Drachenara

by T. G. Neal

  Vaelen and Aurelia paid the cost and headed upstairs. A few short steps and a left turn put them at the door of their room. They stepped in and turned the strength of the lantern up. The room was pleasantly decorated, obviously done so by someone besides the barmaid who sold them their night’s rent. Vaelen bolted the door behind them. “Ten sovereigns.” He muttered.

  “I could go work the brothel,” Aurelia said with a smirk.

  “I find no comedy in that,” Vaelen said, cutting his eyes up at her. “She ought to be careful who she says things like that to.”

  “To the orphaned daughter of a deposed Bren and her protector?” Aurelia bitterly replied.

  “I didn’t mean…” he trailed and sighed. “I meant to a respectable woman such as yourself.”

  Aurelia paused and looked at Vaelen, her thoughts were as sharp as a daggers blade in her mind. She sat down on the edge of her bed and looked at him with barely any notable expression. “Vaelen, we aren’t who we used to be. We can’t be. Not now, not ever.” She grabbed a handful of the blanket in her hand. “I can no longer be the daughter of a Bren. You aren’t my guard anymore.” Her words broke, and the dam that withheld all the emotion that she had been bottling up for days began to lap at the brim as tears welled up in her eyes. “Vaelen.” She tried to fight back the emotions that she promised not to show anymore. “I don’t know what to do.”

  “My lady.” Vaelen said as he started toward her. He dropped his sword to the ground next to him and took a knee on the floor in front of her. “Aurelia, we are doing all that we can do. We’re going to the only person we know of for help. Bren Hemund seems like our best option. But we could also leave this life behind us completely.”

  “What do you mean?” Aurelia sniffled.

  “We could pick up and leave this life completely behind. Set off on a longer journey than just down the river to Greyever. We could become new people.” He said, a new fire burning in his words.

  “What about our families?” She said, wiping a streaming tear away, finally stopping the flow of emotion again, and favoring this new option.

  “What about them, Aurelia?” Vaelen stood up again and sat down beside her. “We’ve lost them. Do you believe we could just walk into Drachenara Keep and strike down Jorvig and his wife and our hate fueled vengeance resurrect my father and your parents?” He shook his head. “Vengeance isn’t… always best.”

  Aurelia looked at the floor a moment. “No, Vaelen. I don’t believe that we could kill them. But perhaps Hemund could honor my father and march his troops into Drachenara.”

  “And then what, Aurelia? Would you rule Drachenara?” Vaelen said sharply.

  “No! I don’t know.” Aurelia hissed back.

  Vaelen rose from his seat on the bed and walked toward the window, his arms crossed over his chest. “We continue on our path to Greyever…” He only paused a moment at the end of his words to change the subject. “While we have a night here with hot food that isn’t salted fish, we should take our opportunity and enjoy some of what the tavern has to offer. Tomorrow night, we will be making camp before riding into Greyever.”

  Aurelia silently nodded in agreement.

  Outside their door, a young boy in tattered clothes, whose ear had been against the door, now ran downstairs to the fat man behind the counter. He leaned in and whispered something in the ear of the fat man who handed him ten sovereigns, then waited a moment for the man to give him something else.

  Just as Vaelen and Aurelia came down the steps from their room, the young boy took the small scroll from the fat man’s hand and ran out the door with haste, kicking up dust behind him as he hit the city streets.

  Vaelen watched the boy leave in a rush but paid it no afterthought. He and Aurelia walked straight up to the bar and ordered. Above the barmaids’ head was a list of food and drink options available to them. The one that caught Vaelen’s attention was a delightful sounding Travelers Stew, made from beef, potatoes, carrots, parsnips and turnips with onion and garlic for seasoning. To accompany it, he ordered a chilled barley ale, kept in a cellar below the bar in ground water.

  Aurelia ordered breast of quail and roasted potato, and a goblet of wine. That night, the two were resolved to sleep well, as the next night would likely not bring such comfort.

