glittered like sculpted ice. Vast wings, strong yet delicate as paper, ending in immense white and blue feathers, were curled against her sides; a second pair of gossamer, butterfly-like appendages trailed in the sand beneath them like ripped lace.
The Dragon’s great head lay tilted into the sand, eyes closed.
Araynia was so overwhelmed with emotion that she didn’t know what to say.
“Ah, crap…” She heard Flint’s voice, somewhere to her left, and made herself turn to look.
One of the Dragon’s hind legs protruded awkwardly from her body, and Araynia could see instantly what had elicited Flint’s dismay.
A depressingly-familiar inky stain marred the Dragon’s hide, slowly turning the pearly scales ashen grey.
Ben had fallen to his knees in the sand. “The White Dragon,” he said numbly, “she… she’s infected. How did this… happen…?”
Flint cursed. All of a sudden he whirled, kicking up a violent spray of sand. After a moment, he walked over and slumped down on the Dragon’s tail. Rummaging in his coat pocket, he brought forth a match tin and a cigarette. Shoving the latter in the side of his mouth, his hands shook as he took several attempts to light it.
“You said Ferrian was headin’ to Arkana,” the Freeroamer broke the grief-stricken silence, and shook his head. “Seems like we weren’t wrong about why those Angels were fleein’”
Ben pushed himself to his feet. “You think… Ferrian tried to fight the wraiths?!”
Flint just shrugged.
“Then where is he??” Ben demanded, as though the Freeroamer had all the answers. In desperation he spun, looking around.
Araynia searched the silent crowd of onlookers, who were keeping a safe distance, but recognised none of them. Their faces stared back at her, eyes glittering with curiosity and fear.
But the silver-eyed sorcerer was not among them.
“He ain’t here,” Flint muttered.
Ben rounded on him, his eyes going wide. “You think he’s dead, don’t you?”
Flint’s head lowered until his face was hidden, a thin trail of smoke leaking from beneath his hat. He said nothing.
“HE’S NOT DEAD!” Ben almost screamed. “He’s a sorcerer! He has a Sword! There is NO way that Ferrian is dead! It isn’t possible, it’s not… he can’t… be…”
His voice broke up into gasping, heaving sobs.
Araynia ran over and hugged him to her, tears running down her own face. Ben had been so confident up until this point. After all the horrors they had suffered through together, including witnessing his sister brought down by a demon-wraith, the boy had held himself together.
But now, finally, he was breaking.
“We do not know what has become of Ferrian,” Araynia told him as he wept into her shoulder, trying to give him a small measure of the hope that he had given to her. “You told me to trust myself. We should trust Ferrian, too.”
Her vision flooded with tears, which fractured the Dragon’s beautiful scales into stars. “When I get the Sword of Healing back,” she whispered, “I will save the Dragon. I will save your sister. Whatever it takes from me, I will do it.”
Closing her eyes, she focussed her thoughts upon the Dragon, then slowly opened them again.
If she thought the Dragon’s physical form was stunning, her soul was… indescribable. It filled her entire vision, colours streaming off into the night as though the sun had exploded into a rainbow.
A thin, dark thread leeched its way into the heart of that glory, like ink splashed vindictively across a work of art.
She gasped, and the sudden tension in her body caused Ben to pull away.
“W-what’s wrong?” he asked worriedly, as though expecting more bad news.
Araynia squeezed her eyes closed, banishing the wondrous, terrible vision, then blinked them open again. The Dragon’s aura was gone, but the memory of it burned in her mind’s eye like an afterimage. “The Dragon is… alive,” she told him. “I… I am going to try to speak with her.”
Some life returned to Ben’s eyes. He took off his bandanna and wiped his face with it. “You… you can do that?”
Araynia swallowed. “I… I do not know. I will try.”
Taking a deep breath, she walked forward, slowly approaching the Dragon.
Huge, glass-like claws were sunk into the sand beside her. Great spiralled horns loomed over Araynia’s head, wicked sharp. She knew that the Dragon was not likely to hurt her, but the sheer size and presence of such a creature was intimidating, nonetheless. She felt tiny beside the Dragon, and vulnerable.
But she had seen the Dragon’s pain, and it burned her like a slash across her own heart.
