The Dragon Wrath: Book Two of the Arlon Prophecies Read online

  Arlon reached out and caressed her shoulder. “Hey, look, I’m sorry I brought that up. That was out of line. I didn’t mean to mention him—“

  “Oh, don’t worry,” she replied. “It’s not like I don’t think about him a thousand times a day already.” A pair of small tears left shiny trails as they sped down her cheeks. With the back of her hand she brushed them away. “Anyway, Arlon the Evasive…you never really answered my question. About that tat—”

  “Wait,” he whispered while straightening up and cocking his head slightly. “Do you hear that?”

  “Hear what?”

  He relocated closer to the bars. “It’s faint. Like a crashing sound. Listen. Try to ignore the rumbling of the cart’s wheels.”

  Trilyra closed her eyes in concentration. “Yes…yes. I hear it. I hear something. It sounds like…water. A river? A rushing river.”

  Arlon clamped his own eyes shut.

  “Maybe. It does sound like water. But it would have to be a huge river. A really huge river.”

  “Or a really fast river.”

  He nodded. “Or really huge and really fast.”

  The cart creaked and began leaning forward as they both reopened their eyes. The Therion convoy was at the start of a long, downhill incline. Arlon spotted something white through a narrow break in the forest.

  “Did you see that?” he asked.

  “I see trees,” she replied flatly. “And…more trees. Oh, and a Bloodtip Falcon. Right up there. And…more…cursed trees.”

  He nearly jumped. “There! There it is again!” Arlon pressed up against the wood slats and pointed. “Look right over there!”

  The unmistakable thunder of rushing water grew quite intense. She slid alongside him just as the tree line began dropping away down a steepening hill. Neither of them were prepared for the majestic sight that gradually came into view.

  “You, you were right,” she muttered in awe. “It is really huge.”

  “Wow,” he gasped. “You were right. It is really fast.”

  “We were both right.”

  “Yeah,” he agreed. “That is the biggest waterfall I’ve ever seen.”

  “I bet my bow that’s gotta be at least a quarter-mile wide,” she observed. “And it drops over a couple hundred yards straight down, maybe more.”

  The sheer size of the unending wall of water was hard to believe; its pounding roar was harder to ignore. The falls plummeted into a colossal lake, painted with deep shades of shifting blue, which then emptied into a wide river that seemed to flow towards the sun.

  Wait, Arlon pondered. A waterfall? A huge waterfall? I’ve seen this. Where have I seen this?

  He studied it again.

  It was recently.

  But where?

  That’s it! The box!

  The box I found back in the deserted city.

  There was a painting…a painting of a big waterfall. Is this it?

  “Well, this is interesting,” Trilyra whispered as the cart began veering onto a new, uphill path.

  Arlon snapped out of his introspection. “Uh, what is interesting?”

  She gestured. “They’re taking us up that narrow road.”

  “And why is that so interesting?”

  “Because it looks like it leads right behind the waterfall.”

  CHAPTER 17

  The terror of his impending death overshadowed Arlon’s initial thrill of the natural wonder. The cool overspray from the thundering cascade of the waterfall began tickling his arms and face. He watched with fascination as the front of the convoy gradually vanished behind the shimmering white veil of rushing water.

  “What do you think?” Trilyra asked, scooting up against him. “Do you think they’re going to toss us off and drown us or something? Because I can guarantee you that I don’t need a sword or a bow to take a few of these cursed devils with me to a watery grave!”

  He squinted as his confusion grew. “Drown us? I don’t know. I mean…it still doesn’t make sense why Mae’Lee and the others are out there on horseback. And yet you and I are locked up in here. Something’s going on.”

  The roar of the falls caused Trilyra to raise her voice considerably. “The Therion aren’t cannibals. Are they?”

  He released a nervous chuckle. “You’re the expert! But don’t worry, I don’t think that we’re dinner. And even if they are bloodthirsty savages, I think that Hort would’ve been the first one locked up here in the food wagon. He’s got a bit more meat on his bones.” Arlon tried to grin as he directed her attention to the front. “Get ready,” he said. “We’re going in.”

