“Flew west. He’s probably somewhere south of Syla’s Gate by now.”
“But why? Why would he leave?” Gideon couldn't understand why any dragon would willingly abandon the bond they all shared.
Galanӧr dropped his head. “He didn't belong with them anymore. What he’d become… I don't think he could come back from that.”
There was more to the elf’s words than a simple explanation for Malliath’s self-exile, but Gideon decided to leave it with him for now. Whatever Galanӧr was going through, he would talk about it in his own time, which for the first point in their journey together, they finally had an abundance of. Valanis had been defeated and the Darkakin were being wiped from the face of Verda. On top of it all, an unlikely alliance had been found between humanity and elves.
There was still hard times to come and his errand would not be complete until Atilan and his lot were trapped beyond this realm forever. But for now, Gideon allowed himself a moment’s peace...
Adilandra deliberately walked ahead of Gideon and Galanӧr, hoping somehow that she might take back control of the turmoil that raged inside of her. Adriel was dead. Valanis was dead. The dragons had finally returned, a vision she had dreamed of for more years than she could count. All of this ran through her head, as well as the fact that for the first time in a thousand years, the queen felt Illian’s soil under her feet. The realm of her ancestors and the land her own parents had called home was… cold. Winter was coming and the trees were retreating, but more than that, Adilandra looked around and saw only death. Elym had promised her for years that it would feel like returning home. It didn't. This wasn't her home and recent revelations proved it had never been hers to begin with.
Illian belonged to man.
Bubbling under all that, Adilandra was fighting to bury her memories of captivity. Killing Overlord Kett brought it all back. The queen told herself that it was done with now. The Goddess would be dead by now, Kett was gone, the beast, Krenorak, had been butchered by Lӧrvana and Malaysai had been reduced to ashes. By the time the dragons were finished here, all of the Darkakin would fall into history.
How long would it be before she could give it all up to history?
For years Adilandra had been hunted through the south of Ayda by the savages. Those most loyal and faithful had died following her on that quest, a quest that she didn't fulfil. It had been Gideon and Galanӧr who discovered Dragons’ Reach and brought the dragons back into the light. She had been left to suffer for it. The drugs, the arena, the Darkakin parties and nights in The Goddess’ bedchamber… She had gone through it all with the belief that Atilan and the gods were with her. That strength had proven false.
Adilandra’s whole world had unravelled over the last four years. Her faith had served her for so long, keeping her steady when her husband turned their people against the gods. He may have been right, she thought, but he was wrong about everything else. The only thing Adilandra could take away from her time among the Darkakin, was the knowledge that her strength alone was all she needed. For too long she had resigned herself to being the wife of Elandril’s king. That would have to change…
The chaos of the battlefield took on a whole new level of disorder the closer they got to the walls of Velia. The jagged gap, where the main gates had once sat, was crammed with people rushing in and out to try and help the wounded. It reminded her of the aftermath of the battle of Elethiah, a millennia ago. Of course, she had only been a child back then and didn't command the respect she received now. The elves packed around the entrance took a step back and dropped to one knee as they saw her. There was a time when Adilandra would have cared for her appearance in front of her subjects, but today, she felt proud to be counted among them, as a warrior.
The effect rippled across those gathered until eventually, every elf was kneeling before her, leaving the Velians to look on in confusion. It also provided a perfect view of her daughter. Adilandra gasped as the first tears escaped her eyes and streaked down her cheeks. Reyna ran for her and the queen weaved between the kneeling warriors to meet her. They came together in a crushing embrace and Adilandra clutched at her daughter, refusing to let go. The scent of her hair was the sweetest thing she could imagine, leaving her to wonder how she had ever left Reyna in the first place.
“I have missed you so much!” Adilandra whispered with joy.
“How…” Reyna met her mother’s eyes. “How are you here? You left…”
Adilandra smiled. “I came with them.” The queen looked up as Ilargo circled overhead.
