The Dragon's War

by Samantha Sabian

  Talan turned Raine around by the shoulder and began to lead her away as if she were a child. “I will remember that,” Talan said, looking back, “if I ever need something.”

  “Thank you,” Raine said, uncharacteristically flustered. “That woman gets under my skin.”

  “That’s not surprising,” Talan said, “when she took your blood, it was probably the closest you’ve ever been to a sexual experience outside of our relationship.”

  “I don’t really want to think about that,” Raine said darkly. Just then, Raine caught sight of another vampyre, one she was also familiar with. This was Pernilla’s second in command, the true Mal’rona, and Raine had battled this beauty on several occasions.

  “Hello Raine,” the vampyre said in a sultry voice as she passed.

  “Have I mentioned how much I hate vampyres?” Raine muttered.

  “And have I mentioned how much they like you?” Talan replied.

  The vampyre pushed past Feyden and Lorifal and they both did a double-take, then looked at Raine.

  “Isn’t that—?”

  “Yes,” Raine said, “but it’s of no concern.” At their baffled looks, she sighed. “It’s a very long story, and I will explain later. But no one is in any danger.”

  “No one but Raine,” Talan said, laughing as she strolled away.

  The Ceremony of Assumption began with all of the pomp and fanfare expected of the Alfar. It was filled with solemn tradition, ancient ritual, and even a few sacraments. The blessing bestowed by Elyara on behalf of Y’arren was given particular prominence. Although the High Elves often looked down upon their Wood Elf brethren, Y’arren was the oldest living of either race and was revered by all.

  Maeva was grand and noble, accepting the position of Directorate with the dignity and refinement that her people expected. The Ceremony was the same as it had been since time immemorial, the only deviation being the young human that stood at the Directorate’s side, one that, unbeknownst to but a few, had Arlanian blood in her veins from some ancestor generations before.

  In short, it went flawlessly. Despite the fact that long-term rivals were present, despite the fact that wildly dissimilar cultures were mixing, despite the fact that both the head of the Thieves Guild and the Assassin’s Guild were in attendance, despite all of these potentially explosive factors, the Ceremony went impeccably. It helped that a very small band of Ha’kan, Tavinter, and imperials had fought with the aid of a dragon, her children, and the last Scinterian just days before, and had destroyed a massive invading force of Hyr’rok’kin. For all that could have gone wrong, it was a perfect moment for all of the peoples of Arianthem.

  The celebration went long into the night and started up again the next morning almost without pause. The revelers had gotten a few hours’ sleep, then rose to begin anew. The dwarves had drunk enough the night before that they were still cheerfully inebriated when they woke. The Royal Guard insisted on a brief training exercise, joined by the Tavinter, and Raine took advantage of the chance to train. The Alfar guards watched the swordplay enviously, and Raine lightheartedly challenged them as well. Soon the elves experienced firsthand what they already knew from observation: the Scinterian was without equal. Their duties done for the day, the Ha’kan and Tavinter rejoined the festivities.

  Couches had been brought into the great hall and the atmosphere was relaxed as people lounged about. Maeva moved amongst her own people and her guests, skillfully building all the political connections she would ever need. Nerthus and Dagna were still stuck at the Emperor’s side, but now his most-trusted advisor hovered over him, bringing him more comfort than they ever could. Raine found this funny, given the true identity of his ‘advisor,’ but she tried not to pay too much attention to her because it would bring those pale eyes in her direction where they would settle for an extended period of time. The food was excellent, the delicacies of the elven chefs both exotic and delicious. It was another perfect day.

  “And where is your sorceress?” Raine asked.

  Skye shrugged. “I told her she could stay despite the bargain, and that just made her angry. She left last night.”

  Raine shrugged also. “Strange, yet like her.”

  “I agree.” Skye eyed the buffet table. “I’m going to get some food. Do you want anything?”

  “No,” Raine said, “I’m fine.”

