“It is with a heavy heart I tell you of this. The day before yesterday, a group of radical, zealous dragons took violent action against members of the Fifth Regiment, men of the Crownlands, I believe. Lira and General Fidelm did everything in their power to end the hostilities and bring those dragons to justice. A small battle ensued, with deaths on both sides from all races. So far, there have been eighty-seven confirmed human deaths. Dozens more may die from injuries, though the fairy healers are doing everything they can for them.”
Gellick’s mouth disappeared into a razor thin line. Arkus had raised a hand to his mouth, half covering it as though he might be sick. He slumped back again, looking as worn and tired as Darnuir felt. This was not the reaction that Darnuir had expected. It was somehow worse, this quiet shock. Outrage he’d been expecting; anger he could understand.
“Arkus, if there is anything I can—” But Arkus raised a hand and Darnuir, respectfully, did not press on. The time it took Arkus to compose himself felt like an eternity.
“What were you doing during this?”
“I had not yet recovered. By the time I awoke it was already over.”
“Have you completely lost control over there? Who were these dragons?”
“Some were Light Bearers. Others were regulars from the Third Legion. We’re still piecing it together.”
“And what will be done to punish them?”
“There is need for dangerous hard labour to repair our northern fortifications. I shall send them there and see they repay their debt. I shall not be dealing out death for death.”
“That is your right,” Arkus said, wrapping his voice around each word as though trying to strangle them. “Blaine. I want him stripped of his rank, stripped of his power, whatever you have to do. This is the second grave insult he has dealt me and my people.”
This was it. The promise Darnuir could not make.
“I’m told Blaine was the one who ended the attacks. He didn’t orchestrate this.”
“Then he no longer has control over his own followers,” Arkus spat. “He’s caused nothing but harm. I want him gone.”
“I understand why you ask this, Arkus. Believe me, I do—”
“You don’t seem angered by it?”
“Oh, I am angry, so very angry. I think a part of me is always angry, I’m just not letting it take over me, as it once did.” He leaned forward, closer to the scrying orb until its bright swirling edges became painful to his eye. “I cannot promise how this will play out, but I can promise you this, with every fibre of my being, with every drop of blood in my heart; I will do whatever it takes to make things right between our peoples. I will bend, and I will gift, and I will draw up new treaties, and work with you and your Assembly until all the wrongs of the past are wiped clean. This I promise to do, once the war is won. Until Rectar is defeated, I cannot, will not sacrifice all the gains that we have made. I need Blaine to help me win this fight.
“I know I ask for a lot. I want my dragons to come home. I want to reunite their families. I want to begin settling our lands and building anew. Most of all, I want to take the pressure off your city. I know you will want your own soldiers in return for this, especially now, but until the war is over, I cannot do that. Surely you can understand that? As a sign of good faith, I will send back the survivors of the aggrieved Fifth Regiment and one other regiment chosen at random, unless you have a preference?”
Arkus ran a hand through his greying hair and he too stepped closer to the orb, until the painting of Ilana, the room and even Gellick were gone, and only Arkus’ lined face remained.
“You have asked me to understand a lot of things, Darnuir, both in this life and your last. The Assembly found out about the Bastion tunnels, I’m afraid. My Lords and wealthy merchants aren’t looking favourably upon your kind. You wish to rebuild your home, and they wish to rebuild their kingdom, to plant their own crops and return to some sense of normality. I fear if I give into your demands now, they will think me weak, and I have just suffered one rebellion. I cannot release your people.”
“They aren’t prisoners, are they?”
“Poor phrasing on my part,” Arkus said impatiently. “Your decision to send some of my soldiers home is a welcome one and may help your case with the Assembly, but I can make no guarantees. You ask much of me. And your people are already draining my resources.”
“Then send them home—”
But Arkus whipped back from the scrying orb at his end, his black robe billowing around him like a tempest.
“We are at an impasse, Darnuir. Until next time.”
