The Darkanians went into a frenzy of exclamations and excitement, but the King was not so thrilled. “Please,” he pleaded in a whisper.
Silvia saw the dread building in his eyes, and pounced on his weakness. She unpinned her nuuisaket and let it fall to the ground. Her beautiful red hair, roped with the extravagant pearls, shone like the sun’s fire. To all eyes, Queen Madeline stood before the square in all the beauty she had possessed many, many years ago. “You know who I am. I am Silvia, the only surviving child of King Zacharias and his wife Madeline and am therefore the Queen.”
“No,” he moaned softly, shaking his head in denial.
“Bow before the true Queen of Darkania and tell me that you surrender the crowns that were never rightly yours!”
The citizens threw themselves down on their knees, hardly believing their eyes. Guilty tears streamed down Gregorich’s face and he knew in his heart that he was done in this city. He watched the throng of Darkanians genuflect before her and suddenly it was too much for him to bear. “I shall never bow to you!” he cried. “I have been on this throne too long to give it up to anyone! Do you hear me, woman? Anyone, I say! Here I am—offering you a place by my side with no questions asked—and you are trying to make me give up all that I have worked for to replace me!”
“But you do not deny that you forced my mother and father from their thrones?”
“I do not!” he declared. Dismay filled his face at his own words and he began to look afraid again.
Silvia turned a full circle in the air to look at the citizens. “Darkanians, listen and heed my words well! Gregorich Hapshamin is a deceiver of the worst sort!” The crowd began to chant her name, throwing their arms in the air, giving her strange goose bumps. She used her magic to float to the gallows to stand before her enemy in all her magnificence. “Bow,” she ordered.
“Ha! What if I show you the blatant disrespect you have shown me since you arrived? You have not bowed to me once since you came here! Always you are too open with your ideas and your mouth, even causing arguments at my dinner table. You stepped in the way of justice when a servant girl murdered my Guard, letting her go free without repercussion. You let everything personal stand in the way of everything you do. What sort of royalty does that?”
“Royalty which stands for what they believe in,” she replied. “Now bow, Hapshamin. You will regret it if you do not obey me.”
“And just how will you make me?” he hissed, throwing a cautionary look at the people below him. “What will you do if I do not obey you?”
She chuckled darkly, lowering her voice so that only he could hear it. “I know one thing that will make your knees quiver, Gregorich. I know you father will arrive here tomorrow.”
He stepped back, his eyes widening, and his heart stopping in his chest. “That is impossible for you to know!” he whispered.
“Bow before me and I will not reveal who your father is.” She hoped he would bow, for this was the only compassion she was going to bestow upon him.
Utter fear redesigned his face and he truly looked like a little boy trapped in a man’s body. “You cannot. You mustn’t!” He swallowed hard. “They will destroy me if you do.”
“Then get on your knees and surrender the crown.” She refused to let herself feel any pity for this conniving monster.
“I can’t!” His eyes pleaded with her, the tears in them begging for the mercy she now would not—could not—give.
She turned back to the crowd. “The King you have known for so many years has pledged his allegiance to the enemy, as you have already heard. What you do not know is that this great enemy is his father—Lord Rohedon himself!”
Enraged Darkanians screamed for his blood, but Silvia turned and motioned for them to stay back. To her surprise, as incensed as they were, they complied. They were eager to hear more against this treacherous man and seek justice.
Catching a glint of steel from the corner of her eye, Silvia drew her sword with speed and met Gregorich’s sword in midair as she drew her dagger with her left hand. The swords clashed and slid off of each other, but Hapshamin swung again immediately with a lot of force. Silvia again met his sword, this time closer to the ground (and to herself) and she kicked at him, her boot catching him in the leg and making him stagger sideways. He regained his balance and made a dive at her with his blade. She dodged it and tried to kick him again in his vulnerability. Hans had taught her to fight with her whole body if she was in danger, using everything in her power to defend her person. But Gregorich caught her foot somehow and lifted it sharply so that she fell onto her back, dropping her dagger. He was on top of her in an instant, bringing his sword down with precision to meet hers inches away from her face. Dalton and Grant were ready to move into the fight, both swords drawn for the man who dared attack a woman with steel while her back was turned. But Silvia shook her head at them just slightly, barely making eye contact; she wanted to do this on her own. This was her story now, her time to fight for the most important thing in her world, and that was her crown. The King was strong, and focused. Beads of his sweat began to drop onto her face, and she nearly shuddered with revulsion.
She thought of a thousand things she could do in just such a situation, and remembered something that Hans had told her several years ago whilst they were practicing her swordsmanship. It was always better to sacrifice a little of your own blood and win the fight, than to lose and shed it all.
