The Dragon's Blade: The Reborn King

by Michael R. Miller

  After the last of the servants scurried off, silence reigned for a brief time. Kasselle was the first to speak.

  “Welcome all,” she said serenely. “This Council has been gathered to determine how we will deal with the threat posed to us all by Rectar and Castallan. For too long, we have been running, or reacting. It is time we take action. Each of you here is called upon to speak for your race, including our honoured guest.” She directed everyone’s attention to Ochnic. Darnuir was impressed at how effortlessly she granted the creature courtesy, despite the apparently bloody history between their two peoples. Her own guards, however, seemed to be sizing him up.

  “Ochnic thanks de Fairy Queen.”

  Blaine shifted noticeably. “It seems a great shame that we have not heard from Brevia,” he announced to the room at large, “when even such a reclusive race as the frost trolls sends an emissary.”

  Ochnic thumped his chest hard. “Kazzek, I am!”

  “Yes, my apologies,” Blaine said a little too quickly.

  “Had we word from the humans, you would have been the first to know, Lord Guardian,” Fidelm said in his deepest of tones. “It is unfortunate we have been left in the dark. Whilst these fine hunters here may vouch for their own, it is not quite sufficient to plan an effective strategy.”

  “Cosmo will speak on behalf of humanity,” Brackendon said.

  All eyes, bar Kasselle’s, flicked towards Cosmo.

  “That is quite a claim, wizard,” Blaine said. “While we are all very grateful for his service, especially where Darnuir is concerned, I doubt a southern hunter can truly speak with humanity’s voice.”

  “He is not merely a hunter,” said Darnuir. “Cosmo is now Captain of all our hunter voices.”

  “Encompassing a whole three companies and those battered moreover,” Blaine reminded him.

  “I would agree with you, Lord Guardian, that a southern hunter would not normally be adequate for such an auspicious meeting,” Cosmo said. “However, the son of Arkus would.”

  “We cannot speak to ghosts,” Fidelm said. It looked as though he wanted to say more but Kasselle lightly touched his arm to stay him. The General appeared confused.

  “There is no need,” Brackendon said jovially, pointing to Cosmo, “you may speak with him now. Sitting before you is Brallor, son of Arkus, heir to the throne of Brevia.”

  A moment passed before the realisation of his words struck home.

  Darnuir froze in a mild form of shock. Fidelm’s stalwart jaw dropped, and even Blaine seemed utterly lost for words.

  “Ah hah!” boomed Griswald, slapping a meaty hand upon the table. “That’s put a stick in yer mud, eh, my Lord Guardian?”

  “Quiet down, friend,” Garon told him.

  Blaine’s attention snapped to Kasselle. “My Queen,” he seemed to say with a hint of a struggle. “Did you know of this?”

  Kasselle seemed to have anticipated his accusation. “I’m afraid I was only recently informed.”

  “How recently?” Blaine asked pointedly. Darnuir could not help but feel a glint of satisfaction. Having secrets kept from you is not pleasant, is it, Blaine?

  “This afternoon,” Kasselle answered, “when I informed Brackendon of the Council.”

  “It was rather excellent timing,” Brackendon chimed in. “Cosmo, I mean, Brallor—”

  “Please just use Cosmo,” said the self-proclaimed prince. “I am far more used to hearing that now. But yes, as Brackendon was about to say, I intended to step forward at any rate. This is merely convenient.”

  Blaine was not entirely appeased. “Do you have any more members of Tenalp’s royal families hiding in those mountains, wizard?”

  “Not that I am aware of,” Brackendon replied.

  “You might have said something…” bristled Kymethra, more to herself than to the whole room.

  “Cosmo,” Darnuir found himself saying, gazing at the man he thought he knew so well, dumbfounded. “Why?” was all he could add.

  “For all the reasons I have ever given for leaving the city,” Cosmo said. “I just neglected to mention who I really was. Please do not feel betrayed,” he implored to his hunter colleagues and Darnuir. “Not even Grace knew.”

  “The main point is that we may count on Cosmo to bring humanity’s forces to bear as we decide here,” Kasselle said.

  “I will not claim that I can guarantee anything,” Cosmo warned. “I have long been absent. My father may well scorn me and hate me for what I put him through, but I will try my utmost.”

