by Meg Cowley
“Perhaps, we have more pressing matters to discuss,” she said as politely as she could, though her tone was cutting.
He smiled gravely and bowed his head in acquiescence. “I sense you are angry with me?”
Eve paused, unsure and taken aback by his remark.
“Perhaps, you still hold anger that we did not come to your aid regarding your friend.”
“Yes,” Eve said, realising that frustration still burned within her. “I offered to sacrifice everything for Artora—for you—and you repaid me with nothing. For all you knew, I could have died out there, and you would not have come to rescue me. So, yes, I am angry. I asked you for the help I so freely gave, and not only did you abandon me, you doomed him.”
She fell silent; her own outburst had shocked even her. I haven’t said that to anyone, not even myself, before. The resentment bubbling within her was surprising, and not a feeling she enjoyed, but it was true.
“I understand your frustration, Lady Eve, but there is much more you ought to know, which your cousin, the King, may have hinted at, that led to our decision not to intervene. Would that I could have helped.”
Tarrell led her to the same drawing room Artora used. It was strange to be in this place again. Eve had twin memories: the bright and vibrant queen that glowed with her own light, and the dying queen, who had been pale, haggard, and as frail as a leaf. The spirits of Nolwen, Nelda, and Artora were with her in that moment. She could almost hear Artora’s rich, warm voice, see Nolwen’s lazy smile, and feel Nelda’s warm hug. Eve swallowed past the lump in her throat. There was still raw grief attached to their memories, and a fierce ache of longing. She missed the first extended family she had known from her mother’s side more than she could describe. So many years unspent. So many memories we will never make.
“Please,” Tarrell waved his arm to invite her in, as she teetered in the doorway. “Come. Sit.”
Obediently, Eve sunk onto a chair in front of the large windows, overlooking the familiar meadows, now bare of flowers and cold after a hard winter, and composed herself. “You know why I am here, I believe?” she asked Tarrell.
“King Soren informed me of your purpose here, yes. You are welcome to stay for as long as you please.”
“I thank you, Lord Tarrell.” She paused as drinks were brought to them, and took hers eagerly. The hot cup warmed her stiff hands. “What did you mean earlier, when you said there was ‘much I ought to know’?”
Eve listened in silence as Tarrell explained from the beginning; he echoed the fragments Artora had told her. The elementals did not disappear, as was the commonly told tale, but they were, in fact, bound by the pact of men, Eldarkind, and dragons, which Artora had last hinted at. He explained, to the growing chill rising through her, of the breaking of the pact, of Bahr’s rise and his demise at the hands of the dragons—Eve at last understood how Luke came to be free—of the return of magic, and of the threats that now loomed.
As he spoke of Bahr, vivid memories overwhelmed Eve and suddenly she was there again, in the freezing caves, darker than night, with Him; Bahr of the Fire. She felt the cold and fear as she had then. Her tongue tingled with the taste of tainted air and magic—and that cursed place. The mere memory made her nauseous. The feeling of the tingling, tainted magic faded as she shook herself and the warm, soothing magic of Ednor caressed her senses again, enveloping her in warmth and wholesomeness; a reassuring touch against the dark things of the world.
Eve realised Tarrell was watching her in silence. “More like him?” she said, unable to keep the dread and fear from her voice.
“More like him,” Tarrell replied sombrely. “They sleep for now, but some stir already and it will only be a matter of time before they rise and we are faced with the greatest challenge since our races first united.”
Eve did not respond, trying to process what he had said. I hope they do not call upon me to try and bind such a thing again. Bahr was nearly my undoing.
“This is why we could not help you rescue your friend,” Tarrell explained. “The wellspring of magic was tainted beyond measure. Now, it runs pure again, but even so, the elementals’ magic and their binding is too strong for the likes of us to journey to the ends of the world, binding them to sleep for eternity once more. It cannot be done. We must instead remake the pact between humans, Eldarkind, and dragons.”
“What of the dragons?” Eve asked, trying to understand exactly what was happening. Soren had spoken about dragon attacks, not elementals.
