Kingdom of Bones

by Philip C. Quaintrell

  Karakulak smiled. “This pleases me. Now, High Priestess, you may leave.”

  His mother rose to her tiny stature and bowed her head once more. She paused on her way out, taking an extra moment to look upon the small chest filled with The Crow’s elixir.

  Karakulak could see the derision on her face, an expression of real disgust. It only pleased him all the more.

  34

  The Top of the World

  Outside The Dragon Keep, atop the ramparts, Vighon used his rank to dismiss a pair of Gold Cloaks, giving the foursome room to talk privately.

  Gideon looked out at what should have been a spectacular view of Namdhor, its sloping towers, and a vast land of snow and distant trees. The ash fall, however, had increased, masking much of the vista behind a grey haze.

  Beneath the city, by the giant pillar of rock that supported the slope, he could feel his companion resting beside Athis.

  Rest only as long as you need, old friend. I need your eye on the horizon as soon as possible.

  Athis has taken some injury, Ilargo replied. I will see to him and take to the sky alone.

  Hearing his companion’s response, Gideon gave Inara a quick inspection, noting a few more injuries than he had seen inside the throne room. He knew she must be feeling the strain, but that Galfrey blood of hers kept her standing strong.

  “What’s going on here?” Gideon asked.

  Vighon double-checked the ramparts. “Arlon has agreed to tell us exactly what’s inside that dwarven mine, but only if I became a captain of Namdhor.”

  “What does he have to gain from that?” Gideon probed, having detected no lack of disdain between them.

  “I’m not entirely sure, but he’s most likely trying to legitimise himself. Showing off a son will make him a better fit for the throne.”

  Gideon frowned. “The throne?”

  “It’s all he wants,” Vighon assured. “He’s an evil bastard to be sure, but I don’t think he knew the entire realm was going to end up in his lap. Uniting the kingdoms is new to me. I think he’s adapting to the situation, something Arlon has always excelled at.”

  Inara pressed, “He would become king of Illian, Gideon. Only the island nation of Dragorn would sit outside his borders.”

  Gideon looked at each of them. “Why would Arlon become the new king?”

  “Why wouldn’t he?” Vighon countered. “He has all the lords and knights in his pocket. Through The Ironsworn he already controls everything in the north. No one would dare challenge his claim.”

  Gideon considered Queen Yelifer and her illness. “The house of Skalaf has no heirs,” he reasoned. “How sick is the queen?”

  The three companions looked at each other, but it was Inara who answered. “The lord of Namdhor has been poisoning her for years now.”

  Gideon’s hand fell naturally onto the hilt of Mournblade. “Poisoning her!” he exclaimed.

  “We have no proof,” Inara continued. “Only what he’s said to Vighon while they were alone.”

  Gideon took a few steps towards the edge of the rampart and looked out over Namdhor again. What had become of this city? He could see now how wrong they had been to leave the north to their troubles. Their civil war had solved nothing, allowing the worst of humanity to gain power.

  “But, you’re here now,” Inara said hopefully. “You can challenge his claim to be king, yes? As the master of the Dragorn—”

  “That’s exactly why I can’t challenge him, Inara. The Dragorn are protectors, we’re not rulers. Kings and queens should derive their strength from the loyalty of their subjects, not the power they wield individually. King Arlon does not strike me as a monarch who would respect his people or their needs.”

  “He just craves power,” Vighon said. “That’s all he’s ever wanted.”

  Gideon couldn’t imagine anyone worse sitting on a throne, especially one that might rule over Illian. “Well, he seems awfully sure that this convenient weapon The Crow has whispered of will deliver Namdhor from its doom. I’ve never seen someone so confident of victory when facing odds like this.”

  “Of course he’s confident.” Vighon shrugged as if it was obvious. “He went from living on the streets to the leader of the most violent and powerful gang in the north. Now, he’s the lord of Namdhor, inches from the throne itself. He always wins. He doesn’t know how to lose…”

  Gideon dwelled on this promised weapon. “Has there been no word from your parents?” he asked Inara.

