Soul of the Sorcerer - Part Three: Daughter of the Dragon (11 page)

Darrion gasped at the disorientation caused by his power entering the light which somehow slowed time and preserved his friend Boadaiska on the edge of life. He was grateful for the support of Allen’s firm arms. He enwrapped his power first around Boadaiska and then himself before completing the command words of the translocation spell.

Allen staggered when the weight of the master mage simply vanished from his hands. He then sprinted back towards the stairs and the main entrance lobby.

In literally only a few seconds of Boadaiska’s body appearing on the bed; with Darrion standing alongside, Bethany had injected the serum near the arrow wound and Amy had fitted an intravenous drip which was already feeding a steady stream of blood into Boadaiska’s pale body.

Lloyd’s soul vision was already deeply zoomed into the wound area and was already directing the anti-venom cells towards the local bones to the wound and deep into the marrow, where hopefully the chemical message would be passed on and cells tailored to fight the venom produced.

He felt Bethany’s consciousness join his.

“Beth, you see where I am?”

“Yep” she replied in deep concentration.

“Just spread the message to as much bone marrow as possible!”

Bethany nodded and Lloyd too began to make sure that the anti-venom reached as much marrow as possible.

A slow beeping sound indicated that Amy had now connected the life support machine and had also placed a respirator over the warrior’s nose and mouth.

“She is incredibly close to death Lloyd, hurry!” she said with desperation towards her son.

“Lloyd clenched his teeth in determination, and focused his four streams of energy gently on the bone marrow that he had first teased the anti-venom towards. Soon the production of both red and white blood cells accelerated and began to enter the bloodstream. He continued this for a minute when Bethany spoke “I’ve spread it as far as I can.”

“Good, look at the area I am focussed on, see if you can direct venom cells towards the new blood cells being produced!” Lloyd replied.

Lloyd now spread his power across Boadaiska’s whole body, thinning it considerably but it was still effective in accelerating Boadaiska’s immune system.

Amy was already replacing the first bag of empty blood and looking with concern at the readouts on the life support machine.

“Still no signs of improvement, but then she isn’t deteriorating either.”

“I’m going to have to stop.” Bethany said weakly, “But I can see the battle between the foul and the good within her blood!” She then stumbled back exhausted into the arms of Allen who gently lowered her to the floor.

“Here, drink!” he commanded, gently lifting a cup of water to her lips.

“Thank you my soldier” she said fondly with a smile looking into his sad brown eyes.

“Lloyd you are getting close to your limits as well!” Darrion alerted as he had been monitoring Lloyd’s portal use.

“I need longer! Arden can you give me anymore?” Lloyd pleaded to the Dragon-Man whose excitement was now replaced by fear. His only response was to move his silver portal for a few seconds to each of Lloyd’s portals in turn and then repeat. His dragon portal was shrinking fast.

“I don’t have much more Lloyd!”

“I don’t think it’s going to be enough Lloyd replied, tears now streaming down his face.

A continual beep from the life support machine brought a scream from Amy, “SHE’S FLATLINING!”

Horace Burnaby stood on the beach studying the rebuild of his Yacht, which he had now named Stormracer. He had conceded, with many, over the years, that the fast looking three mast schooner was in fact quite large for a yacht, but in his mind a Yacht was a fast vessel used for hunting and on occasion running, so on the whole he was happy to call it thus.

The ship which had been hastily beached, during a terrible hurricane, was not looking as sorry for itself as it had. Beaching her in a pounding storm, with waves breaking over her, had originally broken her spine and it had taken months to get her to the stage she was in now; essentially almost requiring that she be rebuilt from scratch.

Fortunately gold was as valuable on this side of the sea as in Kalana and some of the gems in Horace’s collection had caused such excitement that he had been scared for his life! However, his status as a friend of the Elders, of the Bremethren, carried a natural protection and even came with free access to the city. He had therefore been successful in managing to employ some of the best shipbuilders on Limúarn. However, he had found their level of craft somewhat lacking, compared to the very experienced master craftsmen back in his home port of Seadawn, and he and his crew had had to teach them many design tricks, which they would, no doubt, add to their own vessels.

Shockingly they seemed to only build single sailed vessels for short range travel between the islands, this probably explained why Airon and Ziron had been shipwrecked during their kidnap, and also why the Bremethren had no practical knowledge of his own continent; many weeks of hard travel across the sea. Horace hated sharing knowledge with potential rivals, especially ones that may put his homeland at risk, but he wondered if he even had a homeland; having heard no news from the east.

Itch.
He shivered at the memory of his last day and escape from his home and wondered how things had progressed. Had the young Sorcerer Lloyd and his other friends been successful in the fight against the Daemen?

