Realm Of Blood And Fire (Book 3)

by Dionne Lister

A dragon guard opened the door and announced King Edmund, who strode in, followed by a wan-looking Arcon.

  Valdorryn stood to greet them. “Come in and sit down. How did it go?”

  Edmund looked at Arcon. “As well as could be expected. I think it’s going to be a while before the new situation sinks in. Anyway, I’m sure you didn’t call us here to chat about my family.”

  “Unfortunately no. I’d like an account from all of you about the night the gormons took Bayerlon.”

  Edmund took a deep breath and felt his chest constrict. He collapsed into a chair before composing himself.

  When they exited three hours later, Arcon went for a well-deserved soak in the hot springs that doubled as a bath. Once dressed in fresh clothes, Phantom on his shoulder, he felt much improved.

  Tempting odors of cooked food coaxed him from his room. On entering the dining hall, a waiting dragon escorted him to Valdorryn’s table. “This way, sir.”

  They had seated him between Queen Jazmonilly and Queen Alaine. Valdorryn sat at the head of the table—Arcese, Edmund and Queen Gabrielle on his left. Bronwyn sat between her mother and Verity, with Blayke opposite, next to Queen Alaine. Since they had returned, Jaz had made sure her pregnant daughter rested, much to Arcese’s annoyance.

  The loud buzz of enthusiastic conversation brightened the hall as much as the myriad of chandeliers and wall torches did. Before he piled the sautéed venison and herb-crusted potatoes into his plate, Arcon lifted his tankard of ale. “Excuse me.” His slightly raised voice was only loud enough for Alaine and Blayke to notice him, so he clanged his knife against his silver cup. Slowly, everyone around the table stopped talking and looked at him. “Before we eat this extraordinary meal—thank you Queen Jazmonilly and King Valdorryn for your hospitality—I would like to make a toast and remember a friend. I wish Elphus the gods’ speed on reaching his beloved wife. He is a true hero, and I will miss him greatly. Thank you, my friend. To Elphus!” He lifted his drink in salute before draining it in several gulps. As one of the server dragons walked past, he held his cup out for a refill.

  When Arcon turned back to the table, Queen Gabrielle shot him a scathing look. He knew it wasn’t going to be easy to win back her favor, and he couldn’t blame her for being angry. He sighed and looked into his plate, hoping Avruellen would get to Vellonia soon.

  Phantom watched his realmist from the mantle on the far side of the room. He hadn’t seen Arcon drink so much for a very long time. Don't you think you’ve had enough?

  Arcon spied his creatura across the room. No. My friend is dead, and my family hates me.

  They don’t all hate you.

  I can’t blame them, really. I’d hate me too.

  Arcon, don’t do this. Last time you slipped into a depression, it took me three months to drag you out of it. We don’t have time for this.

  Mind your own business. Go chase some mice or something.

  Phantom blinked and resisted the urge to fly over and dig his claws into Arcon’s scalp. Disagreeable, ungrateful man, he thought.

  By the time they had finished the main course, the silver-scaled queen had seen Arcon down his fifth tankard of ale. She spoke into his mind and almost laughed when he jumped at her voice. I don’t think you should be meeting anyone anywhere tonight. We’ll leave our expedition for tomorrow night.

  He looked at her through half-closed lids, his hands cupped around his drink. Thank you, Queen Jazmonilly.

  His dinner companions laughed and joked around him. Unable to match their joviality, and resenting it, he stood and bowed at the dragon king and queen. “I have a lot to do tomorrow, so I’m going to retire early. Good night.”

  His plan of walking quickly to the exit didn’t go quite as he expected. His disobedient feet wanted to pretend he was on a ship. The slight stagger that eventually got him to the door encouraged a few whistles and jokes from some of the soldiers.

  The soldiers weren’t the only ones who had noticed Arcon’s state—Crotus had not only observed the ungainly exit but also the dynamics at the dining table. He drummed his fingers on the tabletop, thinking. What was going on?

  Aimee watched Arcon leave and was reminded of the afternoon’s happenings. “Hey, do you guys notice anything unusual about Bronwyn and Blayke and the King and Queen of Veresia?”

