At the clan leader’s insistence, the group moved to a large dining hall. Pillows were arranged in a double semi-circle, each with an accompanying table that stood no higher than Lana’s knees. In the middle of the crescent were five more pillows and tables. The group arranged themselves on the pillows in the middle and made small talk while the dining hall filled with dragons.
Lana watched the dragons enter out of the corner of her eye. More than a dozen came, some unadorned, others wearing so many jewels she wondered how they could stand. When everyone was seated on their pillows in the first row, one last dragon entered. He was black as the blackest night, aside from his crimson eyes. The light of the torches shone off his scales like moonlight reflects off a slow-moving river. He wore no jewels, simply a straight knife attached to his left front leg. After a quick glance around the room, he seated himself in the back row near one side.
After he had done so, the clan leader stood. “Thank you for attending at such short notice. As I am sure you have all heard by now, we have some very special guests with us today. Please allow me to introduce them. This lovely young woman is the famed Chelandra, queen of the dragons; though she tells us she is not a queen, simply a protector. Her male companion is Dixon, a member of the Gypsies. And the beautiful creature beside them is Anethesis, former slave, freed by the grace of all that is good.
“I have gathered you here today to hear their tales, so that we may better know how to assist them. If you have any questions, please save them until our guests have finished speaking and we will make sure all are answered in due time. So now, please eat, drink, and enjoy.”
Thea bowed slightly in Lana’s direction and the girl flushed with embarrassment. She started to rise, but Dixon put a hand on her knee. She looked at him and he shook his head almost imperceptibly. Belatedly, she realized that standing would do two things. First, it would put her head above almost every dragon in the room, save the large black beast, an act that could be seen as territorial or aggressive. Second, she would be forced to stand to relate her entire tale and would not be able to eat. When she saw how delicious the food being served looked, she definitely did not want that.
She remained seated and began her tale again. She had never fully related her story to anyone and it grew difficult to tell at times. When she could not think of what to say next, she used the opportunity to eat a bit, hoping the dragons would think she was hungry and not at all nervous or confused. At other moments, the words were so painful that it took several attempts to get them to pass her lips. By the time her tale was finished, her cheeks were stained with tears, as was a handkerchief produced by one of the servants.
As she told of her meeting with Anethesis and Dixon, she felt the man’s arm around her waist and realized it had been there the entire time. His strength was the only thing that had pushed her through some of the tougher moments. When she reached their departure from the Gypsy camp, she paused.
Dixon jumped in immediately, sparing her any further distress. Grateful for the reprieve, Lana tucked into what was left of her cold meal and tried to focus on regaining her composure. She hoped the dragons would not look at her as less of a person for her weakness.
As Dixon and Neth told their stories, hot drinks and desserts were brought around. The drink was like nothing Lana had tasted before and she savored the sweet warmth while listening to her friends. She had never heard their tales in full and was amazed at the torture Neth had gone through while in slavery. The girl could see several of the Lestar dragons from where she sat and they all wore expressions of varying degrees of horror.
When the trio had finally finished their collective tale, a silence fell across the room. Not a word was spoken for several minutes. Even the clan leader could think of no words to express her feelings. Finally, the black dragon rose and cleared his throat.
“I thank you, Chelandra the Protector, and I thank you, Dixon the Gypsy and Anethesis the Free, for your bravery and suffering. The Rimers have been relatively untouched by the horrors of your kingdom, but I believe it is clear we can no longer hide in our isolation. You have done much of the work, and we cannot allow you to continue this fight on your own. With Clan Leader Theatea’s leave, I will go at once to Ipsith to speak with the Warrior. I am certain he will give his approval, and we will go with you to find this Aito you speak of.”
Thea nodded once and the black dragon left. When the door closed behind him, the room burst into excitement. Dragons from all sides were shouting questions and praise. The clan leader took the lead and hushed the crazy group. Long into the night, Lana, Dixon, and Neth answered questions about their trials and travels, and Lana went to bed exhausted, but feeling renewed hope for the first time in nearly a year.
***
Two days later, the group was sitting in the clan leader’s private chamber, drinking the sweet wine the Rimers were famous for and eating a leisurely meal when the door burst open. In bustled a servant. His white cheeks were flushed and he spoke rapidly.
“Your greatness, Warrior Erdreo has returned. He is outside and demands an audience at once. I tried to explain that you were busy, but he would not heed my pleas.”
“It is alright, Yeo. Please show him in.”
Bowing the whole way, the servant retreated. He was quickly replaced by the black dragon, who swept in wearing full battle gear. He paused in front of the clan leader, removed his helmet, and bowed on one knee.
“My apologies for delaying my return, Clan Leader Theatea. The Warrior insisted that I come with a full contingent of soldiers.”
Lana watched the exchange and the clan leader’s reaction was not at all what she had expected. The older dragon, who had been alive during Sigurd’s lifetime, stared at the black beast. Her sapphire eyes were wide, her nostrils flared.
“You mean…” She stammered, unable to complete the sentence.
“Yes, my liege. We are going to war.”
