The Dragon's War (13 page)

“Thank you, your Majesty.”

The imperial troops fell in behind the Ha’kan procession. Talan and Raine still led, and Idonea joined them. Nerthus and her second in command were slightly behind them. Senta rode up beside the Knight Commander.

“Did you ever think you would see such a convoy through your lands?”

Nerthus was grateful for the First General’s interaction. The Ha’kan were all a bit overwhelming.

“No, I never would have even dreamed of such a thing.”

And her men were in complete agreement. Although they had been hand-picked, chosen for their professionalism, experience and presentation, they all were fighting not to look like starry-eyed youth. The Ha’kan were extraordinary, and the stories that revolved around the all-female race did not do them justice. They were as beautiful as everyone said, but they were much larger than imagined, and imposing. Those that had dismissed accounts of their proficiency in battle revised their opinions. The Queen and her Royal Staff were wrapped in sensuality, so gorgeous it was hard not to stare. The slender Tavinter was like an ethereal sprite, a young forest goddess, and when her people slipped in and out in the forest, it was astonishing.

And then there was the dragon and the Scinterian, which really, there were no words for. And when wolves joined their procession, the men knew that this was a story they would tell for generations.

The troop ambled on peacefully. The Royal Guard engaged the imperial troops in conversation, and soon they were talking of battles and strategy, weapons and tactics, all the interests of warriors since the beginning of time.

Skye entertained the Queen and High Priestess with the tales of her people, and Gimle was impressed with the detail that Skye recounted from memory. Skye had initially been a poor student at the Academy, but when Kara had discovered that Skye learned best by hearing, Skye went to the top of her class. The Tavinter had few written records and passed down their history through an oral tradition, so Skye’s ability to memorize was phenomenal.

Idonea inched up between Raine and Talan.

“So do you have any fears of an attack at the Ceremony?”

“Of course,” Talan said, “Every leader of Arianthem will be there. But I also fear an attack in our absence.” She nodded to the sky. “I have my sentries out as well.”

Idonea looked up and at first did not see anything. Then the dark speck moved between her and the sun, and she focused on the object. It was flying far too high to be a bird.

“The dragons are out,” Idonea said.

“Yes,” Talan confirmed. “They scour the land for signs of Hyr’rok’kin, but they are also looking for Volva.”

“That bitch,” Idonea said, “I’d like to choke the life from her.”

Talan glanced to her daughter. Most who dared threaten an Ancient Dragon would draw only laughter from her, but Idonea had grown strong, and she was proud of the girl.

“Not if I get to her first,” Raine said darkly, and the blue and gold markings rose on her forearms.

“Well,” Talan said, “hopefully we’ll all get to kill her together, like one big happy family.”

In two days’ travel, they came to the edge of the Deep Woods. They would make a short detour into the forest before they would return to the main highway and begin to head upward towards Mount Alfheim. Talan left them, taking to the skies, and Raine led the troop onward. Both the Ha’kan and the imperials were glad for the presence of the Tavinter. They moved through the forest unerringly at a dizzying pace.

Skye signed to an apparently empty patch of forest, and her scout confirmed what she already sensed.

Raine had sensed it as well. “The wood elves?”

“Yes,” Skye said, “they’ve made contact up there and will join us soon.”

“Good.”

And true to the scout’s report, it was not long before a group of elves appeared in the woods ahead of them. Raine dismounted and spoke to their leader, a tall, fair-haired male who spoke to Raine in elvish.

“Well met, Scinterian.”

“Cool in summer and warmth in winter,” Raine said, delivering the traditional greeting of the wood elves.

The wood elves were notoriously reclusive and not demonstrative, so it was with some surprise the imperials watched the elf embrace the Scinterian. The affection of the wood elves for the warrior was evident.

“She doesn’t have an enemy in the world,” Nerthus noted.

“Not in this world,” Idonea said, and Nerthus bit her tongue.

Raine continued on foot, talking quietly with the elf while the horses behind picked their way through the thick forest. The sounds of an encampment began to drift to them on the gentle breeze. Livestock was bleating, there was the clang of a hammer on metal, and as they got closer, the murmur of voices could be heard.

The wood elves stopped as one as the large procession came into the clearing. Raine approached Senta and Nerthus.