“Ah, you pre-empt me,” said Tarrell. “The threat of the elementals is certainly our greatest threat, but it is not our most pressing. Remaking the pact is our priority, yet we cannot do that when Eldarkind, man, and dragon are not united. When the pact failed, the dragon clan split into two factions: those who wanted to uphold the peace between our races, and those who did not. The latter, led by a dragon named Cies, seek to end both the dragons who reside here under our protection and friendship, and us also, for the simple reason that they bear no love for us. After we are vanquished, we believe they will take over the realm of Caledan as their own, and woe betide any human who defies them.”
Eve had only briefly met dragons at her time in Pandora, long ago, and had little understanding of the huge and highly intelligent creatures; just a healthy respect and fear.
“Therefore, our new priority is to address the issue of the rogue dragons, who are currently, as your cousin has told you, spreading fire, fear, and destruction across Caledan. Soren will find this most agreeable, I presume, as he has already discovered none can stand in their way. He will be free of them soon. We have already determined they seek to challenge us without delay.”
“Is Arlyn safe?” Eve asked. Her first thoughts were of her father, Luke, and her people’s safety.
Tarrell did not answer, and when she pressed him, would not.
“I cannot guarantee anything, Lady Eve. Humans cannot stand before them.”
A tingle of fear shot through Eve’s stomach at his words. “Can the Eldarkind?”
“It is possible, but to do so, we must work in cooperation with the dragons here, which is proving difficult, given the vast differences between our races. We hope and presume they speed to Ednor, and do not divert, so we may engage Cies. We have the best chance of all three races here in Ednor to engage him successfully.”
“What can I do to protect my people?” Eve pressed him.
Tarrell drummed his fingers on the armrest of his chair as he considered her question. Eve shuffled with impatience as the silence stretched. “Protective wards may help,” he replied eventually. “I fear there is little you can do to defeat them in the case of an attack, but you may be able to protect your people from harm by drawing on the power of nature to sustain enchantments. That is more than can be said for most of Caledan.”
Then all is not lost. Eve knew she could cast such enchantments if she needed to. “They are coming here beyond any doubt, though?”
“Yes.”
“Then, if they fly west, there is a risk to my homeland”
“It is us they seek, not you.”
Eve didn’t feel reassured. She could see the dragons high on the peaks, soaring and looping through the clouds. It was not hard to imagine them striking fear into hearts wherever they travelled, especially under cover of night. According to Soren, certain death and destruction was the fate of all that came into their path, and Eve could not help but think of Arlyn. The town had fortifications, but it would be no match for dragons.
In her mind’s eye, she saw hordes of the great, nameless beasts falling from the sky and her town roasting in flames, and shuddered. If Arlyn were to fall into the sight of the dragons, that would be its fate, regardless of any ward she could cast. Her muscles twitched, and only her duty to Soren kept her sitting with Tarrell. Every muscle urged her to return home as quickly as possible, to do whatever could be done to keep her people safe—just in case.
Not for the first time, she wished she co
uld follow her own desires instead of duty.
Tarrell her consternation, for he leant forwards, and caught her gaze. “Nothing may happen at all,” he said. “All may be well.”
Eve was not reassured.
~
As she unpacked her few possessions into a small bedchamber that looked over the valley, she could not help but worry about what to do. The obvious solution was to lay a protective ward. She paced back and forth. Before that, I’ll need to let everyone know. What will they think? Will they take me seriously? Will they trust me if I need to use magic to protect them?
Magic was a maligned thing in Arrow county, to the extremity that Eldarkind were not welcome there after a thousand years of fairy tales had twisted them into villainous and malevolent characters. Even Lord Karn had had to keep his wife’s lineage and his daughter’s half-blood status a close secret, for fear of repercussions.
Not to mention the dragons: creatures from myth and legend, never seen in those parts in living, written or spoken memory. How can I return home talking of the Eldarkind as our allies, ‘good’ dragons and ‘bad’ dragons? They’ll call me a madwoman, especially if I talk about more wars and battles to come after so many have only recently returned from fighting Zaki… and many have not. It will already take years to recover from such losses and rebuild lives.
