The Dragon's Lover (17 page)

And then she felt it. The sensation crawled over
Raine's skin, raised the hair on the back of her neck. She could
smell it, a noxious odor of corrupted and diseased flesh, the smell
of death. And when she breathed outward, although she was sweating
from the heat and exertion of battle, her breath came out ice cold,
the vapor visible, crystallized, in the hot air.

The breath confirmed it. It was her body's reaction
to and warning of what was about to appear. She turned desperately
to Elyara, handing her one of her swords.

“Elyara,” she said urgently, “you must enchant
this.”

Her confusion evident, Elyara took the sword, still
concentrating on the wall. “But I may lose control of the
wall.”

Raine pulled a cloth from her jerkin and began
wrapping it around her fist. She wrapped it around and around, her
movements almost frantic. Feyden watched the curious act with
growing concern and Raine's demeanor with growing fear.

“It doesn't matter!” Raine said, agitated. “Enchant
it with something from the natural world! No dark magic!”

Raine glanced to Idonea as she spoke these words, and
Idonea's look of terror told her that the mage had sensed the
apparition as well. It was all Idonea could do to maintain her
spell, so gripped with horror was she at what approached.

Raine's desperation finally registered on Elyara. She
frenetically searched her mind for an appropriate spell, and heard
Y'arren's gentle voice in her head. The elven high priestess sat
miles away, transmitting the spell she had known Elyara would
need.

It was perfect. Elyara held the sword in her hands,
spoke the words that would allow the sword to become a conduit for
the spirit of the trees, and then looked away as the blinding flash
of light ignited the weapon with a green glow.

“Here!” she said, handing it to Raine.

But the sword would not reach her as it dropped from
Elyara's suddenly nerveless fingers. A swirling blue maelstrom
exploded right in the center of their circle, right in the center
of their band as a Reaper Shard manifested, then fully formed. It
was twelve feet tall, a pillar of blackness that shifted into
hideous forms. Its shriek split the air and hurt their ears, as did
the low rumble and hissing that followed the scream. The smell was
like a physical blow, sulfur and rotted flesh, and even the
Hyr'rok'kin shrunk away from this manifestation of death. The
Reaper was not quite solid, nor fully transparent, but rather
wavered between the two as it wavered between worlds.

Raine thought the creature would come for her, but it
was immediately attracted to Idonea as all dark magic was like
nectar to it. It was clear the Reaper Shard intended to consume her
soul after killing her body. The apparition reared back, its
willowy, ephemeral arms floating outward like smoke, then it flung
the fire of the underworld toward Idonea. Idonea screamed.

“No!” Raine shouted, stepping in front of Idonea and
pulling the woman behind her. The two were engulfed in an inferno,
disappearing beneath the fiery onslaught. The wall behind them was
blown outward, causing the entire magical structure to
disintegrate. Shards standing too near the funnel of flame went
down in agonized screaming as they were burned alive. It seemed
that nothing would be left but charred corpses and ash as the
attack continued, and as the Reaper shrieked again, all flinched
from the horrible scream. Finally, the wraith quit the assault, and
the smoke and flame died down.

And Raine was just standing there, untouched, with
Idonea safely behind her. There was a path of still burning
destruction all around them, but Raine and Idonea were unharmed as
was the area immediately behind them. It was as if Raine cast a
surreal shadow resulting from the deflection of the flame around
her body.

The Reaper Shard screamed in fury and its attention
was now fully on Raine. Raine leaped for the enchanted sword that
Elyara had dropped, grabbing it with the hand wrapped in cloth. She
turned just as the wraith bore down on her, enraged, and met the
creature with the tip of the sword. It pierced the abomination,
causing a prolonged scream that caused everyone to cover their
ears. The creature tried to fling Raine away, but she held fast,
grasping one ephemeral arm and the hilt of the sword. She clung to
the Reaper as it thrashed about and finally was able to wrestle it
to the ground as the natural magic took its toll. She straddled the
creature and with one great thrust, impaled it through its core,
pinning it to the earth. She smashed her elbow down onto what would
have been the creature's face, staring into the empty eyes of a
dragon's shrunken skull.

