The Wings of Dragons: Book One of the Dragoon Saga (31 page)

“
Which is?”

Lightning Sight flared. “Isn’t it obvious?
Total revenge against the Kodamas, the species he considers
responsible for Nadav’s death.”

Iren looked shocked, but Rondel shook her
head, knowing she’d only told him half the story. Amroth sought
revenge against more than the Kodamas. He had another, far more
personal vendetta in mind. He wanted vengeance against the person
whose treason brought about the final battle and, in so doing, had
forced Nadav to unleash the spell that killed him and his
subordinates: Rondel herself.

With their enhanced speed the journey to
Yuushingaral, a distance of over a hundred and fifty miles, took
less than three hours. Rondel expected to find the Kodaman capital
exactly as they’d left it, but instead they entered a village in
total disarray. Whereas before it looked just like any other patch
of forest, now dozens of Kodamas ran frantically from tree to tree,
delivering messages, supply crates, and weapons. Rondel frowned,
fearing they had arrived too late.

Stone-faced sentinels greeted Iren and
Rondel and ushered them immediately to Aletas’s tree. Every Kodama
they encountered bore arms. Even the small boy Rondel had seen
guarding Iren during his imprisonment bore a short bow and quiver.
Rondel doubted the boy would serve as more than a target in battle,
but she respected the child’s apparent lack of fear.

Her own trepidation had to be more on
display. Iren Saito’s curse had nearly wiped out the Kodaman
population a thousand years ago, and the species had never
recovered. With their long lives, the Kodamas, like the other
immortal races, had always been slow to reproduce. Before the
curse, they could resist any force bearing down on them, but no
longer.

Iren’s somber expression indicated he felt
the same way. Both Maantecs knew, with a certainty they dared not
set in words, the outcome of this battle.

Every last Kodama was going to die.

The pair entered the queen’s tree, and the
door sealed itself behind them. Taking seats in the tree’s entry
room, they waited a moment as three figures walked down the stairs
to join them. First came Aletas, her normally deep tan complexion
gone thoroughly pale. Though she looked as youthful as ever, her
gait shuffled like a cripple’s. She carried a tray of teacups, but
with each step they rattled, threatening to spill with her unsteady
walk. The second person was Minawë, doing her best to say
reassuring words to Aletas.

As the third figure came into view, Iren
suddenly leapt to his feet, his body taut. Despite the grave
situation, Rondel couldn’t help but grin. The boy must have thought
he’d never see this man again.

Balear Platarch looked uncomfortable in his
Lodian military uniform, and his face contorted in a mix of
happiness and guilt as he recognized Rondel and Iren. They all
exchanged greetings, then sat down together. Aletas sighed as she
set her tray on the table between them all, visibly relieved when
everyone had taken a cup without any spills.

Iren fidgeted in his seat, and Rondel
laughed inwardly. The poor child surely felt out of place. After
all, Aletas had more or less kicked them out of Yuushingaral just a
few months ago, and the last time he’d seen Balear, the Lodian had
tried to kill him.

“
Well now,” Rondel began,
when it became obvious that everyone else was just as ill at ease
as Iren about the situation, “what brings you to Ziorsecth,
Balear?”

She asked her question calmly, as though
posing it to a casual tourist. When Balear remained silent, both
hands gripping his mug, however, Rondel’s expression turned grave.
When she spoke again, she made her voice lower in tone and deadly
serious, “Could it have anything to do with Lodia’s new king and
Fire Dragon Knight, Amroth Angustion?”

Balear’s head snapped up. Rondel smirked and
explained what she’d seen after the battle in Akaku and the
connection between Amroth and Nadav. At first Balear expressed
disbelief, but then Minawë pulled out the forged letter Amroth had
written along with the waiver text Rondel had copied.

The young soldier sat back and rubbed his
temple. “I’ve been a fool,” he moaned. “All this time I believed I
was helping Lodia, when in reality I was only serving King
Angustion’s . . . no, Amroth’s desire for
power.”

“
We all fell for Amroth’s
lies,” Iren said. “Even Rondel didn’t suspect his Maantec
origins.”

Rondel nodded. “The past is the past; let’s
deal with the present. Why did you flee Lodia? What does Amroth
intend to do?”

