When the chains were removed, Darnuir tried to stand. His initial attempt was faltering. His muscles ached, his joints cracked as he stretched. He had to steady himself with a hand on the chair, and remained hunched for a time, worried he would fall. The Praetorians came to his aid, placing caring hands under his arms and upon his back, pressing the sweat drenched shirt unpleasantly against his skin. Harra was there again and took his hand.
“Thank you,” Darnuir said. He had never felt more humbled nor more grateful. “I owe you all a debt I fear I can never repay.” They walked for several steps together, but he couldn’t emerge into public like this.
“Let go for a moment. I must try to stand.”
Dutifully, the Praetorians withdrew and Darnuir took his first clumsy steps. Thankfully, his body began to remember how this was done. After a circuit of the room, he made his way towards the balcony, although he didn’t step out onto it. He leaned against a pillar there and took in what he could of Aurisha.
The starium of the city twinkled under the silver moonlight, and in a moment of true daring, Darnuir pushed away from the pillar to force his legs to cope with his own weight.
He swayed once, twice, then stood. He straightened and breathed deeply, accentuating the rise and fall of his wasted chest. Under his damp shirt, he could see the outline of his ribs. Yet for all his setbacks, he was here, high above the ancient dragon city. He’d brought his people home.
And Darnuir, King of Dragons, was on his feet once more.
Chapter 10
HONOUR AND NECESSITY
“What happened that night is lost to us now.”
— Author Unknown
*** Earlier that same evening ***
Lira – The Royal Tower – The King’s Chambers
VOICES REACHED HER as though through water. Short, sharp blasting voices that sounded closer with every second. I should wake up, she thought. I should wake up. I need to know what’s going on. But she couldn’t quite manage—
A great bang rent the air. Lira awoke with a start, sitting bolt upright, reaching for a sword she wasn’t wearing, and breathing hard. Praetorians swarmed into the room, fully armoured. Several began speaking at once.
“Prefect Lira, you must come.”
“The Light Bearers they’ve—”
“Attacks on humans—”
“In the Lower City.”
For a second, Lira sat still as panic took over her. She desperately wished this to be a nightmare, but the aches from her sleep-deprived limbs were too real. And if the worst had happened, if it had come to violence, at least that was simple. She jumped to her feet, heart pumping fresh energy through her.
“Assemble in the throne room. Every Praetorian save three to watch over Darnuir. Now.” They bolted and Lira followed, sparing a last glance for Darnuir as she left him behind.
Please wake soon, Darnuir. I need you.
Down in the throne room, all the Praetorians were gathering as she’d ordered, helping each other secure pieces of their plate armour. Raymond was there as well. A pang struck her: fresh, raw, unexplainable horror. An image flashed before her of Raymond crushed by a Light Bearer’s fist. She couldn’t let him go. Yet she could say nothing for now, for General Fidelm and a contingent of fairy flyers approached her.
“Lira, this must be contained,” Fidelm said. His wings crackled, and he gripped his double-bladed spear tightly. A fury lit his eyes, like she’d never seen before and she was very glad he was on her side.
“That’s my intention,” Lira said, holding steady while Camen tightened her breastplate together at the shoulders. “What’s going on exactly?”
“Light Bearers have struck at groups of humans. I’m not certain how many or who. If you’re heading soon, I will go now and do what I can.”
“Go first to Grigayne,” Lira said. “Tell him what’s happening. The islanders need to stay out of the way. Grigayne will understand but we have to be clear these attacks are not under any orders.”
“That we know of,” Fidelm said darkly.
Lira felt another great weight plummet down through her stomach. She looked hard at Fidelm. “You don’t seriously think that Blaine—”
“I’m not sure anymore,” Fidelm snapped. “He and his followers have become possessed since the Nail Head. We’ll know by morning.”
Camen secured the final fastenings of her armour. Lira rolled her shoulders and shook her arms, her legs, trying to expel her nerves. This was madness. Pure, simple, madness. What if Blaine was leading them? How were they supposed to fight him?
“Go, Fidelm,” she said. “We’ll see you down there.”
The General gave a curt nod and flew from the throne room. Once he left, Lira noticed that a tense silence had fallen over the Praetorians. Most were ready now and looked to her. Something jingled softly. Camen had thrust her sword and belt towards her, the metal buckles slapping together. Lira clenched her jaw then took the sword from him. She strapped it on and picked up a shield.
“There will be no more deaths,” she said. Her voice reflected her strain, but she steadied herself and slowed the pace of her speech. “No deaths so far as you can help it. Enough dragons have died. Enough humans have died. We’ll take these Light Bearers and they will answer for what they’ve done. We’ll show the humans and the fairies and our own people that this is not our way. This is not Darnuir’s vision. When he wakes it will not be to our alliance burning around us. No more deaths,” she added. “Fight together, Praetorians. With me.”
The Praetorians thumped their shields twice in approval and then darted from the throne room. Lira hung back and caught Raymond at the door, putting a hand on his chest. He tried to push through but could make no headway against her strength.
“Stay, Raymond.”
He looked defiant and hurt, as she knew he would.
