“I think I can understand that,” he said.
“I don’t want freedom simply from a room or chains,” she went on, ramming the little dragon warrior back into her jerkin pocket. “I never want to be left without a choice. Trask never saw me as a whole person, as someone who thinks and feels.”
“Well, I assure you that what happened with Eve was very different,” Darnuir said. “She loved me, I think, the way Balack loved her. If I’m honest, I think I always knew, yet I did nothing. I allowed it all to happen.”
The King of Dragons did not seem to have anything else to say. Cassandra could not think of what to tell him. She found it hard to think straight, for her fear of being watched reached a tipping point. The forest was quiet and motionless, yet she could not shake the feeling. Darnuir too seemed to sense they were not alone. His nostrils flared as he drew in long breaths.
“I can definitely smell something,” he announced. “I don’t recognise it all.” He placed a hand on his sword as he got to his feet. “Show yourself!”
Cassandra too rose and gripped her weapon. A cracking noise came from overhead and she jerked her gaze upwards, darting along the branches, looking for its source. Some way off, the leaves began to rustle. And then, there came a voice.
“No need for da swords, Dragon King,” it said, somehow coming from every direction at once. “Ochnic comes as friend.”
“Then show yourself, ‘friend’,” Darnuir snarled. From almost directly above, something large and grey fell down before them.
The creature had the look of a human but with limbs slightly longer than its torso required. It fell with the grace of an overly acrobatic cat, balled up as it made its journey to the ground. Somehow, it landed on its feet, knees bent and crouched amongst the leaves. Its skin looked tough and grey, rougher than leather, though not quite a bear’s hide. Ice-blue eyes shone out like the Avvorn under a mop of frayed white hairs. Cassandra had a mind that the creature might be balding. It had a large satchel of hide slung over its shoulder. As it bore its teeth in a smirk at her, she noticed fang-like incisors, short but thick and pointed. Could it really be, Cassandra wondered amazed. But no, they were just myths, hearsay, and yet the creature looked so similar to the descriptions.
When it attempted to stand upright, Darnuir drew his sword out further. The creature’s eyes darted from Cassandra to the Dragon’s Blade. It continued to slowly stand, drawing to its full and impressive height. It towered over the two of them, standing just short of seven feet, though its limbs were elongated and not in the same proportions as a human. Its clothing was rudimentary at best, sporting a loincloth and a crude covering for its torso, evidently made from thick white fur. The rest of its body was naked.
“Ochnic said der was no need for swords,” it said gruffly, taking a couple of steps back all the same.
Darnuir edged forwards. “Why were you spying on us? Whom do you serve?”
“Darnuir, stop!” Cassandra said. “I think he is a frost troll, he is clearly no demon.”
“As if it is only demons who work against us,” Darnuir said. “We don’t even know what this thing is.”
“I told you,” Cassandra insisted, moving to stay Darnuir’s arm. “I believe he is a frost troll.” Darnuir paused to take another good look at the troll.
“A frost troll…” Darnuir said, mulling it over.
“I assume so,” she said, having no real way of knowing. Darnuir seemed to be warming to the idea.
The creature spoke again. “Ochnic does not know of dees ‘trolls’,” it said, working carefully to try and replicate the word it did not know.
“It is what you are, is it not?” Darnuir asked, a little dimly.
“They probably don’t call themselves trolls,” Cassandra said. Her fascination was overwhelming. The depressive state brought on by talk of Trask was fast evaporating. “Ochnic,” she said carefully and clearly. “Is that your name?”
“Ochnic, I am,” it replied, thumping an oversized hand against its chest. Now she noticed it, his feet were oversized as well, and appeared to have one toe much further apart from the others, almost like another pair of hairy hands.
“And what are you, Ochnic?” She asked him. The troll did not seem to understand the question and cocked its head quizzically at her. She thumped a hand off her own chest, in imitation of Ochnic. “Cassandra, I am,” she said. She thumped a second time. “Human, I am.” She turned to Darnuir, who did not seem to have caught on. She whacked his torso saying, “Darnuir, he is. Dragon, he is.”
