by N M Zoltack
“Fighting it? Who?”
“Women, mostly. I think from Vincana.”
The Valkyries. Was Vivian there? Most likely.
“Donnchad, I need you to listen to me,” Ulric said desperately.
The man nodded, wheezing.
"You aren't a runner." Ulric waved his hand, dismissing him and waving over Wilfrid Frye and Thorley Everett, the two guards by the door to the throne room. "Wilfrid, you will take over charge while the queen and I are gone. If you do not know what the queen would do, defer the matter to be delayed if at all possible. Thorley, you are to go and locate Girdie. The militia is to be brought to the edge of Atlan as quickly as possible. If the dragon is there, if the battle needs more men, I will send back someone to have the rest of the guards and knights come, so have them at the ready."
“Very well.” Thorley rushed away.
“If I may…” Wymond Ward, Rosalynne’s master-at-sea, popped his head inside the room. “Take this with you.”
He entered, dragging a harpoon. The metal was thick and long and heavy, but Wymond followed Ulric out of the castle, and once Ulric was mounted, Wymond tied the harpoon to Ulric’s back.
"Just cut the rope," Wymond said, "to release it. You won't have the mechanism from the platform to launch it, so you will have to throw it as if it is a javelin. Wait until the dragon flies low, and perhaps you will be able to pierce his scales."
“I must go,” Ulric said, and if Wymond said farewell, Ulric heard him not.
The horse’s hooves thundered, as did Ulric’s heart. The horse was the swiftest one from the stables, but the weight of the harpoon slowed them.
He heard a stampede behind him. His militia. He had a good bit of distance on them, but they would not arrive much later than he would.
And then, finally, Ulric came across the battle scene to see burned bodies, ashes, a dead dragon.
“Rosalynne?” Ulric called. He went to jump down, but the harpoon almost made him tip. He slammed a dagger to his chest, almost cutting himself in his effort to frantically cut the rope. The harpoon fell to the ground. “Vivian?” he shouted as he finally dismounted.
“Ulric?”
That voice. Ulric almost wept as a bloodied Rosalynne staggered over to him. She collapsed into his arms.
“What happened?” he asked, rubbing her back, cradling her to him. He was torn between looking about for Vivian and kissing her.
“Vivian…”
“Where is she?”
“She’s dead.”
That voice. Ulric had never heard it so flat and devoid of emotion. The prince was barely able to stand. He had a hand to a wound that still bled.
“Did she slay…” Ulric started.
“She was not the one to slay the dragon, no,” Marcellus uttered.
It was then that Ulric knew for certain that the prince loved the princess.
“Who did?” Ulric asked. “One of the Valkyries? These are the Valkyries, are they not?”
One of the women warriors came over. She nodded to Marcellus. “You are my prince. You should never have stopped. I was a fool—”
“You are not a fool, Horatia,” Marcellus said, “and you never were.”
“The dragon… Odium…”
“Odium?” Ulric asked.
Rosalynne clung to him even tighter, and he squeezed her in return.
“Is that the dragon’s name?” Ulric asked.
“It was, yes,” Horatia said. “Hatred. The dragon three who returned were not the ones who ruled before. Previously, Votum, Fides, and Amo had ruled over Dragoona and her people—Hope, Faith, and Love. But these dragons had been Desperatio, Aporiatio, and Odium—Despair, Doubt, and—”
“Hatred,” Ulric murmured, and he met Marcellus’s gaze and winced.
“The dragons sought to spread their particular darkness over the land,” Horatia continued.
"Which one died first?" Ulric interrupted. "Which one released magic into the world?"
“Desperatio.”
“Despair?” he asked, and she nodded. “The magic…”
“The magic is not a curse, nor is it a blessing. It is a gift, and as with any gift, it can be used for good or for ill. Some persons were more easily led astray by the dragons than others.”
“There were sacrifices,” Rosalynne murmured, shifting back in his arms to look up at him. “I think Faith was first and then Love.”
