The Twin Dragons: Book III in the Elementals Series

by Marisol Logan

  The other two new additions were a married Water Mager couple that Turqa had trained briefly before becoming primarily a traveling physician. Raken and Pascha, whom Veria had figured out used to be a Lady in the Regalship, the younger daughter of Lord Pasrect, usually went to bed early. Occasionally, if Strelzar had enough to drink, he would give play-by-plays of some of their stranger desires while they made love—Raken was always wishing he had left his stockings on, and Pascha was usually craving fish cream tarts, or peppered coacoa soup, and other odd recipes—always causing fits of giggles from Sureven until Veria told them both to stop.

  Over the course of two months, they became a tightly knit and highly efficient unit. Veria definitely felt that Strelzar was more of a commanding presence and strong leader than she was, and she was fine with that. He enjoyed it, reveled in it, in fact, and she took solace in the fact that, despite his boisterous leadership approach, the Elementals all trusted her more and came to her for advice they were too embarrassed or intimidated to ask Strelzar about.

  If they were a family, Strelzar was the slightly off-kilter, overbearing grandfather and Veria was the warm and tender mother figure. And long after they sent everyone else to bed, they sat up by the light of the last candle every night and complained to each other about their children's behavior that day. Sometimes they talked about Brown, as Strelzar was the only one who knew of his and Veria's arrangement. And sometimes, like tonight, a frigid winter night where they sat cross legged in front of the fireplace to keep warm, they planned what they would do after the Elemental Guard, if there was anything after it.

  “We shall move the new Elemental Shrine to Plazic Peak,” he said, and Veria laughed. “I am serious. And we will establish a new Council. That's where the power is. Then the Kingdoms come to the Council for advice. We can travel the world as the most respected Magers on every shore, in every castle!”

  “Or we could do research and become the first Magers master every element,” Veria suggested.

  “Ooh,” he purred, licking his lips, “I like the sound of that. But you know, we would be dueling all the time. You know how our duels go...”

  “Someday I am going to get old, Strelzar,” Veria reminded him. “You are not going to want to shove me against a wall and have your way with me when I'm gnarled and gray-haired and...saggy everywhere.”

  “First of all, that's nonsense,” he dismissed. “If we are mastering all the elements, I will find Urtiz's journals and recreate everything he ever did. You may not get to be Ageless, but when you die, you will look just like this. Secondly, don't tell me what I want and do not want,” he added, pointing at her seriously, but unable to hide his playful grin.

  Veria laughed and asked, “Where are Urtiz's journals?”

  “Probably in the hands of some Tal'lean twit,” he answered. “Some ancestor or another of the lucky idiot who killed him in the war.”

  “Well, then,” Veria declared, “we will find that first, and go from there.”

  “You think he will let you go?” Strelzar asked, his voice more grave and serious than usual, and she knew he meant Browan.

  “I don't know,” she answered. “I would assume so. He will find someone else, someday. They all do, right?”

  “Well, they do when they know you don't belong to them,” Strelzar said. “And in your case—”

  “Yes, I know,” Veria sighed, “I belong to no one.”

  “I am going to keep reminding you until you stop acting like his pet,” he rebutted. “I don't care if you don't want to hear it.”

  “I am not his pet,” Veria groaned.

  “Than what are you, Birdie?” he asked, cocking his head at her.

  “I'm...we're just friends,” she stuttered her answer.

  Strelzar shook his head sharply. “No, you and I—this,” he gestured between them, “this is friends. That is something quite different. And I can't figure it out.”

  “Well, its not your affair to figure out, Strelzar,” Veria rebutted. “So, don't worry your ancient head over it.”

  They both jumped as a knock sounded on the door to her bed chamber.

  “My word,” Strelzar griped, “we really need a Sand Mager in this unit. I would like to know when someone is going to come banging on your door at two in the morning beforehand so my heart doesn't give out.”

