“I’m not the cavalry,” Gideon told him. “She is.”
Galanör followed his friend’s gaze to the sky, where a small figure was leaping from the back of Athis the ironheart. Inara Galfrey hurtled towards the battlefield like a star thrown by the gods. The Guardian of the Realm was enveloped in a multitude of flaring colours as she not only protected her fall with magic, but also surrounded herself with a destructive force.
There wasn’t a soul on The Moonlit Plains that didn’t feel her impact.
Inara came down directly on top of a Troll and obliterated it. The shockwave of magic then expanded outwards into an area densely populated by Reavers. They too were reduced to smaller pieces of themselves, never to rise in their master’s name again.
Perhaps, Galanör dared to hope, they could turn the tide after all.
21
Off the Beaten Path
Having finally put the north behind them, it seemed that those who had left Namdhor were the heralds of winter itself. The thick powder of The White Vale no longer buried the hooves of their horses, but thick clouds swarmed overhead, depositing fresh snow with every mile they covered.
In the lead, Asher had guided the company away from The Selk Road before they reached Kelp Town and, instead, cut across the wilds. To have continued on the road would have taken them far west, further into The Ice Vales. Using his superior knowledge of the land - and his affinity with the dark - the ranger led them through most of their first night, allowing them to cover as much ground as possible. There had, of course, been more than a few protests but Vighon had kept everyone focused, reminding them of their need for haste.
By the first ray of dawn, he had them back on their mounts until they reached the western edge of The Evermoore. From there, the company followed the forest south for another day and camped not far from where The Selk Road cut in from the west and weaved through the trees to the city of Lirian.
Now, under the light of yet another new day, Asher had them cross the road rather than take it. In his opinion, which had been voiced to the king, Lirian was an unknown quantity.
“Better we keep to the tree line,” he had said to Vighon. “If we follow it south we will eventually find The Moonlit Plains.”
“And it should be quicker,” Reyna had pointed out, easing the decision for Vighon.
With rolling hills to their right and The Evermoore’s towering pines to their left, Asher tried to relax for the first time since setting off on their relentless journey. Snow continued to sprinkle the land, adding an extra layer of beauty to it all.
With only one route to follow, and an easy one at that, he decided to ease off on the reins and allow others to pass him by and take the lead for a while. The ranger offered Avandriell an arm so that she might climb out of the satchel and onto his lap. The hatchling scurried up his forearm and paused to flex her wings. She needed no encouragement to bound away and take to the snow.
“Easy now,” Asher cautioned, helpless to do anything but watch her leap.
Avandriell quickly buried her head in the snow before emerging with a mouthful. From there, she explored every small rock and turned over every stone. Now and then she would pounce at something Asher hadn’t seen. He could feel her happiness, infectious as it was.
Nathaniel sidled up beside the ranger. “I haven’t seen you smile like that since… Well never, actually.”
Asher instinctively made to return his expression to that of a stoical monk, but he found it much harder than usual. “I can’t explain all the things I’m feeling,” he said gruffly, “and I’m not inclined to try.”
“I might not have seen that smile on you before,” Nathaniel continued, “but I know that smile. I grinned like that every day watching Alijah and Inara growing up. It’s pride,” he explained. “Mixed in with a heap of love I suppose.”
Unaccustomed to describing his intimate emotions, even to Nathaniel, Asher kept his eyes on Avandriell. He wondered if that’s what it was. Pride. Love. It had taken a lot for him to figure out that his feelings towards Reyna and Nathaniel were love, Faylen too. That particular emotion had been twisted all his life. But he knew it now and could see that he did, indeed, love Avandriell, though its intensity was magnitudes beyond anything he felt for a person.
Pride was new. It was often reserved for parents and mentors, the former of which he had no experience of. During his time in Nightfall, he had mentored several students but being satisfied with them wasn’t the same as being proud.
“Maybe she is like a child to me,” he mused, watching her climb the trunk of a tree to pester the squirrels.
