Page 35 of Thornbear (Book 1)


  Gram nodded.

  “You nearly died because it took me so long to create the ‘death blossom’, so I’ve been working on it. I’m trying to get it down so that I can use it spontaneously.”

  “Death blossom?”

  “That’s his stupid name for it,” groused Moira. “He nearly killed himself yesterday.”

  “No I didn’t!” yelled Matthew. “I stopped the bleeding.”

  “But I had to reattach your arm! What if Mama heard about that? How do you think she would feel?”

  “She’d be fine,” said Matthew. “Because my arm is fine, and besides, you aren’t going to tell her.”

  Moira’s eyes narrowed and Gram could see she was preparing her next verbal attack. “Would you just explain what this ‘death blossom’ is, please?”

  “Remember what I told you about ‘translation’?” asked Matthew.

  “You said it was like teleporting, but between dimensions, right?”

  “Yeah,” said Matthew. “The spell I used yesterday is similar, except it creates three triangular dimensional interfaces, joined at a point of congruence. They act like blades that will cut through anything.”

  “Like arms,” said Moira pointedly.

  Matthew ignored her, “The one I used on Chel’strathek hit him close to dead center, and it cut through the spell-weave that sustained him. It worked, just like I thought it would.” His eyes were lit with a feverish enthusiasm.

  “So you cast a spell and killed him,” agreed Gram. “You very nearly killed me too.”

  “That was the explosive backlash from the release of his aythar,” said Matthew. “The important thing is that I destroyed a spell-weave with just a spell.”

  “So?” As far as Gram was concerned the two things might as well be the same.

  “He’s excited because no one has ever been able to do that before,” explained Moira in a bland tone.

  “If we find Celior, I’m going to have to do it again,” said Matthew.

  The beat of dragon wings drowned out her reply, as Desacus and Moira’s dragon, Cassandra, descended.

  “Are we going to have to fly?” asked Gram.

  Both of them nodded at him in unison.

  Shit.

  ***

  They flew south, with Gram riding double behind Matthew. He kept his eyes open this time, rather than closing them at the start. It made it easier to adjust as the ground grew slowly farther away.

  “Relax,” said Matthew. “The spell I used to make you lighter will last a while. Even if you fell, you’d fall softly enough that you probably wouldn’t even hurt yourself.”

  Gram’s stomach turned over at the thought. “Please stop talking,” he begged.

  They flew for a quarter of an hour, until they had reached the line of mountains that ran to the south of Cameron and Lancaster. Dropping down, they landed on a large ledge that opened into an unnaturally large and smooth cave.

  “What is this?” asked Gram.

  “Dad and Gareth Gaelyn made it to keep the dragons,” explained Moira. “The tunnel goes back in a long way, to the egg chamber. There are side chambers for the dragons that have already hatched.”

  Now Gram understood. The Count had never explained where the dragons stayed, or where he had hidden the other eggs, for obvious reasons. They followed a huge corridor deeper into the mountain, passing vast side arches.

  “That’s where Layla stays,” said Moira, indicating the first arch on the left. “The next one on the right is Desacus’. Cassandra’s is farther on, to the left. The rest after that are still unclaimed.”

  They continued walking, until Gram was certain they had gone more than a mile into the mountainside. At the end was a massive iron door, covered in strange symbols. Matthew stepped up and put his hand on the door, uttering a quiet word.

  The door opened silently, a surprise for such a massive construction. Inside Gram saw a long room, occupied by stone benches arranged in rows. Atop each one was a wooden box, bound with iron straps.

  “Those are the eggs?” asked Gram.

  They nodded, walking forward to a box on the right hand side. The iron bands that sealed it had been cut already. Matthew reached out and pulled the lid aside. Moira lifted a large, rose-colored egg from within.

  “What are you doing?”

  She offered it to Gram, “Here.”

  “That’s not for me. Your father is the one that’s supposed to choose.”

  Matthew broke in, “He didn’t create the dragons by himself, you know. He had help from Gareth Gaelyn and Moira. I even helped with some of it.”

  Gram took a step back, “I don’t even like flying.”

  “This wasn’t our choice, Gram,” added Moira. “Father chose the Queen’s dragon, Matt and I chose our own, but this one is special. This one chose you.”

  “How? I’ve never met any of them.” He had heard that Moira created the animus for each of the dragon eggs, but he hadn’t been present when it was done.

  “Put your hand on the egg,” she replied. “Introduce yourself.”

  “Trust us,” said Matthew.

  Gram glared at his friend, “You know how I feel about you saying that.”

  Moira sighed, “Just do it.”

