respect, you will go against everything Brenin says, you
will do everything possible to hinder my
improvement.” He sat forward at his desk. “You will
become one of them, you will think like them, you will
breathe like them, eventually you will be trusted by
them,” he said with raised brows. Maple stood silent;
she knew exactly what Harris had planned. “Only then
will we know where the true treachery lies.”
“I will get you the proof you need,” agreed Kailron
as he sat back in the chair.
Harris nodded, he leant forward; he raised his
brows. “I don’t need proof,” he menacingly replied as
he smiled, “I need soldiers.”
Chapter Thirteen The Commanders
Revenge.
is chambers were cold, a broken window had
allowed the morning dew to settle on the
H papers of his desk. Work still needed to be
carried out in the tower, but he would work, while
specialist teams from Elmoor worked on his cracked
windows.
Sat at his desk, Harris had not woken Librye that
morning, the city streets were filled with sympathetic
people, feeling remorseful for Harris, he did not want
it, he could not bear sympathy, he wanted someone to
suffer, and with Nean only a half turn away, he would
enjoy seeing the end of Connor.
Harris could feel her eyes, staring towards him,
Librye stood opposite Harris’s desk. His eyes
remained fixed on the papers in front of him.
He did not move as he asked, “Is there something
you need, Tiny One?”
“Is she alright?” asked Librye as she remained
glaring towards Harris, her nose barely reached his
desk.
He placed his quill down. He gave a large sigh as
he rubbed his face. “She will be, eventually,” his brows
furrowed towards her, “why would you ask?”
“I saw how you left, I saw what you did, the
passion you have for her.” Again, Harris had to
remind himself that he was speaking to a child. “Do
you love her?” she held sympathy towards Harris, he
was a kind and gentle soul, he always seemed to be
there for anyone who needed him, she simply wanted
to know he would now be able to settle.
“You could say that,” his voice was soft, broken.
“As a friend, or something more?” asked Librye,
she was concerned for Harris’s state of mind.
Harris’s voice was tender, he could tell that Librye
was worried about him. “It doesn’t concern you, Tiny
One, she was my nurse, in Marrion, that’s all.”
Librye could see there was something more, but
she did not want to ask, she knew it was not her place.
She had no filter for talking, but she did have a filter
for compassion. “What was she nursing you for?”
Harris raised his brows and took a deep breath.
He sat back and looked at Librye’s questioning eyes.
He did not want to frighten her, but he wanted to be
as honest as he could.
“Would you like to see?” Librye nodded. Harris
slowly untucked his tunic and lifted to reveal the scar
on his chest and back. “Arrow went straight through. It
was Branwen who had to push it through, to get it out,
she nursed me back to health, were it not for her, I
would not be here now. Also caught one in the knee.”
His tender voice spoke volumes to Librye as she
felt the scar on his back. “Did it hurt?”
Harris raised his brows and gave a comical look
forward. “Like you wouldn’t believe.” He noticed
something odd with Librye. As she leant over, he
noticed her dress was slightly red. He dropped his
tunic and quickly sat. “Librye, turn around.” Librye
did as asked, he saw the strange lumps to her back,
small dots had begun to appear. “Librye, you’re
bleeding.” He turned her back, lowering his head he
asked, “What happened?”
Librye looked down. Her eyes drifted about the
floor. “They’re just bleeding, that’s all,” she softly
replied, “the torbs, they will eventually sort them.”
Harris furrowed his brow; his mouth was gaping. “My
wings, Harris, I have wings, like a torb, but something
went wrong.”
Harris raised his brows further, he was not
shocked at anything anymore, he had seen so many
wonderful things, a fey with wings would be the least of
his worries.
“Ha,” he grunted. “When does Brenin plan on
taking you there?”
Librye shook her head. “I don’t know.” Librye
softly placed her hand on his injured knee, she could
see that his kneecaps did not quite match each side.
“Did you know this is still broken?”
Harris drew back, unsure what to think he looked
to her with his head twisted. “It’s not broken, just
painful, it’ll heal with time.”
Librye shook her head, her lips were held tightly
together as her tiny hand sat firmly on his knee. He
felt a warming, something was happening, but he did
not know what, his knee was almost burning as he
watched his kneecap slowly begin to sink back to
normal, the pain was gone. Librye’s hand remained as
he looked on, shocked. Harris could see something
else in Librye as she looked to his knee.
“Tiny One,” he spoke softly, “what do you see?”