His friend Jerack, emerging from the wooden framework supporting the Stormracer, brought the eagle faced man back to the here and now.

Jerack, like he, had resorted to wearing the local clothing, a knee length loose fitting cotton tunic intended to keep one cool, Jerack’s was black in colour, while Horace had chosen a white one with ornate gold thread embroidered in its edges; he had to keep up appearances you understand!

Jerack, who had, pretty much, in Horace’s mind, been his business partner since they were young men, smiled at his boss; “She’s looking pretty good H; probably only a week and we will be ready to launch.”

“Good man J! How are our new crew members shaping up?”

“Well, trying to convince them they are free is proving a challenge” the tall man shrugged.

“Yes slavery has gone on so long here that the acceptance of it is never threatened. Come join me for a drink.” The short balding man turned away from the vessel and strolled up the beach to the collection of marquees and tents that had been their home for months now. The central marquee had its flaps pulled back revealing a table and several wicker chairs. Buried in the floor was a large wooden chest which Horace bent down to open; inside it had two walls of wood with a gap in between, which was stuffed with wool. Stored within the chest was not gold, but another type of treasure; ice, and lots of it, plus two small kegs.

Horace lifted one of these out and scooped some of the ice into two large metal tankards. He then filled each tankard from the keg and then placed it back into the chest, before closing it again. He still marvelled how such a chest, buried in the ground prevented ice from melting.

“That’s my last keg of Hurg” he protested sadly, recently both he and Jerack had taken to drinking it neat.

“Before we go home Horace I think we need to visit this Júarn island and buy some more!” Jerack said with a smile, before taking a long cool swig from his tankard which was now covered in condensation.

“I think we need to try and find out what the ingredients are and whether they can be grown back home!” Horace replied; he did not remind Jerack that they may not have a home to return to.

Jerack grinned, “That’s why you are the boss my friend, not me!” He raised his tankard and gently bashed it into Horace’s “Cheers!” they both said.

Ziron, for the first time in his life, felt completely alienated from his brother.

He sat with his legs in his arms, hunched within one of the small window alcoves of the bedroom that he shared not only with his brothers, but another four wielders as well.  
 
 Their eight beds were against the wall opposite the windows; a small cupboard and cabinet for storing clothing and belongings stood alongside. The layout was very similar to a barracks and the regime and discipline felt like it to Ziron too.

He wiped away a tear and quickly looked to make sure that his fellow wielders had not noticed. Fortunately they were all still asleep. He gazed at Airon and felt like he looked at a stranger. Of the two of them he had always been, in terms of willpower and discipline, the stronger, but he also had a mean streak very similar to his new brothers Caikan and Kankai.

It seemed, since the events in the auditorium, that Caikan had become the leader of the quadruplets. Ziron had often wondered if a mage’s personality was tempered by the power they wielded, Air - cold and calculating, Earth - calm and firm, Water - deep and emotional and Fire - all consuming and irrepressible.

Ziron still felt sick when he recalled the moment in time, which was seared into his memory like a cattle brand, the faces of the senators who had been utterly annihilated by the power the quadruplets had wielded.

Since that time he had witnessed other wielders fuse the four elements together, but they had not even been close to the level of destruction that he and his brothers had delivered.

“Are you okay brother?” Kankai’s soft voice, from just behind his shoulder, startled Ziron. Kankai, the earth wielder, was actually nicer than Airon; Ziron wondered whether to open up to him.

“I was just thinking about the people we killed in the auditorium.”

“Was it the first time you had killed?”

“Yes.”

“Does it make it worse to say you get used to it?” Kankai grimaced.

“Not really brother.”

Kankai sighed; “I have no advice to give my brother, being Bremethren consumes all of our lives; the training, the discipline and the breeding.”

“The breeding?” Ziron asked.

“Yes, we do not pick our mates, the Elders decide who would be the best match based on a desired outcome. Our parents, for example, had a strong ancestral history of multiple births; resulting in us, the ultimate weapon.”

“But for what purpose?” Ziron asked.

“Our history was a dark one, with war after war for generation after generation. But ultimately the Bremethren defeated all other races, our battle-wielders and selectively bred soldiers being unmatched across the four islands. So the purpose my dear brother is conquest.”

“So are there ever any uprisings from the other islands?” Ziron asked, his interest in the Bremethren piqued.

“From what we’ve been taught at school, not for hundreds of years. While the Bremethren have bred themselves for strength, they have bred strength out of all rivals. If any sign of the ability to wield magic appears in a family, that family will be executed, or, if the ability is strong, the family is brought into the Bremethren. But this has not been for a long time now.”

