The Dragon's Blade: The Reborn King

by Michael R. Miller

  Chapter 28

  WHEN PLANS GO WRONG

  DUSK WAS DRAWING close when Cassandra crested the top of the hill. A solitary tree grew at its peak, towering and natural in colour. Here, at the edge of the forest, silver trees were sparse, a situation aggravated by the recent burnings. The vale to the south was now a smouldering landscape, sloping gradually into the river Dorain. Far off, the twin hill of the vale could be seen, although the dwindling light made it more difficult to behold with each passing second. Only recently, this hill had risen proudly from a sea of green. Now, half its side was burnt away and only a portion of its southwestern side remained untouched.

  She drew in long breaths, glad of the freshness of the air so high up. It almost had a sweet taste at this height. Guards had been posted to her tent and they had taken her sword, but giving them the slip had been easy enough. Despite this, she felt invisible chains tightening around her within the camp, yet up here, she could feel free. There were no wandering eyes, no suspicious eyes, no judgement, no expectations. And no Darnuir. His pursuit of her forgiveness was matched only by her reluctance to face him after what she had revealed to Balack. She hadn’t meant it. It had just slipped out. But what he had done next had been frightening.

  It occurred to her then that she might slip down the hillside, run into the trees and never come back.

  And where would I go? Back to my room atop the Bastion?

  She had felt at ease beneath the Argent Tree but that did not seem an option. The Queen wanted everyone gone; she could send her away or keep her there as a ‘guest’. Cassandra knew full well what that would mean. Another room, another prison; more guards and less life.

  It had been Darnuir who had deflected attention from her and allowed her to feel like she was living her life for the first time. Not even Cosmo seemed to fully trust her anymore. Her fingers wrapped around the little dragon figurine that Trask had given her. She pulled it out and gazed at it. The yellow paint had nearly worn away entirely, as had much of the finer carved detail. A chip was missing here or there. She was pleased to find that looking at it did not fill her with guilt or worry anymore. Cassandra clasped a tight hand around it then brought her arm back before launching the figurine far out over the precipice of the hill. Once more, she peered out over the steep slope into the forest below. In one step, she could be master of her own fate. One step and she could be free.

  She pulled herself back and slumped against the lonely tree she had for company. If she vanished now, she would only validate all the claims against her. She would forever be thought a spy or a traitor. Moreover, Balack was still here and he was her one sure friend in the world. Considering the most recent schism with Darnuir, he would need her, and she would not abandon him.

  And so, she resolved to return to her tiny tent at the edge of the camp. She had no doubt been moved to the edge of the camp so that she could not spy on anyone important. The cover of full darkness would be preferable to sneak back in and, in any case, the fading sun caressing her face was most agreeable. It was warm on her skin and the grass was soft under her. Cassandra had almost reached a point of relaxation when she heard the footsteps. She scrambled to her feet, grasping for a sword that was not there. When she saw who it was, she realised that it would have been useless anyway.

  “How did you find me?” she asked.

  “You’re good at not being seen, Cass,” Darnuir said, “but you need to learn to cover your tracks better.” He stood awkwardly some distance from her. She thought she had done a decent job of it. Damn hunter.

  “Can’t you take a hint,” she said acidly. “I’d rather you left me alone.”

  “And I’d like to apologise.”

  “It’s not me you need to apologise to,” Cassandra said. “It’s your friend you need to beg forgiveness from. Two broken ribs, Darnuir; he’ll be out for weeks.”

  “Over a month I’m told,” Darnuir said painfully. “If healers can be spared then he may recover quicker but…”

  “There will be more wounded soon,” she answered for him.

  “Are we not also friends, Cass?” he asked. “Can I not make amends with you at least?”

  “I don’t know what we are,” she said. “I thought so once but the way you look at me has never been simply friendly.”

  I know what you want.

  He took a few cautious steps towards her. She didn’t try to move. It would be pointless. He took her hand and was gentle enough.

