Dragon Witch Series - Dragon Witch Part 5

Next descended crimson Sk'aal, Destruction in his soul.

His breath flamed Earth, man and beast, Death his accursed goal.

Last came ice-proud A'ngraved, Earth's master he would be.

A cruel and mighty overlord Of mountain, man and sea But dragons do not all destroy nor Steal the lives of men.

Some are good and kind and wise, There's much to learn from them.

T'bor, with topaz wings held high, The mightiest of all, Vanquished evil R'iadan, Then turned his eye to Sk'aal.

Then A'ngraved, the battle joined

With pa.s.sion did he fight.

T'bor o'ercame their wickedness.

He put them both to flight.

But he a mortal wound did bear, Death hovered at his side He called his mate, sweet Angeline, To hold him as he died.

Her grieving heart cried for T'bor And healed his wounds, they say.

Human tears met dragon blood; Love changed their lives that day.

From mortal maid to dragon bold Turned his Sweet Angeline, She joined T'bor in dragon flight, The earth restored to green.

In dragon lore, the legends speak Of times still yet unseen Of golden dragon like T'bor, Of maid like Angeline Death defeating their pure hearts, But Virtue sets them free Their love shall live forevermore, For all eternity.

Quiet reigned over the great hall when Tristan finished his song. This was a new song for all, and there were many different reactions. The men were always happy to hear a new tale but for some unknown reason were disquieted by this song of dragon-battle. The women saw it only as a tale of love and many wiped tears from their eyes.

Wendall knew the ident.i.ty of the bard and could think only of removing him from his wife's vicinity before she discovered the ruse. He rose to his feet and nodded.

"Thank you, Minstrel, for your entertaining tale. You have a vivid imagination and shall be rewarded as you deserve for your performance here this night. You may go."

Tristan and Tempest both knew what kind of reward their

father had in mind, and they knew that it would be much easier to take than a similar "reward" from Lady Christiana, should she ever get wind of this latest prank.

Tristan bowed deeply to Tempest. "My lady, may I offer my congratulations upon this day of your coming of age? I do hope you enjoyed my tale." He looked up into her eyes and gave her an exaggerated wink.

Tempest could barely restrain her laughter at Tristan's boldness. "Aye, Sir Bard, we enjoyed your performance very much. Perhaps someday you will tell me where that lovely tale came from? You may go now. I am sure there is a good, hot meal waiting for you in our kitchens."

Before Tristan could reply, a troop of acrobats entered the hall and chaos, noise and laughter reigned supreme for the rest of the evening.

"I love parties," the woman said, gazing into the huge crystal. "We should have gone."

"Humph," growled the man lounging across the table from her. "I hate parties, as you well know. Sitting here watching this one is as close as I shall ever come to one again, so get that thought out of your mind right now."

"I wonder how that young man found the legend? It has always been strictly for dragonkind and could be quite dangerous if it fell into the wrong hands," she said thoughtfully.

"I wonder if Lysira..."

"Nay," he replied, taking a long drink from his gem- studded goblet. "She would never dare such a thing."

"Aye," she agreed. "The Tribunal can be terrible in its punishments for meddling with humankind."

"So can He," the man whispered, glancing fearfully over his shoulder. "If He finds out what we are doing..."

SIX.

The dragons battled across the sky. Enraged screams filled the air as they dove at each other, slas.h.i.+ng and tearing. Dragon scales fell onto the sterile earth below. Hot, steaming blood spattered the cold, rocky ground beneath the frenzied beasts.

The few stunted trees growing upon the slopes of the snow- covered mountains dripped red gore.

The golden dragon plunged through the sunlit skies toward the black dragon but, at the last moment, the smaller beast thrust himself aside, and the golden dragon plummeted toward the earth, managing to pull out of his fatal dive by strength of will alone. He struggled valiantly back into the heavens to continue the battle.

