The Dragon King (The Alaris Chronicles Book 3) Page 24

“To get your dragon strong and then fly south. I will be searching for my dragon, Abylar, in the Superstition Mountains. I can’t very well be a dragon king without a dragon, now can I?”

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Time drifted by for Roland Tyre. In the never-ending expanse of the stream of magic, time had little meaning—and direction, even less so. At times, he found himself just sitting in a daze, waking up and wondering how long he had been sitting there. Other times, he would walk and walk and walk, never seeming to get anywhere. The dull gray hue of the space seemed to crush down on his nerves. He wasn’t hungry—but he felt a strong desire to taste something. His senses were being dulled.

  Oh, to taste, smell, touch, or hear something! he thought to himself.

  The only thing that helped, sometimes, was when Roland felt or saw the presence of the evil wizard king, trying to find him. The man must be as trapped as he was. Roland didn’t actually want to confront him, but, in a twisted way, it gave him something to look forward to.

  Roland’s mind churned with ways to escape his imprisonment or to defeat the evil that seemed to be spreading throughout the western lands.

  He had met and talked quite considerably with Danijela Anwar, head of the Wizard Conclave in Arc. She had shared a few insights, about the spreading evil, and had promised to help Roland find a way out. Currently, she was heading east from Arc to try and meet up with Bakari in the Realm, for she had voiced the concern that Bakari was the only person that could truly vanquish this evil.

  Roland had also glimpsed Alli’s escape in Quentis and her use of the dragons’ powers—which, he had to admit, had made him jealous. And that man that had stood by Alli at the end—the prince of Quentis—was Roland jealous of him too?

  It was all so infuriating. He was not meant to be caught in this maddening place; his destiny was to be the most powerful wizard in the land. He had to get out.

  Feeling frustrated, he began to run. He knew it didn’t do any good in here, but he wasn’t in his right mind anyway: his thoughts wandered too much. So he ran in a straight line as far and as fast as he could go. The gray hue around him lightened and darkened in areas but never ended.

  He actually wished for the evil king to jump out at him then—anything to latch on to, anything to do. So he ran harder.

  Without his physical body, Roland didn’t tire. He could run forever and ever, never getting anywhere. Seeing some bright lights ahead, he ran toward one, feeling drawn to it. Before touching it, Roland knew who it was. Mericus deGrande, King of Alaris.

  Grabbing hold of the light, Roland was sucked into Mericus’s world. He found himself standing in the castle in Cassian. Mericus sat on his throne, dressed in all his black finery. The man was too polished and too sure of himself. Roland was more powerful than Mericus. Maybe he should take the throne from him.

  Where did that last thought come from? Roland asked himself. He had never thought of taking the kingship before.

  Off in the distance, an evil laugh rolled through the stream of magic. Roland placed his hands on either side of his head. He was going crazy. This place was changing him.

  Steadying himself, Roland looked at the scene around him.

  “I don’t believe it!” Mericus was saying to one of his generals. “Why would Breelyn be leading an army into Alaris?”

  The general shrugged his shoulder. “Maybe the dragon riders intend to take over, sir.”

  Mericus slammed his hand down on the plush armrest of his throne. “What is that Dragon King up to?”

  A woman stepped forward and said, “Your Highness, there also seems to be trouble at the Citadel. Something has happened to the High Wizard, but they are being very tight-lipped about it.”

  Roland smiled. He bet they were. How would they explain that the High Wizard’s body lay on his bed, but his spirit was gone elsewhere?

  “We will deal with that later.” Mericus stood up and walked down the three steps from his throne to stand in front of his advisors. “How close is Breelyn? And how many troops does she have with her?”

  The general spoke again. “She is a few days from the border, with at least five thousand.”

  “What of her dragon?” Mericus asked.

  “No sign of it,” another advisor said and then shook her head. “And, sir, the elf has changed, they say.”

  “Changed?”

  “Her hair has turned dark, and she wears only black.”

