Relic of the God

by Philip C. Quaintrell

  By the time Tai’garn stood up, the remaining lizards were dead or injured and their riders lay very still on the ground. That one slab of terrain would forever be different to the surrounding fields, a blemish on the green plains. The elf straddled his horse and rode back to the lower city with his staff held high, allowing all of Velia to see his beacon.

  There was no time to stop and speak with Asher and his companions. They had to make it to the gate before the bulk of the Darkakin arrived. Despite the blaring horn over their heads, the sound of the drums beat across the sky, preceding the savages. It was madness at the main gates, with thousands of refugees crowding, screaming, and begging for the doors to be opened. General Kail’s voice boomed over the ruckus and his men banged the hilts of their swords against the gates.

  The crowd parted without protest when Tai’garn rode through the throng, his staff alight over their heads. In Tauren’s eyes, all elves had a majestic quality to them, and Tai’garn was no exception, though the southerner felt the elder’s presence commanded respect without him ever uttering a word.

  “OPEN THE GATES!” Tai’garn’s voice sounded exaggerated as it silenced the terrified crowd.

  “Look to the south,” came the reply from the top of the wall. Tauren narrowed his vision and found the source to be General Falcor. “We cannot open the gates!”

  Another man joined the general on the wall and only the blind would miss the golden crown on his head.

  “KING RENGAR!” Tai’garn bellowed. “OPEN THE GATES… OR I WILL OPEN THEM FOR YOU!”

  In the pause that came, only the sound of the marching army could be heard. The Darkakin were chanting now, their guttural language an offense to Tauren’s ears.

  “I will open them,” Reyna said with her black bow in hand.

  Tauren had seen that particular bow in action and knew it to be powerful enough. In fact, he feared it might even destroy some of the surrounding wall. Asher placed a hand on the limb of the bow and the elf lowered it, just as the colossal doors began to swing open. Tauren’s people didn't wait for a formal invitation; they swarmed the entrance. The rangers hung back with the elves, making certain everyone made it inside Velia.

  “Tai’garn!” Tauren shouted, after everyone had made it through, spotting the elf’s sentinel form in front of the gate. “What are you doing? We need to close the gates!”

  The elder drove his staff into the earth in front of the entrance. The wood didn't move, grounded as it was. The elf crouched down and with one finger he drew runes into the mud around his staff. Tai’garn finished with a whisper that only his staff could hear.

  “CLOSE THE GATE!” one of the captains yelled.

  Tai’garn strode into the city proper with only inches left before the gates slammed shut and three heavy bolts ran horizontally across the doors.

  “What was that?” the White Owl asked.

  “Time,” the elf replied cryptically.

  “ARCHERS!” The order came from atop the walls, moments before the sound of a thousand arrows shot into the air.

  The first few streets were packed with refugees from three towns and the survivors of Karath. Tauren was used to being jostled but judging by the expression on the elder’s face, Tai’garn was not as accustomed. His two elven companions arrived at his side with Faylen in the arms of one. They were just as beautiful as him, leaving Tauren to wonder if there were any ugly elves in Ayda.

  “Elder Tai’garn…” Reyna emerged from the mob, a vision despite her exhaustion.

  Tai’garn bowed his head. “Princess Reyna.”

  The princess’ expression told of her discomfort. “Please, why are you here? How long have you been in Illian?”

  Tai’garn took in their cramped surroundings. “Perhaps there is a better place for this conversation, My Lady.”

  “Reyna…” Asher brought their attention to Faylen, who he lifted from the other elf’s arms. The ranger ignored the elf’s shock and threatening look as he took her in his arms. Tauren also noticed the twitch on Tai’garn’s face when his princess was called without her title.

  “Faylen needs healing magic,” Reyna gripped the elder’s arm. “I have done all that I can without rest.”

