by K.N. Lee
He just had to convince them of the truth of Amalia’s lineage, and see her crowned.
He landed, as did the other dragons. They had more than an army at their back.
They had an empire.
She slid down his back to the ground and turned to him as he shifted back into his human form.
Vidar and Sassa stood by his side, eager to gather their people for a grand exodus back to their ancestral home.
The time for hiding was at an end.
Amalia lowered her red cloak's hood and gazed toward the Weeping Mountain.
"How soon can we leave?" she asked.
Kylan lifted a brow, a half-smirk coming to his lips as he wrapped his arms around her waist. She smelled of the wild, having rode all the way from the desert back to Fjord astride his back. Nothing would ever tear them apart again. A dragon and his rider. He breathed in her scent, resting his chin on top of her head, her soft, black hair tickling his neck.
"We've only just arrived," he told her. "But, we will gather everyone and prepared to leave as quickly as possible.
She nodded, tilting her head backward to look up to him. Silver eyes reflected the sun's light as she gazed into his eyes.
"I know," she said, her brows knitting together. "I just feel compelled to leave this world behind. For so long our people have been kept from their home. I want to see everyone return and get settled."
Kylan kissed her forehead. "As do I. And, we will. We will take ships across the sea, and arrive within weeks."
"How so? Is it that close?"
Vidar stepped forward. "Not quite," he said, exchanging a glance with Kylan. "We know a secret route. It is the way our ancestors traveled from Kjos to Fjord many years ago."
"We call it the Dragon's Pass," Sassa said.
"Very well, then," Amalia said. "Show me Wregard. I'd very much like to see where you all grew up."
Sassa clasped a hand on Amalia's shoulder, and turned her away from Kylan and toward the gates that were now being opened by the Wregardians who guarded the village.
"This way, my queen," she said, and Amalia gave Kylan one last smile before heading inside with the others.
He watched them all file inside, making sure the new dragons were settled. After thinking the dragons the Brotherhood rode were nothing more than beasts, he was amazed to find that they were actually shifters just like he and his clan, and that they had as much of a claim to Kjos and the other orphaned races as he did.
With a heavy sigh, he raised his gaze to the darkening sky. Purples and oranges blended together across the blue above to welcome the setting of the sun.
"King Matsuharu will be pleased to hear you’ve retrieved the heir of the Erani Empire,” Heroki, the general of the Lordisburg army said, approaching as the other dark elves entered Wregard.
He was taller than Kylan, with thin, with sharp eyes as dark as his ash-colored skin. Long white hair was braided and pulled into a knot at the top of his head. He lifted a thick, white brow. “But, the loss of the cleric will not go so well. There hasn’t been a cleric with her power in ages.”
“I figured as much,” Kylan said. Amalia hadn’t taken the loss of poor Eiko well either.
There was little they could have done about the dark elf cleric. She’d been murdered before they’d arrived to rescue her and Amalia, and Kylan had been imprisoned. He just hoped King Matsuharu would understand that the blame did not lie on the dragons.
Their enemy was none other than a god—one that would be reborn—one that he had to discover how to stop for good.
The dark elves were allies, and he hoped it would remain that way. As far as Kylan was concerned, all outcasts of Kjos were welcome at that moment. They were a family, prepared to return to their birthright.
“The other dark elves will follow you to the gates,” Heroki said. “That will be the end of their journey as you defeat those who block your entrance.”
“Aye,” Kylan said. “Kjos is not their home. I wouldn’t expect them to risk their lives any more than they already have.”
Kylan raked his hand through his hair, the smell of coals wafting across the cool air from inside the gates. They already prepared a welcoming feast for their return home. There'd be roasted boar and pheasants, wine, and ale.
A true celebration.
Kylan just wasn't sure when to tell Amalia the truth.
The truth of the Dragon's Pass.
2
The dragons awaited.
Her people.
As she stepped inside the tall wooden gates, her heart thumped in her chest. Everyone was assembled, or left their cottages to stand in the streets. They watched her with looks that ranged from suspicion to awe.
A highly anticipated return. All Amalia could think of was her parents. Her mother and father would have been so proud of this moment. She had yet to get to Kjos and reclaim the Erani Empire. But, this moment was breathtaking.
Her throat went dry and she ran her hand over her wild hair that was wet with sweat and sticky from dirt and blood. With her red cloak and golden ax, she was certain she was a sight to behold.
“Welcome, your highness,” an elderly woman with a staff in her right hand and a gray gown apron worn over a linen underdress tied at the waist said.
“I am quite happy with being called Amalia,” she said, blushing.
“I am sure you are, your highness. But, you were born to rule as empress of all the Erani Empire. I will call you by your proper title, as will the rest of your people.” Her muddy, brown eyes searched Amalia's face, almost twinkling. "We have been waiting for you for so long. I never thought I'd live to say the day."
She touched Amalia’s face and smoothed her cold cheeks with soft, cold, fingers.
"Thank you," Amalia said, licking her lips from the dryness that began to tighten them. She needed food and water, but would wait until it was presented to her.