Nathaniel gave a short laugh. “Only you could be a father to a dragon.”
Asher shared in the amusement. “Who do you pity more?”
“Oh, definitely Avandriell,” the old knight quipped.
The two trotted side by side for a while, exchanging jokes about what hilarity might ensue while Avandriell grew ever larger and harder to handle. They kept the conversation light and off what the real future might bring their way. Asher did his best to keep one eye on the hatchling, concerned that she might dash between the horses and be trampled.
At some point along their journey, a pair of soldiers peeled away from the company and tried to find rest at the base of a small hill. Nathaniel sighed and begged his pardon as he broke away to confront the men with a firm reminder of the stakes.
Asher easily returned his attention to Avandriell, who had, apparently, declared war on all squirrels and birds. A melodic voice caught his ear, drawing him back to the riders beside him. Reyna’s emerald eyes were waiting for him, and she displayed just the slightest curve of a smile on her lips. Her leathers, scimitar, and bow lent her the look of a fearsome warrior, the very thing Asher knew her to be.
“I have enjoyed seeing you two side by side again,” she remarked, glancing at her husband in the distance. “It reminds me of old times.”
The ranger tried not to laugh. “By old times you mean when we were fighting Valanis and the Darkakin? Or perhaps you’re referring to the orcs and The Black Hand?”
“I enjoyed the moments in between,” the elf confessed. “We could probably do with making some new memories,” she added. “Preferably ones without swords.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” Asher replied amusedly.
Reyna laughed. “Your decision to remain a ranger makes a lot more sense now. I applaud your decision by the way,” the elf complimented.
“Thank you,” the ranger said quietly, his eyes tracking Avandriell from one branch to another.
“I mean it,” Reyna insisted. “You know who you are. After everything that’s happened to you, happening to you, your lack of conflict reflects your true character. I know I speak for the whole realm when I say thank you for that.”
Asher didn’t know what to do with such kind words. He muttered a thank you of his own, reluctant to look the elf in the eyes.
“In some ways,” he began self-deprecatingly, “it’s the easiest decision I’ve ever made. Being a ranger is far simpler than being a Dragon Rider.”
“That’s not why you have chosen that path,” Reyna reminded him.
“No,” Asher agreed. “I am a ranger. There are just some things you can’t fight, no matter how hard you try or how far down you bury them.” The ranger finally turned again to look upon Reyna. “We are who we are,” he declared.
“Indeed,” she uttered, averting her own gaze this time.
“You are a queen, Reyna,” Asher told her. “You’ve always been a queen, just like I’ve always been a ranger.”
“And if I don’t want to be a queen?” the elf pondered.
“Then be Reyna Galfrey,” Asher suggested casually. “Forge a different life.”
Reyna turned on him with confusion. “You just gave a whole speech about being who we are! You can’t fight it you said.”
“I know what I said and I stand by it,” he argued. “But you still have to choose it. To do otherwise would ta
ke you down a path of resentment. Ayda doesn’t deserve a bitter queen. Your people deserve a ruler who wants to serve them. I know I speak for the whole realm,” the ranger echoed, “when I say they would be lucky to have you as their queen.”
Reyna met his eyes. “Thank you,” she said with great sincerity.
“Having Nathaniel for a king is another matter,” Asher cracked, bringing out a joyful laugh from Reyna. He had missed the sound of it.
“Perhaps I should look for a better suitor,” the elf jested.
With a cocky shrug, the ranger replied, “I do come with a dragon now, you know.”
“Do you?” Reyna queried, searching the trees past Asher.
Whipping his head around, panic swiftly set in as he failed to locate Avandriell. His fears took his mind to the worst places, forcing him to imagine the Arakesh stealing her away.
“I saw her,” Adan’Karth called from behind. The Drake climbed down from his horse and strode towards the tree line. “Avandriell went this way.”
“Go,” Reyna urged, taking Asher’s reins from him.
