“Yes, I think it would be a greater adventure than I’ve ever known, and probably the only adventure I’ve ever truly wanted.”
He squeezed her hand tightly. “It’s not going to be easy.”
“Come on, how difficult can being a blacksmith’s wife be?” she teased back.
“Well, there are a lot of things I must teach you. Like for starters, different metals have different heating and cooling points. You will have to know how hot to stoke a fire, and that’s not something—”
“Jakobe...” Svana interrupted.
“Yes?” He stopped talking as he turned to face her.
She reached up, finger pressed firm against his mouth. “Shut up and kiss me.”
Her pale lips parted in an inviting smile, and he stepped close to her. She could feel his warm breath on her cold lips. Svana shivered at his closeness and bit her bottom lip, waiting for his approach. Desiring it. Needing it. She’d waited for far too long, and now, finally, her mission had completed. And she wasn’t going to be the queen. That burden had passed on to another. She planned on being right there by Emmeline’s side, but she wanted her own life. She wanted the life of a blacksmith’s wife.
“Hmmm,” he said softly, as his strong arms wrapped around her waist.
He brushed strands of her wild, fiery hair out of her face, leaning down. She trembled at his embrace. Tingles traveled all through her body. This was the moment she’d been waiting for.
They closed their eyes, and their lips met. A surge of joy rang through her like she had never known, and she finally knew where she truly belonged.
55
Hekla
Emotions. There are so many. From fear to anger, and hatred to love. They are what make us who we are, and our experiences are what cause our emotions. There are many people out there who believe that showing emotions makes them weak. It doesn’t. That is a lie. Emotions are like the rainbow—a beautiful array of colors, each glistening with their own beauty, and making each one of us unique. It is not a weakness, but a strength. The part that makes someone strong or weak is how much of each emotion they show and feel. Like the rainbow, it’s only beautiful if you can see all the colors. If only one color were present, or one emotion, the beauty is stripped away. Let your emotions shine—and let them be beautiful.
King Rowan the Observant, First King of Telluris, 237 A.V.
Hekla’s eyes lingered on Aequorus. The kingdom was beautiful. The heart of the city was enchanting. Hekla took a deep breath as she took it all in. Nearly everything she set out to accomplish was complete. Her sisters had brought together their kingdoms. Now it was her turn.
She’d stopped by the battlefield to see if Svana needed help, but the undead were gone. They’d fought and defeated them. It was an impossible task, but when all the kingdoms united, they were able to overcome it all.
Her sisters had stepped away from ruling their kingdoms. They decided to help in any way needed, but they chose not to rule. Now it was Hekla’s time to decide. Did she want to be queen? Or did she want to pass the mantle onto someone else. And if she passed it, who would she pass it to? Ecthelion? Jetevius? Isabella?
She shook her head as she tried to get clarity of her thoughts. It was not yet time to make that decision. For all she knew, with her imprisoning Duliogial, the corruption of King Renault was gone. Perhaps he was back to his normal self. First, Hekla would have to find him.
Ecthelion and Jetevius appeared by her side. She looked from one to the other, then took a deep breath. Hekla was glad to have such strong allies.
“What now?” Jetevius asked.
“We need to find the king,” Ecthelion said.
Hekla nodded.
“Where do we search?” Jetevius asked.
“We’ll start with the throne room,” Hekla said.
Aequorus was empty. The streets were quiet, and the buildings were empty. Everyone had evacuated when the undead came. At least, Hekla hoped everyone had. The city was damaged, where the undead had raided it, but it wasn’t destroyed. Hekla was glad for that. She was glad the creatures had somewhere to focus their destruction—chasing the fleeing Aequorans, rather than destroying the entire city.
She walked through the city, feeling chills travel up her arms as she looked at its haunted appearance. People began to fill the place once more. The warriors had returned. Several were still above the sea, helping the Tellurians and Caelestans clean up after the recent battle. Bodies of the undead were everywhere—as were the bodies of warriors—loved ones, and friends. Hekla dared not stay for that. She knew Svana was there to help. And, Hekla didn’t want to see how many casualties there were. She already felt bad she couldn’t prevent more.
