A Dragon Born

by Jordan Baker

  "It is a title from my mother, the Xallan Queen. It is meaningless. The only titles that matter are those that are won in battle. I fought the leaders of the Darga tribes and killed them, making me their leader. I will fight the leaders of Kandara and kill them too, and take whatever titles they had. Those will mean something, but first I will discover the secrets you keep, the things that have been stolen from the Darga. I know that we once lived in these lands, that the Darga were stripped of their power then banished from the mountains. These stories are still told among the Darga, and they have waited many generations to return to their home and regain their glory."

  "And do you know why the Darga were banished?" Boric asked, hoping he could keep Draxis talking a little more.

  "I do not know, nor do I care. No crime is great enough to be banished for so long. What I want is what is mine, what is ours," he looked to the Darga that stood at his side and they hissed and growled in agreement.

  "I'll tell you what the Darga did," Boric said, slowly taking in extra air between breaths as he decided to share a little bit of history he had recently uncovered. "The leader of the Darga, the great warrior Darga, killed his own queen. Looking at how many Darga now dirty the land, we should have put the entire clan to death. We showed mercy to the Darga clan and this is how you repay us."

  "Lies," hissed one of the Darga. "We know the truth. You stole our power and drive us from our homes."

  "No, we executed your leader, your greatest warrior, for the crime of stupidity, and we banished those who were part of his crime," Boric told him.

  "It does not matter, Boric," Draxis said. "The Darga have returned and we will take Kandara and we will claim what is ours."

  Boric had filled himself with as much air as he could manage and he felt the fire raging inside him, deep in his belly.

  "You will have to go through me first," he bellowed then blasted liquid fire at them that splashed and sprayed over the Darga.

  Draxis leapt back, out of the way as the acid fire scorched the Darga that had been surrounding the duke. He landed a safe distance away and laughed.

  "You scoff at my use of poison, yet you spit acid at me," Draxis yelled, raising his hand. "I would say we are evenly matched." He dropped his hand and a series of cannon blasts thundered from all directions.

  Boric leapt straight into the air and the cannonballs missed him, but he heard the sound of another iron bolt being fired and, hanging in the air, there was nothing he cold do to move. The bolt caught him through the leg, and the chain went taut, yanking him back to the ground, where he landed with a crash. Boric struggled to his feet, but the spike in his leg has split the bone and the chain was being yanked and pulled. The Darga leapt on him now, latching onto his arms with their teeth and claws, preventing him from moving and he felt sharp pains stabbing through his body. His arms, his legs, his wrists were punctured with large hooks attached to heavy iron chains and a moment later, Boric felt himself being pushed to his feet. Several Darga began yanking at the axe, trying to pry it from his grip.

  "Leave it," Draxis said and the Darga moved away from the duke. "His leg is broken and he will need it so he can stand." Draxis turned to one of his Darga. "Give the signal."

  The Darga put a horn to his thin, reptilian lips then blew a signal and, apart from a few skirmishes, the army stopped moving almost all at once.

  *****

  "It sounds like your son has achieved his goal," Cerric said,

  He turned to Calexis, who sat next to him on one of the two large thrones that had been placed atop a large platform that the soldiers had built. It had been Cerric's idea that they should create a comfortable vantage point from which he and his queen could observe the battle, like a traveling throne room. From the expression on her face, Cerric could tell that Calexis was pleased.

  "I should like to see this monster he has caught," she said.

  Calexis had been shocked at how powerful Cerric had become and she wondered if she had yet seen the measure of his true power, but instead of fearing him like Mirdel, Berant and the mages, she lusted for such power even more. The king she had humored with a political marriage had turned into the embodiment of everything she desired. The only problem was, she wanted to be as powerful as he, and if an ineffectual coward like Cerric could gain such power, then it was possible that she, who was far more deserving, might do so as well. Calexis was particularly curious about these Akandar and what Boric had said to Draxis about how he and the Darga would never have such power as the rulers of Kandara enjoyed. It was an interesting claim, but when Draxis had told her of the Duke's boast, something about it rang hollow. If power could be taken away, it could also be granted, and she was determined to find out how such a thing might be possible. For now, it would be satisfying to meet this arrogant Kandaran Duke, who thought he could challenge her son and live.

