Echoes (24 page)

The blinding flash of white light was expected this time, and they were prepared for the effects. Instead of trying to fight it, they remained where they were and waited for it to pass. They could tell right away that they had, once again, been unsuccessful. Brin’s angry roar of frustration in their mind was impossible to miss. At least this time they had had the good sense to make the attempt outdoors. Getting everyone to clear off to a safe distance had presented its own challenge. Once word got out that Dearra and Darius were going to try once more to release the dragon, every Etrafarian in the capital found a reason to gather around, and of course, the Mirin Tor were interested as well. Dearra felt as if she were performing on a stage.

The first thing Dearra was aware of was the low murmur from the Etrafarians. Their excitement was palpable. Dearra would have liked to order them away, but, as Aesri had pointed out, they were as invested as anyone in Brin’s salvation. Besides, if they could free the dragon, they would have a most powerful weapon against the Breken. He might even be enough to end the war completely.

Dearra’s vision was almost restored by the time she’d heard
him
. Jacob’s cruel laughter was like a knife to her heart. She hated him. His death would be fairly quick, which was more than he deserved. They were preparing to flee the city, and there was no reason Dearra could think of to take him with them. It would be too risky, besides. If he were to break free, he would be dangerous. In all the time they had held him, no one had made any attempt to rescue him or bargain for his release. This told her that he was not going to be of any use to them.

Dearra thought about all he had done. He was responsible for the death of her father, he had tried to kill Darius, he had tortured her and tried to burn her alive. His death could never erase what had come before, but it would put an end to that chapter of her life. She would be able to move on, once she was out from under his dark shadow. She had considered ways to kill him. Some of them had been pretty inventive. For a while she was simply going to have him hanged. He was a traitor, after all. Breken blood or no, he had been raised Mirin Tor. Then, after some more consideration, she decided beheading was the way to go. She would carry out the execution herself. Brin deserved a chance to take vengeance as well, and they would do it together. Beheading with a single, clean stroke was not always an easy thing. A large man with a heavy longsword might be able to do the job effectively, but, though Dearra was no weakling, she wasn’t sure she had the strength to get the task accomplished with a single blow. She thought she might need to take a couple of whacks at it before she would see it done. It was likely to be a bit messy, and Jacob would have enough time to process some pain before it was finished. Dearra didn’t think she minded that at all.

“What’s the matter, Dearra? Practicing for when you fall before the Breken?” Jacob’s voice was taunting. One of the guards, who had brought him up from the cells, placed the tip of his sword on Jacob’s back and gave a threatening nudge to silence the man.

Darius reached down, offered Dearra his hand, and helped her back to her feet.

“Jacob, if I were you,” Darius said, not looking at the man, I would not anger the executioner.”

“Why ever not? Is she going to kill me twice? Besides, my opportunities are limited, no?”

Darius shrugged. “It’s your neck.”

Aesri came forward and placed her hand on Dearra’s arm. “Do not feel too badly, Dearra. We shall figure this out. There is something we are missing.”

“I’m not sure, Aesri.” Dearra stooped and retrieved the spell from the ground where it had landed when she had been knocked off of her feet. She looked the paper over carefully. “We’ve drawn the circle perfectly. The candles were arranged just as Brin directed. We spoke the words, line by line.”

“This is all fascinating,” Jacob jeered, “but can we get on with it?”

The Etrafarians that still surrounded them hissed in unison, and a couple raised their hands menacingly, but a gesture from Niada backed them off.

“Are you so eager to die?” Aesri asked, genuinely confused by the man’s strange behavior.

Jacob ignored her question. He glared at the fairies who’d ringed the group.

Don’t bother trying to figure it out, Aesri,
Brin said to her
. He is unbalanced. I doubt even he knows why he does what he does or thinks what he thinks. He is as likely to laugh when his death comes as he is to beg for mercy. There is no logic or sense to him. In a way, I pity him. We, at least, choose our own course, but with Jacob, he is like a man adrift on the sea. He does not seem to control his direction. He is simply carried along by the winds of fate.

“Jacob’s right,” Dearra said. “Let’s get on with this. It’s not like we’re getting anywhere with the stupid spell.” She looked down at the piece of paper in her hand. What was she missing?

“What is that, anyway?” Jacob raised his bound hands and yanked the parchment from her grip. The guards were going to take it back, but Dearra stopped them.

“Go ahead, Jacob, take a look. It will be one of the last things you ever see, and when we manage to get it right, it will mean the end of your Breken brethren.” Dearra was feeling magnanimous. The thought of Jacob’s blood on her blade had brightened her mood considerably.

