The Dragon God (Book 2) (39 page)

The beautiful assassin waited at the threshold leading into the stark room. Her bounty, the wayward warrior, stood with his back to her on the far side.

“There you are, Abawken. Your time is up,” Devana said, walking toward him.

He did not respond to her as she approached. The room was dimly lit by a single candle; its dripping wax cascaded from its perch within the sconce hanging on the wall onto the wooden floor.

“Are you going to try and resist me? As much as I’m humored by your feeble attempts,” she teased him as she reached out her hand to his shoulder. She continued to speak as she twirled him to face her, “But remember, I always get what I want.”

Abawken remained silent and stared back at her. Devana noticed a strange confidence plastered on the human fighter’s visage.

“Who are you?” Devana backed away.

The tan warrior transformed into a female elf in her elegant lavender robes.

The human assassin recognized her instantly. “Raina.”

“Devana,” the mystic responded in kind.

“Nice trick, Mystic. How did you get into my dream?”

Raina stood and slowly strolled toward her. Devana backed to the wall.

“This is my world, Raina. Your spells will not affect me here.”

“I came to talk with you, and to arrange your boundaries moving forward.”

“I have no boundaries, Elf. You have been out of the game for a while; things have changed.”

“Being out of the game, as you call it, only means you have no knowledge of my power, maybe rumors but no knowledge. My warning to you: Abawken’s dreams are safe; you will no longer be able to see him. I have linked our minds, and we will be together if you ever try to visit him again, in this manner or in any other.”

Devana composed herself, the shock of the situation melded away as she walked past the elf. Her back was now to Raina.

“I was hired by his father to bring him, and specifically the sword, back. As soon as he submits, and the soon-to-be-married Prince comes home, then my job is complete.”

“Only a job? Yet why do I suspect that your own tortured soul enjoys power over another?”

Devana turned, “Yes, I do admit, I have enjoyed doing my paid duty, to retrieve your future husband.” Devana continued, “You should accompany us. His father is very generous, and would love to meet his daughter-in-law.”

“We will meet him on our own terms.”

“Great feats can be accomplished in such an environment as this, my visitor.” Suddenly, two amorphous beings phased in from out of nowhere, standing just behind Raina, and grabbed her arms. The mystic did not resist, but kept her eyes on Devana, who slowly approached.

“Here, my dear Raina, I am the master. I set the rules. I was trained by the Dream Walker Phelbias, in the Halls of Echoes. In this world, you need to show me a little respect. Abawken will be taken back home with or without you. Truly, I prefer without. Less messy that way.”

Raina coolly replied, “Have you heard of Tsieken?”

“Should I have?”

“Well, it appears Phelbias didn’t teach you much then.”

“Don’t try to understand my trainer, Raina. You are a mystic; your power lives in the waking hours. Any knowledge you have of Phelbias is only from your precious textbooks.”

“I never read about Phelbias, nor heard of him before you.”

Devana smiled and was about to speak, but Raina continued, “But Tsieken, which you have never heard of, trained a man named Balhka.”

“Balhka? So?”

“Balhka trained Seefa.”

“Where are you going with this, Elf? I really have to be off with my bounty.”

“I am giving you a history lesson of several generations of Dream Walker teachers. Teachers long before Phelbias.” Raina’s voice strengthened, and the calm and collected Devana faltered.

“You have no power here, Raina.”

The two faceless beings suddenly dissipated, releasing Raina. Iron bars formed all around the assassin, entrapping her inside a cage. Devana grabbed the cold metal in a panic, and looked around for an escape.

Raina circled the perimeter and said, “You are only the master in the dreams you create. This is not your dream, but mine.” Realization and concern registered on Devana’s face, wondering what the powerful mage had in store for her. Raina continued, “I was trained five generations ago in all the arts of magic, including Dream Walking. I am the Sheldeen mystic, Devana. We are done here.” The elf turned and walked toward the exit.

“Wait!” Devana called out, “What about me? You can’t leave me here. I will eventually wake.”

Raina stopped, but did not face her, “I will release you, Devana, but be very mindful of the boundary I have set in place. You may inform Abawken’s father that he will return home, when he is ready.”

Devana lurched forward, sitting upright, gasping for air, and sweating feverishly. She caught staring eyes in her direction as she came back out of the nightmare. Her heavy breathing slowed and then almost stopped, when she heard the distant echo of the elf’s voice inside her head,
“Well met, Devana.”

