Maggie Furey - Shadowleague 1 - The Heart of Myrial

THE HEART OF MYRIAL - SHADOWLEAGUE 1 - MAGGIE FUREY

THE HEART OF MYRIAL

The world of Myrial is racing towards apocalypse.

For aeons, its mysterious Curtain Walls have functioned to separate realm

from realm, and race from race, so that each cordoned area remains a

sanctuary for its species. But now the miraculous walls that have provided

order for so long are disintegrating with disastrous results. Mingling

climates are causing unrelenting rains or deadly droughts, while warlike

races are preying mercilessly upon the helpless and the meek. And the

carnage will only grow unless a seasoned warrior-woman, a brazen

firedrake, and a venerable Dragon with amazing telepathic powers—all

trusted members of the Shadowleague—succeed where others have failed.

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THE HEART OF MYRIAL - SHADOWLEAGUE 1 - MAGGIE FUREY

For they must first locate the Heart of Myrial, where the secret for undoing

disaster resides. In order to reach their goal, however, they must overcome

treachery, intrigue and evil—and a mysterious figure from the past whose

actions threaten to tear the Shadowleague apart.

THE HEART OF MYRIAL

Book 1 of

The Shadowleague

MAGGIE FUREY

THE HEART OF MYRIAL

A Bantam Spectra Book /June 2000

SPECTRA and the portrayal of a boxed "s" are trademarks of

Bantam Books,

a division of Random House, Inc.

Map by James Sinclair.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any

means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by

any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing

from the publisher.

For information address: Bantam Books.

If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this

book is stolen property. It was reported as "unsold and destroyed" to the

publisher and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment

for this "stripped book."

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THE HEART OF MYRIAL - SHADOWLEAGUE 1 - MAGGIE FUREY

ISBN 0-553-57938-X

Published simultaneously in the United States and Canada

Bantam Books are published by Bantam Books, a division of Random

House, Inc. Its trademark, consisting of the words "Bantam Books" and the

portrayal of a rooster, is Registered in U.S. Patent and Trademark Office and

in other countries. Marca Registrada. Bantam Books, 1540 Broadway, New

York New York 10036.

PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

OPM 10 987654321

This book is dedicated, with love, to my parents,

Tim and Margaret Armstrong, who never let me run short of books to read.

CONTENTS

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28

29

Map

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THE HEART OF MYRIAL - SHADOWLEAGUE 1 - MAGGIE FUREY

CHAPTER 1

Without a Miracle…

Leather was dreadful stuff to wear in the rain. It stiffened, it smelled, it

mildewed. It took forever to dry out—and worst of all, it clung to the body

in a clammy, chill embrace like the clasp of a long-drowned corpse. Veldan

shuddered at the thought. An overactive imagination had always been her

curse. With a shake of her head, the Loremaster thrust the disgusting notion

from her mind. I’m letting these bleak and somber mountains get to me, she

thought—not to mention the bedamned weather. Rain, rain, and still more

rain—it had never let up once during this clandestine crossing of the land of

Callisiora.

Well, although she could do nothing about her leather clothing—all the

garments in her pack were equally soaked by now—Veldan could at least

take off the mask. There was no one to see her in this forsaken spot. She

reached behind her head, pushing her short black hair aside, and fumbled for

the silver clasps securing the black silk that concealed her face. It peeled

away like a second skin, and she sighed with relief as the fresh air cooled

her brow and cheeks.

“About time, too,” her partner grumbled. “Just wait— one day you’ll leave

that cursed contraption where I can get at it, and I’ll eat the wretched thing.”

Kazairl turned his head all the way round on his long sinuous neck and

looked back at his rider. Veldan could see a sharp red gleam of irritation

within the fire-opal depths of his eyes.

“Leave me alone, Kaz.” Veldan sighed. “You don’t understand—it’s a

human thing. People don’t want to look at my disfigured face, and I don’t

want them to see it. I don’t want their disgust—or their pity.”

“Tchaaaa!” the firedrake snorted. “Anybody dares pity you, and I’ll eat

them. You don’t need that ridiculous thing on your face, Boss. Your scar is

healing all the time—or it would if you’d let the air get to it. You don’t look

near as bad as you think. Besides, every time I see that damnable mask it

makes me feel guilty—and it takes a lot to make a firedrake guilty. If I had

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THE HEART OF MYRIAL - SHADOWLEAGUE 1 - MAGGIE FUREY

only been there, you’d have been all right.”

