Age of Valor: Dragon Song

by D. E. Morris

  Ashlynn was unresponsive, and he wondered momentarily if she had finally fallen asleep. Soon enough, however, she turned over and looked at him in horror, her eyes searching his face. “Your not serious.”

  “I want to see him for myself - see what his excuses and lies will be.”

  Rolling over, Ashlynn lifted herself up on her elbow, anger drawing her brows together. “You're leaving me?”

  “I don't know what else to do.”

  “I just lost our baby, Jaryn. We almost lost our son...and you're leaving me?”

  He shook his head wearily. “Don't say it like that. I have to go.”

  Fresh tears filled her eyes. “Please don't do this.”

  Jaryn clenched his jaw, resolved. “I have to.”

  “No, you don't! Let Cailin and Misuzu go. Let Cavalon go. Send an army to Ibays, but please, don't go!”

  “I have to.” Jaryn struggled to keep his voice from giving away his turmoil.

  “No,” she argued, “you choose to.” He moved to pull her to him again, but she glowered at him. “Maybe you should sleep in your own room tonight.”

  “Ashlynn...”

  “Get out!”

  She'd yelled at him before, shouted and shrieked with everything in her, but something in her harsh command hurt this time. He got up slowly, giving her a chance to call him back as she sometimes did when they argued, but there was an almost tangible icy quality to the atmosphere that told him she had completely shut herself off to him. He pulled the door open but turned back before leaving. “I love you, Ashlynn, more than you could ever possibly know.” With a heavy heart, he shut the door behind himself. It was only a few seconds later that he heard her crying again.

  Jaryn turned to one of the men standing guard. “Find Lady Lilia. Tell her to come stay with the high queen but to neither touch nor talk to her unless she initiates it herself.” The man nodded and departed. To the other guard, “Let no one else in unless the high queen herself allows it.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  It was far too late to be awake, but there was still something he needed to do before he could even think about going to his old rooms to sleep. He knew right where Cavalon and Nuala's rooms were and headed there, waking a squire to find Killian and lead him to Jaryn's smaller library. Cavalon seemed almost as if he had been waiting, slipping quietly from the room so as not to wake Nuala, still dressed from the wedding. “I'll make this brief,” Jaryn promised, but the Badarian only shrugged.

  “Whatever you need.”

  Jaryn gave him a small, grateful smile as they walked. “You have been good to us, Cavalon. I never thought I would come to appreciate you as much as I do.”

  Nodding tiredly, Cavalon clapped him on the shoulder. “I love you both, too.”

  Killian was already there waiting with the squire in the library, the boy scurrying away when the other two arrived in hopes of avoiding more orders to keep him from his bed. Jaryn leaned against his desk and crossed his arms, looking both men in the eye as they stood before him.

  “I realize it's late...or very early at this point, and that I have pulled you from your beds when you are both exhausted. I am as well, but I am leaving once I am rested and need to make sure some things are taken care of.” His attention focused on Cavalon specifically. “I know it is an exceptionally large favor to ask, but as I am unaware of how long this unexpected trip to Ibays will take, I was hoping you would stay and make sure Ashlynn keeps herself safe. You and I both know full well that she is prone to reckless behavior when her emotions are heightened. If you need or want to return to Braemar with your family, I completely understand and would not hold it against you. I know you almost lost a son tonight as well.”

  Cavalon's brow creased. “Like I said, whatever you need. Lucien is safe, no worse for the wear in the grand scheme of things. If Nuala wants to take him home, I'm positive they'll both be fine. She loves Ashlynn, though, and Ories has shown time and time again that he is more than capable of holding down the fort when she's away. She may want to stay, too.”

  “I would be eternally grateful, truly. As I said, however, if it turns out that things change...”

  “Whatever you need,” Cavalon reiterated, purposefully enunciating each word.

  Jaryn nodded his thanks, genuinely touched at Cavalon's willingness. His attention went to Killian, and he regarded the man with a reserved expression. “I have a special task for you as well, if you'll accept it.”

