Dragontiarna: Thieves

by Moeller, Jonathan

  “Then kneel,” said Ridmark.

  Niall knelt, and Ridmark put Oathshield on Niall’s shoulder. He led Niall through the oath of knighthood, and Niall swore to remain loyal to Ridmark and the High King, to follow the teachings of the Dominus Christus, to defend the realm of Andomhaim, to show charity to the widow and the orphan, to never terrorize those weaker than himself, and to use his sword in the defense of the realm and its people.

  “Then rise, Sir Niall,” said Ridmark.

  Niall got to his feet, blinking. Sir Niall? That was going to take some getting used to. Rhiain kissed his cheek and hugged him, and Vegetius clapped him on the shoulder.

  “You’re still going to have to obey me, though,” said Vegetius.

  “Yes, decurion,” said Niall.

  “Then come along,” said Ridmark. “There is work to do.”

  Still wondering at the change in his fortunes, the new-made Sir Niall followed his lord from the chapel.

  ***

  Chapter 30: Now We Are Two

  “You never knew?” said Tyrcamber.

  “No,” said Rilmael. “I thought there was something odd about you, but I never even suspected the truth. You held your secret very well indeed, Lady Ruari.”

  Ruari met the Guardian’s gaze and smiled.

  They stood on the ramparts of Castle Valdraxis’s town, the churned mud and charred ground of the battlefield to the north, the foothills and Castle Valdraxis itself rising to the south, the mountains of Roxaria visible beyond them. The banners of Prince Everard now flew from the castle’s ramparts. When Merovech had fled, his army had followed their master to the west. Without their protectors, the town and the castle had surrendered to the loyalist forces without a fight. The seat of Swabathia was now in the firm hands of Prince Everard and the loyalists.

  Though Merovech was still alive, and much of his army was still intact. They would face the Dragonmaeloch and the Dragon Cult in another battle. Yet this was still a victory for Prince Everard’s cause, the largest since Tyrcamber had helped Duke Hulderic Grimnir reclaim his ancestral lands from the Signifier.

  “I am surprised that you didn’t realize that she was a Dragontiarna,” said Tyrcamber. “Wouldn’t the Sight have told you?”

  “The Sight is not infallible,” said Rilmael. “And neither am I. I was as shocked as anyone, Lady Ruari. Though perhaps not as shocked as your mother, who I thought might die on the spot.”

  The news that Ruari Tetrax Rigamond was a Dragontiarna, and that she had helped win their decisive victory over Duke Merovech and the Dragon Cult, had been met with amazement and rejoicing throughout the camp. Rejoicing, because the Empire now had two Dragontiarna, not just Tyrcamber. And amazement, because for all of Ruari’s skill with the Heal spell, no one would have ever imagined her as the blue dragon who breathed ice upon the ranks of the cultists.

  Lady Brunhilda, when she had been told the news, had first refused to believe it, and then collapsed in a dead faint. After the battle, she ran to Ruari, and she had been all smiles and praise and compliments (while crediting herself, of course, for raising such a daughter). Tyrcamber had been sickened by the display, but Ruari had only kissed her mother on the cheek and written THANK YOU on her tablet.

  Then she had returned to her work among the wounded, ignoring her mother utterly.

  It was clear that Lady Brunhilda and Sir Charles wanted to use Ruari for political advantage, and it was just as obvious they were too frightened to ask her. After a while, they had slunk away and hadn’t tried to approach Ruari since.

  “I am glad you told me,” said Tyrcamber to Ruari. “I would not have been able to overcome Merovech otherwise.”

  Ruari wrote on her tablet.

  I COULD NOT LET YOU FACE HIM ALONE.

  She paused, rubbed the sentence out, and then wrote some more.

  I KEPT IT SECRET BECAUSE I WAS ASHAMED. BUT YOU SHOWED ME ANOTHER WAY.

  “I can guess what happened,” said Rilmael. “If you will allow me?” Ruari nodded. “Correct me if I am wrong at any point. But I think your mother always treated you harshly. Lady Brunhilda Tetrax is cruel and arrogant, and she sees her children only as a means to increase her own power and influence. After you recovered from the withering plague, she was furious that you lost the ability to bear children, which reduced your value to her. She took her frustrations out on you. Eventually, she pushed you too far, and you struck her with a Lance spell. You felt grief and guilt, and you cast the Heal spell, drawing on so much power that you succumbed to the Malison. Thus, you became a Dragontiarna.”

