Drachenara

by T. G. Neal

  As sunset neared, both Vaelen and Aurelia passed through the Pauper Gate to the West and ventured to the outer gardens of the Keep, where all the other Drache family members were buried. Nearby, Wraith had been buried as well, but not with the same reception as the royalty. Beside Wraith was a marker that Vaelen could only assume was his mothers.

  Far away from the actual procession, Aurelia watched. Each movement they made seemed like further betrayal, but she realized that these people, not Jorvig, or Miliria, or Denevim, were just burying a man and woman they greatly respected. She had promised herself that she would not cry, but she couldn't bear it. As she watched them slide the goldstone slabs over the top of the tomb, she broke. A small whimper came from her lips, and Vaelen wrapped his arm around her shoulder. Rather than watch any more of it, she turned and buried her face in Vaelen's chest. “I...” she whispered between silent sobs, “I wanted to kill Jorvig.”

  Vaelen lifted his face to look at the man who was the cause of all this, then he craned his head back down and placed his mouth against the top of her head, through her hood. “The Maker will see that he is justly punished. One way or another.”

  Aurelia looked up into his eyes. She seemed to contemplate the entire universe in that one gaze. She held her eye contact for several moments before nodding and releasing him. “I'm sure you'd like to visit your father's... grave?” She hesitated to say the words. She knew that this pain she had been feeling was not hers alone, and that Vaelen also shared in the pain, having lost his father, and likely his mother.

  As the two began walking toward Wraith's grave, something caught Aurelia's eyes and she stopped Vaelen. With a simple gesture of her head, she made motion toward a third marker that was a simple dirt plot, already sunken and covered. The marker read:

  Aurelia Drache

  Loving Daughter

  Loving Child

  Loving Woman

  Taken Too Soon

  “They think you're dead, Aurelia.” Vaelen said, then turned and moved somewhat faster toward his father’s marker. As he neared, he noticed the second marker was not his mothers, but his own. He clenched his jaw and read his own marker:

  Vaelen Wraithson

  Died A Warrior

  Paid The Greatest Cost

  “They think we are dead.” Aurelia said coldly.

  Before they left, Vaelen crouched down and placed his hand on the dirt that covered his father's burial plot. As he leaned down, he grabbed a clod of the golden-hued dirt and spoke quietly “I'll miss you.” He then rose to leave.

  Aurelia squeezed his shoulder then took his hand in her own, as much for her own comfort as his. The two then started to make their way back out of the city. Vaelen would not risk stopping by his old home; it was far too close to the Keep, likely under the watchful eye of the new Bren's guards whether or not his mother was alive. One day he would return to find out. For now, his mother would have to believe he were dead if she were not.

  Jorvig and Miliria didn't stay to hear the Eulogy's for Jorvig's dead parents. He didn't care. He didn't have time for it. Changes were to take place the very next morning. He disrobed as he walked through the main hall toward his new bedchamber, that of his fallen parents. “Seneg!” He called, requesting the elderly man who held the position of Steward to his father. The old man shuffled in from the side where he had been waiting. “Come.”

  The two walked through the castle at a fairly brisk pace. “Tell me, Seneg. Who have you groomed to be your replacement?” Jorvig was bare chested, but still wore his pants and boots. His broad, barrel chest protruded like that of a beastly warrior.

  Seneg held a book under his arm containing many different writings, laws, and bookkeeping necessities of the Brendom of Drachenara. The old man stumbled over his words, “I, hm, let me see. I believe the lad's name is Tanys. Yes, Tanys. Twenty-eight-year-old up and coming highborn son. Born to the Mafferber family. Educated. Smart. Strong. Gullible, though, sire. You'll have to be careful when my time is up.”

  Jorvig nodded, unlacing the front of his pants and exposing down nearly to his crotch. “I see. And how long have you served my family, Seneg?”

  Seneg counted on his fingers and mouthed the numbers in tens. “Well, sire, since before your grandfather passed. And I shall do so for you, as well, you have much to learn to steer this Brendom half as well as your father did.”