  “I will follow whatever orders you give me, Your Majesty.”

  “I am well aware of your sojourn into the woods outside of Montania the night you saw my wife leave with no guard. She told me how you defended her against the bandits and kept her safety top priority above yours.” He paused a moment, crossing his arms. “I am also aware of the fact that you have feelings for my wife. How long you have had them, how deeply they run, or how they even came about when she treats you the way she does matters very little to me, only that I know they will aid you in the charge I am about to give you. I want you to do what you did that night. Forget the title you were so recently endowed with and make this your sole mission. I want you to make sure she is never alone. Let her think it all she wants, but she must always be guarded. When she walks the halls, when she goes into the garden, when she eventually feels well enough to ride, be her shadow. I want her under your protection.”

  Cavalon wasn't subtle, raising a brow at Jaryn and glancing between the two men. Killian, however, held Jaryn's gaze, a flicker of shame in his eyes. “My deepest apologies, Your Ma-”

  “I don't want your apology,” Jaryn interrupted. “I want to hear you either accept the task or give me a reason for which you would deem yourself unqualified. Besides what we endured tonight, it would seem we are being watched by the Ibayish. Several nights ago, Elas became aware of their presence in our waters. They have posed no direct threat as of yet, but they boast a bloody banner under their flag.”

  Cavalon's eyes widened. “What?”

  Nodding, Jaryn glanced toward the window as though he could see out into the dark ocean waters. “Some sort of bright yellow fabric with clear spatters of blood all over it.” Returning his gaze to Killian he fixed the older man with a stern gaze. “Will you do it? Will you protect my wife while I am away?”

  There was something sad in Killian's eyes, as though the news of the ship was a personal affliction to him. Still, he pressed his lips together and nodded. “I will protect her with my life.”

  “Good. Now leave us.”

  Standing, Killian bowed his head to Jaryn, then left the room as ordered. Cavalon watched the door close and waited just a fraction of a moment before turning to Jaryn with raised brows. “Really?”

  “It is the best decision. You know she will try to dodge your protection as often as possible.”

  “But that guy?” Cavalon shook his head. “You're an idiot.”

  Jaryn only shrugged. “Probably, but I'll deal with that later. Right now the safety of my family is the most important thing. I trust Ashlynn, and I know how powerful a motivator love is. If Killian truly does have feelings for my wife, as I feel he does and as several others have suspected, then he is the perfect choice for her protection. I would die if it meant saving her. I want him to feel the same way because, given the unpredictability of our lives, it may come to that.”

  “I still think you're an idiot.”

  Unable to stop himself, Jaryn chuckled, a small smile tugging up the corners of his lips. “Tell me how you really feel.”

  “I mean your logic is sound, the way you explain it. I just couldn't do it. Maybe that's what makes you so well suited for your position and why I am much better being married to the high ruler than being one myself. I couldn't put my feelings second to the security of my kingdom.”

  “Keep an eye on him for me as well, would you?”

  Cavalon stood, snorting. “I'd already planned on it.” He extended a hand, grasping Jaryn's forearm tightly when it was offered.
“Find whoever did this to your family and do what you have to do. I know we're supposed to give it all over to the Giver to exact His perfect justice, but sometimes He doesn't move fast enough for me.”

  “Rest well, Cavalon.”

  The Badarian nodded. “You too, Jaryn.”

  The weary high king stood in his office for a moment, letting the silence settle around him once Cavalon had gone. There hadn't been a second for him to simply be still and absorb everything that had happened. His body longed for rest, but there was still too much racing through his mind. He replayed every single minute of the evening, from the first scream to his decision to charge Killian with protecting his wife. It had sickened him to kill the dragon in the throne room, to actively seek out a weak spot among the diamond hard scales in order to take its life. Though he hated having to kill another human being even in battle, it was an entirely different feeling to have to kill a creature he had long since admired and believed cherished.

