A Clash of Fates

by Philip C. Quaintrell

  As the dwarves went about fitting the new saddles and measuring the straps that would have to go all the way around the dragons’ chests, Asher found his feet firmly rooted to the ground. He met Avandriell’s eyes and found a quiet resolve in them - she would not be budged on what had to happen next.

  “I wasn’t aware you possessed such nerves,” Gideon remarked, tightening one of the straps around Ilargo.

  Feeling vulnerable under the scrutiny, Asher forced himself to relax and move from the spot. “I don’t,” he lied, walking around Avandriell to inspect the saddle. “I just thought Avandriell was too young.”

  You and I are flying today, the dragon declared unequivocally.

  Unaware of her words to Asher, Gideon replied, “Avandriell is twice the size of a horse; she’ll hardly feel your weight. The trick is balance, for both of you.” The old master walked up to the bronze dragon and paused with his hands held out. Only when Avandriell bowed her head did he actually touch her. “You need to feel her muscles shifting beneath you,” he continued, pressing into the scales above her front legs. “Your bond will give you an intuitive understanding when it comes to day to day flying, but Avandriell will always detect threats before you do. When that happens, her body will respond more on instinct and you won’t always get a warning via your bond. You’ll need to learn to interpret her every movement if you’re to battle in the sky with her.”

  “You sound like you’ve had experience,” Asher quipped.

  “That’s because he has,” Inara called, approaching from the tree line behind them. Athis glided down and came in alongside Ilargo, their combined bulk taking up most of the area. After finding her place between them, the Guardian gave her old mentor a meaningful look. “Gideon knows what he’s talking about. You should take his advice,” she said to Asher.

  The ranger didn’t miss the moment of harmony that appeared to exist between the two. He had no idea what had been said, but he was glad to see they had found some common ground.

  “And they look great,” Inara commented, referring to the saddles now properly strapped to the dragons. “Athis and I have been talking about using one for years.”

  Now I feel like my mother, Avandriell announced proudly.

  “Dragon Riders used saddles,” Asher said aloud, drawing on Thessaleia’s memories. “They definitely knew a lot about aerial combat; they practiced it like a religion.”

  Gideon beamed. “I envy the memories you carry. Perhaps Avandriell’s ancient heritage will give you both an advantage up there.”

  Asher followed the flick of Gideon’s eyes to the blue ocean above before coming all the way back down to Avandriell’s hungry expression. Let’s go! she cried, turning to present her side.

  When he didn’t move, Inara turned a questioning look on him. “Do I detect some hesitation in the stoical ranger?”

  “No,” Asher quickly replied through a tense jaw.

  Inara did not look convinced. “You’ve flown before,” she reminded him. “And not just on Athis. You even flew on—”

  “I’m aware,” the ranger cut in, with no doubt in his mind as to which dragon she was about to name.

  Confused, Inara asked, “Then what is it?”

  It’s the memories, Avandriell revealed, only she also shared it with Ilargo and Athis, which is to say she shared it with Gideon and Inara.

  “Memories?” Gideon queried.

  Having shared just enough to coax the ranger, Avandriell offered them no further explanation. Speak your burdens, she urged him, and they will lose their hold.

  Asher flashed his companion a brief scold. I’m already growing tired of this dragon wisdom.

  “Asher?” Inara probed.

  “I remember everything I ever did under The Crow’s spell. I remember my time bonded to Malliath.” He took a breath. Just saying that much made him feel more vulnerable than he could usually bear. “Avandriell has already started to take the sting out of those memories. Even now they continue to fade, as if they were someone else’s life. But it’s harder up there. There’s nothing like being astride a dragon. Those memories are the sharpest.” The ranger turned to Gideon. “I was with him when… when he attacked The Lifeless Isles. I saw the dragons and Riders fall from the sky. I felt his fury. And I felt their death.” Asher shut his mouth and puffed out his chest as his chin dipped to meet it.

