by N M Zoltack
Her cheeks ached from smiling, and even her arm was growing tired from waving, but she did not stop. Joy bubbled within her.
Her parents had been slaughtered, but she had risen despite the ashes, despite being secreted away to live in hiding on an island. She had overcome the odds to arrive at this very moment.
Once she made her way to the dais, as she had elected to be crowned where all eyes could see her instead of in the throne room where the occupancy was far too small, she gazed out at the sea of smiles, enjoying the chorus of happy cheers. A man who somehow seemed familiar said a few words before placing the crown upon her head.
The cheers then gave way to screams. Olympia stood, rooted to the spot. It was as if she had turned into a tree and could not move as a fearsome dragon bore down on her. His mouth parted, revealing razor-sharp teeth, and the orange ball of his flames was the last thing she saw before she was roasted alive.
Olympia sat upright, her own lips parting as she sucked in a breath. Her heart was pounding so loudly in her ears that her head ached. What a terrible nightmare. Her skin felt flushed as she rubbed her arms, and she slipped away to the Vast Waters so that she could splash some water onto her face.
A moment later, Bjorn joined her. “You can sleep yet,” he murmured. “We do not have to leave just yet. The market will probably not have many people yet, just the merchants, and the fewer the number of people there, the more we will stand out.”
“You are merely worried you will be recognized,” she wanted to say. “I have no such fear. I have told you before. You can stay here. I will go.”
But she had no desire to speak, so she merely shrugged and returned to their spot.
This journey with him, this trek… It had forced them to become companions, friends even. For the most part, she appreciated his company, but not today. Even with him beside her, she felt utterly alone.
Once the sun hung heavy above them, they finally made their way to the market only to discover it had been burned. By a dragon? Perhaps. The sight tore at Olympia’s heart, and she descended even further into isolation and silence.
Bjorn directed her to the streets that housed shops, and although they wandered into most, she wordlessly urged him to pass on by a hotel that, oddly enough, made her feel like running away.
Unfortunately, their trek gained them little knowledge at all, save for one interesting tidbit. It seemed Sabine, the queen who had gained her title only through marrying the usurper, had burned her own mother alive for the crime of murdering the prince.
How could these people bow down to people such as these? Indeed, they should cheer for the return of the Lis.
Yet they did not even know she had been born.
How Olympia wished to tell them! But fear silenced her tongue. If the queens knew she endured, they would seek to either imprison or, more likely, to kill her. Also, the people themselves were clearly suffering. Be that from the war they had engaged in or because of the arrival of the dragons, the people needed help. What if they learned about Olympia and instead of accepting her, they scorned her for not helping them already.
Bjorn did not seem to notice her silence. He talked to her about the tournament he had won.
“Do you think you will have any?” he asked her.
“Any?” she asked, confused, breaking her self-imposed silence.
"Tournaments," he explained. "Once you're the queen."
"Once I'm the queen," she murmured.
She gazed at him, at his eager expression, at his hard lines that spoke of strength. He had his flaws, but then didn’t they all? She knew she was far from perfect.
“Maybe I should have a tournament,” she said. “The winner could claim my hand.”
“I do love a good challenge.”
“So you would try to win?”
“I must defend my title after all.”
“Ah, so that is the only reason why you would wish to win.”
“Perhaps.” He laughed easily and then rubbed his chin. Bjorn had not taken a blade to his face in recent nights, so he had a fair amount of stubbly growth. “If you have those from Vincana take part, it is possible one of their female warriors will win.”
“You think a female warrior might best you?”
“Or maybe a dragon. What if a dragon slays everyone on the battlefield. Would you marry a dragon?”
Olympia chose to laugh at that, to shove him away, but her thoughts had turned to her twin. He could marry the female champion and she the male, but as much as Bjorn wished for her to open up to him, she could not bring herself to tell him about her twin’s existence.
What would it take for her to share that detail? Because without his aid, without anyone’s aid, how could she possibly locate her twin?
“I will take the first watch,” Bjorn said.
“Are you certain?”
"I am." Bjorn's smile was warmer than normal. Although she wished to smile back, she turned away, almost frightened by her thoughts but also frightened of sleep.
And she should not be. Again, she dreamed, and again, her dream concerned a dragon, only this time, she was riding on one’s back. The wind rushed at her, caressing her, and she held out her arms. Never in her life had she felt so utterly free before. Free and happy. If only this could be real. Here on dragonback, the rest of her worries and fears all melted away, and she could just truly be one with Dragoona, and her heart felt full to bursting with a happiness she had never experienced before.
56
Ulric Cooper
The scout raced through the band of merchants struggling to follow Ulric's training exercises. He longed for the days when he had just one pupil—Noll—and the sight of the scout heading his way gave Ulric an excuse to allow the merchants a moment to breathe. They needed the training if they were to survive an attack against the Vincanans. Against the dragons… Ulric did not wish to think about that.
“What news do you have, Samo?
Samo Dimov set his angular jaw, and sweat matted down his dark-blond hair. He huffed and puffed a few moments, trying to calm himself.