  The mention of his father in comparison to him made his blood boil, but he kept his temper in check. They climbed the two sets of spiraling stairs to the top floor, where Jorvig's bedchambers were. As he opened the door, inside lay a less-than-clothed Miliria, stretched out on the massive bed. Beside her, two female Wood Elves stood unclothed on either side of the bed, their heads draped, and bearing solemn expressions.

  Seneg shielded his eyes, “Sire, your lady is unclothed, and are those guests of yours?!”

  Jorvig walked closer to his bed and nodded to Miliria, who rose and began walking around the elderly Steward. “No, Seneg, they're Miliria's slaves. We brought many of them with us from Stormvale. More will arrive tomorrow, some for the castle, some for sale. After I make the announcement that slavery is now legal in the realm...” he trailed, waiting for the Steward's response.

  As soon as Seneg started to speak, Miliria pressed herself against the old man and placed her lips against his.

  “No need to protest, Seneg. You will no longer have to sneak women of the night into your bedchambers. My dear wife or these slave girls will be happy to give you the company you so desire.” Jorvig walked to the balcony. “Come, Seneg.”

  Miliria stepped away from him smirking, placing her hands on the abdomens of her slave girls while Jorvig spoke with Seneg.

  Seneg shuffled to the balcony. “I must say, Sire. I absolutely do not agree with your decision your fa--”

  “Seneg, your room is just below mine, yes, with a similar balcony?”

  Seneg nodded, “Smaller, I'm afraid, but lovely for the night air.”

  Jorvig stepped closer, as did Seneg “Seneg, you're being replaced. Suicide is an awful way to handle such depression, though.”

  Seneg looked confused first, then terrified, and started to run away. As he turned, he dropped the book he was holding to the floor.

  Jorvig grabbed the old man by the wrist and turned, using his back as leverage to toss the old man from the balcony to his death. On this side of the keep, no one would find him until morning. Once back in the room a young male Elven slave bowed his head to Jorvig. This one was still clothed. “You, boy. Wait for a guard to tell you that they've discovered old Seneg has been murdered, then come tell me.” Jorvig handed the book to the young Elven boy. “Put this in his room and go feed yourself, you look malnourished, and I'll not have you looking starved. Now, go. I have things to do.”

  Long after the boy left and Jorvig passed out from a combination of wine and exhaustion, Miliria stood over him. She watched him sleep. When she was certain that he had passed fully into a good sleep, she closed her eyes and began murmuring. Ancient words rolled off her tongue with fluency, citing ancient spells and writs that led her to her ultimate goal. All the flames in the room surged with brightness, then returned dim.

  Jorvig’s body seized and tensed, his eyes opening and rolling back into his head. “Shh.” She said, placing a finger over his lips. “You are my instrument, Mephegor. Does he doubt? Does he fear?”

  For a moment, Jorvig’s body did not move. Finally, his lips parted and out rolled a voice dark and foreboding. With each word it spoke, the flames of the candles flickered in response. “He does not know that I have taken his mind, but he fears for the decisions he has made. I…” the demon paused, uttering a low growl, “fear he will find that you have poisoned his mind. Kill him and be done with it. He wants the power you offered him the first night, but he is afraid to secure it. He battles himself and your control.” The demon hissed. “Even now, he stirs.”

  Miliria stroked Jorvig’s forehead. “No. If I kill him, then he
is worth only a fraction of his power. If I keep him alive and you slowly root your way inside, he will be worth multitudes more.”

  Mephegor spoke a string of words in an ancient demon-tongue, before returning to the basic language. “As you wish, my lady.” He seemed to seethe with his own encased rage, “I will make him fear to lose you and his power. Then he will seek you out for more.” A low chuckle came from Jorvig’s barely parted lips, and the demon retreated to the corners of Jorvig’s mind.

  Vaelen and Aurelia passed through the Paupers Gate and left the city that raised them behind. The darkness had allowed them to slip past any city guardsmen with relative ease and make it to the ferry and start their way back across.

  This time, the ferryman dozed in his chair. Vaelen and Aurelia sat alone on the ferry, in the eve, now as the temperature of the air dropped, Vaelen took note of the light fog developing over the water. Silent at first, he listened to the water as it rushed under the hull of the wooden ferry that was being pulled along by the chain, then he looked to Aurelia. “Are you alright?”

