Soulblade: An Epic Fantasy Adventure Romance (A Dance of Fire and Shadow Book 4)
Soulblade: Chapter 18

I LOOK UP AT THE DRAGON raising his scaly head above me, determined to hold the unblinking gaze of his great golden eyes.

“Zandar, can you locate Marin again and take me to him? He should be through the pass in the mountains by now and well beyond the borders of Rapathia.”

No. I cannot.

The flat refusal comes as a shock, followed by a wave of apprehension that this means I may not be able to fulfil my mission. I won’t even be able to tell the others what happened. I glance anxiously at Farhaz and Nilan, waiting with me on the sandy field outside the safe house. Their faces tell me they have no more idea about what the problem might be than I do.

“Zandar. Could you at least try?”

I would need to return to Rahimar. My dragonsight is blind here to search for people or places I have not seen before. I only see fresh visions in the water that burns.

Relief. Although it is time and effort I can ill afford to make the return journey to the heart of the Taskana Desert. Resignedly, I take a step toward the fire-drake who would take me there.

Farhaz lays a restraining hand on my arm.

“Ariel, wait. There is something we can try.” He turns to Nilan. “Send someone to open the irrigation sluice and fill this dewpond with water. Then go to the house, bring us some oil.”

I watch Nilan run back into the courtyard.

“Farhaz? What are you planning?”

He takes a few steps and pulls dry grass away from a shallow scoop in the earth.

“This hollow in the ground is surfaced with clay. Sometimes it fills with dew overnight, but in the dry season we have to fill it from irrigation channels fed by the wells. Only if the goats that drink from it are grazing here, of course. We moved them away in anticipation of our fiery visitor.”

“And this will help Zandar to find Marin? How?”

“It may not work. But it will save you a long journey if it does.” Farhaz watches as clear water ripples through the irrigation channel and waits until the pool is full before closing the sluice. He pauses for a few moments until the surface settles, then takes the jar of jasmine-scented oil from a breathless Nilan and pours it carefully so that it floats in a thin clear film across the still water.

“Here. You can light the flame.” He hands me flint and tinder.

I kneel at the side of the pool and set the spark to the floating oil. Blue and gold flames ripple and flow across the surface of the pool.

I look up. Zandar is transfixed, staring into the shimmering fire. I can feel the powerful surge of delight and restlessness running through the ancient fire-drake as he slowly understands the full meaning of this revelation. Dragonsight is available to him anywhere in the whole of Annubia. The sinuous coils tense and ripple with his sudden recognition of a far wider territory than he has previously known––and his wild anticipation of the freedom this will give him.

I stand rooted to the spot, wondering uneasily if this is another change in the balance of the world that might have been better left quiescent. I have a feeling that whatever unknown and disastrous consequences this may cause in the future, the learning of it will be hard. But for now at least, it seems to have resolved my immediate problem. Zandar lets out a long, hot breath of satisfaction.

I have seen Marin. He is in Rapathia. When do you wish to go there?

“Today.”

Whatever change has been set in motion, there is no going back on it now. I give my hasty thanks to Farhaz and Nilan and commit my fate to this new journey with Zandar.

THE SUN IS PAST ITS zenith by the time we cross the mountain range that divides Annubia from Rapathia. Zandar is flying in a direct line from Khotann to wherever it is he has located Marin. I can tell we are well south of the battlefield and the nearby city we burned when we crossed the border a few weeks ago.

Perhaps that is just as well. Unlikely we would be remembered with fondness by the surviving inhabitants.

The dragon swoops down to land in a wide clearing in the dripping forest. There is no sign of the others.

“Zandar? Where is Marin?”

For a few unhappy moments I feel gloomily convinced that maybe dragonsight does not, after all, work too well on burning dewponds. Then Zandar points his head directly south.

Marin is a short distance ahead of us. You previously expressed displeasure when my presence disturbed your horses.

‘Ah. Yes. Thank you for your consideration.” It occurs to me that it might be a good idea to keep this flying firestorm well within my sight this time, just in case the trees turn out to be more flammable than they appear at first glance. “You could follow me at ground level if we take a detour to avoid going too close to the horses.”

As you wish.

He folds his wings flat against his scales and follows me through the underbrush, gliding over the damp earth like a huge glowing snake.

I cannot understand why you have any desire to ride such fearful creatures as these horses of yours.

“Because they don’t generally burn whole areas of forest while they wait for us to come back to them and ride to our next destination.”

He seems oblivious to the implied reproach. Perhaps he has already forgotten the village he immolated back in Samaran.

This forest feels… deeply unsatisfying. Full of water. Even the ground beneath us is saturated, marshy.

“That is the way of Rapathia. Formed by its own Elementals to function within its own laws.”

