Realm Of Blood And Fire (Book 3) (5 page)

Arie swung his arms to the right and up, taking away a man’s head before the
bright beam reached the mast, the base of it vanishing. Zim yelled into Arie’s mind.
Stop! Stop! Arie, no
. But it was too late. Sound died. Everything stilled. All eyes stared at the heavy mast, waiting to see which way it would fall.

Sensing the strained silence, Arie stopped channeling and opened his eyes. “What the…? Did I do that?”

“Yes,” Zim answered, not taking his eyes from the great trunk.

As the mast started to fall, away from them
, sending sailors scattering, Arie jumped from Zim’s back, climbed the railing and launched himself into the sea.

“Arie!” Astra jumped off Zim’s back, simultaneously drawing her dagger to stab a distracted sailor in the neck. Pushing him out of the way, she ran to the railing and looked overboard. Frantically scanning the water, her heart racing, she finally spied Arie, who waved.

“Are you okay?” she yelled to the boy whose face had a relaxed expression of contentment.

“I’m fine,” Arie called back. “I just had to go before I wet myself. The whole fight thing wasted a lot of time.”

Astra stared, her mouth open.

“Well, I did say I was busting.” Arie shrugged as he bobbed in the sea.

Astra shook her head and sent her thoughts to Agmunsten, who was circling above on Warrimonious.
Can you keep an eye on that child? I have to go help Zim clean up.

Agmunsten chuckled.
Will do.

Thanks.
Astra turned and took stock. Zim stood tall, his black scales tarnished with soot and ash from the cremated crew, his shadow darkening the reddened deck. Scores of dead bodies littered the vessel, the captain’s among them, their heads lolling this way and that with the motion of the ship bobbing on the waves. The few living sailors knelt in front of the dragon, heads bowed in defeat.

“I’ll check below decks, to make sure we’re not missing anyone.” Astra strode past Zim, dagger held in front.

Why don’t you come down here, Warrimonious,
Zim sent.
There’s room now. We’ll eat and continue on.

Okay. Coming down.

Astra emerged from the hold dragging two cowering sailors. She dumped them with the group huddled in front of Zim. “That’s the last of them. Now what?”

“Eat, stretch, and do whatever else you need to, and we’ll take off in fifteen minutes.” Zim stretched his wings over the space
that the mast previously occupied.

“But what about them?” Astra jerked her head
toward the sailors. “They’ve only got one mast left. Is it enough for them to sail on and reach land?”

“Should be, but do we really care? Pirates are the worst type of scum, and I have better things to worry about.” Zim stopped speaking as Warrimonious landed on the deck, a rush of air blowing Astra’s fringe from her face.

“So, I see you’ve been busy.” Agmunsten hopped off the dragon and put his hands on his hips.

Zim grinned. “Yes. We have to talk. It seems as if Arie has discovered the forbidden art of making things disappear.”

Agmunsten blinked then looked down at one of the bodies—the one without its head caught his attention. He approached it and crouched for a closer look. “Fascinating.” He picked up a nearby cutlass and prodded the neck before standing and throwing the cutlass to the deck. “It shouldn’t be possible, of course, especially for one of his little experience, but…. I’ll have the talk with him when we’re back in the air. Now, where’s the bathroom?”

“Glad to see you have your priorities straight.” Astra laughed and reached into one of the packs secured to Zim’s back. She pulled out an apple and a chunk of cheese, sat and ate.

A faint cry reached them. “Hey. Hey! Isn’t anyone going to help me up. I’m hungry.”

“And that would be Arie,” Zim grumbled. “Someone throw him a rope.”

“I’m eating,” Astra mumbled through a mouthful of cheese.

“I just got here. I need to stretch my wings.” Warrimonious unfolded his wings, letting them reach from
portside to starboard.

Zim let out a gush of flame in frustration. He bent and retrieved a rope. “I hope you know how to climb, Arie,” he called as he lowered it over the side to the grinning boy below.

By the time Arie scrambled over the railing, Agmunsten had appeared. When he sighted the boy, he stopped, his eyes calculating. A hint of anger rippled over his expression before he took a deliberate breath and walked to his protégé. “We’ll discuss this in more detail later, but don’t you ever, ever, ever make anything disappear again.” He craned his neck to stare forcefully into Arie’s eyes. “Am I understood?”

Arie, usually one to make a joke out
of everything, swallowed his response and nodded, his eyes solemn for the first time that Agmunsten had ever seen. The three other realmists ate in silence, watching the exchange from the corner of their eyes.

