A Coronation of Kings

by Samuel Stokes

  Alerted by the noise, Althea spun.Spotting Syrion, her beautiful eyes stretched wide in surprise, realization of what he’d just seen spread across her face. ‘Syrion! What are you doing here? You know the Eyre is off limits to all. Your trespass carries the penalty of death. What if you are seen? You could be killed!’

  Syrion smiled, her concern for his well-being seemed genuine.

  Seeing him smile only caused Althea to grow more emphatic. ‘What are you grinning about, you idiot? The elders will kill you if they find you here. No one has ever been permitted to see the Eyre.’

  ‘Would you tell them?’ Syrion countered, pressing his advantage of surprise.

  ‘Of course not...’ Althea answered defensively.

  ‘Why not? If it does not bother you, why did you not tell me yourself?’

  ‘This secret is our life, Syrion. If people knew who and what we are, we would be vulnerable. Hunters would come again, as in days of old. Would you see me tortured for sport?’

  This time it was Syrion’s turn to take the defensive. ‘Of course not... I thought it something you might have shared with me. Especially after all I have shared with you…’

  ‘Yet there is so much I do not know,’ Althea countered. ‘Why did the elders let your mother take refuge here? How and why you can do what you do? So many mysteries and so few answers. Like, where you went when you left last week?’

  ‘How do you know about that?’ Syrion asked.

  ‘I saw you leave, and watched you from the sky until I could no longer see you. I...’ her voice faded as her feelings surged to the surface.

  ‘You...?’ prompted Syrion.

  ‘I thought you had left,’ she whispered. ‘I thought you had left Tolanis for good, without so much as a goodbye.’ Her emotions were close to the surface as she spoke. Syrion got up from the floor and moved closer, wanting nothing more at that moment than to comfort her. As he drew near he wrapped his arms around Althea. Althea fought back tears as she surrendered to Syrion’s embrace.

  ‘I would never leave you,’ he whispered in her ear as he held her close.

  The sound of a door opening brought Syrion’s attention back into focus. Turning towards the door he had seen earlier, Syrion was startled. It was now open. Standing in the open doorway stood Takoa, anger and outrage showing in his countenance. At the best of times, the burly Tolan youth openly loathed Syrion, taunting him relentlessly. Syrion had long supposed jealousy to be the root of the issue as Takoa almost always appeared when he and Althea were in each other’s company.

  Whether it was Syrion’s presence in the Eyre that infuriated him or Althea’s arms locked around his neck, it was hard to tell. Regardless of the reason, Takoa’s eyes were murderous and the corners of his mouth twisted up into an almost maniacal grin.

  Using both hands to pry Althea away, Syrion looked into her eyes and spoke softly ‘I must leave now. Takoa over there looks furious. Perhaps I’ve overstayed my welcome.’

  Althea spun and saw Takoa standing in the doorway clenching and unclenching his fists menacingly. She started to voice a protestation at him, but it fell on deaf ears. Takoa charged towards the trespassing Astarii. Syrion pulled Althea close and planted a kiss on her forehead before mouthing the words, ‘I’ll be right back.’

  Takoa’s face was red with rage. The sight of Althea in Syrion’s arms, here in their most sacred refuge, drove all reason from his mind. There was malice in his manner as he strode purposefully into the room.

  ‘You should not be here, Syrion. The sentence for trespassing in the Eyre is death and I will happily carry it out.’ Takoa picked up his stride as he moved towards Syrion.

  ‘Takoa! No!’ Althea cried out.

  Syrion stepped around the distraught Althea and faced down the angry Tolan. As Takoa approached Syrion clenched his fist and focused his mind. As the Tolan drew near Syrion lashed out. Takoa smiled, still well out of reach, until a jarring force struck him in the stomach, the concussive force knocked Takoa off his feet and sent him flying back toward the door he’d only just passed through.

  As Takoa got up winded and gasping for air, his temper flared. ‘You… are dead!’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ Syrion kissed Althea’s outstretched hand. ‘I’d best be off.’