Flames flashed from both dragons but neither beast faltered as the battle raged. The black dragon lunged repeatedly, leaving huge gashes between golden dragon scales. Talons raked, tore, gouged. Teeth slashed into dragon flesh as each huge beast became weaker and slower, falling impotently onto the rocky ground below. They slammed to the ground with a mighty thud and silence ensued. Neither beast moved.

A thick, luminous, green mist rose from the ground, slowly enveloping both creatures. Suddenly a triumphant cry wound its way toward the heavens, and the mist slowly dissipated.

The golden dragon now lay under a towering oak tree, deep in an ancient forest. The black dragon was nowhere to be seen.

In his place stood a hooded figure dressed in a black robe. He held a long, black staff in his right hand, his silver and opal ring an iridescent glint in the morning light. His left hand, tightly clenched, was raised towards the heavens, a dark, sinister figure, defying the G.o.ds. His laughter rang, high-pitched, yet filled

with a wickedness born from the memories of the ancients.

The golden dragon lay in a spreading pool of his own blood, life slowly ebbing from his body. His eyes were open, and he was conscious but unable to move as he stared with impotent hatred at the defiant figure, despair peeking from the edges of his soul.

The man in black stood near the huge beast's head; a heavy feeling of death radiated from him. The air filled with a miasma of rotting flesh and poisonous swamp gases. He raised his staff towards the heavens for a long moment, then lowered it. Its silver tip circled a glowing red ball and was pointed at the dragon's head. The opal ring began to sparkle, then to glow, as his words skittered through the helpless golden dragon's mind.

"You fought well, dragon." His deep, hollow voice seemed to come from the Abyss. "But I have prevailed, and I condemn you to suffer and die, here, where none shall ever know of your pa.s.sing. You will be forgotten by all, dragon, while I shall rule supreme. I take your life, and all you have ever known or desired now belongs to me." Blood-red flames shot from both the end of the staff and the opal ring, engulfing the helpless dragon.

Wild, maniacal laughter rang through the forest as the mage slowly faded from sight.

Silence flooded over the dying golden dragon.

Then a soft, cooling breeze lulled him into oblivion and the beautiful golden beast lay still. Tempest awoke with a start, her body shaking with terror from the blood-freezing dream. It had all seemed too real, as if she had been a silent observer of arcane things not to be witnessed by mere mortals.

She rose from her bed and went to her window, still shaken by the vivid dream. It was too much like the dragon-battle she had witnessed the day before, but with a far different outcome.

She wondered again about the beautiful golden dragon. Would she ever see him again?

A soft tapping at the door pulled Tempest from her dark thoughts.

"You may enter, Jolie," She called out softly, wondering why her serving maid had risen so early. After all, she had stayed late to help Tempest get ready for bed.

Tristan peeked around the door, a big grin on his face.

"Good morn, little sister. How was your party last night?

Did you enjoy the wandering minstrel?" He sat on her big four- poster bed, grinning over at her, still standing by the window.

"I thought you would be sleeping after being up so late."

"I had a dream, Tris. It was so horrible I had to wake myself to get away from it." Her voice shook with emotion.

Tristan quickly stepped to her side to take her into his loving arms and give her the comfort only a brother could give.

"Tell me about it. If you can talk about bad dreams, they will be sent back to the other side, never to return again."

She looked up from the protective circle of his arms. "'Tis a childhood fantasy. This was no child's dream to be so easily banished."

"Do not fear so, little one. I have always been here to don my armor and dash into battle to protect you. Remember when the village children were teasing you about your red hair, and I came to your rescue? Why, I beat them all severely. You know how good I am at saving you!"

"I seem to remember that little incident differently, sweet brother." Tempest gave him a tremulous smile at the memory.

"I seem to recall you being bruised and battered. You had to be carried to your room in the stables and have your broken arm set by the village healer."

"We paid the debt in full later, though." Tristan chuckled at the memory. "You convinced them they were frogs and even had them eating bugs for a whole afternoon. How did you do that, by the way? I never did figure that one out."