  The young Dragorn shook her head. “Nothing, Master.”

  “Arlon has sent a crew of smiths and mages,” Vighon divulged. “He means to crack it open with magic and brawn.”

  “If The Crow has directed him to this supposed weapon,” Gideon remarked, “I can only imagine the lord of Namdhor is chasing smoke.” His own choice of words reminded him of another who had spent centuries chasing smoke. “What of Hadavad? Has he been seen since your separation at Ilythyra?”

  Galanör, tucked away beneath his hood, offered a look of sorrow. “I have begun to fear the worst,” he confessed. “The old mage was adamant he knew where he was going and he would find answers, but the land has become treacherous since his departure…”

  “What of Alijah?” Vighon blurted, beating Inara to the same question by a second.

  Gideon hesitated. “I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “We were both in Velia when the orcs attacked. Asher and Malliath were there… It was chaos. Ilargo and I barely escaped with our lives but…”

  “You didn’t see him fall,” Inara stated.

  “No,” Gideon agreed. “We were separated.”

  “He’s still alive,” she replied with conviction. “If you didn’t see him fall, Alijah will have survived.”

  Vighon had gone quiet and Gideon failed to read him. It was clear to see, however, that this news was distressing for them all. It only added to the Master Dragorn’s guilt, weighing him down.

  “He’s probably heading towards Namdhor as we speak,” Galanör offered. “With any luck, he’ll arrive after the battle.”

  “I would rather have him by my side in battle,” Vighon finally said, his tone flat and mind elsewhere. “Alijah’s aim with a bow is beyond any in the north right now.”

  “I’m sorry,” Gideon said for the first time. “It’s my fault he was in Velia, I should never have taken him there… And I should never have left him there.”

  “He’s alive,” Inara said again. “Which means we will see him again. Until then, we have to make sure there’s something for him to come back to. The orcs are only days away, especially those I encountered in the west.”

  Gideon was impressed with the young Dragorn, who was often ruled by her emotions. “Three thousand you say?”

  “At least,” Inara confirmed.

  “King Karakulak marches from the east with ten thousand, I’d say.”

  “Karakulak?” Galanör echoed.

  Gideon nodded. “Lord Draqaro isn’t the only one who has been visited by The Crow. Until recently, the wizard had a way of communicating with me in the library in The Lifeless Isles. Much like Arlon, he enjoys speaking about his assured victories before they have happened.”

  “He told you of the orc army?” Inara questioned.

  Thinking back on everything that had happened over the last few days filled Gideon with heartache. “He told me of Karakulak, but he also baited us with his own presence, hoping to draw us out into conflict. I refused to rise to it but…”

  Inara tilted her head to see her master’s eyes. “But what?”

  “Rolan Baird disobeyed my command. He led six others to the east of The Vrost Mountains. All but Rolan perished.”

  Inara raised a hand to her mouth. “Malliath?”

  “No,” Gideon replied solemnly. “You have seen the ballista bolts the orcs favour? They are coated in something known as wrath powder. There is no dragon hide that can resist it.”

  “I’m sorry for your losses,” Vighon said, being as sympathe
tic as he could despite their desperate need, “but there are others of your order coming to our aid, yes? More Dragorn are following you?”

  Inara added her expectant look to Vighon’s, waiting for the obvious answer. He swallowed hard, composing himself before the words left his mouth.

  Seeing his pain Inara spoke up first. “What is it, Master?”

  “After the attack on Velia,” he began, “Malliath flew to The Lifeless Isles. He killed many…”

  Inara’s face dropped and a single tear overran her welling eyes and streaked down her face, cutting a line through the ash.

  “Those who survived,” Gideon continued, “did so because the more experienced challenged Malliath, protecting the younger Dragorn. I can’t… I won’t command them to leave The Lifeless Isles. They’ve already been through too much and they wouldn’t stand against a force this large, especially if Malliath accompanies them.”

  What he wanted to add was his lack of instruction. He hadn’t trained them to fight in a battle against thousands, not to mention against another dragon. He couldn’t call on them because, as their master, he knew in his heart that he had failed them.

