War Dragons

by C. K. Rieke

  “We rose the white banner,” Kera said, taking two steps toward the queen. “That was a sign we were to be allies. We did fight off the dragon Tirilin, who left hours earlier than you anticipated from your legends. We surely saved thousands more from the mad dragon’s wrath. I’d say we’ve more than shown our allegiance. I even showed you the courtesy of bowing before the one who's been hunting me, killing my friends and family all along the way. Now, I ask you—Queen Lezeral—what would you do for me to show me a sign of your allegiance?”

  Lilaci was left shocked and speechless by Kera’s words. Is this a little girl next to me? Or a queen in her own right? I’ve never heard anyone—other than Burr—speak to Lezeral in that tone. That’s my girl.

  Lezeral turned then, speaking with the advisers on both sides of her. They talked a long while, ten minutes or so, making Lilaci and the others wait patiently. A cool breeze blew in, and the fires on the horizon began to glow an orange glow around the city, as the sun disappeared, and the moon hung high, as dark clouds cut through it.

  Finally, the queen turned and faced them again. She cleared her throat. “I knew Dânoz, Eyr, Fayell, Arymos, and Vigolos would send something out after you. That was to be expected. But to wage a full-on attack on their own cities caught me and the other royal families by surprise. For now, I can give you no army, my soldiers must stay to protect these cities. Weapon and armor I will give you, crafted from my most talented smithies in the kingdoms. Supplies I’ll give you but should be without saying. And I will ask, what do you ask of this queen? How can I aid you in your quest to defeat the gods that have laid waste to my city and people?”

  “No army?” Veranor then said, surprising even the queen herself.

  “Pardon me?” the queen snapped, her teeth showing. “What did you say, ex-commander?”

  He cleared his throat loudly. “If you would give us no army of the city, give us your private army.” He can’t possibly mean... “Give us the Scaethers.”

  Then, from behind the ranks of the Queensguard Elan burst through. She wore the full, ceremonial garb of Sorock—her hair pulled back in the signature bun, the red sash perfectly tied at her waist. “Absolutely out of the question!” she yelled at Veranor with the skin on the top of her nose tightened in anger. She looked up at the queen. “I beg you not to entertain this fool. That would destroy everything we’ve stood for, for our existence. We fight for the gods, we fight for you, our queen. We do not fight for traitors, heretics, outcasts, and the damned reason for all of the madness—The Dragon’s Breath herself!”

  “Choose here and now,” the queen said down to Elan, her eyes as serious as Lilaci had ever seen them. “Which side do you choose then? The side of the gods that sent Tirilin down on us to kill all, even you? Or your queen, who’s vowed to end their reign, and bring about change in the Arr? You must decide, you cannot choose both.”

  Elan looked down at the dirt for a long moment, and Lilaci knew Elan could tell that if she chose the gods, she’d surely be stricken down where she stood. But for a Scaether, let alone the commander of the Scaethers, better to die heroically and true, than as a traitor to the cause.

  “Come, Elan,” Fewn said with her arms out to her. “Let the madness die. This is going to be the beginning of something better, for all of us.”

  Elan didn’t look up to meet her gaze.

  “I remember the first time I met you, Elan.” Lilaci closed her eyes in somber remembrance. “I’d just been taken, and I was scared and shaken. My mother and father had just been murdered. My brother and sister were left to die slow deaths out on the sands all alone. I was bound, forced across the desert with their killers, and forced into a walled-off prison in a big, new place. I was terrified,” Lilaci said. “I thought I was going to die... then I saw you.” Her eyes opened and peered into Elan’s. “You weren’t like the men who took me to Sorock. Your face was kind, and your words were gentle. I still remember that moment to this day. You took me in your arms, not forcibly, but just enough to make me feel safe. That’s you, Elan. Strong, gentle, and kind when a scared girl just needs someone to tell her ‘it's going to be OK’.”

  Kera sniffled next to her, wiping her eye.

  “I need that Elan again,” Lilaci said, and found Elan’s brown eyes looking into hers. “Don’t go with Dânoz. He’ll only continue the path of death and torment you are on. He can be killed. We can end this madness.”

