Trysten blinked in surprise at the Prince's confession. She had certainly not expected something so personal from this bloodless stone of a man.
"As a young man, I was determined to make a name for myself. I wanted to show up my brothers, actually. So I vowed I would strengthen the kingdom and crush all of its enemies. Yet, I could never get my father to allow me to muster our forces and pour through the mountain passes and put an end to this war once and for all. He thought it was too great of a cost, that turning back their hordes every season was just a tax levied by fate or geography."
"Do you know why they attack?" Trysten asked.
Prince Aymon shook his head. "No. And I don't care. It is their actions that matter to me. Not their intent."
Trysten checked herself rather than argue the point. She held her tongue and nodded.
"I was frustrated with my father. I was new to my position and determined to earn a reputation for heroism and strength right away. When my father wouldn't allow me to go after the Western kingdom, I began to look for enemies in the shadows."
"The Originals?"
Prince Aymon shook his head. "Rumors of a coup. There was a charismatic man at the time called Yasak who was the leader of one of the larger cults."
"Cult?"
"Order of the Eternal Wings. The Strolls. Rumor was that he had his eyes upon my father's throne. That he was working with a supernatural force that would overthrow the kingdom."
"A supernatural force?"
"Would you stop doing that?" Prince Aymon snapped.
"What?"
"Repeating after me like that."
"Like what?" Trysten asked.
"Like a supernatural force?" he mimicked. "I'm telling the story. Do you want to hear it or not?"
Trysten made a show of clamping her lips as she held her palms out before her.
Prince Aymon let out a tense sigh. "I’ll be sure to keep it short, if you promise me that you’ll keep the interruptions to a minimum.”
“You’ll keep it short?” Trysten said, raising her eyebrows in disbelief.
“I see I am wasting my time here.” The Prince began to turn away.
“No,” Trysten said and grasped his sleeve. “I’m sorry. Please continue.”
“Fine. So as I was saying, there was a cult led by a charismatic man with designs on my father’s throne. Several of my best men successfully infiltrated the cult. What they told me was beyond belief at the time, but these men told no lies. They were stout, honest soldiers who would lay down their lives for the kingdom without a thought. They told me over the course of many months that Yasak, the man in charge of the cult, had come into contact with a priestess of some obscure religious order that I have never been able to track down. Regardless, she held in her possession an artifact that opened up a gateway between our realm and another in which one of the Originals was being held.”
Trysten’s hand went to the pendant about her neck. “What was this artifact?”
“You said you weren’t going to interrupt.”
“Please. Was it the pendant?” she asked.
Prince Aymon shrugged. “My men never found out. But I imagine it was destroyed shortly after the Original was freed. Anything that could open up that gateway could also be used to send him back, I imagine. A key locks people in as well as letting them out. But as I was saying, in return for his freedom, the Original was supposed to be helping Yasak, teaching him ways to overthrow my father through the use of shades and spirits.”
“But you don’t believe in magic.”
Aymon crossed his arms over his chest. “I believe this is what my men were told. How much of it is true, I can only guess. One of them was exposed and killed. I pulled the rest of my men out as the Strolls drew in their inner circle. Since then, I have been working to discover how much of it is true. I cannot allow a threat to the kingdom to go unanswered simply because it is easier to believe it doesn’t exist. My men told me disturbing things. Things they saw with their own eyes. Things that can’t be ignored.”
Trysten leaned forward slightly. “What things?”
In the shadows, Aymon rolled his eyes. “You’re making this difficult to keep short.”
“We have to figure this out. We have to share what we know now if we are to truly work together,” she said.
Aymon shrugged. “I don’t know much more.”
“You still haven’t answered me. What made you think the army was waiting for me?”
Aymon looked to the spot where the messenger dragon had been, and then looked back to Trysten. “Are you familiar with the teachings of The Strolls?”
Trysten shook her head. She remembered that they made the villagers uncomfortable, and that her father hadn’t cared for their presence in the village, but she didn’t know exactly what it was about.
“They believe everything is cyclical and connected. That nothing happens in isolation. That the entire world exists in a state of balance. Circles among circles.”
Trysten stared at Aymon, waiting.
“One gate opens, another closes.”
Trysten shook her head slowly to indicate that she wasn’t quite following.
“Come on, Trysten. The Originals are supposed to be the original inhabitants of this world. They were split into humans and dragons. So one Original escapes imprisonment, and it sets into motion a system that results in the release of his counterpart. And what would the ideal counterpart of an Original be?”
He gestured at Trysten.
“Me. Me and Elevera.”
“Exactly,” Prince Aymon said with a nod. “You might be the balance. You might be the answer to the Original’s escape. And if that turned out to be true…”
Trysten nodded. “He would have anticipated me.”
A cold dread filled Trysten. Was that it? Were she and Elevera being lured into a trap? She turned to the space where the courier had been.
"And this dragon?" Trysten asked as she gestured to the yard beside them. “What did he want?”
