“Yes,” Brackendon said firmly. “It is we, because I will need someone to watch over him for a time, while I go for aid.”
Cosmo placed his head in one hand, and ran his free hand through his hair. “And you want me to mind a baby dragon?”
“If the spell doesn’t break me, I’ll be left very weak,” Brackendon said. “I can’t take him with me and hope to keep him warm, or fed or safe if we should be attacked. No, he’ll have to stay until I can send help, and who else would I trust him with, Cosmo? Who else? That lovely song your brothers and sisters just sang doesn’t fill me with confidence.”
“Please,” Cosmo said with a wave of his hand, “it’s just a song, Brackendon. It’s traditional; goes back hundreds of years. None of us are going to start shooting dragons anytime soon.”
“Cosmo,” Brackendon said seriously, “this is a very dangerous situation. Perhaps Draconess is still alive, in which case the dragons will not be leaderless and his sword will not lose power. But, is it worth the risk?”
Cosmo looked towards the tankards on the table and seemed disappointed that they were dry.
“Aurisha has fallen,” Brackendon said. “It won’t be long before Rectar sends his armies west over the sea. What happens when Rectar’s strength is added to Castallan’s? What happens then if the dragons do not fight with us? What happens to all the small victories you have achieved here? What happens to the people here, Cosmo, when all the demons of the enemy swarm these mountains?”
“Alright,” Cosmo said reluctantly, “bloody fine. But I am not going to Brevia, Brackendon. Under any circumstances.”
“Is that what you were worried about?” Does he hate the city so much, he’d risk the world to avoid it?
“It’s not just that,” Cosmo said. “I want to help people, you are right. But I don’t want to lead them. I don’t want that responsibility. I just want to do my duty. Taking care of a dragon princeling, well, it’s too close to being responsible for comfort.”
“Don’t you lead men on patrol?” Brackendon said.
“Only the younger lads and only because Captain Tael insists,” Cosmo said. “Apparently I’m a natural,” he said with disbelief. “Anyway, that’s different. We go out for a week, maybe two, so I’m just temporarily in charge. When we get back to the station, it all goes back to normal.”
“I’m not asking you to be his father,” Brackendon said. “Just keep him safe for a few months. Once I’m back in Brevia, I can have an entire army come to extract him. Our forces will be moving south anyway. Draconess intends to remove Castallan from the Bastion, or he intended to, at least.”
They sat for a moment in silence. Brackendon could almost hear the battle rage within Cosmo: do the right thing, the selfless thing, or back away.
“I can’t resent you for finding the task overwhelming. It is a lot to take in and commit to. I really need you though,” Brackendon pleaded. “This spell might break me and, if it does, then I need someone to be there. To slit my throat and end it, if nothing else.”
“You’re going to do it regardless, aren’t you?”
“Yes.” The answer came easily to Brackendon. “It is the only thing we can do. Can I take it that you are agreeing?”
Cosmo let out the greatest sigh Brackendon had ever heard a man make. “Yes.” Then he whipped around and scanned behind him. He nodded at someone to come over.
“What are you doing?” Brackendon hissed.
“Don’t worry; this is a precaution we must take. He won’t learn anything crucial,” Cosmo reassured him. “Besides, I would trust this boy with my life.”
Already the circle widens, Brackendon thought worriedly. In a flash, Garon appeared dutifully by their table.
“Garon,” Cosmo said seriously, looking at him, “you told me once that you would do anything I asked of you?”
“I did,” Garon answered.
“And you would not reveal matters if I were to ask it of you?”
“Yes sir! Wait, I mean no, sir. I mean…”
Cosmo raised a hand. “I understand what you mean. There is something I require of you. My friend and I are about to leave. When we do, wait for half an hour and then leave as well. I want you to walk to the edge of town, stay there for a while and then coming racing back as fast as you can, shouting for help. Shout that you heard a woman screaming, say you heard it coming from outside the town gates, and have others come with you to search. Are you with me so far?” Garon simply nodded and Cosmo continued. “Swear to it that you heard a scream and, after the search has been given up, return to town. We should have completed our task by then. I’ll inform the others that I too heard the cries for help and went myself. I’ll tell them there was a young girl, carrying a baby boy. It won’t matter whether they think it is her own. In fact, the more vague people are on the details, the more believable it will be. You know yourself how many refugees have come stumbling through the mountains of late. Just last week, there was one poor woman who left a boy of her own; what was his name?”