  _____________________________________

  The thick forest, blinding overspray and thunderous crashing soon gave way to a mostly dry, wide ledge that was remarkably quiet. Arlon and Trilyra studied the curious passageway like little kids lost in childlike wonder. The translucent wall of water on their left created a surprisingly bright glow that lit up the natural corridor with soft, diffused light. The clomping of the horse’s hooves mixed with the scraping of the wagon’s wheels in a hollow echo that faded into the unseen distance.

  “This is amazing,” she said, leaning close to his ear. “It was so loud a minute ago, and now I can barely hear the water.”

  Arlon wiped away the thin layer of tiny droplets that had collected along his arms. “And it feels so nice…it’s even a lot cooler back here.”

  A long row of wooden beams appeared on the right. And some type of Therion guard.

  Trilyra pointed. “A wall?”

  Arlon shook his head. “It’s a gate. An open gate. There’s the hinges.”

  “Do you think we’re going to travel all the way to the other end of the falls like this?”

  Arlon’s exhausted eyes grew wide and he clambered towards the front-right corner of the cart. “Uh, no. No I don’t.” He grabbed her arm and jerked her up beside him. “Look!”

  Trilyra blinked rapidly while trying to soak up just a portion of the incredible sight. “Am…am I dreaming?”

  “If you are,” Arlon mumbled (almost as if on the verge of laughing), “then please do me a favor…don’t wake up. Ever.”

  She shook her head slowly. “I don’t believe it. A city? A huge Therion city behind a waterfall?!”

  Arlon settled back with a satisfied smile and hugged his knees. “In all my mother’s stories, I don’t think she ever described any place to me that looked this amazing.”

  A single tear raced along Trilyra’s pale cheek. “I wish Pelias could’ve seen this.”

  _____________________________________

  The hidden cave was enormous. Its naturally-arched ceiling stretched way back into the distant darkness. Innumerable round buildings of different heights filled the space, constructed with dozens and dozens of perfectly straight tree trunks decorated with bright, vivid colors. Hundreds, perhaps thousands of people hurried about, some carrying wide baskets laden with food or fabrics, others leading children or livestock in a relaxed hustle. The tantalizing aroma of fresh meat sizzling across open fires throughout the city would have made his mouth water if he hadn’t been so parched with thirst.

  Trilyra stared at the people who were staring back at her. “They don’t have the white paint on their faces,” she muttered.

  Arlon thought about it for a few seconds. “Maybe that’s only for their soldiers, their warriors,” he replied. “You know, to strike terror into the hearts of their enemies.”

  She squinted. “Or it could be a sign of their faction.”

  “Maybe.”

  Arlon was bewildered as his gaze drifted higher. A complex maze of wooden aqueducts siphoned water from the inner edge of the falls and delivered the flow to massive storage tanks near the center of the underground city. He turned his attention elsewhere and caught a glimpse of a plot of farmland at the opposite end of the waterfall. Adjacent to that, long rows of fencing seemed to have corralled herds of cows and horses and goats as well as the scores of people managing them.

/>   “Can you see our friends?” Trilyra asked.

  Arlon crawled to the left side of the wagon. “Uh…yeah,” he reported. “They’re still out front. But they are down…off the horses. It looks like someone is leading the horses away.”

  The Therion rider in front of them dismounted and wandered back towards the cart. With a quick release, he detached the pulling straps and the wagon immediately tipped down, tossing both of the captives forward in a messy heap.

  Trilyra rubbed her head and tried to regain her balance. “Should’ve seen that one coming.”

  Arlon grimaced. “We were distracted.”

  She latched on to the bars and stared out. “There’s some kind of group headed this way. Looks like about six of them.”

  “A welcoming party?”

  Trilyra’s face lost all expression. “Maybe an execution party.”

  Arlon finally sat up. “No, they could have killed us a hundred different ways already. This is something else.”

