The Dragon's Blade_The Last Guardian

by Michael R. Miller

  Where the light and power met, a pool began to form. It swirled and spiralled, like a Cascade Sink but far more beautiful and golden as a wheat field on a summer’s eve. Once formed it rose to twice the height of a man, extended wide enough that three could stand shoulder to shoulder inside it, and seemed to stretch forth like a well-lit road offering safety through the darkness.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Darnuir saw Blaine tentatively edge forwards. “What is this?”

  “A portal.”

  “To where?”

  “Beyond,” Darnuir said simply.

  The song that had filled his mind began to fill the real world, amplifying under the dome of the Basilica. Its sound was so pure that no mortal mind could have crafted it, no living throat could have sung it or plucked it on a crude string.

  “Now’s the time to find your faith again, Blaine.”

  Blaine looked upon the portal, his face struck with concern. “What about you?”

  Darnuir glanced to the Blades on either side of him. “I fear if I let go, the portal will collapse. I must stay until the end. No, Blaine,” he said, cutting the old dragon off before he could protest. “This is how it must be. Go now, summon our people. They must leave, and we have precious time.”

  Chapter 40

  A KNIGHT AT HEART

  “Rise above the politics of the realm. You are the arm, you are the sword, you are the shield. Let other sons become the poisoned knives.”

  — From Nobles & Their Steeds: A Chevalier’s Compendium

  Cassandra – The Gates of Brevia

  THE NIGHT WAS warm. The city quiet. The ranks of dragons shuffling out through the city gates quieter still. Ironically, their plan to secure the city was also useful in escaping from it. Lord Clachonn’s loyal Chevaliers and hunters had little trouble in taking control of the gatehouse late at night, and all without a drop of blood being shed. Julian the dragon had been sent to gather his people from the city barracks, and what few soldiers there were had not felt like resisting. How Julian had been able to communicate what he was up to was still a mystery to her, but here the dragons were, marching meekly past them out of the city gates. She wondered if they knew where they were going. Or if they even cared. She pulled the hood of her cloak up, not to fight off a chill, but to try and avoid their hollow stares as they walked by.

  Another hooded figure approached her, though she knew this was the Queen.

  “All has gone as well as we could have hoped for,” Oranna said. “Time to go then?”

  “Has Olive arrived?” Cassandra glanced about even though it would be futile with so many people around. She was to bring Cullen down, though she had been late in meeting them in the palace grounds.

  “I assume so,” Oranna said.

  “You assume? We can’t just assume on this.”

  “We also can’t tarry,” Oranna said. She grabbed Cassandra’s hand.

  Cassandra wrested free of the grip. “I’m not leaving without them.”

  “Not everyone wants to anger their King,” Orrana said. “Perhaps she’s had cold feet.”

  “But Cullen—”

  “Is not your responsibility.”

  Cassandra scowled and Oranna seemed to sense she wasn’t going to convince her.

  “We have to go.” She made another attempt to pull Cassandra away, but she resisted.

  “I’m going back for him. You go on. I’ll catch up.” She ignored Oranna’s pleas as she began to run. There was no way she was leaving Cullen in Arkus’ hands to grow up as twisted as he’d become. With her nerves on edge, she barely noticed the journey back, nor the stairs up to the royal chambers. Cullen’s door lay open.

  “Olive?” Cassandra called before even rounding the doorframe. “Olive, come on. We’re going now and—” her breath stuck in her throat. Gellick Esselmont was standing behind the crib and was pointing a pistol right at her.

  “Hello, Princess,” he said in a hushed voice. He raised a finger to his mouth. “Quiet now, the little prince is sleeping.”

  Olive lay spread-eagled on the floor at his feet, her face covered with a wild tangle of her hair.

  “Is she?”

  “She’s alive. I only knocked her out.”

  Cassandra stifled a snort of anger. He’d gone too far this time – the pompous prick. Furious, she reached for a sword she didn’t have. That angered her more, and she stifled a squeal of annoyance.