He and Gellick stormed away, leaving only the bare room and the painting upon the wall. Darnuir lingered upon Ilana’s portrait a while longer, wondering about Cassandra and how she was faring in Brevia. He’d forgotten to ask. Perhaps next time.
Groaning, the pains in his joints and muscles still very real, Darnuir got to his feet and placed a hand upon the orb. The scene within it spun as the white mist expanded to engulf the space once more.
Well, it could have gone worse, he thought. Though how much worse he didn’t wish to contemplate. For all he willed that the animosity between dragons and humans might end, things had only frayed further. A part of him wished to send the humans back to Brevia before things got worse. Perhaps some time apart would cool the emotions between the races, as quarrelling lovers needed their space. Yet the fear of red eyes on black silhouettes haunted him from his fever dreams. Just dreams, he knew, but the fear was real. Despite reclaiming Aurisha, his people were weaker than ever; he was weaker than ever. And they needed humanity more than any dragon would ever admit.
“What would the wise ruler do?” he asked of the throne room.
He thought upon the last broken dream he’d had during his recovery. He was sure it had been a memory, mostly. Draconess had been careful and cautious to a fault, but he had held the alliance together. He reached out for help when needed and made Arkus and Kasselle feel a part of decisions. That would be something worth learning, but right now, Darnuir didn’t have the luxury of time. He would stick to the plan he’d concocted.
He rose and called: “Praetorians,” and two entered the throne room, a boy and girl, both only eighteen. He thought of them as far younger than himself, though he was only a few years their senior. Had it been right to recruit ones so young? They shared his vision, they too had grown up among humans, but he’d dragged them through horror and ill-conceived battles because he was their king; because he had thirsted for magic. He’d have to do better by them as well. They looked to him expectantly and he asked, “Have they arrived?”
“Yes, Darnuir,” said the girl, Arabel.
“Good. Send in Grigayne please, I will speak to them one at a time.”
Arabel moved to the door while the boy scurried up to haul the scrying orb out of the way. His name escaped Darnuir. I shall have to take the time to know them better too.
The heavy throne room doors swung open again and in stepped Grigayne. A group of islanders followed in his wake, all with axes at their waists or greater ones upon their backs. Grigayne looked casually around the hall, a little perplexed.
“I noticed many of your Praetorians are outside the Basilica.”
“They are a Guard and so they are guarding. I don’t need protection.”
“No, you don’t,” Grigayne said. “I admire your Praetorians for quelling those Light Bearers. Lira performed admirably in your absence but—” He moved his weight from foot to foot, clearly working up to something. “But she is not you. She could not command Blaine’s attention nor that of any of his kind. This is no fault of hers, it is his attitude and that of his followers. Back on the Splinters, Blaine and his men caused great harm as well. And so, before you say anything further, I fear I must make my position clear, as regrettable as that may be. In light of recent events, I doubt I can force my people to remain wh
ile Blaine and his fanatics are still at large.”
Darnuir’s heart sank. He should have expected this, but he’d barely got to grips with the events that had occurred on the Splinters. And now two powerful human lords demanded Blaine’s removal. But what could he do? They were equals, he and Blaine; and they would need to stand side by side to fight Rectar.
What would the wise ruler do?
“So, you wish to leave?” Darnuir asked.
“Give me a reason to stay. Is this new threat we’ve been warned of real?”
“I am certain it is real, although I have no proof to offer. To have trust in a spectre seems wild, but I don’t believe Dukoona lied to me, nor do I think he had lost his mind. If you wish to sail, that is your choice. But if you will stay, then I assure you that Blaine and his followers will be dealt with. They’ve gone too far. I cannot tolerate it.”
“Good,” Grigayne said. “I’d rather we didn’t leave before the end. I won’t have it said that the islanders didn’t play their part in the war for Tenalp. Brevia also needs reminding that we are strong.”
“I thought you were against independence for the Splinters?”
“What I am against is Brevia believing it owns us when it does not. We’re not just another region of the kingdom, no matter what Arkus might think. They combine their armies into one, while we stand on our own. It’s important. It matters.”