  The gesture further angered the rampaging Takoa and he advanced once more. With a flash of thought, Syrion rendered himself invisible and began making his way towards the cavernous entrance to the Dragonhold. Takoa shouted in outrage.

  ‘Enough... enough of your cheap tricks!’ Takoa’s body began to transform. Where moments ago he had been but a violent youth, now stood a juvenile black dragon. Wicked spikes framed its head, providing an air of menace rather than majesty. Staring down the black drake, Syrion was forced to change his approach.

  His own time in dragonform had taught him that his spell would be insufficient to hide his presence. Dragons were the pre-eminent predator, with heightened senses of smell and sharpened eyesight. He was not willing to test whether or not Takoa could see him moving in such a small space.

  His illusion had bought him the time he sought though and quickly Syrion made his way to the edge of the cliff face and turned to face the Dragonhold. Dropping his illusion, Syrion shouted into the Eyre, ‘Black like your heart, Takoa. It’s good to see you are consistent.’

  Spotting his prey, the black drake launched itself towards the entrance in great loping strides. As it closed the distance, Syrion took to the air. Since his transformation, he had found it much easier to do so gracefully, no longer the tempest driven and tumultuous flight he’d used to cross the lake weeks before. Instead, his body rose gracefully into the air. Syrion cautiously eyed the Black Dragon as it reached the cliff landing.

  With a snap, its mighty wings shot out and the great beast took to the air. Syrion hurtled skywards seeking to hide in the clouds or at least blind the black dragon with the glare of the sun, undeterred the beast climbed skyward.

  Calling to his pursuer Syrion shouted, ‘Takoa, if you keep this up it ends very badly for you.’ Undeterred, the raging drake soared upwards, the talons on his forelegs flexed menacingly as a deep snarl escaped his clenched teeth. The sight was both terrifying and unnerving, Syrion moved deftly to avoid the swiping talons, one mistimed maneuver and he would be torn asunder, or worse still plummet thousands of feet to a watery death in the lake below.

  The duel continued with Syrion bombarding the dragon with spells and incantations designed to tire and distract the great beast, but Takoa’s fury would not mellow. It became increasingly obvious that he would need to employ stronger means to deter the rampaging Tolan. Letting out a deep sigh, Syrion raised his right arm in a reaching gesture, the Tolan would not forgive an assault on the DragonHost, but being dead at Takoa’s hand was even less desirable.

  Caught between a rock and a hard place Syrion began chanting a word of power. As the words left his lips he bought his hand down in a crashing gesture. A bolt of lightning split the sky and struck the dragon’s scaly hide. The energies dispersed violently across its scaled hide and the stench of burning flesh filled the air.

  Syrion was startled, Takoa must have been in tremendous pain and still the beast pressed on relentlessly. In his shock he was almost caught by the drake’s lethal talons. The near miss troubled the tiring Astarii so much so that he failed to see the claw as it returned. The wicked talon caught him in the leg. Shock flooded his system as pain radiated through his leg. In that moment, Syrion’s concentration faltered and the young mage fell...

  Chapter 26

  Slowly at first, but picking up speed with every moment, the young mage hurtled towards the lake below, twisting and turning in the air as he fell. Dizzy from the fall, Syrion spied the lake below as he plummeted towards it at breakneck pace.

  Glancing skyward, he could see his foe had not abandoned the fight. Quite the contrary, the black drake was diving headlong after the falling mage, wings folded close to its body as it sought to increase its speed
.

  Regaining control of his faculties, Syrion focused his thoughts. Fighting the fatigue, he was beginning to feel, Syrion summoned his powers. Arresting his descent, he spun in the air so that he was once more looking at the world the right way up. As he came to a stop inches above the surface of the lake, the wind whipped around him and water sprayed in every direction. His immediate problems dealt with, Syrion gazed upwards to see the black drake unfurl its wings to slow its decent.

  As Takoa descended, Syrion could see his jaws open wide. Razor sharp teeth gleamed menacingly, ready to inflict pain beyond measure. For a moment, Syrion imagined being eaten alive by the mighty creature as he stared into the gaping abyss between its rows of razor sharp teeth. Then he saw it, a dim light in the dark gulf. It swiftly grew brighter and brighter. The realization struck Syrion like a thunderbolt. Moments later, an inferno of flames surged up the long serpentine throat and poured down upon the hapless wizard in a furious firestorm.