"Just something I learned by an old oak tree," Tempest said with a saucy grin. "Old secrets, you know."

"Sometimes you almost scare me with the things you can do. Anyway, 'tis all in the past, and I really want to spend some time with you before everyone else claims your attention.

We have been together far too little these past few days. Get dressed and meet me in the stables." He swatted her playfully on the bottom as he steered her toward the wardrobe.

"Our guests came with some beautiful horses. There is one in particular that I want you to see. 'Tis coal black, but its eyes

are blue. 'Tis the meanest animal I have ever met, even meaner than Daemon. I cannot get near it without its owner being there, and he is as weird as his horse...mayhap more so." He threw the last statement over his shoulder as he went out the door.

Tempest pulled an old dress from her wardrobe. She had never been concerned about clothes, and her mode of dress showed it. The dress she chose was an old, brown woolen one. It was worn and faded, and she knew her mother would be very angry if she saw her only child dressed in clothing fit only for the scullery maids. But she preferred it because it was loose and comfortable and would not be ruined if she got dirty from the stables.

Lady Christiana loathed Tempest's love of horses and the stables and did her best to thwart her recalcitrant daughter's attempts to spend time with Tristan in his domain. But Tempest knew her mother was a late riser and would not be around to detect this visit.

This time Tempest was wrong.

Lady Christiana met her at the foot of the stairs. As usual, she began berating her daughter for everything from what she was wearing to how her hair was combed.

"Mother..." Tempest tried to stop the lecture. "Mother...I have to go to the stable to see to one of Father's favorite horses.

I will change my clothes as soon as I get back."

"Nay." Christiana's face reddened and her voice rose.

"Your father has plenty of people to take care of those nags, and I have plans for you this day. Turn yourself around and get back up those stairs. I want you dressed in your best blue wool frock. I want you to be washed, combed and on your best behavior. This is very important to me and your father, and I want you to do as I say for once." She pushed Tempest up the steps.

"Mother I promised Tris..."

"I know what that b.a.s.t.a.r.d did last night, and I will have him horsewhipped if you don't do exactly what I say. NOW!"

She pushed again and Tempest almost fell upon the steep, curved stairway.

She knew her mother was quite capable of having Tristan

whipped. Christiana had done so in the past and Tempest would protect her brother in any way she could.

"I will do as you wish, Mother," she said, her voice icy.

"But in return, I do not want Tristan punished in any way for being at my party last night. If I hear one word of any of your spiteful actions against my brother, I shall retaliate in ways that you will never forget. Do you understand me?"

Christiana paled. Tempest had never spoken so coldly before. Suddenly there was no doubt in her mind that her daughter was capable of doing her harm. This young woman standing before her was different from her usually malleable daughter, and it frightened her. Mayhap Tempest had developed more backbone than she had previously imagined. The G.o.ds knew what Miriam had been teaching her of the arcane arts.

She was beginning to regret having left her now willful daughter in the hands of that strange, secretive healing woman.

Christiana had heard the rumors of Tempest's powers in the arcane arts, and she had always respected Miriam's anger.

If she was witnessing the results of the woman's handiwork, she did not want to test either woman at the moment. There would be time later to punish Tempest's disobedience, a time and place Miriam would not know about. And punish her I shall, she thought with determination.

"Tempest, dear." Christiana backed away a step, her tone now placating. "I only want what is best for you. I will not hurt...him. We have important guests who will arrive at any moment, and I want you to make a good impression. Your blue wool looks so nice on you. Will you get ready...please?"

"Aye, Mother." Tempest was so surprised at her mother's turnabout she could think of no other thing to do except obey her. She turned and headed up the stairs to her room like any well-mannered daughter.

The man and woman stood before the golden dragon watching him in his sleep of death and d.a.m.nation.

"Well," said the woman. "Are you going to just let him die?"