Realm Of Blood And Fire (Book 3)

by Dionne Lister

  “I don’t know. I think some people are born that way.” Bronwyn spooned vegetable stew into her plate and some seasoned rice and decided to listen into the adults’ conversation after she heard the word “soldiers”.”

  “My cavalry are arriving on the morrow. How are we going to get them into Vellonia? I can’t see the horses enjoying that boat trip or a ride under a dragon.”

  “We do have another, secret, entrance for animals. We use it when we want to move a herd from the outside in. But the soldiers will have to trust my dragons with their mounts, and they will have to go in the usual way.”

  Alaine looked doubtful, but nodded. “As long as we don’t lose anyone, I’m happy.” Alaine thought back to Bayerlon, and the thousand men she had lost there. Some had managed to escape and were making their way back to their own city—Alaine didn’t want her people at the mercy of the gormons. She had provided four-thousand cavalrymen, six-hundred archers and three-thousand armed footmen—a third of her existing army. The others she had left behind.

  Edmund had suffered the most losses, but he had eight-thousand cavalrymen who couldn’t have fought in the narrow streets. He had sent them on ahead, and they had arrived yesterday with Sarah and Karin.

  They had left Fernis in Bayerlon—there hadn’t been time for the dragons to find him. They had received no news of his demise or survival. Before the night of the attack, he had sent orders home, to Brenland, to provide Vellonia with troops. Those troops were still days away.

  “I think another meeting tonight is in order.” King Valdorryn picked a whole cooked chicken from his plate and popped it in his mouth.

  “Does anyone know how Zim and Astra are doing? We really need them back. You know what the prophecy says about a united Talia.” Arcon was getting more worried each day that they hadn’t heard about the progress, or lack thereof, in Zamahl.

  “I’ll try to contact them tonight,” said Pandellen.

  The other thing still puzzling Arcon, and Queen Jaz, was the lack of progress with the scepter. They had examined the room at the Heart of Vellonia and could find nothing to add to their limited knowledge of the piece. The only positive had been that none of the energy feeding the spires had been blocked.

  Arcon placed his fork on the table and gazed across the room. Crotus quickly averted his eyes from the realmist. What are you planning? the older man thought. There was another thing to add to the ever-growing list of what he had to watch out for. The realmist and his crow had given Arcon no reason to incarcerate them, or even suspect them. It was just a feeling he had, and his “feelings” were rarely wrong.

  Arcon suspected he would find out about Crotus’s duplicity at the worst possible moment. Well, he would have to be ready for anything. I’m not giving up now. Elphus, I wish you were here, but not to worry—I think I’ll soon be joining you. Sighing, he looked back at Crotus. The realmist was looking at him again, but this time he didn’t look away, and a smug smile briefly turned the corners of his mouth.

  Knowing it was immature, but not caring one whit, Arcon, blue eyes sparkling, channeled power from the molten river under Vellonia. Heating it so that it was scalding, he fashioned a needle and stabbed Crotus in the bottom before letting the power dissipate.

  The bearded realmist jumped off his chair and screamed, drawing the gaze of every diner in the hall. He looked around, Second-Realm power drawn, but he could see nothing, and he knew no one else had drawn Second-Realm power. Gritting his teeth and resisting the urge to rub his sore derriere, he glared at Arcon. The old man smiled. Two can play your game, but I can play it better. With a satisfied smile, Arcon excused himself and partook of an afternoon stroll around the valley.

  Chapter 22

  Agmunsten woke early to the feel of plush bedding around him, and to the sounds of screaming from the hall outside. The high chancellor had begrudgingly assigned rooms for the new “guests” the night before. Not sure how the rest of their stay would go, Agmunsten had sent Warrimonious a message and asked he and Arie to stay put.

  He sat up, yawned and stretched his arms above his head. What in the Third Realm is going on out there? He threw his shirt over his head and pulled his trousers on. Before opening the door, he drew Second-Realm power. When he opened the door, carnage awaited. Four bodies, well, parts of bodies, dotted the floor. A severed leg stained the marble outside his room, while a path of half-chewed flesh led to the stairs and beyond.