It wasn’t your fault, Hekla, Speltus said into her mind.
I know that. I just—I don’t know. I feel I could have done more.
“Are you all right?” Jetevius asked.
Hekla realized she’d stopped walking and stared at the castle with a blank expression. She shook her head, trying to rid herself of such negative thoughts.
“I’m fine,” she whispered.
Clenching her fist, she entered the large archway, with its pastel coral adorning the entrance. Inside, it was eerie. She immediately flashed back to her very first time here, when the council had existed. She’d been so young then. So much has changed since that moment, she thought, as she walked past the large empty table that still stood in the main entryway.
They walked the hallways in silence. Existing here felt almost effortless now, and having Jetevius and Ecthelion by her side gave her renewed confidence. If she did see the king—if she had to face him, she was glad she wouldn’t have to face him alone.
The throne room was empty. A little bit of light shone through the window, beaming through the sea and reflecting off the tiny trails of gold that traced over the throne. It seemed to be calling to her, inviting her toward it. Did she want to be queen? Did Hekla truly want the seat? The power? The responsibility? She didn’t know.
Trembling, she ambled toward it. She moved slowly at first, but when she reached the last few steps, she moved swiftly. Her shaking hand touched the armrest of the elegant chair.
A cackling laughter echoed in the room. She turned around to see Ecthelion and Jetevius standing at the bottom of the stairs up toward the throne. Her eyebrows furrowed. The laughing did not stop.
King Renault swam out from behind the magnificent seat. He was dawned in his king’s armor, and his eyes were glazed black. The cackling grew louder, his head falling straight backward as he laughed all the way from his belly.
“Do you intend to take the throne from me? Under what authority?” he demanded. “You are nothing. You are nobody.”
The darkness in his eyes flashed like fire.
“King Renault, please. Duliogial is no longer a threat. He is in Caelestis. He is a prisoner. Don’t let his influence blind you any longer,” Hekla said.
“Blind me?” he growled. “I have never seen more clearly. You were never here to help me. The Unseen Ones sent you to kill me, didn’t they?”
“It doesn’t have to be this way,” Hekla said.
“See! You think I’m a fool. I am no fool. You dare come into my kingdom to dethrone me? You are nobody. You cannot be allowed.”
“Renault—” Hekla tried.
King Renault swam forward in a rush, his sword unsheathed from its scabbard as he slammed it into Hekla’s side. She was unprepared and fell to the ground, grabbing her scepter.
He reached Ecthelion and Jetevius, where he began to fight them. Hekla tried to stand and swim toward him, but she was too late. His sword was swift, and with a quick stab into Jetevius’s side, he fell to the ground. Then he turned his attention to Ecthelion.
“And to think I once called you friend,” King Renault snapped.
“I was thinking the same thing,” Ecthelion retorted.
Their blades crossed. It was clear each of them was skilled in battle, but Renault’s anger fueled
him. His strikes were fast and aggressive, and all the time that Ecthelion had hidden himself away, with no battle to keep him sharp, had not done him any favors. After no more than a dozen strikes, angling from left to right to an uppercut against Ecthelion’s hand, his weapon fell from his grasp. Ecthelion reached down to pick it up, but as he did, King Renault’s sword rammed through his gut, up his chest, and through his back.
“No!” Hekla yelled.
Ecthelion gasped, his eyes went wide, then he said no more as King Renault pushed his old friend off of his blade and onto the ground. Hekla felt herself stiffen, as she struggled to regain her composure.
Not now, Hekla! Speltus cried in her mind and jolted her back to reality. Forcing herself to block the image from her mind, her anger rising up, she rushed the king, using her scepter as a blunt object to knock him onto the ground. He rolled, then got to his feet and crossed weapons with Hekla.
“Ha! Scepter against sword? You are no match for me!” he cackled, eyes dripping with menace. Only he had underestimated her.
