Reflection- Dragon's Bane

by Rachel R. Smith

  “No, you will not!” Nerissa exclaimed. She grabbed the tail of his shirt and tugged on it. “You will tell me, and you’ll tell me now! That is an order from your Heiress.”

  Raysel dropped to the edge of the bed, laughing. “Well, if it’s an order, then what choice do I have but to comply?”

  Nerissa responded with a deadpan expression.

  “Alright, alright,” Raysel said between chuckles. “When I heard your thoughts about Rian’s excuse, I was thinking almost exactly the same thing myself. Then I realized something similar had happened the other two times I heard your thoughts. The first time, when I was searching for you and wondering where you were, you were also wishing you could tell me you were with Amon. The second time, we were both considering the possibility that the six spirit crystals might need to be twinned in some way before they would work together.”

  Nerissa pressed one hand over her mouth. “You’re right. All three times, we were thinking along the same—or similar—lines.” Her earlier musings about dancing came back to mind. A dance was only successful when the partners’ movements were united. Perhaps sharing similar thoughts created a link for the stones, like music did for dancers.

  “We’re still missing something important though,” Raysel said, interrupting her speculation. “The phenomenon has happened far too often to be a random occurrence. But if thinking the same thing at the same time were the sole condition needed for it to take place, we should have experienced it many times prior to this week. Something must have changed recently to trigger it.”

  Nerissa chewed her bottom lip as she ran through the events of the recent days in her head. “We haven’t done a lot with the crystals since we came into the city because we were preoccupied with meeting Charis and later with Amon’s letter.”

  Just then, something on the front of Raysel’s shirt glinted in the light of the glow lamps. He must have forgotten to tuck in his crystal pendant after taking a bath because it was hanging in plain view, instead of being behind his shirt. Nerissa’s eyes widened at the sight of it. “Wait! Your crystal is something that changed recently,” she exclaimed.

  Raysel looked down at the stone. “No, it hasn’t. It’s the same—” He stopped midsentence and amended what he was going to say. “Oh! We discovered how to create a phantom image the night before we entered the city.”

  Nerissa waved her hands animatedly in front of her. “Not only that, it was the first time we tried using your crystal. Until that day, we’d always worked exclusively with mine.”

  “Why would using the crystal make it behave differently?”

  Nerissa racked her brain for an answer. While she didn’t have much experience actively using crystals, she had spent years studying their basic principles with Tao. Surely, there must have been something in her mentor’s texts that would give insight into this situation, yet nothing that came immediately to mind seemed to fit.

  Then, a memory came back to her—a memory of Tao smiling as she proudly put the finishing touches on another of her inventions. “You leave an impression of yourself in every stone you touch,” she had said. “I read this proverb many years ago in an old text about crystals, but I think it applies to everything you do in life—especially to you as a future leader. Whatever you may do, and wherever you may go, make sure the impression you leave behind is one you’re proud to be remembered by.”

  “You leave an impression of yourself in every stone you touch,” Nerissa repeated out loud for Raysel’s benefit. “That was an old proverb Tao taught me. I’ve always regarded the sentiment as advice to work hard and to take care with how I treat people. However, considering our current situation, it makes me think the adage may have a more literal interpretation. If it’s true, then when we actively use a crystal, we leave a mark—a connection of some kind.”

  “It’s possible. We already know crystals can be programmed to store information, and your idea isn’t all that different of a concept,” Raysel said, excitement building in his voice with every word. “Maybe making that connection is the twinning process.”

  “Could the answer really be so simple? We may have taken the wrong approach from the outset. The very first thing we did was split the set of crystals. You’ve always had the same three to work with, and I’ve always had mine.”

  The mattress squeaked as Raysel jumped up. “It’s a theory worth testing.” He practically ran to his bunk to retrieve the pouch containing his three stones, hesitating only long enough on his way back to snatch the hourglass from the cot.

