War Dragons

by C. K. Rieke

  “Your words are welcome,” she said. “My ears are open, but my heart will take time to get there.”

  “Such eloquent words,” he said. “Here before me, I may as well be standing before a woman four times your age, with that many years of wisdom in her, but here you are... Young Dragon’s Breath, the Princess of Dragons. Without you none of this would have happened, the Arr would be unchanged. Death, murder, and torture would still be the normality of the way of the sands. But the gods have been driven back, and with your prophecy fulfilled, your dragons roam the skies. The Aridons have returned to the sands, symbolic perhaps of the strength and fury of the oldest days of these lands. And this is all because of you.”

  The king then turned back and waved a hand at one of his attendants who disappeared back behind the curtain, hanging elegantly behind his throne.

  “I do not have a record of your mother’s name, or your father’s,” he said. “Those names were hidden well from me by your Order, and for good reason. So, if you wish, I will give you the surname of one of the oldest of the line of ancient dragons, I feel it would be a fitting name.” The servant came back out from behind the curtain with a box of pristine wood a foot wide, and just as tall, and once to the king, the servant knelt and presented the box to him.

  “Kera, Princess of Dragons,” he said, as he opened the lid of the tan-colored wooden box with inlay of white stone, and copper hinges, reached his fingers into the sides of the box. As none could see inside the box, the room went from silent to a stir in the air with buzzing anticipation, but still none spoke.

  As he lifted it from the box, Lilaci’s heart raced, and her stomach dropped, as the king pulled a thin crown of elegant design out. The crown was made of a thin silver that curled around itself in a pattern that made the top of it look like a fanning flower with vines wrapping around the stems, and whose petals were dotted with specks of real gold. At the center of the crown was a single jewel, cut seemingly a thousand times until it sparkled like nothing Lilaci had ever seen. The jewel was a hue of orange, red, and yellow, and it glimmered in the candlelight like fire.

  “Princess of Dragons,” he said, holding the crown up above him so that all could marvel in the splendor of its delicate, yet powerful beauty. “To you I give a crown embedded with one of the rarest, and most precious stones in all of the Arr...”

  “A dragonblood stone,” Veranor whispered to himself.

  “A crown with one of the few dragonblood stones, priceless in itself,” the king said. “Wear it well, Kera Sarissan, first of your name, and free young woman of the Arr. May you find your way through your quest and arrive safely on the other end. And when you return to these lands, you will no longer be an outcast, you will never have to hide again. You will be a queen one day. A Queen of Dragons.”

  Then the king lowered his hands, resting the crown atop Kera’s head, and once he did, he said, “All hail Kera Sarissan, Princess of Dragons.” Then the king dropped to a knee, lowering his head. And all at once, a great stir came in the grand hall, with long benches being scooted back quickly and hastily. Lilaci looked around the room to see every single person in the room in a hurry to kneel, and it only took seconds.

  Veranor, Gogenanth, and Ezmerelda were already kneeling with their heads down.

  She then looked at Fewn. “Is this a dream?”

  Fewn reached up and pinched her arm, which she felt the sharp pain. Fewn then knelt with her head bowed. Lilaci looked into Kera’s pale silver eyes, and she had to admit to herself, she does look like she was born to be royalty. There is so much strength, pain, and anger in those eyes. I would never wish to be on the other side of their power and fury.

  “I love you, princess.” Lilaci smiled.

  “I love you too, Lilaci Rosa.” Kera returned her smile, then Lilaci dropped to a knee, bowing her head.

  “All hail Princess Kera Sarissan,” one of the king’s attendees called out.

  “Hail Princess Kera Sarissan!” the dozens of men and woman called out in the chamber, their voices rang out clear and powerfully, echoing throughout not only the walls of the room, but out into the winds of the Arr, loud enough so that the sands themselves could hear the proclamation that Kera was now one of the most powerful people in the desert lands of the Arr.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Lilaci lay in her bed the following morning, her back lying flat against the soft mattress, its soft linen caressing her bare arms and legs like a cloud. She watched the flecks of dust waft through the rays of light that beamed across the room. It was so peaceful—so serene.

