by Steven Drake
“We have to go back to Trinium,” Nia finally and resolutely declared.
“What? Why?” Jerris asked.
“Nielas told me some of Traiz’s plans. He placed spies in Mandala fortress. They’re going to weaken the enchantments on the Saldean, so the Demon King’s minions can cross.”
“But what can we do about that? Geoffray won’t listen to us.”
“If he won’t, then we find someone who will,” Nia said. “I know people in Trinium. I worked with members of the Inquisition. They were always suspicious of everyone, and I didn’t like it, but now I guess I understand. They were right when they suspected there were spies among us. I never realized how right they were. Nielas…" Nia trailed off shaking her head. He had been a friend. That betrayal ran deep. “Maybe the High Inquisitor will listen to us.”
“You mean Lady Barris?” Jerris asked. “Do you know much about her?”
“I only met her a few times, and I know her reputation. She’s secretive and ruthless, shamelessly ambitious, but she’s also clever and resourceful. I suppose since I met Darien, I’ve gained some respect for those qualities. Who is good and who is evil? It isn’t as simple as it seems.” Nia sighed. “Traiz’s plan all along was to turn the Golden Shield against itself. Then the Demon King would time his invasion while we were busy fighting each other. We have to stand united, no matter who stands with us. Maybe if we tell the High Inquisitor what happened, she’ll be able to do something.”
“It sounds desperate,” Ceres commented. “We’re all wanted criminals, remember? They’ll arrest us as soon as we set foot in Trinium.”
“That’s why you won’t enter the city,” Nia said. “I’ll go myself. Our best chance is if I go alone. They may listen to me. I still have a few friends in the city.”
“No,” Jerris said. “I already lost you once. I won’t lose you again.”
“Please, Jerris. We have to do something. You won’t lose me. I can do this.”
Jerris turned to Ceres. She wore a thoughtful and concerned look. “We should go back to Kadanar. Ceres, tell her.”
Ceres remained silent for a few moments. “I understand your concern, Jerris, and I share it, but her assessment of the situation is correct. Eldrik is dead. Geoffray has gone mad. We know we need to use the Star Sword on the Demon King, but we have to reach him first.”
Jerris leaned forward and poked at the dwindling flames of the campfire. The thought of losing Nia terrified him, but he listened anyway. He needed Ceres’ experience.
“Without Darien, our objectives must change. Darien could have helped us sneak into the Demon King’s lands and assassinate him. He knew everything about Shade Castle and the lands around it. More than that, with the Demon’s Blade, Darien might have been able to engage the Demon King as an equal. He at least could have stood against him longer than anyone else.”
“If we can’t sneak in, or match the Demon King’s power, we have to face his armies, defeat him in battle, lay siege to his fortress and force him to face us. If the Golden Shield does not stand united, there won’t even be much of a resistance when he attacks. We could be safe in Kadanar for a while, but sooner or later, our enemy will learn of its existence, if he hasn’t already. Traiz didn’t know it’s location, but he knew where we came from. The Demon King will be looking for us now.”
Jerris dropped his head. He didn’t want to risk Nia. He wanted to keep her safe with him. The more selfish part of him wanted to retreat to Kadanar with her and forget the Demon King existed. Should he forget the world and retreat? There was a certain appeal to it. The humans hated the elves, and always would. Why should he sacrifice for them? Why shouldn’t he just let them rot? He knew it was not a very kingly thought, but then again, he was supposed to be a king of elves, not men. Even if the Demon King found Kadanar, it might take years. They could spend those years preparing a new plan, looking for a new place to hide. It was a tempting thought.
He stopped to wonder what Darien might counsel him to do, or what Darien himself would do. That answer, at least, seemed obvious. Darien would stop at nothing to avenge his mother, to finish the quest he had begun. Darien wouldn’t waste time worrying about how elves and men hated each other or how to make a better future for either one. For Darien the Executioner, nothing was ever that complicated. He didn’t care about kings or kingdoms. The truth, something Jerris now had the time and perspective to understand, was that Darien’s way was far simpler. He didn’t see the world in terms of good and evil, only those who had power and those who did not. He had power, but he didn’t use it to rule others. He didn’t fight for a cause, for kings or kingdoms, honor or duty. He fought for his mother, for his friends, to defend himself and those he cared about, and to visit terrible revenge upon anyone who dared to hurt them. For Darien, those were the only things worth fighting for.
