Dragonmaster (12 page)

T
he Sele had found itself yet again being carried along by a torrent, but this time it was of clear water. Gasping, it managed to surface just sufficiently to take a breath. Clean, fresh air! It tried to grasp at projections in the rocky tunnel through which it sped, but the rate at which the flood was carrying it down was too great. It realized that all it could do was let itself go and concentrate on breathing whenever possible.

Gradually, the darkness through which it was plummeting grew lighter. The sound of the rushing water was changing. Underneath it was a roar, growing louder and louder with each second. Even as the Sele recognized the roar for what it was, it found itself shot out into blinding daylight, at the lip of a waterfall. There was time for only one final breath before it tumbled down with the cascade.

After what seemed an eternity, the Sele plunged into a deep pool with a force that knocked the breath from its body. Such was the power of the waterfall that the Sele could not stop its descent into the icy cold depths. It struggled futilely,
chest heaving with the need to breathe. Just as it was about to lose consciousness, it felt its downward plunge lessen and then stop. For a moment it hung weightless in the water, then, with a kick of its legs and desperate strokes of its arms, it began to rise again toward the light.

It popped out of the water and gulped in great, gasping drafts of air. For a long moment it floated, limp and unable to move. Finally, it managed to swim weakly to shore. Only then did it realize where it was. The Sele’s own meadow stretched out before it, tranquil and green in the summer sunlight. It was their own waterfall! Their own pool! The pool in which it had first discovered the pleasures of swimming.

The relief was overwhelming, but along with it came the remembrance of what had happened. Norl and Lorgan were in danger. If it was as Norl had said, there would be no point in trying to go to Catryn in the Domain, but Norl had said that Dahl, also, might be in danger.

I must go to the king as quickly as possible,
the Sele thought. It got to its feet and shook itself dry. It would have liked to go first to its own village and confer with the others, but that lay in the opposite direction and there was no time to be lost.

It set out at a trot, wincing. It felt as if every bone in its body had been bruised by the buffeting it had suffered, but nothing seemed broken. Fortunately, Seles bounce.

As the Sele neared Daunus, the day began to darken. Far too early for that, it thought, and then realized that it was not night falling, but black clouds that were obscuring the sky. The clouds looked heavy. They hung unusually low in the sky,
almost touching the treetops in places. The air itself through which the Sele was walking became heavier as well. It was getting harder to make its way through it. The clouds thickened until they surrounded the Sele. It tried to walk on, but it was getting disoriented.

I could be walking in circles and I would not even know it,
the Sele thought.
What is happening here?
And then, without warning, it found itself stepping into water. But not water…the liquid that was swirling around its feet was far too thick for water. It looked down. It was standing in the same evil, black filth that had swept it down through the mountain.

At first Norl was uneasy about flying during the day but, as the hours passed, they still saw no villages or people below them. This gave rise to another concern, however. What was this wasteland? How long had it existed? Norl was certain that Dahl knew nothing of it. The king had journeyed far and wide throughout Taun in order to acquaint himself with his land, and nowhere had he reported seeing such barrenness. There were no trees, no neatly plowed fields, only stony rubble that extended as far as Norl could see in all directions.

The bright sunlight had disappeared as well. There were no clouds, but there was a dimming of the light. Norl realized that he could look directly at the sun
without squinting. It looked as if it were shining through heavy gauze.

Without the north star to guide them, Norl had to use the sun. He knew that he should keep it on his right-hand side in the morning, and on his left-hand side after their midday’s rest, but as the sun grew more and more faint this added to his worries. Finally, the time came when he could make out its position only by a slightly brighter spot in the sky. There were no clouds that he could see, but something was drawing a veil between Taun and the sun. It was as if light were being sucked out of the world and a sharp, desolate cold were rushing in to fill the void. He shivered.

Land, Lorgan,
he commanded. It was earlier in the day than usual, but Norl was so chilled that he needed to find warmth. Perhaps he could build a fire. But when they landed, there was no brush or wood of any kind with which to kindle one. Nor was there any game to hunt. Lorgan paced back and forth, his tail whipping the dust around them.

“I hunger,” he said.

“As do I,” Norl replied.

“Water I can do without,” Lorgan added, “but I need food. Without food I will not be able to stay strong.”

Norl did not answer. He did not know what to say.