Prince Aymon glanced at the spot where the dark dragon had stood. "All I saw was a courier dragon without a rider. There was nothing special about it to me."
"Did you see it fly away?" Trysten asked as she cocked an eyebrow.
Prince Aymon let out a frustrated sigh. "The night is dark. What is there to see?"
"He brought me a message," Trysten said. "He told me that I could bring half my dragons."
"Half your dragons?" Prince Aymon asked.
"Because of the food shortage. He's offering me a way to save the dragons. If I take half of them with me and follow him, then there will be enough food to feed the remaining dragons, though it would be tight until more goats and sheep could be gathered or bred."
"And what of the village?"
"He'd turn the army away," she replied.
"You didn't accept," Prince Aymon said, and Trysten was gratified to hear no hint of a question in his voice. He trusted her.
"Of course not. I drew my sword and told him to leave. And he laid down as if he were offering me his life."
Prince Aymon nodded. "I saw that. For all the world, that dragon looked as if it was prepared to be beheaded."
"Why?" Trysten asked.
Prince Aymon turned to face the west. He crossed his arms over his chest, then ran his fingers through his beard. "He wanted to show that he has no fear of you."
"I don't know about that," Trysten said. "He didn't seem that cocky. It didn't feel like he was trying to make any kind of a point."
"Then what do you think it was about?"
Trysten thought a moment and then shrugged. "There is so much going on right now that doesn't make sense."
Aymon nodded emphatically. "On that, we can agree. But has my story helped you make sense of anything?"
"I don't know," Trysten said. "I have to let it sit. I have to think about it. But it does help me understand why the Original wanted the pendant back."
"Wanted it back?" Prince Aymon asked.
>
"Oh," Trysten said. "I guess I didn't tell you about that."
"It would seem only fair that if I'm sharing my secrets with you, that you would return the favor."
"Of course," Trysten said, and she recounted in entirety, to the best of her ability, the events that happened between her and the Original in her den.
"So you have power over them," Aymon said with a nod once she was finished. "They can't take you because of the talisman, and because of Elevera."
"I am starting to believe that the Original may have fled to the west after my men were exposed. He may have overthrown their king, or is working with him, changing their tactics, promising him the Cadwaller kingdom in exchange for his help. They are now set on expanding their kingdom into our lands, and they are focusing their attack on you because you are the greatest weapon we have. You are the thing that can—"
"I am not a thing," Trysten spat.
"Please forgive me. No, you are not. But your powers are something that can turn away the Originals and their Western minions. I cannot allow this challenge to my family's sovereignty to go unanswered. They will pay. It is their fate and the order of things."
Trysten swallowed and looked away as if she were intruding, listening in on something that she shouldn't hear.
"First things first," she said to break the spell. "We will turn back the army."
"I have no doubt." Prince Aymon looked to her. "And thank you, Trysten, for sharing your information with me and for your discretion. We must keep this information close to our hearts. We cannot allow others to know how much we know, because it also reveals how much we don't know."
"Wait," Trysten said, her finger in the air between them to halt him. "One more thing. When you addressed the village the other day, when you told them I was a Dragon Lord, you said I was the first woman to bond with a dragon in centuries. Not the first ever, but the first in centuries. Care to elaborate?"
Prince Aymon was silent for a few seconds. "I don't, actually."
"Tough. We're sharing, remember? Who was the last woman to bond with a dragon before me?"
Prince Aymon let out a long sigh. "My many times great grandmother."
Chapter 43
"What!" Trysten exclaimed.
"Shhh," Aymon hushed. "Keep your voice down."
"But, your grandmother?" She asked, not even trying to stop grinning.
Prince Aymon shook his head. "I knew that would come back to haunt me. When my ancestor conquered this land, he deliberately intermarried with another dragoneer line because of the myths. He wanted his children to be Dragon Lords who could hold onto his land, and perhaps even take more of the Seelians' land and extend our kingdom all the way to the shores of the Central River. According to our family lore, one of his daughters was bonded to a horde, but she did not have your powers. From what my father has told me, she was an adequate dragoneer, but not at all capable of riding dragons into battle, and she certainly never enlarged her horde."
"You're the offspring of dual lines?" Trysten asked.
Prince Aymon moved in closer. "Keep it down. And keep that to yourself."
"You told everyone about me," she said.
"Trysten!"
"All right! But it is a crime for dragoneer lines to intermarry. My parents—"
"Although intermarrying didn't work out for my ancestor," the Prince interrupted, "he didn't want to take a chance on it working out for someone else. He was a man who used dragons and might to carve a kingdom out of some land on the border of a greater kingdom. He didn't want to make the same mistake that the Seelian king had made. A law was passed."
"What about your mother? Is she of a line of a dragoneers?"
Prince Aymon visibly stiffened in the dim firelight. "My mother is of a royal house. Her father is the Lord of Haroldia."
"Haroldia? Never heard of it."
"It's of no consequence. Are there any more embarrassing family secrets I can divulge for you, or are you quite satisfied for the night?"