  He knew better than to argue any further. Gram had secretly dreamed that one day the Count might offer him one of the eggs, but he hadn’t imagined it would happen like this. His two friends had essentially stolen their dragons, albeit with their mother’s help. The Count was missing now but it still… Gram closed off that train of thought. Putting his hand out, he placed it on top of the egg in Moira’s hands.

  It felt warm to the touch; firm, though soft as well, like boiled leather. “Hello,” he said.

  Gram?

  The reply was purely mental, but the voice in his mind was familiar. It felt feminine.

  “Yes,” he answered. “This is Gram.”

  I’ve missed you. How is Rennie?

  “Grace?!”

  Of course.

  “But you’re a bear!” he blurted out. The twins were watching him with knowing smirks on their faces.

  No, she replied, I am, or rather I was, a spell-beast. I’m a little different now. The world is full of textures and sensations. I never knew what a joy skin could be.

  “Skin? You’re an egg.”

  I’m inside the egg, but I have a true body now. I can already feel new things.

  “I was so worried about you, Grace…”

  You don’t have to talk out loud, she told him. You’ll embarrass me if you say too much in front of everyone.

  “I’m sorr…” he stopped himself. I’m sorry. This is all new to me.

  We can learn together, said Grace. You still haven’t answered my question.

  I forgot what it was, he admitted.

  How is Rennie?

  I think she’s doing well.

  Good, came the response from the egg. How are you?

  There’s nothing wrong with me, said Gram.

  Aside from a broken heart and suffering a terrible loss, she answered. Mourning is natural; don’t pretend you aren’t hurting.

  I am, he agreed, but having you back helps a lot.

  The three of them walked back out, Gram cradling the egg against his chest. The air felt warmer and the smell of the stone in the cave was sharper. As they emerged into the dusky evening, he couldn’t help but note how much brighter the world seemed. “Was it this light out when we went in?”

  Matthew chuckled, “Dragons will do that to you.”

  “This is just starlight, Gram,” said Moira. “You won’t have any problems seeing, even if there’s hardly any light at all.”

  Desacus and Cassandra were waiting for them. Matthew climbed up and offered a hand to Gram.

  He shook his head, “I think I’ll walk back, Matt.”

  “You can’t climb down and carry that egg,” said his friend. “And even if you could, it would take half the night to get back on foot.”

&nbsp
; Gram looked over the edge at the steep mountainside. “Dammitt.”

  We’ll get to fly together soon, said Grace in his head.

  Epilogue

  Rose Thornbear sat at the writing table in the upstairs library. Finishing yet another letter, she folded it and then addressed it before adding sealing wax and stamping it with her seal. Once that was done, she arched her back, stretching. Sitting in the hard chair for hours on end was painful, but she wasn’t finished.

  The door behind her opened and Penny strode in, still wearing her armor. Rose couldn’t recall seeing her without it since the news of the attack on the Illeniel family. “Are you still at it?” asked the Countess.

  “Waiting isn’t easy,” said Rose. “Whenever I think I’ve sent the last letter, another idea springs to mind, and there’s nothing for it but to send another inquiry. It will get worse once the responses start arriving. Don’t you get tired of wearing all that metal?”

  Penny sat heavily in a chair at one of the reading tables. “Yes. It isn’t as easy as it once was, but I don’t feel comfortable without it.”

  “It seems we each have our own ways of dealing with a difficult situation,” commented Rose.

  “At least yours is truly helpful,” said Penny. “The armor makes me feel better, but it gets us no closer to discovering who this enemy is.”

  Rose rubbed her eyes. “Mordecai would feel better knowing you wear it, ready to protect your children.”

  “I wish I could think that,” said Penny. “But in reality, they protected themselves this time. Without Gram, I might have lost my daughter forever.”

  “Don’t forget the twins,” said Rose.

  “I haven’t. They scare me more than anything.”

  “Because they’re coming into their own?”

  “Because they think they can protect themselves,” corrected Penny. “I, you—we both know how deceptive the illusion of safety can be, but they’re too young to understand danger.”

  “It doesn’t do any good to try to protect them,” said Rose. “I made that mistake with Gram. You’ve done much better with yours.”

  “I’m not so sure about that. Moira has been very cross with her brother lately, and George said some very unsettling things when I talked to him yesterday.”

  That got Rose’s attention, “Explain what you mean.”

  “Matthew had just explained to him what he did to stop Chel’strathek. George expressed some disbelief at what he heard, while Moira became rather agitated. Neither of them liked what he said. George almost called him a liar, but I think he simply didn’t understand. Moira on the other hand, knew the truth, which is probably why she was so angry. She’s scared for her brother’s safety.”

  “Did she tell you what she was worried about?” asked Rose.

  Penny frowned, “No. She’s hiding her concerns from me. They both want to protect me.”

  “They learned that from their parents,” noted Rose.