Lorgan swept up to him. “I am going to look for game,” he exclaimed. Before Norl could make an answer he took off into the air and disappeared from sight. It was
near nightfall when he returned. He landed heavily and stumbled as he sat down beside Norl.

“Nothing,” he reported, wheezing. “There is nothing to eat, nothing to drink within hours of where we are. Perhaps we should turn back.”

“No,” Norl replied. “We cannot turn back. We must go on.”

“I do not think I can,” Lorgan said.

Norl looked at him with alarm. The dragon’s eyes were dim.

“I am weakening from lack of food,” Lorgan explained. “I did not know this could happen to me.”

Fear knotted Norl’s stomach. What if Lorgan died—would he be able to go on alone? Hard upon that thought came another: he was as weak as Lorgan—perhaps more so—from lack of food and water, and he was feverish from his wounds as well. What if
he
died?

“What do we do now?” Lorgan asked.

Norl looked at the dragon in surprise, then quickly recovered and shielded his mind. Lorgan was looking to him for guidance. He must not show weakness now. He threw his head back and forced a strength to his voice that wasn’t really there. “We go on,” he answered.

“I cannot fly anymore today,” Lorgan said.

“Then we will rest tonight,” Norl replied, “and go on tomorrow.”

The night seemed darker than any Norl had ever experienced. Norl did not sleep. The moons must have risen and it was not time yet for either of them to wane, but there was no sign of them. Whatever had shielded the sun during the day blocked the moonlight as well. He realized that dawn was coming only by a gradual lifting of the blackness around him. He felt cold down to the marrow of his bones, but his shoulder burned as if with fire. It was so hot and swollen that when he tried to touch it he had to bite back the pain. Nevertheless, he forced himself to his feet. Lorgan lay motionless. For one moment Norl feared the dragon was dead, but a small wisp of smoke coming from his nostrils reassured him.

“Wake, Lorgan,” he said.

The dragon opened his eyes, but he made no move to get up.

“We must go on,” Norl said.

Lorgan did not move.

“I cannot fly,” he said.

“How do you know?” Norl demanded, stunned.

“I am too weak,” Lorgan replied. “I cannot lift my wings.”

“Are you certain?” Norl’s voice rose.

Lorgan merely stared back at him.

“Then we will walk,” Norl answered. He took control of his voice with an effort. “It will serve to warm me.”

“Dragons do not walk!” Lorgan protested

“Dragons who cannot fly, do,” Norl said. He kept his voice stern with an effort. The sight of Lorgan, sick and dispirited, was almost more than he could bear, but if they were to survive, Lorgan must obey him.

Lorgan shook his head. “I do not think I can do that,” he said.

“Then I will go on alone,” Norl replied, and made his voice even more hard. “You can stay here or try to return, whichever you choose. I doubt that you will be able to make it back, however, if you cannot fly. If you find game to hunt, you will almost certainly find people as well and in your weakened state they will probably kill you.”

Lorgan fell silent.

Norl could not suppress another, insidious, thought.
How long, I wonder, will it be before Lorgan begins to think of me as food?

“You truly mean to make me walk?” Lorgan asked.

“I do,” Norl answered, keeping his voice hard and cold with an effort. As he spoke, laughter echoed in his mind yet again. Mocking, sneering. Norl could do nothing but listen to it as Lorgan heaved himself to his feet.

As they made their way north, the light grew more and more faint. Lorgan was obviously in as much pain as Norl.
The dragon’s steps slowed and his legs bowed. Dragons were not meant to carry the enormous weight of their bodies on such inadequate limbs. Norl was in such torment himself that he could do nothing to help the beast. For a moment the futility of this journey almost overwhelmed him. Even if he did find the source of the scourge of Taun, what could he possibly do to thwart it? But there was no other course. There was no turning back. The darkness pursued them relentlessly, filling in all the world behind them as they drove themselves forth.

Finally, Norl could not see where the sun was at all and he gave up trying. He walked with his head down, eyes on his feet, willing them not to falter. He no longer knew if they were heading north, or if they had strayed hopelessly from their path. Time seemed to slow, then stop. His head swam with visions, wild thoughts. At times he could not even remember why he was leading this dragon, or where they were going.

And then the wind came up in earnest and even as it buffeted Norl to his knees and drove Lorgan back, the earth seemed to dissolve into a dark pool of nothingness before them. A dense, opaque mist rose from it, bringing with it a burning smell that stung Norl’s nostrils and made it almost impossible to breathe. The air crackled around him.

