Galanӧr nodded eagerly. “Seems like a good place to start.”
“After that,” Gideon continued, “I thought I might try and find Malliath, see if I can’t finish his rehabilitation.”
The elf spoke through the pipe in his mouth. “Or at least make sure he isn't burning half the world to the ground…”
Gideon couldn't argue with that. “Defeating Valanis has seen a new age of peace ushered in, but it’s a big world out there. I fear there are still things hiding in the dark, waiting to strike.”
Galanӧr clapped him on the back. “Then it’s a good thing the people of Verda have a Dragorn looking out for them.”
Gideon didn't want to argue with that. He was sure of his duty and the role he would play in the world, just as Asher had been in the end. Though he hoped to avoid the need to give his life, Gideon knew he had it in him now. He was a Dragorn, after all…
“Come on you two!” Reyna called affectionately from the opening in the tent. “The fun’s in here!”
Gideon replied with his happiest of smiles. Dwelling on dark times that might never come was a terrible way to celebrate the union of Verda’s heroes. Not when he could be drinking and laughing with friends until the dawn.
And what a dawn it would be…
Thirty Years Later…
Nathaniel Galfrey reined his horse in beside Reyna’s, coming to a stop at the edge of the grassy cliff. The waves of The Adean crashed against the rocks far below, but the breathtaking vista was eclipsed by the tower perched on the lip of the Shining Coast. It was majestic and somehow foreboding, with its rounded wall of white stone and imposing height, topped with a glistening crown of sparkling points.
From the north, they could see the elevated platform hanging over the cliff, facing The Adean. Long struts extended from underneath the platform and connected it to the tower, offering the support required to take a dragon’s load. It was architecturally exquisite and a sight to behold, but Nathaniel hated the sheer size of it.
“Why did they have to build it so bloody high?” he asked.
Reyna sighed with a light chuckle on her lips. “You always ask the same question. Every time.”
“It’s a long way to go for a meeting,” he continued.
“It’s half a day’s ride from our house,” Reyna countered.
“It’s not the distance from our house that bothers me; it’s the distance from the ground.” Nathaniel gestured to the platform in the distance.
“Then it’s a good thing that you’re an immortal man and still full of stamina…” Reyna jested.
“Human stamina,” Nathaniel pointed out. “We don't live like we used to, I’m not a knight anymore. The life of an ambassador is…” he struggled to find the word, “...comfy.”
This was a recurring conversation, but Reyna’s reply was light. “You can still handle a sword better than most.”
“Sparring with you and hiking up that tower is very different, my love.”
The two continued their journey across the fields. “Well you’ll be happy to know,” Reyna added, “that King Rayden has installed a pulley system, so you won't have to hike.”
“Really?” Nathaniel asked with a happier tone. “How do you know that?”
“I’m an ambassador,” the elf replied casually, “it’s my job to know things.”
“I’m an ambassador too and I didn't know.”
Reyna offered a superior smile. “I’m an ambassador who opens her missives. Perhaps you should try putting down your sword for once and picking up a letter…”
Nathaniel laughed to himself, more than satisfied to leave it there; to this day he had yet to win an argument with his wife. Instead, the couple linked back to the dirt road and approached the front gate, another foreboding design.
“You’d think they were trying to re-build Syla’s Gate,” Nathaniel whispered just loud enough for Reyna’s elven ears to detect.
The elf shushed him and smiled at the man walking out to greet them. It was clear from his attire and grovelling demeanour that the man worked for a king, and the king of Velia at that. Both sides of the colossal white gates were lined with Velian soldiers, draped in dark, red cloaks with the Sigil of a wolf’s head imprinted on the back. Nathaniel had always thought a royal’s escort was bloated, but King Rayden appeared to have travelled with a mere twenty men. Still, these were his lands and the king was better loved by his people than his father, Rengar, had ever been.
“Ah,” the master of servants offered a broad and welcoming smile, “ambassadors! Welcome to Dragons’ Reach, King Rayden is already inside and… waiting.” It was clear the man felt irritated that his king should wait for anyone.