  “What do you think you’re doing?”

  Gellick was breathing hard, sweat gathering at his hairline. His injured shoulder still caused him an imbalance, forcing him to lean on the crib. Perhaps he wasn’t in his right mind? As well as the sling on one arm, he looked a mess; his eyes two sleepless chasms.

  “All I can do in service to my King,” he said. “I cannot stop you all from leaving the city, I’d be a fool to try it. We have too few men left here and Clachonn had more in his service than we anticipated. But I can stop you taking the baby.” Both he and Cassandra looked momentarily to Cullen. He continued to sleep peacefully, unaware of the instrument of death pointing at his aunt.

  “Why are you doing this?”

  “My sister could still marry Cullen instead, she’d just have to wait a while longer that’s all. Father would be happy enough with that.”

  “You’re not seriously going to shoot me to achieve that, are you?” She fought to keep her voice calm, her tone confident, but inside she was a fearful wreck. She didn’t think Gellick, Arkus’ most loyal man, would shoot his King’s daughter. But his finger might slip. Or he might have snapped enough to do it anyway. The world had turned mad enough for such things to happen.

  “Not unless you force me to,” Gellick said. His arm shook and he winced in pain. That didn’t fill Cassandra with confidence.

  “Put the gun down, Gellick.” She took a tentative step forward.

  “Stop right there,” he said. He cocked the hammer of the pistol. “You shouldn’t be so sure of yourself. Killing you would give Arkus no choice but to name Cullen his heir, so it would work out better for my family were I to do it.”

  “And when Arkus finds out it was you who killed me?”

  “There are no witnesses.”

  “So, go on then,” Cassandra spat. “What’s stopping you?”

  Gellick’s lip curled up into a sneer. “I know you think I’m some brute, carrying out your father’s orders, but that doesn’t mean I relish death. Oh, don’t give me that look,” he said in answer to Cassandra’s scowl. “If you’re referring to Boreac, then he was a self-confessed traitor. And the dragons? They attacked the city. Ravaged the Rag Run. I was there. I saw it. I couldn’t just let them escape afterwards. No,” he said sharply. “No, I did what was right.”

  Cassandra took a bold step forward. She wasn’t leaving the only blood relation that didn’t make her feel sick behind. A dozen insults sprang to mind but she held her tongue. There was no point in provoking him.

  “Did you ever question any of it?”

  “Never.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “And what if he ordered you to murder in cold blood. Kill the innocent. Even children.”

  “He’s never given such an order.”

  “You won’t have heard what’s happened in the east. Arkus is killing the dragons. All of them. He’s going to wipe them off the face of the world.” She let the news hang in the air for a moment. “What do you make of that?”

  Gellick did his best to remain stony-faced but she saw it; a moment of torment flashed in his eyes. “I’m sure those beasts deserved it.”

  “Darnuir, their King, defeated Rectar, at great cost I suspect, only to have Arkus betray him. Is that deserved?”

  “They ate humans during the riots, Cassandra.”

  “They saved the world.”

  “I told you to stop,” Gellick said. “Don’t co
me any closer. I mean it.”

  Cassandra had crept towards the side of Cullen’s crib, close enough that she might make it to Gellick in a few lunges if she dared. He kept the pistol trained on her, the barrel a black eye of death following her every movement.

  She swallowed fresh nerves and risked pressing him further. “Do you wish you were out there now? Helping?”

  Gellick’s cheek twitched. “I told you, I don’t relish it. Their legionnaires would be one thing but their children too?” He glanced down at Cullen. Cassandra chanced annother inch forward. “Thane was bad enough,” he said, not looking up. “And there were so many Thanes in the streets that day. I never want to see a dead child again. No stop,” he snapped, registering Cassandra’s movements. He fully extended his arm, thrusting the pistol out as far as he could reach. “Damnit, Princess. Don’t force me.”

  “No one forces you to do anything.”

  “Maybe he doesn’t make you do things,” Gellick said. “You don’t see the side of him that I do.”

