At that moment, Thrope seized hold of him. Instantaneously, they were transformed once more into spheres of light and together they shot out of the cave.
Rav did not know whether his grandmother followed them or not, but heard a muffled explosion as the rock collapsed behind them. His whole essence shook with it.
‘She will survive,’ Thrope said grimly. ‘She will survive with awareness, and there is no greater penance.’
When they returned to the Magravandian camp, the conflict had ceased. Men sat dazed upon the ground, their weapons hanging limp from their hands, while others lay groaning, bleeding from terrible wounds. Still more did not move, nor make any sound. They were dark husks, empty of the light of life. No elemental creatures remained.
Ellony, Jia and Misk still hovered above the scene, but came spiralling towards Rav and Thrope when they became aware of them.
‘It is over,’ said Ellony. ‘The Ustredi just kept coming and coming. They were so angry. We did this, Rav. Us! Now let our father dare to question our worth.’
Rav could not respond to this, but directed his attention towards the royal pavilion. He could see that Bayard’s essence was now a dull crimson glow. It pulsed with fury, but its power had been diminished. ‘We must return to our bodies,’ he said. ‘We must send people to find our grandmother. She’s out in the forest alone.’
Chapter Thirty-Five: Death of a King
In the dark, sagging keep of Old Caradore, the Palindrakes and the Leckerys, along with Sinaclara and Tayven, had gathered around their lord, to listen to what his children had to say. Valraven had observed what he could of the Magravandian conflict from the battlements, and just when it seemed some kind of conclusion had been reached, because everything had gone ominously quiet, Sinaclara had come yelling from the keep, demanding he go inside at once.
When he laid eyes upon the twins, he couldn’t help but smile. They both looked guilty, worried whether they were about to be reprimanded in some way. But there was no denying the excitement in their eyes, the frantic desire to reveal a wonderful secret.
‘We’ve met the dragon daughters,’ Ellony said, running up to him, her expression showing how much she hoped for approval. ‘They took us to the Ustredi. We helped vanquish the Magravandian fire creatures!’
‘Hush, slow down,’ Valraven said. ‘What is this?’
Between them, Rav and Ellony related their experience, although Ellony had to be silenced by her father on several occasions, so that Rav could have his say. The story took some time, because of the many questions that people wanted to ask. The account was rather muddled.
Valraven’s first response, once the twins’ breathless narrative was finished, was to issue a quiet order for some of his men to search for Tatrini.
Niska interrupted him, saying that only women should venture into Ilcretia’s sacred place. Some of her priestesses, who had come north with the Palindrakes, would search there and bring Tatrini to the castle.
Pharinet was perhaps the most surprised by Rav and Ellony’s story. ‘I find it difficult to imagine the dragon daughters as anything but malevolent,’ she said. ‘It makes me wince to think how you two opened yourselves up to them.’
‘They are not evil,’ Ellony said bluntly.
‘They’re impartial,’ Varencienne said. ‘It makes sense. They manifest as they are imagined by the one who invokes them.’ She pantomimed a shudder. ‘For years, they have been the image of Bayard’s warped imagination. Poor things!’
‘This is an immense step forward,’ Sinaclara said. ‘The dragon daughters should be able to help us regain the Crown of Silence, wherever that Magravandian witch has hidden it!’
‘Can you bring them here now, Elly?’ Khaster asked. ‘How solidly are they able to manifest?’
‘They are already here,’ Tayven said. ‘Not everyone will be able to see them with their physical eyes.’
‘Rav sees them the easiest,’ Ellony said, ‘but Jia has told me she’ll teach me.’
Pharinet grimaced. ‘I don’t like the sound of that! From what I remember of the divine Jia, she is a minx, to say the least.’
‘It’s all right,’ Ellony said. ‘It really is, Aunt Pharry.’
Valraven drew in his breath and then spoke in a ringing voice. ‘Well, lovely dragon daughters, minxes or not, it seems we are to be reconciled. Despite the sorry history between us, you have my thanks for your part in what has taken place this day.’
Everyone was silent for a moment, perhaps hoping for a tangible response, but there was none.
Varencienne broke the hush by saying, ‘Will you open the gates now, Val?’
