by D. E. Morris
“Horse Head Island is another point of light,” said Connor.
Kyo tilted his head. “Is that significant?”
“I don't know. I've only been there once before when I was a kid. It's kind of a long story, but I'll never forget being there. Just this tiny island with these gigantic stone statues of two horse heads. They're beautiful and terrifying all at once. It's hard to think they could be the source of power for anything, especially something as ancient as an Elemental.”
Becoming more interested, Kyo followed an invisible path across the map to a large island full of mountains far off the western coast of Alybaen and Cieria. “This was once a lesser kingdom but no one has lived there for years. In fact, High King Brydion has made it illegal for anyone to even go out there. It's little more than a volcano now.”
“Active?” asked Badru.
The old man nodded. “So far as we know. No one and nothing lives out there.”
“I bet fire dragons do.” Connor was practically giddy in his excitement for the quickest moment before he remembered they had already marked where they thought Fire might be. “Oh. Well that doesn't work.”
“Unless King's Crown doesn't belong to Water,” said Eira. “An active volcano would make the most sense for Fire, but that would mean Water belongs on Horse Head Island. Or Summer could go with the volcano. Heat. Makes sense, making Spring up here.”
“Some of these spots of light don't have any points of land under them on either map,” Kyo pointed out, baffled.
Badru pinched the bridge of his nose and reached for another book as the other three continued their back and forth, confusing one another and themselves even further as they talked in circles and loops that led to more speculation that led nowhere. One of the books Eira had brought was filled with notes on the things the people of Rhiamon's village believed. Most were scribbled haphazardly in the margins of various histories of the Elementals and their relationships to the dragons that were born into their elements, as well as to Gaels. He was about to turn the page to the last chapter in the book, one about the jewel dragons, but paused when he read a note about all twelve needing to be resurrected in order for one to reign supreme. Careful, he glanced up to make sure the other three were still engrossed in their conversation before shifting in his seat and pulling the book a little closer to his face to see the words better.
“There is a needle thin line between power and destruction. Malevolence needs all eleven of the others to be awake, to draw from their sources of power at the very same time and to destroy each of them in the correct pattern in order to obtain their strength and abilities in the proper timing and increments so as not to overwhelm his body. Only then can he become the immortal king he was meant to be, controlling all elements and everything in and of this world.”
Badru felt the room spin before him. Merrik told Ashlynn that the book of runes, the one whose pages they were all constantly searching for, revealed the only way to defeat him, that it contained the secrets of the Giver himself. Merrik wanted it and was using all of the Elementals to find it for him, knowing they wanted it just as badly as he did. If Rhiamon and her people already knew this much about the twelve Elementals, what greater secrets were held within those mysterious runes and how much destruction could they possibly bring, or how much hope could they provide?
“Badru.”
He looked up, hearing his name called as though it wasn't the first time and met Eira's concerned eyes across the table from him. “You all right? You look like you swallowed a spider or something.” She glanced at the book he'd let drop to the table and smirked. “I see you're reading about the jewel dragons. Hate to break it to you, but they're not real.”
“They are!” Connor argued in excitement. “My friend found proof.”
“What kind of proof?”
“It's a stone. Well...sort of...it's hard to explain. I guess it used to be an embryo but now it's a stone?”
Badru rose, pushing his chair away with the backs of his knees. “I think I am going to take a walk.”
All three faces lifted in surprise, and Kyo asked, “Is that a good idea?”
“No one knows my face here. I am certain I will look no more out of place than any other tourist.” Picking up the book, Badru glanced at Eira. “May I?”
“Sure. We have plenty here to go over. Besides, I want to hear Connor keep trying to convince me that jewel dragons actually exist.”
“Existed.”
Tucking the book under his arm, Badru left the confines of Kyo's home for the first time since arriving there the day before. There hadn't been any opportunity to explore the bustling town and there wasn't much desire to do so now, but he wandered with the flow of the crowd, doing his best to blend in and feign interest in wares that were on display as he passed by. It wasn't often that Badru felt lonely in his life given the size of his family and his ability to travel nearly anywhere he wanted. He was a person who loved people and enjoyed being around them more often than he enjoyed being by himself. He processed information better when he had someone to talk it out with and wished he could speak with Cavalon or Ashlynn now. Walking the streets of Cieria alone, he knew there was no one he could talk to. If he'd learned anything about Connor over the past twenty-four hours it was that the boy was terrible at keeping a secret. It wasn't out of malicious intent, only that he got so excited about having knowledge someone else didn't that he gave himself away. For that reason alone, Badru knew he couldn't stay away long, but he had to have a moment of quiet to get his thoughts in order if he couldn't discuss them through with someone else.
One of the carts he passed by was selling pastries topped with fruit and cream, something that was hard for Badru to pass up given his sweet tooth. He purchased one of the treats in the hope of distracting himself. Various shaded areas with wooden tables and benches offered respite for shoppers throughout the market, most of them teeming with activity but not overcrowded. When Badru found one that was tucked far enough into a grove of trees between a few buildings to be somewhat forgotten and less crowded, he claimed one of the benches for himself and sat to breathe in the summer air and enjoy his fruity delicacy.
