A Kingdom Scorched

by Linn Tesli

  Kenith kicked his foot into the thick table leg and offered the elf a nod. Niila should not have said anything.

  ”Haiz,” the elf said, ignoring Niila’s outstretched hand. Instead, she placed two fingers on her lips, then made a sign in the air as the doors to the tavern swung open.

  Gaija sauntered inside. She met Kenith’s gaze and walked over.

  ”I thought I told you to return to the castle. One of the Êblazons informed me you stopped here. This is not the time, nor the place.”

  Haiz’s narrow eyes widened, and Gaija halted as the two elves became aware of each other. They stared at one another as though Niila and Kenith had ceased to exist.

  ”Haiz.” Niila broke the silence. ”It means wind, right? If you don’t mind me saying, it sounds unusual for a wild elf.”

  Haiz raised an eyebrow. ”I was born in Caradrea. I’ve been told there was a storm that night.”

  That made more sense. No pure-bred elf had been conceived in Elfen Lyconis for at least a century.

  Gaija knelt next to the table. ”It was a thunderstorm like nothing I had ever witnessed,” she said. “Gryphons squawked in the night, swirling through the racing cloud banks overhead, and the earth moved with undeniable persistence against the changes in the air.”

  The strange grimace on Haiz’s face was impossible to interpret. Her mouth was a straight line, and her cheekbones jutted out even more than they had before. She was Gaija’s daughter! Kenith stifled a laugh at the thought of the old shaman as a mother.

  Gaija leaned forward, and Haiz leaned away like a mirror image.

  ”I feel awful about Yirin,” Gaija mumbled. The tone in her voice was completely different from the way she usually exuded a hint of amusement—or judgment. There was a warmth in her otherwise raspy tone, which had been reserved for special people, or in this case, elves.

  Haiz inhaled sharply, angling sideways. ”It’s been more than seventeen years, mà mìn. Only now do you offer your condolences. Do you know how I found her?”

  ”I do. Birken was there when the Silverlings took her life. I tended to his wounds not long after.”

  ”He was there, yet he didn’t save her? I will have his head.”

  ”You’re a bit late for that,” Kenith blurted.

  Haiz’s lips contracted into a hint of a smile. ”Well, good.”

  Kenith remembered the stories of Yirin the Horse Mistress. It had to be her. He had heard all the tales of the elf who tried to save the free unicorns, and how a band of Silverlings slaughtered her. The elf had been extraordinarily brave, Kenith thought.

  Gaija cocked her head. ”I’m truly sorry. I know how much you loved her, but you’re not here about Yirin. Why have you ventured so far from home?”

  ”For the Prince of Fire, of course.” Haiz’s emerald-colored eyes twinkled.

  The elf was here for him. Kenith sucked in a breath, considering the options. This was a step in the right direction, was it not? They wanted to go to Elfen Lyconis, and now Elfen Lyconis had sort of come to find them instead.

  ”We should not talk here. Too many ears,” Gaija whispered.

  ”We?” Haiz tilted her head at the older elf.

  ”We are a team. I’m their guide through Lyconis.”

  ”But now the prince has me. No need for an old hag to join us.”

  Gaija rushed to her feet, pointing her finger at Haiz. ”Mind your tongue. I know them, and you do not.”

  Haiz angled her head and looked at Niila for the first time. ”Water and fire don’t play well together. It might be best if the fire born and I travel alone.”

  Kenith was inclined to agree. There was no way he could talk Niila out of it, however. He had certainly tried. Also, two elves would be better protection than just the one. He folded his arm over Niila’s shoulders. ”As Gaija said, we’re a team. We’ll all go together.”

  He could feel Niila’s breath slowing. Neither of them wanted to part from the other.

  ”If you insist. Though you will do well to remember that Elfen Lyconis is wild elf territory, my kin have waited a long time to meet the Prince of Fire. I’m not so sure about your companion, however. She reeks of the ocean, not to mention the pain her predecessor put us through.” Haiz wrinkled her nose, glaring at Niila.

  ”If you stay with us, you are subject to the same laws as any wild elf of our tribe. You will have to abide by our rules, not those of Ûnda. Are you prepared to do that?”

