War Dragons

by C. K. Rieke

“Always take an extra ship,” Gogenanth then said forcefully, with hardened eyes. “Always.”

  “From a man who’s crossed as many seas as you,” Alveron said, “I won’t take your words lightly.”

  “I will find you later,” Burr said, moving to head off, “enjoy the spoils of war.” He laughed. “And have a handful of bottles of wine on me!”

  Burr went off back to the knights, and Alveron bowed to them all one last time, before heading off behind him. As they left, Lilaci could see Kera stirring away next to the dragons, who both still lay asleep. She reached her hands over her head with a yawn, and then let her cloak fall to the ground, as it was torn, burnt and ragged anyways, but the warm sun was rising. She made her way over to Lilaci, and still rubbing her eyes said, “I’m hungry. Can we go find some food?”

  Lilaci smiled, grabbed her by the hand and led her off toward the palace as the others followed.

  “After all you’ve been through,” Lilaci said, “you can have whatever you want. What sounds good?”

  Kera pretended to think hard about it with scrunched lips. “Sweets.”

  “Then sweets you shall have.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  The midday sun’s hazy rays slipped into the tavern’s cool interior, and the sunlight flowed back and forth as the breeze rustled the thin drapes covering the windows. Past the bustling commotion within the walls of the clay tavern, with long tables of light-colored wood, and a bar at the far end of the rectangular room, which was covered in a dark-green runner, Lilaci’s vision blurred as the fatigue set in as she watched the light sway back and forth on the wall next to her.

  Her glass of wine even reflected the warm light as it swished back and forth. Her senses perked back up as a loud clap landed on the bench next to her, as Fewn plopped down onto it and threw her arm around the back of Lilaci’s neck.

  “Wake up,” she said, and her eyes were hungry with the thrill of winning another battle. “There’s plenty of sleeping we can do tonight, perk up or I’m gonna knock you over the head with this.” She held out her mug with sloshing drink.

  “I’m holding myself together quite well, thank you very much.”

  “Oh, get off it, you may as well have been face-first down on the table,” Fewn said. “As I said, there’s plenty of time for that later. We won! Now, we celebrate.” She held out her mug for a forceful clink, which Lilaci raised her glass to, and Fewn sent the clay mug bursting forward with such excitement it shattered the glass in her hand.

  Fewn laughed so hard she nearly toppled off the bench, and she had to grab onto the table to keep herself from the floor.

  “Fewn, are you all right? Maybe you should slow d—”

  “Here, take mine, I’ll get another. Barkeep!” Fewn was off just as quickly as she’d arrived. Lilaci pushed the mug away, as she felt eyes on her; familiar eyes.

  “Come on over,” she said, waving toward Veranor who stood in the shadows at the far corner of the tavern.

  He brushed himself off the wall and strode over to the table, sitting opposite her on the bench. Veranor seemed surprisingly informal to her. He was now wearing a soft, white shirt that tied with a black string at the top of the chest, and fell only longer than his shoulders, and his hair was down. His long black hair was placed behind his left ear and fell down the front of his chest on the other side.

  “I could’ve mistaken you for another person,” she said, “if it wasn’t for your boding presence, I could feel from all the way across the room.” She leaned back and crossed her arms. “Go ahead, what ominous things are going through your head now?”

  Instead of opening his mouth, he sat back and folded his own arms, smirking, and shook his head. Fewn came over and laid a metal pitcher of red wine at the center of the table and four glasses that she gripped with her fingers inside.

  “An extra one,” she said, “for the next one I break.”

  Veranor reached out for the pitcher and poured the silky wine into three of them. Each of them grabbed one and raised it.

  “Easy this time,” Lilaci said.

  “To the gift of another day to fight on,” he said. “May we find fortune in our next, and each after.”

  They clinked their glasses together and drank.

  “And may Lilaci find her grays turn black again,” she said laughing, but then her smile faded as the other two didn’t seem to find it as funny as she.

  Veranor leaned in. “We are nearly at the sea, the only ingredient we are missing now is there.”