  He heard Avandriell walking towards him, though there was some inexplicable part of him that sensed her approach regardless of his human senses. When her head hung just over his, he finally looked up to meet her beautiful yet fearsome eyes.

  So much shame, she began, So much guilt. How quickly you forget your great deeds, your heart and soul trapped under the weight of your past. Well here it ends, she declared. Today, this very moment, is where the line is drawn. No longer will you suffer from the dark corners of your life. You and I will leave the earth in our wake and embrace a new world of our own making. Avandriell’s face edged closer, her hot breath washing over him. You have atoned. It’s time to start living.

  Her determination became his, a fire they shared in their veins. Within seconds, Asher was seated comfortably in his new saddle and looking down on Gideon and Inara. Both were grinning up at him and, through the bond shared between all three dragons, he could tell that their hearts were swelling with happiness. The old Asher would have recoiled from it all and used his previous skills as an assassin to simply disappear but, instead, he responded in kind and accepted their love for him.

  For the first time in his life, it didn’t feel so strange to have friends.

  Holding lightly to the handles, the ranger let his body move with Avandriell’s as she walked away from the others. Following her instruction, he leaned forward and gripped the handles. He immediately felt her body tense beneath his, a slight crouch in her legs as her claws sank into the ground. Her wings swiftly unfurled, the tips pointing to the sky. With white knuckles and a racing heart, Asher held his breath.

  Proving her strength and displaying the might of her heritage, Avandriell cleared the ground in one beat of her wings and launched into the air. The wind swept Asher’s hair and green cloak out behind him and even tried to force him to close his eyes. But he refused. He wanted to witness every second of it.

  Avandriell was awash with joy. She climbed and climbed until The Black Wood was naught but a dark smudge on the earth. With her wings tucked in, she twisted her body so they skimmed the clouds blowing in from the east. Asher had braced himself for the moment and managed to stay in his saddle during the corkscrew manoeuvre. It was exhilarating. He hollered and cheered and urged his companion to reach for the heavens.

  Not until you have a better grasp on magic, Avandriell cautioned.

  Satisfied with the majestic view from below the clouds, Asher settled into the flight and focused on the dragon’s micro movements. Every few minutes she would change her flight path while deliberately withholding the decision from him. Every time, he discovered something new about the way her body moved in the air and he committed it to memory. Only once did he lose his grip on one of the handles, causing his entire left side to flip over to the right. Avandriell had only to make a quick correction in the opposite direction to put the ranger back in his saddle.

  And, just when Asher was beginning to feel like he belonged in the sky, two enormous dragons cut through the heavens, one after the other. Ilargo was first, shooting up in front of them and hurtling through the clouds. Avandriell was left with no choice but to bank sharply to the right and avoid the collision. That was when Athis appeared, his red scales dominating their view as he raced to catch up with Ilargo. In order to avoid the new collision, Avandriell pointed her head up and took the rest of her body with it until she was vertical.

  It proved too much for Asher, who struck his head against one of Avandriell’s blunt protrusions and lost his grip on both handles. Before he knew it, his companion’s tail whistled past his ear as the distance between them continued to grow. It would have
been easy at this point to believe he was falling to his death and cry out with great protest. And, perhaps he would have were it not for Avandriell speaking into his mind.

  I’m coming!

  He believed her.

  The bronze dragon darted through the clouds, her wings flat to her sides. Avandriell homed in on him and closed the gap in seconds. Following her lead, Asher twisted his body until he was head down, mirroring his companion.

  Now! she commanded.

  Asher reached out and grasped the handles of his saddle as they came together. Lining himself up, his legs either side, the ranger prepared himself for the sudden change in direction and, indeed, it was sudden. Avandriell arched her body, flexing her spine back on itself, and launched them into the vastness of the sky once more.

  Soon after, Athis and Ilargo came up on either side of them, Inara and Gideon seated in their new saddles. Both of them were clearly amused, much to Asher’s chagrin.

  It’s good to fall off, Gideon said across their shared bond. It reminds you who has the wings. Always follow Avandriell’s lead. Listen to her body.

