Blood of the Emperor (46 page)

Jugar Edorak Aerkan, King of the Ninth Dwarven Throne, was returned to the dwarves beneath the Aeria Mountains with all the honor and respect that the elves could afford a hero of the Republic and the dwarf who died trying to save Drakis. In his name, the elves withdrew from the dwarven halls they had conquered, abandoning them to the dwarves once more. With Jugar’s body, the Rhonas Republic also returned to them the Heart of Aer as a token of their goodwill.

The dwarves accepted both with thanks and wisely remained beneath the ground, unseen by man or sun.

The exhausted, ragged remains of the Army of Imperial Vengeance in time returned to an Empire that no longer existed. Nevertheless, the Republic welcomed them and even sanctioned a parade of victory in their honor. They were then quietly absorbed into the new Republic—and could no longer remember why they had gone to war in the first place.

Ten years later, Urulani returned to Rhonas Chas. She came with her husband, a builder and conjurer from Drakosia, and their two children on the back of Marush, Drakis’ dragon who had never left her.

There was a week of celebrations in her honor. Though the midnight color of her face was now showing a few wrinkles at the corners of her eyes, she was heralded as the most beautiful sight in the entire Republic. She kept her family apart from the official celebrations and allowed only two visitors into their private chambers in the Cloud Palace of the Grahn Aur; Iblisi Keeper Soen Tjen-rei, the architect of the Republic’s Enlightenment, and Ethis, the Ambassador of Ephindria.

Marush proved to be a celebrity equal to Urulani. He lolled about the Garden of Kuchen beneath the Cloud Palace to the delight of the citizens who came out in droves to see the dragon of Drakis curled up near the tomb of his master.

It was to that tomb, at the end of their sojourn in the City of the Republic, that Urulani came to pay her respects with her family.

“It is rather impressive,” Urulani said as they walked slowly up the wide steps to the tomb. “What do you think of the likeness?”

“I think they have made him rather too tall,” her husband chuckled. The bronze-and-steel statue of Drakis atop the granite tomb was over thirty feet in height, his sword somewhat incongruous above the peaceful garden around them.

“He was a great hero,” Urulani said, wrapping her arm around that of her husband. “The greatest I have ever known.”

“Yes, I believe he was,” he responded. He reached down, gently taking the flowers from his son and daughter. He stepped toward the tomb, knelt down, and laid the flowers beneath the name.

DRAKIS
MAN OF PROPHECY

“Thank you,” he whispered. “I did the best I could in your name. You took everything from me and gave me everything in return. Whoever or whatever you are, Drakis, I had to be you for a while. Someone had to be Drakis—I hope you understand that I did the best I could.”

He stood up and stepped back from the tomb.

“Drakis!”

He turned toward the screeching sound.

“Drakis!”

It was a shriveled, cadaverous elf. Her frame was so emaciated that it was barely possible to tell that she was a female. She wore tattered rags for clothing; her hands were like callused claws reaching out for him.

“You’ve come back for me!” Her voice was like a rusted hinge. “You remember me! You
must
remember me! You loved me!”

He stared at her without comprehension. Urulani pulled her husband back to her. A pair of Cloud Guardians at the corners of the tomb noticed the frantic elf woman and quickly approached.

“It’s me!” the woman wailed as the Guardians gripped her arms, pulling her away. “Shebin! Your Shebin!”

“My apologies, Flight Mistress,” one of the Guardians said as he struggled with the elf. “There’s always some insane elf woman coming around the tomb, going on about Drakis.”

“No! Let me go!” the elf woman howled. “Drakis has come back! He’s come back for me!”

“Does this happen often, Guardian?” Urulani asked, gathering her children about her.

“Every day, Flight Mistress,” the second Guardian answered as he tried to pull the clawing elf woman away from them. “That’s why we we’re stationed here, to take care of these deranged elves as kindly as possibly.”

“Are there many of them?” her husband asked.

“Don’t know,” the Guardian shrugged. “We never seem to remember them once they’re gone.”

“My thanks, Guardian,” Urulani nodded then looked down at her children. “Do you think it’s time we fly home?”

Both children cheered.

Urulani turned her children around and started walking down the broad steps from the tomb. Marush was already attentive, stretching his wings over the garden before them and inviting them back to the sky.

Urulani turned to her husband and spoke in quiet concern. “She said her name was Shebin.”

“Common enough name,” her husband replied.

“Didn’t we know a Shebin once?”

“Yes, many years ago, as I recall.”

“You don’t think it’s actually her, do you?

The man once known as Drakis shrugged then smiled at his wife. “No. I just don’t remember her, Lili.”

The family climbed up onto the dragon’s harness. Marush gave a great push with his wide wings and together they vaulted into the sky, sailing between the avatria on either side of the broad avenue once called Rhonas but since renamed as the Vira Drakis.

Forgotten entirely was the elf woman far behind them who was being dragged by the Guardians from the garden as they had unwittingly done every day for a decade. In a city still struggling with its dark past, it was a kindness to this elven female that they should care for her. In her madness, she had not yet embraced the healing and compassion brought by the Iblisi enlightenment. So they would be understanding of her and gentle, even as she kicked at them and whispered in endless repetition…

“Drakis is returned! Drakis is returned!”