Lira spotted Raymond conversing quietly with the outrunner Damien, their heads together at the base of the throne’s steps. She made directly for them and Raymond greeted her with a warm smile. Lira found she could always rely on him for a smile.
“How is he?” Raymond asked.
“He’s not screaming as much, and his turns don’t last as long,” Lira said quietly, so that only she, Raymond and Damien could hear. “Yet again he reminded me of our impending doom.” She sighed and chanced a look towards the scrying orb. “Has Arkus—”
“I’m afraid not, Prefect,” Damien said.
The tension in Lira’s shoulders twanged again. “Very well. Then has Blaine—” She stopped herself this time, seeing Raymond’s shaking head. “Why must he drag things out? If he doesn’t wish to speak to Arkus then so be it. I only need him to operate the damned thing with his magic.” She pinched hard between her eyes.
Raymond closed what small gap remained between them, placing his hand on the small of her back. “Perhaps you should take some rest? Real rest. Even for a dragon, you haven’t slept in a long time.” She gave him a weak smile. He was trying to be kind, of course, but he’d been working just as hard as her, relatively speaking. Well, he’d done what he could. For a human.
“I’ll sleep when Darnuir returns to us or when we’re ready to face this attack. Whichever first.”
She moved to lean her weight upon the table, pouring over the map of the city. Countless scribbled notes detailed the damage that had been done while the city was occupied by the demons, highlighting the weak spots in case of a frontal assault by land and possible choke points within the streets should the walls fall. The harbour at the southern end of the city was Aurisha’s soft underbelly, made more vulnerable by Blaine sending most of the human fleet back to Brevia, ostensibly to collect the dragons that were stuck there. No ship had yet returned. Still, Rectar wouldn’t risk battling on the open sea. Any advantage these twisted dragons would have would be best exploited on land, so it had been to the northern defences that Lira had focused her efforts.
“Do we have a progress report on the gate repairs?”
An older dragon shuffled forwards seemingly out of nowhere. He must have been waiting for an audience, but in her haste and half-exhausted state, she had not even noticed him. Indeed, her tiredness was beginning to seriously alarm her. She knew she recognised the dragon but temporarily couldn’t place him. He was short and squat, and his crooked smile revealed he had a missing tooth.
“I can update you on the city gate, Lady Prefect,” he said. His speech contained a light whistle.
Lira’s embarrassment in not remembering this man’s name all but evaporated. Only the old dragons felt the need to preface her title with ‘lady’. In giving him a cold stare, she forgot to say anything at all.
Raymond stepped in. “Vitrus, what is your assessment as master engineer?”
Vitrus gave no acknowledgment that he could even see Raymond, let alone hear him.
“Lady Prefect, I have used the Eighth Legion to clear the debris and make what easy repairs can be made to the city walls, with what resources are available to us.”
“That sounds like good news,” Lira said. “Truly, we are grateful that you journeyed east with us.”
Vitrus wrinkled his nose. “The Legate of the Eighth recruited me from the camps at Brevia. He considered my talents would be useful.”
“Well, I’m glad some of those in charge of our legions have sense,” she said, forgetting that it wasn’t only the Praetorians who were around her. Maybe she did need sleep.
Vitrus met her remark with barely constrained disapproval. “Our Legionary Legates have been leading men and defending our people for twice as long as you’ve been alive, Lady Prefect. They’ve been fighting longer than any of this guard.” His sharp conveyance of the word brought his whistle to a high pitch. “I lost this damned tooth when we fled Aurisha twenty years ago. Some of you were barely walking then. Little better than hatchlings, the lot of you, but my king chooses you, so…”
Raymond and Damien shifted uneasily, as did some of the guard unused to blunt words such as these. Lira, however, was more used to hearing this line of late. She held her composure.
“Yes, he chose me.”
“Don’t mistake yourselves for him,” Vitrus said.
So, this was what it had come to, was it? The legates voicing their concerns through any dragon that was sent to the throne room?