She nodded, a ghost of a smile coming to her lips. "I'm Jora," she said, with a slight bow of her head. “The village shaman. The Erani history and traditions have been passed down through my family since the dawn of time. I will summon the other tribes and prepare the ceremony for your crowning. Once we take you to your cottage, you’ll meet your maids, and you can rest.”
As Kylan stepped beside her, he took her hand, and gave it a tender squeeze.
“Aye,” Kylan said. “First, there are a few lads I’d like you to meet.”
She was grateful for his presence, and gave him a glance as four tall, burly men approached. Dressed in furs and pelts, with daggers at their belt clips, leather tunics and boots stuffed with linen pants, she assumed they were soldiers.
Dragon warriors.
"Meet your quad," Kylan said. "They will be your guards until the day you pass from this world to the next. During your crowning, you will receive the gifts of our people, the runes of of ancestors, and the key to the empire."
“I thought you were my protector,” Amalia said, lifting a brow.
He grinned, tucking a lock of her hair behind her ear. “Of course I will. We are bonded and fated to stay together for all eternity. But, these lads are your personal guard. Together, we will always protect you.”
Her eyes widened as she looked to the four men. After a breath in that filled her lungs with the cold air, she nodded to them, skeptical by the whole thing.
"Lovely to meet you," she said, straightening her shoulders and accepting the traditions of her people.
"Aye, your highness," one of them said, revealing a gap between his teeth as he smiled at her. "Name's Svein." With dark, golden hair and bright blue eyes, he had a youthful look about him that was marred by the scars on his face and hand that was wrapped around the hilt of his sword.
"Olaf," the next said, chewing a piece of dried meat as he stared at her with such an intensity that it made her uncomfortable. The tallest of them all, he had, long, dark hair and dark eyes.
"Sinley," the red-headed warrior said. He wore his hair in a braid that drap
ed over his shoulder and had blue paint across his cheeks.
"Tofi," the last said, his voice deep, and his shoulders broad and muscular. “At your service.”
He had brighter blond hair than even Aros, and reminded him of her. A bit too much. As he pushed his wild, waves from his face, she could barely meet his blue eyes. She swallowed, and looked away, back to Kylan.
These men were supposed to follow and protect her until death, and they all looked to be merely years older than her. Perhaps it was fitting that they were about the same age, since they were bound to be together for the rest of their lives. What a commitment to make to someone you’d only just met.
"This is all a bit overwhelming," she said.
“What is?” Kylan asked, genuinely perplexed by her statement.
The weight of everyone’s eyes and attention on her was stifling. Though the air was cool, sweat pooled between her breasts and beaded on her forehead. She wiped sweat away with the back of her hand.
She'd come from a small village in the neutral area of Skal, and never had any idea she'd be crowned as the empress of a nation, with personal servants and guards. It was all a bit much. But, as the sun began to set, and the candles and torches were lit, a wave of peace washed over her.
She would do whatever it took to honor the memory of her parents and grandparents, and ancestors before that.
“This,” she whispered as she turned to him, motioning to the four men standing at their side. “I wasn’t ready for all of this.”
He frowned. “You’ll never be truly ready, Amalia. But, this is the path set for us. It is the way home.”
She nodded, pursing her lips.
His face softened. “Do not worry. I know all of our customs are much different from what you’re used to. I will guide and teach you, and before you know it, you’ll be a seasoned professional at this whole ruling thing.”
Amalia cracked a smile. Somehow, he eased her worries and fears with little more than a few words and a stroking of her cheek.
“Come with me,” Jora said, turning toward the main building that towered over the smaller cottages lining the village. "I will show you to your cottage, and you can relax and bathe. I know the journey must have been hard, but the journey forward will be even more difficult."
Amalia followed her through the village, along a stone path that cut through the main square and crowds of dragon shifters and dark elves.
The torch lights lit the way as Jora led her across a wooden bridge that stretched over a bubbling brook. Kylan stayed behind, as chief of Wregard, while her quad of soldiers followed behind. The heavy door was held open for her as she and Jora reached the cottage.
Such warmth that nearly took her breath away, welcomed her as she entered the building. Her eyes went upward. As the tallest building in the village, there were several floors leading up the circular structure. A massive fire burned in the center, with its smoke filtered and puffing out of the top of the roof.
She took off her cloak, relieved to finally have some warmth after flying over snow and ice encrusted forests for days. She wouldn't complain. Anything was better than the awful, sun-scorched, desert they'd escaped from.
Inside awaited an entire staff of people lined up and prepared to meet her.
Amalia held onto her cloak, draped over her arm, and a young woman walked over to her and took it.
"I'll get this cleaned up for you, your highness," she said, her big, blue eyes sparkling under the orange light of the massive fire hearth.
Jora nodded to her. "That's Tullah," she said. "Jeszna and Eiode will also be your maids."
"Jeszna," she said, motioning for the short, redhead. "Please show your mistress to her room, and draw her a bath."
Amalia smiled back at the three maids, and glanced at Jora. "Thank you," she said. "For accepting me as one of your own."