  Worried that Astra’s body parts were among the remains, Agmunsten called out to her. Astra? Astra, are you there?

  Mmm, yes. What time is it? You’ve woken me.

  Get dressed and take a look in the hallway. How could they have not heard the screams? The noise now was coming from survivors, or those who had woken to start their workday at the residence. Agmunsten approached a wailing woman who kneeled in the bloody muck. A detached head lay in her lap. She glanced up at the realmist, terror in her eyes. He put his hand up. “It’s okay. I’m not here to hurt you.”

  When she realized he wasn’t going to kill her, she cried and said something in Zamahlan. Arcon shook his head. “I don’t understand. I’m sure you don’t understand what I’m saying either.”

  She pointed to a tattoo on her wrist then at the man’s head. Her hands were covered with blood as her fingers gripped the sticky, dark hair. Agmunsten resisted the urge to gag before shaking his head and shrugging. “I’m sorry. I still don’t understand.”

  “He was her husband.” Astra had managed to approach unheard because of the doleful din. She knelt, wincing at the blood that seeped into her pants. “Eneshin astentin alp?”

  The woman shook her head. “Afeti inselt ama estana.”

  Astra stood. “She doesn’t know who did this. I think we can assume it was the gormon. Is the chancellor still alive?”

  “I have no idea. Let’s check.” As they walked, Agmunsten called Zim. There’s a lovely surprise waiting for you in the hall.

  I know. I’m in the chancellor’s room. He’s alive but struck dumb.

  When Agmunsten and Astra entered, they saw the chancellor sitting on his bed, knees bent to his chin, his arms around his legs, staring at nothing. Zim looked at them as if to say, “See? I told you so.”

  Astra sat next to the man and spoke to him in their native tongue, hoping it was more likely to garner a response. It took a few minutes, but he finally came out of his stupor and answered some of her questions.

  “He says he thinks it was the gormon but can’t be sure. He also says he is only too happy to help us, because if we hadn’t escorted the gormon to confinement last night, the chancellor thinks he would be among the dead.”

  “I’ll go check the cell. In the meantime, order the cleanup. We’re going to have to get organized as quickly as possible. By the time we gather troops and get them sailing, it could be too late.” Zim didn’t wait for an answer and strode from the room.

  ***

  After a grueling day of comforting distraught citizens and piecing together what had happened, Astra confirmed that the gormon had fed well, created something for them to think about, and then left. She now lay in a cool tub soaking up precious relaxing minutes that would most likely evade her for the next few weeks. Realizing it could be the very last enjoyable bath of her entire life made her frown. Stupid gormons.

  They were starting out in the morning, and their path lay near her family’s village. She had no idea if her family members were dead or alive, or even still there—maybe they had moved. Her father had often spoken of taking up a new trade, and her eldest brother would have gone into the army for compulsory service—each family had to send one child for a minimum of five years, but her brother had chosen to sign up for life. He could be anywhere. Her other two brothers had been working with her father when she’d left. They were probably married with children—maybe they were grandparents, even? She might be an aunt!

  They’re starting in fifteen minutes. Agmunsten’s mind-voice invaded her peace.

  All
right. I’ll be down soon. Astra dried off and dressed in her brown leather pants and green shirt—not clothes suited to the hot climate. Agmunsten met her in the now-clean corridor.

  Descending the sweeping staircase reminded Astra of the time they had visited for the blessing of the maidens—a coming-of-age ceremony for girls reaching their teenage years. The then-chancellor’s wife had appeared at the top of the stairs as Astra and her family had looked up. The woman had worn a velvet gown of scarlet, the full skirt hovering above the ground, making it seem as if she were floating. Her gliding walk down the steps had been the most elegant thing the young Astra had ever seen, and some part of her had always wanted to be that stunning woman making an entrance.

