The D'Karon Apprentice

by Joseph R. Lallo

  The soldiers stood their ground, their decision stalemated between her offer of treatment and the unspoken but clearly understood threat of injury that hung in Myn’s gaze. Finally, the lead soldier spoke, addressing his men.

  “Gather those with the most dire injuries. Let the woman work…”

  They quickly did as they were told. Myranda cast a glimpse at the closing portal, then turned her attentions as always to those things that could do the greatest good now, trusting that her friends could handle the tasks left to them.

  #

  Deacon stood with his back to the village walls, watching what he could see of the portal as it gradually closed. A shield spell of the sort that might actually protect the village was a massive undertaking. He had the strength for it, but only just. To give himself and the village the best possible chance, he knew the wisest thing was to wait until the last moment, so that he could devote his full strength to the shield itself rather than squandering strength maintaining it prior to the blast. Ether, on the other hand, had been quite busy. Shortly after the soldiers had cleared the way, she’d shifted to stone and crouched, driving her fingers into the soil and working her influence deep into the ground beneath them. Piece by piece, rising in stout columns and toothlike spires, a stone wall assembled itself. She’d not rested for a moment, fortifying and strengthening every inch of the wall.

  “Deacon, Ether… whoa…” Ivy said, pacing around the side of the village’s own meager wall and seeing Ether’s handiwork for the first time.

  “What is it?” Ether asked, her voice strained as she hauled up a final pillar of stone, blocking up the small sliver of an opening that had offered Deacon his view. This last piece in place, she climbed atop the wall to view the portal directly.

  “The villagers have been moved to the other side of the far wall,” Ivy said. “The soldiers are keeping order. And no one tried to kill me while I was helping.” She cleared her throat. “Not very hard, anyway. So… it won’t be long now…”

  “No. Perhaps another minute. You should get to safety with the others. No sense you risking your life,” Deacon said.

  Ivy shook her head. “We’re a team. We stick together. … What do you think will happen if we fail? If the village is destroyed?”

  “I hesitate to think of the consequences. It is almost a relief to know that if such a thing happens, I quite likely won’t live to see the aftermath.”

  “A few moments more,” Ether said. “Prepare yourself.”

  The shapeshifter dropped down from the wall and pressed her stone palms against it. The pillars and spires shifted, pressing together more firmly, as though the whole of the wall was bracing itself for impact. Deacon held out his crystal and dropped to one knee, muttering a quiet incantation to strengthen the shimmering gold wall that spread forth from the heart of the gem. With nothing else to do, Ivy held her breath and covered her ears, watching though squinted eyes as the last of the portal’s ragged edge dropped below the top of Ether’s wall.

  Time seemed to slow to a standstill, each pounding heartbeat an eternity. The air was for a moment alive with energy, crackling with a power that made Ivy’s hair stand on end. Then came the blast. The sound was terrifying, robbing Deacon and Ivy of their hearing and replacing it with a dull hiss. The shock of it rattled their bones and shook the very timbers of the village. Cracks riddled the stone wall, but Ether redoubled her efforts to keep the wall intact. Fragments were knocked away, clashing with Deacon’s shield. In all, the blast lasted perhaps three seconds, a brief time that was nonetheless far longer than both Deacon or Ether had anticipated. Vicious winds kicked up pulverized rock and soil, scouring the wall and shield and consuming the city in a choking gray cloud of dust. Then, as quickly as it had come, the blast ended.

  For nearly a minute the dust hung in the air, hiding the village from view. Deacon stumbled aside, bumping into Ivy, who caught and steadied him. He touched his fingers to his ears, willing a bit of healing magic into them to restore his hearing before doing the same for Ivy. All they could hear was the clatter of falling stone and the creak of abused wood. Deacon squinted, looking forward. At the base of where his shield had been erected was a row of shattered stone, likely what had been blown free from—or perhaps all that was left of—the wall Ether had summoned. A larger than average cluster of stones just ahead of him began to shift, and the pieces pulled together into Ether’s fractured form. When she was relatively whole she opened her eyes, peering around. Rather than squint though the dust any longer, she shifted to wind and summoned a gale, whisking it away.