  “A single drop of poison from the silvereen eel,” Lilaci said. “An animal that is rarer than gold...”

  “It’s out there,” Veranor said. “Somewhere, there’s one swimming in the salty waters.”

  “Stay positive, Lilaci,” Fewn said, “there’s a chance. And who knows maybe we will get some more luck. Remember that Everwendren Tree that seemed to appear out of thin air? There may be something or someone looking over us.”

  “Perhaps,” Lilaci said, rubbing her hand. “All I wish is that this tearing pain in my arms would rest for even just a moment.”

  Then the celebrating knights in the tavern changed their tones from their messy stumbling and hollering to singing of a song that every one of them knew deep in their hearts. Their eyes seemed to focus and come alive as they threw their arms around one another or threw a palm over their hearts. They sang a song together, the thirty or so of them, that was deep with emotion, and seemed to bring back a dark pain the knights have felt for generations now. Many of them began to pour out some of their drinks onto the ground, with a grieving look in their eyes.

  Lilaci couldn’t understand the words to the song, but she couldn’t deny she felt taken aback by it. It brought back memories of her time with Roren, walking through the darkness together, fighting off many forms of monsters or wizards, and many moonlit nights around a warm fire, making each other feel safer together.

  I miss you so much, old friend. I hope you’d be proud of me, because I sure am finding this fight a lot harder without you. I miss you so much.

  Then the knights finished their song on a final, hollow and low note, and each of their heads dropped. Once their heads rose, each of them looked to the knight standing at the middle of the group, one that Lilaci had known was one of their strongest warriors, and the one who’d begun the song.

  His eyes turned to Lilaci and stared deeply into hers.

  He walked in her direction then, and as the room remained silent he made his walk all the way across the tavern to her, it remained still once he reached her. He loomed over her, and then fell to a knee, and grabbed and enveloped her hand in both of his. He stared into her eyes, as they shown a deep sadness behind his leathery, scarred dark skin on his face.

  “Thank you,” he said, his voice didn’t quiver, but his words held a tone of grief, and loss. “We lost many, but we are here because of you. May you find untold blessings in this life. We, the Knights of the Whiteblade have suffered more than I care to remember. But you’ve changed the winds for us. Because of you, our future can look bright. Our children won’t have to live in dark caves full of snakes and rats. You’ve given us all hope again.”

  She motioned to push his hands back and tell him ‘it was nothing,’ or ‘you’re welcome,’ but he gripped her hands tighter.

  “You are a gift of the real gods to us,” he said, his eyes soft and loving. “We are going to sing songs about you—forever. Esperial Prairel.” He dropped his head as he said that, and then let go of her hands, and went back toward where he was before.

  Fewn stirred as she seemed to want to continue with the festivities, but quickly quieted down as they saw another of the knights approach Lilaci. He grabbed her hands in the same manner, knelt, and with his head lowered, said the words, “Esperial Prairel.”

  He rose, and as he walked away, another of the knights came and did the same, saying the same phrase, “Esperial Prairel.”

  As he rose, and another came over to do the same, Lil
aci asked Veranor, “What does that mean?”

  He shrugged and smiled as he watched another of the men salute her in the same manner.

  “I think they’re placing some sort of honor on you,” Fewn said.

  “This really isn’t necessary,” Lilaci said, but she knew each time she looked in one of the men’s eyes, she could see real pain, real heartache, and real struggle. She knew that look because it was the same pain she saw every time she looked at her reflection. So instead, she just nodded to each of the men as they finished. Each looked grateful for her acknowledgment.

  This went on for every soldier that stood in the tavern, and none spoke or drank while each took the time to thank Lilaci. All thirty or more men got their time with her, and Lilaci felt that must be what it would like to be a queen.

  There’s so much strength in these men, and each of them praises me. I didn’t choose this power I carry, but now I have it, I must use it to protect innocents, and those that fight with me. Any would do the same in my position, but it is only I who wields this magic, so I will acknowledge these men and their gifts.

