A Clash of Fates

by Philip C. Quaintrell

  As always, Asher answered the question with action and immediately tried to get out of bed. There was no particular thing that stopped him but, by the time he reached the edge of the bed, everything hurt in some way.

  “Easy!” Inara bade. “They stopped you from bleeding but they didn’t give you a new body.”

  Asher groaned with frustration. “I thought Riders were supposed to heal fast.”

  “We do,” the Guardian said. “But you’ve still got a way to go before then.”

  Inara assisted the ranger in finding his clothes and, with a heavy fur added to his shoulders, Asher limped to the door. Inara showed him through to the foyer and the guest house’s main doors. Not one to have doors opened for him, the ranger went to the extra, and painful, effort of opening it himself.

  The sunlight was blinding, though its heat did nothing to counter the bitter wind that picked up his green cloak. With all the haste his injuries could afford him, Asher hurried away from the building and into the gardens. His blue eyes scanned the heavens in search of his companion. He could feel her, up there in the sky, but she was moving faster than before, making it harder to track her movements.

  Something cut through the sky behind him, but his wounds prevented him from turning around quickly enough to spot it. Despite the glare from the sun, concealing her approach, the ranger knew the dragon was finally flying towards him.

  When Avandriell was close enough, her wings fanned out and eclipsed the sun. All four of her claws came up before digging into the ground in front of him. Asher’s mouth failed to close - he was in awe of her.

  Avandriell maintained her regal stance, allowing the ranger to get a better look at her. The dragon now stood a head taller than a horse and at least twice that length. Her scales gleamed in the sunlight, a shade of bronze that no dwarven smith could ever achieve in his forge. Her claws were thick and her legs even thicker. She looked strong enough now to lift an ox clean off the ground. A long ridged tail swayed gently behind her, ending with an oval-shaped chunk of dark bone.

  Perhaps the most noticeable difference, besides her increased size, were the spikes along her spine. Asher tilted his head to take in their new shape, noting how flat the majority of them were. Athis and Ilargo possessed similar protrusions along their spines, but both displayed sharp spikes rather than flat ridges.

  “It’s a female trait,” Inara told him, watching his gaze. “They have flatter spinal horns, but they’re twice as strong as the spikes found on a male.”

  Asher appreciated the information, though he was unable to tear his eyes away from the dragon. Following the flat ridges up to her head, he discovered a pair of small tusks either side of her jaw. They were small changes, but every one of them made her all the more fearsome and beautiful at the same time.

  Quick footsteps came up behind them. Asher didn’t need to turn around to discover their owners’ identity, for Avandriell could see them with ease. The dragon’s knowledge was instantly his and the ranger knew that Reyna and Nathaniel had arrived with Faylen and a handful of elves. It was the most peculiar thing to know something with absolute surety without actually seeing it.

  Inara held up a hand to hold them back. “We will give you both some time.” After offering Avandriell a polite bow of the head, the Guardian of the Realm walked away and took the others with her.

  Once they were alone, Avandriell dipped her head a little lower and tilted it to one side. It must be so frustrating to only have two legs and no wings, she observed with a touch of humour to her voice.

  Asher couldn’t help but grin like a fool. “So I didn’t imagine it. You did talk to me, in the stables.”

  You need not use your voice, Avandriell reminded him. The bridge between our minds is strong.

  The ranger opened his mouth to speak again but quickly sealed his lips. Can you hear me? he asked through their bond.

  Of course, the dragon replied. I have heard quite a lot while you have been sleeping the day away.

  Asher was still too stunned at hearing her voice to defend himself. Instead, he remained quiet and hoped to hear more of it.

  Our enemy has been found, she stated, revealing some of the fierce warrior that her mother, Thessaleia, had imparted to her. I heard a report given to Inara, she continued. Ravens from both Dunwich and Darkwell have arrived with news of Reaver tracks entering The Vrost Mountains. Inara and Athis believe Alijah and Malliath are holed up in The Bastion, biding their time.

