“Yes,” Rafe confirmed. “He joined the resistance a while ago.” Rafe looked around at the band of men and, I noticed, women too. He lowered his voice and gave Fagren a pointed look. “Is there somewhere we can talk?”
The leader of the Eldorean underworld nodded. “Come with me.”
We followed a path skirting the edge of the forest and soon came to a cave, dimly lit and separate from the maze of caverns we had just come through. A few warriors stood guard around the entrance, swords strapped to their waists, one with a bow and a quiver of arrows hanging on his back.
The cave was cut into a hill, and the ceiling of the cave was only about ten feet high, its walls black and glistening with the occasional drip of water, creating puddles where they pooled. Small intermittent fires dotted the damp space, surrounded by a raggedy bunch of people who huddled around them for warmth. Children clung to their mothers as the old sat still, gazing into the flames in remembrance of a time that once was.
Fagren smiled as he looked around and, with a flourish of his hand, said, “Welcome to the resistance.” His tone changed. “Or what’s left of it.”
I was shocked as I looked around at the once-great resistance—the rebels called the Silver Swords were now merely a band of refugees who had escaped Morgana’s guards only to die here in a dark cave, forgotten and alone.
Rafe explained to Fagren that we were looking for Captain Jarvik and we needed to get into the town of Royn.
“That old goat!” Fagren sneered as we sat around a fire that night, nibbling on stale corncakes the ladies had made a few days before. “Full of tall tales.”
“But he’s here?” Rafe confirmed. “In the town of Royn?”
“Seems like it,” Fagren nodded. “His vessel docked here just a few days ago, last I heard.”
“We need to talk to him urgently,” Penelope interrupted.
“Now?”
Rafe threw a fleeting look at Kalen. “The sooner the better. Can you get us into Royn tonight, Fagren?”
“I don’t know. Royn is teeming with guards. They have ransacked all the towns and cities along the coast and put the citizens to work to supply the growing needs of Morgana’s army. Blacksmiths, tanners, and all the other useful artisans are now making clothes and weapons for Morgana. She has raised taxes, bleeding the kingdom dry to a point where the citizens are paying more than they are making. It’s a mess here. Anyone who rebels against her or her guards is quickly silenced or shipped away to the mines. Others who have managed to escape the dungeons find safe haven here.”
Rafe leveled him a steely look. “We still need to find Captain Jarvik urgently, Fagren. Can you get us into Royn or not?”
The leader of the Eldorean underworld stroked his dark beard. “I will see what I can do.”
Two young girls came up to me and tugged at my belt.
I looked down at their pale dirty faces and hollow eyes staring up at me with wonder.
“Mama says you are the true Queen of Illiador,” said one girl with fair hair; it once could have been a rich gold but was now caked with ash and blood. “She says you are the Dawnstar.”
“Mama says you came to save us,” said the other. Her dark eyes narrowed. “Have you come to save us?”
I had never felt the loss of my magic as much as I did at this very moment. Every time someone called me the Dawnstar I felt a sinking feeling in my stomach. Aurora Firedrake the Dawnstar was gone. All that was left in her place was an imposter, a powerless husk of the so-called Shadowbreaker.
My eyes welled up at the hope in their faces, and my heart constricted as never before. I could have helped them once—I could have burned Morgana’s soldiers to a crisp and given these people back their homes and their town. I could have united the kingdoms and defeated this general. But that was before the Dagger took my magic from me. It was like a gaping hole within me, and I felt the loss of my magic every waking moment.
I shook my head at the twisted turn of fate. The Dawnstar had been their only hope, and I had taken it from them. Even though they didn’t know I had lost my magic, one day they would, and their last shred of hope would die along with a kingdom I could not save.
A fire rose up inside me, born not of magic but of anger and despair all intertwined in a fiery mass that seemed to choke me. I knelt before the girls, put my hands on their frail shoulders, and said the only thing that gave me solace in the darkest of times. “Have faith.” I tried to keep my voice from breaking as a wealth of emotions stormed within me. “A very wise dragon once told me if you have faith, nothing is impossible.”