  “As good as can be expected I think,” she said, forcing a smile.

  Vaelen nodded as a response, then sighed. “So, where to?” He asked, looking in the general direction of Giltshore, where the torches could be seen only as distant lights, like lightbugs dancing in a summer forest.

  Aurelia hadn't really thought about where to go, only that they had to leave. “When I thought you to be... dead... I thought maybe I would go to Greyever. My father was friends with the Bren of Greyever, and I was friends with his daughter. Knowing that you were alive made me...” she trailed off, “Well, it made me not worry about it.”

  Vaelen smiled, “Greyever sounds as good a place as any.” He nodded, answering himself in a thought he had. “We could catch the distance ferry to Rootsborne along the Cedargrove, I don't think the old man who runs the ferry goes all the way into Greyever, but we could obtain some horses there and then ride to Greyever in a day, if the marshes don't hold us up.”

  Aurelia agreed with him and crossed her arms, leaning forward on her knees, and looking at Vaelen. “We can tell Bren Hemund of Jorvig's treachery. Then maybe he can send word to the King.”

  “Politics.” Vaelen said, almost with disgust. “That's a dangerous ground to play in, Milady.”

  “Aurelia.” She said, correcting him. “I know. I'm no greater fan of politics than you are, I assure you, but what would you have me do?”

  “I swore to be your protector, Aurelia. I am your aide. I will follow you wherever you deem necessary to go. I will provide you with my opinion whenever you should request it, or sometimes if I feel it should be known.” Vaelen adjusted his sword and seating, as he had grown uncomfortable.

  “What would you have me do?” She asked him, placing her hand on his arm.

  Vaelen exhaled and shook his head, “With no other plan in mind, I say we go to Greyever. I truly believe it is our best option for now.”

  “Then we shall go to Rootsborne, and then on to Greyever.” Aurelia smiled a genuine smile. “It feels good to have a plan.”

  Vaelen nodded. “We'll need to stay the night with the Wilder Rangers at their Keep. They will offer the safest refuge for the night, without having to pay an inkeeper in Giltshore. They'll allow us a night before we move on, and a shelter to sleep beneath.”

  Aurelia followed behind Vaelen as she walked, and the two silently made their way through the forests surrounding Giltshore. Though there was a path cut into the forests, Vaelen led them off the beaten path, to avoid the highwaymen he said may lay and wait. It wasn’t truly late; the sounds of the distant Giltshore marketplace could be hear reverberating through the forests. Aurelia imagined that had it not been for the bright moon, Vaelen might have stayed on the path. It didn’t matter.

  As they walked onward, Aurelia mentally prepared herself for meeting the Bren of Greyever, whom she hadn’t seen in a decade. The world was likely a far different place than she remembered as a child, but surely the Bren hadn’t forgotten his and her father’s friendship. And surely, he hadn’t heard of her father’s death already. That was news she was not eager to share. A gentle sigh escaped her lips.

  Vaelen slowed to walk beside her and looked down at her. “Are you alright?”

  Aurelia forced a smile. “Yes.”

  Vaelen didn’t answer, he just nodded, but he knew. He knew because he felt the same way. He had been harmed hundreds of ways in his life. From small cuts and bruises to stab wounds and gashes. Just a night ago, he had an arrow removed from his back. But emotional pain was something far worse than any physical pain he had ever received. Some consolation came in knowing that Wraith had died a warrior’s death, a way he would have wished to go, though not being betrayed by a longtime friend.

  The two continued their path until a small illuminated building rose from amongst the trees. It was larger than a house, but smaller than an inn, and the front door was shut, even on such a lovely night as this.

  The Rangers’ Keep stood two stories tall and had a small spire built atop it with a man standing in it. The flame up top flickered as the man moved. “Hark! By what name are ye that approaches?”

  Aurelia looked up to Vaelen, a nervousness in her gut. “I am Rykk, and this is my bride Madison. We are travelers from Stormvale, passing onward to Rootsborne but the ship does not leave until the morn. May we take refuge here? We are friends of Larisaiah Dixom in Shatternest.”

  The man up top suddenly disappeared. Only a moment later the door before them opened to reveal the interior. The man leaned around the door. “You are welcome a night’s stay, M’Sir, M’Lady.”

