‘Shouldanything ever happen,’ I told him, ‘To Mia,Cole, or myself, I want you to take care of her. Be her protection, her star rising in the east to guide her to the truth. Love her as you have loved me as your friend. Please.’
I begged him. I wept at his feet. But I didn’t have to. His smile was sad even as he promised me he would. Even as he told me about Adalina, his beautiful, young wife and the son she had born to him. Kane. He says the name means “flame” among those of the southern regions of the continent. Perhaps someday, if all goes well, I will take Cam to my home and she can meet Kane. Camaria, my light in the darkness to meet the flame.
Fifty-Eight
A heavy sort of quiet hung in the air as Riah and his comrades
returned to the north. For the most part, he remained alone in his cabin aboard the ship. He saw Glista at mealtimes and glimpsed Leviathan every now and then, but otherwise, he was left alone. Even after Riah’s victory over Caranthia, Leviathan still did not seem to be in the mood to speak to him whether to congratulate or scold him.
A day before their arrival across the sea, Riah found the paint which had been left in his cabin. And the wall. His mother was still painted there. He sat in the hammock and stared at her for hours on end until he finally drifted off to sleep.
Riah did not dream of her this time but of a blood-stained field and a fallen stranger before him. And then he saw a harried Saffira running towards him. She would dart away and then vanish. He tried to call her name, but the words could not escape his throat. He awoke with the feeling of a slight brush of her lips against his.
Riah did not see snow-capped mountains and pristine rows of pine trees when he ascended to the upper level of the ship. He saw instead a row of jutting, navy colored cliffs rising from the waters of the sea to the coral colored sky. Riah nearly missed the towering castle which appeared atop one of these cliffs. “Leviathan’s home,” he realized.
“One of them. I grew up east of there in another cliff dwelling,” Leviathan said aloud. He leaned next to Riah over the railing.
“Nice of you to finally show yourself.” He knew that Leviathan had stayed away due to Lucius’ fury over the failure of gaining the Crown. How many years had Leviathan been searching for it? It had to be thousands. Only to have it slip just out of his reach again and again to a small remnant of mere humans.
“We are here.” When Riah walked down the gangplank of the ship after it had docked, he saw a white creature before him. Zoka. She would fly him home. “Are you not coming with me?” Riah asked as he turned to Leviathan.
Leviathan’s gaze held his, empty and forlorn. Riah swallowed. Leviathan simply shook his head. “I doubt that we will meet again. Your loyalty….” Leviathan huffed a controlled breath. “Your loyalty now extends far beyond me.” The Shadow Bearer dared a flickering glance at Glista who stood several yards off with her hands folded across her chest. The latter would not look at him.
A word tumbled through Riah’s head and came to settle uneasily in his chest, in his stomach. Banishment. Leviathan had failed his master after all.
Riah swallowed the sickness clenching at his throat. His heart lurched in his chest. “No.” What would happen to him? What would become of his friend? Where would Leviathan go?
If the Shadow Bearer heard these thoughts, he made no reaction. He only mustered a sad, cold smile. “Congratulations. Your coronation will be held presently.” Riah’s eyes widened. “One can’t be a lord of dragons without a crown.”
The gallery was the first place Riah visited when he finally
arrived home. The fortress was laden with a peaceful sort of quiet. He was not at all disappointed that he was alone. Here, thinking seemed safe. There was no one to pry into his mind. Eventually, he decided, he would see the dragons who were undoubtedly in the keep resting.
The gallery was in more disarray than he had left it. Its dim interior was barely lit with pale blue light, for the curtains had been drawn. Riah found that he was not alone. A figure huddled in a thin blanket on the sofa before the empty hearth. Her maple hair was a tangled mass over her face which was… “Arria.”
Riah sank to his knees before her, taking her cold hands in his own. Slowly, she lifted her head to peer at him. Riah’s sharp intake of breath stung him. Her face was marred. Patching in bruises and cuts and…
Surely, they had not been from the battle, for she had not been present. Tracks of tear stains ran down her cheeks, and her eyes were swollen and red. One was black. “What the hell happened to you?” Riah clenched her hands between his.