  Elan’s brow furrowed, seemingly unsure what to do. Then her back straightened, and she faced Lezeral.

  “Have you made a decision?” the queen asked.

  “I wish to be removed of my duty as general commander of the Scaethers,” Elan said, her arms stiffened and back straight.

  “Your request is denied,” the queen said quickly. “What is your answer?”

  Elan’s back loosened and her shoulders sunk. She let out a sigh. “Then... I choose you, my queen. But I ask of you. If I have any merit in my position, please do not ask me to join them. That would be a tremendous dishonor to our ranks.”

  “I don’t want your help anyway,” Kera said then, breaking the tension, and creating a new one.

  “You don’t?” Veranor asked, scratching his stubbly chin. Lilaci smiled wide. “The Scaethers are strong, one of the mightiest forces in all of the Arr. They would be a tremendous asset.”

  “I already have the mightiest force in the Arr,” Kera said, looking up to the sky, as the orange glowing wings of Herradax flew underneath the white glow of the moon.

  Lilaci couldn’t help but laugh and forced her hand over her mouth to silence herself.

  “Very well,” the queen said. “What is it you wish of me, to prove my allegiance to you Dragon’s Breath?”

  “First,” Kera said, brushing Elan away with a wave of her hand, which Elan conceded to, disappearing back through two of the Queensguard, “I ask for a formal apology, and full, royal pardon of those of the Order of Drakon and of the survivors of the Knights of the Whiteblade.”

  A heavy, long, awkward silence followed. The soldiers rustled anxiously, all the while, Lilaci smiled a grin full of teeth, along with Fewn and Ezmerelda. Veranor waited for the queen’s reply.

  Lezeral turned and spoke with her advisers while Kera waited. Herradax let out a screech overhead as she circled in the sky, with Kôrran trailing just behind.

  The queen turned, and with her arms at her back, she said, “I concede to your request. This needless bitterness between us after all this time is over. The last of the Knights of the Whiteblade are no longer enemies to the crown of Voru—if they hold to their own terms of a truce. I not only apologize to the Order of Drakon, but I thank them for bringing up such a wise girl. They are pardoned.”

  “Second,” Kera said, seemingly not surprised the queen conceded the first request, “I ask you produce fine saddles for us.”

  “Saddles?” the queen asked, with her head moving back, then turning to her advisers. “Of course, whatever you need. I’ll give you strong Ioxi, steeds of any breed.” But then it seemed to occur to the queen that Kera wasn’t asking for any regular saddle. “I see...”

  “Crossing the sea is treacherous I hear,” Kera said, and I hope the King of Scindír will be gracious to give us ships, but in case there are no ships, or the ships are wrecked by storms...”

  “You think to ride the dragons,” Lezeral said.

  Kera nodded.

  “I will have my best get to work on them immediately,” the queen said, and as the torches whipped in the cool breeze, she asked, “Have you any other requests? Or is that all?”

  “I do have one more. Queen Lezeral, and this may appear to be a bit... trite...”

  “Go on,” the queen said. “Ask”

  “I ask of you, for...” Kera then showed her age by growing shy and looking down at her feet as she shuffled nervously. “May I have four hairs from your head?”

  “My queen,” one of the advisers belted out. “This is most out of the ordinary.”

  Lez
eral walked forward, and took slow steps down the golden staircase, being careful not to step on her long dress. The two advisers followed and the Queensguard stormed forward, forming a wall between Kera and the queen.

  “Oh, it’s all right,” the queen said, waving them out of the way as she held the tips of her dress above her ankles to not get it dirty. As the knights made a narrow path for the queen to pass through, she did so, standing only feet in front of Kera and Lilaci. “Do I at least have the right to ask why?”

  Kera looked up at Lilaci but didn’t speak.

  “I have a curse upon me,” Lilaci said. “I’m aging quicker than nature intended.” She held up her hair for the queen to see the streaks of silver in it.

  “I see,” the queen said, examining the hair and nodding.

