Belnarth raises his hand and rubs across his face. He peers up at her with his one good eye; the right is swollen closed. “Both my legs are broken. I am not sure what else is busted up inside me.” A wan smile crosses his face. His voice is edgy and harsh with pain. “And you look like a slaughterhouse, there is so much blood.” His hand drops to pat the talon that grasps him. “I suppose neither of us are real candidates for the Healers, anyway.” His words become soft and filled with emotion. “Very well, my dear, to the cavern it is.”
A moment of pitch black, cold. Then they are above the cavern where they left the eggs. Estrola lands besides the narrow opening and stumbles to the pile of stones she left nearby earlier. Careful not to disturb Belnarth any more than necessary, she collapses the pile. Dust and debris fill the air as the boulders fall, blocking the entrance. She staggers back, surveying the results. Yes, it will do, the opening is no longer evident.
“Can thou transport us as close to where we left the last batch of eggs as possible?”
Belnarth does not answer, but in the next breath they stand in the warm cavern beside the pile of eggs. Carefully she places Belnarth on the stone floor and, her body and head awash with searing pain, she arranges the final eggs upon the warm sand.
By the time the final egg is in place, she quivers from the effort and breathes in pants. She turns to see Belnarth, his legs sprawled at an impossible angle, holding his staff before him. His face haggard in a voice only just above a whisper, he says, “Come, rest beside me, Estrola. I will engage the stasis.”
Her wing-tips drag across the warm stone floor as she steps around Belnarth and eases herself to lie beside him. The chamber echoes with his chant as a soft glow emits from the crystal in the head of his staff. It only takes a moment, and the stasis is set. The air of the chamber pulses with static energy from the spell.
Belnarth grasps the length of his staff with both hands and with a crack, it snaps in two. His movements jerky, he places the shaft where it forms a V in front of him. Gasping, he leans back against Estrola’s side. “There. The eggs are in stasis. We have fulfilled our obligations.”
“Why did thou break thy staff?”
“Because I know I am not as noble as you. In my weakened condition, I cannot transport us without the aid of my staff.” He twists his head up to meet her eyes. “The only way to ensure I do not shatter our vows was to break it. We shall remain here together.”
She rests her head on the ground, every inch of her body screaming with pain. “I am proud to have thee as my bonding mate.”
“And I you.”
The only sounds are that of their ragged breaths. Soon, the chamber is silent.
~!~
Geramn gasps. A red, pulsing dome arcs across the valley still some distance from him. He scans the sky surrounding the dome, but can see no dragons, no Shaman, no Volastoque. The flash of dragon fire within the dome tells him where they are. Inside.
But why?
A high pitch, static hum fills the air, the sound becoming louder and higher in pitch by the moment. He turns to Elish and the others as they round the rock formation. “It must be like the camouflage field, only somehow it contains them.”
Elish, his mouth sagging open, comes to stand beside Geramn. “This must be the defensive field that Shaman spoke of.”
Geramn nods, then turns back to study the dome. The field pulsates, reminding Geramn of a beating heart as it constricts and expands, sending waves of various shades of red across the surface. The static crackle rises to a volume that hurts his ears when the red of the field deepens and begins to constrict. “Take cover. I do not know what is happening, but I think it would be best—”
A thunderous WOOSH and the air about them rushes toward the now rapidly shrinking dome. Geramn grabs Elish’s arm and propels him behind the rocks. Dirt and debris, borne on the strong wind, peppers his skin as he crouches down beside Elish. He presses the boy close against the rock, trying to shield him with his body.
BOOM.
The earth beneath their feet jolts from the explosion and Geramn is thrown to the ground. His heart hammering in his ears, Geramn crawls toward Elish. Clutching the boy to him as they both tremble in shock. Stunned, Geramn opens his eyes and sees airborne rubble falling around them. Forcing himself to his feet, he drags Elish back to the rocks and they press as close to the rough surface as possible.
The sharp tang of blood fills his nostrils as he prays to the Lady, and tries to stay as close to the rock’s surfaces as possible.
