Resurgent Shadows (Successive Harmony Book 1) (32 page)

She looked up as he neared and gave him a small, knowing smile. “You’re not coming with us.”

Caleb saw the hidden sorrow in her eyes and realized with a start that she had been hoping he would. She reminded him of Rachel, and the child was almost exactly the same age Benson was when he’d died. The similarity was both comforting and painful at the same time.

“No, I’m not. But I wish I was,” he said honestly. There was too much that he needed to do, too many questions that needed answering. “I’m afraid I don’t even know your names.”

“I’m Ashley.”

Caleb reached out a hand and placed it on top of hers. She didn’t draw away, but a tear rolled down her cheek and splashed onto her arm. Ashley turned away for a moment, but only to pick up her baby and hold him close, placing her head on Caleb’s shoulder. Caleb felt uncomfortable for a moment, as if woman’s actions were somehow betraying his wife’s memory, but then he pushed the discomfort aside. He’d protected Ashley and her son, saved them from death. The feelings he felt for her was as a protector, not a lover.

“I’ve decided to call him Caleb,” she continued softly. “One day he’ll know of the man who gave up so much to save him and his mother.”

Caleb felt a lump well up in his throat and his vision blurred with burgeoning tears. Despite that, he smiled down at her and nodded.

“I have to go, Ashley,” he said softly, stepping back. “Be safe.”

She nodded and then stood up on the tips of her toes to kiss him on the cheek.

“May God watch over and bless you always, Caleb.” She turned, snatched up the rest of her bundle with one hand and then almost ran down the hall and through a door.

Caleb brushed away the tears that stained his cheeks and headed for the basement, ignoring the looks of the men and dvergers he passed as he walked. He needed answers and Dragonlord Jarome was going to provide them.

Recognition hit him like a bolt of lightning, stopping him in his tracks. The Red Dragonlord from his dream had been called Jarome! There was a chance, however slim, that it was the same one.

There was another sudden jolt of understanding as he realized that within the dream there had been dragons fighting dragons once again, as they had in a previous dream when the gold and the red dragons had fought against one another. The white dragon, for all its ferocity, was in equal opposition to the dragons of the Dragonlords. In the uneven contest of numbers, the white dragon had balanced the encounter in sheer skill and speed. There was an inherent symmetry to their existence that matched what Nepja had been saying about the equilibrium between Order and Chaos. There had certainly been some discrepancies in regards to the religious aspects involved, but the overall messages had been the same.

He turned and ran back up the stairs and into the room where Nepja, Lando, and Sigvid were conversing softly, the door swinging backwards and slamming into the adjacent wall with a resounding crash. Nepja and Sigvid looked over at him in alarm, the latter dropping a hand to the haft of one of his axes. Caleb knew that they thought he might be going insane, but didn’t have the patience to calm down.

“Nepja,” Caleb said without preamble. “Are there other dragons here, other types of dragons that is?”

Nepja’s eyes widened slightly at the abrupt question and then narrowed shrewdly. His knuckles whitened on the long haft of his staff.

“Other dragons?”

“Yes, Nepja, dragons. You speak of a balance between Order and Chaos, but Chaos has the Dragonlords, and the Brown and Red Dragons. What does Order have?” Caleb said with a piercing look at the wizard.

“What do you know of it?” Nepja said in a cold hiss, rearing up to his full, if inconsiderable, height.

“Enough wizard,” Sigvid interrupted, looking from Caleb to Nepja. “The boy’s question is reasonable one—if there is this balance that you tout, are there other dragons that help out Úndin?”

“It’s not Úndin, it’s Order,” Nepja snapped. “And yes, if you must know, at one point there were ‘good’ dragons as well. White, bronze, and gold dragons to be exact.”

Caleb took a couple steps forward. “And where are they?”

Nepja scowled angrily and it was clear that the topic of conversation was making him extremely uncomfortable. He turned away from Caleb and hid within the cowls of his hood, his arms crossed over his chest.

“Where are they?” Caleb repeated insistently.