The girls’ eyes grew wider. “You know a dragon?”
I stood, pulling myself up to my full height, and surveyed the room. “Of course,” I said, smiling at the two girls, my course set, my mind clear as to what my path was. “His name is Abraxas. And he is the mightiest dragon who ever lived.”
The fair-haired girl’s lips trembled. “Will he come to save us too?”
I gazed around the cave once more at my people, the world I was meant to save. “I certainly hope so, my dear.” My voice was low. “I certainly hope so.”
But the ring on my finger lay dull and lifeless like any other ordinary ring.
Stars twinkled overhead as we skirted the edges of the forest following Fagren to the town of Royn on the coast of Illiador. As midnight neared, we reached the little walled town.
I really hoped this Captain Jarvik, whoever he was, could help us find the druids. If we didn’t get to them in time, Kalen would die.
Fagren had agreed to keep an eye on the movements of Morgana’s army and find out more about her whereabouts when they made camp. Once we found the druids, if we found them, eventually we would have to return here and try to sneak into Morgana’s camp to steal the Dagger.
Penelope glamoured us while Fagren paid the guard at the gate. The guard carefully ushered us in through a side entrance. The resistance had men positioned at key places in different towns, gathering information and helping others escape the guards.
The town was surprisingly busy at this time of night. Closely packed wooden houses with thatched roofs were separated by a maze of small cobblestone streets that all seemed to lead to the docks, which were the main trade and hub of the town. A salty sea breeze carried with it the smell of fish as fishermen haggled at the docks with multiple buyers, trying to get the best deal for their daily haul. The sizzle of metal cooking and the sounds of stone banging rang in my ears as blacksmiths toiled away on their anvils. The leather tanners and carpenters seemed to be working through the night making weapons and armor.
“Why are they all still at work?” I asked Fagren as we hurried through the streets toward the docks. An array of Illiadorian warships and Brandorian merchant galleons lined the port. Smaller Andrysian fishing boats bobbed about in the restless sea between them.
“Morgana is depleting the resources of all the conquered kingdoms to equip and clothe her soldiers,” Fagren replied. “Your people are starving, Aurora. Everything we make, even the produce that grows in the farms all around Illiador and farther north, goes to feed Morgana’s growing army.”
I shuddered at the thought of what Morgana had done to my kingdom as we turned into a small dark street leading to the docks. Wooden warehouses ran the length of the rickety quay, and sailors, merchants, and traders were busy loading ships to supply the army.
According to Fagren, floggings and hangings were an everyday occurrence here. Morgana’s black-uniformed soldiers roamed the streets like dark shadows, instilling fear in the residents and watching for any miscreants. Anyone even hinting at supporting the resistance was immediately taken into custody. Most of the people were too scared to do anything else but surrender to Morgana’s rule. As long as they swore allegiance to her, she allowed the town of Royn and its citizens to continue their work and trade.
We reached the quay and boarded a sleek-looking Andrysian sailing vessel.
“Here we are,” said Fagren. “Captain Jarvik�
��s ship.” He scrunched his nose as he scanned the old boat. “If you could even call it that.”
It wasn’t as big and grand as the pirate prince’s galleon, the Starfire, but it looked fast. I just hoped Captain Jarvik had some idea where to find the druids.
The crew recognized Fagren immediately and ushered us across the wooden deck to the captain’s cabin. It was a small space with a bunk along one wall and a big wooden table along the other, covered with ledgers and charts and whatever else captains used for navigation of the seas.
The captain was sitting at his desk, scribbling away on a piece of parchment. When he saw Fagren, he jumped up. The wooden cup he had been holding crashed to the ground, its contents flying all over our feet. The room smelled of stale sweat and alcohol.
He backed away, his small eyes wide and a bit glazed. “Your men already collected my debts, Fagren.” He straightened his worn leather tunic and smoothed his messy gray hair, shot with silver. “I don’t owe anything till I get back from my next haul.”
