Faith Of The Dragon Tamer (Book 2) (39 page)

Ramie hungered to join the fight. Even Mortar pranced impatiently, ready for action. It was both the curse and the blessing of a king. He needed to oversee the battle, ensure the full picture was being realized. He needed to give commands others would follow blindly, even if those commands went contrary to their views. For in the midst of battle you missed other options, other threats that could emerge. Messengers took his commands to the front lines. Ramie turned and caught Tec’s eye. The boy sat forward in his saddle, eyes wide with eager bravado and mistaken immortality. If Ramie needed a messenger he wouldn’t send Tec. He wanted the boy to live.

Presario shouted a command. The men of the first division rushed forward. Many of the Collective fell from the wall as magic Ramie couldn’t see spewed from the first division. His hopes rose. Somehow, Chris and Aaron had trapped the Collective. Now Presario had the Collective in the palm of his hand.

A mass of red hair shot past. Ramie cursed. When he hadn’t seen Manda with Fraul’s army he thought she may have come to her senses and left with Renee and Marva, who had entered the tunnels in case the attack went sour. Renee thought she could rally more people to fight the Collective internally. One of the tunnels led directly to the Dragon’s Bane, where they had spoken to the people before.

Manda hadn’t gone with Renee. She now galloped from him faster than a dragon could fly. She was riding to the gate, skirting around the stunned army.

What Manda didn’t realize was what Ramie had already seen. Behind the gate more of the Collective waited, more who weren’t wrapped up in the defender’s magic. He had just sent a messenger to inform Fraul to retreat immediately.

“Manda!” But Ramie knew even if Manda heard she would ignore his plea. “Maker curse it,” he mumbled before spurring Mortar into a gallop. Behind him, his personal guards jumped on their horses to follow. He had no time to order them to remain behind. His only intent was to follow the blur of red hair. Although Manda’s stallion was fast, Mortar was faster. He was gaining ground with each stride.

The Collective behind the gate were beginning to move. Ramie watched helplessly as Fraul’s army was assaulted from behind. Ramie didn’t know what magic the Collective was using, but it was worse than the first. Men fell from the saddle, screaming a horrific cry. A few quickly died as blood seeped from their eyes.

Manda didn’t slow. In precious heartbeats she would be caught up in the Collective’s magic. She wouldn’t stand a chance.

Ramie shouted Manda’s name once more, but it was met with deaf ears.

- - -

Manda stood apart from the others, almost dizzy from the feelings churning within her. During their ride to Zier she felt the avenging power building inside her. She cultivated it, encouraged it, yet she still didn’t know what it would help her do. She had planned on marching with Fraul’s army, but had retreated just before Ramie’s command, the feelings moving inside her too fervent to ignore.

The power surged through her with the strength of the ten winds, boiling her blood and sending her into a spiral of intent. As she watched the battle before her, everything else around her went black. In her mind there was no sound. All was silenced, and in that silence she listened to the power becoming something she couldn’t define.

The love came first. It welled in her soul: the love she carried for Chris and Ren and all others who had been touched by Ista’s vile hand. When it reached a zenith the pain rose inside her: the pain of the death and destruction happening before her eyes. Once the pain overwhelmed the rage burned hot within her: rage at the woman who had stolen her father and who had stolen Zier. Her emotions screamed for her to fight for justice. It was almost blinding.

And so it continued: the love, the pain, the rage, and the scream for justice. She was like a rod electrified with the three internal elements.

As Manda watched the destruction before her, she saw more of the loathsome Collective gathering at the gate. Her blood boiled hotter. And then the spiral went again: the love, the pain, and the rage.

Glancing down at her fingertips she saw sparks of power seeping from her skin.

She blinked, stunned her inner feelings could create such intensity. She thought about the Avenger’s power. She had taken a piece of that power, that scream for justice, that righteous judgment, that rage. The Avenger’s power helped protect him from those who would stop him. One spark of it would ensure complete destruction.

Would her power, as Aaron’s power, protect her from those who would try to stop her? Would her power, as Aaron’s power, protect her from those who would try to stop her with magic?

