Iren shuffled his feet in the sand. If he could have defeated Zuberi on his own, if Rondel hadn’t needed to rescue him, maybe none of this would have happened. Haldessa might still stand. All those people might still be alive.
Rondel ignored his self-pity. “Now you understand why I came to find you. You’re going to stop Amroth and get the Liryometa back for me.”
“Be serious!” Iren felt himself sweating. “If you can’t fight him, how can I? If you’re counting on Divinion’s help, give up. I lost the Muryozaki in Akaku.”
Rondel deactivated Lightning Sight. “Are you that dense?” She pointed back in the forest. Aletas stood just inside the tree line, watching them. In her arms she held a long bundle wrapped in silk. Rondel retrieved it. “Amroth took my weapon, but in his excitement over obtaining the Karyozaki, he forgot all about yours.” She unwrapped the cloth and revealed Iren’s katana, shimmering white in its sheath. “You and this sword may be our only hopes for stopping Amroth.”
Iren reached out with his right hand and grasped the blade’s hilt. He felt an odd tingling in his left arm, and seconds later, it healed. He then took the Muryozaki from Rondel and drew it with his restored arm. It was like reuniting with an old friend.
The crone turned and left the beach. At the forest’s edge, she said over her shoulder, “Follow me.”
“Where?” Iren asked.
“It’s time you understood the full secrets of that sword. It’s time you became a real Dragon Knight.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Crown of Flames
In a posh mansion by the Bay of Ceere, King Amroth Angustion sat in an ornately carved high-backed chair, watching the sun rise over the water and grinning to himself. Behind him, he could hear the servants running pell-mell trying to please him, rearranging the furniture to his exact tastes.
A week had passed since his coronation. With Haldessa in ruins, Amroth had designated nearby Ceere as his temporary capital, commandeering the largest house for his residence.
Looking out the window, he could just barely make out Haldessa’s remains atop the bluff that formed the northern end of the bay. He’d conscripted half of Ceere’s populace to restore the castle. He couldn’t wait to return there. It was his destiny, after all. The Azuluu line had been one of worthless kings, grown fat on peace and oblivious to the dangers of this world. Peace only came through power. Nadav understood that. Amroth understood it too.
Very soon, the rest of Lodia would as well. Right now, the country was but a speck on the continent of Raa. Amroth would change that. Under his leadership, Lodia would cover the world.
He’d taken a desperate gamble from the beginning, but it had worked out in the end. He’d achieved it all: his revenge, the throne, and the best prize of all, the Karyozaki. Hezna never deserved it. From the moment the Oni became the Fire Dragon Knight, Amroth had plotted, trying to figure out a way to kill the monster. All those years living as a simple farmer in Caardit, he’d wrestled with the problem. No matter how he tried, he couldn’t come up with a way. He couldn’t do it, not without being a Dragon Knight himself.
It was thanks to Iren that he had succeeded. Rather, it was thanks to Amroth’s own foresight in perceiving Iren’s usefulness seventeen years ago. When Amroth and Captain Ortromp had gone to investigate the presence of a Left farmer, Amroth had seized on that mission as a way to become Captain of the Guard. He’d told Iren that he regretted Ortromp’s death, but he’d always intended to kill the useless captain and take his place. The Left provided the perfect cover. Amroth could blame Ortromp’s death on the Left, and no one would question it. He’d thought a promotion was all that mission would yield him, until he’d seen the Muryozaki.
Nadav had told him about the Ryokaiten, so he’d recognized Divinion’s blade immediately. At first he’d considered killing the infant boy resting against it and becoming the Holy Dragon Knight himself. Had he done that, however, he would never have passed Divinion’s test of purity of heart. Besides, he didn’t want Divinion. He wanted Feng.
Then the helpless baby Iren Saitosan had given him an idea. He couldn’t defeat Hezna, but if he had his own Dragon Knight, someone he could mold and shape into the perfect weapon, then perhaps he could. Iren would become his pawn, left alone to grow up despised by everyone. Amroth had known what would come of doing that. Iren would learn to hate. All Amroth needed to do was channel that hatred by presenting the boy an opportunity for revenge and pointing him in the right direction.
