by N. M. Howell
“Yeah, I remember.”
“That’s me. That’s who I am. I’m not perfect and I’m not always kind, but I would die before I betrayed you or anything important to you. Remember that.”
Finally, there was Yara. When Raesh waved his hand to clear the visibility between them, Yara jumped to her feet, but then she froze. Andie didn’t know what the movement meant. Yara had a look on her face that Andie had never seen before. Andie didn’t realize it, but she was standing just as still as Yara, with an expression just as confusing.
“Andie?”
Yara’s voice sounded more like a little girl’s. She almost looked as if she didn’t know where she was or what was happening. Andie wanted to say something, but couldn’t. She didn’t know how she felt to see Yara again. She wasn’t even sure if she knew who the girl in front of her was. Everything Andie had believed about the people in those cells had been turned on its head, with the exception of her father.
“Perhaps we should give them some time alone,” Saeryn said.
Raesh nodded and the two of them walked off around the corner. Raesh cleared the guards on the hallway. Andie and Yara were left alone.
Chapter Eleven
“I want to thank you all for coming in today. I’m sure there must be a plethora of other duties you need to attend to. Legislation, public relations, the fortification of your individual cities and regions. Thank you for taking time out of your busy schedules.”
“None of us are here to endure your false gratitude, Myamar. This polite request for a meeting is only farce. It’s you trying to mask your ego under a guise of friendship.”
“Stefan, your verbal contributions are, as always, endearing, but—”
“Of all the people in the world, Myamar, I’m the last one you want to condescend to.”
Chancellor Mharú went silent for a moment. Everyone knew that he hated Stefan with a passion, but was too incompetent and frightened of him to do anything. Stefan was very old and very powerful. When the terrorist attacks began in Taline all those years ago, it was Stefan who almost singlehandedly brought the city back to its feet and he who had been unanimously declared protector of the city. Stefan had been in a number of dangerous and legendary battles throughout the history of western Noelle—battles that stretched back at least one hundred fifty years. No one was really sure who he was or what he was capable of, but there was not a sorcerer in all of Noelle who would ever risk fighting with him. Not to mention Chancellor Mharú was, and had always been, a coward.
“Moving on,” he said, turning his eyes from Stefan. “The abominations known as the dragonborn have eluded us for the time being. But I’m confident that we will find them soon and when we do I—”
“You won’t find them, Myamar,” Stefan said. “These people are an ancient, powerful race. The time may be different and the land may have changed, but their power hasn’t. If they don’t want to be found, then they won’t be. Don’t you have other things to focus on besides continuing this futile campaign of hate?”
“What’s important is that the people feel safe and they won’t be able to do that until every last one of the dragonborn and their dragons have been hunted down and exterminated.”
“Okay, Myamar. Have your little hunt. Scour the ends of Noelle and the seas looking for the ancient, powerful, self-healing race who ride giant fire-breathing creatures whose claws could shred you with a single swipe. Spend all of that exorbitant tax you levied on the region in order to fund a journey that will yield nothing. Ignore the University that has been ruined in body and reputation. Strain what few political connections you have left. But you know what, I wish you the best of luck. I hope you find them. And when your mother comes to me, begging me to go and bring you home, I’m going to hand over to her the charred remains of your body. And I’m going to laugh.”
With that Stefan stood and began to leave. The other dignitaries, chancellors, mayors, and politicians began to whisper nervously. Stefan was by far the most powerful among them and they desperately wanted him in their fight against the dragonborn. One of them stood and addressed him.
“Stefan, please,” she said. “We need you to get behind this. Many of us only came because we assumed you would be as eager to hunt down these... monsters as Chancellor Mharú. Won’t you fight for your people? Won’t you represent the city of Taline in this great battle?”
Stefan stopped halfway out of the door. He was still for a moment and then he turned slowly, his eyes terribly focused.
“I fight for my people every day. You don’t know what it’s like to wake up and not know if your city is still going to be there when the sun goes down. Every day I watch and I wait and I fear for every soul in that city. Not a single year has gone by in the last two decades when we haven’t had at least a handful of attacks. Bombings. Poisonings. Mass hexes. And you think I’m going to turn my back on them to help you hunt down innocent people who just want to live life after your ancestors tried to deny it to them? The dragonborn aren’t abominations. They’re people. They frighten you because they’re more powerful than you, yet you’re the ones itching to fight. Your narrowmindedness is unbelievable. I’m going home to look over my people. Do yourselves a favor and let this go. Otherwise... you’re all dead.”
Stefan left the room and there was a deep and wide silence for a while. Even Chancellor Mharú couldn’t get up the stomach to talk for a few moments. He knew that they were all reconsidering backing his ploy. It was different when they believed they were going to have Stefan behind them, but now they were being led by a coward whose only claims to prestige and power came from a family name that he wasn’t smart enough to know he needed. Fortunately, they all possessed some idea of loyalty and wanted, at the very least, to see the thing through.
“Well, we all know how paranoid and close-minded Stefan can sometimes be,” Chancellor Mharú began. “It doesn’t change the fact that we need to find them, kill them, and take back Noelle.”
