When Dragons Die- The Complete Trilogy Box Set

by K. Scott Lewis

  39 - The Turning

  Around the world, millions of people in lands known and unknown heard Aradma’s words. Some listened in apathy. Some listened in anger. And some listened in fear. But enough of them listened in hope and were moved by love that they made their prayer to their own highest selves.

  And the Kairantheum heard their prayer.

  It channeled their focused will and created a reality where their hopes, fears, and desires could not be trapped. The Kairantheum collapsed inward against its own nature. A logical impossibility rippled through divine space-time.

  Visible to the world for the first time, the golden light of the Kairantheum imploded into a wave of fine gossamer dust that spread over the planet’s surface, passed, and then was gone.

  All gods died.

  All runes fell dark, never to be lit again by prayer.

  All demons not yet redeemed through Anuit faded away.

  Aradma returned to her body. She still sat in congress with Tiberan. He held her in his arms, conscious to the world once more.

  “It is done,” she said, tears falling from her cheeks to his as she stroked his hair and his beard. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” She kept kissing him.

  He held her firmly and kissed the space between her breasts.

  “I know,” he said.

  She raised her head and saw Anuit and Arda standing beside them.

  Arda came forward and took one of Aradma’s hands. “It’s over,” she told the elf. “It is time to leave him and let him return to the world.”

  Aradma held him tight, kissing his forehead, his eyes, his lips.

  “Please,” he whispered. “Please, let me go. It is not yet our time.”

  Aradma separated herself from him and allowed Arda to help her stand. Anuit brought Tiberan’s neatly folded clothes from the circle’s edge, and he covered himself. Aradma summoned her foliage gown and calmed her swirling emotions.

  Tiberan breathed a sigh of relief. “I’m glad one of you made it,” he said. “Had you not, I would have been trapped outside of time. At least, that’s what Keruhn said.”

  Arda looked at him incredulously. Aradma turned her head away, wiping moisture from her eyes.

  “And you took that risk,” Anuit said. She alone seemed unsurprised.

  “The god didn’t tell me that,” Arda said thoughtfully. “He didn’t want your choice to influence mine.”

  “The gods convinced us to step away from the throne, in the end,” Anuit said. “We were tricked.” She frowned. “I don’t see the Kairantheum anymore.”

  Aradma turned to her friends. “I have destroyed it. The gods are dead. The gods didn’t want us to take control… except Keruhn. He helped us to this end. He was the only one of them committed to truth. He believed in Ahmbren. In us.”

  “The gods wanted us to take control,” Arda said. “Daag…”

  “No,” Aradma replied. “Keruhn built Artalon. He knew we would see the truth of our beings, and the gods who came to you were called by your own truth. All three of us rejected the gods, but the nature of who we each are manifested that rejection in different ways.”

  “You’ve put us all in danger,” Anuit said. “We weren’t supposed to destroy the Kairantheum. To kill the gods.”

  “I see it,” Arda said softly. “I see the hope in what you’ve done. The utter faith you’ve put in all of us.”

  Aradma nodded. “For better or worse, we will face the future with truth.”

  “So what now?” Arda asked.

  “I will keep my claim on Artalon for the seelie,” Aradma said. She turned and met Tiberan’s eyes. “And you must keep your promise to your wife.” She saw the music in his soul. “You do love her,” she acknowledged.

  Tiberan nodded. “I do. I will stay with her in the north, with the Glavlunders in Faerieholm, and with the dragons.”

  Aradma smiled sadly. “You will have a home when you return.” I am with child. I will not make the same mistake I did with Odoune. “Tiberan,” she said, after a deep breath. “We will have a daughter from this.”

  Tiberan stared at her with calm sadness. “I know,” he said. “The act of life. The answer to the riddle. This changes everything. I cannot hide this from her.”

  Arda and Anuit both looked at their friends with sadness in their eyes but said nothing.

  “Even so,” Aradma said, “you must be true to your heart. I can see it in the music of your soul: no matter your feelings for me, your heart wants to be with her, and your sons. You’ve chosen her for now. You must honor the truth of your own love. Your daughter and I will be waiting for you, in time.” She sighed. “Come. Let us rejoin our friends.”

