A Clash of Fates: The Echoes Saga: Book Nine

by Quaintrell, Philip C.

Reyna stepped forward, into the open space around the altar. She wanted to cast that final spell herself, but the currents of magic had failed to flow through her since the Moonblade’s creation. Having come to terms with her way of life, the queen was content to give one of the elders a nod. A wave of the hand brought flames to the altar, flames that would never die.

  “My mother, Adilandra, was a queen of sacrifice,” Reyna began. “She was a queen with a vision - a vision for our people. It is our duty to continue her work, so that we continue to be a whole people under one banner. Like our memories of her, these flames are eternal. May this fire be a place we can come to mourn her, and a place to come to remember her.”

  Reyna stepped back to join Nathaniel and turned her gaze to the stars with the rest of her people. They held their silence for some time, paying their respects to one who would surely be noted as one of the greatest queens of the elven nation.

  For Reyna, it was a time to seek peace and finally let her grief go. She stared into the flames of her mother’s memorial. As important as it was to walk into this new world, the queen also knew how important it was to always carry a piece of the old world in her heart. Now she would always have a place to come and reflect on what had been, a place where memory could never be allowed to fade.

  Epilogue

  17 Years Later…

  On the cusp of summer, Namdhor was finally beginning to thaw after a long winter and a cold spring. Though most of the realm would still call it uninhabitable, Inara Galfrey called it home. After nearly twenty years, the harsh winds, relentless snows, and freezing plains were a familiar comfort.

  Not that the north’s brutal temperament ever stopped the queen of Illian. Freezing or cold - Namdhor’s only temperatures - Inara would always find time to collect her thoughts on the south balcony.

  She also enjoyed looking up at the sky, whatever the weather.

  I await you in the next life… where the sky is endless… and the dawn is everlasting…

  She heard those words every day. Not a single one had lost its clarity in her mind. Sometimes she even heard Athis say other things to her: whispers from down an empty passage or old conversations replayed perfectly in her dreams. Even now she could recall the feel of his warm scales beneath her hand.

  Today was a good day, she decided. They weren’t always good days. There were times when she felt trapped, her feet tethered to the ground when she should be soaring through the heavens. On those days, there were only one or two people in the entire world who could return joy to her heart.

  But today was a good day. Her thoughts of Athis only took her back to happy times with the dragon. And, as morbid as it was, Inara knew she would, indeed, return to him on those eternal shores. Though she felt as strong as ever, there was no denying the ageing her body had undergone in the last seventeen years.

  As Alijah had been before his bond with Malliath, Inara too was mortal, her fate as inevitable as any human’s. Such was the coin toss of any half-elf’s life. Any fear of death, however, had long been relinquished by the queen. Now she strived to find the beauty and joy in every moment she could. And what joy she had found over the years.

  One of the reasons for that joy burst through her chamber door and the moment of peace Inara had found.

  “Mama! Mama!” came the loud call from a very small mouth.

  Inara left the balcony and closed the doors behind her, preventing her daughter from feeling the chill. Bounding over the stone, her dark hair bouncing on her little shoulders, the queen’s youngest child crashed into her legs.

  “Mama!” she exclaimed, before her words all blended into one unintelligible language.

  “Adilandra,” Inara said calmly, focusing the young girl. “A little slower,” she bade.

  Adilandra took a breath and held up a small green scale. “Gideon gave me it,” she blurted excitedly. “It’s one of Ilargo’s!”

  “I see that,” Inara replied, mirroring some of her daughter’s glee.

  “Now I can wear it like yours!”

  Inara unconsciously gripped the red scale hanging from her necklace. “That sounds like a great idea.”

  “Can we do it now?” Adilandra pleaded.

  “We don’t have time right now,” Inara said apologetically, if firmly. “Our guests will be arriving any minute.”

  “Look!” Adilandra’s attention had been drawn to the nearest window, where a familiar green dragon flew around the city. “I love Ilargo!” she declared. “Can I go to Erador with him?”