It would have been a strange question, but not for
Librye. “I see a field, swamped in red. Armour, laying
everywhere, spears sticking out of the ground, I see a
cliff, and a man at the top.” Her words were haunting,
he knew she was seeing Marrion. “You burnt them,
with the blue sin.” She pulled her hand away and
stepped back, waiting for Harris to explain himself,
her head perked up, she looked to him disapprovingly
with raised brows, her mouth was gaping.
For the first time in a long time, Harris felt
ashamed. “Vitriol oil,” he muttered, “it’s war, Librye, it
isn’t nice, and neither am I.” Harris shot from his desk
and tucked his tunic back in. “Come on, I owe you a
dress, and I need to get a look at that prophecy.” They
both left, Librye held no hard feelings towards Harris
for his actions at war, she had a strange understanding
of what his duty was. He, however, knew his tactics
would need to change.
Their return from the market was a triumphant
one. Librye had a new lime green dress with silver
trim, and Harris had managed to add another dagger
to his collection, along with a sheath. Walking through
the main hall, the doors to the council hall opened.
The council began pouring out. Harris leant towards
Librye.
“You go, get yourself ready for dinner, I’ll join you
shortly.”
The councillors glared towards him as they left.
Harris stood confident in the centre of the hall as he
watched them leave.
“Harris,” greeted Kailron with a joyfu
l tone, “it’s
surprising to see you out.”
Harris bobbed his head towards Kailron.
“Councillor,” he greeted.
“How are you feeling, following your return from
Una?” asked Kailron, giving the impression they had
not yet spoken.
Harris grumbled, “I’m well enough.” He glared
towards Kailron; his eyes were threateningly relaxed.
“Is there something I can help you with?”
Kailron slowly blinked, he gave a sniggering laugh.
“They weren’t my orders, Harris, the responsible
person will be dealt with, your absence at council has
been noticed, you will soon need to re-join.”
Harris gave a sniggering laugh. “You all make my
absence so much easier,” he snidely replied.
The councillors emptied from the hall. Kailron
and Harris stood and waited. “Oh!” said Kailron as he
turned to Harris. “I hear that Lord Arring will soon be
paying a visit, I believe he is to collect his
compensation.”
Harris’s mouth curled at the side. “Lord of
Blodmoor, he should have his title stripped, his lands
were vastly unprepared for the attack.”
Kailron walked slowly into the hall. “It is the duty
of Cronnin to protect,” he sounded annoyed with
Harris.
It grated at Harris. “It is the duty of the Lord to
protect, Cronnin only get involved when their
defences fail.” His gritted teeth spoke volumes to
Kailron. “I must say, you’re frighteningly good at this,”
he muttered.
Kailron raised his brows as he asked, “Why are
you here, Harris?”
“The prophecy, it’s been spoken of a few times.”
He turned to Kailron; he could feel the blood of
Xencliff rushing through him as he stared into his
eyes. “I’m working with Librye; hence I need to know
all there is.” He could feel his eyes weaken as he
stared at Kailron. Kailron’s unwavering response
spoke of trust to Harris. “I wish to see it.”
Kailron gave a single nod. He led Harris to the
large table at the centre of the hall, where the
parchment had remained since being placed there by
Brenin.
“You seem to have taken a shining to the supposed
protagonist of the prophecy?” said Kailron. His usual
tone of spite had withered in Harris’s presence.
Harris gave a quick glance towards Kailron; turning
back to the ordinary looking parchment in front, he
lifted it from the table. “Where was it found?”
“Palace archives, they were all brought here,
during an uprising, some years ago, the prophecy was
written over three-hundred years ago, the lands of
Draco were sieged by the Atlanti, we needed to
protect the dragon’s knowledge, so they were brought
here,” Kailron explained.
Harris felt somewhat out of place in the halls. “So,
who protected the dragons?”
Kailron sniggered. “The dragons do not need
protecting, they’re dragons.”
Harris did not find it at all amusing. “Still, they’re
part of the peace of Cammbour, regardless of their
ability, they need protecting.” He walked with the
parchment towards one of the front benches.
“Probably why they refuse to join the effort, we didn’t
help them, why should they help us?” The two sat on
the bench and Harris read. When he had finished, he
turned the sheet over. “Where’s the rest of it?”
Kailron was baffled. He drew his brows down; he
opened his mouth to speak but stuttered. “I don’t…I
thought…I’m not sure.”
Harris flailed the parchment. “This is incomplete,”
he laughed, “the council should’ve known this!” he
stood. Making his way from the halls, he headed
towards Brenin’s chambers. As he bounced up the
stairs his vast amounts of daggers and swords clanked,
making all aware he was coming.
