A Kingdom Scorched

by Linn Tesli

  Archenon gave a short bow and disappeared outside. He could not hurt a fly unless commanded by her.

  “Go on,” Ayva said.

  Gaija’s furrowed face wrinkled together as a crooked smile spread out on her lips.

  “Thank you, Your Highness. I think it best that I start at the beginning. There’s hardly anyone who remembers as far back when there were dragons in our world. I do, however.” The chair legs screamed with agony against the marble floor as the shaman pushed her chair back with her bottom, placing her palms on the table.

  “In the Old Age, there were dragons, but there were only five worth remembering. In this new age, the second coming is upon us. I have waited a long time for the dragons to return.”

  “Why are they back?” Miro asked. The constant pull in the air around him had never been as visible to Ayva as it was now. A light breeze traveled away from him as if Miro’s element wanted to chill the room in the face of the incessant warmth rolling off Kenith.

  “We’ll get to that.” Gaija closed her eyes. She opened them, and her sockets were a haze of grey. “At the beginning of dragons, they lived free. Until the first rulers of the Elements were made. The dragons were few but feared and hunted. To appease the winged creatures, as well as protect the peoples of Aradria, the Elementals and the dragons forged an alliance with the lands. Bound in forceful spirits—one bloodline carries them all. Each Elemental Ruler of Old had a winged companion, a champion of their powers, a beacon of their given lands. To each land, there was one dragon who shared with the Elemental ruler of that land the same affinity for its given element. Such was the prize of their allegiance, and for a time, it was a peaceful one.”

  “Then what happened?” Thyri asked.

  “The ruby dragon, Fyrax, went rogue. A sickness of the mind. He had to be stopped, and so the Elementals forced his spirit into a vessel, placing all the dragons under the same spell.” Her eyes twinkled with delight as they once again turned crimson.

  “What vessel?” Ayva asked.

  Gaija leaned forward, her eyes set on Ayva’s. “Your grandfather, Pyralis.”

  “What? Was he not truly a wizard then?”

  “Oh, yes, that he was. But with the dragon in him, he became so much more. The fire burned within him almost as strongly as I assume it burns within the future King of Fire.” She raised her chin toward Kenith. He didn’t move, and Gaija turned back to Ayva.

  “When you killed Pyralis, the dragon had one step out of his sleep. But what Pyralis had done was clever. I didn’t realize the repercussions until Archenon stole the High throne.”

  Ayva’s eyes watered. “Clever how?”

  “First, no one thought Pyralis would father a child. When he did, he split Fyrax’s spirit between himself and Archenon. It took Fyrax some time to wake from his very long slumber after Archenon’s demise, but he’s wide awake now! Little did Pyralis know of what the dragon’s spirit would do to his son before it was too late. Though he inherited magic from his father, Fyrax was the real source of Archenon’s vast powers.”

  Thyri held her palms up. “But, wait. If Fyrax is awake, what of the others?”

  Gaija wiggled her eyebrows. “I assume it won’t be long before they awake as well.”

  Kenith turned, his face glowing. “Fyrax... I can sense him, but the connection feels broken somehow, like there’s some interference.”

  “There would be, as the old King of Fire severed their bond.”

  The room stilled as everyone took their time processing this new information. Dragons were real, and they were waking up. Not only that, but these dragons were connected to them all.

  ”Could you tell us more about them?” Niila asked.

  ”As I said, the five elemental dragons are the only ones worth remembering by name: The pearl dragon of Ûnda, Jormundra, the emerald dragon of Sonûdor, Lyndora, the Azurite dragon of Caradrea, Ormhug, the ruby dragon of Lycobris, Fyrax, and finally, the most revered of them all, the sapphire dragon, Sesha of Èvina.” Gaija took a breath.

  Ayva’s mouth fell open, and she quickly shut it. Sesha! The truth hit her in the gut as a part of her recognized the name.

