Now he was thinking of legacy.
He had nothing left but to do something he knew Clara would have been proud of. Something real. Something important. For her.
As always, he battled the images of her final moments. Malliath engulfed her in flames without a care and Alijah showed no remorse for any he slaughtered in Valatos. If he saw his face or that of the dragon, Kassian couldn’t rightly say how he would react. He only knew what Clara would want him to do.
His reverie was disturbed by Aphira, whom he saw approaching up the steps. In part, he was thankful for the disruption of his inner monologue, though, for the most part, he was just happy to see Aphira. He found her accent oddly soothing and he certainly appreciated her input. During their time as Keepers in Valatos, she had only been one level below him within their ranks and he had heard often of her great potential. Since then, of course, she had saved his life a handful of times.
“You’ve either come to tell me there’s more pie or we’re finally leaving,” he called out. “Anything else will sour my cheerful mood.”
“The dragons are flying south,” she reported. “And there’s definitely no more pie.”
Kassian let his head hang as he sighed into his chest. “If they’re leaving we must be soon to follow surely. Have they dealt with the assassin problem?” he queried, having seen Asher and Inara returning to the keep with the body.
“Well he’s still dead if that’s what you mean.”
Kassian silently laughed to himself. “I suppose I only have myself to blame for that sharp wit of yours.”
“My wit isn’t the only thing that’s sharp,” she replied, resting a hand on the hilt of her mage blade.
Kassian rose from his perch. “Oh yes. I have sparred with you enough times to know that, Aphira.” He nodded up at the keep. “I suppose we should say our farewells.”
“That is why I came for you,” the Keeper confirmed.
Kassian raised an eyebrow. “You came to get me just to ensure I said my farewells to Inara and Gideon?”
“Can’t you see your own place in all this?” Aphira questioned bluntly. “It is important that you stay within the circle that governs the realm.”
Kassian frowned and licked the pastry from his thumb. “What are you talking about?”
Exasperated, Aphira held her hands out and shrugged. “Are you still so blinded by hate that you cannot see a future for our kind? I had hoped our victory here would have given you some clarity.”
“Nothing feels more real than the hate,” he responded on reflex.
“Now you’re just lying to yourself as well as me,” Aphira retorted. “You have the ear of the king. Our efforts have ensured his victory in the north. That has to matter, Kassian.”
“Matter for what?”
“For us!” Aphira clipped him round the head. “For mages everywhere! We have to assume we’re going to win, Kassian. And when we do, we need to make sure there is a place for people like us.”
“A place?” he repeated. “You mean a place like Valatos?”
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “Something better.”
Kassian absorbed the words though he knew he would need more time to truly understand them. In the meantime, there was only one response that felt right. “You’ve come to the wrong person for that.”
“I know,” Aphira replied drily. “But there is no one else. Like I said, you have found yourself uniquely positioned. And I will only tell you this once, Kassian. You are a fine Keeper and a damn good mage. You might even be the best of us. Whether or not you think you can be the man to see such a vision through is up to you. If you cannot, well, I would appreciate a proper introduction to King Vighon.”
There was a witty reply on the edge of Kassian’s lips, but some part of what Aphira had said had struck a chord in him, leaving the Keeper unusually silent. Instead of delivering his sarcastic response, he nodded his appreciation and understanding before making his way to the steps. Back on the main road, he instructed Aphira to join the others by the city limits and make sure they were ready to leave. He, on the other hand, began the trek uphill.
He was pleased to see the Namdhorians steadily returning to their homes after hiding in the keep. Here and there, stragglers were saying goodbye to their wives and children before jogging down the road to meet the company. There was one particular child, however, that caught the Keeper’s eye. A young girl, no more than seven years, was standing by the corner of an alley, watching the father of another family say his farewells. The scene stopped Kassian in his tracks.
He observed for a moment, scrutinising her expressions. The child certainly wasn’t part of the family she was watching, though she clearly yearned to be. Judging by her appearance, Kassian had to wonder where her own family were and why they weren’t caring for the young girl. Compelled as he was, he crossed the road and approached her, sure to keep his movements slow and unthreatening.
The girl saw him and immediately retreated into the shadows of the alley.
“Wait!” he called, dashing in after her.
The girl quickly disappeared but her torn boots left distinctive prints in the snow, guiding Kassian to a strewn pile of empty barrels. Sure enough, the girl was hiding behind them, but she didn’t remain there for long. With a face of fury, she hurled herself from the ground and pointed something at the Keeper.
“Stay back!” she hissed.
Kassian raised his hands but his eyes narrowed at the slender object in her hand. It wasn’t steel or a blade of any kind, but the girl obviously thought she was wielding something he should be afraid of.
“I mean you no harm,” he said firmly. “I saw you by the road. I thought I could—”
“Help?” the girl cut in, jabbing her weapon again. “You wouldn’t be the first to try and help me!”
Kassian didn’t like to think of the wretches who had tried to take advantage of the poor girl. “I’m not…” His attention returned to the object in her hand and he realised what he was looking at. “That’s my wand!” he exclaimed.