“Punishment.” Her voice was raspy.
“Because you didn’t get the crown.” Aloud, Riah asked, “Who?”
“Who do you think? The one who has been searching for more than thousands of years.” Her voice was unusually cold. Colder than he had heard Glista’s voice even. A voice that had Riah wishing he could run, but he was fastened to the spot.
Instead of replying, Riah rose to sit beside her. He gathered her into his arms, and she pressed herself against him, tucking her head between his neck and shoulder. Riah rested his head on hers and tightened his grip around her. He had no words. Was he appalled? Disgusted? Did he approve? He brushed the last question away. His approval didn’t matter. “Would I have done the same thing?” Riah was not sure that he would have restrained himself.
A million other questions filled his mind. Where had she gone when she hadn’t found the Crown? How far had she looked before Lucius had had enough? A fire ignited in Riah’s chest.
He might be a dragon lord, a former prince, and heir, a warrior which had won battles, but now, he was Arria’s only friend. So he held her and pretended that nothing else existed. And he whispered words that were branded on his heart. Perhaps the truest words he could find in himself. “You’re not just a girl. Not like I once believed you to be. You’re a warrior wearingstrength and...dignity as your armor. And…” Hechoked. “And your armor is better than mine will ever be.”
The morning light was gray and soft when Riah shifted from his
slumber and found that he was still lying on the sofa he had occupied all night. Arria was nowhere to be seen, and the spot next to him wasn’t warm. She must have slipped away hours ago. Riah squinted up, noticing that something was extended towards him. An arm and a hand. A piece of parchment. Owen shifted his weight as Riah’s gazesettledover him andbegan to harden. Riah returned the gaze. Owen was already dressed. “Damn him,” he thought.
Owen was speaking. “A raven from the north. He flew from a ship just off the coast.”
“Leviathan!” was Riah’s first thought, but it dissipated into ash in his stomach. Leviathan wouldn't send word this soon if he ever did again. Riah sat up and snatched the parchment from Owen’s hand. He unfolded it quickly and narrowed his eyes, for at first, the parchment bore only wrinkles. But symbols were appearing in curling black ink. Symbols that Riah could not read but rather, feel.
The mark on his neck pulsed.
“Lucius wants us to come north,” he murmured.
“I know,” Owen said cooly. “I already saw it. Glista and Arria are to come too. Under our leadership, he said.”
Riah’ s fingers curled into a fist in the hand that was not holding the parchment. “What does he want?”
Owen shrugged. “I don’t know. But I do knowthat noone has ever been ordered by Lucius himself to come to the Island of the Dead King.”
“When do we leave?” Riah bit out.
“The day after tomorrow. You should be crowned before we go.”
A cold hand clamped over Riah’s mouth as something prodded
at his ribs. This jerked him awake. Arria’s finger was at her lips as shewhispered, “Shhhhh.” Her pokingfinger fell from his side. “What are you doing in my chamber in the dead of night?” Riah questioned as he sat up groggily. That was when he realized that he was not in his chamber at all but in the gallery. “I’m leaving, andI wantedto bid youfarewell,” Arria said in a soft
voice.
Riah rosequickly to his feet and grasped her hands. “You can not leave!” he hissed. “Lucius will track you down, and he will not be merciful when he”
“Like he was merciful before!” Arria hissed back, her spit hitting Riah’s cheek. Riah winced at her outburst. Tears sprang into her eyes. “I would have been better off in the desert than I am here! What if I fail again on the next quest? He will kill me!”
“He will carve you up if you run!” Riah huffed a breath, watching her pant as he did so. Suddenly, he felt quite selfish. He had wanted her to stay not for her but for him. She had become his only friend. Nevertheless, he forced out the words in a softer voice, “I couldn't bear for you to die.”
