The Dragon's Throne

by Emily L K

  “I know how it feels,” he told her and she tilted her head to look at him fully for the first time since he’d sat down, “to miss someone.”

  She wanted the conversation to end. Why was Orin pushing it? She didn’t want to think about Rowan and how much she missed him or Orin and his loved ones. She placed her hands on the ground and pushed herself to her feet. Dizziness made her sway, but she stayed upright.

  “Where are you going?” Orin surged to his feet as well, arms outstretched as if to catch her if she fell.

  “Back to my tent,” she told him, though she didn’t make any move to leave the hilltop. Facing the camp again, she could now see the group of people at the bottom of the hill, waiting for her.

  Their discussion was heated, with the sounds of their voices sometimes reaching Cori’s ears. she picked out Tobin from their midst as well as Saul and his counterpart, Enya, captain of the human soldiers.

  The execution that had so quickly fled her mind in the face of Orin’s probing now came flooding back. The invisible press of his head between her hands - she could almost feel the gore splattering over herself, if only she’d been close enough. Her hands shook. That man was gone. Simply gone. He‘d ceased to exist, and she‘d been the one to exterminate him. Her fingers flexed at her side, recalling the strength of the magic they wielded.

  “I’ve heard the first one is always the hardest,” Orin offered. He placed a hand on the small of her back and she let him. She might fall down otherwise.

  “He wasn’t the first one.” The statement finally seemed to leave Orin speechless.

  Cori allowed her vision to unfocus a little. The lights of the fires in the camp below became a glowing blur. It may not have been the first time she’d killed but this time it had been a conscious choice on her part.

  Orin put pressure on her back and she automatically started forward down the hill. Someone in the waiting group saw them and they all turned towards the hillside. Cori wondered what they would do to her. She asked Orin and he looked perplexed.

  “They just want to make sure you’re all right,” he said, as if she should have known. That they didn’t wish her harm had never crossed her mind. Orin removed his hand from her back as they reached the edge of the firelight.

  “Lady Cori,” Tobin said formally when she stopped in front of him. His eyes searched hers for a moment - probably checking their colour - and she noted that for the first time in days he didn’t look resentful while addressing her. “May I speak to you in my tent?”

  “Yes, of course,” she replied, just as formally. She saw Cobra seething at the back of the group but everyone else held passive expressions.

  They walked in silence to Tobin’s tent. Soldiers stood at the edges of their camps and the way their eyes followed her was haunting. Nobody said anything. Nobody moved.

  They reached the tent. Tobin held the flap open so she could proceed him. He then faced the nobles and captains waiting their turn to enter and told them to wait.

  “What?” Cobra exploded as the others muttered angrily. He jabbed a finger at Cori, his teeth bared. “She should answer to all of us!”

  “She’ll answer to no one,” Tobin responded calmly. “Orin?” He added. Orin stepped into the tent and Tobin let the flaps close before turning on her.

  Father and son stood side by side and Cori saw the resemblance between them as she had not before. They were of a height, though Orin was not as broad as his father. Their eyes were dark, difficult to see emotions in, but kind, and their heads were framed by twin mops of untamed wire, all the more unruly after their weeks on the road. The biggest difference between them was that, while Tobin wore his beard long, Orin kept his face clean shaven.

  “Why don’t you sit down, Cori?” Orin gestured, a frown on his face. Tobin lit a few candles on the table, shuffling maps and battle plans into a neat pile. Behind a privacy screen at the edge of the tent, Cori noted the covers of the cot had been thrown back, likely in Tobin’s haste to shut down the disturbance before she found out. She eyed the chair Orin offered warily.

  “I don’t think so,” Cori said, though she desperately wanted to. She crossed her arms over her chest and waited. Father and son exchanged a glance. The latter shrugged, and the former sighed.

  “I think it’s time for a frank discussion,” Tobin said finally. He moved across the tent and took the chair she had declined. She turned to face him, preferring that Orin was in her peripheral vision to Tobin.