  “When I first met you, I was so unsure of everything and overwhelmed,” Darnuir said. “But I felt better around you. My head did not hurt so much and I could forget for a little while what was happening to me. Honestly, I felt like I was a useless dragon but I could help you and I did. It made me feel like I had done something worthwhile.”

  Cassandra’s nerves began to shake. “And I was very grateful, Darnuir. Yet, what is happening to you scares me.”

  “No one is more afraid than I,” he said. “Cass, I don’t know who I am anymore. I’m not the person you first met, yet I am not my old self. I am not even fully something new. When those outbursts come over me, it frightens me as well.”

  She nodded to show she understood and slowly drew her hand away. She sat herself back down beside the tree, curling her body up defensively. Darnuir sat beside her, a little too close for her liking. His hand quested out, perhaps looking for her own again, but settled to playing with the grass between them. He pulled up a tuft and let it float away in the breeze.

  “Do you wish to leave?” Darnuir asked.

  “Am I still allowed?”

  “No. I’m sorry, Cass, but my hands are tied. I don’t believe you are a spy but I hope you can understand Blaine’s position.”

  “And Cosmo?” she said.

  Darnuir said nothing.

  “It is just as well I do not want to leave,” she continued.

  Darnuir perked up. “You don’t?”

  “Of course not, my friends are here,” she said. “I’ve yet to discover from Brackendon whether there are any texts out there on recent history. Balack is wounded now; I want to keep learning swordplay from Lira, and I’d miss baby Cullen terribly, but—” Cassandra paused, unable to think of what to say in regards to the dragon beside her.

  Darnuir rolled onto his knees, placing an arm against the trunk above her head. “And me, Cass?

  Cassandra turned to study his eyes. His intent was clear and the thought intrigued her. Having seen Brackendon and Kymethra, the notion that another person might make her so happy seemed a more realistic prospect than when it had been something she just read in stories and fables. They had always seemed so artificial, so false. The helpless, swooning girls in those tales often fell madly in love simply because the hero smiled at them. They never mentioned what was in their eyes though. That was where you can truly see. She had seen it in Brackendon, in Kymethra, and even in Balack, when he spoke of the mysterious Eve, whom Cassandra would never know. Something like that glinted in Darnuir’s but it was not the same, it was not as pure. Perhaps one day she would be so happy and perhaps she would not. Right now, she did not care for the vague future. She only cared about the hapless position she found herself in, with a dragon she neither wanted so close nor too far away.

  She must have held his gaze for too long, for he moved his face even closer to hers. Cassandra froze. The last moment to react passed. His kiss was gentle but unwanted, soft but still pressing. Her mouth unwillingly opened a little further and a tremor ran through her.

  She did not know what to do. Her hands lay limp and lifeless at her side, even as she felt his draw up to her hair. It was a terrible situation, trapped between tree and dragon, a prison of bark and white leather, more restraining than all the walls of the Bastion.

  It ended with a horn blast that ripped through the night. Darnuir pulled away to peer back over the camp. Cassandra stared at the blank space over his shoulder, not able to look at him.

  “Fire!” he said in alarm. More horn calls
went out. “We’re under attack.” He jumped to his feet, drawing out his sword. “Come! It won’t be safe up here.”

  Cassandra thought it may well be safer up here but she would take a chance to prove she was no agent of Castallan. She was halfway to her feet when Darnuir grabbed her hand and dragged her up. They careened back down the hill, less carefully than either of them had climbed. Darnuir still had her by the hand and she struggled to keep up. Her protests fell on deaf ears and on they flew until she tried to yank her hand free. She jerked her hand from his grip and lost her balance, tumbling backwards.

  She plunged down the hillside as Darnuir’s cry of “Cassandra!” faded away. Violently, she crashed through the undergrowth, cuts ripping at her face and arms. Her vision rolled and rolled again as the slope tossed her. Leaves, then stars; branches then stars; mud then blackness. Her head thudded against something hard but she only continued down; down and down and down, until she grinded slowly to a halt in the soft earth of the forest floor.

  She wanted to move but her body ached. She wanted to cry but even that seemed too difficult. Her eyes blinked open to the dark forest and her ears pricked at the sound of voices.