  Ochnic leaned forwards from his ill-sized chair, pointing a long grey finger at Cosmo. “So de white furred hunter is de Human Prince?”

  “I am,” Cosmo said.

  “Dis news is good!” the troll exclaimed. “Ochnic no need to go to da great human village now.”

  There was a short pause, in which perhaps those around the table tried to comprehend the troll’s meaning.

  “We ought to begin by discussing the northern theatre,” Darnuir suggested. “Ochnic here tells me that the demons have long been assaulting his people. They may have been attempting to cross through to the west for years.”

  “But no longer?” Fidelm inquired.

  Darnuir looked to the troll to answer.

  “De demons be going some moons ago but not all. Kazzek are weak now. If dey come again, we will not survive dem.”

  “If that is true, then it would seem Rectar has pulled the bulk of his forces back to Kar’drun, in preparation for his invasion,” Blaine said. The Guardian rose and picked up most of the demon carvings currently in the Highlands and moved them over, far to the east, to the mountain of Kar’drun. “If this armada against the west is imminent then the Highlands are not our primary concern.”

  “Perhaps not for the dragons,” said Cosmo, “but for humanity and the fairies, it is another matter. The hearts of both our people nestle near the western edge of the Highlands. Should the north fall, Brevia and Val’tarra would soon follow.”

  “We have no reason to love the trolls,” Fidelm muttered darkly.

  “What is long past should remain there, General,” said Kasselle. “When history has passed from fact to legend, it is not worth remaining embittered.”

  “Are the tales true, troll?” Fidelm asked regardless.

  “What tales?” Ochnic said, confused.

  “When fairies used to brave the north, your kind hunted us. Killed us.”

  “Ah,” Ochnic said, realisation passing over his grey face. “No. Da kazzek tell it differently. I dink the Fairy Queen is wise. Der should be no dwelling on dem tales. It has been seasons beyond de counting since blue skins came to our lands.”

  Darnuir was agitated with Fidelm. Why must there always be fighting? Why do we begrudge each other so much? “Our guest has the right of it,” he stated clearly. He peered around the table, awaiting any challenge, lingering first on Fidelm and then on Blaine.

  “You have a suggestion then, my King?” said Blaine.

  “A joint force,” Darnuir said. “Each race will send its own contingent. That way, no one will bear the full burden. We must ensure the Highlands are held.”

  “We have barely gathered our full strength as it is,” Blaine protested. “How are we to fight a war on two fronts?”

  “So you would rather the Highlands fall?” Brackendon asked. “If that happens, the demons may simply march overland, leaving Val’tarra and Brevia threatened from the north as well.”

  “This is a problem, Blaine,” Kasselle said. “I want my homeland made safer, not vulnerable from a new direction.”

  “I am not suggesting we ignore the Highlands completely,” Blaine said defensively. “To do so would be foolish. Yet it would be equally unwise to send too many troops there when we do not know the scale of the threat, nor the size of Rectar’s armada force.”

  “Our chief issue is that we are guessing blindly,” Cosmo said.

  Ochnic rapped his long fingers on the great silver table, clinking his nails
off the wood, drawing attention to himself. “If you be fighting in da darkness, better to throw your spear dan not use it at all. You will hit nothing otherwise.”

  “Or keep your spear close,” Fidelm noted, “so you have a weapon when your attacker finally reveals himself.”

  Ochnic shrugged, smiling slyly at the Fairy General.

  “The task force I had in mind would not be large,” Darnuir said, hoping to put the conversation back on course. They needed to decide upon the Highlands and move onto the more pressing matter of Castallan’s army on their doorstep. “I suggest sending three thousand dragons, a large contingent of our human hunter forces, say a thousand, and a thousand fairies to the Highlands. Flyers might be preferable for the region, Fidelm?”

  “I cannot spare that many flyers,” Fidelm insisted. “They are too valuable.” He turned to Blaine looking for support, yet Blaine did not seem as determined to resist.

  “A whole legion…” Blaine said softly. “As much as I would rather have those troops to fight Castallan’s horde and Rectar’s fleet, sending less support to the kazzek would be fruitless, and sending more would leave us vulnerable. I believe Darnuir has the right of it, Fidelm. Though perhaps, my King, we should keep as many flyers as we can with us. Communication and intelligence are ever the keys to war.”

