Wyrmspire (Realm Keepers Book 2)

by Garrett Robinson

  Calvin glanced back at them. “Look at this,” he whispered. “Six Realm Keepers, six Runegard and six dragons. Imagine the damage we could do.”

  “With luck, we will,” I said. “Now quiet.”

  We came to a stop before the five golden chairs. As before, Longtooth leapt down from his pillar, twisting and morphing in midair to land earthbound in his seat. Blackscale leapt up from behind us and transformed to land in his own chair. One by one, the rest of the Council joined them.

  “This Council once again convenes to pronounce its doom,” said Longtooth, his voice slow, his tone even. “Before us lies the matter of the Realm Keepers, and the humans’ desire for an alliance. What shall we vote?”

  “I place a vote before the Council,” said Redwing, her amber eyes flashing as she glared at us.

  “Speak,” said Longtooth.

  “These humans violate Wyrmspire with their presence. They seek to enlist us as their vassals. And now they have brought an army of Chaos to our very doorstep.”

  “The army is not theirs,” said Blackscale. “The army is the threat they sought to warn us about.”

  “Did they bring warning, or did they bring their fight?” countered Redwing. “No forces of the great darkness have been seen here in centuries, since long before either of us have hatched. Now the darkness returns, and in the same week as the Realm Keepers. We cannot see this as coincidence. I say that this Council should see the Realm Keepers destroyed, their corpses tossed to the human Terrence as a warning that the Spire shall tolerate no outsiders. Now or ever.”

  The muscles in Blackscale’s jaw spasmed, but he said nothing.

  “The Council votes,” said Longtooth. “Redwing, the proposer, has voted for their death, and her reasons have been stated. Who speaks next?”

  “I vote against Redwing,” said Blackscale, “and my reasons should be clear enough. I have pledged my protection to the Realm Keepers. Our ancient laws, forged in the days of Wyrmspire’s youth, forbid us to harm them unless in our own defense.”

  “I vote with Redwing,” said Windfang. He sat rigid and upright in his chair, both of his hands gripping its arms. His face, as he stared at us, wasn’t hateful; he simply looked annoyed, put out by our nerve in being there. “Long has Wyrmspire sat in peace, with no dragons lost to us in battle. Now these Realm Keepers seek to wipe away that peace, to have us cast our lot against their foes so that they need not die in their own war. Let us have done with them.”

  My stomach did a little flip-flop as Cloudsplitter leaned forward. As before, he seemed the most relaxed among the Elders, and continued to study us with interest even as he began to speak.

  “I vote against Redwing,” he said. “The Realm Keepers bear us no ill will. Whether we would participate in their war or not, how can we kill those who have come to us in peace, and whom we have entertained in hospitality?”

  I felt myself relax one iota, and I tried to relay my gratitude with my eyes. Cloudsplitter gave me a barely-perceptible nod.

  Longtooth cleared his throat and sat up straighter, though his body betrayed him with its stooped shoulders and arching back. The nearly-black scales that covered his skin caught the sunlight on their edges and flung it into my face, but I tried not to blink.

  “I vote against Redwing,” he said. I felt such a giddy rush of relief that for a moment I was light-headed, and I barely heard the rest of what he said. “I am very old, old enough to remember the Schism. And yet I am also old enough to remember the times before, when human and dragon worked together in harmony, and the gifts of our alliance were a boon to all.”

  Beside me, I saw Calvin twitch slightly, his brow furrowing. I prayed that he wouldn’t say something out loud and ruin the moment.

  “Those days are ended,” continued Longtooth, “and they can never be reclaimed. Yet these Realm Keepers are but hatchlings, and I sense that they have a great purpose to fulfill, with or without our help.”

  He turned to Redwing before continuing. “That is not even to mention the folly of reasoning that by killing the Realm Keepers, we would avoid a war. The humans of Athorn would be enraged, and immediately there would be summoned new Realm Keepers. Mindless of their own folly, they would march upon us. They could never hope to breach the Wyrmspire, but many dragon lives might yet be lost while the conflict raged.”