“I am coming for you,” she whispered through gritted
teeth, knowing that whatever being had summoned the creature could
see her. “And I will be there soon.”

The wraith twitched, began to melt, completely
dissolved, then disappeared into a wisp of foul-smelling blue
smoke. Raine sat straddling nothing more than the ground, the sword
stuck into the earth between her knees. She continued to stare at
the ground in front of her unmoving.

The remainder of the Shard army turned and fled.

They moved across the plain in uncoordinated terror.
And although normally their commanders would be whipping them to
stand their ground, in this instance, the infantry could barely
keep up with their fleeing superiors.

Raine stood. She unwrapped the cloth from her hand
and grasped the hilt of the sword, pulling it from the ground. The
gentle green glow that had encompassed the metal disappeared, and
she sheathed her weapon. Her companions were all looking at her,
stunned. Idonea kept running her hands over her arms in disbelief,
as if she could not grasp the fact she was not covered with burns.
Feyden examined the path of non-destruction, the surreal “shadow”
that Raine had cast. Elyara was in shock, unable to grasp much of
anything that had just happened. Dagna, Bristol, and Gunnar all
looked at Raine a little fearfully. They milled about uncertainly,
and finally Lorifal removed a flask from his inside his armor,
proffering it to Raine.

“Would you like a drink?”

Raine took the flask gratefully, taking a much larger
swig than she would normally. The fiery liquid felt good going down
her throat. She glanced to the sky and let loose a piercing whistle
that sounded remarkably like a hawk's call. The raptors, who had
all instinctively taken flight when the Reaper Shard materialized,
wheeled about in response. Their formation solidified as if in
salute, then dissolved as they all went their separate ways.

She handed the flask back to Lorifal. She looked
about her at the piles of dead bodies.

“Under normal circumstances, I would hate to camp out
here in the open. But I have a feeling we will not be bothered
tonight.” She wrinkled her nose. “But as tired as I am, I don't
mind walking a bit further to get upwind from this.”

The rest of the tired band heartily agreed.

The horses came trotting in about dusk, led by
Raine's stallion. The campsite was quiet and subdued. Although the
day had brought a resounding victory, there was a degree of
uneasiness, largely because of what was unsaid. Raine sat before
the fire, her back resting comfortably against her pack, aware of
the unspoken questions of her comrades. Her thoughts were on the
Reaper Shard and on the power of the being who summoned it. This
brought her thoughts more pleasantly around to Weynild, whom she
would probably see soon. Based upon the few meridians they crossed,
she estimated another intersection was a few days' travel away. She
mused that she was probably more angry at the Hyr'rok'kin for
delaying her reunion with her love than she was for them nearly
killing her.

Feyden watched the emotions shift in those expressive
blue eyes. He could tell when Raine was thinking of her mysterious
lover because her eyes shifted to a deeper hue. He took a deep draw
on his pipe. Although Raine had revealed a startling number of
abilities, today's revelations were astounding, and a little
disturbing. He was not certain he had ever heard of anyone
destroying a Reaper Shard. Extraordinarily powerful mages were
rumored to have banished the wraiths back to the underworld, but he
didn't know of anyone who had actually destroyed one, and it seemed
today that the creature had in fact been destroyed.

Smoke curled up around his head as he took another
deep draw. Raine was not resistant to fire, of that he was certain.
A week back when she and Lorifal had been drinking merrily, she
went to light the wrapped tobacco he had given her and burned her
finger. She had yelped as any normal person would and Elyara tended
the wound, commenting only that Raine healed very quickly. So he
was uncertain of what had happened today. He had quietly asked both
Elyara and Idonea if they had intervened in any way, and both
denied taking action. Elyara replied that even her most powerful
ward would not have stopped that inferno and it had happened so
quickly she did not have time to act even were her spells
sufficient. Idonea was still so shaken by the incident that she
merely shook her head numbly.

