A Clash of Fates

by Philip C. Quaintrell

  “They’re likely jus’ watchin’ us,” Doran assumed. “Makin’ sure we aren’ ’ere to cause trouble for ’em. They’re no threat to our numbers.”

  Russell raised an eyebrow. “It’s been years since any Centaur posed a threat. The elves of Ilythyra saw to that.”

  “That were before a half-elf an’ his dragon took over the realm. Now we’re all a little wild.”

  Content to leave the Centaurs to their hill, Doran turned Pig to the north… and to war.

  12

  Introductions

  Asher waited for Adan’s magic to extinguish the flames before he tore down what remained of the burnt curtains. He coughed through the smoke and added them to the pile of charred sheets, blankets, and even a broken chair.

  “Your cloak!” the Drake warned, pointing at one corner of the fabric.

  Asher quickly lifted the right side of his cloak and began roughly patting it down until the small flame was reduced to sparks, leaving the material singed. The most recent fire dealt with, the ranger turned back to finally greet his friends.

  None of them had noticed a thing.

  All three of the Galfreys, along with Gideon and the king himself, were staring in wonderment at a bronze dragon chasing her own tail. Asher couldn’t blame them - she was beautiful. Every time her scales caught the afternoon light, she sparkled with silver and gold. The little noises she made didn’t compare to that of a fully grown dragon yet, which only endeared her to them all the more.

  Just looking at the hatchling, already running, jumping, and setting fire to things, brought up a sense of pride in the ranger. It was all dizzyingly new for him. Right now, he imagined his feelings for her were comparable to that of a parent, though he couldn’t say for sure having never sired a child.

  “Ilargo is already jealous of her beauty,” Gideon declared with a beaming smile.

  Reyna crouched down and offered a hand out to the hatchling. “Hello,” she crooned.

  Asher took a cautioning step towards her. “I wouldn’t,” he advised, concerned for her fingers.

  Quite surprisingly, Reyna was able to run her hand over the dragon’s scales. In fact, the hatchling leaned in to her palm and rubbed her horned head against the elf’s skin.

  “Dragons are notoriously good judges of character,” Gideon informed.

  “But she will also have your memories and feelings,” Inara added.

  Reyna smiled up at the ranger. “It’s good to know how you feel about me.”

  There was barely a tap of claws on stone as the hatchling dashed across the chamber and ascended Asher’s leg and chest. Coming to rest, the dragon perched comfortably in the crook of his arm with her head pressed to his leathers.

  All eyes fell on the ranger and the dragon.

  “Have you given her a name?” Vighon asked, perhaps the only one among them unaccustomed to the way of dragons.

  “Hatchlings are given their name by their mother,” Inara explained for him. “They carry it with them in their memories.” The half-elf turned to Asher expectantly. “Do you know it? Her name?”

  Just thinking of it brought a warm smile to Asher’s face. “Her name is Avandriell.”

  Saying it out loud was like breathing new life into the world. The realm needed her, even if it didn’t know it yet. To think how the world had coped without her baffled Asher. How had he coped without her? There was an argument to be had there but he was too consumed with the needs of his new companion to give it any further thought.

  “Avandriell!” Inara repeated with a beaming grin. “A powerful name if ever there was.”

  Nathaniel put an affectionate hand on the ranger’s shoulder and looked from him to the dragon. “Asher and Avandriell,” he announced, listening to the sound of their names together. “I like it.”

  “I still can’t believe it,” Reyna admitted, with a tone of happiness.

  “I found the timing of it all suspicious myself,” Gideon confessed. “But it all makes perfect sense. You’ve been a warrior more years than any of us and your connection to the realm of magic would make bonding to a dragon all the easier.

  “My connection?” Asher questioned.

  “Well, you spent a thousand years trapped in the Amber Spell with Paldora’s Gem around your neck. And then…” Gideon hesitated with his choice of words. “And then your resurrection was, in itself, an act of powerful magic. It’s those kinds of tethers that draw a dragon and Rider together. The fact that you fit the description of a Rider… I’d say Fate has spent millennia ensuring you found yourself in Drakanan when you did.”