  Ruari scribbled a word.

  YES. THAT IS WHAT HAPPENED.

  “But…why didn’t she lose herself to the Malison?” said Tyrcamber. “I did.” For centuries and centuries…

  “To be precise, you did not,” said Rilmael. “The visions you saw in the Chamber of the Sight lasted thousands of years inside your mind, but barely an hour passed for the rest of the world. No, there are only a few ways to become a Dragontiarna, and none of them are reliable or safe.” He paused. “Learning through pain and rage is one. That is the path you had to take, Sir Tyrcamber. As a warrior, as a man of blood, but there was no other way for you. It was your nature. But Lady Ruari…her nature is that of a healer. And she hated her mother, but she sacrificed herself to save Lady Brunhilda. You were certain you would die or fall to the Malison when you healed your mother, were you not, my lady?”

  Ruari nodded.

  “A sacrifice of the self,” said Rilmael. “And not for someone you loved, but for someone you both loved and hated.” He offered a deep bow to Ruari, who looked startled. “A rare feat, my lady. Few could do it. I could not. And because of that sacrifice, you kept control of your will and mind, and became a Dragontiarna.”

  Ruari wrote on her tablet.

  I HID MY POWER BECAUSE I WAS ASHAMED. BECAUSE I WANTED TO HEAL, NOT TO DESTROY.

  “What will you do now?” said Rilmael.

  I WILL HELP MY HUSBAND.

  “If you wish,” said Rilmael, “I have armor that will fit you. Golden armor, that of a Dragontiarna Knight.” A dry note entered his voice. “That will let you transform without ending up naked when you come back to human shape. I suppose there are some sights you wish to reserve to Sir Tyrcamber’s eyes alone.”

  Ruari wrote YES on her tablet, then underlined the word three times in rapid succession.

  “I would be grateful for your help,” said Tyrcamber. “And it…it is pleasant not to be alone. To be the only one who understands what it is like to have this power, this responsibility.”

  Ruari nodded and tapped the YES on her tablet again. She rubbed out the word and wrote more.

  I DIDN’T WANT TO DESTROY. BUT I UNDERSTAND NOW. SOMETIMES NOT FIGHTING IS WORSE.

  “Yes,” murmured Rilmael. “The three of us have power, do we not? And it is up to us to use it wisely. For we will face challenges in the days ahead, I am sure of it. Merovech has been forced to retreat, but neither he nor the Theophract are defeated. And this…great plan of the Warden’s, this game with the Heralds of Ruin and the door that must never be opened, I think it is just beginning. We shall have to be ready.”

  Ruari wrote again.

  WE SHALL.

  “Then I am glad to speak to you at last, Lady Ruari Rigamond, Dragontiarna Lady of the Empire,” said Rilmael. “I am going to go to the castle and meditate with the Sight. Perhaps I will be able to discern what Merovech and the Theophract intend to do next.”

  “Prince Everard and my father are having a council of war in the great hall of the castle tonight,” said Tyrcamber. “We’ll see you there. I think Ruari wants to check on the wounded first.” She nodded.

  Rilmael bade them farewell and walked away, his gray cloak stirring in the wind.

  Tyrcamber looked at Ruari and smiled, and he was surprised at how happy it made him when she smiled back. When his father had convinced him to marry Ruari Tetrax, he had expected that he would sleep with her once to consum
mate the marriage, and then he would leave her in peace to live out her life while he went to war.

  He hadn’t imagined anything like this would happen. Though Ruari had kept her secret so well that no one, not even the Guardian of Cathair Kaldran, had realized it.

  “Do you want to go back to the field hospital now?” said Tyrcamber.

  Ruari looked down, smiled, and wrote on her tablet.

  YES. FIRST, YOU SHOULD BE MY HUSBAND.

  Tyrcamber blinked, confused. “I am already your husband.”