  Niila shrugged. ”If you stay loyal to Kenith, I think I know enough about your kin to stay this course.”

  Gaija grabbed a free chair, and rested her elbows on the table, knitting her fingers together. ”Why did they send you?” She smacked her lips. ”It makes no sense. Unless…” She cupped her hands around Haiz’s cheeks. ”They made you shaman!”

  ”Someone had to take your place.”

  ”They made a good choice, mô mìn.”

  ”It was the only choice, mà.” Haiz gently removed Gaija’s hands from her face.

  ”I suppose.”

  Kenith carefully nudged Niila to stand and took her arm, before leaving the tavern. The elves could figure out their differences without an audience.

  ”Let’s ride back to the castle,” Kenith said.

  ”Should we not wait for the others?”

  ”They clearly have some issues to sort out.”

  ”Haiz called you Prince of Fire.” Niila giggled.

  Kenith mounted his horse as the two elves strode through the doors with the Êblazon guards at their heels.

  ”The plan hasn’t changed, younglings. We are simply adding another travel companion.” Gaija winked.

  Haiz crossed her arms over her chest, rolling her eyes at her mother. ”I will meet you at the eastern docks.” She took a bow. ”Later, My Prince.”

  As Kenith and Niila rode towards the white castle, he felt a strange sense of calm come over him. The wild elf had resonated with something in him. It was like she saw him, all of him, and she approved. It would make it a lot easier to ally with the elves if they all felt like Haiz. Perhaps returning to Lycobris would turn out to be better than he had first imagined.

  He looked ahead. Niila’s sandy-colored hair bounced in the wind, her slender form rising and falling in beat with the horse’s movements. The elf had not approved of her, and it was likely other elves would feel the same, considering Haiz’s position in their society. Niila was going to stand out like fire on snow.

  No, it wasn’t going to be easy. Not at all.

  13

  FIRE AND ASH

  - Zarcos -

  The Vulkan throne hall was surprisingly spacious, and the pungent smell of soot and hot stone invaded Zarcos’s nostrils. There were no dragons in the throne hall, but the ceiling of stone stretched out far above his head, and there would be plenty of room for a couple of dragons to circle the air with comfort. He adjusted his hawk-eye vision and found two vast plateaus overhead where winged creatures would be able to rest. It would make great vantage points. The hall had once been built especially for housing dragons.

  “My Lord.” Zarcos bowed, turning his gaze on Lord Hadeth. “I have come to offer my support and allegiance.”

  Lord Hadeth was gnawing on an ox bone. The meat hung off it in big chunks. The Vulkan hall was steaming, but the heat didn’t bother Zarcos as much as it had only weeks before. It was comforting more than anything else.

  “I already have an army.” Hadeth licked his mouth, inviting Zarcos to step closer with a wave of his hand.

  “I’m sure the news of the new High Queen has reached you by now.”

  “Êvina is not my concern.”

  “Lycobris is, though.”

  Hadeth slurped on the remnants of the bone, then tossed it at one of his servants. The young Lycobrian boy winced but stayed where he was.

  “Out with it then, Silverling.” Heavy lids drooped over Hadeth’s copper-colored eyes.

  “The one who claims himself the new King of Fire will surely attack yo
ur position. The Elementals aim to take all of Aradria as their own.”

  “Wine,” Hadeth growled. His golden crown sat deep in his raven hair. The servant boy scurried over to a rise of stone to retrieve a golden chalice and a mug of wine. He filled the chalice to the brim, presenting it to Hadeth. “I have already put a bounty on this so-called Prince of Fire’s head. If he dares to show his face in my land, I will have his head on a slab of stone before anyone can even whisper his name.”

  “I’m sure you will. In either case, I want to offer myself, along with my Silverling army, to defend Lycobris.”

  Hadeth slid his tongue over his yellowed front teeth, no doubt attempting to dig out any food stuck between them. “And in return?”

  “We join forces. With Lycobris and Caradrea under both our protection, the Elementals won’t stand a chance. Also, there’s another matter I might be able to help you with. Perhaps a more pressing one?”

  An agonizing screech boomed through the hall of stone as if in response to Zarcos’s words.

