The Dragon's Blade_The Last Guardian

by Michael R. Miller

  “It does not seem dry enough for a fire to burn so wildly through the streets,” Hara said.

  “No, it does not,” said Raymond. A chill ran through him. “Let’s focus on our mission. We can enquire as to what happened in due course.”

  The lack of activity began to prove a problem for the ship’s captain and helmsman as they debated which dock they ought to make for. Eventually, the man in the crow’s nest reported torches being waved ahead and they assumed this was to be their destination. As the crew brought the ship into position, Raymond and saw that a large welcoming party was assembling.

  Black clad hunters multiplied in number, until over thirty of them stood in wait. Raymond’s sense of foreboding deepened. Darnuir might have messaged ahead to Arkus to inform him that Raymond was being sent to the city, but Arkus could surely have no way of knowing the exact time of his arrival, or the vessel for that matter. And would so many hunters be necessary to greet them?

  When at last the gangway was lowered, Raymond informed the captain that he would deal with the hunters and walked with confidence from the ship, flanked by Harra and Camen. He reminded himself that he had nothing to fear: he was a human, a former Chevalier. His family were of the highest tier of merchants. This was merely Arkus’ way of making a show of strength.

  Ten of the hunters stepped forward to meet him; men and women armed with a full quiver, two knives and a sword. Each also bore a strange looking instrument that Raymond was not familiar with: a wooden tube with a curved handle hanging at their hips. Leading the group was a hunter with auburn hair who Raymond thought he recognised, yet couldn’t quite place. The black eye, didn’t make it any easier. His leathers were white and grey, so he was of the Boreacs, but what had he just been through? Were those rips made by a hand or a claw? Now he looked at the hunters more closely, Raymond saw they all bore signs of a recent struggle; small wounds, a hardened look in their eyes.

  “A Chevalier amongst dragons,” the lead hunter said. “You must be Raymond.”

  “Raymond of House Tarquill, at your service. Though you seem to have me at a loss,” he added, stepping forward with a hand outstretched.

  The hunter eyed his hand but did not take it. “I do not believe we ever formally met. I’m Balack. Just, Balack.”

  “What has happened here?” Raymond asked, but the looks the hunters were giving Harra and Camen gave him an idea.

  “Best avoid that topic,” Balack said. “Why are you here?”

  “Did Darnuir send word of our coming?”

  “Not that I am aware of.”

  Raymond glanced over towards the highly armed men and women. “Quite the welcoming party nonetheless.”

  “Let’s hope they remain welcoming,” Balack said. He sighed, then hung his head. “We’re all a bit on edge. And exhausted. Please don’t make this take longer than it needs to be. Why are you here, Raymond?”

  “Darnuir has sent me to speak to the Lords’ Assembly on his behalf. Specifically, to—” he paused, unsure how much he should say in front of random hunters. Did they know of events in Aurisha?

  “To what?” Balack encouraged.

  “To open up more direct communication with the Assembly and to escort two Brevian regiments home as a sign of good faith in our alliance.” He felt that being vague yet positive was best in the current atmosphere.

  “And two whole regiments fit onto that one ship, do they?” Balack said.

  “The rest of our flotilla is anchored out to sea. At your leave, my ship will return to them and signal they may enter the bay.”

  The hunters fidgeted restlessly at this, some gripping their weapons. Balack turned sharply around, indicating they stand down.

  “He said human regiments. Calm yourselves and learn some sense. Darnuir has not sent legions to attack the city, nor would he ever make such an order.” He rounded on Raymond. “You may come ashore, Raymond, but I’m afraid your companions cannot.”

  “And why is that?” Harra asked.

  “A matter best discussed quietly,” Balack said. “Away from loaded pistols,” he added, casting a wary glance to the hunters he led.

  Camen, ever stern, said, “We come on behalf of our King. To deny us, is to deny him.” He pushed past Raymond and was immediately met with a dozen drawn weapons.

  Balack raised a hand. “Stop. Don’t move another inch or I will be forced to let them kill you. Dragons are no longer welcome in Brevia, I’m afraid.”