“But if the Bremethren are so good at breeding what about the slaves, surely they are part of the breeding and even some of the elders have deformities?” Ziron challenged, trying to grasp the strange culture of his place of birth.

“I do not know the skill of breeding Ziron, but I do know that for every great success, such as the birth of a powerful wielder, there will also often be a step back. But as for the Elders, remember they are bred for magic not for looks or physical strength...look at us, we will hardly make the girls blush!” Kankai concluded with a grin.

“But this does not make me happy with the killing brother!” Ziron said with a resigned smile.

Kankai reached across and gripped his brother on the upper arm, a look of deadly seriousness replaced any humour “Do not let the others hear you say such things, kindness is also considered a weakness within the Bremethren!”

Ziron nodded and then turned away from Kankai to conceal the fear on his face.

Doctor Amy Brook sat astride the lifeless body of the swordswoman Boadaiska, with crossed hands pressing down upon the warriors chest pumping for all her worth, her hair was lank with sweat.

“Keep going Lloyd!” she demanded of her son, who too was sweating, the exertion and limits of his magic fast approaching. Beside them Arden had sunk to his knees, his arms and shoulders hanging listlessly by his side, silver tears staining his cheeks, his face the depiction of the purest terror; the fear of losing someone not once but twice.

“I won’t try adrenaline, not yet!” Amy said, more to herself than the others. In her mind she was running through a number of scenarios, wondering whether, against her better judgement, that it might, on this occasion, be a good idea to try the electric paddles. No not yet.

“BOADASIKA FEBELLA ORAKHAN YOU WILL NOT DIE ON MY BLOODY SHIFT!”  She screamed at the warrior...beep...beep...beep; the sound of the heart monitor returning to a normal rhythm made Amy freeze in shock.

“How’s the battle going inside her blood?” she asked Darrion, making no attempt to conceal her relief.

“I think it has turned our way Amy Brook” her husband said in awe at what he was witnessing with his soul vision.

Amy carefully climbed off of Boadaiska and connected up another bag of blood. She then looked closely at the life signs displaying on the monitor.

“She’s gaining strength” she said aloud to the others, but her eyes only looked at Arden; the look on his face nearly broke her heart; there is very little worse than fearing to hope. “Arden, HOPE!” she smiled reassuringly, “I just need to remove the arrow and I think we will be out of the woods.”

It was a surprised Bethany who replied “Woods Amy? We are in a cavern deep inside a mountain!”

“I think Beth that I need to spend a lot more time teaching you the language and sayings of my world!” Lloyd said with a tired smile from the place where he sat cross legged on the floor, a red soiled hanky in his hand.

“Allen, I will need your help with this; when I’ve made a few incisions I will say when to pull the arrow out.” Amy instructed.

The young soldier nodded, without hesitation; no doubt all that he had witnessed in the last year had raised his tolerance to anything, only slightly horrific, such as pulling an arrow from a wound.

“Darrion, can you tell me, using your sight, how barbed the arrow is?” Amy asked her husband. The air master turned his attention from where he had been focussing to the shaft and its head.

“It's not a large barb; Allen if you are careful and pull it straight and true you will be able to follow the entry path back out, without causing much more damage.”

Again the young soldier nodded, while continuing to watch Amy as she used a scalpel, to just widen the wound a tiny amount, to help the arrow have a clean exit.

“One more thing my love, have any major arteries been pierced, or is it just minor blood vessels?” Amy asked.

“I cannot see any major damage.”

“Ok Allen, go!” she instructed the young soldier who gently but swiftly pulled the shaft and arrow head from the wound.

In a second Amy quickly cleaned the wound with an antiseptic cleaning wipe and then applied a sterile dressing; applying firm pressure with her hand. “Allen, take over for a few minutes please.”

He nodded and placed his large hands across the dressing as Amy withdrew to prepare needle and stitch.

Fortunately, the wound no longer seemed to be bleeding profusely, possibly, Amy mused, because the venom in Boadaiska’s system was becoming neutralised and not acting like an anticoagulant, which would have prevented the blood from clotting.

With a nod from the Doctor, Allen lifted the dressing and Amy dived in to stitch the wound. Finally, after what had seemed an age, she and Allen stood back from the bed to inspect their handy work. Boadaiska, although pale, was still several shades more pink than she had been; a quick look at the life support machine read out told Amy that the swordswoman no longer needed the respirator and she gently lifted it off; the mark of the elastic and mask was left etched in the patients face.