  Inara hesitated, her lips parted. “Where is your brother?” she asked, hoping to turn the girl’s interest to something else.

  “Sulking,” Adilandra said simply.

  “Ah.” Inara stood up and took her daughter by the hand. “Come on. Let’s see what needs to be done.”

  After leaving the chamber, it wasn’t long before something else caught Adilandra’s attention and saw her run off in a different direction. Inara instructed one of the servants to go after her and ensure she found her way to the banquet. Striding down the west wing, a pair of Guardians were waiting for her, easily recognised by their red cloaks and swords strapped to their back. Of course, Inara knew them by name. There wasn’t a Guardian of the Realm who hadn’t been personally trained by her in some way or other.

  “Natharei. Givain.” Inara didn’t stop and so the two warriors simply fell in beside her.

  “Commander,” Givain began, “we have that report you asked for regarding the smugglers in Calmardra.”

  “Very good,” Inara praised, taking the parchment from the man. She ran a cursory eye over the details. “This is excellent work, both of you. Your next move?” she enquired, her tone suggesting it was a test.

  “We follow the smugglers, Commander,” Natharei said confidently. “They are not the priority, but the slave traders they are providing resources for are.”

  “Agreed,” Inara replied. “And once you find the slave traders?”

  “We burn their world,” Givain directed.

  The queen raised an eyebrow. “You may bring down their enterprise any way you deem fit, Givain. But not before you have apprehended Palin Barbosi.”

  Now it was Givain’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “The slave master?”

  “The well-connected slave master,” Inara specified. “I have it on good authority that he is in contact with the Broker.”

  Natharei turned a concerned expression on the queen. “The same Broker who is selling dark relics, Commander?”

  “The same,” Inara confirmed. “I suspect he or she is either a surviving member of The Black Hand or an old affiliate. Whoever they are, they have access to Black Hand stores and are supplying bad people with bad things. I want them found.”

  “We will question Palin Barbosi,” Givain assured. “He will give us a name, Commander.”

  “No,” the queen corrected. “Bring him to me. I wish to oversee the matter myself. I will be joining you on whatever hunt follows our investigation.”

  “It would be an honour,” Natharei said with a short bow of the head.

  Inara stopped at the next junction to face the Guardians. “I’m sure the honour will be mine. Now, if you will forgive me, today is quite the day and it’s only just begun.”

  “Of course, Commander,” the warriors said in unison. “Give our best wishes to Queen Gwenyfer,” Natharei added.

  “I will,” Inara promised. “Safe journey.”

  Before the Guardians had even left the passage, the queen was faced by Isold, the master of servants, and a number of his staff.

  “Your Grace,” Isold greeted with a hurried bow.

  “You look flustered, Isold,” Inara observed, continuing her meaningful stride. “You would think we were having hundreds of guests in the keep today,” she added with a touch of humour. For any who had seen a battlefield, Isold would be described as delicate.

  “Very witty, your Grace,” the master of servants complimented. “But, about those hundreds of guests…�
�

  “Yes, Isold, out with it.”

  “They’re here,” he said with some trepidation.

  “I know they’re here, Isold. Our guests have been arriving for days now.”

  “No, your Grace,” the master of servants fretted. “They’re here, in the throne room! They were supposed to wait and be announced one party at a time before greeting you.”

  “I see,” Inara replied, already bored of a problem that wasn’t really a problem. “Protocol has been broken,” she said drearily.

  “Yes, your Grace. It was the dwarves, you see. There was no stopping King Doran - he said he could smell pig. Well, your Grace, once he stormed in there was no stopping the others.”

  Inara came to a sudden halt, causing some of the servants to bump into each other. “Where is my husband?” she asked Isold.

  The master of servants paused and turned his ear to one of his staff. “The king is with Queen Gwenyfer and Master Thorn, your Grace,” he quickly reported.

  “When the hall is full and our guests are accounted for, announce us all together. Until then, whatever you do, don’t come between King Doran and the pig.”