  “And why’s that?” Camen snarled.

  “Because the day before yesterday, the dragons encamped outside of the city rioted. We’re still counting the dead. They even attacked the palace itself. The place is on lockdown and the black flag of mourning flies. It is rumoured a member of the royal family was harmed.” He spoke these last words with some difficulty.

  Raymond’s mouth went dry. “What? How?”

  “Poor judgement, worse decisions, hearts inflamed by false words and stomachs left empty for far too long,” Balack said. “The fault lies on both sides so far as I’m concerned, but I’m afraid there can be no dragons in the city. Praetorians included.”

  “The issue of the refugees is why we are here,” Raymond said. “If you will allow us to entreat with—” he choked on his own breath. A terrible smell forced itself upon him with the change of the wind. A fierce breeze from the south brought a ripe foulness, of death, of burnt flesh and wood. Raymond pulled out his handkerchief and held it to his nose. Some of the hunters pinched their noses but Balack fought through it.

  “Whatever your mission was, you’re too late.”

  Raymond removed his handkerchief to speak freely. “I’m afraid I must try.”

  Balack looked resigned. “I cannot stop you entering, Raymond. Yet I cannot take you to the Assembly Hall or the palace. There is too much confusion and fear. You said you were of House Tarquill? From the Velvet Circle? Perhaps you should seek out home for now until matters cool down. I will take you there now, if you must insist upon continuing.”

  “I fear I must,” said Raymond. Gingerly, he addressed his companions. “Harra, Camen, will you remain aboard as requested?”

  Harra didn’t pay him any mind. She was staring intently at one of the strange new weapons being pointed at her.

  “What will that thing do?”

  “If I fire, it will blow your skull apart,” the hunter said.

  “You would dare draw blood? Camen said.

  “Your kind did so quickly enough.” There was a hardness in the man’s eyes that showed Raymond he would do it. He almost looked eager. Camen boldly met the hunter’s stare in a moment of challenge. Thankfully, it passed.

  Camen puffed out his cheeks. “I grieve for all who died in this disaster. Human and dragon both.” He turned and walked back up the gangway with heavy footsteps.

  Harra slumped her shoulders. “We had family in those camps.” She couldn’t say anymore so followed Carmen.

  The hunters eased their stances and lowered their weapons. Raymond looked over his shoulder at his companions, feeling guilty. Harra had hoped for a chance to hold her young sister. Was she even still alive? Camen would sit restless, unable to serve his King. Though it wasn’t Raymond’s fault, he felt responsible for their lack of entry.

  Steeling himself for the task ahead, he said, “If there is nothing else, then let us be on our way.” Balack fell in beside him and they made their way along the promenade, heading to the northern half of the city.

  The harbour was no longer the bustling hub of the Kingdom that Raymond remembered. Mostly, it was hunters or soldiers with few civilians to be seen. Other armed escorts were moving in close-knit groups like packs of fearful dogs. Not speaking, not stopping. Winding, steep stairs offered a shortcut to the Velvet Circle and Raymond took them out of habit, throwing off Balack who was veering towards the main roads. At the top of the stairs, before turning i
nto narrower streets, Raymond looked back across the bay. His ship had become small in the distance, but thankfully, there were no signs of a struggle.

  Balack cleared his throat. “Your friends won’t be harmed so long as they stay on board.”

  “You’ll forgive me if I’m not entirely reassured,” Raymond said. “Your fellow hunters looked positively passionate for a kill.”

  “You wouldn’t blame them if you’d been here when it happened,” Balack said. He rubbed his hands anxiously, cracking the odd knuckle. “I barely survived myself. I thought I’d burn alive in the Rag Run.”

  “Somehow you pulled through,” Raymond said, impressed that anyone had lived after fighting the dragons. “Your skills must be prodigious.”

  Balack shook his head. “They were starving, weakened; they had no weapons or armour, while we had plenty of both. Yet still it was terrible.” He stared off, lost in some painful memory. “Now we are away from prying ears, do you want to tell me the real reason you’re here?”

