Elias tried to struggle to his feet, but his head swam. The energy that Drakhus had been using to drive him into the ground had kept him from breathing, and he felt like he was on the verge of passing out. He tried to sit up, but the world spun, and it felt as if there was a great wind rushing about him, drowning out his senses.
The ground shook, and his vision was filled with silver, glinting scales. He blinked to clear his vision, and saw Sargoth crouching over him. Drakhus screamed, a strangled, unearthly sound, and pointed his fingers at Sargoth, blasting him with energy from both hands. The dragon winced, and returned fire.
This time, there was no shell around Drakhus to stop the dragonfire, and the mage was engulfed. His screams were cut short, but Sargoth didn't let up. He kept blasting the mage with flame, until the very spot the wizard had once stood was depressed, glowing red from molten stone. There was nothing left of the mage except smoking ash, dissolving into the small pool of lava that the dragon's breath had created.
Elias struggled to his feet, bracing himself on Sargoth's haunches. As he touched the dragon, Sargoth whipped his head back to look at him, starting to snarl, flame licking between his teeth, before he recognized that it was Elias. Instead, he smiled with one side of his reptilian mouth.
“So. What have you been up to?”
Elias swayed on his feet, watching the soldiers from Lonwick marching into battle. Smoke rose from the trebuchets all around Valtheim as the dwarves and elves routed the Northmen who had laid siege to Valtheim. He shrugged weakly, and gestured to the battlefield.
“All of this, I guess.”
Sargoth lifted a horned eyebrow ridge. “You've ruined your armor.”
Elias looked down. Sure enough, there was a gaping hole blasted and melted in his breastplate, though his dragonskin tunic wasn't even so much as scorched. He looked up at Sargoth. “I suppose I did, didn't I.”
Sargoth chuckled. “Good thing you saved me on that island, isn't it?”
Elias sighed, leaning against the dragon. “I'm starting to wonder who saved who.” Elias snapped to, remembering something. Tataramoa! The warrior had saved his life, and taken a sword for his trouble. Elias stumbled around Sargoth, and looked for the fallen sea elf.
He found him, prone on the ground where Carloman had left him, laying on his side and clutching his stomach, his breathing swift and shallow. Elias gently rolled him onto his back and looked over his wound. It was deep, there was no doubt, and Elias was no healer.
“We need to get you to a surgeon!” Elias said.
“Your powers of observation are without rival,” Tataramoa gritted through clenched teeth. Elias looked at him, furrowing his brow. Tataramoa looked up at him, and shook his head. “I heard Jenna say it to Jonas once, when Jonas said something obvious.”
Elias carefully lifted the warrior, carrying him away from the carnage and aftermath of the battle. In the valley below the ridge, between the treeline and the walls of Valtheim, the Lonwick army surged through Carloman's remaining soldiers, breaking them with their pikes and spears from behind walls of shields.
Elias lay the wounded sea elf on the dry grass, and called out to some nearby Lonwick soldiers. “I need a healer! Is there a surgeon? This warrior is dying!”
The soldiers shook their heads, ignoring him. Soft footsteps drew close, and Elias looked up to see Quartz jogging towards him.
He looked at her, his jaw slack. “What are you doing here?” he asked, surprised.
“This is the biggest war this continent has seen in two hundred years, and you think I wouldn't be here?” She turned to the soldiers who had ignored Elias earlier. “You heard the general, fetch a surgeon! Now!”
Two of the soldiers looked over, then startled when they saw her. “Yes my lady! Immediately, my lady!” They rushed off, shouting for a medic. Elias looked at Quartz, confused.
She met his eyes. “What?”
“How did you...?”
Quartz smirked. “They know me here.” She looked him over. “I should have sent for two surgeons. You're not doing that well yourself.”
Elias sighed, sitting back. “You know I'm going to have many questions.”
Quartz smiled gently. “I may answer some of them.”
Elias rested next to Tataramoa, Sargoth sitting nearby, his tail rustling back and forth through the grass. He looked up at the sky, through the hole in the clouds over Valtheim. The clouds were no longer swirling around, and were starting to flow in to cover the blue sky again. Mystical clouds and rebellious lords and magical battles, wizard lightning, fire-breathing dragons, none of this was anything he had ever expected to see.