Lira sniffed. “I could never mistake myself for the wielder of the Dragon’s Blade.” Vitrus had all the beginnings of a smug smile, but she raised a finger and met him with a fierce stare. “And yet, I won’t have it so easily forgotten that it was I who brought the legions back in time to save the King when fifty thousand demons cornered him atop the city’s plateau. I trust also that your opinions have not hindered your trade?”
Vitrus folded his arms. “I take pride in my work, Lady Prefect. As a matter of fact, I was inspired by the gate mechanisms at Brevia. Far more sophisticated than the ancient doors that were in place before the fall of Aurisha. I have designed a way to adapt these elements on a scale and strength worthy of our race.”
“An impressive claim, if true.”
“However, I regret that it cannot be done. To build such a gate would require a great deal of wood, time, and fresh custom-forged components. Wood we could manage, though the nearest abundant source is north and east, closer to Kar’drun as the bird flies from here. Time is for the Gods to decide. As for the metal, we have no ore. There is no trade. I can’t build on air and necessity alone.”
Lira looked down and lightly rocked her knuckles across the tabletop. The parchment of the maps felt dry and rough. “So, are you telling me we are to have no working gate?”
“Not without a sudden influx of supplies from the west,” Vitrus said, and looked to Raymond. “Any chance of that, human?”
“I am hardly in a position to say.”
“Something must be done to block the gap,” Lira said.
“Whatever for,” Vitrus said. “Then we can’t get out.”
Lira rolled her knuckles more vigorously. “I do not mean for us to be blocked in at once. I merely need the option.”
“In case of what?”
“In case we are attacked, Vitrus.”
“Lady Prefect, the war is over. The demon armies are destroyed.”
Lira inwardly cursed. She exchanged nervous glances with Raymond and Damien. Their ability to maintain order was tenuous without Darnuir, and most attempts to explain that a new threat was on the way had been met with scepticism. If the legates ever decided that the mad young Praetorians ought to be pushed aside for the time being, there would be nothing Lira could do about it. She doubted Blaine would rush out from the Basilica to intervene.
Their brief silence caused Vitrus to frown and Lira hastened calmly to say, “It was our Lord Darnuir’s wish that the city be made as secure as possible. I fear a gate-sized hole in our walls fails to meet those orders.”
“Quite,” Vitrus said. He made a sucking sound as he considered and then said, “Much of the debris we cleared has been taken outside the city for disposal. I could arrange for it to be brought to the breach and there lie in wait should we have need to block the gateway.”
“That’s something at least,” Lira said. “Thank you, Vitrus. You should begin at once.” The older dragon stepped back two paces before he turned his back to Lira and headed out of the throne room. She thought she heard some mutterings of ‘wasted time’.
“Please tell me that’s all there is to deal with this morning.” Raymond and Damien exchanged looks and she knew it wasn’t so. She sighed. “Out with it then.”
“Another human officer arrived just after dawn,” Raymond said.
“Spare us,” Lira said. A throbbing grew behind her eyes. “Not more shouting m
atches in the streets again? I told them. We can’t investigate on nought but speculation.”
“It was more than words this time, I’m afraid,” Raymond said. “He claims there was a fight.”
“A fight?”
“I imagine it was more of a scuffle,” Raymond said.
“Don’t down play it. What happened?”
“The usual nonsense was shouted apparently. ‘Dragons are superior. Dragons are blessed. Humans should leave our city at once.’ Only this time, the humans didn’t sit idly by. Seems they had had enough of talking. Although it was five on one, the dragon who was shouting beat the others soundly. He evaded capture, outrunning the humans with ease. It seems we can no longer pretend dragons are not involved.”
Lira nodded slowly. “My hopes that humans were winding up their own was always a faint dream. Is there still nothing that obviously links these incidents to Blaine’s followers?”
“Nothing beyond the words they reportedly use,” Raymond said.
“Well, that’s not enough to accuse them,” Lira said in frustration. Not that she would know what to do if a bunch of Blaine’s Light Bearers really did start beating up humans. How would she be able to stand up to Blaine if it came to blows? How could any of them? They sorely needed Darnuir back for this sort of thing.
