Realm Of Blood And Fire (Book 3) (15 page)

When this is over—if I survive.
Sinjenasta shot a warning glance at Bronwyn, to which she gave a slight nod.

Bronwyn eyed Arcon’s near-empty plate. “Any chance of me grabbing some food? I haven’t been this hungry in a long time.”

“My appetite’s seemed to have returned, too.” Blayke patted his stomach.

“I have some things to
do. On my way through, I’ll tell the kitchen to send some more food up. I’m glad to see things are finally back to normal—at least where everyone’s stomachs are concerned. And later, I want you to join me for some channeling practice—you need to build up the amount of power you can hold.” Arcon turned to Phantom. “Come on.” He placed his forearm in front of the owl who had been sleeping on the stone mantle. After he stepped aboard, Arcon departed, leaving the younger realmists to catch up.

***

Jazmonilly was discussing the night’s dinner menu with the head cook, when Arcon entered the bustling kitchen. “Good news, Queen Jazmonilly. Bronwyn and Sinjenasta are back. Drakon saved their lives.”

“That’s wonderful news. Her room is ready, and we’ve put some bedding on the floor for Sinjenasta.”

“Thank you. I’ll let her know. Can we have some more breakfast sent up to the dining room?”

“Of course.
Mendalon will get to it straight away.” Jaz smiled at the head cook.

“Certainly, Your Highness.” The smaller yellow-scaled dragon grabbed a bowl before going to the larder for the pancake ingredients.

“Arcon, would you mind taking a quick walk with me?”

“Certainly, Jaz.” Arcon followed her out of the kitchen and into the valley. The sweet fragrance of
jasmine and dragon lilies reminded him that spring was turning into summer.

When they were out of earshot of the dragons’ mountain castle, Jaz stopped. “I need your opinion on something, and it is strictly confidential—you can’t even tell my husband.”

“Sounds serious.”

“Do I have your word?”

“As much as keeping secrets from the dragon king is against my better judgment, you have my word that I will not repeat what you are about to say, to anyone.”

“Thank you. How well do you know the realmists that Agmunsten sent from the academy?”

“I’ve only seen one of them around: Zella.”

“She’s the one with a
ferret for a creatura.”

“Yes.
Feisty little animal.” Arcon laughed.

“W
ould you trust Zella?”

“Yes
, I would. I don’t know her well, but last time I visited the academy, Agmunsten seemed happy with her.”

“And she has no reason to hate Agmunsten or any of the other realmists?”

“No. Has she done something that worries you?”

“Not her.” Jaz looked around before leaning down to whisper to Arcon.
“But there is someone who has. I’ve been having trouble with the spires, and there are other things that I can’t talk about yet. Do you know the one with the dark beard? His name is Crotus, and he wears black gems in his ears—earrings, you call them.”

“Can’t say I know the fellow. Why don’t you introduce us at dinner tonight and I’ll see what I can find out
?”

“Do you mind?”

“Not at all. Why don’t we meet out here tomorrow morning, before breakfast.”

“Thank you, Arcon. Now I must go—I promised
my son Pandellen that I would have lunch with him.”

Arcon bowed. Not ready to go inside, he thought a walk through the valley would be a good way to enjoy the fine
weather and get a better look at where the best vantage points would be in battle. It was always good to have a prime position when throwing fireballs at gormons.

As he strolled toward the river, he didn’t notice the dark-hooded figure that watched
him from a fourth-story window. The figure stuck his arm out of the opening and a crow swooped up. With the bird safely settled on his forearm, Crotus brought him inside and altered his plans.

Chapter 15

The heat of the day had cooled somewhat
in the hours since sunset. For the second time that day, Zim landed on a rooftop in Tranquility. The dark shrouded the dragon and his companions, Astra and Agmunsten. Not wanting to take any more chances, the realmists held Second-Realm power as they dismounted. The pebbles on High Chancellor Calinsar’s roof crunched together as they searched for the door. “Not this again,” Agmunsten mumbled.

“I can fly you down.”

“After this morning, I think a subtle entrance might work better.” The realmist stared at Astra and Zim, challenging them to disagree.

