A Clash of Fates

by Philip C. Quaintrell

  Asher was close behind her. Like Nathaniel, he appeared a man frozen in time with his favoured green cloak billowing in the morning breeze. He crossed the snow with his piercing blue eyes fixed on Alijah and Malliath. Indeed, it seemed the black dragon was fixed on him too.

  Lighter on foot, Adan’Karth dropped down from Ilargo but did not join them opposing Alijah. Instead, the Drake walked back towards the Keepers where he might simply observe events.

  The last to descend a dragon, Gideon Thorn stepped onto Illian soil for the first time in nearly twenty years. Though he hadn’t aged a day since Vighon had said farewell on this very spot, the old master was not as he had once been. He looked haunted, as if he had seen and experienced things no man should come to know. He approached the king with a strong frame, however, his hand braced around Mournblade in its scabbard. The fact that his beard and hair could do with some attention was an observation Vighon kept to himself.

  Gideon bowed his head. “Your Grace,” he said by way of a greeting.

  “You still have quite the timing, Master Thorn,” Vighon remarked quietly.

  Gideon acknowledged the comment before turning to their enemy. “Alijah,” he called evenly.

  The necromancer took a long breath before slotting those few inches of his blade back into its scabbard. “You look pale, Gideon,” he provoked. “Have you been getting enough sun?”

  Inara stormed forward, putting herself between them and Alijah. “You will not speak!” she seethed. “You have done the unthinkable at every turn! And not just to Gideon but to so many more I cannot count them all. You do not have the right nor the honour to speak to him or the king. From now on, I will be everywhere you turn. It will be me you face.”

  Alijah levelled his gaze at her as a gust of wind picked up his hair and revealed the fresh scar above his eye. “You were always better at everything,” he recalled, “but those years are behind us now. I have been remade,” he exclaimed, opening his arms.

  “You haven’t been remade,” Inara spat. “You’ve been twisted. Do you know what The Crow said to me? Just before he died. You might remember the moment yourself. He had just declared himself a monster for his own perverted reason. He looked me in the eyes and told me that monsters only beget monsters.” Inara pointed Firefly directly at her brother. “And that’s what you are, a monster’s creation.”

  It was subtle, but delicate muscles could be seen to twitch beneath Alijah’s face. “I have no patience for your lies. My path is set. I will not be unbalanced now.” He took a moment, his eyes glassy. “You know this isn’t what I wanted for you. I would have welcomed you in my hall. There would have been a place for you in my kingdom.”

  “Was that to be before or after you murder Athis?” Inara countered. “I know what you intend to do in The Moonlit Plains. You have to know that destroying magic is a death sentence for every dragon.”

  Vighon frowned and looked from Gideon to Asher, though neither offered anything useful to explain Inara’s statement.

  Alijah too looked at Gideon, though his was not with curiosity but rather a degree of wrath. “You have crossed that threshold,” the necromancer continued, his attention returned to Inara. “Your bond has been irrevocably altered now. You would survive in the new world.”

  “You think I would want to live in a world built on the graves of every dragon? Brother, you have lost yourself to a darkness from which there is no return. That’s why I’m here,” she stated boldly. “I’m going to stop you before you undo the entire realm.”

  Alijah puffed out his chest. “If you directly challenge me, Sister, you will perish.”

  Inara didn’t move, her muscles tensed. “I came into this world with you. If I have to leave it with you, so be it.” Athis raised his mighty jaw and exhaled a sharp breath, expressing his agreement.

  The air became thick with tension. If just one of them was to suddenly move, the battle would begin and the snow would quickly turn red with blood.

  “Just leave,” Asher called, turning all eyes to him. “There will be no fighting today. He’s a survivor. He knows when the odds aren’t in his favour.”

  “I can’t tell if you’re complimenting me or not,” Alijah responded.

  “I wasn’t talking about you,” Asher replied gruffly, his gaze shifting to Malliath. “You’re facing two dragons and their Riders, with twenty mages at their back. You’d probably kill most of us,” the ranger accepted, “but you’ve lived too long to die here, like this. So just leave.”