“Welcome, fool,” a voice said. It seemed to come from the depths of the pool. “Now that you have found me, what do you intend to do?”

H
hana circled above the dark vastness of Daunus, unable to comprehend what had happened. She waited for Tragaur to reappear, but he did not and, as time passed, she understood that he would not. Whatever held Daunus in its thrall had destroyed him as well. Belatedly, she realized that the four surviving dragons were following her, calling to her in fear. She must do something, but what? She needed time to think. No arrogant thoughts filled her mind now—it took all of her will not to panic.

We will return to the mountain.

She sent the command soundlessly, trusting that the dragons would hear. One last, futile circle, descending as low as she dared, and then she veered away from the city. The dragons followed her. They had not answered; she could sense their confusion and distress. But, as they flew, it seemed that the darkness followed them, was closing around them, shutting them off from the safety of the mountain. She fought down the terror that was rising within her. There had to be some refuge!
In one direction only could she see light. To the north. Away from the mountain, away from Daunus and all she had ever known. She quailed. How could she lead these young ones into such danger? And danger there was, she understood that with a certainty.

If only she knew where Norl was. But if he were in Daunus as he had said he would be, what then? Had he, too, been destroyed? Her wingbeats faltered, a hollow dread clutched at her heart. She snatched a look back over her shoulder at the dragons following her. They were her responsibility now—what was she to do with them?

She flew with a desperation fed by the darkness that encroached upon them. Only when she had put a day’s distance between them and Daunus did she dare to stop. She circled, scouting out the land below. They had flown so far north that it was unfamiliar to her, but she saw a stream and a clearing in the trees. They had passed only one village and she had led her charges high around it so that they would not be seen. It seemed safe enough to land here. The dragons followed her down.

“What has happened to Tragaur?” Fahn asked, closely echoed by the others.

“Why did we leave him?” Saulena demanded.

Durghan gasped for breath. The flight had been the longest they had taken and he, as well as the others, was exhausted. Nevertheless, he faced Hhana defiantly.

“We must go back!” he cried. “How can we abandon Tragaur? And besides, did you not say the dragonmaster was there? Were we not supposed to go to him?”

“We cannot go back,” Kuhn broke in. “Did you not see? Did you not see Tragaur devoured by that darkness? And did you not feel the evil reaching out to us there?”

Hhana looked at Kuhn in surprise. She had not felt anything other than horror and fear.

“What did you feel?” she asked him.

“It felt as if something was pulling me, drawing me down. I fought it. Then it took Tragaur instead. He was not fighting it—he was too curious.”

“How do you know that?” Hhana said. “How could you know what Tragaur was thinking?”

“I know what all of us are thinking,” Kuhn replied. “Do you not?”

“Not all the time,” Hhana replied slowly. “Only when I try.” She turned to the others. “Do you all know one another’s thoughts?”

“Of course,” Fahn answered. Saulena and Durghan nodded their heads in agreement. “We have since the beginning.”

Hhana fell silent. So she was not as completely dragon as she had thought. She could not suppress a sting of pain at the knowledge, but there was no time to dwell on it. She had to make a decision.

“The darkness is closing in on us,” she said, forcing her voice to remain steady. Triumphant no longer, she was fighting to keep panic in check. “There is only one way out—to the north.”

“What lies there?” Durghan asked. “Do you know into what further disaster you might be leading us?”

“You will follow me,” Hhana flamed. She opened her maw to speak again but, surprisingly, Kuhn interrupted her.

“That is the way we should take.”

Hhana stared at him, speechless.

“I feel it,” Kuhn said. “I know it.”

The pool swirled and eddied in front of Norl. A thick mist arose from it. There was no way to tell where the voice was coming from, other than that it originated deep within the shifting darkness. It spoke to Norl, but it also echoed in his mind. As he stared at the pool, he seemed to be drawn down and into it. The longer he looked, the more it seemed to envelop him, surround him, but the feeling was not frightening. It was almost welcoming. He felt himself soften, lean toward it.

“Norl!”

Lorgan’s voice, loud and harsh, shocked Norl back to his senses. He recoiled as if burned.

“Who are you?” he gasped, but the power of speech seemed almost to have been taken from him. He could barely remember how to form the words.