  *****

  The sun had fallen from the sky and twilight had already begun to fade to darkness when Quenta and his contingent of the Elven Guard rode through the gates along with Captain Nathas. Nathas had stayed to defend the trenches to the end with his contingent of Maramyrian loyals, only retreating when they were finally overrun and they were thankful that the elves had helped in their retreat. Even so, Nathas knew the only reason he had survived was the strange halt of Cerric's army. Of the thousands who fought in the trench against Cerric's much larger force, only a few hundred Maramyrian soldiers now remained and Elric granted them entry to the city.

  Nathas ordered that their clothes be brushed with dark blue paint, a common color in the storehouses of the city, so they would not be mistaken for the dead Maramyrians who had been wreaking havoc inside the walls. Kaleb and his riders as well as the other contingent of the Elven Guard remained outside the walls, moving away from the battlefield and finding refuge in the countryside, ready to return to the battle when called. For now, Cerric's army had ceased its attack and campfires were being lit across the countryside.

  Borrican waited by the gate, hoping to see his uncle, but with the last of the soldiers, there was no sign of him.

  "Has anyone seen Duke Boric?" he asked of the soldiers.

  "Last I saw of him, he was smashing those catapults," one of them said.

  Quenta dismounted from his horse and he walked over to Borrican.

  "He fought the Darga and the one named Draxis, but I believe he was captured by them," Quenta said. "We tried to get to him, but they took him deeper into their army. I do not know if he yet lives."

  "Boric was captured?" Borrican could not believe it. He had been so busy atop the walls trying to take out the enemy catapults then defending the soldiers in the trenches as they were overrun by Cerric's troops that he had lost sight of his uncle. He remembered seeing Boric surrounded by a sea of Darga, but his mighty axe was cutting them down easily, like a scythe through grass. With his monstrous size and exceptional strength, Borrican had not expected him to be captured so quickly, especially since Boric had already fought the Darga and knew the measure of their strength.

  Borrican's brother, Elric, and a group of soldiers rode back to the gates, having finished dispatching the remaining ensorceled Maramyrian soldiers that had been ravaging the city. He saw Borrican's dark expression and immediately dismounted from his horse and went to him.

  "What has happened, Borrican?"

  "Uncle Boric has been taken by the enemy."

  A soldier began shouting from atop the wall. Something was happening outside the city. Borrican and his brother ran up the steps, and they were followed by Nathas, Quenta and a number of others. Night had fallen and clouds had rolled in, blocking the light from the stars, casting a dark gloom over the world, broken by the angry flickering of torches and cookfires. Outside the walls, near the abandoned trenches, several large fires had been lit and large torches illuminated a kind of platform upon which were two large thrones. Atop them sat Cerric and Queen Calexis and, in front of the platform, facing the walls of Kandara, stood Boric, on a heavy, wooden diag
onal cross and held in place by black iron chains that looked as though they were attached to his flesh itself, and looped through metal rings and pulled tight by Darga at their other ends.

  Everyone on the wall was silent and, the noise of the army outside the wall also fell to a hush as Cerric stood from his chair. He raised his hands and more torches lit up, illuminating the area where Boric was held.

  "People of Kandara," Cerric said, his harsh voice cutting through the night and rumbling with unnatural power. "I have here the great power of your land, the protector of your people, his lordship, Duke Boric Akandra of the House Akandar, the prized warrior of Kandara. See how he kneels."

  The Darga pulled the chains and Boric fell to his knees, howling in pain with an inhuman wail. Borrican noticed that his uncle still had his great axe in his hand and he wondered if they had let him keep it for some reason or if they had not been able to take it from him.

  "I come seeking one thing," Cerric continued, his voice echoing loudly through the night. "I seek the power of Kandara, the gift of the Akandar, and I seek your obedience. I do not wish to see needless death and slaughter. That is not my purpose, I only wish for the King to relinquish his power. Once that is done, we will leave."