  Asher had to shake his head to catch up with the details, so enthralled was he with his companion’s level of intelligence and personality. Already, the ranger could tell that Avandriell was from a fighting stock of dragons that had long served the order of the Riders in Drakanan. She thought like a predator and dreamed of the hunt. Her significant bond to Asher was what tied her to current events, making Alijah and Malliath her prey.

  Again, Asher had to shake his head and blink to focus his thoughts. He felt as if he could fall into Avandriell’s mind and way of thinking for days. There were parts of her that just came to him without question or reason.

  We have today, she informed him, but The Rebellion is moving on from Palios at dawn. We will meet up with Doran before taking the fight to the enemy. Avandriell looked away for a moment, her mind flitting through Asher’s countless memories of the infamous Heavybelly. I think I will like the dwarf, she remarked offhandedly. He would make for a good Rider.

  Asher couldn’t help his scoff. Doran would disagree. As would his dragon… he added with amusement.

  A rapid guttural sound resonated from Avandriell’s throat as she shared in the joke. You are not wrong, she agreed.

  Asher laughed all the more. I can’t believe we’re actually talking to each other. It doesn’t seem real.

  Avandriell lowered her head until the flat of her snout was within the ranger’s reach. Does this feel real?

  With his free hand, Asher pressed his palm to her scales and felt the warmth within them. They weren’t as smooth as he recalled, when she was no bigger than a dog. Now, her bronze scales had a weathered texture to them and felt harder.

  You are not alone anymore, good ranger. I live in you. And you live in me. There is nothing of the sky or earth that can come between us. We are free.

  Those last three words struck a chord in Asher and he retrieved his hand so that Avandriell could raise her head to see him. We are free, he repeated.

  The dragon tilted her head again. What was it you said? I am ranger. Yes. I like that. My mother and father have memories of dragons who lived free of the order. They were known as rogues; dangerous and territorial creatures who could not be trusted. But rangers live by a code. I have seen that in you. It would be a life no other dragon has ever known. Quite an adventure, she concluded with delight. Yes. I am ranger.

  We are rangers, Asher emphasised.

  Though nothing changed on her face, Asher could sense the pleasure that resided within his companion. Perhaps, Avandriell suggested, if you’re done bleeding everywhere, we could find somewhere quiet to rest together. Somewhere we can talk.

  Unlike the dragon, Asher displayed his pleasure with a contented smile. I would enjoy that, he replied, limping away from the gardens beside her. What would you like to talk about?

  Oh… everything.

  Asher let out a short sharp laugh. Everything sounds good.

  51

  Home is Where the Heart Is

  Descending beneath the clouds, Gideon Thorn was met by the white cliffs of The Shining Coast. The jagged cliff stretched from north to south, beyond even that of Ilargo’s vision. To millions of others, it would have been a welcoming sight, to see those white walls and know they were home.

  It didn’t feel like home to Gideon.

  He had lived in many places during his life; enough to have good and bad memories of Illian, Ayda, and even Erador. They had all felt like home at one point or another, though some had also felt like prisons. These days, home was in the sky, free of the lines
drawn over the land below.

  Of course, it was never the land that drew him anywhere - it was the people. He cared for the everyday lives of the families that inhabited the realm, be they humans, elves, or dwarves. He had fought and suffered for them all during his long life and the old master knew it was a habit he could never break. It was a duty that surpassed the codes of any order, a sense of responsibility that came with the power he and Ilargo both harnessed.

  Perhaps, Ilargo said, we could find others who share that sense of responsibility.

  Gideon looked over the snow-covered fields of Alborn, his gaze drawn to the far west. Further than any could see was Erador and, further still, was Drakanan, the ancient home of his predecessors. It was there, hidden deep in the mountain rock, that any hope might be found for a future filled with Dragon Riders.

  No, Ilargo corrected, turning Gideon back to him. The hope you hold in your heart does not rest in Drakanan. It lies out there, in the vastness of Verda. Those eggs will not bond to just any. They demand a companion who embodies all the virtues of a true warrior. Nothing short of that will do.

