The Dragon's Blade_Veiled Intentions

by Michael R. Miller

  “Yes, I would do anything,” is what she said in answer.

  “So, you understand?” Foulis said.

  “I do, but you need to understand that you’re caught,” Cassandra said. “Your intentions don’t excuse what you’ve done and I need Boreac to fulfil a bargain with my father. Yet he doesn’t need to know all the details. So, if you talk to me, tell me it true, then I’ll forget all about you.”

  “You swear?”

  “I swear.”

  Foulis sighed. “Very well. Don’t suppose I have many options…” He massaged his head a little before continuing. “Boreac took what evidence I had surrounding the death of Captain Morwen. He was very interested in the cargo Morwen was carrying. He wanted it intercepted; swapped or stolen.”

  Cargo meaning black powder, Cassandra thought.

  “But something went wrong,” Foulis continued. “Everyone sent on the mission died, including the Captain. It was a disaster. I still don’t know what really happened. When Boreac asked me for the evidence I thought he wanted to make sure it was destroyed, but he never asked for what I had on that Captain Tael and that was plain murder.”

  “What haven’t you had your greasy fingers in,” Kymethra said. She was rubbing her head, nursing her arm, and looked too ashamed to face them.

  “Things got out of hand sometimes,” Foulis said. “Especially when Scythe got involved. I breathed easier when he took Tael’s place in the south. Good riddance, I thought. He always made my blood run like ice.”

  “And in your position you could arrange for any of Boreac or Scythe’s supporters to be placed in any region they wished,” said Cassandra.

  “That was why they came to me,” Foulis said. “I had my uses. Even stuck in here.”

  “That could be a lot of names to incriminate,” Cassandra said.

  “You want them?” Foulis asked.

  “No,” Cassandra said. “Enough blood has spilt, and I suspect many of them died at the Bastion. I’m more interested in why Boreac would want those papers on Morwen.”

  “He seemed to think it would help him gain sanctuary with the dragons,” Foulis said. Then he laughed, in a slightly hysterical way. “Maybe he was losing it. I doubt the dragons would be happy to take him in once it comes out he was involved in all this.”

  “That’s where he’s going?” Cassandra asked. “He thinks the dragons will keep him safe?”

  “He seemed confident enough,” Foulis said. “Must be right desperate to avoid Arkus if he’s turning to them.” He grinned, perhaps enjoying the thought of Boreac turning up outside a legionary camp, begging for mercy.

  Cassandra felt this was coming together. “And you don’t know where he might be, right now?”

  “Could be rowing with one paddle across the sea for all I know,” Foulis said. A droplet of blood seeped from his eye. He wiped it away and his eyes widened in alarm at the red smear on his fingers. “Not sure how I explain this to the healers.”

  “One last thing,” Cassandra said. She pulled out the little lead sphere from a pouch at her belt. “Do you know what this is?”

  Foulis squinted. “Not a clue.”

  Well, he couldn’t know everything. He’s been through enough.

  “We will take our leave now,” Cassandra said. She looked to Kymethra. “Can you manage?”

  “I can walk,” Kymethra grumbled, getting to her feet. She looked a shadow of her former self. No radiance, no cheeky sparkle in her eye – just a lifeless husk where Kymethra had once been.

  Cassandra went to pick up her sword. She demanded the belt from Kymethra, strapped it around her own waist, and then sheathed the blade with a satisfying snap.

  “I’m sorry for all you’ve been through, Ralph Foulis,” she said. “I’m sorry the world has left your family behind. If it helps in any way, I do not think we shall ever need to meet again.”

  “And you’ll forget about me, yes?”

  “The very moment we leave this room,” Cassandra said, giving Kymethra a very hard glare. Then, Cassandra turned, and took her leave; Kymethra trailing behind her.

  Chapter 25

  BLOOD ON THE SAND

  Before Dranus led his exiles to settle near Kar’drun, there were no inhabitants of eastern Tenalp. Then came the Third Flight. Forests were felled, cities raised and a great road laid from north to south. The Crucadil Road was meant for trade, but armies have used it more. Some fairies dream of restoring the landscape, but the east has been irreversibly altered, even more so than the west.