“How?” asked one of the dignitaries. “I’ve spoken with some of the professors who were here that night and fought the dragonborn. They say the power of those people is unlimited, that they can heal themselves and fight like raging warriors. How do we defend against that?”
“How many of us will die in the fighting and never get to enjoy the freedom we fought so hard for?” another asked. “People need assurances.”
“What can we honestly do about these people and their power?”
“Your eyes are on the wrong future,” the chancellor said, looking more devious than they had ever seen.
Chancellor Mharú came down from the podium and walked over to the side of the room. All the people in the meeting turned in their chairs to follow him with their eyes. The Chancellor stopped in the middle of the space and clapped his hands. A door materialized in the wall and as it slid up silver beings moved into the room and stood stock still. They made no noise and the members of the gathering instinctively leaned away from them.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the Sentinels,” the chancellor said proudly. “Perhaps you’ve heard of them? Most of us were told bedtime stories as children about the incredibly power beings who worked for peace in the Old World. These are the original thirteen who worked so tirelessly to maintain order in the ancient days of Noelle. These beings are centuries old, dating back to at least the time of Hightowyr, maybe earlier. They are notoriously difficult to kill. So difficult, in fact, that in all these long centuries no one has been able to kill a single one.”
“But I thought three of them were destroyed when the criminals escaped from the University?” someone asked.
“No, merely damaged. The best part is that the Sentinels were instrumental in taking down the dragonborn centuries ago and I have no doubt that they can be just as helpful today. And do you know what else?”
The members of the meeting were interested now, had forgotten the chancellor’s poor history and were growing more and more intrigued by his current machinations. Som
e of them were even beginning to hope.
“To this day, Sentinels are the only beings in the history of the world to be able to kill dragons.”
The joyous gasps rang throughout the assembly and the members began to smile, to clap, and even to nod their approval to Chancellor Mharú. The chancellor himself began to feel his pride swell again. He was no fool, he knew how badly he had sullied the family name and how far he had to go to regain his reputation and influence. The defeat in the Archives at the hands of the dragonborn had been a devastating blow to his political career. He was desperate, but he was clever.
“And if that’s not enough...”
The chancellor clapped his hands again and seconds later, a man came out dressed in all black—a black purer and deeper than anything the dignitaries had ever seen before. The uniform was sleek, fitted, and muffled every move the wearer made so that nothing could be heard when he made his entrance.
“This is the final version of our ultimate weapon,” the chancellor said. “This... armor, for lack of a better word, is unlike anything we’ve ever produced before. To be brief, it amplifies the natural ability of the user. Senses, instincts, agility, strength, speed, and of course sorcery. This is everything we’ve needed. Not only will this level the playing field, it will give us an extreme advantage. When we face those abominations again we will annihilate them.”
“That sounds incredibly impressive, Myamar, but how do you know it works? Still more important, how can you be sure it will work against the dragonborn?”
“We know it works because we’ve tested it,” the chancellor said, arrogant as ever. “We’ve been testing it for eighteen years.”
“Eighteen years? Well, why haven’t we heard of it?”
“You have. We’ve been steadily and systematically blowing up the city of Taline for almost two decades. All those ‘terrorist attacks?’ That was this armor, going through round after round of rigorous testing and remodeling to create the perfect weapon. For the perfect war.”
“Myamar, have you lost your mind? If Stefan were ever to find out about this—”
“He hasn’t discovered anything in eighteen years and I have no reason to believe that will change now. Besides, if he ever does find out I’ll implicate each and every one of you as just as culpable as I am. If I go down, I’m taking all of you with me. Perhaps that’s incentive enough to keep this conversation between friends.”
“So, it’s blackmail then?”
“It’s self-preservation. And while the method may seem cruel, I assure you you’ll feel differently when you’re able to walk over the cold, dead corpses of our enemies. We know this armor will work against the dragonborn because we tested it on one who was enrolled here. Andie Rogers. We used her icon to steal bits of her DNA and although we were unsuccessful in turning her genes into a weapon, we did succeed in creating a weapon that disintegrated the specific dragonblood DNA sequence. In short, if you use this suit against a dragonborn, effectively, there won’t be anything left of them.
“Now, I’ve sent out the herald. The seven great families of Arvall will finally be together again soon. It will be the first time in nearly two hundred years that we’ve all been in the city. Until then, my friends, rest easy knowing I’ve secured our future.”
Myamar held up his arms to the assembly and they applauded him. Maybe from fear, maybe from genuine gratitude. They would have done anything to get rid of the dragonborn. Shortly after that, the meeting was closed and the dignitaries left, still smiling. The man in the armor followed Chancellor Mharú through the room and back to the chancellor’s private office, one of many which the University kept for him.
“We’re alone now,” the chancellor said. “Feel free to take the cowl off.”
The man removed the cowl and his long hair fell to his shoulders; he hadn’t cut it in quite some time. He’d also recently started growing a beard, though it was only just long enough to stop being shadow. He was tall, lean-muscled, and had grown fiercer in the last months than he had ever been before. He’d become the leader of the chancellor’s armored battalion and of the many things he wanted, perhaps the most pressing was his desire to serve Chancellor Myamar Mharú.
