by C. M. Hayden
Arangathras looked away, shame touching his expression. “My place is by my queen’s side.”
Taro turned to some of the other assembled dragons. “None of you?”
“Understand,” Sivion began, “the seers have guided us for millennia. My children trust their word to a fault.”
“So, you’re not going to help us at all?” Taro asked angrily. “Why the dog and pony show, then?”
“We can also provide weapons, spells, food, and rest,” Sivion said. “As for the fight itself, I will not stop any dragon who wishes to accompany you, but their choice to go against the seers must be their own.”
Taro held one finger up. “Excuse me for a minute,” he said, pulling Kyra and Fenn aside and into a whisper.
“You guys said that Kurian was powerful, right?” Taro whispered.
Kyra nodded, and her spirits seemed to lift at the mention of his name. “Very.”
Fenn folded his arms against his chest. “He’d certainly come in handy.”
Taro turned back to Sivion. “Alright, we’ll accept your help.”
Sivion nodded gracefully.
“But we’ll need two more things,” Taro added.
“Speak and see them fulfilled,” Sivion said.
“I want my sword back.” Taro pointed to Arangathras, who still had Raethelas.
“Done,” Sivion said, bowing. “And what else?”
The seers answered her question in rapid succession, each sounding more upset than the last:
“He wants Kurian.”
“The half-breed.”
“Grandson of the Destroyer.”
“His sentence is not yet complete.”
Taro spoke over them. “I don’t care. You said that if a dragon is willing to come, you won’t stop him.”
Sivion paused, as if considering it. Her mouth curved gently into a smile, and she leaned in and kissed Taro on the cheek. Everyone was a bit stunned by the action, but none more than Taro himself. “If it is his wish, Kurian may accompany you. In the sight of the Old Gods and the seers assembled, I grant young Kurian a reprieve. Should you be successful in defeating Vexis, he is pardoned of all crimes committed.”
“And if we fail?” Taro asked.
“Then it will not matter,” Lokír said. “We will be dead.”
Arangathras remained with the seers as Taro and the others exited in the foyer.
“That could’ve gone better,” Fenn said.
“It could’ve gone a lot worse,” Taro countered.
“I don’t see how,” Fenn said. “They’re just going to sit on their asses and let us deal with the problem for them.”
Kyra sighed. “At least we’ve got our freedom. And Kurian. You guys are going to need him to get to the Deeplight.”
“What do you mean?” Taro asked. “Aren’t you coming with us?”
Kyra shook her head. “I have to warn my father about what’s coming. It’s so much worse than he knows.”
“But your uncle—” Taro began.
“He only knows half the story. Besides, I’m the heiress apparent. If there’s a war coming, my place is in my kingdom.” She looked up to Lokír. The hulking man towered over her. “I’d understand if you wanted to go back to Nurengard to be with your people. You owe us nothing.”
Lokír bowed, his beard brushing the ground. “I beg your pardon, Your Highness, but I owe Taro-sin a great deal. More than that, if we can get a hold of this Deeplight, we can put a stop to Craetos’ destruction once and for all. My path seems clear.”
Chapter Twenty-seven
The Princess and the Dragon
Kyra walked aimlessly through the dim groves of Castiana. Mist filled the air, and everything was damp and wet beneath her feet. It’d been over a day since they’d met with Sivion and the seers, and Arangathras put her and her friends up in meager quarters on the western side of the city.
On the road, and along stakes planted in the soil, were the same illuminated vines—called starheart—that filled the prison cells and towers. The sap inside the leaves caused them to glow with a dim, bioluminescent blue light. Due to the constant mist that surrounded Castiana, very little sunshine ever reached the ground, and starheart was the primary source of light. Even if broken open, the sap inside the plant would continue to glow for days.
“Kurian?” Kyra called into the twilit grove. She’d been walking for half an hour, with only the faint strum of harp strings to guide her toward her destination.
As she neared the fluttering music, she called again. “Kurian?”
She passed a row of vine stakes, and entered a small clearing only a dozen yards across. At the very center was a life-sized marble dragon statue on a square base. It was covered from head to foot in glowing vines, and much of the marble had been eaten away by the elements.
On the corner of the base sat Kurian. He was gently tuning the strings on his half harp. Their eyes met across the clearing, and there was a long moment of silence as she took him in. It’d been four years since they’d seen each other; in many ways she was a different person now. She certainly looked older. But him…he hadn’t changed at all. Not the length of his black hair, not his smooth skin, not his height. He was identical in every way to the day she’d last seen him. It was jarring. Four years, and he hadn’t aged a day.
Kurian’s glowing yellow eyes pierced through the mist. They weren’t like the ominous glow of the other dragonkin. His eyes were warm, inviting, and his gaze was accompanied by a warm smile. He said nothing, but waved her over and motioned for her to sit on the base of the statue. While they sat, he began to play and sing a bright, jaunty song.
Kyra felt a prickling in her heart, and tears swelled her eyes. Hearing Kurian’s voice again was more than she could bear. When he finished, she pulled him into a hug so forcefully that his harp fell away. He was briefly startled, but pulled her as close to him as he could. She kissed him, and when she pulled away, looked around as if afraid someone would see her like this, red-faced and crying.