Once Iren had slain Hezna and obtained the Karyozaki for Amroth, he would have outlived his usefulness. To prevent him from ever becoming a threat, Amroth would arrest him for treason and have him executed. Here the destruction of Haldessa came into play. Once the Lodian people saw the fake letter from Rondel, they would blame her and Iren for the city’s demise. They wouldn’t bother searching for other evidence. Lefts were children of the devil, after all.
Of course, Haldessa’s annihilation had been about so much more than framing Rondel and Iren. It had provided a vital diversion too. Even with a Dragon Knight supporting him, Amroth had known that he couldn’t reach Hezna if all the Yokai remained in Akaku Forest. Opening Haldessa to attack would empty the forest and expose the Oni. The city had needed to die so that Amroth, and ultimately Lodia, could triumph.
Besides, Haldessa’s destruction wasn’t in vain. Its vulnerability had baited the Yokai and Quodivar into concentrating in one location. In wiping out Haldessa, Amroth had eliminated Lodia’s two greatest threats in a single glorious onslaught.
Only Rondel could have disrupted his scheme. She always got in the way. Without her, Nadav would still be alive. The night she’d helped him in Haldessa with the infant Iren, he’d needed to stomach his hate and put on a front of decency. All the while, he’d wanted to kill her, but she could have carved him into pieces before he’d finished drawing his blade. She could have wrecked his plan at any time, had the senile Maantec ever guessed his intentions.
Even the most dangerous of foes, however, had their uses. Holy Dragon Knight or not, Iren lacked experience and might lose against Hezna. Rondel, though, could almost certainly slay the Oni. Amroth merely had to convince her to do it.
In that regard, Iren had proven doubly useful. The night Amroth first showed Rondel the baby boy, the old woman had acted stunned, even terrified. Over the next several years, though, Amroth had noticed something odd about Rondel. Occasionally, he would catch glimpses of her spying on Iren. For whatever reason, she was drawn to the boy. Amroth had therefore crafted his speech the night of the feast to publicly announce his intent to bring Iren on his impossibly dangerous mission. Rondel would never allow Amroth to take Iren out of her sight, not into such certain death. She cared too much for that little wretch.
The old fool might think herself clever, but she’d fallen for Amroth’s wiles as easily as Iren had. Not only would her presence on the mission guarantee that Hezna would die, but in so doing, she would also allow Amroth to gain the Karyozaki. Once he had it, he could use its power to finally get revenge on her. By implicating her in the same treason as Iren, he could slay them both with the full blessing of the Lodian people.
At least, so he’d intended. One element in the sequence had gone awry. Iren had escaped. Amroth hoped Balear could remedy that situation, but even if he failed, it made little difference. Iren didn’t understand magic or the dragons. With Rondel dead and the Liryometa in Amroth’s possession, the boy posed no real threat.
The new king of Lodia laughed as he held up the dagger, causing the servants to eye him curiously. The weapon was undeniable proof that he had avenged Nadav. Those final hours in the cave, when all his deceptions had come to a head, he would forever consider his proudest moments.
After killing the Quodivar guards in the treasure room, Amroth had chased the fleeing thief alone. Ostensibly, he had done that to prevent the bandit from raising the alarm. In reality, though, Amroth had merely wanted to buy time and put space between himself and the
others. He’d just reached the next room when he’d heard the gurgling sound of a strangled and bleeding man. Stopping short, he’d found Zuberi and Hezna waiting for him, the thief butchered by the Oni’s claws.
Amroth had bowed low to both of them, hiding his distaste. “The others will arrive soon. We must act quickly.”
Zuberi had grinned. “Lord Hezna, if you would?”
The Oni had snapped his fingers, and a violent explosion rocked the cavern. “‘The others’ are now buried in stone,” he’d growled. “Amazing what Feng’s magic can do when channeled properly. But then, you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you, Amroth?”
Hezna’s arrogance had only made Amroth want to tear the Oni’s throat out more, but it had been too soon. “Don’t get overconfident,” he’d said instead. “Rondel is with them.”
