“Kaliwyn!” Ziradon’s voice shattered her thoughts.
“Yes, father?”
“The dragons come, those who stand against us,” he warned, beating his tired wings hard to meet Gwirwen over the open sand.
Her heart racing, Amicia leaned against the side of their rooftop, resting her hands on the raised edge as she searched. In the distance, Ziradon appeared hardly more than a speck when he collided with the other beast, rolling with him like a ball of hatred as they plummeted to the ground, landing on the fringe of the fresh battle.
Pointing them out to Gradien, she exclaimed, “More dragons come to reinforce the elves.” Lightning catching her eye to the north, thick dark clouds formed on the horizon. “They bring the storm,” she observed under her breath.
“They do not side with the elves,” he denied. “They think we will have them beaten, but at great cost. They will swoop in and defeat our troops easily in our current state but not until we have removed the elves for them,” he devised, indicating the new arrivals who circled above the city but did not engage. “A brilliant plan, actually. No matter which side prevails, they will easily come out on top.”
Her eyes sweeping the sand, she shook her head in disgust. Picking out her friends among those on the ground, they each had their hands full with the fight swirling around them.
“We are so close to victory,” she insisted.
“And yet we are so far,” he growled.
“Father,” she reached, unable to see him clearly at the distance where they had fallen.
The mass of bodies pushing out had reached them, engulfing the waring beasts with writhing arms, spears, and swords. Pacing side to side, Amicia watched the carnage all around them. To the north and south, the walls held, but those along the rim traded arrows with those upon the ground endlessly.
To the east, another of their dragons had been slaughtered. “Dear God,” she wept, broken at the sight of the magnificent beast slain in such a fashion.
Pulling out her orb, she searched, locating Ziradon as he squared off with Gwirwen. Tears in her eyes, she sobbed, “They’re out there. We have to help him.” She couldn’t contemplate seeing his blood staining the sand. “I must go to him. He cannot be lost!”
Pulling her arm so he could see, the magistrate growled, “You cannot help him, unless your wings are handy. Gwirwen would crush you in your current state.”
“I have my shield,” she postulated. “And we augmented the weapons to take on the dragon’s scales.”
“Save them,” he warned. “Ziradon is a great warrior. Give him your faith, as we will need your trickery when the rest of Gwirwen’s forces descend upon us,” he added, indicating those who still circled above.
Gaping up at them, the wind caught her hair, whipping it around her face as she squinted against the glare. Feeling helpless, she watched as more of the elves pushed in at the gaping hole in their divider. “Lamwen, they are breaching the western wall.”
Hearing her call, the dragon did not reply and instead made a pass over the section, dotting it with flame. Turning away, he did not repeat the pass, opting instead to follow the trail and setting fire to their reinforcements, further preventing them from crossing.
“Thank you, and well done,” she praised, returning her attention to her orb and the fight across the sand.
The dragons tearing at each other, Ziradon howled, blasting fire at his enemy. Those who had fought near them fell away, their heat more than they could stand. The earth around them emptied, they leapt and rolled, flying in short spirts to gain momentum before slamming into each other with their full force.
“You will not win this day,” Ziradon challenged.
“I have already won,” Gwirwen sneered. “The council is purged of those who opposed me. Once your forces have removed the elves, I will claim the cause as mine and restore order to the land.”
“Kaliwyn will never allow it!”
“Kaliwyn will be dead,” the beast threatened, leaping at the old dragon and clenching onto his throat with razor sharp fangs.
“Father,” Amicia cried, still watching the battle from afar. In the distance, the horizon rolled as the dark clouds gathered, hiding the sun before it had completely set. If she were in her dragon form, she could join him, but time was against her, leaving her helpless. “Fight, my lord,” she urged.
Her words spoke to his heart, and Ziradon gained strength from their utterance. Thrashing, he wrenched himself free, the blood trickling down his chest as he slashed at his enemy with his talons.
