Tales from Galdrilene 1 New Beginning Read online

  A NEW BEGINNING

  Copyright © 2014 A.D. Trosper

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without prior written permission of the publisher.

  This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Published by

  Silver Spirit Publishing

  ISBN-13: 978-0615970516

  ISBN-10: 0615970516

  Emallya hurried through the chilly evening air and pulled her wool cloak tighter, wrapping it around her slim figure. Unease prickled over her and raised the hairs on her arms. For a moment the air felt oily, and something stirred in her mind.

  She paused. The wind tossed her chestnut hair across her face. Pushing it away, she closed her eyes and reached out with her mind.

  The gathering darkness felt unusually still. Guards walked the wall of the village; their tension palpable. Something was out there, creeping through the night-shrouded grasslands beyond the town. A nervous knot settled in her stomach. Whatever it was, she prayed to the Fates that it wouldn’t strike tonight.

  Except Emallya knew better. She felt them. Her mental powers grew stronger by the day. Soon, she would have to seek passage to Galdrilene and begin training. Already, her mother was the only one she could touch without being overloaded by thoughts and emotions.

  In her sixteen years, Emallya had wanted nothing more than what her mother had; a comfortable house, a loving husband, and many children.

  She gave herself a mental shake and started walking again. Her mother needed the Healing mage. Now was not the time for childish dreams and wishes. Some things were not meant to be and that was that.

  The neat little house with its well-maintained garden came into view, and she followed the narrow path through the many plants to the door. A black-haired woman with green eyes answered her knock. Though young for her station, the mage wore the bright yellow robes of a senior mage.

  “Please come, Araina.”

  Araina nodded and grabbed a small leather bag from a table next to the door. “Your mother’s time has come then?” Though it wasn’t a question, Emallya nodded.

  The Yellow wasted no time talking; instead, she moved down the path with such quick, purposeful strides that Emallya had to trot to keep up.

  As they neared Emallya’s house, chaos shattered the quiet night. Shouts of men and women along the wall, and roars beyond it, filled the air. Bells clanged in warning; a sound that was altogether too familiar.

  Araina grabbed Emallya’s hand and raced the remaining distance to the large, rambling home that housed Emallya’s family.

  Her father yanked open the door. Dressed in full battle gear, he paused long enough to place a comforting hand upon her shoulder. “Take care of your mother and siblings. Keep a sword with you.” And then he disappeared into the night, running toward the sounds of battle.

  As the Yellow swept through the front room and into the nearest bedroom, Emallya moved throughout the house extinguishing lamps and candles. It was routine anytime the bells tolled.

  Shendal, her twin brother, helped her gather their younger brothers and sisters and herd them into the room where her mother lay. They needed to stay together in case the conflict spilled into the village.

  Emallya clasped her mother’s hand and tried not to tremble as the sounds of battle drew closer. Tallayna squeezed her hand and panted through another contraction.

  Light flickered over the darkened room, casting her mother’s face in an orange glow. Emallya wiped Tallayna’s forehead with a damp cloth and glanced out the window at the flames that engulfed their neighbor’s home. The wings of a low-flying dragon whipped the wind around the outside of the house, and dust swirled past the window. More fire lit up the night, alternating between the bright orange of the Guardian Dragons and the sickly green of the Shadow Dragons. Mages worked together from the ground, wielding their magic against the attacking Kojen and Shadow Riders.

  Though battles were a way of life, they had never carried into the village before. Nestled in the grasslands not far from the capital, they had always been buffered by the border towns from the worst of the attacks.

  A soft hum whispered through her mind, and Emallya nearly jumped off the bed. She froze, holding her breath while she waited to hear it again. Comforting and crooning, she heard its sweet call and her heart leapt. She was called. It wasn’t anything she expected, or even wanted, but there was no denying it. Now Emallya understood the stirring she’d felt in her mind. She would be going to Galdrilene for more than mage training.