Gunnar passed a cup of the strong, pitch black tea he
favored to Dagna. She took it, thanked him, then returned to her
work. She was already writing the prose that would memorialize
today's battle. Bristol also took a cup, his eyes returning to
Raine when he resettled. Elyara sat near Dagna, who more and more
welcomed the delicate elf's company. Idonea sat with a blanket
about her shoulders even though it was warm out. She was deep in
thought.

Fortuitously, Lorifal had consumed just enough of his
favorite drink for imprudence.

“So,” he said, addressing Raine, “fire doesn't even
burn you?”

Raine laughed. “Of course it burns me. Remember just
last week when you and I were drinking and I burned myself.” Her
tone was even but her expression darkened a touch. “That wasn't
fire today.”

“No,” Idonea said, the words pulling her from her
reverie, “it was magic.”

Silence settled on the group.

“Yes,” Raine said calmly.

“You are immune to magic,” Idonea said, growing more
certain as she gave voice to the thoughts that had occupied her
since the attack.

“Yes,” Raine said simply, “I am.”

Elyara glanced over, startled. That would explain the
strange void that surrounded Raine, the lack of magical energy that
all beings possessed.

“That is why you wrapped your hand,” Feyden said,
“you could not touch that enchanted sword.”

“Well,” Raine said, “I could have touched it but that
would have defeated the purpose. The sword would have disenchanted
the instant contact was made with my skin.”

Although Idonea had suspected the truth, the
admission was still hard to grasp. “I have known some who are
resistant to magic. And there are some races in which this
resistance runs deep.”

Raine waited to see if she would mention the
Arlanians by name. It was one of the few, passive defenses the
beautiful people possessed, protecting them from at least some of
the profane acts perpetrated against them.

Idonea held her tongue on Raine's heritage, leaving
the knowledge unspoken but hanging between them. She continued,
disbelief in her voice, not at the reality of the gift but at its
improbability. “But I have never known anyone who was completely
immune to magic.”

Raine was a bit uneasy at Idonea's persistence. Her
gift was a result of her unique parentage, of having two wildly
divergent races, both known to have high resistances to magic,
breed in the most unlikely pairing. Two resistant Scinterians would
yield a resistant offspring. Two resistant Arlanians would yield a
resistant Arlanian. But apparently a resistant Scinterian and
resistant Arlanian yielded an offspring that was completely immune
to magic. And Idonea was correct, as far as Raine knew. In all her
travels, she had never come across another being with the gift.

“It must be some quirk of fate,” Raine said, as if to
end the subject.

“I believe it to be a gift from the gods,” Dagna said
with certainty, her romanticism taking hold. She would add this
“fact” into her narrative.

Idonea greeted that proposed explanation with
condescension but held her tongue. She returned to her dark
reverie, her curiosity about the creature sitting across from her
growing insatiably. She wondered if Raine could feel magical
artifacts, and the weight of the amulet in her pocket grew heavy.
She moved her hand to feel the outline of the object, unconsciously
patting it beneath the folds of her robes.

Raine observed the subtle movement and inwardly
sighed.

CHAPTER 11

Once again on horseback, it took them but a few days
to clear the remainder of the open plain. Gunnar welcomed the
rolling hills and sparse forest. It wasn't much in terms of cover,
but it was far better than the exposure of the flatlands. And they
were approaching another small village which cheered them greatly.
It was not as large as the previous, with only a few farms and a
tavern that doubled as a general goods trading post, but the
villagers welcomed them. They set up camp at the edge of a tilled
field on the town border.

Each left to pursue individual interests and Idonea
watched Raine slip away into the hills. Everyone was used to
Raine's disappearances and no longer considered them mysterious.
Raine just seemed to be the kind of person who enjoyed solitude and
needed time alone. Idonea, on the other hand, could see the
meridian lines and knew where Raine was headed.

Raine pushed her way through the forest and came upon
a mossy clearing decorated with an explosion of wild flowers.
Butterflies hovered over the rainbow petals and iridescent
songbirds perched in the trees. She wondered if the confluence of
meridians always produced such beauty because the scenery at each
crossroads had been gorgeous. Or perhaps it was merely the
expectation of seeing her lover that made everything beautiful.