Torn wings flapping in the growing wind, Gwirwen dove at his belly, searching for softer scales he could penetrate. Finding his mark, he scoured the flesh underneath as he ripped the protective layer away.
“I can’t hold this much longer,” Ziradon confessed, his eyes fixed on the dark layer of clouds that blackened the sky.
His words reaching her across the sands, Ami covered her mouth with a trembling palm. The orb displaying the carnage, she knew his end was near. “Please don’t leave me, father,” she begged. Her face wet with tears picked up the splatter of rain, and she knew the storm had reached them.
“Kaliwyn,” he called to her with his last breath, “I am so proud of you.”
“No!” she screamed, transpositioning to his side, but it was too late. The massive dragon’s eyes had closed forever. Spreading her arms, she pressed against him, lying against his still form. The roughness of his scales cutting at her flesh, the night she had been transformed into a mortal penetrated her thoughts as brief flashes of memory. Father, she sobbed as she wept loudly.
Her face pressed against his body, she seemed unaware as the other dragon hobbled around his prize. “Kaliwyn,” Gwirwen sneered, wishing her to look at him when he scorched her.
Lifting her head to glare at him, she panted through clenched teeth. The wind rising, it swirled around them, hot and cold in turns as it drove the smattering of rain against them, it not yet falling in full force. Her hair blown back and forth, her face flushed with rage. “How dare you?” she snarled, unable to form a coherent insult.
Not waiting for her reprisal, the Supreme Dragon dropped his jaw and bathed her in flame. The hot blast pouring over her, Amicia leaned into the fire and held it off with her shield. Splashing against the protective force, the fire spilled to the sides and vaporized scattered drops of water with loud hisses.
Behind her, the thunderheads reached into the sky, blackening the sun completely as white streaks of death crashed to the ground. The deluge moving across the sand, it approached as the sound of horse hooves drumming against the earth.
Rage in her heart, Amicia lashed out, catching one of the bolts in her magical grasp and hurling it at her enemy. Stunned by the crack of thunder, Gwirwen ended his fiery assault, tumbling over the sand as he rolled away from her.
Ami’s fingers crooked, she used them to call forth the power. Lamwen had told her once that the storm was their strength, and she turned it against Gwirwen with all that she had, her jaw clenched and eyes bulged with primal rage.
The flashes bright, the air crackled with the electric currents. Hitting him with bolt after bolt, the thunder rolled across the desert sands, shaking the earth with its fierce retribution as the heavens opened and the rain poured down upon them.
Snarling at her, the Supreme Dragon flung himself against the wind, blowing fire that would never reach her, carried away by the gusts. Snorting smoke, he pushed, knowing he could have her if only he could reach her small frail form. But her shield was strong, and he had little chance of getting past it.
Thunder crashed as the sparks flew. Almost to her, he swung his massive tail; victory was his. An instant later, it collided with a solid, immovable force as blue light flashed, hurling him across the sand once more.
Lying beneath the pouring rain, Gwirwen panted, huffing against the weight on his chest. On his side, he could see the small, brown boots as they walked straight up to him, no hesitation in their step. �
��You have not won,” he growled. “I have destroyed your father, and you will never wear his crown.”
“Be silent, traitor,” she commanded. Kneeling beside him, she pulled Arely’s dagger from her boot and plunged it into his neck, draining the last of his blood unto the cold, wet sand.
The Fallen
The morning came with an eerie calm over the sands.
Bodies lay everywhere.
Kneeling beside that of her father, Amicia’s loose hairs blew carelessly in the sporadic rogue gusts of wind. Her hand upon his massive head, she had cried until there were no more tears left within her eyes.
To the west, the ruins of Whitefair stood in the light of dawn. The great city had survived, but hardly so. Once Gwirwen had drawn his last breath, she had unleashed the storm upon them all.
Lightning had flashed, and thunder rolled as the power of her will streaked through the air. The elves had never stood a chance, but none were victors on that dark day.