Finally, the sounds stop and he spits the blood from his bitten tongue upon the ground, risks taking a step away from the rocks, and looks around. Unidentifiable bloody, burnt masses, shorn-off trees, and huge rocks dot the surrounding landscape. Smaller objects, scattered like flotsam on a storm-tossed sea, he identifies as body parts, those of dragon, beast, and human alike.
Geramn swallows against the bile filling his throat as he surveys the wreckage. A low moan brings his attention back to his immediate surroundings. Elish staggers to his feet, his hand clutching his arm; blood seeps from between his fingers in a dark ooze. Geramn hurries to the lad and examines him. The cut is deep, but not life threatening.
“Is anyone else injured?”
“Here, Healer Geramn, Geralt is unconscious and has a severe cut to his abdomen.”
Geramn gestures to the experienced Healers in the group. “Quickly see to our injured. We must render aid to those in the valley.” He helps Elish to sit on the cold ground and tears away the sleeve of his tunic to expose the injury.
Elish turns to stare at the smoldering pit that moments ago was a valley. “Nor Geramn. You do not really think anyone survived in that?”
Geramn keeps his eyes on the cut in the lad’s arm as he replies, “I hope so.” He reaches above the injury, and using a piece of cloth torn from the sleeve, ties a tourniquet. “However, honestly I cannot see how anything survived that blast.” He elevates the arm and motions for Elish to keep it upright. “I will return in a moment; I am going to fetch our supplies so I may clean this wound.”
He makes the short trips to their horses. One, a bright bay, lies dead on the ground, a piece of tree limb embedded in its side. Two are missing but he is relieved some of them still remain where they had left them. He soothes the nervous mounts and unlashes the satchels with supplies. He moves slower as he returns, his eyes drawn to the smoldering valley. How many? How many were lost in the explosion?
Chapter 32-Epilogue
Three winters, three moons, and four sunrises. Geramn shakes his head. How long it will be before he does not keep count each sunrise of the time passed since the slaughter in that valley? He pulls a tie-down snug across the canvas covering the wagon. The strong spring breeze is a bit cool, but it sure beats the stuffy interior of the cavern.
They are amongst the first humans to leave.
Fear, and perhaps caution, kept the Palmir People in their caverns, even though not a single Volastoque has been spotted since that fateful day. Geramn still does not know if he accepts the sacrifice of all the Shaman and dragons was necessary to secure their freedom from the Volastoque.
It took he and Elish, along with the Healers who wished to return to Kitloch, two moons to make their way back without transport Shaman. The trip, made as winter settled deep upon the land, was difficult to say the least.
However, for him, the hardest part is accepting the loss. That, he has not fully accomplished even now. Oh, it was a bit easier once the Mystics explained that prophecies showed this as the only path in which the Palmir People survived. Yet, the dragons… the Mystics said eggs were put in stasis, yet no one knows where. And the only surviving dragons are male.
Only four sunrises ago the last of those left the Palmir People’s caverns, with their bonding mates, to search for others of their kind across the vast oceans. No one knew what lay across those immense bodies of water. He prayed they found land before they too died in an unforgiving sea. Dragons are not good
swimmers.
A giggle and an indignant shout draw his gaze to the cavern entrance. Pearlitta, her face flushed and her eyes bright with mischief, comes pelting out with Elish fast on her heels. Elish slows to a dignified walk as he spots Geramn, but Pearlitta rushes onward until she reaches him, throwing herself into his arms.
“Sheina says she is ready to bring up the babes, if the wagons are loaded?”
Geramn kisses her cheek, then sets her upon her feet. “Yes, go give her a hand. With the new babe she will probably need help with Reika.” Pearlitta scampers off, keeping a wide berth of Elish as she passes him. “Oh, and tell the boys to get the goats started down the road, we will catch up with them,” he shouts before she enters the cavern door.
She waves a hand to indicate she heard him and disappears into the cavern.
“How many are going?” Elish asks as he arrives, his gaze running across the gathered wagons.
“Thirty-three families.”
Elish emits a low whistle and grins. “Did you relent and allow a Mystic to come along?”
“Yes, but that does not mean I have any more faith in their prophecies than before.”