Astra pulled a dagger
from her boot and held it in front of her before stepping as quietly as she could to the eastern side of the roof, where a large square shadow indicated a structure above the roofline. On reaching it, she saw it was, indeed, a door set in a squat stone structure. The realmist looked back to check where her colleagues were. Seeing them close by, she put her ear to the door and listened. No light spilled from underneath, and nothing could be heard.

The realmist placed her hand on the knob and turned slowly, hoping no squeaks would give them away. Astra let out a quiet breath—the door opened silently. She quickly slipped inside. Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness on the flight over, and she could make out potted plants lining the walls and hanging from the ceiling
; a balustrade in the middle of the room surrounded a darker hole—the staircase.

As she descended, the treads
gradually became visible—white marble with a red hand-woven runner set in the center. At the bottom of the stairs, she walked along a wide torch-lit hallway, a portrait displayed on the left and right every four feet. She looked back and saw Agmunsten reach the landing and Zim hunched over, squeezing to fit.

Astra kept her voice low. “Which way?”

Agmunsten shrugged. “You’re the Zamahlan. You tell me.”

“I pick east.”

“Any reason?”

Astra
grinned. “It’s as good a direction as any.” Seeing that Zim had finally reached the bottom of the stairs, Astra jogged quietly down the hall. Snatches of memory came to her as she passed bronze busts of previous chancellors. As a child, her parents had brought her here on a tour—Zamahlans all came to see the chancellor’s residence at one time or another. She supposed, thinking back, it was a way to impress the average person—make sure they remained in awe of those in power.

Her mother had worn her very best red dress and had clothed her daughter in a matching outfit. Astra smiled—they had gotten a lot of attention that day, on account of how sweet everyone thought they looked—mother and daughter. Her heart suddenly ached. Was her mother still alive?

Conversation drifted to them from up ahead, reminding the Astra why they were there. She stopped and motioned at the others to do the same. Twenty feet ahead, another staircase leading to the ground floor intersected with the corridor, and two servants, one carrying a tray covered with food, the other an armful of papers, had just reached the top. Thankfully, they turned to their right, away from the realmists.

Good choice, Astra. Who else lives here?

Thanks, Zim. The chancellor lives here with his partner and their children, if they have any. And he can move his parents in, too—so the extended family.

How are we going to find which bedroom is his, then?
Agmunsten raised his brows and put his hands palms-up in the air. He hated trying to emphasize his point when speaking mind-to-mind—it felt strange. If someone not privy to the conversation was to see him gesticulating for apparently no reason, they might lock him up for weird behavior.

Luckily for us, I remember that part of the tour.

What tour?
Agmunsten looked behind them to make sure they weren’t about to receive a nasty surprise. The hallway was empty.

When I was a child. Anyway, the
chancellor’s bedroom door has a big “C” in gold lettering and the five-pointed star of office underneath. The door is onyx, so it really stands out.

Nice and easy.
Zim nodded.

I’d prefer not to kill
any of my countrymen this time, if we can avoid it.

We’ll do our best, but I can’t give you any guarantees. Sorry.
Agmunsten placed a hand on her shoulder.
Are you ready?
He took the silence as assent.
Let’s go.

The shadows along the
corridor were not large enough to hide a grown man, let alone a dragon whose head almost touched the soaring ceiling, so they hurried. Agmunsten stayed ahead of Astra, and Zim was behind.

Before they reached the end of the passageway, the servants they had seen
earlier reappeared, walking toward them. The one who had been holding the papers saw them. She opened her mouth to scream.

Astra shot
Second-Realm power at them. “Sleep,” she said. They dropped to the floor.

“Effective.” Agmunsten nodded.

“I used to practice on the students who were in the mood to disrupt my class. They only ever disobeyed me once.” Astra laughed.

“Looks like they came from that way.” Zim pointed to the right, where the hall came to a
“T.”

Agmunsten and Astra dragged one body each and
laid them next to the wall, somewhat out of sight. The head realmist straightened his shirt before leading them down the next corridor. This one had paintings of creatures, rather than people. There was a painting of a welpid, horses and even a lizard. But Astra stopped and stared when she came across the likeness of a gormon, its red-eyed gaze shooting adrenaline through her body. It wore a crown of what looked like human bones on its head. “Agmunsten,” she hissed. “Look at this.”

