Shadows of the Realm (The Circle of Talia) (12 page)

“
We won’t whinge. We’re not babies you know.” Corrille sat straight-backed in her saddle. Avruellen smiled but gave no response. 

“
Where are we headed, Auntie?”

“
Pollona. It will probably take nine or ten days, depending on the countryside and the weather.”

“
Isn’t that dragon country?” Bronwyn was scared; she’d heard some nasty stories about dragons and their insatiable appetite for humans.

“
It’s on the border. Don’t worry. You two are too skinny to satisfy a dragon; they prefer fatter people.” Avruellen managed to keep a straight face. “Since you girls are so grown up and tough, I think we can pick up the pace a bit.” She knew she would regret it later, as she hadn’t been in the saddle for a long time, but nudged her horse into a trot anyway. At least the girls would be too busy concentrating to complain.

Avruellen sent her mind voice to Flux. He joined them not far from the city. Avruellen gave him the news from her meeting with Hermas and reminded him they both had to be on the lookout for danger. Avruellen had felt safer in the city. If someone were looking for their symbols, they would know roughly where they were, but surrounded closely by all the other symbols, their exact location within the city would be almost impossible to estimate. The feeling of being watched had abated whilst they had been inside Bayerlon
’s walls. Now, however, they were riding into sparsely inhabited countryside. She felt like a very obvious target—and there was nothing she could do about it.

Avruellen had to fight the urge to turn the horse around and gallop back into the relative safety of the city. She stayed her course; there was no choice.

11

Zim strode along one of the lower hallways of Vellonia. His claws clicked on the tiles. There was a lot to prepare before everyone arrived—including making sure the city’s defences were secure. He reached the room known as the heart of Vellonia. Zim used Second Realm power to open the door, forming intricate strings of the energy into a key that would open the lock also made with the same flows. He was one of only three dragons who knew how to create this key; Symbothial and his mother were the only other dragons permitted to know.

The door opened, and Zim felt heat wash over him, a crimson glow reflecting in his eyes. The room was not large by dragon standards and would have felt crowded if ten of them had decided to visit at the same time. The earth floor pulsed with Talia’s lifeblood, and Zim felt the hum of natural power as it vibrated up through his feet.

Zim shut the door, walked toward the centre of the room and stood between two pillars—one obsidian, one blood-red. The pillars were as thick as a dragon’s belly and cold to touch, until one started to draw power through them. These were portals that linked the earth power from Talia to energy from the Second Realm. The two energies couldn’t mix until a realmist placed their hands on the pillars and became the link by inviting both flows into their body. Neither the realmists, nor the dragons, had worked out what the combined power could do, aside from charging the spires that protected Vellonia from Gormon attacks from the skies. The potential for drawing too much power and causing a disaster, or killing yourself, was too high for anyone to want to experiment.

Zim wasn’t here to draw any power, just to check whether their defences were properly sustained. It was his cousin, Symbothial’s, job to check that the spires were always active, but Zim hadn’t seen him around much lately. He had decided to come and check for himself rather than remind his cousin of his duty.

He placed his hands on the obsidian pillar, which was the link to the Second Realm, and sent his awareness inside the stone to find the narrow rivers of power that travelled through it. He found the central river, and followed it to every stream that flowed off it. Each small stream powered one spire. He was annoyed to find that two of the rivulets were dry; the energy had been blocked at the river.

The power contained inconsistent particles—some were big, some were small, some moved fast, and some slow. Sometimes more delicate uses of the power could be affected by these differences, and in this case, some of the larger particles were clogging up the entry to the streams. Zim diverted some power from the river to move the larger particles and dissolve the blockages. When he was finished, all the spires were operational, but he was unhappy. He had trusted Symbothial to do his job. Zim went to look for his cousin.

Instead of asking other dragons where Symbothial was, he scried for his symbol in the Second Realm. This was a method of last resort, because finding someone by locating their symbol was akin to spying. Zim didn’t have the time or patience to chase him all over Vellonia today. He closed his eyes and sifted through the bright signs in the Second Realm.

Zim approached his grey cousin, who was sitting on a bench seat under a milky-barked tree. The branches were peppered with green buds, nature’s first whisper of spring. “Greetings
, cousin,” Zim said, and sat next to Symbothial.

             
“Greetings, cousin.” Symbothial inclined his head. Neither dragon spoke for a moment, and Zim felt that his cousin was deliberately trying to annoy him.

             
“So, Symbothial, I was checking the spires today and found that two were inactive.”

Symbothial narrowed his eyes. “And what are you saying?”

              “What do you think I should say? I am simply stating a fact. The other fact I wish to state is that it’s your job to make sure we are protected. All the time.”

             
“I checked them two days ago and they were fine,
cousin
.”

Zim could see his cousin’s resentment and didn’t wish to make it worse. “I’m sure you did
, Symbothial, but the flow was blocked. It was a simple matter to fix. I think we should check them every day, just to be sure.  Can you do that for me, please?”

Symbothial nodded but didn’t bid farewell when Zim walked away. Zim wondered if it were time to entrust the job to someone else, but couldn’t think longer on the matter. He was to meet with his parents and was already late. His mother didn’t like tardiness. He started to jog.

12

A week had passed since the attack. Blayke had recovered from the shock, but nightmares still invaded his sleep. He had come to the realisation that if they were to survive to defend Talia, he would have to take other men’s lives. Arcon had discussed ways of drawing power from the Second Realm to either kill or distract. Blayke made sure he knew how to kill, but was more curious about ways to distract and slow their enemy. If he could avoid taking another man’s life, he would. Arcon tried to explain that they would end up with scores of people after them if he left them alive, but Blayke didn’t want to listen. Deep down Blayke knew, but wasn’t ready to admit to what he must become.