“They say you can set up camp over there,” Raine said, waving to an area just east of the camp.

“Raine!”

A curvaceous, auburn-haired woman approached on the arm of a slim, dark-haired wood elf.

“Dagna,” Raine exclaimed, “Elyara!”

The three women embraced, and Dagna held Raine at arm’s length. “Let me look at you. You look as young as ever.”

“Even the elves age faster than Raine,” Elyara said.

Both Dagna and Elyara had accompanied Raine on her quest to the Underworld decades before, and had been attached to one another ever since. But Dagna appeared much older than both of them as humans aged much faster than the other races of Arianthem.

“And how is the Bard of the Imperial Realm?” Raine asked, using Dagna’s official title.

“Fabulous,” Dagna said, “and as Bard I have been granted access to the Ceremony of Assumption so that I may record the event for posterity’s sake.”

“Excellent,” Raine said, “so you will be coming with us?”

“Yes,” Elyara said, “and I will be going as well.”

“Let me guess, you will be representing Y’arren.”

“Yes. A great honor for me since I am not of her clan by birth. But she does not wish to leave our lands during this time.”

“As much as I will miss her on the journey,” Raine said, “in a way I’m glad she’s staying behind.”

Elyara glanced over at Skye, who was engaging with a few of the elves. She lowered her voice. “And Isleif is failing fast. I don’t think Y’arren will leave his side until he passes from this world.”

“I’m glad Skye will get to see him.”

“It may be the last time she sees him,” Elyara said sadly. She caught herself. “Enough of that. This is a time for celebration. The wood elves have never entertained the Ha’kan before.”

Queen Halla approached on the arm of Senta. Both Elyara and Dagna bowed deeply.

“Hello, Elyara, Dagna,” the Queen said kindly.

“Your Majesty,” they replied in unison.

Raine proffered her arm to the Queen, and she and Senta made the exchange. Raine escorted her through the throngs of wood elves who peered at the lovely woman with circumspect curiosity. Raine and the Queen approached a tiny, wizened old elf that stood at the bottom of a staircase between two pillars. She had startling green eyes and wore a green cloak embroidered with the symbols of nature’s magic.

“Queen Halla,” Raine said, “may I introduce you to Y’arren, matriarch of the wood elves.”

The Queen gave a deep curtesy to Y’arren, and a pleased murmur swept through the throng of elves at the sign of respect from the powerful leader. Y’arren solemnly returned the bow, then her face broke into a beatific smile that illuminated her face.

“So formal, my goddaughter,” she said to Raine, then addressed the Queen. “I see where your daughter gets her grace.”

“Thank you,” Halla said.

Y’arren reached out her hand and the Queen took it, then the two began to walk up the stairs together. Raine smiled at the sight, the tall, elegant leader of the Ha’kan and the tiny wood elf walking and comfortably holding hands.

“We have so enjoyed the tea and sweets that you sent,” Y’arren said, her voice drifting back. “Those sugared biscuits are divine…”

Raine went to help Senta and Nerthus set up camp, which was hardly necessary because between the Tavinter and the wood elves, the Royal Guard and imperials were overwhelmed with assistance. Idonea joined Elyara and Dagna in front of one of the outdoor fire pits, and they fell to talking about old times. Once Nerthus was finished with her duties, she hovered about them.

“Oh, for gods’ sake, join us,” Idonea said.

“Thank you,” Nerthus said gruffly, and sat down. Dagna was fairly astonished at the change in Nerthus. The Knight Commander had been a cold, arrogant woman, insulting, particularly to mages whom she considered dangerous and possibly even immoral. She had looked down her nose at Dagna for being a bard and at Elyara for being both an elf and a mage. Raine she had looked at with disdain, thinking her nothing more than a mercenary. Once her eyes were opened, she was chagrined to learn that Raine was “the Raine” from the legend, and that both Elyara and Dagna had accompanied her on that epic quest to the Underworld. And when Nerthus met Idonea, a mage swirling with the dark magic she hated, she had fallen hard and everything had changed.

Idonea turned back to Elyara. “So how is my master?”

“He fades,” Elyara said sadly, “I think he was waiting to see Skye one last time.”