  Skye started across the room. Then abruptly stopped.

  The feeling of loss swept over Raine so suddenly she closed her eyes. Talan tilted her chin up and looked to the southeast. Elyara bowed her head, then put it in her hands. Idonea swallowed hard and blinked to keep the hot tears from falling.

  The elven mages were uneasy, looking one to the other, unable to identify the feeling that swept over them but feeling it all the same. Maeva was aware of the disruption, unable to feel it herself but sensing it in the dismay of the others. Whatever it was, it appeared to affect only those closely attuned to magic. The Ha’kan were oblivious, confused at the behavior, except for their First Scholar who had a look of growing understanding on her fine features.

  Raine stood, and slowly walked to the girl in the center of the room. Skye was staring at the floor in front of her, so still it was as if she were made of stone. Raine put her hands on the girl’s shoulders.

  “Skye,” she said softly in the silent room, “I’m so sorry.”

  Skye muffled a sob and clutched Raine to her chest, and the Scinterian put her strong arms about her and stroked her hair. The assembly as a whole was baffled, and it was finally Talan who spoke to let them understand.

  “Isleif is dead.”

  The pronouncement sent a gasp through the room. All in Arianthem knew of the magnificent wizard. He was as legendary as the dragons. Maeva moved to Skye, still not grasping the extent of the girl’s loss and the depth of her grief. Granted, Isleif had always been bonded to the Tavinter, but…

  “Isleif was Skye’s great-grandfather,” Raine explained, and Maeva drew back. This she had not known, and there were few things in Arianthem that escaped her notice. She put her hand on the girl’s shoulder.

  “I’m sorry, Skye,” the Directorate said, and her condolences were heartfelt.

  Skye pulled back from Raine and squared her shoulders, but the Ha’kan would not let her carry this burden alone or disappear into her reserve.

  Queen Halla swept forward and pulled the girl into a motherly embrace, and the High Priestess was right behind her. The kindness and maternal love of the two was too much for Skye, and the tears again began to flow. The women held her while her shoulders shook with her silent grief. Raine felt the ache of grief in her own throat, as much for Skye as for herself.

  The Queen and High Priestess escorted Skye from the room, followed by the First General and First Scholar. Several of the Tavinter were right behind them. Maeva was something at a loss as to how to proceed. It seemed inappropriate to continue the celebration, and the mood was certainly broken. The room was deathly quiet.

  Unexpectedly, it was Idonea who stood to speak upon this solemn occasion.

  “I have spent the last twenty years with Isleif,” she began. “He was my Master, my teacher, and my friend. He was, without a doubt, the greatest wizard this world has ever known. He was capable of the most sublime magic I have ever seen, and understood the arcane in ways that are unimaginable.”

  The assembly all nodded somberly.

  “But if there’s one thing I know about that old lecher,” Idonea continued, startling the group with the blunt descriptor, “he would not want us to sit around moping about his demise. He would want us to celebrate his life with the same zest and zeal he approached all things.” She raised her wineglass to the room at large.

  “To Isleif,” she said, and the room responded in unison.

  “To Isleif!”

  The hum of conversation renewed, and although the mood was not nearly as light-hearted as it had been at the beginning of the day, it did not devolve into a funeral.

  “
Thank you,” Maeva said to Idonea. She was truly grateful for the mage’s words and their result.

  “You’re welcome,” Idonea said, as if it were no matter. But as the Directorate walked off, Talan saw the depths of grief her daughter had suppressed to give that speech. She stood and pulled the girl to her.

  “Come here, my love,” Talan said, and Idonea collapsed into her arms.

  Raine sat down heavily, feeling Skye’s grief, Idonea’s grief, and her own. She had known the wizard almost his entire life, well over a hundred years. And although she hadn’t known him well at first, the last few decades she had known him very well. Feyden brought her a glass of the chilled white wine he was fond of, and she took it with thanks. He sat down next to her, and they were soon joined by Lorifal. It was not long before both Dagna and Elyara made their way over, and all sat with Idonea as she retook her seat. The small group sat comfortably, talking quietly, and sipping their drinks. Talan leaned against the wall behind them in shadow, a watchful, calming sentinel.