  She took a quick look around to make sure no one was watching them, kissed him, and rubbed her hand between his legs.

  “Oh,” he said, as her meaning became clear. “Yes, we can do that.”

  Tyrcamber took her hand and led her to the tent they now shared in the camp.

  ***

  Chapter 31: Blood of the Goddesses

  The afternoon after Accolon Pendragon dissolved the Regency Council and became the official regent of Cintarra, Moriah Rhosmor walked into the small garden.

  The Prince’s Palace was littered with gardens and courtyards, making the vast building into a maze. This garden was a smaller one, set between two towers and the curtain wall, and was quiet, shady, and a bit mossy. A stone bench rested at the base of the wall, and Accolon Pendragon sat upon it, a distant look on his face, his expression lost in thought. A short distance away stood several men-at-arms and knights, including a young man with curly brown hair wearing the colors of Lord Ridmark. He was giving Moriah a suspicious, watchful look. What was his name? Sir Niall, that was it. He had been one of the men-at-arms in Queen Mara’s castra when Moriah had arrived with Sir Rufinius, and he had given her a suspicious look the entire time.

  No doubt he was some country bumpkin who had never stolen anything nor had an original thought in his life.

  Moriah stopped a dozen paces away from the bench and offered a bow. “Lord Prince.”

  He blinked and rose. “Lady Moriah. Thank you for coming.” He held out a pair of rolled documents. “Your official royal pardon, absolving you of any crimes you might have committed before this morning. Nothing in particular is mentioned in the pardon, and I didn’t issue it before the court. I suspect that you would prefer that as few people as possible know that you are the Wraith.”

  “Yes,” said Moriah, taking the scrolls. “Thank you.” She had dressed in formal clothes for this meeting, though that of a nobleman – cloak and mantle and long tunic and trousers and boots. If there had been treachery, she wanted her legs free to run, and she had the cloak and armor concealed in a pocket. Yet Accolon had kept his word. It was indeed a royal pardon, but the second scroll…

  “What’s this?” she said, blinking.

  “A decree of legitimacy,” said Accolon. “You are no longer a bastard and are now heir to the title of House Rhosmor.” He sighed. “I think it is what Caitrin would have wanted.”

  “I…yes, thank you,” said Moriah, surprised. He looked so sad at the mention of Caitrin. “I should…lord Prince, I should tell you this. Caitrin and I both wanted the same thing. We wanted security. Our father was neither a cruel man nor a hard one, but he was a drunkard and a weakling, and he left us both with nothing. I could never be bitter towards Caitrin because I was a bastard since our father had left her with nothing as well. I decided to make my way in the world with my wits…”

  “I suppose that’s how Jager would have put it,” said Accolon.

  “And Caitrin wanted to make her way in the world with her beauty,” said Moriah. “She wanted to be the wife of a wealthy man. Or, barring that…the favored mistress of the most powerful man in Andomhaim.”

  “I know,” said Accolon. He let out a long sigh. “I know what effect my station can have upon women. God knows I have used it to please myself.” Moriah was surprised at his candor. “But…I did care for Caitrin, my lady. A great deal. The thought that she killed herself broke me.”

  “I understand,” said Moriah. He blinked, startled. “Else why would you have spent months rotting away in a monastery? I don’t think highly of monks. They say they’re doing the work of God, but I’ve noticed the work of God often involves large dinners and lots of sleeping past dawn. And I don’t know if this will help or not, but Caitrin did care for you. She wrote me letters. She was so excited when she became pregnant. I thought she was a little naïve to trust so much in you…but perhaps you were worthy of trust. Certainly, you did everything you could to avenge her.”

  “That is the other reason I have asked you here,” said Accolon. “I need to ask for your trust.”

  She gave him a wary look, wondering if he would try to kiss her. “I say this with all respect, lord Prince, but I don’t want to be your mistress.”

  He frowned in puzzlement and then laughed. “What? Oh. I see. No, I want your help.”

  Moriah frowned. “With what?”

  “I want you to be my spymaster,” said Accolon.

  “Your spymaster?” said Moriah.