Oddly, Nepja’s head turned to survey Lando who nodded curtly and shrugged.

“I’ve spent the last two years trying to find them,” he said in a barely audible whisper. “I fear they may have been lost in the Breaking. There is a quality to fate and destiny that I have been cursed to see. Today marks a momentous event within the revolutions of the worlds. It will happen here. This I know. I have chased these events incessantly for years in hopes of finding the ‘good’ dragons and their Dragonsworn to balance out the agents of Chaos, but I have not found them.”

Caleb sighed and massaged his temples against the mounting headache he felt growing there. He was mentally drained and didn’t fully understand what was happening. From the wizard’s words, there was a chance that his dreams he’d had actually happened at some point in history. The dream still confused him though, and his emotions were run ragged. He yearned to sleep and simply escape from the chaos and turmoil that were running rampant around him. He looked down and realized that Sigvid, Nepja, and Lando were all looking at him, though only the wizard’s eyes showed from the shadows of his hood.

“Sorry, just a headache,” he said by way of explanation.

Sigvid looked at him with compassion and nodded towards one of the corners of the room. “Maybe you should get some sleep.”

Caleb shrugged, but didn’t argue the point. He would welcome some sleep, even it if were only for a few hours. As he sank down in the shadowy corner of the room, he silently hoped that he would have no dreams. He didn’t know how much more he could handle.

He drifted off to sleep almost instantly and, thankfully, his mind and imagination remained blank.

*              *              *              *

Kaelie hung low over Rolaen’s broad neck, silently cursing her companion’s adamant reticence. They had flown non-stop for the last three days, passing over an ocean and a vast expanse of burnt out forests that sent waves of sulfuric stench up into the air through which they flew. She had been forced to create a thick cloud of pure ice and snow around them that lessened the stench until they had passed through it. From the height at which they flew, it was difficult for Kaelie to see the ground below, but what she could see made her angry and sad simultaneously, twisting into a knot of beleaguered emotions that paralleled her burning hunger. Three days without food and water had left her both tired and irritable, the gnawing hunger her constant reminder that things were happening outside her control.

“Where are we going?!” she snapped at Rolaen mentally for perhaps the hundredth time.

“We must hurry!” came the answering thought.

She grumbled and hunkered down on the dragon’s back. Those three words were the only response he ever gave her.

They flew north.

*              *              *              *

Lando shook Caleb awake gently, though there was a sense of urgency in his touch. Caleb stared at him blearily for a moment before memory and thought caught up to him and he realized what Lando’s waking him entailed. He quickly got to his feet and shook his head to clear it. Sigvid and Nepja were waiting impatiently for him near the door, though Sigvid passed him a water skin with a slight nod. Caleb took a drink gratefully and then picked up Faeranir. As always, the bow was cool and calming to the touch, though it now came with a twinge of remorse.

“Marc and the others sent word half an hour ago that they were ready,” Nepja hissed. “The refugees went north and the others went south to set up the distraction. They said they’d need at least an hour to get everything ready, which gives us about half an hour to make it as far into the tunnels as we can.”

Caleb nodded and almost chuckled inwardly. A few weeks ago he hadn’t really believed in dragons, now he was embarking upon a quest to find and capture both a dragon and a Dragonlord. He laughed aloud, almost missing the curious and suspicious looks shot at him by the others at the untimely jocularity. Caleb shrugged silently, mostly to himself.

He was losing himself again—he could feel it. He needed something to bring him back to reality—something on which to focus his attentions and his mind. There was nothing left for him to cling to except for his belief that his dreams, both of Rachel and the Dragonlords, were real. He needed something tangible, some proof, that he was not already halfway gone down the path of irreconcilable mental wanderings.

With sudden resolve, Caleb swung Faeranir onto his shoulder and gestured at Nepja to lead the way. The wizard arched an eyebrow at Sigvid, who shrugged and indicated the door. The wizard shot Caleb one last look, obviously questioning his mental stability, and left the room, quickly led the way down through the halls and stairs to the basement.