At this, Ochnic seemed to understand. “Kazzek, I am.”
She smirked satisfactorily at Darnuir.
“Okay, Ochnic,” Darnuir said, sheathing his sword, but keeping one hand on it. “How did you know who I was?”
Ochnic pointed once more to the head of the Dragon’s Blade. “Dey said da Dragon King would have weapon like dis.” His words were slow and deliberate, though Cassandra sensed there was a great deal of intelligence behind them.
“And who are ‘they’?” said Darnuir.
“Kazzek chiefs,” replied the troll.
“Not demons?” Cassandra asked, just to make sure. Ochnic suddenly showed signs of aggression. He growled lowly and stepped towards them. Darnuir was between them in a flash but his presence was unnecessary. Ochnic simply spat a large blob of thick spittle onto the leaves.
“De demons do not come as friends,” he grunted. “Dey cut and bite and kill kazzek. They smash de stone men too when dey can. Der not many of dem left now.”
“Demons or stone men?” Darnuir asked.
“Stone men,” Ochnic stated. “Of de demons, der are thousands and thousands, but not as many as before.”
“You mean they have left?” Cassandra asked.
“Dey surrounded our lands,” Ochnic said. “Made it hard to come and go. Den most left but still many remain.”
“And when was this?” Darnuir asked. He seemed more at ease than before.
“Two or dree moons ago,” said Ochnic.
“Dree?” Darnuir murmured in confusion.
“I think he means three,” Cassandra whispered back.
“So around the time invasion of the west was conceived,” Darnuir said, as though thinking aloud.
“The timing seems to match up, even if it is a bit vague” Cassandra said. “Ochnic, why have you come? Your people have not been seen this far south before.”
“Kazzek be needin help of Dragon King,” he said sombrely. “We be dying. We be too few to fight da demons if dey return.”
Darnuir suddenly became serious. “Is there a road through the north?” he asked Ochnic. “Would there be a way for the demons to reach us here, as you did?”
Ochnic nodded. “Always der is ways.”
“Dranus! But we have been fortunate,” Darnuir said. “If these kazzek were the only thing preventing the demons from invading over land…”
Another voice whipped through the trees. “Darnuir! Blaine yelled. “Darnuir! Fan out men, find the King. Something may be amiss. There is a foul smell in the air.”
“Ochnic,” Darnuir said. “Try not to react brashly.”
The kazzek troll cocked his head at him.
“Over here, Lord Guardian,” someone called.
Cassandra glanced over her shoulder to see a Light Bearer running towards them. Soon, a score more appeared from between the trees, Blaine amongst them; his heavy, golden armour glistening. All drew their swords when they saw Ochnic. They encircled the three of them. Ochnic leaped high into the branches above and was soon lost in the mass of the leaves. The Light Bearers arced their shields and eyes upwards.
“Careful,” Blaine warned, “these frost trolls are crafty.”
“I do not think he means us harm,” Darnuir said.
“He is looking for help, not a fight!” Cassandra implored. Blaine shot her a disapproving look.
“That you are out here alone with her is one thing, but to be so incautious is quite another,” he snap
ped at Darnuir, as though reproaching a child. “What if there had been more?”
Darnuir stepped meaningfully towards Blaine. “I would have smelled them, Blaine,” he said, a little fiercely. Blaine remained exactly as he was. “It worked Blaine,” Darnuir told him. “I have all my old memories now. Well, at least those bits that were left behind. So I would refrain from speaking to your King in such a way, Guardian.”
Cassandra felt her heart beat quicker. The newfound tension of the scene broke as Ochnic remerged from above, dangling by his hand-like feet from his branch, swaying slightly. The Light Bearers turned in unison to face the troll, shields slamming into the ground. “Ah!” Ochnic exclaimed upside down. “Dis one is Dragon Guardian?”
“I am, troll,” Blaine said curtly. “What business would you have of me?”