  “I do, Gellick. I do,” Cassandra said. As she spoke, she took two more steps, emerging around the crib on the same side of him. “Arkus is a broken man. I’ve seen that. Felt that. Does he threaten you?”

  “No,” Gellick said, sounding shaken. “Not directly. But my family is the last to stand unharmed. All the others have fallen. Only the Clachonn’s are safe because of the Queen.”

  “So, you think getting your sister betrothed to Cullen will spare your family?”

  “It worked while she was betrothed to Thane,” Gellick said. He took a step forward to close the gap between them. The barrel touched her brow.

  Cassandra froze. Shut her eyes. Her breath came in heavily through her nose, her fists clenched, her whole body tightened. Her heart was about to explode. Yet, through it all, a defiant part of her rose and she rose with it, straightening to her full height, pressing back against the gun.

  She forced her jaw to work. “Do it then.”

  Gellick did nothing. Said nothing. A tremble ran from her forehead as the pistol began to shake.

  “Put it down,” Cassandra said. Her voice was high, close to tears. “Too many horrible things have happened already. Wouldn’t you want a chance to escape all of this? Don’t condemn a baby to live with a monster. Let me go. Let me take him away.”

  Gellick made a choked sound but still nothing more. The pistol pushed harder against her and she felt a tear roll down her check, into her mouth. It was warm and salty, and it might be the last thing she ever tasted.

  “You’re right,” Gellick said.

  The pressure on her brow lifted. Her muscles unwound, and she sighed in relief.

  When Cassandra opened her eyes, she saw Gellick was handing the gun to her. “I have no right to ask a favour of you, but if it looked like there was a struggle, and I at least tried to stop you, it might help.”

  Cassandra took the pistol, holding it by the barrel like a hammer. The weight in her hand felt good. She’d always pictured a moment like this, yet now it came it didn’t feel anything like she’d imagined. It wasn’t the same when you were on the same side.

  “You’ve done the right thing, Gellick. I won’t forget it.” Then she cracked him across the face with the butt of the gun. He spun away, hit his head on the nearby wall and crumbled to the floor. He was still breathing but he did not stir.

  A smear of blood, like a red rain, streaked across the painting of the sweet fairy family and their baby acorn.

  Her shoulder rang from the impact of the blow. She dropped the gun, and her breath came in shuddering heaves. If it hadn’t been for Cullen, she wouldn’t have risked that.

  The commotion had finally woken Cullen up and he announced his displeasure to the world. Cassandra dove for her nephew, trying to calm him but to no avail. The sight of the two bodies on the ground distressed him; a new experience he did not greet with laughter.

  Cassandra waited until he was settled before she contemplated moving. She didn’t want to wake up any more of the palace if she could help it. She looked about for Cullen’s bag, which Olive should have had with her. It lay across the room from Olive, perhaps tossed wildly in some struggle. Cassandra bent delicately for it with one arm, keeping Cullen upright in the other, though he was getting heavy for that now.

  With the baby’s bag strapped over one shoulder she guessed she should go. But what about Olive? She couldn’t just leave her.

  A muffled sound of heavy greaves on carpet came from the corridor.

  Cass ducked low for the pistol. There was still a loaded shot in it if needs be.

  The boots clunked into the room and Cassandra sprang up, pointing the gun at the doorway.

  “Merrick,” she gasped, relieved to see him. Julian bounced in behind, his jovial smile vanishing when his eyes fell upon the bodies.

  “Oranna wanted to wait for you,” Merrick said, “But Lord Clachonn insisted they had to go. We volunteered to come back.” He looked to Gellick apprehensively.

  “I just knocked him out,” Cassandra said.

  Merrick stepped to Gellick’s side, placed two fingers on his neck. He stood back up and gave the body a firm kick.

  “Just to check,” he said.

  Julian sniggered.

  “Let’s just go,” Cassandra said. “Julian, can you carry Olive?”

  Julian gave a nod and a mock salute then scooped Olive up as easily as a bundle of rags.

