Dragon Valley
Dragon Valley blurb
They followed the golden unicorns to the east, where each of the four groups sailed off to a different destiny. The keepers of Dragon Valley were the first to hear the call of prophecy. The dragons were dying as surely as the land was dying and now the wraiths hunted the keepers as ruthlessly as the hounds chased the stag. It was time to extend a plea for help to the humans bordering their lands, but who could they trust and who was the enemy?
Excerpt two from Dragon Valley
©2008 Julie Weathers - all rights reserved.
Grief hung over the camp like a shroud, binding each of the soldiers in layers of depression. They made final preparations to move to the site of the pyre and lay the half-elf to rest. Prophecy was a two-edged sword, sometimes blessing the receiver, but most often what the Fates had determined could not be turned with simple foresight. At times it seemed the Fates were the ones who sent the dreams of prophecy so they could play a game of charon with the recipients. Move, counter move. Attack, feint. Retreat, flank. For each thing done to prevent the fulfillment, they devised a new strategy. They were cunning opponents who seldom lost their game of lives turned and twisted to suit their whims.
Penroc had lost her match with them and now lay cold and dead on a stack of wood. In another place and time, they would have buried her in hallowed ground. In these days, grave robbers sniffed out new burials like trained hounds, digging up the occupants for revival by the wraiths eager for new soldiers in their macabre army. Not one fragment would be left of the old Sepha for them to desecrate.
Maija finished saddling her horse, pulling the cinch tight. The roan grunted and shifted his weight, but refused to open his eyes. She lowered the stirrup and walked to his shoulder. Her fingers separated three strands of mane just in front of his withers. Absently, with more practice than she ever desired, she laid a strip of cloth from Penroc’s tabard over one of the strands and began to plait a memory braid in the mane. At the end her eyes were watering so badly she couldn’t see well enough to thread the final strands back through the braid. She swiped away the tears with the back of her hand and swallowed hard. Her head hurt from crying. Her throat constricted and ached from too many sobs gulped away.
She leaned into the horse, laying her head against the warm, sleek neck. The scents she loved surrounded her, horse, leather, wildflowers and fern. Even the metallic scent of freshly oiled armor with more than a hint of rust was comforting. Her eyes closed as she wrapped an arm over the horse’s neck.
The ground rumbled lightly under her when horsemen approached. She wiped her eyes again and put on the mail coif to hide at least part of her face.
The three riders reined up in front of her, their horse blowing hard and flecked with lather. The leader snapped a salute as he tugged on the charger who tossed his head impatiently.
“Sepha. Storm Callers have surrounded Penroc. They’re demanding we turn her body over to them.”
“What do they want with her body?” she demanded.
“No idea. They just said they were here to claim her.”
The clanking of armor and weapons broke the forest silence as several riders mounted. They loped off towards the east where the pyre had been constructed last night. The faint pink glow of dawn still rested on the horizon when they neared the clearing. The guards stood shoulder-to-shoulder, weapons drawn, surrounding the body from the three chariots of Storm Callers and four riders who confronted them.
Maija slowed her horse to a walk and approached, followed by her guards. The center chariot was drawn by a perfectly matched pair of black dragons with brilliant blue underbellies. Their wings shimmered with iridescent hues of blues, black, purples and an almost peacock green color. The dragon on the near side shook his head, causing the heavily jeweled bridle to flash in the breaking daylight. The gold bridle was almost like a crown with ornate cheek pieces of finely wrought battle scenes. The dragon turned his head to watch her with intelligent, curious amber eyes. He snorted slightly, blowing tiny wisps of smoke from his nostrils.
The dragons were a bit larger than heavy chargers and all of them black except a gray one ridden by the nearest storm caller. Each of them wore elaborate bridles of gold, heavily encrusted with jewels and fine work. Scenes of battles adorned their breastplates and cheek pieces on the bridles. Tassels of spun silver thread dangled from the bridles and saddles.