Shuddering, Balear told his sad tale. He
spoke of Amroth’s edict to raise an army, the horrible conditions
the soldiers had to endure, and the absolute loyalty, upon pain of
death, the king demanded of them.

Sparks flickered in Rondel’s eyes, even
though she didn’t intend it. Lightning Sight had a way of
activating itself whenever she lost control of her emotions. Right
now, she couldn’t tell at whom she felt angrier: Amroth for causing
such evil, or herself for not realizing his plan and stopping him
sooner.

Balear then turned to Rondel, looking her
over as though judging her. Trying to force herself into calmness,
she resorted to her faithful standby of a fake smile and sarcastic
retort. “How long it’s been since a handsome young man has deigned
to glance at me! To what do I owe the pleasure?”

The human said nothing for a moment.
Finally, resolving some inner struggle, he stood and produced from
behind his back a dagger, one with a perfectly round hilt and
pommel.

Rondel’s sarcasm died in her throat, and her
false grin vanished. She stared dumbstruck at the blade in his
hand. It was her rondel, the Liryometa.

Turning it around, he offered it to her,
“Amroth made perhaps his sole mistake with this blade. He gave it
to me, although I don’t know why. I think it’s about time it
returned to its owner.”

Rondel gingerly took the weapon, relief
washing over her as thoughts of her father filled her. She held the
rondel as she would a child, delicately stroking its fine features.
After nearly a minute, Iren coughed, pulling Rondel from her
memories. Standing, she thanked Balear solemnly, meaning it more
than any words she’d said in centuries. Then, reluctantly, she
returned the blade to its sheath on her belt, feeling complete for
the first time since Akaku.

As she sat back in her chair, she did so
with newfound respect for Balear. He had clearly risked his life to
defy Amroth and ride to Ziorsecth. More than that, he had done so
knowing he was betraying his own species to another. She knew that
feeling all too well.

She also understood why Amroth had given the
young man the Liryometa, and the knowledge incensed her. Fearing
Rondel had lived, Amroth had used Balear as nothing more than a
test subject to be sacrificed. Even Nadav, uncivilized brute though
he’d been, always cared for his subordinates. Amroth had truly
descended into madness.

Aletas set down her cup. She hadn’t consumed
a drop in all the time they’d been talking, even though she hadn’t
said a word up until now. “You two have good timing returning here.
Balear arrived in Yuushingaral this morning and told me what he
just told you. I believe him, if only because he must know he has
no way of returning to Lodia alive after entering this forest.”

The discussion next turned to logistics for
the coming battle, and Rondel noticed Iren’s eyes glazing over.
Holy Dragon Knight he might be, but he was still only eighteen
years old. No doubt he must have found the details horribly dull
and overwhelmingly depressing. Even for Rondel, the numbers made
grim news. By Balear’s estimates, the Lodian army had nearly five
thousand soldiers, though they lacked siege weapons, cavalry, and
fighting experience. That might give the Kodamas an edge, except
that even if they marshaled their populace from every corner of
Ziorsecth, they could field barely a thousand defenders.

Adding to the problem, Amroth’s army had
already set forth. Although they would move slowly across Lodia,
Rondel doubted half the Kodaman force could reach the forest’s
eastern edge by the time the enemy arrived. Worse, nearly every
Kodama skilled in magic had served in the Kodama-Maantec War and
therefore died in the final battle. The remaining ones could
perform basic spells, like opening the doors of their tree homes
and creating the orbs that lit them, but such minor abilities would
not turn back an army.

An urgent knock on the tree caused everyone
to jump. Minawë ran and created an opening, revealing the sweaty
face of a Kodaman man. He surveyed the room, his eyes falling on
Iren.

Silently, Rondel swore, knowing what news
the man brought. She rose to stop him from speaking, how she had
not yet decided, but before she’d reached her feet he blurted out,
“Queen Aletas, our scouts report an enormous detonation in western
Ziorsecth. A miles-long swath of forest has vanished!”

The queen flared. She reached across the
table and wrapped her hands around Iren’s throat. “You!” she cried.
“Left-handed demon! What do you think you’re doing? How dare you
show your face here! Get out of Ziorsecth at once!”