  A servant met them at the bottom of the stairs and led them to a courtyard at the rear. Lush stalks of dark-green grass grew between the creamy-colored paving squares. Formal hedging walled the space. Giant terracotta urns spilling over with white star flowers, red death blooms and violet vines were spaced at intervals, and lattice-style iron-ball holders filled with flaming brands hung from black posts, providing a cozy glow.

  The area was crowded with mourners dressed in bright colors. A priestess of the goddess Astra—the deity of rebirth and light who the realmist was named after—stood atop a raised platform. She held her arms out in front of her, the sleeves of her white robe spilling down to her knees. She sung a prayer for the dead, and then the congregation bowed their heads in silent prayer.

  Zim had chosen to remain absent for the farewell to those massacred by the gormon, not wanting to scare the already-distraught people, but Agmunsten stood by Astra’s side. He held her hand when he saw her cheeks shine with tears.

  She had been away from her home for what seemed a lifetime, so her sorrow at the Zamahlan people’s loss surprised her. She squeezed Agmunsten’s hand in thanks.

  After the service, the realmists ate privately in Agmunsten’s chambers. Zim had eaten earlier, outside, where no one would be offended by the tearing apart of a sheep. He sat and kept his friends company. “We have the chancellor on board, but what about the other officials and cities. Astra, do you think we’ll come across any rebellion?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve been away too long. I’ll ask around in my old village, although I don’t know if anyone will remember me—or if they do, they might not want to talk to a traitor and deserter.”

  “Look,” Agmunsten said as he sipped from his wine, “we don’t have time to cross the whole of Zamahl. If we can bring five-thousand troops to Vellonia, it’s a damn sight better than nothing. And the more people we have to move, the slower we’ll be. Besides, they only have enough ships for ten-thousand troops. The most important thing is that we’re united. I don’t know why, but that’s it.”

  “True. I wish we knew how many gormons we were up against.” Zim frowned and snorted.

  Astra swallowed a mouthful. “We know they’re around that Blaggard’s Bay area. Could we have a quick check on the way?”

  Agmunsten stared at Astra, his eyes opening wider. “Shit. At the pace we’re traveling, we could end up meeting the gormons on the way. We wouldn’t stand a chance—not against any more than one or two hundred. Fighting one of them is like fighting ten men at once . . . or worse.”

  Zim thought for a moment. “Maybe we could sail farther south and come at Vellonia from the south rather than the east.”

  Agmunsten tapped his chin. “We might have to, but it will add three or four days to the journey. Do we have enough time?”

  Astra shrugged. “I don’t think we have a choice. We could use a bit of Second-Realm energy to help us sail faster for the first part of the journey. It’s not like the gormons won’t know we’re coming, thanks to that giant snot-ball, Churex.”

  “We could do that—it would almost save all the time we would have lost. Good thinking, Astra.”

  “Thanks, Aggy.”

  “Aggy?” The realmist looked horrified.

  “Well, I think it suits you, and it’s much easier to say.”

  “Just don’t say it in front of the students. I’ll never hear the end of it.” He laughed.

  Astra finished her meal and stood. “I’m going to get an early night—we’re up before dawn. It’ll be good to see Arie and Warrimonious again.”

  “Yes, Warrimonious is being driven crazy by Arie’s incessant chatter, apparently.” Zim laughed.

  “Night.” Astra reached her room and warded the door before she slipped into bed—the chancellor had said he was now with them, but one could never be too careful. She slipped into a fitful slumber and dreamt of her childhood.

  ***

  Sitting astride a black-and-white gelding, Astra had to keep wiping her hands on her thighs in between swatting insects away. Her nervousness was winning over her ability to think about something else. Their path wound between tall, straight trees choked with vines. Vivid blooms bursting from the greenery decorated the jungle fringes.

  About an hour’s ride from the city, Astra saw Warrimonious waiting at a fork in the road. She jumped off her horse and ran to him. Arie was the first to receive a bone-splintering hug, and then the dragon. “How are you two? Did anything happen while we were gone?”