  Her fingernails scraped against the linen with a delicate, scratching sound, watching the dance of still air above her, as she lay all alone in the room. She could hear a scarab scatter against the other corner of the room if it were to happen; it was so quiet and still in the room. Her mind was still fatigued—yet full—from the night before. And then a wide smile came to her face then, and she lay her palms flat against the linen with her fingers outstretched.

  “Rosa.”

  And in perhaps another form of theatricality, the king wants us to attend him once more today, where he originally wanted to tell me my father’s name. Maybe Fewn will learn her father’s, and Gogenanth too.

  The smile widened on her face. “No. More. Scaethers. Ever.”

  A crisp wind blew through the city as Lilaci and her friends made their way to the king’s palace; one last time before their departure. Along with the golden sun pinned high above, with thin streaks of light gray clouds inching their way across the sky, the smell of ash and death had grown over the last two days. The pyres burned constantly on the outskirts of the city, burning what was left of the bodies, if anything at all.

  Kera walked with a scarf over her nose, and Lilaci felt disheartened how much she had grown accustomed to the stench of rotting flesh in her life.

  Word seemed to spread that the ‘hero’ of the battle was making her way to the castle, and as Lilaci only had two miles of road to walk to reach the gates of Āsobôr, crowds began to gather the closer she got to the castle. There weren’t loud cheers and cries of glee as there were in Voru. No, this battle had been much more brutal and longer than the one in Lezeral’s kingdom.

  The faces of the men, women and children that looked at Lilaci were grief-stricken. So many broken hearts here. My soul is cracked from the losses I’ve had, but there are so many widows, orphans, and parents with lost children gathering, I can’t help but feel my soul crack more and more. But I will admit, it pushes me forward. No more dead children, Dânoz.

  “It’ll take years for the city to recover,” Veranor said, fingering the crisscrossing scar on his face. “Rebuilding would take even longer, dragonfire burned structures are hardened to the point even a pickax does little work against it. Almost better to leave it as a tribute to the dead, build around it.”

  “These people are strong,” Gogenanth said, looking at the longing faces of the hundreds gathered around. “They will recover, they are still only left in a state of shock.”

  “They’ll only recover if we are victorious,” Lilaci said, running her finger along the sheath of Blackfire. “If we fail, the gods will return to finish what they started, or let their mad dragons do the work for them.”

  “We won’t fail,” Kera said quickly, and with a strong voice.

  “No we won’t,” Lilaci said. “We’ve come too far now to lose.”

  At the gates of the palace, surrounded by a crowd of thousands, Lilaci found a familiar face waiting for them, standing before the mammoth black-iron gate—Burr.

  He had a stoic expression on his face as they approached, and he gave Lilaci a nod as she walked up.

  “Burr,” she said, “I figured you’d be busy planning with Alveron for our move out of the city this afternoon.”

  “So did I,” he replied, turning to walk with them toward the gate as it started to lift with a loud creaking sound, and the grinding of large wheels on the backside of its entrance. “Ther
e is much to do, mostly for the voyage across the sea. As I fear we are not the most adept at planning for sailing ships, especially for so many.”

  “I’m sure you and Alveron will do just fine.” She nodded to the soldiers and walked under the creaking gate raising over her head. “And I would guess that the king has master sailors we will be able to meet with.”

  They made their way up the long, winding staircase that wrapped around the interior of the great main tower of the palace, lit in the warm haze of the atmospheric sunlight flowing into the tower with its warm air. The candlelight was just a decorative effect, but quite beautiful, Lilaci thought, as it looked like specks of gold swirling their way up.

  Finding their way onto the platform, an attendant started its ascent to the top of the tower once they were all squarely on it.