  Nerissa handed him her crystals and then emptied his three stones into her trembling palm. She stared down at them, her stomach tightening. Here she was at the doorstep of the breakthrough she’d so desperately longed for, and now, despite feeling hopeful—or perhaps because she felt hopeful—she was afraid to take the next step. “What if we’re wrong?” she said. “I’m not sure I can handle being disappointed again.”

  Raysel took her empty hand in his, and the expression on his face told her he was feeling the same sense of apprehension. “There’s nothing we can do but try.”

  Nerissa responded with a single, decisive nod, and Raysel turned over the hourglass, setting it on the bed between them.

  Wrapping her fingers around the three stones, she closed her eyes to focus every bit of her concentration on her desire to stop the grains of sand from flowing. Within a few seconds, a tingling feeling radiated out from her palm and up her arm. It was such a subtle sensation that, at first, she thought it was her imagination.

  Then she heard Raysel suck in a deep breath. “Nerissa, look,” he said, his voice filled with awe.

  She opened her eyes and stared in wonder at the stopped hourglass. Unlike before, when the grains had been stuck in the neck, the powder was now held in place—a motionless stream of sparkling white, suspended in the act of falling.

  With one shaking hand, Raysel picked up the hourglass and shook it. Not a single speck of powder stirred.

  Nerissa leapt off the bed, letting out a delighted squeal and jumping up and down in unrestrained glee, just as Rian returned to the room.

  “What’s going on?” His puzzled gaze swung back and forth between their jubilant faces. “I have a feeling I missed something really important while I was gone,” he said slowly.

  “You did, but we’ll have to fill you in on the details later,” a breathless Raysel answered. “Get a pen and paper. If we’re going to get instructions to the rest of our group in time, we’ve got some planning to do—and there’s not a minute to lose.”

  Chapter 16

  Dragon’s Bane

  Nerissa

  A black carriage, emblazoned on its side with the crest of the Royal Family of Marise, came to a halt before the palace gates. While the guards spoke in hushed tones with its driver, a pair of silver dragons stared down from atop the decorative arch, their shining blue-gem eyes scrutinizing the coach and its passengers. The symbolic beasts had every reason to do so, too, for the people within had not come to pay a social visit—they had come with the intention to kidnap the king.

  Nerissa parted the curtains to watch as the gates slowly opened and their vehicle lurched into motion once more. If the weather had suited her mood, the clouds would have been turbulent and roiling with the portent of an impending storm, but they were not. Wispy grey clouds hung low in an equally grey sky, dropping a drizzle of light rain that coated the windows in pearls of water.

  She let the curtains fall back into place, and Raysel gave her a tight, yet confident, smile from his seat on the opposite bench beside Rian. The last three days had been intense ones, spent finalizing the plan to confront Casimer and perfecting the suspension technique. Or, at least, she and Raysel had ‘perfected’ their skills as much as was possible in such a short span of time. Still, in spite of their efforts, Nerissa couldn’t help but feel a degree of apprehension. Their plan hinged on the ability to carry out the suspension correctly. She and Raysel were as ready as they could be to do their
part. For the rest, she could only hope that the other half of their group had not run into any unforeseen obstacles on their way to the designated rendezvous position. Their successful escape from the palace depended on it.

  Outside, the steady clip-clop of the horses’ hooves came to a stop once more, and the carriage rocked slightly as the footman stepped down from his post. Nerissa ran her hands along the skirt of her dress even though there were no wrinkles or folds in the silk fabric. With puffed sleeves that cinched just below her elbows and a neckline draped in ivory lace, the ready-made dress Amon had bought at her request was not her usual style, but the design was popular in Marise and perfectly suitable for an audience with the king. It was fitting that the color should be crimson, like the flag of Chiyo. She wondered if Amon had chosen it for that reason.