Fagren grinned, showing his rotting teeth, some of which had been recently replaced with silver, I noticed. “It’s your lucky day, Jarvik. I haven’t come to collect.”
Rafe raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been keeping busy, I see, Fagren.”
“A man has to make a living.” The leader of the Eldorean underworld shrugged, his hands in his pockets. “I offer protection from Morgana’s guards. For a fee, of course,” he added.
“Rafael, my boy,” said Captain Jarvik, smiling once he realized who Fagren had brought with him. “Or should I say King Rafael.” He gave a short bow, nearly falling over.
“Rafe will do, Jarvik,” said the King of Eldoren, an amused look on his face.
The number of people Rafe knew never failed to amaze me. During his time as the Black Wolf helping the resistance, he had traveled all over Avalonia. But I was not convinced this drunken captain was going to be any help to us.
Jarvik’s eyes trailed over Tristan, Ashara, Kalen, and Penelope, slowly widening and finally settling on me. “The Dawnstar,” he said in awe and started to bow again.
I smiled faintly and looked down.
Rafe cleared his throat. “We need some information, Jarvik.”
His eyes immediately lit up, and he ushered Penelope, Kalen, and me into chairs. Fagren lounged on the bunk, while Tristan and Ashara stood guard at the door. “How can I help?”
Rafe leaned against the desk in front of Jarvik as he scanned the maps on them. “You once told me you had met the druids.”
“Aye,” said Jarvik solemnly.
“Is that what this is about?” Fagren laughed, interrupting. “I could have saved you time if you had told me earlier what you were after. The druids are long gone. There aren’t any left.”
Jarvik shook his head stubbornly. “There is still one monastery left on an island in the Sea of Pearls.”
“Those islands are uninhabited, Jarvik,” Fagren insisted. “The waters around there are treacherous and many a ship has been lost trying to get to them. I have heard reports of ships simply disappearing, never heard from again.”
Rafe gave Jarvik a half smile and crossed his arms. “I have heard of the mysterious mists that surround those islands, Jarvik. And Fagren is right: no sailor in his right mind would take his ship close to those islands. Everyone knows to navigate the Sea of Pearls only along the coastline.”
“Can you create a witchstone to the islands?” Penelope asked Ashara. “There is some kind of magic that protects those islands. Fae portals don’t work there; they never have. Many have tried, but no one has ever succeeded.”
Ashara shook her head. “That would not work. I have never been there before, so it is impossible. But I may be able to make one to get us out of there if needed.”
Penelope turned her azure gaze on Captain Jarvik. “How can you be so sure the druids are there?”
Captain Jarvik’s eyes narrowed. “I’ve been there before. I’ve seen the druids myself.”
Fagren rolled his eyes as he got up from the bunk. “Well, good luck to you then.” He shrugged. “Your confidence is commendable, Jarvik. But no one has seen a druid in over twenty years. And no ship has ever made it to those islands and come back.”
Rafe smiled, the charming princely smile he saved for when he was trying to convince people to do what he wanted. “I have faith in you, Jarvik. I know you, of all people, can get us there.”
The old captain’s eyes shone at the prospect and the praise. “I could.” He puffed out his chest, which only succeeded in making his stomach protrude more than normal. “There are mists that shroud the islands, but I know they can be parted by magic. I’ve seen it done before,” Jarvik insisted.
“When?” Penelope asked.
“Years ago, I took an injured soldier there. A mage. He parted the mists with magic and showed me a safe cove to anchor in.”
Penelope clasped her hands together as she flicked a glance at Kalen, whose arm was steadily worsening. Time was slipping away, and we didn’t know how long we had left. “Then it’s settled. We leave immediately.” Her tone brooked no argument.
“Well, I hope you make it there.” Fagren threw a dark glance at Rafe. “Provided the dear captain can stay sober enough for the length of the journey.”
A Path Forward
The night turned stormy as the crew untied the ropes and hoisted the sails. Fagren procured us some supplies from the town before we left. It would be a short but precarious journey across the Sea of Pearls, where all sorts of sea creatures lurked. The cerulean-blue coastline of Illiador gave way to a churning sea, and the ship rocked dangerously over swells and strong currents as we left the coast behind, heading into the open sea.