  Tai’garn nodded but the king of Velia appeared with an entourage of knights. “Princess Reyna! It warms my heart to know that you are safe, I only wish it was with more fortuitous tidings…” Rengar glanced at the high walls where more arrows left their bows.

  “We need somewhere to put Faylen down,” Reyna quickly responded.

  “We have room in the palace,” King Rengar gestured to the small fortress raised above the city.

  I bet you do, Tauren thought, wondering where this hospitality had been only an hour ago. The group followed the king, escorted by his trusted knights who moved the never-ending crowds aside. Tauren felt a pang of guilt at leaving his people to enter the palace, but these few were the ones who made all the decisions and he needed to be there as his people’s voice.

  “Kaleb…” Glaide brought up the rear with Doran and Hadavad.

  “Jonus Glaide, as I live and breath!” The dishevelled ranger patted Glaide on the back.

  Doran snorted. “I see ye remained on this side of the gate, Jordain.”

  “Well…” Kaleb shrugged. “There’s no taverns on that side.”

  Listening to savages baying for blood on the other side of the wall, Tauren could only hope the drunken ranger knew how to handle the sword on his belt as well as he did the drink in his hand.

  28

  The hook of the world

  Galanӧr couldn't remember whether the dragon he currently clung to was Vorgraf the mountain child or Beldroga the great hunter, all he knew was, he wanted to get off and feel the comfort of solid ground under his feet again. They had reached the claw-like appendage of Ayda, known as the Hook of the World, some time ago now. Adilandra was already resting on the beach below, along with many of the dragons who had flown non-stop since leaving Gravosai. Galanӧr’s dragon, however, had chosen to remain in the air, gliding over the land.

  “Excuse me!” the elf shouted from between the dragon’s neck horns. “Have you forgotten that I’m still back here?”

  The dragon tilted its head, catching Galanӧr with one eye, and grunted deep in its throat. The elf had no idea how to take that, be it a good sign or a bad one. The warrior’s stomach lurched, indicating the sudden drop in altitude. The sandy beach rushed up to meet them with the dragon giving no sign as to whether he would stop or simply dive into the ground. It took everything Galanӧr had to keep his mouth shut and simply hold on, trusting the dragon didn't have a death wish.

  Two smaller dragons hurried out of the way, leaving a larger space for the older wyrm to land. Galanӧr sighed a breath of relief when all four of the dragon’s claws dug deep into the beach and he had the opportunity to jump off. Before the sand took his full weight, the dragon launched itself back into the air, its massive wings blowing a storm of sand about the elf. It took Galanӧr another moment to spit the sand from his mouth and clear his vision.

  “Thank you!” he shouted at the departing dragon.

  Two of the closest dragons shook their heads in quick motion. Thanks to his time with Ilargo, Galanӧr knew this to be the way in which dragons showed their amusement.

  The elf patted his battle-worn leathers down and approached Adilandra. “You know your life has taken a bit of a turn when dragons are laughing at you.”

  There was no response from his queen, who sat cross-legged on an outcropping of rock. Her eyes were open, though any sign of life was missing, replaced with two white orbs. Galanӧr had seen this magic used before and knew exactly what Adilandra was doing. He decided to wait patiently by her side, hoping against the odds that Reyna’s owl was back by her side and watching over the events in Illian.

  Rainael the emerald star sat regally in the distance, her gaze northward. The queen of dragons had remained apart from the bulk of the dragons since they left Gravosai. Galan�
�r couldn't speak to her and Rainael refused to share her emotions with either of them, but the warrior suspected the green dragon was like any mother and worried about her offspring. Gideon and Ilargo were many miles north of here, hopefully on their return from Mount Garganafan by now, but it was also the first time Ilargo had been away from their kind and the protection such numbers offered.

  That thought had the elf turning to the south, where Malliath the voiceless had flown away. There was a dragon who didn't need to worry about safety in numbers. Woes betide any who came across the black dragon, plagued as he was by his captivity at Korkanath. Wherever Mallith found himself, Galanӧr hoped the dragon would find some solace at last.