Caleb tried not to look at the bloodstains on the ground or the bullet holes that riddled the concrete walls. Despite his best efforts to block out the memories, images of Thomas flashed through his mind’s eye, assaulting him with questions and accusations. Did you really have to kill him? Are you any saner then he? Murderer!

Caleb shuddered and hurried through the basement and down the stairs into the passages they had already travelled. As he entered the darkness of the tunnels, the memories faded, leaving only the dull pain of a growing headache and a throbbing sense of shame.

Lando moved to the fore and led them through the passages. He didn’t carry his shuttered lantern this time, but led them by what little light there was in the tunnels. Nepja refused to light the way with his staff, as he said that even the smallest amount of magic would alert the Dragonlord now that he knew there was a magic user somewhere nearby.

Caleb unconsciously shuffled along to the rear behind Sigvid, glancing back over his shoulder only once. He followed the stocky dverger’s outline in the darkness, focusing on the darkened silhouette as he unlimbered Faeranir and placed an arrow on the string. He felt comfortable in the rear of the group and let the others lead.

Lando kept them going at a quick pace, much faster than they had passed through these tunnels originally. Caleb kept expecting to run across the aftermath of the battle he had fought against the golgent while escaping with Ashley, but Lando must have taken them along a different route, since they never encountered it. They hid from the frequent patrols, unseen in the shadows even when the passing company had torches to light their way.

After one such passing, Nepja hissed and signaled them to stay down with a whispered warning. Almost immediately the ground trembled slightly and a muffled explosion reached their ears.

“Úndin’s beard,” Sigvid swore. “That must have been a big building for us to feel it all the way out here!”

Nepja hissed at him to be silent and moments later the patrol that had just passed raced back by them, turning down another passage towards the noise.

Lando leapt to the fore and gestured for them to follow once again, the movement almost lost in the darkness. Though the young man had proven that he was capable of speaking, he did not choose to speak now.

In front of Caleb, Sigvid pulled out his twin axes and swung them experimentally, loosening old and tired muscles for the impending battle. Caleb didn’t know how much their weaponry would affect the Dragonlord, or even if the Jarome they were going to face was human or not. But they had made their choice already and their path was set.

Suddenly, light flared from the orb in Nepja’s staff, stinging Caleb’s eyes with its sudden brightness. He blinked as tears from the pain of the light threatened to cloud his vision. Sigvid and Lando squinted as well, though the latter was busy trying to pick a locked door with a thin metal rod. There was a faint click and the door swung inward about an inch. A faint red glow shone from the opening, as if a fire burned in the room beyond. Nepja signaled for them to move in close and whispered in a voice that was the sound of death incarnate.

“Beyond this door is the dragon’s treasure room. With any luck he will be with Jarome in the room we heard him from earlier, which is just beyond. Touch nothing! Once across the room I will engage the dragon. When I enter my trance, that will be your sign to enter the room and capture the Dragonlord Jarome. Do whatever is necessary to ensure that you take him alive!”

“And what if you can’t hold off the dragon?” Sigvid asked pointedly. “I’d not fancy ending my life as a dverger roast in the belly of that mad beast!”

Nepja scowled at him scathingly, as if the dverger had gravely insulted him.

“I can match any dragon in a battle of wills,” the wizard hissed. “I am the Highwizard of the Order of the Nine Towers, Master of the Tower of Souls, and Bearer of the Staff of the Orinai!”

“So you keep saying.” Sigvid turned to face Caleb. “Are you up for this, boy? We need your focus here, not on the past.”

Caleb was stung by the candor, but couldn’t blame his friend. In truth, Caleb didn’t know if he was ready. He needed to face the Dragonlord. Somehow in his mind, Jarome had been linked to his dreams and by that same token, to Rachel. If the Dragonlord proved to be that same Jarome as he had seen in his dreams, it gave him hope that perhaps he was not falling into madness just as Thomas had and that Nepja’s story of Chaos and Order was more than just words.