War Dragons

by C. K. Rieke

  “The Whiteblades!” he yelled, his voice was thrilling.

  As the queen fell to her side, dead in seconds, Lilaci looked to see swarms of arrows falling upon the groups of Reevins as well. The arrows were seemingly coming out of the sands themselves, but she could see what resembled small mounds, and she could see the whites of eyeballs in some of them.

  The Reevins were struck by the onslaught of arrows mercilessly, and they quickly fell before they were able to cast a spell to protect them. Their attack was all offensive, they didn’t see an attack like this coming. I’ll admit, I never would have imagined this!

  “My Whiteblades have come!” Burr yelled, with both hands raised.

  “Kill them,” Fewn yelled, her hands above her head. “Kill them all!”

  The Reevins were soon all dead from the barrage of arrows, and the webbing on their bodies began to rescind back to the sands. Lilaci looked up to see the two-headed dragon of smoke faded back to a plume of thin black clouds as it let out one last ear-shattering roar. The orb that had been cast around them faded, Herradax, Kôrran, and the Aridons flew swiftly toward them.

  “It’s over,” Lilaci said, wiping the sweat from her brow, and walking over to Kera, wrapping her arms around her.

  Burr continued to holler in pure exhilaration, shaking his fists with as great a grin as she’d ever seen on his face. Gogenanth let his spell fade away. They were all smiling, as Kera was shedding tears of joy.

  “They did it,” Gogenanth said, with a wide smile. “They’ve killed all the Reevins, and they’ve saved our lives.”

  Lilaci noticed they were all pleased, all except one—Veranor, who was frowning, and still holding his sword. He’s thinking about what it's going to be like to be surrounded by the Knights of the Whiteblade. He is their sworn enemy. I’d be petrified with worry if I were him.

  Then the small mounds rose from the sands to reveal the army. Each of the thousands of knights wore tan hoods and capes, covering their dull white armor. As the army went to check on the bodies of the dead Reevins, three approached Lilaci and the others. They were walking from beyond Erdüm’s corpse.

  The knight at the lead resembled Burr slightly, only with both eyes. He had dark skin and a white beard that fell to his collarbone and was neatly trimmed from side to side. He had thick wrinkles on his brow and at the corners of his eyes and had a deep scar above his right eye. He pulled his hood back to reveal a bald head, and before he reached them, his eyes fell to Kera.

  “The Dragon’s Breath,” he said in a deep voice, “it’s an honor to finally meet the one who's brought the dragons back to the Arr.” As he said that Herradax had reached the party and landed behind Kera, staring into the knight’s eyes. She let out a sharp roar. “Beautiful she is.” He bowed at the waist to Kera. The other two knights did the same.

  Burr ran over to him and they grabbed each other’s forearms eagerly.

  “Demetrius,” the knight said with a grin.

  “Alveron,” Burr said, returning the grin.

  “You’ve succeeded,” Alveron said. “You’ve found her and kept her safe.”

  “It was not me alone who did,” Burr said, looking back at Lilaci and the others. Veranor was still scowling with his sword held at his side.

  “Times of war lead to strange bedfellows,” the knight said, eying Veranor, and spitting in his direction.

  “Veranor is with us,” Kera said quickly, her shoulders were back and the vigor in her had returned. “He is not to be harmed by your knights, no matter what crimes he has committed. We need his expertise if we are to defeat Dânoz and the others.”

  Alveron nodded to Kera again. “We will hold back our vengeance, for now, for you. But if he proves to not be with you, or if he threatens us, we will protect our own, if that is agreeable to you.”

  Kera thought for a moment, then nodded. “You have my gratitude for saving us, we would not be here now if not for your intervention.”

  “You sure did take your time though,” Fewn said. “Waiting for the most dramatic moment, were ya?”

  The knights brushed off her comment. “We are here to escort you now,” Alveron said as the other two knights went over to the queen of the Reevin’s corpse. “What do you wish of us?”

  “We are heading to Scindír, the city that rests upon the Great Oasis of Azgobinadan,” Kera said.

  “They will not be welcomed by King Garrond,” Burr said, standing at Alveron’s side.

