The lump in her throat had returned, making it difficult for her to swallow, or even breathe. A tear slipped out of the corner of her eye and the King reached up and wiped it away with a touch that was much softer than she'd expected from such a grizzled man.
“When Royce first brought you to Dragonfell, I knew you were different. My advisors pitched a fit you wouldn't believe. 'You let a slave into the palace.' 'What will the people think?' All that rot. Fact of that matter is, I knew if Royce was bringing you into the Capital, there was a damn good reason.”
“Do you still think so, Your Grace?”
“I know so, Lady Tiadaria. I also know that you'll need to sleep on it to make your own decision. People like you and Royce keep their own council. I approve of that. I keep my own as well. Just don't think on it overlong.
You've driven the dogs back into their den, but that doesn't mean there won't be someone else at the gate tomorrow morning looking to destroy everything we've created.”
“I just need a little time, Your Grace.”
“Aye, child. I know.” He patted Wynn's hand, where her head had so recently rested. “You'll have time to mourn your loss. I'll see to that. Think about what I've said and think on it well. I need you and the Imperium needs you, if you're equal to the task.”
He vanished as quickly as he'd come, the curtain barely moving behind his swift exit. Tiadaria wondered if the King didn't have some sort of secret magic of his own.
Tiadaria knew in her heart that she'd accept his offer; that it was her destiny to fill the void that the Captain had left when he died. She hadn't been ready then, but she was ready now. Or at least, as ready as she was going to be. She wasn't expected to be perfect, but she wanted to do as good a job as she was capable of. For Wynn, for the Captain, and for the King, but most of all, for herself.
Her father had sold her into slavery, thinking only of the benefit it could bring him. To her own family, she'd only ever be worth a handful of gold and a couple beasts. The Captain had seen so much more in her, and he'd been right.
Tiadaria pushed her shoulders back, standing a little straighter, though there was no one in the alcove to see her. Her conversation with the King hadn't healed the awful hole in her heart. That space would always be reserved for Wynn, but now she knew how to best honor his memory. He'd always been proudest of her when she knew exactly what she wanted to do and set those plans in motion.
Now she had the biggest plan of all to set in motion. She was going to be the protector of the Imperium and all its people, and she couldn't imagine Wynn being more proud of her.
#
“What about Zarfensis?” Tionne asked as they fled through the night. The orange-black smudge of Dragonfell burning was fading into the distance behind them.
The even fields surrounding the capital had given way to rolling foothills and would soon become the treacherous paths and passes leading through the Dragonback Mountains.
“He's dead,” Nerillia said flatly, scanning the ridge ahead of them. “As we will be, if they catch up with us. We need to keep moving.”
“Where are we going?”
“The Warrens.”
“But if Zarfensis is dead, won't the Xarundi be, uh, less than happy to see us?”
“Unless I miss my guess, we won't need to worry about the Xarundi. I suspect the Swordmage took care of most of their warriors at Dragonfell and those remaining at the Warrens will have another matter to contend with.”
“Which is?”
“You'll see.”
They traveled all that night and most of the next day, stopping only for the briefest of moments to take water from springs or streams and then moving on. The Lamiad's eyes constantly scanned the trail, both before and behind, for any sign that they might be caught or pursued. It was so tense a journey that Tionne didn't realize how hungry she was until they stopped the next evening.
They were in a small mountain clearing high above Dragonfell. So high above that the city seemed to be little more than a dark smudge on the land below. It was the first time that Nerillia seemed to relax. She consulted the rising stars and mumbled something to herself before turning to Tionne.
“We can rest here, for a time,” she said.
“What are we going to do now?” Tionne asked, for the first time uncertain of her role in everything that had transpired.
In commune with the darker forces of the Quintessential Sphere, their success had seemed preordained. It was almost as if nothing could stop them. Now, huddled together for warmth at the top of a cold mountain, Tionne wasn't sure how things had gone so wrong, so fast. What she did know, what coursed through her like venom with every beat of her heart, was that she wanted Tiadaria dead. She wanted to make the Swordmage suffer and Tionne would relish every minute of it.