  When the door opened a moment later, it was Amon who rose first, and he was quickly followed by Rian and Raysel. Nerissa remained seated a little longer, patting the pocket where the three spirit crystals were hidden and drawing in a deep breath to compose herself before she took the footman’s hand to climb down. Nearly nine months ago, she had donned a mask for the annual masquerade, and though that mask had changed forms, she had been wearing one ever since. Now, it was finally time to abandon her guise as Caeneus for good and take back what was rightfully hers.

  A servant dressed in silver-trimmed livery bowed to the group and ushered them into the palace foyer where another man took their cloaks.

  “The king awaits you in the drawing room,” the servant said, his voice echoing in the vast openness created by the room’s vaulted, arched ceilings. “Please come this way.”

  The interior of the palace was not unlike the Royal Manor in Chiyo. The foyer led into a column-lined great hall with a grand staircase at the opposite end. Blue banners emblazoned with silver dragons fluttered from each pillar, stretching nearly from floor to ceiling. The grand staircase itself was flanked at top and bottom by alabaster sculptures of dragons. Even the handrails had been carved to match the dragon motif. A pattern of scales glided beneath Nerissa’s hand as she and her companions followed the man upward.

  “I don’t see many people here today,” Amon observed when they reached the second floor landing. The tone of his voice made it sound like an offhand comment, but Nerissa knew there was more to it than that.

  “No, indeed there are not,” their guide replied. “Half of the staff has journeyed north with the Queen and the Prince. Of course, the majority of those of us who remained—and are well enough to work—make a habit of using the servants corridors to remain out of sight.”

  As the man led them down the long hallway, Amon flashed Nerissa a sly grin. His first assumption had been confirmed. With a significant portion of the staff away, there was less risk of encountering someone on their way out with the suspended king’s body in tow. While Raysel and Rian were perfectly capable of knocking out any witnesses, all the better if there were no need to do so.

  A door at the end of the hallway opened, and a tall man emerged. Nerissa’s chest tightened at the sight of his long brown ponytail, which swayed with every step he took in their direction. If the hairstyle alone hadn’t been enough to tell her he was one of the Senka, his brawny frame would have confirmed it. Even his heavy wool shirt and vest did not conceal the contours of the muscles beneath.

  Nerissa focused on maintaining a natural facial expression. An average person wouldn’t know anything about the Senka, so showing a reaction to his appearance might tip him off that there was something more to their visit. It was unlikely he was one of the men they encountered the other night, and both Raysel and Rian had their long hair concealed in folded ponytails at the base of their necks. Her own hair was loose and curled underneath at the ends in a short bob. As long as they acted casually, there was no reason for this man to think there was anything remarkable about them at all.

  Still, her heart hammered out the seconds until their paths crossed. When they finally drew even with one another, the Senka’s eyes flicked their direction and he gave Amon a cursory nod, then continued on without so much as a pause.

  Once he was out of earshot, Amon inclined his head toward Nerissa’s ear. “That was Nils, the Chief of the Senka,” he murmured, his voice barely audible above their echoing footsteps.

  “He’s the Chief of the Senka? There’s only one?” she whispered back.

  His head bobbed in confirmation.

  Nerissa inhaled sharply. The Chief of the Senka? While a deep anger stirred in the pit of her stomach, she couldn’t keep herself from glancing back over her shoulder. Not to get another look at the man who had helped carry out her parent’s assassination, but because she wanted to see Rian’s reaction. Yet, surprisingly, he showed no sign of recognition at all. Then again, without Amon’s explanation, he had no way of knowing that the Senka man who had just walked past was his father.

  Although she felt a twinge of guilt at not being able to share the knowledge with him right away, it would have to wait. Their guide approached the door Nils had come from and gave it a perfunctory knock. Upon receiving a response from inside, he opened it and announced their arrival. He then gestured for them to enter and bowed to make his departure.

  Situated in the back corner of the palace, two walls of the drawing room were entirely taken up by windows that overlooked a pond and its surrounding gardens. The remaining two walls were covered in an array of portraits, plaques, and ornamental weapons. On a sunny day, every inch of the room must be illuminated. Today, however, the gloomy skies cast a dusky pall over everything.