  “It’s frustrating,” agreed Penny. “Both of them think they know better than the rest of us. I talked to George afterward, alone, and he seemed rather troubled. He admitted that he didn’t really understand what Matthew did, but that it shouldn’t have been possible for a simple spell to destroy the magic that held one of the dark gods together.”

  Rose pursed her lips. “Mordecai is the only one who really understands the things that boy works on.”

  “And he isn’t here.”

  “Maybe you should try to keep him busy,” suggested Rose.

  “How?”

  “Have you seen the armor that he made for Gram? It appears from thin air and disappears just as quickly. You wouldn’t have to wear that chain all day long.”

  “He said that took him a half a year to finish,” observed Penny.

  “Exactly.”

  Penny chuckled, “I don’t think I will be able to pin him down that easily. He’s very stubborn, and he has his own ideas about what should be a priority.”

  “Much like his father,” noted Rose.

  The Countess placed her steel cap on the table in front of her. “It’s been almost four days, Rose. He should have sent a message by now or communicated in some other way—if he could.”

  “If he were alive. Is that what you mean?”

  Penny nodded.

  Rose looked away, “I’m the last person you should talk to for reassurance. You know I don’t believe in miracles.”

  “This isn’t the first time I’ve been through this,” Penny reminded her. “I’m just trying to figure out where to go from here, if I can’t find him—if he doesn’t return.”

  “There are no easy solutions,” said Rose. “We do what we can, and once we know where to lay the blame, we’ll decide what our options are.”

  “How long do you think we should wait to announce it?”

  “That Mordecai is missing?” asked Rose, pausing.

  “Yes.”

  “As long as possible,” she answered. “We have no body, so he can’t be declared dead for some time anyway. The longer his absence is left unannounced, the longer our enemies will wonder, and the less time they will have to plan based on that information.”

  “Unless they already know,” suggested Penny.

  “We have many different enemies; only a few of them would know. You still gain an advantage keeping the others in the dark,” advised Rose.

  “As always, you see the clearest of us all,” observed the Countess. “I don’t know how I would manage without you, Rose.”

  ***

  ‘Four’ felt something unusual ahead. She was called ‘Four’ because her creator hadn’t had much time for more personalized names.

  She crept across the rocky hillside as quietly as possible, keeping her body low to the ground. Four was small to begin with, her cat-like body standing only a foot tall on her four legs, but she crouched even lower now, hoping to avoid notice.

  Four wasn’t very smart though, or she might have considered the fact that she would stand out to magesight no matter how she tried to conceal her physical presence, her aythar glowed like a light in the dark. Creeping forward, she approached the dark opening that seemed to hold a strange presence.

  In her mind, Four remembered what she was looking for; a man, tall, dark hair, and with aythar that had a particular flavor to it. It was a memory implanted in her mind by her creator, to enable her to identify him when she found him. Mordecai. There was a hint of aythar ahead that seemed to be his, hidden beneath a shadowed overhang. A deeper recession there indicated the beginning of a cave.

  Something else was there as well, a darker thing, a powerful thing.

  Four hadn’t been given much capacity when it came to emotions. She was particularly lacking when it came to fear or a sense of self-preservation. Such things were pretty useless when you weren’t expected to live for more than a few days. Entering the cave, Four gained a clearer view.

  Mordecai was there, lying prone on the rocky floor, but she felt his eyes, or perhaps his attention, fall on her. There was a sense of recognition. He knows my creator; he must sense a hint of her in me, thought Four.

  “Run,” he managed to say with some difficulty, but it was too late.

  The thing that stood over him stretched out a strangely fluid limb in Four’s direction. Power flowed from it, and she began to dissolve, a momentary pain flashing through her body.

  Moira! Four’s cry went out as loudly as she could manage, but she knew it was futile, her creator was too far away. She would not hear her warning. I will not make it to the meeting place, thought the dying spell-beast, and then she was gone.

  Coming Early in 2015:

  The Silent Tempest

  The story of Tyrion Illeniel and the events that began the war between the remnants of humanity and the She’Har continues with the second installment in the Embers of Illeniel series.

  Coming in the Summer of 2015:

  Centyr Dominance

  The tale begun in Thornbear continues as Moira
Illeniel begins a quest to find and rescue her father while learning the darker secrets of the Centyr legacy.

  For more information about the Mageborn series check out the author’s Facebook page:

  https://www.facebook.com/MagebornAuthor

  You can also find interesting discussions and information at the Mageborn forums or the Mageborn Wiki:

  http://www.illenielsdoom.com/

  http://magebornwiki.com/index.php/Main_Page

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Epilogue

 


 

  Michael G. Manning, Thornbear (Book 1)

 


 

 
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