“We wait.”
No matter how she prodded Nerillia for information on what or who they were waiting for, the Lamiad refused to elaborate. She also refused to build a fire or allow Tionne to use her magic to summon a source of heat, so when the sun slipped below the horizon, what had been a bothersome annoyance became a threat to life and limb.
Fortunately, Tionne didn't have long to wait after the sun had slipped from the sky. The massive form of the white dragon backwinging for a landing answered Tionne's unasked question about who or what they were waiting for.
“You failed me,” the dragon snarled by way of greeting. He was broadcasting his anger so loudly that Tionne clutched her head in pain. “The humans still control the place of my birth.”
“My Lord,” Nerillia said with a bow. “It was neither I, nor Tionne, who failed you. In fact, we both acquitted ourselves of our roles in the plan without error. I brought you artifacts and power you needed to summon the lich and Tionne reanimated it and the wraiths.
The Xarundi are to blame for the collapse of your plan. It is they who have paid with their lives, unless I wildly miss my guess.”
Stryne snarled, tossing his head back and forth on his long neck. His wings rustled restlessly. Tionne had suspected Nerillia knew more than she was letting on. The dragon's behavior only reinforced that notion. After a few moments, Stryne regained his composure and lowered his head, turning one massive eye toward the Lamiad.
“You speak truth, Nerillia of the Lamiad. I will not punish my allies for the failure of their contemporaries. The Draconic Empire fell because they lacked the foresight to award the loyalty of their subjects. I will not commit the same sin.”
“I had hoped that you might see things that way, My Lord.” Nerillia motioned to Tionne. “How may we serve?”
Stryne settled back on his haunches, looping his great neck so that his chin rested on his chest. The huge wings moved idly and he remained in that position for so long that Tionne though he might have gone to sleep. After what seemed like an hour or more, he raised his head, looking first at Nerillia, then at Tionne.
“Dragonfell is lost, for now, at least. The Xarundi have failed me. Perhaps, however, some good can come of their failure. One cavern may be as good as another for the short term and it will fulfill the terms of our arrangement, Nerillia of the Lamiad.”
“Very good, My Lord.”
“I will allow you to ride on my back for this part of our travels.”
“Our thanks, My Lord.”
Stryne crouched down low on his forelegs, allowing Nerillia to climb up onto the soft skin between his wings. There were no ridges there, so when she offered a hand to Tionne to help her up onto the gigantic beast, she balked.
“I can't!” Tionne exclaimed. “We'll fall.”
Nerillia shot her a savage look.
“If you stay, you'll die. Don't anger him. He won't let us fall.”
The Lamiad thrust out her hand a second time, demanding Tionne's immediate compliance with her unspoken demand. Tionne was still unsure of her place and wondered if this weren't some complicated ruse for Stryne to get them high above the mountains and then drop them off onto the jagged peaks below.
Still, what were her options? She'd followed Nerillia this far. If she decided to turn back now, she'd be on her own again, and she didn't want that. Tionne had spent all of her life alone. The prospect of losing the kinship and closeness she felt with Nerillia was worse than the thought of dying. With a final moment of hesitation, Tionne grabbed the hand that Nerillia offered her and allowed the older woman to hoist her up onto the dragon's back.
True to his word, Stryne did not let them fall. His magic protected them from the cold and thin air that his powerful wings carried them through and prevented both her and Nerillia from falling from the wide shoulders where they crouched. Looking back on it later, Tionne wouldn't be able to say it was a comfortable way to travel, but it did get them to the Warrens in the span of a few hours, when going by foot would have taken weeks or months.
Tionne actually managed to fall asleep toward the end of the trip and was surprised and out of sorts when Nerillia awoke her with a gentle shake.
“Where are we,” she'd asked, her voice slow and groggy with sleep.
“Just outside the Warrens. Wake up and prepare yourself for battle.”