  “The potion that would remedy this curse calls for three hairs from the head of a queen,” Lilaci said.

  “Then why four?” the queen asked. “Why did you ask for four hairs?”

  “In case we lose one on our journey,” Kera said, with an honest look on her face, “we will have a backup.”

  “Smart girl,” the queen said, reaching up and counting out the hairs, and with a yank, pulled them down and handed them to her. “There’s probably five in there, just in case you lose two.” She winked at Kera, who then smiled. “Now I must return to my duties. We will speak by raven or scroll from here on out. I assume you are going to be on your way after the saddles and supplies are given to you? Off to Scindír you will be?”

  “Yes,” Kera said.

  “I will let the king know to expect you,” Lezeral said. “It should take you a month to get there from here, but Veranor knows that already and is surely already readying a path for you to take.”

  “I hope there is still going to be a Scindír by the time we get there,” Lilaci said. “If the other dragons have already attacked the other cities, I’m afraid we won’t find much left there in a month.”

  “It has been so long since we had a war like this,” Lezeral said, “it’s difficult to imagine what could be worse than what we saw today.”

  “What could be worse than what happened today?” Veranor said to the queen. “Every one of us could be dead. That would be worse.”

  “Such a way with words you have there,” Ezmerelda said, clapping him on the back with a laugh.

  “Thank you,” Kera said to Lezeral. “I never would have imagined it, but you are a good queen, and a good woman. The older I get, the more I understand everything is not as you assume. I feared you were evil because you tried to kill me, but now I see you were just another victim of Dânoz and the others.”

  “Thank you, Kera,” she replied, kneeling and placing her hand on Kera’s shoulder. “Because of you, even with all of this bloodshed, at least now, we all have a chance to be free. And what a blessing that is in these lands. I fear none of us were born with a choice of what our role would be in this world, but now we do. Don’t we?”

  Kera just smiled up at the queen and nodded. Lilaci felt a feeling that could be best described to her, like that of a proud mother, and she couldn’t help from smiling.

  Part III

  Slipping Through her Fingers

  Chapter Fourteen

  A thick, cool fog hung in the air, creating an eerie feeling as they prepared to enter back out into the desert. Looking out east, they could neither see the high tops of the Xertans, nor a half-mile out to the dunes that loomed in that direction. It was a nice reprieve from the normality of staring into the rising sun, but Lilaci couldn’t help but shake off the symbolism of such dreary weather, on the first day of the next leg of their quest—to reach the city of Scindír, where they would hopefully be presented with ships to take them to the island of Arralyn—the isle of the gods.

  Having been presented soft beds in the palace to rest their fatigued bodies after their meeting with the queen, it seemed only Burr held any urgency to vacate the city. Lilaci, not ever considering Voru or Sorock to be her real home, couldn’t deny that sleeping on a mattress of soft cotton made her feel as if she was floating on a pillowy cloud compared to the normally hard dirt, or cold sand, she had been covering in a thin, scratchy blanket these last few months. Regardless of their urge to stay tucked away under the soft sheets in the roofed rooms they lay in, when the first light of day peaked up over the window of smooth glass, they knew there was still much work to be done.

  Outside their rooms, there had been waiting a knight in full armor, ready to escort them out of the palace. Once they were all led out of the palace—and found an annoyed Demetrius waiting for them impatiently—Erich of the Queensguard and the queen’s female adviser led them back down the road, away from Erodoran.

  “We’ve prepared a convoy to accompany you to Scindír,” Erich said, not looking back at Lilaci and the others as he strode forward.

  “That won’t be necessary,” Lilaci said, “We will take care of each other.”

  “We have no doubt you will,” the adviser said, feigning a slight smile, “but the queen ordered it. She wants you all to have the luxury of resting on your journey.”

  “Tell the queen we are grateful,” Kera said, wiping the sleepiness from her eyes.

  Burr opened his mouth to speak, but caught a big, balled fist shooting in front of his face with its index finger extended.