  Before them was the tattered ruin of Ether’s wall, still standing in places, but mostly reduced to gravel. Behind them was the village. Its own wall had more than a few splintered holes, but it was still standing.

  Deacon breathed a sigh of relief, then nearly fell to the ground as Ivy tackled him in an enthusiastic hug.

  “We did it! We did it, everyone!” she trilled, squeezing Deacon tight.

  He nodded. “Yes… we should see to the soldiers and the people, treat any injuries they may have.” He looked over their surroundings, eying the massive crater left by the blast, the torn up, bone-scattered field, and the line of Alliance troops waiting anxiously in the distance… and still well south of the border. “And then we should head north. We’ve done enough…”

  Epilogue

  The aftermath of Turiel’s actions was far-reaching. For four tense weeks troops stood at the ready on both sides of the border. Harsh words were spoken, vicious accusations made. Rather than see her soar through their skies, Myranda and Myn were escorted back to the border on foot, avoiding cities. Grustim was recalled to Ifrur, the home of the Dragon Riders. He was replaced by two other Riders, each forbidden from even speaking to the Northern noble or dragon. Those Tresson dignitaries still within the north were hastily recalled as well, sent south to meet with their leaders and share what they had learned.

  Heated debates and discussions continued, Queen Caya and her wisest advisers meeting with any who would hear them. The outlook was grim. Stories of Northern atrocities flooded the ears of Tresson leaders. Many, even most were apocryphal, imagined evils dreamed up by Tressons eager to see the borders close and remain so. But among those vicious tales, others began to emerge. Tales of kindness. Tales of boldness. Soldiers spoke with respect of the things they had seen. They told of Myranda’s compassion, even when it was a liability to her cause. Truth was separated from fiction, and some of Tressor’s own misdeeds came to light. Brustuum was found. Through him and those who served him it was learned what he’d known, when he’d known it, and what he’d sought to do with that information.

  After all of the evidence had been weighed and all with a voice had spoken, the decision was made. The ceasefire would continue, the fragile peace would be spared. To affirm the dedication to a lasting partnership between the lands, it was decided that a massive hall was to be built at the border, a joint effort between north and south to replace the temporary hall at Five Point. To celebrate the breaking of the land on this historic structure, Queen Caya proposed a grand banquet.

  When the day of the banquet finally came, Myranda and Deacon stood in attendance. They were outside, standing with all of the other prominent figures of the north along the Alliance side of the border while their counterparts stood patiently on the Tresson side. The air was pleasant, the seasons finally warming the border region. This made the many layers of formal clothing that such occasions required somewhat more of a burden than in prior talks. Croyden Lumineblade, who, among his many other duties, served as the queen’s herald, was nearing the end of a short speech that, for some at least, was evidently not short enough.

  “Myn, stop fidgeting,” Myranda whispered, touching her friend on the leg.

  The young dragon stood faithfully beside Myranda, dressed in her own version of formal attire. This meant that the broadest of her scales had all been polished to a high gloss, and around her neck she wore a blue sash that the wind
had wrapped around her like a scarf. From the moment they had arrived, Myn had been highly distracted, constantly shifting her weight from foot to foot and keeping her eyes locked on one of the representatives to the south. In honor of his role in the events that had transpired, Grustim had been invited to attend. That much didn’t matter to Myn in the least. What mattered was that he, of course, had brought along Garr. Not once had Myn let him out of her sight since she’d arrived.

  “You can say hello after the groundbreaking,” Myranda added.

  “Isn’t it adorable?” Ivy cooed, leaning forward to speak to Myranda from her place on the other side of the dragon. “Myn’s got a suitor!”

  For her part, Ivy had once again donned her glamorous gown in its three shades of blue. There had, notably, been a few alterations to the design since last she’d worn it. The hole she’d cut for her tail was now an embroidered and accented part of the dress, and rather than the slippers that had initially been paired, she wore a sturdier, but still elegant, class of shoe. In what was likely done without the seamstress’s permission, the fingers of the full-length gloves had been removed. It was a modification Ivy had made a habit of applying to all of her gloves, the better to play her instruments without removing them.