Finally, reaching the head, she stopped.
Tentatively, she held out a hand.
The scales were smooth and cold beneath her fingers. The Dragon did not react. If Araynia had not seen her aura, it would have been dreadfully easy to assume that she had, indeed, perished.
“Dragon?” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “Can you hear me?”
There was a long, troubling moment of silence in which the noblewoman held her breath, as still as the majestic creature before her. Then:
I hear you, Human child.
The Dragon remained still as stone, but the voice rang clearly in Araynia’s mind, beautiful and musical and huge and inhuman.
It was as though the depths of a winter night were speaking to her, and she had to force back another flood of tears.
“What has happened to you, Dragon?” she asked tremulously. “Where… where is your master?”
There was another long silence.
Ferrian is not… my master. He is… my son.
Araynia was taken aback. “I-I apologise,” she stammered. “But… do you know what has become of him?”
I am tainted, the Dragon replied, her voice slow and languorous, as though costing her great effort. We were attacked… by a darkened spirit of the sea. Ferrian was not harmed... but the Tower fell, and a Black Pyramid followed. The Ancients have claimed him, and I have not the strength to take him back. I fear for him. I left. I left…
Araynia could make little sense of the Dragon’s words. “A Black Pyramid?” she repeated. “What is that?”
But the Dragon was quiet.
Araynia waited, but the Dragon spoke no more.
She removed her hand, frowning anxiously, wondering if the Dragon was delirious. Black Pyramids? Ancients? Darkened spirits of the sea? What did any of that mean?
And what about a fallen Tower?
“What did the Dragon say?”
Araynia turned to find Ben standing behind her. “I… don’t know. I did not understand any of it.” She gave him a worried look. “She spoke of… strange things. And a Tower falling…”
Ben frowned. “What? You mean Caer Sync?” He shook his head. “That’s impossible. Maybe she was speaking metaphorically? Or meant some other tower…”
“The Holy Tower did fall over! I saw it happen!”
They both looked up, startled at the strange voice. At first they could see no one – but it definitely had not been the Dragon who had spoken. Then Araynia caught sight of a small figure sitting atop the Dragon’s shoulder.
It was a young Angel girl, with copper hair and white wings speckled with a dark reddish pattern, changing to vivid orange at the tips, as though on fire.
Araynia and Ben stared up at her in shock and surprise.
Flint wandered over, placing his hands on his hips. “Yo, kid,” he said, cigarette still stuck in the corner of his mouth, “you havin’ a go?”
The girl got to her feet, glaring down at him. “Are you calling me a liar?!”
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
“No one’s calling anyone anything, except for their names,” Ben told her. “I’m Ben. This is Lady Araynia. That’s Sergeant Flint. What’s yours?”
The girl scowled at everyone in turn, as though trying to decide whether to trust them or not. Then she replied, defensively: “Li’Zan!”
“Li,” Ben asked, with forced calmness, “what happened in Arkana?”
The girl was quiet for a moment. She sniffed, then replied: “The Holy Tower crashed into the city. It fell across the whole forest, all the way to the mountains, all smashed up. The Clock was all smashed up, and there were silver ghosts wandering around in the trees, and the Goddess is dead! My parents are… dead…” She sniffed again, her eyes glimmering.
A deep silence fell. Flint took his cigarette out of his mouth and stared at it, then tossed it away into the sand.
No one knew what to say.
Araynia felt as sick as Ben looked. They exchanged a horrified glance.
“Ferrian… went there…” Ben whispered, fresh tears rising to his eyes. “Did he… did Ferrian break Caer Sync?”
Li shook her head, staring at the Dragon. “Ferrian flew up into the Tower, after it broke. I think he was looking for Mekka.”
They all looked up at her in astonishment. “Did you see what happened to them?” Araynia asked.
Li shook her head again. “No. Everything went dark. There was a shadow in the sky, like a giant ink stain. Tander said that we had to go, so we flew away from it.”
Ben frowned. “Who’s Tander?”
Li sighed. She jumped down from the Dragon to land in front of them, and kicked at the sand, looking angry again. “He was supposed to be my friend too!” Then the fury drained out of her, and she sat heavily on the ground. Tears trickled down her young face.
