A Clash of Fates

by Philip C. Quaintrell

  Sir Ruban offered an approving grin. “Most wise, your Graces. Who will be replacing him?”

  It was Vighon’s turn to give an approving grin. “That would be Lord Ruban, of house Dardaris.”

  The captain was already agreeing with a nodding smile before his own name caught up with him. “I… beg your pardon… your Grace?”

  The king laughed. “It’s you, Ruban! You have more than earned it.”

  “I’m to be the lord of… Velia?”

  “Yes” Vighon cheered. “You’re going to have to appoint your successor, of course.”

  “Your Grace… I don’t know how to be a—”

  Vighon reached out and gripped him by the arms. “Ruban. When I met you, all those years ago, you were barely a man, yet you had already found your way from living on the streets to a captain’s squire. You followed me into peril and faced things most men would run from. As the captain of my king’s guard, you rose into the role of general and kept The Rebellion alive.”

  “It would have died five times over without you,” Inara added.

  “You were the backbone of the entire campaign,” Vighon continued. “Alborn is the richest region in the entire kingdom. I have no greater reward to give you. Though I warn you the title of lord comes with more burdens than that of captain. You may not thank us for it.”

  “I would thank you right now!” The captain embraced the king before sharing the same moment with the queen. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Say yes,” Inara replied, “and tomorrow you ride out to a new life.”

  Sir Ruban stood up a little straighter. “It would be my honour.”

  “No,” Vighon corrected. “The honour has been mine, old friend.”

  64

  A New World

  The sea air blasted Reyna’s golden hair out and snatched at her pale cloak. The lapping waves of The Adean and the distant calls of her kin filled her ears, though it wasn’t enough to conceal the playful giggles of a small girl. Reyna leapt over the top of the grassy sand dune and pounced on Gwenyfer. The girl squealed in surprise before tickling fingers made her howl with laughter.

  “Gwenyfer!” Inara yelled from the beach.

  Reyna poked her head over the dune. “She’s with me!” the elven queen reassured.

  “There you are,” Inara said with a knowing smile. “Gwenyfer is not the only queen to have disappeared on this beach. Father is looking for you.”

  Reyna narrowed her eyes, searching down the line of boats that rested in the surf. Despite the hundreds of elves carrying the last of their supplies, Nathaniel was easily found by the one who had loved him for nearly fifty years. Her husband was clearly scanning the white cliffs that rose up beyond the beach.

  Gwenyfer burst from the grasses and rolled down the sand dune, laughing all the way. Her joy only increased when Inara scooped her up at the bottom and held her high, a broad grin welcoming the girl.

  “Go and find Galanör,” Inara coaxed, putting her down again.

  Gwenyfer’s understanding of their language still had a long way to progress, but she certainly understood the name Galanör. She repeated it again and again as she ran off down the beach.

  “She’s adorable,” Reyna observed, making her way down to join her daughter. “How are you not going to fall utterly in love with her?”

  “I know,” Inara replied with understanding. “I’m already failing miserably.”

  Reyna linked her arm with her daughter. “Your father and I were the same when Vighon lived with us as a child. It was a little easier - his mother was around… most of the time,” she added quietly. “But we’re meant to love. There’s no getting around it.”

  “A part of me hopes Gideon never returns,” Inara confessed. “And another part of me hopes he will return this very day, before it’s too late.”

  “What will be will be,” Reyna said softly. “All you can do is raise her, keep her safe, and teach her. If she grows to be even half the queen you are then Erador will come to know true prosperity again.”

  Inara smiled and squeezed her mother’s hand affectionately. “How are you feeling about… all this?”

  Reyna didn’t need to follow her daughter’s gesture to know she was referring to the numerous ships. “I’m dreading the voyage,” she said dryly. “I get terribly sea sick. Hopefully, Faylen’s potion work hasn’t diminished since last we made the trip across The Adean.”

  Inara gave a light-hearted laugh. “I wasn’t talking about the journey, Mother.”