  His thoughts were disturbed by the number of dragons who all looked up at once. The elf turned back to the sea, curious as to what favoured the attention of so many. The enormous dragon he had been flying upon was plummeting into the ocean as a spear thrown from the heavens. At the last second, a pair of majestic wings unfurled and filled with air, stretching the membrane. The dragon’s four legs disappeared beneath The Adean’s surface, creating a spectacular splash. Tough wings flapped two more times before the dragon’s bulk lifted off again, only this time the surface was broken by another animal.

  Galanӧr watched, entranced by the sight as a dragon, who could only have been Beldroga the great hunter, flew back to the beach with a gigantic whale clutched between all four claws. Beldroga dropped the whale onto the beach with a thud that Galanӧr felt under his feet, and held the fresh prey down with his impressive bulk. A well-placed bite to its head was enough to kill the whale without any fuss. The other dragons quickly descended on the carcass with salivating maws. It was to be a bloody frenzy that Galanӧr didn't particularly wish to witness, but any such gore was prevented by Beldroga, who whipped his head up and growled at the younger dragons, giving them pause. The great hunter flicked his horned head towards the ocean before taking his next bite. The younger dragons hesitated, looking to one another for support. Whatever conversation passed between them all, it was clearly decided that a cheeky bite of the whale was not an option. The dragons took off into the sky, heading out into the bay in search of their own prey.

  “I see…” Galanӧr said with added volume, speaking over Beldroga’s loud chomping. “You’re teaching them to hunt.” The dragon looked up once and snorted, his face coated with blood and entrails. The elf was filled with the feeling of being disturbed and irritated. It took a moment for Galanӧr to realise what was really happening and he left Beldroga to finish his meal. “Dragons…” he sighed.

  The sight of the blood running into the water and the smell of the ocean air sent Galanӧr back to the island of Dragorn. His deeds there had been grave and would haunt him for all time. He could still see the children being snatched up and dragged into The Adean by the Mer-folk. It wouldn't matter how far he travelled or how many good deeds he accomplished, those children and those of Korkanath would follow him around for eternity.

  Thankfully, before he could fall into a great depression, Adilandra’s eyes blinked and her green irises looked back at him. Each blink produced a single tear that ran down her sun-kissed cheeks.

  “What is it?” Galanӧr rushed to her side. “What did you see?”

  It took some time for Adilandra to focus on the world around her. “Reyna and the others have found refuge in Velia… but they are surrounded.”

  “The Darkakin?”

  “Thousands of them,” Adilandra replied, her voice a whisper. “They were scattered and disorganised in Malaysai, but seeing them at the gates of Velia… I have not seen such a display since The Dark War.”

  “They have travelled with haste,” Galanӧr observed.

  “They have not travelled alone,” Adiladra said in a graver tone. “Among their numbers, I saw great beasts, monsters of land and machine. Trolls and mountain giants move weapons of war across the fields. Velia’s walls will not keep them out.”

  Galanӧr paced the soft dune, frustrated that he was stuck on another continent. “I knew we should have left after Malaysai. Destroying their cities here was pointless! They’ll lay claim to Illian now and never return to Ayda.”

  “Calm your mind, Galanӧr. You speak as if they have already won.”

  Galanӧr stopped pacing and faced his queen. “I saw how many left Malaysai, I know the numbers faced by the men of Velia. They cannot win. Humans…” the elf mused. “They cut their strength in half by training only men in the ways of war. Elves, dwarves, even Darkakin see the folly in that!”

  A shadow blocked out the sun and Galanӧr looked up to see Rainael the emerald star peering down at him. How a creature of such a size could creep up on him he would never know. Her vibrant, blue eyes bored down on him, holding the elf in place until a sense of calm overtook him.