  “I think we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot,” he continued after a moment’s consideration. “I have both over and underestimated you in some regards. You have a childish insolence about you -” Cori’s eyebrows rose and Tobin nodded, reinforcing his own words. Her arms tightened across her chest. “- and it meant that I misjudged your abilities as a leader. You have sulked, been rude to my nobles, of whom I need support, and have disregarded normal traditions that has set the army on edge. I know,” he held up his hands to stop her interrupting, “that you had a different upbringing to the rest of us but it is difficult times like this when the soldiers need surety.

  “You’ve proved me wrong about your abilities in the past few days. I must admit I was furious at your marching orders, but I also accept fault for my men's lack of discipline. I thought you had overstepped the mark with your threat of rolling heads but tonight you did something that few men, let alone leaders, have the guts to do; you followed through, and in a very literal sense too.” Tobin grimaced and sat forward in his chair, resting his arms on his knees. “I am going to ask, though, that we come to an agreement before we leave tonight.”

  “All right,” Cori said carefully. Her arms unfurled and she placed one hand on the table to balance herself. Staying upright was becoming painful, but supporting her weight was the only vulnerability she was willing to show Tobin now.

  “First, you will get a bigger tent and it will be pitched beside mine. You‘re going to display your rank whether you like it or not.”

  She nodded her agreement.

  “Second, you will consult me before making decisions. I’m your advisor and you are leading my men; I am entitled to some say in how this army is run.”

  She nodded a second time.

  “And third, you will leave the discipline to someone else.”

  She wasn’t going to agree to that. There was no way she’d let someone else do her dirty work. She stepped threateningly towards Tobin and was pleased to see his slight recoil. Orin stopped her with a hand on her arm.

  “Accept it, Cori,” he told her firmly. “We don’t know why, and if you won’t tell us that’s fine, but your magic is making you sick, and your recklessness will get you killed before we get to Lautan.”

  “What do you propose I do?” she demanded, a little angrier than she intended. She hated being weak and useless. She resisted the temptation to press her hand against her throbbing head; a reminder that she wouldn’t be able to carry out any more punishments even if she wanted to.

  “Rest,” Tobin informed her. “Rest and let us do the work. The Karalis knew when to make decisions or leave them to his advisors. I’m asking you to do the same now.”

  “Fine,” she said at length, “but once we reach Lautan, all deals are off when it comes to the magic.”

  “Shall we drink on it?” Tobin stood and went to a locked chest by his cot.

  “Father!” Orin shot Cori a sideways look.

  “I think we can agree,” Tobin said slowly. He lifted a bottle from the chest and closed it again, “that one drink is not excessive?” He met Cori’s eye, and she nodded. “And after killing a man, one always needs a stiff drink to calm the nerves.” He pulled the cork and held out the bottle. “The Karalis mentioned that rum was your favourite?”

  Cori could imagine the conversation in her mind; the curl of his lips and the mirth glittering in his eyes as he told Tobin about her drinking habits. She smiled at the thought and reached out a hand for the bottle. “I would probably be considered a regular
drunkard if you ask his opinion.”

  Tobin gave a small shrug then laughed. Orin, however, gave her a long, searching look.

  It wasn’t until later when she was in her own tent and drifting off to sleep that she realised her error. She‘d told Orin she had killed before, but she hadn’t said who. Did he now think her first kill had been the Karalis?

  Nonetheless, her exhaustion had her sleep surprisingly well that night.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  The agreements Cori struck with Tobin carried them harmoniously through Hale to where the borders met those of Shaw and the Auksas estates.

  Cori now found herself on a small rise, laying on her stomach in the sun. She could see Lautan, partly obscured by the bay and other surrounding hills, and she could see the palace standing proudly on the cliffs, immovable in the ever present sea breeze.

  She took a deep breath, the air salty and fresh in her lungs. It lifted her spirits as much as it made her heart ache. So much had changed now and even if they won this war, things would never go back to the way they were before.