“What honour will there be left for a disgraced Chevalier, if I stay while people are in need? What use can I be to you here?”
“What use will you be with a broken body? If you get hurt, I’d never forgive myself.” He screwed up his face in determination and tried to push forwards again. Lira’s arm relaxed a fraction, but then she pushed him back. He stumbled, nearly lost his balance, and a grudging acceptance entered his eyes.
“Stay,” she said again, and then she ran.
She caught up with the Praetorians halfway across the plaza. The night seemed peaceful up here, with no sign of trouble other than fifty Praetorians tearing towards the switchback roads. As they passed the Basilica, she considered securing it first. The usual guards between the columns were gone. But no, they had to protect the humans. Yet there were dragons emerging from the temple. Non-armoured Light Bearers by the looks of it, and they were running to intercept Lira.
“Form south,” she called. As one, the Praetorians halted, turned to face the Basilica, closed ranks and locked their shields. The Light Bearers hesitated, then came to her regardless. Closer up she saw they weren’t even armed, so she kept her sword in its scabbard. For now.
“Lady Prefect,” one wearily said. “What is happening?”
“You tell me. General Fidelm brings word that Light Bearers are attacking humans in the Lower City.” She marched towards them. “Where is Blaine? Did he order this?”
“We don’t know,” said the Light Bearer. “We only came because the guards on duty didn’t wake us for our rotation. We feared we’d overslept. We had no idea that—”
“I advise you go back to your beds,” Lira snarled. “Now.” They gave her and the Praetorians one last, wide-eyed look, then dashed back to the Basilica. Lira turned away in disgust. “We move on.”
Running down the streets of the plateau’s slope was at least easy. Momentum spurred her on to keep that pace as the streets levelled out, then emerged at ground level by the harbour.
Ahead, near the city g
ates, human troops were now forming ranks; spearmen and archers readying. Confusion streaked every face and Lira and her dragons blazed past without resistance. She wove through the narrower streets, retracing her steps from earlier in the night, hoping to reach these Light Bearers before the human troops could march in.
She neared the eastern wall. Distant cries could be heard. A small battle was occurring, but a battle nonetheless. A man was screaming. His howl gave her some direction and she chased it, growing closer and closer, until she saw the backs of human soldiers ahead, near the bend in the road. Their archers were firing at something out of sight.
“Out of the way,” Lira cried.
Seeing more dragons hurtling towards them, the humans scattered. Without slowing, the Praetorians charged on, rounding the corner to find Light Bearers in a small shield formation. Outnumbered, the Light Bearers broke and ran. Lira gave chase. She did not fail to notice the bodies that lay strewn on the ground. There weren’t many, thankfully, but they were all human. Looks of shock etched forever in their unclosed eyes.
Soon the chase led Lira to a familiar sight; the wide lane between two tottering stacks of housing. Only there was now something hanging in the air between the buildings. A man, his limbs spread-eagled and stretched, unable to move and gagged so he could not even scream. She couldn’t yet be certain, but she knew it would be The Preacher.
A wound at his waist was still dripping blood. Droplets fell to the street and shone in the firelight. As she advanced, she saw the blood had been drawn into the symbol of the Guardians on the ground beneath him. Lira nearly threw up there and then.
The bulk of the Light Bearers were at the far end of the street, close to the city wall. Their backs were against it. They had nowhere else to run. But they didn’t seem to care. They didn’t even bother to form a shield wall.
“Looks like a hundred of them, Prefect,” Camen said.
“They’ll need the advantage of numbers,” Lira called. “We are Praetorians. We can handle these old men.”
The Guard bashed their shields and cried out their agreement. This was still going to be a brutal fight, even if they won. Blaine did not let just anyone join his ranks. All of them were grizzled veterans. Two to one wasn’t good odds, but the true loss lay in how many had come to commit these crimes.
Could it be true? Could they have all lost their minds?
She drew her Praetorians to a halt, her chest rising and falling lightly from the run. It had been a good warm up. The Light Bearers were not moving, so she had time to survey the situation. The street itself would mean their numbers would count for less. One small win for her. Still they had not formed a defence, so that must mean they intended to bring the fight to her. Again, this was a small advantage. If Bacchus had gotten them trapped here then he would make them fight until the last. At least she had their leadership clear in her head. The idea of Blaine leading them was too horrifying. If not Blaine, then Bacchus had done this.
And she’d bring him in herself.
“Bacchus, end this now!”
No answer.
“Put your weapons down, all of you. This is pointless. The King will never forgive you for it. If you fight, the humans will swarm in here and kill you all.”
Still, there came no answer.
“What in the world has possessed you?”
“Only the love of our Gods, girl,” a voice called. She didn’t recognise it.
“They’re your Gods too. You should not work against them.”
“These humans anger the Gods. We have asked for a sign. This man will face Dwna as the light rises and be judged.”
“We are the Lights’ chosen. You hatchlings should learn this.”
The last of the Light Bearer’s voices dimmed and they took a deliberate step forward.
“One. Last. Chance,” Lira boomed, knowing full well that her threat meant little with only half their numbers. “Put your weapons down.”