  Outside the tavern, the boy raced around the corner of the building and out back to a small cage that was latched from the outside. As the boy came to a stop, he heard the various sounds of the Jackdaw caged within. He opened and placed a handful of crumbs on the floor of the cage, and whilst the Jackdaw was occupied, he tied the note to its leg. Once it was finished, the boy made sure to watch the Jackdaw fly off in the proper direction. After doing so, he tossed the ten sovereigns around in his hand.

  Aurelia and Vaelen spent a good hour talking together, enjoying their food, and as the drinks came on, laughing with one another. The inner warmth that the alcohol afforded them, gave them the illusion that things had never been more right. Two more glasses each was enough for them to feel okay, and Vaelen to still feel in control of his facilities. Shortly past the hour, the two went up to their room for the night.

  Once inside the door, Vaelen helped direct Aurelia to the bed while he slept on the smaller bed in the bay window. That night he dreamed of a Jackdaw being crushed in a bare hand.

  The bird’s corpse hit the ground, its blood pooling around it. The sun was sooner to rising than it had been to setting, but Miliria had been up all night. In fact, sleep was rare for her. She held a slip of paper in her hand that read “Lady Aurelia and Lieutenant Drache seen, rumored to leave on the morrow for Greyever.”

  Whoever sent this message was likely looking for a handout from Miliria and Jorvig, and that wouldn’t happen. She reeled in anger, and she yelled at the fire in the pit beside her, awakening her husband.

  Jorvig walked into the room, still groggy from his sleep. “What is it, Miliria?”

  “Your sister lives, as does her pet, Vaelen.” Miliria hissed.

  “Lies.” Jorvig said.

  Miliria turned to face him, her eyes growing black enough to cover the iris and spoke in a darker voice, each change in pitch causing the fire to wax and wane. “You dare accuse me of lying?”

  Jorvig did not shrink back from her but watched her with interest. “Your information is incorrect.”

  Her appearance returned to normal, though she still appeared stiffened and angry. “Perhaps. Let me speak with Ifris.”

  Jorvig turned to leave.

  “You should stay.” She stated.

  Jorvig stepped “I don’t need your religion.”

  Her voice darkened and boomed. “Stay.”

  Jorvig turned back to her and watched, lowering his brow.

  Miliria stuck her hands into the fire again, burning the note before her. As it burned, the carbon that remained began to lift off the fire. As it flew up, she caught the pieces and crushed them in her hand. Then, with a nearby dagger she cut the palm of her hand and mixed the two together, then placed it back into the fire. She uttered dark words that made Jorvig’s skin crawl, then the fire exploded up in a ball of flame that rumbled the building. “They yet live.” She said, cold and bitterly.

  Jorvig watched her carefully, “Where does this news come from. Surely not far?”

  “It bears a tavern marking in Rootsborne. An information peddler by the name of Maddox, probably the owner. He says that they leave tomorrow for Greyever.” Miliria said, healing the bloody wound in her palm.

  Jorvig roared and flung a small table across the room as he rose to his feet. “I will leave immediately and dispose of them both, as I should have done before.”

  Miliria placed a hand against his chest and shook her head. “Nay, for I will send Denevim. You are a ruler, here, now, and we have many changes to make. Denevim will wait for them in Greyever and slay them in the Bren Hemund’s keep.”

  “I fear it will not be that easy, my love.” He said, watching her speak. “Bren Hemund was a
dear friend of my fathers, and this family. He will not allow harm to come to Aurelia. And Vaelen helped dispel a bandit problem from within his borders.”

  “He was a dear friend of your fathers, indeed. But wait until he finds out that Vaelen and Aurelia orchestrated the events to kill your father and mother. Wait until the whole Brendom finds out. They all will call for their…” She scratched a single finger down Jorvig’s chest, drawing blood, then used her magic to heal the wound “…blood. Fear not, husband. Return to your bed.”

  Jorvig, overcome with sudden tiredness, stumbled back to their bed to sleep.

  Miliria turned on her heel and walked out into the hallway and down the hall where her brother slept. She turned the cast-iron handle and walked straight in. “Wake up, Denevim.” She said, her voice more gravelly than usual. “Wake up!” This time her voice boomed in the darkened voice.