A
bawken entered the chapel and stopped in his tracks at what he saw. The entire room had transformed, thanks to the druid, Rozelle. It was as though he was instantly transported to a sylvan forest. Where statues once reigned, there now stood glorious green trees glowing in the warm light of a Summer’s dusk. The once stone flooring was now a soft, moss-like grass, dotted with beautiful wildflowers in full bloom—the sensation of rich pollens completed the façade of the outdoors. Across the room an enchanting archway, laced with yellow and orange petals, prominently displayed on top of the former iced dais, now a grassy knoll.

“Do you like it?” Rozelle asked excitedly.

Abawken, mouth open, stuttered, “This is amazing, Rozelle.”

“I did my best, asking the other elves and her brother what would look and feel like an elven wedding ceremony. I hope she likes it.”

“Raina will be overwhelmed.”

“You are too kind Abawken, but I think her eyes will be only on you, and not this trivial magic I’ve conjured. Now, get out of here and get ready.” Rozelle ushered him out the door and she returned back to her work, finalizing the remaining details.

Abawken turned the corner and collided with the young boy, Jack. The fifteen year old had groomed his shaggy brown hair, parting it on the side and his grey eyes sparkled in the torchlight.

The child, short of breath, said, “I thought I could help out.”

“I must go get dressed, Master Jack, but you can ask Rozelle,” he pointed back into the chapel.

Jack watched the swordsman, whose skills he had often admired, depart, and then he entered the room. He looked around in awe, until Rozelle snapped him back, “Can I help you?”

“Uh, yeah, I thought I could help out with the wedding.”

Rozelle chuckled, “You are cute, but I think I have it covered. Find Xan or Dulgin, they might need someone to help them.” She returned to her work as Jack backed out of the chamber.

Jack had been struggling for weeks to find his place. During the army’s march to the Shield, he hadn’t had a soul to lean on. He missed his dad terribly, and every day doubted his decision to leave the Holy City, and his dad, in coming back to Ruauck-El, especially since his hero and only real friend, Bridazak, was gone. He felt out of place amongst all of these heroes. They had rescued him from King Manasseh’s castle, but now it seemed everyone was busy with their lives and he had no one. He longed for someone who would spend time with him.

He watched Xan and Dulgin from the doorway, preparing for the grand event, and Jack realized he would not be needed. The boy sighed as he leaned against the door frame, witnessing the hustle and bustle of servants attending to everyone in the room, bringing in garments, drinks, and food. They all had each other and he resigned himself back to his room, carrying his head low.

The beautiful sounds of harps accompanying a choir of elves set the tone for the monumental ceremony. The voices melodically captured the hearts of all in attendance. The smooth, alluring notes and the nature spectacle filling the room enhanced the glorious event.

King El’Korr stood in the center of the flowered archway. A strand of gold-tasseled, entwined rope dangled around his neck and shined with his off-white robes. He beamed broadly as he waited for the bride to enter.

Abawken waited anxiously in front of him, fidgeting slightly as he looked into the crowd of witnesses. His attire was regal but simple. His ivory jacket draped down to his knees, with the tail down to his calves, over his embossed boots. Silver clasps cinched the front together, while gold embroidery laced the edging along the collar and cuffs. Abawken strummed a few loose strands of hair behind his ear and took a deep breath, glancing over to Dulgin who stood beside him. The dwarf winked.

Dulgin’s red beard, groomed with three braids, melded into his coppery silk tunic. He smiled as he nudged Spilf, who was looking as serious as he could, honored to stand with his friend.

Three successive knocks alerted everyone that she was coming. The door cracked open. The music stopped and the singers silenced. All faces turned and watched the parade of the remaining Sheldeen elf race enter. Leading them was Xandahar and trailing behind were several attendants, paired up, side by side, all clad in light green, billowy clothes. They stepped in unison and then a song softly ignited. The voices of the women rang out, smooth and haunting. Then the men joined, deeply resonant, all blending perfectly. A candle, cradled in each of the attendant’s hands, reflected the sheen of their fabric and enhanced the ambiance. The processional stopped near the end of the path through the trees and parted from one another, creating an aisle. They turned to face each other, and knelt onto one knee.

Raina stood at the threshold as the last elves positioned themselves. The melodic voices peaked to a crescendo as the glorious bride locked eyes with Abawken. Her white dress flowed over her slender frame, and long, billowing sleeves draped at her wrists. She held the same bouquet of flowers Abawken had given her, still alive and vibrant. A silver circlet with stamped intertwining leaves encompassed her head.

Abawken couldn’t breathe, caught by her beauty. She slowly walked to the front and stood beside him. They grabbed one another’s hand and smiled.