The darker woman nodded. “Your determination is good to see. You will do well in your place in life. I will grant you a senior mage and four other mages for a total of five. My understanding is that Sadira is quite strong and I will not have her hurting any of my mages.” She smiled, her white teeth brilliant in her dark face. “I get the feeling this is not the only thing you are requesting.”
Kalila shook her head. “No, it isn’t. I want to take some Defenders with me. I will be facing a lot of resistance from higher nobles in Markene, maybe even from some of the people. Sadly, I won’t be able to fully trust the soldiers in Markene.”
Dhovara shook her head. “That may not be possible. Bringing foreign soldiers into the nation you plan to rule may cause more problems. It will certainly upset the nobles.”
“Putting me on the throne will do no good if someone slits my throat in my sleep.”
The Mage Councilor frowned. “You may have a point. I will speak with Hemmen Warrick about it. As the leader of the Defenders, it will be his decision whether or not to send his soldiers there. I am sure he will consult with Bardeck and Emallya on the matter. Is there anything else?”
Kalila nodded. “I know very little of running a nation. That training was reserved for my brother. I ask for an advisor that is well-versed in such things. I don’t intend to run Markene into the ground while I muddle through a bunch of mistakes.”
A smile spread across Dhovara’s face. “You were indeed a good choice. Already you recognize your weaknesses and reach out for help. You will have your advisor. Perhaps Tarik will be able to suggest a good person for such a task. Who better to ask than the governor of Galdrilene?” She pulled a few sheets of paper over in front of her. “I will pen the messages to Hemmen and Tarik and send them immediately.”
Kalila concealed her relief. She wouldn’t be headed into this alone and she wouldn’t make some grave mistake and ruin Markene. “Thank you, Mage Councilor.”
Dhovara glanced up from writing. “You are most welcome. Kellinar leaves in two days. I suggest you take that time to gather anything else you need and prepare yourself. As you said, you will be the first woman to take the throne of Markene in the history of the nation. You will be walking into a lion’s den. Make sure you are ready.”
Kellinar buckled the safety straps across his thighs and glanced over his shoulder at Kalila. “Are you set? Make sure you have the straps tight.”
“Trust me, they are as tight as I can make them. I may have cut off the blood flow to my legs.”
He heard the nervous tremor in her voice. “I promise Shryden will fly nice and easy. There is nothing to be afraid of.”
A shaky laugh floated over his shoulder. “That’s easy for you to say.”
Kellinar smiled and looked at Anevay. She stood on the inner terrace. He couldn’t help feeling relief that she was staying here for now. He waved at her as Shryden gathered himself to take off.
The dragon took off as slowly and smoothly as possible. Even so, Kalila grabbed him around the waist and clung so tight he almost had trouble breathing. Her face was buried against his back, and he had a feeling she was determined not to look until they were on the ground again.
The blue climbed to a high altitude before the picture of Markene formed in the dragon’s mind. Thankfully, Emallya had returned from Boromar in time to provide it. Others had seen the city, including Kalila, but getting a clear picture from them was nearly impossible for the dragon. Dragons easily passed images between each other and got images from their riders. But when it involved non-riders, they needed someone with Spirit magic to handle that kind of thing.
The Mage Councilor of the Tower of Spirit could have tried to transfer an image from Kalila to Shryden, but the process was uncertain. Emallya’s powers were so much stronger that it made things more exact. Kellinar wasn’t sure he would have trusted anything less when it came to Sliding. He didn’t want Shryden to get lost in a fold.
The Slide opened and pulled them in. Behind him Kalila groaned and tightened her grip. The swirl of colors lasted only a moment and then they were over Markene. The castle, built on a natural rise, stood in the center of the fortified city on the banks of the massive Galdar River.
He turned his head and shouted over the wind, “Where do you want Shryden to land?”
She yelled something he didn’t hear.
“What?”
The wind whipped her answer away again but he caught some words, “…don’t want…inner courtyard…best…”
“I think she said I should land in the inner courtyard,” came Shryden’s sending.
