The Knights of Erador (The Echoes Saga: Book 7), page 16
“I haven’t seen him like this in a long time,” said a voice in her ear.
Inara turned to greet the captain of the king’s guard. “Are you not enjoying the comfort of Lady Gracen’s walls, Sir Ruban?”
“I like to keep two eyes on the king outside of The Dragon Keep. I find that mead gets in the way of that.”
Inara couldn’t help but laugh and place a warm hand on his shoulder. “I hope he knows how lucky he is to have you watching his back all the time.”
Alijah crossed Inara’s path and quietly made his way onto the balcony with a cup of wine in hand. The Dragorn apologised to Ruban and weaved between the party to reach her brother. As she stepped onto the balcony, Alijah casually emptied his cup over the rail and leant on his elbows to take in the city below.
“Did I just see Alijah Galfrey throw away good wine?” she jested, seeing his cheekbones raise into a smile in the torchlight.
“You know as well as I,” he remarked, half turning to gesture to the sky, “you shouldn’t drink and fly.”
Inara laughed silently to herself, imagining Athis struggling to fly because of her intoxication.
“You’re not joining in yourself?” Alijah asked.
Inara considered her words carefully. “This isn’t exactly my idea of a good time. In fact, I don’t think we should be here at all…”
Alijah rolled his eyes. “You disapprove of the king’s decision.” He scrutinised her a moment longer. “You disapprove of my advice,” he corrected.
“We don’t know for certain that there is any conspiracy,” Inara began. “And taking most of an army across the country just makes Vighon look paranoid and fearful, not to mention somewhat tyrannical.”
“He’s not marching most of an army across the country,” Alijah protested with a shrug. “I convinced him, did I not, to keep a couple of thousand soldiers in Grey Stone to maintain peace. And he’s not long agreed to leave the Lirian soldiers here before we move on.”
“Oh, so he’s just going to arrive at Velia’s gate with a thousand soldiers…”
Alijah sighed. “I see there’s still no pleasing you,” he jibed.
Inara’s back went up. “And what does that mean?” she demanded.
“It means you haven’t changed,” Alijah retorted. “It has to be your idea, executed by you, and judged by you.”
“You think you’re any different?” Inara fired.
Surprisingly, Alijah threw his head back and laughed. “No, I suppose I’m not. Look at us, fighting like old times. I’ve missed this… until just now that is.”
Inara let her expression soften and she swallowed the line of argument she had waiting on the end of her tongue. “I might have missed you,” she confessed, joining him by the railing. “Once or twice,” she added with a wicked smile.
“I thought of you every day,” Alijah offered. “It couldn’t have been easy for you. First, I left, then Gideon left. You’ve been holding Illian up by yourself.”
“There hasn’t been much to hold up,” Inara replied modestly. “Vighon has been a great king. You must have had a hard time,” she added. “It sounds as if you single-handedly brought a whole country into line.”
Alijah stared at the horizon. “Not really. Erador had everything it needed to thrive. I just reminded them of that.”
“What’s it like? Erador?”
Her brother stood up straight. “It’s not unlike Illian. Similar size in population. There’s forests and plains and deserts and ice caps… But it’s old. No matter where you go, you know it’s ancient. The history there is so rich you could get lost in it for an eternity.”
“The people are the same?” Inara enquired.
“Of course. There are villages, towns, and cities full of families trying to survive just like they are here. They love the same, they fight the same, they even want the same things out of life. I suppose the most notable difference is religion.”
“The people of Erador have gods?”
“Just the one,” Alijah answered. “And you already know his name.”
That name easily returned to Inara. “Kaliban…”
Her brother smiled. “It’s amusing really. Everyone in Illian worships Atilan and his pantheon, but in Erador, they’re all figures of history. There used to be a statue of Atilan in Valgala’s main square.”
“And what do you make of their Kaliban?”
Alijah frowned. “We both know The Echoes made him up eons ago. I did a little digging actually. It wasn’t easy to find, but there are records of Erador’s most ancient past. They were a warring people, driven by bloodlust. The first priests of The Echoes made Kaliban up as a way of taking control of the masses and ending the wars. A noble beginning to be sure. But, like so many things, it became rotten, corrupted by the power it wielded.” Alijah took a long breath. “I see the religion of both countries being the only factor that will get in the way of any alliance. But, we’ll have to cross that bridge when we get to it.”
Inara had listened intently, but her eyes had been scrutinising her brother’s every facial movement searching for the truth in him. So far, she guessed, he was being entirely honest, if reserved.
“It seems even a crown can’t stop you from hunting history down,” Inara quipped with a lighter tone.
Alijah softened. “Unlocking our history will give us the key to our future. You should come back with me, to Erador. You wouldn’t believe some of the things you’d see. Mount Kaliban is twice the size of Mount Garganafan. The Glimmer Lands will stun your eyes. And The Silver Trees of Akmar…” The half-elf had a look of wonder in his eyes. “There are beings in this world you couldn’t imagine in the west.”
“It sounds beautiful,” Inara agreed.