“Kaz—don’t,” Veldan told him hastily. They had shared this old pain too

many times. “We Loremasters understand the risks of our work, and I have

only myself to blame. If I had moved faster that day, it never would have

happened. Anyway, it’s over now. We should be concentrating on this

journey, not the last one that ended so badly.”

Kazairl did not reply, but Veldan knew his thoughts were similar to her own.

Misfortune continued to dog them. This mission was going no better than

the last—in fact it seemed to be heading rapidly for disaster. Veldan, Kaz,

and Aethon, the Seer of the Dragonfolk, had penetrated the Curtain

Walls—the barriers of magical force that separated realm from realm—over

a month ago. They had been crossing this miserable excuse for a country—

and avoiding its population of ignorant, superstitious primitives—ever since.

Sometimes, it seemed that they were never going to make it through to the

other side, to reach their final destination. Worse than that, and a lot more

worrying, was the condition of Veldan’s traveling companion, the Seer that

she had sworn to guard, nurture, and protect. It seemed increasingly doubtful

that he would survive this journey.

Aethon looked ghastly. He trudged along as though he barely had the

strength to put one foot before the other on the steep and stony track. It must

be a dreadful strain on the Dragon, she thought, to support and propel that

massive body, almost as long as a village street. His scaly body, once the

brilliant, glittering gold of the ring that Veldan wore on a chain around her

neck, was now the dull, pallid yellow-white of wheatstraw.

The Loremaster’s heart was filled with dread and anguish at the thought of

losing the Dragon—and not simply because of the urgency of her mission.

During this long, hard journey, Aethon had become very dear to her.

Because he was the Seer of the Dragonfolk, she had been expecting a

venerable creature: formal, imposing, and staid. Instead, she had found a

Dragon who was still fairly young as his species reckoned their span. He had

been delightful company for most of the journey, despite the heavy burdens

of his calling, and his humor, intelligence, and joy in life had shortened the

long hard miles. Once they had entered Callisiora, however, the weather had

deteriorated into this dank and dismal chill. Because they were forced to

keep to the wilderness to avoid the humans, the going became unremittingly

hard. Each day Aethon’s verve and spirit had been drained a little

more—and the Loremaster had been unable to do anything but witness his

long, slow demise. Now, the Seer had reached the end of his endurance. He

had not spoken a word all day, either in the telepathic mode used by

Loremasters, or the normal mode of Dragon speech that consisted of

complex interwoven patterns of colored, moving light that mingled with

mellifluous and plangent sound. Veldan knew he was conserving his energy,

just to keep going.

“He don’t look too promising, does he, Boss? I doubt, myself, he’ll make

it.”

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THE HEART OF MYRIAL - SHADOWLEAGUE 1 - MAGGIE FUREY

“Shhhh, Kaz,” Veldan chided, though she knew her partner was thinking in

their private mode, and there was no way that Aethon should be able to

“overhear” them.

“What for? Poor deeg’s so far gone he wouldn’t notice if you let off a

plasma cluster in his ear.” The slumbrous glow of Kaz’s eyes took on a

wicked glitter.“ Now there’s an idea…”

“A better idea than you realize.” Veldan had the pleasure of seeing the

firedrake’s jaw drop in astonishment. As usual, he had been out to shock

her—and he didn’t fail that often. “Poor Aethon feeds on the sun’s energy,

as well you know. A plasma cluster in his ear might be a little too close for

comfort, but if you let one off in his vicinity, it might be just the tonic he

needs. I would have thought,” she added reprovingly, “that you’d have more

sympathy, considering.”

“Just because the Loremasters think we come from the same branch of the

evolutionary tree,” Kaz chanted, every tilt of his long, elegant head

expressive of his mockery. “Tchaaaa!” His snort of disgust came out as an

explosive hiss, like escaping steam. “The Dragonfolk are too damned

cerebral and highly evolved to eat meat, and they have the gall to look down

their snouts at a lowly, primitive carnivore like me. Well, see where their

ridiculous snobbery has got them now!”