The storm callers all wore equally ornate dress armor, but she had no doubt it was substantial enough to protect them adequately even without the substantial magic wards. Even though the storm callers were in mortal form they were still over eight-feet tall. Her embattled guards looked like peasant children playing at war compared to them.
The ground trembled under her feet when her troops moved into position around the glen. She sighed heavily. Such a beautiful, peaceful place to be turned into a battleground.
The storm caller on the gray dragon dismounted and strode towards her. He struck his fist to his chest and bowed deeply.
“Sepha, Maija. My name is Alrich of the clan Ursel.”
She dismounted and inclined her head. “Commander. How can I help you?”
He smiled at her. “You are familiar with my rank.”
“I was married to a Norlander. He taught me some of your ways. I also know your clan is the elite guard among the storm callers.”
He nodded and smiled again. His features were handsome to the point of reminding her of statues of the Norlander gods. His strawberry blonde hair was bound by a circlet of intricately woven strands of gold, platinum and a reddish metal she was unfamiliar with. His eyes were the color of a winter sky, gray and soft as felt, but she knew they could also turn cold and hard at a moment’s notice. He was clean shaven, unlike the remainder of his men. A scar trailed white and jagged from his left cheekbone to his jaw, breaking the tanned, otherwise flawless, face.
“We have come for Penroc, Sepha. Will you ask your men to stand down?”
His form began to shimmer and shrink until he was only slightly over six feet tall.
“Thank you,” she said, lowering her gaze.
“Of course,” he replied, nodding politely.
“Penroc is one of ours and I have no intention of turning her body over to you. The only way we can be sure she will not be turned is to destroy her body.”
“We would not allow her to be turned.”
“The only way we can be certain of that is to destroy her.”
The storm caller's eyes narrowed slightly, turning cold. The lines around his mouth hardened as two furrows appeared between his eyes. “Surely you know she is a hero to the Norlanders. Would we allow her to be defiled?”
Maija noticed the storm callers stiffening slightly. The dragons sensed the change in their masters and tossed their heads nervously. Their tails brushed against the harness. Occasionally one stomped with impatience or popped his tail on the ground with a loud thump.
“We will not give her up,” she replied.
Several guards nodded in agreement. A murmur went through the troops. The ones guarding Penroc raised their weapons.
“You will die for a body?”
“We have died for less.”
Excerpt from Dragon Valley 1
She heard the whirring wings before she saw the burst of color settle between Silverwing’s ears. The horse shook his head impatiently sending black mane and one small fairy dragon into the air.
"You know he hates it when you ride there."
The dragon fluttered his wings furiously and huffed a tiny puff of smoke at the horse. The horse responded with a brief flick of his ear.
"If you had trained him properly he would behave. Stubborn beast."
"He’s trained quite well, he just doesn't like you perching near his ears. Come sit on my shoulder."
"I don't like your shoulder. I especially don't like it when you are wearing your fish hide armor. It is hard to get a firm grip."
"I'm not sure the mer people would appreciate you calling this fish hide armor. Even so, if you don't like it, then fly, Teryn. There’s a reason you were blessed with wings."
"If I wanted to fly all the time, I would be a bird. I'm not a bird, I'm a dragon."
She glanced over at the iridescent creature. "Forgive me, my friend, but you are much closer to a hummingbird than a true dragon."
He snorted another puff of smoke in obvious disdain. "That shows what you know about dragons. I'll sit on your shoulder, but I'm not going to talk to you until you get that beast under control and let me ride up there."
"I'll see what I can do about training him better one day. Until then, enjoy the ride."
True to his word the fairy dragon sat in silence, preening his scales. Maija looked at him for a moment and then away when he ignored her. There was something different about him. Her attention drifted to the scenes about her. Training in the arena stopped as students turned to watch her ride past. She could almost hear the subdued whispers. Sister Katran straightened from her work in the herb garden. She put her hands on her ample hips and stretched her back. Maija watched her pristine white apron flutter in the breeze. Why did it remind her of a woman waving her scarf in farewell to her champion? "I’ll be home tonight," she said to no one in particular. I hope.