Struggling against the man atop of her, she slowly tried to put one arm a little higher than the other. In his blind rage, Gregorich did not see what she was doing until it was too late. His sword slid to Silvia’s left quickly, and she only just got her hand away in time to save her fingers; the blade still bit into her flesh in the process, though, and took the skin off the back of her hand. Hapshamin fell with his sword and Silvia rolled to her right, retrieving her dagger as she stood up straight. She flipped the dagger, holding the blade and jumped back to avoid what would have been a mortal blow from his sword. She quickly regained her balance and placed her boot in his stomach as she kicked him back, then threw the knife with surprising skill. It sunk to the hilt where her boot had been moments before. Gregorich dropped his sword, staring at his midsection with horror, not moving.
“Oh, look Gregorich—you’re bleeding,” Silvia said with mock sympathy when she caught her breath. “It is such a pity that you fear blood.” She took her blade from his stomach and quickly made two shallow gashes on his chest; he did nothing in his shock, merely looking from her to his agonized body. “Those wounds are for my brother and my father, you hateful fiend…And this is for my mother.”
She sheathed her sword and swiftly let the dragon take over her. Her body stretched and grew instantly, towering over the man before her. She was too heavy for the gallows; she could hear the boards creaking menacingly under her girth. Gregorich began to scream shrilly at the sight of her, forgetting for the moment that he was bleeding to death. The screaming crowd began backing away from the gallows, frightened of what was happening. Keelan jumped down from Windfall’s back and trotted up the steps to stand in front of Silvia’s massive body. Then he changed into his human form, looking like a king in his handsome clothes.
“Before you die, know who I am!” he cried to Gregorich in a severe tone. “I am the man betrothed to Lady Silvia, and I am also the brother of one you have wronged.”
Beside him and out of thin air appeared Quentin, throwing back his hood from his head. Despite all of his white hair and the fact that he had grown up, Gregorich immediately placed him: his Special One. His face drained of all color. All hope was now lost.
“You will never control anyone again!” Quentin yelled.
Silvia leaned her long neck towards Gregorich and exhaled strong gusts of acrid smoke into the King’s face. He coughed and choked and cried for mercy, finally falling to his knees before her in his terror. She returned to her human form. Quentin, Keelan, Dalton, and Grant began to step forward, but she stopped them
with a wave of her hand. “It is not our place to kill this one for he has done too many people wrong. Let the people of my city decide his fate. George—my parents’ loyal Captain of the Royal Guard—throw him to the mercy of the people of Darkania.”
George and Stefan picked up the squirming false King and tossed his screaming figure to the ground in front of the gallows. The rest of the Royal Guards parted for the crowd, which surged forward for their vengeance. He soon disappeared under a mass of flailing limbs and was quickly beaten to death. His body was trampled under the rush to get closer to the gallows to see the amazing woman with great beauty and great magic. Silvia called for silence, but before she could speak a woman she did not at first recognize climbed onto the gallows to face her, a malevolent look on her face.
“You! You murdered my whole family! You are an evil witch! A servant of Jorgul! A—“
“Oh shut up. You are full of such lies as the man who was just sentenced to his death!” called a male voice. Up to the platform rode Dessica and Geremy. They dismounted and took their places beside Silvia, facing her accuser. Everyone was staring at the unusual scene before them; many had blood upon their hands or boots from their justice to Gregorich Hapshamin. Geremy turned to them. “I am this woman’s husband and the family of which she speaks still thrives alive and well in my home. You are a raving lunatic, woman,” he growled at her, “and I disown you as my wife.”
Raena’s face beheld her disbelief. “You are not serious? You choose this murderess over your own wife?”
“She is not a murderess, but the queen of this city. And yes…I do choose her over you. I do not know who you are anymore, but you are not the woman I once married. You have changed in the past few weeks so that I do not recognize your face. You are a stranger to my heart, and I will share no more of my time with you.” Tears sparkled in his eyes, but he held them in check. He needed to do this, and the longer he put it off the harder it would be.
Raena did not know what to say. “But…we have been with each other for so long. If you will not have me, who will?” She turned to the people below and begged them, “Who of you will claim me?”
A tall portly man spoke up. “I will! I will claim you as my own!”
“Very well,” said Geremy. “Let him claim you until he does not want you anymore. You are now his concern. I am through with you. You are my burden no more.”
Crying openly, Raena watched the people in the crowd part for the man to whom she would now belong. She cried harder when the man came and lifted her down from the gallows and kissed her hard on the mouth.
It was Baird…and he was very drunk.
Silvia watched them walk off and sighed shakily. Her heart was beating so fast she thought she couldn’t breathe properly. “My people,” she yelled, “You must tell me now if you accept me now as your Queen!”
An unmistakable cheer arose and they once more began to chant her name in unison.
“Do you accept this man, the man of my heart, as your King?” she asked pointing to Keelan.
The people answered with more cheers.
