The Commanding Stone Part 9

"We need to hurry," said the lieutenant. He ordered the other men of his company to raise their s.h.i.+elds whenever they pa.s.sed an open window.

They reached the ground floor and raced across the Grand Hall. Claressa could hear sounds of fighting outside. Shouts, screams, the ringing of steel on steel, the dull thwack of bowstrings. She was trembling with fear. Is this how it was for Therain when Agdenor was overrun by the Neddari? she wondered. How could he lead his men if his insides were shaking the way mine are? For that matter, how can men fight if they feel this way? Were men and women really so different? Was it possible for her to be trained in such a way that she could fight and not feel such overwhelming fear? Or did soldiers learn to ignore their fear? She would have to ask Therain about it when she saw him.

"Where is my husband" she asked the lieutenant.

"I don't know, my lady. He did not tell me where he was going when he gave me my orders. But be a.s.sured, he's well protected."

They were halfway across the courtyard when a postern door in the castle wall burst open and a number of fierce warriors plunged through, shrieking and brandis.h.i.+ng their weapons. Their hair was long and wild, braided with fish bones and seagull feathers; slashes of war paint streaked their faces and arms.

Verdel screamed in terror. The guards closest to the women brought their s.h.i.+elds around to protect them while their companions released a volley of crossbow quarrels at the invaders. Five of them fell dead.

"Protect them at all costs!" shouted the lieutenant as he surged forward to meet the Pelklanders, s.h.i.+eld and sword ready.

Claressa heard more than saw the skirmish. Her view was blocked by the s.h.i.+elds and the need to keep her eyes focused on where they were going so she did not trip or stumble. The wall of s.h.i.+elds was like a moving prison enveloping them and moving them away from the fighting. Two of the soldiers broke ranks momentarily to dispatch an approaching Pelklander, but quickly returned to their positions. Thank the G.o.ds these men are well trained.

Verdel and Elezan whimpered and clutched each other as they made their way toward another postern. The sounds of fighting were coming from all around them.

They reached the door, but before they could escape through it, the soldiers in the rear spun madly around and engaged a sudden surge of Pelklanders. The Toltheani soldiers used their s.h.i.+elds to drive the invaders back, but to Claressa it looked as if their defenders would be overwhelmed in moments. There were just too many of the fearsome, painted Pelklanders.

I'm going to die. Without my husband, my family. She would not allow herself to be raped. One of the Toltheani soldiers would have to kill her first. And if none of them would, she'd fling herself on a sword. She would not be defiled in that way. Not ever.

She wondered what Therain would see when he arrived. Would every Khedes.h.i.+an in this part of Tolthean be dead? Would her body ever be found? At least I'll see Reshel again. I wonder if she'll annoy as much as she did when she was alive?

A rough hand grabbed her shoulder and shoved her through the postern. "Forgive me, my lady, but you need to run!" said one of the soldiers.

Sudden darkness as she pa.s.sed through the wall, and then another hand grabbed her on the other side. "We must be quick," said a voice. Another soldier, but it was too dark to see him clearly.

Verdel and Elezan appeared, followed by Trene, and then the postern was slammed shut, m.u.f.fling the sounds of fighting. Verdel and Elezan were sobbing hysterically despite the soldier's command to be quiet. Claressa wondered if the lieutenant was still alive.

"Come quickly," said one of the men. Claressa counted seven soldiers in the darkness. He led them off across an open field of tall gra.s.ses.

"Where are we going?" she whispered.

"Bathrel," he said, naming a coastal fortress to the north. "Now, my lady, please, be quiet."

A line of men suddenly appeared ahead of them. They'd been hiding in the gra.s.ses. Claressa heard arrows pa.s.s close by and ducked reflexively. One pa.s.sed close enough to blow her hair.

The Toltheani soldiers were shouting to one another, but Claressa had no idea what they were saying. A part of her was surprised that someone could experience such an overwhelming amount of terror and not die.

