“Don’t be so sure it is demons we will face,” Arkus said. He pointed to the figurines around the Bastion. “It would seem Castallan has gathered fresh troops.” He poured himself a fresh mug of shimmer brew and took his first sip loudly. “Those are no longer my forces,” Arkus added, reaching for a large piece of parchment with a multitude of coloured seals at the bottom. He passed it to Darnuir to read.
To our former King Arkus, the Lords of Brevia and the Kingdom, and every human drawing breath, we, the Lords of the Southern Dales, and those lesser lords signed herein, do by renounce the overlordship of the City of Brevia and the King. We instead pledge ourselves to and proclaim our King to be Castallan, Greatest of the Wizards. King Castallan even now burns his demons in the embers of a renewed faith in humanity, while a resurgent Dragon King attempts to restart a conflict long since left in peace. Dragons thirst for war again and humanity shall suffer as we have always done when dragons draw their swords. Only King Castallan, who wields the power of the Conclave of old, may lead us to renewed security for evermore. We welcome all those who feel the same to join us. It is not a decision blithely made. It is not for power, nor for riches, nor the advancement of person, but for the benefit and defence of all mankind. It is a cause we believe in upholding, even with life itself.
Chief Signatory, Robert Annandale, Lord of the Southern Dales.
Scores of names followed, each with their own curly scrawl and lump of wax. Darnuir’s teeth scraped together as he clenched his jaw, the darker reality clawing up from his gut.
‘Even with life itself’… more lives will end than will be saved with this madness, Annandale.
“I wished to confirm the truth of it before bringing it to your attention,” Arkus said. “If what Raymond says about these red-eyed men is true, then we will need every dragon to take the Bastion now.”
“His superiors did not believe him,” Darnuir said.
“The White Seven are a conservative lot,” Arkus said. “They can barely believe that a book need not be copied by hand alone these days.”
“And you?”
“If you can be reborn then why not. Magic isn’t something I claim to understand and I’ve never wished to have much business with it.”
“It is dangerous, yet it is the source of my strength and we will need Brackendon if we are to defeat Castallan.”
“Brackendon’s certainly a destructive force,” Arkus said. “In any case, I believe I have a tool equally as destructive. A substance of great power.”
Darnuir raised his eyebrows. “Would this happen to be a powder? A black powder?”
“Yes,” Arkus said, deflating a little. “How do you know of it?” Darnuir proceeded to tell him of the events of the run from Torridon, when they had piled a makeshift wall across the land and set it ablaze, only to be greeted with explosions all along the line.
“The Head of my Praetorian Guard, Lira, also knew of it,” Darnuir concluded. “Told me it is used in the quarries of the Hinterlands. I don’t think it is a great secret.”
“Few enough know just how strong it is and given the circumstances, I’d be willing to use our stores in the fight to come.”
“You plan on making a weapon of this powder?”
“A weapon,” Arkus tittered. “My wife’s dear father, Lord Clachonn, would baulk at that. He calls it a tool.”
“A hammer is a tool, but it can smash your skull.”
“A crude if effective method. Right now, the powder is crude but effective at blowing rock to pieces. Why not use it?” Arkus sounded quite jovial, reaching for a handful of silver berries.
Darnuir wasn’t quite sure what to make of all this. The powder would give them a needed edge but it was dangerous, hard to wield. It might well explode on their own men. He felt uncomfortable but he couldn’t say exactly why – it all seemed too straightforward; too open.
If only Blaine was so clear with me; my, wouldn’t that be nice.
“You’re being very honest with me, Arkus.”
“Because I hope that we might be frank with each other, Darnuir. My people are divided on how they feel about your kind. Events in the Dales make that all too clear.”
“The audience in your court seem to hold similar opinions,” said Darnuir. “You as well, from what you said there.”
“A small piece of theatre, Darnuir,” Arkus said. “My rule is not like your own. I must strike a constant balance of having more of my lords and people on my side than against me. Since this chaos began, many have blamed the dragons and you for it. In the past, I too have had my issues; we have even had our issues, but you might not remember.”