“Now eat and we’ll be on our way.” Agmunsten stomped to Warrimonious, grabbed
two pancakes out of the pack and ate his meal while sitting on the fallen mast. Biting a chunk from the round snack, he hoped no one noticed his shaking hands.

Chapter 6

One could almost smell the fear and excitement in the air of Klendar, the capital city of Inkra. The Inkrans were ready to wage war against the rest of Talia, at the demand of their new king.

Clothed in matching, red, shimmering attire, King Leon and Queen Tusklar stood next to each other in front of a small crowd. Leon ran his finger along the fabric of his sleeve, enjoying the feel of the cool, smooth material—it was how he imagined caressing a snake would feel. Taking his wife’s hand, his gaze slowly scanned the circular room. Fixing a smirk to his face, he pushed away his annoyance at having been shunned by Kerchex—the gormon had refused to watch the proceedings.
Jealous, no doubt,
thought Leon.

Assembled dignitaries of Inkran society—his two generals, captains of the guard who were proficient at torturing innocent members of the population, heads of ruling factions who had supported Tusklar in her ascendency to the throne—stood entranced and more than a little nervous, dark sweat patches on the underarms of their
gray clothes giving them away.

Leon had gathered them in the ruined top-floor chamber where he had originally become part of Kwaad. The shattered roof glass had been cleaned from the floor but had not been replaced. Summer approached, and the warm night air eddying around the room brought with it sweet fragrances and moon beetles, their glowing bodies flashing on and off, on and off. It reminded him of a party he and Edmund had attended as youngsters, before his parents had favored his brother over him—before they had stopped loving Leon. Swathes of colored fabric had flowed from the topiary trees in the garden adjoining Bayerlon’s ballroom. The soft edges of the material had waved intermittently in the faltering evening breeze. Moon beetles
had clung to the fabric with small claws, flashing their festive lights upon the bright decorations, enchanting the young boy who was about to learn what it felt like to be unwanted, unimportant. And it was all Edmund’s fault. If his brother didn’t like what Leon had become, he had no one to blame but himself. Leon shook his head, purging the last truly pleasant memory he had of his childhood.

One by one, Leon looked into each person’s eyes. Satisfaction flowed through him as they diverted their gazes to the floor—acknowledgement, confirmation that he was their superior. They would see the truth of that in a few minutes when they watched as he
and Tusklar transformed with High Priest Zuk and changed into Kwaad. If there were any who doubted his right to rule, he intended to squash their dissent now, before they marched on Bayerlon. In the few weeks since the gormons had arrived, much had been achieved. The soldiers were already on the way to his brother’s city, and one of the gormons who had come through the portal had been dispatched to Zamahl.

His voice firm, commanding, Leon said, “Adzes. We will begin.” He felt Tusklar squeeze his hand as Adzes, the realmist who replaced the unfortunate Orphael, approached the marble table that had survived the night of the first transformation. The rust-colored tabletop mimicked the shade of dried blood—convenient since blood was likely to be spilled during the ceremony.

The king and queen stood side-on to the crowd as they took their places at either end of the table, facing each other. Leon rolled his sleeve to his elbow and smiled to see the scar on his wrist from the last time he melded into Kwaad. The realmist would follow that contour with the edge of a knife, spilling Leon’s blood into the small dish on the table, beginning the painful yet exhilarating metamorphosis.

Tusklar and Leon held their wrists over the bowl as Adzes chanted, his voice rising and falling with each guttural word. When Adzes sliced Leon’s wrist, the king shut his eyes and breathed in the sting
; ecstasy, rather than pain, radiated from his features. Adzes slid the tip of the dagger across Tusklar’s wrist, and her blood mingled with her husband’s. She licked her bottom lip as the warm fluid dripped into the vessel.

The chanting gathered intensity while Adzes lifted the bowl from the table. He held it above his head—a performance for the crowd or necessary for the ceremony
? Leon didn’t know. Walking to the fire in the chipped hearth, his voice rose to a fervid crescendo. He threw the small dish into the flames with a final cry. Bright orange flared, and sparks shot from the fireplace, alighting on his black robe. He was quick to slap at the embers with frantic palms.

But Leon didn’t notice. His cells were being torn apart. The pain didn’t last long, and he thanked the gods that his nerves were disassembled quickly. But the
torture started again as his body joined with Tusklar and Kwaad’s. He wondered where Kwaad’s body came from, since he didn’t exist in the First Realm—he only appeared when joined with Leon and Tusklar.

I am everywhere,
Talian. You would not understand the principles. Are we ready?