  Two pairs of Therion guards flanked the three Dunamai standing out front as the entourage from the city drew near. One by one, scores of people in the distance stopped their daily routine and gawked at the recently-arrived spectacle. Mae’Lee looked back and shot Arlon a desperate glance. He nodded and did his best to craft a comforting smile in return.

  Gauging by her reaction, it didn’t work.

  Trilyra leaned into his ear. “See the hooded guy in the back? He’s not as big as the others, but check out his outfit.”

  “Pretty fancy.”

  “I bet my bow he’s the leader.”

  Arlon frowned. “I don’t know…he looks a little young. But it’s hard to tell with that hood around his face. Too many shadows.”

  “Did you notice everyone’s hair?” Trilyra asked.

  “Yeah,” he replied. “It looks like it only comes in one color. Black.”

  Trilyra pointed at Paymer. “I bet my bow they’ve never seen a redhead before.”

  “Maybe.”

  One of the older men from the incoming party, stepped closer and raised his right arm. His graying hair draped along the sides of his gaunt face that seemed wracked with concern. One of the warriors near Paymer approached him with obvious respect. They reached out and placed their right hands above each other’s hearts.

  “May peace reign between us,” the warrior greeted.

  “Your enemies are my enemies, my brother,” the elder replied in a deep and solemn voice. They lowered their hands. “Kurric,” the elder continued with a bit of disgust lacing his tone. “Why have you brought these Vice into Lamillar? Never, in all the generations of our people, has such a trespass been committed.”

  The crowd of curious onlookers grew larger and crept closer to the tense scene that was unfolding right before them.

  “Vice?” Trilyra whispered.

  Arlon shrugged. “I guess that’s us,” he whispered back. “Outsiders.”

  The fur-caped Therion warrior paused. “I have considered the weight of my actions,” he announced, “and by the Red Leaf, my cause is just, Maggmar.”

  Arlon’s eyebrows shot up.

  By the Red Leaf?

  The city elder shook his aging head as the anger rose in his voice. He brought his hands together and then spread them far apart. “It is an ill thought, Kurric. A cause cannot be just which brings the enemies of our Kla’aven into our midst.”

  Kurric stepped back and elevated his javelin aloft. “May the lives of my sons be forfeit before I would bring shame or harm to our great people, my elder.” He gestured to the side and gave a quick, subtle signal. The long-haired Therion guards approached Hort and Paymer and respectfully removed the boys’ filthy shirts.

  Wow, Arlon thought. Paymer wasn’t kidding. He does have a lot of tattoos.

  A shocked murmur began rippling through the hastily-assembled mob. Kurric lowered his javelin and pointed the sharp tip directly at the Dunamai birthmark on the left side of Hort’s chest.

  “This Vice has the Mark of Power.”

  The crowd’s murmur gave way to an audible gasp as people pushed and prodded to gain a better view. One of the guards encouraged Paymer to pivot around. As he complied, Kurric repositioned his javelin towards the center of the young man’s back.

  “As does this Vice,” he declared.

  Maggmar (accompanied by two of his fellow elders) drew near to the Dunamai. They slowed in their approach and traded glances while examining the birthmarks. Kurric tossed his javelin to a nearby guard before retrieving a sizable curved knife from under his left arm. He stepped towards the terrified Princess and snagged her sleeve. She recoiled in fear, but not before he cut a long gash into the material and finished ripping her sleeve wide open with his bare hands.

  He pointed at her exposed shoulder. “And again…this Vice has the Mark of Power.”

  The elders stepped up and reluctantly confirmed Kurric’s final claim. With solemn faces and hushed conversations, they rotated back around as Maggmar wagged his head.

  “By the Red Leaf, these Vice have the Mark of Power, our Vish’tar,” the amazed elder announced. He brought his hands together in front of his chest. “It is well-spoken.”

  “We captured all of these trespassing in the Warfield Woods,” Kurric explained. “Near Tar’tain.”

  Hundreds of faces within the sound of his deep voice turned to face the colorfully-robed figure that had begun to step out of the shadows of the remaining two elders.

  Trilyra bumped Arlon. “He’s moving.”

  “Who?”