Three arrows shot past her from the opposite direction. Still crouched down, she looked up just in time to see an arrow strike Elezan in her mouth, shattering her teeth. The barbed arrow point burst through the back of her head and sprayed Claressa with blood and bits of bone.

She heard screaming and realized it was her. She wanted to stop, she truly did, the soldiers had told her to be quiet, but Elezan was lying on the ground in front of her, and even though it was dark, so terribly dark, she could still see the ruin of her mouth, the broken, b.l.o.o.d.y teeth, her dead eyes wide, staring at nothing, the arrow shaft rising from between her lips like a freakish wooden tongue or impossibly straight sapling.

The Toltheani soldiers were falling all around her, feathered with arrows. She continued screaming, powerless to stop, until a Pelklander cracked her on the back of her head with the pommel of his sword.

9.

Tyne Fedron had been walking for what seemed an eternity. After the divine stranger dressed in fine silks had left him near the border of Nirovai Deep-which he learned was the name of the forest where he'd found the Commanding Stone-he continued southward until he reached a town on the outskirts of the city of Serel. He continued to ask anyone he met about the Vanil, though he did not use that name; he called it the bronze demon, as he had since leaving home.

He did as the stranger asked and kept the Stone touching his skin at all times. Truth be told, he probably would have done so even without encouragement. He liked how it felt in his hand. He felt safer touching it than the hilt of his sword. When he was walking, he either held it in his hand or kept a grip on it in his pocket. He felt the bond between him and the dragons strengthening.

It seemed there was something almost alive within the Stone, an awareness of him and his actions. He had the sense of being silently observed by whatever dwelled inside of it. He remembered the dreams of the figure trapped in crystal and the sense of an ent.i.ty urging him on when he was digging it up. He hadn't thought about it much after recovering the Stone, and later a.s.sumed his dreams had been the work of the divine being.

Now he wasn't so sure. Perhaps there really was something alive within the Stone.

He talked to it, but it did not respond. He felt foolish doing so, but he was alone most of the time and there was nothing else to do, so he spoke to the Stone about his brothers, his mother, what the Vanil had done to them, and how he wanted to kill it in revenge.

By the b.l.o.o.d.y Pit, when is he going to show up and tell me how to use this thing? The dreams of the dragons were coming more frequently. They were so vivid that he felt almost a dragon himself, his strong heart beating in a chest protected by iron-hard scales, powerful wings propelling him down through cool mountain air into the humid jungles below, hunting large animals that reminded him vaguely of elks. He watched them through the connection. The dragons sensed it and were frightened by it. Their movements and behavior became erratic, nervous, as they realized some unseen ent.i.ty was observing them. Did the connection feel like a leash around their long necks? Maybe that was why they were frightened-they recognized that he would bend them to his will, to do his bidding.

He decided he did not much like these southern Elloha-rans. They were gruff, unfriendly, unwilling to speak to him when he asked for news of the demon. A few said they didn't like the way he talked and that he'd best go back to wherever it was he came from if he knew what was good for him. "Don't much like foreigners in these parts," one toothless old man had told him at a market located at the juncture of two dirt roads. "Mostly causin' trouble. Seems to me a man huntin' a demon don't have long to live in this world, and he might be bringin' a heap o' trouble with him before he dies. So you best move along, y'hear? That's your advice o' the day, and you'd best take it and be grateful." The man had laughed then, a sound so dry and raspy that Tyne half expected a cloud of dust to fly out of his mouth.

For a moment he was so angry at the old b.a.s.t.a.r.d that he considered whipping out his sword and chopping the fool's head off. That would wipe that smug, stupid look off his face and stop his insipid laugh. Tyne imagined himself staring down at the man's severed head, the eyes open in surprise, his gaping, toothless mouth forming a silent O. Then he'd kick it across the market for good measure, and as a warning for others not to mock or belittle him.

But he did not murder the old man. He turned and stalked off, weary to the bone, and did his best to ignore the raspy laughter that followed him down the road.

The trail of the Vanil in southern Ellohar was cold. The few who deigned to speak to him had no stories to share, no sightings of it or deaths at its hand to relay.