  “Over here!” one of them said.

  “White leather, she must be a Boreac lass,” another said.

  Rough hands turned her over but her vision was blurred. She thought she saw two men in grainy yellow leathers, but there was a third man standing behind them whose eyes were red. Everything seemed red. Something red oozed out from the mouth of the man who had turned her over. It slopped down over her, obscuring her sight. Then only the man with the red eyes remained. They were eyes that held no secrets. She could read nothing in them.

  “It is her!” the man said to someone she could not see. “Get word to Zarl, we have the Princess!” He bent low to lift her and seemed to do so with no effort. As he hoisted her onto his shoulder, her fingers brushed lightly against something sticking up from the side of his belt. Instinctively she clutched it. He did not seem to notice as the knife punctured his neck. He only gave a gargled gasp of shock as he died, collapsing to the ground. Once again, Cassandra found herself lying on the forest floor but the fear of death had sharpened her senses. Her side was wet and hot with the dead man’s blood and her hands grew slick as she rooted around for his sword. She drew it out, and was relieved that it was of a standard make. She could use it.

  Disorientated, she staggered amongst the trees, her ears still ringing. A gnashing sound rattled from somewhere nearby. She caught the little demon’s rusted sword only by accident as she turned. It reeled back and she struck forward for the kill. She shook her head and it began to clear. Her heart raced like a charging dragon as more enemies approached. She ran. She knew not which way she was going but she ran. They were chasing her, she could hear them coming. Arrows whistled by, but be they from friends or foes, she never knew. She only ran on.

  Before long, she felt the very air around her grow stifling hot and her eyes slammed shut as an inferno blocked her way. She changed course but they were on her then. The demons leaped cackling towards her and she skewered one in mid-air. The second tackled her legs but the weight of its companion on her sword brought her arm down hard on the demon below her. They don’t seem to want to kill me. She kicked the remaining demon and then sprinted on. The fires were throwing up dancing shadows all around now. Not shadows! Even as she had the thought, spectres emerged seemingly out of nowhere, three or maybe four. Her only advantage was their strange aversion to harming her. One tried to knock her sword aside but she held on, screaming as she threw everything she had behind her counter blow. It killed one and injured another. The next spectre to try and touch her lost its arm but the remaining foe vanished. Dark hands grabbed her from behind, almost invisible in the night. She kicked and struggled but she could not break free. More spectres appeared, disarmed her, and dragged her off.

  They must have been moving south for the sounds of battle grew more distant. The trees began to part until she saw a smouldering field before her. At the edge of the treeline, her little party stopped.

  “What are you doing,” a rasping voice croaked.

  “We are to wait for Zarl,” another said.

  “I’m tired of listening to that cursed human,” the first one growled. “When General Dukoona arrives with the fleet, things will work differently. Too much spectre blood has already been needlessly spilled. We threw our lives away for nothing at Torridon.”

  “You disobey Zarl if you like,” yet another said. “I won’t weep for you when he tears your limbs away. The wizard has made them all too strong.”

  “Gah, to Kar’drun with the wizard too!” proclaimed the first spectre. “He and his tedious plans have held us up long enough. Like this one,” it said, pointing a blade of coiled shadow at her. “I say just kill her and have done—” An arrow prevented the spectre from finishing. It gouged out its face and its body fell limp. The one carrying Cassandra dropped her. She lay still. Getting up again seemed too much of a struggle.

  “Cassandra!” a voice called to her.

  A human voice? Cosmo?

  She righted herself and saw him. Cosmo was despatching the last of the spectres, a group of hunters, huntresses and dragons around him. The Prince almost looked resplendent in his white leathers. He hurried over to her. “Can you stand?”

  “Yes,” she said, still shaken and dazed.

  “Good,” he said. “On your feet now. Someone get me a sword.”

  As Cassandra steadied herself, Cosmo thrust a weapon into her grasp. Her free hand pushed her now matted hair off her face and picked out a twig. The wounds on her face stung fiercely. The spectres had been waiting for someone…

  “Cosmo, we have to move now!”