  Redwing scowled and sank back into her seat. Windfang sniffed and looked away, annoyed but ultimately uncaring.

  “What other matters of concern will be brought before the Council?”

  I looked at Blackscale, expecting him to bring up the alliance. But instead, he looked back at me and inclined his head.

  Me? Why did it have to be me? But we’d trusted him this far. I’d trust him one more time.

  I took a step forward. “Eldest Longtooth,” I began. “If you’ll forgive me, I’d like to ask that the Council vote on whether to join us in an alliance against Chaos.”

  Longtooth glanced at Blackscale, his eyes widening slightly. Blackscale looked back at him without expression. Blackscale turned his glossy yellow eyes back to me.

  “You have the temerity to call for a vote?” said Windfang, nearly rising from his seat. “You far overestimate the value of your place. You are not Elders. You are not even dragons!”

  Longtooth raised a hand, and Windfang fell silent. But his nostrils continued to flare and contract as he stared daggers at me.

  “The laws of old still bind this Council,” declared Longtooth. “Though some of them have long been unused. And those laws declare that the Realm Keepers, recognized as our friends since Malus first came to us from the West, may beg the Council’s attention to matters of state.”

  “You cannot be serious!” said Redwing. “It has been millennia since those laws were made, and the Schism befell us since.”

  Longtooth looked at her a long moment before answering. “I am very old,” he said. “Old enough to remember that those laws were never rescinded, even when we cast the humans from us and returned the gifts of our alliance with them.”

  Calvin tugged on my sleeve, but I shrugged him off and ignored him.

  “The Council votes,” said Longtooth. “Who will speak first?”

  “I vote with the Realm Keepers,” said Blackscale immediately. “Long ago, our race reaped many rewards from our friendship with the humans. Though much has happened since, I perceive that humanity may have become again a species with which we may find common ground.”

  “I vote against them,” Redwing spat. “This is madness. We will gain nothing but death from their supposed friendship, these mouslings who see us as their mounts.”

  “I vote against them,” said Windfang. “My reasons echo Elder Redwing’s, and I shall say no more.”

  I looked to Cloudsplitter next. But before he could say anything, Longtooth sat up straighter in his chair. The Council hall stilled. Everyone’s eyes went to the old dragon. The air itself seemed to be charged with tension. I almost imagined I could hear it crackle.

  “I am very old,” said Longtooth.

  “Jeez, we get it,” whispered Blade. I struck out with my foot, kicking his shin. He yelped and shut up.

  Longtooth either didn’t hear or didn’t care to respond. “I have seen the worst of mankind,” he said. “I have seen their petty rivalries, their border squabbles, their blind ambition for power. None of the lesser races have ever been unified as the dragons are. None can be satisfied with what they have. While the dragons live here in peace, if not harmony, all of the lesser races battle amongst each other and amongst themselves, a never-ending war with a thousand new battles every day.”

  I thought my heart would stop. We’d lost with Longtooth. It would be two votes to three, and we’d lose.

  “But I have also fought against Chaos,” Longtooth went on. “I have seen their voracious desire to consume. They will see our world burn, and then they will continue to True Earth and cleanse it, too, with black flames. They have, indeed, rallied an army greater tha
n that the world has seen since the day that Malus brought us the gifts of his alliance. And that army is bold. What more proof do we need than the soldiers of Chaos that camp upon our northern border? Would they have dared this in a yesteryear?”

  He turned to look at the other members of the Council, one by one. “Time is the wind, and the wind changes. One day, things may change. One day, we may change our minds. But now, today, the mountain cannot stand immobile in the wind’s path. If we do not take wing upon its gusts, it will wear us down. I vote with the Realm Keepers, that we rebuild our alliance with the humans and destroy this Terrence. After that is done, the Council should revisit the issue to determine whether the alliance should bear any permanence. But now, the Realm Keepers need us. And I believe that we need them as well.”

  “Yes!” cried Calvin. He jumped into the air, and a gust of wind propelled him above my head before he came back down. He pumped a fist in the air. “Thank you!”

  I crushed a hand over his mouth to stop him from talking, but I couldn’t stop a smile from coming to my own face. Everyone around me gave a huge sigh of relief.