“Hope was only just now,” Marcellus said, “before…”
“A sacrifice. Someone sacrificed themselves in the name of hope?” Ulric jerked away from Rosalynne, releasing her as a sudden thought occurred to him. “Olympia…”
“You know Olympia?” Rosalynne asked.
He flinched, but she winced, which only increased his worry.
“Bjorn,” Marcellus supplied. “He was hope.”
“Bjorn,” Ulric murmured. “He seemed to… But I thought…”
“Olympia, was she… a friend of yours?” Rosalynne asked.
Why was there no jealousy in her tone? Not that she should be jealous of Olympia or any other woman, but she clearly knew something he did not.
“Olympia killed the dragon,” Horatia said, “and she perished for her efforts.”
Ulric staggered back a step and then another. “Bjorn, Olympia, and Vivian…”
“And many Valkyries,” Horatia added, a bit dryly, but he could see the stricken look in her eyes.
Rosalynne touched his arm. “Vivian gave her life for me. The dragon wished me dead. She bartered her life for mine, and I… I….”
A fiery blast erupted behind them. Ulric seized Rosalynne and dragged her behind him as he stepped before her. A huge blast of fire shot up to the sky as if reaching toward the sun. Four dark forms appeared within that fiery column. Smoke spilled all around, covering the fire entirely, and then, once the smoke dissipated, in place of the fire was a dragon, one born of fire. The dragon flicked his wings, and the flames entered into his body, revealing a dragon who looked more ivory than any other color, a bit darker ivory about the torso and lighter toward the tips of his wings.
"Odium?" Ulric asked grimly. Where was that blasted harpoon?
Horatia shook her head. “That is not Odium.”
The dragon glanced this way and that, graceful in his movements, and then he landed on the ground. A destrier stepped forward.
“Swiftfire!” Ulric blurted.
Rosalynne smiled at Ulric, tears streaming down her face.
The dragon pushed the horse to the side with his wing. Gently. If that was possible. Then, the dragon shifted items together.
Rosalynne stiffened as the dragon turned and looked at her. Only now did Ulric realize that the pocket of her dress was bulging.
The queen’s hands shook as she reached into the pocket and removed—
“Is that a skull?” Ulric blurted out.
“Don’t ask,” Marcellus murmured without any hint of animosity that he had for Ulric previously.
Rosalynne haltingly stepped forward and placed the skull in the dragon’s claw. The dragon dropped it onto the mound. Bones, Ulric noticed.
The dragon breathed fire, a thin stream, just a little bit, and Rosalynne choked back a sob.
“Vivian… She grew up to be such a fine princess,” Rosalynne said.
“A fine warrior,” Horatia argued.
“A fine woman,” Marcellus interjected.
“A fine friend. She was like a…” Ulric swallowed hard. “Like a sister to me.”
He hung his head. He had two sisters—one by blood and one by choice. One that he would have liked to have had through marriage.
She lives, the dragon utters in a distinctly feminine voice.
The dragon hovered in the air, and there before them, in the flesh, was Vivian, whole and alive. Not a wraith.
Whoever this dragon was, whatever he—er, she—was, this dragon was not like the three who had been reincarnated the first time.
77
Prince Marc
ellus Gallus
The sight of Vivian alive, wearing a beautiful ivory dress in a similar shade to the dragon, almost caused Marcellus to weep. He could hardly walk, though, and Rosalynne offered to help him, but he shook his head and gestured for her to go and greet her sister.
Ulric came over and assisted Marcellus.
“Vivian!” Rosalynne cried, plowing into her and then drawing back. “Are you all right? Do you hurt? What was it like to die? Did you see the Fates?”
“I am fine,” Vivian said tartly. “Are you? You look quite a mess!”
“Well, a dragon didn’t resurrect me!”
Vivian didn’t seem to notice all of that. Her gaze shifted to Marcellus. “You’re the one I should be asking if you’re all right. You aren’t going to die on me, are you?”
“Don’t worry,” Marcellus joked. “I won’t come too close to you. Wouldn’t want to get blood on that gown of yours. You look… radiant.”
“Yes, well, mayhap that is resurrecting for you.”