“Because I remind you of her.” She nodded towards the painting of Saffira on the wall. Arria’s words were like a cold slap to the face. Riah’s heart winced and clenched. “I cannot protect you anymore, Drakon.” Her features softened as she saw the painful flicker in Riah’s expression at her blow. “I am leaving,” she said again in a gentle voice. “And...I will miss you.”
Riah’s chest ached, and he did not restrain the tears that pressed from his eyes as she rose on her toes to plant a small kiss on his cheek. Her hands squeezed his once more before she turned to go away. But Riah grasped her arm and pulled her into his arms. He held her as if she would slip away which she tried to do for a moment before she gave in and leaned against him.
“I will still be your friend even from far away,” she whispered. Riah released her, tears now burning his cheeks.
“Wh-where…” Riah trailed off. “No. Don’t ask. They’ll sneak into your mind and find it, Riah.”
Riah watched Arria step onto the gallery window where her ever faithfulfriendGamgeewas awaitingher.“Farewell, dear friend,” he murmured as the bird rose and carried her away.
He turned. The gallery suddenly seemed too dark and cold. Too empty. “May we meet again. When we can both be safe.”
Riah was surprised that the number of those present in the
throne room the next afternoon were so copious. Even Glista was present, standing to the left of the Throne of Thorns as Riah decided to call it.
Riah felt the cold as he approached the open double doors. He looked in. No Shadow Bearer was to be seen. But hooded figures bearing tattered robes stood still and silent. The mark at Riah’s neck pulsed as fast as his heart was beginning to pound.
Riah had painted his face again with the purple and gold that he had used at his welcome ball. He wore the uniform he had worn as well as a cape fastened to his shoulders. And even as his body screamed at him to shudder and run, he forced his face into neutrality. All eyes turned towards him. The floating Shedim parted their clusters so that Riah could walk between them. This parting of the crowd also revealed someone else.
A man, a human being Riah had yet to meet, with bronzed skin and onyx eyes wore a cascading black robe beneath his ragged dark, wavy hair. Riah peered at the man, wondering if they had met, but he could not remember the face. In his hands, the man held a crown of gold with purple jewels encrusted in it. More gold was shaped with small dragon tails that reached from the bottom of the crown to above the top of its rim. Scales were carved into the gold.
When the Lord of the Dragons reached the stranger, he benttohis knee. “YouwerenamedDrakon for areason,” theman said, his voice low and set with a slight hissing. “Rise and fulfill your destiny.”
Riah did as he was commanded. He sank into the throne and braced his hands on the seat’s arms. Theweight ofthecrown on his head was nothing like that on his shoulders and on his heart. He could not find the source of this abstract weight. But he knew one thing for certain as the Shedim shifted their hidden gazes to him. They were watching. Waiting. Looking for his weakness, any sign that they should not bring him to their master. Riah knew. He knew that there was no turning back now. The man spoke once more as his hands left the crown. “Riah Drakon, Lord of the Dragons.”
The ship swayed back and forth, but it did not rock in waves of
fury. The sea of Voria was calm and not in the deadly sort of way that Riah had dreaded. But in a way that said the waters were sleeping. The winged monsters had gone. Nowhere on these waters would they be seen rising, for their master, too, was gone.
Riah stood back from the wall, his arms folded over his chest. His brush fell to the floor amidst the piles of paints that he had found inside a chest. Unopened. Brand new paints. With a message tied with string around one of them. Riah had hurried to unfold it, his heart pattering in his chest. His brows furrowed as he saw that the words were not written in the Infernal Speech but scrawled in the Middle Continental tongue.
“Tales ofoldride the wind,some fadingtodustandgold, but others become legends, lasting for centuries. Be a legend, Riah, not just a pawn like I was. Like I still am.” The note did not need a signature. The Shadow Bearer was gone now. No one else would have thought to send him paints. Riah glanced back at the wall in which wet paint was still dripping. Leviathan's eye was glazed, a single teardrop on his cheek. The other eyes were masked in shadow.