The ranger dismounted and wasted no time following Adan into The Evermoore. The Drake took to the forest with a grace and fluidity Asher could never attain. It was as if the trees pulled him in, guiding his every step. It brought back memories for the ranger of his time in Ikirith, a heaven on earth. His mind was stunted, however, gripped with fear for Avandriell.
“This way,” Adan directed, taking them deeper still.
Asher wasn’t sure how his bond with Avandriell worked exactly. Should he be able to find her without sight? Could he call to her with his mind alone? He certainly couldn’t feel her emotions right now, unless the hatchling was fearing for his life as he was for hers.
Then he heard her, the familiar hiss of a baby dragon. They arrived at a small clearing dotted with jagged boulders and a fallen tree. It didn’t take long to find Avandriell, nor the monster she had picked a fight with.
Adan’Karth held an arm out to stop Asher from entering the clearing. “Wait,” he warned firmly. “That is an Arkilisk - very poisonous.”
“I know what it is!” the ranger barked, aware that a single bite from such a creature could bring down the largest of men.
The monster and the dragon squared off, each gripping the same boulder at an awkward angle. The Arkilisk was twice Avandriell’s size and its bark-like hide was covered in sloping spikes. Its six claws outnumbered Avandriell’s and its much larger head possessed a mouth of razor-sharp teeth. Asher knew well that it could tear through leather, and even armour depending on the Arkilisk’s age, but could it puncture dragon scales? That question led him to another question: how strong were a hatchling’s scales?
The ranger cursed himself for not asking Gideon more questions when the opportunity had presented itself. “I’m dealing with this,” he growled, reaching for his broadsword.
“Wait,” Adan repeated, but it was actually his tone that stopped Asher in his tracks.
“What is it?” he demanded urgently, wondering if there was something worse than an Arkilisk lurking in the forest.
“Can you not feel it?” the Drake asked, searching the air around him.
Avandriell pounced at the Arkilisk and the two wrestled briefly across the rock before tumbling to the ground. Asher finally pulled free his two-handed blade having already visualised the way he would slay the creature. The monster scurried forwards and attempted to take a bite out of Avandriell, but the bronze dragon proved the more agile of the two and evaded the attack with apparent ease.
Asher took a step forward when Adan’Karth gripped him by the shoulder and pulled him back. Surprising the ranger all the more, Adan raised his free hand and erected a shimmering shield between them and the clearing.
Only then did Asher feel something of what Adan had been warning him about. He knew it emanated from Avandriell. He could feel her heart racing within her chest. But there was another sensation against his skin that he hadn’t felt since his days with Paldora’s gem on his finger. He could feel magic in the air.
Then something terrifying happened.
Avandriell exploded in a myriad of colours, blinding anyone or anything foolish enough to have been looking at her. The air cracked in that same instance, assaulting their ears with an incessant ringing. Then came the heat. Asher almost choked on it as he wafted the air with his hand. Slightly in front of him, Adan’Karth was coughing and spluttering, staggering around in a daze. The pair blinked repeatedly and hard in an attempt to regain something of their sight.
“Avandriell!” Asher rasped. He squinted into the clearing but it was hard to see anything through all the smoke.
Adan’Karth tried to caution the ranger’s advance but he had to know what had happened to her. Something crunched under his left boot and he paused to investigate. The ranger lowered his head and discovered he had stepped right through the charred remains of the Arkilisk. Everything from its hide to its blood had been scorched black.
“Avandriell?” he called softly.
Adan’Karth entered the clearing and waved one hand through the air. Again, Asher felt the use of magic roll over his skin before he saw the smoke being swept away by the Drake’s spell. Ignoring the sensation, the ranger cast his eyes over the area. What he found opened a pit inside of him. It sucked in all his hope and left him in the company of fear alone.
