A memory of a conversation on a terrace so many weeks ago flooded back. Mangus and Twiller were to leave with Jared, Charlotte’s newfound mage-of-all-mages grandfather, to recruit allies to fight in a war that David said she had to end. Despite the chill creeping through her, she turned to him with all the finesse she could muster and said, “Was your mission successful? Did you find the allies you needed?”
Mangus nodded. “We made significant progress, but it will not make any difference if you choose not to fight.” His gaze locked onto her.
There it was again, that fight frame of mind. Didn’t anyone negotiate anymore? She lifted her chin. “I’m sorry to disappoint you. I’ve always found it a useless way to solve an argument. All it does is breed more violence and hate.”
“What about those like Einar who know nothing else but violence and hate?” Mangus replied. “What would you do with him and his army of shadowmorths? Talk to them? Invite them in your home for crumpets and tea? Maybe you could serve up some sympathy and love. Give him a hug and a cloak of compassion. I hear they’re all the craze this year.”
An irritated edge crept into Charlotte’s voice. “You’re something else, you know that? You think the answer to everything is kill, destroy, maim. Tear it apart. Rip it to shreds. That’ll take care of it. You never stop and think about what it will do to the person doing the ripping and killing. All you want to do is send your gophers off to war. To you they’re expendable so long as you get the bad guy. Do you ever stop to think about those left behind, the families left to bury the dead once you’re done with them?”
“I think of them every day, princess, and my heart bleeds with each and every loss. But I didn’t force them to defend their families, their land, or their freedom any more than I will force you. They did so willingly because the idea of living under tyranny is and was not an option.” His eyes flashed, yet he remained poised, diplomatic. Even his biting words oozed like butterscotch on a honeyed tongue. “I also know all too well what war does to people, to mages, animals, and the very essence of life that exists around us. I know the nightmares that fill the minds of those who have seen battle. I’ve seen the destruction upon the land.”
“Mangus, don’t,” Slavandria said, her fingertips barely on his arm. “Not now. She’s still reeling with all the changes.”
“I understand that, but I will not coddle her. I will not keep the truth from her. This tiny sheltered kitten needs to understand that I’ve held family and friends in my arms as they died. I’ve smelled death. I’ve tasted blood that wasn’t mine.”
“And I’ve lost a brother to a war that wasn’t his to fight!” Charlotte yelled. “He was sent away to a foreign place, to a land full of people that didn’t want us there, to do God only knows what. It wasn’t his land. It wasn’t his freedom that was in jeopardy, but he died anyway. Find a way to justify that!”
“I cannot defend or justify something I know nothing about. In the same context, do not sit on your high throne and pass judgment on me or anyone I have commanded because you lost someone you loved and now think you’re entitled to something. When you’ve experienced the wretched evil I’ve seen, when you’ve been a victim of that hostility, that anger, that cold, unfeeling, brutality and can come up with a better way to defeat it, then by all means, come to me and tell me how wrong I am. Until then, don’t preach about what you do not understand.”
He stood there for a moment, a hand on his hip, the other rubbing his brow. “Look, I don’t mean to sound brash or unfeeling,” his eyes met Charlotte’s, “but there’s a beast out there that wants us all dead. We’ve never done anything to warrant his wrath. It’s in his nature. I cannot change that. You cannot change that. And while we wait, twiddle our thumbs, and try to make sense out of what we’ve learned in the last several days and hours, he is getting stronger. He’s recovering from his wounds with the help of Seyekrad, and he doesn’t care what we’re dealing with or our suffering. In fact, he’s relishing in our deaths, our pain. It’s time to end it for good, and you’re the only one who can do it.”
“Trog warranted his wrath by killing Einar’s son, and forgive me if I don’t agree with you. No one is inherently bad or good, and if it’s Seyekrad that has you ruffled, why don’t you talk to him? Have you tried to convince him that siding with Einar is a mistake? I mean, if the two of you apologized to him, set things right between you—”
“Apologize for what?” Mangus asked, his eyes narrowed in anger. “For falling in love? For getting married?”
