The Triumphant Return

by N M Zoltack

  Yes, it had been murder. While the Vincanan had been an enemy of their kingdom, he had been unarmed.

  Who else had been murdered? Rufus, but Sabine had been too far away, dancing with another and could not have done it. Noll, on the other hand…

  No. Until Rosalynne could be certain that Sabine had not killed the prince, Rosalynne could not befriend the queen. As it was, Sabine still seemed far too ambitious as evidenced by the killing just now.

  Her thoughts all jumbled, Rosalynne could only nod and wave away the guards. They could bury him or fling him over the wall. She did not care, only wishing for him to be out of sight.

  Only Bernard Belinelli remained with Rosalynne as she slowly watched the crimson faded from the waters until the hot spring appeared to be purified.

  The main issue she must attend to was the need to purify all of Tenoch. The Vincanans were a blight, and if they could be contained to the southern continent, then they could be allowed to live. She did not care even if Vincana became a free kingdom again. Whatever the cost, there must be peace, and peace would never be had if a Vincanan sat a throne intended to be the seat of power for Vincana Proper.

  69

  Rase Ainsley

  Hours. Almost every single second of precious sunlight was what it took for Rase and his “friends” to locate Leanne.

  And not a moment too soon. Rase and his friends had split up to cover more ground, and one of his friends, the carpenter, had located her and brought her to Rase.

  Leanne was muddy, her face caked with dirt and dried tears, and she collapsed into Rase’s arms, her small frame nearly enough to make him fall onto his rump, but he managed to remain upright.

  He murmured something, hoping he was making sense, that he was comforting her, but all he could hear was a dull roar in his ears, and all he could think about was causing whoever had made her cry to feel pain, lots of it. He kept rubbing her back as her shoulders trembled.

  His gaze met Joachim Carpenter. “What happened? Who had her?”

  “I don’t know his name,” he started.

  “Does he live?” Rase demanded.

  “Yes, but he will wake with his head aching.”

  “You should have bound him and brought him to me,” Rase grumbled.

  The carpenter lifted his eyebrows. “I don’t know who he was, but he was a huge monster of a man dressed in a servant’s attire, his clothes all dirty and unkempt. When I found her, he was tugging on her arm.”

  “And Leanne?”

  “She was fighting him, trying to claw her way free. She was yelling at him.”

  “She was strong enough for that?” Rase asked incredulously.

  Joachim eyed Leanne.

  “You can say.” His sister’s trembling had slowed to the point that he thought she might fall asleep in his arms.

  “She seemed worn, tired, as if she was running out of fight.”

  “And you attacked him?”

  “I did.”

  By now, a few of the other friends arrived. Rase asked them to bring Leanne to the new house and to stay with her. Then, he motioned Joachim ahead.

  “Take me to him,” Rase ordered.

  The carpenter looked like he was ready to protest, but then he nodded and walked off. About ten minutes later, they arrived at a small clearing, but no man was in sight.

  Rase gritted his teeth. “Will you please learn his name?” he asked.

  “Why? So you can kill him?”

  “So I can learn why he came after her. I need to keep her safe. She’s all I have.”

  Joachim sighed. “I will try, but I make no promises.”

  Rase nodded and hurried home. Why was Leanne a target? Did it have to do with the first attack? Was the goon sent by Radcliff and the idiot didn’t realize his employer was dead?

  Whatever the reason behind the attack, Rase would learn both that and the man’s name.

  And, yes, Joachim, even though it’s none of your concern, yes, I will kill him if given a chance, and I will make sure I have that chance.

  70

  Bjorn Ivano

  For days now, possibly even a week, Bjorn had wanted to remove Olympia from the surrounding area of Atlan, trying in vain to convince her that this was wise. She refused time and again.

  Perhaps it was time for another tactic.

  “Come,” he said once they finished eating the last of their supply of berries. Most likely, that would not be able to find any until spring.

  “I am not leaving—”

  He pointed to the west. “That way. We won’t leave.”

  "Where are we going, though?"

  “You’ll see.”

  “I do not like giving you blind trust.”

  “Then keep your eyes open,” he teased.

  “Trust should be earned.”

  “You have mine.”

  She snorted. “As I should. I saved your life.”

  “And you will never let me forget it.”

  “Why should I?”

  “You are right. I owe you my life. All the more reason why you should believe I am on your side.”

  “Are you?” she asked quietly.

  “I think you can tell one thing for certain,” he said as he started to walk, grateful she fell into step beside him without needing to be prompted.

  “What’s that?”

  "That I clearly don't want you dead, or else I would try to find Vincanans or Tenoch knights or guards and be done with you."

  “You have been avoiding the castle. You do not wish to see the queens, do you? Are you no longer certain that trading me for forgiveness is an option?”

  He scowled and side-eyed her, but she was smiling.

  She was only teasing him.

  An hour or so later, he halted. They were in an area where the poorest of those in Atlan lived.

  It was not a surprise that Olympia immediately moved to help a young girl who was digging the dirt.

  “What is it you’re looking for?” she asked.

  “Worms.”