“It is,” Alijah said wistfully. “The hard part is keeping it that way. That’s why it’s so important that the throne belongs to an immortal, especially one with the wisdom of a dragon behind them. Where mortal kings and queens would forget their ancestors’ deeds, good or bad, I never will. The mistakes of the past will stay with me forever and I will learn from them.”
Inara could hear the logic, but she wasn’t as convinced. “Shouldn’t the people be ruled by one of the people?”
Alijah waved her suggestion away. “An antiquated notion. History is riddled, on both sides of The Hox, with kings and queens who cared for nothing but the size of their statue they left behind. Mortality makes people look inwards, a path that can only lead to greed and selfish acts. Kings and queens are supposed to be servants.”
Inara glanced back at the party. “What of Vighon then? He is mortal…” Now the Dragorn really watched her brother for any hint of antagonism.
“Vighon is unlike any king that has ruled before him,” Alijah replied eloquently. “He hasn’t come from a royal family. Aspects of his childhood were privileged thanks to us, but most of his later life was spent trying to survive. He’s always enjoyed a good fight but he never went looking for one. Most importantly, he never wanted the crown. He accepted it with a servant’s heart. And, of course, he has you by his side,” Alijah added with a coy smile.
Inara turned her attention to the distant pines. “Athis and I advise him where we can.”
Alijah tilted his head, scrutinising her now. “You’re still going to deny that part of yourself? After all these years?”
“What part of myself?” Inara asked with genuine ignorance.
“The part of you that’s human,” Alijah said as if it was obvious. “The part of you that’s been in love with Vighon Draqaro since we were children.”
Inara shook her head. “Those feelings died a long time ago. I have Athis now, I’m a Dragorn. I don’t need nor do I want those kinds of attachments.”
Somewhat exasperated, Alijah pushed back from the railing and looked at his sister in disbelief. “You still think that’s what you are? Dragorn? Gideon took the Dragorn and left, Inara; they’re gone. You’re the Guardian of the Realm now; that’s something else entirely, isn’t it?”
Inara could feel her defences rising again. “I am Dragorn, Alijah. And Gideon and the others aren’t gone; they’re training. When they’re ready, they will return.”
“It’s been fifteen years,” Alijah pointed out. “I think you have to accept that they aren’t coming back.”
The Dragorn shook her head. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I know a lot more than you apparently,” he countered, his tongue always faster than hers. “I’ve been to Drakanan, where the first Dragon Riders lived and trained for thousands of years. This life you’ve embraced is not how it was meant to be, Inara.”
“My life,” Inara intoned, “is that of a Dragorn’s, like all those before me.”
“The Dragorn was an order created by the elves five thousand years ago - a mere speck compared to the age of the Dragon Riders. Their monk-like ways might have worked for elves, but you and I are not elves. There is a part of us, an undeniable part, that is very much human.”
Inara opened and closed her mouth, deciding to swallow the snapping reply she had ready. “And how did these Dragon Riders live exactly?”
“Like the people they swore to protect,” Alijah answered simply. “They had lovers, wives, husbands, and even children. They weren’t afraid of families.”
“I’m not afraid of having a family,” Inara defended. “I just don’t want one. There isn’t a part of me that needs one to feel complete when I have Athis.”
“Do you really feel like that?” Alijah probed. “Or do you just tell yourself that? Gideon drummed the Dragorn code into you from the day you met Athis. He cannot be blamed for that; his mentor was an elven Dragorn and it’s all he’d ever known. But you’re apart from all that now. You have a choice.”
“It’s not a choice for me,” Inara argued. “And it is how I feel. You must feel the same. Surely you can’t have the need to be with any woman while you’re bonded to Malliath.”
“And yet I have.” He shrugged with that same arrogant smile he had worn in his youth. “There are techniques, never sought after by the Dragorn, that can allow you to… detach from your dragon.”
“That sounds awful.” Inara couldn’t think of anything worse.
“You’re still bonded just as you ever were,” Alijah went on to explain. “Your minds will still be one, but you can put up a wall of sorts. It allows you to have moments where your focus is just on you, moments where you can embrace your human half. It’s the only way to truly live, Inara. Anything else and you’re only living half a life. It might seem like the right thing now, but a few decades from now, a few centuries, and you might start to wonder why it feels like there’s a piece missing.”
Inara looked at the stars above, listening for Athis. He said nothing, his feelings unnervingly private.
Movement in the corner of her eye drew Inara back to the balcony doors, where Lady Gracen had paused. She didn’t even register the Dragorn, her hungry eyes fixed on Alijah instead. With an alluring smile, she slowly turned around and walked away, making for doors on the far side of the hall.
Alijah, grinning from ear to ear, placed his cup on the stone railing. “If you’ll excuse me…”
“Really?” Inara managed to intone her disbelief with just enough disappointment as to sound judging.
“It’s all in the name of the alliance,” he replied, walking backwards towards the party. “Inara,” he added more seriously, “there’s more to both of your lives than just companionship. Don’t be afraid to live…”
Inara waited a moment before returning her attention to the sky. Is there a particular reason you’re not saying anything?