“I remember enough,” Darnuir said. “Enough to want a fresh start, if that can be achieved.”
“It gives me hope to hear you say that,” said Arkus. “Hope, that we might forge a more agreeable relationship after this war is over. Assuming we are still alive that is.”
“A stronger partnership is something I too seek,” said Darnuir. “The Three Races should stand as equals.”
“I had something else in mind,” Arkus said. “Human autonomy.”
“Break the alliance?” Darnuir asked, taken aback.
“Only in a sense,” said Arkus. “Only to make it seem like I have removed the overbearing dragon lords from my back and, more importantly, from the Assembly. Besides, if we win, if Rectar is defeated, what need will there for an alliance then?”
“Let us agree to discuss this matter seriously if the time comes,” Darnuir said, extending a hand. It wouldn’t be what Arkus wanted to hear, but Darnuir would not make important promises like this too hastily. It was all too quick and polite and smooth. After a moment, Arkus took his hand, if a little reluctantly.
“I’ll agree to that for now. My people are the ones currently causing us the headache, after all.” Arkus hovered a clenched hand over the figurines near the Bastion on the map, as though he meant to squash them.
“As you say, many blame the dragons. Castallan offers them an easy solution. It’s disheartening how many believe in him.”
“Castallan can be convincing, but there is something else he desires as well: power.” Arkus bent to grasp his crown as he spoke. Picking it up, he balanced it delicately on his palms. He looked down on the white gold circlet with narrowed eyes. “He wants what’s best for humanity, I don’t doubt. But he also wants this. And I’m afraid I am not willing to give it up.”
“Then what makes you so different from him?”
“Nothing in truth. It is just self-preservation,” Arkus said, tossing the crown unceremoniously back on the table. “Would you give up what you have?”
“I don’t have a choice,” Darnuir said. “The Dragon’s Blade answers only to me.”
“There is always a choice in these things,” said Arkus. “Yet it simply isn’t in our nature to make ourselves lesser. Annandale’s words in his declaration are well put and inspiring, but they are false and mask his longing. Yet such is the way of words.”
“People are capable of change,” Darnuir said. “It seems you are. You are nothing like the memories I have of you.”
“A shattered heart and a shattered people will do that to a king,” Arkus said. “I have grown harder, less assuming; that may be the only way in which we can change. Those who don’t will slip and fall. I did wonder whether you would be the same, when I heard you had been reborn. It did help to explain why you had disappeared for all those years. The Darnuir I knew wouldn’t have had the patience to wait for so long.”
“I very nearly lost my patience waiting upon this meeting,” Darnuir admitted, thinking of his frustration of only minutes ago.
“And yet you did wait,” Arkus said, giving Darnuir a quizzical look, as though he had done something singularly strange. “I confess, I expected you would burst into my chambers one day and make demands of me. But you didn’t. In fact, you have shown a considerable deal of courtesy, apart from shouting sensitive information to my whole court.”
�
�For that I am sorry,” Darnuir said. “I ought to have shown more restraint but—”
“You were being harassed and abused,” Arkus said curtly. “Frankly, I’d have lost respect for you if you had simply taken it. You dealt a strong and deep blow with your words, more than I imagine you are aware of.”
“I was simply stating the facts.”
“And the facts are distressing to many of my noblemen,” Arkus said. “My Queen, in particular, is worried by them.”
“You did not seem phased to hear of Cassandra.”
“No,” Arkus said simply. He did not speak again for a moment or two, perhaps thinking hard on his words. “I have long been aware that she lived, and that Castallan had her.”
Where does the honesty end with this man?
“You knew, and still you did nothing?”
“Precisely,” said Arkus. “Marrying off politically important daughters requires more planning and strategy than any war. Having her as my sole heir created a tremendous issue for me, Darnuir. I was already staring down civil unrest at sword point when she was lost to me. Nothing has been simple since Brallor ran off.” Arkus’ tone was dead, flat and cold. No emotion seemed to move him when speaking of his son.