Elias shook his head. “This has been a very, very long day.”
Quartz reached out and set her hand on top of his, squeezing it gently, and for the first time in a long time, he felt better.
Chapter Eighteen
4th Waning Frost Moon, Year 4369
As soon as Brandt rode back to the gates, having been victorious against Carloman's northern forces, he went into the city to find his mother. A group of dwarves informed Elias that the king had entered the damaged great hall of Valtheim, and had not come back out yet. Elias had watched the highest room get demolished by Drakhus's magic, and so feared the worst.
Elias limped through the wreckage that was the great hall, Jonas at his side. After the battle, the pain in his leg had grown more severe, though the surgeons that Quartz had summoned assured him it wasn't poisoned. They stitched him up and applied bandages, but it still hurt to walk on. They also assured him that though Tataramoa's wound was deep and quite painful, none of his organs had been pierced, and he would live.
As Elias neared the stairs, Brandt ran down them, descending from the upper floors.
“Elias, she isn't up there. I can't find her!”
Elias furrowed his brow. “The upper room was destroyed. I think she was in that room.”
Brandt shook his head. “I threw as much wreckage aside as I could move, but there was no sign of her. The floor was still solid; it was just the walls and roof that were gone. But there was no body, no blood, nothing!”
There was a rushing of wind between them, on the raised dais where the king and queen would sit to take their meals, and a bluish-white glow filled the room. The wind howled like a tornado, swirling dust and debris around the room. There was a bright flash, and the smell of ozone filled the room. When their eyes recovered, Eira stood, composed, on the dais in front of her chair. She looked around her, noticing the figures in the room. When her eyes fell on Brandt, her face lit up, shedding the severe expression she had held since Elias's return from Steinhalt.
She sprinted towards him, lifting her robes clear of her feet as she ran, and threw herself at Brandt, wrapping her arms around his neck. “I thought you were dead!”
Brandt caught his mother, embracing her in return. “I feared the same for you! How did you survive?”
Eira released him, stepping back. “After I finished my work for the beacon, I came down from the tower. I did the rest of my work in the chamber that Quartz used for her rituals. When the building was struck, I fled to the far north, to my Master's fortress.” She looked to Elias. "My Master told me that the battle was lost, so I looked in the scrying bowl myself. I saw that Valtheim's banners still flew, and the dragon had seen my beacon and returned, but Lonwick had sent a legion from the south. I decided to chance returning myself.”
Elias nodded. “So that's how Sargoth knew to return. It seemed very fortuitous that he chose that moment to join the battle.”
Eira looked around the room. “How much damage has Valtheim withstood?”
Brandt sighed. “It will take some time to rebuild, but our walls still stand, thank the gods.”
Jonas scoffed. “The gods? I thank our archers, our soldiers, and that great big fucking dragon outside our gates. If he hadn't killed that black-robed bastard, Valtheim would be rubble right now.”
Elias shook his head. “Many of the buildings i
nside the walls were destroyed or heavily damaged. And with winter nearly upon us, many will be cold.”
Eira nodded. “Quite right. Well, first things first. We must tend to our wounded.”
Quartz stepped into the great hall. “Lonwick's surgeons are taking care of that. There was not much left for them to do once they got here... Brandt and the dwarves of Silverdeep eliminated most of Carloman's remaining forces. They swept around the city and picked off any stragglers, took the wounded as prisoners, and secured any standing trebuchets. They captured a score of them; the rest have all been destroyed.”
Eira turned to face Quartz, a slight frown on her lips. “Quartz. I must admit, I was surprised to see you here. And with men from the south.”
“Elves,” Quartz corrected her, “and from where I was standing, it looked as though the Northlands was about to be overrun entirely.”
Elias brushed some debris off of a bench, and sat, taking the weight off of his leg. “How did you convince them to come? Do you have contacts in Lonwick, nobles that you advise, as you do here in the Northlands?”
Eira snorted, a rather unladylike sound. “You could say that.”