  Veria rolled her eyes at him playfully as she unfolded her legs and stood, walking to the door to her bedroom and pulling it open to reveal a castle guard.

  “The King requests your immediate presence in his library,” he said, stone-faced and curt.

  “Now?” Strelzar asked, coming up behind Veria.

  “Yes,” the guard repeated. “Both of you.”

  And without another word, he turned and marched away, leaving Veria and Strelzar to stare at each other in bewilderment for several moments before they shrugged and pulled on their thick wool cloaks, Veria's the black, fur-trimmed one that he had sent her home with from Plazic Peak, and his an identical one he had brought with him, and made their way to the King's library.

  “We look ridiculous,” Veria muttered as the approached the door to the library.

  “No, we look intimidating,” he said. “Matching is intimidating. That's why armies wear uniforms.”

  “There are just two of us, not a whole army!” Veria rasped.

  “Then we need all the intimidation we can get,” he replied matter-of-factly.

  “Sometimes I wonder why we're friends,” Veria teased.

  “Because I'm devastatingly handsome and the only one who really knows you,” he rattled off without a moment of thought, flashing a charming grin at her before they entered the library.

  Browan was hunched over a desk, clutching the sides of it with white knuckles, his face in a hard, stressed scowl. When he heard the two enter the room, he looked up at Veria, and his expression changed in an instant to one of relief and comfort. She felt like he would rush to her, but realized that one of his military generals stared out the window on the opposite side of the library.

  “Commander,” he sighed. “Lieutenant,” he added with a nod to Strelzar. “Thank you for coming at this hour.”

  “Of course,” Veria said. “What's wrong?” she asked.

  “Quite a bit, actually,” Browan grumbled, gesturing to two wooden chairs by the desk, which Veria and Strelzar claimed. “I have just received information that a heavily armed unit of Tal'lean Separatists is poised at the border of Govaland, with intent to cross.”

  Strelzar inhaled sharply next to Veria and she swallowed hard, but they stayed silent, waiting for the rest.

  “My scouts have reason to believe their goal is Londess,” the general uttered from behind them.

  “And my spies have evidence to suggest that the leader of this unit ordered the attempt on my life,” Browan added.

  “You want the Guard to intercept them?” Strelzar asked.

  “No, just you two,” Browan said, gesturing to the two of them.

  “What?” Strelzar snapped, leaning forward in his seat. “That's insane—heavily armed? And you are just sending us?”

  “This mission cannot be tied to or traced back to King Browan, or Londess, in anyway,” the general said, striding to the desk and slamming a fist into its surface. “If any of the other kingdoms involved find out he put out this order, it has the potential to spark enough international conflict to start a war!”

  “What exactly is the order?” Veria asked.

  “Destroy the entire unit, all weapons, and kill the leader. No prisoners,” Browan said, cold and terse.

  “How big is the unit?” Strelzar interrogated.

  “Two hundred, mostly on foot, with five long range catapults,” the general answered.

  “Two hund—” Strelzar started, but broke off and laughed icily. “What the Fire are we going to do about two hundred men?!” he snapped after regained composure.

  “Exactly what you've been training to do,” Browan cocked his head. “I have
systematically worked you and Commander Laurelgate up to a hundred attackers in your months of rigorous trials. A hundred each, that's two hundred men.”

  Strelzar shot out of his seat and jabbed a finger at Browan. “You knew conflict was on the horizon and you turned us into your personal weapons?!” he accused.

  “Not the entire unit,” Browan clarified.

  “Oh, no, I am well aware of that,” Strelzar scoffed. “And to what do we owe this onerous distinction?”

  “You're the best,” Browan said. “You are the most creative, the quickest, the smartest, the most capable and most powerful. It was obvious from the beginning. The fact that you both control both Earth and Fire is worth an entire army of Magers.”

  “I'm not falling for the flattery at the moment, but thank you for it, nonetheless,” Strelzar crossed his arms and dismissed Browan's words with a hand.