Skye walked into Y’arren’s cave, taking a moment to let her eyes adjust to the dim lighting. The Queen, High Priestess, and First Scholar sat around the fire pit, three stylish and graceful women perfectly at home in the rustic surroundings. The scene made Skye smile. Her eyes searched the room, but the hand on her sleeve gave away the location of what she was looking for. She turned to the frail, gray-bearded man, for the first time eye-to-eye as she had grown and he had shrunk. She had tears in her eyes as she hugged him tightly.

“Now, now, my little sparrow,” he said, wiping the tears from her eyes, “let’s have none of that. Why don’t we go for a walk? It’s been a long time since I’ve been outside.”

“Are you sure you should?” Skye asked. He was weak, fragile even, and she didn’t want to tire him out.

“I will lean on you,” he said, and Y’arren watched the two go, not with sadness, but with a sense of the inevitable.

Skye helped her great-grandfather carefully down the steps, and all the elves who passed nodded with deference. Idonea noted from a distance that Isleif was weaker than she had ever seen him.

Still, his step was light as he moved through the trees, enjoying the sunlight with the love of his life. Out of all the things that he had accomplished in his long lifetime, the magical creature next to him was truly the best.

“So,” Isleif said, “word has it that you have chosen to deal with Ingrid in a most unique manner.”

Skye grinned and Isleif marveled at the change in her. The youngster he had handed over to the Ha’kan years ago would have blushed dark red and been speechless, unable to even stammer out a reply. Nor would she have ever decided on such a course of action.

“I decided to handle it in the Ha’kan way, which I think caught her completely off-guard.”

“I’m sure it did,” Isleif said, chuckling. He grew serious. “I regretted my actions with Ingrid. At first it was because I feared her retaliation on the ones that I loved. But later I felt a different responsibility. I feared I had created the dark creature that she had become.”

The young woman shook her head. “People make their own choices. No one decides for them. Raine taught me that, that destiny is something you make, not something that is thrust upon you.”

“Raine said that?” Isleif said thoughtfully.

“She did,” Skye said. “Ingrid had many choices, and she chose a path of evil and revenge. Now maybe she can choose a different path.”

“She’s always going to be wicked,” Isleif warned.

“I know that,” Skye said, the grin returning. “I don’t mind it so much in certain circumstances.”

“Oh, by the gods, you are so much like me sometimes,” the wizard said, and the two walked arm-in-arm through the forest.

It was late in the evening and most of the camp had gone to bed. Raine stood at the top of the stairs, leaning against a pillar, staring out at the horizon lost in thought.

“And are you hiding from me?”

“Of course not,” Raine said, acknowledging Y’arren’s presence, affection in her tone. “You were very busy with the Ha’kan and the imperials. It is not often the wood elves host a head of state.”

“The Ha’kan are a most gracious and elegant people,” Y’arren said, “the imperials?” She shrugged her shoulders and made a dismissive noise. “They are growing on me.”

Raine let out a deep breath, almost a sigh, and Y’arren looked at her shrewdly.

“You hide your mood from the others, but you cannot hide it from me.”

“I know that,” Raine said. “I feel—”

She paused, looking for words that would explain the oppressive weight she had felt for weeks.

“I feel like events are closing in on me. Like time is running out.”

“The prophecy will be fulfilled,” Y’arren said.

“But it’s so obscure,” Raine said, “And we still don’t know the final line.”

“The Dragon’s Lover, felled by the closest of allies, carries into death without dying that which saves all worlds,” Y’arren quoted. “I think the ‘saves all worlds’ is what you should hold close.”

“I saw the white dragon again,” Raine said. “She told me that this prophecy was given to Hel.”

This sobered Y’arren. This she had not known.

“You saw the white dragon again?”

“I did. She came to me in the forest. She told me that Hel knows the final line.”

Y’arren considered this, and all its implications. She could see into the future, but the future was always unclear.

“Tell me what you see,” Raine said urgently, placing her hands on her godmother’s shoulders.

“Your time is near,” Y’arren said, her green eyes glowing in the night. “And you will go into the darkness. I cannot see to the end of it, but I know that your victory hinges on embracing what you think is your greatest weakness.”

Raine’s jaw clenched, for she knew exactly what Y’arren was talking about, and the matriarch confirmed it.