  Both the dragon and the boy answered “no” simultaneously and with identical expressions of boredom, albeit that the dragon’s snout was longer.

  “That’s a good thing.” Astra laughed. “We’ll see enough action in the next few weeks. Come on, and I’ll introduce you to High Chancellor Calinsar.”

  They followed Astra to the mounted ruler. The man stared down at the boy from the back of his horse and up into the dragon’s eyes—he might have been taller than he normally was on horseback, but the dragon still won in the intimidation stakes. “Pleased to meet you, Warrimonius and Arie.”

  Arie didn’t think he looked pleased to meet them. His lips returned to their pursed position after speaking. When Astra helped Arie mount a black mare, he whispered, “Why is he so unhappy? Doesn’t he want to save Talia?”

  “I’m not sure. I think, sometimes, when an adult makes a bad decision, they take a while to get over the repercussions, and maybe he is living with the guilt of that silly decision. Give him time; I think he’ll come around.”

  Astra mounted and rode next to the boy.

  “Are you excited, Astra?” Arie asked.

  “Kind of.”

  “How much longer until we’re at your village.”

  “I’m not one-hundred percent sure, but I think I have to veer off in about half an hour. The chancellor’s going to let me know when. From the turn off, it’s about a ten-minute ride.”

  “Do you need company?”

  Astra smiled. “Agmunsten’s going to come with me—more for protection than support, but I should be okay. I made my decision; now I have to bear any consequences.”

  Soon enough, the turnoff came, and Agmunsten joined Astra, the rest of the group continuing toward the nearest, smaller city of Zemphos. From there, they would gather more troops and travel another four days southeast to the port city of Lamure.

  Astra and Agmunsten silently rode the southwesterly path. Agmunsten, wary that the gormon was still out there, scanned the overabundant vegetation, while the curly-haired realmist closed her eyes intermittently, to enjoy the trilling of the birds native to Zamahl. She hadn’t appreciated how familiar noises would bring memories flooding back and giver her the sense that she belonged here. It’s not that she felt like she didn’t belong at the academy, but she was the only one with violet-colored eyes, and the new students sometimes pointed or whispered when they first met her. It wasn’t her, exactly, more the reputation of the country from which she hailed.

  Soon, the thick vegetation opened into green lawn, a village square and neat white-washed stone houses with verandahs on both levels, pots of intensely colored flowers hanging from balcony railings and walls alike. Pigs and chickens ferreted in the dirt, occasionally running from a bored child. Beyond the dwellings lay fields
ripe with fruit trees. It was the middle of the day, so Astra knew that no one would be working in the fields—they would be inside eating a light lunch and resting before the afternoon harvest.

  “Where is your parents’ house?”

  Astra pointed. “That one there, the second from the end.”

  “No point wasting time. We still have to catch Calinsar by tonight.”

  Astra nudged her horse to the middle of the square, where she dismounted, aware of faces peeking from curtains and children staring from the relative cool of shaded porches.

  She handed the reins to Agmunsten and walked the last sixty feet to the house she remembered from years ago. The blue paint on the small picket fence was as immaculate as she remembered, the path to the house swept and lined on either side by white and mauve flowers—her mother’s favorite. Does this mean they’re still here? Her palms sweated anew.

  The well-oiled gate made no sound when she opened it. As she walked to the front steps, she had visions of her youth—her brothers chasing each other around the front garden, throwing buckets of water on each other, and in the wet season, when they would all stand in the deluge every afternoon until the rain slowed. Their hair plastered to their faces, they would enjoy the odor of the steamy moisture as it returned to the sky.

  When she reached a hand to the door, it was as if someone else was knocking. She held her breath. Footsteps sounded inside, then a hand unlatching a lock and turning the handle. The door opened, and Astra was looking into another pair of violet eyes.

  “Hello, Mother. It’s me, Astra.”

  The woman placed a wrinkled hand over her mouth. She blinked as tears blurred her vision. “Is it really you? You hardly look a day older from when I last saw you.” Her hand shook as she reached out to touch Astra’s cheek.