The Dragon's Blade_Veiled Intentions

by Michael R. Miller

  “This is how you repay the person who saved your life, Marus?” Garon shouted at him. He whirled to face Rohka’s back. The Chief-of-Chiefs was stalking away, not watching as his guards manhandled Ochnic and gagged him. “Rohka,” Garon called. “Don’t do this.”

  Rohka looked over his shoulder. “You have heart, Garon, pack leader. But you are just one human. Accept dis.” And with that the kazzek leader walked away.

  Chapter 23

  A SHADOW BELOVED, A LIGHT FADING

  Dukoona – The City of Aurisha

  THE TRUSTED GATHERED in the Basilica of Light. One by one, they emerged. Their cold embers were a wash of colour against the surrounding gold stone. Above Dukoona, the dusky orange sky sent pale light through the opening of the dome roof. He stood behind the three plain stone swords in their stone holders at the centre of the chamber. As the last of the Trusted appeared, Dukoona looked to the cut along his forearm. It had healed over into a black line, but the scar still felt stiff when he twitched his wrist.

  All eyes were fixed on him.

  “We find ourselves in the greatest of dangers,” Dukoona said, elevating his voice to carry throughout the Basilica. “Some of our brothers tried to kill me. Many of you narrowly escaped death as well. Other Trusted did not. We no longer have a choice. To survive, we’ll have to work against the Master. We are all bound to Him. If we want to be free, then He must die.”

  Dukoona was met with silence.

  “Our first step will be to weaken His armies,” Dukoona said. “The dragons will come to take back Aurisha. We shall let them, but on our terms. We’ll bleed the demons slowly until Rectar’s army is spent. Only seventy thousand demons remain with us here, the rest dead or still on the Splintering Isles.”

  “The Master will not allow this,” a raking voice called out. “He’ll know.”

  “He will know in time,” Dukoona said. “That is inevitable.”

  “And then what?” another asked.

  “We hope our enemies will kill Him for us,” Dukoona said. More silence. “You do not think it can be done? Everything can die, even this god of the Shadows. If He were invincible, He would have no need for demons nor us. These gods the dragons bow to are not almighty either. Here we stand, servants of the Shadow, in the very temple erected for them.”

  He pointed to some spiralling pattern upon the wall.

  “Where were these gods when we slaughtered dragons and took their home? What did they do when our Master came to this world?”

  He paced back and turned his attention to the carved swords. They looked so old, so old and so worn. “What did they do?” he asked again. Then, summoning his dark blade into his hand, he struck at the closest stone sword. Its hilt crumbled, breaking into smaller pieces as it hit the floor. The bang of falling stone rang in the Basilica. Dukoona looked up to the hole in the dome, arms stretched wide, waiting for the response from the gods to come.

  He waited for a full minute.

  “They do nothing,” he yelled. He turned on the old stone sword again, hacking at it like a sapling until it was too low for him to reach. Then he kicked the final lump away from its holder towards his spectres.

  Little Sonrid was there, at the front, hunched low over the broken stone. He picked it up tentatively and Dukoona gave him a reassuring look. Even with Sonrid’s diminished strength, he could crush the stone further in his deformed fist.

  “Either they have no power here or they do not care,” Dukoona said. “Rectar hides in his mountain, as these gods of the dragons hide from the world. They need us to act for them, to serve them; well I am tired of servitude.”

  I hope that His death will free us. It’s all I can believe in.

  “No one will grant us this,” Dukoona told them. “If we want to escape our bonds then we must act.”

  “I am with you,” came Kidrian’s voice from nearby. Dukoona spotted his purple embers and, unexpectedly, the spectre stepped in front of the crowd and got down on one knee. “I am with you, my Lord, until the end.”

  “Rise, Kidrian,” Dukoona said. “And do not refer to me as Lord. None of you will swap one Master for another. If you wish to follow me, do so willingly.”

  “I will follow you, Dukoona,” Kidrian said. He spoke loudly so that all could hear.

  “As will I,” said Sonrid. He opened his hand and let the powdery remains of the stone sword fall.

  “As will I,” said another.