Ulric did his best to maintain his composure, but the fright in the man’s brown eyes made Ulric believe the news the scout possessed could not possibly be good.
“Rapid Falls,” Samo finally spat out.
“What about it?” Ulric gripped his spear. He had been reaching the merchants how to use swords, but he himself was trying to better master spearwork. “A dragon?”
“I saw a dragon heading toward it, yes, but that’s not what I know for certain.”
“What is it you know for certain?” Ulric asked slowly, wondering what could conceivably be worse.
“The Vincanans. They’ve occupied the village.”
Ulric clasped the man’s shoulder. “Go and fetch yourself some water and some grub. I will be back.”
“You don’t want me to tell anyone—”
“Tell not a soul,” Ulric ordered.
Samo nodded gratefully. He was lithe and muscular, but his legs were far faster than his arms. He tended to swing his weapons too wide, and a seasoned, experienced warrior would be able to block and parry his blows to the point of killing him easily. That was why Ulric utilized him as a scout. Soon enough, Samo would have to go back out again, to see and learn what he could, but for the moment, he had more than earned a brief reprieve.
“Aloys, will you train them?” Ulric asked. “I am needed elsewhere.”
“I will attempt to, but that is the level best I can offer,” Aloys said with a smile.
Shaking his head, Ulric left the field just beyond the castle walls and headed inside the keep. A maid directed him to where he could find Rosalynne. For once, she was in the throne room.
“I’ve been thinking about allowing the people to present petitions to me once more,” she murmured, “but I fear I would hear their requests all day long and until the night and not be able to help even one of them.”
“Just having them here in the keep is help enough
,” Ulric assured her.
“I think not.” She smiled prettily. “What brings you here, Ulric? As much as I appreciate your company, you look as if you bear grave news.”
“I do.” Ulric set his jaw. “My scout has learned that the Vincanans have occupied a village.”
Rosalynne’s eyes darkened to black. “Which one?”
“Rapid Falls.”
“South of Arlington River.” She shook her head so vigorously that some of her dark curls came loose of their pins.
“Please, Rosalynne, let my men and I reclaim the village,” he begged. Although the merchants could be frustrating during the training drills, when he had them face off against one another, they were showing some real promise. “I know we can handle this.”
“I do not know,” the queen murmured, her tone wary. “Perhaps it would be better if I send knights.”
Fury and frustration threatened to overwhelm him. “You think so little of my men, so little of me, yet you’re willing to allow us to fight in battles. Are we nothing but bodies then to you? Merely numbers that can fall?”
“Ulric! I am thinking about the safety of both your men as well as the villagers. If the Vincanans seek to claim the village, if they are able to hold it, they will seek to widen their domain. They will eat away at our land, and we cannot have that.”
“They might wish to try that, but it would spread their numbers too thin,” Ulric said. “If we can hold them off—”
"If word has reached Vincana about the dragons, they might send more soldiers our way. They might seek to occupy Atlan at some point, even lay siege to the castle. We have to stop this now."
“You do not trust me to handle something of this magnitude.”
“Ulric, please,” Rosalynne protested. She reached toward him, but he backed away a step.
“I have given my life for you. I have taken on a militia. I’ve trained them, fed them. We don’t want to die for you, but we will. Instead, we want to seek honor in your name for Tenoch. That is all we want, but you deny us.”
“Ulric, right now…”
“You won’t even give it a second thought, will you?”
Her lips pursed. "Maybe I will give it a second and a third thought. I need to consider all of our options as well as how best to approach Rapid Falls. Do you know it is perched on a cliff overlooking the river? I wonder… I do not wish to act hastily in any matter at all, Ulric. I won't have you and your men rush off, and I won't have knights rush off either. This is war. We must strategize." She appraised him and then held out her hand to him. "Will you grant me time to think of what would be the best course of action?"
He eyed her hand, wishing he could take it, knowing he never could. She was too far above him, and one day, he just knew he would be buried beneath the ground with her forever out of reach above him.
“Of course,” he said begrudgingly, attempting to douse the fire of his discontentment. “Rushing into battle headfirst without a plan would be to court death.”
“You are not allowed to court death,” Rosalynne said lightly.
Aye, be that so, Ulric thought grimly, but I am not allowed to court you either.
57
Rase Ainsley
The street rat had just left Tranquil Wolf Hotel. His pouch was filled, the coins clinking together. Rase had had a good feeling about Dudley the moment the two of them met. Dudley knew what he wanted out of life, and Rase had the means of providing Dudley with some upfront capital. Rase was learning all about business these days. Dudley’s hotel was doing well enough, partially because of Rase’s money but also because of his advice concerning the ale, when to give out the best and when to switch over. There had been some complaints about the ale the past few times Rase had gone over, but that was on Dudley. Seemed he was switching over earlier and earlier to stretch out the better quality ale.
Maybe by the time he got all of his money back and then some, Rase could start his own hotel. Or maybe a different business. Or maybe just a tavern. Then he wouldn’t have to worry about rooms… Although it might be smart to have a few rooms available for the drunks.