Manda’s eyes flickered to the gates. The Collective were merging. Fraul’s army was still recovering from the magic Chris and Aaron had taken. Chris and Aaron were intent on delaying the Collective’s attack. Presario aim was the Collective’s destruction. None would see the lone few gathering at the gate.

Manda snapped her reins. She heard Ramie call her name but ignored him. She didn’t care at all about the king’s commands. Her only goal was saving Fraul’s army from whatever those vile creatures were about to do.

She heated her intent still higher. The internal elements tore through her with the force of a catapult.

As she paralleled the army she saw the Collective at the gate begin their chant. She wheeled her horse in front of Fraul just as the incantation was hurled through the air. Her skin was light, her eyes were flame, and when the magic washed over her she felt it, yet she felt no pain. She felt their power, yet she had more than enough to counter it. She also felt the Collective’s screams, their dying breaths as the intensity of her emotions bounded to them, sending their bodies into convulsions. She watched with only mild interest as the Collective before her shriveled to the ground as the avenging power seared their bodies from the inside.

- - -

When he heard Manda’s name being yelled in terror, Aaron faltered. Chris did as well, but now the Collective on the walls were few and far between. The first division could take them easily. As one mind, Aaron and Chris released the funnel of air and spun, barely aware the remaining Collective collapsed as they were released from the strain of the funnel’s hold. Aaron had to blink in shock at the woman standing before the army. She seemed to glow with light, just like his Kyra, and as the sun’s rays caressed her long hair at first he thought it was Kyra. But when she moved and the red locks caught the light he smiled with doleful rapture. It was his Manda, learning the power he had bestowed upon her.

He hadn’t known the extent of his transfer, but when he had held her after he had killed Valor he had allowed his remaining sparks to disseminate inside her. Only an avenged could take his sparks, and only an avenged strong enough could cultivate those sparks to their own purpose.

Now he saw that purpose. His sparks had been too painful for anyone to withstand, even someone who touched him with magic. Manda had taken those sparks and formed them to her own emotions. Now, when Manda looked on depravity she would become the hand of justice, and her power would ignite not pain, but rage, righteous rage.

And if any touched her, they would die.

Beside him, Chris grinned, transforming his melancholy countenance into whimsical charm. Chris spurred his mount forward.

Aaron followed, passing a wide-eyed Fraul. Looking down at his friend, Aaron winked.

Renee and Marva had already reached the gate and had opened it for Manda. The remaining Collective could be seen weaving their way through the streets toward the castle. Some brave rebels ran after them.

When Chris and Aaron finally flanked Ramie, Manda was already halfway down the main street. Behind them, Fraul and Presario’s army could be heard barreling though the gate.

They had won their first attack.

Manda spurred her mount to a stop and wheeled around in the circle. She still shone like the stars, and as she spoke the power of her words echoed down the streets.

“Citizens of Zier!” she shouted. “I implore you to take up arms and fight for justice! If you want to be free men, if you want to live in peace, you need to fight for the true king of this Land! Our army has defeated Ista’s first attack. Now we march to Stardom to defeat Ista’s forces there. If you want to defend your home, your king, and your honor, I implore you. Follow me!”

Aaron shivered at the power of Manda’s words. Behind him a roar went up from the army as people came out of houses, tying pieces of black cloth around their arms – Razon black.

Manda surged forward, red hair flying behind her like a war banner.

Ramie scowled as he stepped beside Aaron, but Aaron could see the sparkle in the king’s eyes as he gazed at Manda. There was also a profound relief in his stance, and perhaps even adoration.

Hearing a chuckle, Aaron turned to Chris.

“Sis never cared for war, Aaron. It seems you’ve given her a taste for battle.”

Aaron lifted a sarcastic eyebrow. “I don’t know if I’ve given her a taste for battle, but I’ve given battle a taste of her.”

Ren hovered in the air, feeling the love flowing through him. He reached for it, yearned for it. He was buoyant. He was light. He was love.

“Now try pain.”

Zorc’s words came from far away. Ren opened his eyes and released love, letting his legs sink to the ground. Ren was unsure why Zorc wanted him to find pain. He had mastered pain days ago, but he didn’t question the wizard. Ren rested on his knees and leaned forward, forming a ball, focusing on the ache inside him. Pain was an inward emotion, not open like love. Pain was in the upper chest. Love was deeper and lower, almost where the soul should be. The pain tore through him, searing his mind.