Chapter 20
The next week flew by in a haze of preparation and training. Lana, Dixon, and Neth were versed in the Rimer way of battle, though many of their tactics had to be altered to fit human limitations. With the help of Theatea’s personal tailor, the two humans were outfitted with new clothing—battle gear fit for royalty.
Jalea begged to be included in the battle, but even Lana refused to allow the young dragon to come with them. The girl stood at the gate, tears streaming down her face as she watched her brother and new friends head off to their potential death.
Lana sat atop Jireo, waving at Jalea until she could see her no longer. Beside her rode Dixon on Neth. They were in the middle of nearly a hundred dragons, all of them with one goal and one goal only: to defeat Aito and bring a final end to the tyranny in Layr. They had long been trapped above the Barrier, and though they had their freedom, they were not safe. Many had had children, brothers, sisters, and loved ones killed or stolen by slave traders and hunters. They were tired of living in fear, and they would not rest until Layr was once again truly free.
Erdreo walked at the front of the column, his white battle gear contrasting with his coal-black scales. Broadswords were strapped into sheaths along his flanks and his knife remained strapped to his leg. The other Rimers were outfitted similarly, though some carried bows, pikes, or other weapons.
Lana was amazed at the efficiency with which the Rimers prepared and executed any order given. For a race that had not seen real battle in three centuries, they appeared to be at the top of their game. She wondered how they would fare when confronted with Aito’s soldiers.
The group had been traveling for only a few hours when two scouts returned, a boy riding on the back of one of them. Erdreo brought them all to a halt and called Lana to the front.
“Tell her.”
The boy had seen no more than ten years. His eyes were wide with fear and his cheeks were burnt with frost. He breathed heavily in the cold air. His jacket was torn and he was missing a boot.
One of the scouts spoke for him. “We found
him a half a mile down the path. When he could speak, he told us that he was looking for the Rimers and Miss Chelandra.”
The child nodded as he locked eyes with the young woman. “I have a message for you, ma’am. Bellithana and your father ask for your help.”
“What? They’re here? My father is here?” The revelation rocked Lana. She had never expected her friends to abandon the new government and come looking for her.
“Yes, ma’am. My village was attacked a couple weeks ago. When they arrived, they helped me. But now they need you. They are planning an attack on Commander Aito’s castle. They cannot do it alone.”
Lana looked at Dixon, who nodded, then she turned to Erdreo. “You wanted a battle. Are you ready for this?”
“It is why we are here. Let’s go.”
The boy was transferred to Erdreo’s back and the soldiers headed off, preparing to fight for their lives if need be.
Chapter 21
Bellithana stood defiantly at the gate of the burnt-out village, alone against the silhouette of the courtyard. Heavy flakes of wet snow were falling, blanketing the ground around her and clumping on her hair and clothes. The wind whipped her thick skirts, causing them to tug at her ankles. Her face was uncovered and the cold bit hard at her cheeks and nose.
Despite the freezing temperatures, her hands held an unnatural warmth. Adrenaline burned in her veins and she fought desperately to hold back the orange glow that would give her away.
“Surrender, or be slaughtered like those before you.”
Captain Jase stood in front of her, a dozen feet outside the walls of the village. He was backed up by his men and they had surrounded the other exits. Scouts had informed her of the soldiers’ arrival before they were anywhere near the village and final preparations had been made hastily. She was the only clearly visible being in the village.
“Who are you to demand my surrender?” she asked, her voice more curious than challenging.
“I am Captain Jase, of the Layr army. Surrender now and you may be spared.”
The corners of her lips pulled up into a smirk. “Captain, you say? I know all the captains in Layr’s army, and none are named Jase. You must be an outlaw, and in that case, I demand your surrender. Make this easy and no harm will come to you.”
The man stared at her in disbelief. Belli’s heart pounded heavily in her chest and she hoped desperately that he could not hear it. She had expected the Rimers to arrive before the attackers, but there had been no sign of them or Deni since the boy left the village. Jase’s force was nearly four times the size of her own. She held only a small hope that she would live through the day.
A smile broke across Jase’s face and a chuckle started deep in his stomach. “You cannot be serious, woman. We have your village surrounded. I know you are not alone, but you do not have the power to repel us for long. We will destroy you.”
She returned his smile, but her eyes were hard. “Then so be it.”
Upon the last word, she released the energy that had been building inside her during the verbal confrontation. Her hands burst into flame, surrounded by dancing orange and yellow peaks. With a scream, she threw her fists forward and balls of fire shot toward the men on either side of Jase. They fell to the ground, shrieks of pain echoing through the small clearing as their horses balked and ran.
The sudden commotion set Jase’s own horse dancing and it took him several seconds to recover. By the time he did, Belli had ducked behind the wall and was running along it, making sure to keep her feet as close as possible to the base. More screams of pain and shouts of anger followed her and she paused to glance back.
The first wave of mounted soldiers had been sent through the gate. The lead horse tripped over a wire that had been run across the opening. It was tight enough to bring the horse to its knees and send its rider tumbling to the snow. The force of the horse running into the wire pulled the lever it was attached to and mini spikes rose from planks in the ground, stabbing into the feet of the horses that followed. The next man to fall from his mount was unfortunate enough to land face-first on the spikes, bringing his life to an unpleasant and slow end.