Marcellus drew away from Ulric and balanced himself. He nodded to the man and then to Rosalynne. “Please, if I might have a moment…”
Rosalynne didn’t seem to hear him, more talking at her sister than to her, and Vivian answering with jests and good humor. Ulric, however, seemed to understand just what Marcellus sought, and he coughed and guide Rosalynne a bit away.
“Vivian, I need to speak with you,” Marcellus said.
“What about? Death? The resurrection? I would rather not, but—”
“Vivian, I know I shouldn’t feel this way, but I—”
“Where is the Li princess? I can… I do not want to say that I sense her, but she was here, was she not? Fighting? I… It’s all a bit muddled up,” she said, touching her temple.
“Vivian,” he said desperately. “Please, listen to me.”
But she stepped away from him. “The Li princess,” she said loud enough for everyone to hear. Most of the Valkyries were tending to their dead and wounded, so they returned about their business, but Horatia, Rosalynne, and Ulric approached.
Marcellus scowled. He had hoped to confess his feelings to Vivian, but resurrection had not changed Vivian in the slightest. When she had something on her mind, nothing would deter her.
“Olympia Li,” Ulric murmured. “That was her name.”
His sorrow went unnoticed by Vivian as she glanced about wildly. “Where is she? Don’t you see? It’s all so clear to me now! Olympia must be the Lady of Light and Darkness! She is the one who will save the world, and—”
I do not know if I would go that far, the dragon said.
Ulric gasped, and his jaw dropped. “Her voice… Does it sound familiar to you?”
“Who?” Rosalynne asked.
“You hardly spoke with her, but…” Ulric swallowed hard and stepped up to the dragon, who landed and allowed Ulric to touch her upper torso. “Olympia? Is that… Her body is gone, isn’t it?”
Marcellus glanced where the Li princess’s body had fallen when she had expired. Fates alive, the body was gone.
Yes, the dragon utters. You seek Olympia, and the one you seek is me.
78
Queen Rosalynne Rivera
Everything was beginning to overwhelm Rosalynne. Between losing her sister and then gaining her back again… And even Bjorn’s sacrifice had touched Rosalynne’s heart. He had come to meet, know, and even love the Li princess, and she had loved him in return. Might the dragon—the new one—Olympia resurrect her love as well?
“You really, truly are… You are Olympia? How can that be?” Ulric asked.
Magic. The sound of laughter filled everyone’s head.
“But I don’t understand,” Ulric protested.
It is not for you to understand.
Ulric lowered his head and stepped back.
The dragon turned to Marcellus. You are near death.
“I might be able to survive.”
You are stubborn enough to try, but I can ensure you do.
“I do not wish to become a dragon,” the prince said quickly.
No, no. I am Hope and Faith and Love. I am alone. The dragon shut her eyes, and Rosalynne knew then that, for whatever reason, Olympia would not be bringing back Bjorn. Lie down.
Marcellus did so, and he winced as fresh blood gushed from his wound.
The dragon lowered her head. Rosalynne thought she might use her fire to close and seal the wound, but instead, tears fell from her eyes and dripped onto the wound. At once, his skin was healed, with the strangest design of a scar left behind.
Then, the dragon rose up, gently, softly, moving almost more like a bird rather than a dragon, and she sought to tend to her Valkyries, but not one of them wished for her healing powers, seeking instead to offer up their pain and wounds to honor her and for the sake of not just Vincana but all of Dragoona.
Rosalynne gripped Vivian’s arm. “Please, you and I must talk. I… When I thought I lost you, I realized just how much I need you—”
“Need me?” Vivian scoffed. “You do not need me. I am gone more often than not, and I—”
“You wished to rule for so much of your life. You died so that I could live, and I must repay you. I told the dragon…” Rosalynne glanced at the new dragon. “I told the other dragon that I would give up my crown, and I will. I will defer to you—”
“You will do no such thing,” Vivian protested.
“You must. You can…” Rosalynne glanced over at the curly dark-haired prince.
“Rosalynne, perhaps we can have a word?” Marcellus asked.
“Yes, go ahead,” Ulric said. “There’s no need for that matter now, is there?”