“I admit I’d find it strange that Blaine would be so…” Raymond searched for the word. “Careless.”
“Well, they’ve all gone a bit cracked since the Nail Head,” Lira said. She made a swirling loop of her finger above her ear but ceased when she caught Damien’s eye. “Still. We should follow up with him again, just to make sure. So many have joined his flock lately I’m sure there are some that are acting beyond his direct control.”
Damien cleared his throat loudly. “If I may make a suggestion, Prefect?”
“What do you have in mind?”
“If restlessness is leading to bad blood, perhaps we should find more work to do. Taking more humans out of the city might appease whatever group this is and make use of idle labour. The fertile land of the Tail Peninsula was once a great source of our people’s food. Much work will be needed if we are to sow our own seeds this year and mark our new beginning.”
“As a human, I can guarantee that will not go down well,” said Raymond. “I fear such a move would only aggravate matters to dangerous levels. We cannot ask humans to prepare dragon fields while their own back home go wanting for labour.”
“We could ask only for volunteers,” Damien said. “Dragons too. I could go with them myself. We need to begin the work and Lord Darnuir promised I could retire to the Tail.”
Lira considered him. An outrunner’s feet showed how fit they were. She glanced down at Damien’s and her first thought was to marvel at how his bare feet had not turned into blocks of ice over winter. They were looking rough, to be sure; the skin was more like hide and covered in blotchy purple-blue bruises that were unwilling to fade.
Damien caught her looking. “Already my heels cause me pain.” He said it with such stoicism. He could be fighting back tears, she’d never know. And he would never admit it. Perhaps it would be kindest to allow him to rest.
“It would be a great shame to lose you,” Lira said. “Darnuir values your abilities and I your insights.”
“There are other outrunners still,” Damien said. “Will you think on my proposal?”
“I will, but I cannot make any promises.”
“Lord Darnuir may not regain his strength for another month,” Damien said. “You may have to make hard decisions.”
Lira frowned and felt her shoulders sag. “I fear I may push the patience of the legates if I do…” She trailed off. Anger and frustration and exhaustion made a poor mix. She felt light-headed.
“Darnuir will return soon,” Raymond said. “He grows stronger each day, as you say.”
“Let’s hope so,” she said.
Lira pulled herself together and rubbed again at her tired eyes. “I’ll go and see Blaine about this human baiting. Might as well get it over with.”
She was already halfway to the throne room doors when Raymond called out, “I shall come with you.”
Lira halted and turned. “No,” she replied. It sounded far harsher than she had intended. Raymond recoiled mid-stride, looking wounded. She’d hurt his pride but Lira only wished to see him spared from the Light Bearers scornful stares; their cutting words.
“You know what they’re like,” she said, “but you hardly need me to tell you that. If you want to come, it’s not right that I should stop you.”
He smiled that warm smile of his, and she felt bolstered. He stood at her side as she summoned another half-dozen Praetorians. Together they made their way out of the Royal Tower and across the plaza towards the entrance of the Basilica of Light.
A crisp wind swept across the plateau, but the day was clear, and a pale sun attempted to warm the world at winter’s end. Cold blue light tinged the entire plaza. Marble columns sparkled like pillars of ice. Yet no light could soften the reddened, charred grounds at its centre. Lira could only guess as to what had happened here, and it was the sort of thoughts that were best left for nightmares.
The Basilica itself dominated the south side of the plaza, its great dome rising like a half-sun of golden stone. A colonnaded entrance sat atop an imposing set of marble stairs, and Light Bearers stood between each column to guard the eerie, candlelit hall within. Each of Blaine’s men faced their shields outwards to the world, displaying the painted yellow emblem of a sword cutting through a sun of spiralling lines.
Lira approached with purpose. She was the Praetorian Prefect, whether these older dragons liked it or not. She had authority over the King’s elite guard. Besides, she would not be interrupting a sermon this time. However, as she walked past, the Light Bearers didn’t so much as glance at her. That irked her more. She also deserved respect.