  The master of servants clearly had more he wished to discuss, but the queen had endured her fill of trivial dilemmas. She, instead, turned her attention to one whose dilemmas were never trivial in her eyes. Coming to a stop outside her son’s chamber, Inara knocked lightly on the door. The response was muffled and so she made her way inside, there to determine the truth.

  Her first born, and only son, was sitting on the end of the bed, his head bowed so his dark hair concealed his face. Inara perched on the bed beside him, unable to pierce the veil of his hair. Without seeing his face, he could easily have been Vighon when he was seventeen years old. They had the same hair, build, and they even sulked in the same manner.

  He had celebrated his seventeenth birthday the previous week and was considered a man by most now. But, to Inara, he would always be her boy.

  “Athis,” she said gently, placing one hand on his back.

  The young man finally lifted his head to reveal blotchy red skin around his eyes. “I don’t want her to leave,” he groaned.

  “I know,” Inara said softly, meeting her son’s blue eyes with her own. “We all knew this day would come. But that doesn’t make it any easier.”

  “Gwenyfer doesn’t want to leave either,” Athis blurted. “She shouldn’t have to go!”

  “You two have become close,” Inara commented, having seen something of Vighon and herself in the young pair.

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he complained.

  The queen took a breath and nodded her head in memory. “Your father and I were close at your age. Very close. And then, one day, I had to leave to do something important.”

  “I know,” Athis interrupted. “You went to The Lifeless Isles and became a Dragorn. I’ve heard the story a thousand times from everyone.”

  “You’re forgetting the part where fate reunited us,” Inara pointed out. “And, as the future king of Illian, you will surely have good reason to reach out to the queen of Erador. After all, there is so much good we can do for each other.”

  Athis was shaking his head, too stubborn and upset to hear her words. “That’s years away! I don’t want her to leave now. Why can’t she stay with us? Illian is her home. Gwenyfer could do so much good here, where she is already loved by so many.”

  Inara sympathised with her son and pulled him towards her to plant a kiss on his forehead. “I don’t want her to leave either,” she confessed. “I look on her like a daughter. But Gwenyfer is important. Erador is important. It’s a country as vast and populated as our own, and they are in need of Gwenyfer to take them into the future. One day, the people of Illian will look to you to do the same.”

  Athis sighed, wiped his tears away, and slumped into his mother’s arms. “I will miss her so much.”

  “As will we all,” Inara replied, her heart already beginning to suffer the strain of losing Gwenyfer. “But we don’t need to miss her today. Today the whole realm will celebrate her and say farewell, while we get to keep her to ourselves for a few more days. So let’s enjoy our time with her. Yes?”

  Athis managed something of a smile and returned his mother’s kiss. When he was ready, the queen took him by the arm and made for the throne room. Along the way, they were reunited with Adilandra, who was skipping hand in hand with one of the servants. Inara took her from there and succeeded in meeting up with Vighon, Gideon, and Gwenyfer before they were announced to their guests.

  The queen of Erador was a vision to behold, her copper ringlets immaculate and full of life, while her emerald eyes glistened in the light. Much in the same fashion as Inara, all of her clothes were somewhere between a warrior’s leathers and a queen’s formal dress. It was her smile, however, that enchanted all around her. Inara was pulled in by that beaming grin until they were embracing.

  “You’re ready,” Inara said quietly to her.

  “Thank you,” Gwenyfer replied.

  While the young queen turned to greet Athis and Adilandra jumped into her father’s arms, Inara came face to face with Gideon Thorn. He had been a guest in The Dragon Keep for nearly two weeks and had used that time to reacquaint himself with Gwenyfer before they made their journey back to Erador together. Though Vighon and Inara had informed her many times of the manner in which she was brought into their lives, Gwenyfer had no memory of Gideon or Ilargo.