  Mericus smirked as he glanced down at his own black attire and said, “That doesn’t mean anything. But I want to know what her intentions are. Send scouts ahead—only wizards. I don’t know what powers Breelyn has.” Mericus paced and then added, “And find the Battlemaster. I need her here by my side.”

  Roland frowned. What right did Mericus have to send people to bring Alli to him?

  Maybe I should do away with the man, Roland thought. No! he told himself.

  This place was making him crazy. He had to get back to his body. Every man Alli met was making sweet eyes at her. Something had happened to Breelyn, and she was marching to Alaris. And Bak was busy on his own quest. So Roland was done wasting time in this infuriating place.

  Popping back out of the scene, Roland found himself once again in the dreary stream of magic. He was done running—done being the hunted. He would be the hunter now. This place was making him go crazy—and, if that had happened to Roland in just a few short weeks, what had one hundred and fifty years of this done to the evil wizard king?

  The man must be truly demented by now, Roland thought. And demented, evil men could be toppled.

  “I’m coming for you!” Roland yelled out into the grayness. “Do you hear me? I am coming for you.”

  Nothing answered him back, but it made Roland feel better anyway.

  He reached his mind out. He could get all the magic he wanted now. This place was magic. He just needed to become one with it. So, trying to leave his friends’ lights alone, Roland pulled other lights to himself—and the power built within him, stronger and stronger. He would become one with the magic—he would be the magic.

  A low laugh sounded again in the distance. But it was coming closer now, and Roland didn’t care. He gathered power to himself and became a beacon of light and magic. He was going to get out of this place—either alive or dead—but he would leave and return to his body once again.

  * * *

  Kharlia entered the castle in Cassian with two Elvyn guards at her side. Not taking the time to change, she asked for an audience with the king. Now, sitting in the waiting room with the two guards, she wished she had taken a few minutes to freshen up. After days of riding, through the Elvyn Forest and across the Dunn River, she must look horrible.

  Using her fingers, Kharlia brushed through her dark hair, and then she took a few deep breaths. Looking around her, she was awed by the opulence of the castle. Having grown up in a small home—one that would fit in a corner of the room she now sat in—she realized that she had come a long way in the past year. Not even sixteen yet, she wondered what the rest of her life would hold for her. Being an emissary of one king, visitor to another, and a friend with the Dragon King himself…well, she hoped, more than just his friend.

  “Are you all right?” asked Gloron, one of the Elvyn guards. “You are flushed. Do you need some water?”

  Kharlia berated herself for thinking of Bakari in such a way. “No, no, I am fine. Just tired from the trip.”

  Soon a steward walked in and invited Kharlia and the two elves into the throne room. As they were walking in, a group of men and women walked out, who didn’t look very happy. Looking into the throne room, Kharlia saw Mericus, standing in front of his throne. He appeared deep in thought, and a frown stood out on his face.

  “Kharlia Attah, emissary from the elves, Your Highness,” announced the steward.

  Mericus looked up and blinked twice, then covered his previous thoughts with a generous smile. “Welcome, Kharlia. Good to see you again. Your help in healing after the war was greatly
appreciated.”

  The man is smooth, that’s for sure, Kharlia thought.

  She bowed her head to him, as was appropriate for his station, and said, “My King, I bring you tidings from the elves.”

  The king’s face clouded over for a brief moment, but it returned to a smile before Kharlia could say anything.

  “Come and sit. You must be tired.” Mericus motioned the three over to a side table, which was set with pastries and drinks. “Please take some.”

  After sitting and taking a few bites and a drink of cool water, Kharlia proceeded with introductions. “This is Keryth and Gloron, members of the Elvyn guard.”

  Mericus nodded his head at the two elves. “I have heard of the famous Elvyn guard; though, I must say that, with the barrier up for the last while, my knowledge is limited to books and stories from over one hundred and fifty years ago.”

  “My King,” Kharlia continued, “I am sure you are aware of King Lanwaithian’s condition.”

  Mericus nodded.

  “It has grown worse, but I have contained it for now,” Kharlia said.

  “You contained it?” Mericus raised his eyebrows, and the corners of his lips turned up in a small grin.

