The Dragon's Blade_Veiled Intentions

by Michael R. Miller

  “Just one touch,” Pel said. Her violet eyes were wide and bloodshot. Some of the Silver Furs tried to shove their way towards her but they were too late. She placed her hand upon one of the thin veils of stone. She screamed wildly, sounding both in pain and ecstasy, and Garon reached for his sword to find only air.

  No weapons. Just as well.

  Ochnic was the first to reach Pel. His grey hand clamped onto her shoulder but she shrugged him off effortlessly. She tore her hand away from the wall to swat away the other kazzek as they tried to subdue her. Her eyes were completely red now, as though filled with blood from lid to lid.

  “Pel, stop this,” Garon yelled, but she either could not hear him or ignored him. Marus stood there helpless, his great strength neutralised by his bad leg. A Silver Fur managed to grab her hands behind her back but she bent and flipped him over.

  There was nothing Garon could do. He was too weak – just a human.

  With a cry, he lunged forwards anyway, throwing his weight behind his shoulder and into her legs. He locked his arms around her knees and pulled. She wobbled for a moment and he held on; he held until he felt a blow to his head and his vision spun in a daze. The next thing he knew, Garon was being tossed through the air, landing softly at Marus’ feet, but the impact not as hard as he had feared.

  “Da power is draining from her,” called Rohka. “Let her settle.”

  Pel took several more clumsy swipes as the trolls who inched towards her, but her eyes soon began to return to normal. Ochnic brought her down, pinning her flat against the floor with a hand on the back of her neck.

  “Calm, Pel,” Ochnic said as soothingly as he could. “Calm. Calm…” He kept his eyes locked with hers and after a few moments of struggle, she finally returned to normal. Tears filled her eyes immediately.

  “I’m sorry,” she sobbed. “I don’t know — I don’t know…”

  “No harm was done,” Ochnic said. “Put dat away,” he added to an approaching Silver Fur. “She is not enraged or crazed.” The offending kazzek snarled but sheathed his long dagger.

  “Let’s get you to your feet,” Garon said. With Ochnic’s help, he got Pel upright and gave her a steadying arm.

  “We should hurry,” said Rohka. “No more accidents.” They hurried along after that. With Garon on her left, Ochnic on her right, and the kazzek around them, Pel was at the centre of a wall of bodies ensuring that she could not drift. Yet she did not seem interested as she had before and kept her head low as they passed through the golems’ tunnel. As they progressed upwards the blue light of the raw cascade faded from the walls and only the torches guided them.

  Finally, they reached the end.

  The kazzek placed another set of stones against an indent in the wall in the shape of a large hand and an archway to the outside world appeared. The stars were so bright and numerous above the Highlands, Garon could see well enough. Leaves crunched underfoot as he staggered outside and there was a chill in the air.

  “Are you okay, Pel?” Garon asked.

  “I’m just so hungry,” she said weakly. Garon’s own stomach rumbled. No matter what came of this meeting he would have to secure food, first and foremost.

  “You might have warned us,” Marus said accusingly to Rohka.

  “I tried,” said Rohka. “Now you know why you might listen to me in de future. Come. Da chieftains await.”

  The Silver Furs kept them moving at a brisk pace, pushing through the wild growth towards a small ridge directly ahead. As they cleared the top of it the Great Glen stretched out in its enormity before them. It might have been the starlight but nearly all of the heather here looked silver; those patches, at least, that were visible amongst the kazzek packed into the valley. Even at this distance, a whiff of smoke reached Garon from countless campfires outside the tightly packed, dry stone walled homes with high thatched roofs. The Great Glen looked to be more of a permanent settlement, with enough buildings to make a city.

  “Like smoking dunghills,” Marus said quietly in disgust.

  “Marus,” Garon warned.

  “No wonder we’ve been left in the cold when dealing with savages,” the legate muttered. “I swear we—”

  “Stop it,” Garon said. “This is just coming from hunger. Don’t let your temper unravel weeks of good relations with Ochnic.”

  “I’ll try,” Marus said.

  “You’ll try your hardest,” said Garon.