  “Not a word from you,” Gogenanth said, shaking his finger. “I don’t want to hear a single, ungrateful word from you until we are outside of the city. Or I’ll sling you over my shoulder again and hit you on the rear like the rotten kid you act like.”

  Burr shook his finger back, ready to spit out a retaliatory threat, but Lilaci glared at him, “Not a word,” she uttered.

  His lips tightened together, and his one mean eye glared at her. He then stared up at the big man next to him with a spiteful stare. Fewn giggled, wrapping her arm around Kera, who had to cover her mouth and look away.

  “The queen had her finest saddlers work through the night to build you a set of saddles you requested,” the adviser said. “Obviously they’ve never created saddles as big as these, but there’s a wagon filled with a dozen different sizes, fittings, and girths. Hopefully you will find a variety that will suit your needs.”

  “I’m sure they will,” Kera said kindly. “Tell the queen she has my gratitude.”

  “There’s even a saddle made for two in there,” the adviser said. “The first of its kind.”

  Lilaci looked at Kera with an approving gaze, and Kera seemed pleased.

  Twenty minutes into their walk, Erich stopped and turned a corner unexpectedly. The group was alarmed by this, but as soon as Lilaci was about to ask the adviser about it, the adviser motioned for them to follow. “Food and drink, for the road,” she said with a welcoming grin.

  Around the corner they went, entering a small pub that smelt of stale mead and sweat, but it also smelled of freshly fried bacon and buttery duck eggs. They were welcomed to a long wooden table with two long pews on either side under the warm light of the sun filtering through the thick glass windows at the top of the vaulted ceiling above. The barkeep walked over with his hands full of four pitchers, two of water, one of milk, and one of red wine.

  The group filled their mugs with their drink of choice, and to Lilaci’s surprise Fewn took the wine. She looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

  “We’re going to have guards with us now,” Fewn said. “We should be celebrating our last victory. Wouldn’t you agree? We’ve had no time to enjoy ourselves, and this is going to be a long journey.”

  Lilaci pulled the pitcher to herself and poured herself a glass of the burgundy-colored wine. She raised it to her lips and let the floral flavors roll down her mouth into her belly. She then unexpectedly let out a belch that sounded more like it came from Gogenanth than her. Kera and Fewn seemed quite taken aback by the burp that almost made the walls rumble. They were soon laughing so hard that Fewn had to wipe the tears away.

  Ezmerelda grabbed the wine and poured
some for both Gogenanth and herself, emptying it, and then raising it for the barkeep to see. He quickly brought a fresh pour over and removed the empty.

  Gogenanth eyed his glass and Ezmerelda with a peculiar look.

  “Drink up,” she ordered. “This is our celebration for getting this far, and also the christening of our next journey, and to the voyage ahead!”

  He rolled his eyes but held out his glass to clink against the glasses of the others as the barkeep brought over the clay plates, laying them out before each of the patrons. Burr sat at the end of one of the pews with his arms crossed, sitting back with a disgusted frown on his face. The all took their glasses back and put them to their lips.

  “To Herradax!” Ezmerelda said, raising her glass. “To Kôrran the II!”

  Veranor then reached out and grabbed the pitcher and poured himself a glass of wine, “To the Aridons,” he said as he raised his glass, and took a gulp from the glass with the others. A full smile crept across his face, and the long-crisscrossed scars across his brow and nose rose slightly.

  I don’t remember the last time I saw him smile, it's almost unnatural to look at. Perhaps he smiled once back when he was training her. But I don’t even remember him smiling like that when we killed Gorlen, hatched Herradax, or defeated the dragons last. Maybe this is another sign he’s actually trying to be a better person. Maybe... he’s trying to be a friend.

  “Let me know when you’re done,” Burr snapped with both his hands flat on the table, and his shoulders squared. “I’ll be waiting outside of this godforsaken city.” Then he stormed out of the bar, and there was a silence that was quickly filled with controlled giggling by Fewn. Then the real laughter began. First Gogenanth let it out, belting so loudly he brought his hands behind his head and closed his eyes with his head back. The laughter that came from him seemed to shake the walls. Lilaci took another sip and joined in on the laughter.