  From Tiviar’s Histories

  Darnuir – the shores of the east

  GOLDEN SAND, TEAL waters, an autumn breeze; the shoreline might have been a welcoming sight had swarms of demons not marred it. Darnuir squinted against the sunlight reflecting on the water. Demon numbers were impossible to gauge, but the black masses stretched all along the coast. They couldn’t know where Darnuir and the legions would land, so had covered as much ground as possible.

  Darnuir was glad for the initial advantage that would grant, as it allowed them to press all their force into one smaller point and punch a hole in the demon lines. However, it would be easy for Dukoona to ensnare the legions once they landed, if he wasn’t careful.

  We’ll be harried all the way to the gates of Aurisha and then we’ll have to scale the walls of our own city. Unless the spectres just invite us in.

  But he didn’t want that. Not really.

  He needed an excuse to draw on the Cascade. Aside from the mystery of Dukoona’s actions, it was why he was here.

  He drew a breath, held it and let it go through his nose. A fresh wave buffeted the ship and sent spray into his face. Wiping away the water, Darnuir turned back to his Praetorians, readying themselves on deck. Lira’s eyes looked sunken with tiredness and Raymond’s were half closed, blinking rapidly to fend off sleep.

  “How are the troops?” Darnuir asked.

  “As well as can be,” said Lira. “It’s not been an easy journey.”

  “The demons are truly without art,” said Raymond, picking at a splinter in his left palm. The ships left behind by the demons near Dalridia were crude, unfinished dragon galleys.

  “It’s been cramped and hard rowing,” Darnuir said. “But comfort and war rarely mix. Time is limited. I want to hit the demons before their spectre overlords have a chance to prepare properly.”

  “Prepare?” Raymond questioned. “I thought there was some schism amongst them.”

  “That’s what we can gleam from Grigayne’s testimony,” Darnuir said.

  Or this is all some ploy, and I’ve played right into Dukoona’s hands?

  Lira opened her mouth as though to speak but stopped herself short.

  “Speak your mind, Lira,” Darnuir said.

  “It doesn’t matter. We’re here now.”

  “My gut tells me something is amiss with the spectres,” Darnuir said, loud enough for all the Praetorians to hear. “Enough to think we might be able to take advantage of the situation, in one way or another.”

  Lira pointed behind him, out towards the shore. “If Dukoona wants to talk, he’s brought quite the welcoming party.”

  “We have as well,” Raymond said. “Seven legions, if I’m not mistaken.”

  “Seven legions, but not all at full roster,” Lira said. “Not after the Bastion and lifting the siege at Dalridia. The legates—”

  “The legionary legates have not voiced any concerns,” Darnuir said.

  “The legates are good dragons who would never talk back to you,” Lira said. She hesitated but kept her head held high. “You told me you wanted me to speak my mind.”

  “And I do.”

  “You were a hunter once as well,” Lira said. “No squad leader would take risks like this. Not without questions from the rest.”

  “This is different.”

  “It is?” Lira asked. “Lives are at stake.”

  “We’re an army,” Darnuir said, “Fighting another army, a much larger army. We’re not
five hunters in the cold and the dark, stalking a lynx that’s strayed too far from its den. It’s a risk, but one I’m sure we have to take.”

  “Can we really take such chances?” Lira said. “So far we’ve pulled through half on luck and half on the efforts of Brackendon.” She was looking Darnuir right in the eye. “Castallan wanted you to run right to him and you did.”

  “If I hadn’t, Castallan would have finished Brackendon off.”

  “Or he could have taken the Dragon’s Blade and killed us all,” said Lira. “You didn’t think. You went to get that girl.”

  They think I’m being too reckless.

  “I told you the reasons why we had to get Cassandra,” Darnuir said. A heat licked at his throat and the door to the Cascade in his mind quivered. How he longed to feel it course through every inch of him.

  “The alliance, yes,” said Lira. “But you risked everything for it. You didn’t consider the bigger threat. Or you did but just wanted to get her back.” She seemed to know she’d taken a step too far then. Maybe it was the look Darnuir was giving her. His vision had turned to two narrow slits.

  Raymond took a brave step between them. “Darnuir took a chance taking the humans from Torridon to Val’tarra. That was worth it.”