  “I know you said the Wraith worked alone,” said Accolon, “and while I admit I have made questionable decisions in the past, please do not take me for a complete fool. I think you had help. People to spy for you. Probably among the halfling servants, aye?” Moriah thought of Uncle Helmut and the collection of people who owed him favors. “Well, the nobility of Cintarra is not entirely happy with me. Oh, they profess loyalty now and say that the enclosures were a mistake, but not all the Regency Council’s supporters were Drakocenti. Many of them were simply greedy, and if left unchecked, they will threaten Cintarra and the rest of Andomhaim.” He shook his head. “I cannot allow that. Cintarra must be strong and unified, especially if the red orcs return. Perhaps we will need the entire unified strength of the realm to withstand the power of the Heptarchy.”

  “Aye,” said Moriah. “I suppose that makes sense.”

  “So, I am asking for your help,” said Accolon. “Become part of my household…I will give you some minor sinecure or another. But, in truth, you will be my spymaster, and warn me of any dangers to the realm. The Drakocenti murdered your half-sister and almost destroyed Cintarra, and they also slew your two closest friends. Help me from keeping something like the Drakocenti from ever happening again.”

  Moriah considered the offer. She had wanted wealth and security. With all that she had stolen, she had wealth, and with the royal pardon and the decree of legitimacy, she had security. But what should she do with the rest of her life? Perhaps security was only an illusion. She could become the wealthiest woman in Cintarra…and then the red orcs might attack in greater numbers and burn down the city.

  Caitrin, Gunther, and Delwen had all been avenged. What should she do now?

  Perhaps in their memory, Moriah could prevent someone like Cyprian from gaining so much power again.

  “Very well,” said Moriah. “I should warn you, lord Prince, that hiring spies will take money.”

  “With all the lands I have seized and the remaining treasure of the Scepter Bank, I suspect money shall not be a problem for a few years,” said Accolon. “How much will you need?”

  After that, it took only a half-hour or so of haggling to settle terms, Moriah left with the title of Lady of the Regent’s Court, and a new task as the spymaster of the Crown Prince.

  Helmut would laugh himself sick at the news…and then, of course, he would name his price.

  Moriah got to work.

  ###

  “I don’t think there can be any doubt,” said Calliande.

  Ridmark stood with his wife outside the walls of the Western City of Cintarra. Workmen toiled to dig pits, and men drove carts heaped with slain red orcs, stripped of their arms and armor. The orcs were dumped into the mass graves for burial, along with the red-robed priestesses.

  “Then the Heptarchy is ruled by urdmordar,” said Ridmark.

  “Aye,” said Calliande. “Those red orcs? Every single one of them were arachar. At some point, they drank the blood of an urdmordar to make themselve
s stronger and faster, and they’ve been subject to deliberate magical mutations. Their skin is tougher than normal orcish skin, and I think they would heal faster. And those priestesses are spiderlings, the offspring of a dark elven father and a female urdmordar. The goddesses that the priestesses spoke about are likely urdmordar.” She took a deep breath. “I think the Heptarchy is an empire ruled by seven urdmordar, and the red orcs and the priestesses revere the seven urdmordar as goddesses.”

  “We can assume,” said Ridmark, “that the Theophract induced them to attack. For them to strike on the same day that Cyprian tried to open the Great Eye is too much of a coincidence.”

  “And they will return,” said Calliande. “All of the warships escaped, even if they lost many of their warriors.” Another cart dumped a load of slain red orcs into the pit. “I don’t think the red orcs found their way to Cintarra by accident. They know how to cross the currents of the southern ocean, and they will return in greater numbers.”

  Ridmark looked south at the vast expanse of the sea, and he wondered what dangers lay beyond it.

  “Then we had better prepare,” he said.

  ***

  Epilogue

  Dark visions flitted through Aeliana’s weary mind.

  The day her father had executed her mother. Her training at the hands of the Red Family. All the people she had killed over the years, their blood glistening upon her blades. The awful day she had learned of Tarrabus Carhaine’s death, and the Matriarch tormenting her, the assassins laughing.

  The Matriarch dying on the edge of her sword.

  The power of Ruinheart ripping apart her flesh, the bloody armor encasing her.

  The battle before the Great Eye, Ridmark Arban about to fall to her blade.