  “Worms? Why do you need worms? To fish?”

  “No.” The girl wrinkled her nose and dug faster. Her fingers yanked out a thick, wiggly worm, and she promptly shoved it into her mouth. She smiled at Olympia, her teeth covered in worm innards.

  “Oh. To eat,” Olympia said faintly, but she did not move on until she found the girl five more worms.

  The others she attempted to help did not appreciate a stranger meddling in their affairs. A man trying to repair his roof did not want her to hold his ladder or to climb up with him. A woman corralling her children did not value Olympia guiding one of the little ones her way as if afraid Olympia would run off with him, and so many others.

  Still, she tried, moving from one person to the next, one family to another. It wasn’t until the sun was far into her descent that she returned to Bjorn’s side.

  “I knew they would not recognize me, but they don’t want my help? Why not?”

  “They’re a proud people,” he explained.

  Her smile was wide and full, her eyes lightening, her confusion fading. “I love them all the more despite their gruffness,” she said, and he believed her. “But I want to help. How can I?”

  "I hate to admit it, but… I'm not sure how things can change for the people… or for you."

  Olympia pursed her lips and did not press the issue further. Even without the war, these people would be hurting. Without resources, Olympia could not help them. If she were queen, no one would be forgotten, of that he had no doubt. Mayhap she was the queen Tenoch needed, but how could she ever dare to even hope to wear the crown?

  71

  Garsea

  There was nothing else Garsea could do, no other notion, idea, or impulse coming to mind.

  A life had been taken, and so another life had to be given.

  The life had been stripped violently and without due cause, and so another life had to be given freely but perhaps also violently.

  For some time now, Gar
sea had thought his life might be coming to an end, and now, it would, so that, Fates willing, the dragons would return.

  Fates willing.

  Perhaps it had always been meant for this, for the sacred order of the Keeper of the Flames to be reduced to one, so that that one could sacrifice himself for the sake of the dragons they had sworn and devoted their lives to.

  If he failed… If this did not work… Garsea did not even wish to think like that, but even he could not deny his fear. On occasion, he had heard the voice of a dragon in a dream, but that voice had long grown silent. He did not know if this was the first course or not, and yet, he thought it was.

  He stared at the perfect skeleton of the largest of the three dragons and smiled. Even if this ultimate attempt at resurrection failed, Garsea would have given his all for his beloved dragons. Honestly, that suited him just fine. His entire life had been devoted to the cause. Why shouldn’t his death be the same?

  But what should be the instrument of his death? There were the few daggers and knives in the kitchen, but they had been used in meal prep, and even if he washed them, it felt too sacrilegious to use them in the formal ceremony this would no doubt require.

  Despite the late hour, the sun long asleep, light shone through the window, the beam landing on one of the smaller, incomplete dragon skeletons. Garsea wandered over and stared at the skull for a long moment. A tooth, perhaps? No. A claw.

  Garsea picked up the claw and held it into the light. Yes, yes, this would do.

  He returned the claw for now, left the room, and thoroughly washed his body before donning a new brown robe. If he had one in white … Wait. Ximeno had one.

  Quickly, he disrobed and placed the white robe over his head. Then, he returned to the room with the skeletons. Should he bother with the candles and the incense this time? No. He was merely delaying the task at hand, and he must do this now before the cowardice of the man he was underneath the mantle of Keeper prevented him from doing what he was now certain was necessary.

  “Dragons three, I know you can hear me, and I have faith you will return. The world needs you. The Lady needs you. She has not yet taken up her mantle, and I fear that without you, she won’t have the strength to. Give all of us the strength to do your will and to do as you would wish, always and without fail. Give us courage and respect, and forgive us for any and all failures. We try, but we should try harder.”

  Garsea lowered his head. A lump had formed in his throat, and talking was difficult. He was liable to start crying, and he did not wish for that to be the case.

  It wasn’t that he was afraid to die. No. He wished so badly to see one of the dragons return, and the thought that he would never see one fly nearly stripped him of his courage. Yes, he was weak, far too weak. Just as any other, he needed strength from the dragons.

  Slowly, he walked about the room, touching the bones, readjusting some, soaking in the majesty that had been the dragons three. They would rise again. They had to.

  “The world is at war. It hasn’t reached Olac yet, but without you all to stop the deceit, the turmoil, the coming strife will consume all persons. Only you can stem back the rising tide of anger, bitterness, jealousy, and want of power. Only you can turn a man’s heart, turn him away from the darkness and back to the light.”

  Again, he had to stop speaking, his thoughts now centering on Velasco. The Keeper of all people had turned into a wraith. He was now charged with frightening others back onto the path of light rather than the dark one he had followed.

  Had there been a hidden darkness to Velasco that Garsea had not seen or overlooked? Yes, he had been an angry man, prone to outbursts, but he had passionate, and while his faith might have wavered, he hadn’t been one to turn aside from his duties. Velasco hadn’t truly walked the dark path, had he?

  He must have, or else the dragons wouldn’t have turned him into a wraith.