Jacob raised an eyebrow. “Who
wrote
this? Were they drunk on apple wine? The phrasing is…somewhat simplistic, isn’t it? It sounds like it was made up as a children’s rhyme.”

Jacob made a show of clearing his throat, and standing up very straight, as if he were preparing to give a speech. He flicked a bit of filth from his shirt and then smoothed down the front of the hopelessly stained garment in an effort to primp. It was ridiculous. He was ridiculous. Dearra had had enough. It was time to end this, once and for all. She lifted Brin before her. The two guards stepped away, and then Jacob began to speak. His voice was purposefully high and sing-song, as he read the words in a mocking tone.

Blood of my enemy,

From across the sea.

Pure of body,

No taint can there be.

Brin’s blade glowed first red and then white and then cooled as Jacob’s voice came to an abrupt halt.

“Sweet, Rah! That is it!” Aesri shoved her way past Darius and gaped at Jacob. “The line. The line. Do not you see?”

“Aesri, slow down. You’re not making any sense.”

“She is right,” Niada said. “It is all echoes of the past.”

“Would someone please say something that makes sense,” Dearra growled in frustration.

Aesri took a calming breath before proceeding. “The spell, Dearra. The line from the spell that says, ‘Imprisoned by me.’ It was Hathel who imprisoned Brin. We could try the spell from now until the end of time, and we would never free Brin’du Drak’Tir. Only Hathel, or someone of his blood, can recite the spell.”

Yes! That must be it! Dearra, make him say the words again! Hurry!

Could it be? Dearra’s heart raced. “Say the words again, Jacob.”

“No. I won’t.” He was as shocked as any of them, but he would be damned if he would help them free some dragon.

“You will!” Darius had drawn his own sword and pressed it into Jacob’s chest. A red bloom spread out from the shallow wound.

“Darius! Stop! If we kill him, we’ll never complete the spell.” Dearra’s voice was urgent, and he lessened the pressure that he was exerting on the blade.

“Yes, Darius. Do listen to her. You wouldn’t want to do something you’ll regret.” Jacob sneered at Darius.

Darius’s hand shook in anger. “I may not be able to kill you, you vile worm, but I
can
make you speak.” Darius lowered his sword and now rested it in a place that sent Jacob into a panic.

Jacob tried to back away from the sword, but the hands of the guard clamped down on his arms like vices and kept him from doing more than twisting frantically.

“Be careful, Jacob. With all the thrashing around you’re doing, anything could happen,” and Darius inched the sword closer to the man’s groin. “Now, say the words.” His voice was like ice.

Jacob lifted the paper in a trembling hand and spoke the words in a voice that was no more than a hoarse whisper.

Blood of my enemy,

From across the sea.

Pure of body,

No taint can there be.

Brin once again flashed first red and then white. The fiery glow was so bright that some of the nearby Etrafarians, including Aesri and Niada, had to shield their more sensitive eyes with a hand.

Blood of the warrior,

Wild, brave, and free.

Blood of the dragon,

Imprisoned by me.

There was a loud humming noise coming from the sword, and now even Dearra and Darius were forced to cover their eyes.

Brin’s voice interrupted Jacob, and the light faded and then ceased altogether.
That’s it! It is! Dearra, we need to start over. Prepare the candles again. Get everything in place. We can do it! Sweet, Tolah, this can finally be over and—

There was a sudden, loud crashing sound, and then another, and another, and another as boulder after boulder crashed into the walls of the city, and then came the screaming. The Breken had breached the walls.

“You two!” Darius shouted at the guards over the increasing din. “Your orders have been changed. You will go with the women and children and take this…person with you. Don’t take your eyes off of him. Do you understand?”

“I don’t know. No offense meant, but we can’t take orders from you, queen’s brother or no.”

“Well,” Dearra said, “you can take them from me! Get moving! Now!” Dearra’s eyes blazed gold, something these particular guards hadn’t had the privilege of having witnessed before. They grabbed Jacob by the arms, but he was fighting them.

“Here!” Niada’s bell-like voice managed to carry, even over the shouts and screams which were growing louder and nearer. She was in a rickety cart that had seen better days. It had been worked on to prepare it for their desperate flight to the mountains, but even still, it was clear that it had been used to haul the manure that fertilized the crops grown by the capital. One tired mare, who had many more years behind her than in front of her, pulled the cart. She probably hadn’t seen service in quite a while, but she seemed eager enough to be off. Niada had spoken a word or two of encouragement, and that had been enough to get the horse going.

“I’m not getting in that thing,” Jacob complained loudly. “It’s been used to carry dung.”