She sighed. This would require some thinking. It had been a long day, and there was much to consider. Now, she knew the full picture of events from Tarrell.
That evening, she scried Luke and was glad to see his familiar face after a day of unsettling revelations.
“Are you well?” he asked. “You seem… I’m not sure.”
Eve shook her head, and briefly recounted what Tarrell had told her.
Luke did not respond, except with a huff of surprise at her news. His hand worried at his beard as he contemplated what she had said.
“I need your help, Luke,” Eve asked, when he did not reply.
“Are you that scared?”
“Bahr—or more like him—are rising, the dragons are coming, and we have no way to defeat either of them. Of course, I’m scared!” The goosebumps on her arms had little to do with the night chill. “They’re destroying everything in their path, and you saw what Bahr could do, which was far worse. Arlyn is in danger!” She knew her message was garbled, and pushed on to try and impress her seriousness upon him. “I don’t feel safe. They are coming. Will you come for me, so I can ride safely home? The dark of night feels all the more terrifying now that I know what it hides.”
“I cannot come,” Luke replied after a pause.
“Why?”
“I need to stay here to care for Mother, and I have my job to do. You do not understand that I cannot drop everything for you.”
“Nora will be fine; we have servants who can care for her. I need you.” Her voice was almost plaintive. She hated feeling so vulnerable, but it was true; she trusted him as no-one else, and felt safe with him as with no-one else. More than anything, he was the one person she had always been able to count on. He’s never rejected me before; maybe I deserve it after how we left things. For a split second, she could see now how he had felt when she had refused to talk to her father about their relationship.
“Do you?” His voice was flat, and his eyes dark in the mirror. “What for? What are we?” He threw up his arms. “What is this? I should drop everything for you. Again? My mother needs me, and I won’t desert her again on your account. She has nothing and no-one else! Look where it got me last time: abandoned, nearly dead at the end of the world and no good to anyone.”
Eve recoiled at the resentment in his voice. “This isn’t a whim, Luke. It’s serious, as it was last time. You followed me willingly; I didn’t even know! How is that my fault? You chose to sacrifice yourself, but you blame me for the consequences? I tried to save you and I could not. They all died. What else could I do? Return and freeze to death with you, or try and find help? You know I didn’t want to leave you. How many times must I apologise—atone—for it?”
Her own frustration took over as the guilt she had suffered those past months at what had happened emerged. “I managed to make it back to civilisation. I sent you help. I still feel guilty I couldn’t return myself, and I’ve tortured myself over that. I had every intention of returning. I would never abandon you! I was so ill and delirious after what I endured to send you help, the abbot would not hear of it. What else could I do? I need you, now. I need someone I can trust with my life. Of course, I would ask you first and foremost.”
“When will you learn that not everything revolves around you—what you feel and what you want? I’m not your serving boy to do your bidding,” growled Luke. “I’m not a dog to follow you around. It feels that way, as if I’m at your beck and call! Not today. You have the Eldarkind and their magic. Ask them.” He vanished.
Eve ended the scrying and her hands shook with anger as she packed the mirror into its case.
“Damn it all, why doesn’t he understand how important this is!” she snapped to the empty room. “What else can I do? I apologised for leaving him, I apologised for being unable to return, and still he holds his own choices against me.” She stomped around the room, muttering darkly until her anger had run its course, and then she threw herself into a chair and sighed.
There is so much unresolved between us, and I don’t know how to fix it. I know he hurts. His accusation that she abandoned him when he had chosen to sacrifice himself and encouraged her to leave, confused her. How do I make him understand it’s not like that? Her eyes closed, but she could not escape her own thoughts.
Our feelings must place second; there is so much more at stake. Should I leave? she pondered. Should I return home? Perhaps, I overreacted. Maybe it will never come to pass. Arlyn could be perfectly safe. She tried to ignore the worrying niggle and looked out onto the still, calm valley. It was peaceful and wholesome. Nothing to fear here. It was easy to be scared in the night, for it was full of terror and overpowering fear if allowed into a susceptible mind.