She shook the doubts from her head. The law was clear, no one may enter the council chambers armed. Even if she left her weapons outside, they might not consider that enough. Wearing armor into the council had never been done.
Initiates were digging a new irrigation canal to the gardens. Bonnlei Creek had changed course and shrunk since last year, making the old irrigation systems useless. They had cut down on the water to the hay meadows and it showed. The clover should be lush and ready to cut by now, but it was dull and stunted. They would be lucky to get two cuttings this time and that wouldn’t be enough if they had another harsh winter.
She saluted the captain at the gatehouse as she passed by. The two young guards stood at attention, but she saw them look at each other with unspoken questions. Word of what she was doing had already spread across the academy.
A work detail labored in the sun further down the road. Wood clearing gangs were normally long finished by now, but the death toll had been unusually heavy in the forest last winter. The dead trees were cleared not only for the lumber, but also to cut down on fire fodder. The trees, like the clover and the pastures, looked muted. The brilliant green of their early summer foliage was a softer, less vibrant color than she had ever seen. It was like looking at the landscape through a dingy veil. The land almost seemed sick.
She blinked as a brilliant light flashed in her eyes. "If you do that again, I'm going to feed you to a troll."
The fairy dragon snorted and flapped a multi-colored wing in the sun, blinding her again. Untrue to his promise not to talk to her, he responded. "Trolls know better than to eat fairy dragons. We flutter around inside them and give them indigestion for weeks. And gas, lots of gas. Even other trolls don’t want to be around a troll after he has eaten one of us. Sheka cats are the only things who can eat us with any degree of comfort."
"Then I'll feed you to a sheka cat."
The tiny dragon snorted in derision. "You know there are no more of them."
She looked at the pompous little creature again. Her brow creased as she studied him. "I thought you weren’t talking to me?"
He stopped smoothing a scale and cocked his head sideways. "I decided you have suffered enough."
She chuckled. "Thank you. I hate suffering."
"I know. You are an elf. Dragons, on the other hand, are used to suffering. It is our lot in life."
"Aha! I just realized what is different about you. Your body scales are whiter."
"I have no idea what you are talking about and neither do you."
"I most certainly do. You’ve been eating Sister Katran’s moon blooms. They always make your scales whiter and your wings more colorful. I should have known it when you first blinded me."
"Sister Katran has moon blooms?"
"You know good and well she does and she will mash you like the bug you are if she catches you eating them. You have no idea how hard she’s worked to get that growing in her herb garden. How will she have any seeds for moon oil if you keep eating the blooms?"
"I know exactly how hard she works. She should be thanking me properly. The bushes will bloom even more profusely if they are thinned periodically. She guards them like a she-troll watching over a fat cub and I risk life and limb to help her. Small thanks I get for my troubles too. I don't know why I even try."
"You’ll be lucky if you get a proper burial if you don’t stay out of her garden."
"Harumph."
"Don't blow smoke in my face. I hate it when you do that."
"You don't appreciate me either. I don't know why I bother with you elves."
"Because you crave attention and easy food."
"I'm a dragon. Dragons don't need attention."
Maija looked to the west. The skies should be filled with dragons, real dragons, by now. She had only seen three mating pairs this season.
"How many dragons came back to nest this year?"
"Four pair. They are getting fewer and fewer all the time. Before long they will be all gone and then so will the fairy dragons."
"Fairy dragons will never die and neither will the singing dragons if we have anything to do with it. I only saw three pair, I wonder how I missed the fourth."
"Sendi and Illiya are not well. They have not been flying much."
"Why didn’t you tell me? We could have sent healers to them."
"That is why I came to you and then I heard this ridiculous rumor about you going to kill the council members."
"I 'm not going to kill them. I just want to talk to them."
"I'm sure those swords will make them listen."
She refused to argue with a dragon. Especially when he was making more sense than she was.
