Messenger of the Dark Prophet (The Bowl of Souls: Book Two) (39 page)

He grinned evilly at the two brothers. “Sometimes as a reward, I throw an unruly prisoner in with her.”

Ewzad Vriil watched Hamford and Kenn as they shivered in abject fear. He knew that he had two more servants he could trust completely. They now feared him too much to betray him. And that was good, because he needed them as bait to capture the other dragon. It was all just another step in his plan.

“Now, my dear servants, we have much work to do. We have a dragon to capture and there is much that I need to catch you two up on. You see a lot has changed since I last saw you, my dear Hamford. A lot has changed . . .”

Deathclaw examined the half-built castle from the safety of the trees. He had spent the afternoon exploring the land around the castle and learning the best way to avoid the humans that populated the area.

Along the way, mingled with the scents and tracks of humans, Deathclaw had caught a scent that terrified him. The human with the quivering hands was here; the wizard that had transformed him into the creature he was now. The smell of the wizard permeated everything and it got worse the closer to the castle he went.

He didn’t dare face that human. He even came close to leaving, but he caught a faint trace of another scent. It was familiar. This scent could very well belong to the one he sought, the one creature that was like him; his sister.

Deathclaw still did not know what he would do when he saw her, but he wasn’t concerned about that. All he knew was that his goal was in sight. He had a feeling that she was inside the massive shelter of stone that the humans were making. He would watch and wait. Then when the opportunity presented itself, he would act.

Chapter Twenty Five

It was a clear night. The moon was out and the air was crisp and cold. The autumn winds blew across the road to Sampo in a swirl of brown leaves.

The companions spent the first hour of their nighttime journey in silence. Two humans, an elf, and a rogue horse, each one deep in thought. All of them were making a big change, starting a new chapter in their lives.

Justan's thoughts were troubled. As he left Professor Valtrek standing by the front gate of the school, he had been excited with the prospects of the new journey. But when he took one last look back over his shoulder and saw the
Mage
Tower
disappearing into the clouds, he felt an unexpected sadness well up in him. He would miss the place.

He didn't know where his life was going to take him or even if he would ever return. There were many people that he would miss. Professor Beehn, Riveren, Vincent, he hadn't been able to say goodbye to any of them.

Then there was Vannya. After the revelations of the night, Justan still felt bad for the way he had treated her. Part of him wondered what might have happened if he hadn’t come to the wrong conclusions about her, but any thoughts of longing over Vannya were disrupted by the presence of the Jharro Bow on his back and the memory of the woman that had given it to him. Would he ever see Jhonate again? He now seemed to be traveling farther away from her than ever before.

Justan shook his head to dispel the somber thoughts. He looked back to his two travel companions and saw that both of them were riding with their heads down, thinking quietly. Evidently they had their own worries to deal with.

Justan knew that Qyxal must be feeling some sorrow about leaving the place that had been his home for so many years. The elf had been sent there originally as a representative of his people and to grow the talents he had been born with, but the place had become a part of him.

Zambon’s attitude though, was a mystery. The guard had begun to act distant and strange about a week earlier and Justan had been too busy with his own work to delve into the reasons why. He wondered what was bothering the man. Zambon had never wanted to be at the
Mage
School
in the first place. Why was he torn up about leaving?

A jolt of happiness pushed at the back of his mind. Gwyrtha was trying to cheer him up. Justan smiled. His bond with the rogue horse had grown a lot since the day they met deep in the forest fighting off the moonrats. Strange to think how terrifying she had first appeared to him with her lizard-like snout full of sharp teeth and her legs tipped in powerful claws. Inside, she was like a playful puppy.

Gwyrtha was the only one of the group not hampered with deep thoughts and she had grown tired of the somberness of the others. She now had everything she wanted. She was free and she was with Justan. The noble creature's spirits were soaring and she eagerly pushed those feelings into Justan’s mind. Gwyrtha took his smile as permission to let some of her energy free.

Hoping for a race, she nipped at the rumps of Albert and Stanza, the two warhorses and squealed in challenge. Stanza neighed and, noting Gwyrtha's playfulness, Qyxal let her go. Gwyrtha and Stanza thundered up the road, the warhorses hoof beats and the clicks of Gwyrtha’s claws echoing through the still night air.

Albert wanted to join them as well, but Zambon reined him in. The guard was not in the mood for such antics.

Qyxal leaned forward, joining in the rhythm of his mount as she raced up the road while Justan, being a much less experienced rider, had to hang on for dear life.

Stanza was a warhorse bred and trained for battle. She was a fine specimen, large, swift, and strong. Normally this would give Stanza the edge but while she was a magnificent example of a powerful breed, Gwyrtha was pure magical perfection, a hybrid of the best attributes of many animals.

She hung back at first, letting Stanza have some fun, but she couldn't hold her energy back for long. She soon jumped forward, her loping strides taking her far ahead.

 As she rushed through the night, Justan was able to shift his grip on her mane and find a more comfortable purchase on her back. He lifted his head a bit and with the wind blowing through his hair, Justan let go of his worries. He soon found himself caught up in the happiness Gwyrtha was exuding. He leaned forward and opened his mind up to her, joining in her thoughts.