“You?” Reyna was stunned. “You found them…”
“Not quite,” Adilandra replied. “Why do I get the feeling that you are responsible for this alliance?”
Reyna beamed. “The gods are on our side.”
Adilandra called on her many years as queen and maintained her smile. Faylen was waiting behind the princess when they finally stepped apart, their hands still clasped. Adilandra held out an arm and wrapped Faylen in her embrace, her oldest of friends.
“You have done what I could not.” Adilandra blinked the tears from her eyes.
“I would never abandon her,” Faylen said with tears of her own. “Just as I would never abandon you, My Lady.”
Adilandra looked beyond Faylen, to the two men standing wearily behind a group of kneeling elves. The queen already knew them to be Asher and Nathaniel Galfrey, thanks to Ӧlli’s observations, but she felt, for now, it would be best to remain vague on the details.
“We have so much to discuss!” She brushed Reyna’s cheek with her thumb, wiping a drop of blood away. The queen gestured for them to enter the city when another familiar face emerged from the crowd.
“Adilandra…” Elym, the king of elves and her husband of eight hundred and fifty years stood in front of them.
Adilandra hadn't been sure how she would greet him, wondering many times in her cell in Malaysai what she would say to him. Her love for him was undeniable; they had spent centuries together after all. But those golden days had come and gone long before Adilandra left in search of the dragons. The number of lovers they had both taken on towards the end had increased until they barely even shared a meal together. Thoughts of invasion, genocide, and revenge had claimed her husband’s mind for the last four decades, twisting the gentle soul she had fell in love with. More importantly, Elym had made decisions that damaged the soul of her people and tarnished the memory of their ancestors.
The king made to embrace her but she held her ground and presented him with a stiff figure. Had he tried to hold her, Adilandra would have stopped him and he knew it. Elym glanced at the other elves around them, ensuring he didn't look the fool. There was still something of the elf she loved in there, that much could be seen in his eyes. The king was genuinely happy to see her, but in her heart, she knew it was too little too late.
A man came striding through the mob, adorned in finery fit for a king, or at least a human king. His entourage certainly suggested he was royalty at the very least, surrounded as he was by Velian soldiers.
“Generations will sing of these times!” he announced. “The first alliance of man and elf!” His words elicited a few cheers from the Velians. “Together we have defeated a common foe. Imagine what else we might accomplish together!”
Elym tore his eyes from Adilandra, finally acknowledging the king of Velia. “King Rengar, may I introduce my wife, Queen Adilandra of House Sevari.”
Adilandra heard her title but decided to keep her thoughts to herself… for now.
“Your wife?” Rengar echoed, taking in the queen’s form from top to bottom with a critical eye.
Tired of the attention, Adilandra stepped aside to reveal Gideon and Galanӧr. “Kings of Illian and Ayda, may I introduce Gideon Thorn, the first human Dragorn.”
Elym’s face dropped, but it was Reyna’s expression that filled Adilandra with hope. The awe that lit up her daughter’s face was exactly what a Dragorn was meant to inspire. Their order was revered by her kin, hera
lded as heroes and peacekeepers. Gideon’s entire existence was proof that war between man and elf was futile, but more to the point, it was proof that they shared common traits. A dragon’s choice could never be questioned…
“Impossible,” Elym said a little too loudly.
A green dragon took that as his cue to drop out of the sky and land behind Gideon. The display was dramatic and perfectly timed. Everyone else took a few steps back, including King Rengar.
“This is Ilargo.” Gideon thumbed over his shoulder. “He says, hello…”
Adilandra was sure the dragon had said something else, observing what she considered to be a scowl on Ilargo’s face.
“The term is familiar,” King Rengar said, his eyes fixed on Ilargo, “but I’m afraid I don't understand the implications.”
Adilandra looked from Reyna to the king, her smile changing from one of affection to the smile of a diplomat. “Perhaps there is somewhere we could all talk?”