  Alijah looked to respond with harsh words but his ear was turned back to Malliath for a moment, their conversation their own. “Some diplomacy from the Outlander,” he said instead with a tone of surprise. “I suppose all the deaths can wait. Enjoy the reprieve. Until the next time.” The half-elf looked briefly at each of them before returning to Malliath’s side.

  His ascent to the saddle lacked the grace expected of one with elven blood in their veins. Vighon scrutinised him again, wondering if there were unseen injuries plaguing his foe. The answer would continue to elude him, for Malliath beat his wings and took to the sky in a maelstrom of snow. Shortly thereafter, the Reavers turned on their heels and began marching, taking The Selk Road south.

  Vighon took what felt like his first breath since mounting his horse outside the keep. He sheathed the sword of the north, extinguishing its flames, and acknowledged those beside him. Gideon followed Malliath’s flight intently with the look of profound thought.

  “What is it?” the northman asked.

  Gideon maintained his distant watch. “I’m not sure.”

  Leaving the old master to his thoughts, the king turned to Asher. “That was a hell of a hunch,” he remarked.

  Asher’s response was more guttural than any recognisable language.

  Satisfied with the ranger’s disinterest in any conversation, and eager to greet Inara, he faced the Guardian of the Realm. “Your timing will be worthy of history’s note, I’m sure. You certainly have my thanks.”

  “What exactly were you going to do?” Inara questioned. “Try and kill both of them with just your sword?”

  “It seemed like a good idea at the time.” Vighon was pleased to see Inara’s judgmental expression soften to mirror his grin.

  Despite the onlookers, both came together in a tight embrace. As always, her superior strength was made apparent and he did his best to squeeze her with all his strength. “I missed you,” he whispered in her ear.

  Inara pulled back and offered him a warm smile. “We have much to discuss,” she announced, taking the others in and bringing Gideon back to the present.

  Vighon reassumed his role as king, straightening his stance. “You mean like the destruction of magic?” he posed.

  Inara fixed his dark eyes with some intensity. “That and more,” she promised cryptically.

  “We should return to the keep then,” Vighon decided. “We cut off our diviner to Faylen and the others when Alijah arrived. They will be deeply concerned.”

  “They survived Qamnaran!” Inara reasoned with glee. “I would hear of my grandmother’s prowess on the battlefield.”

  The king called for horses, instantly torn by the knowledge he held. “Inara…”

  Gideon stepped forward, concern etched across his face. “Inara,” he intoned. The Guardian of the Realm followed her old master’s gaze to Asher, who appeared to be on the verge of fainting.

  “What’s wrong with him?” Vighon questioned. He instinctively reached out to help steady the ranger, but Adan’Karth beat him to it, as if the Drake had sensed his distress from afar.

  “It’s complicated,” Gideon said, before peering inside Asher’s satchel. “It’s nearly time,” he added, looking to Inara.

  She nodded her understanding, which was more than Vighon could do. “We should get him somewhere warm and dry,” Inara stated quickly.

  “And somewhere they will feel safe,” Gideon specified.

  “They?” Kassian echoed, towing a horse.

/>   “We need to get Asher to the keep,” Inara ordered, helping the ranger towards Athis. “We can get there quicker.”

  Vighon watched Asher stagger away, clearly in need of assistance from Inara and Adan. “What in all the hells is going on?” he demanded.

  “I will explain everything,” Gideon promised. “Let us make for the keep and with haste.”

  The king noted Kassian’s raised eyebrow and simply shrugged as he mounted his horse. “There’s always something.”

  As Inara and Adan escorted Asher through the courtyard of The Dragon Keep, the majority of its inhabitants were turned to the sky, transfixed by the sight of Athis’s return to the heavens. It suited the Guardian, pleased to simply weave through the crowd and enter the keep without a fuss.