“Balack, sir,” Garon said stiffly. It seemed to cause the boy a measure of pain to remember the scene.
“Balack, yes, of course,” Cosmo continued. “In any case, if anyone checks in with Grace and Olive at the lodge, they will find a baby boy. I doubt anyone will pay his appearance too much attention, truth be told.”
“Everyone is quite distracted, sir,” Garon said.
“You aren’t joining in, Garon?” Brackendon asked, curious as to the boy’s lack of enthusiasm.
“Cosmo told me to stay in sight in case I was needed. I wouldn’t want to be a legless lout if I’m required.”
“Good,” Cosmo said in a business manner. The ale didn’t seem to have affected him much. “Then you know what you must do, Garon. You must also promise never to reveal the truth of this matter.”
“Of course, sir,” Garon confirmed, beaming with pride. Cosmo rose to his feet and clapped a hand on young Garon’s shoulder. Brackendon followed behind as they wove between the clustered hunters and townsfolk, down the stairs and out of the tavern.
Brackendon felt the chill engulf him as they stepped outside. The snow was falling thickly now, limiting his vision to the extent that he could no longer see his staff tree. His body convulsed again, though he was not sure if it was from the cold or the magic. He retraced his direction through the square and Cosmo followed.
“You trust that boy a great deal, Cosmo,” Brackendon said.
“I do,” Cosmo stated plainly. “He may be young but he is skilled and loyal. Two excellent qualities, both of which he has an abundance of.”
“And he is loyal to you?” Brackendon asked. “Someone who is not so much older than himself?”
“Don’t misunderstand me, he will follow the Captain’s direct orders over mine, but he is willing to perform certain tasks for me. I helped Garon gain a place in our ranks you see. We found him out on patrol one day down near Farlen. He had nasty wound on his upper arm and limped with a sprained ankle for good measure. He’s originally from the Cairlav Marshes, just beyond the mountains, but his village had been devastated by a demon raid.”
“How long ago was this?” Brackendon asked.
“A year, ago,” Cosmo said. “Maybe a year and a half, around when Castallan turned his cloak. He looked a wretched thing when we found him. Mother dead and his father killed in the war. We brought him back to the station, nursed him back to full strength, and I convinced Captain Tael to take him on, young as he was. He was barely fourteen and normally we only allow fifteen year olds to join as recruits, but Tael knows potential when he sees it.”
Yes, he sees it in you too.
“You gave him purpose, Cosmo, something to work and live for. It’s no surprise he looks up to you.”
“Hmmm,” Cosmo agreed, as much as his humility would allow. As they rounded a corner and the light from the centre of town dwindled, they were left nearly in darkness. “Come,” Cosmo beckoned, “follow the edge of the buildings. We’
ll get some light from them.”
“I believe it’s just straight ahead,” Brackendon said.
“From the way you described the place, I imagine it’s that squalid, little shack near the back of town,” Cosmo said. “Had a notion to tear it down but there is always better things to do.”
“It’s a good thing you refrained.”
They walked in silence for some time; each with an arm stretched out to feel their way along the buildings as their feet sloshed through the gathering snow. Brackendon ached to draw on some magic to stave off the cold but didn’t. He would need every last modicum of strength to handle his upcoming task. Snow collected on their shoulders and the creases of Brackendon’s robes. The darkened homes around them were caked in the white powder as if they were part of the sloping valley. Little light made it out from the windows of the cabins as the snow fell even heavier, looking like a white mist. As they trudged, the whole world seemed to have turned white, and empty, and cold. It was Cosmo who broke their silence.