Belli continued to run, rounding the last house before reaching the street. Her own soldiers stood at the end with weapons ready. She watched as several of Jase’s men raced past on foot, toward the opening. Arrows flew from both sides and two of her friends fell before she reached the corner.
Across the snow-covered street, Valian and Passo hunkered down in a doorway, releasing arrow after arrow into the oncoming waves of attackers. A shout from her right told her that the battle had begun at the other exit and her heart sank. The sheer number of soldiers pouring down the street and the fact that she had already lost nearly a quarter of her trained soldiers told her that the battle would not last long.
The roar of a dragon pulled her attention briefly and she watched as Ator flew over the wall to join the fray. He tore at the men in armor, tossing them like toys into the walls around him.
“They are coming,” Ator screamed.
“What?” Belli could barely hear him over the noise of the battle, but the dragon did not respond.
A blast of ice took down a soldier who was bearing down on her and she had her answer.
***
“Now,” screamed Lana from the back of Jireo.
The white dragons around her poured forward, attacking the soldiers from behind. The men were caught off guard and many of them went down to the deadly frost without even turning. The dragons pushed forward toward the gates.
“Watch the ground,” shouted a man from inside.
Lana’s eyes went wide as she recognized the voice.
“Father?” She searched desperately for the source, but couldn’t find it as Jireo sped through the opening, leaping over spikes in the ground. The sudden jump took her by surprise and she tumbled from the dragon’s back, falling heavily in the thick snow.
“Lana!” Dixon leapt from Neth and started running toward her.
Groaning, she rolled to her side and watched in horror as Dixon was set upon from behind by a large, burly man with a mace. A shout of warning caught in her throat. The brown patchy hair, the pale skin, and the dull eyes were too familiar, too alive to be real.
Dixon turned, barely catching the mace on his sword in time to turn it aside. It grazed his thick clothes and tore a hole in his jacket, but left him otherwise unharmed. He stumbled away, fighting for solid footing against the enraged man. The attacker wore no armor. He had no helmet and pushed forward like he did not fear death.
Dixon staggered backward as another fierce blow tested his defenses and he lost his footing, tumbling to the ground. The man stood over him, snarling with bloodlust as he raised his mace over his head for the final blow.
“No!”
Lana had her bow nocked and released the arrow, sending it flying into the man’s neck. He staggered backward, his eyes wide and confused. He reached for the thing in his throat and ripped it out as if he were removing a splinter. After looking at the arrow for a moment, he discarded it and raised his mace again.
Dixon was crawling away on his hands and knees, trying desperately to put space between him and the crazed man. Lana screamed, a tortured sound of fear and anger, and released three more arrows at once. They buried deep in their target, sinking into the throat, the cheek, and the soft flesh of the temple.
The big man stopped, blinking. No blood flowed from his wounds and his hand dropped to his side, the mace too heavy for him to hold onto. He stumbled and his eyes settled on Lana before he fell to his knees. Swaying briefly, he tumbled to the side, collapsing in a heap.
Lana ran to him, dropping her bow haphazardly to the ground. Tears streamed from her eyes, clouding her vision. She slipped an arm underneath his head and reached for the arrow in his temple.
His hand gripped her wrist gently. “No.” he whispered.
“B… Bolgor?” Lana’s voice came out cracked and unsteady.
His own v
oice was thick and rough. “Lana.”
“You were dead.”
He coughed once. “And again. Please.”
His gray, cloudy eyes pleaded with her.
“Again?” She knew what he wanted, but her heart screamed out for her to refuse.
“Rul!”
The cry echoed across the courtyard and Lana turned her head. A young girl was racing toward them, skirts flapping in the wind.
“No, no. What have you done?” She shouted, dropping beside the fallen man.
He smiled up at her, taking her hand in his. “Veni. It is time.”
Lana watched the girl’s face, seeing the same pain and fear she felt echoed there.
Bolgor turned his attention back to his former love. “Please, Lana. Please.”
Choking back more tears, she nodded and stood. Dixon was beside her then and she took his sword from him. The Gypsy gently pulled the young girl away from Bolgor’s side and they stepped away.
Lana leaned down, kissing the dead man gently on his brow. “I love you, Bolgor.”
“I love you, too. Thank you.”
He closed his eyes. Taking a deep breath, Lana raised the sword high, then brought it down heavily. She heard him grunt, but was forced to swing twice more before his head detached completely. She watched the life in his eyes, dull and gray, fade completely before she dropped the sword and sank to the ground.
“He’s really dead.”
Lana looked up to see the young girl standing next to her. She narrowed her gaze, anger making her skin flush and her blood rush through her veins.
“He was dead before. I watched him die. I saw him buried. What did you do to him?” As she spoke, she rose to her feet and gripped the girl by the jacket.
The girl shrank away, trying to pry Lana’s fingers off her clothing. “I didn’t do it. Rivanna did. I’m sorry.”
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