Yes, master.
Leon knew Kwaad needed him, for now, so he bowed and scraped, obeyed, biding his time.

Tusklar’s mind-voice sounded
breathy, awed.
Master, I am glad to be with you again. May we fly?

Hello, my favorite queen.
Just a moment.
Kwaad’s voice boomed throughout the room, sending the crowd to their trembling knees. “Servants of the gormon cause, you will hold this city until we return. Any who displease us will be fed to my brethren. In fact, I’m rather hungry—attaining this form takes much energy. Who will volunteer to serve the cause?” Kwaad turned its head and smelled the fear that saturated the air, smothering the summer floral aroma. An escaped sob, out before its female owner had time to cover her mouth, drew Kwaad’s attention.

The monster smiled.
Gray teeth glinted in the firelight. “Come to me.” Kwaad pointed a blade-sharp claw at a short, slim woman. Her cropped blond hair framed what Leon would have called an attractive face in which was set large, dark eyes, bursting with terror. “You will do nicely. I don’t like to fly on a full stomach.”

When the woman failed to move, the man behind
her pushed. She stumbled forward. Advancing simultaneously, Kwaad grabbed her around the waist with one massive hand and drew her to him. Its free hand tore into her stomach, freeing her steaming intestines. The gormon lifted the screaming woman to his face and sucked her innards into his mouth. When Kwaad bit down, her bodily fluids mixed with his acidic saliva to drip down his chin in a foul-smelling reddish stream. A general in the front row vomited. Kwaad laughed at the sound, a string of small intestine escaping to dangle from his lips.

The ashen crowd waited silently—the only sound the crunch and slurp as Kwaad finished his meal. When the last piece of flesh was ingested, Kwaad patted his stomach and burped.

His multi-toned, thundering voice carried throughout the city, reaching every gormon and cowed citizen. “We fly!”

I’ve been looking forward to this,
said Leon.

Kwaad launched, his leathery wings lifting
him off the ground. As they cleared the palace and rose higher, Leon turned Kwaad’s head to look behind. Hundreds of gormons, black wings beating slow and unwieldy, followed them—a swarm that blotted out the few lights of Klendar.

Leon spoke to himself, forgetting Tusklar and Kwaad could hear.
Brother of mine, here we come.
Laughing, he planned where to hang his brother’s head.

Chapter 7

After spending longer than Agmunsten wanted on the ship so Arie could dry off and the Talians could rest for an hour, the dragons took flight. The first hour was spent in silence. Arie kept glancing at Agmunsten, whose face alternated from scowling to worry and back again. Finally, Arie couldn’t stand the silence any longer.
Why are you so angry? I didn’t mean to make them disappear. It was an accident.

Agmunsten turned his head and stared at the boy.
It’s an accident that could get you killed or your status as a student realmist revoked. One former realmist, who disappeared his wife and her sister, was imprisoned for life . . . after the authorities chopped both of his hands off.

Arie blinked, his eyes solemn.
But why?

Making things disappear is an insult to the gods. What they created, we should not erase. Secondly, if you were up against an experienced realmist or a dragon
who knows how to use a redirection shielding weave, you would have been the one to disappear, and lastly, not all realmists have the skill to work out the spell, and it is certainly never taught, so those who know it are usually of evil intent. If we allowed this spell to be performed with no consequences, we’d all be in great danger. What we have now is a kind of truce. If anyone finds out what you did, you would have to be punished.

What’s the punishment?

Life imprisonment or death, depending on what, or who, was sent into oblivion.

Oh.
Arie lowered his head.
I promise I will never ever do that again. I really didn’t mean to. I was scared, and when I drew the power I was just saying “disappear.” I was really going for lightning, like Astra. I noticed the weave was different while it was happening, but I figured it’s because it was my original lightning.

Don’t let it happen again. Thoughts manifest into reality when it comes to Second-Realm power. You will never make it as a fully-fledged realmist if you can’t control your thoughts.
Agmunsten focused on the sky ahead.

Do you hate me?

The head realmist looked at Arie again, his mind-voice tired.
Of course not! You’re like a son to me, Arie. When I think what could have happened….
He shook his head.

Not wanting to let go of the dragon, Arie brushed his face on his shoulder to wipe away the tears. He felt Astra squeeze him in a hug, and it reminded him of his mom. So much had happened in the past few months that he had hardly had time to think of them, and he suddenly needed to see them, feel their arms around him. More tears rolled down his cheeks. He made no move to wipe them away,
wanting to feel his sadness as something tangible. Wind rushing past tugged at the moisture, and Arie smiled when the wetness snuck past his hood and tickled his ear. The first thing he would do when the war ended was find his family.

