The Dragon's Blade: The Reborn King

by Michael R. Miller

  But I must go on. The boy is not ready.

  Allowing one hand to run along the carved railing as he walked, Blaine took his time in making his journey upwards. He smiled kindly at the servants who hurried along in their tasks. All knew him well by now, yet none would ever have spoken of his existence until the recent months. Like all fairies, these servants had been handpicked at birth for their role by the Queen. Given the duties of serving at the uppermost levels of the Argent Tree meant their silence was expected. He reached the final set of stairs leading up to the highest room amongst the canopy; a spiralling ascent that tightly wove upwards until the light of lanterns was replaced by that of the day and the wind whipped at his face, cool and pleasant on his skin. He still had the single silver leaf in hand as he knocked thrice upon the door.

  “Come,” Kasselle beckoned.

  Blaine stepped inside the royal chambers. The large receiving area was stocked with comfy loungers, cushioned chairs and soft rugs. So thick was the canopy above, that a true roof was not necessary and trodden silver leaves scattered the floor. Daylight crept in through the small gaps here and there in the branches as thickly set as the trunks of even the largest of regular trees. Bowls of sweet fruits and prepared nuts lay in abundance, along with great vessels of water from the Avvorn and large, bubbling pots of hot shimmer brew over small fires. There was even the luxury of an entire bowl of silver alderberries. Kasselle, however, was not present.

  “Up here, Blaine,” she called.

  Her songlike voice echoed from one of the upper rooms. There were four in total, lifted up higher from his present position upon the branches, the steps to them forming out of the worn and gnarled wood. He cautiously made his short ascent. Kasselle sat serenely before her tall mirror, gliding a brush through her long silver hair. This was not her most private bedchamber but a glorified wardrobe, with all the trappings necessary for the Queen of Fairies to prepare her appearance each day. Not that she needed to work at it. Sitting there in an extraordinary magenta gown, plain yet regal, he momentarily forgot himself.

  “You look especially beautiful today,” he told her.

  “That is not an appropriate thing for the Guardian of Tenalp to say to me,” Kasselle said without looking at him. She continued to stroke her hair as though nothing were amiss.

  “Nor is it appropriate for the Guardian to be alone with you in your privy chambers, yet here the Guardian stands.”

  “And standing is all he will do,” Kasselle said. “He will not be here for long.”

  Blaine felt irked by her coolness. “I believe it was you who summoned me?”

  “I did,” Kasselle said, putting down her brush and scrutinising her work in the mirror.

  “Then what would the Queen of Fairies have of the Guardian?”

  “I would know when you intend to leave.”

  The words caused Blaine a familiar twist in his innards; sharp like a knife. “Just me?”

  “Blaine, if I wanted you gone, I would have sent you away decades ago. I mean when will the army move out?”

  “We are still awaiting around half of your forces,” Blaine said. “I’d rather not march without being at full strength. Fidelm must have informed you.”

  “He did,” Kasselle said curtly, rising to her feet. “He also told me that much of the demon host at Inverdorn has split off and is now burning the east of my homeland.”

  News of the burning of northeastern Val’tarra had come as another hard blow when word reached him some days before. As crude a measure as it was, the demons would soon force Blaine to act. The fairies would not abide the burning of their sacred forest and would be forced to defend it. The battered dragon and human forces would have to face Castallan’s host before they were ready.

  “So the reports say,” was all Blaine could say in response. Kasselle swept passed him without so much as a glance, back down to her receiving chamber where she poured herself a cup of brew. Blaine followed gingerly. What does she want me to do? We are not yet prepared. “Darnuir has still not awoken,” he told her.

  “It has been over a week now,” Kasselle said. “We cannot be certain when he will rise again and we cannot afford to wait for weeks or months. My people cannot afford it, Blaine.” She gestured to the food and drink. “I’m expecting Fidelm and his men soon,” she said by way of explanation. “You may have something, if you like. You must be hungry.”