“May I join you?”
The request was soft and came from over his shoulder, forcing Badru to turn to see who was asking permission to sit with him. Much to his surprise, the face that greeted him was a familiar one, though not one he had seen in quite some time. Her pale blonde hair was nearly completely hidden under a scarf draped over her head, but there was no mistaking the blue of her eyes or the paleness of her skin. Smiling from ear to ear, Badru got to his feet and took the small woman into his arms as gently as though she were made of glass, holding her to him like a long-lost friend. “Hello, Badru,” she greeted, returning his embrace.
“Brigid. It has been far too long.” Holding her at arm's length, he looked her over, concern dimming his levity. “Are you well?”
“Not lately.”
“Here, sit with me.” He moved his book and sat, pulling her down beside him while keeping her hand between his own. “The last time I saw you, you were thriving. You were healthy and nearly glowing. Now you look so frail and thin. What has happened?”
“Just like Merrik, my powers ebb and flow.” She rested her free hand atop his. “There is much more evil in the world than there is good at the moment, making me weaker.”
“And Merrik stronger.” Badru offered her what was left of his pastry. “Here, take this. Come back to the place where I am staying. You will have food and comfort there.”
She smiled and gave his cheek a tender touch. “It is not sustenance I need, though I do miss the taste of strawberries.” As her smile faded, she took a breath that was labored, her shoulders rounding with the effort, though she tried not to show it. “I cannot stay long. I only came to give you instruction.”
Badru sighed in relief and glanced at the book in his lap. “Thank you.”
Confusion flitted across Brigid's face as she, too,
looked at the book. “It is about Ashlynn.”
Caught off guard, the old man tilted his head. “Ashlynn?”
“Yes.” Brigid's thin lips curled into a frown. “My vision has changed. She is going to die tonight.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
In the time that was given to them to build a new gallows platform, a space big enough for only six people at a time was constructed right outside the gate of Altaine. Villagers watched all afternoon as carpenters hauled wood and nails, tools and rope to get the job done; word spread that there would be a large number of people hanged before the night was out for going against direct order of the crown and for threatening the life of the high queen. Many found their spots early, hoping to find the best places for viewing before the crowds thickened in earnest. Some even crawled out onto nearby rooftops to perch, legs swinging over the edges as they sat in wait. Altaine had not seen a public execution like this, with such high numbers, since Ashlynn's grandfather was on the throne, and they were ready for a show.
With the sun setting at their backs, Ashlynn and Jaryn led the dour parade down the road from the castle to the village to where they would watch the proceedings. Kenayde and Elas followed behind them, as well as Rowan and Vala, Jaryn's squires and Niam, and several guards. Before they assembled together to go down to the village, Ashlynn had Cailin and Killian take one more trip down to the dungeons in the hope of even one of the prisoners confessing to their part in the recent slayings. She didn't want anyone else to die. There had already been too much life lost and she didn't want to be responsible for more of it, but they were in too deep now. The eyes of Siness were upon Altaine. Swift justice had been promised against those who would go against the crown and if it was not carried out, they would appear weak and indecisive which would only raise up more enemies against them.
She had flashbacks to Lerranyth, the capital of Ibays, as she took her seat in the royalty box before the gallows. Several years ago when she and Tasarin had gone to pay Donnchadh a visit, Ashlynn had thought him bold to have his gallows on display in his own courtyard. Now here she was sitting before the gate to her home watching empty ropes swing in the breeze to her own new construction. It left her with a hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach.
“There's no going back now.” She kept her lips as still as possible, knowing all eyes were on them. The slightest smile or smirk, the smallest indication of doubt or discomfort would start rumors that would spread and bloom into tales of an uncertain rule. Both she and Jaryn needed to work hard to keep everything, even their expressions, as neutral as possible. Instead of answering, Jaryn lifted his face to the sky as though searching. Several other faces in the crowd followed his lead, Ashlynn's included. “What are you looking for?”
“I don't know,” he sighed. “There still has been no sign of Gia. With all of the recent killings, I'm starting to worry. I guess part of me wondered if she'd show up for this. This would be something she would want to witness.”
“I know she is your friend, but she has always been someone who is self-serving. There was nothing here for her. It's possible she simply left without even saying anything. It wouldn't be the first time.”
“I suppose you're right. She's probably back on Dragonspire or moved somewhere else entirely by now.”
“Ashlynn.”
Both she and Jaryn turned at Kenayde's voice, curious until they saw the line of prisoners being led down the road toward them. Just as before, they were linked together by chains. Their parade was headed up by Killian with Cailin at the rear, struggling to keep up on the steep decline of the rocky path. They were led into the open space between the gallows and the royalty box, made to stand in rows of six before the high king and queen.