  “I am with you.”

  More called out. One by one, then in groups, before finally the last of the crowd cried it out.

  “Then we prepare,” Dukoona said. “We must be careful in allowing the dragons their victory. If they succeed too quickly the Master will suspect. Beat them too bloody and we might weaken them too much. But be sure of this, no more spectres need risk their lives in this fight. Above all, you live. Let us lure in this Darnuir and his legions. Bring them here. Bring him to me. I mean to speak with their King.”

  Blaine – The Island of Eastguard

  On the island of Eastguard, dragons died, humans died, fairies died.

  We should not have rushed here so soon. I have failed again.

  Blaine spun, sweeping the Guardian’s Blade in an arc at the demons around him. More came pouring out of the former town of Errin. Blaine hadn’t even managed to set foot in it.

  The back of his head throbbed. He reached behind, winced, then drew away a hand slick with blood.

  When did that happen?

  He lost his footing and stepped in something hot and squelchy. Death reeked in the air and he saw his foot had landed in the torn stomach of a fallen human. Intestines curled around his boot.

  Blaine wretched, as much from the Cascade as from the corpse.

  A spectre rose out of the ground, from a crooked shadow cast by their tall spire. Painfully, his arm burning, Blaine blasted it with a beam of strong light from his sword. The spectre collapsed with a smoking hole through its chest.

  “Light Bearers,” Blaine cried.

  No one was near him.

  He was alone.

  He tried to backtrack across the battlefield but the bodies made it hard to move. There was far more pink and blue than black and purple. And lots of red, of course, spilling across the shore to meet the freezing grey ocean, where longships were already leaving.

  “Fall back!” Grigayne roared. Blaine couldn’t see him. “Back to the ships.”

  “Retreat!” many cried.

  Blaine found himself running for the sea. When he reached the sand, his heavy feet sunk and he tripped, falling face-first into the gore. He forced himself to his knees, as slimy blood and filth dripped from his face. Heavy clouds that darkened the sky burst and rain lashed down, ticking off his armour.

  My hand’s empty.

  Panicked he scrambled around for the Guardian’s Blade, but was still half-blinded by the mess on one side of his face.

  A dragon appeared above him, proffering a hand. “Lord Guardian let me help yo—” but he convulsed, inhaling a sharp rattling breath as he died. Blaine saw the shadowy blade rip through the dragon’s waist. The spectre responsible turned on Blaine next. He had spiky yellow flames across his head and moved frantically.

  “The Master calls,” the spectre said. “He speaks to me. You won’t take us.”

  Blaine’s hand finally found his sword.

  His fingers gripped the hilt.

  The spectre cut.

  Blaine raised his sword too slowly. He howled in pain, in horror, in shock. His sword hand flailed and the spectre leapt out of his way. Blaine dropped his sword again.

  His smallest finger had been cut clean away. A broken bone jutted from his palm and blood spurt from the wound. His ring finger was badly cut but still intact.

  The gods have condemned me.

  “Light Bearers,” a voice called, “Protect the Guardian.” The yellow flamed spectre saw the Light Bearers running over and thought better of it. He melded away, soaring from every small shadow he coul
d back towards the dark tower.

  Blaine scanned the ground for his sword, but someone was already handing it to him.

  “I believe this is yours, Blaine,” Bacchus said. He puffed madly trying to lift the Guardian’s Blade but he managed it and all those around bore witness. Blaine took it in his left hand. It felt wrong there, clumsy, but he had no need for it right now.

  He was running; fleeing to the call of “Retreat!” all around.

  Chapter 24

  THE HIGH PRICE PAID

  Captain Elsie was not only the first official leader of the Hunters, she is the only one to ever win unanimous support. She must have been well loved. Still more impressive is that she achieved this long before the Brevian court started meddling in Hunter affairs. Rumours of patronage and rigged elections have grown wilder over the centuries since.