  Adilandra lifted her head to the queen of dragons. “War has found Illian. The world of man stands on the brink…”

  Rainael took a slow breath and turned her head to the west, where Illian’s shores lay beyond sight. Galanӧr expected a rallying roar from the queen but it never came. The dragons continued to rest on the beach and Beldroga buried his head inside the whale. Rainael shifted her claws in the sand and turned to face the north-east, resuming the position she had taken since they arrived in the Hook of the World.

  Galanӧr looked to Adilandra for guidance, his enforced sense of calm coming to a swift end. He expected action from the dragons but it seemed he was yet again faced with their passive nature.

  “What’s happening?” he asked.

  “She would wait for the Dragorn,” Adilandra replied.

  “I know they said to wait, but…” Galanӧr was lost for words. The world would fall into ruin while they lounged on a beach. “Can't they speak to Ilargo or Galandavax? Perhaps they can meet us over The Adean?”

  Adilandra shook her head. “They are at Mount Garganafan. It is too far for their bond to carry.”

  “But we can't stay here!” Galanӧr protested. “Man can only hold the Darkakin off for so long. Not that it’ll matter if our kin arrives and lay waste to everything…”

  “Nothing shifts a dragon except a dragon,” Adilandra commented.

  “Of that, I am well aware.” Galanӧr felt as if he were stuck in Dragon’s Reach all over again. “How can you be so calm in the face of this… in-action?”

  “I have a lot more to lose in Velia than you do, Galanӧr of House Reveeri,” Adilandra snapped. “Some modicum of control is all we have left at this point. We have to respect the guidance of a Dragorn, even one as young as Gideon. They said they would meet us here with The Veil and so they shall.”

  Galanӧr sat down on the nearest rock, sure that the Dragorn should have arrived by now, or at least be close enough to communicate with Rainael. “Unless they don't,” he said ominously.

  “You worry for Gideon,” the queen stated.

  “I worry that the world is falling into ruin and we’re just sat here, baking under a sun that doesn't realise it’s winter.”

  “You’ve never worried about anyone else before, have you?” Adilandra tilted her head, watching for a reaction that Galanӧr wasn't inclined to give. “It’s a good thing that you worry, even about a human.”

  “How’s that?” the warrior kept his eyes down.

  Adilandra’s reply was bold. “It means that spineless father of yours hasn't broken you as I feared.”

  Galanӧr wanted to bite back and defend the head of his house, but it was only a reflex, not a desire. “You’ve met him then?”

  “You are betrothed to my daughter, Galanӧr. I have met your entire family. You were just a weapon back then, a tool to be wielded by your father. When we met again, in Malaysai, I believed you were still that same elf, destined only to be content with a blade in your hand. Befriending Gideon Thorn has been good for you. It has reminded you who we really are. My hope for you, when this is all over, is that you will find a new way of living, one that does not require a scimitar strapped to yo
ur belt. Our people are going to need more like you, Galanӧr, if we are ever to find our way again.”

  Adilandra’s words filled him with hope, but Galanӧr knew it was never to be. He was too restless without a blade in his hand or a cause to fight for. The warrior had hoped himself for a time that he might achieve such a life as the one his queen suggested, but his time outside of Elandril, his home, had shown him that there would always be another fight, another cause. The world was simply full of them, and should he survive one, he would run headlong into the next. For a long time, he had believed this to be nurture over nature, though now he knew the truth of himself.

  He would always fight.

  29

  The last dragorn

  Gideon opened his eyes to a beautiful aurora dancing across the backdrop of stars decorating the night’s sky. Purples and greens rippled through the heavens, their rhythmic movement soothing the mage as his hands spread out, brushing through the grass that lay under him. The air was still, but the scent of lush forests found his senses and lifted his spirits, though for a moment he couldn't think why they needed lifting.

  Gideon… a familiar voice called.

  The Dragorn sat up to find Ilargo standing in front of him in all his emerald splendor. Beyond the dragon, lay an endless realm of forests, vibrant flowers, and fields of green. They were inside their sanctuary.