Veldan bit back the blistering retort that sprang to mind. It wouldn’t

discourage him in the least. Besides, she and Kaz had been partners almost

all their lives. She understood why he was so jealous of the Seer of the

Dragonfolk—and it had nothing to do with Aethon’s unique ability to send

his mind wandering through the pathless mists of time to catch tantalizing

glimpses of the future—sometimes vague, but sometimes cruelly clear. Kaz

understood that to be so loosely anchored in time could prove more of a

bane than a blessing. Aethon had scant control over what he

saw—sometimes the mists that hid the future would part to reveal the

information he sought, but more often the visions were unconnected, or so

obscure as to be indecipherable. Also, the Dragon’s talent isolated him from

others. No one wanted to get close to a creature who might have intimate

knowledge of their future—bad deeds as well as good—not to mention the

time and circumstances of their death. The converse was also true: Aethon

had learned the hard way to avoid close friendships. Living with the sure but

secret knowledge of the time remaining to a loved one was too much to bear.

Truly, the Seer had paid dearly for his gift. In all their travels, the

Loremasters had never seen such a profoundly lonely creature as the

Dragon.

Though the firedrake had no urge to share the Seer’s gifts, however, Veldan

knew he had been slightly irked by her fondness for the Dragon—for while

they had traveled together, she knew she had come closer to Aethon than

most. She also knew that Kaz could not help but envy the Dragon’s

splendor. For one thing, Aethon was three times the size of Kazairl, who

only measured about eighteen feet from nose to tail. For another, the

Dragon, at least in better times, shone a lustrous gold, whereas Kaz’s scales

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THE HEART OF MYRIAL - SHADOWLEAGUE 1 - MAGGIE FUREY

held a medley of softly gleaming metallic hues that could be altered at will

to blend in with any surroundings. In truth, Veldan thought her friend’s

subtle, ever-changing coloration far more beautiful—but she had no more

luck convincing Kaz of that than he had in trying to persuade her to get rid

of her mask.

Most important of all, Kaz bitterly envied the Dragon his wings—those vast,

translucent golden sails, ribbed like batwings and spangled with darker,

gleaming scales connected by a network of slender silver veining. It was a

tragedy that those same wings would probably be the indirect cause of the

Dragon’s death. Lacking the energy of sunlight for the broad surfaces to

absorb, Aethon was slowly starving. Because of the climatic upheavals in

the last few months, his people were close to suffering the same fate. He was

on his way to Gendival, the Loremaster headquarters and the only place that

Veldan could truly call home, to confer with Cergorn, the senior Loremaster

of the Shadowleague. It was Veldan’s duty to see that the Dragon got there

safely.

During the previous night they had used the cover of darkness to sneak

undetected past Tiarond, Callisiora’s capital. Veldan was glad she’d been

unable to see the place this time around. She doubted that the current

climatic conditions had been kind to the city or its inhabitants. She preferred

to remember it as she had known it last: austerely beautiful, with its sloping

streets zigzagging between steep terraces carved into the mountainside; the

enclosing walls, the towers, and the greater buildings all crafted with care

and skill from the warm golden stone so common in this area.

Tiarond was nestled within a loop of the river, between two protective spurs

of Mount Chaikar, or the Throne, in local parlance. The city clung to the

mountain’s face, forming a roughly triangular shape that followed the

natural lie of the concavity between the two converging spurs. At the apex,

high up where the spurs converged, was a narrow cleft, not much wider than

Kazairl was long, that formed a tunnel into a secret, sequestered gorge

embraced by towering cliffs. This heart-shaped canyon was the core of

Tiarond, and housed the Temple of Myrial and the Holy City of the

God—who didn’t seem to be cooperating, Veldan thought bitterly, to help us

save this poor, drowned land.

She sighed. They were so close to success now, but still so far away. If we

can just make it over the Snaketail Pass, we’ll only have another day’s

travel—and we’ll be home. Aethon can talk to my masters. Maybe the

climate in Gendival will be better…

“Veldan, can we rest a while?” The Dragon’s mental tones sounded faint

and faded.

