Keepers of the Flames (In the Eye of the Dragon Book 3)

by N M Zoltack

  The soldier quickly launched a counterattack, but Marcellus parried and then sliced the man’s throat. Blood arched out of the wound, staining the soldier’s clothes, but Marcellus had already turned his back to him, engaging another guard.

  This one defended every one of Marcellus’s blows without offering more than slight feints in return. The two circled each other, and Marcellus could not help being impressed. This guard was trying to find a weakness.

  He will not find one.

  Marcellus feigned a strike to the right and then shifted left, but the guard matched his movements with ease, not falling for the ruse.

  "You are fighting for the losing side," Marcellus murmured, uncertain if the guard could hear him despite their close proximity. Cannons were being fired with regularity, and the clash of swords and death shrills, far closer to their persons, echoed in his ears.

  “The battle has only just begun,” the guard said firmly. He hardly seemed winded at all, his conditioning rivaling that of the Vincanans. His sandy brown hair wasn’t damp, and he wasn’t sweating. His gray eyes were clear,

  “This war is already over.”

  “Your bravado will be your downfall.”

  Grim-faced, jaw set, the guard began to take on the offense. His moves were crisp and precise, far more practiced than the first soldier Marcellus had faced. All around him, the warriors from Tenoch were falling, the ship nearly theirs, but this guard held his own with incredible valor.

  “I would hate to have to kill you,” Marcellus admitted as he barely brought up his sword to fend off a vicious blow that would have ended up.

  “I will not join your cause,” the guard said through gritted teeth.

  “You do your kingdom justice,” the prince begrudged.

  “You would never know I am the son of a shoemaker.” The guard grinned.

  “Indeed not.” Marcellus spied through his peripheral vision that a crowd was watching them. It seemed this guard was the sole survivor of this ship’s crew. “Surrender,” he urged. “Do not force me to kill you.”

  The guard held his sword straight upright, the tip of the blade blocking his nose and part of his left eye. He glanced around, realized what Marcellus had, but he did not seem resigned. Instead, he took a step back, another, and then jumped onto the railing.

  Marcellus muttered a curse. Behind them, a ship was flaming, fiery planks burning despite floating in the water. The guard did not care. He nodded to Marcellus and fell backward into the waves.

  The prince raced toward the railing and watched as the guard swam toward shore. He wasn't the only one. Many others from Tenoch were swimming back to the beach, and already flaming arrows were being launched into the air toward the still-floating ships.

  Marcellus took in the nautical battle scene. They had won the first battle of many, but the moment they would reach the shore, another would be had. To his disappointment, though, far more of his ships had been sunk than he had anticipated, yet it seemed most of those crews were swimming and being helped aboard other vessels.

  This war had begun, and if this battle proved anything, it would come at a high cost. Still, Marcellus had no reason to doubt that Vincana would be victorious.

  44

  Bjorn Ivano

  The influential nobles of Maloyan had been treating Bjorn as if he were one of them since his return from Atlan. He knew being crowned the tourney champion was the reason for it, yet he found it rather strange and even off-putting that only the stranger Olympia had deduced that his reasoning for departing the capital had been because he had been banished away. The secret Li heir had not left yet, but he knew it would only be a matter of time before she forced his hand or struck out on her own. Perhaps he should stop hindering her progress and allow her to go. He had no desire to return southward, even though the notion of turning her in to the victor still appealed to him greatly. If Rosalynne Rivera emerged triumphantly and gained the crown, perhaps his handing her the last threat to her rule who aid in her forgiving him.

  If Sabine won… Bjorn did not trust her in the slightest. Perhaps, though, given all he knew about how precisely ambitious she was, he might be able to force her into becoming an alley.

  If the Vincanans won, Bjorn would have to prove his might and valor far more than merely handing over Olympia Li. The Vincanans valued strength above all else. More than likely, he would have to best at least one of them in combat to even be allowed close to someone high enough to discuss the Li princess.

  When he wasn't sitting on meetings with the nobles, who were discussing whether or not they should send warriors to Atlan for the war all knew would happen soon, he was either enjoying drinks and meals at the various taverns, or he was training. One could not train too much, and he soon proved to one and all that he was truly the best in all of Maloyan. The championship had not been merely a chance victory, however he longed for the day he could prove his mettle against one from Vincana.

  Only, did he wish to prove that so much that he would travel southward to fight against them when the warriors from the southern continent might well prove to be the victors?

  For the moment, however, he had just finished sparring and was rinsing his face from a water barrel when he spied a messenger bird heading straight for the aviary. Curious had Bjorn flicking the water from his hands, and he made his way to the aviary despite the nobles coming together for a meeting within ten minutes.

  One of the birdkeepers was petting the bird and easing the scroll from his claws as Bjorn entered. The woman glanced at Bjorn and smiled shyly. He had seen her at the tavern the night before last, but she had not approached him, merely given him admiring looks from afar.

  “What news is it?”

  “O-Oh,” she stammered, her cheeks slightly coloring. “We aren’t to read the messages, merely pass them along.”

  “But can you tell where the letter hails from?”