Captain Jarvik positioned himself on the upper deck, shouting instructions to the sailors who adjusted the rigging and sails. “We will need more wind if we want to get there faster.”
Penelope stood up. “Get some rest,” she said to me. “I will man the sails.” Her eyes narrowed as she braced her legs and gathered her magic, and a gust of salty sea breeze caught the sails. The wind picked up as Penelope guided it, propelling the ship faster over the open sea. If I had my fae magic, I could have assisted her, but for the moment there was nothing I could do to influence the elements. Once the air and sea had called to me, and I could feel the magic pervading each and every part of them. I could summon it and guide it, shaping it into whatever I wanted. Now all I had was mage magic, which wasn’t going to help us out here on the open sea.
We were lucky—the weather brightened the next day. The small ship glided across the water, leaving the coast of Illiador until we reached the darker, more treacherous waters in the middle of the Sea of Pearls. Captain Jarvik expertly guided us toward the islands that lay in wait in the deepest waters of the sea.
The day went by slowly as Rafe and I helped the sailors with the ropes. Penelope spent most of her time with the captain, trying to make sure we remained on track. She could control the air to an extent, but the ocean was fickle and water-fae were rare. I was the only one of us who could have forced the sea to obey if we were to fall on rough waters. Now all I could do was pray we got to the islands safely.
In my free time I alternated practicing mage magic with Rafe, as he taught me things I had never learned before, and sparring with Tristan, as he insisted on continuing with my training even though I didn’t have fae magic to back it up. Still, something was better than nothing, and I needed to be stronger and more resilient if I was going to get through this alive.
Kalen lay on his bed below deck, wasting away as his strength began to leave him. His arm had started to form a rot, and his fingers had turned black. Once it spread to his chest it would be a matter of time before it reached his heart. The problem was, we had no idea when it would happen.
Spending so much time with Rafe onboard this small vessel made my heart ache. He was polite and restrained, and even when he spoke, he only discussed our plans or training, never anythin
g personal. After our practice sessions, he would busy himself with other chores aboard the ship.
I could tell he was avoiding me.
The next evening, when Tristan and I finished sparring on deck, I stole a quick glance around the ship and spotted Rafe helping the men tie off some ropes. He had been staring at me and looked away as soon as he caught my eye. His shirt was open, and his chest glistened with sweat as he worked. It was hard to imagine him growing lazy and content with sitting on his throne and dealing with insufferable nobles. He was a warrior and an adventurer, but I had to keep reminding myself he was also a king. Soon he would have to return to his kingdom, and I would return to mine, if I got out of this alive.
Tristan seemed amused with Rafe’s behavior and didn’t waste time telling me so. “Your beloved doesn’t seem to want to let you out of his sight,” he snorted.
I shrugged casually, a hint of a smile tugging at my lips. I didn’t want to reveal my feelings about Rafe anymore, especially in front of Tristan. Rafe had made it clear he had no intention of being with me, and I didn’t know what more I could do to convince him that what happened between Tristan and me was a mistake.
But Tristan wasn’t scowling like he usually did when we spoke about Rafe. His attitude toward the other man had changed considerably since we came to Illiador, as he had come to realize how much Rafe had done over the years to help the fae.
Tristan raised an eyebrow. “I presume he hasn’t forgiven you yet?”
My eyes narrowed. “No,” I said flatly. “And I don’t think he ever will.”
Tristan’s mouth quirked to one side. “Oh, he will. I’ve seen the way he looks at you when your gaze is elsewhere. He’s still in love with you, without a doubt.”
My eyes darted to Rafe as I tried to keep my face passive. Tristan was right—he was watching us again, and his eyes were like storm clouds when he saw me talking to the fae prince.
Tristan chuckled. “I almost feel sorry for him. I wouldn’t want to be in his shoes.”
The Return of the Dragon Queen Page 22