Whisperings of Magic (20 page)

“Twice!” he cried. “Twice I have failed!”

“She is more knowledgeable than her child,” Sele the Plump said. “More devious. She will be much harder to vanquish.”

“How did you do that?” Catryn asked. “You and the other Sele? How did you save the townsfolk? Why did the dragon not send her flames down to demolish you? I had no shielding over you. I could not.”

“The dragons cannot harm us,” the Sele answered. “Nor can we harm them. It was a blood pact made between our two species back at the beginning of this world, so we have been told. Sele the Parent, the first of our kind, mingled his blood with the blood of the parent dragon of them all and they swore an unbreakable vow that we would live together in peace.”

“Why?” Dahl asked. “Why would you make such a pact?”

“Why not?” the Sele asked mildly. “We posed no threat to the dragons. They were peaceful then—it is your people who stirred them up to war—but we were mindful of the fact that they could do us much harm, if for some reason they wished to do so. It behooved us to ensure our well-being. Perhaps if you
humans could stop making war on each other, stop making use of the beasts to kill each other, you might be able to forge such a pact yourselves.”

Dahl stared at the Sele for a long moment. The fury drained from his face.

“You speak the truth,” he said finally. “And if it were up to me, I would dearly love to do so. I would dearly love to live in peace. But, unfortunately, it is not up to me.”

“Not now,” the Sele said. “Perhaps, sometime …?” He shrugged. “We never know what you humans will do,” it said. “The dragons are more predictable at least.”

They made their way back to the palace.

“Now, Catryn, we will do as you wished. We will track the beast down to her lair,” Dahl said as they entered his chamber again. “Despite your talk of peace,” he said to Sele the Plump, “she must be slain. Perhaps sometime in the future we will be able to live at peace with these beasts, but for now we cannot. She may be constrained by her blood pact with you, but she has sided with the forces that are trying to destroy
my
world and I
must
kill her.” He drew his sword and began honing it with a stone. His movements were sharp and angry again. “Will your people stay here to protect the townsfolk while we are gone?”

“We will,” Sele the Plump answered. “As long as we are needed. We would like to see an end to all of this as much as you would.”

“You said once that it had not been given to your people to know for what purpose you were created,” Catryn said slowly. “Perhaps it might be for this? To help us find a way to end the strife?”

“Perhaps,” the Sele answered. It looked around, as if suddenly remembering something. “Where is the boy, Norl?” it asked.

“He is here,” Catryn said. She looked around as well but, to her dismay, she did not see him. She felt suddenly cold.

“Norl?” she called. She pulled the covers of Dahl’s bed back, hoping to find him nestled down amongst them, asleep. He was not there. The cold turned to ice as she darted out of the room. A maidservant was just approaching.

“Where is the boy?” Catryn demanded, her voice so harsh that the maid gaped at her in astonishment. “The boy, Norl, whom I left here. Where is he?”

“Why, he went with the messenger you sent for him,” the girl answered. “The man in the cloak. He was very nice, that man was. Did he not take the boy to you? He said he was going to.”

Launan! He had stolen Norl away!

Catryn rushed back into Dahl’s chamber. “Launan has taken Norl!” She reached out a hand to Dahl.

“Launan was here?” Dahl asked, stunned.

“Yes. While we were fighting the dragon. He came here and took Norl!”

“Why would he do that?” Dahl asked. “Why is that boy of such importance to Launan that he would risk coming here to steal him away from us?” Then, as he took her hand, he exclaimed. “You’re as cold as ice, Catryn. And shaking! Why is the boy of such
importance to
you?
I would understand concern, but this is beyond concern.”

With an effort, Catryn brought herself under control.

“I know not why that boy is so important, Dahl,” she said, steadying her voice as much as she could. “But he is. There is something special about him.

“And I think I know why Launan took him,” she rushed on. “He is going to give him to the dragon. She wants him.”

“The dragon wants Norl? Why?” Dahl asked incredulously.

“Revenge, perhaps. But I think even more than that. Norl is in mortal danger, Dahl. We must rescue him!”

Dahl reached for his sword and strapped it on.

“Launan cannot be far ahead of us,” he said grimly. “We will reach the dragon’s lair as soon as he does.” He turned to Sele the Plump. “Will you stay here to ensure the safety of the city?” he asked.

“I will,” the Sele replied.

Dahl mounted the winged horse, then helped Catryn up behind him. The horse took their weight easily. With two strong wingbeats it was aloft and heading toward the cliff where the dragon dwelt. Catryn held
tightly onto Dahl. Her mind was in a torrent of confusion but then, mingled with the howling of the wind that tore at Dahl’s cloak and clawed at her tangled, wild-blowing hair, came a singing. Catryn closed her eyes. She welcomed the aura of the Elders into her mind, shutting out all else. But it was not a reassuring song this time. There was foreboding in it. Concern.

The child must be saved, Catryn, the music inside her mind said. He must not be given over to them.

“Catryn!” Dahl’s voice broke the enchantment. He turned his head toward her and shouted into the wind. “Look there!” He pointed to the earth below.

She came back to herself with a jolt and looked down. The singing ceased as if cut off.

The mountainside under them was split into a deep fissure. Catryn shuddered as she recognized the ledge on which she had lain after falling over the edge. From here it looked like such a small outcropping and the drop down into the depths below was so great.