Rondel got behind the queen and tugged at
her arms. “It wasn’t his fault!” she cried, but Aletas would not be
dissuaded. Her grip tightened.

“
Minawë!” Rondel called in
desperation, but the Kodaman princess, for the first time since
Rondel had met her, stood frozen with indecision. Her eyes flicked
from Aletas to Iren, unable to decide who to support.

Aletas whipped her elbow around and struck
Rondel in the jaw, sending her sprawling. “Don’t you dare speak her
name! You’re as bad as him!” She lifted Iren by the throat and
tossed him across the room, her strength incredible even by
Rondel’s standards. “Get out of my sight, before I kill you both
myself!” She collapsed back into her chair, moaning, “Why? Why did
this have to happen? We’ve left the world alone for a thousand
years. Why, Rondel? Why did you have to go and involve us in your
Maantec squabbles? Haven’t the Kodamas suffered enough because of
you?”

Rondel hauled herself to her feet, for once
in her life at a loss for words, sarcastic or otherwise. Aletas was
right; she couldn’t involve the Kodamas in this anymore. They had
just one option.

“
Iren,” she called, “let’s
go. We’ll go to Lodia and fight Amroth alone. That way, his army
will never reach the forest.”

There was no response. “Iren?” Rondel turned
a circle in the room, dread taking her. She put a hand to her head.
“Not again.”

The fool had already left.

As bright stars and the first full moon of
autumn filled the night sky, Iren Saitosan sat on a sandy beach
overlooking the Yuushin Sea. Four months ago, Minawë had rescued
him from the water here. The waves lapped gently, soothingly,
against the shore. Their sound and salty aroma reminded him of
Haldessa, and of how it was no more.

In his left hand he fingered the black sea
stone he’d brought from Lodia, the sole memento of his childhood.
He smiled a little despite himself. After all his journeying, after
all the fights and training with Rondel, he still carried it with
him.

“
How long do you plan on
staying out here?”

Iren turned in the direction of the
melodious voice. “As long as I have to, Minawë. Maybe forever.”

The lithe Kodama stepped onto the beach, the
moonlight reflecting perfectly on her white silken robe. Sitting
beside Iren, she wrapped her arms around her folded legs, her head
resting on her knees. For a moment she said nothing, simply
watching the waves on their endless cycle. Finally, without taking
her eyes from the ocean, she said, “After you left, Rondel told us
what happened during your training. Mother’s furious, of
course.”

Iren leaned back so he was lying in the
sand, hands behind his head and gazing into the heavens. “So you
know, then?”

She nodded.

“
When Rondel told me she
didn’t see Iren Saito in me, I felt overjoyed,” Iren said. “Both
she and Divinion accepted what I did in the forest. Terrible as it
was, they made it sound like it was something that needed to
happen. I almost believed them, but now I don’t know. I wonder if,
despite their kind words, I really am becoming another Iren Saito.”
He grimaced and looked at her. “How can you stand sitting out here
and talking to me, knowing all Saito did to your people and that I
could wind up the same way?”

Shrugging, Minawë replied, “You aren’t Iren
Saito.”

Iren grasped a pile of sand in his right
fist. “Close enough.”

“
But not the same,” Minawë
insisted. “You may have similar names, but a name doesn’t mean
anything. It doesn’t mean you’ll become like him.”

“
I have many of his traits;
even Rondel admitted that. I have the Holy Dragon too, just like
him.”

“
I suppose, but those
similarities don’t just describe you and Saito. They match someone
else, too.”

He looked at her curiously. “Who?”

She smiled. “Your father.”

“
What would you know about
my father?”

“
I know that he was a Holy
Dragon Knight, even if he didn’t realize it. I know that he cared
for others, and I know that he died fighting with every last shred
of his strength to protect his wife and son. If he had found me in
Akaku, he would have done exactly what you did. Even if you do
resemble Saito, I would say you resemble your father, the humble
yet brave farmer, far more so.”

Iren paused, reflecting. Ever since he had
learned of Saito, he had compared himself, and been compared by
others, to the ancient tyrant. For the first time, someone had
compared him to his father. He liked that connection a whole lot
more.