City in Ruins

by R. K. Ryals

  My eyes fell to the wolf at my side, my ears catching the distant sound of a falcon. Trees whispered beyond the castle walls.

  “When humans failed you, the forest nurtured and protected you. Where humans abandoned you, the forest gave you a home.”

  The trees’ words filled me, swirling through my heart, and I let my gaze slide to Gryphon’s. “I was not raised by man. Men disowned me. They abandoned me to circumstance. They killed the people I loved. They forced me into exile. Still, I fought. I fought because the forest asked me to, because the king of dragons inspired me. Tell me, brother, would we have won our war without the Medeisian gods, without the forest, and without the dragons?”

  “No,” Daegan murmured next to me, “we would not have.”

  His back went rigid, his palm meeting the table next to mine.

  Maeve’s palm followed his. “We sought Sadeemian assistance,” she said, “but we didn’t seek Sadeemian rule.”

  Gryphon studied me, his eyes sad. “You lost your prince. You lost the only blood claim your country had to the Medeisian throne. You have a big fight ahead if you believe you can convince your nation to accept a non-heir to the throne. Do you really believe they’d choose your gods over peace?”

  “By not accepting us, you weaken our stance against New Hope,” Mothelamew added.

  I glanced at Lochlen, and his yellow-green eyes met mine. His gaze gave me strength “No,” I disagreed, my eyes flicking to the mage. “By not respecting our wishes, you weaken yourselves.”

  “Infidels,” Eirick, a male scribe of Sadeemia, muttered. “You seek to destroy the country we helped you save.”

  Anger surged in my blood, and I felt it call to the gods, to the power I’d been working hard to learn to control. Thanks to Cadeyrn, I understood it much better than I had before.

  My hand fisted. Through the arrow slit windows, vines crawled, their movements sinister. Beyond the palace, wolves howled. Thunder clapped. No rain fell, but the skies darkened.

  “Call me an infidel if you must, sir,” I seethed, “but remember that power doesn’t come from the strong. It comes from the forgotten, from those who need to be heard. It comes from ancient roots, old texts, and nature.” My free hand fisted, and the table suddenly glowed, an ancient word appearing in the wood. The new power startled me, and I stared at the etched text.

  “By the gods,” Daegan gasped.

  My palm opened against the table as smoke rose from the word.

  “What does it say?” Catriona breathed.

  The word was Medeisian, an ancient one that was rarely used anymore.

  “Fight?” Maeve guessed.

  “Courage?” Daegan replied.

  “No,” Cadeyrn interjected. “It means wisdom.” The prince’s gaze moved down the table, his shoulders back, his gaze ending on mine. “Continue this stance, and we have two wars ahead of us. An imminent disagreement with New Hope and civil war.”

  “You’d weaken us so?” Gryphon asked me.

  My eyes locked with Cadeyrn’s. “Medeisia needs a tolerant ruler, Your Majesty. It is not our goal to weaken. Give us a ruler we can trust, and we will fight with you. We’ll die to protect our nation and yours.”

  We stared too long, his eyes studying my face. To those surrounding us, I hoped it looked like a power struggle and not what it really was; unresolved feelings and differing responsibilities.

  “I vote to remove the dragon and his consort from the council,” Madden said suddenly.

  “Aye!” Eirick agreed.

  “Aye!” Lucrais intoned.

  Cadeyrn’s gaze remained on me, his eyes full of unspoken words. He’d warned me this would happen. I wasn’t going to get Sadeemian support.

  “Would you rather a war with New Hope without the support of the Medeisians, or an internal war with the dragons?” I asked. I was banking on their fear of the Dracon.

  “I vote to remove the dragon and his consort from the council!” Madden repeated, his words full of fury.

  Cadeyrn continued to stare, his gaze finally sliding from mine to Lochlen’s.

  “They’ll remain,” he stated. “This council is weak. With New Hope’s threat, we cannot afford the enmity. I’ll keep your sentiments in mind, Prince Lochlen. Until the disagreement with New Hope can be resolved, I’ll remain in power in Medeisia. After that, we’ll put a vote to the people.” He glanced at me. “What you do then will be upon you.”