“Not just any scepter,” she explained, anger fueling her to fight hard and fast against his attacks. Time and time again, his blade crashed down, and each time, she deflected with her magical weapon. Hekla relished the confusion on his face, each time she managed to stave off an attack.
“You will die,” he snarled.
She only grinned in response, fighting harder. You will not get me with your words, she thought silently.
King Renault stepped back, brought his sword back to him, then swung it over his head toward Hekla’s face. She raised her scepter to intercept the strike, but she faltered at the last second, her left foot slipping on loose gravel on the ground. His momentum pushed her to the ground, where she rolled out of the way of his overhead strike. Renault’s blade struck the ground where she had just stood.
Hekla held onto her scepter on the ground, and pushed upward, spinning in a circle on the ground as she laid flat with nose to the ground. Her legs slammed into his, and he crumpled onto the ground on top of her. She slammed the rod of her scepter into his face, reached and grabbed his sword, tossing it away from his reach.
“It’s over, Renault,” Hekla said as she stood to tower over him.
He growled at her. “Never.”
King Renault retrieved a long dagger from his belt and slashed it in the air near Hekla. It nearly struck her throat as she stumbled backward to avoid its sharp edge. She spun, bringing her scepter up to deflect another strike, but his attack didn’t go where she expected. Instead, he slashed at her hand holding onto the scepter.
Pain tore through her, blood poured from her wound, floating upward instead of down with the lightness of the water. It was horrifying, yet beautiful. The salt from the water made her cringe as it touched her wound. Somehow, his blade had penetrated her defenses, and her shield from the sea. It caused her harm. Before she had a chance to react, he struck again, this time striking her other hand.
The pain was too much, and Hekla dropped her scepter to the ground. King Renault didn’t stop, however, and went in again with another strike, this time stabbing into Hekla’s stomach. Like the other attacks, it penetrated her defenses. Unlike most of her fights, she wasn’t as close to her attacker, and he didn’t give her a chance to collect herself. She hadn’t the time for a spell, nor did she know what spell to use. And now, she had been grounded.
Hekla laid on the ground, cringing at the blood flowing from her. She reached out for her scepter, but it was out of reach. Hekla struggled to crawl toward it, but Renault kicked her in the face and knocked her around to land on her back. She tried to move again, but he stepped on her hand.
“You are pathetic,” King Renault said.
Speltus appeared from her scepter, flying toward the king. He turned over his shoulder to see the small dragon approach. Before he could react, Speltus snapped at his hand, biting it hard. King Renault shrieked, shaking his hand until the dragon was tossed away. Blood seeped from his fresh wounds. Speltus attempted to attack him again, but this time, Renault was ready. He thrust his dagger forward, clipping Speltus’s wing, and causing the little dragon to spiral to the ground.
The distraction was all Hekla needed. She got to her feet and staggered to her scepter. Renault saw her and rushed after her. Hekla tripped, and rolled forward. As she rolled to her scepter, she grabbed it, spun around on her knee and foot and aimed it toward the approaching Renault. His eyes were black, his teeth sharp, and his face menacing without mercy.
“Aquum Purum Iciclum,” Hekla shouted.
A shard of ice, as wide and long as King Renault’s dagger, appeared from the scepter’s orb. It propelled forward, striking Renault between his stomach and chest, at its center. Renault abruptly stopped running and collapsed onto his knees. His eyes wide. He paused for a moment as his eyes transformed from black to a brilliant blue. His eyes locked with hers, and a tear escaped, first falling down his face, then detaching and floating upward. Hekla watched it, transfixed. Then he collapsed onto his back.
Hekla used her scepter to get to her feet as she unsteadily walked toward him. Her entire body was trembling from pain and exhaustion. Her mind reeling from the psychological toll the whole affair had taken on her.
Hekla looked down at his fallen body. He was panting, his breath coming in gasps. In an unprecedented moment, she knelt next to him.
“I’m sorry,” he gasped.