  Asher nodded his head in understanding, but he was somewhat distracted by the size of Ilargo and Athis. In the air, with their wings spread out, they seemed magnitudes larger than Avandriell. He had to wonder how big she would eventually grow to be. Thessaleia had been comparable to Ilargo or Athis, but Avandriell’s father, Garganafan, dwarfed them all.

  There isn’t enough time to teach you everything you need to know, Inara pointed out from the other side. When we enter those mountains, we face Malliath and Godrad. They’re big dragons, she added gravely. Speed and quick manoeuvring will be your advantage. Athis and Ilargo can help you practise but, the truth is, you first need to be confident when flying. Otherwise, all the manoeuvring in the world isn’t going to matter. And drill after drill isn’t going to instil that.

  Asher raised his eyebrows. Then what will?

  A gleeful smile took over Inara’s face. Let’s have some fun!

  54

  Choosing Joy

  Long after the sun had set, Inara was still beaming from a day in the sky. She couldn’t recall the last time she had flown with such abandon beside other dragons and their Riders. The three of them had soared through the heavens and raced only feet above the ground.

  Towards the end, as twilight was upon the world, they had practised specific manoeuvres that showed Avandriell different ways to weave in and out of battle. While her smaller size put her at a disadvantage, it could also be used in her favour.

  It was all so much harder for Asher who, for the first time to Inara’s eyes, was a fish out of water. There was next to nothing the Arakesh, nor his time as a ranger, had taught him that could be used. Though, where he lacked the skills of aerial combat, he made up for it with bold determination and control of his fears.

  Once they had returned to the ground, Inara privately suggested to Gideon that they leave Avandriell and Asher out of any aerial attack on The Bastion. Though Gideon agreed, the pair decided between them that they could never conjure an argument strong enough to dissuade the new companions.

  And so, with nowhere to go but forwards, they soon found themselves returned to the large camp and a very different atmosphere to the previous night. A sense of anticipation had spread among the rebels, particularly the dwarves.

  “Is this typical of dwarves before a battle?” Inara asked while talking to her parents, though it was Galanör who answered as he approached with Aenwyn.

  “It’s not just the coming battle,” the elf said. “A new sense of unity has begun to spread among the children of the mountain. Since Qamnaran, there have been a few louder dwarves who believe they would replace their fallen king, but they have proven to be all talk and no action. None have stood up to lead.”

  “I would say one has,” Aenwyn remarked knowingly.

  “Indeed,” Galanör agreed.

  “If begrudgingly,” Inara added, after catching on.

  “Doran has had this thrust upon him,” Reyna observed, her tone suggesting a deeper level of understanding where the dwarf was concerned. “Yet he has faced every challenge in the name of his kin, even when it was them who challenged him. Doran might not want to be the king of Dhenaheim, but he is certainly the one they deserve.”

  Inara reached out and squeezed her mother’s hand. She was sure to put an apology in her eyes, there for Reyna to see. That was all it took to bring them back into harmony, their disagreement regarding Gideon and the Crissalith quickly forgotten. It wasn’t enough for her mother, however, who pulled her in and planted a soft kiss on her head.

  “Doran as king,” Nathaniel said with a laugh. “He’s going to hate it.”

  “Or perhaps,” Reyna was quick to reply, “he will come to appreciate the new power he wields and use it to serve his people with love and respect.”

  The old knight held his wife’s gaze a moment longer, her words not lost on him. “Perhaps he will,” he said earnestly.

  “I thought there would be a lot more celebrating,” Aenwyn commented. “Before the battle on The Moonlit Plains, the dwarves were behaving as if they had already won.”

  “They’re waiting,” Gideon told her, arriving with a cup of ale in each hand. Before he could give one to Inara, her father swiped it from the old master’s grip.

  “You’re flying tomorrow,” he reminded her with a wink. Inara gave a light groan through her amused smile.