“Sure you do, I saw the grin on your face when they told of the Lady sending the Dragon Souls back.”
“That does not mean I believe, it means I hope.” Geramn pats the young man on the back, once again trying to remind himself that Elish is no longer a youngster. “It is nice to think that one day, even if it is a long time off, those dragons who gave their lives willingly to save our people will live again.”
Elish grins and climbs up onto the wagon seat, taking the reins. “I will move this wagon out of the way so you can pull the one for Sheina and the babes closer to the entrance.” Clucking to the horses, he starts them down the road apiece.
Geramn looks up and down the line of wagons. Yes, this is a fine group to start over with. He lifts his gaze to the clear blue sky. And yes, he does believe that one day there will be dragons in the sky again.
The End
Page to end to see preview of Dragon Soul – Book 1 – Dragons in the Mist
Characters
Aura – Mahogany dragon with golden eyes. Mate to Maru and dama of Falcop.
Blanche – Mate to Shaman Geramn with blonde hair and blue eyes. Has two sons with Jadrun, Montello and Herlan.
Bren - Eight winters old son of Healer Geramn and Sheina.
Cida – Woman Shaman Jadrun found after Volastoque attack on caravan. Has brown hair with blue eyes. Mate to Fellan
Healer Derness – Female Healer with brown eyes and long black hair. She helps Geramn train the apprentice Healers.
Elish – Twelve winters old orphan. Stout lad with brown hair, green eyes. He is from Prelach, where Geramn’s sister and her family lived. Elish has an unsatiable desire to become a Healer.
Estrola - Midnight-blue dragon with green eyes. Member of the Dragon Council and bonded to Shaman Belnarth.
Falcop - Bright green-colored son of Maru and Aura, he was weak and dying when Maru returns from Taloxville. Becomes Bonding Mate to Montello.
Faille – Female dragon, leader of escort covey lost in battles
Healer Frandem – Young male Healer with stubble on his chin and bushy eyebrows. He works with Geramn at Taloxville and with training apprentice Healers.
Garyl - Scarlet-colored son of Maru and Aura. He is the smallest and most inquisitive of their hatchlings. He died while Maru was at Taloxville.
Mystic Gelia – Mystic on the council that leads the Palmir People. She pushes for Hern to compel the dragons and Shaman on the path the Lady has shown in visions.
Healer Geramn - Healer with black and hair sky-blue eyes. Geramn healed Maru at Taloxville, then again after Maru’s battle defending his and Aura’s lair. Geramn’s mate is Sheina. They have two boys, Jiles and Bren, and one daughter, Reila. Friend to Shaman Jadrun and befriends Elish, taking him under his wing as an apprentice Healer.
Helthan – Brown male dragon who led funeral song.
Herlan – Son of Blanche and Healer Geramn who is killed by Volastoque attack.
Shaman Hern – Shaman in charge at Kitloch. Hern has deep blue eyes, gnarled features and slight form. Mentor to Jadrun.
Shaman Jadrun – Transport Shaman , 40 winters old, Jadrun is tall with black hair and green eyes. Had two sons with his mate Blanche. Montello and Herlan.
Jiles - Eight winters old son of Healer Geramn and Sheina. Jiles is a chubby replica of Geramn, from his black hair and sky-blue eyes to the same broad, flat cheekbones.
Kaleen - Brown eyes, black hair – young man who shows ability to be a Healer.
Kilita – Emerald-green dragon, with golden eyes. Her lair lay in the foothills behind Maru’s and Aura’s. Her mate, Timac, fell in the defense of Taloxville. Daughter of Gernal and Oshaln
Headman Kiltem – Leader at the caverns at Burick Lake – thin silver hair, brown eyes.
Megrath- she is a young red dragon, only this moon entered into the battles
Mucal – Blue male dragon – red eyes that helped the hurt brown hatchling.
Montello – Son of Shaman Jadrun. Blond with brown eyes and fifteen winters old– his dead twin is Herlan. Montello becomes Bonding Mate to Falcop.
Niwah – Member of dragon council. Deep green dragon with golden eyes of four hundred fifty winters.
