by N M Zoltack
Love pure and simple.
Love of… No, he would not go there.
Within the castle, Edmund had been knighted by Queen Rosalynne. She must be within these walls, and she could not fall. No one inside should have to worry. The destruction the dragons were causing must end.
And that would only end when the dragons no longer breathed either air or fire.
An arrow did fly toward him, and Edmund gasped as the dragon moved his head to watch the arrow and then move his body so that the arrow was in line with striking Edmund.
The knight barely had time to unsheathe his sword, but he managed. As he had not bothered to bring his shield, thinking it pointless and useless against a battle with fire-breathing dragons given that his shield was mostly constructed of wood with a bit of metal in the center, he had no other means to defend himself against the arrow, and his blade deflected the arrow.
The eyes of the knights who now realized he was sitting on the dragon’s back widened to the point that they appeared comical, rendered mute by the sight of him. Edmund motioned for more arrows to be sent his way, and only one of the archers did so. Edmund deflected it again, using his sword in one hand. With the other hand, he unstoppered the vial and threw back the potion.
The taste. In a word, disgusting. It tasted like he imagined liquified feces would, and worse were the specks and chunks he swallowed, each of them sharp, cutting into his mouth, tongue, the roof of his mouth, and all the way down his throat.
A fierce heat washed over his body, and the moment that faded, Edmund felt something else entirely.
He felt the strength of a thousand men.
Already, he could feel the might of the potion’s lended strength fading away as quickly as he felt it come over him.
Edmund smashed the vial onto the dragon’s neck even though the shattered glass did nothing to the dragon, as he knew it wouldn’t.
Well, it did nothing to harm the dragon, but it did enrage the dragon, and the beast flew off, spinning in tight circles before merely turning upside down and allowing Edmund to fall from his back.
He fell, still holding his sword, grabbing his spear, and he spied another dragon flying by. With a hard thud, Edmund landed on the second dragon, on the tail. He barely had time at all to plant his feet and throw the spear up at the dragon that had thrown him. The throw somehow launched Edmund into the air somehow. He had thrown his entire body into the launch of the spear. There was so much power and thrust and might behind that throw.
When he came back down from his accidental jump, the dragon wasn’t there. Edmund plummeted to the ground, and he rolled to minimize the impact against his joints.
A terrible roar sounded.
Simultaneously, a terrible cheer went up through the knights.
Edmund clambered to his feet. His sword… the tip had broken off somehow. Maybe he had crushed it when he had rolled, but why were they cheering?
A tremendous amount of fire burst out of the dragon’s mouth. The beast was writhing about in the air, and…
The spear.
It had imbedded itself so deeply within the dragon that only the handle could be seen, the rest of the long shaft inside the belly of the beast.
A slow grin spread across Edmund’s face. Love of Atlan indeed.
16
Olympia Li
The Li Princess could not bear the sight of the Vincanans. It had become obvious immediately that the man who stepped off the ship first was none other than the man who had proclaimed himself king. In Olympia’s eyes, he was no better than Jankin, but in the end, Olympia wanted her family back on the throne. Her parents had ruled over Tenoch only, none of that Tenoch Proper malarkey.
The only issue that king might cause would be if he was still determined to set up Vincana Proper. Honestly, he and Jankin were both too full of themselves, and she wished someone, anyone would put them in their place.
The throne. The castle. Olympia had been inside it recently, the castle. The only other occasion when she had been inside had been when she’d been born.
Not for the first time, she wondered if her mother had held her, if her father had, before she and her twin had to be spirited away to safety.
Hmm. Hadn’t she heard tales throughout her long trek to Atlan about the princess? Princess Vivian. She had been spirited away from the castle, too, after her brother had been murdered. From the townspeople, Olympia had heard about an execution to take place, and Olympia had even witnessed it, from afar of course.
Greta, Sabine’s mother, had killed the prince. Honestly, not any one in the entire lot deserved to live. They were all filth or descendent from filth.
It would be a long walk to the castle, but Olympia managed to find a horse, a wild one that nearly threw her four times before she gained any semblance of control over the beast. At least the horse raced like he was giving chase to the wind itself, and the sight of the burning castle filled her vision. Only select parts were on fire, but what captured her attention was the sight of a wounded dragon.
The beast writhed around in the air, his wails audible even where she was, and a sense of disgust washed over her that anyone would have dared to attack and wound the majestic creature.
And then, the dragon fell out of the sky and crashed into a portion of the castle wall, where she could see the dragon’s head and neck and most of his body. The wings curled over him as if he wished for a blanket, as if he wished to soothe himself, and in that moment, Olympia could have sworn she felt his pain.
She almost hadn’t realized the horse had stopped running until it started to slowly turn. She had to struggle and fight with the horse to turn back toward the castle and resume his gallop.
By now, the dragon had rolled over onto his back, wings outstretched as much as they could be over the broken castle wall. The poor dragon had tried to fly away from the ones who had sought to kill him.
But the other two dragons lived. They circled up above the castle, no longer breathing fire. They just hovered above the castle, above the fallen, injured dragon.
