The Islander explained to Rune how there would be no way to get the steed onboard since the decks were too high. “On our ship from the Islands, we could do this thing, but with this merchant ship, it won’t be possible.”
“Don’t you have rigging to haul up the crafts?” he asked.
The man shook his head, “Not strong enough to hold four of us; not strong enough to hold one of these,” he pointed to the horse.
Rune understood his reasoning. Besides, the horses would probably get off balance in the boat rowing out to the ship and fall in. Even if they managed to train the horse to remain still in the boat, they couldn’t haul it in. Rune had to decide whether to gain the possible support of these warriors and add numbers to their army with the healed wounded, or return to shore to stay with the horses. As he looked around at the foothills outside Grandwood, he knew there would be grazing and water for them here. Maybe when next I return they’ll still be here, he thought making his decision.
Taking time to remove the horses’ saddles and halters, he said goodbye to the trusted steeds he had grown fond of these last few years. As he stepped off the rowboat and climbed the rope ladder to board the ship, he turned to watch the four-legged animals wander out into the field south of town. Rune had a feeling they would fare better here than if they went back to the revolution with him and his compatriots. The warhorses would have their chance at freedom while Rune and these brave men and women fought for theirs.
Chapter 58
Defiant
“We could have it all, my friend. I can give you power, dominion, wealth, peace and prosperity,” Merglan said, then paused. Ivan eyed the man cautiously as he spread his hands to the side, tilted his gaze and added, “and your family.”
“I don’t believe you,” Ivan said firmly.
“What’s not to believe? I’ve shown you nothing but kindness and good faith since you arrived, haven’t I?”
If kindness is keeping me a prisoner in my childhood home, Ivan thought.
Merglan raised an eyebrow while frowning, “Will, I’m slighted by your poor opinion of our arrangement. You are my guest and you can go anywhere you like within the castle, day or night.” Merglan stepped toward Ivan, then grinned. “Can’t we work together and put an end to our differences?”
“You talk as if we hadn’t been at war for the last twenty-odd years,” Ivan said, shaking his head in exasperation. Backing away, he continued, “You speak of trust, what kind of trust is this? You’ve taken everything from me! My entire family, dragon and the only thing I had left, my mind,” Ivan spit at Merglan. “I’ll never trust you, old friend.”
Merglan calmly wiped the spittle from his chest. Hating every inch of what Merglan had become, Ivan wanted to strangle him, but without magic or the use of any weapons, he was no match for the sorcerer. In the end he would only hurt himself by attacking the man. Each time he had, Merglan had taken away more of his soul. He felt like a man torn in half, as though a piece of him was being kept locked away.
Knowing the sorcerer could read his mind, Ivan sought to provoke a response by painting a mental picture of what he wanted to do to Merglan in that moment. Merglan said, “I do hope we can become friendly toward one another again. It would be in your best interest if you wanted to see your bonded ever again.”
Ivan’s image of Merglan’s unpleasant death vanished. He gave him his full attention. “What did you say?” he asked.
“About being friends again or that last bit about seeing Jazzmaryth again?” Merglan asked mockingly.
“Impossible,” Ivan said. “You killed her; I watched you take her life.”
“Thargon was dead once, too,” Merglan said, lifting the crystal he wore around his neck and rolling it in his fingers as he pretended to examine it.
“No,” Ivan said, walking to the window. “Jazz is gone. You won’t gain my trust by tempting me with false hopes.”
There’s nothing false about a little bit of necromancy, Merglan’s mind cut freely into Ivan’s.
“Get out!” Ivan shouted, pressing his hands to his head to relieve tension from the pain caused by Merglan’s unobstructed intrusion.
“I have something for you,” Merglan said, walking toward the open doorway. Ivan watched Merglan reach through the doorway and grab something.
Ivan looked at the sorcerer warily as he approached holding a beautifully crafted dragonrider suit. The newly stitched leather came complete with protective armor, the finest a rider could have. “Your new riding leathers, if you so choose,” Merglan said, extending the suit toward Ivan.
Ivan stepped toward him, reaching out to stroke the leather. Memories of his first pair of riding leathers came back in a flash: the elven forest, with little Jazz at his side, and Selleya. As quickly as the fond memories came, so too came the memories of the deaths of loved ones, all of them taken at the hands of the man standing before him. A pulse of rage welled within him and he lunged toward Merglan, trying to grip his throat.
Ivan froze mid-lunge, his arms outstretched and hands cupped just inches from Merglan’s throat. He flexed as hard as he could to force his body to move, to no avail. He tried to summon any remnants of the power he once had, but nothing came. Again he reached for the magic, refusing to give in to defeat, yet nothing came. He remained perfectly still, unable to move.
Merglan offered a false weak smile, turned and placed the leather suit on the bed, saying, “Consider it, Will. I can give you back your powers and your dragon.” Merglan walked across the room and exited.