That night, she kept the candles burning, but even so, she had an unsettled night’s sleep. In the morning, she awoke and, despite feeling exhausted and bleary-eyed, felt better in the light of day. It was cold and clear outside with blue skies as far as the eye could see. Maybe I should stay here, for now, as Soren has asked. She prayed and hoped all was well for her home, and that her return, and her fears and worries, were unwarranted.
Chapter Twelve
The letter bore the seal of House Orrell. Soren rested it atop the pile of opened letters, before scanning the next from House Balaur, his cousins and family to the south. He had already received letters from Arendall, Varan, and Denholm. Not many houses remained unaffected, for few counties had not yet been marred by the horrors of the dragon attacks.
Another day, another attack. The pattern did not cease. The attacks travelled west and north, and thankfully had missed Pandora, but it was still little relief. Evacuated villages had been all but destroyed, and their residents crowded into towns and cities. They were full to bursting, running short of food and water, and rates of crime and sickness escalated, yet there was no way in sight to stop the attacks, and no way for Soren to offer his people any chance of safety.
Soren dropped his latest letter onto the pile just as Barclay of House Walbridge rapped on the door and invited himself in. Soren grinned and welcomed him warmly, grateful for the respite from his duties.
Barclay was his own age, and an unexpected friend and ally, despite the differences of their parents. His father, Lord Willam Walbridge, had never been a staunch supporter of Soren’s mother, Queen Naisa, and Soren had struggled to keep Willam’s allegiance during the testing times of his short reign so far. A friendship with Willam’s son proved both useful and enjoyable, and Soren was frequently reminded of Edmund’s advice, though it seemed an age ago since he had given it.
“Be careful in whom you place your trust, Soren,” Edmund had said. “The sons of
your enemies could be your friends, yet the sons of your friends could well be your enemies. Judge each person on their own merit, but be careful in whom you place your trust.”
Usually, Barclay was a confident, relaxed, and carefree young man who loved to joke and fool about, but today, he was uncharacteristically subdued. Soren stilled, as trepidation uncoiled in his belly.
“There’s been another attack,” said Barclay. He refused to meet Soren’s eye.
“Where?” The knot of tension within Soren that rarely disappeared clenched again.
Barclay shook his head, much to Soren’s confusion. “No, not a dragon attack. This one is different.” He paused, and briefly met Soren’s glance before looking away again, staring at the sheaf of parchments on the desk as if his gaze could burn a hole through them. “An Eldarkind messenger was attacked.”
Soren’s heart sunk. No…
“He lives, but barely.”
“Who would do such a thing?” Soren’s dread turned to shock and then to anger.
“The perpetrators are not yet apprehended, “Barclay admitted.
“You must determine at once who dares attack our allies.”
Barclay looked up again, and this time, his gaze did not fall. “Are they our allies?” His brow furrowed. “They are strange beings, and seem to have walked straight out of myth and legend. In my home county, they are less than benevolent.”
“Such tales are twisted lies, I assure you,” Soren was quick to correct him, and tried to hide his shock at Barclay’s ill-informed view. “I assure you, they are the most noble of races, ever our allies, and work for the force of good. We seek to ally with them more than ever before in the face of these new attacks, alongside those dragons who also side with our cause: one of peace and harmony.”
Barclay was incredulous, and he regarded Soren as if he were a stranger, or had lost his wits. “You want us to ally with dragons? Have you lost your mind?”
“I am your king,” Soren reminded him frostily. “You are my good friend and so I forgive you that, but do not presume I am ignorant. I know secrets which are never spoken of. I know of things beyond your ken, and I bear these burdens so Caledan might live in peace.” Soren leaned against the desk, feeling overwhelmingly tired all of a sudden. Kingship; it was such a weight to carry. Edmund was gone; his closest friend and confident, and one of the few others who knew most of the kingdom’s secrets. Now, only Behan, the Lord Steward of Pandora, would share such knowledge. It would always be that way, Soren’s secrets to bear until his heir was of age to know them; a long and lonely existence with the burden of those secrets.