  The Silver Furs led them towards the heart of the valley. Kazzek began curiously following them and a muttering grew in tandem with the crowd. Horned cows with shaggy red hair chewed grass methodically and slowly turned their heads to follow Garon as he walked past. He even caught sight of a kazzek child, wrapped in red-green tartan cloth, trying to keep up with the procession – a young girl, judging by the length of her hair. She squealed at the sight of Pel and ran off crying. Pel looked too drained to care. The blue of her skin was dangerously pale.

  “How much longer?” Garon asked.

  “De First Stones stand in de centre of da glen,” Ochnic said. “Not much farther, pack leader.”

  The First Stones turned out to be an enormous triple-ringed circle of standing stones, erected on the flattest piece of land in the valley. Garon craned his neck to see the top of the stones as they drew closer. The outer ring was the tallest and descended in size towards the middle. Where each of the giant outer rocks stood, there was a large house to accompany it, ten in total. These had the luxury of a second story.

  “Homes of da chieftains when in da Great Glen,” Ochnic explained.

  “Quite the auspicious position,” Garon said.

  “Da chieftains will have gathered in the stone ring,” Rohka announced.

  “That’s good,” Garon yawned. “Any chance they will bring something to eat with them?” Rohka flashed his fangs. “Look, if not for me, can you fetch something for Pel? She’ll collapse if she doesn’t put something in her stomach soon.” The Chief-of-Chiefs eyed Pel, who was propped up only by Marus, who was propped up himself by his crutch.

  “Da fairy touched da blue poison,” Rohka said. “She attacked my kazzek.”

  Ochnic gave a grunt of impatience. “I shall find food.”

  “I wish you ta be present, Shadow Hunter.”

  “I won’t be long,” Ochnic said. He seemed flustered and eager to get away. “Can you eat fish?” he asked Pel. She didn’t seem to understand and was unable to make proper eye contact with him.

  “Fish is fine in small doses,” Marus said. “Better hurry, Ochnic.” And he did. Quick as a flash their kazzek guide was pushing his way back into the gathering crowd.

  “Be gone now,” Rohka shouted to the kazzek. “Away to your fires. Da chieftains shall converse with da Lowlanders. Der is no need to fear.” The crowd seemed unwilling to move and it took the menacing Silver Furs to disperse them. Garon waved an encouraging hand to Marus and Pel, and together they gingerly followed Rohka into the middle of the standing stones. At the centre, eight older kazzek had arranged themselves around a circular stone table. Eight here, plus Rohka is nine. Nine chiefs and ten houses. Someone is missing. A noticeable gap had been left for Garon, Marus and Pel, and they moved into it.

  No one spoke, not for an uncomfortably long time.

  Exhausted and starving, Garon tried to keep his eyes open. He hated feeling so unprepared for this pivotal moment and yet, here he was; as unready as he’d been at seventeen, approaching nineteen-year-old Fiona from Ascent at the station one misguided evening in late autumn. This was an early autumn night, and he was now thirty-six, but he felt like the boy he’d once been. Out of his depth. And probably out of his mind. Still, he’d learned after Miss Fiona that confidence was the key and so he mustered as much phantom self-assurance as he could and said, “So is this it?”

  “What is dis ‘it’?” asked Rohka.

  “This,” Garon said, flapping his arms to illustrate the situation. “You request help to be sent into the Highlands, we’re told the de
mons are knocking on your doorstep and then you allow us to walk next to blind through the difficult mountain terrain with no additional food or wildlife to live off. To cap it all, we reach your magnificent glen and you have absolutely nothing to say.”

  “We have a great deal to say,” said Rohka. Garon was about to reply but the chieftain cut him off. “When kazzek receive guests we always wait for dem to make the first greetings. Your greeting was a strange one.”

  “Ah,” Garon said, feeling foolish. “I suppose it was. Hello, then, great chieftains of the kazzek.”

  “Hello,” the chieftains chanted in unison.

  “Allow me to introduce Legate Marus, leader of the dragons on our expedition,” Garon said. Marus winced and clutched at his leg. “And Wing Commander Pel, the lead flyer of our fairy forces.” On cue, Pel swayed into Marus’ shoulder.