  “That and supplies,” Cosmo said. “Can we equip this expedition with enough food? How far are they travelling and for how long?”

  The faces of the fairies around the room darkened.

  “Give dem enough to make it to my homeland,” Ochnic said. “Da kazzek have great stores.”

  “How long will it take troll?” Fidelm asked. His eyes swept over the map. “Your people are so secretive that we do not know where your home actually is.”

  Darnuir looked to the Highlands as well. Fidelm was right; there was no indication of any civilisation there. The only standout features were five of the Principal Mountains of Tenalp that resided there, and beyond them, at the rim of the region, lay a confusing strand titled only the Uncharted Wastes. Darnuir suddenly had a wave of sympathy for the soldiers he was sending to this part of the world. What dangers would await them there while he remained in the mapped and comfortable parts of Tenalp? The impending invasion notwithstanding, he knew he’d rather be on charted ground, in places where he could plan ahead and understand.

  We do not have much choice. The Highlands must be held and the kazzek defended.

  “A month of food will be enough, I dink,” Ochnic said. The troll seemed reluctant to reveal the location of his people.

  “Can this be done?” Cosmo asked.

  Kasselle turned to some of her staff beside her and they nodded tersely, their lips pressed together in a thin line.

  “And will those numbers be sufficient to help defend your people?” Darnuir asked the troll.

  Ochnic shrugged his great, gangling body. “Da Chieftains will be pleased to have whatever help de Dragon King will send. Ochnic knows you have your own fights.”

  This creature is more reasonable than half these Council members.

  “I am glad to hear it,” he told the troll.

  “There is an issue of command,” Blaine said. “I am happy to offer several choice candidates.”

  Doubtless this would be from his Light Bearers. Darnuir, however, felt this was his idea, his expedition. He would have someone he could personally trust. “I thank you, Blaine, but I already had someone in mind.” The Guardian’s face remained passive. “Garon!” Darnuir continued, catching the hunter’s eye.

  All turned towards the man. “Me, Darnuir?” Garon said in genuine disbelief.

  “The kazzek are in great peril,” said Darnuir. “I have never known anyone so passionate in helping those in need. I intend to send the Boreac Hunters on this mission as they are more used to the cold than most. They will know you, trust you, as I will. Crescent Hunters and Cairlav Hunters will also accompany you.”

  Garon was evidently unsure and looked to Cosmo.

  “I’ll be sorry to fight this war without you,” Cosmo told him, “but I agree with Darnuir. I’d feel better knowing as fine a hunter as you were holding our flanks. You’ve led men before.”

  “Not a small army…” said Garon.

  “Think of it like a very large patrol,” Darnuir said. “Think of it however you choose, but I’m afraid I am giving you no choice.” The authority in his voice was clear. It offered no rebuke.

  “I for one am all for it,” offered Griswald. “Can’t stand all this sweating we’ve been doing since leaving the mountains. We’ll all be with you, lad.”

  “Cosmo always intended for you to take over from him if he were ever made Captain,” Rufus added encouragingly.

  Garon nodded. “Very well.”

  “Then it is settled,” Darnuir said, relishing the achievement. He stood up and moved some of the dragon, fairy, and hunter figurines far into the northern Highlands on the great map before them. He moved up all of the white and grey painted figures, representing the Boreac Hunters, but kept around half of the red and yellow ones beside the Argent Tree for now.

  Neither Blaine nor Fidelm protested any further but their expressions showed they held reservations. Three thousand dragons, supported by one thousand hunters and fairies. It would have to suffice.

  “This may be a good opportunity to refresh ourselves,” Kasselle said in her melodic voice. Without any further word or gesture, the doors opened and in poured fairies, carrying their customary food and chilled water. An enticing smell reached Darnuir, more wonderful than any he had picked up in the forest. The fairies seemed to avoid meat for the most part but his nose sensed it now. Along with the bread, nuts and fruit came three large, steaming trays of venison, roasted in pears and berries, resting on beds of wilted spinach. The sauce was red and sweet. Darnuir had not eaten half so well since the demons had begun assaulting the Boreac Mountains.