Kurian smiled brightly. “You look fantastic, princess.” He brushed his hand against the magister’s insignia on her uniform. “And a magister to boot.”
“I missed you,” Kyra said, wiping her tears away with her sleeve, then laying her hands over his.
“I would’ve written to you if I could,” Kurian said. “Not something they allow.”
“They said you’ve been locked up this entire time.”
Kurian nodded grimly.
“That’s barbaric. How could they do that to you?” Kyra asked indignantly.
“I asked myself the same thing. The dragonkin have a unique sense of justice.” Kurian ran his hand along her arm, and up to her cheek. His skin was incredibly warm. “We’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”
“We do,” Kyra said, her voice cracking.
“My dad told me what you and your friends plan on doing.”
“You’ll help?”
“I wouldn’t be out of that dreadful cell otherwise.” He scratched at the marble block they were sitting on, and smeared some of the sap from the glowing vines with his forefinger. “Speaking of your friends. That boy with Fenn—Taro, was it?”
Kyra nodded. “He’s a good friend.”
“Are you two…” Kurian rolled his hand, looking for the word.
“No, we’re not together,” Kyra said, then hesitated. “Not anymore.”
“That’s good,” Kurian said. His eyes were momentarily hard. “There’s a sliver of ice in his heart.”
Kyra nodded, knowing exactly what he meant. “He’s proven himself loyal more times than I can count. It’s one thing to have evil in your heart, it’s another thing to act on it. He’s saved my life, saved my father’s life, saved all of Endra. His only real problem is that he do
esn’t think things through before he acts.” She made a face. “Actually, that’s a bit of an understatement. When we split up, keep an eye on him for me.”
Kurian laughed. “One condition,” he said, holding up a finger.
“Anything.”
“Promise me that I’ll get to see you again,” Kurian said.
Kyra smiled. “I promise. It’s been a while since that business in Syseril. Magister Ross is gone. Magister Briggs is gone. I think Father will be willing to lift your banishment, all things considered, and you can come back to Endra when this is all over.”
“I’d like that. Castiana’s left a bad taste in my mouth.”
“Can’t imagine why,” Kyra said, trying to inject some lightheartedness into the conversation.
Despite Kurian’s relatively positive demeanor, it was clear that the years he’d been locked away had taken their toll.
They spoke of a great many things long into the night, about everything Kyra had been through since they’d parted ways, and more recent events involving Vexis and the Arclight. When they finally left the twilight grove, the sky was nearly pitch-black, and it was well past midnight.
“Did they give you quarters?” Kurian asked carefully.
Kyra nodded. “In the western row, pretty modest.” She paused. “Want to come?”
Kurian, for the first time ever, looked like a frightened deer. It was marvelous. Kyra felt his warm hand against her side, and he pulled her close to him.
It had been so long since Kyra had felt well and truly happy. It was a foreign feeling, as if at any moment something would appear to rip the happiness from her heart.
That night, however, she was able to let her guard down. The layers of doubt fell away. Kurian cared for her, and she was well and truly his.
Chapter Twenty-eight
Relics of the Past
Taro and company stayed in Castiana for four days, where they planned, rested, and acquired equipment for the coming journey. Despite Taro not seeing a single horse in the entire time he’d been in the city, Arangathras led them to a private stable where they were provided with six full-blooded sahaalira—horses bred in the Free City of Sahaal. They were a breed world-renowned for their speed and docility.
Taro rubbed his hand across the side of his mare, and glanced sideways to see Lokír appraising his with a satisfied look. “I’ve not seen a full-blooded sahaalira in many years,” he said, kneeling down and brushing his knuckles against the horse’s stomach. “She’s built like a mountain.”
“With proper food and rest,” Arangathras said, “these will bear you to Nir Daras. It will be a dangerous road, and even in Caelis Enor you will not be safe.” Arangathras looked to Kurian. “And you. Once you leave the protection of Castiana, you must refrain from flying. Stay in your human form. If you’re spotted by Craetos, no power on Arkos will be able to save you.”
“Understood,” Kurian said simply, not meeting his father’s eyes.
Arangathras produced a piece of parchment from his clothing and unfurled it over a bale of hay. It was a map of the entire Lorne-Aldor continent, including Helia and the countryside of Caelis Enor. Nir Daras was marked on the edge of the continent, past a small range of mountains. The map wasn’t an original, rather it had been copied from a much older map that was probably too old to be carried around. It showed the lands and areas in Nir Daras as they had been thousands of years ago.
Praxis leered over Taro’s shoulder, and pointed to a spot on the map. “This is where Vexis intends to enter. The entrance to the underground is in the main temple.”
“Horses, and an outdated map,” Fenn said. “Not much to go on.”
Arangathras looked slightly ashamed. “If it were up to me, I’d send a legion of dragons. However, it is not. The seers have made their will known, as has Lady Sivion.”
“But you won’t actually come yourself?” Fenn said.
“As I have said, my place is with my queen. I am oathbound to not leave her side,” Arangathras said. “However…I have something to aid you on your travels. Items borrowed from the Vault of Stars.”