The girl’s demeanour changed in an instant. “You’re one of them?” She looked out on the partial devastation that marred many of Namdhor’s buildings. “You’re a mage.”
Kassian slowly lowered his hands and shifted his coat to reveal Fin’s wand on his thigh. “I am a Keeper. And that,” he said, pointing to the wand in her hand, “belongs to me.”
“You lie!” she spat instinctively. “You have one right there!”
“This belonged to a good friend of mine.” Kassian carefully withdrew the wand and displayed it handle-first. “He died fighting for this city.” He crouched down to her height and nodded at the wand in her hand. “Where did you find mine?”
The girl seemed to be considering the threat he posed. Judging by her posture, she was relaxing somewhat. “It was poking out of the snow, two blocks up from here.”
Kassian thought back to the moment he had lost the wand, when the cart he was hiding in exploded. “That seems about right.” He sized the girl up for a moment, unsure how to proceed. “What’s your name?”
“What’s your name, Keeper?” the girl retorted.
Kassian smiled, despite the sigh he resisted. “I am Kassian Kantaris.”
The girl twisted her mouth. “I am Clayda,” she finally said.
“Clayda,” Kassian repeated. “A strong name. How long have you been living on the streets of Namdhor, Clayda?”
The girl brandished the wand again. “Long enough to know that this will make me a queen in these parts.”
“A queen?” the Keeper echoed with some amusement. Then, as he dwelled on the implications of her statement, his expression turned serious. “Have you used this, Clayda?”
“Maybe.”
Kassian looked from the wand tip to Clayda’s wild blue eyes. Knowledge of the ancient language was required to perform spells, but the Keeper knew well that children with a connection to the realm of magic possessed a raw power that, if aided
by Demetrium, could conjure a spell or two given the right conditions.
“You look hungry, Clayda,” he said, changing the subject. “Would you like to accompany me back to the keep? I can get you food there. New clothes perhaps. I’m sure there would be someone who could—”
“I’m doing just fine on my own,” Clayda asserted. “With those smelly black knights gone I’ve finally got this place to myself again.”
Kassian resisted the urge to simply pick the child up and take her to the keep. “Then I shall take my leave,” he announced, rising to his full stature. “And I would take my wand with me.”
Clayda took a step back and held the wand in both hands. “I found it. It’s mine now.”
The Keeper bit his lip, wondering how he had ended up in this alley. “I’ll tell you what,” he began. “I will give you this wand if you give me that one.”
Clayda frowned. “Why would I want that one?”
“I can see that you know a lot about wands.”
“I do!” she boasted.
“So you know that they are always far more powerful in the hands of the one who made them. You see, the Demetrium in their core attunes to the magic of their wielder over time.”
“I knew that!” the girl clarified.
“Good. So then you also know that wand has spent too many years by my side to harmonise with the magic of any other. But this wand,” he continued, holding Fin’s in the air. “This wand has no master. If it were to be wielded by one as brave as my friend, however, it could make a fine mage out of them.”
Clayda stared at Fin’s wand, her imagination set alight. Without a word, she snatched it from Kassian’s hand and thrust his own back at him. The Keeper relished in the feel of his own wand again. Its weight, grip, and size were perfect, made to his exact specifications.
He looked back down at Clayda. “Magic is a gift,” he told her. “It should never be used to hurt people, only protect them; including yourself if you must. One day you’re going to have questions about all this. When that day comes, go to the keep and tell them you wish to speak with Kassian Kantaris. Wherever I am in the realm, they will find me and I will return here to answer all your questions.”
Clayda continued to look up at him for a moment, but her youthful features concealed her thoughts. Then, without warning, she turned on her heel and ran until she disappeared. Kassian’s mind was faced by the guilt of withholding the wand from Fin’s final resting place, but the young mage would never have wanted his wand to rot in the ground had he the choice. And he definitely would have liked Clayda and her fiery soul.
His wand returned to its rightful place on his thigh, Kassian backed out of the alley before turning to continue his journey up the slope.
Inara tied the last knot around one of Athis’s spinal horns, securing their sack of supplies for the journey. Dropping back down to the snow, she watched her parents bid Gideon farewell. The three of them had so much history - it wasn’t fair that they were reunited for a day before duty pulled them apart again. She would have continued to watch them, waiting for her mother to squeeze Gideon in one of her crushing hugs, but Vighon crossed her line of sight.
The king was about to approach when Nathaniel brought him into their conversation with Gideon. He flashed Inara an apologetic look before replying.
He makes you happy, Athis acknowledged.
Inara felt instantly awkward and she hated it. You know it isn’t him or you - I don’t need to choose. There are just…
Two halves to you now, Athis said. I know this. The same is happening within me, though not so keenly. I know you continue to battle your emotions and there are limits to what I can help your human side with.
So you’re not… jealous?
The dragon chuckled in her mind but made no physical sign of amusement. I am Athis the ironheart! I know who I am and I do not get jealous. But I will not lie to you; the thought of you sharing things with another instead of me does dampen my spirit. But it will never overcome the joy I feel for you. Love is an exceptional power in this world, one that can keep us standing when all else abandons us. I am glad you have found this in Vighon. He is a good man.