  “I’m not questioning every decision,” Lira said. “We’d have failed at the Charred Vale had the spectres not fled, and they did so because you killed Scythe.”

  “It was reckless, I won’t deny it,” Darnuir said. “But there seemed to be few options.”

  “You were angry as well,” said Lira. “Because Scythe killed Cosmo. He baited you. Like Castallan baited you. Both wanted your sword. This might be the same thing.”

  “If I may,” Raymond began, “it seems to me that it is the enemy who has taken the greater gamble this time. If this is some manoeuvre, we could have ignored it and focused on retaking the Splinters with ease.”

  “Something is off, that much is certain,” Lira said. “The battle at Dalridia went too smoothly.”

  “I’m taking another gamble,” Darnuir said. “An even bigger one. But it’s not all about the spectres. By the time, we have cleared the Splinters and waited on Arkus’ full fleet, winter might make the crossing too difficult for a full invasion.”

  “Yes, the weather can be frightful,” Raymond said, if a little stiffly.

  Darnuir understood how pathetic that excuse sounded now. He looked around his Praetorians. Armed to the teeth, they stood silently, mouths pressed into thin lines. They would fight, he knew. Lira too. They would not abandon him. Every dragon in the legions would swim ashore if he ordered it. Yet that was the problem.

  Have I chased battle and doomed us all?

  “Caution drove us from our homes,” Darnuir told them. He had not revealed to the Praetorians yet what Blaine had told him. Some knowledge would be best kept among only a few. “I remember my father, kneeling, praying, and waiting. That time has long past. Are we to miss this chance to take back Aurisha?”

  “Caution also allowed Castallan to spread rot in the Dales,” Raymond said.

  Lira gave a short sharp sigh. “One day our luck might run out.”

  “It won’t matter where we are when that happens,” Darnuir said. “And it is too late to turn back now. Will you fight?”

  “Of course,” Lira said, pulling her bow more securely onto her shoulder.

  “Good. The legates know the signal?” Darnuir asked.

  “Those six who’ll be still at sea,” said Raymond. “Legate Atilius and the Fifth Legion will be joining us for the landing. They were less than enthusiastic about hearing it from me, however.”

  “They will learn to deal with you or I shall find new legates,” Darnuir said. “To the boats now.”

  Once on the sea, Darnuir’s boat cut towards the shore. He was crouched at the bow, trying to assess the situation. Closer to land, he saw a series of great wooden columns, far taller than a single tree could be outside of Val’tarra. They were well positioned across the land, heading south towards Aurisha.

  Those will cast impressive shadows.

  He turned around. Praetorians rowed and looked eager now the battle was close to hand. Lira was on another boat on the starboard side, but Raymond was here, encased head to toe in his Chevalier armour.

  “One day I shall see you in action with your horse,” Darnuir said.

  “Bruce shall be happy to get into the action himself,” Raymond said. “I spoiled him with apples and carrots for days after the stress of Inverdorn.”

  Darnuir laughed. “Do you wish you were back in that velvet waistcoat?”

  “Never,” Raymond said, slamming his visor shut.

  Darnuir returned his attention to the shore, itching for the battle to begin. The first stones from the demon catapults launched at them, crashing into the sea. In the shallows before the shore, they sent up torrents of water. Darnuir shielded his eyes against a salty splash that soaked their boat. He spat a mouthful out and pushed wet hair off his face. Far behind came screams and the sound of breaking wood.

  Black barbed arrows followed once they were almost ashore. Calls for shields rang. Darnuir brought up his arms to cover his face; the starium-coated armour would provide protection. Yet few arrows came close. As he lowered his arms, keeping his head bowed low and glancing each way, he saw few casualties. Several dark shafts shot into the water between his boat and Lira’s.

  Are they holding back?

  The boat began to slow into the sand. Shrieks met them as demons pelted out from trenches and behind fresh dug mounds. Darnuir rose from his crouch, drew the Dragon’s Blade and launched it up the beach. It burst through the closest demons in an explosion of smoke.

  “Secure the landing!”