  Raymond decided it best to do so. This must be why Balack had asked to escort him alone.

  “Darnuir wants his people brought home. Yet now…” he trailed off. How on earth would this be resolved? Could it be? He began to walk again, hoping the movement would offer a stroke of inspiration. Balack hurried after him.

  Raymond said no more for a time, his mind reeling with the weight of this knowledge. It was the tragedy of Aurisha wrought a thousand times over. Could words possibly be enough to settle this disaster?

  After navigating the streets on the edge of the Royal Exchange, he stepped out onto the familiar boulevard leading to the heart of the Velvet Circle. No damage had been caused here at all. The rich had been spared. New leaves tentatively grew upon the trees that lined the wide, smoothed paved road upon which five mounted Chevaliers lay in wait. Breath rose from their great steeds in white clouds, and the sight of them sent a pang through Raymond.

  He missed his own horse. He hadn’t been so long apart from Bruce, and yearned for the quiet, peaceful hours that he spent grooming and tending to him. In leaving him behind in Aurisha, Raymond felt he’d broken an unspoken bond they shared. The dragons didn’t even have a proper stable to keep him in, leaving Bruce housed like a common gelding in that ruinous villa. Lira would keep him company, though the thought of her gave him a sinking feeling as well.

  Should he have ran after her as she’d walked away? Was he mad to think there might be something there? And why was the fear of being wrong in this matter more terrifying than facing down a horde of demons at Aurisha?

  The Chevaliers noticed him staring and lightly kicked their horses into a trot. They wore their steel and even their mounts wore a portion of their barding. Raymond recognised the closest rider, a recent recruit remarkable for his height and skinniness by the name of Crispin. He drew up his horse and looked down the length of his long nose.

  Raymond stared right back. “Your steel fits you well.”

  Crispin pursed his lips. “I thought you served the dragons now?”

  “I was invited to the personal guard of their king, and I am here on his behalf.”

  “We’re just passing through, Chevalier,” Balack said. “It would be best if we did not tarry.”

  Crispin threw Balack a dirty look but relaxed his shoulders. “You were a Chevalier once, Raymond, and by my measure that still counts for something.” A smidgen of the younger man’s reverence for older knights crept into his tone. “You may pass, of course, but understand that your new masters are no longer welcome here. If I were you, I would seek clemency from the White Seven and remain in the west before you become… tainted.”

  Raymond clenched his fist. Brats like Crispin made him regret his time as a Chevalier, yet he could hardly deny that his words bore a truth. His choice to return to Aurisha would mean much more than it already did.

  “My thanks for the advice,” Raymond said. “I shall rest easy battling our foes in the east knowing that the boulevard of the Velvet Circle is so well protected.” Before Crispin could react, Raymond raised his hands and indicated he wished to stroke Crispin’s horse. “May I?”

  Crispin was caught off guard, disarmed by the change in topic. He tilted his head to better gauge the mood of his steed. Seeming satisfied, he nodded. Raymond smiled and checked the horse’s mood for himself. It turned its head to face Raymond and its ears were pricked forwards towards him. A good sign. He reached out with both hands, lightly patting the horse on the shoulder. He gave it a good scratch up its neck and back down its mane, pushing lightly again at the shoulder to tell the horse he was leaving.

  Above, Crispin pulled gently on the reins. “If only one could deal with dragons so easily. Farewell for now, Raymond. I hope you make the right decision.” With that, the Chevaliers moved off. Raymond watched them go, feeling a longing and resentment all at once.

  “I hope I never sounded that condescending,” he said.

  “Oh, you were pretty damn condescending at Torridon,” Balack said.

  Raymond scowled. “You were there?”

  Balack hesitated. “I trained with Darnuir when we were young.”

  “You’re a friend of his?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Well,” Raymond said, turning sharply away. “I’d ask you not to mention that dreadful day.” He began walking at a pace up the boulevard. The hunter persisted.