  Or else the dragons merely thought he had…

  No. Garsea would not allow reservation and misgivings to color his thoughts or to poison his heart. Velasco had deserved his fate, of that Garsea had no doubt.

  A passage Garsea had come to memorize, etched forever into his heart, came to mind.

  Without hope, faith, and love, the dragons cannot return for if one were to revive them without those three, the dragons might not be the ones from old.

  He had hope. He had faith, and he had love.

  That must be enough.

  Garsea tenderly picked up the claw that would steal away his life, and he lay down close to the complete skeleton but where he would not disturb any of the bones.

  Eyes closed, he recited an earlier portion of the same passage. “‘Before all life, there was nothing at all, only darkness, a vast void until a sudden glimmer of hope sparked the first being—a dragon. That hope shattered into faith and love to become the other two dragons.’”

  He shifted the claw so it rested directly above his chest.

  “‘Their might, their passion, and their fire burned the world into existence. Their tears formed the seas and rivers. They shaped the mountains with their claws, breaking off bits of land to form the islands.’”

  Tears prickled his eyes. His heart could not be fuller. This was the only way to bring about the dragons, and he was more than willing to give his life for this most noble of causes.

  “‘So long as the dragons maintained their hope, faith, and love, there was peace.’”

  He dug the claw tip into his skin, enough to draw blood, but he wasn’t done speaking yet.

  “‘But humans were creatures of many emotions, several foreign to the dragons, including greed, lust, envy, and pride. The humans were violent and destructive, cruel and self-serving.’”

  Tears ran down his cheeks.

  Instead of reciting more, he whispered, “But not all humans are violent and destructive, cruel and self-serving, not anymore. Some are even more wicked than in years past. The humans have never needed the dragons three more than they do now.”

  Garsea held the claw up high.

  “Come back to us! Guide us! Be our love, our faith, and our hope once more!”

  He slammed the dagger into his heart. As blood gushed from the wound, wetting his tunic and falling to the ground, he could feel his life ebb away.

  Garsea clung to life, though, for as long as possible, hoping to hear a flutter of wings, to see a dragon rise, but no. The Keeper gave his life for a dragon to come back, only he died never knowing if his sacrifice had been enough.

  72

  Councilmember Greta Grantham

  A knock at the door had Greta turning away from the window. The world outside seemed so peaceful, and yet the war loomed, and even the tension within the castle’s walls was rising.

  Another knock and she called, “Come in.”

  A guard stood there, stiff and formal. “The queens would like to ask you for a meeting for advice.”

  Beyond pleased, Greta smiled wide before recalling she should not do so no matter how happy she was.

  “Very well. Take me to them.”

  The guard brought her to a small tea room. No maids were inside, the table cleared off. There would not be any tea drunken during this meeting.

  “How can I help you?” Greta asked as she took a seat at the table.

  “You can help by admitting your guilt,” Rosalynne said calmly.

  “My guilt?” Greta laughed. “I do not understand what you mean.”

  “You have been plotting against me and against your daughter too.”

  “Why on earth would I plot against Sabine?” Greta asked, her tone cool. “Do you have any proof to substantiate these allegations?”

  Sabine sat at the table, looking rather serene. Rosalynne did not appear flustered, yet neither of them had anything to say.

  Greta placed her hands on the table. “Is this some kind of farce?” she demanded. “I do not appreciate such baseless accusations. I have never done anything against the crown… against the crowns.”
r />   “Nothing?” a male voice said from behind her.

  Greta stiffened. None of the queens’ guards were in the room, she had noticed, but she had not realized that Tiberius Davis had followed her inside the room before the door had been shut.

  “Tiberius, have you any pertinent details for this discussion?” Rosalynne asked. “You may speak plainly.

  Tiberius nodded, and Greta fumed. The guard would not look at her. The spineless coward. Was he truly going to betray her?

  “I witnessed the queen’s mother pay two of the Vincanan prisoners, one to kill each of the queens.”

  Sabine sat up straighter. Finally, as proper as a lady should be but still not as tall as a queen should.

  “I knew it,” she said, almost hissing the words.

  Greta could not control her outrage, and she stood. “How can you possibly listen to the words of a mere guard?” she cried out.

  “That guard is a knight with the duty of protecting certain persons, yes, but his first duty is ever to the throne,” Rosalynne said.

  “I am a councilmember! I have the best interests of the throne at heart!”

  “And who would you have wear the crown, Mother?” Sabine countered, standing. “Yourself? You told the people about the king to undermine Rosalynne, but that pales in comparison to having paid enemies of the crown to dispatch of both queens. You disgust me.”

  “I would never do such a thing to you, daughter. You know that everything I have ever done has been for you.”

  “Everything,” Sabine mused.

  “I would never do anything to increase the chances of the Vincanans winning. Your deaths would certainly see to that!”

  “You deny this allegation, then?” Rosalynne asked.

  “I do!” Greta said firmly.

  “Stop lying, Mother. You are not innocent, and you’ve killed before.”

  “I would never!”

  “Noll?”

  Sabine smiled smugly, and Rosalynne’s face turned a shocking shade of white.