He nodded thoughtfully. ‘I don’t see any reason why not. What I’ve heard from the twins explains some rather peculiar things I observed over the last couple of hours.’
‘Are you sure this isn’t some complicated, tricky Magravandian plot?’ Saska asked in a worried tone.
‘It isn’t!’ Ellony said. ‘What we said was true.’
Varencienne put a hand on the back of her daughter’s neck. ‘I know it is, sweetness. I don’t doubt you.’
Valraven smiled down at Ellony. ‘I think I should go out to meet our allies, don’t you?’
She nodded enthusiastically. ‘Yes! Can I come?’
‘No,’ Valraven said. ‘A battlefield offers no pleasant sights for a young lady. And before you argue with me, indulge me. If you remain here, it is perhaps for my sake, rather than yours!’
Ellony smiled and hugged her father’s legs. ‘I’ll stay,’ she said. ‘This time.’
Valraven went to his son and placed a hand upon one of his shoulders. ‘I am proud of you,’ he said. ‘You have accomplished things that I could not.’
Rav’s face flushed. ‘I was afraid,’ he said, as if in apology.
‘Nevertheless, well done, my son. You are an asset to the House of Palindrake.’
Valraven signalled for Shan, Khaster and Tayven to accompany him and began to leave the hall, but Varencienne came after him. ‘I’m coming too,’ she said. ‘Say nothing to contradict me. I won’t listen.’
‘I wouldn’t dream of it,’ Valraven said.
Beyond the castle walls, fresh wind blew huge clouds across the sky and cleansed the air of the stink of blood. When the Caradoreans had ridden halfway over the causeway, men came to meet them from the Magravandian camp, led by General Leatherer. Many bore wounds wrapped with hasty, makeshift bandages.
When Leatherer saw Valraven, he sank to his knees and placed his right fist against his breast. ‘All hail, Great King!’
Those who had come with him did likewise.
Valraven dismounted from his horse and went to pull the general to his feet. ‘Get up, get up. All of you. Do not bow to me. My hands are clean. This is a battle I have won without a fight because of you.’
‘It is my pleasure to deliver the Malagashes to you in chains,’ said Leatherer. ‘You are the only king, Valraven. Many of us have thought so for a long time. I would gladly have given my life to ensure your victory.’
‘Thankfully that was not necessary,’ Valraven said. ‘Who else in Magrast was aware of your plans?’
‘The most influential members of the Fire Chamber, my lord.’
Valraven laughed aloud. ‘Senefex and Mordryn? You jest, surely!’
‘No. Once Gastern went into decline, some of us spoke together and decided what needed to be done. We had to act carefully.’
‘Senefex and Mordryn always tend to back the winning horse,’ Valraven said. ‘They change allegiances to save their own skins.’
Leatherer did not comment on this, but his eyes conveyed he agreed with Valraven’s words.
‘Well, there will be time for discussion later,’ Valraven said. ‘Now you must take me to Bayard and Almorante.’
‘The men wanted to string them up,’ Leatherer said, ‘but I told them to wait. I knew you should witness it.’
Valraven said no
thing.
Tayven observed a calm concentrated purpose on Valraven’s face. He had a secret.
The Malagashes had been brought out of the pavilion and had been made to kneel among their dead, their hands tied behind them. Bayard snarled out imprecations, his face twisted into a bestial snarl. He was like a maddened beast, unchastened, fighting against his bonds.
Almorante was a different matter. He knelt erect, but his eyes were closed. It was as if he was waiting for the executioner’s sword and wanted it all to be over. Tayven’s heart flexed in his chest. He would ask Valraven to show mercy, even though he knew Almorante might not want it.
Valraven went to stand before them, staring with a calm expression at Bayard, who spat at his feet. ‘Untie them,’ he said to Leatherer.
The general gestured to a group of his men. ‘Keep the fire dog in a firm grip,’ he said. ‘He has the madness upon him.’
Bayard bared his teeth at them in response. When Leatherer’s men tried to lay hands on him, he attempted to fight and had to be knocked almost senseless before he calmed down.
In contrast, Almorante got listlessly to his feet and did not look into anyone’s eyes as the men untied him. Tayven knew the prince was aware of his presence, even though he betrayed nothing of his feelings.