“I think you are right. If this Toren decides to answer the call we will fly him to Galdrilene and then bring the advisor and the others.” Kellinar paused before voicing his next thought. “What happens if he refuses the call?”
He felt Shryden’s mental shrug. “Acceptance can’t be forced. If he truly wishes to be left alone, the egg will grow quiet and when Toren dies either of sickness a year from now or old age fifty years from now, the egg will die with him.”
Kellinar turned that over. The idea of an egg just sitting there quietly waiting to die rankled him. Hopefully it wouldn’t be an issue.
As Shryden settled down to the inner courtyard, people ran screaming. Kellinar rolled his eyes. It would be nice once people were used to dragons again. The whole running and screaming thing was wearing thin. Didn’t they realize that if Shryden wanted them dead they would probably already be so?
Armored guards flooded the inner courtyard, at first looking determined to stand their ground, but as the massive blue continued to descend they seemed to get it through their heads that the dragon was landing here and scrambled out of his way.
Shryden’s feet touched down and he swung his head around to take in the guards and their positions. An arrow zinged passed, ripping a hole in Kellinar’s sleeve and slicing his shoulder. It wasn’t deep though blood flowed down his arm, soaking his sleeve.
Shryden lifted his wings and his thunderous roar filled the courtyard. Guards cowered and covered their ears. He turned to find the archer who shot the arrow.
With a curse, Kellinar grabbed his shoulder. Flaming dragon-blasted idiots. In his mind he reached for Shryden. “Stop. Whoever it is, you can’t kill them. We are trying to help Kalila not make an enemy of Markene.”
“I’m not going to kill him,” came the return sending. “I’m going to rip his arms off.”
“Not right now you’re not. You can rip them off later.”
He twisted in the saddle, looking over his shoulder at Kalila. “Are you alright?”
“Less than a hand widths difference and that would have been my temple.” Her voice sounded shaky.
“Undo the safety straps.”
She didn’t argue with the tone of his voice and he felt her scrambling to get the straps unbuckled. As soon as she was loose, Kellinar twisted around as far as he could and yanked her in front of him, using his body to shield her from any more arrows.
Through the bond he sensed Taela’s anger flare and he hoped she wouldn’t suddenly show up. An angry bondmate wouldn’t help the situation. He felt a thud against the saddle and looked back. The shaft of an arrow stuck up from the seat behind him. Another pinged harmlessly off Shryden’s scales.
Kellinar made a quick weave of air to carry his voice. “Enough!” His voice echoed across the courtyard, bouncing off the stone of the tall inner curtain wall. “My patience is wearing thin. I have restrained my dragon but I swear by the Fates if one more arrow flies I will give him permission to eat the lot of you.”
A heavy silence fell over the castle. Leaving the weave in place so all would hear, he said, “I have urgent business with Toren, King of Markene. My passenger is Princess Kalila, I believe her brother would appreciate it if you didn’t fill her full of arrows.”
Kellinar’s eyes swept the courtyard until they settled on the man nearest the keep doors. “You.” He pointed at the man. “You will go find y
our king, now.”
A tingle ran through him and the hair stood up on the back of his neck. Acting on instinct, he wrapped his arms around the woman in front of him, leaned forward, and flattened them both against the front of the saddle. Sharp pain tore across his back as another arrow flew past and pinged off Shryden’s neck.
Burn it all! He sat up, reached out for the air currents and asked them to find the fire-brained fool who kept shooting arrows. In seconds he had the information and lashed out with his power. Using weaves of air, Kellinar yanked the screaming man from the window of the guard tower behind them. He separated the weave again and wrenched the bow from the man’s hands and tossed it over the wall. After wrapping the man securely in another weave of air so he couldn’t move, Kellinar hurled him down on the stones. The guard hit with a grunt, his head knocked against the ground and he passed out.
“Anyone else need a trip through the air?” he asked, glaring back at the towers. Several men threw their weapons down and backed away.
“That won’t be necessary.”
