“Our losses were severe,” he reported, as his face grew serious. “The Jiadin suffered the worst. They lost about half of their men, but there is a bright spot in their loss. The free tribes admired the courage of their Jiadin brothers, and I suspect that there will no longer be a division within Fakara. The Jiadin proved to be true brothers when they were needed. All of the tribes will work together to rebuild this country.”
Several sets of feet approached as the Three spoke on the steps of the temple. Marak looked up and saw many familiar faces, faces he had hoped that he would see again after the battle was over.
“How did the Khadorans do?” the Torak asked Lord Chenowith.
“Not too bad,” shrugged the member of the Lords’ Council. “I am disheartened to report that the Aritor clan is but a remnant of its former glory. Lord Faliman died in the initial attack and most of his clan died with him. We will need to elect a new member to the Lords’ Council. The other clans had heavy losses as well, but not nearly as bad as we had feared. Khadora will survive. A lot of good men died to rid this world of Vand, but he is gone and we are not. All in all, that is a satisfactory result.”
“It is,” Marak sighed with sadness. “Lord Chenowith, I want the Lords’ Council to select another Emperor of Khadora. If they were interested in my views, I would propose that you replace me. Your father served Khadora well, and I see him and much more in you.”
“We have no need for a new emperor,” balked Lord Chenowith. “You have started us down a path that should have been taken centuries ago. We are not ready to relinquish that task. The Lords’ Council will not accept your resignation.”
“I have other plans,” Marak said curtly.
Lyra and Rejji stared at Marak in confusion, but the Torak’s eyes fixed on Rejji with a look of determination.
“Will you marry us?” Marak asked Rejji. “You are Kaltara’s Astor and someone that I am proud to call a friend.”
“Marak!” exclaimed Lyra. “Couldn’t you at least ask me first?”
“But I thought…” Marak said haltingly. “Don’t you want to marry me?”
“Was that a proposal?” Lyra asked seriously.
Marak shook his head in confusion, but he quickly nodded, “Yes. Will you marry me?”
“Let me think about it,” Lyra said as if considering some serious dilemma.
Marak stood wide-eyed and horrified that her answer might be negative, but Rejji started laughingly hysterically, and Lyra could no longer maintain a straight face. She started laughing, and Marak knew he was being toyed with.
“I will take that as a yes,” chuckled Marak. “Will you do it, Rejji?”
“I would be honored,” Rejji replied, trying hard to control his laughter.
“It need not be anything elaborate,” continued the Torak. “Just a simple ceremony and then we are going to leave for some place quiet and far removed from this destruction. I hope you understand,” he continued as he turned to face Lord Chenowith. “I need to be far away from all of the responsibilities of leading Khadora. We need time alone in peace.”
“What about the Sakova?” asked Lyra. “I cannot just leave them. They have waited for a thousand years for their Star. They would never allow it.”
“I think they can manage while you are gone,” offered Temiker. “There is not likely to be any crisis other than integrating the Motangan soldiers who have decided to stay in the Sakova. Your people can handle that.”
“And the rebuilding of Alamar,” added StarWind, “but Temiker is correct. We now understand why you were sent to us when you were, Lyra. You have done more than anyone had a right to expect. Go with your husband and find peace somewhere. We will be fine until you come back.”
“The same is true of Khadora,” offered Lord Chenowith. “There is no need for resignations. The Lords’ Council will carry on while you are gone.”
“You do not understand,” Marak shook his head. “We may never come back. You must choose my successor. Khadora must have an emperor.”
“Why must they have an emperor?” asked King Avalar. “You have taught the Lords’ Council how to work together, and you have introduced them all to Kaltara. Lyra has made peace with the Omungans, and the Fakarans have united. All of your countries still have access to Kaltara’s Astor if the need arises, and the humans now have the elves as friends and trading partners again. Go off and discover each other in peace. If and when you return, your people will stand ready to welcome you back.”
“Well said,” agreed StarWind. “We can manage with Kaltara’s help, and if the need arises, there are still air tunnels.”
“It is settled then,” smiled Rejji. “Let’s gather thousands of your followers and have that little celebration you asked for.”
“In the morning,” smiled Marak as he rose and helped Lyra to her feet. “For now a walk in the dark will have to suffice.”
“Where are we going?” asked the Star of Sakova as they moved away from the crowd at the front of the temple.
“I don’t know for sure,” pondered Marak. “I just want some place where we can be alone without people constantly coming to us for answers to questions we would rather not hear.”
“You seem to be taking me someplace certain,” replied Lyra. “I know that forceful step of yours.”
“Oh,” laughed Marak, “you mean where are we going right now? We are going to the one creature that can take us to places we have never been before. Where she takes us will be a mystery.”
“Myka?” Lyra brightened. “I could not think of a better way to travel.”
The Torak led Lyra around the side of the temple to where Myka was resting. They found the dragon napping, and Marak playfully slapped Myka’s snout. Smoke curled from the dragon’s nostrils and one of Myka’s eyes opened. It promptly closed again.
“Not much of a greeting,” Marak scowled humorously. “Wake up. We have a favor to ask of you.”
“Talk to me tomorrow,” grumbled the dragon.
Marak thought Myka was being playful and prepared to deliver a suitable retort, but Lyra gripped his hand in warning.
“What is the matter, Myka?” Lyra asked. “Are you wounded?”
“Bah,” snorted the dragon. “There was nothing here to wound me. I just do not feel well.”