"Embarrassing?" Trysten shook her head. "Why would you be embarrassed?"
Prince Aymon looked away from Trysten. He appeared to have trouble finding a place to rest his gaze before he settled on staring at the cottages to the east. "My father has assured me that there have been no other dragoneers brought into our family line since the day it was made illegal, but still, it is... unseemly that our family's dynasty is founded... founded on something like failure."
"Failure?"
Prince Aymon looked at Trysten. "Do you see why I want you to come to the mother city now? If you were to agree, and I took you back and charmed you with the wealth and power of my family—and we know just how charming wealth and power can be—then you might agree to marry one of my brothers. You would be made the queen of the land, Trysten. Your power would ensure our family's dynasty. With your power, we could crush our enemies and expand our kingdom."
Trysten physically recoiled from the idea. She took a step back. "I am not a weapon."
"No," Prince Aymon said with a shake of his head. "I know you are not a weapon. But I'm not asking you to be. I was asking you to be a queen. That is what a queen does; she works to expand the welfare of her kingdom."
"It's not that I don't care about the welfare of the kingdom, I just wish to do my part from here. Aerona is where I belong."
"On the edge of a greater kingdom, where you will carve out your own domain. You will pardon me if this story sounds familiar," Aymon said.
"I have no interest in taking any of your father's lands. I still consider myself a loyal subject of Cadwaller. You have to believe me when I say that. I am not lying."
"So you say. But as someone who has studied history, I can tell you that the greatest stories are always told and retold. The characters change, but the story remains the same. And here we are, in a familiar setting with the same old problem."
Trysten lifted an eyebrow and crossed her arms over her chest. "Did you honestly think I was going to go along with your plan? I am not motivated by power or wealth. I do not find them charming. I find them to be at the root of most problems we make for ourselves. I want only to be the Dragoneer of the Aerona horde, Elevera's horde. That's all I want."
Prince Aymon smirked. "Adalina started out with one horde. She united the kingdoms."
"You said yourself that I am no Adalina," Trysten said, shaking her head.
"I say many things," Prince Aymon said, then turned and limped back to his tent.
Chapter 44
Trysten didn't even attempt to go back to bed, knowing full well that she would only lay awake and stare at the ceiling as her mind churned with the Prince's words. Instead, she busied herself with tasks around the weyr, checking on equipment and checking again, making sure that everything was ready for the coming battle.
When she heard the breakfast bell ring, Trysten joined the hordesmen in the dining hall.
“Here for a last meal?” Paege joked, but Trysten would have nothing of it.
She sent one of the weyrboys out to the tents of the royal hordesmen and invited them to join the Aerona hordesmen. To her surprise, Muzad and his men showed up. They didn’t mingle much with the others and instead sat by themselves at the table that had been brought in for them. Still, Trysten was glad they came, that they attended what would be, one way or another, the last meal they would all take together.
Despite the impending battle, joviality permeated the air. It came from her hordesmen, but mostly from Karno’s men. They acted eager for the battle as if they expected it to be a matter of great sport.
Once the meal was finished, Muzad and his men slipped back to their tents. Trysten and her people went out to the weyr and prepared for the day. Saddles were oiled and polished once again. Bows were inspected. Quivers were filled with arrows.
While others worked to stay busy, Trysten left the weyr and walked out to the western edge of the village. There, she saw tables laid out behind the stone bunkers. Groups of flammable arrows sat atop the tabl
es along with several torches, all waiting to be lit. Along the back edge of the bunkers, the ground bristled with arrows sticking up out of the dirt. Their fletchings made them look like a kind of river reed sprouted up overnight. The arrows waited, ready for the hands of the longbow archers.
Catapults waited in the breaks between the bunkers. Trysten had never imagined such a contraption, but Prince Aymon and Muzad had been able to sketch drawings and explain to the carpenters and craftsmen of the village how to build them.
She leaned in close and inspected the taught ropes that held the baskets down and back, ready to launch a barrage of stone at the advancing army.
The things seemed as evil and distasteful as the army itself. How awful that people insisted on such things, weapons of war.
Trysten climbed to the top of one of the bunkers. She stared out across the open pasture between herself and the horizon. Normally, it would be filled with children playing, goats and sheep grazing under the watchful eyes of shepherds as they kept an eye on a village dog that only wanted to play with the children.
The pasture was empty now. The carts full of flammable material had been emptied and pulled away, taken back to the village and left at strategic locations to provide shelter for archers, should the battle make it to the lanes of Aerona. Once again, it had been Prince Aymon’s idea.
The Prince’s words came back to her. His accusation against her, against history. There wasn’t a bone in her body that wanted anything to do with leading the Cadwaller kingdom. She had no ambitions to do or be anything more than what she was.
She looked to the sky again, as if expecting to see a dragon-shaped hole in the flat blue, something the size of a courier dragon. She saw nothing but the clear sky, a few clouds hanging over the mountains.
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