  They soon found themselves outside of the king’s quarters. The attendant knocked gently, and the door opened outward. The king appeared, pushing his way out of the doorway, and brushed past Lilaci.

  He didn’t say a word, but they knew to follow him as his red-robe’s tails glided along the long carpet. He turned and made a quick right, halfway down the long hall, turning into a square room, with marble statues of heroes past, battling serpents and lions on both sidewalls. He went up to a large chair at the back of the room, framed by wide windows. Servants ran into the room, placing chairs for each of them to sit on.

  “Sit,” he said, and they all did that, facing him. Then he sat after moving his robe’s tails to the side. He beckoned one of the servants to bring him something with a flicker of his fingers, and they ran over with a clear glass and carafe of red wine, which they poured, and he drank all down in two large gulps.

  “My thirst has been building for days,” he said, licking his lips. “I’ve not the pleasure of sleep in days, so this will be my reprieve from my duties while we sit here. You are welcome to join.”

  They all looked at each other and waived the servants off politely.

  “Thank you for your gifts last night,” Lilaci said. “Those were very unexpected. You are a generous king.”

  “Hah, that’s not something I’d say I’m known for,” he laughed, “but war does make for strange bedfellows, and can change a man—to put it lightly.” He leaned forward in his chair after guzzling down another glass, as the servant poured another. “I’ve not much time for our talk, I regret, and we have things to discuss.”

  “The names...” Gogenanth said politely. “The other names of our parents…”

  “That is all scribed for you on a scroll that you will receive after this,” the king said, leaning back into his chair.

  Gogenanth nodded. “Thank you, King Garrond.”

  “Now,” Garrond said, then he coughed into his fist. “You’re off to Arralyn. That’s a troublesome journey, especially with the many forces you take with you. I’ve the best captains in all of the kingdom at your disposal.”

  Lilaci looked over to see Burr with a pleased grin on his face.

  “They’ve sailed the Sea of Barrakka and lived to tell of it,” the king said, with a wave of his hand to the side. “But they’ve never sailed to the island of the gods. No man who wished to ever leave that island has set foot on dry land there in a long, long time... save for me and the other kings and queens.”

  “What can you tell us about the island?” Veranor asked. “What can you tell us about the castle?”

  The king took a drink and raised a hand to his chin. Looking up to the ceiling of the room, he thought long and hard about that. “I’ve heard much, but I’m also sure that much of it is embellished and full of fables. I’ve never been on the shores or on the island itself, but I have been within the walls of Firen-ar. So I can tell you what I do know. And everything I know I’ve had my scribe include on the scroll as well, including a map as my best recollections.”

  “Thank you for that,” Kera said. “That may prove to be most useful.”

  “Don’t thank me yet,” he said. “One thing I mention on the scroll is that the castle has a particular... fog... about it.”

  “A fog?” Lilaci asked, leaning in.

  “It's easy to lose yourself when inside the castle. Easy to get turned around, you may be looking at a wall, and turn around to find that same wall. It may be a spell cast upon the castle, or maybe it is the castle itself designed to disorient. Either way, like I said, I did my best to describe it. I hope it proves to be of some use to you.”

  “These captains,” Burr said, hunched forward in his chair, “they know how to get us through storms? They’ve never lost ships? We can trust them.”

  The king gave him a mean eye. “I never said they never lost ships. You ever been out on that sea? They wouldn’t be experienced captains if they never lost a ship. The storms of the Aterax are unlike any sandstorm you’ve ever seen. It sinks ships in seconds if it wishes—good captain or not.”

  “The Aterax?” Lilaci asked, looking at the king, and then Gogenanth.

  “It comes in seconds,” Gogenanth said. “I don’t claim to fear much, but I don’t hesitate to say there’s no power greater than it.” He looked out of the windows behind the king. “I’ve survived it many times, perhaps only because of luck, or someone watching over me. I’d be a happy man if I never had to go back out on a sea again.”