  I knew from his gaze that it was the best he could do. He was doing more than he should, and I wasn’t the only one to notice.

  “You have the right to dissolve the council now and make your own judgments,” Mothelamew fumed.

  Cadeyrn’s gaze swung to his teacher. “And who do you think the people of Medeisia would choose then?” he asked. “Do you believe they’d be content swapping one dictator for another? The council prevents civil war.”

  “This is madness,” Catriona hissed. “I’ll be expected to return to Henderonia before the baby’s birth.”

  Cadeyrn stiffened. “Which you shall. I’ll be leading a delegation to New Hope to discuss Dragern’s betrayal with my grandfather, King Brahn. We’ll make a landing in Henderonia.”

  “You’re leaving Medeisia?” I asked, the words slipping free before I could stop them.

  Cadeyrn didn’t look at me, and I knew I’d spoken out of turn.

  “In my absence, the dragon rex, Feras, will send delegates in human form to sit upon this council, to rule in my stead until such a time when a permanent ruler can be decided.”

  Lochlen nudged me with his shoulder, his words strange when he spoke. He’d switched to the dragon tongue. I couldn’t speak the draconic language, but I’d learned to translate most of it.

  “We can’t let them win this disagreement with New Hope without us,” he whispered.

  If Sadeemia gained the upper hand from New Hope without dragon and rebel involvement, Medeisia would lose esteem on the council.

  “We request to join the delegation,” I called. “There should be a Medeisian presence.”

  “Aye!” Daegan cried.

  “Aye!” Maeve agreed.

  “No—” Madden began.

  “You shall join us,” Cadeyrn interrupted. “We leave in less than a week. The situation with New Hope must be dealt with swiftly.”

  Yes, I thought, before the civil war in Medeisia begins.

  “I see a great puzzle,” the blind Artair said suddenly. “Squares and men.” He frowned, his blank gaze on me. “There are many surprises ahead.”

  His eerie, prophetic words rang through the room.

  Cadeyrn was in a peculiar position, his temporary leadership in Medeisia needed, his alliance with Henderonia depending on Catriona’s safe return to Henderonia and a healthy pregnancy, and his place in Sadeemia questionable while Freemont remained comatose. Truth was, the prince needed to be in several places dealing with more than one issue at a time which was impossible.

  A great puzzle … squares and men.

  A sudden thought struck me. Remember our chess games, Cadeyrn told me. The king is the most important piece in chess, but it is also the weakest. The queen, however, is the most powerful. It can be moved in any one straight direction.

  My gaze flicked to Catriona and then Cadeyrn. The prince used to baffle me, but I was beginning to understand him in ways I’d not understood him before. He knew politics, and he knew war. I wasn’t sure what he intended yet, but he was going to be using his queen. However, which queen? Was he planning to use Catriona or me?

  Chapter 6

  The palace was thrown into chaos, the preparations for sea travel to Henderonia and New Hope no simple task. There was no easy way to board a ship in Medeisia. The waters around the cliffs near the sea were too tumultuous, the waves violent, the sprays painful. It was as if the country and the ocean were angry at each other. Boarding a ship safely meant crossing the bottom of the Ardus into Sadeemia where the coastline was smooth and tranquil.

  “I hate the
sea,” Daegan murmured that first evening after the council meeting, his shoulders slumped.

  “Maybe it will be easier the second time,” I soothed.

  We stood on a balcony at the school of scribes. The sun was setting, throwing a spray of colors into the sky. The wind was harsher than usual, tugging our hair into the air.

  “Explain this consort thing,” Maeve interrupted.

  She flanked me, her body enfolded in a soft blue woolen dress. Velvet and silk were meant for the rich.

  I glanced at her. “I’m to be a voice for the dragons. Nothing more.”

  She sighed. “You realize this will diminish how people view you.”

  “Their scrutiny isn’t as important as what I stand for.”

  Daegan patted me on the back. “It’s not easy representing what most fear.”

  “You put too much stock in the gods,” Maeve grumbled. “Both of you.”