Pearlitta – Daughter of Shaman Belnarth, blue eyes, brown hair, thirteen winters old, looks younger.
Phocaea - Orange female dragon with green eyes. Leader of one of the battle covies.
Rejack - brother Timac. Huge Bronze with golden eyes. Rejack leads a battle covey.
Rekia – One winter old daughter of Blanche and Healer Geramn. Brown eyes and blonde hair.
Sheina – Mate to Healer Geramn. They have two boys, Jiles and Bren, and one daughter, Rekia.
Tamille - the eldest woman at the Kitloch Caverns. She is a cook.
Tecla – Mate of Fancur and Healer’s Geramn’s sister.
Shaman Tera – Transport Shaman.
Tioner – Orange male sentry dragon at Kitloch.
Timac - Mate to Kilita who fell in the defense of Taloxville. Son of Yegrall and Helrnal.
Trella - Yellow with green eyes female dragon. Trella is young and inexperienced in battle. She is chosen by the dragon council as one of the females to guarantee the survival of the species.
Turmac - Young man at Kitloch, aide to Shaman Hern.
Yalkin - Ancient, over six hundred winters old, black dragon with red eyes. Leader of the Dragon Council. He is the council leader who instigated the alliance with the humans when the Volastoque attacks started.
Dragon Soul
An eerie screech blasts across the foothills. Jalkor shades his eyes and points to the west. “Look, Thol, dragons!”
Thousands of scales flashing in the dying twilight make each dragon appear aflame. Sharp, iridescent gem colors of emerald, onyx, ruby and sapphire highlight their massive wings and powerful bodies. Picking up their pace, the youths drive their goats down steep slopes toward nightfall pens. Jalkor’s arms prickle with gooseflesh and a shiver runs down his spine. He flips his uncombed blond hair back and keeps a watchful eye on the four serpentine forms gliding through the frosty air that shrouds their valley.
“Hurry, Thol. They begin to descend,” Jalkor yells over his shoulder as he races close behind the herd.
Thol’s gaze locks on the soaring dragons. They dip lower and his chapped face reddens to burgundy as his arms pump in rapid counter-rhythm to his long strides. His open cloak catches the brisk wind, and it sails behind him like a blue flag. Thol’s hat slips over his eyes and he trips over an exposed root. Jalkor grunts in exasperation, jerking to a stop. He watches Thol’s arms pinwheel in a struggle to keep his balance. Thol’s long legs tangle and he sprawls face-first across grass that is turning brown and crisp from the onset of autumn.
“Are you hurt?” Jalkor asks while his gaze shifts between Thol and
the dragons approaching overhead.
“Neah.” Thol untangles his lanky frame and scrambles to his feet. He brushes, without effect, at fresh soil stains on his weathered trousers. He crams his crumpled, blue hat on his head and they continue to dash downhill, only to come up short at the thrum of beating wings directly above.
Jalkor feels his heart beating a staccato rhythm against his ribs as he squints into the vivid purple sky. The lead dragon’s emerald-green form plummets past, his golden eyes raking across the shepherds and their goats. The red and blue stream behind him in rapid succession. The three fly so low, the spicy scent of dragon sends the goats fleeing downhill in terror. The largest, a black-bodied giant with silver wings, brings up the rear. His blood-red eyes scorch across the valley as he blasts by, the grass bowing in the breeze he creates. The foursome glides to land with grace in the lower fields.
A whoosh of exhaled breath fills the air when Jalkor and Thol shake off their daze and remember to breathe. He and Thol exchange sheepish grins and then, with a loud whoop, they rush on toward the village. Thol manages to keep his feet underneath him and his body upright as they drive their herd across the last rolling incline.
The boys arrive in the lower field where four dragons shimmer into Transformation. Thol and Jalkor watch in awe, foolish grins plastering their faces. Magnificent wings furl against their bodies as each dragon morphs and blends into a diminishing form. They resemble large blossoms returning to buds as the human Dragon Hosts replace their dragon identity. Jalkor tries to steady his breathing while the boys maintain a respectful distance, watching the Dragon Hosts make their way across the field to Vedicville.