  After that, he saw Zarra as the life was draining from her. Out of everything that had happened, that was the thing he had yet to truly process. She had been such a character: immature and whiny at times, surprisingly strong and capable at others. The loss of her would mean the loss of the last of Ashlynn's inner circle. She had other girls in her retinue, had had them since she found out she was pregnant with Lochlainn, but none of them ever found places in her heart the way Lilia, Mairead, and Zarra had. Now, at the hands of her enemies, she had effectively lost all of them in one way or another.

  He thought of his wife laying alone in their bed, still able to hear the sound of her angry weeping as he left her. Lilia would go to her as commanded, and he prayed it would bring some restoration to the broken relationship between the women, but no one would be able to ease the pain in Ashlynn's heart.

  Guilt had been lingering on the edges of Jaryn's thoughts all night. As high king, as a father, as a man, he was supposed to make sure everyone was safe and secure. A dozen different “what if” scenarios kept playing through his mind, imagining alternative outcomes to the evening based on choices he could have made differently. It only succeeded in making him angry, his frustration and rage building by the moment, until he finally broke.

  With a feral yell, Jaryn turned around and swept everything from the top of his desk, sending books flying across the room. His inkwell fell to the floor and shattered, staining the stone black where the ink pooled. Anything on the desk that had been missed was shoved away as though the very sight of it was offensive. He gripped the edge of the desk, ready to turn it over in his anger, but sorrow gripped his chest so suddenly and tightly that it felt like he couldn't breathe. With his back pressed against his desk, he sank to the floor and finally gave into the tears he'd been holding back.

  He wept until it felt as though there was nothing left in him, knowing the guard outside his library had heard everything and unable to find it within himself to care. Those who followed him, who followed Ashlynn, were the secret keepers of the castle, and they did their jobs well. They did every day life with them without actively participating. When Jaryn found the strength to lift himself up off the floor to go find his bed, he and the guard looked at one another. Sorrow was etched deeply into the lines of the older man's face. He nodded to his king, Jaryn nodding in return. No words needed to pass between them. Together, they walked the lonely castle hallways until Jaryn reached his room. There, the guard took up his post, vigilant until morning.

  Chapter Fourteen

  It was late in the morning when Jaryn, Cailin, and Misuzu left for Ibays. Ashlynn had begged her husband once again to stay, but Jaryn was not to be swayed. He looked back at Altaine as it disappeared in the heavy clouds surrounding it, holding tightly to Misuzu as she raced through the air. Cailin, only a third of the length of the snake-like air dragon, was a mosaic of brown and green scales as she flew beside them. The air was moist and chilly, making Jaryn fold himself low onto Misuzu's neck and pull the hood of his winter cloak up over his head. He looked like an odd gray, furry lump against white and pale blue scales and a seafoam mane, but found the warmth from her body kept him quite comfortable in his cocoon.

  Following Cailin's lead, they landed far enough away from the village of Lerranyth so as not to be spotted, the two women shifting back to their human forms once Jaryn was secure on the ground. “I was thinking,” Jaryn said as they walked along the road that would take them to the capital of Ibays, “that we should spend some time in the village before we try to get inside the castle to see Connor. Gossip among the people and the merchants is much different from court gossip. We should have as much information available to us as possible before we confront him.”

  Cailin frowned. “That's all well and good for you two. No one's going to know who you are. But me? I was in the village two or three times a day, nearly every day, when I worked in the castle. I'll be recognized before we pass the town line.”

  “How burned do you think your bridges are?” asked Misuzu. “We may be able to use the fact that people know you to some degree.”

  “I don't know. I didn't exactly take a poll to see how popular I was among the villagers before and after I left Ibays.” She tapped her chin and looked down a moment. “There are a couple of people I may be able to talk to if I can get to them without being spotted.”

  Rummaging through the contents of the bag she had slung across her shoulder, Misuzu pulled out her mask from the reception. It only covered her eyes and had feathers and ribbons all over it, but the base leather of the mask was a soft doeskin brown. “What if we disguised you?”

  As Cailin took the mask and began taking off the fancy embellishments, Jaryn peeked at Misuzu's bag. “What else have you got in there?”