Damn, thought Veldan. It was hard to guess the hour, because of the heavy

overcast, but she knew the sun must be at least an hour or two past the

zenith. They had to make it over the top of the pass and into shelter on the

other side before night set in! In framing a reply, she tried to soften the

brutal truth—that if they stopped now, he would never move again. “I’m

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THE HEART OF MYRIAL - SHADOWLEAGUE 1 - MAGGIE FUREY

sorry, Aethon. but you must try to go a little farther. We’ve come so far

now—it’s only another mile or two. Once we make the head of the pass,

we’ll rest, I promise.”

“Very well—I’ll try. I bow to your experience.” The Dragon’s thought was

accompanied by a weary sigh, and Veldan felt her heart clench with pity.

They had almost reached the tree line now, and were passing into the heavy

layer of cloud that smothered the high peaks. Veldan shivered again. The

Snaketail Pass was never the most wholesome of spots, but this time it

seemed positively eerie. Great jagged cliffs reared up on either side, and the

track, climbing more steeply than ever, had narrowed to a winding thread

between two dark, unyielding walls. Because of the steeper gradient, Veldan

slid off Kaz’s back and went ahead on foot, with the Seer behind her. The

firedrake brought up the rear, for the larger Dragon was having difficulty

squeezing through the narrow places in the track. If he became trapped, he

would need Kaz’s help to free himself.

An icy gale came rushing down the narrow gap, bringing with it rain squalls

hard as hailstones, as though water and air had been compressed between

two giant hands. The wind moaned and screamed as it tore through the

constricted space, and the lament was echoed and reechoed by the cliffs

above. It could have been the wailing of all the lost souls who had lost their

lives in this hazardous place.

“Bat crap!” Kaz’s sharp thought made her flinch. “Forget about lost souls,

Boss—unless you want to join them. Worry about the water instead. Can’t

you hear it?”

Only then did the Loremaster realize that the sounds she’d been hearing

were not all due to the restless wind.

Below the shriek of the gale, there was a deeper, hollow roar. Veldan

muttered a savage curse. Somewhere up ahead, a deluge of floodwater was

racing down the narrow trail from the plateau above. At any moment, a great

wall of water would come thundering down the track and sweep them all

away…

“Tchaaaa!” Kaz’s scornful snort almost made her jump out of her skin.

“Honest—you and your imagination! Your brain is rusting in this rain. We

won’t be swept anywhere, sweetie. If a flash flood comes down here, our big

friend will stick like a cork in a bottle. You’ll get nothing worse than a

bruise or two and a soaking, and me—well, I doubt I’ll even get my toes

wet!”

The firedrake snickered, and Veldan sighed. The Dragon was between them,

so Kaz was too far away to hit—and anyway, as she knew from bitter

experience and a vast collection of bruised toes and skinned knuckles, her

blows had no effect on his scaly hide, just as her threats and protests made

no impression on his scathing tongue and wicked sense of humor. Though

he often called her “Boss,” their partnership was founded on equality and

mutual respect—he only used the word as a kind of pet name, to boost her

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THE HEART OF MYRIAL - SHADOWLEAGUE 1 - MAGGIE FUREY

confidence when she was feeling low. Exasperating as he was, she loved

him dearly.

They had reached a part of the pass where the crags to the right of the

cutting sloped back from the road at a less acute angle. Far above the trail,

the last of the pinewoods clung precariously to the precipitous gradient.

Even now, some of them were leaning at odd angles as the soil was

gradually washed away from between their roots by the incessant rain.

Veldan shuddered. The place was a death trap. How long would it be before

the landslides started?

Another turn of the trail brought them to the source of the roaring, and

Veldan gasped with dismay. For once, even Kaz was without a glib

comment. On the left-hand side where the track curved sharply, a break in

the escarpment led down into a narrow gorge that sloped, steep and

seemingly arrow-straight, to the bottom of the ridge. That gap was the

luckiest thing that had happened to her in a long time, Veldan thought wryly.

The torrent, cascading from the watershed above, took the straightest route

down, and left the trail to form a new river that filled the bottom of the gully

with churning brown floodwater. Veldan stepped back, swallowing to clear

the ringing in her ears. This close, the roar was deafening.

“Well, the good news is that we weren’t swept away,” Kaz said laconically.