  “I’m so glad she found a friend,” Ivy said, turning to Ether beside her and clutching her arm.

  The shapeshifter gently pulled herself from Ivy’s grasp.

  “I imagine it must be a pleasant for her,” Ether said evenly, straightening the sleeve of a gown crafted with calculated elegance.

  For another person such an act would seem rude, but Ivy grinned. It said a lot that Ether had been gentle, and that she’d not sneered as she did so. After remaining so cold and distant for so long, that Ether was even present for this occasion spoke volumes of her growth over the past few months.

  “… And so, it is with great honor that I raise the ceremonial pick for Her Royal and Imperial Majesty, Queen Caya, to break ground on the Alliance side of this grand enterprise on her behalf,” Croyden concluded.

  He took a polished copper pick in hand as his Tresson counterpart across the border did the same, but the queen stepped forward and stopped him with a tap to his arm. She was dressed, appropriately for her role in a gown more exquisite than any other on display. This had briefly not been the case, as Ether had made it a point to arrive with a gown of such intricate beauty that it was quite likely impossible for any seamstress to create, but a few quiet words from the other Chosen had convinced her to tone it down to mere magnificence.

  “Croyden, I think perhaps I should have this honor personally,” she said, smiling broadly.

  Lumineblade released a flustered sigh, replying in a whisper, “Your Majesty, tradition and protocol dictate…”

  She tugged the pick from his grasp.

  “I would think by now you’d know my attitudes regarding tradition and protocol,” she said, hefting the tool appreciatively. She reached a satin-gloved hand up and plucked the crown from her head, handing it to him. “Hold this. We wouldn’t want a repeat of the last groundbreaking.”

  Croyden nodded in resignation and took the crown.

  Caya nodded across the border. “Esteemed Ambassador.”

  “Your Majesty,” said the distinguished older Tresson man standing opposite her, one of at least a dozen royal advisers who had represented the Tresson king during the various talks.

  In unison, each noble struck his or her blow. The Tresson ambassador’s strike was a feeble one, a symbolic swing for a symbolic ceremony. Caya’s, on the other hand, showed practiced form that suggested this was far from her first time with a pick. She hoisted the tool up and swung it home, burying it nearly the full depth of the head into the soil. The deed done, she stepped forward and extended her hand across the border, placing it on the shoulder of the ambassador and receiving one in kind, the traditional Tresson salutation. She then stepped back and offered her hand for a firm shake.

  “There! An important job well started,” Caya said. “You are all welcome in my land. Let our renewed dedication to peace begin today!”

  The rows of attendees began to break, crossing the border and approaching their counterparts. Seeing the motion, Myn looked insistently to Myranda and nearly pranced in place.

  “Go ahead,” Myranda said softly.

  Myn trotted eagerly forward, parting the crowd the way only a dragon could, and made her way to Garr. The normally stoic military dragon, who perhaps in honor of the ceremony had forgone his helmet, let telltale happiness flicker across his expression. The two lightly butted their heads together in greeting.

  Smiling warmly at the sight, Myranda turned to Caya, who was approaching with Croyden beside her. When she was near enough to be heard, she whispered low, a sly grin on her face.

  “Did you see how much deeper I drove my pick?” she said proudly, taking back her crown and positioning it on the tight bun of her hair.

  “It was not a competition, Your Majesty,” Croyden said.

  “Oh nonsense, everything is a competition,” she said dismissively. “And don’t think I haven’t noticed that Tressor’s king still hasn’t seen fit to attend any of our joint ceremonies personally.”

  “It is rare for the King of Tressor to leave the capital,” Croyden stated.

  “So I’ve noticed. What’s the point of being a leader if you never let your people see you? I cannot imagine anyone being so disengaged from his people.”

  “Your predecessor followed a similar policy,” Croyden reminded her.