  “We lost three ships crossing from Essill to here,” Ezmerelda said. “Luckily... one had a hull strong enough to hold together, at least until we were close enough to float off on a small boat to dry land. I love my home, but I say the same about never wanting to venture out onto water again.”

  “I heard of your journey,” the king said, eying Gogenanth. “You are indeed a strong son of the Arr. You’re regarded as one of the most traveled men in all of the continents. Essill, the Worforgon, and the Arr.”

  “And Sarcasus,” Gogenanth added.

  “You’ve been to the northern continent?” the king asked. “How have I not heard of this?”

  “I don’t like to speak of it,” he replied. “Only pain resides there.”

  “Well,” the king said after another gulp, “you’ll be able to add one more place to that list where you’re going. You have the ships you need, and the captains. Now, is there anything else before I return to the many things I must attend to? Rebuilding the city, and the population carries with it a great urgency.”

  Lilaci looked around to the others. “You’ve done so much for us. Please tell Lezeral, and King and Queen Borr we give thanks to them as well, and we hope to return with the crown of Dânoz as a trophy, and a symbol of hope and prosperity for these lands.”

  “Well said,” he said, rising. He bowed to them, and made his way out of the chair, but before he left the room he went over and stood in front of Kera. He took her hand gently and brought it up to his lips, kissing it. “Good luck, princess. Return to us safely, and you will live happily ever after. I will make sure of that. You have one last quest and may the spirits of our ancestors watch over you.” He smiled with kind eyes, and then walked past them, leaving the room, and leaving them all to stand slowly.

  “Ready?” Lilaci asked, and they made their way out of the room, onto the platform that was lowered back down, and then walked the remainder of the way down the tower.

  Just before they left the palace, Lilaci put her hand around Burr’s arm, pulling him toward her. “Burr, I’ve a quick question for you.”

  He nodded.

  “Your soldiers... they...” She began, not sure how to phrase the words she was looking for. “What does Esperial Prairel mean in your language?”

  He smiled. “I heard they gave you their praise. Esperial Prairel means eternal gratitude. It’s a high honor to the Whiteblades, and only given to those in the ranks themselves. I believe you are the first to receive that praise outside our army in generations. You are a Whiteblade now. Those men would give their lives for you.”

  She didn’t reply, as she didn’t know how to respond.

  “You’ve made quite
an impression on the world,” he said, then he placed his hand on her arm. “Lilaci, whatever happens from here on out, thank you for all you’ve done. You saved Kera, and you saved my men. Know that I am forever grateful for you.”

  She nodded, then he turned and walked out of the palace.

  Whatever happens from here on out... You mean whatever happens in Arralyn? We are going to kill the gods. That’s what’s going to happen.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Her nostrils filled with the salty brine of seawater. The stench of death and smoke was now only left on her clothing, as it whipped in the strong winds that rushed in from the dark sea ahead. She was left in a state of awe at the sight of the ships. That same afternoon after meeting with the king, they’d returned to their caravan to find and check their supplies, their armor and food rations, and Lilaci even gave a smile to the saddles made by Lezeral’s men in case they needed to ride dragons. What a waste of good leather, she thought.

  Now, standing before the ships, dozens of them, bobbing up and down and to and fro on the sharp waves just off the endless docks constructed on the eastern coast of Scindír. The ships were of a dark wood design, with an angled head on each of them that elongated slightly to what resembled an upraised fishtail at the back. A lumbering heavy mast of light wood shot up at the center of each ship and sprawled across the mast with breathtaking beauty was a square, golden sail with the sigil of Scindír stretched out wide—a white sun covered by a black sword and shield.

  The small docking ships were already leaving the docks, carrying the many men of the Whiteblades onto the larger, sea-worthy ships, and Lilaci watched as long sets of oars began to snake their way out of their sides.

  “You ever get used to this?” Fewn asked Gogenanth, her hair was whipping in the salty breeze.

  He scanned the horizon, seemingly for the signs of a storm, then only shook his head.