“Look now. Hold it and look.”

Ren lifted his head and stared in stark amazement. Standing, he turned full circle, holding his pain, breathing it. Everything around him bent in his direction: the trees, the grass, and the air. Even his friends had their heels implanted in the soil, muscles straining as they resisted being pulled toward him. Only Zorc sat untouched, somehow blocking his pull.

“Hate,” the wizard demanded.

Ren was already in hate’s stance, standing straight. All he had to do was bow his head and clench his fists. He found hate immediately, on the surface of the chest. He felt himself rising from the ground, hovering above it, his hate forcing itself out of his hands, lifting him.

“Look.”

Ren raised his head. Now everything blew away from him. He suddenly understood why the three worked together. Hate blew out, pain blew in, and love was the balance.

He pulled on each with quick surety, forming all inside him at once. He let each emotion roar through him, tumbling over the others, caressing the others, learning the others, until they churned to a stop and formed an impenetrable whole.

He was above the elements, looking down on them but together with them. He felt each one, but he felt them like a whisper. He could see their intensity, but he kept their fervor from him. He found the calm. He was the calm. He was the synergy, the union, the pinnacle.

All was back to normal. The grass didn’t bend, the trees didn’t shake, and the air was tranquil, but he was far from normal. He looked through wizard’s eyes.

He saw the Quy everywhere. Images blurred and edges glowed with strength. Nigel was replete with black sable. It shimmered around him in a haze of power. At his core was love’s white diamond trimmed with a crystal of pain, but his righteous rage radiated from him so much it darkened the day. Neki glowed with all three elements. They spun from his center like a whirlwind: black rage, white-hot love, and crying pain. The tones, however, were subdued, not vivid, but with the way they churned, Ren could sense Neki’s power. Markum was a haze of murky white, but his eyes were lit with a deep sapphire blue, a symbol of his seer status. And Galvin, although he didn’t have the Quy, had poignant steel gray effulgence emanating from his chest.

Ren turned to Zorc. The wizard was surrounded with every hue imaginable. Not only did blacks and silvers careen from his persona but emeralds, sapphires, rubies, ambers, and amethysts. Ren looked down at his own body, seeing for the first time what Zorc saw when he looked through wizard eyes.

Black was at his core but white surrounded it, so much so the black seemed to be a moon drifting over the sun, shielding its rays only briefly. The white core at his chest radiated a light so intense even the black moon radiated the light, causing black to surround him as well as the white. Then, at his edges and seeping a glow, was his pain, emitting a crystalline brilliance, and causing the lights to merge together and become one large shield of silver platinum.

Ren let the calm flow through his entire being. He pulled from each emotion, was one with each emotion. Zorc grabbed Neki’s saber. His eyes glimmered with an inner fire.

Zorc raised the sword in an attack position. The silver blade flashed wickedly in the sun. The emerald, ruby, and sardonyx were dull without Neki’s hand, but they appeared to be watching, boring into Ren’s soul.

“Love, hate, pain!” Zorc said, moving the sword faster than possible without magic.

As Zorc screamed the internal element’s cognomen Ren instinctively pulled from each emotion, blocking the blow of the blade. He held the pinnacle inside him, lifting each leg of the triangle to his wishes: love, then hate, and then pain. Each time he lifted the triangle he felt the intensity of the emotion he used, but although he could feel the intensity, it was a distant memory, a storm behind a windowpane. None of the emotions took him off balance. None seared his heart. In the calm the emotions couldn’t claim him. They couldn’t hurt or overwhelm him. As the sword continued to pound the air he learned how each emotion worked and how much to drain from his wealth of feelings to keep himself from harm.

Zorc stepped back, panting with effort, and smiled. He sheathed the saber and tossed it to Neki. “Good work, Ren. The more you use the pinnacle the longer you’ll be able to hold each emotion and the more you’ll be able to draw on all equally. Magic always needs certain degrees of each one, and the more in balance you are the more you’ll be able to detect how much of each emotion you’ll need. You’ve now mastered something that’s taken me over a century.”