  Hours later, and after a quick nap only long enough to shake off the most prevalent edginess of the wine, Lilaci and her comrades had been ‘invited’ to a supper in the royal hall of Āsobôr by order of the king. This wasn’t unexpected by her, but she found it quite difficult to wake from her quick nap in the soft white-ish linens on the bed in one of the rooms above the bar in the tavern.

  Every bone ached, every muscle felt torn and put back together in a hurried manner, and splinters shot through her mind. She knew it was more than dehydration going on in her body, and it was more than the normal ‘after-battle fatigue’. No, something else was going on with her.

  A knock came at the door. She shifted onto her back, looking up at the fading orange glow on the finely decorated tapestry that covered the window on the west side of the room. A delicate breeze rustled the tapestry and sent the setting sun creeping out the side of it. She only lay there in a trance at the sight.

  How many more setting suns will I see? What? Don’t think like that. We have a long way to go to reach the land of the gods. But still, you have to wonder... how many?

  Another knock came on the door, this time louder.

  “Lilaci, you ready?” Fewn asked from the other side of the door. “Can’t keep a king in wait. And if he’s still anywhere near as wet as he was the last time we saw him, he’ll be flippin’ tables mad if we arrive after him. Lilaci?”

  “Yes,” she called out from the warmth and comfort of the thin mattress filled with soft, white feathers. “I hear you, I’m just gonna be a minute.”

  The latch on the door popped. “Lilaci?” Fewn asked, peering in. After she made her way fully in the room, their eyes met, and Fewn’s face turned pale. “Great god, Lilaci, you look like a ghost.”

  “What?” she asked in a raspy, weak voice.

  Fewn came over, sat on the bed next to her, grabbed her by the hand with one hand, and sent her other running through her hair. Then her hand rested on her forehead.

  “You’re burning up,” Fewn said, “we’ve got to get a healer to see you. I’m going to go fetch one. You just lay there, drink water.”

  “No,” she replied, waving her hand off her head, and warded off the pain, sweeping her legs to the side of the bed and sitting up with a groan. “Don’t want to keep a wet king waiting, as you said.”

  “Better to make a king mad than to croak in the middle of the main course.”

  Lilaci looked into Fewn’s eyes with a serious gaze. “Just help me up, will you? I probably just hit the wine a little hard earlier, and that fight with the dragon took a little more out of me than I planned.” She held out her hand, which Fewn grabbed after standing and walking over the side of the bed Lilaci was on.

  “You sure?” Fewn asked.

  “I’ll make it,” Lilaci grunted, standing, “I’ll just be glad to come back to this heavenly bed once we are able to make our exit from the dinner.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  While the Palace of Āsobôr’s jutting white peaks shot toward the earliest signs of the twilight sky, with torch-illuminated windows cascading up it with a sort of ancient, archaic feel, the royal hall of Āsobôr was anything but old-feeling. Long rows of dark wood tables with runners of red velvet were decorated with candelabras of fine design and of stunning silver. Overhead, twenty feet high, sweeping white buttresses shot from corner to corner of the massive, long hall, and underneath, lines of small candles hung still creating a glow that made the room seem like you were sitting under some divine night sky.

  The hall was bustling with commotion when Fewn and Lilaci entered. Lilaci asked Fewn to not help her walk once they arrived at the hall. Once they entered, and walked past the two guards at the entrance, they saw the nine long tables packed full of nobles, knights, mages—sigh—, and she even saw Burr and Alveron sitting at the last table. As they stood there by the doors that were slowly being closed behind them, they stood there momentarily, scanning for a seat. Then at the table furthest from them, Lilaci saw a pair of hands waving toward them, as Kera was standing on her seat on the bench and was excitedly trying to get their attention.

  As they made their way down the hall under the enchanting lights draped above, the men and women of the crowds quieted as they walked past. Lilaci’s ankles and knees only wanted to buckle under their own weight, but she needed to look strong—to be strong.

  They found their way to a lovely look on Kera’s face. Her eyes were wide and vibrant. Her hair and skin were clean, freshly washed. She wore a fine, white-lace headband that Kera looked very pleased to show off as she touched it with both hands and turned her head from side to side for them to see.

