Realm Of Blood And Fire (Book 3)

by Dionne Lister

  “So, Agmunsten, what part of the plan has been changed?” Zim drank from a bucket of water; his massive dragon hand closed around it as if he were a human holding a mug.

  “You and I, Arcese, Arie and Astra are going to Zamahl instead of any of the realmists I sent to Vellonia. We leave tonight for the coast. I’m afraid I’m going to need you and your sister to fly us there. Would you? Please?”

  Warrimonious interjected. “But Arcese is pregnant. I won’t allow it!”

  The spikes on the back of Arcese’s neck rose, and she narrowed her eyes. “Don’t start this pregnancy thing now, husband. If we don’t go, Talia is lost.”

  “Am I the only one who cares that you’re carrying a precious egg—an egg I had half a hand in producing? And besides, you are so close to delivering. What if you deliver in a strange country? No. The dragons have enough to worry about without the risk to one of our rare young. Not to mention what your father would do to me if anything happened to either of you.” He turned to Agmunsten. “I’ll go. Arcese will stay and help Edmund prepare.”

  “But, I—”

  “No. I can’t let you. If something happens, I will never forgive myself.” Both dragons glared at each other until Arcese puffed out her chest and looked away, a frustrated breath ruffling the hair of Astra, who sat beside her.

  The violet-eyed realmist patted the dragon’s arm. “There will be many important things for you to do here,” Astra whispered. “Leon may come to Bayerlon first—he hates his brother. Come to think of it, you’re probably lucky that Warrimonious didn’t send you back to Vellonia.” Arcese scowled at the realmist. Astra shrugged.

  King Edmund spoke into the awkward silence that inevitably follows a public argument between spouses. “Ahem. Um, Agmunsten, didn’t you have some other news you wanted to share? And can you come back to the table, away from the window, please? I’m having a hard time seeing your face, and it irritates me when I can’t see who I’m talking to.”

  Agmunsten rolled his eyes, figuring Edmund couldn’t see him, before crossing the room and taking a seat. “Is this better?”

  “Quite.”

  “Just a moment.” Agmunsten closed his eyes then opened them. “Just checking that our meeting is still warded against listeners. I received a brief message from Arcon this morning. He says the second activation was successful, and they’re on their way back. They’re headed for Vellonia.”

  The king smiled. “That’s wonderful news.”

  “Yes,” Zim said. “It means we’re not wasting our time with all of this.” He gestured around the room. “We still have hope.”

  “That’s all we need to discuss for now. Warrimonious, I’d like you to remain and go over tactics. I want my soldiers to be ready for anything, and since the gormons can fly, I want your take on what strategies they might employ and how we might guard against it.”

  The dragon nodded as everyone else, except for Edmund’s captain, Pernus, and King Fendill, filed out of the room. Arcese stopped at the door and turned. “Since I’m staying here, shouldn’t I sit in on this conversation? Or will that hurt the egg too?” With her chin tilted up, she looked down her nose at all of them. “I’ll be the only one left here who can fly.”

  Warrimonious pursed his black dragon lips. “Okay, but I don’t want you fighting when I’m gone. I’ve managed to get your father to spare three dragons. They’re arriving in a couple of days.”

  “Fine.” Arcese crossed her arms in front of her chest and took a seat. She would show them that female dragons were more valuable than just egg-carriers. “This, gentlemen, is what I’ve been thinking….”

  ***

  With only thirty minutes until dinner, Queen Gabrielle fought the urge to slump her shoulders as she sat, straight-backed, in front of the mirror while Sarah swept her raven hair into a bun. Sarah walked in front of her queen and bent slightly to tease two tendrils loose to frame Gabrielle’s face. “There. Perfect.” She stood back and admired her handiwork.

  Looking in the mirror, Gabrielle smiled. “Thank you, Sarah. What would I do without you? This is the first time today I’ve sat down. Organizing Bayerlon for war is a lot more work than I ever imagined, and we haven’t even begun to fill the storerooms with extra food. I’m not sure how long we’ll last if we’re trapped here in a siege.”

  Sarah frowned. “Let’s not think about that now. We’ll prepare as best we can, but there’s no use worrying ourselves sick over what might happen. What about the young lady, Karin?”