  Asher was used to feeling like Fate’s puppet, though it had spent most of his life dragging him over the hot coals again and again.

  “It makes perfect sense,” Reyna agreed. “But I still can’t believe it.”

  “You’re going to make quite the pair,” Vighon commented.

  “Avandriell,” Gideon muttered to himself.

  “What is it?” Inara asked.

  The old master tilted his head as if hearing something from Ilargo. “Yes,” he said with some satisfaction. “That’s where I’ve seen it.”

  “Seen what?” Nathaniel enquired.

  Gideon looked directly at the hatchling. “Avandriell. I’ve seen it written down.”

  “Where?” Asher tried to suppress the interest in his voice but he was quite sure he failed.

  “In Drakanan, back when I was searching for the doorway with Alijah. There are libraries of ancient tomes in there. The one containing any mention of Avandriell was among the oldest.”

  “What did it say?” Inara pressed, just as pulled in as Asher.

  “There was only one mention of her, but it’s not a name you forget. Avandriell was Garganafan’s mother and one of the earliest recorded dragons. With a few others, she flew to unknown lands not long after the Dragon Riders were established.”

  “Garganafan?” Vighon mused. “Like the mountain in Ayda?”

  “Like the king of dragons,” Inara corrected. “The mountain was named after him when the elves sailed to Ayda.”

  “He gave his life to capture Valanis,” Reyna added.

  Gideon examined Asher’s expression. “This doesn’t come as a surprise to you,” he observed.

  “Before she hatched,” the ranger explained, “I saw Thessaleia’s - her mother’s - memories. I think Garganafan is her father.” Asher ran his finger over the dragon’s soft wings. “You’re named after your grandmother,” he told her.

  “Incredible,” Gideon uttered, his amazement entirely renewed.

  “She’s of royal blood?” Nathaniel proposed.

  “Not exactly,” Inara said. “Dragons choose their kings and queens. Their offspring rarely replace them.”

  “Proof of that lies in Dragons’ Reach,” Gideon pointed out.

  “Yes,” Inara agreed. “You might be interested to know, Asher: Avandriell has a brother. Vorgraf the mountain child was sired by Garganafan too. Though, of course, Rainael is their chosen queen.”

  Asher had only a moment’s notice - a flicker of emotion in his mind - before Avandriell leapt from his arm. Her wings fanned out, giving her some lift, and she came to land in Inara’s waiting arms. The hatchling ran up her leathers and over her shoulders until she came to rest with her head hanging down beside the Guardian’s jaw.

  Avandriell felt safe and contented, emotions that the ranger was unfamiliar with. It was relaxing. Asher could feel the tension leaving his muscles and he wondered how many years they had been wound so tight.

  “I think she has family enough right here,” he replied.

  Vighon slowly reached out, presenting Avandriell with the back of his hand. Only after she nuzzled between his fingers did he proceed to stroke her. “At last,” he said, “a dragon is born inside The Dragon Keep. This will make for a much better namesake.”

  Asher wholeheartedly agreed, though he was growing curious as to why Adan’Karth was so reserved. “You’re unusually quiet,” he remarked.


  Adan took in the sight of both Asher and Avandriell as he considered his response. “My journey with you has come to an end. It fills me with joy to know that end is not what I feared in my heart. You are no longer alone, nor will you ever die alone, if at all.”

  Reyna covered her mouth. “You’re immortal,” she whispered, as if it had only just occurred to her.

  “Don’t remind me,” Asher grumbled. “A never ending horizon of sunrises and sunsets. It sounds exhausting.”

  The majority of the room shared a laugh at his description. “You’re still thinking like a man,” Gideon said. “I did for a while, before our bond matured. Soon you will begin to feel the energy of a dragon. It is the greatest of gifts. You will feel stronger, faster, wiser even. You won’t need sleep like you do now. Your senses will retune to the world, lending it a vibrancy you couldn’t imagine. It’s a ranger’s dream.”

  Asher’s expression didn’t change. “Like I said: exhausting.”