  The group of realmists looked toward their table. Crotus was the first to understand. “Our realmist friends look a lot like the king and queen. Do you think they’re related?”

  Aimee nodded. “But Bronwyn and Blayke didn’t seem to know the king and queen. The queen went all funny when she met them. Whatever it is, it’s important. She asked them to meet with her this afternoon. I wonder what happened?”

  Crotus pushed his chair back. “I have some studying to do. See you all tomorrow at training.” Without waiting for anyone’s farewell, he made his way to his room. He closed his door and sat on his bed, his crow beside him. The realmist took a napkin out of his pocket. He extracted small pieces of meat from it and hand-fed the bird. Satisfied that his creatura was happy, he scooted on his bottom to the end of the bed and rested his back against the wall.

  He set a ward. Leon, are you there?

  Hello, Crotus. What information do you have for me?

  Everything’s ready. I also have some extra news. The realmists, Bronwyn and Blayke, seem to have some kind of link to the King and Queen of Veresia. They share a strong likeness. Something to be exploited, perhaps?

  Show me what they look like.

  Crotus brought up an image of the pair.

  It was some time before Leon replied. Thank you, Crotus. I want you to find out more and get back to me as soon as you can. And continue your efforts in keeping the dragons off balance.

  Certainly, Your Highness. Good-night.

  Good-night. See you soon.

  The black-clad realmist smiled and removed his boots before curling up on the bed. If Leon was happy, all was good. He just had to keep on top of his obligations and he would avoid torture. Shivering, he vowed never to be in that position again. Crotus wasn’t sure who they should fear more: the gormons or his depraved boss. It seemed like a match made in the Third Realm.

  ***

  The sun had risen behind them as they broke camp and started toward the mountains that were only a few leagues away. They had come upon them quicker than Avruellen had thought they would. It was midmorning, and they stood at the entrance next to the river. With the snow-capped slopes hulking behind them, the realmist turned to Toran and Corrille. “I know I don’t have to say this, but I will anyway. Make sure you show the utmost respect to the dragons. They have a dungeon here, and they’re not afraid to use it—just ask Bronwyn.”

  Toran smiled. “I would never dream of doing anything to end up there.”

  Corrille just scowled.

  Avruellen couldn’t wait to be rid of the girl, but she hadn’t worked out what kind of a threat she was, other than being a source of friction between Blayke and Bronwyn and an enormous pain in the behind. Corrille had never truly accounted for her mysterious disappearance. They knew she had been taken by a gormon supporter, but was she a victim . . . or something else? Avruellen wished murder was not frowned upon as much as it was—she would have disposed of the problem by now.

  “I’m going to let the dragons know we’re here.” She sent a mind-message. Queen Jazmonilly, it’s Avruellen. We’re at the human entrance. Would you mind sending someone?

  Avruellen! I’m so glad you’re here—Arcon needs a friend right now. Someone will be there to attend to you shortly.

  Thank you. What did she mean “Arcon needs a friend”? He had seemed all right last time she had spoken to him, but that was a few days ago. They had all been extremely relieved to hear that Bronwyn had survived—well, maybe not Corrille, but Avruellen hadn’t come to expect anything less.

  The realmist tapped her foot—impatient, now she held concern for her brother. Flux nudged her hand. Whatever it is, Av, it will be fine. If it w
as that bad, he would have contacted you.

  She stroked his head. I’m not sure. We’ll see. Her eyes scanned the sky, waiting for their welcoming party. What’s taking them so long? she thought.

  Toran, who was also looking into the sky, pointed. “Is that one of them?”

  Avruellen squinted. “Yes, Toran, I do believe it is. Finally.”

  As the dragon circled lower, they could see Supestia’s gleaming bronze-colored scales. She swooped over their heads and dropped to land in front of them.

  Avruellen performed a small curtsy. Toran took her lead and bowed. Corrille watched, her arms folded in front of her chest.

  The dragon eyed the girl but quickly ignored her. “So lovely to see you again, Avruellen. Welcome to Vellonia, city of the dragons.”

  “Thank you, Supestia. We are honored to be here.”

  Supestia waved her arm. A boat appeared, floating above the water, just below the bank. “Please step into the boat and sit.” The dragon gestured toward the craft.