Dahl guided the horse in tighter and tighter circles. Into the cleft, below the ledge, finally down to the very bottom. It was so narrow here and choked with trees that landing was difficult. As soon as the horse had set its hooves upon the earth, Dahl jumped off and reached up to help Catryn.

“I will lead the horse now,” he said. “It will be easier to search for the opening to the dragon’s cave on foot. It must be close by.” He rested his hand on the hilt of his sword.

“I will search in my own way,” Catryn said. “Follow me.” She shifted back into her lioness body. She cast her nose up and savored the air. The scent of trees and dark earth filled her nostrils. Her whiskers twitched. She cocked first one ear and then the other.

One scent came to her over all others. A thickly dark and evil stink. She knew it came from the dragon’s lair. Casting a quick glance behind her to ensure that Dahl was following, she began to pad lightly along an almost imperceptible path that led through the underbrush, toward the cliffside. She wove her way skillfully through the matted bushes, breaking a trail for Dahl and the horse. She wished she could speak with him—soon she would have to return to her human form, but not yet. She made her way through one particularly thick patch, then broke through into a kind of opening. The smell of fire and singed vegetation and something more obscene assaulted her nostrils. She halted. Dahl broke through behind her, then came to a stop as well. In front of them yawned an opening in the cliff, almost as high as the cliff itself. It looked as if it had been blasted out by a lightning stroke of unbelievable power. Inside the opening—blackness. Blackness such as Catryn had never seen. Blackness so black it seemed solid.

It was time. Catryn shifted back.

“Wait, Dahl,” she said as Dahl unsheathed his sword. She laid a restraining hand on his arm and cast her mind ahead of them.

Chaos!

She was met with a miasma of emotions. Anger and fury, rimmed with fire—the dragon knew they were coming! But beyond that, underneath it somehow and yet all around it, waves of desolation. Of bereavement. For a moment Catryn was at a loss to understand it, and then the realization came to her: it was the despair of the stolen souls she was sensing. So they were there!

“The dragon knows we are coming, Dahl,” she said then. “She has the souls of all the people there in her keeping, and she will do whatever she can to keep us from them.”

Dahl did not answer. Catryn looked at him, taken aback by what she saw. His eyes were dark with fury; the dragon scar on his cheek burned. He looked around, searching, then broke off a branch from a tree. With tinder and flint, he set about trying to make a ñame.

It was too slow! Feverish with impatience, Catryn sent a spell spinning into the branch. The end of it broke into flame. Dahl drew back, startled, but recovered himself quickly. He picked the torch up, held it aloft and strode into the cave.

Catryn hesitated for a moment. He had not given thought to the horse. Should they leave it to wait for them here? That would, perhaps, be the most sensible thing to do.

No. They would need it; somehow, she knew that.

“Follow,” she commanded and the horse obeyed.

The light from the torch wavered and seemed swallowed up by the density of the darkness that lay before them. Nevertheless, Dahl strode into it. The opening was large, but it soon tapered down into a narrow passageway, barely wide enough for them. Catryn cast her mind ahead of them, shielding them as they made their way. Dahl marched on without hesitation, but she felt herself growing weaker and weaker. The maelstrom awaiting them assaulted her mind and battered her unceasingly. The effort of shielding became harder and harder. She stumbled, but did not allow herself to fall. She had to keep pace with Dahl. She could not let him face the dragon alone.

Dahl stopped so suddenly that she, lost in her concentration, almost bumped into him. He drew his breath in with a gasp. Catryn moved to stand beside him, then she, too, caught her breath at what lay before them.

A pit gaped at their feet, huge in its expanse. Rising up from it came wisps of smoke. Fire flickered in the depths, casting light enough that their pitiful torch was no longer needed. More light streamed down from above. Catryn looked up. Far above them, an opening revealed a glimpse of the sky. She looked down again.

The dragon lay coiled at the bottom of the abyss. She stared at them, eyes huge and blazing. She seemed to be lying on a cushion of darkness. A cushion that shifted and writhed as if in pain. Catryn
reeled back with the force of the turmoil that rose up to greet her. Even as she gathered herself to withstand the impact, however, her mind was working.

“If we can induce her to leave her nest,” she said, “I can try to set those souls free.”

“I will challenge her,” Dahl said. “She cannot refuse me.”

“But if I am concentrating on releasing the souls, I will not be able to shield you,” Catryn protested.

“Then I will fight unshielded. It is good that you brought the horse. He and I will fight together again.”

“Her power is much greater than her child’s …” Catryn began, then stopped, her words cut off in horror.

Three figures appeared out of an opening on the edge of the pit just beyond them—two tall, one small. Launan and Bruhn! And between them, held securely by Launan, was Norl.

“Caulda!” Launan called out. The word echoed and reechoed throughout the chamber.

The dragon breathed out a great rush of fire. “Who dares to name me?” she roared, aloud this time, and cast her head from side to side.

“I, Launan, your master, call you. I have that right. And the power.”

“You have.” The words hissed after the retreating echoes of her name. Caulda focused her gaze now on Launan.

“And I am your master—acknowledge it!” Launan seemed to grow taller, more menacing, as he stared back at the beast.

Catryn held her breath as Caulda’s voice burned through the space between them.

“You are.”

“I have brought you that which you desired, Caulda,” Launan called. “The child. He is yours. And in return …”

“In return?” The question slithered through the air and hung there.