  Emallya glanced out the window again, watching men and women fight Kojen in the light of the fire. She was called, but would she live long enough to answer it?

  Tallayna stifled a groan, her face wet with perspiration. Emallya read the fear in her mother’s mind. A deep terror that she might die before giving birth, and if the battle carried into the house, that she would be helpless to defend her other children.

  “You must be quiet.” The Yellow’s urgent tone confirmed the fear that Emallya sensed in her as well. Newly arrived from Galdrilene, the senior mage had faced Kojen only once before. Emallya would never forget the stark terror that had filled the woman’s face a week earlier when the Kojen came within sight of the walls.

  The emotions emanating from everyone in the room combined together and crept inside her until a dull ache spread through Emallya’s head.

  Tallayna nodded but groaned again as she bore down with the urge to push. Emallya’s heart thundered in her chest. The clang of steel now echoed outside the house. She glanced at the sword next to the bed. Although her father had spent some time showing her how to use it, she wasn’t good with it. A sword wasn’t something she’d ever had the desire to use.

  The front door shuddered under a heavy blow. Tallayna gasped, her eyes wide. Quiet whimpers broke out among Emallya’s younger siblings. She looked at their huddled forms. Only Shendal stood apart from them. He held a sword in his hands and braced his tall, wiry frame between the door and their younger brothers and sisters.

  Something slammed against the door again. The wood shook, and the hinges creaked. Emallya pulled away from her mother and grabbed the sword next to the bed in her sweaty palms.

  The Yellow whispered prayers to the Fates, frantically trying to wipe away blood and birthing fluids. She looked up at Emallya as terror pooled in her wide eyes. “I have to get this cleaned up. They will smell the blood.”

  Emallya shook her head. The mage needed to get it together. “Then you might as well quit trying to wipe it away and concentrate on catching the babe when it comes. They will smell it anyway, and it is not as if my mother can stop giving birth.”

  She walked past the woman and out of the room. Her brother followed, closing the door to the sleeping room behind him. Emallya planted her feet and braced herself, trying to calm her racing heart as the front door shuddered again. The wood splintered. Emallya glanced at her brother. “We cannot let them get past us, no matter what.”

  He gave her a tight nod. “I know.”

  The door shattered and pieces of wood flew into the room. They both waited anxiously as they stared at the ruined doorway. At first, only smoke filled the night beyond. Confusion mixed with tension poured through Emallya. She blinked against the sting of smoke, her sword tip dipping toward the floor. A snarl rippled through the air as a Kojen moved into the r
oom, the wood planks of the floor creaking under its massive weight. Emallya froze, her breath catching in her throat when it lifted its face and sniffed the air. Firelight flickered over its dark purple skin and reflected off the stained steel of its sword. The heavy curled horns on its broad head brushed the ceiling. It issued an earsplitting roar, revealing sharp canine teeth.

  Shendal moved first, leaping to meet the creature. More Kojen came out of the night, filling the house with their stench. Emallya brought her sword up, deflecting the solid blow of the second Kojen and staggered back, her arms vibrating from the impact. The weight of its mental attack came up against her mind’s walls and it struggled to maintain them. Now she had to fight the enormous beast on two levels.

  The sweet song of the dragon hum called to her. Emallya reached for it. There was no way she was good enough with a sword to live through this without the dragon’s help. She surrendered herself to the call; accepted it with every fiber of her being.

  Energy flowed into her body. It wrapped around her mind and formed a barrier against the Kojen’s mental attack. Strength poured into her muscles and she moved with speed that wasn’t hers as she brought her sword up against the creature. Surprise flushed through her when she managed to bring down the beast.

  A scream cut through her concentration, freezing the air in her lungs. Emallya jumped back and turned to see Shendal fall to the floor, his torso nearly cut in half. Blood poured across the smooth boards as he gasped and shuddered. The walls closed in around Emallya as she watched the life in her brother’s eyes fade.