  They got on their way, and with every barrier they passed Cassandra felt like more weight had been lifted from her; through the palace gates, ushered quickly through the broken city gates, past the boundaries of the former dragon camps, until they joined the slow-moving train of people beating a path northwards through dark country.

  She had no intention of ever returning to Brevia.

  Chapter 41

  ALL THINGS END

  “My body wanes and soon I shall leave for N’weer’s embrace. My king feigns sorrow, my successor toes the line. No matter. I have left behind the means to reinstate our might. Dragons will prevail. The Shadow shall fade.”

  — Personal writings of the Guardian Norbanus

  Darnuir – The Basilica of Light

  OUT OF FEAR of losing the connection, Darnuir had stood firmly in place for two days. This pure form of magic was more than enough to sustain him. How it would affect him once he let go; well, it didn’t matter.

  Lira and Blaine stood ahead near the portal’s entrance, directing and observing their people through it. Dragon after dragon traipsed into the spiralling light, vanishing as though they were sinking beneath an impenetrable ocean. Outrunners had entered the portal carrying Damien’s body, and Darnuir hoped a more fitting resting place awaited him on the other side. The dragons marched in twos, nice and orderly; he had commanded there to be no rush that would risk trampling the elderly or weak. There was still time until Arkus would arrive, or at least there had been when they began.

  Lira suddenly frowned at something behind Darnuir. Not able to turn around and face the long nave of the Basilica, he was unable to see who was approaching, though from the speed of their feet, it must be an outrunner.

  “Bring your message to me,” Darnuir called.

  The outrunner arrived, looking shaken. “The humans are on the horizon. They will be here before day’s end.”

  Darnuir nodded, glad that he hadn’t let the Outrunner proclaim his message to all and cause a panic. He caught Blaine’s eye and his grandfather came quietly over.

  “Arkus will arrive by the end of the day,” Darnuir told him. “I don’t want a stampede, but we must pick up the pace.” Blaine nodded and moved off to spread the word around the former Light Bearers and Praetorians. It was only a temporary solution. Once the humans marched into sight from the plateau, there would be little he could do to prevent fear from rising. He just hoped enough of his peopl
e would make it through before then.

  He didn’t want this strange peace to end so soon either. Having this purer magic beat through him, as if it came from his own heart, was more soothing than anything he’d felt before. As the melody infused him, he felt as though no wrong could be done.

  Before long, Grigayne Imar appeared before him, red faced and breathless. “Arkus will be upon the city soon. The last of my ships must leave now. Anyone else who wishes to come is welcome.” He looked around expectantly. No one moved. “So be it, I await Raymond and then we’ll g—”

  A clatter of hooves announced Raymond’s arrival up the hall. He appeared in seconds within Darnuir’s line of sight, Bruce neighing appreciatively at being in service again. Grigayne opened his mouth to greet Raymond, yet the Chevalier rode right on past, reining his horse in before Lira and almost tripping himself up in his haste to dismount

  Raymond dropped to one knee before Lira, a nervous look in his eye. He presented her with a wooden doll that Darnuir had never seen before.

  Lira gasped, taking it and holding it close to her chest. “I’d nearly forgotten. Thank you.”

  Raymond struggled for words. He gulped then took her hand. “Stay in this world. Do not leave, I beg it.”

  “I—” Lira began but Raymond was rambling on.

  “I know Darnuir is your King and you must all do as he insists, but please, deny him this one thing. The world will be darker without your race and my own world will be darker should you go. Stay here. If not for me,” and his voice trembled now, “If not for me, stay for your mother. She’s still west somewhere, I’m sure of it. We can find her together. You’re young. You still have a life you can lead and a reason to—”

  Lira threw up a hand, biting her lip. She looked at him intently, as though he were the only person in the world. Darnuir could imagine the battle waging behind her eyes: to stay behind with those she loved or walk into the unknown? Put that way, it didn’t seem like much of a choice, and from the smile now spreading across her face, Lira agreed.