  “We need them,” Vighon insisted, as if he hadn’t heard what Malliath did to so many of the others.

  “They’re too young,” Gideon repeated. “The dragons too. Between their inexperience and their youth it would be like sending children into war.”

  Vighon looked from Gideon to Inara and back. “I’m sorry for what Malliath has done, I truly am. But sending children into war is exactly what’s going to happen here. There’s maybe five hundred decent fighters in Namdhor right now. How long do you think they will last against an army of what, fifteen thousand? Twenty thousand? When they perish, it will be the children who pick up the fallen swords and fight to live. We need dragons!”

  “Vighon,” Inara warned, her eyes still filled with tears.

  The northman sighed and turned away to get a handle on his frustration.

  “I’m sorry, Vighon,” Gideon apologised. “I will not call on them only to die. We have Ilargo, Athis, and Thraden will be here soon with Arathor.”

  Vighon turned back, his frustration still evident. “Three dragons and less than a battalion of soldiers against thousands of orcs…” The northman pinched his nose. “I can’t believe I’m thinking about this.”

  “Thinking about what?” Galanör asked.

  “Giving Arlon what he wants.”

  Gideon had known the man less than a day and giving him anything at this point felt like helping the enemy. “What’s that exactly?”

  “He might not have planned it,” Vighon explained, “but having what’s left of the other kingdoms at his mercy gives Arlon more power than he ever dreamed of. I’m the last person that wants to see him gain any more power, believe me. Uniting what’s left of us, however, is the only way we’re going to stand a chance of getting through this.”

  “You would be asking people to give up their heritage,” Inara pointed out. “Their ancestors’ heritage.”

  “I know,” Vighon replied. “But I have four hundred soldiers who owe their allegiance to General Thedomir Longshadow of Grey Stone, plus however many he can muster from Lirian’s remains. Most of them need swords and shields, Inara. I can’t exactly march them all into Namdhor’s armoury; Arlon and General Morkas would never allow it.”

  “He’s right,” Galanör said, surprising Vighon most of all. “It’s a big thing to ask of the survivors, especially for those who have deep roots in their fallen kingdoms, but fighting under one banner will bolster what few remain to defend this city.”

  “More to the point,” Vighon continued, “if they bow to Namdhor’s rule they can access any weapons the army left behind without going through Arlon and his men.”

  Gideon didn’t like the idea at all. “No,” he stated flatly. “Illian has thrived with six kingdoms for a thousand years. There’s a reason Gal Tion’s empire came to an end; he couldn’t keep a grip on the southern lands.”

  Giving breath to the stubbornness in his northern bones, Vighon argued, “We’re trapped at the top of the world. The other kingdoms have fallen. We face little choice in the matter, Master Thorn. We must unite and we must unite now.”

  Gideon shook his head. “We will push the orcs back. We will win. And when this is all over, we will re-build the kingdoms and give the people their homes back.”

  “And who will rule them?” Vighon countered. “Will you choose the next king or queen of Velia?”

  Inara turned her blue eyes on the northman. “Vighon, you’re suggesting we give ultimate power to your father.”

  Vighon looked away for a moment, his gaze wandering over the hideous Dragon Keep. “I’m suggesting we survive.” With his final words, the northman walked away.

  Galanör watched him leave. “He has been handed a great responsibility,” he explained. “For years he has only had to look out for himself and Alijah. Now, he feels the weight of the realm.”

  Don’t we all, Gideon thought. “He’s a good man. A little inexperienced for the task ahead of him, but a good man all the same.”

  Inara was quiet. The Master Dragorn could see the worries in her soul taking a hold of her. She wasn’t that much more experienced than the young Dragorn he had left at The Lifeless Isles. Sending her away now, however, would be folly. Not that Inara would listen to such a command; she had been in the middle of all this as much as he had.

  “I will continue to remain at his side,” Galanör said. “There is still much to be done to prepare the city.”