  “I vote against the Realm Keepers.”

  It felt like it took a full minute for the words to sink into my mind. When they did, I looked around, confused. Who had spoken? Then I noticed Cloudsplitter. He sat slumped to the side in his seat, the bottom of his snout buried in his hand. He wouldn’t meet my eyes.

  Blackscale was staring at him, immobilized in disbelief. It took him forever to speak, and when he did his voice was thick with confusion. “Will you give reason, Elder Cloudsplitter?”

  “I am the Elder of my clan,” said Cloudsplitter, staring firmly at the floor. “This should not be. My father, his father, and all of my uncles and aunts perished in war. A pointless war that accomplished nothing. Dragons died, and what have we to show for it? The giants are dead, and in their death we won nothing at all but the cessation of hostilities.”

  Finally, he raised his eyes to stare at me. He paused for a moment before continuing. “I am young enough to fight in your war, Keeper of Earth. And yet, if I voted for the alliance to be rebuilt, I would not join you on the battlefield. I am Elder of my clan, and it is forbidden. How could I support you and send other dragons to fight and die by your side, while I sit here in safety and comfort and watch the war from on high?”

  My voice was strangled in my throat. “It’s not just about you, or your clan,” I pleaded. “It’s about everyone. Everyone in Midrealm. They’re all in danger. I thought you saw that.”

  He dropped his gaze to stare at the stony floor again. “I have spoken.”

  Longtooth stood from his seat. His voice floated upon the air like the creeping tide of fate. “The Council has decided. The dragons shall remain apart in this war, and no alliance or friendship shall be struck with the humans. The Realm Keepers must ready themselves to leave Wyrmspire, tonight. The Council has decided.”

  With that he turned and leapt, unfolding in midair to his natural form. He settled upon the central stone pillar at the back of the room and wrapped his body in his massive wings. Redwing rose, her lips drawn back in a grin, and launched to the sky, flying from one of the windows into the open air. Windfang left in a more stately manner, giving me only a single contemptuous glance.

  Blackscale stood and began to stride toward us. Cloudsplitter rose and made as if to speak to him, but Blackscale pushed right past without hearing a word. He came straight to us, leaving Cloudsplitter looking on helplessly.

  “Let us go,” said Blackscale. “We must ready you to leave.”

  “You’re kicking us out?” said Blade. “Thanks a lot, man. A real buddy.”

  “The Council has spoken,” Blackscale spat. But his anger wasn’t directed back at Blade; he glared furiously back at the golden chairs, where Cloudsplitter still sat, head hanging. “If you are still here when night falls, Redwing will attack. I can no longer defend you, thanks to that fool’s duplicity. Dragon’s blood will be spilled, and it will be my fault.”

  “Blackscale, how can we leave?” I said. “Terrence is guarding the way north. He’ll kill us for sure.”

  “There may be a way,” said Blackscale. “I know of a path you might take, one that would circumvent his army. But we must consult the maps to be sure. That is why we must hurry. If we are deft and sure in our preparations, I can still fulfill my pledge to protect you.”

  “We understand,” said Calvin. “You did everything you could. It’s not your fault Whiny McWhinypants over there turned out to be a jerk face.”

  Blackscale stared at Calvin for a long moment. He blinked.

  “Never mind,” I said. “It doesn’t make sense even if you know the words. Come on.”

  Five hours later, the sun was midway in its descent. We were at the massive stone arch that served as the entrance to Wyrmspire. We had our horses, whose saddlebags had been partially refilled. While Blackscale had gone over maps with me, endlessly repeating the route we had to take, he’d sent some of his family out to hunt for us. Blade had seared the meat, making it more fit for travel. We couldn’t package up all of it, since even seared meat wouldn’t keep forever, but at least it was something.

  “You must travel as fast as you can,” said Blackscale. “Your escape will depend on its speed. If you can evade Terrence before he knows you have left the mountain, you have a chance.”