Blayke
’s other discovery since “that day” (as he now thought of it), was that he had picked up a travelling companion. The brown and white rat he had saved in the barn had hidden himself in Blayke’s pocket after the attack. When Blayke discovered his uninvited passenger, he wasn’t sure if he should try to leave him behind. He had brought up the subject with Arcon, who was curious to meet the small animal. Blayke handed him to Arcon, who was able to converse with him. It seemed this rat was destined for greater things. Arcon suggested Blayke take care of the creature and make sure Phantom didn’t make a meal of him.

So it was, as they walked, Blayke carried the rat he had come to call Fang. He thought it was funny, and Fang seemed to like the name too. Fang slept in Blayke
’s pocket or sat on his shoulder, beady orbs observing their surroundings as the miles passed. Blayke found it comforting to have another pair of eyes to watch for danger, even if they were small.

The days were growing warmer, however the nights remained chill. They were walking through relatively flat grazing country, which spread out toward the north from the base of the Varsian Mountain ranges. Black and white sheep, together with eons-old granite boulders, dotted the landscape. If Blayke looked back, he could see the blue and white smudge of mountains against the horizon. It was funny to think that less than two weeks ago they had been fighting through waist-high snow and icy winds. Blayke raised his face to the sun, relishing the penetrating warmth.

A question, which had intermittently occupied Blayke’s mind since the meeting of The Circle, surfaced. “I was wondering about something. At the meeting there were two people you’d never mentioned before; Avruellen and her apprentice. Who are they?”

Arcon chose his words carefully.
“Avruellen has been with The Circle for as long as I have. She is a very skilled realmist and has saved my skin quite a few times. I have never met her apprentice, but I believe she is a young girl, about the same age as you. Very promising from what Avruellen says, but like you, she has a long way to go.”

“
What’s their mission?”

“
I wouldn’t know lad. Even if I did, do you really think I’d tell you?” Arcon’s left eyebrow was raised as he looked at his protégé. Blayke shrugged.

Late afternoon found them choosing a campsite at a small stand of trees barely within sight of the road. As Arcon and Blayke prepared dinner, Fang scrimmaged around for seeds. He was careful not
to stray too far from the humans’ feet as Phantom was around, somewhere. He knew the owl had been told to leave him alone, however one did not need to be a genius to know not to trust a natural enemy. Blayke usually gave him a small tidbit from dinner, so he knew he would never go hungry. He sensed Blayke’s kind nature and was looking forward to the day when he could actually talk to him. The master, who went by the name of Arcon, had explained that Blayke had not yet worked out how to communicate with animals. In the meantime, the rat communicated to Blayke through the Master.

The two realmists sat down to dinner. Fang climbed into Blayke
’s warm pocket and nibbled on a large crumb. “When will I learn how to communicate with Fang?”

Arcon had been waiting for this question since the rodent had joined their expedition.
“Whenever you want to.” Arcon looked intently into Blayke’s eyes and saw his excitement and fear. 

“
What will I have to do? It can’t be easy, can it?”

“
Good, you’re thinking like a realmist. No, it won’t be easy. Most things worth having are hard won. The more valuable the thing, the more risk and hard work to obtain it.  So, lad, when do you want to start?”

Blayke didn
’t trust himself to speak. Fang’s furry little face peered up at him from his pocket, and Blayke sensed his eagerness. It dawned on him that he could learn some interesting things from the little animal. Fang could go where he couldn’t, listen to things he wouldn’t be able to, and, he hoped, relay information. The possibilities seemed endless. They could spy on people, scare women, or even plant poison in people’s food, if they had to. Blayke grinned, “How about now?”

“
Alright. But I will give you both this warning.” Arcon looked at both his companions, the smaller of which had climbed out of Blayke’s pocket and was now sitting on his knee. “You must both understand that what you are about to undertake is dangerous. I can’t tell you what you will encounter, but the consequences of failure are as real as in this world. If you manage to survive, you will have a lifelong bond that neither of you can break. Fang, you will have an unnaturally long life for a rat, or a human for that matter, and there may be times you want it to end. You cannot kill yourself—the Second Realm will not allow it—and if either of you dies for any other reason, it will result in months, even years of mental and emotional anguish for the other.  Are you ready for this burden?” Arcon looked expectantly at them and knew, as they did, they had no choice. The Three Realms (if that was how many there really were) commanded this for their very survival. They both nodded gravely at Arcon. He insisted on their verbal affirmation, which for Fang was a loud squeak.

They placed their plates on the ground. Arcon asked Blayke to lie on his back, hands by his sides. Fang was instructed to sit on Blayke’s chest. The rat was shaking, but Blayke didn
’t notice as he was almost in a trance, breathing slowly and deeply, picturing the starry Second Realm. Fang shut his eyes. Arcon sent him an image of the Second Realm and showed him the path. The rat followed.

Arcon stood over two still bodies, eyes open, mind in tune with their journey. Phantom had materialised and watched unblinking from a nearby branch. He knew the gravity of what his companions would experience, having done it himself scores of years earlier. He hooted softly in protest, knowing that once this was done, there would be one less rat in the world he could eat.

Blayke journeyed through the dark, still tunnel—the only access to the Second Realm. He followed Arcon’s lead and didn’t notice the subtle turning from the usual path. When they emerged, it was not into the expected starry universe, but to an inky blackness. Blayke was scared and uncertain; the place they had come to was unfamiliar. He lost sight of Arcon, who was already on his return journey to Talia. His unease increased until he felt the presence of Fang next to him. In this space they were not the bright symbols Blayke knew in the Second Realm, but were invisible, nothing. He could only sense the rat, not see him. He could also feel Fang’s fear, albeit mixed with his natural rodent curiosity.