“I wouldn't worry about it,” Nathaniel said, hopping off his horse. “The big guy hasn't shown up yet, so we’re all going to be waiting.”
Reyna slipped from her horse with elven grace. “King Rayden made excellent time; Velia is further than our home.”
Nathaniel could always tell when his wife was asking a question without actually asking a question.
The master of servants quickly replied, “His Royal Highness was visiting the governor in Barossh when the meeting was called. The timing was fortuitous.”
“Indeed.” Reyna beamed, as she always did, and the company of three entered the tower.
Nathaniel was more than happy to have the soldiers work the lift mechanism and transport the three of them to the top of Dragons’ Reach, but he had always felt a lot of work had gone into a tower that only boasted one floor. Since its creation, fifteen years previously, they had only been called to a meeting four times.
Reyna leaned into Nathaniel, away from the master of servants, and whispered, “Why do you dislike this place so much?”
Nathaniel checked the nosey man couldn't hear them over the grinding pulley system. “It’s not that I dislike it, I just think it’s a bit much. Don't get me wrong, I think Rayden is a good king, and I think the world of Gideon, but after the war…” Nathaniel could still see the savage Darkakin and their monsters when he closed his eyes. “I just thought resources should have gone elsewhere.”
“Always the pragmatic knight,” the elf mused. “It had to be a meeting place fit for a dragon. We couldn't have a met in a barn.”
The lift opened up into a foyer that would be at home in any palace, where two more Velian guards were stationed with halberds. Considering those in attendance at these meetings, Nathaniel felt they were unnecessary, especially considering those yet to arrive.
The master of servants shuffled ahead and opened the opulent doors with a grand gesture. The ambassadors strode into the main room of Dragons’ Reach, though Nathaniel could never achieve the same level of confidence his wife had. Reyna had been royal all her life and she still had the title of princess among her own people, and knew her place in any room. Nathaniel Galfrey, on the other hand, felt lost every time he looked in the mirror.
The master of servants awkwardly slipped past and announced, “Ambassadors Nathaniel and Reyna Galfrey…”
Nathaniel held up his hand to silence the smaller man. “We all know each other.”
King Rayden was the first to greet them with a smile beaming under his trimmed beard. “Princess Reyna.” The king took the elf’s hand and kissed it lightly. “Nathaniel!” The two men embraced forearms. “It has been too long since you have been guests in my hall.”
Nathaniel had become quite self-conscious around the king of Velia. The old knight had been around Rayden’s age when Asher had gifted him the life of an immortal. The two men appeared identical in age, but Nathaniel was sixty-three now and he continued to cheat death.
“Forgive our absence, Your Grace,” Reyna said. “We have been occupied of late in the Moonlit Plains.”
“Of course,” Rayden held out his hands. “I hear you have been helping set up trade links between the elves of Ilythyrra and the good people of Lirian.”
Nathaniel could already feel his attention slipping when he saw a fa
miliar face over the king’s shoulder. “Excuse me.” The old knight knew his wife would be displeased at abandoning a conversation with the king, but one more discussion about the elves new town in the plains would put him to sleep.
“Tauren Salimson!” Nathaniel embraced the southerner in a tight hug. “You look well!”
Tauren stepped back and glanced over Nathaniel’s body. “Never as well as you.” He brushed a rough hand through his thick hair and beard. “I can hold off the grey no longer.”
“It’s distinguished,” Nathaniel replied, making no comment about his own appearance. “How are Salim and Isabella?”
Tauren’s smile was one of pride. “Salim is stronger than I was at his age, smarter too thankfully. Isabella sends her love, but I would not leave Tregaran without my wife looking over it. Democracy is a fragile thing in The Arid Lands.”
Nathaniel noticed the older man in the corner of the room, his attire giving him away as King Rayden’s court mage. The old knight couldn't recall his name, but he remembered meeting him almost twenty years ago, at King Rengar’s funeral. Like all court mages, he was content to stay out of the way, unlike Magikar Caliko, who had already left his seat to greet Reyna.
