“My friends,” Arkus began exuberantly, “I give you the next stage in humanity’s development. With these weapons, we shall never again have to rely on oversized fortresses or the temperament of wizards.”
“What do they do?” someone called out.
Arkus smiled. “Why don’t I show you? Company, destroy the jailor’s box.” In unison, the soldiers turned, heels snapping into place. The front row dropped to one knee. All raised their muskets to chest height. They must already have been loaded for they fired immediately. The great bang of the guns was followed by the crunch and crack of wood; one musket ball hit the iron posts with a clang that sent a shiver through Cassandra’s bones. Within seconds, the jailor’s box was left a ruin.
A tense silence followed.
No one was gawking now.
Cassandra wondered if they would allow Arkus to hold this new power for himself. Would they question why he had not shared it sooner, or how he could possibly have developed it so quickly? Or would fear stay their tongues? It seemed that he would get away with years of secret planning.
Arkus himself beamed. Down on the podium, he was in his element; all pomp and dazzle with a crown, new weapons, and an audience to show it all too.
“As you can see, friends; powerful indeed. And as a sign of my personal gratitude to those of who have shown me loyalty through these trying times, I make a gift to each of my lords. Each shall be granted a full company of trained musket men and women as a sign of good faith in the relationship that exists between the Crown and the Lords of the Kingdom.” This went down well with the Assembly. A buzz of excitement rose, with only Lord Clachonn as the sedate exception.
He got to his feet again and waited for a chance to speak. “May I be the first to thank our King for this most generous gift. Truly, we will all be safer for it. I wonder, however, if I may broach the topic of what will happen to the lands of the traitors Boreac and Annandale? The entire south of the kingdom lies in disarray or ruin, and your highness has raised so many new companies of soldiers that our healthy labourers have been drained to dangerous levels.”
“Indeed, Lord Clachonn, the kingdom is in such a sorry state,” Arkus said. “It will take a strong, guiding hand to set things right. The Crown shall absorb the territories of the fallen and take on that burden, until such time as new regional courts can be established.” This announcement was met with less enthusiasm than the gift of soldiers, but no one made any open objection. Clachonn flexed his fingers but sat down without further incident.
“You need to try harder than that, father,” Oranna said quietly.
“As for the raising of new companies,” Arkus continued, “I realise this has strained our manpower almost to breaking point. However, the mighty king of our dragon allies demanded I send his people east while he kept our troops for his own. I did not find that transaction a fair one, my Lords, and so we were in a deadlock. Yet these refugees further drain our resources and humanity once again comes off worse. I wished to bring our soldiers home, so they may be retrained with these incredible new weapons, but alas, I was denied. I did not wish to tell Darnuir my true reasons, and I hope you will understand why. I did not know how he would react nor did I wish to play our hand before knowing if we could harness the power fully. It turns out that we can. Quick to produce, quick to train in, our new weapons shall make a swift end to this conflict that the dragons seem incapable of winning.” He ended by shaking a closed fist. “That is enough for one day, I think. You are welcome, as always, to petition me in private if you wish to discuss matters away from the public forum. Good day to you all.”
“All rise,” the announcer’s voice cracked like one of those muskets.
Cassandra lingered as the hall emptied, unsettled by what had just occurred. Those soldiers had been brought from the compound in advance; there was no other reason for them to be there. Had Arkus planned it all? She couldn’t say. He had lied about his acquisition of the muskets, that was for certain. And now every lord was to be given a company of their own, companies of soldiers who were loyal to Arkus first and foremost. He’d just placed both spies and enforcers in every household in the land, and they had applauded it. Had it all been another plot, another game, and she a mere pawn in it?
Annandale’s parting words had also intrigued her. They had been friends once, by the sounds of it. Boreac had said much the same thing. What had gone so wrong? Orrana was turning sour towards him now; had he pushed others away as well?
She decided she would find out, and made a vow to herself never to be used blindly again by him. Once was forgivable. Twice made her a fool.
There would not be a third.
Chapter 6
ESCALATION
“They never envisioned where it all would lead.”
— Author Unknown
Lira – The Royal Tower
AFTER WEEKS OF fruitless investigation, things had only gotten worse. There had been more fights, more accusations, more foul words from human officers groaning under the stress of it all. And still no dragon had been apprehended, if it was indeed dragons causing it. Lira suspected the only thing that was keeping the humans in the city was a lack of any ships left to spirit them away. They were all stranded together in this cold, crumbling city.
Tonight the weather was especially bitter. Even in her hunter gear, built to fend against highland ice caves, she could still feel it biting. With numb fingers she blinked, trying to focus on the report that she’d been handed earlier. Numbers lost from sickness over the worst of winter. It was hardly pleasant reading. She felt slow and groggy besides. Her bed lay unmade; when had she last slept?
The candle’s flame was particularly hypnotic. A flickering orange hillock. A rhythmic flick of fire. She was so very tired. So very, very—
With a jerk she snapped awake, elbow flailing sideways. Her empty tankard descended to the floor with a clatter. Sluggishly, she collected it and thought she ought to get it refilled with hot water. Shimmer brew was to be reserved, but just the heat of the water alone would be comfort enough. Firewood was another commodity not to be used without abandon.