  “Its not flattery, Lieutenant Plazic,” Browan argued. “I instituted these trials for exactly this reason. To single out my best Elementals, and prepare them for future instances such as this.”

  “Oh, is that why you instituted the trials? And the barrack checks?” Strelzar interrogated, facetiously.

  Browan pulled back like he'd been hit and snapped his head to look at Veria.

  “You told him?” he asked in disbelief.

  “Oh, please, Browan,” Veria scoffed, “he's not an idiot, as you just pointed out. He figured it out on his own. Within a week.”

  “So who's our third best?” Strelzar continued. “Why aren't they here?”

  “Pascha,” Browan answered, “but it has to be two. Three looks too organized. Two can still be rogue.”

  “So we are rogues?” Veria asked.

  “Yes,” Browan said. “In fact, forget you saw me tonight, forget where you got the information, forget this entire conversation. It never happened, and you aren't even you. You are nameless. The information is yours now,” he said, tossing a piece of parchment at Veria. “Do as you like with it.”

  He turned abruptly and strode out of the room, the general hurriedly following him.

  Veria looked down at the parchment. It was a map, indicating the location of the Separatist unit.

  Strelzar sighed and fell back into the chair next to her with a thud.

  “I think this is what comes after the Guard,” he whispered, his voice defeated and deflated.

  Veria swallowed hard, trying to come to terms with everything that had just happened.

  “Maybe it will just be once,” she whispered.

  Strelzar threw his head back and peals of icy laughter rippled from his stony lips.

  “That's adorable,” he said. “Wrong, but adorable. No, Birdie. This is what we are now. Assassins, like the ones that got you here. Weapons. Secret weapons.”

  Veria winced at the word 'weapon'.

  “And if we are his secret, than we are disposable,” Strelzar explained, his voice grave and solemn as he stared into the air in front of him with hardened eyes. “You still think he's going to let you go?”

  Veria's head dropped and stomach sank.

  He sighed and grabbed her hand absent-mindlessly, more for his own comfort than hers. “Whatever feelings he may have for you have just become our only safeguard.”

  Considering he had just been brusk the whole meeting, tossed the map at her and sent them on a risky, perhaps deadly mission, Veria wasn't sure that there was much of a safeguard at all.

  - IX-

  Veria tossed and turned most of what was left of the night, hardly sleeping and full of nerves regarding the mission. She awoke to the scratching sound of a note slipped under her door, and groggily pulled herself from bed to read it.

  The door to her den flew open just as she bent down to pick up the parchment, causing her to jump and her heart to flip in her chest with fright.

  “Are you packed yet?” Strelzar asked, striding into her room as if it were his.

  “I just woke up,” Veria replied unenergeticly.

  “What's that?” he interrogated, coming right to her side and reading the letter over her shoulder.

  “I sincerely apologize for last night,” he read. “I have not slept much since our last meeting. I wish you the best of luck on your recruitment trip with Lieutenant Plazic and eagerly await your return. Be safe. Browan.”

  “I didn't necessarily want all that in your voice, you know,” Veria grumbled.

  “Well, tough biscuits, Birdie,” Strelzar said, snatching the letter from her hand. “Recruitment trip. So, that's the cover story they'll tell everyone, I suppose. Alright, pack up for this recruitment trip. It will be two weeks on horse. So whatever you need for that.”

  “What?” Veria snapped.

  “The mountains of Govaland are difficult to pass, especially in winter, but we can't risk being seen on a boat, so horsey rides it is.”

  “I hate traveling,” Veria groaned. “We are going to die before we even get to the camp.”

  Strelzar chuckled. “Wouldn't that be nice?”

  Two weeks of travel time gave them plenty of time to plan every part of their attack: their approach, their assault, their withdrawal. Veria still thought it was the most miserable thing in the world, being on a horse in the mountains in winter for fourteen hours a day every day for two weeks. They couldn't stop anywhere, in the small chance they were recognized and could be traced to what they were about to do. So they camped off the road, stayed off the road as much as they could, in fact, though the roads in the desolate mountains of Govaland were notably vacant—most took the sea route as it was half the time as traveling through the jagged peaks and barren valleys.