“What is he really like, Brackendon? You hesitated back in the tavern.”
Brackendon was unsure how to answer.
Arrogant, brusque and bullish. Still, Darnuir had also been loving in his own way.
“Most of what you heard is true,” he said in a measured voice. “But, if this is to be his final hour, then perhaps the lesser-known side should be remembered. He loves his people, Cosmo; loves them so fiercely, it pains him that they are being slowly ground out of existence. I haven’t known him for long but he has gotten worse of late. More rash, more angry. I think all the setbacks in the war have begun to tear at him. This is just what I have observed, of course. He’d never sit down for a heart to heart.” Brackendon chuckled at the thought.
“Are you friends?” Cosmo asked, seeming unsure if this was the right word to use.
“I call him that for want of a better word but I would not say that we are close,” Brackendon said. “Over the past few years, he spent a lot of time visiting my colleagues at the Cascade Conclave. I think he was hoping to gain some magical solution to the war but we could offer him none. Still, he liked to keep a few of our younger members close at hand. Since Castallan’s treachery, I was the only one left he could keep close. Maybe it is simply a dragon’s nature to be distant.”
“I met him once,” Cosmo said, “well, saw him really. I was just a small lad then, maybe ten years old. I remember because everyone was making such a big fuss around him; but through all of the commotion, I caught his eye. I think I must have looked frightened for he smirked. Just smirked at me and then walked on.”
“That’s all?” Brackendon said.
“If I knew more about him, I wouldn’t need to depend on all the rumours, would I?”
“Maybe he will change,” Brackendon said. “I hope he does.”
A quarter of an hour after leaving the tavern, they finally reached the exterior of the dingy shack and Brackendon paused briefly before entering. Despite the cold numbing his body, he still hesitated to enter, not keen to perform his awful task. Cosmo was not so tentative and leaned in to pull at the door. The dingy two-roomed hut was warmer than Brackendon remembered it. The warmth was even more peculiar, given that the window had been smashed. Shards of glass lay scattered on the floor and over Darnuir. A menacing sword was nestled into Darnuir’s right hand, while his left clutched tightly around something else. The realisation hit Brackendon with the force of a hammer blow. Glistening in the dying light of the fire, the sword seemed to be radiating heat of its own. Did it know its master required care?
Cosmo let out an audible gasp at the sight of it. “Is that the—”
“Dragon’s Blade? Yes,” Brackendon confirmed. “That it is here means only one thing. Draconess is dead and Darnuir is now king.”
“But how?” Cosmo asked.
“The Dragon’s Blade will always find its master: that much I know. It can fly. I saw Draconess toss it once and it flew back to his hand. I had wondered whether the distance would matter but…”
“Evidently not,” Cosmo said stepping closer.
“Careful, Cosmo,” Brackendon snapped.
“I’m just looking, Brackendon. It’s the most deadly work of art I’ve ever laid eyes upon,” Cosmo awed.
Brackendon agreed.
Its hilt was a dark ox-blood in colour and shaped in the head of a dragon, in the beastly form they had once held. What appeared to be carved scales covered the grip, leading up to the foreboding head. Two rows of discernible and vicious teeth stretched up the base of the blade itself. A forked tongue, wreathed in fire, slithered its way out of the dragon’s mouth and up the body of the blade. The blade itself was a thick, dark gold; an extraordinary metal that even Brackendon did not know by name. Cross-guards in the form of dragon wings erupted from the edges of the dragon’s head and curved down over the grip, where there was just enough space for two hands if required. Every detail was perfectly carved: the raised scales above the eyebrows; the indent on the chin; the sinew and bones on the wings. Only the eye seemed strange. It looked as though something was missing from a small, cavernous socket.
Brackendon moved around to the other side of the bed and saw that the eye was complete on that side. A small red ruby sat neatly in place, giving the head of the dragon a sense of life as it reflected what light reached it. He looked towards Darnuir’s clenched hand and saw the glint of the missing ruby in Darnuir’s palm. Tentatively, he picked it up. It was heavy, far heavier than anything its size should weigh. What was this magic? Then, feeling it would not be wise to continue holding it, he carefully placed it back into its allotted space on the sword. The blade glowed faintly orange as if giving approval.