No, Jerris finally resolved himself. He had followed Darien, and he had believed in the quest. To abandon it now was to betray Darien’s memory, and Darien’s mother’s memory. Nia’s mother too, he reminded himself. As much as he feared losing the woman he loved, and he did love her, without any remaining doubt or reservation, he could not abandon everything else for her sake. She would never let me do that anyway, he thought. She believes in me too much.
Jerris set his jaw. “Alright, but first we go back to Kilnar. We need to take time to prepare, make our plans. Maybe I can convince Kesz and some of the dragons to help us. If we offer Barris soldiers, maybe she’ll be more receptive.” Nia smiled and nodded, not a gleeful smile, but a grim appreciation and reaffirmation of their commitment to each other. She had to know how hard this was for him, how could she not? With that decided, they found some bedrolls, and retired for the evening. Ceres made no comment when Niarie crawled inside Jerris’ bedroll and wrapped herself around him.
Chapter 14: A Humble Request
For Jerris and Nia, the journey back to Kilnar took much longer than the journey out. With only a vague idea of where they were, they simply set out eastward, with the high cliffs that marked the southern edge of the burning lands on their left. They encountered many obstacles, a sudden drop into an unexpected gully, a hillside too steep for the wagon, a dry sand bog several miles across that almost cost them both wagon and horses, and several other hazards of the terrain that required long detours. Without the wyvern or any knowledge of the terrain, they managed as well as possible, so glad to find each other that they scarcely complained.
Once they arrived, Tzia greeted them enthusiastically, glad for their safe return. She apologized again for the entire ordeal, and Jerris again reassured her that he did not hold the Ebonscale responsible, not that his assurances made much difference. As Kesz explained, dragon custom held that a host always bore responsibility for any harm that befell a guest, regardless of the source. Judging from their reaction, Jerris reckoned that no one from the Golden Shield would be welcome in the Burning Lands for a long time. That fact gave him some comfort.
Jerris’ first order of business upon their return was to prepare for their expected journey to Trinium. He set Kesz the task of organizing the dragons for travel, and the little dragon enthusiastically complied. Jerris’ admittedly dubious plan was to organize the slaves into a passable fighting force, a task which he would lean heavily upon Ceres’ experience to accomplish. Many of the slaves who had pledged their loyalty in exchange for freedom were only one or two generations removed from egg-hatched dragons, and thus quite capable of strong flight, possessing strength to match any human or elven warrior. Other than their people’s customs, there really was nothing stopping these dragons from fighting as fiercely as their brethren. Unfortunately, none possessed any experience or training to speak of, so Ceres faced the tall task of drilling them in martial discipline during the journey.
Jerris planned to ask Elder Gransz for permission to recruit more of these lower caste dragons. The upper caste dragonkin and especially the elders seemed to pay little attention to them anyway, and regarded them as
something of a nuisance, especially when they became too numerous. Jerris hoped that lack of interest combined with his status as a hero of the battle of Kilnar would gain him a few more recruits, particularly those who had fought before the gates in the battle. Either way, he planned to try. If they really planned to ally themselves with this High Inquisitor Barris, they needed some bargaining chips.
Three days after returning to Kilnar, Jerris finally secured an audience with Gransz, who had been coming and going for days, coordinating the wind-down of the Ebonscale war efforts. Even with the war largely won, isolated skirmishes continued in the north and west, repairs had to be coordinated, and order had to be maintained. With the main hall still partially collapsed and none of the other buildings large enough to accommodate his bulk, Gransz chose a cave about a mile outside of town as his temporary dwelling while in Kilnar. Tzia led him to the entrance, bowed, and took her leave.
Jerris gulped as he descended into the torch-lit cave. He had spoken to the elder dragon several times before, but never alone, and never with any real authority. This time, he had to make a request, perhaps several requests, as a representative of his people, and as a leader in his own right, a sobering responsibility, but a skill he needed to master quickly. Galen had instructed him in etiquette and diplomacy during his year in Kilnar, so he was not entirely unprepared. Ceres had also helped him go over what he would say to the elder, how to be firm and confident while still showing proper respect, how to explain his plan in a persuasive way, points to make. Still, he felt woefully unequal to the task.