“But the bad news is that we have to wade through this deluge from here on

up…”

“Pox on it! Will this bad luck never leave us?” To her horror, Veldan found

her sight obscured by a misty haze as her eyes filled with tears of angry

frustration. To make matters worse, she knew that her old self—the one who

had existed before her recent brush with death, would have taken these

difficulties in her stride. Maybe Cergorn was right after all, she thought. I’m

not ready yet. There’s no way I should have taken this mission. Her

reasoning—that she must get back into action as soon as possible, or she

would lose her nerve—seemed feeble and futile now.

“Come on, sweetie…” Kaz’s voice was surprisingly gentle, and Veldan

realized with a guilty pang that he was concerned about her—and had

probably been worried ever since she had volunteered them for this

assignment, so soon after their last disastrous journey. The firedrake’s

words, as always, braced her. “We Loremasters spit in the eye of bad luck,”

he reminded her. “The fates won’t shit on us forever. So long as we don’t let

this string of calamities beat us, our fortunes are bound to change.”

Dear Kaz. What would I do without him? Veldan kept her thought strictly to

herself. Their odd relationship was strong enough to prosper without such

overt displays of sentiment. “Very philosophical,” she told him. “Now I

know we’re really in trouble.”

Kaz flicked his forked tongue lazily across his jaws—his firedrake version

of a leering grin. “Your call, Boss—you want to try for it, or shall we go

back down?”

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THE HEART OF MYRIAL - SHADOWLEAGUE 1 - MAGGIE FUREY

Veldan shrugged. “We try.” In truth, they had no choice. There was no other

way across these mountains— if they retreated, they had failed. There

remained one slim chance—that Dragon and drake would be strong enough

to breast the floods, and they could somehow gain the crest of the ridge

before Aethon’s strength gave out completely.

Pull yourself together, Veldan. We can do this. The Loremaster wiped rain

out of her eyes and made a careful assessment of the situation. About twenty

yards beyond where she stood, the cliffs closed in and the trail narrowed

again. The pent-up floodwaters poured through the constricted space with

considerable force, and she knew that Aethon would find it difficult to

combat the icy cascade. Where she currently stood, however, the trail was

wide enough to allow some room for maneuver…

“Kaz—you squeeze around the Seer and get in front. I’ll need you to break

trail, and take the brunt of the current…”

“No problem.” The firedrake began to inch past Aethon’s recumbent bulk.

“I’ll take you too, Boss—and don’t give me a hard time. You put a good

face on it, but I know you’re not fit yet. You can’t fight the force of that

torrent any more than Aethon can.”

Instinctively, Veldan wanted to protest—but there was no point, she

realized. He was right. She turned to the Dragon. “Aethon? Aethon! Can you

hear me?” If he was this far gone already…

“I… I hear you, Veldan…” The thought was no more than a whisper. “Do

not fear. I can continue…”

“It’s not far now,” Veldan tried to encourage him. “Just this one last stretch.

Follow Kaz—and let me know if you get into difficulties.”

“Fear not. I will.”

By this time, Kaz was in position. The firedrake’s long, slender, low-slung

body was humped in a half crouch by the edge of the torrent where the

floodwater ran across the angle of the trail and plummeted down into the

gorge. Though his face was expressionless, his tail switched jerkily back and

forth to emphasize his distaste. Despite his reptilian appearance, Kaz was a

warm-blooded creature and felt the cold as acutely as his human partner did.

He turned to regard her and dipped his head in the firedrake equivalent of a

shrug. “Wet feet from here, sweetie—but not for you. Hop aboard.”

Veldan placed her booted foot just above the angled elbow of Kaz’s foreleg

and clasped the final spine of his neck crest as she clambered up to perch

herself on his shoulders. As she swung herself up, she felt a white-hot stab

of pain through her left shoulder and arm. Would these wounds never heal

properly? Though the scars seemed to be knitting well on the surface, the

Ak’Zahar had used poisoned weapons, and the far-reaching effects of the

venom had lasted an unnervingly long time.

“Ready, Boss?” Again, there was that dark shade of worry in Kaz’s

thoughts, and Veldan knew he had sensed her pain but knew better than to

mention it.

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Maggie Furey - Shadowleague 1 - The Heart of Myrial

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