  Leaping off the boat he hit the soft sand: the first dragon to set foot in the east since the fall of Aurisha. Praetorians flanked him, loosing arrows against the oncoming demons. The Dragon’s Blade returned to his open hand.

  Darnuir opened the door to the Cascade and felt a kick at the back of his head; it cricked his neck and he charged up the beach.

  Enhanced with magic, he soon outstripped everyone else with his speed. Rusty knives and blades scraped uselessly against his armour. Darnuir carved his way through the demons, letting the Cascade run like a river. But it didn’t feel the same. He did not feel the same high as Castallan had pushed him to. His body wanted more; needed more.

  With a great effort, he resisted throwing the door open wider.

  I must hold back. I must try.

  There seemed to be no end of the demons. They leapt frog-like from behind their fellows, flying over Darnuir’s head towards where the Fifth Legion would be landing. Even with his strength and speed, advancing up the banks of the beach was becoming a crawl. He thought he heard Lira shouting but couldn’t tell over the blood now thumping through his head.

  This crush wasn’t normal. Demons liked to swarm, spread out, stay mobile, yet here they were pressing against each other. One of the oversized columns cast its shadow right into the horde. A spectre appeared in the middle of it all. Grinning, it motioned for Darnuir to follow before vanishing. The demons descended into a frenzy.

  Darnuir swung the Dragon’s Blade around to clear room to breathe.

  “For Brevia,” chanted Raymond, swishing his sword elegantly yet precisely to block two demons at once. The din of battle grew louder behind him. The Fifth were coming in force. Darnuir grunted in shock as a black arrow snapped off the dragon head on his right shoulder. He wanted to unleash fire upon the demons, but the fight was becoming so crushed he feared it might burn his allies as well.

  More spectres appeared in the fight but did not get close to the action. Darnuir lunged at them each time, only to watch them flee. One with flaming green hair gestured Darnuir to follow before melding off in the blink of an eye.

  Eventually, he waded to the end of the beach. A series of wide, deep trenches was supposed to slow their advance. More rocks fell from the sky. A jagged pie
ce bowled into the demons’ own ranks before continuing into the golden line of dragons. The sound of crunching bones and metal was stomach churning.

  Or perhaps that was more the effect of the Cascade. Darnuir’s arm was shaking now, for he had not let up; drinking in the euphoria. One of the youngest Praetorians went down from two arrows to his neck, and the smell of the blood only pushed him further.

  His eyes widened and he no longer blinked. The battle was on him. It was all he could feel.

  “Into the trenches,” he cried before jumping down. He had no sense if anyone was actually following or how far in front he was. In a fury, he tore through this first ditch, coming across a demon catapult. Its crew barely noticed his sword before it ended them. He took his fist to the machine, smashing it with ease.

  He was in a trance, drunk on excessive rage. Every spectre that eluded him only made him reach for more magic and more anger. Livid, he jumped six feet from a standing start to chase spectres over the edge of the trench. They had vanished, but a hunk of rock did collide into the ground in front of him.

  He couldn’t react in time.

  The stone shattered against his armour and the impact blew him back. He landed face down in the trench, tasting dirt and rancid demon blood. Hot pain burned in his lower chest.

  A hand took him by the shoulder and he reacted quicker than a beat of his thundering heart.

  With a fresh draw on the Cascade, he flipped himself around, then up.

  He met Lira’s grey eyes.

  His hand was at her throat.

  She struck his head with the hilt of her sword. He spun away, biting his own tongue and tasting blood. She was screaming something at him but he barely heard.

  What am I doing?

  He dropped the Dragon’s Blade and pressed a foot on it to keep it down. Underfoot it wiggled, trying to break free, but he set all his weight onto it. His arm ached as the poison welled up. And, from nearby, a swirl of shadow arose and a spectre took shape. This one had purple embers on its head.

  “Come. Dukoona awaits,” it croaked. It melded away before anything else could be said or done.

  His senses returned, still amplified by the magic pounding in his veins. Darnuir gasped for air as though coming up from under water. He smelled the very iron of the spilt blood, heard the rattling of demons from far up the beach, saw every hair on his arm shift in the breeze. Turning, his foot still on his sword, he saw Lira gutting one last demon. She mouthed something at him.