He would not fail again.
Blasted by the rain, Inara watched Alijah closely. He had taken an extended blink, but now he looked back at her with some focus behind his eyes.
“Inara,” he uttered, saying her name as if it was the first time.
A smile dared to push at her cheeks. “Alijah?” she questioned delicately. “Is that you?” More tears ran down her face. “You did it. You walked through, you changed the bond.”
Alijah’s expression didn’t change. Instead of replying, he raised one hand and cupped her cheek, his gaze boring into her. “It’s like… I can breathe again,” he whispered. “I’ve missed you.”
Inara didn’t know what to say, her emotions battling with the rage and love she felt towards him. She put her hand over his and offered a warm smile. “I’ve missed you too,” she finally replied.
Multiple roars echoed across the skies, adding to the thunder. He knows! Athis warned. Malliath knows something is wrong! He’s coming!
Inara’s eyes flitted from the dark sky to her brother. “We don’t have long. We need to get inside.”
“I’m so… sorry,” Alijah said, remaining where he lay.
“There will be time for that,” Inara told him with a great deal of urgency in her voice. She heaved him from the floor and took some of his weight. “We need to go, now. Malliath knows you’ve altered your bond.”
Alijah didn’t move, halting their departure from the platform. “There’s so much… I want to say. But there are no words… that can undo what I’ve done.”
“We need to go!” Inara insisted, sparing a brief glance at the sky.
He turned his head up to look her in the eyes, his expression that of a contented man. “There’s only one thing… I have left to give.”
Inara finally stopped trying to drag him towards the archway. “What are you talking about?” she asked.
“I’m sorry,” Alijah repeated.
Then, in an explosion of action, he slipped his hand from hers and found the finger with the Hastion gem. A strong tug snapped the bones, rendering her entire hand useless with agony. In the same moment, he pulled the ring free, shoved Inara back, and yanked the Crissalith blade free from his chest. The gem in his possession, he had only to hold out his hand and Inara was swept away with the crystal dagger.
The platform greeted her with its unyielding embrace before she skidded across the wet stone. She heard the Crissalith clatter beside her, not far from where her father still lay. She fought against the new variety of pain and sat up to find others around her now. Her mother was crouching beside Nathaniel while Vighon and Asher stood sentinel in the rain, the four of them staring out across the open space.
The realisation of what was really happening came all too late to the Guardian. “No!” she cried, seeing Alijah’s plan laid bare. “He didn’t change their bond!”
Alijah paused by the very edge of the platform and turned back to face them all. “He would have me be a monster!” he yelled over the storm, his grim determination stealing his features. “I won’t let him hurt anyone else!”
Inara scrambled to her feet but it was too late and Alijah was too far away. Without taking his eyes away, he stepped off the edge.
“NO!” Inara screamed, her hand reaching out to grab him in a spell, but without the Hastion gem to combat the Crissalith beside her, she was powerless. She kicked the blade away, sending it careering off the platform. In its absence, Athis’s voice returned to her with clarity.
Malliath’s going to save him! he warned.
Through Athis’s mind, she could see the black dragon swooping low to catch Alijah, thereby saving both of their lives. A moment existed between Inara and Athis, a moment so profound and urgent that only feelings were capable of crossing their bond.
Athis knew he could stop Malliath from reaching Alijah before he crashed into the rocks. Stopping him would ensure Alijah’s death and bring an end to the overwhelming threat of Malliath. But everything in Inara wanted to save her brother, her desperate need providing Athis with a choice.
Saving Alijah, however, meant saving Malliath. That in itself put the entire realm at risk. Without the Crissalith, Alijah would be subsumed by the dragon once more and they might never get the opportunity to separate them again.
There was, it seemed, only one way to end it all: they had to honour Alijah’s sacrifice.
It broke Inara’s heart but, for the sake of the realm and, perhaps, any kind of redemption for her brother, she said the words anyway. Stop him.
Athis continued on his flight path, his wings tucked in to let him spear down at just the right angle. Only seconds had gone by since Alijah began his final journey, but his moment between life and death was about to come to an end. It was only then, a heartbeat from impact, that Inara saw the true calamity of what was about to happen.
Athis hadn’t told her how he was going to stop Malliath…
“No.” The protest could hardly be heard as she broke into the fastest run her injured hip would allow.
Athis intercepted Malliath head to head, ramming into the behemoth from the side with all the weight of his fall behind him. The pair were immediately taken from their differing flight paths and set on a new one together.
It all happened at the same time.
Alijah met his sudden end on the rocks as Athis and Malliath slammed into the mountain side. Alijah’s instantaneous death crossed his bond with Malliath and stopped the dragon’s heart, their reign and companionship having reached its inevitable and tragic end.
On her hands and knees, Inara had watched it all. And now she watched as the cliff gave way, its exterior shattered by the combined impact of both dragons. Athis had predicted the disaster from the moment he had set himself on course.
“ATHIS!” she bellowed, refusing to believe what she was seeing.
Sheet upon sheet of rock broke free of the mountain and rained down on Athis, burying him ton by ton. Soon, she couldn’t see him at all, the entire area clouded with debris.