Zuberi had shrugged. “No matter. We’ll wear her down. Lord Hezna, let us put that vermin you’ve caught to good use. Use his blood and make it look like we’ve captured our dear friend Amroth. Then when his comrades come to rescue him, your Yokai can ambush them.”
They’d all had a good laugh, including Amroth, although he’d doubted the Yokai could win. “It won’t be enough,” he had dared to counter. “You both know Rondel’s legend, and the boy I mentioned in the letter, Iren Saitosan, wields the Muryozaki. You’ll have to kill them yourselves.”
“Ah, yes, the Lefts,” Zuberi had scratched his chin. “Direct them to the fort. There’s no room to swing here.” He’d tapped the handle of his massive sword, then disappeared deeper into the cavern.
Hezna had then smeared the dead bandit’s blood on Amroth’s back and left the room, dragging the corpse along the floor. Amroth had joined him, walking in front so the Oni’s giant footprints would disguise the captain’s. At the room with the lake, Hezna had run his claws shallowly along Amroth’s back to give the illusion of combat. The captain had feigned unconsciousness in one of the cages while waiting for the others to arrive.
Amroth had expected Rondel to win against Hezna easily, but Iren’s stupidity and weakness turned out to be the new king’s greatest unexpected boons. When Rondel’s desperate attempt to save Iren had drained her of her magic, Amroth had watched gleefully as Hezna finished her. He’d never heard sweeter music than Iren’s anguished screams after checking Rondel’s pulse.
The Lodian king laughed again, standing from his chair and brandishing the Karyozaki and Liryometa together. Flames danced around him with each swing. Soon fires swirled around his head, a far more appropriate crown, he thought, than Azuluu’s useless trinket. Elation filled him. Rondel and Hezna were dead. The Yokai and Quodivar were finished. He possessed the Karyozaki and Lodia’s throne. He’d achieved complete victory.
“Not quite,” a growling voice said.
The king glanced around the room, frantically eyeing the servants, but none of them reacted. Only he could hear the words. He motioned for his staff to exit. Although he knew the voice’s source, he didn’t want to speak to it while others were around. They would think him crazy, talking to a sword.
“Feng,” he barked when everyone else had left the room, “what do you mean? No one can challenge us.”
The raspy voice of the dragon laughed, a cruel, harsh cry that made the sword itself vibrate. “Fool, you’re either blind or stupid.”
Amroth started to rebuke the dragon when Balear burst into the room, red-faced and sweaty. The king tempered his rage at the disturbance. Right now, he needed Balear’s information above all else.
The young soldier approached Amroth gingerly, eyes wide in terror. The king frowned, confused by his subordinate’s reaction, but then he realized he still had fires surrounding him. He doused them with a gesture.
“Captain Angustion!” Balear cried. “What happened? Haldessa is leveled, ashen, the castle in shambles! Did you arrive too late to stop the Quodivar? And what was all that fire just now? Has devil magic possessed you like it did Iren?”
Amroth simply smiled and stood motionless for a moment. Then he let fire issue forth in a circle around his feet. It whipped about, encircling him and rising until it encased him like a small typhoon. All the while, he maintained his supremely confident smile. Portions of the room ignited. After fifteen seconds, he released the magic, and the inferno ceased.
“My reward,” he said, “for stopping the Quodivar.” He held up the Karyozaki. “Remember Iren’s sword, with the power to heal? I now have one too, but with a rather more useful ability.” He glared at the young man. “By the way, Balear, you’ll address me as ‘King Angustion’ or ‘my liege’ from now on. Azuluu has died. I am king now.”
Balear looked at once both shocked and conflicted. “Congratulations, my liege,” he managed. “I grieve for King Azuluu’s passing, and I hope we’ll have peaceful and prosperous times under your leadership.”
“I intend nothing less,” the king asserted. He stepped past Balear and strode across the room. He entered the long central hallway of the mansion, moving so quickly the young officer needed to run to keep up with him. Amroth asked tersely, “Now tell me what has happened! I assume you brought Iren with you.”