  Ochnic lunged forward for a handful of hard nuts and placed them before himself on the table. He sniffed curiously at them before mashing them down with his fist. He tried to scoop up the remnants with his fingers but the pieces kept escaping him. Most of the table turned to watch the troll. Kasselle smiled politely and continued with her meal. Fidelm, on the other hand, was openly offended, staring incredulously at Ochnic.

  Brackendon cleared his throat with a loud cough. “Ah, my friend,” the wizard said, getting the troll’s attention. Brackendon made a show of putting a whole nut into his mouth. Ochnic seized more to imitate but did not seem to like the taste very much. Nervous-looking servants dished up his share of the meat, which he attacked more greedily, ignoring the cutlery. He made a sound of disgust at the sweet sauce but scrapped it off using a finger and began shovelling it away all the same. Fidelm carefully but deliberately placed down his utensils in protest. Darnuir began to wonder about the General. What sort of hardened warrior was upset by loud chewing? How long had it been since he was bloodied in battle? Perhaps he would not have the General join his Praetorians after all, even if only in a ceremonial capacity.

  After their food, silver shimmer brew was served, and even some small measure of plum-coloured wine. Cosmo declined drink for the first time in Darnuir’s memory.

  “I’d rather have my head clear,” he claimed. Griswald gladly took Cosmo’s share and the discourse began to circle around more immediate threats.

  “The burning of eastern Val’tarra is a grave insult,” Fidelm announced. “We must drive Castallan’s demons away.”

  “How large is the force roaming at the edge of the forest?” Cosmo asked.

  “We cannot be certain but our outrunners suggest it is the bulk of Castallan’s strength,” Blaine said. “Raymond noted in his letter that the force initially besieging Inverdorn was forty thousand strong. My guess would be that at least ten thousand still remain at the city to keep it under threat, meaning there would be thirty thousand currently rampaging through the eastern portion of Val’tarra.”

  “Thirty
thousand demons seems like too great a number to attack directly,” Cosmo said. “However, if we could relieve the city of Inverdorn then we would gain access to some well-needed reinforcements.”

  “I’m afraid I must protest,” said Kasselle, leaning forward and casting a hand over the demon carvings at the edge of her beloved forest. “With every pure tree that is burned, my people grow more restless and afraid. If you march south to Inverdorn instead of east, the demons will only have free reign to cause more destruction. Perhaps the Argent Tree itself will come under threat.”

  “There is no obvious option,” Brackendon added. “We either leave Val’tarra vulnerable by moving to Inverdorn or, by marching to face the larger host, we risk the demons re-joining their forces to crush us in the field or destroy the city.”

  “But can we afford to lose Inverdorn?” Cosmo asked. “Besides the population, it has vast, granary stores from the Crescent, the boats needed to shift supplies easily, and it commands the loch.”

  “It is a hard decision,” said Blaine. “There are dragons in peril there as well; maybe even more than Raymond estimated. Yet we cannot allow the forest to be freely attacked.”

  Darnuir scanned the map once more, losing track of the conversation around the table. He had a gut feeling on what they would have to do. Even before coming to the Council, he had been sure there was only one path they could take. The older part of himself was sure at least and, in these matters, he trusted those instincts.

  He rose to his feet in order to command the room. “The demons have divided their forces. We should follow suit.”

  Everyone gathered stared at him as if he were slightly mad.

  “We are weak enough as it is,” Fidelm said, evidently trying to keep the disbelief out of his voice. “We just agreed to dispatch forces to the Highlands. You would have us divide our army again?”

  Darnuir held Fidelm’s gaze, knowing this was the right move to make.

  “You would have us hit Castallan’s army with everything we have, Fidelm,” Darnuir stated. “You would have us defend your homeland. I respect that and I understand. Yet even then there is no guarantee of victory with our numbers. We have to act with more cunning.” He turned to Blaine. “Recently, you showed me what happened when one rashly charges a foe. A total victory in the field is unlikely, unless Brevia has already sent its army west and that we do not know.” He got to his feet and moved to better position himself over the map and figures. “The commander who leads these demons, Zarl, I believe is his name, is careful. If we march to Inverdorn then we lose the forest. If we march to save the forest then all he need do is send enough of his demons back to destroy the city, while still having enough to either meet us in battle or harry us. In the end, we might lose everything.”