Between the warm cave and his nervous disposition, Jerris began sweating well before he even sighted Elder Gransz. He fidgeted furiously, tapping his fingers against his arm and against each other, a habit Galen had tried and failed to train out of him. Still, despite the heat, despite his anxiety, despite his fidgeting, he had to succeed. Darien was gone, and the only thing that stood between the Demon King and his conquest of the known world was the hope that the Star Sword would work the way Darien expected. Jerris took a deep breath as he finally caught a glint of light reflecting against the elder dragon’s shiny ebon scales.
Gransz smoother and sharper black contrasted just enough to make him plainly visible against the charcoal-colored cave walls. His neck and tail lay coiled around in front of his muscular scaled body. Dim orange light emanated from deep within his fiery maw, casting the faintest shadows of dagger teeth on the cave floor.
Jerris cleared his throat before speaking nervously. “Lord Gransz?”
“Jerris Tolmirran.” The elder dragon cracked open a yellow eye. “It is good to see you have returned. The Greatmother has heard of your friend’s abduction, and the attempt to take your life. She wished to express her personal apology that such a thing could happen to an honored guest.”
“Thank you, honored elder.” Jerris tried to calm himself. “I do not hold the Ebonscale responsible. The perpetrator and his accomplices now lie dead, and that is enough.”
“Dead by your hand, as I understand.” The dragon smiled and the light in his throat grew brighter. “It is good for us that you are not so easy to kill.” Jerris scratched his chin thoughtfully, it seemed a strange choice of words.
“Why is that, honored elder?”
“The Greatmother has expressed her personal admiration for your character, rare praise for one of the younger races. Explaining the death of an honored guest to the Greatmother is difficult enough, but explaining the death of one who has won her personal favor is a grave responsibility. I am glad I do not have to make this explanation.”
“R-Really, sir?”
Gransz chuckled. “Yes, though she has mellowed some with age, she has a fierce temper, a true queen of dragonkind. Punishments for such failures can be quite severe. The Greatmother does not suffer dishonor.”
Jerris gulped, uncertain how to respond. The Greatmother had certainly seemed imposing, but he had never felt truly in danger, though perhaps that had more to do with Darien’s presence than anything else. “I am honored, that the Greatmother thinks highly of me.”
“Indeed, you should be proud. You have won her respect, and the respect of our tribe, as well as my own. Even I would hesitate to challenge you to single combat.”
Jerris looked straight into the eyes of the dragon, more than twenty times his own size, and the gravity of the compliment hit him. He bowed low. “I am truly honored to earn your respect, honored elder, but surely I lack your experience.”
“True, but you are resourceful, and unpredictable. Experience often proves useless against an unfamiliar and creative opponent.” Gransz smiled and raised his head off the ground. “You requested this audience. It was my understanding you have a request to make.”
“Yes, honored elder.” The combination of Jerris anxiety and the heat radiating from the elder dragon had multiplied Jerris’ sweating. Beads of sweat rolled down his face and dripped to the floor. “I came to ask for your permission to ask for volunteers among your lower classes, in addition to those who already plan to travel with me.”
“Volunteers, for what, might I ask?”
“Of course, honored elder, I plan to raise my own force to face the Demon King.”
“Your own force?” Gransz grumbled darkly. Jerris didn’t have enough experience to gauge the reaction of a dragon, but he gathered the elder didn’t approve, nor should he, really. Jerris had doubts about his own plan. “You plan to fight the Demon King with an army of lesser dragons? That seems foolhardy.”
“Not alone,” Jerris said, steeling his voice, remembering how he had gone over this with Ceres. “Nia, er, Niarie and I have a plan. We want to go back to Trinium, and make peace with the newly crowned Empress Barris. I thought she would be more likely to agree to an alliance if we had something to offer. Even a small force of support units would be helpful.”
“It was my understanding that your Archmage considered this Barris an enemy. You go against his wishes?”
“With respect, honored elder, Archmage Eldrik is dead because he placed his trust in the wrong people. For that matter, Darien is too.” Jerris found it difficult to make such a comment about his mentor, but he knew it to be the unbiased truth of the matter.