They were waiting.
Waiting for the dragon to die.
Without warning, without a fiery blast or a call or anything at all, the other two dragons flew off. They quickly disappeared from view.
Had the third dragon died? Shouldn’t he be reborn? What was going on? Olympia didn’t understand.
Then, without warning, a bright piercing light burst out of the dragon, not from his mouth but from his torso. The light spiraled up to the air, the coloring blinding, dazzling, a hue Olympia never saw before.
The horse reacted and reacted badly. He threw her, and Olympia landed hard on her rump, but she merely stared at the mysterious pillar of light from the dragon reaching up to the heavens. Somehow, the light sucked away the fires burning at various parts of the castle. The only light source was the pillar. Yes, that was true as Olympia glanced away, had to force herself to. Clouds had rolled in to cover and blot out the sun, but there were no other clouds anywhere. Only over the sun. How utterly mesmerizing and curious.
And then, both the light pillar and the dragon shattered. Hundreds, thousands, maybe even millions of light-speckled orbs the size of a dot above the letter ‘i’ hovered in the air, almost resembling the light pillar once more before there were streaks of the light as each orb whizzed this way or that way, some arching up into the air, all of them heading in every direction.
None came near Olympia, though, and she tried to follow some, to see where they might land, but there was nothing for her to be able to learn.
Finally, the orb was gone.
The light pillar gone.
The dragon gone.
The dragon had died but had not been reborn despite the other dragons still living. That did not alarm Olympia. Honestly, what concerned her the most was the death of the dragon himself.
But that light pillar, the orbs, that had to mean something, but what?
17
Princess Vivian Rivera
The mome
nt the princess could see the castle, Vivian thought her heart might break. The sight of the flames and the three dragons flying overheard was enough to fill her with a sense of rage and hatred.
And also, strangely, a sense of peace.
Would Atlan Castle fall? Would all of Tenoch? Would the world die a fiery death and have to be reborn as the dragons have resurrected themselves time and again?
As she neared, she watched as curiously one of the dragons began to twist about as if in horrific pain, and then the dragon tried to fly away from the castle only to fall into the castle wall, causing the stone to crumble and break apart with a crash she could hear.
In her frantic rush to get to the castle, Vivian urged the horse even faster, but the horse halted. She flew off its back and landed on the ground, dazed and confused. She could feel the vibrations from the horse fleeing, galloping away. The air was knocked out of her, and she lay there, stunned, only for a moment or so she thought. Her eyes shut as she fought through a wave of nausea. When she gradually sat up, somehow, the dragon had disappeared. Flown away? Had he not died after all?
Disgusted by her mount and now unable to return him to his masters, murmuring a prayer to the Fate of Life that the cherub would watch over the horse and guiding him back to his home, she set off on foot to return the rest of the way to the castle.
It took her some time to arrive, and she was bone-weary. Her muscles ached, and her legs wished they could rebel against her.
The aftermath of the battle was horrific. So many dead knights lay in ordered lines in the courtyard. Each would be buried but only after their families had a chance to say goodbye. The castle wall would have to be repaired, but should they even bother with that considering the dragons were a far more pressing threat than the Vincanans?
A guard Vivian saw about her sister many a time approached her. “Princess Vivian, it is good you have returned.”
“Too late,” she murmured. “Please, tell me what you know.”
“The dragons came to the castle. We did nothing to provoke them. All of them… A knight was able to kill the one.”
“A dragon died?” she asked sharply. “But he returned to life, did he not?”
“No. The dragon was not reborn.”
Vivian swallowed hard. Did that speak to the good or to ill?
The guard appeared as if he wished to say more, but Vivian nodded to him as if he were her equal and not beneath her, and she dashed into the keep.
Although she sought to head straight away to the throne room, as she rounded a corner, she almost plowed right into Advisor Aldus Perez.
Vivian had never much liked the advisor. She greatly preferred to talk to the vicar if given a choice between the two.
“Princess Vivian.” Aldus smiled warmly, but Vivian knew it was not warm. The man wasn’t capable of warmth. She had never understood why her father ever listened to the man, and she didn’t think her sister should either. Had she and Rosalynne talked about the advisor? Vivian wasn’t certain. There was so much she couldn’t recall at the moment. She could hardly wrap her mind around the notion that the dragons had returned and one was already dead and had not been restored back to life.
“I am so glad to see you have safely returned,” Aldus continued smoothly. “You had left, did you not? Where had you gone to?”
“If you needed to know that detail, you would have been notified,” Vivian said stiffly.
His smile only grew, and she realized that she had just confirmed to him that she had been gone.
“Aldus, be a good advisor and locate the queens for me.”
He merely eyed her with a smug smile. “Why don’t you trust me with the details?”
The nerve.
Vivian did not favor him with another word and walked around him. Her search to locate her sister proved fruitless. She was not in the throne room, her bedchambers, or anywhere else Vivian sought her. Eventually, she spotted Ulric through a window. He was walking among the dead, perhaps looking for friends, and her heart went out to him.
