Paul Cook - Brother of the Dragon

Elu, his four legs folded beneath him, watched the fire subside to a handful of glowing coals. He ate his fodder, and when he saw Mara nodding sleepily, he fetched a blanket from his panniers. He held it out to her, careful not to touch her.

“Thank you,” she said, taking the soft goathair wrap. She suddenly felt a bit ashamed. Elu really wasn’t so frightening. In his own rough way, he was actually quite gallant. He also seemed wide awake, so she asked, “Will you stand watch?”

Without a word, the centaur walked off into the darkness. For the brief moment before sleep claimed her, Mara saw him silhouetted against the stars, facing east.

It was still night when Mara woke. She couldn’t tell how much time had passed, and she looked around wildly, terrified at having fallen asleep in the open. Her companions were still dozing. A glance showed Elu still on watch in the star-dappled distance. The plain was strangely quiet and devoid of life. She heard none of the usual crickets or night birds.

Rolling over, Mara saw a blue light playing in the sky, not far away. She thought she heard a faint sizzling sound as forked streams of azure fire arced upwards. A hot wind played on her astonished face. Blue lightning from a cloudless sky?

“Wonderful.”

Mara flinched. Tiphan had awakened and was watching the spectacle. “This must be what I came to find,” he said in an awed but oddly serene voice. “I didn’t know exactly where to go, but I believed the way would be revealed. And so it has. Rouse Penzar, and follow me.”

So saying, he rose and walked away, leaving all his gear behind. He strode past Elu without even a glance.

Confused but excited, Mara shook Penzar awake, and they gathered up their baggage. Soon all three were trudging after their leader, now lost in the darkness.

Penzar was shaking his head. “This is not good. This is not good.”

“What are you muttering?” Mara asked.

“It’s not wise for the Tosen to go wandering off. We should stay together.”

Elu suddenly held out an arm, stopping them. He hefted his club and sidled off to the left, into the untrampled grass.

“What is it?” Mara whispered.

Penzar gripped his spear tightly. “I don’t know.”

Elu reappeared, silent as a ghost, and beckoned. Reluctantly they left Tiphan’s trail and followed the centaur. Twenty paces from their original path another track appeared. A single line of horses had passed this way on a converging course.

Elves. They looked anxiously ahead where Tiphan had disappeared. Elu beckoned, and reluctantly they followed the Silvanesti’s track, arms ready. Just then the blue aurora ended without warning, leaving the moonless night profoundly dark. Elu continued to lead the way, placing his heavy hooves with great care so as not to make too much noise.

The grass thinned, replaced by patches of open, sandy soil dotted with loose stones. While Mara looked for Tiphan, Penzar squatted in the dirt and counted the prints of more than a dozen different horses.

Elu stopped abruptly. Mara came up behind him, and she shuddered violently. The air had suddenly gone intensely cold. It was as though they’d crossed some potent, invisible barrier. Mara opened her mouth to exclaim, but Elu put a finger to his lips, signaling silence.

Penzar reached the threshold of cold air and uttered a low grunt of surprise. Mara gripped his arm and pointed ahead.

Against the background of stars they could see many lofty, upright shapes in silhouette. They had reached a field of standing stones.

“Tosen!”

Mara had spotted Tiphan twenty-five paces away. She hurried to him, followed closely by Elu and Penzar.

“We thought you’d been taken by elves!” Penzar exclaimed.

Tiphan was running a hand over one of the granite sentinels. “Elves? I’ve seen no elves.” He frowned and complained, “Odd. I get no sensation of power at all.”

Mara jumped a bit when he seized her wrist, saying, “Here, you try.”

Dutifully, she pressed her fingertips against the cool stone. She shrugged. “It feels like an ordinary rock,” she reported. Penzar tried, with no better results. Elu stood back, refusing to touch the monolith.

“I’m sure this is the place,” Tiphan insisted. “It matches the description in the manuscript, and I’m certain this is where the blue lightning came from.”

“Why is it so cold?” Mara asked, breath pluming from her mouth and nose.

“It’s like the boulders have sucked all the warmth out of the air,” Penzar said.

Muttering, Tiphan wandered into the field. There was no pattern to it. The stones seemed randomly dispersed. Nonetheless, they obviously were not a natural formation.

Tiphan caressed several of the monoliths in turn, feeling nothing. Their initial fear overcome, Penzar and Mara did likewise. Only Elu refused to enter the forest of standing stones. He backed up and stood on the edge of the field, his face a mask of concern.

“Come here!” Tiphan shouted. “Bring tools!”

Mara and Penzar converged on their leader. Penzar had a mallet with a heavy diorite head and a deer-antler pick. At Tiphan’s direction, he struck the corner of one monolith with the mallet. It rang with a surprisingly clear tone, but nothing resulted.

“Again,” said Tiphan. “Harder.”

Penzar swung with both hands, and this time a sharp triangular shard flew off. Mara retrieved the chip and Tiphan put it in a small pigskin bag he wore around his neck. After similarly collecting six good-sized slivers, Tiphan moved on.

Behind the stone they’d chipped was an especially tall block. Tiphan directed his helpers to sample it as well. As Penzar raised the mallet to strike, however, something gleamed on the ground at his feet. He lowered the stone hammer and bent down to examine the bright object.

“Tosen, look!” he said excitedly. “Bronze!”

Tiphan and Mara crowded close. It was a broad metal chisel, plainly of Silvanesti make. The cutting edge was dusted with granite.

“Why would they leave a fine tool like this behind?” Mara wondered.

“They probably mislaid it in the dark,” Tiphan replied.

“Maybe there’s more lying around!” Penzar shuffled his feet in the grass. Bronze was rare and valuable. If the elves had been careless once, they might have been careless twice.

Mara got out her flint. The ground was littered with tufts of dry grass, so she piled up a goodly heap and lit it. A small smoky flame licked up, throwing their shadows high on the tall stones.

“Any more bronze?” asked Penzar, studying the ground by the new light.

Suddenly, Mara gasped, and Tiphan uttered a cry of alarm. Penzar looked up to see what startled them.

“By my ancestors!”

Protruding from the monolith before him were several slender pairs of hands, a knee, and some toes. Higher up, a number of faces appeared, half-embedded in solid rock. Their mouths gaped open as though screaming, but they were filled with cold granite.

Mara stumbled back, covering her face with her hands. Recovering from his initial revulsion, Tiphan stepped closer, peering at the lifeless faces.

“Elves,” he reported. “Probably the same ones who rode here ahead of us.”

“But why are they like this?” Mara asked, her face white.

Tiphan frowned. “They must have committed some offense against the spirits dwelling within.”

“Let’s leave, Tosen,” Penzar pleaded.

“Not yet. I want samples of that rock, too. Mara, make a torch and check the rest of the field. See if more Silvanesti were captured by the spirit-stones.”

Mara hesitated only briefly. She’d been a Sensarku since she was eight years old. The long habit of obedience to her Tosen’s will kept her from fleeing in terror. She used the turned shaft of an elven javelin to make a torch. To the javelin’s bronze head she tied a bundle of dry grass, then held the grass to her dying fire. It blazed up, and she found more lost equipment: sandals, waterskins, knives. Tiphan directed Penzar to use the elven chisel to cut out a stone sample near the embedded bodies. She saw his hands were shaking, but he obeyed the Tosen.