“I promise,” Blaine said solemnly.
“I must also tell you what happened after I killed Scythe,” Darnuir said.
“The demons fled as we suspected they might,” Blaine said.
“Not quite,” said Darnuir. “All the spectres gathered around me when I tossed Scythe’s body on the earth. I thought they were going to kill me, Blaine, there were so many of them. But one just gave me a smile and a bow, then they all left, melding away into the shadows. That’s why the regular demons went berserk. Castallan’s red-eyed minions must have no real control over them.”
“Are you sure, Darnuir?” Blaine asked. “Why would the spectres simply flee?”
“Perhaps they do not see eye to eye with Castallan?” Darnuir said. “Cassandra mentioned that the spectre lord she witnessed at the Bastion threatened him.”
“All those of the Shadow shall suffer in time,” Blaine said. “If our enemies are squabbling with each other, all the better.”
“There may be a way we could use this to our advantage if we discovered the true reasons behind it,” Darnuir said.
“What?” Blaine said sharply. “You would have us work with demons next?”
“No, Blaine. I just—” but he did not know quite how to finish. He did not yet understand and so he could not know what he would do. All he could be certain of was that something was amiss within Castallan’s ranks. If spectre descent extended beyond just this one battle, if it went as far as Rectar’s invasion fleet, then it could have enormous repercussions. He doubted Blaine would ever grasp this. He was too zealous in his war against the Shadow. Darnuir left the matter for now.
“One final thing,” Darnuir said. “Before we unlocked my memories, my head pains always abated when I was close to Cassandra. Physical contact made them disappear completely. Do you have any idea why that might be?”
“I haven’t a clue,” Blaine said. “As I have mentioned, your situation is unprecedented.”
“I have a vivid memory now,” Darnuir went on. “Of running through a golden city under siege, with a baby girl in my arms. That girl was Arkus’ daughter. That girl was Cassandra. After that, there is only pain and white light.”
“Perhaps,” Blaine began slowly, “if the girl was the last person you were connected to, in a fashion, it formed some kind of bond. When you reconnected, perhaps your old self in the rubies was tricked into thinking all was as is should be.”
“Seems as plausible a reason as any,” Darnuir said. “We must bring her safe from the Bastion, Blaine. I failed her at Aurisha and I failed her again here twenty years later. I don’t intend to fail on the third attempt.”
She was too close.
“As you will,” Blaine said. “My King.”
My King, Darnuir repeated in his head, thinking of the armour. He means it now.
“Take the army south and rendezvous with Fidelm, then head east to Brevia.”
“You will not be joining us?”
“Speed will be essential. I will go ahead to the capital.”
“You should not go alone,” Blaine warned.
“I won’t be.”
Blaine’s eyes narrowed. “I do not wish to cast dispersions on her abilities or loyalties, for I am sure she is dedicated to you. However, dragons are simply not used to female troops beside them, much less above them.”
“Perhaps,” Darnuir told him. “But these are not your dragons.” Darnuir left Blaine with a firm shake, gripping him high up his forearm. Blaine returned the gesture. “Take care, Guardian.”
South of the hill, he found Lira and Brackendon awaiting him. Two score of dragons stood proudly behind her, handpicked, young; their men to mould. It pained him that they had not recruited hunter members to the Guard but facts were facts. Until Castallan was removed, the humans could not fully be trusted. Not that he would openly admit that to Blaine. Besides, this was to be another hard run and he had no desire to carry any humans on his back.
“You know why you are here,” he told those assembled. “You are the first of my new Praetorian Guard. You will be my elite. You will train in the ways of dragon, human and fairy. We will make a force that shows what this alliance should be – strong and loyal. If you would follow me then do so now. If not then return to camp and you will not be reprimanded.” None of them moved. “Then run with me now; run to Brevia, and our first steps to retaking our world!”
EPILOGUE
DUKOONA WALKED QUIETLY in the ruined streets of the Forsaken City. The once proud home of the Black Dragons had been reduced to rubble during their last war with their Aurishan cousins. When his master, Rectar, had taken up residence in the mountain of Kar’drun nearby, he had clearly seen no benefit in restoring the place. The Black Dragons had also built their homes from starium. Dukoona, of course, had not been there. He had never seen one of these ‘other’ dragons, though he suspected they would have looked similar. Though largely rubble, the style of the buildings was not dissimilar from Aurisha itself. Crumbling towers must once have stood tall. Columned villas sat desolate, their pillars cracked or fallen. Forges rusted away behind collapsing shop-fronts. There was even a rather large structure, perhaps as big as the Basilica atop Aurisha’s plateau. Its roof had caved in but Dukoona sensed that it too was once a dome. He wondered what their quarrel had been about. There were no more dragons of this kind in the world now. He doubted whether the differences between the two merited the destruction of the other.