  Gaija continued, “I saw this future, but what I didn’t account for was what you decided to do with Archenon’s spirit. As long as he’s bound to the Nhêoryn, so is Fyrax. The Nhèoryn will weaken the ruby dragon, but it’s not strong enough to keep him from torching the entire world if he wants. Also, he’ll never stop searching for the missing piece of his existence, even if he has no idea where it is or how it got there.”

  “How do we stop him?” Niila asked.

  Kenith lifted his head. His thick raven hair framed his cheekbones. “I will. I’ll travel to Lycobris and seek Fyrax out. Then perhaps, together, we stand a chance of taking our land back.”

  “How do you know he will listen?” Niila shook her head. She turned to Gaija. “Did you not say the dragon was mad?”

  Gaija shrugged.

  Kenith scoffed and put his fists on the table. “We’re not so different, him and I. I have to try.”

  It was a dangerous path, but they all knew they would have to part ways at some point. The task Mother Nature had given them wasn’t complete. Not even close. A mad dragon had to be dealt with, but it should be up to Kenith to try to find a way to deal with Fyrax before they might start searching for other options. Ayva let out a breath. She didn’t want to consider the options, though if it came down to it, she had to protect Aradria—at any cost or means necessary. She glanced at Kenith. Even if that cost would lose her a friend.

  “You’re going to need help. You can’t simply walk into Vulkan Mountain on your own.” Ayva walked over to Kenith. The heat didn’t bother her.

  Gaija tutted. ”You’ll not find many allies in the Land of Fire, though I do know those who wish to side with you under the promise of a new regime. A rightful regime, and a fire born leader.”

  “Who?” Kenith pulled away from Ayva’s touch, approaching the shaman.

  “The wild elves will join your cause. I’m sure of it!”

  The wild elves were a mystery to Ayva. Their reputation had certainly been damaged since Archenon took the throne, and though they had stayed clear of his madness, nor had they tried to help. On the other hand, a part of Ayva was elven, and they were her kin. If Gaija believed they would accept Kenith, they had to try.

  “It’s settled then,” Ayva said. “Kenith will leave for Elfen Lyconis. However, I don’t wish for him to go alone, and I’m not sure how to get him there safely.” Her gaze traveled over the assemblage. “I have received word that there’s a bounty on Kenith. It’s not going to be safe for him to travel anywhere near Lycobris, though it is the path he must take.”

  Niila held a hand in front of her mouth, her eyes glued to Kenith.

  “I’ll find a way,” Kenith said.

  Thyri cleared her throat. “I’m sorry Kenith, but my people are waiting for their queen to return. They have already begun preparing for the coronation. My place is in Sonûdor, and you can’t reclaim your throne before I sit on mine. Mother Nature said it was paramount.”

  “I remember.” Kenith blew out his cheeks and slumped down on a free seat.

  Niila stood and walked around the table to kneel beside Kenith, the sweat immediately running on her forehead as she took his hand. “I’ll walk with you to the ends of Aradria if necessary.”

  Kenith sighed and stroked back a lock of hair behind her ear. He angled his chin at Miro.

  “Like you have to ask.” Miro grinned.

  “Actually,” Ayva said. “I want you to go to Sonûdor with Thyri as I’m unable to attend the ceremony. It’s only right that one of us is there to support Thyri’s ascent to the Throne of Earth, and she’ll need someone she trusts to help her get settled into her new role. I should know.”

  Miro sat back in his chair as the air escaped his lungs. “As you wish.”

  “And you?” Kenith turned to Ayva. “You’re staying here?”

/>   “My mother is still too weak, and she needs my help with the baby. I’m not about to leave him to the maids. He’s my brother, not to mention he’s a child unheard of. I don’t dare leave a half-breed to the scrutiny of strangers.”

  The cracking sound of Gaija stretching her neck issued through the room. “I’ll escort you as far as Elfen Lyconis, but then I have business elsewhere.”

  Of course she did. Ayva fought the urge to shake her head and roll her eyes. Kenith and Niila would be much safer with Gaija by their side. All she could do was accept the offer.