Inara gasped as her lungs seemed to forget how to breathe. She reached out to him again and again but there was no response in her mind, not even a feeling. Her immediate desolation sucked her in. She didn’t care that massive wings were beating the rain as Ilargo found purchase on The Bastion’s stone.
“Inara.”
The Guardian had no idea who was calling her name. It wasn’t Athis and his was the only voice she wanted to hear. And so she stayed where she was, hanging over the world, her gaze fixed on the shifting rocks far below.
“Inara.”
The voice was followed by a hand on her shoulder, though many hands were required to heave her away from the edge. She was eventually faced by Gideon, who gripped her by the arms. Beside him were Asher and Vighon, but her eyes were taken beyond them, to her parents. Nathaniel was holding Reyna tightly in his arms, the pair seated on the wet stone with their faces buried in each other’s shoulder.
“We will go to him,” Gideon said, snapping her attention back. “Come.”
Inara and Gideon alone were flown down the mountain by Ilargo. Avandriell passed them by on their way, her wings frayed and ripped in places. Inara could only give the bronze dragon a glance, her focus drawn to Athis.
Ilargo’s landing disturbed more of the loose rocks but his claws were secure, rooting him to the slope. Inara didn’t wait for Gideon to tell her it was safe. Within seconds of touching down, she was scrambling over the broken mountain side, the pain of her hip and broken finger long forgotten in the face of her breaking heart.
She came across Malliath’s body first. Like a god thrown from the heavens, his corpse lay crumpled on the rocks. His body was severely battle damaged, marred from tail to snout with Athis’s claw marks. His mouth remained ajar, his tongue hanging between his jaws and over a large stone. The black dragon had lost the life behind his purple eyes. His death, it seemed, had also ended the supernatural storm that had brought ruin to the starry night.
Scaling Malliath, Inara continued a little further up, ignoring Gideon’s distant warnings about the potential dangers.
There he was.
“Athis!” Inara called his name again and again as she approached. His head and half of his neck protruded from the rockslide, allowing her to come right up alongside his face. Like Malliath, what she could see of his body revealed a savage battle with his kin. One of his crowning horns was gone completely while the other had been snapped in half.
The only eye she could see began to slowly open. Small veins, a brighter red than his scales, wormed their way into the rich blue that surrounded his sharp pupil.
Wingless one… His mind was weak, the words distant and lacking their usual edge.
It’s me, she replied through their bond. I’m here.
Is it… over? he asked.
Yes, Inara answered, her tears flowing with abandon. You sacrificed… She stopped, her mind refusing to form the words. You sacrificed yourself, she finally managed. Why did you have to do that? the Guardian demanded, her grief and anger running parallel.
I was not… the only one, Athis said. There was still… good in him… at the end.
Inara nodded along as she knelt beside her companion, her hand pressed to his scales. I don’t want you to go. I can’t lose you too. I don’t know how to be without you.
Ah… but that time… is upon us. You must feel it too. The eternal shores… call to me.
No, Inara wept, willing him to overcome Death itself. I love you too much. You can’t leave me.
I have done… all that I was meant to… in this life. And what a life… you have given me. Know this… Inara Galfrey… I await you in the next life… where the sky is endless… and the dawn is everlasting…
With that final word, Athis the ironheart closed his eyes, never to open them again.
An indescribable sound escaped Inara’s lips, a sound that carried all of her sorrow, grief, and agony. And there she remained, trapped by her misery until the sun once again graced The Vrost Mountains.
Eventually, the sound of footsteps broke her trance, pulling her from the memories she had spent the rest of the night dwelling on. Memories of Athis, memories of Alijah. That was all she had now.
Gideon stood before Athis, his hand resting against the red dragon’s snout. “Rest well old friend. You were the best of us.”
“I don’t want to leave him,” Inara said.
“Even when you were apart, you were always together. That will never change.”
Inara looked up at her old mentor with bloodshot eyes and flushed skin. “What am I without him?”
“Together you made each other so much more,” Gideon told her, “but it wasn’t Athis the ironheart that forged Inara Galfrey into a warrior, into a hero. You are still that person. You will go on to do everything you were going to. Only now you will take Athis in your heart… and in your soul.”
Gideon’s hand extended towards her but Inara paused before taking it, her eyes catching a glint of red on the ground. She scooped it up and examined the dragon scale, her thumb wiping some of the dirt away. It fitted easily in the palm of her hand and she clasped her fingers around it, holding it so tightly it nearly cut into her skin.
Leaving Athis to the mountain was one of the hardest things she had ever done, but her feet managed one step at a time until they returned to Ilargo. Inara didn’t miss the body wrapped in Gideon’s cloak and nestled between the dragon’s spinal horns. She didn’t say anything, though she was grateful Gideon had recovered her brother.
As Ilargo leapt from the mountain side, his wings taking them high into the air, Inara looked out and took her last look at Athis. No, she told herself, it wasn’t the last time. She would see him again, some day.