“Aye!” came a cheer from behind the blue cloak of an elven warrior. “And maybe some ale too!”
Adilandra found herself smiling at the sight of the first dwarf she had seen in a thousand years. At least with her own eyes. Doran son of Dorain had accompanied her daughter into The Arid Lands and fought beside her at Syla’s Gate. In the queen’s eyes, he was a hero and most welcome
“I could do with a drink myself,” she added, attracting more than one confounded glare.
48
Leverage
Valanis called on the shard of Paldora’s gem, funnelling all of its power into himself in a bid to control the magic of Naius. Having the strength of a god trapped inside his body, the dark elf’s life was one of push and pull. At least seven dragons surrounded him, enclosing him inside a storm of fire, and while his shield held the deadliest of flames at bay, the power of Naius tempted him to use more. Valanis could feel the ebb and flow of the magic and knew he had more to give, but he also knew it would pull at his life force, leaving him vulnerable to fits.
Right now, keeping the dragons from roasting him alive was the only balance he could find. Naius screamed in his ear to use more, the god’s voice the only thing that carried over the roar of the flames. The heat was almost unbearable, but the light was blinding, forcing Valanis to keep his eyes shut.
Kill them! Naius commanded. Use my power!
The god of magic planted the image of the silvyr-tipped spears in his mind, reminding him that they lay at his feet.
You’re losing this battle, Paldora hissed.
Valanis thought of the title he had been offered. The god of war should have no trouble slaying a few dragons. If he was truly to replace Krayt among the pantheon, he would have to prove his worth. The dark elf gritted his teeth and drew on his rage. With one hand over his head, keeping the shield strong, his free hand hovered over the spears, lifting them from the ground. The silvyr was hot now, ready to pierce dragon scales.
One after another, Valanis let the spears fly through his shield and out into the world. Every silvyr tip ended the immortal life of a dragon and reduced the pressure on his shield. He knew it was foolish to consume more power, but the shard of Paldora’s gem offered him strength, so he took it. Valanis expanded his shield, pushing the flames back and daring to glimpse a world beyond the fire. Dragons lay dead or wounded around him, with those who survived taking to the sky and fleeing.
The pinks of dawn were suddenly cast in shadow. Valanis looked up to see the stone face of some ancient, grubby king hurtling towards him. With his right hand, the dark elf began to conjure a spell so destructive that it would obliterate the crowned head before it could hammer him into the ground.
But he had taken too much power.
The shard of Paldora could only give him so much control. The spell backfired and burnt the palm of his hand before shooting up his arm in agonising bolts. The dark elf collapsed to his knees with a scream on his lips. When the statue was only feet away from impacting Illian soil, Valanis used what little he had left to open a portal under his knees and fall to safety.
The fall was brief, but the landing was hard on his body. Surrounded by the familiar glow of the crystal pools, the dark elf bounced off of one of the natural pillars and rolled across the jagged ground. Bits of rubble and debris from the falling king came through with him before the portal collapsed, covering Valanis in a layer of dust. In the cool of Kaliban’s largest cavern, his dark armour sizzled and smoked, including his iron mask.
Valanis groaned and grunted in pain as he dropped his hood and ripped the mask from his face. He hadn't been burned alive, but he had been burnt. The pale skin of his right cheek felt raw, where a burn had spread down his neck and singed the ends of his blond hair. His right hand was trembling from the aftermath of his failed spell, the flesh charred. He could feel a fit coming on again. The shard seemed to help him less and less, as if the gods were abandoning him…
Atilan’s voice boomed through his mind. You have reached your limits, Valanis. Instead of bringing Illian and Ayda to their knees, you have unified them. You have been defeated.
Hearing the king of the gods utter those last four words broke Valanis. The elf slumped against the edge of the nearest pool, his breath ragged and his skin burning.
