War Dragons

by C. K. Rieke

  “This is the only way, right?” Kera asked, her hands fumbling over one another at the pit of her stomach.

  “Yes,” Lilaci said, “but we have luck on our side, and if we don’t, we will still find a way. We always do.”

  “I’m nervous,” Fewn said, “I didn’t think I’d be, but I like the sand. This is where I belong.”

  Veranor let out a grunt as to show his mutual feeling. “Let's get this over with.”

  The commotion of the docks was an intense movement of soldiers running forward with their armor and sword sheaths clacking at their sides. They were going to war after all.

  They walked toward the ships, and they were told by the king’s attendant to ask for the ship whose captain was named Biron. That was to be the ship to take them to the gods’ lands. They’d also made the agreement to open the king’s scroll once aboard the ship, as they’d have plenty of downtimes to go over it in fine detail.

  Lilaci sensed someone approaching from behind and turned to find Burr running up with a canvas sack draped over his back.

  “Demetrius,” she said, “I wasn’t expecting to see you until we were on the ships.”

  “Yes,” he said, panting lightly, “I still have lots to attend to, but I thought I’d bring Kera a gift first.”

  “A gift?” Kera asked, clapping her hands together once.

  “I’ve had one of my men working on it throughout the night,” he said, pulling the sack down from his back, and untying the string knot at the top, and pushing his hand down into it. He pulled from it two pillowy, tan cushions with a dozen straps tying them together.

  Kera gave a frown at the surprise, as she may have been expecting a new dress or some sort of useful present not nearly as... ugly.

  “What in the Eternal Fires is that?” Fewn scoffed.

  “It’s for our voyage,” Burr said, “it floats. She can wear it, so if anything happens, she’ll stay adrift with us.”

  “Oh,” Lilaci said, now understanding. “That’s a nice gift. Thank you.”

  “Now,” he said, holding it out for Kera, “let’s make sure it fits. Hold your arms up.”

  She did that, and he draped the two cushions to her front and back, which flopped down to her knees. He began buckling straps together, even so tight that she winced. “Ow!”

  “Damn,” he said, “he made it too loose. This won’t do.” He stood scratching his head.

  Veranor scoffed. “It’s an easy fix for the tailor,” he said. “Twenty minutes, maybe thirty is all.”

  “Does she really need it that badly?” Lilaci asked. “We need to get on the ship, is that going to help that much?”

  Burr nodded. “Yes.”

  “I agree,” Gogenanth said. “Hanging on driftwood can save your life, but it still takes a good grip, and sometimes likes to spin over itself. She should wear this if possible. A little more work now for less worry later.”

  “Fine,” Lilaci said, “where is this tailor?”

  “Back by the tent just outside the city wall,” Burr said. “You’re shipping out on Biron’s boat, right? I’ll have her back to meet you at the dock, but even it takes longer than I think, I’m on the same ship, so I’ll bring her with me.”

  “I’ll hurry,” Kera said. “Don’t open the scroll without me.” She smiled. Burr held out his hand, which she took, and they began walking off back toward the tailor’s tent.

  Lilaci turned to Fewn. “Go with them,” she said. “I don’t trust all of these Whiteblades still, and who knows if someone is waiting for Kera to leave our side. Meet us at the docks afterward.”

  Fewn nodded and ran off after them.

  “You make it seem like it’s a certainty that our ship is going to sink, Gogenanth,” Lilaci said, as they began their walk toward the ships.

  “I didn’t say our ship,” he said, turning to her with a serious eye. She could see the look of not fear, but, grave concern. “But I would doubt half of these ships won’t make it to the island.”

  “Half?” Lilaci asked. That’s outrageous, how could storms destroy such magnificent ships?

  “I was going to say three-quarters,” Ezmerelda said, her auburn hair blowing past her as they continued their walk toward the wooden docks with waves splashing cold water up onto them.

  “What are you thinking Veranor?” Lilaci asked, “you’ve been silent this whole time. Surely there’s many thoughts rolling around that dark mind of yours.”