  Gideon quietly laughed to himself. “Take it from a man approaching his seventieth birthday; feeling like you’re twenty every day is outstanding.”

  “I could do with some of that,” Vighon commented.

  Avandriell pounced onto the floor and scurried across the chamber on her claws. Asher held out his arm and she used it like a frame to climb up onto his shoulder. “I suppose you’ll make it all the more interesting,” he praised. “And thank you,” he added, turning to Adan’Karth. “Had you not journeyed with me, I would have been undone long before we flew to Erador. And you certainly helped bring us together.”

  “It was the least I could do for the one who made me,” the Drake replied, bowing his head.

  Painfully aware of those who had just observed his moment of vulnerability, Asher puffed out his chest and addressed them all. “What did I miss?”

  Nathaniel gestured at the old master. “Gideon told a rather unbelievable tale about the first wizards and a magical tree. Some of us were still stumbling over the revelation regarding yourself, but Gideon was kind enough to repeat it all for us.”

  “We need to stop Alijah from opening a doorway,” Asher asserted, his own fate now tied to it.

  “That was the conclusion we all came to,” Reyna reassured. “As we speak, Doran, Faylen, and Galanör are marching their forces onto The Moonlit Plains. The rest of my army are advancing from the coast, along with Sir Ruban and his soldiers. They are to keep Alijah and his Reavers occupied until we can reinforce them from the north.”

  “Gideon and I will be leaving shortly to aid them,” Inara informed.

  Asher took it all in, his mind trained to absorb multiple sources of information at once, but his focus remained on Reyna and one particular phrase he had never heard her say before. “Your army?” he echoed.

  Even if he were blind, the ranger could still have sensed the pall that overcame the chamber. Reyna straightened up, composing herself. “My mother fell on Qamnaran. I am the queen now.”

  Asher’s emotions were instantly torn between condolences and congratulations. He also knew that Reyna had never been interested in ruling a nation, nor Nathaniel for that matter.

  “I’m so sorry,” he offered. His emotions crossed over to Avandriell, who stretched her maw and whined with sorrow.

  Reyna held up her hand. “This is a moment of joy,” she managed, her smile conflicting with the tears in her eyes. “I would focus on Avandriell and her beauty.”

  Asher nodded solemnly. His own memories of Adilandra Sevari were decades old, taking him back to the end of The War for the Realm. The woman he had met was strong and compassionate, explaining much of where Reyna had attained her own characteristics. Her passing was, indeed, the extinguishing of a powerful light in the world.

  “And with Avandriell in mind,” Reyna continued, “there is no expectation on you to accompany us, Asher.”

  “We will be leaving soon,” Vighon confirmed. “The snows are only going to get worse. We have already rallied those who can journey south to fight and Kassian is convincing his Keepers to join us as we speak.” The northman paused, considering those around him. “Your skill with a sword has historically made a difference in every battle you’ve been a part of. The king in me would press for you to fight with us, given what is at stake. But Reyna is correct: there is no expectation. Avandriell is as a child. She needs protecting, not thrusting into a war.”

  Asher met his companion’s golden eyes. Her thoughts and emotions continued to bombard him with impressions rather than direct words. Still, he understood her and she understood him.

  “Avandriell didn’t choose me because I walk away from the fight.”

  “Asher,” Reyna warned, her eyes flashing to the young dragon.

  “No, he’s right,” Inara spoke up. “Avandriell was born of another age, an age of warriors and war.”

  “An age of heroes,” Gideon added with half a smile.

  “Neither of them can deny who they are,” Inara continued. “Nor the consequences.”

  Asher took a breath, assessing his options. There was only one viable choice to his reckoning, though he hated to consider it. But Inara was right, he could not deny who he was.

  “I have just as much at stake in this fight as the rest of you,” he told them. “If Alijah succeeds and destroys the tree, Avandriell…” He almost choked just thinking of the word. “She dies,” he finally managed. “I will journey south with you, if you would have me.”

  “If I would have you?” Vighon repeated incredulously. “I would grant you the title of general if I thought you would accept it.”