  A slow awareness began to come over the assembly as they watched the small group talk quietly amongst themselves. There was bond between them, a camaraderie that went beyond mere friendship, even beyond romantic love. And smiles began to cross faces as they remembered or even realized for the first time who sat before them. The Emperor was slow on the uptake, not understanding the feeling of admiration that was taking hold in the great hall. Maeva saw the lack of comprehension on his face and spoke to him.

  “You know who that is, don’t you?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Maeva nodded to the band, proud that her brother was counted in their ranks. “Two are missing, but that is the group, the six of them and the dragon, that traveled through the Veil over two decades ago and closed the Gates of the Underworld. They stopped an invasion in its tracks. And a few days ago, most of them fought in another battle to turn the Hyr’rok’kin back. That is a group of heroes, the like of which, this world may never see again.”

  Chapter 14

  The sun rose as it always did, indifferent to the griefs and pains of mortals. It was not a cruel indifference, rather a patient one, an encouraging one, a sign that today could always be a better day.

  It could. But today was not that day.

  “What is that?”

  Talan came out on the balcony to stand with Raine, drawn by the tone of her voice. Her eyes squinted, looking far across the land from the heights of Mount Alfheim. It was in the vicinity of the Empty Land.

  “I don’t know,” Talan said, her concern matching Raine’s.

  It was a black cloud, possibly from a fire. But there was nothing to burn in the Empty Land. It looked something like a storm, but unlike any storm they had ever seen. And it looked like a cloud of dust, but too big for any natural source. The very fact that they could see it from that great distance was ominous.

  “What is that?” Skye asked, coming out onto the shared balcony.

  “We don’t know,” Raine said.

  Senta, Gimle, and then the Queen joined them, with Astrid not far behind.

  “Is that a storm?” Gimle asked.

  “Not exactly,” Talan said, her certainty growing as to the cause.

  Soon, others were coming out onto adjacent balconies to witness the strange phenomenon. Maeva joined them on their terrace, followed by a host of others. Most were confused and frightened, but the group of heroes from the night before merely looked grim.

  “Skye,” Senta said, grabbing her arm. “Isn’t that one of your signals?”

  “Yes,” Skye said in confusion. There shouldn’t be any signals close enough for her to see. The Tavinter scout would have to pass into Alfar territory and set up a makeshift station in the forest for her to see it here.

  “Wait a minute,” Senta said, then ran into her suite. She returned bearing the ornate, full-length floor mirror from the vanity area. It had a pivot at its center, which Skye examined. She glanced up at the angle of the sun and the angle of the scout who was sending a request for acknowledgement at regular intervals.

  “I will need one more.”

  Senta ran into Raine’s suite and returned with another mirror nearly identical. All watched with interest, albeit with little understanding. Senta leaned over to Maeva.

  “The Tavinter have a way of communicating over long distances. It involves flashes of light of changing duration and frequency. It is how they stay in touch even though they are so few and spread across all of Arianthem.”

  “Amazing,” Maeva said. And she thought her network was good.

  “Perfect,” Skye said, placing the mirrors so the light was directed back at the scout. She signaled to him that she was ready.

  All watched with bated breath as the Tavinter concentrated on the flashes of light that meant nothing to them, but a great deal to her.

  “There is an enormous force of Hyr’rok’kin massing in the Empty Land,” Skye said, reading the signal.

  “How many?” Raine asked.

  Skye signaled the query, then paused at the reply. She requested confirmation, and the reply was the same.

  “Hundreds of thousands.”

  There were gasps throughout and Talan looked to Raine. “These are numbers from the Great War.”

  “The recent battle was just a feint, then,” Raine said, “a test of our capabilities. How far have they progressed into the Empty Land?”