  “Where do you think Bretton will be?” Orin asked from her left. He was on his stomach too and he shifted closer to the top of the rise.

  “On his own border, no doubt,” Cobra replied from her right. She hadn’t wanted to bring Cobra on the scouting mission. His arrogance was grating but she couldn’t deny that he was good at war strategy and in her effort to prove her maturity to Tobin, she had accepted that he should be the one to come along for their reconnaissance.

  “It seems very quiet,” Cori offered, her eyes still on the palace. There were people moving around outside - just ants to her eyes – but she thought they seemed more like nobles out enjoying the sun rather than any sort of resistance.

  “After this many weeks of fighting, they‘re probably at a stalemate.” Cobra inspected his nails, then picked a fleck of dirt out from under one. “Bretton’s men were outnumbered, two to one on the Hiram side.”

  “And the Nomad Islanders?” Orin asked. “Have we heard what their stance is?”

  Cobra shrugged and pushed himself to his feet. “We won’t know anything until we either find Bretton, or get into Lautan.”

  “I can find Bretton,” Cori offered.

  “Let’s talk about it back at camp,” Orin said with a small frown. She smiled a little; no doubt he wanted his father to be present when she proposed to use magic to find the head of Shaw. She was confident that she had enough magic to reach Shaw but she knew Tobin and his son felt differently. Orin pushed himself up and held out a hand for her. She gazed at the palace a moment longer before accepting his help. They followed Cobra back down the hill in silence.

  “Are you nervous?” Cori asked. Despite her reconciliation with his father, Orin had become increasingly withdrawn over the past week of travelling.

  “A little, I suppose. It’s... It’s complicated.” He didn’t add anything further, and Cori didn’t pry. She did, however, get the uneasy feeling that his detachment had something to do with her. She hoped, and not for the first time on their journey, he wasn’t developing feelings for her. She didn’t know what she’d do if he decided to express those before going into battle. They caught up to Cobra who had stopped at their horses, tethered to a tree.

  “What do you think?” Cori asked as they mounted up and turned their horses north again. Cobra gave her a sideways look, one eyebrow raised. She knew he didn’t like her, nor did she particularly like him, but he had more training than she and Orin. His jaw worked as if he were trying to decide whether to disclose his thoughts to her or wait until he could cut her out of the loop and debrief with Tobin.

  “I think, by the looks of those gates, that we’re going to need siege equipment to get in. Let’s hope Shaw has some, otherwise we’ll be camping outside and trying to starve them out.”

  Cori glanced skyward. She didn’t know much about war but she knew sieges were a drawn-out process, and she didn’t like the idea of the townspeople starving for the sake of the throne. Of course, she could try to use her magic to bring down the gate. Whether she’d have enough after contacting Bretton would be another story. Perhaps she could insist on a few days delay while she regained enough energy for a strengthening song. It wouldn’t be ideal; stalling would give Hale time to rally their army outside the town. It would give the Advisor time to escape. She scowled. He was the type of coward who would run from the war he’d created.

  When they reached the camp, they rode directly to Tobin’s tent. He was already receiving debriefs from scouts who had ridden towards the coast to scope the gates from that direction. When he spotted Cori and her party, he sent a servant to fetch the other members of the war council. Before long, Bellia and Enya arrived and not far behind was Saul. They grouped into the tent, standing in a loose circle around the table perpetually covered in maps.

  “Karaliene, you first,” Tobin offered when everyone was quiet.

  “Not much to see,” she crossed her arms and looked down at the topmost map on the table, one of the streets of Lautan. “The gates are closed and look to have been reinforced. I‘ve never seen them closed in all the years I lived there. Cobra thinks it will be a siege situation. I tend to agree.” Cobra lifted his chin slightly, pleased with her deference.

  “And Bretton? Is he already out front?”

  “No sign of Shaw. We think they‘re probably on their own border.”

  Tobin sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. The tent was stuffy with so many in it. Cori resisted the urge to shift on her feet. Instead she watched Orin. He stood with his hands clasped behind his back, his eyes on the maps on the table.