“I am sorry, also, for bearing news of your son so crassly,” Darnuir said. “I’m still reeling from the loss myself.”
“Are you?” Arkus said more casually. “I am not. I presumed my son to be dead decades ago. That was the first wound and it has had the longest to heal.”
“You have a grandson to love instead,” Darnuir offered. “And Cassandra, when we save her.”
“To love you say? Perhaps,” Arkus mused. “What is the boy’s name again?”
“Cullen.”
“I’ll see he is well cared for but for the sake of stability, Thane will remain my heir.”
“Very well,” Darnuir said. “My priority is defeating our enemies. So long as Cullen is cared for.”
“He’ll have an easier time of it than Cassandra I’ll wager,” said Arkus. “Already the vultures circle overhead – Somerled for one. He wishes his son Grigayne to marry her.”
Darnuir felt an involuntary twitch at his mouth at hearing that. “You refused him, I assume?”
“I said I would need to think on the matter. Something more favourable may yet turn up.”
“I doubt Lord Imar believes anything is more favourable,” said Darnuir.
“The Splintering Isles have always been a troubled region,” Arkus said, taking another handful of silver alderberries. “I would hate it for Somerled to believe he is getting what he wants. I judge you are not keen on the idea either? Though I imagine for very different reasons.”
“Why would it matter to me?” Darnuir said, cursing himself for his indiscretion.
“Why? Well, I only thought that you might also have been interested in her for her position,” Arkus said. “I could be wrong of course. You could just have feelings for her.”
“You think I would?” Darnuir said, trying to feign some of the old scorn he knew his older self was capable of.
“My Lord Darnuir, if she is anything like her mother, then I’d be shocked if you did not. Tell me, what is she like? Does she have green eyes full of warmth?”
“She is beautiful,” Darnuir said, though warmth was not apt for her eyes. Cosmo’s yes, but not hers. “Beautiful but distant,” he continued, “like the promise of spring in the middle of a long mountain winter.” His gaze lingered on the portrait of the women behind Arkus a little too long. It might have been Cassandra, had it not been for the flush on her cheeks and the brightness of her smile. He was certain that Arkus caught him staring. “Cosmo’s eyes, I mean; Brallor’s, his were warmer.”
“His mother’s eyes,” Arkus said. He turned to face the portrait as well. “Does she really look so much like Ilana?”
“She does,” was all Darnuir could say. A part of himself felt ashamed at being affected in such a way by the mere thought of her. Cassandra seemed to keep most at arm’s length. But not me. She confided in me. We are close, right? But he also knew that half of why he was drawn to her was based on the relief of his head pains. Some intangible connection over his lives that had settled the memories trapped in the rubies of the Dragon’s Blade before he unlocked them.
What was that kiss? Was any of it real or was it all in my head?
Arkus let loose a shuddering, tired sigh. “I’m not sure whether my heart will leap or sink when I see her.” His voice was suddenly hoarse. “Clever as well, I assume?”
“Of course,” Darnuir said. “Intelligent and capable; she escaped from the Bastion after all.”
“I had wondered… I don’t suppose you know how?”
“There are passages within the fortress,” Darnuir said. “Though without Cassandra with us, I doubt we will be able to find the tunnel she used.”
“Passages?” Arkus questioned. “Curious. I saw none when I inspected the old plans for the fortress earlier.”
“You have the plans?” Darnuir said more eagerly. Perhaps some other weakness can be found.
“I do,” Arkus said, reaching for the rather old and large sheets of parchment that his crown had been resting on before. “They were deep in the royal vaults, but we found them. However, you will see that there is no indication of any passages under the walls.”
Darnuir studied each sheet carefully, noting with some trepidation the thickness and height of each wall, angled in such a way to make it impossible to find a dead zone from defending archers. The detail was intricate, every measurement given, and each method of defence quantified. There was nothing, however, that looked remotely like passages either in the walls or the central tower.