In the beginning, it had been hard for them to communicate. Their ways of thinking were just too foreign to one another. Justan thought mainly in words, while Gwyrtha’s thoughts were a jumble of sights and sounds and smells. Things had changed since then. Justan had learned how to navigate the instinctive pattern of her thoughts and Gwyrtha’s mind had grown enough that she understood his words.

Now with their minds linked, Justan could feel the hard packed dirt of the road beneath her feet. Through her ears, he could hear the sounds of the night calls of birds and other creatures over the whistling of the wind that rushed past her ears.

She smelled the grasses and flowers interspersed with the scents of the living creatures that inhabited the land on either side of the road. To his amazement, she could even pick out each individual scent or sound and instinctively know which animals and plants were good to eat and which ones were poisonous.

This was as deep into their bond as he had ever been and a warning rippled across his thoughts, but his curiosity overcame his common sense. Justan immersed himself even deeper into her mind.

Now his thoughts began to match hers even more closely. He could feel the energy thrumming throughout her body, each muscle and tendon engineered to handle far more stress than any mere horse could. Justan’s own body was a weak husk compared to hers. He had always been ashamed of his body’s weaknesses, its inability to endure stress or even to follow the orders of his mind. Gwyrtha’s body didn’t have any of those weaknesses.

Justan sensed that if he stretched even deeper into her thoughts, he could join with her fully and leave his puny piece of flesh behind. With Gwyrtha’s body he would have no need of swords or weapons. The power behind her huge teeth and claws could do just as much damage or even more. If he joined with her permanently, his senses would expand and he wouldn’t be burdened by the cares of his human life. He could run freely throughout the land and leave the worries of his old world behind. If he just stretched a little further . . .

 With a yelp of pain, Gwyrtha skidded to a stop, sending Justan soaring over her head. Justan was disoriented for a moment as his thoughts were hurled from hers. He was jolted to his senses as his body hit the hard surface of the road, blasting the air from his lungs.

He rolled several yards before coming to a halt. It took what seemed like an eternity for him to regain control of his lungs and gasp for air. Finally, sweet air rushed in followed by the dust from the road. He coughed and sputtered and spat.

Justan lay on the road for a moment while his senses readjusted. He could no longer hear every sound or smell with such detail. He was back in his own body.

Shock ripped through his mind. What had he almost done? Justan suddenly felt queasy. Had he really almost given everything up? He remembered the pain as Gwyrtha had pushed his mind out of hers and he quickly reached for her thoughts. She was right beside him, nuzzling him with concern.

He assured her that he was fine and apologized to her profusely for what he had done. She didn’t seem to understand the apology, but she was glad that he wasn’t hurt.  Now he understood why Valtrek had sent him out of the school to find Master Coal. He had to be careful using the bond. What damage could he do to himself or others if his magic went out of control? Suddenly it was truly important that he meet this wizard and learn all there was to know about bonding magic.

A moment later as Justan climbed unsteadily to his feet, Qyxal and Stanza caught up. The elf vaulted from the saddle and rushed over to Justan, concern etched into his features.

“Justan!
I saw you hit the road pretty hard. Are you alright?”

“The only thing really hurt is my pride, I guess.”

“Are you sure? Do you want me to check you out?” Healing wasn’t the elf’s strongest talent, but he could handle most minor injuries.

Justan stretched and winced as he felt a twinge along his ribs. “No. That’s all right, Qyxal. I’m sure that I’ll be sore in the morning, but other than that I’m just fine.”

The elf shrugged. “Well, okay, but if you change your mind let me know.” 

“I will,” Justan said, but he knew that he wouldn’t. He welcomed the twinge in his side. It was a reminder that he needed to be careful with his magic.

“By the way,” Qyxal crossed his arms and stared at Justan with one eyebrow raised. “Why did you stop so suddenly like that?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Justan took an uneasy glance at Gwyrtha, but she was contentedly chewing on a tuft of plump grass she had found along the road. He quickly changed the subject. “Where is Zambon?”

The elf shrugged and turned to check the straps holding his belongings on Stanza. “He didn’t gallop along with us.”

“He has been acting strange like this for quite a while. Do you know what his problem is?” Justan asked.

“I don’t know him very well. I can’t say that I have really associated much with the guards.”

“Well, he's not usually like this. I mean he may not be the most personable man I've known, but he has a good heart.” Justan scratched his head as he peered into the night looking for the guard. “I think that we had better find out what's bothering him. We are going to have to depend on his knowledge a lot during this journey and we can't have him acting like this the whole time.”

A few minutes later they heard the steady clomp of horse hooves as Zambon caught up to them. When he arrived, he barely acknowledged their presence. The guard continued on up the road at his same steady pace.

Justan watched him pass with more than a little irritation, but Qyxal simply shrugged and mounted up.

Justan was a bit worried that Gwyrtha would show some kind of ill affect from his earlier mistake, but when he approached her, she was fine and seemed to have forgotten all about the incident. He quickly mounted and it took a moment for him and Qyxal to catch up with Zambon.

They rode without speaking for quite a while. Qyxal hummed thoughtfully to himself, while Zambon continued to brood silently. Justan followed a few steps behind in frustration. Zambon’s mood was like a blanket smothering his enthusiasm. 

He tried to grit his teeth and bear it, but after a few short minutes, he could take no more.