Kellinar turned around to face the man with sandy hair down to his collar standing in the doorway to the keep. He dropped the weave for his voice and asked Kalila, “Who is that?”
She pushed herself up and peered around Shryden’s neck with. “My brother ,Toren.”
Toren walked a short way into the courtyard, his hazel eyes wary. “I was told you have my sister?”
Kalila slid down from the saddle. Kellinar made short work of his safety straps, praying to the Fates no one decided to stick an arrow in her. He leaped from the saddle and stood behind her, keeping an eye on the guards around the walls. Shryden lifted and stretched his wings out, creating a shield between them and the guard towers.
Toren took a couple of steps forward. “Kalila?”
With a small sob she ran forward and threw herself in her brother’s arms. Toren stroked her hair. “It’s alright, you’re home now.” He glared over her shoulder at Kellinar. “What did you do to her?”
“I did nothing. You can thank your twisted, older half-sister for what Kalila has been through,” Kellinar said with disgust.
Toren’s brow wrinkled. “Sadira? She disappeared months before Kalila, Larna, and Drisa. What does she have to do with it?” He pulled Kalila away and looked into her face, his eyes traveling over her scars. “Where are Larna and Drisa?”
“Gone. Sadira has them, but their minds have fled her torment and they are empty shells.” Kalila’s voice broke. “I tried to get them to come with me when I escaped, but they wouldn’t move. They wouldn’t even look at me.”
Toren put his arm around her and turned toward the keep. He glanced back over his shoulder at Kellinar. “I would like to speak with you, if you don’t mind.” He paused and looked around the courtyard before raising his voice, “I swear as the King of Markene, this…dragon…will be safe within these walls. At this point, an attack on the dragon or its rider is an attack against me.” His green eyes came back to Kellinar. “Will you step inside with me?”
Kellinar shrugged, ignoring the pain in his arm and back. Sure why not, who cared if he bled all over their castle. “Works for me. I need to speak with you anyway about a matter of great importance.”
Toren paused. “What is of greater importance than the return of my sister?”
Kellinar offered a half smile. “I think you can probably guess, but I also think it’s a conversation you are going to want to have in private.” Just what he wanted, a bloody shirt, an angry bondmate in his head, and an afternoon spent talking to a fire-brained noble.
He followed them through the halls until they reached a large study. Toren led his sister to a chair and then sat in the one next to her. With a sigh Kellinar settled in a chair across from them. Kalila seemed to have regained her composure. He leaned back and propped his ankle on his knee. Maybe it would be better if Taela showed up; she had more finesse with these types of things. Or even Serena, his back burned like fire and a healer would be nice right about now. The man used Fire magic, Kirynn should be here.
No, scratch that. She would probably have killed every guard in the courtyard and considered the problem solved. With another sigh, he realized this was on his shoulders, Fates be damned.
Toren looked as if he was uncertain how to address him. Kellinar cleared his throat. “I’m Di’shan Kellinar, rider of the Blue dragon Shryden, a senior member of the Tower of Wind and Water, and a Guardian of Galdrilene.”
Toren shook his head. “I have no idea what most of that means. Where is this tower you speak of?”
Kellinar smiled. “Galdrilene.”
Toren’s eyes widened. “Galdrilene is dead, wiped away in the last battle of the War of Fire.”
Kalila laid her hand on her brother’s. “He speaks the truth, brother. I have been there the last few weeks.”
He narrowed his eyes at her. “I thought you said Sadira did this to you.”
She nodded. “She did.” Her hand went to the wide, pink scars marring the side of her face. “I traveled for nearly a year after escaping Sadira to reach Galdrilene.”
“Why, sister?” Toren’s brow furrowed. “Why didn’t you come home?”
“I didn’t come home because I couldn’t.” She took a deep breath and seemed to brace herself. “I had to learn to control my magic first.”
Toren paled and yanked his hand away from hers. “Your…” he swallowed. “Your magic?”
Kellinar dropped his foot to the floor and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Yes, magic. Just like you can use.”