  “If the city is under siege by the mad dragons of the gods,” Lilaci said, “then they may welcome you with open arms.”

  “Our scouts have spotted no dragon there yet,” Alveron said, “the dragons are now at Duen Utülm Drakon for now.”

  “Then let's be off,” Burr said, “we still have far to go to reach Scindír. The Knights of the Whiteblade have reformed again on the open sands for the first time since the Great Serpentine Wars. Dânoz now knows he’s at war again surely.”

  “It's not only the Whiteblade either,” Alveron said staring at Herradax, Kôrran and the Aridons as they all went over and began inspecting the dead queen’s body. “You’ve brought the most ferocious beasts back from the past. You are quite remarkable Kera, with your help, we may return these lands back to the people.”

  “First, Dânoz must die,” Kera said, her eyes steady to the east, in the direction of Firen-ar. “Then we will see what future the Arr has. But I will see the lights in the gods’ eyes fade for the pain they’ve wrought on my lands.”

  Part IV

  The Return of the Whiteblades

  Chapter Twenty

  Under the hot, blistering sun above, the caravan continued toward the city of Scindír. Although, now the caravan was hardly recognizable from what it had been when it was escorted by the Queensguard of Voru. Now the caravan sat nestled within the ranks of thousands of soldiers with tan hoods and cloaks over their dusty-white armor. Many sat atop ragged Ioxi with mats in their fur, and who’d look like they been ridden beyond their years.

  A warm gust of wind blew into Lilaci’s face as she walked next to the wagon which carried Kera inside. Hours had passed since they decided to be on their way together toward the city that was housed close to the sea. The Knights of the Whiteblade had rummaged through the corpses of the Reevins which were littered with the reflecting Whitewood of their arrows. They’d taken what they found useful, which was a dazzling collection of staffs and many wicked designs and many of the daggers, and coins. They crucified the body of Erdüm up on a high dune to rot in the hot sun and be picked clean by the vultures.

  Walking next to Lilaci, Fewn strode uneasily, her eyes peering out at the soldiers.

  “They’re pleased with themselves,” Fewn whispered, leaning her lips up toward Lilaci’s ear.

  “They should be,” Lilaci said, wiping a stray hair away from her face, tying it back. “They’ve all but eradicated the wizards and their queen. And we should be grateful.”

  “I’m grateful, don’t misunderstand me,” she said. “But you know what I’m saying, they saved us, that’s wonderful, but there are so many of them, and I don’t know if I trust them.”

  Lilaci glanced around at the soldiers, many of them looking over at her and Fewn from under their tan hoods. She groaned, “We would have been enemies just months ago, before Kera entered into our lives, and who would have imagined their numbers would have been this large? Where did they hide all of those years? I don’t believe they mean to hurt us, at least I don’t have reason to suspect that now.”

  “Burr trusts them,” Fewn said, looking up toward him walking next to Alveron at the head of the convoy—or even army now.

  “And we trust Burr,” Lilaci said, looking at him, and then turning her head back toward Gogenanth and Ezmerelda walking side by side, and then to Veranor behind them walking alone. She then looked at the soldiers around him, as they scowled at him, whispering between themselves with sharp tongues. “We should keep our eyes on him.”

  Fewn looked back. “
Who? Veranor?”

  Lilaci nodded. “The knights may not like us, but they hate him.”

  “I’ll watch him,” Fewn said, “but I worry about the ones who would want to try to fight the commander.”

  “Well, we have a long road ahead of us,” Lilaci said, “Let's just take it one day at a time. And yes, we’ll keep an eye on him. But most of all, we’re going to watch over Kera.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t worry too much about her.” Fewn winked, then looked up to the sky where two dragons with their wings spread wide glided over the wagon which Kera slept in.

  One week later.

  Gogenanth slopped hot soup of mutton and potatoes into his mouth, not noticing Ezmerelda, Fewn, Kera, and Lilaci were watching him, steam rising up from the dark, clay bowl in his hands. His eyes then glanced up to them, and his hand paused that held the spoon. Then he, slowly brought it up to his mouth and sipped the soup in.