He pa.s.sed through the Gap of Ellohar, the immense divide that separated the Graymantle Mountains from the Mendan Mountains in the south. He had a much better idea of where he was now because of a map he'd stolen from a sleeping shopkeeper in a small town whose name he never learned. Serves these fools right for laughing at me. He would show them, though. One day all of them would bow to him as emperor. They would all know his name, and whisper it in fear.

He smiled at the thought.

The Stone drained more and more energy from him, and his pace slowed accordingly. He simply could not stave off the fatigue it caused. The stranger had warned him of this, but Tyne had not expected his weariness to become incapacitating. Twice after pa.s.sing through the Gap of Ellohar, his exhaustion became so severe that he was unable to move for an entire day.

"Tyne Fedron, it's time for you to take the next step," said the voice of the stranger.

Stretched out on his back beneath a huge old oak tree, Tyne forced his eyes open, though his body was so weary he did not think he could move. "I'm not sure I can stand up, let alone take a step," he said.

"Get up." The stranger sounded annoyed. "It is difficult and dangerous for me to be here, Tyne Fedron. Do not trifle with me."

Tyne managed to sit up and open his eyes. "I'm not trifling. I'm worn out from the Stone. I feel like an old man sometimes."

"I warned you of this."

"There's a difference between hearing a thing and experiencing a thing. Though maybe the servant of a G.o.d wouldn't know that."

The stranger ignored Tyne's mocking tone. "Despite your weariness, the bond between you and the dragons is now strong enough for you to call them."

Tyne sat up a little straighter. Finally, he was going to get some answers. "How?"

"The bond has reached a point where the Stone's power will now nourish and strengthen you. You will tire after using it, but the power of the Stone will help to sustain you. Do not fight your desire to sleep! Each time you awaken you will be stronger, and using the Stone will become easier. But you must find a secure place to rest and recover. A place where you will not be disturbed for some time."

"How long? I don't have a lot of money to pay for inns."

"Days. Perhaps a week or more, depending on how deeply you use the Stone."

"A week! I'll starve to death!"

The expression on the stranger's flawless face darkened. "As I said, the Stone will nourish you. It will not let you die while you recover. You have pa.s.sed that danger. But you will be defenseless while your body is being strengthened and replenished. You and the Stone must be safe when that happens."

Tyne didn't like the idea of sleeping for weeks. It seemed impossible. But then his resolve hardened. I'm being tested, as all great men are tested. To see if I'm afraid, a coward who'll turn tail and run away when things get difficult. I won't. I'm not afraid.

"Tell me what I need to know. But first, tell me your name. I have no idea what to call you."

"I told you before, it is not for you to know."

"I remember. But you need me since you can't use the Stone for yourself. You've made that much plain. I want a name. I don't care if you make something up, but I'm tired of not knowing."

The stranger pondered this for a moment. "You may call me Drexos. But do not think to try my patience too often, Tyne Fedron. If you do, you will regret it."

"Fair enough. Now, how do I call the dragons?"

"There is a word you must speak," Drexos said. "It will align the power of the Stone with your mind so that your will, your desires, will be transferred through the connection."

"And what is this word?"

"Prepare yourself before you speak it. Its power is derived from the Stone. It will be painful."

"Just tell me."

"The word is alharohm."

Tyne steeled himself as best he could, then said, "Alharom."

Pearlescent light filled his vision as numbing energy surged through his arm from the Stone. He had the vague sense that he was falling down, but his senses were so overwhelmed he could not be sure. He thought he might be convulsing, and felt a sudden cool wetness around his mouth.

He was going to die. Speaking a word was going to kill him.

The power reached his skull, where it somehow mingled and blended with the pearlescent light in his eyes. He heard a deep hum, like a distant rumble of thunder that did not end. He could not think on his own-the light and power overwhelmed his mind.

He felt the connection grow stronger. If it had been a thread before, now it was a rope as thick as his arm. Power and images poured through the connection like floodwaters through a broken dam.

He sighed, then blacked out.