“So,” Nathaniel returned his attention to Tauren. “I hear you are responsible for this little get-together. What’s going on?”
Tauren’s expression fell away, leaving one of grave concern. Nathaniel hadn't seen that look since the days of the war.
“It would be best if I wait for Gideon. Everyone needs to see this…”
Nathaniel furrowed his brow at Tauren’s choice of words. The old knight couldn't imagine what they were going to see that was of such importance to call a meeting at Dragons’ Reach.
“I thought there would be more of us,” Nathaniel commented.
“That would be my fault,” Tauren said. “I didn't offer much time for the other kingdoms to send representatives. King Rayden has promised to send personal letters to all when we’re finished.”
Nathaniel could see the unrest creeping over Tauren now. The old knight had seen the southerner in his days as The White Owl of Karath and knew there was very little in the world that could shake the man.
There were a few more minutes of small talk, but Nathaniel caught Reyna’s discrete signal to rescue her from Magikar Caliko, Korkanath’s head mage. The two ambassadors took their seats at the semi-circular table, designed to have them facing the opening arch in the wall. The view beyond was stunning, but from their seats, they could only see the summer’s blue sky.
It was the beating of wings that silenced the room.
Nathaniel looked at Reyna first, who’s delicate ears could actually distinguish individual dragons from the sound of their flight. His wife’s elation told him exactly who was about to touch down on the platform.
A red dragon dropped from the sky, back claws first, allowing them to see the dark slate of his chest, the perfect contrast to his shining scales. Fitting perfectly through the tall arch, he brought his horned head down low, revealing the Dragorn nestled between his neck spikes. Dragons had always brought a smile to Nathaniel’s face and given his heart a reason to skip a beat, but this particular dragon was his favourite, for Athis the ironheart always accompanied his daughter.
“Inara!” Reyna was all for etiquette and decorum until one of her children were present.
The elf was standing and around the table before Inara had jumped down from Athis’ back. Indeed, everyone was keen to greet the Dragorn, but none could embrace her before Reyna and Nathaniel.
“Let me get a look at you,” Nathaniel held his daughter by the arms and checked her over from head-to-toe, much to her amusement.
“It hasn't been that long, Father.” Inara embraced him again and planted a kiss on his cheek.
“Athis…” Reyna bowed her head in deference, before placing an affectionate hand on the dragon’s upper jaw.
It truly warmed the old knight’s heart to see his daughter. Her being a Dragorn for the last ten years had been hard on Reyna, since Inara was always bound to her duties, but Nathaniel had only ever worried for her safety. Seeing her now however, as always, he was reminded that Inara was of a warrior-class far above all others. The scimitar on her hip was another layer of protection, besides the dragon, that would always see her safe. Nathaniel had attempted to wield her Vi’tari blade, but the magic therein simply didn't recognise him.
Her dark hair fell in ringlets past her shoulders, framing a typical elven face and green eyes. He secretly loved that her ears were human, the only feature he was sure to have passed on. She was tall and as honed as could be, but the old knight knew from her childhood that his daughter was stronger than she looked. That was something Reyna had given her.
“Uncle Tauren!” Inara embraced their old friend and the two shared a private joke and a laugh.
For just a minute it was like the old days, just after the war, when their family was young, but whole. Nathaniel could feel his thoughts drifting, as they often did when he saw Inara. Before his mind could spiral, Reyna gripped him softly by the arm, taking advantage of the distraction offered by their daughter. His wife’s emerald eyes bore into him, her understanding instant.
“Alijah will come back to us,” the princess whispered. “In his time…”
Nathaniel nodded with a practised smile.
Thankfully, another distraction was offered, focusing Nathaniel. Athis growled low in his throat and removed his head from the room. When a dragon moved, everyone took note.
Inara locked eyes with Athis and nodded her head as if someone had asked her a silent question. “Gideon is here.”