“And so it will again,” Darius said. One sharp rap with his sword to the side of Jacob’s head was enough to knock the man unconscious. Too bad. Darius would have liked to have given it a couple tries, at least. He caught Jacob, hoisted him over his shoulder, and then dumped him into the cart, taking pleasure in the noise Jacob’s head made when it bounced off the side of the conveyance.

The two guards loaded themselves in beside Jacob and immediately set to work binding his ankles together with the sturdy length of rope Niada had thrown into the back of the cart.

Aesri reached up to take Niada’s hand and give it a squeeze. “Be careful. I have grown very fond of you. Besides, it was an awful lot of work getting you just how I wanted you. I would not wish to have to start over on someone new.”

“I will, dearest Aesri. I would not wish to burden another Etrafarian with you. That is how I ended up with you, you know. We drew straws, and well, here I am.”

Aesri laughed and gave Niada a brilliant smile.

“Away now, Lady,” Aesri crooned to the mare. The horse’s ears pivoted to the sound of her voice, and then forward as she took flight.

Phillip and Zusia came from behind the stables, and behind them came Zusia’s archers. Dearra thought some of them looked too small to draw their bows, let alone hit anything, but each of them wore an expression of grim determination, nevertheless. 

“Dearra!” Phillip called out and hurried to his sister’s side. “We’re on our way. I’d hoped to see you before we left. The king has sent enough men to the north gate to get us clear of the city. Everyone is gathering there now.”  

Dearra reached out and brushed the hair from in front of his eyes. Twelve years old was too young for this. “Please be safe, Phillip. Do what you have to do, but have a care. I couldn’t bear it if I lost you, too.”

“You too, sister.” He tried to give her a manly nod, but then he threw his arms around her and hugged her tightly.

The acrid smell of smoke wafted their way, ending their embrace. “They set fire to the city. Go Phillip. Zusia, take care of him!”

“Yes, Lady Dearra!”

Though Phillip went running, Reo hesitated and whined. He looked between the boy and Darius until Darius nodded and pointed after the retreating children.

Reo turned to follow them, but then stopped, returned to Darius, and jumped up onto his Breken master. He planted his huge paws on Darius’s chest and looked deeply into his eyes, and issued a long howl that spoke volumes.

Darius rubbed the fur around the animal’s neck vigorously. He leaned his head down until it was pressed to the wolves. They stood that way for a moment and then Darius released him.

The wolf dropped back onto all fours and turned to follow the retreating children.

“Ready?” Darius asked, raising his sword and smiling his best Breken smile.

“Ready,” Dearra answered, raising Brin in salute. She turned to make her way toward the sound of the Breken as they poured through the walls of the capital.

Darius grabbed her arm. “Wait!” He pulled her towards himself and kissed her hard. “For luck,” he said.

Darius looked up. The sudden sound of drums filled the air. The rhythm pulsed through him. Steady and powerful, some deep and booming, some more of a tat, tat, tatty-tat. There was one underlying beat that hammered like a heartbeat, around which all of the other drums coalesced.

“What the…What
is
that?

“Mirin Tor war drums,” Dearra answered.

“Music to die by. Charming.” Darius rolled his eyes. They may be his people now, but some of their customs still seemed very odd and foreign to him.

“No, it’s meant to help our fighters set their pace. The steady beat is calming. Also, if the drums ever stop, it means they’ve called a retreat. That, or that the king has called for the troops to fall back. Either way, it’s time to go.”

Darius nodded. That actually made sense; he could see the advantages.

They ran, side by side, toward the battle. If they were going to die, at least they would die together. It was one of those things people often said when they were going to fight. It wasn’t unusual for strong bonds to be formed during times of war or great tragedy, but for Dearra and Darius, it was more than that. Their love was certainly one thing that bound them together, but so, too, was the dragon blood they shared. Their time together, their experiences, their triumphs and trials—they were each a part of the whole now, and there could be no future for one without the other. Dearra was at peace with that. The only thing that gave her cause for pain was Brin. If they fell, what would happen to Brin?

If you fall, so do I,
he answered her unspoken thought.
This is my time. If not now, then never. I will not go on existing like this.

But, how, Brin?
She understood the why, it was the
how
that confused her.

Do you remember the spell that I performed with Cyrus all those years ago?

The breathing fire thing?

Yes. It’s a tricky spell, Dearra. If I release the energy too soon, nothing much happens at all. Too late, and I would indeed destroy the enemy around me, but I would be consumed by the fire as well. It has to be perfectly timed. Even done correctly, it would kill everyone around me who wasn’t able to drop down below the fire line in time. Cyrus knew that, and he sacrificed himself because he saw no other option. I wasn’t as willing. He had to convince me, threaten me. Now? If you fall, we fall.