  Borrican saw Ariana run to the top of the steps and stop abruptly, when she caught sight of the scene below the walls.

  "Why so quiet?" Cerric said, his voice calm and relaxed as though he were barely shouting, yet it could be heard so clearly as though he were standing only a few steps away. "Do you hear me, people of Kandara?" His voice rose in volume, to an almost deafening roar. "I give you a choice. You have one day to consider. Give me the power of Akandar, or every last one of you will die."

  "Elric," Ariana whispered. "May I say something to him?"

  "Yes, of course," Elric told her, moving aside as Ariana stepped up to the edge of the parapet.

  "Cerric Coromyr," Ariana said. "You have failed to kill me twice. Why should anyone believe your promises. Your words are lies, your threats are false and your crown is stolen. As the rightful ruler of Maramyr I command any soldiers loyal to the crown to put down your swords and take the usurper, Cerric Coromyr into custody."

  Cerric laughed.

  "Ariana, my niece," Cerric said. "You are correct. I did fail to kill you, much to my irritation, but that was before. I see that you've taken to the Elven ways. It was smart of you to run to the people of the forest, but you know they cannot protect you. Elvanar is but one more land that will be conqured. As for you, princess without a crown, it matters not, for you are irrelevant and will likely be dead very soon. The throne and crown of Maramyr are mine because I have taken them, just as I will take Kandara. Perhaps I will give you to the Darga to play with as a reward for capturing Duke Boric. Perhaps Prince Draxis might find you amusing. For now, enjoy the knowledge that you will either die by the swords of your own soldiers, or become my slave and then you will die when I tire of you."

  "He has lost his mind," Ariana said, more to herself than anyone else. "How can he admit to trying to have me killed? Does he not care?"

  "No, my dear niece," Cerric replied, somehow having heard what she had said, "I do not care who knows what I have done. If you have any doubts of my resolve, then let me make my intentions perfectly clear."

  Cerric waved his hand and more torches lit up around Boric, illuminating his beaten and blood soaked form. From the shadows, Draxis appeared and walked toward him. He grabbed Boric's giant axe and tried to pull it from his hand, but Boric would not let go. The Darga pulled the chains tighter and blood and fire spit from Boric's mouth as he howled in pain. Draxis punched him in the side of the head over and over, each powerful hit resounding with wet blood and shattering bone. Finally, he pulled the axe free and held it up with one hand. The Darga began to cheer and the thousands of dead soldiers cheered as well, their shouts filling the night. Cerric held up his hand.

  "Draxis," he said. "If you will show my niece and the Kandarans how much I care for their honor and how much I value their lives."

  Draxis nodded and, taking the axe in his two hands, he raised it high above his head, then he leapt into the air and brought it smashing down on Boric's neck, severing his head from his body and spilling acid blood that burned with fire upon the ground before Boric's headless body.

  "People of Kandara, you have until sundown tomorrow to give me what I ask. Obey me or perish."

  With that, Cerric turned and sat back in his chair and the entire platform began to move back behind the enemy ranks, leaving Boric's body on its knees, chained before the cross. Draxis threw the axe to the ground and picked up Boric's head then followed the king and queen through the legions of soldiers, who cheered raucously at the death of the Duke of Kandara.

  Ariana could barely see through the tears in her eyes. She turned and saw Elric, ashen faced with shock, his expression mirroring how she felt. Ariana looked to Borrican, she saw something she had glimpsed when the old king had touched her power, something that flickered and burned deep within the Akandar, the same power that had given Boric his strength. Borrican's eyes burned and flickered with a fire that was different from the torches that burned or the mage fire Ariana could summon. It was something more primal, more visceral and if she were not so angry and distraught, she would have been frightened by what she saw. Borrican saw her staring at him and he turned away then slowly walked down the steps from the wall and disappeared into the city.

  Ariana wanted to follow him, but Margo grabbed her arm.