“Who am I?” the voice echoed. “I have many names. I am everything that you have ever feared. I am more dreadful than anything you could ever imagine.”

“How long have you held this world in thrall?” Norl asked.

The pool expanded, then shimmered back into its original shape.

“Since I ridded your world of dragonlings,” it answered.

Norl suppressed a start of surprise.

“They were the only beings who could thwart me,” it went on. “They kept the peace.” He spat out the word “peace” as if it were filth.

Norl hardly dared ask the next question.

“How did you destroy the dragonlings?”

“One by one,” the entity replied. “I tempted them one by one with the promise of a power greater than any they had ever known, and one by one, they succumbed. It is easy to win converts with that promise. Power is even more alluring than wealth.”

“And then?”

“I had no intention of fulfilling my promise, of course.” The pool rippled as laughter rolled out. “As soon as they capitulated, they were under
my
power. It was easy, then, to destroy them.”

“You murdered them all?” Norl asked, fighting to keep his voice noncommittal.

“All,” came the voice from the pool. “Although one almost escaped. She was the only one who defied me. She was with child and she hid from me, but I found her when she was weak from childbirth. It was easy then to kill her and I took particular pleasure in doing so. You see, there is no defying me, Norl of Taun.”

“You know my name?”

“I know everything,” the oily voice replied.

Norl had to shield his mind quickly.
Not everything,
he thought. There was a question that he was burning to ask.

“The child, what happened to the child?”

“It perished as well,” came the answer.

“You killed it?”

“No.”

For a moment Norl thought he could sense a hesitation.

Then the voice continued. “I could not find it. But it was of no concern. Without its mother, it could not have survived.”

But it did!
Norl remembered just in time to shield his mind. He looked at Lorgan. Both of them had the same thought:
Hhana!
Somehow or other, she had survived. But the entity did not know it!

It had weaknesses. It was not all-powerful.

“Why do you wish to destroy us?” Norl asked then.

Laughter echoed yet again. It knifed into Norl’s mind with a pain so great that it made the anguish of the wounds in his shoulder seem trivial.

“Why? Because I can. That is why. It gives me pleasure. Need there be a reason? I see no need for reason—desire is all. And the people of this world encouraged me.”

Norl willed his mind to resist, willed himself to speak.

“In what way did we do so?” he demanded.

Laughter again. Mocking and superior.

“I am drawn to hate and murder.” The words slimed into Norl’s head. “After the dragonlings were gone, I throve when men butchered dragons and dragons killed them in their turn. Their passions fueled me, increased my strength day by day. It was your people who made me so powerful that I could take on this form and do what I have done. You have only yourselves to blame.”

“And when you have destroyed Taun?”

“When I have finished with you, when I have sucked this world dry, when you no longer amuse me, then I will move on. There are other worlds, other portals.”

Norl could hold on no longer but, even as he sank down, crushed beneath the weight of the might that was being brought against him, he became aware of Lorgan. The dragon seemed to be standing taller, stronger. His eyes glowed once again with dragonfire. He lifted his wings—high and strong. He held his head up, his enormous maw open wide. It was as if he were drinking in the force that was emanating from the darkness in front of them. The same power that was weakening Norl was strengthening him.

The dragon took a step forward. At the same time, he unleashed a stream of flame. The blackness in front of him reacted instantaneously. As if wounded, the entity released a silent scream that echoed around Norl and, where the dragon stood, the black mire boiled and evanesced into smoke.

“You will pay for that, dragon!” The voice rough now, engorged with fury.

The entity was vulnerable, too! But, even as they watched, the wound closed itself, healed itself. And now the pool was expanding even farther, reaching out to flow around them. The mist billowed around their heads and took their breath away. Lorgan turned to face the menace on one side and held it at bay with a stream of fire; then the flow eddied ominously toward Norl. Norl leaped back and Lorgan whirled to confront it, but the entity was forewarned now and streamed out of the flames’ way with ease. Now the entity laughed again. Louder. Triumphant. Norl realized that it was toying with them. Playing with them.

“You but put off the inevitable,” the voice from within the pool mocked.

“You cannot kill
me
!” Lorgan faced it defiantly.

“Ah, the arrogance of dragons,” came the reply. “It was ever so.”

Before Norl or Lorgan realized what was happening, the blackness swirled around the dragon, then opened beneath him and sucked him down. Lorgan was gone.