The road to victory was hidden from her, but she believed it was victory that awaited her.
Her worst fears under control, Inara remembered where she was, her consciousness residing on the bridge between diviners. Unfortunately, that brought Vighon Draqaro to the forefront of her mind.
Vighon had always clawed at the human side of her, a side that had been dampened beneath her Dragornian bond but, now that she was her whole self, just thinking of the northman was guaranteed to bring out the reckless human in her. It didn’t help that she still failed to understand or know how to process all of her emotions.
And now, her attempt at control was ruined. As the seconds and minutes ticked by, she began to fear the worst. After all, Vighon had taken on a dangerous quest of his own in the north. Had he reclaimed the silvyr sword of Tyberius Gray? Had they failed and retreated? If so, at what cost? Her father was among their party, only adding to her fears.
All this and more fell on the shoulders of the Guardian of the Realm. She didn’t dare focus on whatever was transpiring on Qamnaran, where her grandmother, Galanör, and Doran fought to free the dwarves and face Alijah himself. Inara suspected that any battles to be fought on that wretched island had already taken place. Being in the dark about it all was agonising.
But it was the darkness now that began to offer hope, as shadow and mist came together, coalescing into a familiar shape. There was a flutter in her stomach as a ghostly image of Vighon Draqaro came into being. Ethereal as he was, it was impossible to discern his current condition but, wounded or not, he was alive.
“Inara.” His voice, long known to the Guardian, was a comfort she hadn’t realised she needed. It was also somewhat hoarse, suggesting that he had been shouting a lot - alarming given the secretive nature of their errand in Namdhor.
“Vighon,” she replied, enjoying the sound of his name on her lips.
A silence was held between them as they absorbed the other, regardless of the real distance between them. Inara longed to reach out and embrace him in her arms and, judging by his body language, Vighon was eager to do the same.
“So much has happened,” he said.
“You won’t believe what’s happened,” she said at the same time. Inara quickly replaced her faint smile with a serious expression. “Do you have it?” she pressed. “Do you have the sword of the north?”
“I do,” Vighon answered, though the weapon seemed the last thing on his mind. “It’s not all I have,” he continued. “We took the city, Inara - the capital is ours.”
For all the turmoil her human emotions put her through, there was no getting in the way of joy, and Namdhor once again flying the banners of house Draqaro was certainly joyous. It was also an incredible and unbelievable victory that filled the half-elf with hope and dread all at once.
“Tell me everything,” Inara demanded with no lack of intensity. “Wait,” she added, taking a breath - she had to know. “Are they alive?”
Ever in tune, Vighon knew exactly who the Guardian was referring to. “Yes,” he stated with clarity. “In fact, both of them are only a few feet away from me.”
Inara’s heart swelled, causing her eyes in the real world to fill with tears. “They’re together,” she reasoned, adoring the image of her parents side by side.
“Very much so,” Vighon reported happily.
Inara nodded along, unable to contain her smile. “I dared not entertain the dream in these dark days,” she confessed. “Vighon, tell me everything.”
The northman was no storyteller, but the tale that followed gripped Inara from start to finish. Even their journey to Namdhor was fraught with the kind of terrors that would make even the strongest of warriors give up. Though she disliked the sight of Sir Borin, Inara was thankful the Golem had been at Vighon’s side when it mattered most.
She hadn’t been able to hold back a smug grin upon hearing the events inside the keep’s garden. What else but his intended destiny could have brought both Vighon and the sword together in such an unlikely place? Whatever the future held, Inara truly believed that Vighon was fated to be the king.
A swelling sense of pride took hold of her when she imagined her mother saving his life, a moment described in great detail by the northman. His own feat, slaying the dragon Karsak, was humbly lacking in detail, however. Inara decided that she would have to inquire of others, sure that his leap from the keep’s walls was far more dramatic and heroic than he let on.
What followed, however, sounded like a bloody battle to retake the entire city. A day and night of pitched fighting with only a score of Keepers and any and all who could wield a weapon. Inara wished she could have seen Namdhor rally to their king.
Finally, Inara blew out a long breath. “You were only supposed to retake the sword,” she jested.
Vighon shrugged his ethereal shoulders. “Things got a little out of hand.”
That particular phrase made Inara think of Kassian and his missing finger, but she refrained from commenting. “So the Reavers just retreated?”
Vighon’s features creased into a forced wince. “That brings me to the end of my story. They remain just beyond the lower town. There aren’t enough that I’m concerned about losing the city, but…”
Inara narrowed her eyes at him. “But what?”
“They’ve started beating their chests like drums.” Vighon gave her a hard look. “I think Alijah’s coming.”
Inara immediately wanted to cast doubt on that scenario, but who else could have given them the command? “He always did like a dramatic entrance,” she noted.
“It’s a fear tactic,” Vighon commented. “I don’t exactly have an army on my side and he knows it.”
Inara agreed. “Alijah’s most likely expecting the city to submit to him when he arrives. He will want to execute you publicly.” Just saying that out loud placed a new weight on her shoulders, not to mention the strain on her heart. “I’m coming to you,” she declared as a matter of fact.