“For breaking his heart. He’s angry because Slavandria chose you over him. Instead of arguing and fighting, why can’t you two come to an understanding? Bring him to your side. Be his friend instead of his enemy.”
Slavandria rolled her eyes. “Pray to the heavens.” She steepled her fingers to her lips. “Charlotte, there is no talking to Seyekrad. Do you not think I’ve tried? Do you believe me to be so callous as to not explain all of this to him when it happened? In order for there to be a truce, ‘an understanding’ as you called it, the other side must want to bend and give, too. He does not want to. There is bad blood between Seyekrad, Mangus, and my father. Seyekrad felt he should have been the general of my father’s army. He is angry beyond anything comprehensible that my father would choose a kler to head his army.”
“A what?” Charlotte asked.
“A kler,” Mangus answered. “It is what I am, part mage, part human. My father, his parents, their parents before them were mages. My mother was human going back four generations. Before then, the heritage was mixed, leaning heavily on the mage side. There is very little human in me, but I am not one hundred percent mage; therefore, I cannot claim myself as mage or human.”
Charlotte’s will softened. “That must be difficult, not knowing who you are, what side to choose to claim your own.”
“Sides?” An eyebrow lifted. “There are no sides, Charlotte. I am both. There is no choice to make. I have the powers of a mage, and there is no reason not to use them, but I also have all the horrors and blessings of being human. I cannot take one out of the equation, for they both encompass who I am. You are also a kler. Don’t try to shun the magical part of you. If you do, you’ll never find inner peace.” Mangus took a step and clutched her hands in his, his expression kind. Imploring. “The turbulent energy surging through you is feeding off the anger that is breeding inside of you. You don’t have to be angry. All you need to do is accept the new you. You have unbelievable powers, most of which I can’t even begin to fathom. You have Numí blood in you, and that makes you a heavenly creature in every sense of the words. I cannot teach you how to control those powers. Those lessons will fall upon Slavandria. But I can help you channel other powers and energies. The magic inside of you doesn’t have to be a prison sentence. There are parts of it that can be fun, exhilarating even, but you must be open to all it can do. And you have to make peace with yourself.”
Charlotte took back her hands. “Why must that include killing?”
“Because that is the only way to stop Einar. He is the only one you must kill. As for his armies, if you can find a way to subdue them, to keep them from killing us without killing them, then do so, but the Dragon King must die.”
Mangus’ words tumbled around Charlotte’s mind, mixing with those David had expressed earlier. Images of Einar’s wrath streaked through her memory. Eric. David. All the dead he’d left on the battlefield. All the souls he’d stolen to turn into shadowmorths and do his bidding. If he pushed through the membrane into Havendale, he’d kill and destroy everything and everyone. No parents. No school. No Paris or Grand Canyon. No pyramids of Egypt. No Taj Mahal or Great Barrier Reef. No. She couldn’t risk him pushing through the portal into Havendale.
She glanced between Slavandria and Mangus. “Do I have your solemn word that I do not have to kill anyone or anything other than Einar?”
Slavandria nodded. “Nothing or no one other than him, I promise. Mangus can train you in
the art of battle, defensive spells, and getting inside your enemy’s head to twist their minds. He can teach you how to move, how to deflect spells. He can show you how to use weapons should you find yourself in a situation where you will need them. I can teach you other things such as keeping your mind free from Seyekrad’s mind-weaving. How to develop your own abilities, which are vast and undiscovered. You will be seen as a formidable force as well as one to be loved and admired. The people will follow you, Charlotte. They’ll follow you to the ends of the world if you defeat Einar.”
“And what happens when Einar dies? Do I stay here? Do I go home?”
“It will be your choice,” Slavandria said.
Charlotte nodded and hugged her arms to her waist. “You’ve given me a lot to think about. I’ll need some time to consider what you’ve said.”