  The four Living Seals emerged from God Spire out onto the bridge where the leaders of mortalkind waited. Their friends were all gathered there as well. On the bridge behind them, Kreen stood with Keira.

  Tiberan looked at Aradma once, and a flash of understanding passed between them. Aradma nodded, but said nothing. The horned hunter left them, passing through the crowd without a word. He came to his wife.

  “It is finished,” he said. “Let us go home.”

  “You mean… but you and Aradma? You are meant for each other.”

  Aradma’s heart broke when she heard Keira say that.

  “Dearest heart,” he told her, “that doesn’t change my feelings for you. You and I have found hearth together, and that is the deepest, most powerful love. Even if seelie life was but the shortest span of human life, I would still choose your love, our family. Let’s go home to our sons.”

  Keira reached up and touched her husband’s face. “There’s something else you’re not saying. What happened?”

  “There was… a price. I will tell you in Faerieholm, when we’re away from all of this,” he told his wife.

  She looked both worried and relieved as she climbed behind him onto Kreen’s back. And then they were away with the rest of the dragonflight.

  “Farewell, Tiberan,” Aradma murmured. “For now.”

  Aradma turned her attention back to the kings and leaders, and more importantly, her friends. She smiled as she saw Odoune among them, standing with his arm around Suleima. Attaris was there too, and Oriand, and Yinkle. Neither of her daughters were there—Fernwalker was watching over Naiadne—but Eszhira also stood with them.

  “Oh, Ezzie!” Aradma said. “Kristafrost…”

  “What?” Eszhira asked. “Have you seen her?”

  Aradma was about to answer, but then started when she saw Athra’s Jewel standing among the leaders. “Athra!” she exclaimed. “How?”

  “We all heard you,” King Donogan interjected. “Most of us joined in your prayer.”

  “I did not,” Athra said. “But it seems I truly escaped the Kairantheum. My powers are gone, my runes are dark, but my consciousness remains. I live. And…” Her face could bend to no expression, but the light in her eyes brightened, and her voice turned to joy. “I am free, for the first time in my existence. Mortal desire no longer shapes my mind.”

  “I prayed with you,” Attaris said. “I knew what you were driving at, but somehow, I think Modhrin supported you.”

  “The gods had more nuance than I had thought,” Aradma admitted. “Keruhn… he wanted to free this world from the Kairantheum.”

  Athra cocked her head. “Ah,” the construct finally said.

  “Well, I didn’t pray with you!” King Leiham sputtered. “I do not believe for a moment that Modhrin would abandon—”

  “All the gods are dead,” Athra stated. “Modhrin, Daag, Nephyr, Yamosh, Malahkma… and all the others.” Then the former goddess turned her elodian eyes to Anuit. “And demons.”

  “Well, that’s something,” King Leiham muttered. “Sorcery has reached its end, at least.”

  “Not all demons,” Anuit replied. “I am Queen of Dis, and some I freed from the Kairantheum. The Dark celestials that fought to protect Artalon, my hosts, survive. But because the Kairantheum is gone, they can no longer be corru
pted by mortal lust, fear, or greed.” She shot a glance towards Aradma. “We will keep the watch against Those Who Dwell Beyond.”

  “So what now?” Donogan asked.

  “Go back to your lands,” Aradma said. “Live in peace. There is no more reason to fight. It is finished.”

  “Artalon was ours,” Flolum said softly, unconvinced.

  “No, it wasn’t,” Aradma said. “Artalon was the work of a god’s faith in all of us. It rose and fell in darkness, but I will raise it in life.”

  “Which god?” Flolum asked thoughtfully.

  “Keruhn,” Aradma said, “whom you knew as Kristafrost.”

  Eszhira gasped. “Kristafrost… was a god?”

  “Yes,” Aradma said.

  “But she preferred reason to religion!” Eszhira exclaimed.

  “Yes!” Aradma laughed, grinning wide. Then, she added, “But she—Keruhn—had a kind of religion: all of us.”