Within the Basilica, there were only three other Light Bearers present, looking like wooden miniatures by the stone sword holders under the dome. A beam of that cold, winter light shone through the opening in the dome above.
Her footsteps rang loudly but the figures by the stone swords did not stir. Drawing closer, she saw the dragon in the middle of the trio was none other than Bacchus. His olive skin was smooth as worked alabaster, and his expression was entirely passive as she approached. Only when they were ten paces away did Bacchus throw out his hand.
“Halt there, young Lira.”
She deliberately walked another three paces before stopping. When nothing more was said, she tutted loudly and glanced towards the alcove that led down to the Guardian’s Sanctum.
“You know I am here to speak with Blaine. His second won’t do.”
Bacchus tilted his head, as though observing a precocious child. “I remind you to refer to him as Lord Guardian. And why not converse with me? I might be a second, but so are you.” His voice was smoother than silk, richer than sweetened cream, and yet never sickly. Lira understood why Blaine valued Bacchus as a speaker to his faithful, even if the man had attempted a coup of sorts only months before. He was keeping his enemy close, she supposed.
“I would also remind you, Bacchus, to address me by my title, Praetorian Prefect. My age is irrelevant. And while I might be a second, the King is currently indisposed, while the Lord Guardian is merely down in his chambers.”
“The Lord Guardian is out among his people.”
Lira shook her head. “Don’t bother. He rarely leaves this temple. That much I know. If he left more often, perhaps I would not need to be here. Fetch him for me. Now.” She was as stern as she dared and held Bacchus’ eye.
Without breaking that eye contact, Bacchus took a few steps closer and said more quietly, “Remember Lady Prefect, that our Lord Guardian has been touched by the divine. He is chosen by our Gods to lead us in the fight against the Shadow. Thousa
nds bore witness to the event. Darnuir may be our King, but he is only that.” He took a final step forwards, lightly so, even a little threatening. Raymond stepped lithely forward too, throwing up an arm towards Bacchus.
“That’s close enough, Light Bearer.”
Bacchus smirked. “But of course, human. I certainly wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself in defence of your superior. Such loyalty.” He flicked his perfect olive-green eyes between Raymond and Lira, his smirk unwavering. “As you clearly won’t leave, I shall adjourn and request the Lord Guardian to grant you his time.”
Once Bacchus had entered the alcove and descended the stairs out of sight, Lira rounded on Raymond and thumped him squarely on his breastplate. “What was that about?” she hissed. “Goading Bacchus, are you mad? He’d crush you.”
Flushed with embarrassment, Raymond stepped back. “You’re right, Lira. I’m not sure what came over me.”
Lira pinched between her eyes again. She hadn’t meant to snap quite so severely. She was just so tired. Lira endured another round of rapid blinking during which dark blots flashed across her vision. Holding her eyes shut a moment longer seemed to ease the symptoms, and her moment of flared temper cooled as well. “Raymond, I—”
“There’s no need,” he said, looking anywhere but at her. “I think I hear them coming.”
Sure enough, Blaine and Bacchus emerged from the alcove. Blaine drew up before Lira and the Praetorians, while Bacchus lurked farther back by the stone swords.
It had been over a week since Lira had last seen Blaine. His skin appeared lighter than before, likely because he was spending so much time in the Basilica. In his heavy Guardian’s armour, he still looked larger than life; his feet shoulder width apart, hands cupped behind his back. That was something he had tended to do lately. Lira thought it was to hide the missing finger on his right hand. Injury aside, Blaine was the picture of health. Lira still found it hard to believe he was one hundred and fifty years old. The only place she could see his age was in his eyes. Their blue was deeper than any she had ever seen, as though each year of his life had added a layer of colour, each one darker than the last. She didn’t like to hold his gaze for very long, however. Doing so reminded her of how she’d felt the first time they’d met in Val’tarra; her nerves and her disappointment. She’d only wanted to lend her sword to the war effort and Blaine had scorned her for it. Privately, Lira relished the triumph of standing before him, forcing him to acknowledge her.
The Dragon's Blade_The Last Guardian Page 3