Mangus growled. “We don’t have—”
Slavandria hugged Mangus’ arm. “Take the time you need, but please consider the circumstances. The sooner we know your decision, the sooner we can plan for either our victory or defeat.”
Charlotte met Slavandria’s eyes unapologetically. “I’ll let you know when I know.” She turned to walk away.
“Oh, and one other thing,” Slavandria said. “The funeral service for Eric will take place in three days. The burial will be the following morn, as per Trog’s request. The latter will be a private ceremony. He has asked that you and David attend.”
Charlotte swallowed. She hated funerals. There was something macabre about putting loved ones in boxes and placing them in the cold, dark ground, as if they were nothing more than food for worms and maggots.
She acknowledged the invitation with a nod and wandered off, but to where? Her stomach churned at the thought of going back to the castle and all its maladies, so she followed the road south to Hammershire. Wagons rattled past her heading north, their loads weighted with trusses and wood planks. Teams of oxen pulled quarry rocks, marble, and stone toward the castle while men and women swarmed the hillside clearing the remaining scorched and dead debris. Children ran and played, their laughter resonating on the air. Hope for the future filled her heart. If only she truly had the power to save the world. She clutched her shawl around her and nodded to those lining the road, watching her as she passed, their mouths agape. Even the wagon masters brought their teams to a stop. Children ran toward her, their faces all alight.
“How are you doing that?” asked a little girl with red springy locks sticking out from beneath a white cap.
“Are you a good witch or a bad witch?” a little boy asked.
Charlotte pressed a hand to her chest and glanced at all the small faces closing in around her. “I don’t understand. What are you talking about? I’m not any sort of witch.” Fear rose in her belly. Did they burn witches in Fallhollow? She glanced wide-eyed around her for any help but there was none to be found.
“Then how did you do that?” asked another little boy pointing to the road behind her.
Charlotte followed the direction of his finger. Everywhere she had stepped, green grass grew thick and plush. Her heart somersaulted as her breathing took flight. No. Surely she hadn’t done such a thing. She couldn’t have.
A boy tugged on her hand. “Come. Over here. Make the grass grow where the fire burned.”
“I-I … ”
“Come on. You can do it.” He tightened his little fingers around hers and pulled. “Make it green again.”
Charlotte’s feet stumbled forward. Gasps filled her ears, and then claps and praises.
“Glory to the heavens!”
“Of all creatures, a Numí is amongst us!”
“Praise be the Gods!”
Charlotte looked behind her at the trail of plush greenery that followed her and ended at her feet. She looked to the people, their faces filled with joy. The people will follow you, Slavandria had said.
Dozens of small children gathered around her, their faces young and eager and full of wonder.
“Grow some more!” a little boy said. “All the way up the hillside.”
Charlotte stared at them, sweat clamming up her palms. “I-I don’t know if I can.”
“Sure you can,” the little ginger girl said. “All you have to do is move your feet. Please?”
“Yes, more please,” said another. And another.
They gripped her skirt and bent down to touch her feet.
“Da not do that,” an older boy of perhaps ten said. “Ya hands might turn to grass.”
“Nuh uh,” the little ginger said, holding up her hands. “I touched her shoes and everything, and I don’t have grassy fingers.”
“There are only two beings in the world that can make the grass grow.” The speaker was an older woman, perhaps in her mid-life, her hands calloused, face leathered and worn. “A dryad or a Numí. Seeing as you’re no tree, that makes you a goddess.”
“But I’m not,” Charlotte breathed.
“Are there more of you coming?” a man asked.
“The heavens heard our pleas,” said another woman.
“They’ve come to defeat the Dragon King!”
“Where are the others?”
“How can we help?”
The voices kept coming, the sound buzzing around her, through her. Her pulse accelerated as her breathing came quicker. She wanted to run, but the crowd pressed in, their hands stroking her shoulders, her hair; the musky sweat of their bodies curled up her nose, suffocating.
“Excuse me. Excuse me, please.” A familiar voice shoved through the throng, splitting them down the middle.