Riah’s fingers clenched into fists at his sides. The painting revealed everything. He saw one half of Leviathan very well. The side of fury and cleverness and ruthless brilliant. But there was another half masked in shadow, in the unknown of the past. The side he doubted he would never see now.
He had glimpsed it months ago on this same ship when the Shadow Bearer had spoken of his parents. He had glimpsed it just recently when Leviathan had left them.
And in the dream.
Where a single name screamed in the howling wind. Ather.
Owen was shuddering beside Riah.
Riah turned and glared at him, but he was clenching his own muscles tight around his body to prevent the cold from seeping into his clothing. The sea was still calm, but the sight before them was crawling. The skin of the island lay in ripples of sand, and it was writhing. The movement was so subtle and small, that Riah wouldn't have noticed it if he weren't trying to distract his mind from his thundering heart.
His eyes scanned the shoreline first before they roved over the land they were approaching. The island was small, for they had sailed around it twice before they had found the entrance they had been ordered to take. Glista was on the gangplank with a dozen Shedim in front of her. But Riah did not move. He wasn’t too keen on leaving the ship anytime soon.
“Tales of old ride the wind, some fading to dust and gold, but others become legends, lasting for centuries. Be a legend, Riah,” he murmured under his breath.
“Where did you hear that?” Owen asked.
“From a friend,” Riah said shortly.
Owen smirked. “Your little talk to yourself to give the
Dragon Lord courage?” Riah nearly snapped his neck as he whirled on the young man. “Might I remind you, Edrun, that I command dragons. Enlighten me, why don’t you, on what exactly your prestigious position is?” Owen opened his mouth to protest, but Riah kept speaking. “Oh, that’s right! You were Leviathan's pawn to get us the Crown. Except that didn’t work out, and our magic was, undoubtedly, used to their advantage. Now tell me…” Riah was bearing down on Owen, his face entirely too close. “Tell me what value you will hold in the Prince’s eyes?” Owen’s expression hardened, but he would not answer. Riah smirked as he shook his head. “That’s what I thought,” he said softly. He turned and walked to the gangplank. Glista was exiting with a swiftness that first perplexed Riah.
Why was she so eager to get to Lucius? But then he saw. The black mass rippling on the pale sand was moving. Towards the coastline. Riah’s sharp intake of breath nearly choked him. Shedim. By the thousands. Millions…
Numerous as the stars. His hand clenched the railing before him. The Prince’s court. The island, though small, was infested with the creatures. Which meant… “The Infernal Cities aren’t beneath the Dragon Keep...they are under this island.”
And suddenly Riah wished Zoka or Belle or Ami
non or any of the dragons were with him. Or Arria or Saffira. Or even Leviathan. His only ally was Glista, and she was heading straight into the throat of a monster.
Now, this is the part where I tell you the turning point in the
story that I am most credited for. When Glista, Lady of the Wolves, Owen Edrun, traitor of the Remaining Remnant, and Riah Drakon, Lord of Dragons walked into the chamber I had isolated myself within, I knew I had some pull. I had a chance to ruin everything they held dear. They had turned their backs on Elyon. It was like they were handing me their souls.
I had seen Riah in the passage but knew that he had only seen slivers of me. And he only saw parts of me now. The light was dim and blurry. I hadn’t seen anything bright and defined since my fall from Caelae.
I shifted my wings, my blue eyes glowing in the darkness folding itself around me. The darkness I had summoned. I remembered my brother’s wings as the ash on mine drifted to the floor. His were golden and radiant but did nothing to hinder him. I always remembered that. That he was never hindered by his own magnificence like I was.
I turned my glowing blue eyes on the three below me. I rose above them at such a height that they were miniscule beneath me. Small. Human. Disgusting. “Welcome,” I said. My voice was cold and dark like the shifting darkness in the deep of the ocean. Darkness that Elyon had given me as my armor.
He had been mocking me, of course, because His light would always penetrate it.
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