  Casimer sat at a table on the far side of the room with a pen in hand, scribbling something onto the paper before him. As he put down the pen and rose to greet them, dissonant feelings welled up inside Nerissa. The dark-haired man in front of her was the one who had stolen the throne of Chiyo and killed her parents—and the person who had tried to kill her, too. She had every right to hate him and every right to be angry, and while both of those feelings were most certainly in force, there was something else as well. The blue eyes that fell on her and her companions did not hold the cold-blooded air of a power-hungry murderer. They were not the calculating eyes of one who would intentionally bring ruin to Renatus. Those eyes, lined with the weight of age and worry, were no different from anyone else’s.

  Amon’s comment that Casimer believed taking over Chiyo was the right thing to do came back to Nerissa’s mind. Casimer was wrong. That philosophy was wrong. But seeing the man himself drove home the fact that he was no evil villain. He was human, like everyone else, and the realization reinforced that the way she intended to confront him was the right one.

  Casimer stepped out from behind the table to join them near the doorway, and she felt Raysel’s arm brush against hers as he reached down to pat his pocket, undoubtedly checking for his three crystals as she had done earlier. On the other side of him, Rian had gone rigid. The only visible sign of a reaction from him was the bobbing of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed repeatedly.

  “Amon, I am glad to see you again,” Casimer said, his affection for his nephew apparent in his voice. “I must admit I had not anticipated you would bring friends along for our meeting.”

  Amon stepped forward and shook Casimer’s hand warmly. “I’m afraid I have little to share with you at the moment. It will take no more than a few minutes in private to bring you up to date,” he lied.

  “Very well,” Casimer said, sounding disappointed. “If I had known you were bringing guests, I would have sent for refreshments ahead of time.” He stepped past them and reached toward a tasseled bell pull that hung against the wall.

  “There’s no need to impose on your hospitality—especially since my friends accompanied me unannounced,” Amon said hastily. Then he added, “We don’t plan to keep you long.” That was an even bigger lie than his first one. They were going to keep Casimer suspended as long as it took for the Senka to comply with their demands to relinquish control of Chiyo.

  Ca
simer stopped, dropping his hand when it was mere inches away from pulling the cord to summon a servant. “Now I am most curious to know what brings all of you here today.”

  Although his offer of hospitality was polite enough on the surface, Nerissa noticed he did not bother to ask for introductions. Apparently, their names were of little consequence to him. Little did he know how important they actually were.

  Then, his gaze fell on Nerissa once again, and his brow furrowed thoughtfully. “You look familiar to me. Do I know your parents?”

  Nerissa’s jaw tightened. Now was the time. She curled her hands into fists, lifted her chin, and willed her voice to remain steady. “Yes, you do know them. My mother was Rica, the Blood of Chiyo, and my father was Parlen, the Bond of Chiyo. You ordered your men to murder them last spring when you stole the Throne of Chiyo.”

  Casimer took a step back, and he turned accusingly toward Amon. “What is the meaning of this?” he demanded, but Amon remained silent.

  “We are here to negotiate the return of Chiyo to my control,” Nerissa answered, knowing full well that he would scoff at the offer even though it was a far more generous one than he deserved. Perhaps such a direct and honest approach was foolish. Amon hadn’t hesitated to tell her he thought it was. However, she was taking this course for her own gain, not Casimer’s. Giving him the opportunity to cooperate before taking action would leave her conscious clear later.

  Casimer laughed. “Negotiating implies you have something I want. You, Heiress, have nothing of value to leverage in exchange.”

  “I do have something of value to leverage.” She reached into her pocket and withdrew the three spirit crystals. Beside her, Raysel did the same. “You currently have your freedom, and we have the means to take it from you.”

  “My freedom?” Casimer’s contemptuous expression eroded as his eyes took in the crystals in Nerissa’s hand and the swords at Raysel and Rian’s hips.