  Gideon nodded. “Your wisdom will be called upon as much as your strength. Inara and I will help with whatever we can. I get the feeling we aren’t welcome in The Dragon Keep anyway…”

  The elf patted him on the arm. “For what it’s worth, I am happy you’re here.”

  Gideon smiled at his old friend. “We will find you in the city,” he promised.

  The two Dragorn were left in each other’s company atop the ramparts, neither saying a word. Among others they had kept their chins up and limited the grief that wanted to pour out of them.

  Inara moved to the very edge of the wall, angling herself so that no one could see the tears that streaked down her cheeks.

  Gideon took a breath and kept his voice low. “Inara, there’s something I didn’t say about Alijah.” The young Dragorn turned on him with a curiosity. “It’s private, even among friends.”

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “The spell that The Crow placed over Asher and Malliath…”

  Inara nodded along. “The one Alijah was bound to.”

  Gideon shook his head. “Alijah wasn’t bound to it. In fact, there was no magic placed over him at all.”

  Inara tilted her head. “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying the bond between him and Malliath is entirely natural.” He left his words to hang in the air for a moment, allowing Inara to truly absorb them. “He’s a Dragorn. Or at least he would be if Asher hadn’t been pushed between them.”

  The flicker of a smile pulled at Inara’s cheek. “He’s immortal…” she whispered. “Wait, he’s bonded with Malliath?”

  Gideon shrugged. “There was none who could ever predict such a thing.” His comment made him pause and consider the truth of it.

  Inara’s smile faded fast. “But Malliath is… broken. From what I’ve seen through Athis, he wasn’t exactly sane before the mages of Korkanath bound him for a thousand years. His mind is—”

  “We will cross that bridge when we come to it,” Gideon assured, his mind too cluttered to figure out the details of Alijah’s bond.

  “He will never be accepted,” Inara pointed out. “Not after what he did in The Lifeless Isles, spellbound or not.”

  Gideon had no reply for that, but the memory of it made his eyes well up.

  “How many?” Inara asked suddenly, her voice strained.

  The Master Dragorn took a breath. Voicing the death that had befa
llen their order made it all so much more real.

  “Of the council, only Alastir and Ayana remain. There are now less than thirty Dragorn.”

  “Say their names,” Inara replied, her sight set on the grey horizon.

  “Benji, Menevel, Garin, Sigrit, Talia, Arin…” Gideon continued to name their dead, both dragon and Dragorn for some time. By the end of the list, tears ran down both of their faces.

  “Edrik and Aldreon,” the young Dragorn added at the end, their own end witnessed by her.

  Gideon could see that such a thing still affected Inara. “Their death was senseless, an act of mindless evil. But, take heart, Inara Galfrey; you survived an encounter with the most powerful dragon in the world.”

  “He flew away,” Inara corrected. “That doesn’t make me strong, Master. It just makes me lucky…”

  Gideon could say the same thing, but he knew it wouldn’t help the young Dragorn right now. Confidence and strength could only be found by the person, not by the words of others.

  They both stood in silence for a while, but Ilargo could feel a churning within his companion.

  Something stirs inside of you, the dragon said in his mind.

  Inara too noted his growing concern, left to his thoughts. “What troubles you, Master?”

  Gideon considered his fears. “The Crow…” he said. “Karakulak and the orcs I understand, but The Crow escapes me. He led us to their army and they suffered for it. Now he leads enemies of the orcs to a weapon that could turn the tide?”

  “His motives have become hard to align,” Inara agreed.

  “It’s more than that,” Gideon continued. “If he can see the future, and I’m inclined to believe that he can, then he appears to be playing both sides of this war. The question is: which side does he want to win?”

  Inara rested both of her hands on the wall and leaned into them with a great sigh. “There are too many questions. I thought war was supposed to be simple.”

  Gideon tilted his head. “That depends what all the sides are fighting for. We fight to survive. The orcs fight to conquer. The Crow complicates everything. He whispers to both but to what gain? The Black Hand worship Kaliban, a god to which there is no literature and remains just as mysterious as The Crow himself. I can’t fight what I can’t see…”