  “The young one,” she replied softly. “Over there. I told you he was the leader.”

  Arlon released a skeptical sigh. “We’ll see.”

  The mysterious young man continued his steady approach as the crowd fell totally silent. Maggmar and the others offered slight bows as he came to a tense stop before the three Dunamai.

  “I…am Mogg,” he declared, glaring at each of them in turn. “Vish’tar of the Kla’aven Mage.” He reached up and gradually peeled his decorated hood back.

  Arlon’s head tipped forward and fell against the wooden bars. “Do you see it?” he whispered with growing excitement. “That’s not paint.”

  Trilyra nodded without blinking. “I see it. But that doesn’t mean that I believe it.”

  Mogg rubbed the familiar discoloration that was spread across the left side of his young face.

  “And I also have the Mark of Power.”

  CHAPTER 18

  “The leader of these forest devils is a Dunamai!” Trilyra exclaimed (while doing a terrible job of keeping her voice down). “A sixth Dunamai?!” She stared over at Arlon. “Is that even possible?”

  He sat back and gently caressed his bottom lip with his finger. “Several weeks ago…I would’ve said no.”

  “What do you mean, ‘several weeks ago’?”

  “I, uh, I met someone.” He hesitated. “Several weeks ago.” Arlon turned and locked eyes with her. “He knew a lot. He was very wise. Kash told me that there was another Dunamai. And…it looks like we just found him.”

  Trilyra swallowed hard and pointed forward. “Well, actually, it looks like he just found us.”

  Mogg navigated around the Dunamai and seemed to be headed straight for the wagon. Kurric kept pace with him.

  “His wavy hair is almost as long as mine,” Trilyra whispered.

  Arlon nodded. “Yes, but you have only one patch of black hair. His looks more like Mae’Lee’s.”

  Mogg halted about six feet away from them and squatted down low. The curious move put him about eye level with the nervous pair in the wagon. “Who are these Vice?” he asked.

  Kurric cleared his throat and passed his right hand in a sweeping move from right to left. “My Vish’tar, it is to be decided. I say they are the slaves which belong to those with the Mark of Power.”

  “Slaves?!” Trilyra blurted out.

  “Shhh!” Arlon urged.

  Paymer knelt down and picked up his shirt and beg
an to slip it on. “Those are not slaves,” he said, raising his voice. “The young man is also a Dunamai. He has the Power Mark thing.”

  The crowd gasped again as Mogg jumped to his feet and confronted Kurric. “You have mistreated one with the Mark of Power?!”

  Kurric threw his hands up and spread them wide. “It is an ill thought, my Vish’tar. Your servant would not be so foolish. The Mark he possesses not.”

  “Oh, but he does have the Mark of Power!” Trilyra called out. “And we have been mistreated. Caged up like animals!” She jerked Arlon over to the bars and spun him around. “See for yourselves,” she beckoned, lifting the hair along the back of his head as best as she could. “Here it is…the Mark of Power!”

  Two of the elders scurried over to Mogg and Kurric as they suspiciously verified Trilyra’s outrageous claim. Mogg appeared to be satisfied.

  “Open the cart,” he demanded. “Release the Vice!”

  Kurric circled around and obeyed without question. “It is well-spoken,” he muttered, bringing his hands together before removing the metal latch and swinging the door wide. With small motions, he waved his hand at them as he rejoined Mogg. “Come. Come.”

  Arlon crawled awkwardly on all fours toward the rear, triggering the wagon to begin tipping back like an unbalanced seesaw. He paused before exiting and glanced over his shoulder. “You better stay close to me, or this thing will flip back again.”

  Trilyra followed his urging and scrambled up alongside. The rear of the wagon teetered before slamming down into the hard soil nearly sending Arlon tumbling out.

  Mogg wagged his hand towards Trilyra as the wobbly pair stepped out. “Does this woman of the south also have the Mark of Power?”

  Arlon dusted himself off and straightened his aching body. “Uh, no, your…Excellency.”

  Mogg’s entire expression shifted and he motioned for the guards. Arlon noticed.