  It had been some time since her last visit, but she remembered the halls well and led the trio to the guest quarters in the west wing. Whenever she could, Inara scrutinised Asher, partially held up between herself and Adan. The ranger was already sweating, matting his hair to his stubbled cheeks. Whatever strength remained in him was focused on gripping the satchel and keeping his feet moving.

  “What’s happening to him?” Adan enquired as they reached the first quarters.

  Though Inara had never experienced the birth of her companion, she was receiving information from Ilargo and Gideon via Athis. “Breaking the egg is stressful for the hatchling,” she explained, relaying the words of others. “With their bond being so immature, that stress manifests physically in the Rider. It’s the only time they share pain.”

  Entering the first guest room they came across, Inara closed the door behind them and Asher broke away, gesturing for them to leave him alone. The ranger absently grabbed the blanket from the bed and took himself off to the corner, where there was little space and two walls to his back. His breath was ragged as he rested his head against the cold stone.

  “It’s all instinct at this point,” Inara remarked. “We shouldn’t interfere.”

  Asher removed the bronze egg from his satchel and wrapped it up with himself inside the blanket. Inara nudged Adan to accompany her but the Drake resisted.

  “I will stay with him.”

  Inara wanted to offer caution, but she could see the Drake was not to be moved. “Stay out of sight,” she instructed, hearing Gideon’s voice echo through the minds of two dragons. “Best he feels alone.”

  Adan nodded his understanding and slowly took himself off to another corner where he could wait unseen and unheard.

  As always, duty demanded that Inara be elsewhere. She would have loved to see a baby dragon come into the world, especially one that had waited thousands of years for its Rider, but the world was far from safe. Carefully and quietly, she left the chamber and closed the door behind her.

  There, she touched her head to the wood, closed her eyes, and sighed with relief. They had made it. For all their flight, she had harboured the sickening concern that they would be too late. She had half expected to top The Vengoran Mountains and discover a flaming monument in the place of Namdhor.

  But they had made it.

  Vighon was alive. Alijah had retreated. Asher and the egg were safe. Gideon was among them. Now she could breathe.

  We will be ready for whatever comes next, Athis promised. Inara willingly accepted the dragon’s boost to her morale, letting his confidence fill her with strength to continue.

  Turning from the door, Inara was not ready for what came next.

  “Hello,” her mother greeted softly, tears in her eyes. Standing beside her, Inara’s father was already wiping a solitary tear from his cheek.

  There was no stopping the Galfreys from crashing into each other. As one, the three crushed together in a tight embrace of kisses and tears. Inara hadn’t seen her mother since she took an arrow on the ramparts nearly two years ago, and it had been months prior to that. There were no words for a time as they each took the other in.

  Reyna’s hands were firm around Inara’s face. “Only the sight of you could fix my heart,” she whispered.

  Inara gripped her mother’s wrists. “I have missed you so much.” She broke from her mother’s eyes and looked to her father. “I have missed you both.”

  Nathaniel stroked his daughter’s cheek before giving her one last kiss on the head. “We are together again. That’s all that matters now.”

  Reyna couldn’t help herself and pulled Inara in for another breath-taking embrace that no human could have sustained. “We saw you enter the keep with Asher,” she finally said, looking at the door over Inara’s shoulder. “Is he wounded?”

  “We saw Alijah and Malliath retreat,” Nathaniel added in a questioning tone.

  Inara confirmed her father’s observation with an affirmative nod. “There was no fighting,” she reassured. “And Asher will be fine.” Inara took a breath and used the moment to consider her explanation for everything transpiring behind the door.

  “I think our tale deserves a bigger audience,” Gideon announced from further down the hall.

  Inara turned with her parents to lay eyes on the old master, though there was a great deal more emotion behind those of her parents.

  “Gideon,” Reyna said his name with the same affection mirrored in Nathaniel’s smile.

  “It’s been far too long,” the old knight told him.

  Gideon closed the gap between them and happily wrapped each in his arms. It dawned on Inara that her old mentor hadn’t experienced the joy of a friendly embrace in years. The thought brought her spirits down. Though it was certainly uplifting to see these three people together again.