Rase whistled to himself. The week deadline was almost up, and he just knew that Mac Beatha and the others would handle his Olivier problem for him. Maybe Rase should pay a visit to the baron after he learned Olivier was dead. Or should he see to the peasant woman? What if the baron had decided to end things with her and that was why he had gone after Rase through Leanne? Hmm… The world could be a twisted and convoluted place. It was far better to kill one’s enemies than to allow them to live and have to look over one’s shoulder all day and night long to avoid being stabbed in the back.
The prick of a blade pressed against Rase’s back, as if his thought had caused the weapon to materialized.
He stiffened, holding up his hands as Mac Beatha strolled around to face Rase’s front, his blade tracing a line across Rase’s shirt the entire time.
“Is it done?” Rase asked quietly, not wanting to draw attention to them. A fog had rolled in, and the night wasn’t that bright. Most people were not out of doors at this hour, and Rase shouldn’t be either. He should be home with Leanne.
Not here in the street with a mercenary whose blade was against his shirt.
“It’s done, all right,” Mac Beatha said with a wild glint in his eye. “But you didn’t tell us who he was working for. A baron no less. That’ll cost you.”
Out of the darkness, Tielo Waldron and Nuno Balfager appeared as if wraiths from the shadows. The three of them ambushed him, beating him, kicking and punching him. Rase brought up his arms to protect his head, but that left his stomach unprotected. Kicks to his ribs almost caused him to howl, but he refused to even whimper. A solid blow to the back of his head had him biting down so hard on his tongue to keep from crying out that he choked on blood.
All he could see as the blows stopped was the scar on Tielo's face. He gave the street rat a grim smile as he yanked the coin pouch from Rase's belt.
“We’ll be taking this now.”
Laughing, the three rushed away, but the damage had been done. Rase had been beaten so badly he could barely crawl, but crawl he did, one agonizing pull of his arm and shift of his leg at a time. He knew better than to return to the hotel. Dudley would offer him no aid. No, Rase had to get home and recover.
And then have his revenge.
58
Princess Vivian Rivera
As before, as she descended the mountains, Vivian was afforded a vast view of Olac long before she could venture inside, but the sight of it filled her with dread. River Texcoco divided the city in half, the wealthy from the poor, but both sides had been burnt to the ground. Even the pyramid that she had wished to see previously but never had the chance to had been burned. Only one pyramid remained, far up to the northeast, if the dragons had not also burned down Maloyan.
How hot must the dragon’s fires burn for even the wealthy stone houses to be burned down? The poor had lived in smaller houses made of mud and wood, the rooftops made from reed.
Only one building seemed to be erect, and Vivian had a feeling she knew precisely that which it was. At least, she hoped the building to be the one she had traveled all this way for.
Their destination in sight, Vivian urged her horse onward. She did not have to venture long in Kiamur Jungle to reach the city, and she took one of the many bridges over the river to reach the affluent side. The sight of the burned taverns and houses and various buildings twisted Vivian’s stomach, and she found herself casting her gaze skyward oft, but no dragons or even birds flew overhead.
She was all alone, the only soul in this seemingly forsaken place.
Finally, at long last, she approached the monastery. It stood as tall and majestic as ever, but the building seemed out of place now, as if it did not belong here. Although not burned, many of the stained glass windows had been smashed, a sight that did little to soothe the ache in Vivian’s chest.
She tethered the horse to the column on t
he porch and entered the monastery. Although the building was still standing, the interior left a lot to be desired. The place had been ransacked, as if someone had been trying to locate some hidden cache of treasure, only they had not taken any of the books or scrolls, the true treasure of the place. The shattered windows should have served as her first clue that not all was right here.
Still, Vivian entered the place. “Garsea?” she called softly. “Garsea?”
Even shouting did not cause the monk to appear, and Vivian headed to the kitchen. This room, too, had been dismantled, but she did manage to locate some fresh fruit. Or perhaps not quite fresh. Overripe, but she managed a few swallows of the too-soft fruit.
From there, she settled to pick up scrolls and books and settled into a heavy chair that she struggled to upright.
The dragons three had been lost to us for years now, nine to be exact. Dragoona has descended into chaos, and there is no clear leader among the people, not in Tenoch or Vincana or anywhere. Blood waters the plants more than rain. The safety of all humankind is in danger unless someone can rise up to the occasion.
The dragons have left us, by our own hands. We were ignorant, and we were wrong, and I pray the dragons will return. If they do not… Mankind might well not survive. We will eat each other alive.
But I do not blame the dragons. Even as I witness the aftermath of the battles, I do not cry out in agony that the dragons have abandoned us. No, the fault lies with ourselves. We are to blame. Why would they seek to come back to help those who sought to kill them not once but multiple times until the dragons themselves did not rise again?
We do not deserve their guidance, their goodness. We do not deserve to have their aid. We are cast adrift, and we will fall, but that fall is of our own making.
Vivian paused and rubbed her throat. The dragons were a mystery to her yet, and so she needed to read more. It was imperative that she understood them. The dragons were said to have been able to see into the hearts of men. They knew everything.