  He grimaced. “Those dark thoughts are only telling me one thing—don’t set foot upon those ships. Only misery is waiting for us on those waters.”

  “Well,” Lilaci said. “We’re not swimming, and we’re not flying.”

  “I didn’t say there was a better option,” he replied, “or even another option at all. But I can’t fight off instinct. I fear Gogenanth is correct, there are few books I’ve read that speak of the ease of sailing on these seas.”

  “You’ve never been on a ship,” Ezmerelda asked, with a light-hearted snicker. “Have you?”

  He grunted, lowering his gaze to the ships, and only continuing his pace toward the docks, filled with Whiteblades climbing down onto the smaller rowboats on the choppy water.

  Ten minutes later, they found themselves on the docks, creaking under the heavy boots of the many men standing in line on the wet wood. Men at the tip of the dock were helping each other onto the rowboats as they swayed from side to side. One of the dock’s men pushed his way from the tip of the dock through the crowd directly toward Lilaci.

  “Miss,” he said. “You’re to sail on Captain Biron’s ship, correct?”

  She nodded. “We’ll load you up on the next boat docking o’er here on the right side, come with me.”

  Looking at the others, she was looking for any sign or signal. But she only found the looks of reluctance.

  “Well,” Gogenanth said, “let’s get this over with. I suppose Kera will just have to meet us on the ship with Burr.”

  Lilaci looked back toward the mainland, and an eerie thought crept through her. It was the memory of a tiny whisper in her ear, long ago, a whisper she didn’t believe at the time, but in her aging body now, she couldn’t shake that tiny voice away in her mind.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Running through the ranks running past her, Lilaci wove her way back inland. She left without saying a word, only running off the docks as quickly as her feet could carry her. She’d even dropped her pack with Gogenanth and the others for them to take to the ship. She had to check on something first, and as preposterous as the notion was, she couldn’t wipe the thought away that kept repeating itself. There’s no way, absolutely no way. I just need to be sure.

  She bumped into a soldier, her shoulder getting caught on his metal shoulder-pauldron. With her mind racing quicker than her feet, she didn’t notice the soldier running in front of her, and with the collision she fell to the ground from the big man, who barely noticed her impact. She fell to the ground, with the wind knocked from her chest, and her shoulder-joint aching in searing pain.

  “Sorry miss,” he said, working to kneel in his heavy armor. He held out a hand for her. “Didn’t see you there... you’re Lilaci aren’t you? I apologize, here let me help you up.”

  Finally, the breath returned to her lungs with a deep cough, and wheezing sound. She took his hand, who easily lifted her to her feet, and as he tried to apologize again, she only shoved herself past the knight. I’m sure nothing’s the matter. Nothing is wrong. I just need to check on her, I need to make sure she’s all right.

  Clutching her aching shoulder with her hand, Lilaci struggled forward, trying to regain her breath, but a panic started to set in, in her mind and heart. Stride after stride she ran up the hill, shoving past the knights, even if only to help propel her forward faster. Then the tent came into view that Burr had said the tailor was in. Lilaci stopped to catch her breath. OK, there it is. Kera’s in there, she’s just being fitted. She sighed in relief. It was only a couple hundred yards off,
so her pace slowed, and she now only walked at a brisk pace.

  The crowds of Whiteblades were thinning as she neared the tent, as the time to set sail was quickly approaching. And surely the fitting was nearly done, and they could make their way down together. But there was another thing that was beginning to crawl into Lilaci’s mind. There were still many Whiteblades this far back in the ranks, standing around, not running to the ships. Why are they not making their way to the ships? Perhaps there is one ship leaving later than the rest?

  The leftover knights didn’t seem to notice her, but she had that irking feeling she was being watched, and as she neared the white tent’s closed flaps, the urge to see Kera with her newly fitted floating vest was overwhelming. If something was awry, surely her dragons would sense it and be near.

  She looked up to the sky and only saw the late-afternoon sky. Everything is as it should be. Just look into the tent and you’ll realize this is all in your head.