As swiftly as she could, she flew down the stairs and out to greet him.
“Ulric,” she exclaimed.
He turned to her, his dark eyes lightening even though his lips twisted with worry. “Are you all right?” he asked.
She drew back, startled by his concern. “Why wouldn’t I be? The more pressing question—are you?”
“I am, but you?”
“I… I must look a sight. No matter. Ulric, please, you must do what you did for me before, after Noll.”
“Whatever do you mean? You wish me to spirit you away?”
“Not me,” she said. Urgency laced through her, and she gripped his hand. “Please, I beg you, take Rosalynne to safety.”
Ulric glanced about them, gripped her elbow to the point of causing pain, and drew her underneath an overhang. Shadows covered most of his face as he leaned in close. “Do you fear for her life?”
“I trust you,” she said.
“You do not trust who precisely?” he asked. “Might we deal with them? To remove her from the castle will not be easy, even with it damaged.”
“I do not care what you have to do, if you have to truly kidnap her. Whatever you must do, do it,” she insisted.
“Her safety and yours have always been my utmost responsibility,” Ulric said softly.
“It has, hasn’t it? Even before… When you were teaching Noll how to shoot arrows.”
“Trying to,” he amended with a slight smile.
He really was a handsome man, Vivian realized. She had never noticed before. Not that she loved him. Well, she did, but perhaps as a brother. Not to replace Noll, of course not, but as another brother, an older one.
No, Vivian had long suspected that Ulric, the servant-turned-friend, loved her sister, and she wished that life had been kinder, that the Fates had been kinder, such that Rosalynne and Ulric could be together, that they could sit on the thrones, that they could rule together. Ulric, having been a servant, knew and understood the peasants better than anyone. He knew their needs and so much more. His knowledge would ensure that peasants needs were not overlooked.
It wasn’t just the peasants of Tenoch who were overlooked. There needed to be a better means for communication between those in powers—the queen, the mayors, the leaders of towns and cities.
And the islands! Vivian had seen so much poverty. The people were doing their best to survive with what they could provide for themselves, but they needed help, and even if Tenoch Proper should fall, the crown should and could help all those who needed aid.
But, most likely, if they somehow managed to survive all of this, Rosalynne would have to marry someone to further her claim of power. Marcellus, perhaps, or even someone like that champion from the last tournament. Bjorn. He hailed from Maloyan. That was a strong, solid city. Or maybe… Vivian scowled. Etian. That was where Sabine and her mother had come from, and Vivian wished the two of them would return there.
No. Hadn’t Sabine promised her mother would be executed before Vivian would return? Hmm. Vivian would have to look into that.
“You’ve been far too good to my family,” Vivian murmured. “Thank you, Ulric, for everything you have done, but please, Rosalynne must leave.”
“And you will not say why? Do you distrust anyone specifically? If there is a serious threat to her life—”
“I do not trust anyone but me, Rosalynne, and you. No one else.”
Ulric lifted his bushy eyebrows.
“I especially do not trust any women,” she said.
His eyes opened even wider. “I have not been able to locate her. I tried to find her during the fighting, but that advisor—”
“Aldus?”
“Yes.”
“He’s another one not to trust at all. His tongue is poison,” she said bitterly.
Ulric paused, considering her words. “He might very well have lied to me.” He nodded as if deciding something. “Very well.”
He turned to go
, but Vivian seized his arm. “If you cannot get her to leave and you will not drag her out, then do not leave her side. I beg—”
“Vivian, you do not have to beg me to do anything. Ask and—”
“I will not ever order you—”
“Not again, you mean?” he asked, almost smiling again.
Ah, yes. She had been rather cross with the young man when he had taken her from the castle. Vivian had been so afraid for her sister, had wanted to know if the murderer had been found…
“Never again,” she murmured.
“I did say ask,” he reminded her. “Ask whatever you wish of me, and I will do it.”
Again, he turned to go. This time, Vivian hugged him from the side.
He returned the embrace, patted her on the back, and away he went.
Yes, there were precious few Vivian trusted within the castle walls, and as she turned her gaze to the broken portion, she realized that so many more she distrusted might come at any moment.
18
Prince Marcellus Gallus
The king had taken no time at all mobilizing what had been Marcellus’ forces. They were marching toward the nearest city when he sent ahead five men to act as scouts.
Marcellus fumed quietly beside his father. He hated himself for being so very angry with his father for having taken over everything, but most of all, he hated his father for having intended to kill Rufus all along.
“Did Ricardus Vitus know what you had planned for his son?” Marcellus grumbled under his breath.
“What was it you asked, boy?” his father boomed loud enough for everyone to hear.
Marcellus bristled. He wanted to repeat his question loudly enough for everyone to hear, but he was not as petty as his father. Would the others, though, turn against their king if they knew he viewed them all as expendable?
And his father, did he view Marcellus as expendable too? Did he think of Marcellus as a threat to his power? Did he fear Marcellus?
Not that Marcellus had it in him to kill his father, and his father most likely knew that.