  “That was the idea,” he said, signalling to the six dragons present. “Get her out of here as fast as you can.”

  “I can move myself,” she insisted. “I’m not that hurt.”

  His look suggested otherwise. “They made straight for where you were supposed to be encamped. Castallan must want you back desperately.”

  “Take her!” a cruel voice yelled. “Kill the others.”

  They all whipped to face the source of the threat. A man head to toe in thick plate armour as dark as blood stalked towards them. His pauldrons were dotted with many small spikes, as were the joints at his elbows and knees. Flanking him were dozens of red-eyed men and woman, as well as the odd spectre. They moved swiftly to encircle their small group. The ensuing fight was bravely fought but in vain. Cosmo and the hunters fired at the on-comers but it did not improve their position.

  Cassandra dodged one of the men and cut his side open but was soon enveloped. Those Cosmo had brought were quickly taken down. The Prince himself fought so boldly, he might have been a dragon. One of the red-eyed enemies pushed him over effortlessly but Cosmo cut at his assailant’s legs then hammered his sword into the man’s chest as he rolled to his feet.

  “Cosmo?” the plated man sneered. “Take her away now. I’ll handle him.”

  Cassandra was once again hoisted over a shoulder. Her body gave up struggling before her screaming ceased. A filthy cloth that tasted of bile was rammed into her mouth.

  “Who are you?” Cosmo demanded. “We know you are human. What scum are you to betray your own kind?”

  The plated man removed his helmet. Cassandra’s captives were already running away with her so she only caught a glimpse of him. His face was thin, gaunt even, with a razor-sharp nose and thinning oaken hair.

  Scythe?

  ***

  Darnuir sped through the trees as though he might end the war if he were fast enough. Upon his return to camp, he had gathered men to enter the woods with him after Cassandra, but he had now left them far behind in his haste. It’s my fault. It’s my fault. It’s my fault she fell. She might already be dead or grievously hurt. Why was I so foolish? Why? I only meant to bring her quickly; I thought she was running with me; I didn’t realise how tight my grip wa
s. It’s my fault. She was too close.

  He followed the trail of bodies that seemed to lead south. Demons, spectres, humans and dragons all were strewn along the bloody path. He thought he heard someone shouting an order up ahead but he could not be sure. On and on he drove until the trees thinned and then parted, and before him lay the stretch of charred land that made up the vale. In the distance, and moving at an impressive pace, was a group of humans, half of whom were still in their hunter gear. He thought he saw a slung body over one of their shoulders. Not so far but still at some distance was the mysterious plated man. His helmet was removed but only the back of his head could be seen. Darnuir froze momentarily, wondering whether he should give pursuit. He had taken one step forward when he heard it. A spluttering sound that sent a chill through him. Turning to face its source, his heart stopped dead; his stomach churned; his legs nearly gave way; he forgot how to breathe.

  Cosmo had been lifted off the ground and a large sword through his stomach pinned him to the tree, a wound that would have been a painful death under normal circumstances. Cosmo grasped defiantly onto a low hanging branch so as not to rip himself further. Darnuir went to him. He could tell there was nothing he could do. Cosmo’s free hand reached for Darnuir and he took hold of it. His mouth was full of blood but it seemed he wanted to say something.

  “Scythe,” was all he managed.

  It was the last thing he ever said.

  Darnuir had no concept of how long he stood there. At some point, he removed the terrible sword that had held Cosmo in place and caught his body as he fell. He carried Cosmo’s body down and closed over those grass-green eyes, which had always been so warm, and cradled him for a while longer against his chest. Eventually, others found them. They told him that they should return and he got up without protest.

  “I will carry him,” he told them, whoever they were. First, he strode to where he had tossed the sword that had done the deed. It lay there silently as if feigning innocence. Darnuir took out the Dragon’s Blade and chopped and smashed the sword into as many pieces as he could until they scattered beyond his reach. “Scythe!” he roared. “Scythe!” he bellowed until all the breath had been forced from him. “I will kill you,” he vowed quietly to the night.