  Suddenly out of his bed and on his feet, Denevim bowed his head to his sister. “Yes, sister, what is it?”

  Miliria walked over to him and tilted her head. “Ride to Greyever right now, without stopping. Once there, you will deliver a scroll that I am about to write and seal, directly to the Bren.”

  “I am no messenger boy,” Denevim bit at her with his words.

  “You are whatever I say you are!” She said, darkened, booming, with power in the words, but returned to normal as she continued. “You will be waiting there afterward for Vaelen and Aurelia.”

  “They yet live?” Denevim said, snarling, recovering from the slight cower he took when Miliria originally spoke.

  “Indeed. Kill Vaelen Wraithson and do whatever you wish to Aurelia. Bring her back here if you wish to keep her. I will make her yours and make her loyal to you.” Miliria said, stepping closer to her shirtless brother. “You will succeed, brother.” She drove her index finger directly into his chest where his heart beat in his chest, leaving a black speck on his flesh as if she had burned a piece of wood.

  Denevim knew not if her words were a threat or a promise but didn’t intend on finding out. He immediately gathered the items he would need to beat them to Greyever and left with hours remaining before the sun rose.

  The next morning, Vaelen allowed to Aurelia to rest longer. The days had been long and taxing on both of them. His body hurt all over, still, with the worst pain on his shoulder and side, though both injuries were well on their way to being healed. As he stood in front of the bay window he had slept in, he ran a hand over the wound, still sealed with sap. It was now itching beneath, which told him that the wounds were in good shape and healing. He rolled his shoulder, inhaling the air of the room.

  He sat down on his bed and put his boots on, but held onto his sword and looked at Aurelia as she slept. He wondered what she dreamed, if it was nightmares like he had. He hoped not, but he couldn’t be sure. He turned away from her and watched the sun as it crept over the distant horizon. Their next moves would be difficult, and likely something that neither of them had done. They didn’t have the coin to buy horses, so they would steal them and ride for Greyever at as full of a pace as they could run.

  His thoughts wandered back to Drachenara once again. He imagined the state of the Brendom. He imagined Denevim dead, surely at least retired from guard duty, having taken such a horrible wound from Vaelen. Then Vaelen thought of his mother and his father, and his heart sank. He thought of times when he and his father would camp in the forests around Lake Drachenara. He thought of swimming in the lake during the heat of the summer, enjoying the cool waters, and jumping from the tall rocks beneath the falls. He closed his eyes and almost could smell the early morning smells of the bakery inside the keep, with meals produced by Mel, the cook. He audibly sighed, the good memories far outweighing the bad. Then in the back of his mind he saw his father mouth the words “Run” to him. He opened his eyes to see Aurelia stirring. Something suddenly made him feel anxious.

  Vaelen rose from his seated position and walked to the bed where she slept. He placed a hand on her shoulder and quietly said “Aurelia.”

  She gasped and sat upright, pushing Vaelen's hand away, then realizing it was him. She quickly returned and buried herself in his chest wordlessly.

  Vaelen embraced her in return. “Nightmares?” He asked kindly.

  “Every night,” she said with a defeated sigh.

  “Death is…” he pursed his lips for the right words. “Death isn’t easy for anyone. The person doing the dying, the person killing, or the person witnessing it. But we all one day adjust to it. The pain of loss – of death – is only healed by time.”

  Aurelia pulled away from him and looked at his face which was starting to hold thick stubble. “Why didn’t we talk like this more when things were right?”

  “Because I was a guardsman in your employ, Milady.”

  “Milady.” She chuckled, bringing her out of the initial fear. “Just little Aurelia now.”

  “You’re still my lady.”

  Aurelia smiled.

  “I think we should leave sooner than later. It is dawn. We’ll have to steal horses to get out of here.” Vaelen said, releasing her and standing to his feet.

  “Okay. No problem.”

  “No problem?” Vaelen asked, surprised.

  “What, because I was the Bren’s daughter you don’t think I’ve gotten into trouble? I stole a stallion from the blacksmiths right after he was shoed. I rode that horse out into the forests for hours before my Father rode out himself to get me. He wasn’t happy.” She laughed and ran a hand through her disheveled ebony hair and began putting it up in a simple bun.