"Tyne Fedron, awaken."

The stranger's voice-Drexos, he told me his name is Drexos, Tyne thought-reached him distantly through a haze of fog and pain. He felt as if he'd been beaten around his head. He was sure his skull had been shattered into pieces, that if he tried to move, his head would simply collapse into a lump of structureless flesh.

"Get up," commanded Drexos.

Tyne opened his eyes. "I thought I was dead."

"You are not. Now your true work begins."

It was as if a phantom muscle had appeared in his mind, one he could flex in ways he could never describe to anyone else. The connection to the dragons was vastly different than it had been. Stronger, to be sure, but also drastically altered in kind. It was no longer a mere conduit for visions and impressions-now it was an instrument of will, a thing through which he could exert influence and desire.

But this muscle was new, and weak, and exercising it left him exhausted and ill after a few minutes.

He continued to practice over the next few days. The exertions drained him, but he also grew stronger and more able. He could sense the dragons much more keenly. He intensified the bond to a number of the beasts, which would allow him to more easily command them.

Drexos remained by his side. He was a maddening creature. He did not eat or drink; the b.a.s.t.a.r.d didn't even sit down. Drexos stood and watched him and from time to time uttered cryptic comments or haughty p.r.o.nouncements about the need to destroy Gerin Atreyano.

Finally, Tyne was ready to issue his first command. He sent part of his mind through the connection, felt his consciousness merge with the primitive, brutish thoughts of the dragons. He felt them recoil when they sensed his presence, an intruder lurking unseen in their minds, able to a.s.sume some measure of control over them and their actions. His presence, his will, caused them pain, but he didn't care. They were weapons, nothing more.

Come to me. Follow the connection to my mind. Obey me!

With a roar that echoed from the mountainsides, the dragons turned about in the sky and began their long journey northward.

It worked! They listened to me! He could barely believe what he'd accomplished. Such a feat! If only Tremmel and Rukee were there to see it.

He would avenge them with dragonfire.

"I've done it," he said. He was filled with excitement. "They're coming."

Though a smile did not touch his lips, Drexos seemed pleased. "Good."

His success made him bold. "Why don't you kill Gerin Atreyano yourself? Why do you need me?"

"There are rules that govern how I may interact with mortals."

"Then why should I listen to you? If you can't hurt him, you can't hurt me. Now that I can control the dragons, I don't need you anymore."

Drexos's body grew larger and darker, as if a cloud had pa.s.sed before the sun whose shadow fell only on him. Tyne once again caught the briefest glimpse of tendrils of shadow wrapped about a great dark thing with leathery flesh, batlike wings, and burning, crimson eyes. Inhuman eyes. He shrank back in horror- And then the human form of Drexos was before him, his expression grim, murderous. "Do not fool yourself into believing you may do whatever you wish, that the power of the dragons will keep you safe from harm."

Drexos clenched his fist. Tyne shrieked in agony and thrashed about on the gra.s.s. It felt as if he'd fallen into a raging fire, that his flesh was burning from his bones.

Then it was gone. He lay still, gasping for air, his body drenched in sweat.

"That is but a taste of the pain I can provide. If you defy me, I will find another to wield the Stone, but my displeasure at your disobedience will be quite severe. I will cause you no end of pain, but you will not die. I will not allow it. I will torment you until your mind is gone. You will become a drooling husk, but still I will not let you die. I will torment you for my amus.e.m.e.nt, keep you alive for years, until-"

"I understand," panted Tyne.

A cold smile touched Drexos's lips.

"If you can do that to me, I don't understand why you don't kill the Khedes.h.i.+an king yourself. I still want to know why you need me." He tensed, wondering if his insistence would anger Drexos again and bring agony upon him once more.

"I already told you. There are rules that govern the mortal realm, rules I do not have the power to defy. They prevent me from touching Gerin Atreyano directly."

"Then why can you hurt me?"

"Because you asked for my help." Drexos's smile sent a chill down Tyne's back. "Such a request can be a dangerous thing, Tyne Fedron. Remember that."