“The dragons!” he screamed in anger. “How..? Where..?” Valanis knew his own weaknesses were to blame, but he was mad, his blood boiling. How could he have been expected to find victory against the ancient wyrms? Even with the Darkakin and the Namdhorians, the number of dragons could not have been anticipated.
We gave you power…
“You gave me too much power!” he argued.
Yes… we gave you too much power. We see our mistake too late. Perhaps it is time we recast our power and seek a new herald, a new god of war…
Valanis looked up, his eyes glassy. How had it all fallen apart? Every one of his Hand, his most loyal servants, were dead. They had failed him just as he had failed the gods, he realised. He had spent forty years rallying the world of man and elf, manipulating both to ensure all-out war, but he had never taken the dragons into account. Children of fire and flame offer great promise… The Echoes of Fate spoke of the dragons, but there was nothing to suggest they would impact his plans.
The ranger, perhaps? Paldora purred from beyond the veil.
The dark elf sat forward, his face falling into despair before his anger surfaced again. “NO!” he shouted into the empty cavern. “He is only a human, no better than an animal! He couldn't handle the power of Naius!”
He has the gem… Paldora said.
Valanis snarled. “It doesn't matter! Even with the gem, the ranger offers you no allegiance. They have The Veil now. They’re probably already on…” The dark elf trailed off, his thoughts following another path. It felt blasphemous to even dwell upon such thoughts, but he was desperate now. He had failed the gods, leaving him on the edge of exile, banished from their perfect world.
“They have The Veil,” he repeated, his thoughts drifting.
Because you couldn't find it! Naius barked.
Because you couldn't take it from a boy! Paldora added.
Valanis picked himself up and used his good hand to unclip the armour covering his torso. He dipped his injured hand into the glowing pool and held it there for a moment, waiting for the relief. It never came. Removing his hand, the skin was still burnt. The magic of the pools was being held from him…
The dark elf’s eyes glazed over, his expression absent. “They will likely seek its destruction. With the dragons on their side, it won't take them long to discover how.” The gods remained silent and Valanis smiled. He had their full attention now. “Soon they will find their way to these very pools and close the door on your return forever.”
Impossible… Atilan’s presence filled the cavern, pressing upon Valanis. They would never find Kaliban.
“Impossible?” the dark elf echoed. “That was once said of a human becoming a Dragorn, or a star being plucked from the sky. Impossible
is an alliance between man and elf. We live in an age of impossible…”
A high pitched buzzing filled his ears, threatening to consume his senses. The next fit was only moments away.
Speak plainly, Atilan commanded.
“Without me, there will be no one to challenge them.” Valanis shrugged the remains of his robes off. His body was already glowing from within. “When they arrive, and they will, I must be ready for them, or your glorious return will never come.” The dark elf stepped into the pool and stood up to his waist, waiting for the power of Naius to wash over him.
There was only silence from the gods.
Valanis balled his fists, using every last bit of magic the shard of Paldora could offer him. If he fitted inside the pool of liquid crystals, he would likely drown. Live as the herald of the gods and rise beyond immortality… or die.
His options were simple and he was willing to accept them.
The dark elf gasped as the pool came to life, filling him with unimaginable power, the power of Naius. Falling into the pools over a millennium ago was comparable to being ripped apart, but now, after so long, it felt more like a warm blanket. The magic within ran through his body and began to heal his injuries and reduce the glow from his veins. The shard of Paldora’s gem glowed white-hot on his finger, ready to offer him control whenever he needed it.
Let it not be said that we are not merciful gods, Atilan finally declared. Destroy those who would not worship us, Valanis. Recover The Veil and take your place among us.
Valanis couldn't believe it. Had he just manipulated the gods? His disbelief slowly faded away, leaving him to sink into the pools with a smile on his face.
49
The war is not over
Asher felt the sharp displacement of air throughout the king’s hall when every head turned to look at him. As soon as he had heard the double doors shut behind them, the ranger had given a single announcement.
Relic of the Gods: (Echoes of Fate Book 3) Page 42