Vighon stumbled over his response. “I don’t even know where you are. Have you returned to Illian? Did you find Gideon and Ilargo?”
Inara considered her own tale, wondering if its complexity and implications were, in fact, greater than Vighon’s. Besides Erador itself, and the manner in which they had found Gideon and Ilargo, there was all they had learned about Alijah’s true goals, even before they arrived at Drakanan - a place that held a story all of its own. How could she convey the sight of so many dragon eggs and the feelings that accompanied it? It was too much given the limited time they had.
“I will tell you everything, I promise, but I cannot sit here and regale you while my brother is on his way to kill you and everyone else in Namdhor. Gideon and Ilargo are with us - that’s what matters. We’re coming.” Inara closed her ethereal eyes, preparing to depart from the shadowy realm and make haste.
“Wait!” Vighon pleaded, drawing her back. “I… I just need to…” The northman tripped over his words, though Inara could guess at some of what he intended to say.
“I know,” she replied, her tone speaking volumes. “We will see each other soon.” The Guardian offered him a warm smile that told him to hold on.
When next Inara opened her eyes, she was in a place almost as dark as the ethereal world her mind had inhabited. Drakanan’s ancient halls loomed around her, supported by pillars thicker than any tree.
Almost any tree.
There was no escaping the images left imprinted on her mind after crossing over to the realm of magic. That tree, with its bark as white as snow, was gargantuan, its size mirroring its importance. It required their attention in The Moonlit Plains, where Alijah and Malliath had set plans in motion to open a doorway. That was where her real duty lay.
Namdhor is our destination, Athis spoke into her mind. There can be no other path. We must protect the king and your parents.
Your life is tied to that of the tree, Inara pointed out. Undoing whatever Alijah has done in The Moonlit Plains could save you and every drag
on in the realm.
Alijah’s presence in the north would suggest there is still time. We must protect that which lies in our heart, whatever the cost.
Inara placed one hand to the cold stone of the eastern wall, wishing there was nothing between her and Athis.
Set to action, she made her way back to the entrance to the bonding chamber, easily found by the warm light spilling into the antechamber. When she had left the first time, Gideon had been lying on the ground while Adan’Karth saw to his wounds, inflicted by The Red Guards’ inquisitor. Now, her old mentor was on his feet with one hand resting against his ribs while Adan, seated on the lip of a step, inspected one of the exquisite eggs.
Inara glanced at the darkness behind her. “How long have I been gone?” she enquired, sure that it must have been quite some time given Gideon’s appearance.
“Not as long as you think,” the old master replied, wincing as he stretched his back. “It would appear Adan’s abilities know no bounds,” he remarked.
The Drake lazily waved a hand. “Appearances can be deceiving,” he said, a phrase he had no doubt learned from Asher. “I would sit here a while and recover.”
Gideon reached out and placed a comforting hand on Adan’s shoulder. “I am most grateful for your efforts. That’s twice you have put me on my feet.”
Inara scrutinised the Drake, seeing the physical consequences of that effort. “After all you’ve done for us, Adan, I would have you rest in a palace, but we must leave this place right now.”
Gideon turned to her with a frown creasing his brow. “You have spoken with Vighon,” he stated, easily detecting her distress.
“Yes,” she answered gravely. “He has taken Namdhor, and with a small force no less.”
“Alijah,” Gideon interjected, his mind always a step ahead. “He won’t stand for the capital, of all places, to fall into the hands of his enemies; it shows weakness.”
Inara agreed wholeheartedly with the assessment of her brother. “He’s likely travelling there as we speak.”
Gideon took in the hundreds of dragon eggs, obviously reluctant to abandon them. “Then we should be there to greet him,” he still declared boldly.
Inara hesitated as she imagined confronting her brother. They hadn’t come face to face since that fateful day in the throne room of The Dragon Keep. Since then, she had come to see Alijah’s true face after experiencing, first-hand, his malevolence. He was powerful, ruthless, and unwavering in his vision of domination. But he was also her twin brother.
There was no running from the inevitable clash. A part of her even craved it. He was her blood, her kin. Alijah needed stopping at all costs and who else but the Guardian of the Realm could face him? Athis poured his conviction into their bond and she soaked it up until her jaw was firm.
“To Namdhor,” she concluded.
Adan’Karth sighed with the effort required to stand. “I would not hold you back. And I would never give up the opportunity to fly with a dragon,” he added with half a smile. “Though I would not leave without Asher.”
Inara scanned the elevated tiers that rose up within the cavern. “He hasn’t returned?”
Gideon shook his head. “We thought he was out there with you.”
The Guardian experienced a sinking feeling in her stomach. “He talked of food and water,” she said, making for the antechamber.
“There might still be Red Guards lurking in this place,” Gideon warned, pausing to avoid one of the floating shards that passed in front of him.
Leading the way, Inara lifted her palm to the ceiling and called forth an orb of pure light to accompany them. Gideon looked tempted to do the same but, instead, used his limited magic for another purpose.
“Wait,” he commanded, halting the companions in the antechamber. “I would not leave them to harm.”