  “You mean that winged bastard nesting in the heart of my mountain?” Hadeth gulped back his wine, a streak of red seeping down his chin.

  “I would very much like to meet him.” Zarcos wanted to do what? He had no desire to do such a thing. Or did he? It was like his thoughts were at war with one another—as if they were not his own. Facing the dragon was inevitable suicide. Why in Aradria would he say such a thing?

  Hadeth coughed, nearly choking on his wine. “Sure. If you don’t become a pile of ash, we can continue our talk in the morning.”

  “I appreciate it.” Zarcos clasped a hand behind his neck, massaging the growing knots.

  “If you can control that beast, I believe we can come to an understanding.” He shook his glass at the servant boy, who quickly refilled it. “You may stay in my halls. Don’t mind the guards I’ll have trailing you. You understand the precaution.”

  Zarcos inclined his head. He understood well. If the tables were turned, he would have Hadeth behind bars at night and heavily guarded every second of the day. The Vaexennas were not like his soldiers, though. The Zila’r-nath would not be as easily fooled as Hadeth’s men. The reigning Lord of Lycobris was a necessary means to an end.

  The shrieks from the dragon intensified as Zarcos made his way through the narrow hallways of Vulkan Mountain. The uneven walls leaned over him, the spikes too close for more than a couple of men to walk beside one another. He wanted to run, yet his feet moved forward, and the desire to meet the dragon overpowered his feral instincts. An unmistakable stench of sulfur and ash filled the space as a puff of smoke traveled toward him. The Vaexennas halted. They had no intention of following Zarcos into the dragon’s den. Just as well. Zarcos smiled to himself. A bubbling sensation of expectation and thrill coiled through his torso. The Nhèoryn shimmered in the gloomy hall, scorching his skin as if on fire. He ignored the pain.

  The hall opened up into what looked like a massive cave. A river of sizzling lava stretched out into a giant orange pool the size of a village. Zarcos lifted his gaze. A crescent moon shed light around the circular opening far above. A shadow moved on the walls, and Zarcos jumped back as the head of the dragon emerged from the lava. The muscles bulged around his neck, and his red scales glimmered from the touch of the moonlight. His wings folded out over the surface, roughly the size of twenty men from tip to tip, drops of lava dripping down. The dragon’s maw opened as he pushed himself back to the other side — only the hint of a flame formed at the base of the dragon’s mouth. Deep crimson eyes flickered before they settled on Zarcos.

  The Silverling wanted to run, but the voice in his head told him to stay.

  He will know us, the voice whispered.

  It truly was madness. Zarcos knew that no matter how skilled he was with a blade, he could not match the creature in front of him.

  I’m a fire born, like him, the voice continued.

  Zarcos opened his mouth to speak. “My name is Zarcos. I have come to beg your forgiveness,” he said, as if his voice wasn’t his own. The words spilled out, and he had no control over what he was saying.

  “I have slept for too long to remember,” the dragon’s deep voice thundered. “How is it that someone who has lived for but a few winters thinks I have anything to forgive.”

  Zarcos needed to run. He wanted to flee and never look back. His body, however, would not let him. The voice in his mind shouted at him to stand his ground, and Zarcos was compelled to listen. “I’m fire born,” Zarcos said. The words trickled out of him, yet his voice was unfamiliar.

  The dragon wrung his neck, moving closer. His nostrils flared as he sniffed Zarcos. “You do smell of fire,” he said.

  Zarcos squared his shoulders. “I’m fire—reborn.”

  “Vaedex?” The dragon’s eyes narrowed, and a puff of smoke shot out of his nostrils, enveloping Zarcos in its hold.

  “Yes,” Zarcos said, his voice resembling the hiss of a snake.

  “Then you are right. I have much to forgive. What makes you think you have earned my forgiveness?”

  “What was done to you was wrong. I know that. Vaedex died because of it. However, as much as I am him, I’m not. We share the same spirit, not the sins. Even so, I feel it is my burden to bear, and I must ask you to look beyond the wrongs of my former self.”

  The smoke whipped up as the dragon bounded from the burning river, lava pelting down on the sizzling surface below. He circled the space and landed heavily behind Zarcos, blocking the exit.