  Blaine’s stomach almost rang in approval. He picked up an apple, red, round and oversized, and bit into it. It was perfect, like all that grew near the Avvorn. That which survived at least. He withheld from taking anything further, not wishing to overstay his already strained welcome.

  “I agree that we cannot wait much longer, but without Darnuir, I fear my people will lose heart.”

  “Would they?” Kasselle asked, her voiced tinged with disbelief. “You seem to be the one in control.”

  “That may be the case for now, but Darnuir is their true king, and a symbol both for my followers and the dragons at large. The dragons cannot march without him.”

  “You told me when you first arrived back that he was not ready.”

  “The boy is a decent warrior. If we are to rush to battle then he needs to be in the thick of the fighting, like the great kings of old.”

  “And as Draconess did not?” Kasselle noted, throwing Blaine a look steeped in knowing.

  “I’d rather we did not discuss Draconess,” Blaine sighed heavily. “What’s done is done.”

  “Very much so. A grand failure of a plan,” Kasselle said. She reached for a handful of nuts and began to eat. Even her chewing seemed graceful. “I kept the secret between the two of you. I even tried to convince Draconess at times that it must end; that he should grant the sword to Darnuir, revive your own power, so, together, you all might make an attempt to end the war. I did it all but my kind have only ended up further from safety and peace. Now demons burn Val’tarra itself. No foe has ever dared nor come so close in all the ages of the world and so, Blaine, you must forgive me if I no longer place so much faith in you or your schemes as I once did.”

  Blaine’s hurt began to heat into anger. “We were right to do as we did in the end. You said as much. The boy’s temperament was all wrong, he even colluded with the enemy. I’ve seen the evidence for myself now. Irrefutable.”

  “Perhaps he turned out the way he did because of the shackles Draconess placed around him. Draconess was a fine dragon, Blaine, but ever was he cautious. I think now to a fault. Darnuir may have been driven to help end the war by questionable means but what other choice did he have? Wouldn’t you do anything you could to save your people?”

  “I would not have been so reckless,” Blaine said firmly. “Darnuir may not have fully known what Castallan had planned or he may have known more; one memory does not make that clear. What seems clear is that Castallan was most interested in learning how to process more Cascade energy. If Darnuir had access to the Blade then—”

  “Everything would be worse, I’m sure,” Kasselle interrupted. She was halfway through her brew now and the kick from it must have lent her a fresh vitality. Her cheeks flushed a deep indigo before returning to their sky-blue hue.

  A memory flashed in his mind then, of a happier Kasselle; a younger, brighter, laughing girl, who squeezed his hand tightly as they snuck through the markets of Brevia. She found a fairy merchant with a pot of hot brew and smiled at Blaine as she drank it down, a dazzling smile that held him and had him. They had pretended to be anyone but who they were back then. They imagined for a few weeks that time would not move on and that they could stay as they were forever: together and free. In those days, he had been happy, as had she. It was a pure form of happiness unconditioned by anyone else; when her flushed cheeks and smile were all that mattered in the world. His hand curled in at the memory, hoping to find her hand once more.

  “The past cannot be changed now, Blaine,” Kasselle went on, unaware of his reverie. “Yet, in the here and now, my people are s
uffering. We cannot sustain all of these humans, dragons nor even our own kin in such a concentrated area. Dozens of my healers have already died from their exertions and many more have been taken seriously ill. When healers get sick from their own healing, something is desperately wrong.”

  Blaine had to swallow hard. He suddenly realised that his mouth was terribly dry. “I told Fidelm that they were not to overexert themselves.”

  “And I told him they should work as effectively as they could. We need this army out of our forest. I need the demons and the war taken away from my borders.”

  “You have made yourself quite clear, my Queen,” Blaine said frostily. She wanted a time of departure from him. Nothing more. “The earliest we could leave would be in two days, if I give the order immediately.”

  Kasselle nodded.

  “There should be a council beforehand—” he began.

  “I have already arranged one for this evening,” Kasselle informed him. “Ensure everyone you require is in attendance.”