  Avruellen stepped in first, Flux at her side. Toran helped Corrille before he jumped down and sat. The automatic seat belts strapped over their laps, and the boat floated forward. “See you inside.” The dragon launched herself into the air as the boat glided into the dark cavern and the whirlpool that had terrified many a visitor before them.

  The realmist knew she should have warned them about what would happen, but she thought Toran would be fine with it. Avruellen enjoyed Corrille’s screams as the boat descended, swirling faster and faster in the vortex. The plop as they landed in the calm, underground water came too soon for Avruellen. She turned and held up a Second-Realm ball of light to see Corrille’s green-tinged face. “How is everyone back there?”

  “That was exciting!” Toran grinned.

  “Corrille?”

  The girl glared at Avruellen, who smiled.

  The boat gently bumped against the shore where a gray dragon awaited them. “Greetings, visitors to Vellonia, the most spectacular of the dragon cities.”

  Avruellen wanted to say it was the only dragon city, but refrained and alighted, smiling instead.

  “My name is Terapholous. Please follow me.” He led them through the maze of rocks to the stairs leading up from near the dungeon. The light in the cavern was too dim to see properly after being outside in the glare, so Avruellen kept the ball of light hovering above her palm, letting it disappear when they entered the ground-floor hall.

  Toran and Corrille marveled at the polished stone, which surrounded them, and the intricately tiled floors.

  Avruellen increased her pace to walk alongside Terapholous. “Would you be able to tell me where Arcon, the realmist, is?”

  “He is usually training his realmists in the valley. They always finish at lunchtime.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I can escort you there after you’ve attended King Valdorryn and Queen Jazmonilly.”

  “That would be wonderful.”

  The dragon led them to the throne room where the harp-playing dragon strummed soothing tunes for the king, queen and their children, Arcese and Pandellen. Valdorryn rose when he spied them. “Avruellen! Greetings, my friend.” He took her hand in his while she dipped a curtsy.

  Jazmonilly accepted the formal greeting before embracing the smaller human. “I’m so glad you made it. We’re very sorry we couldn’t send someone to fly you here, but we’ve promised the dragons we’ll only ask them to carry people if it’s an emergency.”

  “I understand. Flux and I are just happy to be here.”

  Avruellen’s young charges stood behind her, transfixed by Jaz’s vivid scales. “And this is Toran from the monastery on the Isle of the Dead Souls and Corrille from my village.”

  “Well, you’ve come a long way.” The king offered them his clawed hand, which they both kissed, unsure how else to proceed. Valdorryn didn’t blast them with fire, so Toran figured they’d done the right thing.

  “It’s an honor to be here, Your Highnesses.” The young man smiled.

  “It’s our pleasure to host your visit, Toran. We hope you enjoy your stay.” Jazmonilly returned his smile.

  Corrille gasped at the amount of teeth Jaz showed.

  “It’s all right, young lass—we won’t eat you.” The dragons and Avruellen laughed. “I always forget my smile has that effect on you humans.” Jaz motioned over one of the guards. “Please have them shown to their rooms.”

  “If you don’t mind, Queen Jazmonilly, I’d like to see Arcon before I bother with that. Terapholous said he’d take me to where they are practicing in the valley.”

  “Of course, Avruellen. Go now, and we’ll see you at dinner.” Valdorryn nodded. The two dragons led them away—one with Toran and Corrille, the other with Avruellen and Flux.

  Avruellen met Arcon halfway between the dragon “castle” and the practice field. “Arcon, what happened to you?” Avruellen frowned at the dark circles under his eyes and disheveled hair.

  “I had a few too many drinks last night. Come to my room and we’ll talk.”

  “Where’s Bronwyn?”

  “She’s coming.” He turned and pointed at the small group in the distance. “Those youngsters dawdle everywhere. It’s annoying.”

  “Well, since she’s probably in better shape than you, now, I’ll come with you first. I can see her later. Let’s go.”

  The two realmists spent the afternoon in Arcon’s room. Although Avruellen dreaded seeing Gabrielle and Edmund, she enjoyed reminiscing with Arcon about the years they’d had with the children. When they were escorted to meet with the Veresian king and queen before dinner, Avruellen headed there with a mix of trepidation and contentment—her job was almost done.