  They were on the last day of their voyage to the camp, and had just left their horses secured in a cavern pass that led out into the valley they would take on foot. When they emerged from the cavern pass, Veria took in the landscape: a vast, destitute valley comprised almost entirely of fire-red sand and surrounded on all sides by tall, rust-colored cliffs.

  “Volglang. The Bowl of Flames. This is a major trade route from Tal'lea into Govaland,” Strelzar explained, puffs of steam billowing from his mouth in the cold air as he spoke. He pointed to the road that led from where they stood to the opposite side of the valley. “There's another man-made tunnel there. Just on the other side of that is the border, and the camp.”

  As they walked across the valley, the most barren and vast stretch of land Veria thought she had ever seen, they reviewed the plans they had made in all the prior days of their trip.

  They would attack in the middle of the night.

  “They will have limited visibility, we don't need visibility,” Strelzar said.

  “They will have fires, and we definitely want those,” Veria continued.

  “There will be scouts on patrol, we deal with them first.”

  “There will be long range siege weapons, we take care of them next.”

  They had decided to raze most of the camp with the fire from the campfire and torches that would certainly fill it.

  “Think of our trials,” Strelzar said. “Typically, I burn large groups of attackers at once, and he continues to put me through trials where it becomes the only option for me.”

  “I'm almost always using wood and stone to take out my groups, but there are no trees in this whole kingdom, I swear,” Veria groaned.

  “No, but there are the siege weapons. They will be constructed of wood, and carrying stone,” Strelzar reminded. “You will dismantle them, and if we can use the pieces as weapons, if necessary.”

  Veria nodded. No matter how many times they went over the plan, though, she still felt a blazing hot knot forming in her stomach every time she dwelled on it too long.

  They had brought dragonskin, and planned to use it, but getting hurt or injured or killed on this mission wasn't the problem. It was getting caught, recognized, traced, found out, or failing any portion of it.

  “Do you know why I asked about the third best Elemental?” Strelzar had asked her on their fi
rst day of travel.

  “Because you're insanely competitive and have to know everything?” Veria had responded, teasingly.

  “Because that's who is being trained to take us out if we fail,” Strelzar had said, his tone serious and knowing. “If we are captured, or our identities revealed, Pascha will be in the shadows to finish us. It seems a little strange, because they hardly ever do it, but there are many, many ways for a Water Mager to kill someone.”

  Veria had shuddered, and still shuddered, thinking about it. But she tried to reassure herself that no matter what happened, Browan wouldn't allow her to be 'taken out', though, Strelzar had pointed out, Browan wasn't the only one who knew about them, and the general would be much more adamant about disposing of secret weapons if they jeopardized his army in any way.

  The walk was long and, though Veria did admit it was nice to be off of her horse, her feet grew tired and sore rather quickly. The sun began to set, turning the sky a steel-gray.

  “Not much longer,” Strelzar assured her.

  The air turned icy once the sun was completely down and they both pulled the hoods of their matching black cloaks over their heads to keep their faces as warm as possible.

  “This is our punishment for arrogance, I suppose,” Strelzar sighed.

  “I think I've been punished enough for one lifetime already,” Veria muttered.

  “Oh, because you haven't been allowed to settled down with some brooding, smoldering, dark-haired swellhead yet?” Strelzar scoffed.

  “Oh my goodness,” Veria giggled quietly, “you are right. I have quite the type, don't I?”

  “I'm obviously a hundred times more handsome and intelligent than Lord Andon Villicrey, and probably that Rames fellow, too,” Strelzar said. “But yes, you really do,” he laughed. “Except Browan,” he spat the name in distaste. “He seems to be the exception.”

  “I suppose he is,” Veria murmured, the mention of his name after not seeing him for two weeks starting a warm ache in her core.