  From Tiviar’s Histories

  Cassandra – Brevia – Arkus’ Palace

  CASSANDRA GRASPED THE edge of Cullen’s cradle. Pudgy faced with rosy cheeks, he was sleeping peacefully beneath a white blanket. She was pleased his room wasn’t a blackwash like so much of the palace. Around the walls was a painted sequence of a family with a newborn baby, planting a seed and watching it grow alongside the child with a ceiling of rolling clouds and dazzling stars. Cassandra suspected the artistry was fairy rather than human.

  Cullen rolled over. He flexed his tiny fingers against his crisp sheets. Cassandra couldn’t help but smile. There was something calming about being around him, her nephew. She’d felt it even when she’d held him during the run from Torridon. Perhaps there was some bond there, unspoken, unforced, but there. If only it were so easy with Arkus.

  There was a soft knock at the door.

  “Come in,” she said and was surprised when Balack entered. He’d been given a pristine set of custom white leathers because being a mountain boy was good for his story, as well as a black cloak of fine wool. His beard had been trimmed and oiled, and his auburn hair swept in a wave to one side.

  “A bit of pampering suits you,” Cassandra said.

  He pursed his lips and blushed a little, looking at the cradle. “I hope I’m not interrupting?”

  “He’s asleep. I come to check up from time to time.”

  “I do too, when I can,” Balack said. He stepped to the opposite side of the cradle and placed his own hand on it. “King Arkus visits as well, though he is extremely busy.”

  “You’ve been busy too. All that touring. All those speeches.”

  “It’s good for the people. Good for morale,” Balack said, a little pompously.

  “Oh, of course. For the people. And for you?”

  He shrugged. “It works, Cass. Recruitment has increased by eight per cent.”

  “Well, I’m glad,” she said. “I imagine the guaranteed meals and clothing are also attractive. The refugee camps are stretching things thin.”

  “A lot of dragons arrived from Val’tarra,” Balack said. “Arkus is worried and the Assembly is terrified.”

  “Why are they so scared?” Cassandra said. “The dragons are waiting to go home. Arkus even invited them to come get a ship.”

  “They’re dragons, Cass,” Balack said, as though it was all obvious. “They might be old, women or children but that still makes them far stronger than us. It’s all the Assembly talks about right now, especially now that the fleet has sailed with the bulk of our army.”

  “Balack, the dragons are not going to attack us for food.”

  “Maybe not now, but what about when the food runs scarce. You know fine well what they can be like. They will take what they want,” he ended acidly.

  Oh, so that is what this is really about.

  “Don’t let your feelings for Darnuir lead you to blame a race,” Cassandra said. She felt a surge of anger at him then. “You don’t even know what happened. He didn’t ‘take’ anything. As if she—”

  Cullen rustled and moaned but stayed asleep. Cassandra hadn’t realised her voice had been rising. She let go of the cradle and stalked around to be closer to Balack.

  “As if she was yours to have taken from you,” Cassandra whispered savagely.

  “You don’t know,” he whispered.

  “Actually, I do. Darnuir told me back in Val’tarra.” She remembered it vividly; the damp leaves, the confiding conversation, Ochnic descending from the trees. “Eve went after him, not the other way around. He was guilt-ridden, Balack.”

  “Then why’d he break my ribs? A strange sort of apology that.”

  “Maybe he wasn’t in his right mind,” Cassandra said. “Maybe having memories from your sixty-year-old self forced into your head causes you to act in strange ways.”

  “And maybe it just shows that dragons aren’t worth helping.”

  She slapped him.

  The clap echoed and her palm stung. Balack reacted slowly, his hand rising to touch his cheek only after several seconds.

  “He’s made mistakes,” Cassandra said. “I’ve decided to forgive him. You should as well. Grow up and get over this.”

  Hand still pressed against his cheek, he began to nod slowly as though pushing through sand. “You’re right,” he said, a little choked. “If there is some way I can—”

  He was interrupted by a sharp cough at the door. Standing there, seemingly on his own, was Thane. Small for his age and weedy, Thane was bulked out only by his thick black robes. His skin looked even greyer than usual and there were dark lines around his eyes. When he saw Cassandra, he smiled widely then poked his head back around the edge of the doorframe.

  “She’s here mother,” Thane called, a little out of breath. “In Cullen’s room.”