Araynia crouched in front of her. “Why did you not go with the other Angels, Li?” she asked softly. “What are you doing here?”
The girl wiped at her tears with the back of her hand. “I don’t want to go with them!” she insisted. “I was just trying to find Ferrian!”
Ben stared down at her. “You know Ferrian? And Mekka?”
Li nodded unhappily. “They aren’t here though, are they?”
Araynia shook her head sadly.
Ben slumped against one of the Dragon’s gleaming claws. Flint frowned.
They all fell into a dejected, troubled silence.
Out on the plains, four black-cloaked figures sat on horseback, stark shadows against the pale sand. They hung back at a distance, beyond the ring of fascinated onlookers gawking up at the massive, white-scaled Dragon blocking The Line.
Unlike everyone else, their attention was not riveted on the gleaming beast, but on a stocky figure in a large hat, standing exposed along with three others and their horses near the Dragon’s head.
X rested his bow loosely against his saddle-horn in a gangly, weathered hand, an arrow already nocked and held in place with the other. “Got a clear shot,” he murmured. “Just say the word.”
Jewels regarded the little group from within the depths of her hood. Flint and his companions hadn’t noticed them yet, too preoccupied with the Dragon. She had no idea what their connection was to this creature, but they had seemed upset when they approached it.
Possibly because the thing was obviously dying.
Bunch of sentimental idiots.
Jewels couldn’t care less. The Dragon was a mighty prize; if her enemies hadn’t been present, she would have been tempted to try prising some of its lovely scales or horns off, but the Dragon was not, at the moment, a priority.
A better opportunity had presented itself.
It was almost a shame, Jewels thought ruefully. The chase had been quite entertaining, though she hadn’t yet managed to acquire the Eliminator. Killing the notorious traitor Starshadow Flint with his own crossbow would have been so elegant, so beautiful, such delicious perfection. But Jewels was not the type of person to throw away chances simply for the sake of theatrics.
She could put an end to him right here, right now.
And the silly fool wouldn’t even see it coming.
She was leader of the Bladeshifters because she was ruthless, and because she snatched Luck’s multicoloured servants whenever they fluttered her way, crushing them in a jewelled fist.
Her dark eyes narrowed. “Take him down,” she ordered.
X lifted his bow, smoothly drew the arrow, and sighted.
“Wait!” Her thick hand shot out, seizing X’s wrist just as he was about to release.
Three newcomers had appeared, gliding down out of the night sky, landing gracefully upon the desert floor in swirls of white sand. They wore the most stunning silvertine armour that Jewels had ever seen, and carried equally marvellous silvertine spears.
All three of the Angels approached Flint’s group.
“Who the hell are those guys?” Strike exclaimed from Jewels’ other side.
The Bladeshifter leader’s gaze fixed hungrily upon the sparkling armour. “Don’t know,” she murmured. “But I think I would like to watch the show, just a little longer…”
She grinned.
The crossbow lifted casually to greet the three advancing Angel soldiers, a bolt already wound into place.
It was a replacement bow, given to Flint by Sergeant Wolfrun, made of ordinary wood and steel. Compared to his bespoke Eliminator, it looked ridiculously tiny in Flint’s hands, like a child’s toy.
“This ain’t a stage show, gents,” the Freeroamer commented. He gestured with his head. “Move along.”
“On the contrary,” the white-winged Angel leader replied, taking in the scene before him with a turquoise gaze, which settled at last upon Flint, along with a dazzling smile. “This appears to be quite the tourist attraction you have here.”
Ben ran forward. “Flint! These men are from the Sky Legion!”
Flint’s hazel eyes widened, and he lifted his crossbow higher. “Oho! You’re the goons who arrested Mekka?”
There was a swishing sound, and the tip of a long silver spear was suddenly an inch from Flint’s ear. A green-winged Angel stood at the end of it, eyes flashing. “Would you like to be next, Freeroamer?”
“Gentlemen, please,” the white-winged Angel drawled, leaning on his spear. He waved an elegant hand. “We were merely carrying out our duty. I am sure you understa—”
“Li!”
The third, brown-winged Angel came forward with a gasp.
The girl rose to her feet, but lingered warily beside the Dragon.