  Blaine nodded. “And Darnuir—”

  “May remain here until he returns to the world. He will be with family after all, I shall see to his every need. Then I will send him to join you, along with the rest of my forces once they have arrived.”

  “Very well,” he said flatly. Is this how we are to part? The thought kept him frozen in place, halfway between Kasselle and the door. She took another handful of nuts, perhaps as a way to keep her hands busy. She still refused to look at him.

  Saying something further would clearly be unwise. But he had to.

  “Is this how I am to leave you?” he asked her.

  “Two days you said. You are not leaving yet.”

  “I doubt we will have a chance to be alone before then,” he said, pressing determinedly on.

  She twisted in her chair to look at him. Her eyes pierced into him as only hers could. “What do you want, Blaine?”

  “Little enough,” he admitted, “but something more than this. I am to march off to war, possibly the last war I am ever like to fight. I’d rather our last words together were not you telling me you want me gone.”

  The Queen of Fairies closed her eyes and her whole face trembled. “What is it you want to hear?” she asked, a bite in her voice. “All these years later and still you look at me like that, why?”

  “Because I have not forgotten,” Blaine told her.

  “And neither have I!” Kasselle said, surging to her feet, an accusatory finger pointed towards him, her poise and grace momentarily shattered. “I remember it all, Blaine. And I can hardly stand it—” her voice cracked. Blaine took a half-step forwards, intending to console her. “No!” she cried. “Stop.” Blaine’s outstretched hand froze in mid-air.

  “I meant what I said,” Blaine told her gently. “I do not expect anything. Not now. I’m not such a fool. Yet surely, there is something you could say. ‘Please come back’, ‘I will see you again’, anything!”

  “I don’t think you should come back,” she said thickly.

  The knife in his stomach cut deeper. Yet a part of him, that which still had some sense, knew she was right. Why do I do this to myself? What is it I want to hear? He did not even know himself. “I expect I will have many matters to attend to once we are back in Aurisha,” he said mechanically.

  He turned. He was halfway to the door.

  “Blaine,” she called from behind. He whirled instantly around. “Every time I see you, I remember. And I remember her. I see our daughter, and every time I do, I want to walk off one of these branches and never need to think of her again.”

  Blaine pressed his eyes shut for half a second and felt the hot beginnings of tears leak beneath his pupils. He had not thought of Arlandra in a very long time. He had hid almost every memory of her away in his white gems. Locked them up so that they could never surface to hurt him. Kasselle did not have such a luxury.

  There was a loud knock at the door.

  “One moment,” she called, suppressing the hurt in her voice. Then, more quietly, “I do care, Blaine, but just not the way I once did. I cannot go on like this and I am a different fairy from the young queen-to-be you first met.”

  “You were thirty years old when we first met,” Blaine said.

  “And now I am one hundred and forty. My people are my life now, Blaine.”

  Another loud knock rang, more deliberate.

  “I said one moment,” Kasselle snapped, quite out of character.

  “My lady, I’m afraid it is urgent,” Fidelm said steadily from the other side of the door.

  Kasselle quickly attempted to compose herself and Blaine flicked the water out of his eyes.

  “Very well, General,” Kasselle said. The door opened and in stepped the tall-winged fairy, his dark face betraying some worry. In his wake were a group of healers, who seemed in equal parts afraid and ashamed. “What is the matter?” Kasselle demanded. “I was not expecting you so soon.”

  “It is Darnuir, my Queen, Lord Guardian,” Fidelm said, bowing briefly to each in turn. “He is missing.”

  All present in the room looked quickly to each other. Blaine was the first to rally. “He might be confused after what happened,” he told the room at large. “I shall search for him.” He only noticed then that his hand remained stupidly hanging in mid-reach towards Kasselle. His fingers slowly curled inwards, in their vain quest to find hers once more. He balled his hand into a fist to save face and strode from the room.

  He did not dare look back.