  “Yes, and look how well he turned out.” She cleared her throat and looked up. “Myranda, Deacon! As ever I am thrilled to have you close at hand again. And where, might I ask, is Greydon?”

  “There was a personal matter in New Kenvard. A family matter. Tomorrow is… a very important day for us,” Myranda said quietly.

  “Oh… oh yes…” Caya said, her voice suddenly solemn. “When the work is done, do send word. It is certainly worthy of a royal visit. However, as for the matters at hand, I’ll be heading inside the temporary Five Point Hall shortly. Once you’ve had enough time to mingle and be personable, please come see me. I’d like to have a word with you.”

  “Of course,” Myranda said.

  “Take your time. Be a proper diplomat, but don’t dawdle.”

  “Absolutely,” agreed Deacon.

  “Caya!” Ivy said, stepping forward and throwing her arms around the queen in a friendly hug. “Thanks for inviting me to another party!”

  Caya returned the hug and stepped back. “Ivy, you’re a Guardian of the Realm. You’ll always be invited. In fact, it is your duty to attend.”

  “It’s still nice,” Ivy said. She gave a turn, flaring her skirt as she did. “It gives me a chance to wear this pretty dress again. And… um… maybe I could have some wine again?”

  “If you’re expecting me to deny a fellow warrior a good strong drink, you don’t know me very well.” She turned to Ether. As she did, she just barely failed to hide a hardening of her expression. “And you… Guardian Ether. In most circumstances what I have to say is the sort of thing to be put delicately and in private, but considering your general attitude, I don’t imagine social decorum is really called for or expected.”

  “I see little to be gained from such things.”

  “Good, then I’ll be blunt. Is it true that you demanded a child from Croyden?”

  Lumineblade coughed and turned away.

  “I did,” Ether said, no hint of shame or embarrassment on her face.

  “Care to defend that sort of behavior?” she asked, crossing her arms.

  “There is nothing to defend. I was in a crisis. My emotions were getting the better of me and my purpose in the world was unclear. He suggested a family would restore focus and perspective, and he seemed as good a man as any to provide it.”

  Caya turned to Croyden. “Anything to add?”

  He cleared his throat. “I politely declined.”

  Caya narrow
ed her eyes. “Wise decision.” She turned back to Ether. “I’ll make this simple for you, Ether. There are any number of reasons why it is unwise and unreasonable to make a demand such as yours, but the one you should keep in mind is this one: Croyden Lumineblade is the queen’s consort. While I admire your taste in mates, look elsewhere for yours. I’ll see the rest of you inside.”

  The queen took Croyden rather possessively by the hand and marched toward the temporary hall. Ether, for her part, did not appear to be at all bothered by the exchange. Myranda decided it was best to leave well enough alone.

  Ivy did not.

  After doing her very best to contain herself, the malthrope snorted and burst out laughing. A deep golden aura spilled out from her.

  “Did you… did you really do that?” she said, wiping a tear from her eye.

  “I see no source of humor in the matter. It seemed the proper course of action at the time,” Ether said.

  “You learned to care, you learned to feel. I guess a sense of humor will come eventually,” she said, giggling.

  “I’m sorry, am I interrupting something?” said a female voice.

  Ivy turned and tried to restore her composure. “Oh. Ahem. I’m so sorry.” She gave a curtsy. “It’s wonderful to see you again, Ambassador Krettis.”

  It was indeed the woman whom Ivy had shared her rather ill-fated ambassadorial debut. Beside her once again was her aide, Marraata.

  “And Marraata! You came too, that’s wonderful.”

  “I won’t take much of your time, Ivy. Though I appreciate the sentiment of inviting me and the other dignitaries to this event, I very much doubt either of us has fond memories of the other. I am, however, mature enough to admit that any unpleasantness was largely my doing.”

  “No, really, I…” Ivy began.

  Krettis silenced her with a gently raised hand. “I came to you having already judged you. That is a terrible crime and an inexcusable one for an ambassador to commit. I had judged your race, your homeland, and you as an individual. I was wrong on all counts. To make amends, I brought something for you.”