  “I know what you were talking about,” Reyna admitted. “I would be lying if I said I hadn’t been putting it off. Though I would never have left before helping wherever I could. It’s just been easier to stay busy and not have to think about everything.”

  Inara turned her blue eyes on her mother. “It’s not wrong to miss him.”

  Reyna wiped her tears away before they streaked down her face. “I’ve been holding so tightly to my memories of him - of all of us. I think that’s why I wanted to do this here,” she said, looking up at the cliffs. “I wanted this to be the last thing I saw before we left, before we closed this chapter on our life. I don’t want any of it to fade.”

  “How could it fade?” Inara questioned. “Even now I can still see that young boy running over these very dunes, believing he was a Graycoat.”

  Reyna couldn’t help but smile at the memory. “That’s the world I’ve been clinging to.” She turned to the sea. “Beyond that horizon is a new world for me and your father.”

  “It’s a new world for us all,” Inara said comfortingly. “Ayda is not so far that we can’t find a way through it without each other. You only have to pick up a diviner to see me.”

  “You’re right,” Reyna replied with some confidence. “And we will, of course, return to meet our grandchild,” she added excitedly. “Do you have a name yet?”

  Inara continued to walk a few steps, her gaze as distant as the horizon. “Yes.”

  Arm in arm, mother and daughter continued down the beach. Reyna wanted to give Inara as much advice as she could on motherhood, but her better judgment told her not to. For all the advice in the world, Inara and Vighon would have to find their way through it all. And she knew they would.

  “I was beginning to think you’d run away to The Arid Lands,” Nathaniel jested.

  Reyna met his wit with some of her own. “I would not leave my kin to suffer you as their king alone, my love.”

  Nathaniel laughed as he held out his arms to take in his daughter. “Let me take a look at you,” he said with a cheeky grin, his eyes running critically over Inara.

  Reyna stifled her laugh. How many times had he done exactly that to her over the years? Inara put up only the slightest of protests before she simply pulled her father in to a tight embrace.

  “I’ve never had to run a kingdom without you,” Vighon acknowledged, drawing Reyna into his waiting arms.

  “You never needed me,” Reyna told him as they parted. “But should you seek some sage advice, I leave you with the best of company.” The king followed her gaze to Galanör, who had Gwenyfer in his arms, and Aenwyn who pretended to admire the girl’s stick collected from the beach.

  “You couldn’t have chosen better successors,” Vighon complimented. “Though I will still miss you greatly.”

  “We will be back before you know it,” Reyna reminded.

  “It feels different knowing how far away you will be,” Vighon decided.

  “I know what you mean,” Reyna said with a gentle kiss to his cheek. “But you still have much work to do in Illian. I look forward to seeing your progress upon our return.”

  “The next time we set foot on Illian soil,” Nathaniel chimed in, “there will be more Draqaros in the world!” The old Graycoat grasped Vighon’s forearm with a prideful grin before pulling the northman in to his hug.

  Reyna left them to their moment and walked over to her new ambassadors. Gwenyfer was already on her feet again and dashing across the sa
nd to Vighon’s side. The elven queen watched her go, envious of the boundless energy that accompanied youth.

  “It looks good on you,” Reyna commented, seeing a familiar black bow slung over Aenwyn’s back.

  “Thank you, your Grace,” Aenwyn replied humbly. “Though its power is taking some adjusting to.”

  Reyna gave a light chuckle. “Yes, it certainly demands practise, even in hands as experienced as yours. I’m sure it will soon come to know its master’s will.” The queen turned to Galanör, her emerald eyes glancing over the blades on his hip. “Are you sure you can resist the path of the ranger long enough to see your duty through?”

  “If my time as ambassador is anything like yours, your Grace, Stormweaver and Swiftling will never know rest.”

  Reyna couldn’t argue with that. “I hope for your sake your ambassadorship is nothing like mine. Though I am certainly glad Illian has the two of you here to keep an eye on it.”