  I’m not even sure it’s the right thing to do, Gideon replied. We’ve done this before. We’ve made this same decision before. Restarting the Dragorn came from a sense of duty, regardless of the outcome. Now, I have to wonder if my heart desires this because I don’t want us to be alone.

  We will never be alone, Ilargo countered softly.

  You know what I mean. Asher and Avandriell have their own path and it has nothing to do with the Riders or the Dragorn. And then there’s Inara and Athis, Gideon said with a sigh. I see their future being very tied up in royal duties. And you know I’m happy for them both, he added. I just can’t make a decision like this without considering all the reasons why we should do it.

  Ilargo turned his head just enough to lay a single blue eye on his companion, though he said nothing.

  What is it? Gideon asked, unable to read the dragon’s thoughts. Ilargo, what aren’t you saying?

  Your human side has made you indecisive and unsure of yourself, the dragon chastised. I can feel it in you. You have lost sight of who you are and what you are capable of. Our bond might have changed, but there is still a dragon in you.

  Gideon clenched his jaw. I want to trust what’s in my heart.

  A heart you still share with me, Ilargo pointed out.

  And what is in your heart? Gideon asked. What do you think we should do?

  The dragon continued his flight for a moment, his thoughts coalescing into poignant words. Drakanan, he began, deserves a leader befitting of their legacy. As do the eggs and their potential Riders. They need a leader who has been knocked down and got back up again. A leader who knows their failures and has learnt from them. Did you ever consider that our life, our experiences have been forging that kind of leader out of you, out of us? Drakanan and the entire order of Riders fell eons past and without your hand in it. As did Elandril’s Dragorn. Unlike those that came before us, we are still around.

  But is that enough? Gideon agonised, still haunted by all the young dragons and Riders Malliath had slaughtered in The Lifeless Isles.

  Nothing is ever assured and nothing is ever truly safe, Ilargo asserted. But our ability to try is assured. Our promise to always get back up is assured. And our oath has ever been to die keeping the realm safe.

  The old master rubbed his companion’s green scales, his mind falling ever deeper into thought. There was so much to consider and yet the future still teetered on a knife’s edge. The greatest challenge of their lives lay ahead and there was no certainty that they would even survive to see Drakanan again.

  Gideon, you know what we must do. What we must commit ourselves to.

  An exasperated sigh escaped Gideon’s lips and got lost in the wind. You know, sometimes your innate wisdom is tiresome.

  No it isn’t, Ilargo said with an edge of smug superiority.

  Gideon laughed in his agreement before realising those behind him would have no idea what was so funny. Instead of explaining it all, he simply told the elves that Ilargo would be following The Selk Road north in the hope of joining The Rebellion once more.

  Galanör and Aenwyn readily agreed with the plan since the rebels had always planned to meet up with Doran in The Black Wood should they find victory in The Moonlit Plains. They briefly discussed the merits of checking the plains, but it was a long way to go only to find an empty hole in the ground when they knew where The Rebellion would be going.

  And so Ilargo banked to the north and flew inland until the white cliffs fell away and The Selk Road snaked through the region of Alborn. The dragon continued his flight for several hours, his sharp eyes scouring the land below. The sun moved across the winter sky, chased westward by the approaching night. As it touched the distant horizon, Ilargo dipped his head and raced towards the ground, bringing a city into view.

  What is it? Gideon asked, bracing himself.

  Bodies, Ilargo stated gravely. Lots of bodies.

  Gideon narrowed his eyes and saw a great pillar of smoke rising high into the sky. Beyond the smoke, the All-Tower of Palios stood tall in the heart of the city. As captivating as the scholars’ tower was, Gideon was drawn back to the smoke. Following it down to its origin, he soon discovered the bodies Ilargo had mentioned.

  Reavers, the dragon confirmed.

  The Rebellion’s forces have been here, Gideon deduced with some excitement. Take us down, he urged. We will question the governor before moving on, he added, glancing to the northern road their friends had surely taken.