Ivan remained locked in the attack for several long breaths before Merglan released him. Stumbling forward, he shouted in frustration. His eyes shot to the leather suit on the bed. He picked it up and threw it into the closet, slamming the door shut to keep it out of sight. He walked to the window, placed his hands on the sill and looked out over the courtyard and to greater Kingston stretching beyond the castle walls.
As he stood hunched in the window, Ivan felt the dark magic working on him; Merglan was eating into his soul. He screamed, his nails digging into the wooden window frame as he felt the scraping deep within. Somehow Merglan’s magic cut out a piece of him and hauled it away. As the pain subsided and he regained his faculties, Ivan felt a familiar haze cloud his mind. He felt this way after each mental attack. As he tried to shake the fog, he looked out at the glinting rooftops stretching to the coast.
How long have I been here? he asked himself, straining to remember. The days ran together in a chaotic mess of madness. Merglan would come to him, every day or was it more than once a day? Ivan couldn’t remember. Merglan would tell him how they were meant to rule together, how they would usher in a golden era of leadership across Kartania. Though Ivan could feel himself being ripped apart one piece at a time, he still knew better than to trust Merglan.
Looking out once again, he focused on the section of streets he could see beyond the walls, orcs wandering about. He remembered their arrival; it happened right after Killdoor returned. But he didn’t know after which time he saw the large dragon return. He could picture Killdoor landing in the courtyard below, twice with his rider and once without, but he couldn’t recall which arrival also involved the arrival of the orcs? Ivan slammed his fist on the windowsill in frustration. Why couldn’t he remember?
As evening approached, he watched the sun hide behind the curvature of the horizon over the ocean, giving way to the night. He sat in his chair, looking out the window as the deep blues of evening turned black. Bright white stars speckled the sky. Through the cloudless night, Ivan noticed two shapes rapidly approaching. Squinting, he could see the outline of two dragons flying toward the city. His heart skipped a beat, wondering if this would be Anders and Zahara’s return. Rubbing his eyes, Ivan asked himself, Did they recruit another dragon?
Ivan watched, entranced by the dragons in flight as they soared down from the sky, circling over the castle, flying lower, coming in and out of view.
Why aren’t they attacking? Ivan wondered.
As he watched carefully through the upper corner of his window, Ivan waited for the dragons to fly overhead where he could see them. When the dark bodies flapped over the castle, lower than they’d been before, Ivan saw the absence of iridescence in the dragon’s scales. The coal-black shine of the massive dragon told Ivan that Killdoor had returned for the fourth time. Falling back into his seat, Ivan wondered at the second dragon. As the smaller dragon soared in just behind Killdoor, he could see the green hue of its scales in the darkness. He leaned forward as it flew out of sight.
Was that? he asked himself. No, it couldn’t be. She wouldn’t be in that condition, not even if he had brought her back, he told himself.
Ivan waited for them to fly around again, but after waiting an hour without their return, he gave up. He rose from the chair and walked to the bedside. He pulled back the covers and stared blankly at the bed. Curiosity overcame him as he turned to look at the open bedroom door. He walked to it and leaned his head out through the opening, looking first one way and then the other down the length of the hall. Ever-burning torches lit the passageway. With no one in sight, Ivan stepped out into the hallway and tiptoed down the length of the hall, his mind puzzling over why he’d seen a second dragon.
Whether or not that’s really Jazz, I might be able to escape with a dragon’s help. If its magic is strong enough, we could break the barrier and I could get out of this room, he thought as he cautiously proceeded down the hall.
Unlike the magic that no longer lived within the rightful king of humanity, the instinctual map of the castle he’d known as a princeling hadn’t faded from his mind. At the end of the corridor, Ivan carefully pulled open the door. Half expecting to see guards posted at the top of the stairwell, he crouched ready to meet resistance. The opening revealed a lesser-known passageway; he was pleased to find it dark and empty. Following the narrow staircase as it descended, Ivan stepped quietly on the stones, switch-backing once before reaching the second-floor landing. The wooden door at the end of the steps was closed. Lifting the latch and pushing, Ivan opened the unlocked door. He stepped out into the expansive room where he and Anders had faced Merglan. As he walked out into the open space, he could see several pillars still in ruin from the dragon fighting, the rubble illuminated by starlight shining in through the stained glass that decorated the north wall. Walking slowly to the center of the room, Ivan used his foot to trace deep gouges in the stone floor, probably created by the dragon claws.
The large space felt so empty; his boot heels echoed against the stone floor. Metal clicking, though, caused him to stop midstride. He remained perfectly still as he heard the familiar sound of clattering scales, a sound he’d heard so often from Jazz shifting her body in the night. It reminded him of rain trickling on cobblestone streets. That unique chime brought both fear and excitement into Ivan’s heart.