The elf forces that remained gathered out away from the city to measure their strength. Cilithrand had demanded they push the fight, but it was hopeless to think they could push further; they were beaten, and they knew it.
Unwilling to let her slither back into her hiding place, Amicia had called to Animir, whispering to him what must be done. Staring at her with wide eyes, he had questioned the action, for once it had been carried out, it could not be undone.
“Yes,” she had told him. “I respect all life, and because I do, hers must be forfeit. Be quick and return here to me when it is finished. We will present our prize for all to see, and the war will be ended upon my command.”
Seeing the return of her faithful elf, servant and friend, Amicia left her father’s body and marched slowly towards what remained of the town. Her arms hanging limply at her sides, her would-be mother’s blade glistened in the light. Gripping the handle, as if it were her only grasp on the world, she squeezed it tightly, then lessened the hold to toy with the feel of the metal.
“No more killing,” she announced loudly as she walked among the corpses. A few of the elves and dwarves were combing the battleground, searching for their fallen comrades. “It stops here,” she added, her voice weak but her intent unshakable.
Coming to Yaodus, she paused, placing her hand on his shoulder. Kneeling over the body of his eldest, the great troll wept openly. “My son is no more.”
“He will be remembered,” Amicia replied with a squeeze of his pale blue flesh. “They all will be.”
Running out to meet her, Rey’s joy at her survival could not be contained. Falling against her, he hugged her tightly as he also wept. “I thought I had lost you,” he whispered into her blond puffs of hair.
Her arms heavy, she forced them up to wrap him as well. “No, my love. I have been spared.” Physically spared. But the pain and loss within her would take many years to heal, if those wounds ever did. Running her fingers over the scar on her shoulder, she thought again of how easily some injuries could be mended, while others would take a lifetime to accept.
Landing a few feet away, Lamwen announced, “The elves are gathered to the south, but scarcely a few hundred remain. I dare say the battle is won.”
“The war is won,” Amicia countered, extricating herself from her husband’s grasp. “I must address all those that remain. Gather at the front, where the gate stood. Send for the elves and ask them to join us.”
Doing as instructed, the call was made. Many who had lived in Whitefair remained, and they gathered on the inside of the demolished barrier. Those who had clashed in battle took to the opening and the sand beyond.
Standing on the tallest portion, a tower of rock that still stood, Amicia called in a shaky voice, “The war… is over. The dragons who rose against my father have been defeated, and the elf who used their plot for her own gain has also been brought down.”
She raised her hand to indicate what remained of the elf troops. Before them, Animir appeared, having accomplished his final task in the darkness.
In his left hand, he held the head of Lady Cilithrand, and his bloodied sword remained clasped in the other. “Your wish is carried, my queen,” he called to her loudly, offering her the severed member.
“Bury her head in the sand,” Amicia commanded. “Claim her crown for your own. I discharge your banishment from Jerranyth and bid you lead the elves of Eriden in my name.”
“I will accept the throne of my people as you command, my queen,” Animir replied loudly, dropping Cilithrand’s remains at his feet. It landed with a thud, her face up and glaring at the clear blue sky. Her eyes still open, as she had stared at him when he swung his blade and landed his final blow, tears touched his eyes. He had shared no love for their fallen leader, but he had respected her position within his people. Raising his sword straight into the air, he shouted, “All hail to the Dragoness! All hail to Kaliwyn!”
“All hail Kaliwyn!” his forces shouted back. If they were not eager to have him as their new king, they were at least willing to follow the command of their Supreme Dragoness.
Tears in Rey’s eyes, he applauded, smacking his hands together loudly along with the others as they celebrated the announcement. “All hail the dragoness,” he whispered, his heart torn with fear.
Amicia had said her goodbyes to him before the battle, when he cared for her at the camp. He wanted so desperately to hold her by his side, but with their victory, he had most assuredly lost the thing that mattered most in his eyes. Wiping at the drops of sadness, he observed the rest of the group that stood near, each of them dealing with their victory in his or her own way.