  “Of course. The crest…” She bit her lower lip and glanced to the side, shaking her head.

  “It’s from the castle, isn’t it?” he asked.

  She nodded.

  He held out his hand. “I am to meet with the nobles. Allow me to bring it to them.”

  Her gaze met his, and he was shocked to see her steel resolve. “No, but perhaps I can accompany you to the meeting.”

  “As you wish.”

  He wasn’t about to argue with her. After all, soon enough he would learn the contents of the letter.

  The nobles always gathered in the pyramid in the center of Maloyan. Most every bit of furniture inside was also made from sand masonry, and Bjorn claimed his customary seat at the end of the oblong table.

  The woman headed straight for the Mayor of Maloyan, Duke Velimir Sokolov. She whispered to him and then handed him the scroll.

  The duke, a stocky man with a rectangular face, all angles, bushy eyebrows, and a countenance that gave away no emotions ever, read the contents. He did not have to ask for silence. The nobles gathered were already in their seats, waiting for him to address them.

  “The Vincanan ships have been spotted approaching the southern Tenoch shore closest to Atlan. By now, they may have already reached land. The time to decide is now. Do we fight for Tenoch?”

  “Why shouldn’t we?” Viscount Samo Orlov demanded. “We are part of Tenoch, aren’t we?”

  “Indeed we are,” the duke said, “but we must consider the ramifications of fighting for Atlan and Atlan falling.”

  “Because of the might of the Vincanans,” Bjorn said.

  The others gathered, all twenty-three of them, turned and stared at him. Although he had sat in on their meetings for some time now, this was the first occasion in which Bjorn had spoken.

  He stared at the duke, who nodded, acquiescing to Bjorn speaking.

  “We can go and fight,” Bjorn said. “We might not produce as fabled knights as Vincana, but we are strong, hardy, and of good stock. Or we can stay here, sit out the fight, and be looked upon poorly by both sides.”

>   The nobles glanced at each other, considering his words.

  “There is another option,” Bjorn offered. “We can send men down but have them move slowly. Blame it on the weather. Arrive after the fighting is over. None could claim we were not brave enough. After all, not even the dragons were capable of controlling the weather.”

  For hours, the men and women of Maloyan argued of which of the options was best. In the end, they opted to wait until another messenger bird arrived from the castle to determine their course of action.

  Bjorn neglected to voice his opinion—that Atlan might not have the chance to send another messenger bird once the fighting began.

  At the tavern that night, Bjorn was not surprised when Olympia forced her way through the crowd to sit beside him.

  “You wish to go?” he grumbled, not the most pleased with the decision by the nobles. Cowards, the lot of them.

  “I do, yes.”

  She appraised him critically. It was so strange to see her emotions plainly on her exotic features. Maloyan woman never revealed their feelings, just as the men also kept theirs hidden.

  “Have you learned anything interesting this day?” she asked. “Any reason to depart… or to stay?”

  He shook his head. Long ago, he had mastered maintaining an even tone despite his words, but he found himself not wishing to vocalize his lie. She was not from Maloyan. As such, she did not need to concern herself with these matters, even if she mistakenly thought that she did.

  “Is that so? Because I have, and I do believe now is the time to leave as the Vincanans have nearly reached Tenoch shore, perhaps already have.

  He flinched involuntarily. How in the world had she learned of this? Who would have told her? While he had seen her out and about, speaking to a few more Maloyans than she ever had previously, he did not think anyone would tell an outsider news of this degree of import.

  “You knew that already,” she accused.

  To her credit, she did not sound as infuriated or irritated as he would have suspected.

  “Why bear falsehood against me?” she asked, her voice oddly calm.

  "Olympia, the notion of you heading toward Atlan during an active war—"

  “It is not for you to decide,” she said firmly. She placed her palms on the table, deliberately stood, and marched out of there.

  Muttering a curse, he shifted about in his seat, glancing around the crowd that moved in to take her place. His prestige and fame had not waned any, but he ignored his admirers, intent on watching Olympia out the window.

  Was she… She was.

  The Li Princess had just mounted a horse that most certainly did not belong to her. It seemed she had made up her mind to go without him.

  What a fool. She was liable to get herself killed, just as her parents had been murdered before her.

  45

  Olympia Li

  To be entirely forthright, Olympia could not say what had possessed her to steal the horse. She could not say she felt any measure of guilt over the matter, either. What was happening to her? Her quest to reclaim her birthright should not change her character, who she was deep inside, but war was here. People were dying for her throne, her crown. If she could force everlasting peace upon every person in Dragoona, she would do so gladly.

  Force peace. That in and of itself did not seem good and just and noble, yet if it meant no one else would die, how could she not desire that with every fiber of her being?

  Although the air around her was still that night, a breeze generated by the swiftness of her horse’s galloping caused her long hair to billow behind her. Snow kicked up from the horse’s hooves bit against her ankles and lower legs, exposed as they were by the rise and swell of her skirt. She slowed down only slightly to better tuck the skirt beneath her thighs and then increased the speed of the horse to even faster than before.