  Chapter 25

  FRIENDS FROM THE NORTH

  DAWN BROKE AS Cassandra quietly perched upon her chosen branch. It stretched out over the top of the command tent and granted her a sweeping view of life around the Argent Tree. Her instincts for climbing, moving in secret and seeking solitude had not left her. Yet with each day, she began to feel a bit more at ease. The forest was such a pleasant place and she had never slept half as well as she had since arriving in the fairies’ homeland. Her frequent nightmare of the hand on her shoulder, the flash of steel, the blood and the screaming had not plagued her dreams of late. There was a tranquillity here. It was no wonder the fairies are so well-collected, living in such a place. The waters of the Avvorn were sweet and invigorating, though they had all been warned not to drink too much, lest they become addicted.

  Yet the treasured peace of the fairies had been sorely disturbed with their arrival, and the occasional anguished cry from the wounded was a reminder of the more pressing reality. Still, Cassandra enjoyed being able to wake as she pleased, walk where she pleased, talk with whom she wished and eat when it suited her. Darnuir had fought for her freedom and he had promised her that she would have it. On that, he had not disappointed her. With Scythe’s death, even those most suspicious of her had withdrawn to the periphery. She was not allowed near ink or parchment, nor was she allowed to be seen too close to important conversations. Not that is matters. I hear things all the same.

  Rumours of a traitor or traitors had spread in abundance since Torridon. The Cairlav Hunters blamed those from the Boreacs and the Boreac men suffered fractures from within. Those from the Golden Crescent were the greatest in number and had suffered the fewest losses in battle but their forces had splintered in defending their people. It seemed many had remained behind at their station on the western coast to protect the towns and villages there, while others had taken refugees to Inverdorn. News of the red-eyed Chevalier who had fought so fiercely at Torridon was increasingly popular knowledge and a terrible point of suspicion. If there were traitors among them, then they may also be as powerful and there would be no way of telling friend from foe.

  One morning, while collecting her breakfast, Cassandra had overheard a rather intriguing discussion.

  “And then there are those queer barrels to consider,” an older female hunter from the Crescent had said to her companions. She had a hawkish voice and a thick build from years of tough work. “Reckon they turned up at the station by mistake.”

&nbs
p; “How d’you mean?” a male hunter had asked through a thick mouthful of bread.

  “I mean that when the kitchen boys cracked open the first crate, it weren’t what they were expecting!” the woman said impressively. “The barrels were marked as apples from Val’tarra but that’s hardly what was in them.”

  “Gah,” another one of her female companions had spat in disbelief, “how would you know that then?”

  “’Cause I was there when the Captain had the incident brought to her attention,” the lead woman announced proudly. “Morwen became obsessed with finding out why there was some secret cargo being pushed around her territory without her knowing. Perhaps a little too interested, if you catch my meaning?”

  “What you saying, Gwen?” asked the man again, his mouth then freed from obstruction. “You reckon old Morwen’s death was no accident?”

  Cassandra had circled around carefully then, picking casually at her chopped fruit and nuts and feigned trying to find a spot to sit.

  “I ain’t saying anything in particular,” Gwen had said, her hands up as if to deflect accusation. “All we know is that Morwen was escorting those barrels back to the loch when she was ambushed.”

  “By spectres though, Gwen,” said the disbelieving friend. “There were spectre corpses at the scene.”

  “Aye, so we’ve been told,” Gwen said. “Who knows what’s happening these days. Dragons and demons roaming everywhere, trampling and burning our crops. Talk of magic swords and black powder that lights up a terrible blaze; I tell you, half of what we’ve heard is probably just talk.”

  Instinct had told Cassandra then she ought to move on or risk being noticed, and she managed to pick Balack out amongst the crowd easily enough to sit alongside him. He was now her closest friend and she trusted him completely, as Darnuir did too, she was sure. She felt no qualms confiding in him some of the information she overheard; information that no doubt would make its way to Garon’s ears through Balack and eventually to Cosmo. They relied on each other greatly, for Darnuir was often absent in his training with Blaine, or somewhere high up in the great tree. Recently, he had been absent all together.