  Thinking quickly Syrion dropped to his knee and threw his fist into the air above. Summoning his strength, Syrion chanted as the flames descended and engulfed him. Steam rose into the air as the flames spent their fury on the surface of the lake. For a time, it seemed impossible that anything might emerge from the blaze.

  The commotion in the sky above the lake had drawn the attention of the Tolan, many of whom now stood on the edge of the lake watching the conflict unfold. Attacking or seeking to injure one of the DragonHost meant certain death. The assembled crowd watched with an air of vindication as the young mage vanished in a conflagration of flames and steam.

  There was a stirring on the shore as Elaina pushed her way to the front of the crowd; her presence greatly unsettled the Tolan. There could be little doubt that her son was the assailant that had been spotted in the sky throwing a barrage of spells at the rampaging black drake. They shifted uncomfortably. If the boy perished, the Mistress of Winds’ wrath would be terrible to behold. The Tolan had no capacity for the arcane, a bitter reminder of the heritage long lost to them. How would an embittered Astarii react to Tolan law?

  Elaina’s eyes were fixed on the inferno before them. Waves of fire bathed the area where the mage had knelt moments ago. The drake closed its jaws, satisfied that it had born out its malicious intent. As the flames dissipated, a figure became visible. There on bended knee, behind a shimmering golden shield, was Syrion, safely preserved from the dragon’s wrath though visibly fatigued and sweating furiously.

  Elaina breathed a sigh of relief, but immediately Takoa roared his defiance. He threw open his jaws and further poured out fiery indignation as he circled the mage. The flames struck the shield and rolled off its shimmering surface. The conjuration held steady under the onslaught, but the question remained-who would endure? In the midst of the fire, Syrion realized he had little concept of a dragon’s endurance. In spite of his own experience, he had no way of knowing whether or not Takoa could keep this up indefinitely.

  Seizing the initiative, Syrion forced himself to his feet and slowly raised his other hand. The shield grew in size and began to move toward the dragon. As the shield traversed the distance between the mage and the rampaging black drake, the flames were split by the shield and began to fall further and further from the Magician. In frustration, the dragon tried to circle over the Astarii only to find that the shield followed its path—always inserting itself between the angry Tolan and its creator. Changing tack, Takoa increased the intensity of the torrent of fire and it poured forth as a veritable wave of death. Still, the shield moved inexorably forwards.

  As the flames intensified, the shield began to grow. Syrion smiled from his place behind the shield. He’d been foolishly trying to match Takoa’s strength with strength and his boyish pride had almost left him burnt to cinders. His strengthened conjuration acted very differently. Rather than repel the flames, it was attracted to them and drew from their energies, feeding on the heat of the fire to strengthen the shield. With the burden of powering the shield removed, Syrion was free to shape it to his will. The shield grew in size as it approached the dragon. The beast roared in indignation but would not withdraw. The flames continued to lap at the shield further increasing its size.

  This has gone on long enough, Syrion thought to himself. With the thought, the shield changed shape - lances of golden light shot out of the shield on every side and began to surround the dragon. Like threads in a grand tapestry, they intertwined until the great beast was completely encircled in a golden globe of energy. Furiously, the beast tore at its cage but could not gain any traction. Throwing open his jaws, he blew a gust of fire at the glowing cage, but the flames dissipated. His purposes accomplished, Syrion rose slowly up to the glowing sphere of energy.

  ‘Takoa, you are going to want to stop that.’ Syrion addressed the beast calmly.

  In response the black dragon redoubled his efforts. Flames and fangs flashed as he tried to make his way free. The golden prison held and Syrion tried once more. ‘You are going to do yourself an injury - dragon or not you still need to...’

  A giant plume of fire bathed the inside of the sphere as Takoa ignored all reason. The flames continued for a few moments whilst the Astarii waited patiently. Suddenly there was a flash of smoke and mist within the sphere. When it cleared the dragon had disappeared. In its place, Takoa lay collapsed and unconscious on the floor of the golden prison.