  Panting, she backed away from the advancing Kojen. Her sword clattered to the wooden planks of the floor. She grabbed her head; emotions raged through her mind, not all of them hers. Power built from deep within. The Kojen seemed to move in slow motion as they lurched toward her. Without conscious thought, without understanding, Emallya wove thick bands of silver together within her mind and lashed out with the power.

  The weaves spun across the small space and settled onto the beasts’ heads. More strands of the woven magic flew out through the door. Emallya could feel the strands drape over every Kojen in the village. In her mind, she grabbed on the one strand holding all of the weaves together and yanked it tight. The individual weaves collapsed into the minds of the beasts, crushing them.

  The Kojen stopped and their broad, flat faces went slack. Their swords fell from limp hands. They swayed and then dropped. She stared at the unmoving beasts as the power receded and the energy in her mind returned to a quiet hum. Exhaustion swept through her and she slumped to the floor, barely able to keep her eyes open.

  Mernoth slammed his body into a Shadow Dragon, the impact jerking Bardeck in the saddle. The gold sunk his claws into the black scales. His massive jaws ripped the rider from the Shadow’s back, and dropped the torn and broken body to the ground. The Shadow Dragon screamed, its body collapsing in on itself while it snapped uselessly at the air. Mernoth released the dying black dragon and let it fall.

  Bardeck scanned the sky. There were no more foul Shadows. The rest had likely Jumped back to the Kormai. Strange they would suddenly go hide in their desert mountain and abandon their Kojen when there had been a serious chance of taking the village.

  “Something is happening,” Mernoth sent.

  Bardeck followed the dragon’s line of sight through their mental connection. On the ground below, Kojen were dropping dead without being touched. He had seen this happen only once—five years earlier during the first battle he and Mernoth had fought. A Spirit weave was in motion, handled by a powerful Spirit user. There were no Silver Riders in Sharren at the moment, and a mage wouldn’t have the strength to use that weave.

  At least the sudden Jump by the Shadow Riders made sense now. “Someone down there emerged and has the strength be a Dragon Rider,” Bardeck returned.

  “So it would seem, my rider.” Mernoth angled his wings for a landing and glided toward the ground. Like most villages, this one had an extra wide street in the middle. It provided a place where dragons could land without damaging their wings on any structures. Working his wings in short bursts, the gold settled on the hard-packed dirt.

  Fires burned everywhere, and thick plumes of smoke hung thick in the cold air. Nearby, two red dragons landed and their riders leaped from the saddles. Though Bardeck couldn’t see the weaves they used, only a Silver could sense all of the powers, he knew they were putting everything they had into bringing the fires under control.

  Bardeck pulled on his power and raised a shield of light around the burning structures. It glowed softly in the night. He adjusted the weave to allow living things out. It also let the smoke escape, leaving only the fire trapped inside the shield. It would make the work easier for those putting out the flames.

  The dead villagers lay strewn among the bodies of the Kojen—the price for the defense of the village paid for in lives. The stench of burning flesh mixed with the scent of blood and innards spilled on the ground. Bardeck covered his mouth and coughed, yet he needed to block it out. Somewhere in this mess was a magic user. And not just any magic user; it was a Silver. He moved toward two of the mages; three people searching were better than one. The smoke blew on the wind, obscuring them briefly, before drifting away. His eyes watered from the irritation.

  “It radiated out from that direction. We should start there.” The woman in green robes pointed into the darkness.

  “Start where?”

  They both turned. Marna, the green-robed mage, pointed again. “I said the weave radiated from that direction. The Kojen dropped in a wave that started over there.”

  Bardeck squinted and nodded. “It’s what I saw from the air too. Shall we see if we can find whoever it was?”

  Marna nodded and started through the night, deftly stepping around the dead, human and Kojen alike.