  A moment later, Queen Orrana stepped into view behind her son, pulling him in close to her in a one armed hug. “You shouldn’t overexert yourself, sweetling,” Orrana said, planting a kiss on Thane’s head. In her free hand was a bundle of letters secured with brown string. A flare of excitement shot through Cassandra. She’d been waiting for this, although she’d need to be alone with Orrana to discuss it.

  “But I wanted to—” He coughed again and heaved something up into a large handkerchief before pocketing it.

  Well-practiced worry lined Orrana’s face but she looked to Cassandra. “I hope I am not intruding? It can be difficult to get acquainted with one’s betrothed—”

  “Balack was just leaving,” Cassandra said.

  “Yes — I was,” Balack said. He bowed to Thane first, then Orrana. “Please excuse me, my Prince, my Queen, I am scheduled to visit the forges today.” As Balack squeezed passed the crowded doorway, the Queen threw Cassandra a quick wink.

  “Mother, may I hold Cullen again?” Thane asked.

  “Cullen is sleeping, dear. Perhaps later.”

  Thane trotted over to the cradle, peering fondly down at his, well, Cassandra was not sure what Cullen was in relation to Thane. If Thane is my stepbrother, I suppose he is Cullen’s step uncle? I think.

  “I don’t see you in the palace much, Cassandra,” Thane said. “Would you like to read with me again one day?”

  “Cassandra is very busy,” Orrana said. “She’s the Princess now.”

  “I’m a prince and I’m not busy.”

  “You will be one day,” Orrana said. “Why don’t you wait outside Thane? Mummy won’t be long. I need to speak with Cassandra.”

  Thane seemed unsure.

  “I would love to read with you one day,” Cassandra said. “We’ll sit in your favourite chair and have cake. But I do have business with your mother for now.” Thane smiled again, seeming content with this, then obediently shuffled away. Orrana glanced out, making sure he was out of earshot.

  “How’s he been?” Cassandra asked.

  “A little worse,” Orrana said. “He hard a hard time drifting off last night. Anyway, these are for you.” She thrust the letters to Cassandra who took the bundle eagerly.

  “You know who R.F. is then?” Cassandra asked.

  “Ralph Foulis,” Orrana said. �
�It wasn’t too hard to narrow it down. The Forsycht’s have family members in the hunters, but not stationed here in Brevia, and the Finlays only have two sons, one of whom is a Chevalier. One of the Feweir’s daughters is a huntress, but her first name is Maggy so that rules her out.”

  “Thank you, Orrana,” Cassandra said. She took the bundle of letters eagerly and tucked them under one arm. “When have you arranged the gathering?”

  “For tomorrow evening.”

  “That won’t seem like too short a notice?”

  “I am the Queen,” said Orrana. “The lesser houses can’t refuse me, particularly as this is the preliminary meeting to one with my husband. Besides, none of them would miss the chance to have their say in rebuilding and resettling the Boreac Mountains, not to mention the many vacant hunter positions in the Cairlav Marshes, Golden Crescent and the Dales.”

  “Don’t the Hunters decide on who gets what position?”

  “Ordinarily yes, but the task ahead is such a large one that some formal planning will be required. It’s an important matter, one that you can suitably use as an excuse to hand deliver invitations. A nice gesture from the ruling family. Foulis’ invitation to the gathering is in the middle of the pile.”

  “What if Arkus finds out about the gathering?” Cassandra asked.

  “He knows,” Orrana said. “I convinced him to let me take the matter off his plate, but I didn’t mention our real reason for hosting.”

  “I don’t know how to repay you for this,” Cassandra said.

  “Repay me?” Orrana said in shock. “You don’t owe me anything. Repay me if you must by catching Boreac. I don’t think I’ll feel Thane is truly safe until this is over.”

  “I will,” Cassandra said and, without thinking things through, hugged the Queen. Orrana made a startled little “oh” but returned the hug, lightly patting Cassandra on the back. Now Cassandra just felt too awkward to even let go. She was saved by Cullen waking up and beginning to cry.

  Orrana moved to the cradle.

  “Was he fed before he fell asleep?”