Balear didn’t answer right away, which annoyed Amroth. He wheeled around, leaning domineeringly over the young soldier. Fire leapt around his head.
“I’m sorry, my liege,” Balear stammered. “I did as you ordered me to. I caught up to Iren Saitosan just outside Ziorsecth, but he used some kind of devil magic on me. He knocked me out. When I came to, he’d disappeared without a trace. I assume he went into the forest.”
Amroth clenched his fists, fires igniting in them as he did so. He forced his voice to remain calm. “Well then, give me Rondel’s letter and go on your way.”
Balear gulped. “I allowed Iren to read it in order to convince him of Rondel’s treachery. I thought that he would then return, but he still refused. We fought after that, and I never got the letter back. I believe Iren has it now.”
The dragon’s cruel laugh filled Amroth’s mind. “So much for your flawless plan. Nadav would be disappointed.”
Amroth resisted the temptation to cry out. It didn’t matter anyway. With Rondel dead, Iren was irrelevant. If he had gone to the Kodamas and left Lodia forever, so much the better.
“Are you so certain he went alone?” Feng crooned inside his mind. The dragon’s sense of superiority was starting to wear thin.
“What do you mean?” he asked belligerently, not caring that Balear could hear him.
Balear, apparently thinking the king was talking to him, started to speak, but Amroth silenced him with his palm. The dragon replied, “If you have any doubts, why not give Balear the Liryometa?”
“What good will that—” Amroth stopped. He knew what good that would do.
“Balear,” the king said, “you have come through many dangers, and I feel you’ve earned a reward. Please take this dagger, the weapon of the traitor Rondel, as a gift from me. May it always remind you of the rewards of loyalty and the penalties of treason.”
Timidly, like the dagger might stab him of its own accord, Balear accepted the prize. “It’s too short for me,” he mumbled, clearly embarrassed.
The king barely heard him. His breath caught as he noted the disturbing lack of change in the young soldier. “Balear, do you feel any different?” he asked.
Balear’s confused expression provided all the confirmation Amroth needed. If Rondel had truly perished, the dagger would have tested Balear. The sergeant would either have become the Storm Dragon Knight or died. The fact that neither had happened meant that Rondel must still be alive.
Feng mocked the king, “Still so convinced of your invincibility? All your grand designs, and the woman you most wanted dead has eluded you. If you have no greater ability than this, you’ll wind up a more miserable king than Azuluu. Lodia will crumble in a month.”
“Stop talking!” Amroth roared, forgetting Balear and the numerous servants farther down the hall. He swung his fist, and a plume of flame shot
forth, igniting a tapestry. The elegant fabric went up as easily as an oil-soaked rag, obliterating years of painstaking work in seconds.
Balear and all the servants looked at their new king with astonishment. Amroth glared at each of them, daring them to question him. Finally, he turned on his heel and stormed back to the room he had vacated, slamming the door behind him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
The Kanji Circles
Rondel and Aletas stared at each other, their expressions frosty. Several feet away, Iren and Minawë watched the spectacle without comment, fearing to incense the two elders further.
“We need a place to train,” Rondel pointed out.
“Train in Lodia,” Aletas retorted. “I won’t have you blowing up my forest.”
Rondel rolled her eyes. “You know we can’t go there.”
“Well, you can’t stay here!”
Iren shifted his gaze between the two, confused by the change in their demeanors. They’d seemed fine back in the house when Rondel was explaining about Amroth. Now Iren wondered which of them would throw the first punch.
Minawë didn’t share his disbelief. She whispered in his ear, “Didn’t you notice before? Mother and Rondel didn’t make the friend sign when we entered the guest room. Also, when you attacked Rondel, Mother didn’t intervene.”
“What do you suggest, then?” Rondel continued, oblivious to the pair whispering next to her.
“Go to Serona. He should see it anyway. He needs to know the danger he poses.”
Iren’s ears perked up at that. Minawë had mentioned Serona during their journey. It was the homeland of the Maantecs, and the place where they met their demise a thousand years ago. She’d told him that it lay west of Ziorsecth.
The Wings of Dragons: Book One of the Dragoon Saga Page 18