Standing next to his great nephew, Baeweth threw his arm across his shoulder and spoke loudly in his ear, “The elves have made amends. Return home with your bride to your place beneath the mountain.”
Grinning, Hayt agreed, “On one condition, uncle. You will never ask me to wear your crown.”
“I will find another heir,” Baeweth agreed. “It will serve me well to simply have you within our halls.”
Returning their attention to the new queen of Eriden, Hayt dabbed at the moisture in his eyes. “Hear, hear!” he shouted as the celebration over Animir’s appointment finally died away.
“As for the sirens, they will be returned to their lagoon at Riran, and the glen shall be restored,” Amicia continued. “The trolls will hold a place of honor, for their fallen were as dear as any other within our kingdom.”
His heart heavy, Yaodus bowed his head towards her, placing his hand over his chest to swear his allegiance to her once more. Their losses had been heavy, but their people remained strong, and they would persevere in their home inside the Crimson Caves.
Pivoting, Ami’s mind raced. She knew they wanted her to accept the crown and to proclaim her place as the Supreme Dragoness. The words tight in her throat, she swallowed, pushing at the lump that refused to go down. “Lamwen,” she croaked, calling him to her side.
Walking over the rubble, he worked his way towards her, sitting back on his haunches so that his head sat within her reach. Her hand trembling, she rested her palm against his snout, as she had done the first time she touched him. “You are a beautiful creature and the truest of friends,” she whispered.
“Yes, my queen,” he agreed, his dragon tears large drops as they dripped upon the broken stones.
“Lamwen, I here by proclaim you the King of Adiarwen and the Supreme Dragon of Eriden,” she announced loudly.
A rolling gasp echoed across the masses, as the weight of her words pressed upon them.
“My lady,” Animir huffed, taking a single step towards her. The lump where he had placed Cilithrand’s remains covered behind him, he had not expected this turn of events any more than his friends had.
His hand in Meena’s, she held him in place when the Mate almost moved towards her. “Be still,” she hissed, knowing he should not interfere.
“Hear me,” Amicia called more loudly. “I have chosen this dragon with no shortness of consideration
. He is a good and faithful servant. He has dedicated his life to the cause and the kingdom. He will wear the crown with pride, his heart understanding the role he must play. He will act in my stead and lead us, as it should be.”
The applause slow, it started as a few random claps but built into a crescendo of approval as all who were gathered eventually gave in to the sanctity of her bequest. Smiling into her dearest friend’s features, she spread her arms and hugged his neck, inhaling his scent as he pushed against her.
“I will always love you, Lamwen. Lead our people as you know is right and have faith in the future that lies before us,” she instructed him as the cheers sounded around them.
Hearing her words, the dragon growled his agreement. Her speech ended, the search for survivors resumed, and those who had fallen would be gathered for their funeral pyres. The day had been hard fought and the victory bittersweet. In his heart, Lamwen knew he would endeavor to carry out her wishes, his heart filled with joy at the conviction her promise meant their separation would only be for a while, and one day she would return to the rocks of Adiarwen to be his mate.
Tears for Tomorrow
Leaving her podium, Amicia walked towards Reynard, holding a smile she did not feel. When he stood before her, she offered him her hand. “Walk with me?”
Taking the appendage, he studied it for a moment, the stiffness of her frame causing the hairs on the back of his neck to prickle. “Of course, my lady,” he teased, his mirth not reaching his eyes. Opening his free hand in the direction of her fallen kin, they ambled towards the pyre that the wizards had been constructing.
When they arrived at the massive structure, the old brown dragon lay upon it, his body cleansed by the rain his daughter had poured over him in her rage. The slats set, Gradien offered her the torch, that she might light the fire.
“I did not know your father long,” the magistrate offered, “but if his daughter is any indication, he was a fine king.”
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