Quartz shot Eira a look. “I have influence in Lonwick, yes. These ten thousand soldiers were... difficult to procure, but they came regardless.”
Elias scowled. “I am tired of this secretive talk. Can neither of you speak plainly?”
Eira and Quartz were both silent, glaring at each other. Jonas rolled his eyes, exasperated.
“For shit's sake, you both just aided in the defeat of just about every enemy soldier the Northlands had to offer us! We have seen mountains ripped out of the ground, hail the size of coconuts calling from the sky, giant fucking lightning bolts, and stone spears shooting out of the ground! What could you possibly have to say that ya can't say around us?”
Eira's eyes never wavered from Quartz. “Perhaps Quartz should begin. After all, she led ten thousand foreign soldiers onto Northern soil. I think she owes the King of the Northlands at least some explanation for that.”
Quartz's eyes narrowed, but she said nothing.
Elias thumped his fist on the long table next to him. “What is it between you two? One moment, you're allies, the next you act as if you're about to be at each other's throat!”
Eira's eyes remained leveled at Quartz. “Our masters were rivals, their elements being counter to each other. As one grew more powerful, the other grew weaker. It was a constant struggle between them, and one day, it will be a struggle between us.” She stepped forward, resting her fingertips on the table in front of her. “Not only that, but we rule opposing kingdoms. Ever has Lonwick hungered for the Northlands and her iron, her gold, her trees, and her stone.”
Elias turned towards Quartz, confused. “Rule? What does she mean?”
Quartz crossed her arms, her jaw set. “Is this how you repay my aid, Eira? By casting my secrets under your feet?”
Eira shrugged. “I just feel that a little more transparency is in order. After all of the... changes that have occurred as of late. Wouldn't you agree...” she paused, before saying, “Your Grace?”
Everyone in the room looked at Quartz, who stood in her brown robes, her arms crossed, her feet at shoulder distance, as if she were physically bracing herself.
Jonas looked her up and down. “Ah, by the Abyss, I know who you are.”
Quartz's eyes never left Eira's. “Then say it.”
Jonas shook his head. “You're Amethyst Leonus.”
Eira stood straight again. “Only child of Alberic Leonus, heir to the crown of Lonwick.” She clasped her hands together, inside of her sleeves. “And now, fledgling Master of Earth. Quite a power grab indeed. I wonder, how far will your reach extend, Your Grace?”
Elias's jaw nearly dropped. He looked at Quartz. “Is this true?”
Quartz nodded once. “It is.”
Elias stared at her. That's what the young mage had been hiding. When she had hinted that Quartz wasn't her real name, he had just accepted her identity as it had been presented. She had been hiding the fact that she was, in fact, a princess, royalty from the country that he was preparing to march an army through. Every move they made, every plan they had forged, all of it had been just spoon fed to a member of Lonwick royalty.
“Is it not also true that you slew your Master?” Eira asked, icily.
Amethyst, as was her real name, nodded. “It is.”
Eira shook her head. “I am going to ask you to take your soldiers out of my kingdom. I appreciate the support you have given my soldiers, but it is no longer necessary.”
Amethyst stood in silence for a moment, her eyes narrow, her face hard as the stone she commanded. “Does it even matter to you, Lady Eira, why I killed the Master of Earth?”
Eira scoffed. “Likely for more power and title. It is the way of Lonwick, and of the Earth. Material things create a greater motive in... people like you.”
Amethyst stepped forward, purple light crackling between her fingertips, and Eira stepped back, raising her own hand, white light flashing to life. Elias and Brandt instinctively set their hands on their sword hilts, though they did not draw. Amethyst clenched her hands into fists at her sides, quenching the light. “I killed my master because he objected to my lack of fulfilling one of the conditions of my tutelage.”
Brandt, thoroughly confused, looked between Eira and Amethyst. “Conditions? What conditions?”
Eira looked at Amethyst, her face frozen. Amethyst narrowed her eyes again. “Perhaps you should have your son explain.”
Eira's mouth dropped open, as if she was going to speak. Brandt furrowed his brow, looking to Eira. “What is she talking about?”