Above she saw fairies landing on the rooftops. Fidelm had arrived. Yet the Light Bearers took no notice. And in their assuredness, they charged. Lira locked her own shield firmly in place.
“No more deaths,” she reminded them.
Crazed and screaming, the Light Bearers came on, shields tossed aside, swords raised. Lira felt the force of the impact through her entire body, blow after blow. They ricocheted up her shield arm, threatening to shake her shoulder from its joint. They weren’t holding back. These were strikes intended to kill.
“Hold,” she screamed. Time to see whether all their training had paid off. “Hold,” she cried again. Two rapid, powerful strikes hit her shield and she nearly staggered. She felt pressure from the enemy increase, heard their feet scurry and slip as they lost any sense of cohesion. Now was the moment.
“Push!”
And, as one, the Praetorians stepped forwards. One pace, two paces, three. They stopped. The Light Bearers were thrown off balance. Lira took the lead in breaking from the wall, driving her shield onto the first lightly armoured foot she saw. Bones cracked. Howling, the Light Bearer fell.
Their shield wall barely reformed before the next assault came. This fighting, back and forth, lasted for a time. Lira dared not risk pushing too far when she was stepping, not least because wounded Light Bearers started getting in the way.
“Prefect!” The shriek came from the back of their own ranks. Lira risked a glance behind and saw Light Bearers amongst them. They were jumping down from the upper storeys of the buildings. Praetorians raised their useless shields against the impact of their falling enemies. One Light Bearer cut at two fairies on his descent, slicing flesh and wing alike.
Blood had been spilled.
A sword struck past her shield, missing her face by a hair’s breadth and caught the Praetorian behind her in the shoulder. More blood. No more death, she had said. She’d meant it. Hatred for these Light Bearers burned within her; these old, bigoted fools.
The ranks on both sides broke down. Light Bearers diving from above was not something the Praetorians had trained for, and their shield wall broke down. A melee ensued; a free for all in which orders were drowned out in the confined street.
Lira scanned for Bacchus, hoping that if he fell the others would give up. But the crush of fighters made it difficult. A downward slash forced her to raise her shield and the Light Bearer behind the strike rammed into her. She fell on her knees and took the chance to cut at his shins. He collapsed shrieking but would live. More than he deserved.
Another came at her, leaping over a limp Praetorian, and she gave no ground this time, striking quickly and forcing him to parry, block, step back. Two fairies descended upon him before Lira could catch up and began lifting the Light Bearer into the air.
“Don’t kill him.”
She had no idea whether the fairies had heard her, but they veered left and threw the dragon against the side of the building three storeys up. The Light Bearer fell from view and she found the combatants on the street had thinned. Light Bearers were moving into the houses, clearing the street to avoid the fairies.
Blood beat between her ears; her heart raced from more than just battle. Again, she searched for Bacchus, but there was no sign of him. He might have retreated inside or he could be one of the bodies. So many, so quickly. How had it come to this?
Light Bearers and Praetorians were both groaning in pain, some crawling along the ground. She saw dead humans, dead dragons, and dead fairies, without one demon to be found.
“Enough!” The voice was deafening.
Blaine strode towards the battlefield, clearly just out of bed, wearing only a white shirt and leggings. The Guardian’s Blade shone brightly in his grasp.
Lira had never been more grateful to see him. He hadn’t condoned this. There was hope, and the look on his face made her feel like a child. Chin lowered, jaw set, his features unnaturally darkened. What sad
ness had been in his old eyes was burned away, and a century’s worth of rage now pulsed behind them. For the first time, she understood why he was the Guardian of the world.
“Come out now,” Blaine said, his voice magnified by magic.
“Praetorians, to me,” Lira said. They trooped to her side, blooded and bruised. Each looked in shock, their eyes wide and mouths slack, as though unable to believe what had happened. When few Light Bearers emerged, Blaine entered the closest building himself.
Fidelm fluttered down. He didn’t so much as look at Blaine. “That was hard but necessary, Lira.”
She looked to the general and saw his knuckles were scraped and bloody, but not the blade upon his spear. He too had held back from the kill where he could, and her respect for the fairy swelled.
Lira pointed up. “Bring that human down before their officers see him.” Fidelm took off just as a Light Bearer flew from the doorway Blaine had entered moments before. The dragon crumpled on the opposite side of the street and did not stir. After that, the remaining Light Bearers began filing out like children. Some tried begging their case, shocked at Blaine’s anger; on their knees, hands clasped and pleading. He silenced them with one look.
“You did not heed my words? You have brought shame upon us.”
Lira moved to his side. “Where is Bacchus?”
“Bacchus is not here,” Blaine said through gritted teeth.
Lira was lost for words.
Fidelm returned, carrying the human like a baby in his arms. It was The Preacher, now pale and glassy-eyed. Fidelm closed his eyes.
“I saw the human troops closing in,” he announced.
“I know,” Blaine growled. “I passed them on the way here.”
Fidelm sniffed. “I’ll send flyers ahead to try and calm them. Tell them it’s over.” He shook his head. “Blaine… I… I can’t find the words.” He looked down at the human he cradled. “I’ll leave this one among the rest of the bodies. The true horror doesn’t need to be known.”
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