  With that, she embraced them both and returned to her husband’s side. With expression alone, Faylen informed them that they were ready to set sail. Reyna took a breath and looked up at the white cliffs before her eyes continued up and into the sky. After saying their final farewells and taking their seats in the row boat, the queen continued to look up at the sky. It was empty.

  “I thought he would come,” she uttered.

  Nathaniel joined her with a skyward gaze of his own. “As did I,” he replied. “Vighon said he only returned from Dhenaheim last month. He’s probably still resting somewhere, Avandriell too.”

  Reyna was gently shaking her head. “They don’t strike me as a pair who rest,” she said with a sad smile.

  Nathaniel laughed to himself. “You’re right. They’re probably slaying some beast in the wilds or accepting coin for having done so.” The old knight wrapped an arm around his wife. “We’ll see him again. Even if it’s a hundred years from now.”

  Reyna climbed onto her ship hoping that would not be the case. Trying to put Asher aside, or at least her disappointment, the queen stood by the stern and watched Illian shrink away. Vighon, Inara, and the others remained on the beach, waving until they were mere dots one each other’s horizon.

  Only when the white cliffs were a dark line in the west did Reyna turn away. Only feet away, another elf directed his hands at the ship’s sails and threw his magic into the wind, pushing the ship further into the east.

  Nathaniel approached with his comforting smile and an outstretched hand. “Come with me.”

  Accompanying her husband, they made their way to the bow of the ship. A glassy ocean awaited Reyna and, beyond it, The Opal Coast of Ayda, her kingdom.

  “It’s time to stop looking back,” Nathaniel averred.

  Reyna looked up at him, his jaw set and eyes fixed on the future. She knew exactly what he was really talking about. Had there been a day since that fateful night on the highest ruins of The Bastion that Nathaniel hadn’t wept for his boy? Reyna had comforted him again and again, just as he had done for her in those dark moments of reflection.

  As ever, they would get through it together.

  “A new world,” she whispered to herself.

  A sharp gust of wind cut by the side of the ship, turning every head to starboard. Before any could rush to the rail and investigate, Avandriell skimmed the water in front of the ship and launched up into the blue of the sky. She was bigger than the last time Reyna had seen her, but she was yet to match Ilargo’s size. Nathaniel shielded his eyes from the sun as he tracked the dragon.

  “Looking for me?” came a familiar gruff voice.

  Reyna and Nathaniel turned around to see Asher leaning against the mast as if he had always been there. The queen shot him a smile that broadened her face and leapt into his open arms. Within his embrace, the elf was sure the ranger’s strength had increased, just as Gideon’s had after bonding with Ilargo.

  Asher looked down at her. “You didn’t think I’d let you leave so easily, did you?”

  Nathaniel came at him with his arm rising up. “You’re becoming a smooth son of a—”

  Asher crashed into his old friend, taking his breath away with a bear-like hug. Nathaniel patted the ranger on the back and flashed his teeth with a genuine smile.

  “How was Dhenaheim?” he asked.

  “Cold,” Asher replied. “But it had its moments. Doran sends his apologies by the way. He wanted to be here for your voyage, to say farewell. But, monsters or not, Dhenaheim needs him now more than ever.”

  “Of course,” Reyna said understandingly.

  “Is that a new sword?” Nathaniel asked, pointing at the blade on Asher’s hip.

  Reyna had never been one for swords, but even she noticed that the ranger’s broadsword was not one of the replicas he had been sporting for decades. The leather around the hilt was the same shade of green as his cloak and the rounded pommel was now fashioned with hammer-like nodules instead of spikes.

  “A gift from King Doran,” Asher explained, gripping the hilt. The ranger lifted the broadsword just enough to reveal a few inches of the blade. “Pure silvyr,” he stated, with only the hint of a boast in his voice.

  Nathaniel looked genuinely impressed. “Who would have thought you’d be good friends with every king and queen in the realm?”

  Asher shook his head. “Who would have thought all the kings and queens in the realm would be good friends with a ranger of the wilds?”