  “Why don’t I remember that?” Vaelen asked.

  “You were away in Shatternest dealing with Frost Troll rumors.” Aurelia said, finishing her hair.

  “Hm. Frost Trolls are a nasty lot.”

  “They’re real?” Aurelia asked, shocked.

  “That’s a story for the road. Come on.” He gestured to the door as he placed his sword in his belt and headed out the door with Aurelia and her bow in close pursuit.

  In the early morning, the town was barely awake and alive yet. The various scents of the air made it seem like the baker was up and working, and perhaps a few of the food vendors, but other than that it seemed still very empty compared to the night before. A light haze was in the air, a lingering reminder of the moisture present at the rivers bend here in Rootsborne.

  Aurelia looked at Vaelen and then gestured over her shoulder. Two market stalls down the way was a young boy who just opened the front of a stable door, and then went back into his home directly next door. “Right there. Public stables. Wait out behind it, okay?” She placed a hand on Vaelen’s forearm. “I’m just an innocent young lady wandering in if I get caught.”

  Vaelen wasn’t sure he agreed with her, but he didn’t have a better idea. In fact, his only plan was to find a couple of horses, get on them, and hope to outrun whoever might have pursued them. As he watched her saunter off toward the stable, he made his way out back, gripping the hilt to his sword were he to need to draw it.

  Then, as calmly and as collected as could be, Aurelia opened the rear doors to the stable and walked two horses out; both brown mares, both already saddled, both with feeders, and both beautiful. Vaelen's jaw fell open.

  Aurelia handed the reins to Vaelen, who was dumbfounded, and she smiled with a wink “You put your foot in the stirrup, hop on, and ride.” She said this whilst doing the very motion she described. “Come on.”

  Vaelen hopped on the horse and followed her down the road that ran parallel to the Cedargrove River.

  The city of Rootsborne was just a smudge in the rising morning mist by the time Vaelen and Aurelia slowed their horses down. As they entered yet another of the river’s many Cedar tree groves, they allowed the horses to drink and rest a moment. The trees further covered their escape, and allowed them, too, a moment to rest.

  Aurelia walked around the rear end of the horse and looked at Vaelen, who was taking a sip of water from his waterskin. “So, yo
u were going to tell me about Frost Trolls on the road. Here we are.”

  Vaelen swallowed, plugged the skin back up, and nodded his head. “I did, didn’t I?” As he talked he started fashioning a way to hang their bags on the sides of the horses so that they, themselves, didn’t have to bear the burden. Then, as he stepped around the side of the horse, closer to the water to refill his water skin, he patted the horse on the neck. “Word came down from Shatternest that Frost Trolls were coming down out of the mountains. No one has explored those mountains for years. No one knows what lives up there, and no one bothers them. The last expedition that went up there never came back. Who were we to assume they were lies? We’d heard tales from the northern Brendoms that Frost Trolls still lived in the Frozen Wilds, but not so much down here.

  ‘The peaks were so high that they are snowy and covered in thick ice. Seasonal melts bring us the Highvein River.” Vaelen plugged his waterskin back and filled a second. “We rode up. The first thing we found was a burned house, no one hurt. We rode into the foothills of the mountains, killed an Elk, and left its body out for bait. Hours we waited, on into the night, then as we’re all dozing around our fireless campsite, drinking wine and whispering jokes, we hear this sound coming from over near the elk’s corpse. We think it’s a boar. Turns out to be a damned Frost Troll. We hear it and it hears us at the same time. We chase it to the end of the hills and it turned out to be the child of a much larger troll.

  ‘The two of them retreated into the mountains again. They had apparently been going into town at night and causing mischief. We found necklaces, traveler’s clothes, bones and an alchemist’s scroll in their hovel. We deputized a pair of citizens to keep an eye on the spot, and we never heard anything else back. Who knows if there are more?” Vaelen said, adjusting his sword and stroking the nose of the horse.

  “Trolls that close to home. Did you not tell the people of Drachenara?” Aurelia asked, pushing a fallen lock of hair behind her ear.