Athis made a few steps and dived off the edge of the platform. Nathaniel expected to see his magnificent wings spread out and watch as the dragon glided over the ocean below, but he simply disappeared. In his place, landed a larger dragon of green scales and golden specks. Dragons’ Reach shuddered under his mighty weight and his wings stretched out to eclipse the sun. The atmosphere in the chamber changed; an effect Gideon often had.
The dragon arched its neck and Ilargo the redeemer of men poked his head into the chamber, his fierce blue eyes piercing. Nathaniel gave the dragon a warm smile, aware that his emotions were being coerced by Ilargo. Gideon Thorn dropped onto the platform and made for King Rayden with a rehearsed bow he had learned from Reyna many years ago. As close as they all were, the leader of the Dragorn could not be seen to greet anyone before a king or queen of the realm.
Gideon’s smile was as charming as it was inviting. The Dragorn practically lifted Reyna from the ground in their embrace, much to the embarrassment of Inara. Personally, Nathaniel enjoyed how uncomfortable it made the Magikar and the court mage. Inara quickly found refuge in conversation with Ilargo, who was capturing in his own right.
“You’re definitely looking older…” Nathaniel quipped, locking arms with Gideon before the Dragorn pulled him in for a hug.
Gideon was just over fifty now, but there wasn't a soul who could say he was over forty. Nathaniel had been teasing him about the Dragorn ageing process for decades, but it seemed Ilargo’s magic had finally caught up with him now, halting old age and death in its tracks.
“Oh Reyna,” Gideon said with a cheeky smile. “When are you going to leave this bag of old bones and come and live with me? In The Lifeless Isles, you could have your very own island!”
“Alright alright,” Inara cut in. “This is weird enough as it is.”
Magikar Caliko cleared his throat after taking his seat. “Perhaps we should discover the reason for our attendance?”
Nathaniel looked back at Tauren who was giving instructions to the master of servants.
“Do you know what this is about?” Gideon asked quietly as they took their seats, opposite Ilargo.
“Nothing good,” Nathaniel replied.
The ornate doors opened and four natives of The Arid Lands entered the room, pulling a cart draped with a large tarp. The cart was placed in the open s
pace, in the curve of the table between Ilargo and the others.
Nathaniel wrinkled his nose at the smell. “Well, you don't need to be an elf to smell that.”
“What is that, Tauren?” Reyna asked.
Tauren hesitated with his hand on the corner of the tarp. “Since the war, my people have kept watch over Syla’s Pass. When the last watch rotated, however, they found only death. The men had been slaughtered, some in their sleep, others in battle.”
“The Darkakin?” King Rayden asked.
“No, Your Grace,” Tauren continued, “something worse. I accompanied the relieving watch and was attacked by the same beasts, though we fared better. We killed all but one and tracked it into the ruins of Karath.”
“It?” Reyna echoed.
Tauren hesitated before pulling the tarp clean off the cart. Ilargo was the first to react, becoming distressed at the sight that greeted them. Thankfully, Ilargo pulled his head from the chamber before roaring into the sky. Those still in the room could only look at the contents of the cart in horror and confusion.
“It cannot be…” Gideon whispered.
The audience quickly joined Tauren in front of the cart, except a better look did nothing to help identify the dead creature.
“I have seen every manner of monster in this world,” Nathaniel said. “What is that?”
“Something it cannot be,” Gideon’s gaze was fixed on the body, his hand clenched around the red and gold hilt of Mournblade.
“It looks worse than it smells,” Inara commented.
“Gideon.” Reyna’s tone pulled the Dragorn from his reverie. “You recognise this creature. What is it?”
Gideon took a deep breath. “An Orc…”
Author Notes
I’m not going to lie, I’m pretty emotional about this. The story and the characters have played a major role in my life since 2015 and occupied a goodly portion of my head space (there really isn't much space left in there). When I first came up with the idea for Echoes of Fate it was just going to be one epic story, a single fantasy book and that’s it. As you already know, it grew slightly beyond that size…
Relic of the Gods: (Echoes of Fate Book 3) Page 49