Everyone looked at her, save for Flint, whose hard gaze remained fixed on the Angel leader, crossbow still raised.
“Yo, Li,” he said without moving. “You friends with these Sky Rats, too?”
Li said nothing, but walked forward until she was level with Ben. She regarded the brown-winged Angel for a long moment, then turned and addressed the white-winged leader, anger back in her young copper eyes.
“You made Tander leave me behind on purpose, didn’t you?” she accused him.
A look of surprise crossed the Angel’s handsome face, then his grin was back in place. “My, my! This one is sharp!”
“No, Li,” Tander sighed, sinking to his knees in the sand. “That was my own foolishness. Commander Reeves is not to blame.”
Dropping his spear, he removed his winged helmet and looked at her imploringly. “Please, Li. I am sorry. Forgive me.” He held out a silver-gauntleted hand. “There is a place in the Legion for you. Please, come back.”
Ben stared down at him in amazement. The Angel caught his gaze, and a look of recognition passed between them.
This was the Lieutenant who had given Ben his fine silvertine dagger.
The one who had spared Hawk’s life.
The same thought seemed to occur to both of them at the same time, judging from the flicker of anxiety in Tander’s eyes.
His Commander did not know that Hawk had not been disposed of. He didn’t know about the disobeyed order.
Ben gave the Angel Lieutenant an almost imperceptible nod. I won’t mention it.
Tander seemed to understand. He returned a faint smile of gratitude.
“Don’t go with them, Li,” Ben warned her aloud; the girl was still standing uncertainly by his side. “They—” he hesitated, then pointed at the Commander. “He can’t be trusted!”
Ben reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. He unfolded it and held it up in one hand. “What’s New Arvanor?”
Silence fell, like a stone.
Commander Reeves’ mouth twitched. He raised an eyebrow. “Interested in joining, are you?”
“What is it?” Ben demanded. “What’s the Golden Dawn?”
The white-winged Angel regarded him coolly. “It is a peaceful religious order, based in the Goldenwood, sanctioned by the Empire of Siriaza,” he replied.
Araynia stepped forward, looking angry. “We met some pilgrims of this order on the road,” she said. “They were starving themselves to death!”
“Indeed? Well, that is certainly not part of the official doctrine,” Reeves replied smoothly. “They were doing so on their own initiative…”
Flint eyed him suspiciously. “You some kind of cult leader?”
Reeves smiled, placing a hand against his shining breastplate. “I am its leader, yes.”
Ben crushed the paper between his hands, rolling it into a ball. “I know what you are,” he said, throwing the ball at the Angel. “You’re a creep.”
Reeves caught the ball deftly. He held it up in silver-clad fingers, admiring it like a precious orb. Then he tossed it back at the boy. “Why don’t you hold on to that,” he suggested, “in case you change your mind?”
The ball hit Ben in the chest and bounced onto the sand. He bent and scooped it up furiously, glaring at the Angel Commander. “Why the hell would I do that?!”
The Angel was smirking, and Ben didn’t like the look in his eyes, as though the door keeping his insanity locked away was slightly ajar. “Oh, call it… a feeling.”
Beside him, the green-winged Angel huffed impatiently, slamming the butt of his spear in the sand. “This is a waste of our time, Commander,” he complained. “Ferrian is clearly not here, and we’d be better off without that stupid girl.” His green eyes regarded them all with contempt. “Let these fools pine over their dead Dragon—”
There was a soft thump, and Flint gave a jerk. For a second he just stood there, a confused frown on his face. Then his crossbow lowered and slipped from his grasp.
And then, the Freeroamer fell, face downward into the sand. A red-and-black fletched arrow protruded from his back.
Time, for an endless moment, stood still. Everyone stared down at the stricken Freeroamer, lying motionless in the moonlight, themselves frozen.
Then the world exploded into motion.
The Sky Legion dropped into defensive crouches, looking around to see where the arrow had come from. Tander threw himself over Li, shielding her. Ben, too, dropped to the ground.
Shouts went up from the loose ring of spectators, and there were a few screams. People began running.
Only Araynia remained standing, paralysed with horror, staring at Flint.
Ben could barely think through his own shock and terror. But the noblewoman was an exposed target…
“ARAYNIA!” he screamed. “GET DOWN!!!”