“This is your last chance,” Killian told them. “Confess and repent, or meet your end this day.” Defiant, all eighteen men and women stared up at Ashlynn and Jaryn, jaws clenched and lips stubbornly sealed. Killian glanced upward and Jaryn gave him a small nod. Together, he and Cailin unchained the first row of prisoners from the other two and led them up the stairs at the back of the gallows. Waiting soldiers took over from there, rough as they moved the men and women, all carefully chosen so that each of them were human, into their assigned spots. Coarse ropes that had been meticulously looped and tied were slipped over their heads and tightened just enough so that they couldn't be slipped off.
“Turn the rest of them around,” Jaryn commanded. Those with the nooses around their necks were made to wait as the rest of their comrades were forced to face them. They watched as the hangman took measurements and made adjustments so that death would be quick and as painless as possible. There was a pause where it felt as though time froze. No one dared to breathe as they waited to see if there would be a last minute pardon or plea for mercy, or if this would truly be a day they would all witness so many people die. The wait seemed to stretch on before Jaryn gave another nod. One of the castle guards yanked on a lever at the side of the gallows and a section of the floor dropped out from beneath all six prisoners. They dropped heavily, bodies flailing as they fought for breath if they were unlucky enough to not have their necks broken.
Though Ashlynn and Jaryn sat still and emotionless, Kenayde couldn't bear to look and turned away, her eyes filling with tears. Elas held her close to his side and ran a hand over her back, but looked upon the hanging hunters with cold anger on his face. “What have we become?” she whimpered.
The question made Elas look away from the gruesome sight before him, but only for a moment. “What they have forced us to be.”
“It cannot be them or us,” she urged, but Rowan, close enough to hear her plea, shook her head in disagreement.
“That's all it can be now.”
“This is the fate that will befall any that would openly defy the crown on the matter of the Gaels and the dragons,” Ashlynn announced, pulling everyone's attention her way. “By taking the lives of the dragons and the dragon-kin, by openly hunting them and making a sport of it, it has become a direct threat to myself and my family, and that is not something I will tolerate.”
“So because you feel threatened,” yelled someone from the crowd, “you can retaliate, but what about all of the elves who lost everything they owned on Mirasean, who lost family and friends? It's fine for you to seek justice but not for them? Dragons and Gaels destroyed their home!”
“It was not their doing,” Ashlynn argued. “They were under the control of the music being played-”
“What if we train them?” came another voice. “Domesticate the dragons like we have so many other animals. Make them work for us and obey our commands so that we're in control of them all of the time instead of just leaving them to their own devices.”
“Our flocks certainly wouldn't suffer as much,” supported someone nearby. Murmurs of agreement followed. Faces lifted to Ashlynn for her reply, but Elas beat her to it, his temper making his tongue sharp.
“Maybe we should train you, teach you how to get the gristle out from between your teeth before you address your high queen and how to bow before her and not interrupt her when she's speaking.”
“Elas,” Kenayde hissed, but he continued on as though she hadn't spoken at all.
“Do not forget that not only is she a Gael, but she is also an Elemental, as is her foster daughter. Would you seek to control her as well? Why stop there? Why not have dominion over all of the Elementals because there's no possible way that could end badly.”
“Her kinship with Gaels has clouded her judgment before, allowing war to come to Siness after she killed Tadhg.”
“She killed Tadhg because he was killing all of us!” cried a supporter from the crowd, some of them finally turning on themselves. “It wasn't about the Gaels or the dragons, it was about all lives. Tadhg was cutting down anyone who didn't agree with him. If our queen hadn't stopped him, who would have? Where would we be now? None of us would be here having this argument, that's what I know. We'd all be worm food.”
“She brought danger to our doors the moment she took in that Ibayish girl.”
Rowan bristled, her lips curling back in a snarl as she muttered, “I'll show you danger, you spineless abhlóir. Go ndéanfaidh an diabhal cipín dod’ dhá chois-”
“Shh!” Vala whispered, squeezing her arm.
“You're defending feral beasts over that of elvish lives,” cried one of the prisoners standing before the royalty box. “By killing us, you are telling everyone that you value the lives of dragons over those of intelligent beings. At one time, Altaine's own regent was an elf. How can you justify what you are doing to his people by not standing up for them, by taking the side of their enemies?”
“I was not aware the elves were so helpless that they needed other countries to stand up for them.”
A new voice from the back of the crowd had nearly everyone turning to see who had spoken. With bodies so close together it was hard to see who among them was the voice of opposition, but those in the royalty box had a clear view of the multi-colored mohawk that was slowly making its way forward. They could see, also, the way the crowd backed up as though startled, creating a clear path for Gianara. In her arms was a small blue water dragon, its long, sinewy body limp against her and stained with blood. No one spoke a word or tried to stop her as she passed in front of the prisoners. With her feet planted firmly and her chin lifted, she let the body fall to the ground. The dragon had been sliced open from jaw to tail on the underside and gutted, remnants of whatever had been left behind spilling out in front of the hunters. They turned away from the foul smell and the crowd backed into one another, trying to avoid it as well, but Gianara did not even flinch.
“Fourteen,” she told them. “Twelve hatchlings and two adults. An entire pod of water dragons. You killed them all.”
The woman she stood before glanced down at the dead dragon with a crinkled nose. “It wasn't us. We didn't-”