Ochnic brought his satchel around to his front and began carefully rummaging through the bag. Seemingly frustrated in his search, he curled his torso upwards and stuck his head further into the deep bag. He did it all effortlessly and Cassandra wondered at how strong the troll must be in order to achieve this. Suddenly, and with a great flourish, he pulled out a battered but nonetheless beautiful necklace of woven gold and silver, in an organic pattern that struck of fairy design. In the centre of the chain was a recognisable little letter ‘A’. Blaine’s face drained of colour as the troll handed it to him.
“How did you come by this?” Blaine said in barely a whisper.
“Ochnic told to give Dragon Guardian dis by chieftains.”
Blaine raised the necklace up in front of his disbelieving eyes. He looked as though he had seen the dead. It seemed only with a prodigious effort that Blaine regained some of his usual bearing. He kept the necklace in his hand as he turned slowly away and began to trudge back towards the Argent Tree.
“Chieftains no say that it leave Guardian tongueless,” Ochnic said, baffled.
The Light Bearers seemed confused and, one by one, they turned to Darnuir instead.
Well, there is a first, Cassandra thought.
“Come, my King!” Blaine shouted back as he kicked through the fallen leaves. “We have a war to plan. Bring your new pet along too if you will.”
Chapter 26
TO PLAN A WAR
THE ARGENT TREE was manic with activity. Word had been spread. The troops would leave on the morrow. Darnuir observed it as he descended down the spiralling pathway, Lira at his side.
“I feel foolish ‘guarding’ you,” she told him.
“You’re not a bodyguard,” Darnuir said. “The Praetorians are my tool, like the Light Bearers are Blaine’s. I shall wield the Dragon’s Blade in one hand and the Guard in the other.”
“And you trust me already?”
“More than most,” Darnuir said. “I do not know my own kind well enough yet and they do not know me. You have been through something similar to myself; I think you understand my position better than most.”
“Perhaps,” she admitted, “yet I do not have the experience.”
“You’re a hunter Lira, like me. You have led teams of men, settled disputes and helped those who need it most. You are trained in both sword and bow and have acquired the skills of tracking and stealth that few dragons could hope to master now.”
“They might be trained,” Lira offered.
“The old are stuck in their ways,” Darnuir said, slowing his pace. He did not want to be the first to arrive. His advisors could await his pleasure; the older Darnuir had always been insistent on that.
“So what do you intend?” Lira asked.
“To make a guard worthy of the alliance we espouse as so important,” Darnuir said. “An elite core of dragons, humans and fairies alike. I would even take some of these frost trolls if I could. I am supposed to lead the Three Races, those around me should represent the best of each race. Stout dragons with thick armour and heavy shields might be good for fighting in the field but those are not the only arenas of war.”
“You sound different,” Lira said, then added, “My Lord, I mean, sire, I mean—”
“There is no need for such ingratiating titles in private, Lira. Though, in public, it would be good to observe expected courtesies, particularly around the Guardian.”
“He does not much care for me,” she said. “It seems like he has a bad smell under his nose when he looks at me.”
“He doesn’t much care for anyone,” Darnuir said. “And he is tightly wound and secretive besides. He is keeping things from me, I am fully aware of that now.”
“Such as?”
“This Guard for one. He never deemed to tell me about the Praetorians and I only know now because of my unlocked memories. But there is much more beyond, though they are matters I do not desire to burden you with.”
“As you wish.”
“In answer to your question before, I do feel different. I feel I am ready to start acting like a king and I no longer want to waste any time.”
“What would you have me do?” Lira asked, as willing to accept an order as Darnuir was now prepared to give it.
“I thought it might be worth you accompanying me to the Council, to make your new status clear. However, I do not want you to be simply standing on ceremony. Get out amongst the younger dragons. Find those akin to ourselves if you can; young and not yet hardened to the ‘old ways’. If they have enough talent with a blade then you ought to consider recruiting them.”
“Yes, sire,” she said, a little unsure. “There are others like us out there – those who were so young when the Golden City fell that they cannot remember life before living amongst humans. They may be our best start.”