There was no sign of Avandriell, only ruin. The rocks scattered around the area where she had stood her ground were blasted in the shape of a perfect circle. The edges of what remained were glowing orange from the heat. Two trees were on fire, threatening to torch The Evermoore were it not for Adan’Karth’s swift intervention. Any grass, moss or bark on the ground was simply gone, leaving small patches of flames here and there.
As despair began to creep in, Asher tried again to call out her name. “Avan—”
The ranger was immediately startled and jumped back as the dragon leapt from cover onto the surviving boulders. She looked down at him with her golden eyes. There was so much intelligence behind them. Caught up as he was, Asher required an extra moment to realise this was not the same Avandriell who had just squared off with an Arkilisk.
She was bigger.
Asher stepped back to take her new size in. The best comparison he could conjure was to that of a dog, a big dog. Her tail, of course, made her longer than any dog he had ever come across. Larger as she was, he noted features he hadn’t seen before, though he had to wonder if they were entirely new given her transformation. Her tail had more ridges, perhaps an extra spike or two, and the end - shaped like a flat leaf - was more defined, its edges sharper.
Her front claws curled over the lip of the damaged rock, drawing Asher’s scrutiny. They were darker, much like her scales which had taken on a deeper shade of bronze. As they had deepened, however, her specks of gold and silver had increased, especially along her neck.
Asher…
The ranger’s face dropped. Had he really heard that? The voice had been female and not a voice he had heard before. But it was familiar.
Avandriell? he replied mentally.
The dragon reared back, lifting her claws and head to the sky. Her wings fanned out, making her size all the more impressive.
“Asher?” Adan still had some caution in his voice but the ranger kept him back with an outstretched arm.
He knew what was about to happen.
Avandriell pushed up from the rock and beat her wings. She cleared the boulder and beat her wings again. Within seconds, the dragon was climbing into the sky, there to soar and experience her first taste of real freedom.
It was no time at all before she disappeared from sight but, somehow, Asher knew exactly which direction she had flown in. He turned in a slow circle, following the mental pull that kept him connected to her.
“What happened here?” Adan’Karth whispered.
“Energy,” Asher grunted. “It had to go somewhere,” he added with a shrug.
Backtra
cking, they eventually returned to The Evermoore’s western edge. Most of the company had continued ahead, leaving Reyna and Nathaniel behind with the extra horses.
Reyna looked past them as they emerged, concern marring her expression. “Where is Avandriell?”
Asher looked up, guiding their attention to the sky. There, against the pale clouds of snow, Avandriell glided through the air. He enjoyed the awe that illuminated their faces, filling him with pride. She was beautiful, graceful, and exquisitely fierce.
Nathaniel glanced briefly at the ranger. “Is she…”
“She’s bigger,” Reyna confirmed, her eyes the superior of the two.
“How can she be bigger?” the old knight queried in disbelief.
“It’s a dragon thing,” Asher told him casually, unwilling to get into it.
“Is that what the noise was?” Reyna asked.
“Most definitely,” the ranger replied, his ears still ringing slightly. “Adan, you felt it just before it happened.”
“Yes,” the Drake said, his eyes fixed on Avandriell. “She was drawing on an enormous amount of magic.”
“Perhaps it’s a good thing you stay with her then,” Asher said. “The next time Avandriell… grows, the effects could be worse. The last thing we need is the king losing a leg.”
Nathaniel whipped his head around. “Lose a leg? What happened in there?”
Asher mounted his horse and looked up at Avandriell with the same question on his mind. Had she really spoken to him? He could feel her looking down at him, watching him. If she could speak to him, the ranger knew she would do it again. And, though he would never admit it to anyone, he looked forward to the long conversations that would take them from dawn till dusk.
One day…
22
Where Worlds Collide
As thick clouds rolled over The Moonlit Plains, it became harder to track the sun and grasp the passage of time. There was only death. Dwarves, elves, Centaurs. They all swarmed around Alijah and they all fell at his feet, there to add to the gruesome foundations of the battlefield.
A Clash of Fates: The Echoes Saga: Book Nine Page 25