“Are these the only plans?”
“They are. It is possible that later additions were added and the plans have since been lost. It is peculiar.” Arkus looked more intensely to Darnuir then. “You only have Cassandra’s word about these tunnels?”
“Well, yes,” Darnuir said. “I believe her. And finding these passageways will be our best chance at success. I’ll dig up half the Dales if that’s what it takes to find them. Unless this powder of yours will bring down the walls.”
Arkus glanced back at the plans. “My supply of powder isn’t vast and these walls are thick, and there are two layers to contend with. We’ll deploy it as best we can, but this will likely still be a job for swords and strength.”
“And there are few enough dragons left now,” said Darnuir.
“Enough to cause a panic when four legions of your kind arrived at the city gates.”
“I’d be more concerned about the traitors surely lurking in your midst,” Darnuir said. “The man I killed at the Charred Vale was called Scythe and he was one of your hunter captains. There ought to be investigations. Certainly into the hunters at the Master Station here in the city, if nothing more.”
“No,” Arkus said.
Darnuir half opened his mouth and then stopped, caught off guard by the blunt response. “No?” he said slowly.
“No,” Arkus repeated.
“I did not think it to be an unreasonable request,” Darnuir said. “Nor did I imagine you would wish such men to continue at large.” Arkus swept aside to pour himself another mug of brew. Darnuir watched, perplexed, as Arkus threw back its contents in one extended gulp and his whole body shook a little with the injection of energy.
“I thought this point might be tough for you, Darnuir. If you truly have changed, as you say, then you will listen to me.”
“Will I?” Darnuir said, his temper beginning to rise. “I can wait for an audience with you if needs be. I will leave you to run your affairs as you will. But this is a military matter and in that, until this alliance changes, I am not to be denied. These traitors revel in killing dragons. I would see them brought to justice.”
“You would see their heads roll,” Arkus said. “Don’t deny it. I recognise that look about you, that much you have retained from your old life. The ange
r you turn to so easily. I urge you, however, to rethink. I urge caution.”
“Caution? It is caution and planning and waiting that has gotten us into this position. Castallan should have been handled years ago. Blaine should have gathered the dragons years ago.”
Arkus remained calm by comparison, staring Darnuir back down. “I find this bloodlust for traitors intriguing when you yourself helped Castallan get to where he is today.”
Darnuir choked. “You know?”
“Now I do,” Arkus said, a smile playing on his lips. “You just confirmed it. I only suspected before, though I was sure I was right.”
“That was an error,” growled Darnuir. “I’m not the same dragon anymore.”
“Indeed,” said Arkus. “A simple mistake of your past life, fuelled by misinformation and perhaps desperation. Could not the same be said of many of those who have joined Castallan?”
“It is hardly the same.”
“But it very much is,” Arkus said. “Annandale and Castallan have stirred up enough dissent in the south without us adding fuel to the fire. Your traitors are their brave new soldiers. You say you want justice for your people and I understand that. Believe me, I do. But I cannot have my Kingdom torn worse than it already is just to satisfy you. They are humans and under my laws. That is why I plan to offer clemency.”
“Clemency!” Darnuir’s heart drummed at the thought. “You might not be so quick to forgive if you had seen your son pinned against a tree with a sword.”
Arkus winced. “And I presume you have taken your vengeance already. Is that not enough for you? No, Darnuir,” Arkus added sternly. “I won’t do it. If I allow you to go carving your way through my city looking for traitors, it will cause us both irreparable harm.”
“This is a military ma—” Darnuir began.
“This is my Kingdom,” Arkus said louder, “and my people. Persecution will get us nowhere. Let us remove the leaders and allow the followers to return quietly to the fold.”
There was a knock on the door followed by, “Do you need us, sire?”
“It is fine,” Arkus called back, then to Darnuir more quietly. “If you seek a better relationship then trust me on this. Do not give them justification.”
The Dragon's Blade_Veiled Intentions Page 14