He doubted most things now. He doubted whether his kind still had any value to their master. Investigations into the incident reported by little Sonrid had not advanced. Dukoona and his Trusted were none the wiser about the red creature that had escaped from the mountain or why his people were killed for seeing it. They had to tread with extreme caution. Spectres were no longer allowed into the mountain and his Master’s only guidance now came in the occasional powerful burst before his presence faded out entirely. These instructions only concerned the invasion and the fleet. Dukoona was supposed to launch the eastern ships and he would, eventually. He was just meandering here. He was taking his time; enjoying the rare novelty of walking. The quiet streets made for a pleasurable stroll.
Dukoona was glad for the tranquillity. Demons after all made such a terrible noise –always snarling or gnashing or screaming at some fresh momentary delight. It became dreadfully difficult to think clearly around them, for a spectre would expend most of his energy keeping them in line. Even smaller groups in the hundreds were tricky to manage at once, yet nearly all the demons Rectar had in his power were aboard the ships. Thirty thousand here on the eastern coast, fifty thousand down at Aurisha, and one hundred thousand would wait in the west until the others traversed the tip of the mainland. The remainder were to stay as a reserve against any encroachments. Two hundred thousand demons in all, not to mention the remnants of the forces they had sent back into the Highlands. The Three Races would be well occupied. As Dukoona drew closer to the harbour of the Forsaken City, the noise inevitably escalated. He felt infinitely sorry for his brothers who had to accompany the demons on board their ships. There surely was no greater hell, other than perhaps his Master’s lair under Kar’drun. His small satisfaction came from having kept his Trusted safe on land, along with the bulk of his own kind. As an added bonus, he had put the bare minimum number of spectres on each ship. He would have to leave them soon to conduct the campaign. By keeping them out of immediate harm, he had done all he could for them.
The ships stretched out far to sea, anchored until the last transports were full. They were fat vessels, over-weighed with demons. It would take a deal of oar power to move them. Were it not for the fortunate fact that demons did not require food or rest, the whole endeavour might have failed. The wood of the ships was not smoothed. Any small, splintering pieces caught in their fiery flesh would simply burn away. They were crude vessels, like those they were designed to carry. All they had to do was land their cargo.
The harbour itself was the one area Rectar had
deemed worthy to rebuild and even expand. It sprawled out fresh, strong and golden, in contrast to the decaying city all around it. As he strode along the bay, he found Kidrian awaiting him under the shadow of one of the great, fat hulls.
“Is all prepared?” Dukoona asked. Kidrian nodded. However, his eyes moved shiftily around and his purple embers burned lower than usual. “Is something wrong?”
“It might be nothing,” Kidrian croaked in an undertone.
“Does it regard our recent issues?” Dukoona asked, minding to be careful how they spoke in the open.
“No, not that issue,” Kidrian said. “I have been getting unsettling reports of missing starium from the city.”
“Missing?” Dukoona said, surprised. “The whole place is a ruin, Kidrian. How could it be known whether some of the stone was missing or not?”
“Indeed sir, a few bricks would go entirely unnoticed, but whole areas? I am told of whole sections of the city suddenly being cleared.”
“You trust these reports?”
“As I trust you, lord.” This signalled that Kidrian had his information from members of the Trusted, ever watchful for unusual activity. “I have seen this too with my own eyes, though only briefly. A few of our closest brothers have not been seen in days.”
More deaths? Rectar is not even trying to mask his movements well. It is as though he only wishes to delay us…
“My Lord, Dukoona?” Kidrian said.
Dukoona snapped back to the situation at hand. “Is there any indication where the material is being moved to?”
“None sir, though there only seems one place it could have gone without us knowing.”
They exchanged a knowing look.
The mountain. What would Rectar need with such amounts of starium stone?
“The will of the Master is not for us to understand,” Dukoona said, making a point of announcing it for any interlopers. “Yet his will here is clear. Kidrian, pass along orders to all vessels from General Dukoona. The fleet is to set sail immediately.”
Kidrian bowed low then melded away into the shadow they stood in. A thick rope stretched from the dock to the ship, allowing Kidrian to avoid the water below. He remerged on the brow of the ship’s top deck and moved off, out of sight.
Dukoona stood perfectly still as he watched the ships depart. He never suffered from aches from his body, he never felt tired, and he never had to sustain himself, like he knew dragons, humans and fairies must. There was nothing to do at times but to think, to battle his gnawing doubt, now more acute than ever. Yet, in launching the fleet, he was being deprived of time to contemplate. Events may soon get ahead of him and the fate of his kind lay in the balance. The invasion of the west had begun.
The Dragon's Blade: The Reborn King Page 45