  "Let him go," she said. "He needs to deal with this on his own."

  "As do I," Elric said. "If you will excuse me."

  As Elric followed his brother down from the wall, Ariana slumped against the wall and she pulled her elven mask over her face and quietly cried for both of them and for Boric, whose body she could no longer bear to look at. A few moments later, Ariana felt a hand on her shoulder. She looked up and saw Nathas, the Senior Captain of Maramyr, who was now the commander of what was left of the Maramyrian army.

  "Your highness," he said in a calm and gentle tone. "Keira and Margo will escort you to the palace. You must rest, for tomorrow will be a difficult day."

  "How can I rest at a time like this?" Ariana asked him.

  "Tomorrow we fight," Nathas told her, "and our swords must remain sharp. If you do not rest, your blade will quickly dull. There is naught we can do but prepare for the battle that is yet to come."

  Ariana saw Keira and Margo standing behind Nathas and she pushed herself to her feet and saw Quenta walking toward her.

  "We will keep watch here," Quenta said. "I will make sure you are informed if anything changes."

  "Thank you, Quenta," Ariana said then she walked down from the wall and followed Keira and Margo through the city toward the palace.

  As they approached the palace gate, Ariana looked up at the tall, stone towers that loomed above and she saw the old king, Eric, out on a high balcony, standing alone, staring out toward the city walls. She saw him turn away, as though someone had called to him, and then the old king disappeared back inside the palace.

  "Father," Elric said as Eric came in from the tower balcony. "Uncle Boric has been killed."

  "I know, my son." Eric looked at both boys and brushed his hands through his wild, unkempt hair. "Boric honored his oath. I hoped you would have more time to grow, to discover your strengths before taking up the mantle of Kandara. You wear my crown, Elric, and Borrican, you are so much like your uncle. Perhaps I have not been much of a father these past years. Since your mother died, I have been lost, so very lost, and Boric did what I could not. He has raised you in my stead. You are both young but the time for being young is over. You know what Boric was?"

  "You mean how he changed?" Elric asked.

  "Yes. It did not seem strange to you, did it?"

  "No," Borrican said. "He is Akandar."

  "That's right, Borrican, as are you. You have the same power within you, though I think you already know it." Eric t
urned to his other son. "You also have this power, Elric, but you hide it even more than your brother. I cannot explain this to you. I have tried to speak to both of you but you do not listen. Both of you must find your true selves if you are to keep the oath."

  "I listen, father," Elric said, "but I would listen more if you did not yell so much."

  Eric looked at his eldest son and took a deep breath, doing his best to hold his temper in check, but Elric could see the anger in his eyes.

  "What oath, father?" Borrican asked. "You and uncle Boric have spoken of the oath, but you have never told us what it is."

  "The oath is a story," Eric told them, holding his emotions in check. "It is an old story, of our people, of the people who live on this land, of all the peoples in the world. It is knowledge, and neither of you are ready for it, but I must tell you nonetheless, for I am all that remains of the pride of Kandara until the oath falls to you, my sons. It is better that you know it now."

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  The sun had fallen and the evening began to cool as the stands above the arena floor filled with people. The warrior's palace glowed with torchlight and the arena floor itself flickered with fire as the circles became rings of fire once the matches began. A thousand smells were carried on the wind as vendors sold their wares to the sea of spectators that eagerly awaited the next match. Aaron sat in the stands and watched several of the matches that were happening in each of the circles. In one of them, he recognized one of the women fighters he had seen that morning now fighting an opponent twice her size, a large man who fought with twin battleaxes.

  Despite his size, the man moved with a smooth grace and fluid power that showed a level of ability far beyond most of the fighters Aaron had faced at Forsina. The woman, however, was an adept fighter as well, and though she lacked the power of the man she faced, her blade was just as sharp and her movements slightly faster. She cut him several times on the arms and on the legs, darting past his axes with her much longer blades and Aaron thought she would win the match, until the man caught her sword in the hook of one of his axes then jabbed at her face with the pointed head of the other.