  “What?” he said, taking one last swallow. “It's quite good.”

  Ezmerelda, who held her own bowl in her hands in her lap, sighed, shaking her head. “Just like a man to not sympathize that others might be grossed out by the disgusting way they shovel food into their mouths.”

  “How am I supposed to eat?” Gogenanth asked. “Look around, we’re surrounded by desert born soldiers. You think their manners are any better?”

  Sitting around the fire, in the early morning sunlight, Lilaci looked around and saw the soldiers, some half-naked, wiping their bodies down with stained rags, or relieving themselves on the outskirts of the caravan. Some were eating, and in no more of a pleasant manner then Gogenanth.

  “Like this,” Ezmerelda said, lifting a spoonful of soup to her lips, gently blowing on it, then as silent as a whisper, sipping it into her mouth. Her eyelids popped open and nudged for him to try.

  He groaned, and then brought the soup up to his lips, and just as he was about to blow on the milky soup, he looked at Kera, who was watching him heavily. He then brought the spoon up to his lips and suddenly opened his mouth wide, dipping his head back and let the whole spoonful fall into his mouth agape. He then looked at Ezmerelda after pulling his head back to its rightful position and let out a loud belch. She gave him a garish expression, and he covered his mouth with his big hand, as an empty sign of embarrassment.

  Kera let out a giggle, but that was quickly cut short as one of the soldier’s boots from a group of Whiteblades walking by, found its way into the back of Fewn’s arm as she was leaning back, innocently watching Ezmerelda’s failed presentation.

  “Hey,” Fewn spat, sitting up quickly, glaring at the soldier. “Do you have a problem?” The soldier just feigned a wry smile and went on his measly way. “Hey.” Fewn stood up, ready to make her way after him.

  A pair of Whiteblades behind the soldier stopped and faced her. “What? You have something to say, since your friend up there can’t seem to muster the stones to...”

  “Fewn,” Kera said, “still yourself please. For me...”

  The two soldiers snickered as Fewn took no other step toward them, and Fewn went and sat with a grunt. “Bastards.”

  Lilaci looked up at the Whiteblades as they walked away, all she could think about was beating them senseless with her bare hands. Then her thoughts went to Fewn and Kera. She could see the anger in Fewn’s eyes, as she glared into the fire, biting her lip. Kera looked sad, as if she was now in the role of the wise grandparent, telling a child to do what was right, even if it was against every instinct in the grandchild.

  “I don’t like some of them either,” Kera said, “but we need them. At least for now.”

  “What do we need them for?” Veranor then said, he was standing to the side, leaning with his shoulder onto a wagon, his clay bowl held at his hip in one hand. Kera seemed off guard, and Lilaci certainly was.

  “What do you mean?” Fewn asked, seemingly eager for a reason.

  “We are not one of them,” he said, the crossing scars on his face wincing in as his brow furrowed. “We do just as well on our own to the Great Oasis of Azgobinadan.”

  “They saved us,” Kera said, her eyes looked not completely sure of her words. Perhaps she was just taken aback by Veranor’s abrupt statement.

  “I doubt they would let us leave,” Lilaci said then, “even if we wanted.”

  “So that’s what we are?” Veranor asked with disdain in his voice, “prisoners?”

  “No,” Kera said. “We may not be of the Whiteblade, but Burr is. And he is one of us. And, yes, they did save us. We may be dead if it wasn’t for them.”

  “That’s true,” Ezmerelda said, blowing on her spoonful of soup.

  “That soldier should be taught not to bother those stronger than he,” the commander said, his sharp tongue seemed to be slowly creeping out from behind his teeth. “It’d take me a couple of seconds and he’d be...”

  “Veranor,” Kera said, cutting him short, but her eyes peering over to the side, finding their way over to Burr who was coming out from behind the other side of the wagon. Burr’s eye found Veranor instantly.

  “He’d be what?” Burr asked, polishing off a metal mug in an aged, tattered cloth.

  Veranor went to answer, but Lilaci’s hand found his ankle, as she reached over from sitting by him.