Inara caressed the hard scales along Athis’s jaw line. I have love for you both, just as I feel love from you both.
And it will never fade, wingless one.
Inara shared in the warmth that swelled in Athis’s heart. She couldn’t rightly say what path she would have taken had the dragon rejected Vighon as a suitable mate or expressed real hate at the idea of sharing her emotionally with another person.
A playful squawk turned Inara to her feet, where Avandriell skipped across the ground and bounded up the side of Athis. There was an immediate change in the red dragon as he took great pleasure in the hatchling. From his memories, Inara knew it had been decades since he had enjoyed the company of one so young.
As one always accompanied the other, Inara turned around to see Asher approaching her. Considering he had recently chased an Arakesh over the roof tops, pursued him through the streets, and fought hand-to-hand with the killer, the ranger looked strong, taller even. The same had been said about her, she knew, after bonding with Athis.
“She doesn’t want you to go,” the ranger said.
Inara smiled. “It’s strange, isn’t it, interpreting the emotions of another being?”
“It will take some getting used to,” Asher admitted.
“It will be easier when you can communicate directly,” the Guardian assured. “How do you feel?” she asked, glancing at the cuts on his knuckles.
The ranger clenched one of his fists. “Better than I should,” he replied lightly. “A chase like that should have left me with sore knees and an angry back.”
“Avandriell will make you stronger and faster, but,” she added with a light-hearted laugh, “she will do nothing for your humility. Dragons are proud.”
“I can live with that,” Asher replied, his tone refreshingly contented.
“Have you disposed of the body?” Inara questioned.
“I’ve had the soldiers place it in the dungeons for now.”
Inara took a second to cast her eyes over Vighon, who was still talking to her parents and Gideon. “Is it still customary to retrieve the bodies of any fallen Arakesh?”
“It was in my day,” the ranger answered. “Lady Gracen and now Veda Malmagol are doing things their own way.”
“And here I was,” Kassian Kantaris announced from the road, “fearing that you had given up on killing assassins!” The Keeper patted Asher twice on the arm. “Good work! That’s one less killer on the streets.”
“Kassian,” Inara greeted with a nod.
“Inara,” he responded, bowing his head. “I would ask that you leave some Reavers for the rest of us.”
“You cannot ask a dragon to hold back their wrath,” she quipped.
“Indeed,” the mage said with an amused grin.
Inara followed his gaze to Avandriell and Athis who, absent any hint of wrath, were clearly playing some kind of game on the larger dragon’s head.
“I can’t believe you have a dragon,” Kassian said, directing his words to the ranger. “I want a dragon. Perhaps you should take me to Erador next time.”
“I’m not sure you could stomach the rejection,” Inara was quick to say, displaying her own grin of amusement.
“Safe journey,” Asher interjected, ending their banter. “Make sure you both rest before entering the battle.”
“We will,” Inara said seriously, before embracing the ranger. “You just keep Avandriell safe. We’ll see you in The Moonlit Plains.”
Parting from Asher, Inara looked to the Keeper but he was already walking away. He disturbed the conversation between her parents and Gideon, giving Vighon a chance to step back and slip away. He offered a reassurance of some kind to Kassian in passing. Then he made directly for Inara, who led him around Athis for cover.
The king immediately pulled her in for a passionate kiss which
, for a brief moment, Inara enjoyed. “Careful,” she cautioned, pushing him back a few inches.
“I have waited too long to kiss you again,” he expressed eagerly.
“You kissed me this very day,” she instructed, struggling to hold back her smile.
“I have a lot of days to make up for,” Vighon said enthusiastically. “And I’m getting tired of the world ending - it always seems to come between us.”
“It certainly does,” she agreed with a kiss. “But we need to be careful. You’re the king of Illian, I’m the…” Inara wanted to say she was the Guardian of the Realm, but it was a title she had always felt was too burdening for just one person. It also sounded pretentious when said out loud.
“For years I was harassed to find a wife, a queen for Illian. There are none I would rule beside for there are none stronger or wiser than you, Inara Galfrey. Damn being careful.” The northman leaned in again and they embraced with all their love for the other.
Inara allowed herself a few more seconds to take pleasure in it. Besides the fact that they were being split up again, there to face peril and possible death, she simply enjoyed the very human emotions that came with kissing the man she had loved for so long. She wondered how many other human things she had missed without realising it.
“Inara?” came her mother’s voice.
They parted from their embrace but Reyna was already in view of them. Her mother made to speak, seeing them together as they were, but made not a sound. Instead, she corrected her expression of surprise and offered a quiet apology before wandering back towards the keep.
Both Vighon and Inara fell into each other, sharing a laugh that spoke of their amusement and awkwardness. “I’m going to have to deal with that,” she reasoned.
“I would keep you to myself a moment longer,” the king whispered.
Inara looked into his brown eyes, his concern evident. “We will see each other again,” she promised. “We haven’t come this far to be torn apart at the end.”
A Clash of Fates Page 18