  Vaelen bowed his head respectfully. “Thank you, Sir?”

  “Ranger Xen. I’m alone this eve. I was about to retire, I am thankful you came when you did. I cherish a full night’s rest.” The man chuckled and locked the door behind them as they came in. “Only one of our rooms is open at the moment. Are you merchants?”

  Vaelen nodded, “Aye. Well, we hope to be, Master Xen. We paid into an expedition in Greyever, and we hope to make it there in a couple of days.”

  “I see, I see.” Xen looked to the fire. “Well, good eve to the two of you.”

  “And to you, sir.” Aurelia said.

  Vaelen led Aurelia to the open room in the back and shut the door behind them. On the floor just beyond was a single straw and fur pallet on the floor next to a small burning oil lamp whose smell permeated the room and filled it with the odor of fresh pine. “You sleep on the pallet.” He said, leaning his sword up against the wall. He then situated himself on the elevated slab in a sitting position. “And I’ll sleep here,” he said, groaning as he sat back, locking his elbows to support his position.

  Aurelia nodded and sat down, then lay back on the pallet, turning the lamp to its lowest setting.

  The two of them took the safety of the Rangers’ keep and slept soundly, not knowing what unrest awaited their future. The silence between them reflected the toll this time had taken on them.

  It was in the wee hours of the morning right before sunset, and Miliria had yet to sleep. She stood in front of the grand fireplace in the study attached to hers and Jorvig's bedchamber. Before her a low fire burned. Thought the air was warm, she still enjoyed the fire. As she stood there she whispered ancient words into the coals and reached directly into the flames. She could feel the heat dancing around her hand, but it did not burn her. “Sweet lord Ifris, my god, my liege. I feel you.”

  She reached deep into the coals and still it did not burn her. As she removed her hand, she grasped a large coal in her palm. She held it, burning, directly out before her. “Show me.”

  Miliria placed the coal down on the edge of the grand fireplace and watched it. “Show me…” she whispered to it. The fire began to burn brighter, but inside of it burned a second, smaller flame. Within the larger flame danced another. Her eyes grew wide and she rose from where she crouched, and she smiled.

  “The first time he
lay with me?” She smiled and placed a hand on her abdomen. “I can feel the fires within me burning. But this secret shall be mine.”

  Vaelen stirred as he dreamed. As he slept, his mind replayed the events of two nights before. He stood at the head of the room, forever afar from everyone else. Suddenly, his father burst through the door, his body atop Saitig’s, whose was limp in death. “Run, son. Run. Protect her.”

  Then, Vaelen turned to find Aurelia, but she was being dragged away. Then he saw Bren Drache’s head roll away, taken off his shoulders by his own son. As it came to a stop, he looked Vaelen in the eyes and said, “Protect her!” But she was even further away now.

  The Brenness screamed as a blade ran her through. “Save Aurelia!” She beckoned, betrayal in her still-living eyes.

  Denevim forced his filthy lips on Aurelia’s, and Vaelen grew enraged. He flung himself across the room and swung his sword, missing Denevim and scratching Aurelia on the face. “No!” Vaelen yelled. Then Denevim ran her through. “No, Aurelia!”

  Aurelia, who had been sleeping, was awoken by the sounds of his struggles. She sat down beside him and placed a hand on his chest after saying her name aloud. “Vaelen,” she whispered.

  Vaelen shook and twitched.

  “Vaelen,” she said aloud, but nothing.

  “Vaelen,” she said again, louder.

  This time his eyes opened, tears welling in the corners. He gasped and sat up, supported by his elbows. “You’re okay?” He breathed. “You’re okay.”

  “I’m fine,” she said. “Are you?”

  Vaelen laid back flat on his back and looked at the ceiling. “I am.”

  “Dreams?” She asked, reaching and touching his face.

  “Aye.” Vaelen sat up. “I won’t fail you, too, Aurelia.”

  “You haven’t failed anyone, Vaelen. It’s not in you.”

  Vaelen looked down and exhaled, then looked out the window to the rising sun. “We should go. The boat to Rootsborne will be leaving soon. We can eat breakfast once we’re on the water.”