  “Then all that remains is to figure out how to get the three of you to the wild elves without Kenith getting captured… or worse.” A pit of worry grew in Ayva’s heart. They had only recently taken back Êvina and they were all recovering, and now she was sending them back out to fend for themselves. However, she could not leave. Not now, not without knowing more about her brother. Moreover, if she was the only one not affected by whatever powers he possessed, she might also be the only one who could help him.

  Gaija stretched her arms over her head. “I might have an idea as to how we can get there unseen, though it will take me at least a week or two to arrange. If Your Majesty can make sure we have a ship ready in about a couple of weeks from now, that should provide me with enough time.”

  “Two weeks, and we will part ways. Spend your time wisely, my friends.” Ayva stood.

  Miro caught her gaze. His kind eyes always managed to soothe her. Now, knowing he would leave along with the rest of them, it wasn’t as comforting as it used to be. She could only hope they would all stay safe.

  9

  A HISTORY OF EARTH

  - Sol -

  The sweet autumn chill signified that winter was approaching fast. Sol inhaled the ashen smell of the chasm that autumn rain and winter cold would soon douse to replace with a more refreshing scent. It would be good for her people to move on, even when she could not. She clasped her hands in her lap and looked up.

  Ondox swooped down overhead, landing solidly on the Eye before her. He had returned much too soon. Sol squared her shoulders. There were no signs of anyone else having arrived along with the griffin. A cove of darkness formed in Sol’s core and she narrowed her eyes at the griffin.

  ”I hope you have good news for me, though I see you have come alone.”

  The griffin bowed his head at her. ”Everine says to tell you that she’s not coming back but that you’re always welcome to visit, and that she still considers you a friend. She could not leave one child for the other, though she sends her best.”

  The anger rising in Sol burned like fire in her bones. ”Friend? Her best? What friend has she ever been to me? Her interests were never for the Earthlings or me. It was always for that bastard anomaly she claims as her daughter.” Sol leaped to her feet. “You did what you could, but make no mistake, I expect you and your kin to keep your fealty with Bermunnos before anything else.”

  “We made a deal with the Earthling council on the day you gave us a new nest. Even though the council is now only made up of one person, we griffins never break our word.”

  Everine was his friend. Ondox was a griffin, however, and his word would have to be good enough.

  “Very well.” Sol waved the griffin off. “Leave me. Now.”

  Ondox spread his wings, shading the council seats in the process. He squawked and bounced to the sky to join with his kin on top of the mountain. It was good that the griffins knew their place. Besides, none of it was their fault. It was Everine’s. For the past seventeen years, all that had gone wrong had been her fault.

  Sol was fuming. Everine’s decisions had never led to anything but death and destruction for the Earthlings, and now she defied Sol’s more than friendly invitation to return to the Chasm that had given her and Ayva shelter for sixteen years. A home Everine had abandoned in a time when it needed to mend, not divide. Everything that human had done had led to the loss of too many Earthlings to count. And for what? In spite of everything, Sol had even extended her hand, yet Everine had spat in her face.

  No more.

  The linger of an old whisper in her mind pushed its way to the forefront. The familiar voice had been there since before the Fall, though it had been dormant ever since the Heartless King took the throne. The voice told her what she had refused to believe since Georganna passed: the Elementals were nothing but a burden to the Earthlings. At least with Archenon on the throne, they had been left alone—until Everine showed up.

  One way or the other, Sol would bring Birken’s pup home. Something was unleashed inside as Sol once again embraced her darker nature, the one that had once overthrown the Queen of Earth. The side of Sol that she had tucked away because of Ragnar and her people. It was time to reconnect with her old self. It was a long time ago, but the memory was as clear in her mind as if it had all happened only yesterday.

  Her thoughts took her back to the last moments of Queen Georganna’s life.

  “Someone has to do something!” The Jotter Nimry scowled at the assemblage. There were so many that had gathered in the western Earthling village that Sol could not count them. It looked like half of Sonûdor had shown up at her doorstep, though there was not one Woodling in sight. The village was buzzing with discontent. Some of the Caradrean merchants had brought small children along for what must have been a rough journey. They wore tattered clothes, and the odor was borderline sickening.