  Silence hung thick in the air, disturbed only by the crackle of flames. Shouts of victory went up outside. Several men and women in the red robes of the Fire mages ran past the open doorway. Smoke drifted in, burning Emallya’s nose and throat. They had their work cut out for them; it would be a miracle if they could bring all of the fires under control. More houses would catch before they were all contained.

  The gold scales of a dragon flashed past the door followed by two red dragons as they landed. Emallya breathed a sigh of relief and struggled to her feet. With Fire Riders and a Light Rider, the flames wouldn’t spread and consume the remaining houses.

  Emallya turned toward her brother and dropped to her knees beside him, heedless of the blood that soaked through the soft fabric of her dress. The sharp pain of loss squeezed her chest tight, and she struggled to breathe. Tears welled in her eyes as memories of Shendal filled her mind. Climbing trees with him down by the river. The time they slipped away with their father’s draft horse and pretended they were riding a dragon; and the trouble they had gotten into upon their return. The first time he practiced with a sword.

  The memories came faster and faster like an avalanche when a sharp wail cut through her thoughts and abruptly pulled her back to the present. Emallya slowly stood and walked to the bedroom. She cracked open the door and stopped, hesitating. Her mother lay on the bed, crying as the Yellow placed a babe in her arms. Such was the time of the War of Fire. It seemed every new life was heralded by the death of another, and no family was left unscathed.

  “Is everyone all right in here?”

  Emallya spun back to the shattered front door, closing the one to the bedroom. A young man dressed as a rider and two older women in the robes of senior mages stepped into the house, avoiding the large mounds of the dead Kojen. Her eyes fell upon her brother when the mage in the yellow robes of the Tower of Healing knelt beside him. “He is the only casualty,” Emallya said quietly. Her mother didn’t know yet, and she deserved a chance to celebrate a new child before she had to grieve the loss of another.

  The other mage, dressed in the green robes of the Tower of Earth, stared at Emallya with sharp eyes. “Y
ou can use magic, child. I can sense it in you. Since there are no Spirit mages or riders present, this must be your doing.” She glanced at the dead Kojen and pursed her lips. “And a strong talent you have to accomplish such on first emergence. Only riders can use this much power. Have you heard the call?”

  Emallya nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Had her father survived the attack? He’d spent his entire life fighting in the War of Fire and was a proficient soldier. Still, there were never any guarantees when it came to war.

  The man stepped forward and bowed slightly to her, the five-pointed pendant of a Dragon Rider swinging from his neck. “I am Di’shan Bardeck Darshan, rider of the Gold Mernoth. It would be my honor to escort you to Galdrilene to answer the call if you so wish.”

  Emallya cleared her throat and tried to blink away the tears that spilled over despite her attempt to control them. “Thank you, Di’shan,” she answered, remembering to use the formal title of a Dragon Rider. “I will accept your escort.” She glanced at her brother’s body again. “Must I leave this instant?”

  “Of course not, Foundling.” Bardeck smiled, a kind light in his eyes. “Your path is always yours to choose. When you wish to answer the call is also your choice—be it now or a year from now.”

  It felt strange to be addressed as Foundling; to hear the formal title of a newly called Dragon Rider applied to her. “Thank you, Di’shan.” She gestured to Shendal’s form. “My mother doesn’t know my brother is dead, and I need to know if my father survived this attack.”

  Bardeck nodded. “I will send someone to retrieve your brother so he can be prepared for burial with the rest of the dead.”

  Emallya couldn’t answer. She swallowed several times and managed to whisper, “Thank you.” She was determined not to break down in front of these people.

  She waited in silence after they left. Soon two junior mages arrived. They shifted Shendal’s body onto a large blanket and wrapped him. A blessed numbness settled over Emallya as they covered his face and carried him from the house. Acrid smoke still filled the chilly night air of early fall as she stood staring through the ruined doorway. The silhouettes of people flashed across the light from the fires. Though several houses still burned, most of it was under control.