“Then I must thank you for staying,” Darnuir said. “I am sending the rest of the Fifth Brevian Regiment home and another company as a sign of goodwill. It would be only fair that the islanders have the same option—”
Grigayne scoffed and waved his hand. “We’re not so soft as the Brevians. Isn’t that right Captain Cayn?” He appealed to a gruff member of his company. Darnuir thought he recognised the one-handed man.
“Aye, right enough, lad,” said Cayn. “Not enough salt in their water, that’s what.”
Darnuir smirked and Cayn grinned widely. Grigayne looked pleased and visibly relaxed. He even took to scratching his beard.
“I must apologise, Darnuir. It was you who requested my presence.”
Darnuir nodded, hoping the friendliness he’d fostered would not be squandered. “I would like to ask a favour. We’ll need fresh supplies if we are to survive here. Food, armaments, clothing and armour, cloth for bandages, anything and everything. I do not think Arkus can be relied upon any time soon.”
Grigayne broke eye contact with him to stare at the floor instead, but Darnuir pressed on.
“The Splinters have already given so much, but if they would give more, such generosity would not be forgotten. I, at the very least, would personally owe you a debt.”
“I am not the one you must convince,” Grigayne said. “I’m afraid my father was less than amicable towards you after your hurried departure. Yet, we did not understand the full picture then… I’m sure I could convince him. If he understood more fully how this debt might be repaid.”
Darnuir wasn’t sure if this was the wise move, but it was the only one he could make. One that he had to make.
“I think the autonomy of the Splintering Isles would be well secured for the future with my backing.”
Grigayne’s nod was the most delicate of movements, but still a nod. “I would be hesitant to make guarantees. And I would need to remove a large portion of my fleet to accommodate a resupply, though I will take as little crew as I can. With spring fast approaching, the weather won’t be as gruelling.”
Feeling more relieved than he dared show, Darnuir stepped towards Grigayne, hand proffered for a shake. The heir to the Splinters shook it firmly, bowed courteously, and then made his way out.
Raymond entered as the last islanders left, looking downcast and dishevelled. He hadn’t shaven yet and was not in his steel. It made him look far smaller than usual, far from the haughty noble who’d looked down on Darnuir from atop his horse in Torridon. Now that truly felt like an age ago.
“Come, sit with me,” Darnuir said, gesturing towards the steps to the throne. “I’ll cut right to it. I need you to travel to Brevia.”
“You’re sending me away?” Raymond’s voice was thick with a sort of grim inevitability.
“For a purpose.”
Raymond sighed. “I understand. There is little I can do here. When it happened. I felt… so useless.”
“And where was I, exactly?”
“You know that’s different.”
“You’re human, Raymond. That isn’t a weakness. I’m sending you to Brevia because no one else will be better for this task. Not even myself. It’s not something that requires brute strength, but knowledge, tact, and I admit, connections.”
Raymond looked up, his brow furrowed. “What can I do?”
“Arkus and I are having difficulties finding common ground. It’s understandable in light of recent events.”
“You told him? So soon?”
“Of course. Long-held secrets have only damaged the relationship between humanity and dragons, and in any case, this will hardly be kept quiet. At some point, word will reach Brevia about it and I’d rather it came from me, king to king. I hope his anger is temporary, but I do need my dragons brought here. I must think in the long-term. I know there will be more fights to come, but it has already been months. Who knows when Rectar’s next attack will come? And we cannot survive by begging for rations. The Tail Peninsula needs to be repopulated, crops sewn, old lives pieced back together.”
Raymond winced. “We tried to send humans to the peninsula with equal numbers of legionaries to do just the same. It didn’t end well.”
“Hence, I need my people to return. It’s our lands and our task.”
Raymond nodded. “How can I help you in this?”