Dearra saw a line of Maj up ahead. They were doing their best to fight and direct the Mirin Tor soldiers at the same time. They called out encouragement and instruction in equal measure.

“Hold the line! Don’t let them through!” Trevor, the farmer who had so adamantly opposed their departure from Maj, ran forward to help fight back the Breken attackers.

Darius joined him, and his sword sang as stroke after stroke fell on the warriors around him. Three Breken suddenly surrounded him. He spun in circles, striking, parrying, blocking. His sword became a blur. He felled the first opponent and shifted to try and get into a position where he could see the other two at the same time. When he stepped back quickly, one of the Breken moved to strike, losing his footing just for a moment. Darius took the opportunity, and sank his sword into the man before him. He saw the second warrior bearing down on him, and struggled to free his blade. He whirled to face the threat just in time to see Trevor’s sword enter the Breken’s back and then exit through the front.

Trevor nodded at Darius and sprang away to engage again.

Darius joined Dearra, and the two of them fought back to back, taking down one opponent after the other. Dearra thought that this lot wasn’t particularly skilled, and they looked quite young besides.

From time to time, Darius or Dearra would be overwhelmed by attackers, but there always seemed to be at least three or four fairies nearby to watch their backs. Aesri was never more than ten feet from one of them at any given moment. The Etrafarians were too near their goal to allow Dearra or Darius to be killed, if they could do anything about it. Those fairies not actively serving to protect them did what they could to offer support to the rest of the city.

There was a break in the attackers, and Dearra took the moment she was afforded to drink deeply from the skin she carried. She splashed some water on her face and used her sleeve to remove some of the sweat, dirt, and blood.

Dearra replaced the stopper and tossed the water skin to Darius, who caught it in one hand.

Dearraaaaaa.

The voice inside her mind was like ice. She could feel it like a cold claw, digging its talons into her mind.

Darius’s head snapped up at the sound that he heard all too clearly as well.

Brin hissed at the intrusion into their minds.

You hear me, yes? Give me the sword. It is mine!

Never!
Dearra thought.

Brin’du Drak’Tir, surrender to me, and your people may live. I have no quarrel with them.

What is it you want from me, witch?
Brin asked. His voice was harsh and furious.

Witch? Is that what you think me?

The sound of laughter rang through Dearra’s mind, and then the voice spoke, and Dearra was driven to her knees by the force of the words.

Et ego non sum anus. Et ego in aeternum. Nascitur ego sum et videbitis ultimum antequam moriaris. Ego dranconis.

There was a swirl of white through the smoke, and she stalked forward. Her cowl was thrown back, and her eyes, ice blue with snake-like slits for pupils, seemed to pierce Dearra’s. One of her hands was scaled and clawed. She was both beautiful and grotesque at once. A mane of white hair flowed around her face. The imp that had come to Dearra’s room earlier rested on her shoulder.

Darius moved to protect Dearra, who remained bowed and unable to move.

Dearra! Get up! You must get up!
Brin urged.

Dearra staggered back to her feet as the effects of the witch’s words receded.

There was a gust of wind, and a dozen Etrafarians lifted into the air, hands outstretched.

The woman stopped, and seemed shocked by their actions for just a moment, and then shock turned to anger.

“Soon,” she said, and disappeared back into the smoke.

“What in Cyrus’s name is going on?” Dearra was still a little unsteady and leaned on Darius while her mind recovered from the White Witch’s assault.

I don’t know, Dearra. I have no idea who she is or what she wants from me. Are you all right?

“I am now, but when she spoke it felt as though I were being crushed under an immense weight.”

“What were the words she said? Darius asked, putting an arm around Dearra.

Aesri answered before Brin could.
“She said, ‘I am no witch. I am eternity. I am born of the first, and I am the last thing you will see before you die. I am dragon.’”

Aesri was stunned to her core. The woman had not said I am
a
dragon. She had simply said I
am
dragon. There were only two dragons that Aesri had ever heard of who called themselves thusly. Her studies led her to believe that there must be more, but she was only familiar with the two—one was kindly and devoted to Rah in all things, while the other was a deceiver who sought power, control, and absolute authority in all things. Both of them had been banished by Rah from their garden home in Etrafa thousands of years ago. They were the original protectors, Auriel and Cifera.

“Rah save us,” she whispered.

Dearra was about to ask what was wrong, and then the drums went silent.