This place certainly does feel strange. And I don’t think it is just the sudden contrast with the dry heat of Annubia. The miasma of decay emanating from the marshy pools reminds me of my last desperate encounter with Nagal. Seconds before Shadow killed him.

Deris steps out in front of me, his blade drawn. A flash of recognition and relief lights his face as he sheaths the weapon.

“Ariel! We were starting to worry that your rescue attempt had not gone well. And it is good to see Zandar once more.” He makes a respectful bow to the dragon and gets a satisfied hiss in response. “Come, the others are not far away and in any case it’s time for Brac to take over on lookout.” He leads the way into a smaller clearing.

Brac is tending a fire and Nem is stitching a gash on Marin’s arm. A whole litany of possible disasters runs through my head. This is the second time he has been wounded. Maybe more while I was in Annubia. His strength and skill always protected him so well before the loss of his Soulblade power. It could prove fatal in a place like this.

“What happened?”

I run across the marshy grass to inspect the damage. Marin forces a wry smile against the pain. He grips my hand as I reach him.

“The locals are proving to be less than friendly.”

Dragar looks up from his place by the fire.

“You are still seen as the enemy. That is not going to change overnight.”

I notice that the iron shackles have been removed from his wrists and ankles and his tone is less aggressive than it was before. Perhaps the additional removal of Rian’s hyacinth powder has had a mellowing effect on his mood.

Nem finishes her repair work on Marin’s arm.

“Is Shan’domir free and safe?”

“Yes. I think he should have recovered from the Khalim’s savage retribution after a few days. And…”

I hesitate, wondering how Nem will react to the death of her father––but when my news describes the Khalim’s violent demise it only provokes a derisive snort from my Annubian friend.

“The Nishan should have taken out the old despot years ago.”

Not exactly overcome with grief, then.

“We became temporarily involved with the Serpent clan and things got a bit out of hand. Now the Khalim is dead, your half-sister Ralinna has become Queen.”

She nods, thoughtfully. “Good choice. We have been exchanging letters over the years. If Shan’domir can keep her alive long enough to establish her authority over the military and all the tedious court officials.”

“I think that is his plan. Now tell me what you have discovered in this dismal swamp.”

Marin painfully eases his damaged arm back into his mailshirt. “Dragar knows where the most dangerous region of Rapathia lies. He says that few who risk the journey further south to the last city of Duhokan ever return. Those that manage to make it back again are changed. And not for the better. If, as Jantian suspects, there is some evil source that corrupted Nagal and the Emperor, it is most likely lurking somewhere down that way. So, we have been following the overgrown remains of this ancient road southward, parallel to the mountains.”

I look around at the dank ground and oozing swampland.

“The whole place stinks of Nagal. Shadow once told me that Nagal was originally the Elemental of decay and rebirth, but all I feel here is death and rot. No rebirth, no life, no spring shoots. Nothing.”

Dragar moves from his place by the fire and finds a dry rock to perch on next to me.

“That has changed since the time I left here to take ship on the invasion force to Samaran. There were some among the Rapathian aristocrats who said that Nagal’s power to move the cycle of fertility had waned. Perhaps it was due to his binding with the Emperor. Only a few of the nobility even knew about the connection between the two of them––and we were discouraged from talking about it openly. But now, since the Shadowblade killed our last great Elemental, the cycle has almost ceased to move. Everything decays too slowly.”

“You mean, as time goes on, everything that dies stays in a state of decay? That will surely wreck the crops, dead bodies will start to spread disease…”

My mind recoils from the scenes of horror all this could lead to. Jaren’s secret archive mentioned how in Samaran the lesser dryads and salamanders had been partly compensating for the loss of Samarian Elementals––but if there are any of these lesser beings active here in Rapathia they don’t seem to be having much effect.

“That is what we have seen so far on the journey here.” Marin draws a rough map in the mud at his feet. “We think we are two days from Duhokan, the last Rapathian city to the south. Even Dragar does not know what we might find there. The ruins of the ancient Citadel of the Power Mages must be somewhere beyond that.”

“I could scout ahead with Zandar.”

“No.” Dragar’s tone is firm, although he glances anxiously at Marin as if in hope of support. “I admit, I am somewhat more convinced regarding your intentions here than I was at first. But that fight in the last village made clear to me that if you genuinely seek to erase the source of corruption and establish peace with what remains of my country, then striking terror into the hearts of the local inhabitants is not the way to do it.”

Marin is staring at his rough map as if willing it to give up more information on this strange country.

“Yes, I know. Flying overhead with a fiery dragon is fairly guaranteed to terrify most people on the ground.”

I can tell he speaks from direct experience.

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