  “In light of what’s happened, she’s going to stay here, where she’s safe. When the time comes, we can crown her as Queen of Inkra, once we kill that usurping brother-in-law of mine.” Gabrielle noticed Sarah fidgeting, picking at the nails of one hand with the other. “What’s wrong, Sarah? Is there something about Karin I should know?”

  Sarah, tears brimming at the corners of her eyes, shook her head and spoke in a shaky voice. “Pedro sent me a letter. He’s met someone else. They’re getting married.”

  Gabrielle rushed to hug her lady’s maid. “Oh, I’m so sorry.” The queen held Sarah while she cried, her tears wetting Gabrielle’s shoulder. A plan formulated in the queen’s mind, even as she sat Sarah on the bed and fetched her a hanky to blow her nose. She wouldn’t let Sarah cry too long. The queen disappeared into her dressing room, returning with a blue gown slung over both arms. “This is a dress I last wore two years ago, so no one will remember it. I think you should wear this to dinner tonight.”

  The younger woman reached out and tentatively stroked her fingers along the soft, shimmering fabric. “But I can’t wear your clothes. What would King Edmund say?”

  “Nothing, if he knows what’s good for him. There’s nothing like looking fabulous to cheer a woman up. Now, wash your face and put this on. When you’re dressed, come to dinner. And don’t be late.” Gabrielle patted Sarah’s shoulder before making her way to the kitchen to ensure all was in order for the night’s meal.

  When Gabrielle entered the warm, bustling kitchen, she spied her daughter, Verity, and Karin standing by the stove, a gray-and-white cat rubbing its head against Verity’s ankle through her green skirt. “What in Talia are you two doing?”

  Verity looked over her shoulder. “Hi, Mother. When I was away, the food I ate was delicious. Karin has agreed to make one of their dishes for me. This one’s lamb ahkti. It has a spicy sauce that’s divine. We had trouble getting some of the ingredients, though, and Karin managed to improvise.”

  Gabrielle leaned over the girls and breathed in the fragrant steam. “Mmm, this smells delicious.”

  “Thank you, Queen Gabrielle. It’s served with rice.”

  “I look forward to tasting it at dinner.” She turned to the chief cook. “Is everything nearly ready?”

  “Yes, my lady.” The plump woman nodded. Gabrielle wondered why all cooks were plump—well, all the ones she’d met, anyway. She supposed it was a pitfall of tasting food all the time.

  “Girls, I’ll see you at the table shortly.” Both girls curtseyed as the queen left.

  “Gee, even you have to curtsey to your own mother?”

  Verity shrugged. “Not in private, but in front of others. It’s good to set an example. I’m used to it.” Talking about their rituals made the princess remember how she had felt being imprisoned in Inkra, and she worried for her friend. “Do you miss home?”

  “Not the place so much, because this is much nicer, but I miss my mother, and I’m sad my father’s been killed.”

  “Did you know him well?”

  “He visited a couple of times, but I haven’t seen him since I was ten. He felt it was safer that no one knew I was his daughter—the king’s daughter. There is a long history of siblings of the royal family killing each other. Power is everything over there, and the people are treated like animals. No one has their own voice. Your mother told me they will kill your uncle, and my half sister, and put me on the throne.” Karin furrowed her brow.

  “You’re not hap
py about that?”

  “Not entirely, but I have plans for when I’m in charge. The people will be given their freedom, and no one will have to fear the army or the ruler. I like Veresia’s system.”

  “But you must have order. I would be careful that you don’t let everyone run wild.”

  “I’m sure your parents will help me arrange things so that there’s not total chaos, and my mother is wise. We’ll find a way.”

  “Will you come back and visit?”

  Karin smiled. “Of course I will. My husband will be Veresian, after all.” They both giggled at her reference to Chisholm, the soldier who had helped save Karin from Inkra and who had rarely left her side since. Verity hoped that Karin would be able to marry the man she loved, rather than a man picked out for his political suitability. She wondered who she would be forced to marry and hoped that he was young, handsome and nice. She’d had too many nightmares about being married off to some elderly, balding man with a potbelly. Verity pursed her lips.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Oh, nothing. Come on. They’re starting to take the food in. We’d better go.” The friends linked arms and made their way to the dining hall. At the royal table, King Edmund sat at the head, his wife to his right and Queen Alaine next to her. Verity and Karin sat to his left. Gabrielle was talking to her husband about his absent advisor. “Perculus is too sick to eat, is he? Why don’t I believe that?”