Jora's eyes narrowed and she placed her hand on Amalia's shoulder. "Not all will be as accepting," she whispered, her eyes searching Amalia's. "You will have to prove yourself. Not all will believe you are who Kylan says you are. They do not have the intuition I have, and they will challenge you. Be ready."
Slowly, Amalia nodded, fully understanding Jora's meaning.
It was then that she knew the battle wasn't out there in the wilderness, or in Kjos.
No, it would begin right there.
3
After a long bath in the underground bathhouse, Amalia nearly fell asleep before supper was even served. Dressed in an indigo gown, with a dark, gray apron with a golden rope of jewels secured across the bosom, her hair was combed, oiled, and braided in the Wregardian style.
She didn't care much for how she looked. She was just grateful to be clean again.
She slipped on supple, leather boots and headed for the door. When she stepped outside, her four guards awaited her exit.
Their eyes lingered on her face, and then down the length of her new dress and back.
Cheeks reddening, she walked past them without a word, and headed toward the dining hall.
The the narrow, wooden hallway she went, and stood under the archway that led into the bright, main hall where several Wregardians awaited her arrival.
Heart thumping in her chest, she looked back at them as they quieted down from their loud, boisterous banter to stare at her the same way her quad had just done.
Kylan stood behind the table that overlooked all of the other long, rectangular ones that the guests would be seated at. For across the distance between them, she could see the look in his eyes.
It was one of pride, and adoration, and it brought a smile to her face.
And, with that, confidence grew in her heart. At that moment, no one else existed. Just her and Kylan. With shoulders pulled back, she strode into the room with the demeanor of a true empress, and her people felt her energy shift, and bowed as she passed by.
Once she reached the platform where Kylan stood behind their table, she joined him at his side. He took her hand, and together they sat down in their elaborate, wooden chairs, decorated with large, red and green jewels, and the others inside the dining hall followed suit.
Jora sat at a table on the lower level, and gave Amalia a nod of approval that made her smile widen.
She could do this.
She had no other choice, and no other desire to not fulfill her destiny. With a deep breath in, she looked down upon the dining hall, as the guests looked up to her and Kylan. She gave him a sidelong glance. They made a lovely pair, and she wouldn't want anyone else by her side on this journey.
Perhaps the gods did finally show favor on her. After all she'd been through, it was about time.
But, Jora's words settled heavily within her head. The journey was just beginning and nothing she'd dealt with in the past would be as hard as what the future held. Still, the future had such a bright and shiny treasure at the end that she couldn't wait to get her hands on. To finally have a home.
Tears burned her eyes as she thought of her mother and father. They'd been murdered just to hurt her. She would honor their memory, and tell them the tale once they met again in the afterlife.
"Evening, brothers and sisters of Wregard," Kylan said, his voice booming as he addressed the dining hall. Fires burned on pyres situated on either end of the tables, and in the corners of the room, as well as from a massive candelabra that hung from the ceiling.
Everyone turned their attention to him, and silence filled the room.
He stood once again, his hand on Amalia's shoulder. "True descendants of the great dragon. The people of Kjos. Citizens of the lost empire of Erani."
Amalia got chills at his words. As she looked down at them, she imagined life in Erani before the war, and how all of those people were the descendants of that once thriving nation.
They would thrive again.
Wine had been poured into everyone's chalice, and she drank a mighty gulp.
"I am pleased to introduce you to your master. Mistress of Erani. The last heir to our th
rone. Amalia."
A cheer rose from the crowd, and Amalia was relieved. She smiled at them and nodded her thanks. These weren't the people she'd have to convince. They were coming, and she wasn't sure what she'd do to prove herself.
"Now," he added. "Let's drink, eat, and be merry. Tomorrow, the great leaders of the last tribes will arrive, and we will welcome them as brothers. By year's end, we may very well be home."
That elicited an even louder roar of applause and cheers, as the men and women rose from their seats and lifted their drinks to Kylan and Amalia.
Kylan settled back in his seat, beside her, and drank from his glass. He looked to her, and gave a wink.
She giggled, drinking more as the food was served.
Giant platters of roasted pig, and lamb were set at the tables, covered in a rich sauce and surrounded by winter vegetables, potatoes. Baskets of hot, brown bread was placed on the tables as well, and everyone took to eating as musicians played drums and instruments that reminded Amalia of the wind whistling in through the golden fields of wheat back in Skal.
She ate her fill, and drank her share, and by the end of the night, her worries had been melted away.
Peace settled in her heart--peace that was shattered by the arrival of a young boy.
He ran past the tables filled with guests, and no one paid him any mind. No one but Amalia.
he went to Kylan, out of breath, and covered in dirt, and whispered something into his ear.
Kylan listened, his cheeks paling as he did so. He thanked the boy, and sent him away. For a moment, he didn't speak. He simply looked off into the distance, not really looking at anything, lost in his thoughts.
Amalia's stomach bubbled with worry, as she placed her hand on his. "What is it? What did the boy say?"
He looked to her, and exhaled.
"King Matsuharu is dead," he said, and Amalia's heart sank. "Lordisburg has been attacked."
"By who?"
Kylan didn't answer right away, and she leaned forward. "Tell me."