  “Maybe,” I murmured, “but I believe it’s the other way around.” I turned to face her, my face serious. “I think the gods put too much stock in us.”

  For a long time we stood there, our gazes watching the village below, a blanket of black falling over the houses. This was Medeisia, a country of small, poor villages with banked fires, murmuring families, bleating goats, clucking chickens, and snorting livestock. It wasn’t much, the people having lost so much during Raemon’s dark rule, but it was our home.

  “We shall overcome,” Daegan mumbled.

  He left then, Maeve on his heels, their feet taking them to the rooms below. They’d remain at the scribe school until we departed.

  Above me, a falcon called, and I sighed, my booted feet carrying me to the stairs, through darkened hallways, and out into the night. The forest called to me, the trees murmuring sweet, comforting words, the air heavy with enchantment.

  Leaves rustled, the dark limbs reaching for me. Glowing eyes peered at me from the foliage.

  “It doesn’t disconcert you?” a small voice asked.

  I wasn’t expecting company, and I jumped.

  Spinning, I found myself face to face with Reenah, Cadeyrn’s consort. “Are you following me?”

  Her head bowed, a sheepish expression crossing her features. “I’ve been watching the school.”

  My brows furrowed. “Why?”

  The consort’s golden tresses looked white in the moonlit night, her wary gaze flicking from the forest to my face and back again. “I was looking to get you alone,” she admitted. Her hands rubbed her arms, her eyes widening. “It’s spooky here.”

  A smile played on my lips. “It’s the darkness. It fools the mind. The night isn’t full of monsters, I assure you. What have you come for?”

  She moved closer to me, her eyes on the trees. “There’s much unrest developing in Sadeemia.” She saw my sudden distrustful expression, and her head shook. “Not because of Prince Arien. His rule is similar to his father’s, but the queen has his ear. He listens too much to his mother, and I’ve never trusted Queen Isabella. Less so since her brother committed treason.”

  I stared. “Have you not gone to Prince Cadeyrn with your fears?”

  “Tis impossible. Since his marriage to Catriona of Henderonia, I’ve been relegated to menial tasks. I have the consort title, but what was once assumed of me …” She let the words trail off. “It would not be wise for me to be found alone with the prince. Not anymore. Even with Henderonia’s lax rules about marriage. There’s too much at stake politically. I am also not in a position to accuse a queen of anything.”

  My expression softened, my hand finding Reenah’s shoulder. She scooted into my embrace, her eyes on the forest. She was afraid, but she’d overcome that to come to me.

  “Prince Cadeyrn trusts you, Stone. You have his ear. I’ve been with the prince for years, and I’ve never known him to trust anyone other than his late wife. His trust doesn’t come easy.”

  My heart clenched, a gnawing loneliness eating at me. The trees’ comforting whispers grew louder.

  “I’ll be sure to speak with him,” I promised, my head dropping. There was no denying my connection with the Sadeemian prince. To deny it would be to lie.

  Reenah inhaled. “You’ve chosen a hard road. Consorts are given much freedom, but in certain cases, there is also much danger.”

  I glanced at her. “You’ve heard?”

  She hugged me, not out of affection but out of unease. “Your best human spies will always be the working class. I do not envy those in power. Their riches, yes. Their responsibilities, never.” Shivering, she edged away from me. “I’ll return to the palace now,” she glanced at the sky, “and leave you to your darkness.”

  My eyes followed her as she stumbled away, rushing loudly through the undergrowth to the clearing beyond, her shadowed shape scurrying to the castle. Darkness was a universal fear. Even with the animals and the trees, occasional wariness gripped me in the night, a fright born from my childhood.

  “You’ve chased her away,” I teased the trees.

  “It is ridiculous to be afraid of the night. There is nothing in the night that isn’t in the day.”

  “There’s light,” I protested.

  The trees scoffed. “The blind eye sees more than the eye with sight.”

  “A bit of philosophy?” I asked. My tone was light, but I understood their meaning. The blind found other ways to traverse life, to understand the world. They didn’t fear darkness, they welcomed it. By welcoming it, they welcomed what hid in it. They grew in ways those with sight couldn’t grow. Their limitation became their strength.