  “You can never be too prepared,” she grinned. Before their eyes, her form shifted, shrinking some, her skin lightening to a more pale color, freckles sprouting across the bridge of her nose. The shape of her eyes changed, as well as the color, looking more like she belonged in Ibays than much farther east. Looking at Cailin, she asked, “May I borrow your cloak?”

  Cailin undid the silver clasp at her neck, now able to look the usually taller girl in the eye. “What are you doing?”

  “I'm going to go get you some new clothes. If you don't want to be noticed, you're going to want to blend in more than you do in your Sinessian uniform.”

  Cailin looked down at her clothing, the flag of Siness proudly embroidered on the upper left of her jerkin, the crest of Altaine pinned below it in silver. “Right. We'll wait here, then.”

  Wrapping herself in Cailin's cloak to hide her own distinctly foreign clothing, now too big for her, Misuzu hurried off to carry out her mission. Within the hour, she returned to find Cailin and Jaryn sitting by the edge of the forest like two well dressed, homeless vagabonds. She shifted her shape back to normal as she approached and tossed a sack to Cailin. “There's some sort of festival going on today so most of the town's attention is turned to the center square.”

  “A festival?” Cailin repeated, pulling her new clothes free to examine them. “What kind of festival would a poor capital throw?”

  Jaryn's fists clenched. “Was it a festival or a celebration?”

  Misuzu shook her head. “Is there a difference?”

  “I'm going to look like a bandit.”

  “Then you'll blend right in,” said Misuzu cheerfully.

  Jaryn balked. “What?”

  “Some people are dressed like bandits with bows and arrows and swords, some are dressed in skins and furs with paint all over their faces and their bodies, some like mercenaries...”

  Still confused, Jaryn repeated once more, “What?”

  “Is it that late in the new year already?” Cailin asked quietly. “It must be Fianna Éireann. It's an Ibayish festival celebrating the day the Fenian war ended. It wasn't anything all that important, but it gives people a reason to run around, act like idiots, and drink themselves stupid.”

  “That could be good for us,�
�� said Jaryn. “Looser tongues.”

  Cailin stood, her new clothing in hand. “Just let me get changed and we can be on our way.” Pausing, she looked Jaryn over. “You don't have any markings from Siness, do you?”

  “You mean besides my crown?” He pulled it off and looked at it with a frown. “I thought it was a good idea to wear it since we were meeting with Connor, but now I realize it wasn't the best decision.”

  “I'll take it.” Misuzu snatched it from his hand and turned it over in her grasp. “It's so heavy.”

  “You have no idea,” Jaryn muttered.

  “Anything else?” Cailin asked. “The Ibayish may be easier to lure into conversation when they're drunk, but they're not all together idiots. Anything that marks you as being from Altaine at all will draw attention and eventually get back to the castle.” She looked to Misuzu. “You'll want to change back to the face you used to buy this. We don't get many people here from your neck of the woods.”

  The younger woman shoved the crown in her bag and began shifting as Cailin disappeared into the woods. When she came back out, she was dressed all in tan leather with high brown boots and a long green cloak, a full quiver and bow on her back, and a dagger in her boot. The doe-colored mask rested atop a swatch of leather that covered her mouth, leaving only her eyes and forehead exposed.

  “Oooh,” Misuzu purred. “You look so stealthy. I picked some good pieces.”

  “Can you breathe?” Jaryn asked, eyeing the cloth over Cailin's mouth.

  “Oddly enough, yes. I don't feel constricted at all. Actually...” She flexed her gloved hands, crouched as if dodging a blow and then swung a fist to punch an imaginary opponent. “This is quite comfortable.”

  “Well then,” said Jaryn, looking from one woman to the other, “let's get going.” Together, the three of them set off up the road to the village in the distance. He glanced at Misuzu and her flaming red hair. “You might want to work on your Ibayish accent.” His own Sinessian accent had been replaced by that of the country they were in, making Misuzu grin.