“I cannot dispute the truth of your words.” Gransz let out a low, vaguely menacing growl. Jerris stood his ground, remembering Ceres’ advice, ‘never show weakness to a dragon, even when threatened’. “Yet the way your people so quickly change loyalties, I find disconcerting. I do wonder if it is wise to seek alliances with any of them. Why should dragons be concerned with whether the Demon King or the Golden Shield rules the south? It seems one is hardly better than another.” Jerris struggled to keep his expression even. Jerris had considered the question himself. It sounded so much like what Darien believed. Darien had never trusted anyone but himself, and relied solely upon his own strength. Darien would never even bother to ask the dragons to ally with humans, but Darien was gone, betrayed by a man who was just as ruthless, just as unwilling to trust.
Jerris understood now, this was his task, not Darien’s. Darien had played his role, and now Jerris had to fill his own. Jerris had to find a way to build a unified resistance against the Demon King. Jerris had to convince Gransz to stand with the other races, to overcome the doubt, the mistrust, the prejudice. Jerris had to give Gransz something to believe in, something Darien could never do. Jerris had to show Gransz his own conviction, something Darien didn’t really have.
“Lord Gransz, I know you have good reason to mistrust the Golden Shield. So do I. I know you don’t trust humans, and I understand that as well as anyone can. My people have been mistreated by them for centuries, but we have to set that aside. We have to bury the past and look to the future. The Demon King has brought war upon us, upon you. Nielas killed Archmage Eldrik, and nearly killed me.” Jerris stepped forward until he was just a few feet from Gransz’ mouth, close enough to feel the heat of each breath. “But the Demon King was behind all of it. If he wins, treachery and
deceit will rule the world. He has no honor, no courage, and no sense of justice. He will do anything and everything for the sake of power. He will not suffer any power greater than his own. He may spare the Ebonscale for a time, but it will not last. He will never relent until he rules everything. He’s the only real enemy, and he wants to set us against each other. That’s what Geoffray and Eldrik didn’t understand. They lost sight of the real enemy. It doesn’t matter who leads the Golden Shield, or what they call themselves, Grandmaster, Empress, King, or Queen. All the races have to stand against the Demon King together, and the banner of the Golden Shield is still the best way to do that.” Gransz’s breathing had slowed. Was it working? Jerris calmed himself and lowered his voice just slightly, adopting a more personal tone. “I learned a lot of things from Darien, but he wasn’t perfect. He didn’t know everything. He was clever, but he didn’t understand people, humans or elves. He only really knew how to fight the enemy in front of him. He admired you, Lord Gransz, because he was like you, like a dragon, focused upon the enemy in front of him. He didn’t trust men or elves, and I can’t really blame him, so if you can’t trust in them, trust in me, and believe that I’ll stand against the Demon King no matter what, for my people, for your people, for everyone, for a world where we can live together without prejudice.”
Gransz didn’t respond at first, instead slowly breathing in and out. Sweat rolled off Jerris’ brow with each dragon fire heated exhalation. “You are young and foolish.” The old dragon finally responded. The tone in his voice had shifted, more thoughtful and less disapproving. “Uniting the races, a world without prejudice, hopeless ideals of youth. Men and elves have followed such dreams since they were young, and never have they succeeded. You will not succeed either.” Gransz words were cold, filled with a sad resignation that came from witnessing centuries upon centuries of history, yet also filled with conflict. Jerris felt he had at least reached the elder, even if the massive dragon wasn’t entirely convinced. “Yet to give up is not the answer. We dragons, from the moment of our birth, are tested by conflict, by constant struggle, for only through these forces are we tempered, and made strong. The struggle is everlasting, as it must be.” Gransz then stood, his back pressing against the roof of the cave. He then lowered his head to the ground just in front of Jerris in what must have been the nearest equivalent to a bow that an elder dragon could manage. “You are right. Darien is very much like us, and yet he saw something in you. He followed you, in his way, as much as you followed him. I think now I see why. You have a powerful spirit, you fight despite your youth, despite your fears, despite your obvious inexperience. You remind me that the struggle will always continue, within and without, and that the struggle, not the victory, defines us.”