The Knights of Erador (The Echoes Saga: Book 7), page 37
“This is to be the beginning of your reign then,” he reasoned. “In league with the Arakesh? The commander of an undead army? You really have lost your damn mind!”
The Mother, as she had apparently always been, stepped towards the king and removed one of her short-swords. “Would you like his death to be quick or slow, your Grace?”
Alijah ignored the question. “They’re not evil,” he told the northman. “They’re just tools. And I’m going to use them to re-shape this world.”
Vighon gripped his sword all the tighter. “I won’t let you,” he promised.
Alijah could only be described as disappointed. “This isn’t what I wanted for you. But you had to step forward and take the crown, didn’t you? If you had stayed by my side that day, we could have dealt with your father together and this burden would never have fallen on your shoulders.”
“I brought peace to Illian!” Vighon shot back. “The unrest was caused by you!”
“And look how easy it was,” Alijah retorted. “I used words, not steel. In a handful of years I was able to turn your kingdom upside down. Illian needs to be stronger than that. Verda needs to be stronger than that.”
His words made Vighon think of Inara. “Where is she?” he demanded.
Alijah chewed over his response. “Inara can’t help you now,” he said ominously. “I tried to show you both a better way, a way that would see you free from all of this. I see now that such a thing could never happen. Whatever love you have for each other is buried beneath your sense of duty - it’s admirable, but the root of your demise.”
“Is she alive?” The king asked his question with as much control as he could muster.
“You have a choice now, Vighon. Help the people to see this transition of power as a good thing. Or don’t. The latter won’t end well for—”
“IS SHE ALIVE?” he bellowed, his blade shaking in his hand.
Alijah looked round, still perfectly calm. “If she were, where do you think she would be right now?”
Something primal snapped in Vighon Draqaro.
The king’s feral roar preceded his charge. The Mother moved to intercept him but was immediately thrown aside by Alijah’s magic. With nothing between them, Vighon leaped into the air and came down with his sword thrusting forward. The half-elf made Lord Kraiden appear sluggish by comparison. He shifted his shoulders, evading the point of the silvyr by no more than the width of a finger.
Again, Vighon came at Alijah with a mighty swing and found nothing but air to greet his sword. After three more unsuccessful swipes, he attempted to spear the half-elf in the chest only to find his opponent was no longer standing there. In a blur of motion, Alijah was suddenly by the king’s side and an icy hand was snatching at the sword of the north.
That frozen hand gripped the blade, extinguishing the flames along the length of the sword. Vighon didn’t even know that was possible. The distraction was utilised by Alijah and he dislodged the hilt from the king’s hand and shoved an elbow of dragon scales into his jaw, hurling him to the stone.
Alijah held up the sword of the north and inspected it, free of the elven fire. “A fine weapon,” he complimented before tossing it to the floor. A moment later, his spell faded and the silvyr was once again set alight.
Vighon did not recover as fast.
A pained groan escaped his lips and he managed to crawl away from Alijah and roll onto his back. His head felt like it had lost perspective on what was up and what was down.
A shadow fell over him and he looked up at his oldest friend. “Don’t make me do this, Vighon. Were I not a king I would beg this of you. As it is, I am asking you as a brother: help me. To do anything else would make you my enemy.”
Vighon blinked hard to focus on Alijah’s face. “You… You don’t get to call me that anymore.”
The half-elf looked down on him with glassy eyes. “Then you leave me with no choice.” A scimitar was drawn from his belt, its blade a deep shade of green.
Of all the ends he could have imagined, Vighon would never have believed this to be the one. Slain by his friend, his crown taken, and his people left to suffer because of it. At least Inara hadn’t lived to see him fail so spectacularly.
Alijah raised the Vi’tari blade over his head, ready to come down. Like the half-elf, Vighon wasn’t going to beg. He looked up, meeting the eyes of his murderer with defiance and all the courage he had left.
But the green blade remained over Alijah’s head, failing to strike him down. The muscles around his eyes twitched, as if he were arguing with himself. Vighon could see Alijah’s arm had the slightest of trembles to it.
“Your Grace?” The Mother had recovered and dared to approach.
Her questioning tone broke whatever turmoil was stirring inside Alijah’s mind and he lowered his sword. “He may yet prove useful,” he claimed, his blue eyes still locked with Vighon’s dark orbs. “Put him in the cells.”
The northman had no idea what he had just seen, but the bloodshed that still surrounded him quashed any hope that might have arisen from Alijah’s change of heart. The Mother gestured to them and two Arakesh broke away to heave Vighon up from the floor. He was sure to give the half-elf the most venomous and wicked look possible on his way past.
“What now, your Grace?” the Mother asked in Vighon’s wake.
“Now,” Alijah replied, “I finish what you couldn’t.”
That was all Vighon heard before he was escorted beyond the throne room and into the hall. The passages between there and the dungeons were littered with Namdhorians who had attempted to repel the Reavers, the same creatures who now manned the keep at multiple stations. This led the king to one inescapable truth.
The monsters were in charge now…
31
Rise Again
Inara’s face was embraced by a cool, yet pleasant breeze. Her eyes opened lazily to settle on her surroundings; a sight that always made her smile.