  “Your sin was too great.” The deep voice of the dragon filled the air.

  What now? Zarcos stepped back toward his certain death. He could not survive either doom. What in Aradria had he been thinking coming down here? The heat inside him built, pulsating through his veins. It was unbearable and, for the first time in his life, he longed for the otherworld. Until nothing. It was as if Zarcos had disappeared into a void inside himself, the blackness total. He yelled against the nothingness, his voice but a whisper fading into exhaustion.

  - Archenon -

  Archenon stretched his new arms. They were surprisingly stronger than his previous ones. It took real terror to bring Zarcos into the Nhèoryn. It was only when the Silverling had no other place to run that he chose to retreat, allowing Archenon to take Zarcos’s body as his new vessel. Much more comfortable, Archenon thought. He blinked, testing his new hawk-eye vision. Everything looked bigger. He could zoom in and out at will, courtesy of a well-known Silverling attribute. It was one thing to know about their extraordinary power of vision; it was quite another to be able to see it with one’s own eyes—even if they were only borrowed. Not that Zarcos would ever get the chance to flex his muscles like this ever again. It was exhilarating.

  Archenon set his gaze on the magnificent creature in front of him.

  “Fyrax, my friend. I have a proposition for you. One that will give us back our former glory, one of companionship and power to share.”

  The ruby dragon slanted his head, staring at Archenon with wild eyes. “You wish to reforge our bond? Vaedex thought that was dangerous, that I was too far gone, crazed and maddened.” His tone was laden with disgust and, perhaps, even remorse.

  “As I said, I’m not him. Besides, we might need a little madness if we are to face what is coming.”

  The dragon stepped closer. His heavy footsteps sent a series of thrilling shocks through Archenon’s new shell. Scents of soot and embers intensified. Fyrax’s tongue stuck out, grazing Archenon’s cheek. A quiet purr rolled through the dragon’s throat as his forefoot pulled Archenon into an embrace, his hard scales scratching against Archenon’s silver-tinted skin. “My king,” the dragon said.

  ”It’s time, my friend.” Archenon smiled. ”It is time for us to become better than we have ever been. Lycobris will prosper under our rule, and we will be a beacon in the sky for our subjects. They will love us and fear us just the same.”

  ”Finally.” Fyrax puffed a blast of smoke from his nostrils. ”
I thought you would never ask.”

  The dragon rose from the pit of lava, his talons crushing into the stone walls as he climbed until he was hanging from the wall above Archenon’s head.

  ”Watch it,” Archenon said, sidestepping to avoid the large droplets of lava falling from Fyrax’s wings.

  The dragon chuckled and dropped down in front of the gaping passageway behind them.

  ”It would not hurt you any more than it hurts me,” he rumbled.

  ”My clothes are not fireproof.” Archenon patted down the embers on his sleeve. ”Shall we begin?”

  Fyrax bent his head down, his giant nostrils almost touching Archenon’s feet. Bright orange eyes stared at him. ”If you betray me again, Aradria will burn, and I will take your life.”

  Archenon believed every word. He placed his palm over the dragon’s snout. ”We are going to be together for eternity. You and me—we are one.”

  ”Then do it.”

  Archenon closed his eyes, allowing the fire that still lived inside to rush through his veins. His body lit up like a small inferno, the flames licking out to wrap themselves around the dragon. The entire cave became like a hearth filled with embers and a blazing fire, consuming them both. Fyrax roared, sending a burst of fire and smoke into the already burning space. The lava rose from the pit, bursting through the mouth of Vulkan Mountain and into the night.

  Then the fire stilled as quickly as it had come. Archenon fell onto the dragon’s chest and could almost feel their bodies melting together.

  ”You need new clothes.” The dragon snickered.

  ”Who cares about clothes?”

  ”We are one,” Fyrax boomed.

  ”We are one,” Archenon replied.

  They would still be different entities, but they would forever be bound to one another. It was a risk, but it would give Archenon more strength than he had ever known. Archenon grinned, backing slowly out of the embrace. He held his hand on Fyrax’s scales as he walked around him, finally climbing up on his femur and flinging himself onto the dragon’s back. ”Now, we fly.”