  Keryth turned to Mericus and, in a soft but serious voice, stated, “Kharlia is an Elvyn healer and has been named Elvyn-friend.”

  Mericus waved his hand in the air. “I meant no offense, Keryth, but Kharlia is quite young to be an Elvyn healer, isn’t she?”

  “Discussing my age is not the purpose of this meeting,” Kharlia said hotly. “Evil is spreading throughout the western lands. And the dragon riders are off trying to find a way to contain it—”

  “Are you sure that is what the dragon riders are doing?” Mericus interrupted in a raised voice. “Are they really trying to contain it? Or, are they using it to their advantage, to take over the kingdom?”

  “What are you talking about?” Kharlia said, voicing her surprise. “Bakari is finding another dragon rider and gathering knowledge. He would never take your kingdom.”

  Mericus opened his mouth, but before he could continue, Kharlia plunged forward with the real reason she was there.

  “I am here at the Elvyn king’s request, to find his betrothed, Breelyn Mier.”

  Mericus opened his mouth and laughed. “Oh, this is rich.”

  “I assure you,” Gloron said, “there is nothing funny about this request. Kharlia has the full weight of the king behind her quest.”

  “Oh, I have no doubt about that,” Mericus said, his hands flat on the table in front of him. A vein bulged in the side of his neck. “But, what is the king’s endgame? Does he want my kingdom also?”

  Kharlia gave a questioning look to Mericus. “What do you mean, my lord? Why do you think everyone is out to take Alaris from you?”

  Mericus stood. “Because Breelyn Mier, your Elvyn king’s betrothed and famed dragon rider, is at this very moment leading an army from Solshi toward the borders of Alaris. What other meaning can I take from this aggression?”

  Kharlia opened her mouth to retort, then closed it again. She didn’t know what to say. Leaning back in her chair, she let out a deep breath. Mericus slumped back in his chair and took a deep drink from his goblet.

  Mericus smirked. “Quite a mess, isn’t it?”

  Kharlia nodded, still unsure what to say.

  Mericus leaned forward, across the table, and said in a softer voice, “I hold no animosity for you, Kharlia—and Bakari has been more than fair with me—but you might be in over your head here. More is going on than others are telling us.”

  “I trust the elves, sir,” Kharlia finally said.

  Mericus nodded his head to the two Elvyn guards and then said, “No offense to present company, but I have an elf marching an army to my borders. What am I supposed to think? Are we being played here?” He peered intently into Kharlia’s eyes. Then he lifted his arm, pointing a finger at Kharlia, and said, “Or, are you being played here, young healer?”

  Kharlia felt like she had been slapped in the face. Being played? No. She was sure of it.

  “There must be an explanation,” Kharlia said. “Breelyn would not send an army to Alaris without a reason.”

  “She may have changed.” Mericus sat back in his chair. “It is said that her dragon has left her and that now she supports a usurper to the Solshi throne.”

  Kharlia put a hand to her mouth and then said, “No.” What would she tell Lan? This news would break his heart.

  “I am sending scouts to the border, to find out her intentions,” Mericus said. “But I will not allow an army to invade my land.”

  “We will go with the scouts,” Kharlia said. “And I will deliver the Elvyn king’s message to Breelyn. Maybe it will help.”

  Mericus nodded his head. “Let’s hope so.” He stood up to go, but before he left, he added one more thing: “And I hope that dragon king of yours comes back soon. He may be the only one able to fix all of this.”

  Kharlia smiled inside. Her dragon king, Mericus had said. She hoped Bakari was all right. She missed him terribly.

  “My steward will escort you to the scouts,” Mericus said and motioned to the man by the throne room door. “They will be leaving shortly. I’m sorry that you will not have any time to rest.”

  Kharlia and her two Elvyn guards bowed their heads to Mericus as he walked off, most likely to another meeting.

  “Oh, Breelyn,” Kharlia said and then sighed. She knew about the taint Breelyn had received when the Elvyn king was attacked. Based on what Mericus had said, things may have become worse.