  But now he was here again, after seventeen years, to take her away. Gideon had assured them that the war in Erador was over, and that every warlord and crooked guild had been disbanded, slain, or brought to justice in a makeshift court system he had overseen himself. Indeed, both Gideon and Ilargo had the look of war about them, each sporting new scars. And though the war looked to have added years on to her old mentor’s demeanour, he hadn’t aged a day by his appearance.

  “It’s alright to hate me,” Gideon said to her.

  “I don’t hate you, Gideon.” Inara glanced at Gwenyfer. “Well, perhaps I hate you a little bit. But as much as this is going to hurt, I could only ever thank you for bringing her into our lives.”

  “This is to be the first stitch between your two kingdoms,” Gideon began. “By blood or by bond, Illian and Erador are family now. These are to be our first steps on the road to lasting peace.”

  Inara put an affectionate hand against his chest. “I look forward to that future. Though, right now, it doesn’t even begin to take some of the sting out. I still hate you,” she added with great amusement.

  Gideon laughed to himself and squeezed her with one arm. “We should probably go inside. From what I’ve heard, Doran has already eaten most of the boar.”

  “It’s good to know some things never change,” Vighon remarked, putting Adilandra down. “Shall we?” The king hooked his arm and Inara slotted into place beside him. Behind them, Athis did the same with Gwenyfer while Gideon happily held Adilandra’s hand.

  As the doors began to open, Isold announced their arrival from the other side. “Their Graces, King Vighon and Queen Inara of house Draqaro, the sword and shield of Illian, and protectors of the realm!” The master of servants waited until they were a few steps over the threshold before his next announcement. “Queen Gwenyfer of Valayan Blood, heir to the throne of Erador, and his Grace, Prince Athis of house Draqaro!”

  Inara glanced over her shoulder to observe their entrance. Athis was three years younger than Gwenyfer yet he was already a full head taller.

  “Master Gideon Thorn, Lord of Drakanan and Defender of Erador!” Isold continued. “And her Grace, Princess Adilandra of house Draqaro!”

  Their welcome was one of great cheer that quickly continued into the party itself. Beside Vighon, Inara did the rounds first, greeting various lords, ladies, and governors who had made the long journey. In truth, the queen wanted to get that part over with so she could enjoy the company of her parents and old friends.

  In
deed, she found the two together, easily located thanks to Doran’s hearty laughter. They told each other of their respective kingdoms between their reminiscing. They shared both the hardships and luxuries of wearing a crown, many of which Inara and Vighon could relate to. It wasn’t long before Galanör and Aenwyn, having fulfilled their ambassadorial duties, made their way over and took part in the merriment. Always on the move, the two elves had barely stopped in seventeen years. Now, there was even talk of them making the journey to Erador to speak on Reyna and Nathaniel’s behalf.

  Through it all, Inara spied Athis and Gwenyfer across the chamber. They were always deep in conversation about something. The queen in her wanted to instruct them on the importance of mingling at a party such as this, but the mother in her kept her rooted to the spot. Let them have whatever time they had left, she decided.

  “Well if it ain’ the biggest mouth in all o’ Verda!” Doran bellowed upon sighting Kassian Kantaris approaching.

  “King Doran,” Kassian greeted with a respectful bow.

  “How are ye doin’, lad?” the dwarf asked.

  “Busy,” the mage replied honestly, his sandy blond hair beginning to show the first signs of grey. “But I wouldn’t miss this,” he added sincerely, looking to Inara and Vighon.

  “How are the affairs of Ikirith?” Vighon enquired.

  “We’re in the middle of expanding the east wing,” Kassian explained. “Our numbers are constantly growing - we need more room.”

  Vighon patted him on the back. “It’s a good thing you’re located on the plains then.”

  Kassian agreed with a smiling nod. “How have you found your new court mage to be?” he asked.

  “Sathyrah’s very good,” Vighon praised. “You taught her well.”

  Gideon walked over, his presence alone cutting through their conversation. Adilandra was sitting comfortably in one of his arms, her fingers turning Ilargo’s scale over and over again.

  “Kassian,” he greeted with a friendly nod.

  “Gideon,” Kassian replied politely.