  “This will all take some revising in our plans,” Tobin eventually continued. “Saul, Enya? Soldier reports?”

  “My lot are ready,” Enya offered. She was a big woman, as tall as any of the men in the tent, with a sharp face like a hawk.

  “Mine as well,” Saul agreed with a shrug. “They’ve been through some drills this morning, nothing heavy. They’re conserving their energy now.”

  “So it’s just a matter of deciding whether we go to Lautan and set up the siege or find Bretton first?” Tobin looked to each of them to ensure no one disagreed.

  “I’ll get Bretton,” Cori said. Everyone turned their attention to her and she kept her expression neutral. She was getting good at it: Rowan would have been proud. “Just give me some time but I’ll get him.”

  “All right,” said Tobin slowly. He frowned at her in much the same way Orin had.

  “If you’ll excuse me then.” She inclined her head but didn’t wait for a dismissal before leaving the tent; that was still her prerogative as Karaliene. Orin followed her, as always, and they went into her tent together. It was big - as big as Tobin’s - and at first she’d been dismayed by the size, but after a few nights of sleeping on a cot instead of a bedroll on the ground, she reluctantly admitted that it was far more comfortable. She even had some furniture in there: a woven mat on the ground and a table with chairs. Historically, hers was supposed to be the tent where councils convened, but Tobin had agreed to continue to host their meetings.

  “It shouldn’t take long,” Cori said as she settled herself on some cushions on the floor. Orin in his worry stayed standing. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Her Hum rose to mind easily enough, still a misshapen concoction of notes. She drew on it, careful to keep in check her already depleted energy levels, and let it fan out around her.

  She found the individual flames of the Hiram in the densely populated camp around her and the more harmonic mass of humans among them. She let go of them and reached further.

  The next person she found was the Advisor, so used to his angry, unchecked fire as she was from her days learning to use her Hum in the palace. Her own anger built as she touched his mind. She wished she could kill him now, unleash a Deathsong in his mind, but she didn’t have the time or energy to weave one, even if she knew how to start. She let him go with a shove that she hop
ed would give him a headache.

  She assumed the Advisor was in the palace so she turned her search south from there. Though she hunted for a time, she uncovered nothing but the earth's energy. Her own flickered. She pushed harder, desperate to find someone from Shaw before she once more ran out of magic.

  At last she found them, a group of people that was almost an even blend of human and Hiram. Bretton was human so she wouldn’t be able to find him directly, but she had touched the mind of his son once before and it was he that she searched for now. Her mind felt like it was pushing through honey as she touched the mind of each Hiram there. Distantly someone called her name, a warning. She pushed on; it was becoming harder and harder to focus and she desperately hoped she hadn’t missed him.

  “Cori.”

  What was that? Was that him?

  “Cori, Come back!”

  Yes! Bretton’s son! She pressed her lethargic mind against his. Resso is north of Lautan.

  “CORI!”

  She returned to her body with a jerk and opened her eyes to find herself on her back. Orin had one hand pressed to her chest and the other to her forehead.

  “Don’t stare, you fool!” Orin yelled, his gaze focused on the entrance of the tent. “Get me a damned cloth or something!”

  Someone muttered and left. Heat and liquid spread over Cori's face. An awkward brush of her hand revealed blood. Her nose was bleeding. Orin fixated on her.

  “You bloody idiot.” He took her by the shoulders and pulled her upright, then pushed her forward over her knees. She held a hand under her face. The blood drain onto her palm. The all too familiar blackness touched the edges of her vision, darkening the tent. Orin spoke, but his words were hollow and indistinguishable. The servant returned.

  “Lord Orin?” Cori had her back to them but she could tell by the tone of the woman‘s voice that she wanted to be anywhere else.

  “Just toss it here and go,” Orin snapped. “And don’t speak to anyone!” He caught the cloth and pressed it into Cori’s bloody hand. She held it to her face.