“Very good,” Darnuir said briskly.
The remainder of their brief journey was made in silence. Darnuir was cautious of the stares he received. Most of the fairies recognised him now. Even wearing his white and grey leathers was not enough to allow him to avoid their eyes at a distance. They saw the hilt of his sword, as red as dark ox-blood, and they knew what it was; who he was.
Ever since the Dragon’s Blade had smashed through that window and placed itself in his hand, he had felt as though he were changing. Am I now ‘complete’? Is this who I am meant to be? He was neither fully human nor fully dragon; not all of his old self nor all the new. Yet he knew there to be some links between his two lives. The old Darnuir’s disdain for Blaine’s religion was well enmeshed with his frustration for his father. It was best that he make a clean break away from it. He would use his Praetorians to reflect what the Three Races ought to be: a true coming together. An amalgamation. Just like me.
As they approached the war room of the fairies, Lira veered silently off and continued down the winding walkway. Darnuir continued alone towards the grand old doors where a solitary Cosmo stood sentinel.
“Does this mean you are finally accepting my offer?” Darnuir asked.
But what was Cosmo to him now? Father, friend or only instructor? Cosmo’s face now mingled with Draconess where his father was concerned. It was unsettling.
“After a fashion,” Cosmo said. “Though I was invited by the Queen regardless.”
“Oh?” Darnuir said in some surprise. “Now why would she do that?”
“Because I have decided to stop running, Darnuir,” he said with a touch of pride. He no longer seemed as weary as he had; only determined. “I have also decided upon a name for my son. He will be called Cullen.”
“Cullen…” Darnuir mused it over. “A good name. A strong name.”
“It was one Grace always favoured.”
“He’ll grow into it well, I’m sure,” Darnuir said. “Shall we enter?”
“I see no reason to wait,” said Cosmo, and together they pushed through the heavy doors.
A vast table of silver wood sprouted up like a mushroom in the centre of the room, covered in an oversized map of Tenalp. Painted figurines, representing hunters from different regions along with fairies, dragons and demons were placed on the map as the council understood the current sit
uation to be. Castallan’s army sat in force at the eastern most edge of the forest of Val’tarra, with fewer of his blackened demon carvings some way south outside Inverdorn at the tip of Loch Minian. More demons were positioned in the northern Highlands, though these belonged to Rectar, but they had no hard intelligence on their numbers or position there; only the vague words of Ochnic. Their own forces, golden dragons, blue fairies and hunter carvings in red, yellow and white, were crammed in the area around the Argent Tree, deep in Val’tarra.
The air of the war room smelled oddly stale as though the place had not been aired out in years, and though the table seemed freshly cleaned, a heap of dust covered most of the other surfaces around the room. When the servants whipped back the delicate curtains from the openings, clouds of the grey powder burst into the air. A breeze began to circulate around the room to Darnuir’s relief. Other servants were busy hanging wispy lanterns upon the walls to combat the fading light of dusk. The entire operation seemed a hurried affair. Most of the attendees were already present.
Blaine, flanked by a handful of silent Light Bearers, sat near Kasselle, Fidelm and several other grim-faced fairies that Darnuir did not know. Brackendon sat patiently with Kymethra beside him. Even Garon was there, as were Rufus, Griswald and two huntresses; one from the marshes and one from the Golden Crescent. Likely they were there at Cosmo’s behest. Garon had an empty seat beside him, which Cosmo made for. At a reasonable distance from the rest was Ochnic, sat on his lonesome, looking uncomfortably crouched on a chair that was far too small for him. Several fairy guards stood at the wall behind him, their hands twitching over the hilts of their broadswords. As there did not appear to be a set seating plan, Darnuir ambled to a spot not far from the troll. He had quickly developed a fondness for the creature after it had unnerved Blaine with such ease, and Cassandra had conversed with the troll non-stop on their way back to the Argent Tree. Ochnic seemed most comfortable around her; there had been a snarling protest when they were separated. He was calm now, however, sitting contemplatively, despite being in an alien land and amongst strange people.
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