In the stark shadows of the orb, he raised both of his hands and slotted the four heavy columns of stone back into place, securing the bonding chamber behind them. The entrance blocked, it once again looked like nothing more than a large wall that boasted an intricate mural.
The eggs safe and Adan protected between them, they took cautious steps back into the maze of Drakanan. At every turn its ancient history jumped out at them, be it in the murals and statues or the signs of battles long forgotten.
With a destructive spell at the forefront of her mind and Firefly in hand, Inara felt confident calling out the ranger’s name. As much concern as she held for Asher, she was reminded by memories, old and new, that he was easily the most dangerous person in all of Drakanan. If anything, they were likely to come across a pile of bloodied Red Guards.
“Wait,” Adan breathed, his reptilian eyes turning down the passage on their left. His pale skin possessed a soft glow in the white light of Inara’s orb, his shaven horns dull by comparison.
“What is it, Adan?” the Guardian asked.
The Drake, clearly recovering, tilted his head. “I can see the magic from his bones.”
Inara didn’t question Adan’s observation, his supernatural sight proven time and time again. Instead, she moved in front of him and led by his directions and the point of her Vi’tari blade. Like all the previous passages, this one offered multiple avenues, daring to tempt wayward explorers further into the maze. Adan guided them left and right, reassuring Inara and Gideon that they weren’t going in circles.
“Stop,” Adan bade, his tone soft. “His aura goes no further.”
Inara turned back to the Drake with a question to match her confusion, but it was Asher himself who provided the answer. Dropping down from above, his legs having braced him between the walls, the ranger landed amongst them like a feral beast. The only thing separating his movements from those of an animal were his precise and effective actions, chief among which was an unorthodox twist that launched Adan into Gideon. Before either hit the floor, he planted a boot in Inara’s gut, throwing her further down the passage.
By the time any had recovered enough to assess the situation, Asher was dashing away and disappearing around a corner. “Why would he do that?” Inara managed, picking herself up.
Gideon rose to his feet and steadied Adan in his hands. “Let’s ask him.”
Together, they sprinted back the way they had come until Adan picked up his trail again. Here and there, they caught glimpses of his green cloak before he vanished behind another wall. Their chase continued through the dark but it soon became apparent that Asher wasn’t one to be captured.
Adan drew to a halt and looked in every direction. “I think he must be doubling back on himself. His aura is more intense, but it is beginning to mix with both of yours. I’m losing him.”
Gideon slowly shook his head. “He’s spent decades evading some of the best hunters in the world. We’re not going to find him in here, not in the dark.”
Inara couldn’t reconcile the ranger’s actions. “Why would he attack us?”
“He didn’t attack us,” Gideon countered. “We’ve all seen what happens when Asher goes on the attack. I think he was defending himself.”
“From us?” Inara questioned incredulously.
Inara! Athis’s call turned the Guardian to the east. We have him!
Having heard something similar from Ilargo, Gideon reacted first and darted for the next passage. It wasn’t long before they were exposed to Erador’s northern chill. Leaving the cover of the grand entrance, the three companions ran out into the light fall of snow as twilight beset the realm, casting Drakanan in a cold gloom. Carved out of the mountains, its high walls loomed either side, as did many of the statues that lined the central path.
For all its grandeur, nothing could take away from the spectacle of two living dragons. Ilargo and Athis, green and red, dominated the path, their wings spread out beside them. Both predators were angling their horned heads like spears at the ranger, who found himself with nowhere to run.
Inara’s orb of light pushed ahead and remained at an elevated position above them all. Getting a bet
ter look at Asher, the Guardian wondered if he was better compared to an animal after all. There was a wild look in his eyes, a desperation that bordered on violence.
“Asher!” she called, being sure to stop before entering the swing of his arm. “What are you doing?”
The ranger gave no reply but to tug on his old satchel, shoving it further around his hip. His other hand, however, began to creep up towards the hilt on his belt.
Ilargo lowered his head even further and loosed a threatening rumble from his throat. Athis refrained from doing the same, but Inara could feel his muscles tensing around his front claws. A single swipe from either would kill the ranger.
“Asher,” Gideon began, taking one step towards him.
The ranger altered his stance in the blink of an eye. He was shorter now, his knees tensed, with hunched shoulders, and a confident grip on his broadsword. Ilargo’s claws dug into the ground.
“Don’t do it, Asher,” Inara warned.
“He is not himself,” Adan surmised. “Even fools can see the folly in confronting two dragons.”
Athis silently lowered his head towards Asher’s back and sniffed the air. The dragon immediately pulled his head back and turned to Ilargo, though their conversation escaped Inara. Despite the situation, she couldn’t help but think of all the times she had shut Athis out while carrying on a conversation with others. Irritating as it was, the Guardian kept her focus on Asher, who looked like he could explode into action any second.
Without warning, Ilargo lifted his head into the air and unleashed an ear-piercing roar. So close was the ranger that he bowed his head, instinctively covered his ears, and shut his eyes. In the silence that followed, Asher slowly lifted his head and took in his surroundings. That wild look had left his blue eyes, replaced now with startled surprise. Turning one way then the next, the ranger orientated himself to the environment and those that encircled him.
A Clash of Fates Page 5