  ‘Breathe,’ spoke Syrion quietly, finishing his sentence. In his fury, Takoa’s fire had consumed what little air remained in the prison and caused his unconscious state. Syrion reshaped the prison until once more it was a golden shield floating before him bearing the unconscious Takoa.

  Turning towards the lakeshore, he spotted the assembled masses. ‘This will be interesting,’ he thought to himself, moving towards them. As Syrion reached the shore, the shield dissipated and the unconscious Takoa crumpled gracelessly to the ground before the others. Elaina ran over to the young Astarii and threw her arms about his neck. As she hugged him closely, she whispered in his ear, ‘Syrion, what have you done?’

  ‘He will live,’ Syrion responded calmly. ‘I was only defending myself. Takoa should have known better.’

  ‘The Tolan will not see it that way,’ Elaina responded, concerned over how the Tolan High Council would react.

  ‘I will help them understand,’ Syrion spoke in even measured tones.

  His confidence unsettled Elaina, but she had little time to process what her son might mean as a swarm of Tolan surrounded them. One of them made his way to the fore, ancient beyond measure. Syrion could not even begin to guess at his age. As the oldest living Tolan, it was his right to lead the Grand Council and he had done so for at least a century. Known simply known as Eli, his wisdom was a sought after commodity. Today, his usually kind face was a grim and stony countenance. Vastly different to the warm smile and kind eyes Syrion had become accustomed to.

  ‘Syrion, son of Elaina. Your deeds this day were witnessed by all. You know our laws, there can be no question. You will go now to the Field of Justice and await trial.’

  ‘Trial... For what?’ Syrion cried indignantly, aware of what the answer would be.

  ‘You have attacked one of the DragonHost. Provoked or otherwise, this is against our laws, as you know. When Takoa awakens and can speak your case will be heard.’

  ‘What if I decide I do not wish to be tried?’

  ‘That would be a most foolish decision, Syrion Stormborn. Gifted though you might be, you cannot singlehandedly overwhelm the Dragon Host. Justice will be done here.’

  Syrion looked to his mother who nodded. Resigned to face his fate he wrapped an arm around his mother and guided her towards the Field of Justice. The journey passed in silence, mother and son both unsure what to say.

  The Field of Justice was a large amphitheatre near the centre of Tolanis. Syrion had always wondered why they would choose to hold court in such an expansive space. In light of his recent revelation, an arena open to the sky made much more sense.
Syrion entered via the large marble portal that served as a gate. Following the directions of the Tolan already present, Syrion made his way across the vast field. Surrounding the field was row upon row of seats.

  The Tolan could assemble here by the thousands and watch the Grand Council in session. Seldom was there a need to as the affairs of Tolanis normally proceeded without incident. Today was an exception though and the benches surrounded the field were packed. Periodically, a majestic dragon would descend from the skies, transform into its human form and take a seat in the nearby stands. It appeared many were curious to see what would befall the young outsider who was foolish enough to cross the DragonHost.

  Making his way towards the head of the field, he found a raised semicircular stone bench behind which the council members could rest as they passed judgment on those before them. Syrion spotted a seat equidistant from all the council members, clearly meant for the accused. He quickly embraced his mother before taking his seat.

  The time passed slowly as he waited - minutes turned into an hour. Syrion had little doubt Takoa had awoken from his involuntary rest. This much delay could only mean that the Council were already hearing his testimony and deliberating. Syrion’s frustration grew as he realized his account would matter little in the scheme of things. Forcing himself to calm down he crossed his legs on the stone bench and began to meditate to ease his nerves. A stir in the assembled masses told him the Council had arrived. He opened his eyes and saw them filing in, slowly taking up their positions around the stone bench.

  Spotting some movement at his left Syrion, spied Takoa being escorted to a nearby bench. He was looking very much the worse for wear now. The injuries he’d shrugged off in his dragon form looked to be causing him a great deal of pain. If looks could kill, Syrion felt certain he’d be dead already. Eli entered last and took his seat in the centre of the table.