Toren turned to him, his face paling further. If he lost any more blood from his face, he was going to pass out. He shook his head in denial.
Kellinar chuckled. “Don’t try to play games with me. I can sense the magic in you. You can use Fire magic. But you have something Kalila doesn’t have. You have a hum in your head that you sometimes pick up feelings from.”
Toren gaped at him, his eyes wide. “How…?”
“How do I know?” Kellinar leaned back and propped his ankle on his knee again. “Because a couple of years ago, I heard the same thing.”
“What does it mean? Is my magic driving me crazy?” Toren gripped the arms of his chair as if waiting for a verdict. “I would have turned myself in for execution, but there is no one else to rule Markene. If I were put to death it would leave Haden as the successor to the throne. I can’t let that happen.”
“You are not going crazy. You’re being called to a future you cannot yet comprehend. You are being offered a gift.” Fates be damned, he was starting to sound like Emallya.
“A gift? What are you talking about?” Toren gripped the chair tighter.
“I’m talking about a red version of the dragon in your courtyard.” Kellinar shifted, trying to ease the pain in his back. The wound on his arm burned too, but the slice in his back must be deeper. They were going to have a fine time trying to get the blood out of the chair.
Toren’s hands finally let loose their death grip and he slumped back. “A dragon?”
Kellinar rolled his eyes. Could the man say anything that didn’t come out as a question? Had he sounded like this much of a fire-brain when Emallya first told him? “The hum in your mind is a young dragon, still in its egg. It will only hatch for its destined rider. The hum is the draclet calling to you.”
“What if…” Toren licked his lips. “What if I don’t want any part of this?”
“If you truly reject the call and the offered gift, the draclet will leave you alone. It will still be tied to you though, so when you die, it will die as well.”
“Toren.” Kalila leaned toward him. She started to reach for his hand again, hesitated and laid it on the arm of her chair instead. “Whether you choose to answer the call or not—though how you could give up such a gift I don’t know—you have to get control of your magic. Fire magic is very dangerous in untrained hands. You could do a lot of damage to Markene and those around you. You have to go to
Galdrilene if for no other reason than to learn how to use it properly.”
Toren rubbed his hands over his face. “I can’t leave Markene. The only person who can take the throne would be Haden and he would make more of a mess than I have.”
Kellinar shook his head. “No, Haden would have no chance of burning the city to the ground or setting a loved one on fire. And he isn’t the only one who can take the throne.”
Toren’s eyes locked on his. “Who else?”
Kellinar nodded toward Kalila. “Your sister.”
“What?” Toren leaped from his chair and stared at Kellinar like he’d grown an extra head. “A woman can’t rule Markene! It has never been done in the history of the nation.” He shook his head and slowly sat back down. “No, if there is no male heir or something happens to the heir, the next in line for the throne is the highest ranking male noble and that would be Haden.”
“You are the king are you not?” Kellinar did his best to keep his voice level and reveal none of the impatience he felt. “According to your laws and customs, you do have the choice of who your successor is. I know, I’ve studied every nation.”
“Yes, I have that choice, but it says nothing about placing a woman on the throne.” Toren waved the notion away.
Kellinar scowled. “Are you saying your sister is somehow less than you? That she is lacking in brains or ability?”
Toren glanced at Kalila. “No. I’m not saying that at all. It’s just…”
“Just what?” Kalila’s eyes narrowed.
“Look,” Toren said. “I would love to answer this call. It pulls at me and it takes everything I have to resist, but to leave Kalila here on the throne would be like signing her death warrant. She would be set on from all sides.”
Kalila straightened. “I have made arrangements so that I will be protected. I admit the idea of a queen instead of a king will be difficult for Markene to accept, particularly Haden and the other high nobles. They will have to get used to it. I will never allow myself to be pushed around by anyone again. I am not the woman I was raised to be. All of that changed at the hands of Sadira. Markene will get used to me and so will the high nobles.”
Tears of War Page 22