  “Did you come to escape?” the trees asked.

  “No,” I answered. “I came to breathe.”

  Inhaling, I drew in the forest through my nose, the smell of damp earth and pine needles. The heavy scent of flowers hung on the air, the cloying odor mingling with soil, moss, and tree bark.

  “You will be pulled in many different directions soon,” the trees said. “You must remain strong, Phoenix.”

  I glowered. “I am not the phoenix.”

  The trees laughed. “Not to the humans. To the forest, you have always been the phoenix.”

  My eyes found the dark sky, my gaze traveling the stars sprinkled among overhanging limbs. “What am I doing? I am not a leader. I don’t know politics.”

  “War has made you a leader. It has placed you at the side of two princes. It has given the people a voice, the forest a voice, and the gods a voice. Be brave, Phoenix. Your power comes from reasoning and patience. This will not be the only time you doubt yourself. It will be one of many. As you have in the past, you will also doubt yourself in the future.”

  “Can you not be so wise?” I asked lightly.

  “It would be lying to pretend ignorance.”

  A chuckle bubbled up, the trees’ literal sense of humor tickling me. While on the sea, I was going to miss the trees.

  Chapter 7

  A cold chill permeated the air. It wasn’t the kind of chill that came with winter. The air was warm. It was a figurative kind of chill that promised death. With preparation for travel underway and Princess Catriona in residence, there was little chance of getting Cadeyrn alone. He was surrounded at all times by scribes, mages, and Henderonian officials. The guards on the ramparts doubled, and although I was allowed free rein in the palace, my presence was less welcome after Lochlen revealed my status among the dragons.

  As a whole, the scrutiny did not bother me, but there were others who watched me, those I cared about. Their scrutiny hurt. Gryphon found it hard to look me in the eyes, his gaze falling to my chin when he spoke with me. His words were curt and short, limited to a simple yes, no, or maybe. Catriona was better, her eyes meeting mine, but her gaze was full of curiosity, burning with questions I couldn’t possibly make her understand the answers to. Like Cadeyrn, she was a ruler. What I was doing and who I represented made no sense in human politics. I had created a divide between myself and the Sadeemian people.

  Words filled me to the brim, flooding
my body; Reenah’s words, Cadeyrn’s words, the goddess’ words, and Lochlen’s words. I was surrounded by political intrigue and the possibility that our kingdom and Sadeemia’s could fall. We didn’t know how deep the animosity with New Hope went, if the king of the country supported his Blayne Dragren’s betrayal. It did not help that the gods and dragons of Medeisia feared losing their presence in our country and that King Freemont’s declining health meant the possible rule of a new king, one who may be controlled by his mother. Medeisia’s capital was a city in ruins torn between turning to dust or rising as a new, stronger nation.

  It was the afternoon before we departed that I finally found an audience with Cadeyrn. He was on the practice fields, the area designed by the prince after Raemon’s fall. Cadeyrn’s chest was bare, his clothes stripped to the waist, his muscles gleaming with sweat. Beads of moisture rolled down the design on his torso, the dying sun catching on his silver pendant. He battled a Sadeemian warrior as I approached, his gaze never leaving his opponent.

  I was without the brown scribe cloak, my dragon skin tunic and breeches tight against me but not restricting, the material surprisingly light and resilient. A bow and quiver of arrows was slung onto my back, the need for weapons greater now with my position. I felt the gathering hostility toward me, and I didn’t ignore it.

  “A word,” I called.

  With a mighty thrust, his sword lifting up and then over, the prince disarmed his opponent, his blade going to the warrior’s throat.

  “You have my ear,” he replied, nodding at the solider he’d fought before stepping back. The man stood, bowed, and retreated. “There are many different types of swords,” Cadeyrn said suddenly, turning to face me, his blade held down in front of him. “Some of them are used for hacking and slashing, others for cutting and thrusting. The type depends on the type of armor a particular region uses. It depends on the reach and techniques needed to break through a country’s defenses. My sword is a longsword, better suited to cut and thrust. It has a long reach, and is handy against belligerent chain mail.”