She sat back down, as close to the tiny flame as she could and put her hands over it. Life slowly returned to them. Refocusing on the report proved futile. These days her mind revolved around these attacks, but no solution would present itself. Perhaps Damien’s idea of sending soldiers to the Tail to sow crops was the only way. It would be good for those sent there to do something constructive and ease matters within the city. But would any humans be interested? Raymond had thought not. Yet if the situation deteriorated, the officers might see the benefit of the scheme.
Her mind was racing now, grasping at the edge of an answer just out of reach.
She needed someone to speak to.
Before she knew it, she’d reached her door and pulled it open. “Ah, Camen. Good.”
Camen, a hard-faced, serious young Praetorian, stepped away from his guard position, turned and saluted. “Prefect?”
“Go fetch Raymond for me, please.”
Camen’s eyes betrayed his surprise. “At this hour, Prefect?”
“I need him.” She turned and shut the door, her mind already circling back over the question of how she might quell the rising feud between the races. Blaine’s people were involved. It had to be them.
She paced from the hearth to her bedside.
How had it come to this? How had all this come to weigh upon her shoulders. Darnuir, still sick as ever. Blaine, aloof and unsupportive, leaving her to deal with their allies while he whispered words in dark rooms. The Praetorians looked up to her but precious few others did, despite her role in the battle for the city. Blaine had received most of that glory for showing up in the end to save them.
A knock came at the door. Raymond entered, his eyes half-shut and his hair all on end. She sniggered. Rather than his knightly attire, his body
was hidden beneath his bedspread, which he clutched together awkwardly in his fist.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
Raymond stifled a yawn. “Do you have any idea what time it is?”
Lira fought a yawn in return. “Night-time.”
“It’s the middle of the night.”
“I’ve had things to do,” she said irritably. Why had she wanted him to come again? “Go back to bed if it’s too much trouble.”
“No – that’s not what I meant.” He shook his head to wake himself. “I’m here now. Happy to help.” He smiled and looked so ridiculous, with that bed hair and the sheets, her irritation soon dispelled.
“I’m sorry for summoning you at this hour. I must have lost track of time. And I’ve got used to having you around.”
His smile faded into a frown. He straightened. “You are the Prefect. It is well within your right. What’s the matter?”
“I’ve been thinking again on Damien’s suggestion for the Tail Peninsula. I don’t see any other alternatives.”
“We might find a way to catch the culprits.”
“I’d like a backup plan.”
“In case we don’t apprehend the perpetrators?”
“In case we don’t catch them quickly enough.” She turned and began pacing again. “I doubt it’s a small group anymore. Four fights broke out at once the other night.”
“Lira,” he said, though his voice sounded shaky. “It will be a hard sell to get humans to go with Damien. Aside from the work, many will see it as giving in to this violence.” His voice shook again. She turned and found him shivering.
“You’re freezing.”
“You’re not?”
She shrugged. “Sometimes I wonder if I have too much on my mind to feel… anything.” She considered the little fireplace.
“We should set an example,” he said through chattering teeth.
Lira moved to the fireplace and picked a dried log off the meagre pile.
“I’m fine, really.”
She ignored him. After creating her fire, she returned to her desk, snatched up her tankard and called for Camen. He duly arrived.
“Go fetch another cup of hot water,” she instructed. “And get one for yourself. Grab an extra ration too, if you fancy. If anyone gives you lip, you can tell them to come and see me. Got it?”
“Yes, Prefect,” Camen said. He stared wistfully at the burgeoning fire but moved off without further question.
Raymond looked quite put out. “I could have managed. And we ought not to spend precious resources when we tell others to refrain.”
“I haven’t lit a fire in over a week. Besides, you were freezing to death no matter what you say. You’ve never been on a hunter patrol, but taking care of your squad is the most important objective.”
“We’re not on a mere patrol. There are bigger things at stake than my comfort.”
She was fast losing patience. “Why do you always act like this?
“Like what?
“Trying to be tough. Trying to play the hero.”
“I’m trying to be honourable.”
“And freezing to death will do that, will it?”
He opened his mouth but stopped himself, swallowing whatever words he was about to utter. “No. It won’t. You’re right, of course. I just don’t like the idea of us living in comfort while those out there are huddled together like cattle to stay warm.”
“Didn’t you grow up in nothing but comfort?”
“Exactly, and what good did I ever do for anyone? I had a chance here to give my life some meaning. Some purpose.”
“Had?” Lira said. “What do you mean had? You’re still here, aren’t you?”
Raymond grumbled and looked to his toes. “A slip of the tongue.”
Lira folded her arms. “You came here to help Darnuir.”
“And what use have I been to him? I can barely keep up with the rest of you. I’m just a human in the end.”