“Then behold King Keelan and Queen Silvia! But we will not rule a city by the name of Darkania. This city has seen too many dark times, hence its name. I have come to bring light into your world. But first we must defeat the darkness once and for all. We must fight Lord Rohedon with all our strength, for he still comes. Only then can we make it out of the white darkness in which we are trapped, thinking everything is okay when it is not. Therefore, I now rename the city ‘Lystia’, which in the language of Kieluna means ‘free spirit’.”
The crowds roared raucously for her and Keelan. She smiled; she hadn’t expected to live to see this moment. They chanted her name, and Keelan’s name, and then shouted praise to the new name of their great city.
Keelan looked at her with wonder and reverence; she was a radiant queen and at that moment he felt nothing but pure love, pride, and devotion for her.
Then Prince Dalton came up to them. He had untied a ribbon from his black hair and was holding it in his hands. When the cheers died down to where he could be heard, he said, “I now bind the hands of Queen Silvia to this man, Keelan, and pronounce them married. He is now your King! Bow before the Mother and Father of your glorious city!” His heart was shattered at the thought that he would now definitely never have a chance with the beautiful enchantress.
All genuflected again as the Prince of Wexford took their hands and bonded them in marriage.
And although it was the happiest moment in her life thus far, Silvia couldn’t help but feel sad for the prince. She could see the sorrow in his eyes that she was married to another.
The man in the rafters of the nearby tavern smiled as he watched Silvia riding off towards the palace, his gray eyes twinkling. Things were starting to fall into place. Her first enemy was defeated and she had reclaimed her parents’ throne. He would have sighed in relief, had there been time to. But her next tasks would be harder, and he worried she may not make it through them alive. He hoped she would, though.
The gods were depending on her.
The ride to the palace was exciting and joyous to say the least. Silvia and Keelan rode in front, behind a row of Guards on foot. The couple held hands from atop their horses, Silvia’s ring glittering in the morning sun on her left hand; a bandage covered the rest of her hand where the sword had taken off the skin. Hundreds of flowers were thrown to them. Praises were called, kisses were blown, and the King and Queen rode in a shower of happiness.
Riders had already reached the palace and the servants were all gathered out in front to greet their new masters. A most grand feast was already being prepared for the evening in the kitchens.
Silvia went first to the locked room where her parents’ things had been hidden away and ordered everything out of the room. All of the paintings were to be cleaned and hung about the palace, and all of the books were placed in a special glass case in the large library. Next, her hand was treated and wrapped up with a fresh cloth. Zander promised to get certain plants together that would speed up the healing process. With that done, Silvia gathered a small company and went to see to the prisoners. On the way, they met the Captain of the Royal Guard, who said his congratulations to the new King and Queen and expressed his loyalties.
“Thank you, George,” said Keelan.
“We hope that you will stay on as our Captain of the Royal Guard,” Silvia added, thinking it a good idea for him to stay in that position.
George nodded proudly and beamed at them, unconsciously rubbing the small girth of his belly, and started to excuse himself.
“Oh George—wait. Who relieved you this morning?” she asked.
“Gregorich sent two young ones to relieve me when he summoned me to the city meeting. The prisoners were all sleeping soundly when I departed, milady.”
They chatted idly after leaving George while on their way to the dungeons. Zander became acquainted with Sir Grant and Prince Dalton as they walked through damp corridors that still contained the early morning’s chill. But an uneasy feeling crept up on them when they came within sight of the dungeon door.
It was ajar, and there was no Royal Guard posted outside of it. There were no cries or moans of despair, no poor souls strapped to demonic devices to torture them.
Eyeing each other, everyone drew weapons quietly, becoming alert and extra sensitive to any sounds that could be heard in such a silent place. The hair on the back of Dalton’s neck stood on end, for never had he heard a dungeon so quiet. Something was definitely wrong here. Keelan stepped in front of Silvia and led the way through the door, sword at the ready. They filed in one at a time, looking with puzzled stares at the empty cells that had been full the night before (and that morning, according to George).
Silvia touched one of the cold iron bars on a cell. “Where are they?” she whispered.
“Where they should be,” someone answered from behind them.
Everyone spun around as the dungeon door shut
and clicked. A black-hooded figure that had been hidden behind the door stood before it, facing them.
“Where are the prisoners?” Silvia demanded angrily. She threw her chin up defiantly.
“I just told you—they are where they should be,” said the person, whose feminine voice sounded familiar.
“I disagree. Their place is here, in these cells, and nowhere else!” Silvia said. “Tell me your name, so that we may discuss this in a civilized manner.”
But the black-hooded figure merely shook its head at her.
“Answer her as to whom you may be,” Keelan growled. “Show some respect.”
Instead of answering, the figure waved its arm violently to the side. Seconds later, Keelan and the others were still dumbfounded as to how they had been magically moved inside the large cell, thrown against the back wall so hard that their eyes for a moment saw bright lights.
Rise of the Dragon Queen Page 26