“You know the Lords of the Assembly, and you will have a far better chance of success than any dragon, including me. Tell them the truth: that the older dragons resist change, but the young are ready to embrace it; that you, a human, have stood alongside the King of Dragons in battle and given valued counsel. No, in fact, tell them more. Darnuir the King of Dragons sees Raymond of House Tarquill as a friend.”
“There’s no need for false flattery, Darnuir.” His voice was stiff. “And I cannot guarantee success in the Assembly. However, if duty requires it, I shall go.”
“Duty? Raymond, you are a free man. You owe me nothing more than you’ve already given. If you like, you could step off your ship in the Bay of Brevia and never look back. But I truly hope you don’t. I thought you wanted to join our cause?”
“I did, and I do,” Raymond hastened. “But partly it was because I had no place in the Chevaliers when you asked, and I have worried that your invitation was born out of guilt or pity.”
“Lira and I do not make invitations to the Praetorians lightly. In many ways, Raymond, you are my most valuable Praetorian. It’s one thing to want closer unity, it’s another entirely to take steps towards it. It’s been a hard fight that one, and I think I might be losing it. But I shall keep trying. Cosmo shared that vision too, and he died for it. I wonder if things would have been easier if he were still alive. Perhaps Arkus wouldn’t be so cold; perhaps he would have gotten through to me about my addiction before it had deepened. Perhaps our outlook wouldn’t be so bleak. Yet I have you. If you can convince the Assembly that there is no need for fear or bitterness, if you can bring my people home, then you’ll have done something a thousand dragon Praetorians could never do. This is the mission I give you. But, as I say, your path is yours to choose.”
“I shall try,” Raymond said. He smiled. “May I say, Darnuir, that you seem… different.”
“I think that’s for the best. Make what preparations you need. I intend for you to sail as soon as poss—”
“Bruce,” Raymond exclaimed. Darnuir blinked, unsure for a moment about who Raymond was referring to. “I doubt I can take him with me. Wil
l you ensure he’s cared for? I shall leave instructions.”
His horse, Darnuir realised. “He’ll be kept as well as can be.”
He considered telling Raymond that he’d send Bruce back west too, should he decide not to return. Yet withholding it may give Raymond more reason to come back. He loved that great beast. Darnuir would never hold the creature hostage, but he desperately did not want Raymond to stay in Brevia. He’d failed to build the multi-race Guard that he’d dreamed of and Raymond was the one glimmer of hope Darnuir held onto.
“Thank you, Raymond. That will be all for now.”
Raymond bowed, left, and was replaced by Damien. Where Raymond was dishevelled and grim-faced, the outrunner was nervous. His eyes were bloodshot, and he walked with the distinctive shuffle of the guilty.
“What is the matter?”
“My Lord Darnuir, I— I,” he choked on his words, in too much distress to get them out.
“Come sit with me.” He indicated the spot that Raymond had just vacated. Damien sat upon the step but averted his eyes from Darnuir, hanging his head low.
“Are you going to speak?”
“I think it might be my fault. I think I should have said something sooner. I never saw Blaine,” Damien said rather quickly. “I might have stopped it from happening.”
Darnuir was taken aback by his earnestness. It was not like a dragon, especially one like Damien who was older than the Praetorians. “How could you have stopped it? Those Light Bearers and legionnaires were mad. Who did you speak to if not Bla—”
“Bacchus, sire. I spoke to Bacchus. The Lord Guardian was asleep at the time, he told me. He didn’t let me take the stairs down to the Guardian’s Sanctum. He was quite forceful. I should have protested more but, well, I had no idea he would – oh, forgive me.”
Darnuir grasped Damien by the shoulder. “Whatever those dragons did is on them. There is nothing you could have done.”
But Damien shook his head. “I should have notified Prefect Lira immediately. Only I knew how exhausted Prefect Lira was, so I didn’t want to disturb her when I found her asleep.” The pace of his speech was rapidly increasing again. “Bacchus said only the faithful could enter the sanctum and he would take the message straight to Blaine. Another lie, it seems.”
The Dragon's Blade_The Last Guardian Page 15