  We had our backs to the arch, and he stood earthbound before us. Behind him were Nightclaw, Bonebreaker, Thunderfoot, Skycutter and Wingstone. All of them had stood by us the whole time we were on the mountain. Some of them had risked their lives for us. Above them were many, many more dragons, clinging to the cliffs that surrounded the entry plateau.

  “We’ll be fast,” I said.

  “We can watch you from the sky,” said Blackscale. “But only to our borders. Once you reach the mountains, we must withdraw. I dare not risk conflict with Terrence or any other peoples that may lie beyond our borders. That would violate my vows as Elder, and Bloodtooth would take my place upon the Council.”

  “Yeah, that sounds like pretty much the worst thing ever,” said Miles.

  “Very nearly,” said Blackscale. He bowed low, his torso almost at a right angle to his legs. As one, all of the dragons behind him dipped their snouts to the ground. The ones on the cliffs above us didn’t budge.

  “Farewell, Realm Keepers,” said Blackscale. “Would that I had been a greater help to you.”

  I returned his bow with one just as deep. “You did all you could. Thank you, Blackscale. We’ll always remember that the dragons can be just as brave and honorable as anyone we’ve ever met. And no matter what’s happened between our people, you’ll always be our friend.” I rose and looked at the five behind him, looming above us in their natural forms. “That goes for all of you. Some or all of us would be dead if it wasn’t for you. We can’t repay you now, but we’ll never forget it.”

  We straightened. Blackscale twisted before us, unfolding to his full size. There was nothing left to say. I turned and got on my horse. One by one, the others did the same. We turned away and rode through the arch, then down the long stone road away from Wyrmspire.

  Behind us, I heard a roar. I turned in my saddle to see Blackscale and the others launch themselves into the sky. Soon they were wheeling high above us, not so far as to be out of sight, but plenty high enough to see any threats before they came.

  I spurred my horse to a gallop. We rode from Wyrmspire as fast as we could, never to return.

  THE MOUNTAIN PASS

  MILES

  THE SUN DREW CLOSER AND closer to the horizon to our right as we rode. I kept having to dismiss the feeling that we were going in the wrong direction, but there was more than one reason for that. On Earth, the sun would have set on the right—but then, on Earth, the land we were riding across would be backwards, too.

  And of course, on Earth, we wouldn’t be leaving behind a mountain of dragons and riding straight toward an army that wanted to kill
us.

  The land still fell steeply away before us, leading to the long green valley that would bring us straight into Terrence’s arms if we kept following it. But Blackscale and Sarah had come up with a plan, a plan I’d tried to commit to memory as they sat over a map and sketched it out. To the northeast, we’d run into the Giant’s Pass and the underground caverns with the trolls. None of us wanted to try that again. But to the northwest, there was a mountain pass that would lead us around Terrence’s army, allowing us to bypass him entirely and ride hard for Morrowdust. That is, if Terrence didn’t know about the pass and move to block it. But Blackscale and Bonebreaker had scouted the place, and it looked free and clear.

  I didn’t know what I should be feeling, but I felt like I should be feeling something. We’d failed, completely and utterly. We’d come here with one purpose, which was to gain the alliance of the dragons in the fight against Chaos. But they’d said no. Despite that, I didn’t feel defeated, sad, or even scared. I was numb. It was like all of the experience of the last several weeks had been stripped away, leaving me at square zero. Weeks of traveling, running, fearing for my life, almost dying, all of it stripped away in a flash.

  “What are we going to do?” I said. The air had been quiet, a silence broken only by the hoofbeats of our horses, and my words came with surprising suddenness.

  Sarah gave me a look, confused. “What do you mean? We’re going to go through the pass and get back to Morrowdust.”

  “No, I mean after,” I said. “What are we going to do about the war?”

  “We’re going to think about that when we’re back,” said Melaine beside me. “Right now, the important thing is to get you through the pass and beyond Terrence’s reach. All of you,” she added, looking around self-consciously.

  “I feel like this is wrong,” I said. “This isn’t how this was supposed to happen. The prophecy said we were supposed to rebuild the alliance.”

  “Well, look who’s a big believer in prophecy all of a sudden,” said Blade, smirking at me.