  “Your soldiers are beginning to show their true tastes for us,” Lilaci said, “and it’s proving... difficult... not to fight.”

  Burr thought for a second then, as he seemed ready to retaliate at any answer Veranor gave, but he thought a long moment. “Well... I’m sorry for the childishness of some of the men. I’ll talk to them. But understand, it is difficult for them too—with your sordid pasts.”

  Veranor looked as if he were to burst into a fury of short words at him, but Kera looked back at him with a look that seemed to say, Let me handle this please.

  “You and Alveron assured us we’d have no troubles as long as we didn’t instigate anything, regardless of the past. I feel as if your troops aren’t holding to your words, and we are trying our best to hold up to our word. Does that seem right?”

  “No, no it does not,” Burr said apologetically. “I will get it resolved. Thanks for your legendary compassion and grace Kera. Now, are you getting enough to eat? Has your journey been good? Are you getting all that you need?”

  Kera nodded. “Yes, many thanks.”

  “You just rest up,” Burr said, “and if you need anything, you’ll have it if we can manage it. Again, sorry little lass.”

  “We’re making good progress,” Lilaci said.

  “This stretch of desert looks much different than I’d imagined it would be going east this way,” Ezmerelda said. “Not like the others.”

  Lilaci looked as tall, dry trees stuck up from the broken rock and sand the army was gathered upon. The dead trees pointed up like an elderly god’s fingers up toward the heavens, snapped off and planted to age and decay over the centuries.

  “It’s as if an old forest was once here,” Gogenanth said, his black hair wafted slightly on his strong neck in a warm breeze. “An ancient forest that died long ago, and here we are in the middle of its tomb.”

  “This is just the way the region of Killian looks,” Burr said. “It’s always been like this. Anyways, I’m going to be getting back to the lead, we’ll be off again on our way shortly. Just rest and relax, Kera. We’re going to take care of everything.” Burr left with a bow at Kera and walked toward the head of the caravan, nodding at Lilaci as he did.

  “See,” Kera said, “he’s going to talk to his men.”

  “Kera,” Fewn said with a smile, “you’re becoming so political... so regal.”

  Kera looked away with her cheeks growing rosy.

  “Still,” Veranor said, folding his arms over his chest. “We’d be better off without all of them.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Another five days passed.

  The journey had continued from dawn until dusk every day, with only a midday break to rest, eat and care for
the Ioxi. The weather had held well, with clear skies, and—moderately—cool weather for the sands. They were still at the cusp between Aturum and Wendren, and the nights drew their cool grasp deeper into them with each moon. The sharp, long dead wood stalagmites that were once called trees grew denser as they walked eastward, so dense in fact that scouts had to be placed upon the surrounding dunes to plot a course through them. More than once, the caravan found themselves at a standstill, unable to make a path wide enough for the wagons to get through, so they went to chopping the trees down.

  Lilaci, for the better part of their travels, had walked alongside Kera’s wagon, even though she was offered her own to rest in. Fewn walked at her side, Gogenanth and Ezmerelda walked on the other side of it, and Veranor crept around its backside flaps. Lilaci had asked Kera to remain for the most part within the shady canvas-laden interior of the wagon’s safety, and she kindly obliged. Lilaci didn’t so much worry about Kera’s safety with the Whiteblades—after all—they wanted nothing more than the dragons to return so that they’d have a chance to get their revenge upon Dânoz, Eyr, Vigolos, Arymos and Fayell. And it was Kera that made that happen, but she was also cursed with the pale skin and widow’s peak of all the Lu-Polini. She couldn’t shake the feeling that many of the soldiers still held a disdain for her, whether they intended to or not.

  The soldiers had resorted to scowls and cold glances at them rather than any further physical altercations with them, which was just fine by them. Lilaci wondered how’d they feel after a battle with a dragon with her and her Sanzoral at their side.

  I bet they’d feel differently after it was I who saved them. They may feel right now we are in their debt but we’ve agreed to fight in this war together. I’m so far away from trust with them I couldn’t throw a stone at it and it wouldn’t even flinch. But what if Veranor is wrong? What if we do need them?