  “It's beautiful,” Lilaci said, “where’d you get it?”

  “I was walking down the square after you went off to rest with Gogenanth and Ezmerelda. I saw it on the street in the market, and the merchant gave it to me.” She giggled. “She just gave it to me, and refused to take any coin, I offered a sander, and she pushed it back to me. She wouldn’t even take a clatt or even a single ban!”

  “You have quite the status now,” Fewn said, reaching out to touch the smooth lace. “Not everyone comes to a city with their own dragons to save families.” Kera smiled.

  “I didn’t even notice your new dress,” Lilaci said, her eyes were glossing over at the sight. Kera swayed from side to side, letting the soft, yellow dress flow as she moved. The neck of it was shaped at a small ‘V’, and the plumed, white sleeves went just below the shoulders. A sash of yellow draped across the chest and wrapped back around the waist. The dress fell below the knees with more of the pillowy white lace. And she wore fine shoes of violet velvet.

  “Who gave those to you?” Fewn asked, who also seemed struck by the elegance and enchantment of Kera.

  “These were from the king,” she said.

  “Kera—I…” Lilaci said but choked up at the sight. I’ve never seen anything so beautiful in all my life. I could die from such a splendid sight and be happy. Tears came down, and her lips quivered so much, she was unable to speak.

  “What Lilaci is trying to say is you look very beautiful.” Fewn wrapped her arm around Lilaci and rubbed her shoulders.

  Lilaci only nodded, wiping the tears away.

  Then the horns blew on the platform next to them, with the single, empty throne in the middle of it.

  Veranor, Gogenanth, and Ezmerelda all stood, who were seated around Kera, with two empty seats ready for Lilaci and Fewn. Every person in the hall rose as the long benches creaked as they moved back slightly. The horns blew again, in a clear ring that echoed throughout the long chamber.

  Then the king appeared from out behind the red tapestry that was draped behind the throne of gold, and plush purple fabric.

  “All hail, King Garrond Warrgon, first of his name,” one of the horn-blowers proclaimed.

  “Hail the king!” the room called out. Once the k
ing seemed satisfied, he ushered everyone to sit, which was unusual, as royalty almost always sat before their people. But the people listened to their king and sat quickly.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” the king said in a loud, clear voice. He now was cleanly-shorn by a fresh blade, and his black hair was neatly braided and pulled back under his crown of sparkling white stone and metal with red jewels inlaid at its base. At its center was a huge, single diamond bigger than the biggest of walnuts. “The siege has ended.”

  Thunderous applause roared throughout the room for what seemed like many minutes but was more like thirty seconds. There was whistling, hollering, and the clanging of mugs on tables. The stomping of feet underneath the tables shook the room, and even Lilaci found herself clapping along. She looked at her friends sitting with her and found smiles across each of their faces.

  Things could have gone so easily the other way, and we’d be mourned by this same king right this moment. But we won! We won!

  King Garrond let the applause go on, but then eventually asked them to settle with a lowering of his hand. “We are here on the side of victory, against a dragon the likes of which our city hasn’t seen in thousands of years. Speaking of our victory, I think each of us knows the reason for that, and I will speak to that later. For the moment, let us remember the dead. Without remembrance and grief, we are no more than animals ourselves.”

  Many people hung their heads, and Lilaci’s mind instantly went to Roren; his kind and determined eyes, his warming smile, and his touch.

  “This day, I do not speak to you, gods,” the king said, sending an eerie feeling throughout the room. This must be the first time a king hasn’t held a prayer for the gods in this castle in... I don’t know... ever? “No, I speak to the ones that matter, the ones that truly give me power, the ones who trust me to rule. The ones in this room and beyond these walls.

  “I am your king, yes, but I am a man. I will return to the sands just like my family before me. We will all return to the sands, for given enough time, the sands take all. And after this battle with the black dragon, many have gone too soon. The city weeps, and I grieve with it. We all grieve the losses.