Arden, stood for the first time, looking to Amy for reassurance; at her nod he clenched his fists with a triumphant “YES!” and then leant to kiss his lover on the forehead..concern then returned to his face “What of the child Amy Brook?”

Amy took a stethoscope out of her bag and opened the remainder of Boadaiska’s leather tunic to expose her swollen belly. She then listened in several places deep in concentration before smiling broadly. “Doing well, a very strong heartbeat.  It wouldn’t surprise me if the placenta protected it from the worst of the venom.”

Arden looked to the ceiling and closed his eyes “Thank you my Lord, you have been silent for so long now I was beginning to wonder if you no longer listened to your oldest servant.”

Darrion put a hand on Arden’s shoulder, “Maybe you should send a little prayer to Amy’s god of science my friend.” he smiled fondly at the giant man.

“Maybe I will at that my friend, maybe I will. Thank you Amy Brook.” He stood up and swept Amy up into his huge Arm’s.

“And you Lloyd Brook” he said offering a hand to help the recovering Sorcerer return to his feet while releasing Amy.

“Hey big guy don’t forget me!” Bethany interrupted, “I nearly died to help them get the serum!”

Arden scooped the red head with his hands around her waist and lifted her high above his head “And you my lovely redhead will be known as Bethany Dragon-friend for the rest of history!”

Bethany laughed hysterically at this causing all in the room to laugh merrily along with her.

Arden finally crouched beside the sleeping Boadaiska, taking her hand in his, before turning to Amy. “How long before she wakes do you think?”

“I would have thought within twenty four hours, but I don’t know if that light of yours may have affected things. I will stay until we are one hundred percent sure she is okay.”

Darrion moved across to take his wife’s hand and kissed her fondly on the lips. “As a magician it is easy to forget the great skill often held by those who have no power, I am in awe of you my love.”

“Why thank you master magician, if you could spirit me up a nice bottle of white wine, you could prove how much you really appreciate me” she said with a cheeky smile and a wink.

“I’m sure I can help you with that Amy Brook.” Arden said returning to his feet and heading towards the passage at the rear of the room, the happy man whistled loudly as he went. They watched him until he turned left at the first crossroads, this being someway before the stairs up to the room where the dead lay at rest.

While they waited Allen and, the ever ready to serve, Lisa fetched some wicker lounge chairs and a low table. Lisa then fetched some bread and different types of cheeses from a wooden box and also collected a bowl full of a fruit which looked to Amy and Lloyd like pomegranates. All of this she placed on the table for the friends to share, before retiring to the side of the room to join several of the other volunteers from the village.

The companions had not long taken a seat when Arden returned with two bottles of white wine held by the necks, using the fingers of one hand, while under his other arm he cradled a reasonably large keg, in his free hand, beneath, he held four tankards by their handles and within each tankard was a smaller crystal wine glass.

After carefully depositing all on the table, he first poured a wine for Amy and then gestured to the keg and bottle “Dragon-friend?” he asked looking at Bethany.

“Wine please” she said bashfully, it was going to take some getting used to her new title.

For Darrion, Lloyd and Allen, the giant man didn’t even bother asking, he placed a tankard in front of them and himself and then filled each with a dark brown ale from the keg.

Lloyd took a deep swig of the brew and smiled at the pleasant slightly fruity flavour. “Cheers Arden,” he said raising his glass “Tomorrow we will continue our quest to find your daughter.” He nodded to Bethany and Allen while he spoke.

Arden tipped his glass to Lloyd before nearly finishing his drink in one quaff.

“I wish you well Lloyd Brook. Was your experiment to get a silver portal a success?”

“Not yet, but I know that both Beth and myself do have silver cells in our blood now.”

“And if it does not come, how will you enter the Crescent Empire then?”

“By the seat of my pants I guess” Lloyd said, polishing off his first jar and offering it to Arden to fill again. Darrion and Allen’s tankards were not too far behind.

The master magician nodded his gratitude before looking apprehensively at his wife, who was also on her second glass; although maybe this might be a godsend.

“My love, if you are in no hurry to get home, I would appreciate a few days to, just quickly, pop to Arrenloft and hand my notes on your world’s Stonehenge.”

Surprisingly, she seemed relatively chilled about being separated for a few days. “That’s fine babe, I had better hang around for a few days after Boady wakes up!” she said with a slightly over enthusiastic slur.

“Two glasses, Darrion my friend? Ha, your married life is going to be relatively stress free I see!” Arden chortled.

“Only one and a half glasses.” Darrion corrected.

“Hey I’ve not eaten for hours!” Amy said in her defence while reaching for a large piece of bread.

They relished in gentle humour and companionship for another hour before crashing out on the available bedding in the room.