  “But if all the gods are dead…”

  Aradma nodded sadly. “Kristafrost is gone,” she said gently. “It was her will. Keruhn’s will. She wanted us to be free. She sacrificed herself for all of us. In some ways, she was our greatest hero.”

  “And now,” Odoune said, finally speaking, “you said you will claim Artalon for yourself.”

  “I do,” Aradma affirmed. “I claim sovereign authority as Artalon’s queen.”

  “I back her,” Arda said. “She suffered a thousand years to protect this world and then sacrificed her life to protect us from the Otherworld’s breaking. The Green Dragon saved each and every one of us, and she and Tiberan were Graelyn’s conscious mind. We all owe them.”

  Anuit sighed. “I back her, too. She earned it. She passed the gods’ tests and won the power of the Stag Throne. If anyone thinks to challenge her, Dis will support her.” Then: “But I don’t think she really needs my help.”

  King Donogan spoke. “I support your claim,” he said. “Let us be done with Artalon, and the seelie deserve a land to call home.” Then, he added, “Though you are always welcome in Hammerfold.”

  Aradma looked to the sky and opened the canopy of leaves, allowing the full glory of the sun to splash through Artalon’s streets. “And my rule here is truth and reason,” she said. “My sovereign will is that this place is free from sovereign rule. All those who can enter freely, with no violence in their hearts, who can deal with each other honestly, are welcome.”

  “You did this for the good of the many,” King Donogan said.

  “No,” Aradma replied. “I did it for me and for those whom I love, and all those who deserve a world in which they are free to achieve the fullness of their own glory.”

  Tallindra looked stunned. “That’s… selfish.”

  Aradma nodded. “It is,” she agreed. “I refuse to live a lie any longer. I want to live in the best of all possible worlds, for me and for those whom I love, and I believe the best world we can make is one without gods. I believe good is that which reveals the truth of the world. I didn’t do this because I thought it would end all suffering in the world; indeed, some will find they prefer the lie. But I made an offer. I didn’t force it. I couldn’t have done this on my own. There were enough people who feel as I do—that life should be free, and that living is joyful—that it worked. You chose this. Ahmbren chose this.”

  “How democratic,” Athra stated dryly.

  “People need the gods to take care of them,” the Matriarch said. “You opened our eyes in Vemnai, Aradma, but now you’ve taken the gods from us. People won’t listen to moral teachings without the gods to tell us what is correct.”

  “No, Couraime,” Aradma replied. “You have not yet learned what I would have shown you. I’m sorry I left when I did; I left too soon. I believe you are better than you think you are, and that you will rise to greater glory. You have no need of gods.”

  Oriand nodded. “I agree, Couraime. Vemnai has come a long way since my failure, but we could be so much more.”

  The Matriarch pondered this, then nodded. “The Vemnai will try to live with open hearts, but we have lost our power, our healing runes. Some of us will hate you for it.”

  “But what power do you answer to?” King Leiham challenged Aradma. “Your own?”

  “Yes,” the druid replied. “And so do you. You always have. The only real question has been, have you been honest with yourself? I will no longer abandon my integrity for anyone’s sake. Truth is my only god, reason my only commandment, joy my only value.”

  “But love!” Tallindra replied.

  “I love,” Aradma replied. “I love deeply. Do you propose that love is not joyful? That love is not rational? That love is not true?”

  “I… get it,” Donogan said slowly. “Most of us aren’t ready for the pure freedom you propose. Those who are will have Artalon. The rest of us will follow, in time.”

  Thorkhan snorted. “Stop quibbling. It is her might that makes her right.”

  “No, my chieftain,” Seonna said. “It is not her might, but her reason. She expresses the pure truth of life. It is the strength of her conviction, not the conviction of her strength.”

  The orc shook his head. “It matters not. She outfoxed the gods. She’s won this.”

  Tallindra nodded. “The Flame and Ice Courts will withdraw.” She was the only surviving war captain. The other sidhe lieutenants present looked as if they wanted to protest, but they remained silent.