  CHAPTER THIRTY ONE

  Atop Cholena, Alli sat behind Jaimon as they flew north, over Westridge. Jaimon kept the dragon artifacts in a small bag tied to his waist. It was harder than Alli had thought it would be, to give up the figurine and lose contact with the dragon. She thought now about all the power she had held when calling forth the powers of the dragons. It was thrilling, but it had also frightened her that someone in the world could have such power. If the figurine fell into the wrong hands—like the Chameleon’s or his brothers’—its power would be devastating indeed.

  “Can you tell where Bakari is?” Alli asked.

  “No, not yet,” Jaimon answered. “It’s strange, but Cholena says there is a spark of something far, far north.”

  “We need to get him the artifacts and then find all three of those brothers.” Alli shifted a bit on the dragon. They had been flying all day.

  “I agree,” Jaimon said. Then he paused and cocked his head to the side, as if listening to something. “Miriel is joining us.”

  Alli looked around and then spotted a speck to the west. It grew quickly in the bright sky, and Breelyn’s beautiful dragon came into view. However, Miriel wasn’t so bright and yellow anymore. Her wings were tipped with black.

  “What happened?” Alli asked.

  Jaimon was silent for a moment and then began to repeat to Alli what he had learned. “Breelyn has been infected by the dark magic of the Chameleon’s brother, a man called the General. She has taken up his cause now and has shut out her dragon. It’s killing Miriel. A dragon feels lost without its rider.”

  “We need to find Bakari!” Alli insisted again.

  Looking west again, Alli noticed dust rising in the distance. She bumped Jaimon in the back. “Fly over there,” she said as she pointed.

  With Miriel behind them, Cholena turned west. In a few minutes, Alli recognized the cause of the dust as an army of men and women. Thousands of them. Riding a strong, black horse in the front of an army was a woman dressed in black, with long, flowing hair blowing behind her in the wind. The top of her head still held a hint of blond, but the remaining hair was as black as her clothes.

  “It’s Breelyn!” Alli couldn’t believe it. What was she doing with an army? “Get closer.”

  Flying lower, Cholena brought Jaimon and Alli toward the head of the army.

  “Breelyn!” Alli shouted.

  Breelyn turned h
er face up—her eyes were black, and she didn’t seem to recognize Alli for a moment. Then, with a tightening of her lips, she said, “Battlemaster, you shouldn’t be here.”

  “And where else would I be, if not here, protecting the land I love?”

  “You should leave,” Breelyn said. “I hold no animosity toward you, but my master, the General, will destroy all who oppose him.”

  Jaimon yelled out, “Your master is Bakari, Breelyn! You are a dragon rider.”

  Miriel flew over the troops and roared, fire flowing from her jaws.

  Breelyn put her hand up, to stop the army, and then rode out in front of them a few dozen feet. “I have a new master now,” she said. “It is the bargain I made.”

  Alli could see moisture glistening at the corner of Breelyn’s eyes. “What kind of bargain, Dragon Rider?” Alli asked. She had used Breelyn’s title in the hope of bringing her round.

  “I am not a dragon rider!” Breelyn shrieked.

  As Miriel roared in pain and dove down over the troops, many dropped to the ground in fear.

  Alli couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Breelyn was the first elf Alli had ever met. She had helped Bakari from the first, been there when Abylar emerged, and helped to establish peace in Alaris.

  “What bargain, Breelyn?” Alli asked.

  Breelyn looked down and mumbled something that Alli couldn’t hear from up above.

  “What did she say?” Alli grumbled to herself.

  “She said she bargained for Lan’s life,” Jaimon said.

  “How did you hear that?”

  “The dragon’s power supplements my senses, makes them greater.”

  How could Breelyn bargain for Lan’s life? Bakari or Roland or someone would find a cure for him.

  “We have to do something, Jaimon.”

  “But what, Alli?” Jaimon said from in front of her. “We can’t kill all these people. It’s not right.”

  Alli nodded her head. Before she could think of anything else, however, someone rode up from the back of the troops—a man on one of the tallest horses that Alli had ever seen. A dark, smoky substance swirled around him. The army parted to let him pass.