  “You brought da fairy through da mountain?” one of the chiefs asked in shock. Her colleagues grumbled around the table, audibly grinding their teeth.

  “Dey insisted she come,” Rohka said.

  “I insisted,” Garon said. “We three will not be divided on this mission. The Three Races have agreed to help in your fight against the demons, and we will do so together. My orders,” he proclaimed and produced Darnuir’s scroll, placing it upon the stone table. “From the King of Dragons.”

  “Lowlanders cannot enter da Great Glen, Rohka,” said a chief. This one had tusks that curled upwards and wore a tartan of yellow and black. Garon whipped his head from side to side and peered exaggeratedly down at his own body, then to Marus and Pel.

  “There seems to be some upset then,” Garon said. “For we are ‘Lowlanders’, as you call us, and we are here.”

  “Exceptions had to be made,” Rohka said slowly.

  “Clearly, it is possible for us to enter the glen,” Garon said. “What you mean is that you do not allow it, by which you mean you do not wish it.”

  “Pack leader,” Rohka said loudly. He was suddenly stern and drew up to his full and towering height. “Da Great Glen is a refuge in times of crisis. Da kazzek are scared when dey come here. We did not wish to frighten dem further. And our food stores are not as full as you think.”

  “Then how were you planning to feed us?” Garon asked. All the chieftains exchanged nervous glances.

  “We did not expect you to come,” Rohka said. “We did not believe Ochnic would succeed.”

  Garon sighed. “There has been a lot of ill-will towards this mission. But if you would struggle to feed an extra five thousand mouths, then you must be in dire straits indeed.”

  “We might have made it through da winter,” said Rohka. “But now you Lowlanders have arrived…”

  Garon’s heart sank. “So what are we to do?”

  Before Rohka could answer a familiar voice cried, “Where are dey?” And Ochnic came bounding up to the stone table with a steaming bowl in his hands. “Where are dey? My clan.” His voice shook as did his hands and a portion of the bowl’s contents spilt onto the earth. Marus reached to take the bowl and Ochnic relinquished it without protest.

  “Trapped in da east, Shadow Hunter,” said Rohka. “Cut off by demons.”

  “Dey were coming,” Ochnic said. “Dey were to leave just after I…”

  “Demons came from da Black Rock glens faster than expected,” said Rohka. “Too many for us to fight dis time. Even da golems are trapped with your people in da Glen of Bhrath.”

  “You abandoned them?” Marus asked.

  “We left great food stores in da east behind as well,” said Rohka. “We had no choice. Until now.”

  Ochnic turned to Garon and took his arm frantically, squeezing far too hard. “Pack leader. Please. Go we must.”

  “Ah,” Garon grunted in pain. “Loosen that grip there, Ochnic. Of course we’ll go. As Marus said, that’s why we’re here, regardless whether anyone in the world cared if we’d succeed; that’s why we’re here.”

  “Thhh-ank you,” Ochnic said weakly.

  “I’ll help save your daughter, Ochnic,” Pel said. “Even if I have to fly her away myself, I swear.” Everyone turned to her, the chieftains in shock and Garon in concern. Spoon in hand, she’d clearly been wolfing down whatever Ochnic had brought her. It looked like a creamy soup with flakes of white fish, leeks, translucent onions and chunks of a golden vegetable that Garon did not recognise. Vigour had already returned to Pel’s skin.

  “Thank you, too,” Ochnic said gratefully.

  “Da fairy would swear oaths to a kazzek?” asked the incredulous chieftain in pink and green.

  “We’ve had it rough but we’re learning to look past our differences, for the most part,” Garon said. “Maybe you all should as well.” He let that settle in the air for a time. “Now, chieftains, if you will kindly resupply our forces, we can move out immediately. With your own warriors and guides as help, we’ll stand an even better chance.” The ring of chieftains closed together to converse.

  “Done,” they all said together.

  “We shall send one thousand warriors and our Silver Furs,” said Rohka. “I will lead dem myself. But I must make clear, de food stores are de priority, for all of us. Without dat we shall starve through da snows.”

  “Chief-of-Chiefs, my clan dey —” Ochnic began.