‘Look at you!’ Bayard sneered, shaking blood from his face. ‘What a noble company: whores, cowards and traitors!’
Varencienne, who had hung back, now approached her brother. ‘And what are you, Bay? Will you tell me that? I see no nobility within you. I see a thuggish brute who thinks with his balls.’
‘Such gentle words, dear sister,’ Bayard said. ‘Are you here to watch me die? Are you here to watch the world die with me?’
‘You will not be executed,’ Valraven said.
Everyone turned to him in astonishment. ‘My lord,’ Leatherer began, but Valraven raised a hand to silence him.
‘If I am to be your king, then I must prove my worth. If Caradore is to break free of Magravandias, she must vanquish its king. It is a symbolic act.’ He glanced at Leatherer. ‘Bring him a sword.’
Leatherer frowned, looking very much like he wanted to say, ‘Are you mad?’
Varencienne said, ‘Valc what is this?’
Tayven knew what Valraven wanted to do and why. It was not in the Dragon Lord’s nature to accept so bloodless a victory. He wanted to feel that he was part of it, that he deserved it. He wanted to face Bayard, his archetypal opponent, in hand to hand combat. Fire and water.
‘Bayard is not their king,’ Varencienne said, ‘Almorante is. Fight him.’
‘But Almorante will not fight me,’ Valraven said, ‘will you, your highness?’
Almorante looked at him for the first time. ‘There is no point. If I should kill you, these people would kill me. I am emperor in name only. It is clear to me that since my father died, there has only been one king in the people’s hearts and that is you. We did not realise how widespread this desire was, and now we have paid for our carelessness. Men who were close to us have betrayed us. The Malagash dynasty died with our father.’
‘Of all of your brothers, you are the only true Malagash,’ Tayven said, ‘a man who shares the spirit of Cassilin and his forefathers.’
Almorante would not look at him or even acknowledge he’d heard the words, but his eyes moved briefly to Khaster, expressionless and dull.
‘Listen to your whore,’ Bayard drawled. ‘Even as he comes to gloat over your defeat at your enemy’s side, he has silver words for you.’
‘Bayard is the symbol of the Malagash desire and will,’ Valraven said. ‘Tayven was not wrong in what he said to you, Almorante. I have no desire to fight you either.’ He turned to Shan. ‘Clear an area for me.’
‘If I am to die, I swear by Madragore that I’ll take you with me, Palindrake!’ Bayard said. ‘In your arrogance you have just created your own death.’
Tayven knew that Bayard would fight like a maniac. He had nothing to lose. Valraven was a skilled fighter, but the prince’s desperation and fury might give him the edge. There was no way to predict the outcome of such a conflict.
‘Val, you can’t do this!’ Varencienne said. ‘It’s senseless! Are you still a boy that you have to prove yourself like this?’
‘My lord, let me fight for you!’ Shan said. ‘I am your champion.’
Valraven ignored them both and drew his sword.
It was clear that Leatherer felt extremely uneasy putting a weapon into Bayard’s hand. The moment his guards released him, Bayard uttered a roar and charged madly towards Valraven. He did not care about having a prepared field of battle. He just wanted Palindrake blood.
Tayven witnessed the whole event in slow motion. Time seemed to stop. He saw the horror on Varencienne’s face, frozen. He saw the men fixed in positions like people in a painting. He saw Valraven turn, enquiry upon his face. He saw Bayard’s weapon raised high, shining in the sunlight. Then, before that sword could fall, a dark blur intervened. Almorante threw himself forward, pushed Valraven aside and took the full force of the sword thrust in his chest.
Time swung back to normal speed. Shan and Leatherer ran to grab hold of Bayard, who was roaring incoherently, apparently unaware he had just wounded his own brother and not the Dragon Lord. Almorante slumped at Valraven’s feet and Varencienne and Khaster hurried over to him. Valraven appeared stunned, but only for a moment.
‘Silence!’ he roared and everyone fell silent. ‘Shan, take Prince Almorante at once into the castle and tend to his injuries.’ He looked at Bayard, his expression serene. ‘I have business to finish.’
He indicated that soldiers should manhandle Bayard to a distance around twenty feet away from him.