“Shall we do it?” Cosmo asked apprehensively.
“Yes, there is no reason to wait; not now,” Brackendon said, moving around to the foot of the bed.
“It seems that not all dragons die the same,” Cosmo said. He stood awkwardly, unsure of what to do.
“Be careful, Cosmo,” Brackendon warned, raising his staff high overhead. “I’m not sure quite what will happen.”
***
Darnuir was neither asleep nor awake. He hovered between that state of dream and alertness where sounds are muddled and often more violent on the ear. He heard voices near him, enhanced tenfold by his exhaustion. He had managed to open his eyes when the Dragon’s Blade had come crashing through the window and forced itself into his hand. He still felt weak though, and his limbs refused to answer his commands. The pain wasn’t quite as severe after the sword had arrived. Is that all the power it has? Have I desired and dreamed for an empty promise? The sword had done nothing to stop death creeping towards him. He knew he was dying; some instinct told him that.
The voices stopped, paused, and then he heard something song-like. In his exhaustion, the words were strange and unnerving. A twisted rhythm and rhyme that sounded alien to him. Ethereal lights flooded the room, penetrating his closed eyelids, with colours he had never seen before. He noticed that the chill breeze from the window no longer seemed to reach him. For the first time in his life, Darnuir felt frightened, though he could not reason as to why. He could barely think at all. Everything was instinct and his mind was darkening. His body began to move again; it thrashed around out of his control.
“Hold him!” a voice cried out. Hands pressed down on his chest but he continued to lash out. The hands left his body and he heard a loud thump from somewhere nearby. More shouting, and the hands returned; this time they felt heavier. His muscles continued to jerk but this time the hands held him in place. He felt his flesh writhe and convulse under his skin. Then he was motionless; everything was still. It was far too still.
Then came a new sensation. He felt like he was losing himself. Large chunks of his being were vanishing. There was no pain, just sudden emptiness throughout his conscious. Memories erased, leaving blank spaces in their wake. Like a smashed glass, the contents of his mind were flowing from him, and the remaining pieces were jag
ged and broken.
He tried to hold onto something, desperately, anything at all. Aurisha under attack; a baby in his arms; running through a hail of arrows; cornered, pain and crying.
There had been a light but who had made it? A single word came to the forefront of his rapidly decreasing mind. Brackendon!
His eyes burst open and the otherworldly light flooded his vision. He wanted to cry out but nothing came. His eyes met those of the figure above him. They were silver and held determination. Something about them was distantly recognisable. There was this last thought, and something about the eyes gave him comfort.
Then, there was nothing.
Chapter 6
TIME FLIES
Part 1: The Early Years
DARNUIR WAS LYING securely in the curve of an arm. The fabric around him was soft, warm, enveloping. He felt safe. There were noises coming from somewhere nearby.
“Swear to me, Cosmo,” the voice urged. “Swear you’ll await my return before you move him.”
“I promise,” a voice said from above him.
“I will need to see how matters play out in Brevia and amongst the dragons. The sword won’t reactivate for him until he is of age but…”
The voice from nearby stumbled over its words. A splashing sound followed.
“You’re weak, Brackendon,” the voice from above said. “You should rest a while. Carrying that sword won’t help.”
“I only need a small amount of magic to lift it,” the bent over figure said shakily. “Perhaps if I can get it to Val’tarra, I can—” There was a loud, forceful whoosh and something golden flashed by. “No!” the shaken voice said.
“Brackendon, where is it going?”
“I do not know…”
“Brackendon, perhaps you ought to stay now. If the sword has gone then—”
“No, Cosmo. I must press on regardless; Kasselle and Arkus must be informed.”
“At least let me give you some supplies and better clothes before setting off.”
Darnuir swayed rather uncomfortably as the thing holding him swooped down.
The Dragon's Blade: The Reborn King Page 7