“What hurts?” questioned the Star of Sakova.
When the dragon did not answer, Lyra turned to Marak and whispered, “Go get Avalar.”
While Marak was off searching for the elven king, Lyra settled down next to the dragon and leaned against her. She listened to the strange rumblings emanating from the dragon.
“There is a great deal of noise within you for someone who is supposed to be sleeping,” Lyra remarked.
“I have not eaten today,” Myka replied curtly. “I wonder if the Fakarans would miss a few horses?”
Marak rounded the corned of the temple with King Avalar running alongside him. Lyra rose and moved away from the dragon to greet them.
“What is wrong with her?” King Avalar asked.
“I do not know,” admitted Lyra, “but she sounds very weak. I think she may have overexerted herself, and she mentioned that she had not eaten.”
“I will check her,” promised the elven king.
“There is something else,” Lyra said as her hand tugged on Avalar’s arm to prevent him from leaving. “Do you remember when we healed her after her bout with the demons?”
“I will never forget it,” nodded King Avalar.
“When we thought she had died,” explained Lyra, “I thought I heard four hearts within her. We finally determined that her heartbeat was so weak that we were probably hearing echoes, but those extra beats are stronger now, and there are five of them. I fear something is going terribly wrong inside her. I do not think we fully healed her the last time.”
“Let me check her,” King Avalar said as he pulled away from Lyra.
The elven king moved to the dragon and cast a general healing spell on her. While he
cast his magic, he placed his ear to her scales and listened intently. After an hour of healing the dragon opened her eyes and reported feeling somewhat better, but the elven king was not convinced.
“Go get her some food,” ordered Avalar as he returned to where Marak and Lyra were standing.
Marak nodded and ran away while Avalar moved away from Lyra and wove an air tunnel to Elvangar. The Torak returned with two Fakaran horses, but the dragon was not interested in them. Myka closed her eyes again and tried to sleep. King Avalar finished his conversation with Elvangar and approached the dragon. He spoke softly to her, and Myka’s eyes suddenly opened fully. Her head turned towards the King of Elvangar and stared at him. Avalar gently patted the dragon’s snout and walked away.
“You two should go to bed,” King Avalar said as he reached Marak and Lyra. “You have a big day tomorrow.”
“What about Myka?” Marak asked with concern.
“She will be fine,” assured the elven king. “Do not worry about her.”
Without further words, the elven king walked off. Marak stared at his winged warrior for a moment and shook his head. While Avalar’s words were comforting, fear for Myka filled his heart. He led Lyra towards the temple where rooms had been set aside for them.
* * *
The wedding ceremony was indeed simple, but thousands of guests attended. The cheers of congratulations reverberated across the land, but Marak was only concerned about the feelings of two special friends. Lyra’s face was aglow with joy, and Myka grinned broadly with short spouts of flame occasionally escaping with her joyful laughter.
Marak helped Lyra onto the dragon’s back, and Myka leaped into the air. She sped around the huge encampment below several times before turning and heading off to the southeast.
“I see you are feeling better today,” smiled Marak. “Did you finally eat those horses?”
“Those two and more,” cackled Myka. “My appetite returned with a vengeance. I hope the Fakarans will not be too angry.”
“They will get over it,” laughed Lyra. “What was wrong with you? Was Avalar able to help?”
“There is nothing that Avalar could do for me,” replied the winged warrior, “except tell me what Garl had discovered in the archives in Elvangar. How was I to know?”
“Know what?” Marak asked with confusion.
“That I am going to be a mother,” Myka said proudly. “No longer will I be the last of the dragons.”
“I do not understand,” admitted the Star of Sakova. “If you are the last of the dragons, how is that possible?”
“With Kaltara,” beamed Myka, “all is possible. I shall have one child for each demon I destroyed.”
“Then those heartbeats were not yours,” Lyra nodded with understanding, “and that is why there was an extra one yesterday. You killed another demon.”
“Congratulations,” grinned Marak. “I am so happy for you.”
“Happy?” retorted the dragon. “I should dump your body in the sea and just take Lyra someplace nice.”
“What?” balked the Torak.
“You cost me two children,” replied Myka. “You had to use that fancy sword of yours to slay my demons.”
Marak was mortified with Myka’s verbal response, but he caught the dragon winking at Lyra, and the Star of Sakova tried to cover up her laughter, but she was not very successful.
“I am surprised that you were even able to get four by yourself,” quipped Marak. “By all rights, the children should have to consider me their father. Without my urging you would never have come out of your cave, and the demons would still be around. I probably would have had to kill them all myself.”
“Kaltara is their father,” Myka shouted with joy as she folded in her wings and dove for the sea, “but you two can be their aunt and uncle.”
The dragon flared her wings and skimmed over the waves of the sea. Moments later she soared high in the sky and dove towards the sea once more. Marak and Lyra clung on as the dragon flitted around in ecstasy. As the three servants of Kaltara passed over the Island of Darkness on their way to a strange and foreign land, a keen observer would have seen the dragon zigzagging through the sky, but she was far too high for anyone to hear her ecstatic words.
“I am going to be a mother!”
FB2 document info
Document ID: fbd-530692-2f70-b54f-88aa-5b76-7021-2f66ed
Document version: 1
Document creation date: 18.12.2011
Created using: calibre 0.8.31, Fiction Book Designer, FictionBook Editor Release 2.6 software
Document authors :
Richard S. Tuttle
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Army of the Dead fl-8 Page 65