  “Yes, I know it seems impossible, but that’s the excuse he gave for not being here. I didn’t have time to question him further. Try not to worry. I’ve got someone looking into it. Look at the positive side: you won’t have to watch him eat.” Edmund patted his wife’s hand and raised his eyebrows to indicate that he didn’t want to discuss it further. Gabrielle rolled her eyes but nodded, suppressing a desire to scrunch her face at the memory of the last time Perculus dribbled food down his double chin.

  “Good evening, Princess Verity. How have you been?” Queen Alaine set a sympathetic gaze on the girl.

  Verity’s smile was small, but at least it was there. Sometimes Verity wondered if she would ever truly laugh again after seeing her friend murdered by that hideous gormon hybrid. How had Leon and his wife turned into that? She shuddered. “I’m okay. Agmunsten says it will take time for the nightmares to go away.”

  Gabrielle leaned close to Alaine and whispered, “She’s been taking something to help her sleep.”

  Queen Alaine nodded. “Nasty business, all that. But we will win and send those gormons, and your foolish uncle, packing.”

  “I hope so.” Verity shifted her gaze from Alaine’s blue eyes and saw Sarah, who sat next to Karin. Dressed in a fitted, sapphire-colored gown, her fair hair pulled back in a loose bun, she looked radiant, her smile warming those around her, including Pernus, Edmund’s Captain, who seemed to be the cause of her cheerful demeanor. He sat next to Sarah, and they chatted, ignoring everyone around them.

  Verity hoped that one day a man would look at her in the same way, and that she would be able to forget enough of her past to smile as Sarah was. Gazing around the room, she saw high-ranked soldiers from three countries dining, some barely old enough to grow a beard. It might be a long time before the taste of war and death was out of her mouth, and she silently mourned Boy and all the other young men who would die before the gormons were defeated . . . if they were defeated.

  The serving girl ladled rice and stew into Verity’s plate, but it was too late; her hunger had gone.

  ***

  Young Arie, dressed in black and wearing a balaclava, drew Second-Realm power and created a barrier of silence around himself, ensuring Perculus wouldn’t hear his footsteps. King Edmund had asked him to keep an eye on the advisor after he had said he was too sick to eat dinner. And lucky he did, thought the twelve-year-old as he followed Perculus and a wiry, nimble accomplice through the tunnels under Bayerlon castle.

  Sandstone block walls, barely discernable in the light cast by Perculus’s lamp, curved over their heads to blend into an arched ceiling. Damp tinged the still air, hinting at the watercourse that ran underneath the ancient structure.

  Perculus and his accomplice turned left at a T-junction. Arie stopped when he reached the corner, carefully poking his head around. The men had halted at an arched door. Arie waited while Perculus took a key from his pocket and placed it in the keyhole. He opened the door, and he and his companion entered, Perculus turning to ensure they were not being followed. Arie quickly ducked his head behind the wall, his heart pounding. Even though he knew Perculus couldn’t hear him, he held his breath. Unfortunately, the silence shield worked both ways, and Arie couldn’t hear if the door had been closed.

  He drew energy from the ground, creating the dragon scales he had learnt at Vellonia. He covered his face with the scales then pasted an image of the dullgray of the stone floor onto them. Not sure if it had worked, he knew he couldn’t wait any longer so extended his head past the safety of the wall. The door was shut. Stopping the drawing of energy, he listened, but no sound reached him. While deciding whether to approach the door, the rattle of a handle alerted him. Quickly reinstating his bubble of silence, he ran back the way he had come and didn’t stop until he’d reached the king.

  ***

  With a sense of déjà vu, Arie donned his yamuk-skin coat and climbed onto the saddle on Zim’s broad back, Astra mounting behind him. The moon, a few days after full, brightened the field in which they gathered and lit King Edmund’s face so that Arie could see the lines of worry on his brow. The king and Agmunsten were saying good-bye, while Arcese and Warrimonious rubbed noses, the moonlight glittering on their scales and causing phosphorescent speckles to ripple over their bodies. Arie watched the display and smiled, joy filling him.