Sanctuary…
The Dragorn sat up in the comfort of a small cave where even the ground was pleasing to lie on. Beyond the entrance, she could see a stretch of blue sky that knew no end, a welcoming ocean to all who knew how to swim in it.
Rising to her feet, Inara walked onto the small plateau outside and took in the sanctuary. It was as glorious as ever. So high was she that the clouds appeared as a fluffy, white forest below, filling the gaps between the mountainous landscape.
Dotted among the mountains, here and there, were larger plateaus with fields of lush wheat and green pastures. It was an environment not to be found anywhere in the real world and that was just how she liked it.
Something moved against the blue sky, drawing her eye to Athis. The red dragon was flying high but his head was dipped, angling his body towards her. Inara loved this part.
Leaving the cave behind, she ran along the path to her left and then out over the bottomless expanse below, following a narrow outcropping of rock. Only when Athis was in line with her altitude did she let herself go, tipping forward off the edge. Her red cloak flapped behind her and the wind rushed into her face as she plummeted towards those fluffy, white clouds.
And then, as always, Athis glided in below her and steadily matched her descent until they came together. A powerful flap of his wings reversed Inara’s momentum and the two shot up into the sky, where the faintest of stars could be seen twinkling in the heavens.
The outstanding view was complemented by Athis’s magnificent form. Inara sat back and held her arms out, enjoying every second of their flight. The dragon didn’t stay in the air for very long, his chosen path taking them towards a golden field of shallow wheat. He gave the impression that he wished for Inara to climb down and so she obliged, though undeniably curious.
“Is something wrong?” she asked, using her voice, the manifestation of her mind.
Athis looked down at her with his piercing blue eyes. There was a sadness in them that weighed on Inara, bringing her closer. She cupped what little she could of his jaw and found it to be icy cold instead of its usual warmth.
“I don’t understand,” the Dragorn continued. “Why are you so…” Her words trailed away, drowned out by surfacing memories.
Flashes of reality brought forth recent events, reminding her of the Reaver she had fought and the undead dragons that had hounded them.
Alijah…
It all came flooding back in a wave of pain and heartbreak. The last she recalled, Doran had found her in the passages of Grimwhal.
She looked up at her companion. “You’re hurt.”
As are you, wingless one.
In their sanctuary, Inara felt only the pain in her heart. “You’re cold,” she fretted.
It will take more than a chill to bring Athis the ironheart down, he promised.
The dragon’s confidence brought a smile to her face, breaking through the emotional agony that threatened to consume her. Inara looked around. “What’s happening right now?”
More energy is required to heal, Athis explained. We had to come here to give our bodies more time. If we wake now the process will slow down again.
Inara turned away from him and walked farther into the wheat field, her mind racing. She had to remind herself that time passed differently inside the sanctuary. They could spend weeks inside here whereas the real world would only know days. That rationale didn’t stop her from wanting to fly to Namdhor with all haste and confront her brother.
“He has to be stopped,” she said, turning back to Athis. “He’s on a dark path, but we can bring him back, I know it.”
Athis sighed. What if it isn’t a path? What if the darkness is all he knows now?
“I can’t believe that. The Crow did this to him.” Inara fumed, “I should never have let him go! If he had stayed with us we could have helped him, Malliath too!”
Inara… Athis lowered his head. What he has done, what he is going to do… Alijah may be beyond redemption now. The Crow unmade him. He is not your brother anymore.
“What are you saying?
Waves of sorrow emanated from the dragon. We have a duty to the realm, to the king…
Inara scowled at her companion. “I will not kill him!”
Yet he must be stopped.
“Then we will find another way!” she argued, irritated by the lack of harmony between them.
Equally stubborn, Athis arched his neck to look down on Inara. You heard The Crow. Monsters only beget monsters. Everything the wizard did was calculated, including his choice of words. He told you, Inara…
The Dragorn shook her head. “I have no idea why he said that or why he said it to me.”
Athis huffed with frustration. Think! he implored. The Crow knew he was a monster for all of his deeds and he knew he had only the power to create more monsters. We have to accept that Alijah has become the very thing we have sworn to stand against.
“But that doesn’t make sense,” Inara countered. “The Crow wanted to bring the realm together in peace, with a good king. He thought Alijah was everything!”
We cannot begin to fully understand the workings of The Crow’s mind, but we do have to accept the fact that he was corrupted by magic he should never have touched.
Inara groaned, as her frustration reached for its crescendo, and turned towards the mountainside. There, against the snowy rocks, lay the mouth of a cave she had never seen before. The Dragorn looked back at Athis with a question on her face.
Our discord prevents me from concealing it, the dragon admitted with a hint of shame.
“Conceal?” Inara repeated incredulously. “What are you talking about?”
I have kept this from you, he confessed. As have all my kind since the days of Elandril.
Inara stepped back, stunned by her companion’s words. “You keep nothing from me,” she pointed out. “We share everything…”
This secret is older than me; it was passed down with the memories of my parents and theirs before them.