Amethyst's lips turned upwards in an almost invisible smile. “Not that son.” She turned on her heel and walked to the door. Her hand on the latch, she turned back for a moment. “My men will finish their duties and administer aid to the wounded. We'll leave any prisoners in your charge before we depart. It should be no more than a day or two. When we are gone, if you require aid in quelling another rebellion, look to the Burning Sands. See if the city states there are willing to help. Hopefully, it won't be too expensive... the Dark Elves do love their gold, so I hear.”
The door slammed behind Amethyst as she stalked out of the building.
~ ~ ~
Elias found Amethyst outside of the city, in the Lonwick army encampment. It was arranged much like the dwarven camp was, is straight, orderly lines, each tent nearly identical. The Legion's tents were larger, and were shared comfortably between two soldiers, making the camp look significantly smaller than he felt it should have been,
She was kneeling next to a wounded Northman, ministering to his wounds. The man had an extensive cut that ran from his hip nearly to his knee. It had been stitched closed, and she was wrapping it with clean linen to hold a poultice of comfrey leaves in place when Elias approached her.
She turned her head to look at him, not stopping in her work. “Have you come to see that my soldiers don't try to take over your weakened kingdom?”
Elias shook his head. “No. I came to thank you.”
Amethyst chuckled mirthlessly. “I don't think Eira feels the same.”
Elias knelt down next to her, supporting the grimacing man's leg while she finished wrapping his wound. “Then it's good that she isn't the ruler of this country. Brandt is.”
Amethyst scoffed. “To hear her speak, she is the new iron fist defending the Northlands from the rapacious southerners.”
Elias sighed. “I'm still not sure exactly what you two have against each other. Neither am I sure what happened between you and your Master. But you have helped us, and for that, you have my gratitude.” He stood as Amethyst tied off the bandage, lowering the man's leg to lie flat on the ground. “When you march south, I am coming with you, with as many men, elves, and dwarves as will follow me.”
Amethyst wiped her hands off with a bloody cloth, arching an eyebrow at him. "Is that so? What do Br
andt and Eira think of this?”
Elias shrugged. “I don't know yet. I've achieved my goal here... Brandt is back on the throne of Valtheim, where he belongs. Carloman, Adalhard, and Gerulf are dead. The Northern rebellion is over. Now they will start to rebuild.” He shrugged. “I'm not much of a builder. I have a Felle general to kill.”
Amethyst looked him up and down, her vivid purple eyes scrutinizing him. “Darius Tessermyre.”
Elias nodded. “The same.”
“Well, lad, ya can count on me an' m' boys to do the heavy liftin' for ya.”
Elias turned to see Darby approaching. “When yer King Brandt came ridin' by with five hundred horsemen, we had t' say somethin'. He told us he was ridin' hard fer home, and that there was about t' be a merry little throw-down outside Valtheim.” The dwarf chuckled. “Well, Greggor an' I felt it was time t' let more o' our warriors get their axes dirty.” He leaned on an axe handle. “With the fightin' dwarves ya took with ya when ya left the first time, that means ya got ten thousand dwarven axes at yer back. A few more'n ya had when ya first came this way, I reckon.”
Elias reached out and shook Darby's hand. “Thank you, my friend. Your valiant warriors will be well appreciated.”
Darby shook his head. “Appreciation ain't what we fight for. It's freedom for us and our people.” He looked askance at Amethyst. “Now, is that lass who I heard she is?”
Elias held his hand out to the young elf maiden. “Amethyst, this is Darby, blacksmith of the Silverdeep dwarves.”
Darby stepped forward. “Er, make that master blacksmith, and member of the Silverdeep High Council.” He took her hand in his, bowing low. “I daresay, lass, er, yer Grace, the stories of yer beauty did not do ya justice. I like my ladies a little better fed, but yer definitely a breath o' fresh air fer the eyes.” He glanced up at Elias. “Well, for an elf, that is.”
Amethyst paused, looking the dwarf over, her eyes sharp for a moment. However, she smiled, bowing slightly back. “I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Master Darby.”
Thunderbolt (Dynasty of Storms Book 2) Page 31