  Chapter 21

  In the week since Avruellen’s arrival, things had fallen into a routine similar to when they were traveling, only this time, Bronwyn had someone to confide in.

  Corrille commandeered all of Blayke’s time—she even watched when they practiced, grabbing his arm and leading him away as soon as they had finished. One such afternoon, Bronwyn had called after her brother. “Blayke, do you want to have lunch with us?”

  “Yeah, okay. Ouch!”

  Corrille pinched Blayke’s bicep. “I told you: she hates me. I won’t be forced to spend time with her and your horrid aunt. They make me feel uncomfortable.”

  Blayke rubbed his arm. “She’s my sister. I won’t shut her out again. I’ve hardly seen her all week. If you want to be with me, you’ll have to get used to it. Sorry.” He pushed away the urge to wince, but he held his breath, waiting for her outburst.

  She let go of his arm and looked into his eyes—her face a mixture of vulnerability and tension, she reminded him of a rabid dog who wagged its tail before it went for the throat. “I’ll see you at dinner, and we’d better not be at her table.” She threw a venomous look at Bronwyn before stalking away.

  “Wow.” Aimee shook her head. “She really, really hates you. I know you said you didn’t do anything, but, just, wow.”

  “It still hurts. She was my best friend from when we were little. I don’t understand, but I’ve accepted that I won’t be changing her mind anytime soon.” Bronwyn hugged Blayke. “Thank you. I’m sorry to cause problems, but I miss you.”

  “I know. It was great to see her again, but…. I never realized how demanding she was. The gormons are coming soon, and I’d like to believe we’ll win, but one of us could be killed, and I never want to make the mistake of having turned my back on my family.”

  Bronwyn smiled. “Thanks.”

  “You’re a good guy, Blayke.” Aimee grinned. “Corrille doesn’t know how lucky she is.” She blushed but held his gaze.

  Blayke stared into her eyes, a smile replacing his frown. “Thanks.”

  “Does she know about your parents?” Aimee asked quietly.

  Bronwyn shook her head. “Arcon doesn’t want everyone to know yet—he’s worried it will make us even more of a target for Leon and the gormons.” The rea
lmist’s stomach grumbled, making everyone laugh. “I think it’s time for lunch.”

  “Good call. I’m starving.” Blayke linked arms with Bronwyn on one side, Aimee on the other, and they hurried to the dining hall, Sinjenasta close behind.

  Bronwyn was surprised to see her uncle and aunt sitting with her mother and father at Valdorryn’s table. Things had been tense since they had arrived, and she had begged her mother to forgive them, but she knew the queen had been hurt beyond measure. She crossed her fingers that Gabrielle was finally accepting what she couldn’t change and forgiving those who had to act in Talia’s best interests while going against her family.

  Verity looked at Bronwyn and patted the seat between her and Karin. “How’s the fireball stuff going?”

  She sat, and Sinjenasta padded to sit next to the unlit hearth where no one would trip over him.

  Bronwyn poured herself a glass of water. “Great. We’re all getting really accurate, and our distance is good too.”

  “I wish I could learn.” The princess sighed.

  “I don’t see why you can’t. I could even teach you a bit, but maybe not until the war is over. We haven’t really got time to get anywhere with it.”

  “If we live through this, I’m holding you to that.” Verity shook her sister’s hand.

  Bronwyn smiled. “Done.” But then she remembered she wouldn’t be here, and her smile dropped from her face.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Bronwyn blinked. “Oh, ah, nothing. Just thinking of all the stuff we have to do when the day comes. It’s kinda scary.” She pressed on her shirt and felt the amulet underneath. What would happen when they were activated? No one knew. The only thing they did know was that sacrifices would have to be made. What did that mean? Would she be turned into a panther, like Sinjenasta, or would she have to die to get it to work. No, that would defeat the purpose. She wanted to talk to Blayke about what he thought, but now was not the time.

  “Do you think your uncle will have second thoughts?”

  Verity shifted in her chair and twirled a long lock between her fingers. “No. Leon’s not himself anymore, or maybe he’s more of himself than any of us ever knew.” She glanced at her father. “It’s just sad. How does someone get to that point?”