“You two are friends now?” Rosalynne asked suspiciously.
“They do not get along?” Vivian asked.
“Oh, not all of the cuts on Marcellus’s face had been from this battle.”
“And, Ulric, had you fought at all?” Vivian asked.
Ulric scowled. “I… I arrived as soon as I could.” He glanced over his shoulder.
Rosalynne followed his gaze to see his militia halted a space away. Ulric motioned for them to leave, and they retreated back toward the castle.
“What matter is it that you speak of?” Vivian asked. “I feel as if I do not know everything.”
“I am confused as well,” Rosalynne admitted.
You all are a rather amusing lot, the dragon said. Can you not see? The war with the dragons is done. The war between Tenoch and Vincana is over, is it not?
“Yes,” all four said at once.
So the union between Rosalynne and Marcellus is no longer needed for peace. Tenoch Proper will be no more. The isles can be independent, although I am certain they would be very open to trade for whatever they might need. Would that not be simple?
“And for the best,” Rosalynne murmured.
“Vincana will be its own kingdom once again?” Marcellus asked.
“Indeed,” Rosalynne said. “And I do not mind allowing the islanders the choice to have their own sovereignty as well, if that is what they wish.”
You can ask most of the leaders in two days, the dragon said. That is when they will reach the castle.
“You know so much,” Vivian said with awe sparkling in her dark blue eyes. “Is that knowledge from being a dragon? You did not just know that as Olympia, did you?”
I am still Olympia, with all of my memories, and I have now turned into a dragon, and so, I do just know things. I know many things as both dragon and Olympia.’ She twisted her neck to stare at Ulric. ‘The reason for my amusement is this—none of you need to be unhappy. Vivian, you know your heart. Marcellus, you and yours. Rosalynne, you wish to marry Marcellus as much as he wishes to marry you, which is to say not at all, and you, Oldrich… I mean Ulric…
“Oldrich?” Rosalynne parroted.
Ulric Cooper. Oldrich Li. As I am Olympia and a dragon, so is he Ulric and Oldrich. Do not be upset. He never deceived you, never betrayed you, never not once. He on
ly ever learned who he was a few days ago. A week? I do not know. Time is a bit outside of me now.
“I do not understand,” Rosalynne said.
Ulric scowled at the dragon. “You had to go ahead, and… I might have told her!”
The dragon snorted. What did I tell you before? That I want you to marry Rosalynne? That you need to do more than hope for the best? That you need faith to believe you are worth, that your love is enough? It is enough, is it not, Rosalynne?
“Ulric… Should I call you Ulric or Oldrich?” Rosalynne asked.
Vivian burst out laughing. “Call him lover.”
Rosalynne glanced over to see her sister’s head resting on Marcellus’s upper chest. The prince was too tall for her to rest her head on his shoulder. She had not even seen the prince stand from being healed.
“I will not,” Rosalynne said hotly.
“So you deny loving me?” Ulric asked, coming to her, wrapping his arms around her.
“No, I could sooner deny myself,” she whispered. “Who is Olympia to you?”
“My sister. My twin. We were separated at birth.”
"So Jankin had not killed more children. It's terrible enough that he killed Bates." Rosalynne blinked back tears. "My ancestry has a lot of bloodshed."
“You only ever fought for peace.” He held up his hand, and she pressed hers against his. His fingers were longer, and their fingers entwined easily, as if as natural as drawing a breath.
“And Marcellus?” Rosalynne asked, twisting to face the other couple.
“I would have your sister’s hand, if she would have me,” Marcellus said, “but I suppose asking you first would not appease her, and I do not know her answer.”
“As if you think I do not love you,” Vivian said hotly.
“What I do know is that you have professed time and again that you no longer wish to rule.”
“Mayhap I only meant I did not wish to rule Tenoch,” Vivian said softly, “but will your people accept me?”
“You and I have spoken previously of you being of both Tenoch and Vincana. You—”
“None will oppose you,” Horatia spoke up.
Many of the Valkyries moved to stand behind her, nodding, showing their allegiance.