  “All are welcome in Artalon,” Aradma said, “as long as there is peace in your hearts, whether you be troll or human, orc or dwarf, gnome or ratling. Let Artalon be a place of joy, life, and integrity.”

  Odoune smiled. He looked around at all the greenery that had grown over the towers and the thick grasses over the streets with pools of water sparkling in the coppery zorium and glass-spattered light. “I think,” he said, “I think the druids will like it here. Nature and civilization, intertwined together.”

  “One thing,” Attaris said. “If the gods are gone, or maybe they just weren’t what we thought they were… I’d really like to see Hylda again. Did you see anything in there… do you think there’s an afterlife?”

  “No,” Anuit said. “I’m sorry.”

  Aradma looked into Attaris’ eyes. “I don’t know,” she finally said after giving it thought. “I don’t think the gods knew either.”

  “I hope in one,” Arda replied.

  Attaris looked at his old friend and nodded, satisfied with that answer. “Then I will hope with you, lass. I will hope with you.”

  40 - …And a Kitchen Sink

  Keira leaned back into Tiberan’s arms as they sailed over clouds on dragonback.

  Home, she thought. We get to go home. But what is it he wishes to tell me? What happened in the tower?

  Even with Kreen’s occasional fiery exhalations, the high wind rushed cold past her. She snuggled back into Tiberan’s warmth and shifted into wolven form, offering him the benefit of her thick fur. His arms tightened around her waist and he rested his cheek in her wolf mane.

  When they arrived in Faerieholm, he dismounted and offered her his hand. She moved to the cavern entrance, towards the warmth inside where her sons and her tribe awaited.

  Tiberan stopped her. He held her hand and shook his head. “Let us walk,” he said. “Before we go in together, let us walk.”

  Her heart pounded and throat choked. “What is it?”

  “Come,” he urged gently. There was such sadness in his voice.

  They walked away. Osku, Illeski’s hearthmate, must have spied them. The Glavlunder man hurried forward to bring Tiberan a furred cloak. Though it was May, the mountains clung to winter. Keira still wore the cloak she had brought when she had gone to find Tiberan. She shifted back into human form, and Osku saw the look in her eyes. He didn’t say a word as he handed Tiberan the fur, and walked silently back towards the caves.

  The pathway’s snow, already packed down from footsteps and swept low by weeks of spring mountain winds, crunched under their boo
ts. Tiberan remained silent for a time, until they came to a ledge overlooking magnificent valleys. Sunlight glittered brightly from high overhead, and Keira noted for a moment the sharp relief it cast against the shadows of his stag horns over the white rock.

  Those horns. Keruhn’s purpose had been fulfilled. She had heard Aradma’s voice in her mind, along with every other mortal on Ahmbren. Life is for joy, Aradma had said. Life is for truth. For honest living.

  Why do those horns remain? What did Aradma do? Keira opened her mouth slightly in surprise. Suddenly the words made sense. The gods had come to life from the prayers of mortalkind, and Aradma had led them in a new prayer. For the sake of my life and joy in life, I will not surrender my will to any god, nor will I allow any god to surrender its will to me.

  “Keruhn is dead, isn’t he?” she asked. “Keruhn, and all the other gods.”

  Tiberan turned his head away from the view and met her gaze sharply. “Yes,” he confirmed.

  Keira’s eyes watered. The loss of her god stung, but she knew Aradma was not her enemy. She too had lent her will to Aradma’s prayer. She believed this had been Keruhn’s purpose, that all had unfolded according to his will. And Tiberan had come home with her. Another answer to her prayer.

  “We are all coparticipants in life,” Keira murmured thoughtfully. Then, louder: “You are the last living symbol of them,” she said. “Your horns…” she reached up and touched them. “The spirit of hearth lives on visibly in you.”

  A pained look flashed over Tiberan’s eyes.

  Keira’s heart sank. “There’s more,” she said. “The gods’ death… that’s not the price you referred to.”

  “No,” Tiberan replied. The sadness in his voice wrenched through her, and her throat tightened again.