As they continued
toward the horizon, the afternoon faded into evening. The sun sank behind them, turning the sky mauve before it darkened to deep blue and black. Arie tried to retreat further into his yamuk-wool jacket to escape the chill. When that didn’t work, he bowed his head, trying to get out of the wind.
My nose is frozen. Are we stopping soon?

Astra laughed.
Have you already forgotten what happened last time we stopped?

Ha, ha, no. But
isn’t there a deserted island we’re aiming for?

Warrimonious flapped and picked up speed.
Yes, there is, but we’re still some hours away. I can fly a bit faster, but you’re really going to have to hold on this time. Zim, can you handle a faster pace? If we get to the island sooner, we can rest longer.

Of course I can handle it. Let me know if your wings cramp.
Both dragons chuckled, and the realmists held on as their speed increased.

Astra?

Yes, Arie.

Are you getting even a little bit excited to go home? Have you still got family there?

I suppose I am getting a bit excited, but I’m wary. You know we could get a less-than-ideal reception. And yes, I imagine some of my family would still be alive. I’m sure my parents will be torn between being happy to see me and angry that I ran away.
Astra sighed.

Why did you leave?

I wanted adventure. We don’t have realmist academies in Zamahl. They don’t even believe in different realms. But rumors still make it through, and the things I’d heard about the land across the ocean excited me. I had three older brothers. They were allowed to serve in the army, but I wasn’t. I felt life was boring and unfair, so I left.

Do you regret it?

I don’t know. I suppose a bit.

What about the rumors we hear about Zamahl where they torture people for nothing and eat their babies?

Arie felt Astra shake as she laughed.
Oh my goodness, no! The kings and governments spread the rumors because they want to keep control, and they don’t want to lose the population to migration. We live in a very primitive society in some ways. We have great scholars, but most of the people work the land or make things, like shoes, or clothes, even furniture. I found out, soon after moving here, that the men who rule Zamahl profit from their people’s labor, and they have trade agreements with a select few merchants over the sea. It’s top-secret stuff—not even your kings know. That’s something I want to address when we’re there.

I’d be careful if I were you,
Agmunsten said.

Don’t worry—saving Talia comes first. I won’t do anything to jeopardize that.

Long after the stars embossed the night sky with their shining forms and the moonlight reflected off the water below, Arie’s face cramped from yawning. He shook his head, forcing himself to stay awake, but only yawned again.

Astra, sensing Arie
’s struggle, yelled against the wind, “We’re almost there! Not long now.”

Arie started and smiled. He shouted back, “Thanks!
Woohoo! It feels good to yell.”

“It does, doesn’t it!
”

Zim spoke into their minds.
Okay, children. We’re almost there. I can see the outline. Only a few more minutes.

“Yay!” Arie screamed, and he and Astra laughed.

When they landed on the sparsely-treed island, Arie was the first to jump off in a rush to go to the bathroom. His legs, not having moved for a long time, collapsed underneath him, and he scraped his hands when he landed on the pebble-covered ground.

“Careful. I haven’t brought you all this way to see you die from a rock to the skull.”
Warrimonious’s deep voice seemed too loud in the isolated silence—the only other sound being the wash of the small waves on the nearby shore.

Standing up, Arie dusted himself off before taking a more careful step away from the realmists. “I think I’m okay now. Be back in a minute.”

Agmunsten called, “Don’t go too far.”

“I won’t.”

“How much further, Astra?” Agmunsten asked.

“Quite a way. It’s been a long time, but it must be at least three more days, maybe four. I know it took four weeks of sailing for me to come from Zamahl. And we had the wind behind us most of the way.”

Agmunsten wrinkled his forehead. “I can’t believe it’s not that far away. Why do we never go there?”

“The rumors?” asked Zim.

“Now that I think on it,” said Agmunsten, “I just never thought about it enough to insist on going. How strange.” The realmist tugged at his earlobe in thought.

Warrimonious divested himself of the packs, found a large boulder and sat. Rummaging through one of the bags, he found a leg of lamb and set to devouring it. The others joined him, salt-filled mist hanging in the still night.

Zim turned to his dragon companion. “There’s one more island I know of en route. It’s at least twelve hours away, but then we have maybe two days of nonstop flying before we come to some scattered islands a day from Zamahl. I followed this route when I visited last time.”

“Did anyone see you?” Warrimonious took a swig from a bottle that looked ridiculously small in his large hand.