That simple warning forced Tionne's mind awake and she called useful cantrips and memorized spells to the front of her mind. If Nerillia thought they'd be in combat, there was probably a good reason for it. They slid off the dragon's back, landing on the hard, packed earth that surrounded the largest entrance to the Warrens.
It turned out that Nerillia was right. Almost as soon as the dragon had landed, young Xarundi streamed out of the cavern, armed with underdeveloped claws and spears. They tried to attack Stryne, but an ages old dragon was too powerful for even their massed numbers.
Between Nerillia's whips, Stryne's lightning, and Tionne's command of the Quintessential Sphere, the waves of Xarundi that belched forth from the Warrens were dispatched with deadly efficiency. It wasn't long before there were piles of Xarundi bodies scattered across the moonlit expanse of flat earth. At last, the stream of defenders came to an end and the trio stood in the midst of the carnage they had caused.
“Was that all of them?” Tionne asked. Though they'd killed many adolescent Xarundi, she wasn't at all convinced that all of the elders would have abandoned their young so readily.
“Doubtful,” Stryne said, poking his head into the entrance to the cavern. “The remainder most likely fled from another entrance. I sense no more in the immediate area.”
“Good,” Nerillia replied, writhing in almost sensual pleasure. “Then we can do what we came here to do.”
“Indeed, Oracle,” Stryne said. “You shall have your payment in full.”
Stryne lumbered down the corridor, his wings folded tightly against his back. It was an exceedingly tight fit and there were places where he used his magic and his breath to break open parts of the tunnel that were too narrow or too low for him to fit through. Tionne didn't enjoy the trip, constantly in fear of the dragon bringing down tons of rock and earth on top of them.
At last they reached a wide open cavern, with a narrow ledge of rock encircling it. A wide granite bridge crossed over to a center island where a huge cathedral stood, its windows flickering with subdued light.
“Behold,” Nerillia said to her softly. “The Cathedral of the Dyr. The ancient seat of power for the Xarundi Combine.”
Before Tionne could respond, Stryne leapt across the chasm, landing in the open area in front of the cathedral. The hair on the back of Tionne's neck stood on end as the dragon filled his massive lungs. The air seemed alive with lightning and a moment later, a concentrated blue-white bolt burst from Stryne.
The right hand side of the cathedral exploded in a splinters of wood and fragments of rock. It cascaded down the side of the building, falling into the abyss below. Another blast from the dragon ruined the left side of the ancient structure. A final blast obliterated most of the remaining structure. With a swipe of his powerful tail, Stryne knocked what remained of the building into the crevasse, leaving only a small pile of rubble in its wake.
As the last of the Xarundi's cathedral slipped into the darkness, Tionne felt a curious pull from the smoldering pile of rock that was left. Breaking away from Nerillia, she ran across the wide bridge to where the dragon was standing. She darted between his legs, climbing up onto the rocks and shattered timbers.
There was something here, calling to her. Begging her for help. She had to find it. Out of the corner of her eye, Tionne saw a blue-black glow from under a pile of rocks. She ran to the spot, hefting the jagged stones that cut into her palms, and tossing them away. After what seemed like a lifetime of backbreaking labor, she'd cleared a hole.
At the bottom of the hole were spiral stairs, bathed in the blue-black glow she'd seen from afar. Whatever was calling to her, was calling from down those stairs. Without waiting, or even considering the consequences, she bounded down the steps two at a time.
The nearer she got to the source of the light, the more insistent the call became. Tionne instinctively constructed mental barricades, keeping the seeping tendrils of dark thoughts at bay. Whatever was down here was powerful, but not so powerful that it would have its way with her. She could, and did, command it. It withdrew ever so slightly, still probing her defenses but finding no openings.
Tionne turned the last corner of the stairwell to find a simple stone pillar, upon which was perched the Dyr. The Rune of Death was what had been calling to her, begging for her help. It had tried to worm its way into her mind, but she'd been too wily for it, denying it entry into her head. It would do her bidding, not the other way around.