58
Keeping the Hope Alive
Asher watched from The Bastion’s main entrance as Inara was enveloped by her parents. Their grief was palpable. The ranger couldn’t know the loss of a son, a brother, or even a dragon, all of which he was deeply thankful for. But his eyes filled with tears seeing those he loved in such pain.
He had already offered his condolences and embraced them all individually, but they needed each other now. Together, the Galfreys were always stronger.
Inara eventually broke away from her parents and was taken in by Vighon’s arms. No one disturbed them, nor the Galfreys. Instead, Asher turned around and walked outside, hardly pausing as he clapped a hand on Galanör’s shoulder and offered a polite bow of the head to Aenwyn.
Among the mountain tops, a clear blue sky had welcomed the sun over the world. Without thinking, the ranger made for his companion - Avandriell felt like home. She bowed her head, already aware that he intended to stroke the smoother scales between her eyes.
In the light, he got a better look at the fierce young dragon. Her wings were ragged at the ends and some of the larger membranes were marred by narrow slits. Her claws were chipped and bloody, a price any as young as her would pay when challenging one so ancient as Malliath. Some of her bronze scales were missing, though she appeared to have avoided any direct bite from her foe. One of the tusks, just to the side of her jaw, had snapped off, leaving a red stump in its place.
I will heal, Avandriell reassured him, sensing his distress. They will all heal, she added, looking beyond the ranger, given time.
I don’t think some of them want to, Asher replied, looking directly at Inara.
“I didn’t think it would feel like this,” Gideon said, approaching from the other side of Avandriell. “Victory,” the old master elaborated. “I didn’t think it would be so… painful.”
Asher regarded Avandriell, his hand running down her jaw, as he moved to face Gideon. “Victory is rarely anything but bittersweet,” he said. “Especially in our world. There’s always blood in our world.”
“Our pain is shared across the realm,” Gideon continued. “Everyone has lost someone. We need to help them push through this,” he added, gesturing to the grieving. “The people need to start healing.”
Asher frowned. “They need time, Gideon.”
“They don’t have the luxury of time,” the old master said softly, hurt by his own words. “The entire realm, both humans and elves, will look to them now. They, and they alone, will lead the people into a brighter future… a future of hope, not grief.”
Asher wanted to argue for the sake of his friends, but Gideon’s pragmatism was flawless - they were all kings and queens now.
“What do you suggest?” the ranger enquired.
“We must return to Namdhor,” Gideon told him. “It is still the seat of power in Illian. News will travel fast from there. The people need to see them.”
Asher agreed, if reluctantly. “Just give them a little more time,” he implored. “I will go down into the valley and speak with the others. We will need to take stock of the dead and see to the wounded before making preparations to leave.”
Gideon nodded his understanding and patted Asher on the arm before walking away.
He’s right, Avandriell said. If they wallow in their grief and pain, so too will the realm. Hope has ever been Inara’s message, be it in her words or in her actions. She must continue in her duty, especially now.
Asher agreed with his companion, but he wasn’t going to pass on her words to Inara. She’ll get there on her own. She always does.
The mountains rushed past and eventually fell away as Avandriell soared into the valley. What had once been a white strip through the mountains was now a dark stain, dotted with what looked like scurrying ants from their position in the sky.
The bronze dragon glided down, moving from east to west, rather than diving. She told Asher it was to give him a rest after a hellish night, but the ranger could sense the pain in the joints of her wings and knew the truth. Rather than offend the proud dragon, he accepted her reason with gratitude.
Taking in the battlefield below, the ranger was pleased to see every Reaver lying flat in the snow and mud. He would have liked t
o witness the moment they fell, their end in time with Alijah and Malliath’s. There were none, however, who could have been so pleased as The Rebellion forces fighting for their lives. From above, Asher could already see the wounded and the dead being taken aside.
Avandriell’s sharp eyes didn’t require any more than a single flyby to find Doran Heavybelly. She came to hover in the air above the king, her wings fanning until space was made for her.
“Good to see yer, lad!” the son of Dorain called. “It’s been hours since the wretches gave up the fight. I was beginnin’ to worry none o’ ye would return.”
Asher climbed down from his saddle as Faylen and Nemir appeared from the gathering crowd. Like Doran, Faylen had clearly been through all the hells to have survived the battle, her fresh wounds there to be seen at only a glance. Nemir had suffered worse, it seemed, his left arm strapped across his chest and a bandage wrapped around his head. Asher greeted them all with his usual stoical nod.
“It is done then?” The question turned Asher to Kassian Kantaris, who had found his way between a group of elves with an obvious limp in his stride. “Alijah and Malliath,” he continued, gesturing to the fallen Reavers, “they’re… dead?”
Asher took a breath and raised his chin an inch. “They are,” he confirmed.
Doran eyed him a moment longer, his heavy brow twitching in contemplation. “They’re not the only ones, are they?”
With great sorrow, the ranger shook his head.
In the hours, days, and even weeks that followed The Rebellion’s victory in The Vrost Mountains, there was little celebration to be had as they made the slow and arduous journey north. Those who had been hiding in The Black Wood emerged to join them in navigating across The White Vale, including Doran’s mother, Drelda.
Their only enemy now was winter itself.
A Clash of Fates Page 67