Zim turned to the head realmist. “Not that I know of. I flew at night, plus I wasn’t game to spend too long there and didn’t want to start any wars. You know, they think dragons are spies for the other kingdoms. Agmunsten, how do you think Arie will do if we have to fly two days without stopping?”

He took a large breath and looked at his protégé. “That’s a good question. So far his inability to suffer discomfort has almost gotten us killed.”

“What do you suggest? Leaving me here?” Arie stood quickly and put his hands on his hips. “Because that would be abandonment. You can’t do that!”

“We won’t leave you
here
,” said Zim.

Arie’s mouth dropped open. “You’re going to leave me on the next island
. . . by myself? But I’m just a kid.”

“
Now
you’re a kid. You usually can’t wait to tell me how grown-up you are,” said Agmunsten. “What do you propose? We really won’t have anywhere to land, in all probability. And a deserted island will be far safer than hundreds of feet in the air when you can’t stay awake. I should have thought about this before.” Agmunsten rubbed his forehead. “Plus, if it all goes wrong and we don’t return, you can send a message to Arcese.”

“I don’t like the idea.” Astra stood and put her arm around Arie. “The gormons can track our symbols
in the Second Realm. It would be just like them to wait until Arie is isolated and kidnap him to use against us later. It’s not worth the risk.”

“Square one,” said Zim. Everyone looked at everyone else, waiting for someone to make the final decision. Astra squeezed Arie tighter, but it wasn’t enough to remove the despondency from his face.

“Grrrr. All right then. You’ve left me with no choice. I never wanted to do this, but….” Agmunsten threw his hands in the air then stomped over the pebbles and rocks, stopping thirty feet away.

Arie’s palms started sweating
, and he looked to the dragons for an explanation, but they shrugged. As far as any of them could tell, the head realmist stood still. After a few minutes, he returned. “It’s done. I hope you’re happy.”

Zim flared his nostrils. “What are you going on about, old man? If you’re going to complain, you could at least be less mysterious.”

“You’ll see.” Agmunsten sat on a flat rock and folded his arms.

The others waited for a few minutes, and when nothing happened, it was decided they would get some sleep.

When Arie lay down, dawn wasn’t far away, so he tied a spare shirt around his head to cover his eyes. In his dream, he sat in his mom’s home with his family, who gathered for dinner around the table his great-grandfather had built. Arie reached for the baked potatoes, to get some more, when his mother, who sat opposite him, opened her mouth and shrieked. The piercing sound, a mid-range pitch, shook the table. Arie clapped his hands to his ears, but the vibration wormed its way into his head. He tried to shout above the noise. “Mom. Stop it! Please.”

Someone shook him. He woke
to the grinding and clatter of stones—footsteps running away over the pebbly ground. The eardrum-shattering noise hadn’t stopped. He scrambled to his feet while frantically untying the shirt from around his head. Freeing his eyes, he turned toward the noise and saw the realmists and dragons near the shore, staring out to sea. There was tension in their stance—except for Agmunsten, whose shoulders looked relaxed, his hands dangling by his sides. Arie opened a corridor to the Second Realm. Before he had completed it, a mammoth, gray sea creature jumped from the water, forty feet from the shore. It was in the air long enough for Arie to see the occasional black splotch on its skin and the white, straight horn protruding from its colossal head. Mid-arc, it turned and
looked
at him—he was sure he didn’t imagine it—before it cut through the waves and dove. The screaming stopped. “What in the Third Realm?” he whispered, moving closer to his companions.

Without warning, the animal emerged again, leaping higher, turning
in mid-air before landing on its back, sending a giant gush of water skyward. Astra looked at Agmunsten. “What is it?”

“It’s Kaphos—my creatura.”

Astra gasped. “But I thought you didn’t have one. Not to mention I thought they were extinct.”

“I do. I just didn’t want to call on her.
Welpids are private creatures, and we had an agreement when we bonded. She really only agreed to bond with me so she wouldn’t end up with a realmist who might expect her to turn up every five minutes.”

“But why did you bond
her
?” Arie asked.

“I had a dream when I was a child. I always knew I had to. It looks as if this might be why.” Agmunsten looked at Arie. “She can swim so that the top of her body is out of the water. You can hold onto her spike. If you get tired, she’ll let you float for
a while to rest. It will take you longer to get anywhere, but it’s an option. You can fly with us to the next island and beyond. When you get tired, Warrimonious can fly low and let you jump off and catch a ride with Kaphos. It means we’ll have to wait for you when we reach Zamahl, because she’s not as fast as the dragons.”