  As she was almost at the tent, she felt the eyes on her even more now. Her assassin training always taught her to hide from peering eyes, and she knew she was being watched by her years of training that gave her that instinct. But she cared not, and as she took those last strides toward the tent, she held out both hands, and gripping the thick canvas in her hands, she pulled the flaps apart. Lilaci’s stomach sank, her heart pounded, sending hot blood into her limbs and head at what she saw inside.

  Unintentionally, the violet hot fires of the Sanzoral erupted in her hands, and red-hot anger flipped in her. The tent itself caught fire from the flames, and she took two long strides into the tent, and knelt. Her hands found the tight binding of thick rope, and she began to untie it. Once the rope was undone, she lifted the limp body to sit upright, and as Fewn’s head fell to her shoulder, Lilaci slapped her lightly on the bruised cheek underneath the tent burning in hot, purple flames.

  “Fewn, wake up, Fewn. Wake up! Wake up!”

  Her eyes opened slightly, with a deep fogginess, as if being awakened from a dark, overwhelming dream.

  “Fewn.” Lilaci clasped her by the cheeks. “Tell me what happened.”

  “I—” Fewn started. “We entered the tent, and there... there was nobody here... then I felt a sting, and everything went black. Kera!” She startled awake. “Kera?” She looked around frantically. “Where’s Kera?”

  “That exactly what I’m going to find out,” Lilaci said, lifting Fewn to her side.

  They emerged from the fiery tent back into the sunlight and found what Lilaci expected to see—a brigade of the Knights of the Whiteblade standing in a semi-circle around the tent, with a familiar face at its center—a one-eyed face.

  “Demetrius,” Lilaci screamed. “What have you done?”

  Lilaci drew her sword, with Fewn going to do the same, but found her sword was missing. The Whiteblades, all at once, drew their swords.

  “I could burn you all away with the wave of my hand,” Lilaci said past her grinding teeth. “Why? I’m going to kill you all.”

  “Do what you must,” Burr said, with his palms open toward her. “I... we cannot let you take her to the land of the gods. But we can still go together. I’m not the enemy, Lilaci. They are.”

  “Where is she, Demetrius?” Lilaci asked again. “I’m not leaving her behind.”

  “I knew you wouldn’t,” he said, taking a step forward. “That’s why I did what I had to do. She’s already on her way back into the safety of the sands. And the ships are ready to leave. So, you’ll have to choose, the greater war, or killing us just to go after her back into the desert—where she is already safe.”

  “What do you mean safe?” Fewn asked. “You tricked me, tied me up. What did you have to do to Kera to get her to leave? She didn’t want to go, I swear that much. Did you tie her up too?”

  Lilaci’s teeth gritted even more, and her fists grew sweaty and white-knuckled.

  “There’s something I never told you two,” he said. “The Knights of the Whiteblade have sworn an oath to avenge our fallen one day. We’d see the death of the gods, and the liberation of the weak. That much you know. But we’ve many prophecies, many tellings of things to come by old prophets. We all know of the prophecy of the Dragon’s Breath being born to bring the dragons back to the sands of the Arr. That’s well known and has come to pass... but there’s another part to the prophecy, a part I believe that only we know. A darker one, one that tells of the death of the Dragon’s Breath. Are you understanding what I’m saying?”

  “We’ve been friends a long time, Burr,” Lilaci said. “Why don’t you just spit it out for us?”

  He sighed, lowering his head, and raised his right hand to cover his heart. He raised his head to look into Lilaci’s eyes with his one piercing eye.

  “Aye,” he said. “We’ve been friends long now. We’ve shed blood together many times, and I hope to continue fighting next to you. And so, I’ll be clear now.” He cleared his throat. “Kera is going to die on Arralyn. That is as much a fact as she was destined to be born, and the fact she was going to raise the dragons. All those have come true, and if she sets foot on that island, Dânoz is going to kill her. Do you want her to die?” That last line he yelled at her, as if trying to reach her through emotion.

  “That’s not true,” Fewn said. “You’re making that up!”

  “I promise you I am not.”

  “Burr,” Lilaci said. “Don’t make me kill all of you.”