He started to rise, but Lieutenant Tander was quicker. The Angel pushed himself up, raced across the short distance and grabbed the Lady, taking them both into the sand, just as something pinged off his armour.
There was a muffled grunt of pain.
In the next moment, the White Dragon moved. Claws gouged furrows in the sand, her great, horned head lifted into the air, shedding sand, silver eyes opening wide.
Her fearsome gaze swung upon the black-clad figures on horseback.
Jaws opening, the Dragon let out a scream that shook the entire desert – an immense, anguished, screeching wail that shattered the courage of anyone who heard it.
Chaos reined. Horses and draught animals screamed and bolted. Wagons overturned. Every traveller and onlooker in the vicinity panicked and fled in all directions, including the black riders, who scattered across the plains.
The Dragon surged forward. In three mighty, thundering strides, she swiped a paw at the rider in front of her, throwing both mount and bowman high into the air, landing some distance away with twin sickening thuds. Head rearing back, she spewed a gout of icy breath in a great arc.
Then, suddenly becoming weak, limbs trembling, the Dragon crashed back down into the sand, and was still once more.
Araynia struggled to extricate herself from the soldier, who appeared to be in pain. Turning, she saw that an arrow had embedded itself into his wing muscle, where it emerged unprotected from his silvertine armour.
But the Angel was not mortally wounded, and Flint…
Choking on sobs and fear, she abandoned the Legionnaire and scrambled over to the fallen Freeroamer. Grabbing the arrow in his back, she attempted to break it; then Ben was at her side, helping her. They snapped the shaft and rolled him over onto his back, then pulled out the rest of the arrow.
Blood gushed from his chest, and leaked slowly from his mouth. He was unconscious, his weathered face gone sickly pale and coated with sand.
Unthinkingly, not knowing what else to do, Araynia snatched the pendant from around her neck and pressed it against the wound.
Ben’s face was bloodless. “Can you… can you save him?” he asked shakily.
Araynia wanted to shrivel up and weep at the hope in the boy’s eyes. She couldn’t seem to catch her breath, feeling panic overtaking her. “I do not… I do not know… I, I, I…”
She didn’t have her Sword, she had never successfully used healing magic before, and there was a good chance that trying to use any magic at all would incinerate everyone within thirty feet of her…
But Flint was dying, his life blood ebbing away by the second…
“GET AWAY FROM ME!” she screamed suddenly. “EVERYONE STAY AWAY!!!”
Tears were flooding down her face. Clutching the pendant, blood leaking over her hands, she tried to summon her magic, but it would not come…
A slow, heavy weight settled upon her body as she gazed down at the blood glistening darkly in the moonlight.
She couldn’t do this. She needed the Sword of Healing, and she didn’t have it. Trying to save Flint was pointless – it was too late. He was… gone…
The pendant flared softly blue.
Along with it came a familiar voice…
Araynia…
A brilliant white light materialised in front of Araynia, on the other side of Flint. It coalesced into the shape of a man.
All thoughts fled from Araynia’s head; she could only stare, transfixed with awe.
It was Requar, but he was made all of shimmering, scintillating light. One arm was outstretched, his hand upon the pendant, overlaid upon her own.
He gave her a resplendent smile, then turned his white gaze downwards.
Flint! he exclaimed, and laughed softly, as though the man were not perishing beneath them. How many times must I save your life, old friend, hmmm? He shook his head. You should take better care of yourself…
Reaching over his shoulder, the dead sorcerer withdrew a long, elegant and ghostly Sword.
Turning it one-handed, keeping the other in contact with the pendant, he placed the Sword down upon Flint’s body. I believe you were in need of this? He gave Araynia another smile.
Stunned, Araynia slid her blood-coated fingers onto the handle of the ethereal, shining Sword, and it felt solid beneath her touch.
Calm your thoughts, now, Requar told her gently. Feel your magic as a soft river running through you. It is there, and it will not harm you, or Flint. It is not too late. There is time. Trust it…
Trust it.
Trust Requar.
Trust yourself…
Ben’s words came back to her, and Araynia closed her eyes, listening to Requar’s soft reassuring voice, and allowed her magic to flow free, and trusted.