  Skye dutifully relayed the question and interpreted the response.

  “Not far. They seem to be staging.”

  “So there will be even more,” Talan said. “I must go find Kylan, and rally my kind.”

  “Wait,” Raine said, “here is another messenger.”

  A great hawk swept down from the sky, landing on the bannister of the balcony. It was so large that Raine had to look up at the bird when perched in such a way. All were astonished at the great bird, and even more astonished when Raine began to listen intently to the chirps and whistles, flutters and flaps of the creature. It communicated almost as much through body language as it did through sound, and Raine understood it completely. When the conversation was finished, her expression was even grimmer.

  “She has seen the army up close, and it’s a full-scale invasion. Horde Shards, Flying Shards, Marrow Shards, Reaper Shards, hell hounds,” she paled slightly and stopped, which filled those around her with trepidation. Little fazed the Scinterian, so this had to be bad.

  “What?” Talan asked.

  “She saw a manifestation of the Membrane, the largest she has ever seen.”

  Talan carefully controlled her reaction, knowing that all present would follow their lead. Raine also gathered herself.

  “What is the Membrane?” Maeva asked. It was her brother who responded.

  “It’s a terrible creature,” he said. “We saw it in the Veil. It can destroy with a touch.”

  “And destruction is more desirable than what else it will do to you,” Idonea added.

  Raine’s voice was calm once more, matter-of-fact. “There are also a number of those catapults, which will endanger all of the dragons.”

  The Emperor was fairly in a panic. His land would be the first to fall to the invading horde. He knew he should be doing or saying something, but his mind was frozen with fear. Raine took one look at him and turned to Nerthus.

  “What will Bristol do?”

  “He will begin moving the army into place along the edge of the Empty Land, most likely near where we battled before. It’s the area of imperial territory that dips farthest into the desert, and it would be his objective to stop them there before they reach any towns or cities.”

  “How many troops?”

  “He can deploy eighty thousand immediately. If he has two days, he can get close to two hundred thousand there.”

  Skye began signaling her scout once more, then carefully watched the response.

  “The imperials are already staging,” Skye said, “and where you estimate, Nerthus.”


  Raine was grateful for the presence of the very competent Knight Commander, and grateful that her comrade, Bristol, had remained behind.

  “And the wood elves,” Skye continued, “are already there, perhaps twenty thousand of them.”

  Elyara clasped her hands. It would be like Y’arren to send her people to stand against such an abomination. Raine nodded her respect and thanks to the slender elf.

  “The Ha’kan can provide close to a hundred thousand troops,” Senta said, “but it is a several day march from our land.”

  The Emperor was incredulous that the Ha’kan would respond to the aid of the empire. He thought for sure they would stage at their own border and make a stand there, regardless of treaties. It is what he would have done.

  “Wait,” Skye said, signaling her scout. It made sense that the same messages would have been relayed to Haldis, and that they would have gotten it sooner. She was right, and despite the grim situation, she smiled.

  “The Ha’kan already know of the invasion, and Dallan leads the army forward. They are already near the imperial border.”

  “Good girl,” Senta said under breath, and Halla’s heart swelled with pride.

  “The Alfar can provide eighty thousand of our finest,” Maeva said, “and we can be there in two days’ time.”

  The Emperor was again astonished at the selfless actions of the allies. The Alfar occupied a strategic position high in the mountains and could likely repel any invasion, or at least weather an extended siege from such favorable terrain. And yet they would ride forth into imperial territory, exposed, to come to the aid of others.

  “Lorifal,” Raine said, “can your people travel—,” she paused, “in their usual way and get to the staging ground?”

  Lorifal knew exactly what she was talking about and appreciated her discretion in front of the imperials. The dwarves considered all land underground to be theirs, and had tunneled extensively throughout imperial territories, despite the many treaties they had signed saying they wouldn’t. They could travel for miles without ever coming to the surface.