  “Where do you think I’m sending her?” he asked. Neither of the women seemed to have a response. “We are not taking her back to our caves.” There was a still pause. “No, we are taking her back to the Order of Drakon. We are taking her back to her people. My Knights will protect them, but she will be safely back with her family.”

  I don’t understand... Why didn’t he just tell us this all along. Why keep it secret for so long?

  “I’m sure you’re thinking now,” he said. “Why didn’t I just tell you from the start? It’s simple; you’d never have believed the prophecy that only we possess. Kera’s will is too strong. She wouldn’t believe it either. But the prophecy is true, I believe it with every ounce of blood in my veins.” He took another step forward. “We don’t need her in the fight ahead. She’s still only a child. We have more than enough strength to defeat Dânoz and the others. But we need you. Your strength will be needed.” He held out a hand. “Come. I know it’s difficult. But know that Kera is safe now and think of the greater good.”

  Lilaci couldn’t think straight. There were too many thoughts racing through her head then. Burr, you traitor! Is she truly safe? How can I trust his words now?

  She looked over at Fewn, who seemed to have similar thoughts brimming in her head, only she had a large welt forming on her cheek and temple.

  “What do you think?” Fewn asked her.

  Lilaci turned her gaze back Burr. “What did she say when you told her this?”

  He scowled. “That’s the one question I wished you wouldn’t ask. Are you sure you want to ask that one? Remember, she is only a child still.”

  Lilaci’s eyes hardened on him.

  “You know that she didn’t want to go back,” he said, taking a step back. “She didn’t want to leave you.”

  “So, you took her by force?” Lilaci’s teeth clenched, and her hand twisted on Blackfire’s grip.

  “Is it not the responsibility of the parent to know better than the child what is safe and what is not? If a child reaches out for fire, do you not draw their hand back because you know what is best for the child?”

  “Kera may be young,” Fewn said in anger, “but she is no child!”

  “She is a child!” Burr said back, his temper growing with beads of spit flinging from his lips. “And if you don’t think that, and I’m telling you she will ne’er return to the sands, and you still want to take her into Dânoz’s hands, then you are being selfish!”

  “It’s selfish to trust someone you love?” Lilaci said, taking a step toward him, and each of the kn
ights took a step forward too.

  Burr stopped them with a raised gauntlet. “Easy.”

  “This is only going to end one way,” Lilaci said, handing Blackfire over to Fewn, and letting the fires of the Sanzoral rage again through her fingertips, with the tent behind her raging still in the flames of the Sanzoral behind them.

  “I didn’t want it to be like this,” Burr said. “I’m saving her life.”

  “You lied to us,” Lilaci said. “You were the traitor the Garen Pixie warned me of, but I sensed it too late. I should have killed you when we first met.”

  “I saved your lives back then too from the Reevins,” he said. “And time and again, we’ve helped and saved each other. Do you truly think I’d send her to harm? You know I care for her too.”

  “Intentions don’t dictate actions,” Lilaci said. “You took her against her will. And you stole her from me! I’ll cut your lying tongue from your mouth!”

  “Very well,” Burr said, and whistled loudly, peering above.

  Lilaci was about to unleash the hell of the Sanzoral upon them, when two dozen archers appeared behind the ranks of Whiteblades and above the wagons on either side of them.

  It only caused her to pause for a moment.

  “You know I’ll still kill many of you,” she said.

  “True,” he said, “But it only takes one true arrow, and you know the skill of my archers. Ease your temper and come with us back to the ships where we can formulate the plan of attack against the gods, or die here, and Dânoz will rule another thousand years.”

  “What’d you think?” Fewn asked.

  Lilaci thought again for another moment. The thoughts of Kera being safe back in the desert wasn’t the thing that concerned her most, it was her being taken against her will.

  “I’ll give you the choice,” she said to him. “You either bring her back here, apologize, and we all go together, or this is going to go down, right here, right now. You may be lucky enough to get an arrow through, but I’m going after her. It wasn’t your decision to make. It's hers.”