  Sol rose from her seat at the end of the long table of granite. In the western village, she was in charge.

  “Calm down.” She waved the flat of her hands in a downward motion. The voices stilled, and all eyes turned to her. “I wish to hear your pleas, but I cannot do so if you’re all speaking at once. Now, Nimry, would you please tell us your concerns?”

  Nimry jutted out his chest. “Certainly.” His deep voice had the tone of stones falling into a crevasse. “My men and I have not been able to make a profit from any of our wares for the past couple of years. The Lycobrian merchants say the taxes are so high they can no longer afford to pay what we charge. Also, we can’t keep trading for rocks. I have been to the Mother Tree to ask Georganna to reason with the other monarchs. She dismissed me.”

  The murmurs started again. More quietly, but the nods and words of agreements could not be overlooked.

  “That was wrong of her, Nimry.” Sol turned to the rest of the assemblage. “How many of you have been to see my sister?”

  Hands were raised throughout. There were almost as many hands as there were attendants. She sighed, bracing herself for her next question. “And how many of you feel as Nimry does, that you have not been heard.”

  Every single hand that had previously been raised stayed elevated.

  An Earthling stood amid the assemblage. He pushed his way through the crowd with a gentle pat of his hand. Only a couple of strides remained before he would have been close enough to touch Sol. The Earthling bowed, then kneeled before her.

  Sol mused. There was something about this Earthling. His frame was proud, with broad shoulders and hair like gold. His forearms were covered in golden hoops, matching the ornaments around his neck as well as the ones tying his golden braids together at his back.

  “Rise, please. I’m no queen.”

  His face lifted, his eyes catching her gaze as he stood. “Name is Ragnar. I speak on behalf of the eastern village.”

  Ragnar. Sol knew him by name, though this was their first encounter. He had not been a chieftain for more than a few moons, a charge given to him by a democratic vote after the previous chieftain had died. Being chosen to lead meant that the easterners put much faith in this Earthling.

  Sol tilted her head. “Then, please, speak your case.”

  “The easterners wish to form an independent faction, a state if you will. Though we do not wish to do so alone. We were hoping that the westerners might be inclined to join us. We are, after all, one people.”

  That was a call to action Sol had not considered. “I’m in
trigued to hear more, though I don’t see how this is supposed to come about. Besides, it sounds like a matter more suited for a different kind of meeting than this one.”

  “Oh, but this is exactly right.” Ragnar’s eyes shone with delight. “It’s our stance that we do not wish to keep fighting the monarchs, or the laws of man. We have the resources to become our own. All we want is for you and me to bring this matter to Georganna. We were hoping that your voice might persuade her.”

  They were so wrong. Georganna was queen, and Sol’s sister, but she had always been queen first, sister second. Something like this might be seen as a threat to the balance the monarchs were tasked to behold. Still, to be severed from the kingdoms, to become an entirely independent state, made Sol practically quivered with hope. She would no longer have to live in Georganna’s shadow if this were to transpire.

  “Even if the westerners decided to accommodate you on your proposal, I have an obligation to help with everyone’s concerns. I’m second in command in Sonûdor, and they are all my responsibility.”

  The crowd cheered. The Jotters banged their fists on the long table, and the Huldarins at the end were giggling for the first time that night.

  “Of course,” Ragnar said. “Then allow me to be of assistance, any way I can.”

  “I do not yet know what we will need.”

  A couple of Beavarians that had sat quietly on a jut of stone now stood. As small as they were, the stone lifted them above the crowd, demanding attention.

  “Yes,” Sol said, turning towards them.

  The smaller Beavarian put his little paws against his sides. “We have been talking, and we have only one thing to say…” The two Beavarians looked at each other, then shouted out in unison, “Sol for queen.”

  “Sol for queen,” the crowd repeated. The words multiplied by the hundreds. It was so loud that Sol feared it could be heard all the way to Georganna’s throne of roots.

  She waved her hands again to make them still. It took longer this time, but eventually, the crowd grew silent once more.