‘Release him,’ he said.
As before Bayard hurtled forward, more animal than man. Valraven did not assume a stance of defence or attack. He stood perfectly still, while this raging madman came towards him. At the very last moment, as Bayard made to attack with his bloody blade, Valraven stepped deftly to the side. Bayard lunged past the Dragon Lord, who with one precise full-bodied swing of his sword took the prince in the back of the neck, partly severing his head from his body. Bayard fell face forward to the ground, and lay there with arms and legs outflung, his head twisted grotesquely to the side, his dead eyes frozen in an expression of surprise.
The onlookers were too astounded to react. It was almost comical.
Valraven handed his sword to Khaster, who looked at the weapon as if he didn’t know what it was.
‘Gentlemen, I invite you into my domain,’ Valraven said, addressing the entire company. ‘I have concluded my business out here.’ With utter sang-froid, he went back to his horse.
Tayven caught Varencienne’s eye and saw her total perplexity. She put a hand to her mouth to cover a smile, but Tayven could tell she didn’t know whether to laugh or weep.
Almorante was taken to the family living quarters, where the women of both families had gathered.
Tayven sat on the bed and held Almorante’s hand. His wound was too deep. It could not be healed. How the prince had survived even this long was a miracle.
‘Look at me, Mante,’ Tayven said, but still the prince would not acknowledge his presence. Tayven was unsure why. There could be many reasons, all of them complex.
‘Is there anything we can do for you?’ Valraven said. ‘People you’d like us to protect and care for in Magrast?’
Almorante sighed slowly, his breath rattling in his chest. ‘There is no one,’ he said, ‘no one worth the trouble.’
‘Is there anything you’d like to say?’ Valraven persisted.
Tayven could tell the Dragon Lord felt anguish at Almorante’s fate. He was confused by the sacrificial act.
‘She brought the Crown with her,’ Almorante said. ‘She thought I didn’t know, but I did. It will be concealed among her possessions in the camp.’
‘I will go at once and look for the crown mysel
f,’ Sinaclara said.
Valraven nodded to her. ‘It must not be lost or stolen.’
Almorante’s fingers moved feebly in Tayven’s hold. ‘I could feel its presence, but it did not speak to me. That was when I knew.’
‘Knew what?’ Tayven asked softly.
Almorante looked at him then. ‘You are still so beautiful. You always will be, even when you’re old and dying.’ His fingers were trembling. ‘It is all fading now. My father is here.’
For some moments, he was silent and Tayven wondered if those would be his last words, but then Almorante summoned the last of his strength and his voice was clear. ‘I knew that Valraven Palindrake would be king and that he would wear the Crown of Silence. Paradoxically, when I realised this thing I also knew it was the moment when I was most worthy of being emperor myself.’
‘Mante, I told you in Magrast,’ Tayven said. ‘I told you how you could be king.’
Almorante’s head moved slowly on the pillow. ‘No, it was never for me. A beautiful dream.’ He closed his eyes. ‘I was never king.’
‘You were,’ Tayven said. ‘The moment you took the sword in your body, you were the only true great king. You gave that title to Valraven. You passed it to him.’
Almorante smiled a little and murmured, ‘Kiss me, Tayven. Come one last time to my arms.’
But when Tayven bent down to kiss the prince’s lips, he was already dead.
He was an enemy, a scheming Malagash, who had done and ordered terrible things in his life, but everyone in that room gave in to tears of grief. Even Valraven pressed the fingers of one hand against his eyes. Now, the Malagash dynasty had truly died, even though the killing was not yet over.
In the Magravandian camp, soldiers attempted to make sense out of all they had witnessed that day. When Sinaclara walked among them, they stared at her as if she was a vision. She asked them, ‘Where is the Queen Mother’s pavilion?’ but some of them didn’t even answer. Eventually, after piecing together morsels of rather garbled directions, she found her way to a secluded peaked tent of dark blue canvas, its entrance hung with golden tassels. There was something forlorn about the way it was isolated from the main camp. From within, Sinaclara heard the song of the Crown. Her whole body reverberated with it, and her mouth was dry as she pushed aside the entrance drapes and entered the dark space within.
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