The guards at Brenin’s door stood to the side to let
Harris pass. “Good afternoon, Harris,” greeted Brenin
as Harris stormed towards his desk. An excited look
on Harris’s face instantly had Brenin intrigued. “Why
do you have that?” he looked to the parchment in
Harris’s hand.
Harris worked his way around the desk and
flattened the parchment out in front, Kailron made his
way into the chambers, closing the door behind him.
Brenin looked up to Kailron and waved him in. “This
is not complete,” said Harris.
“What do you mean it’s ‘not complete?’”
Harris pointed to a small watermark at the bottom
of the parchment, a small emblem with two dragons.
“There should be another page to this.” He pointed to
the dragons, “this is how the dragons mark important
parchment, one page, one dragon, there are two
dragons here, you’re missing a page.” Harris stood
straight as Kailron and Brenin inspected the
document.
“Then this is not the full prophecy?” asked
Kailron.
Brenin stood, he instantly made his way towards
the palace archives with the prophecy in hand. Harris
and Kailron followed.
“Poppy!” Brenin called as the three of them
thundered down the stairs. “Poppy!” he again called.
“Not with you again?” she shouted back to him, “I
keep telling you, it isn’t saf…” before Poppy could
finish, she noticed the king was not alone. “It isn’t safe
down here,” she quietly said.
“It’s safe enough,” said Harris, his excitement
again caught him, “this parchment, the prophecy, you
found it?” Poppy quickly nodded. “Was anything else
with it?”
Poppy shook her head. “No, my lord, just that one
sheet, but I know what you’re thinking,” she
sorrowfully said, “it was believed that when the stretch
was attacked, the dragons sent their prophecies here,
for protection, however, some of them were held,
those of high importance, as collateral.” Her coy
attitude seemed to trigger more interest from Kailron
and Brenin.
“Collateral for what?” asked Brenin, the entire
thing had confused him beyond measure.
“Your father, Sire,” she softly said, she seemed
worried, not knowing what Brenin’s reaction would
be, “he brought the parchments here, but in return, he
wanted the dragons to sign a treaty, locking them into
war, they would essentially become the only army
Cronnin had, with the dragons on side, your father,
Artver Oakwood, would become ruler of every
kingdom.” Her explanation seemed to fill Brenin with
a sorrowful rage. “He told the dragons, they would be
banished from Cronnin, he would burn their
parchments, if they didn’t agree.”
“I knew it!” celebrated Harris, “apologies,” he
calmed, “I just knew that there was some reason that
the dragons wouldn’t join, th
ey’re bitter, and who can
blame them?” Brenin was speechless.
“Well, the stars told them to keep some of the
prophecies, for a later date,” said Poppy.
“So, the second page, is still in the Draco stretch?”
asked Kailron. Poppy slowly nodded.
“Because of my father’s inability,” sneered Brenin.
He knew his father was often seen as power hungry.
“But wait,” Harris interrupted, “if he told the
dragons that they would be banished, why aren’t
they?”
Poppy stepped towards him, her tiny frame against
his was daunting to her. “Because, before he could,
Brenin’s mother, queen Umara, had relations with a
guard, she was loved by the people, but her act forced
your father’s hand, he had her beheaded, this made
the people uproar and the council were given more
powers, with that, they were not banished.”
“I would’ve known, if that were true,” said Brenin,
he had been taught to hate his mother. He had grown
without her, but the bitterness of his father, far
outweighed the love his mother had for him.
“You were a child,” said Poppy. Brenin lumped in
a chair beside Poppy’s desk. “You didn’t know, the
people didn’t dare speak of it, your father could be a
hateful man, the talks withered, rumours died.”
Harris awkwardly looked to Brenin. “Apologies,
but we need to get the other page.” His suggestion was
met with a bitter glare from Brenin. “Someone needs
to, or this is just a useless piece of paper about a weird
child.”
Kailron could not help but laugh. “Very well,”
replied Brenin, “I shall arrange something; I’ll keep
you informed.” Brenin stood, the three of them left
back towards the main hall. The parchment fascinated
Harris, he had every word stored deep in his memory,
and every word pointed back to Librye.
Brenin’s chambers were filled with a stagnant smell
of smoke. Harris sat silently opposite his desk and
Brenin reached for his third pipe.
“For goodness sake!” spat Afie as she stormed into
the room, “Harris, remove his pipe!” she
commanded.
Harris twisted in his chair. “I will do no such
thing,” he softly replied as he turned back to Brenin,
“the man has just received some awful news.”
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