  “Waiting for what?” Aenwyn enquired.

  “Their king,” Gideon said with a grin.

  Before any discussion on the matter could begin, Vighon arrived with Sir Borin the Dread at his back. All but Reyna and Nathaniel responded to his presence with a courteous bow of the head.

  “Good evening,” he greeted, his breath visible in the air.

  “Your Grace,” Gideon replied, the hint of a question in his voice.

  “I have been speaking with Doran,” Vighon explained. “The war isn’t even won yet and he’s concerned about a lasting alliance between Dhenaheim and Illian.”

  “He is to be declared king then,” Nathaniel surmised.

  Vighon appeared hesitant to answer. “Soon, I believe,” he said, his dark eyes glancing at Inara. “It is believed the dwarven force will fight with better morale if they are united under one banner and one king.”

  “Can he not be challenged, your Grace?” Aenwyn asked.

  “Who would challenge him?” Nathaniel questioned before the northman could reply. “Doran has freed thousands of his kin and defeated every foe he’s come up against. Not to mention the fact that he wields Andaljor. That weapon is legendary throughout all the clans.”

  “As you say,” Gideon said. “And the prospect of ruling all of Dhenaheim would be enough to give anyone pause. There is unity now, but in the absence of foreign enemies, the cultural differences between the different clans will become apparent. Doran has a very long and difficult road ahead of him.”

  Vighon simply nodded his head in overall agreement. “And he will have Illian to call upon should we be required.”

  “Ayda too will come to his aid,” Reyna stated.

  “He knows all that,” Asher said, emerging from the gathering crowds with a pipe between his teeth and Kassian behind him. “Tonight, he just needs his friends.”

  “Agreed,” Nathaniel cheered heartily. “We should all have drinks for the occasion,” he added, looking to some of the passing dwarves who hefted a keg of beer between them.

  As Faylen and Nemir arrived, Vighon used their collective greeting to discreetly lean in to Inara’s ear. He asked to steal her away for a moment, before the night’s activities truly began. She quickly agreed and he instructed Sir Borin to remain where he was.

  Taken by the hand, Inara was happily led away from the throng and deeper into the woods. When the camp became imperceptible background noise, Vighon finally stopped and turned to face her.

  “I think everyone knows about us,” Inara pointed out. “Y
ou could probably kiss me in front of them,” she added with a wry smile.

  Vighon had a smile of his own, one that Inara couldn’t interpret the truth behind. As a question formed she felt Athis shrinking away in her mind.

  Why are you going? she asked the dragon. They didn’t often separate without a cause.

  This is a moment for just the two of you, Athis replied, one step ahead of Inara.

  Instead of saying anything at all, Vighon maintained his smile and subsequently dropped to one knee. Inara felt her heart quicken and her breath get away from her. Before she knew it, her hand was in his.

  “Inara,” he began confidently. “I have no token to offer you, and this is, perhaps, the last place a king would make a grand proposal. But I do have a promise.” The northman took a breath. “I have loved you for so long I can no longer recall a time I didn’t. With my word and my life I promise you that that will never fade. I will love you and honour you from now to my last breath.” Vighon’s hand tightened around hers. “Inara Galfrey, will you do me the honour of being my wife?”

  There was an immediate answer behind her lips, desperate to be set free. Rather than let her thoughts give her pause, a hesitation in Vighon’s eyes, Inara withdrew into the sanctuary she shared with Athis, a place where time almost stood still. Sensing her disquiet, Athis re-formed the bridge of their bond and quickly joined her in the heavenly mountains of their own design.

  Athis recovered her recent memories in an instant. That was very sweet, he opined. You would imagine a king to make a spectacle of such a thing.

  He knows me, Inara explained. But I fear I do not know myself. She walked out onto a plateau of varying types of long grass, their colours more vibrant than anything possible in the real world. I know what I want to say, she continued.

  Then say it, Athis advised, gliding down to join her in the grasses. You need not fear yourself. You must learn to embrace who you are, who you really are.