She could feel Athis’s position relative to her own and knew he was gliding directly above her. The dragon’s mood shifted uncomfortably and in a way Inara had never felt before. There had never been an occasion where Athis didn’t know what to say.
Alijah speaks the truth, he finally said. At least in part.
Why do you say that?
I do not possess the memories of the Dragon Riders. They remain with Rainael the emerald star and our elders. But I do have knowledge of their time in the skies. I know they had families and relations outside of their bond.
Why did you never share this with me? Inara wasn’t upset, but honestly curious.
You embraced the Dragorn and their principles, Athis replied. You have never shown any inclination towards another of your kind. And… I don’t want to share you.
Inara found it all too easy to empathise with her companion. Then it’s a good thing I don’t want that.
Athis paused. Don’t you? His question resonated somewhere deep in her soul, robbing her of an immediate answer.
I want all I’ve ever wanted: to protect the realm with you by my side.
Inara turned back to the party, where the king was still in the midst of an audience which hung on his every word. Vighon’s smile had been long missed by the Dragorn and she quickly came to realise the sight of it resonated as deeply as Athis’s question. Though she could never truly deny her love for him, she could certainly deny its power over her. Whether Gideon and the rest of the order returned or not, the Guardian of the Realm still had her duty.
And she would see it done.
14
It’s In The Bones
The world came back to Asher in shades. The light, however fleeting, was always blinding, painful even. Dark shapes moved around him and warm hands pressed into his skin. In between, there was a deep dark nothingness so powerful it was oppressive in manner, restraining the ranger’s mind.
More than once, in his brief but lucid moments, he wondered if this was death. It wouldn’t be the first time he had departed the world, though the ranger held no such memories of the beyond. As painful and exhausting as his life had been, a deep dark nothingness sounded quite peaceful.
When the light wasn’t assaulting his eyes and the hands weren’t moving his body, Asher heard voices and unusual noises. The voices were always light and melodic, but the sounds that accompanied them were almost magical in nature. Sometimes, these voices and sounds brought more pain and he heard his own voice cry out into the ether.
Then, without warning or reason, the ranger’s eyes snapped open. The haze was gone and the edges of his mind felt clear and sharp for the first time in a long while. He was lying down on a cot made from branches and leaves, his chest bare, though it was patterned in some kind of clay that had been dyed purple and green. He still wore his leather trousers, which bore more than one tear, especially around his left thigh.
The serious wounds he had sustained came flooding back and Asher sat up to inspect his leg. The leather was stained dark with the blood he had lost, but the skin was perfectly intact. As the fight came back to him in more detail, the ranger wiped away a portion of the pattern that swirled around his chest and shoulder. The clay smeared, he could see no evidence of the sword that had impaled him. Similarly, his ribs showed no signs that a dagger had been plunged through them and his breathing was smooth and effortless.
Why wasn’t he dead?
Having taken stock of himself, Asher quickly examined his surroundings. It was cramped but, like the bed, the hut was made from branches, the wood twisted into unnatural shapes. If he hadn’t been in The Evermoore when he succumbed to his injuries, the ranger would have said he was in the hands of the elves. Since they were a few hundred miles south, in Ilythyra, he had to be in Ikirith. He was among the Drakes…
Unsure what that meant exactly, Asher shot up to check one of the pane-less windows, the source of the hut’s warm light. He instantly regretted it. His heart rate increased dramatically and his skin became clammy as the blood drained from his head and raced to his feet. The ranger managed half a curse before he crumpled to the ground and lost himself in the darkness once more.
When next he opened his eyes, the ranger had been returned to his cot and the angle of light streaming through the window had changed significantly.
There was also a Drake seated beside him.
Asher couldn’t say that it was fear that rose up in him, but the Drake’s formidable yet beautiful appearance made him uneasy.
This particular Drake was a male by the look of him. He had the high cheekbones of an elf that cut across his angular face and led Asher to his pointed ears, both of which stuck out from his flowing black mane of hair. His skin was fair, lighter than a human’s but most definitely darker than an orc’s. A patch of tiny, paper thin scales caught the light on one side of his face. His hairline was broken in two places where a pair of dark oak horns curved over the back of his head before flicking up to the sky.
It was the eyes, however, that captured the ranger. He had seen eyes such as those before, only much bigger and situated in the skull of a dragon. This Drake had yellow green eyes with a reptilian black slit cutting down the middle. They were the eyes of a predator, ironic considering they were in the head of a passive creature.
“How you feel?” The Drake spoke quickly, though his command of man’s language sounded broken in his mouth.
Asher tried to sit up before answering him and soon found the Drake’s strong hand pressed into his chest. “Slow,” he advised, drawing the word out. “Lost big blood,” he told the ranger.
Nodding his understanding, Asher slowly positioned himself on the edge of the cot and rubbed his eyes. The side of his head felt sore where he had crashed into the ground. Still, it was nothing short of a miracle that his bruised head was his only injury - he should be dead.
“How long was I out?” he asked gruffly.
The Drake tilted his head quizzically, unfamiliar with the phrasing.
Asher stumbled over his next words, searching for the elvish equivalent. “How long have I been here?”