  “I have a lot weighing on my mind,” Raymond said. “And I know the way to my own home, sir. So, unless you can somehow sway the Assembly for me, I’d rather be left alone.”

  Balack grabbed him by the arm, forcing him to halt. “I’ve already helped you,” he said in a hushed tone. “Any Chevalier or other senior hunter would have killed your friends on sight.”

  “So now thanks must be given for sparing innocent lives?” Raymond said. “What have we come to?”

  “We have come to a dangerous crossroads,” Balack said. “I fear this is the end of the alliance between dragons and humans. Arkus was never in favour of it, and few now will object to his way of thinking.”

  “All the more reason why the dragons should go home,” Raymond said.

  “Look. Arkus has the Assembly dancing to his tune for the most part, yet there are those who are not happy about it. There are forces in the city that are readying to oppose him.”

  “Are you one of those forces?” Raymond asked.

  Balack leaned in, though it was only the two of them upon the road. “I am torn, Raymond. I’ve seen children ripped apart and their bodies fought over. Things that turned my blood to ice. All I wanted to do was curl up into a corner and weep.

  “I do not know who I will stand with should the hammer fall, but I do know that the only hope we have of preventing further death is to send the dragons home. I didn’t act before when I should have. I ought to have tried to persuade the King to ship the dragons east long ago. I didn’t want to stir up trouble for myself. I acted as a coward would. But I’d rather fight for others again, as a hunter should. I won’t be idle anymore. If there is anything I may do to be of service, send for me at the Station.”

  Something in Balack’s eye left Raymond stricken. “I thank you for your offer. I may well have need of you for it seems the world is set against my success here. My training was to uphold honour and help those in need. This I intend to do, even if my Order has abandoned those values.”

  Balack smiled softly. “Do not be so hasty to dismiss your brothers. The Chevaliers fought valiantly during the riots, Gellick Esselmont most of all. I saw him run into a burning building to save a child. Had he not led his company into the thickest fighting in the Rag Run, I fear that few civilians would have lived.”

  Despite himself, pride rose in Raymond. “I am glad to hear my former brothers acted with honour. More than I thought them capable of. Thank you, Balack.”

  “I shall take my
leave now. I’ve said my piece, and I wish you well at home. Your father is well in bed with the King these days, but I suspect you know that better than most. Tread with caution and remember my offer.”

  “I shall,” Raymond said. They shook hands, firmly this time, and Balack departed.

  Raymond arrived at the gates to the estate shortly after. A venerable arched wooden doorway stood next to a drawing room extension built of black stone and sharp angles. Coupled with the brutal acquisition of the place, the modern extensions that Jasper Tarquill had imposed on the property had earned the Tarquill’s no favours amongst the blue blooded of Brevia. Raymond secretly agreed with the whispers on at least one front; the manor clashed and looked appalling.

  At the door, he rapped the brass knocker. Gyles, the family’s aging butler, answered it; a willowy fellow in a spotless velvet waistcoat, whose pale skin mirrored the grainy texture of the very door he was holding.

  “Master Raymond,” Gyles said without showing a hint of surprise. Raymond stepped over the threshold and sighed in relief from the warmth of the vestibule. He cupped his palms, breathed, and rubbed fresh life into his hands. It was then that he noticed he and Gyles were not alone in the hallway. There were perhaps half a dozen soldiers carrying larger versions of the new weapons he’d seen down at the docks.

  Raymond was shaken from his thoughts by Gyles, who coughed lightly.

  “Master Raymond, your boots are—”

  “They were cleaned yesterday.”

  “I’m certain, sir. Though I was intending to raise concern for the floor panelling. Her Ladyship only recently had new oak laid. Not that one more pair of boots will matter now…” His steely gaze turned to the soldiers.

  “What are they doing here?” Raymond asked in an undertone.

  “A measure from the King to protect members of the Assembly from further dragon uprisings,” Gyles began through gritted teeth. “Not that a handful would help, and not that your father couldn’t hire his own protection if he deemed it prudent.”