“I’m very pleased with your improvements,” the chancellor continued. “When you first applied for the battalion, I was rather hoping you’d screw up so that we could kill you. Everyone wanted you dead. At first I marveled at your ability to transcend that and now I’ve grown to respect it. You’ve come farther than anyone in these last months and your efforts will not be forgotten.”
“Thank you, chancellor,” the man said. “Permission to speak freely.”
“Of course.”
“I wonder, chancellor, if the other dignitaries and heads of state would be so willing to follow you if they knew that this was all part of a much larger game. I mean no disrespect, but I worry what their reactions might be when they find that you’ve done these things in large part for personal reasons.”
“You mean to satisfy my own political aspirations? My dear boy, they already know. Just as I know that they will follow me because they think it’s best for their own futures. Those men and women who just left certainly aren’t the smartest you’ll ever meet, but there are no illusions among them. Everything is a political ploy, every decision a carefully planned stroke, every word and handshake a play for future prestige. Politics is not a career, it’s a lifestyle. True, I advocate hate against the dragonborn. However, it’s not because they pose a threat or even because I personally hate them. I do it because they’re a familiar evil that the people can unite behind and once the people are united I’ll be there to step into the role of their savior.”
“So, you don’t think the dragonborn are dangerous?” the man said, unsure of which questions were appropriate to ask his superior.
“Of course, they are,” the chancellor responded. “But every living thing is dangerous in its own way. My family has hated the dragonborn and their beasts for centuries. I certainly don’t like them, but that kind of pervasive enmity is from another time. I’m an opportunist. If the dragonborn hadn’t decided to come back I would’ve chosen some other group of people to persecute. I want you to understand something, my friend. Knowledge is important. It’s why I worked so hard to turn one of Andie Rogers’ friends against her to feed me information from the inside of their little rebellion. But contrary to popular belief, knowledge isn’t power. Power is power. Never forget: we’re not after the dragonborn. We’re after control of Noelle.”
“I understand, chancellor,” the man said with the conviction and acquiescence of a true soldier. “I pledge myself to your cause.”
“And will you die for my personal gain?”
“No, sir. There’ll be no need for that. No one who comes between you and your destination will survive me.”
“Oh, I like you,” the chancellor said, reclining in his chair. “We’re going to make a great team you and me. Your name is... what, again?”
“Ashur, sir.”
“Ashur. I like it. I apologize, I’ll have to make a better effort to remember it.”
“Nothing to apologize for, sir. I knew it would take people a while to learn my new name.”
“And why did you change it?”
“Because who I was before wasn’t good enough. That person was a failure. He’s dead now. Ashur lives.”
“Excellent. That’ll be all for now, Ashur. While you’re out today, head over to Taline and test the suit out some more. We wouldn’t want Stefan to get bored.”
Ashur gave a slight bow and then walked out, closing the door behind him and leaving the chancellor alone to continue his evil schemes.
“I like that name,” he said to himself. “I’m glad he changed it. ‘Tarven’ was a rather stupid name anyway. I think I like the idea of self-reinvention. I may have to consider it myself.”
The chancellor reclined in his chair again, arrogant, grinning, and thinking on all the evil he had planned. For quite some tim
e, he had been planning for this. He’d made a series of very grave mistakes in the early years of his political career and all but tarnished the family name. The fact had never left him, had always been hanging over him like some dark curse. And so, many years ago, the chancellor began planning the events that would eventually culminate in a massive war.
Unlike most people, Chancellor Mharú knew everything about himself and accepted it. He knew he wasn’t the most well liked, or the bravest, or the best sorcerer. But what gifts he did have were equally as powerful if wielded correctly. He knew he was patient, heartless, and persuasive. More than anything he knew he was a coward, and, because he could accept that, he grew very close to the concept of fear. He knew what it looked like, how it operated, what potential it could have. He knew he’d never get where he wanted to go on his name or his ability, so he planned to capitalize on the fear of others. He had originally planned for a civil war a few years from then, but when he heard the portal that trapped the dragonborn was becoming active he adapted his plans.
He knew it was all a lie. He knew the dragonborn were a peaceful people. He knew it and his ancestors knew it, too, but they didn’t care. The chancellor wanted to grind Noelle into nothing through its own fear, then rebuild it in his own image. He wanted control of the land and the people, from coast to coast. He knew what a dangerous game he was playing, but he also knew that he was the only one who knew all the pieces and all the moves. He wasn’t coldhearted because of circumstance or necessity. He was simply evil.
Chapter Twelve
Andie and Yara still hadn’t spoken to each other. They couldn’t—there was too much hanging in the air between them. Andie was thinking that she didn’t even know the girl in front of her, didn’t trust her and wasn’t sure that the girl hadn’t tried to kill her or transport her back to the University. As she watched Yara, Andie figured she must have been just as confused about this meeting. Yara must have doubted Andie’s power, her ability to protect herself or more importantly any of the fighters who had signed up to fight with her. Andie knew that Yara had essentially always thought that Andie was invincible. Andie herself had thought that some days. But after seeing her sent from the ship so easily—maybe she had been the one to do the sending—Yara must have doubted Andie’s ability.