Charlotte met David’s gaze as he emerged from the sea of expectations and hope. Her heart unraveled, emotions welling to the surface. She’d never been so happy to see anyone in her life.
He smiled. “My lady, I’ve been searching for you. I bring you news from the queen.” He offered his arm. “It is of a most delicate nature. Would you care to walk with me?”
She latched on to the lifeline he provided. “You have no idea.”
“Aww. Must you go?” The little ginger girl looked up at her. “We don’t want you to go. We want you to make the hill green again.”
Charlotte knelt and plucked at a red ringlet. “I know, but I must see what the queen wants. Maybe I can come back later, and we can make the grass grow together. Would that be okay?”
The young face lit up. “Oh, yes! I would like that very much.” Tiny arms wrapped around Charlotte’s neck.
Warmth, happiness, love, hope; it all flooded her soul at once. There was such peace within, as if all the bad in the world ceased to exist. She smiled and hugged the little girl. “Then I shall.” A speck of white in the ground caught her eye. She glanced down at the patch of apple-sized, vanilla-colored blooms sun kissed with yellow streaks growing at her feet and plucked one. “For you. My promise to someday come back.” She kissed the girl on the forehead and tousled the hair of the boy beside her. Collecting her own hair over her shoulder, she clung to David’s arm, and together they walked toward Hammershire, the crowd splitting to let them through.
“Thank you for coming to my rescue,” Charlotte began once they were far enough away. “I was beginning to lose my mind. They all came at me at once. I panicked.”
David smiled. “I know. I can’t say that I blame them, though. I’d flip out, too, if I saw some beautiful girl growing grass and flowers wherever she walked as if it were the most natural thing to do.” He looked behind them at the charred hillside. “It looks like you turned it off.”
“Funny thing is, I never turned it on, at least not intentionally.” She held his hand, her mind finding a sense of calm. “I’m sorry about what happened earlier, about slapping you. I shouldn’t have done it.”
David stared ahead and squeezed her hand. “Yeah you should have. I deserved it. It was a cold and cruel thing to say.”
“But it came from your heart. I should have listened and not struck out at you with anger and deni
al.”
“Don’t. You have nothing to apologize for, and I have everything. Your entire world flipped upside down today. Your life right now is like your mom’s pancakes, all done on the outside, but gooey and uncooked in the middle, no offense to your mom’s pancakes.”
Charlotte nudged him and smiled. “None taken.”
“I forgot that I’ve had time to adjust to all this, though I have to say finding out I’m of royal blood is a shocker. But you … you are now going through what I went through weeks ago. All this time I fought the truth so hard, I didn’t want to see or admit what I was. What I am. All I could do was whine about how unfair it all was. It took Garret and Gertie to open my eyes and talk some sense into me. It took seeing you tied to that tree. It took Eric’s death to make me realize I can’t hide behind my utopian ideologies and cotton candy dreams. That’s not reality. Reality is this. It’s hard. It’s brutal, but I found it can also be wonderful and,” he grinned, glancing behind him again, “marvelously green.” They walked through the archway into town. “Do you know how you did it?”
Charlotte shook her head. “All I remember is feeling hopeful and happy.”
David nodded. “It makes sense. I mean, when you’re mad, you turn into Destructor the Powerful, but when you’re happy, you heal things.”
Charlotte considered this, surprised to find his words didn’t anger her. In fact, she rather liked the idea. “It is rather romantic, isn’t it, to think I might be the one to heal a land that has been hurt.”
“I think it’s cool.”
“Do you think it’s cool that the only way I can heal this land is to kill Einar?”
He stopped walking and faced her. “No. I don’t, but if you let him live, he’ll destroy everything.”
“So everyone keeps telling me.”
“Do you believe there is another way?”
“I don’t know, David.” She pushed past him. “I’m torn. Part of me is so angry for him killing Eric and causing so much death and destruction. I want him to suffer as much as he made them suffer. But then there’s the other part of me that wants to believe he can change, that there is something good about him, and if I could just reach that part of him … ”
Bane of the Dragon King Page 5