  The trio laughed together as Faylen and Nemir emerged from below decks. Reyna maintained her joyous smile while welcoming them into the sunshine.

  “Asher,” Faylen greeted with a friendly nod. “Drop out of the sky, did we?”

  “Something like that,” Asher replied.

  “You must stay for lunch,” Faylen insisted.

  “We have more than enough,” Nemir assured.

  “That would be lovely,” Reyna added, taking the ranger by the arm. “I would hear more of your exploits in Dhenaheim.”

  Nathaniel walked past them and slapped a hand on Asher’s shoulder. “And I might have stashed a keg of Velia’s Golden Ale on board,” he said with a wink.

  Asher held his arms out. “How could I say no to such hospitality?”

  “Excellent!” Reyna beamed.

  “I can stay no longer than that, I’m afraid,” the ranger warned. “There’s word of a job in Ameeraska and Avandriell is eager to test her strength against Sandstalkers.”

  Reyna laughed as she caught sight of the bronze dragon, gliding overhead. “Of course she does.”

  Asher’s company, however brief, brought a swiftness to the day that made the remaining days of her voyage to Ayda all the more bearable. After watching the ranger fly away astride Avandriell, the elven fleet sailed eastward until The Opal Coast and a land of great forests welcomed them home. Thousands of elves were awaiting them on the beach and even further beyond the tree line.

  Nathaniel squeezed her hand as they finished the journey in a small rowing boat. Reyna squeezed his hand in return, aware that he was about embark on a way of life that was wholly out of his comfort zone. It was just another thing, she decided, that her incredible husband would overcome and, hopefully, come to love.

  As they stepped foot on the beach, every elf bowed the knee and waited until their new king and queen ushered them to rise again. As one people, they passed into the woods and began the trek to the city of Elandril, a place of splendour, elegance, and serene beauty. Reyna didn’t realise how much she had missed it until the towering spires, surrounded by waterfalls, were within sight. It was a place of eternal wonder, a heaven on earth. She saw all that reflected in Nathaniel’s eyes. In that moment, the queen knew they could make their home here, together.

  There had been much talk of celebrations upon their return, but Reyna had insisted upon a pause. Her first act as queen was to make a special request of the city’s elders. Only after that, Reyna knew, could she enjoy the celebrations that marked the true beginning of their reign.

  And so, later
that first night, under a starlit sky, every elf who called Elandril home gathered outside the palace. At the centre of their attention was a simple stone altar, its top carved into a shallow bowl. The elders had engraved the rim of the bowl with the necessary spells to meet their queen’s request.

  Reyna stepped forward, into the open space around the altar. She wanted to cast that final spell herself, but the currents of magic had failed to flow through her since the Moonblade’s creation. Having come to terms with her way of life, the queen was content to give one of the elders a nod. A wave of the hand brought flames to the altar, flames that would never die.

  “My mother, Adilandra, was a queen of sacrifice,” Reyna began. “She was a queen with a vision - a vision for our people. It is our duty to continue her work, so that we continue to be a whole people under one banner. Like our memories of her, these flames are eternal. May this fire be a place we can come to mourn her, and a place to come to remember her.”

  Reyna stepped back to join Nathaniel and turned her gaze to the stars with the rest of her people. They held their silence for some time, paying their respects to one who would surely be noted as one of the greatest queens of the elven nation.

  For Reyna, it was a time to seek peace and finally let her grief go. She stared into the flames of her mother’s memorial. As important as it was to walk into this new world, the queen also knew how important it was to always carry a piece of the old world in her heart. Now she would always have a place to come and reflect on what had been, a place where memory could never be allowed to fade.

  Epilogue

  17 Years Later…

  On the cusp of summer, Namdhor was finally beginning to thaw after a long winter and a cold spring. Though most of the realm would still call it uninhabitable, Inara Galfrey called it home. After nearly twenty years, the harsh winds, relentless snows, and freezing plains were a familiar comfort.