Inara scrutinised the cave but could see nothing beyond the dark. “That’s it, isn’t it? That’s the place Alijah told me about.”
Yes, Athis confirmed. In there, you will emerge back into the world with a part of yourself you haven’t felt since before we bonded.
Inara struggled to find the right question. “I don’t understand. Why would you… Why would your kind keep this from us?”
Athis glanced at the cave. To protect ourselves, he replied cryptically. Right now, he continued, you are influenced by me, my wisdom your own. Your thoughts and feelings are guided by me, a fact that keeps you virtuous. Were you to enter that cave and return to the world, you would begin to influence me.
“Why would that be something worth hiding?”
The emotions of humans and elves are not as tempered as our own. We carry the wisdom and experiences of our ancestors - you do not. Should a rider influence their dragon, there is a chance that dragon could be corrupted and their bond used against the realm.
Inara couldn’t help but think of her brother. “Is that what’s happened to Alijah and Malliath?”
Impossible to say, Athis answered honestly. They are a complex pairing, with each being equally broken by their experiences. Given The Crow’s work, however, I would say it is likely…
A rogue tear ran down her cheek. “You hid this from me?”
The dragon took a deep breath, pulling at the scales around his chest. Not for fear of you. I saw the virtue in you the moment we met. I have only done what is in my blood to do - listen to my ancestors. Though I have no memories of the Dragon Riders, I have to assume their history describes dragons who fell from grace because of their Riders.
This was all so much to take in. On top of her brother’s betrayal, Inara didn’t know what to think anymore. She began to question every thought and feeling she had ever had, wondering how much of herself had been suppressed.
It was never to that extent, Athis said, reading her mind. Your thoughts and feelings have always been your own, they were just… influenced by our connection, by our love for each other.
Inara met his eyes and said one word. “Vighon…”
Athis had a look of shame about him. Yes. Though your feelings for him are the only things that have been truly affected.
The Dragorn turned once again to stare at the mysterious cave. “What would happen to our bond?”
I do not know. It would be different, but I could not say how.
Without warning, Inara strode towards the cave. She could feel the pull of Athis, desperate to keep their bond as it was. It felt like a long walk across the wheat field, a time in which her mind went to battle with itself. Would she be undoing herself? Would their bond be damaged? Angry or not, Athis was her life and she knew those were her true feelings. Weren’t they?
There was only one way to find out…
Only feet from the mouth of the cave, Inara paused. Could she really do this? Athis’s influence on her had done nothing but steer her to do good. He had made her a better person, a better warrior. Fate had bonded them for a reason…
But she had to know. There was no fighting that itch now that it existed.
There’s no coming back, Athis declared. Once you make that choice, our bond will forever be changed.
The Dragorn looked down at her feet, struggling to take the next step. Too many revelations plagued her mind now.
A crack of thunder interrupted her thoughts. The blue sky was quickly turning to night with stormy clouds coming in from all directions. Flashes of lightning sparked inside those dark clouds and the wind picked up, blowing Inara’s hair about her face.
“What is this?”
Athis’s body language showed great concern. You are threatened, he told her. You must return to your surroundings!
In all their time together, Inara had never entered their sanctuary without being somewhere secure in the real world. “What about our injuries?”
Athis looked away for a moment. Wounds to the flesh remain, but our deeper wounds have healed. You must return, quickly!
Inara could feel that her companion’s urgency came from a place of real concern for her life, rather than of her entering the cave as she initially suspected.
I cannot help you inside Grimwhal, the dragon reminded her. Go, Inara!
With one last look at the cave, Inara closed her eyes and let herself drift back to the real world.
“Right,” Doran grizzled, “which one o’ ye is gonna get it first?”
The Clackers closed in from three sides, their movements cautious with the blood of their own on Doran’s weapons. With Andaljor separated into two halves, the dwarf banged the hammer and axe together. The harsh sound hit the sensitive ears of the Clackers, causing them all to wince as one. Unfortunately, there was no sound Doran was capable of that would banish the creatures for good. Eventually, one of them would be bold enough to endure the pain and attack him.
“What are ye waiting’ for?” he demanded, crashing the weapons together again with a manic laugh. “If I’m to ’ave me last breath this day, ye can bet that none o’ ye will be slinkin’ back into the shadows!”
Collectively, the Clackers raised their nightmarish heads and revealed their vibrating throats. It wasn’t the last sound the son of Dorain had hoped he would hear, but it wasn’t going to stop him from swinging his hammer and axe.
The passage directly ahead exploded with activity as the Clackers burst into a charge. A moment later, the passages to the left and right became a blur of monsters, all rushing towards the dwarf.
Seconds away from certain death, the door behind him was wrenched open to reveal Inara Galfrey. Her expression was reminiscent of a dragon before it exhaled its fiery breath.
“Get down,” she instructed before leaping to his side.
Having seen the power of a Dragorn before, Doran wasted no time in dropping to one knee. Crouched beside him, Inara gripped his pauldron with one hand and held the other over their heads, her fist locked into a ball. The Clackers fell upon them, wave after wave of plunging claws and gnashing teeth. Not one succeeded in penetrating Inara’s shield.