  Having met with Governor Tarlan, Gideon and his companions came to learn the truth of events in Palios. It was a relief to hear of so many in the company of the king, including their friends. It was disturbing, however, to learn of the attack on Asher and Avandriell, though the governor could give no further details on those who had ambushed them. Only that they had met a gruesome end for their efforts.

  Considering the many days of travelling behind them and the distance The Rebellion’s army could have travelled since they had left Palios, Gideon and the elves accepted Governor Tarlan’s offer of hospitality.

  And so the trio enjoyed the most comfortable night in a long time: soft beds, hot meals, and the protection of a city that had already been liberated. Eager as Gideon was to reach The Rebellion again, his eyes closed with ease and his mind fell into a deep slumber that one never enjoyed in the wilds.

  Though he awoke the next day feeling refreshed and clear of mind, Gideon could feel Ilargo’s fatigue lingering. The dragon had covered more miles than he could count since setting off from Drakanan and there were only more to put behind them. Given that Ilargo was capable of catching up with the army before they even reached Dunwich, Gideon suggested to Galanör and Aenwyn that they remain in Palios for the day and another night. Considering the battle that lay ahead of them, the elves offered no protest and happily took the rest of the day to recover from their journey.

  And so it was the dawn of another day before they gave their thanks to the governor and the people of Palios and ascended to their place on the dragon’s back.

  The day seemed to stretch on ahead of them until it was night once again, extending their journey to agonising lengths. Ilargo continued through the night, his vision unimpaired by the dark. In the pre-dawn, they flew over Darkwell, the most southern city in the northern realm; a marker for all that they were passing from one region to another.

  As the sun rose again, Gideon cast his eyes out on the world, hoping that he might discover a trace of The Rebellion. To his left, in the west, The Evermoore’s tree line appeared as a faded darkness resting on the horizon. Following the great forest north, there was no missing The Vrost Mountains that curled around its northern boundary.

  I see them! Ilargo exclaimed.

  Gideon pushed up from the two small spikes his feet had always rested on. Looking over Ilargo’s head, he narrowed his eyes and tried to make out The Rebellion’s forces. Conside
rable as their numbers were, though, the dragon’s eyes proved vastly superior as Gideon failed to discern them against the terrain.

  With some impatience, he waited for Ilargo to close the gap. As he was informing Galanör and Aenwyn of their imminent arrival, another arrival met them in the sky. Gideon’s words trailed off, leaving him speechless and wide-eyed.

  Avandriell was flying beside them, her bronze scales catching the rising sun.

  Galanör leaned forward, bringing his words closer to Gideon’s ears. “Avandriell seems to be… bigger.”

  Gideon laughed at the blunt assessment and nodded in agreement. “I would say so!” he called back.

  Coming up on their other side, an even bigger dragon made his presence known. Athis glided in beside Ilargo, their wing tips almost touching, as he reached out to speak with Ilargo. Gone were the days when their thoughts were one. Now, Gideon had to request permission to join the bridge between Athis and Ilargo, though it was freely given.

  It is good to see you, Gideon, Athis said after greeting Ilargo.

  And you, Athis, the old master replied with a genuine smile lighting up his face.

  Rather than waste time with words and endless questions, Athis gave Ilargo access to his recent memories. After they were absorbed at some speed by Ilargo, the green dragon filtered them through to Gideon at a pace his mind could comprehend. They witnessed events from Vangarth and The Evermoore, where the Drakes had taken days to decide on their action.

  It was hard to experience Athis’s weakening condition as the tree burned, though Gideon noticed anything to do with Inara, including her feelings, were guarded from him, protected as they were by her companion. The old master didn’t push it, content for them to maintain their privacy. Instead, he accepted the memories that pieced together the events surrounding the tree itself.

  A monumental weight pressed upon Gideon’s heart as it all came together. Adan’Karth and hundreds of Drakes were all gone, their life force and magic offered up to the tree. It was an enormous sacrifice. Both he and Ilargo only wished they could have been there to pay their respects to the brave Drakes and say farewell to Adan’Karth.