  Before their reunion could go any further, Gideon pulled away from Nathaniel. “Vighon and the others are preparing another council in the throne room,” he shared before turning specifically to Inara. “Perhaps we should leave Asher for now and inform The Rebellion of our time in Erador. Our news will impact the next step.”

  Reyna reached out and lightly gripped Gideon’s arm. “Before we rejoin the others,” she said, looking at her daughter, “there is something I would tell you myself.”

  By her expression alone, Inara could tell there was naught but sorrow to follow.

  9

  I Am Ranger

  Asher pressed his head into the smooth stone, but there was no pain in all the world that could distract him from the storm that wracked his mind. He was drenched in a cold sweat, shivering from head to toe, and his throat was so dry it hurt to breathe - all of which were caused by the exertion of another.

  Her exertion.

  That knowledge was the only safe harbour he could cling to. It had come to him as the inner-most layer of the egg began to crack. The whispers that had burrowed into every part of his brain had finally focused into a single voice and it was most definitely that of a female.

  He already loved her unconditionally. Her birth into the world felt like his own; only he had experienced the death of his older-self first. This dragon would bring with it more than a brave heart and a fierce spirit. She would bring a regality and honour that gave one a sense of duty and purpose that surpassed the transaction of coin or the need of praise. This dragon was a warrior in its purest form.

  There was a part of the ranger that knew the dragon would not come into the world until her companion was in harmony with this way of life, the life of a Dragon Rider. But Asher was nothing if not stubborn. He told himself that a great deal of the hatchling’s feelings had come from her mother, a dragon of a different age.

  “No,” he uttered through clenched teeth. He hugged the egg between the blanket, protecting himself from the intense heat that emanated from it in waves. “No,” he hissed again.

  Asher refused to accept the way of the Rider. He had wasted too many years in the service of an order. Orders came with rules and punishments. Never again would he be slave to one. There was but one life that he believed in, whether it came with coin or not.

  “I… am… a… ranger!” he growled.

  Claws raked the inside of
his head, straining every muscle in his body. The dragon was scouring through images and sounds from his life, passing judgement on The Ranger. At the same time, the hatchling was imparting more memories from her mother. Every one flash-burned the parts of his mind where Malliath still dwelled.

  The black dragon’s experiences and thoughts remained like an echo, but his torment faded to nothingness. In the place of such horrors, Asher lived through the eyes of his hatchling’s mother, a dragon who had led a very different life. She had fought the Red Worms of The Glimmer Lands, rooted out pirates on The Old Rift, hunted ridged-back whales in The Dawning Isles, and tracked Andaren horned-eagles through The Spine of Erador. Hers was a noble and ancient line of revered dragons and Riders.

  Thessaleia! The mother’s name was suddenly seared into his mind as if he had always known it.

  Asher’s knuckles paled as he squeezed the blanket. He was being hollowed out and filled back up again. All the while, the egg was giving off more and more heat. The outer shell of scales was entirely gone now, leaving a silky-smooth egg of copper in its stead. To touch it with his bare skin, however, was to burn himself.

  The ranger dared to look down, but just the sight of it struck him with more visions of Thessaleia’s past. Gone was the chamber in which he sat, replaced by sights that only a dragon could enjoy. He witnessed the rise and fall of kingdoms in the blink of an eye. He saw armoured dragons fall from the sky, their hides pierced by giant spears. He felt the hum of magic from a massive congregation gliding over The High Plains of Erador, east of Lake Kundrun.

  It was all so glorious and violent at the same time.

  Flying over The Silver Trees of Akmar, an eclipsing shadow covered Asher’s body. Cutting low in front of him, a colossal dragon dived down to glide over the tops of the trees. Trapped as a passenger behind Thessaleia’s eyes, Asher watched as he followed the hulking dragon down to a clearing that could take the two of them. On the ground, the pair brought their heads together in what dragons considered an affectionate manner.