  “Might not be alive,” said Rohka. “Dis is hard words, but could be true. If Chief Orrock and your clan survive, dey will surely be with da store. If not, or if der is a choice to be made, I cannot order our warriors to take any risks. Da food is critical.”

  “But—”

  “Do not overstep your place, Shadow Hunter,” Rohka said.

  Garon felt like he should say something. He could almost feel Ochnic tense with rage beside him and gently placed a staying hand on the troll’s rough hide. It was Marus who spoke first.

  “A strong leader knows difficult choices have to be made. My dragons will be at your disposal, great Chief-of-Chiefs. My King would wish for trust to build between our peoples.”

  Garon glanced sideways at Marus. So you’ll follow who’s strongest, is that it Marus?

  “We know what to do,” Garon said, suppressing his own frustration. He hoped they could leave before anything worse was uttered. “Send along kazzek who know how to make that soup,” he said more light-heartedly. “It smells delicious.”

  When they answered, the chieftains spoke again as one. “Done.”

  Chapter 17

  WHISKY AND PAINT

  The sacking of Brevia was swift and brutal. In 1738 AT, Godred Imar, King of the Splintering Isles, showed his might when he sailed his fleet of longships into the Bay of Brevia and seized the city. At that moment, Godred showed that Dalridia was the true powerhouse of humanity.

  From Tiviar’s Histories

  Cassandra – Brevia – The Throne Room

  “SHOW YOUR LOVE for the hero of the Bastion!”

  The crowd in Arkus’ throne room roared in approval.

  Cassandra watched on surreptitiously from the back of the throne’s podium, not wanting to stand front and centre with Arkus and his family.

  They are my family too, I ought to remember. Arkus is my father; Thane is my half-brother. Orrana is… well she’s nothing to me really.

  Between his parents, Thane looked rather small. She could see him coughing regularly. Arkus patted his back, but his convulsions could not be heard over the announcer’s orations.

  “I give you Balack, Hero of the Bastion! A human who took the gates where dragon and fairy failed; a human of the ruined Boreac Mountains who took his revenge; a hunter of the finest quality.”

  Arkus got to his feet, clapping enthusiastically with the rest. He nudged Balack and the hunter raised an arm to wave at the throng of Brevia’s elite. The King let the hall quieten before speaking.

  “This is a time of celebration. The tyranny in the south has ended. Castallan has been defeated and his enchantment over the people of Dales is broken. Their minds are their own once more and we are joined again
in a truly united kingdom.”

  Cassandra yawned deeply as another round of cheering ensued.

  “The dragons paid a high price at the Bastion,” Arkus went on. “But a price needed to be paid, for it was dragon lords who first pushed Castallan on his path of madness.”

  What are you doing, Arkus?

  “I have sent the dragons east, back to their home, and I shall offer passage to any dragon still in our lands. Let them know they can find that passage from Brevia. It is time to remove the burden of their people from our shoulders.” The crowd responded enthusiastically to that. “One final fight must still be won. The Splintering Isles will not fall. No demon will set foot in our lands again. The heroism of humans, of hunters like Balack here, will be what saves our people from destruction,” and with that, Arkus took Balack’s hand and raised it high in his own. “Humanity will stand up for itself. Humanity will not cower!”

  Another round of cheering followed.

  They’ll shred their own throats doing that.

  Before it was over, she turned to leave. She’d heard enough bravado for the day. There had not even been a mention of Brackendon, the real hero.

  They’ll never know, and so he’ll never be remembered. The truth of it will die and this rhetoric put in its place.

  She wondered then how much had been lost across time. How much of what she had read was true?

  I will not forget.

  Trumpets blew behind her as she left the throne room. She took the staircase leading directly back to the royal apartments, and had barely emerged onto that floor when four Chevaliers blocked her path. They no longer seemed to wear helmets, she had noticed. It made them less intimidating, but their eyes were always visible.

  “Move,” she said. They stood still. “Move, please.”

  Still nothing.

  “Your father wishes a word with you, Princess,” said Gellick lazily. He ran a hand through his mop of blonde hair. “We will take you to his council chambers.”

  “I know the way,” Cassandra said. She had been mapping out the palace in her mind since arriving three days ago. After the Bastion, it was easy.