Kurian’s eyes perked. “Sivion allowed that?”
“Not in so many words,” Arangathras said. His eyes zeroed in on Taro. “However, I consider gifting these items to you as payment in full of my life debt to you, Taro. Use them to bring my brother’s killer to justice.” He retrieved a wide oak case from another room, and set it in front of Taro and the others. First, he removed the Deeplight sword and returned it to Taro.
“This is not ours to take. Be wary, however. Its powers have obvious limits. It will not stop a creature as ancient and powerful as Craetos. Even against Vexis it might not help much.
“And this,” he continued, removing a flat, circular pendant from the box. It was made up of two pieces: the outer edges, which was dragon ivory, and a circular interior piece made of tapered glass. Over the glass was the image of an eye with two irises, one red, one yellow. “This is the Eye of Sethetrion, the Truth-Seer.”
Taro turned it around in his fingers, examining it. “Figuratively?” he asked.
“Literally.” Arangathras grabbed Taro’s wrist to stop him from manhandling the relic. “Melded into the glass are the irises of Sethetrion, one of our most gifted seers.”
“His name was in Craetos’s journal,” Taro mused.
“It was said that no lie or deception could stand in his presence. With the proper application of your templar, any illusion or obfuscation will be revealed to you. Nir Daras is a place of illusions, so I believe this true sight will be of use to you.”
“True sight…” Taro said, looking over the Eye. “Can I try it out?”
Arangathras nodded, and led Taro to the door of the stable. Outside, the air was thick with mist and fog, so much so that Taro could barely see more than a few feet in front of him.
Before he started, Arangathras held up a hand. “Be aware that this is a magic well beyond your kind. I’m not sure if it will work, and even if it does, it will likely drain you. Use it sparingly.”
“Understood.” Taro held the Eye in his hand, took a deep breath, and applied the barest hint of templar. The effect was unlike anything he’d ever felt before, and unlike any magistry device he’d ever used.
With Endran magistry, templar had to be continuously and willfully applied. This was different. The Eye seemed to draw out the magic at an alarming rate. In seconds, Taro felt like he’d just run a mile, but in those few seconds, the world around him became clearer than he’d ever imagined.
His vision cut through the fog of Castiana, and he saw fuller and farther than any human ever could. He saw the cracks on a tower two miles away, he saw an insect landing on a leaf in a forest, but it wasn’t just the distance of these things that overwhelmed him, it was that all of the information came to him at once, flooding his mind.
Taro tried to force the Eye to deactivate, but when it wouldn’t, he dropped it onto the floor.
Arangathras caught it midair.
“Sorry!” Taro said, panting.
The hulking dragon handed the Eye back to Taro. “Be more careful. As I said, this is magic beyond what you’re used to. Practice it in a safe environment, and in time you’ll grow used to it.”
“Your eyes were glowing,” Fenn said “What did you see?”
Taro answered the only way he could. “Everything.”
Kurian looked astounded. “Father, are you sure you—”
“It’s done,” Arangathras said.
“But if the council finds out you took a relic…”
Arangathras placed his hand on Kurian’s shoulder. “My son. Don’t waste your worry on my well-being. Your path will be considerably more treacherous.”
Kurian glanced up at his considerably taller father. “What have you seen?”
Arangathras didn’t answer, seeming momentarily at a loss for words. When he finally did speak, he sounded far gentler and kinder than he seemed capable of. “Kurian…I…I wish I could’ve been a better father to you.”
“There’s still time,” Kurian said with a half-smile.
Arangathras seemed even more distressed. “You’re your mother’s son, there’s no doubt. She was a kind woman. The only human I’ve ever truly trusted.”
“Father—”
Arangathras shushed him with a finger. “I couldn’t be there for her when she needed me most. Which is why I’m giving this to you.” The dragon took a hard breath, and retrieved the final item out of the box. Whatever he grabbed was about the size of a walnut, and wrapped in several layers of red silk.
Arangathras peeled away the layers, and a gold, egg-shaped metal sphere lay beneath the cloth.
“No,” Kurian said, taking several steps back. “Absolutely not. I can’t.”
“You’ll do as I say.”
“If the seers knew you had that, you’d be in the jail cell instead of me.” Kurian pushed strands of his black hair from his eyes. “Is there something you’re not telling me? This isn’t like you.”
Arangathras frowned. “I’ve seen a great darkness in your future, my son. The seers, for all their faults, aren’t wrong about everything. The future is wrought with war and ruin…and much despair.” He ran his hand along the side of Kurian’s face. “Remember, you are the grandson of Craetos the All-Seer, the man who fought Nuruthil himself in single combat. The last of an ancient and powerful brood that once commanded the skies of Arkos. You are strong, stronger than, perhaps, even me. Fear no evil.”
Arangathras touched a groove on the gold sphere, and the metal on the top peeled away, revealing a chunk of glowing blue crystal. Glowing mist rolled off the sides, evaporating into the air. Taro had seen it before in the Chamber of the Seers.
“A fragment of the Overlight,” Taro said, looking over Kurian’s shoulder.