  Although there had not been many horses on Xalac, Olympia knew enough about the gallant beasts that she could not push the horse this hard for too long or else she risked the animal dying. Even an animal’s death she did not wish.

  All she heard at first was the rushing of the horse-created breeze and her racing heart. Then, she noticed the sounds of the few animals able to tolerate the eternal coldness this far north. Was there ever a time when Maloyan was not covered in snow and ice? Perhaps she had missed her opportunity to ask one of the natives that specific question.

  Gradually, she discerned another noise, one that had her heart sinking.

  The galloping hooves of another horse.

  Without glancing behind her, she knew who was following. Instead of trying to outrace the infuriating man, Olympia eased back on the reins, slowing her horse to a trot.

  Bjorn Ivano pulled up alongside her. For several minutes, they rode on in silence, and she refused to be the one to speak first.

  “Olympia, please.”

  She stone-facedly stared straight ahead.

  “Come back to Maloyan.”

  “Why? What is there for me? I have dallied there far too long as it is.”

  “Olympia—”

  “Don’t you see, Bjorn? This war is my fault. I could have prevented this. It’s needless—”

  "No, what is needless is for you to journey to Atlan, especially now. There is nothing there but death for you at the castle. Just as your parents were murdered, so too will you be."

  “Say what you will,” she snapped. It took everything in her to not urge her horse to increase its pace. “I am going to Atlan, and you will have to kill me to prevent me from going.”

  “You have no army, no one to back you.”

  “Did Jankin Rivera make use of an army to defeat my parents and claim the throne? No, he did not. Why can I not do what he did?”

  "You wish to kill the queens, the King and Prince of Vincana, and any others who rise up for a bid for the crown?"

  “You have no right to tell me what to do or to question what I have planned.”

  “Do you even have a plan?” he asked.

  She stiffened. “Do you think I have been doing nothing this entire time but hope and wait for you to change your mind? No, Bjorn, I need no man and no one.”

  “You will not get far in this quest without allies.”

  “I…” Olympia shook her head. The horse had increased his pace on his own without her urging him to, perhaps in reaction to her unease.

  She did have some allies but not enough. That fact she could not deny. Even so, Olympia knew she was destined for the throne. She would rule over Tenoch, Vincana, and the isles. None would be able to stop her.

  A voice came to her in dreams at night, urging her forward, onward, to not give up hope. The voice asked for her to trust her, and Olympia did, even if the voice might merely be a figment of her own imagination or perhaps a projection of her own wishes.

  She believed in her mission and in herself. That was all she needed.

  “No one will accept you as their queen,” Bjorn uttered.

  For the first time, she glanced over at him. “No one is right.”

  46

  Cateline Locke

  Not being chosen as a Valkyrie did not surprise Vivian. She knew she wasn’t the strongest or the most disciplined of the new recruits. How could she be when she had to learn everything and the others were merely honing the skills they had learned long ago?

  Ever since the ships had sailed off for war against Tenoch, Vivian had not been able to sleep. Soon, she did not even bother to lay down and try to rest. Instead, she would grab her blades and spar imaginary foes.

  An imaginary foe with dark curly hair and dark eyes. An imaginary foe that bore a striking resemblance to the Prince of Vincana.

  So-called Prince of Vincana.

  He was strikingly good-looking, well-built, solid, even noble in a way. Men would rally to him without question, but surely the males of Tenoch would not be persuaded to fight against their own, would they? If the male warriors fought as well as the females, Vivian knew that Tenoch�
��s knights and guards would need every last man to fight until his dying breath for their land to remain under their control.

  Caelia Buca approached Vivian. The sun was struggling to rise, but Vivian kept on slicing and carving up the air, staring at the mountains in the background, not slowing down a whit.

  “I still can’t believe we weren’t chosen as Valkyries,” Caelia complained. As was customary, she had her long blond hair tied into a braid with a leather thong.

  “We weren’t good enough,” Vivian grunted.

  “But we are,” Caelia complained.

  “Not in the opinions of those who matter,” Vivian said.

  “Don’t you even care that they are fighting for us, and we are stuck here, helpless?” Caelia demanded.

  “Oh, I care. I care more than you know.” Vivian savagely sliced the air as if the particles had offended her.

  “That is why you’re training now,” Caelia said slowly. “Why haven’t you told me? We could have been training this whole time together!”

  “I… Sometimes, one needs to be alone,” Vivian muttered, hoping she would not offend her friend.

  A Vincanan. Her friend. But Vivian could not deny it, although she knew with absolute certainty that Caelia would fight Vivian to the death if the Vincanan should ever learn Vivian's true identity.

  "For clarity of mind and balancing one's self. I understand," Caelia said, "but I can help you, and you help me."

  “Without a doubt.”

  For the next hour, the two sparred and even grappled some without any weapons at all. If one relied solely on weapons, when they were disarmed, they were as good as dead, but if one managed to hone their fists into weapons of their own, knew how and where to kick, one was deadly with and without a blade.

  Vivian could not say when exactly her goals had shifted, but she knew she was not the same lady who had first arrived here. She was much stronger for one. Not only willing to kill if necessary but actually able to now. The former princess would do anything she could to save her kingdom.