  The prophecy stated that all of Talia must be united to defeat the gormons, so the realmists were leaving for Zamahl—a country that had kept to itself for as long as anyone could remember.

  King Edmund and Arcese stepped away from the dragons. Edmund spoke. “Stay safe and keep me informed.”

  Agmunsten climbed on Warrimonious’s back and gripped his scales. “Will do. By the gods’ graces, we’ll see you soon. Arie and Astra, make sure you’re holding on. Is everyone ready?”

  A chorus of agreement, and the dragons drew Second-Realm power to assist takeoff. Arie held Zim’s scales, and Astra embraced Arie’s waist. When they were safely gliding toward the ocean, Arie spoke into Astra’s mind. Will the Zamahlans help us?

  I have no idea. It depends who’s in power. I haven’t had much contact with anyone from Zamahl since I left. If it’s Ruler Pemel, we are more likely to, but if High Chancellor Calinsar has managed to get his grubby hands on the leadership, we’re in trouble. We may not come home at all; I’m considered a deserter. No one is allowed to leave Zamahl.

  What! That’s just wrong. And what do they do to deserters?

  Astra’s strained laugh was more of a snort. Imprisonment and death.

  Arie considered her words, the exhilaration of being back in the air forgotten. If only the wishes of a twelve-year-old could save the world, he thought.

  Vowing to go down fighting, as Boy had, Arie took a moment to remember his friend while Zim flew them into the unknown.

  Chapter 4

  Arcon and his party had left The Isle of the Dead Souls the morning after Bronwyn and Blayke had completed their second activation of the amulets. Unfortunately, for Arcon, they were traveling by boat—not his preferred mode of transport.

  Although they were finally near the mainland, Arcon wouldn’t be happy until he had immovable earth under his feet. The realmist leant over the railing and vomited into the water.

  Avruellen, in a freshly laundered white shirt and black fitted pants, watched her brother from a few feet away, her fox Flux sitting by her feet.

  Why don’t you go and comfort him? her creatura asked.

  Don’t be ridiculous, Flux. I don’t want to risk a face full of windswept sick. Why don’t you go and c
omfort him?

  I’m not his sister or his creatura. It’s not my job. Where is Phantom, anyway? The fox looked up and saw the owl perched on the tree-trunk-sized boom holding the mainsail. Hey, stop preening yourself and help Arcon. Flux’s tongue lolled out in the semblance of a grin.

  There’s nothing I can do for him. He knows I’m here, caring from afar.

  Arcon looked up, his blue eyes like sunken pebbles wallowing in the algae-green depths of his skin. “I appreciate everyone’s concern and will be sure to remember to return the favor next time one of you needs my help. Now, if you’ll excuse me….”

  Arcon retched, a force of sound that had Flux turning his head away. Avruellen put her hands over her ears to block the noise as Arcon’s breakfast vigorously disavowed itself of a place in his stomach, each weighty plop bringing fish to the surface to share in his reluctant generosity.

  The fish followed them for the next ten minutes, nibbling at the trail of Arcon’s half-digested food, until the boat pulled up alongside the wharf at Carpus, which was eerily empty. Bronwyn, Blayke, Avruellen, the creaturas, Corrille, and Toran, the new recruit from The Isle of the Dead Souls, stood on the deck, wary in the unusual silence. Even though Arcon was hunched over, he opened his mind to the Second Realm and drew power, just in case. Avruellen sensed the subtle pressure change and reached for her own power.

  Grabbing ropes and dropping sails, the crew jostled past and bumped into the realmists, brushing them aside, as they moved to lay out the gangplank. Arcon, ignoring the heaviness in the air that screamed trouble, disembarked with the longest, fastest strides he could manage and swore never to get on a boat again.

  Flux, now standing next to Avruellen on the dock, waiting for the bags to be unloaded, sniffed the air. He picked out three scents, none of them welcoming. Av, I smell carrion, fresh blood, and something else I’ve never smelled before. It’s like a stagnant swamp mixed with sulfur. My fur is standing on end. I don’t like it. We need to be very careful.