“Zarfensis was the Dyr's last rune holder,” Nerillia said, from behind her. “It has chosen you as a replacement.”
With a hesitant touch, Tionne reached out and caressed the rune. It was colder than anything she'd ever touched. Colder than the snow and ice of winter storms. When she touched it, it felt as if insects were crawling inside her head, seeking out weak places where they might burrow into her mind. She forced them out with a toss of her head. She'd need to remain on her guard as the keeper of the rune.
Tionne lifted a handful of the glowing blue dust that surrounded the rune. She let it sift through her fingers, falling back into the pile. It seemed that no one had gathered the dust for quite some time. Probably since Zarfensis had first been defeated by the Swordmage. Tionne had little gold and no possessions, but she was now richer than she'd ever imagined.
With the Dyr and an unlimited supply of runedust, she'd kill the Swordmage. The rune thrummed against her hand, signaling its approval of her thoughts. Not only would she kill Tiadaria, but she'd raise the corpse and make her lich serve the Dyr until it rotted away to dust.
A cold smile crept across Tionne's lips. She tore away the bottom half of her tunic, relishing in the cold touch of the rune's power against her bare flesh. She fashioned the cloth into a carryall of sorts, reverently tucking the rune into the hastily constructed bag. She gathered as much runedust as the pack would carry and lovingly filled the space around the rune, cushioning it from any outside force that might seek to influence it.
Tionne crafted some crude straps and carefully laid the pack across her shoulder. She could feel the gentle pulsing of the rune against her pack. Never before had she felt so accepted by anything or anyone. The rune was hers and it would remain hers forever. She turned to find Nerillia smiling at her.
“I told you that you'd find greatness with me, Tionne.” The Lamiad gestured toward the steps. “Now that you've found that which makes you whole, come and witness my ascension.”
Tionne followed Nerillia up out of the bowels of the Xarundi's rune chamber. Stryne was gone. When she asked Nerillia where he was, the Lamiad said she didn't know, but that it didn't matter. They'd be gone from the Warrens before dawn.
For hours, Tionne followed Nerilla through twists and turns in the corridors that had once belonged to the Xarundi. They came across few bodies and no living Chosen. Tionne supposed that Stryne was righ
t. They'd abandoned the Warrens when they realized that all was lost. Those that remained would be scattered to the corners of Solendrea to seek out whatever meager existence they could.
After what seemed like an incredibly long time, Nerillia lead her into a chamber that was almost as cold as the rune. Tionne's breath puffed out in little clouds of condensation. As they entered a flicking green light at the gentle of the chamber began pulsing brightly. It grew to such intensity that Tionne had to shield her eyes.
“What is that?”
“That, my dear Tionne, is the other half of my soul.”
When Nerillia spoke, the voice came from her mouth and from the light in the center of the chamber. The strange chorded sound of the voice was almost hypnotic, but Tionne forced herself to remain focused.
“I need you to release it,” Nerillia was saying. “Make me whole again, Tionne. Please. Make me whole and together we'll rule all of Solendrea.”
EPILOGUE
By the following morning, the streets of Dragonfell were returning to normal. Vendors were out setting up, or repairing, their stalls. A few children ran through the streets, calling to each other in voices that seemed too loud for the recovering city. In a few places, the remains of buildings still smoldered, but for the most part, things had been cleaned and patched. Dragonfell had lived through another nightmare and was embracing the sun that fell on its cobbled streets.
Tiadaria walked slowly down the market row, enduring the curious stares and whispers she usually received from people in the capital. Part of it, she knew, was due to the collar around her neck. The rest of it was because the stories of the battle in the palace cavern had been spreading like wildfire. She'd spoken briefly to Valyn, who told her that the King had been adding his own embellishments to what happened during the battle. Pretty soon the line between what had really happened and what the people thought had happened would be clouded in legend.
The Swordmage Trilogy Bundle, Volumes 1-3 Page 54