Hekla didn’t know what to say. She knelt over him and opened her mouth like she wanted to respond, but the words never came. Was he truly sorry? Could she forgive him? Could the Aequorans forgive him? He had done so many wrongs over the years, and while it hadn’t been his fault… it was all just so much.
“I’m sorry for the way I’ve treated the Aequorans. I’m sorry for what I did to my wife. My daughter…”
The door behind Hekla creaked. She didn’t want to turn away from him, but she didn’t know who it would be. If it were a guard, someone loyal to the king, she might be in danger of another fight. When she turned around to see who it was, it was worse than she imagined.
Isabella stepped through the door. Her eyes widened as she saw her father and Hekla kneeling over him. Isabella rushed forward, skidding to a halt next to the two of them. She dropped to her knees as tears streamed from her eyes.
“Father?” she asked, wiping her eyes.
“My daughter. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry for everything. Please, remember that. I—I don’t know what has come over me during all these years… but I am truly sorry. Your mother… I failed her.”
“Father… what happened was not under your own influence. I know that.”
He smiled at her. “That’s all that matters. As long as you believe in me. You’ve always believed in me.”
Renault’s hand reached up and stroked Isabella’s face. It stroked her cheek for only a moment before it fell.
Isabella turned to stare at Hekla, her eyes cold. “Heal him.”
“I—” Hekla didn’t know what to say.
She raised her scepter and it glowed as she tried to focus her magic. Hekla hadn’t considered healing him. She’d finally defeated him. Hekla had finally freed the people of Aequorus. But now that Isabella asked for it—demanded it, Hekla didn’t know what to say. For the short while she’d known Isabella, she cared for the woman. She’d likely do anything to bring her happiness, especially after the life she’d endured.
“No,” Renault croaked.
“Father?” Isabella asked, her eyes tear-stricken once again and her hardened face faltering.
“It is my time. I cannot live with myself after knowing all I’ve done.”
“But, father—”
“No, Isabella. I’m sorry. It is my time. I love you, but you will be just fine without me. You always were. I want to leave this realm. I want to travel to the next one. I want to see your mother again. I want to beg for her forgiveness.”
“I—” Isabella choked. “I understand.”
Ren
ault smiled at her, then closed his eyes. He didn’t die right away. He continued breathing for several minutes as his heart slowed, but he said no more. He’d said his peace. When he finally stopped breathing, Isabella stood, along with Hekla.
Isabella screamed.
Hekla cringed, but didn’t try to block her ears. She knew Isabella needed to get out her frustrations. When Isabella turned around, her eyes were reddened with veins all around her beautiful sea-green eyes. Her face was masked with tracks of tears.
“I’m sorry. I did not intend—” Hekla tried to explain.
Isabella didn’t give her a chance. She ran to Hekla, and Hekla closed her eyes, expecting to be struck, but instead, she felt arms wrap around her. When Hekla opened her eyes, she saw Isabella pressed against her, arms wrapped around her back, squeezing tight. Hekla’s eyes grew wide. She didn’t know what to do. After a pause, she wrapped her arms around Isabella and joined in on the hug.
They stood that way for what felt like hours. At first it was awkward for Hekla, as she had hugged such few people. Mostly it was her sisters, or Melifera. But this was different. It was new. And it felt good. She melted into the hug, and realized she’d been alone for far too long. Speltus was a fine friend, but she needed more friends. For the first time in a long time, she felt needed, and she felt like she fit in.
Hekla began running her fingers through Isabella’s sea-green hair, trying to comfort her. She knew what the woman was going through. Hekla, too, had lost her father, though that had been a long time ago. She still remembered it. The pain, the tears. It had been a hard time for her.
Isabella pulled away and took a step back, wiping the tears from her face. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me. I’m not usually so—”
Hekla smiled. “It’s fine. You have every right.”
“It’s just so… unbecoming.”
Hekla shook her head. “No. Do not think people who refuse to show emotions are strong. It is quite the opposite. It is those who show their emotions who are strong.”
Dragon Scepter Page 44