Lira bit her lip. She wasn’t sure what he needed to hear, but some reflex kicked in from her hunter days; something that Captain Romalla often did to the recruits who were flagging. She grabbed Raymond by both shoulders, looked him square in the eyes and told him, “You help me a great deal. I wouldn’t have made it through these last months without you. Do you think I’d have asked you to come tonight if you didn’t?” The words just tumbled out of her; though they were not exactly what Romalla used to say. Actually, they were nothing like it.
Raymond grimaced.
“What now?” she demanded.
“You’re crushing me.”
“Oh.” Lira released him and took two embarrassed steps back.
Raymond rolled his shoulders and grunted. “Thank you.”
“For crushing you?”
“No, for what you said. It was… good to hear it. I’m happy to help you.”
“Well, I’m grateful.”
She was left unsure of what to say next.
Raymond smiled awkwardly and fumbled on, “About Damien’s plan—”
“It was a foolish hope.”
“Taking back this city was a foolish hope,” he said. “Fighting Castallan seemed like a fool’s errand too. But we did it.”
“A moment ago, you said it wouldn’t work.”
“A moment ago, I was feeling sorry for myself. Let me try. I am the human representative on the Guard, after all. This should be my burden. We’ll gather the legates and human officers together. Who knows, a joint enterprise and fresh ideas might invigorate them.”
“Great,” she said. It wasn’t much, not much at all. But it felt like progress. She became horribly aware that he was waiting for her to say more. Her hands began fidgeting of their own accord. “Well,” she began, “I suppose… that’s all for now then.”
“I suppose so,” Raymond said. “We can start working on the finer points in the morning.”
“In the morning, yes.”
“Or now?”
She felt suddenly off balance. “Err—” she started, unsure why this strange departure was dragging out, nor why her cheeks felt so hot. A knock at the door saved her. Once again, Camen was there, only he held two steaming tankards rather than one.
“Harra was doing the rounds for those on night duty,” Camen explained. “So, I thought I’d get one for both you.”
“Right,” Lira said, a little dazed. “Thank you, Camen. You should still grab that extra ration, if you want.”
“Oh, I want it.” He licked his lips and hastened to leave.
Lira turned and stood stupidly for a moment holding both cups. “You might as well stay and have this. I wouldn’t say no to the company.” Raymond shuffled forward and took one. “Why don’t you sit down,” she added, directing him to the bedside. “There’s no need to stand on ceremony.”
“Not while I’m dressed like a pillowcase.” He shuffled again to the bedside, and carefully sat down on the straw mattress. Cradling her drink, Lira sat herself down beside him. A pleasant moment passed wherein the only sounds were their attempts to blow the worst of the heat from their water, and the crackle and spit of the fire. She could feel him still shivering but after a few sips it began to ease. After a while he sighed in relief.
“That’s better, I can feel my fingers again.” He took another drink, looking towards her desk. “Ah, so is that the doll?”
Lira followed his eyes. It was indeed the doll she’d recovered from her family’s home in the Lower City, and even that felt like a lifetime ago already. It had sat here in her room ever since, the perfect smile of the girl forever painted onto the wood, impervious to the woes around her.
“That’s the doll.”
“I thought you were going to throw it away?”
She’d planned to once, well she’d said she’d plan to.
“I couldn’t do it.”
“Good,” Raymond said. “You’d have regretted it. It’s only right to have something left to remember him by.”
Lira felt the sudden twitch of her cheek as her eyes began to well. “It’s the only memory I do have of him.”
“Tell me.”
“There’s not much to tell. I just have a faint memory of running in through the front door, and he was already at the table. I can’t even make out his face. All I see is how tall he is, how he’s smiling, and then I look only at the doll. That’s it. All too focused on a block of wood.” She wasn’t sure why she was telling him this, but it didn’t feel wrong nor embarrassing.
He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “You must have been so young. It’s hardly your fault.”
She sniffed and pre-emptively wiped her eyes. “It’s scary how fast it upsets me. But you’re right. Mum was always happy I had at least one thing to remember him by. I promised I’d check the house to see if it was there… I never expected to actually find it.”
“She’ll be glad to see it again too, I’m sure.”
“She will.” Lira wiped at her eyes again and took a reassuring gulp of hot water. “I hope she stayed at home and hasn’t ended up in those camps.”
“The Hinterlands avoided the war,” Raymond said. “I’m sure she stayed.”
Lira nodded quickly and drank again to excuse her lack of reply. She didn’t want to break down completely. Damn, what she wouldn’t do for a proper shimmer brew right now. Heck, a flagon of ale.
“Sorry,” she sniffed. “I’m sobbing on about a father I never knew when you’ve gone through much worse. You must think me pathetic.”
His hand squeezed her shoulder. “I think you’re one of the strongest, bravest people I’ve ever met. Dragon or human. Or fairy,” he added. “We’re both a little out of our depth, but I never would have coped this well if I were in your position. And don’t be afraid of telling me when you’re not okay either. Naturally, you miss your mother. It was just the two of you for years. As for your father, I hope you don’t mind me saying it, but I envy your memories in a way. You have this pure and good thing to cling onto to. Knowing Sanders turned into what he did, well, it’s horrible all in its own way.”
The Dragon's Blade_The Last Guardian Page 7