  Asher put his hand up. “I already have a title and I’m sticking with it.”

  “You’re not to be a Dragon Rider then?” Nathaniel posed.

  “No,” Asher stated firmly. “Avandriell and I have come to… an agreement. Our life is long. For now, we’re content to be rangers together.”

  “Well there goes Illian’s monster problem,” Vighon joked.

  Asher acknowledged the king’s remark with an amused grin, but he turned serious again when facing Adan’Karth. “You have already given so much and I never had to ask for it. But I have to ask you now; will you accompany me one last time? I cannot take Avandriell into battle, but I don’t think I can be far from her either. I know a battlefield is the last place a Drake would want to be, but she already feels safe with you and you can handle the… fires.”

  Compounding his words, Avandriell jumped across to Adan, whose quick reflexes easily caught her and guided the dragon onto his shoulders. “It would be my honour to keep Avandriell company. And should we face violence, I will take us both into the wild and lose our quarry.”

  “I have no doubt,” Asher replied, having seen the Drake move through The Evermoore. “And thank you.”

  “You have the thanks of us all,” Vighon added, patting Adan’s arm. “Victory is within our reach.”

  “I’m starving,” Asher blurted without intending to.

  Inara stifled her laugh. “I think Avandriell needs her first meal.”

  Asher turned to see the dragon staring at him, her intentions never clearer. “I’d say so,” he concluded.

  “The kitchens are yours to plunder,” Vighon offered. “I would join you but there is still much to be done before we depart.”

  “I will accompany you,” Gideon said to the ranger. “There is more you should know before we part ways.”

  Asher watched Vighon and Adan flinch when Avandriell belched a small cloud of fire. “I would agree.”

  13

  Finding Harbour in the Storm

  Leaving Asher and Avandriell, Vighon was happy to discover a strong note of hope in himself. As awe-inspiring as it was to see a baby dragon and to know that the ranger had finally received some kind of gift for all his suffering and toil, the king was simply happy to know that Verda’s future had a new line of dragons in it. Their species had long brought peace and prosperity to the realm and, whatever that looked like, Asher and Avandr
iell were proof that one day that time would come again in some way.

  Some of that hope was dashed when he listened to the report from one of Kassian’s Keepers. He had been waiting for the king further down the hall and was quick to catch him. Though Vighon and Nathaniel had successfully rallied all those who would journey south with them, Kassian had taken over the hunt for supplies where armour and weapons were concerned.

  “We checked the barracks twice, your Grace,” the Keeper reported. “The only usable armour and swords have already been taken by those who currently guard the keep but, in truth, that’s all that was left. The rest looks to have been melted down.”

  Vighon swore under his breath. “Do we have swords and shields for every man accompanying us?”

  “Swords yes, though their condition isn’t great. Shields, no, your Grace. Kassian himself is going from house to house to see if anyone has usable armour.”

  “They’re likely to be antiques,” Vighon remarked. “Do we at least have furs enough to travel through the snow?”

  “Furs are the one thing this city has in abundance, your Grace,” the Keeper answered with half a smile.

  Vighon opened his mouth to reply but he caught Inara’s eye, outside Asher’s chamber. She was talking to her parents, but her attention appeared to be distracted by him.

  Gathering his wits, the king managed to say, “Furs and old swords will have to do. The fate of the realm is in the balance and we will fight with tooth and nail if we must. At least you have your magic,” he added, glancing down at the wand holstered on the Keeper’s thigh.

  The Keeper nodded his appreciation before being dismissed. Vighon turned back to Inara and discovered she was parting ways with her parents. Before she disappeared down the next passage, the Guardian looked back and locked eyes with the northman. Whether she was telling Vighon to follow her or not, the king felt compelled to go after her.

  By the time he reached the next passage, her red cloak was just vanishing through a door that led down to the back of the keep. Vighon couldn’t think of any reason why Inara would be heading towards the back of the keep, so she must be expecting him to follow. If she didn’t, the king had no idea what he was going to say when he caught up with her.