“Two?” Xavo asked in confusion. “There are three of them.”
“What I have heard,” Lady Mystic replied, “the boy Rejji is not much of a fighter. He doesn’t even carry a sword, and he is not a mage. I really can’t see him being much help in the battle.”
“It does sound like his only purpose was to unite the Fakarans,” nodded Xavo, “but he can also be a distraction, especially if Vand needs him alive.”
“There is that,” shrugged Lady Mystic, “but is your daughter strong enough to take on my father alone? Personally, I find that thought ludicrous. Vand is more powerful than you can imagine.”
“After seeing Lyra in action,” smiled Xavo, “my imagination can be rather wild. I do not know where she gets her power from, but it is unlike any that I have ever seen.”
“We shall see,” Lady Mystic sighed as she eased into a chair. “Vand is expecting a full charge from both the Fakarans and the Khadorans tomorrow. He expects ninety percent of them to die before reaching Tzargo’s hellsouls.”
“Marak would not sacrifice his people that way,” scoffed Xavo. “That is Premer Tzargo’s dreams you are listening to.”
“But Marak is not around any more, is he?” retorted Lady Mystic.
* * *
The Fakarans were the first to arrive. Thousands of horsemen, guided by the signal fire, flowed into the forest and followed the path of destruction to the wounded dragon. Many of the Fakaran horsemen had elves riding double with them, and Marak’s spirits lifted when he saw that Princess Alahara was one of them.
“Mistake,” shouted Marak.
Princess Alahara leaped off the back of the Fakaran horse and rushed over to Emperor Marak. She took one glance at Myka and hugged the Torak, burying her head in his chest. Her tears flowed freely, and Marak remembered that Mistake also had a personal encounter with the dragon a long time ago.
“Is there any hope?” Mistake’s muffled voice asked.
“If Kaltara is the true god,” affirmed Marak, “then Myka will live.”
Princess Alahara pushed away from the Torak and gazed into his eyes.
“Are you saying that you will denounce Kaltara if Myka dies?” she asked. “Do you blame Him for her injuries?”
“No,” Marak said quickly. “I blame no one but myself for her injuries. What I meant is that Kaltara would never give up on a winged warrior. As long as she has breath, He will watch over her. She will recover. Trust me.”
“You do not sound as if you believe those words yourself,” the elven princess noted. “I must go to her.”
“I will go with you,” offered Marak. “Why have the elves come with the Fakarans? Some of them are not mages.”
“All of my elven mages are here,” answered Princess Alahara as they walked close to the dragon, “but I also brought many warriors. If Myka is to need blood, it will be elven blood that flows in her veins.”
“Why?” asked the Torak.
“A couple of reasons,” answered the elven princess. “First of all, the elves are an ancient race as are the dragons. If there is much of a difference, it seems reasonable that elven blood would be a closer match. Secondly, the Fakarans will need all of their strength in the coming battles. We cannot afford to have them weakened while they are hacking the enemy to death, whereas the elves will play a less strenuous part in the battle.”
“You have turned into a wise woman, Mistake,” smiled Marak. “I find that hard to believe having known you a long time ago, but I now feel privileged to have known you.”
“Now I can see why Lyra loves you,” chuckled Princess Alahara. “You do have a way with words, Emperor Marak.”
When they walked up next to the dragon, Lyra looked up briefly and smiled at Princess Alahara. She rose and suddenly noticed the clearing full of Fakarans and elves.
“What is all this?” she asked. “Why are so many people here?”
“You did not know?” laughed Princess Alahara. “Your lover ordered tens of thousands of people to rush here to offer their blood and magical expertise. We are but the first to arrive.”
The Star of Sakova looked questioningly at Marak, who did his best to avoid looking at her. Princess Alahara placed her hand gently on Lyra’s arm and smiled.
“It was actually a rather smart move, Lyra,” she said. “The attack for tomorrow has been cancelled, and everyone wants to help in any way they can. I thought elven blood would be a better match. Don’t you agree?”
“I suppose so,” Lyra said distractedly. “Do you know how many hearts a dragon has?”
“How many hearts?” Princess Alahara repeated. “Do you mean they have more than one?”
“I don’t know,” admitted Lyra, “but I think I am hearing four hearts beating. Is that possible?”
“She is a big creature,” shrugged Princess Alahara, “but you are asking the wrong person. I know nothing of dragons, and I doubt that anyone else does. What can I do to help?”
“That’s right,” Lyra suddenly perked up. “You are a mage now. Come and help me. Marak, send the other mages to us when they arrive.”
“I brought some with me,” Princess Alahara said as the two women walked around the dragon.
Marak shook his head in wonder and went to summon the mages that Mistake had brought with her. As the area got crowded, Marak started issuing locations where the people could wait. The Fakarans went back out on the plains and set up camp, while the elves found a clearing not too far away from the dragon. The mages all clustered around the giant creature, and Marak walked back out to the signal fire to await the others.
The wait was not long and soon a long column of chokas arrived. The Torak directed the Sakovan and elven mages towards the dragon and continued waiting. Less than an hour later the Chula arrived with more elven passengers. When he saw King Avalar he waved him down, and the elven king dismounted and walked over to the Torak.
“I see others have arrived before us,” commented King Avalar. “You wanted to talk to me?”
“Your daughter was among the first to arrive,” replied Marak. “She has grown into a wonderful woman.”
“They both are extraordinary,” smiled Avalar.
“Do you know how many hearts a dragon has?” the Torak blurted out.
“I have no idea,” confessed the elven king, “but I may be able to find out.”
“How?” asked Marak.
“I can ask my uncle in Elvangar,” answered King Avalar. “Elvangar has a massive library of ancient tomes, and the winged warriors were revered by our people. I have to believe that some time in the past, elves have had occasion to heal the creatures. Is the use of an air tunnel acceptable to you?”
“Absolutely,” Marak nodded vigorously. “Anything that can help save Myka’s life is acceptable to me.”
King Avalar placed a comforting hand on the Torak’s shoulder and smiled at him.
“She will survive,” promised the elven king. “We will do everything in our power to ensure that. You should also do whatever you can to help.”
“I have no knowledge of healing,” frowned Marak. “What can I do?”
“Pray,” answered King Avalar as he turned and walked away.
By the time King Avalar reached the dragon, the creature was swarming with mages. They crawled over the dragon like bees on a hive. Every little tear in the skin was being closed up with healing spells, and a long line of elven warriors was waiting to donate blood. For all the activity going on, the dragon still appeared dead.
The elven king opened an air tunnel to Elvangar and sent Garl to find the information he needed. He passed the time talking to Queen Alycia and finally Garl returned with the information. The elven king dropped the air tunnel and went in search of the Star of Sakova.
“Only one heart,” declared King Avalar when he had found Lyra.
“Yes, I know,” Lyra smiled distractedly. “Or rather I should say that it doesn’t matter now. I thought I heard four hearts beating when I first examined her and that caused me confusion, but her heart is beating stronger now and it is obvious that it is only one heart. How did you find out?”