He studied the picture, noting the word “Kwaad” in red letters under the terrifying image. Frowning, he moved along the hall, viewing each painting in turn, until he came to a black
-and-white drawing of a dragon. Its face was turned to the viewer, mouth open wide in an aggressive pose. Nestled in its humungous hand was a round object. Agmunsten leaned closer and held up a Second-Realm-created ball of light. In black lettering at the bottom was the word “Devorum.” “Tell me what you make of this.”

Agmunsten stepped aside to allow Zim
, and then Astra, to have a look. “I’ve heard of Devorum—he’s part of our dragon myths. Supposedly he was one of Drakon’s original priests, until there was some kind of falling-out. Devorum disagreed with something Drakon did and was banished from the god’s realm. It’s said that he was confined to the Sacred Realm for eternity.”

Astra squinted. “Do you think that’s Talia in his hand?”

“Hard to tell.” Agmunsten squeezed between Zim and Astra for another look. “But that’s what I was thinking. It certainly looks like some kind of planet from the First Realm.”

Zim raised his head from the picture and looked around. “
We should keep going. It’s only a matter of time before someone sees us and raises an alarm.”

The gold lettering they were looking for finally appeared—at the end of the dim hall. No guards stood at either side of the tall double
doors. Was it a trap? Or maybe he wasn’t in residence at the moment. Astra chastised herself—she should have asked one of the servants before she rendered them unconscious.
I’ll form a shield over us, and you and Zim can provide the firepower if necessary.

Okay, Astra
.
Just a moment, and I’ll check the lock.
Agmunsten sent his awareness into the mechanism.
This looks promising. It’s locked. He might be home after all.
After assessing how the key should be shaped, he fashioned one out of Second-Realm energy. The “key” was poised, ready to turn.
Let me know when the shield is up, Astra, and I’ll open the door.

On three
. She shut her eyes, mumbled “one, two, three” and opened her eyes.

Agmunsten turned the key, and the latch clicked. He grabbed both handles and flung the doors open simultaneously. “What in the Third Realm?” He put his hands up, palms ready to cast fireballs. The room was pleasant enough—acorn-brown leather seats, a low table dark timber paneling
and a generous bed. It could have been a room in any well-to-do Talian residence. The unexpected item stood in the middle of the room.

“Welcome, realmists,” the gormon rasped. “We’ve been expecting you.”

CHAPTER 16

Birds chirped
in the late afternoon sun on the ledge outside the Veresian king’s bedroom window. Edmund’s manservant helped him don leather armor, and then a vest with his blue family emblem displayed on the chest. The king reached for his gloves.

“But, Your Highness, don’t you want your cape?” The shorter man, his
shoulder-length salt-and-pepper-colored hair tied in a tail at the nape of his neck, proffered said cape to the king.

“They only get in the way. I’m not going to prance around with that thing flowing behind me—it could get caught on something, or grabbed. Capes never made any sense to me.” Edmund pulled his gloves on and secured his sword belt around his waist.

Elphus, who insisted that he didn’t need armor—he had Second-Realm power to shield him—handed Edmund a dagger. “Remember: gormons can be killed, although it’s not easy to do with a conventional weapon. This dagger has an aura around it that no one can see. On contact with warm blood, it activates.”

“And does what, exactly?” The king held the weapon carefully and studied it.

“It only works once. It sends a chemical through the blood that destroys the blood’s ability to coagulate.”

“So the gormon bleeds to death from the inside?”

“Yes. It takes about a minute for the gormon to feel the effects, maybe five minutes to die. It’s not pretty. It works on people too, so be careful.”

“I’m not sure I want to carry it.”

“There’s a good chance you’re going to be in close quarters with a gormon soon, and it would make me feel better if you had this with you.”

The king sighed and slid it into his weapons belt. “Happy?”

“Very.”

Edmund turned to his servant. “Make sure all the shutters are secured—the openings are too small for a gormon, but we don’t want to take any chances. They might decide to carry Inkrans on their backs. I have others securing the other rooms.” He looked at
the realmist, whose calm demeanor surprised him. “You ready?”

“Yes, my king. After you.” Elphus swept his arm toward the door then followed Edmund outside, four guards on their heels.

They descended the sweeping staircase, and Edmund stopped halfway to briefly look at the portraits of his father and grandfather.
I’ll do what I can to save our home. Please forgive me if I fail.
He bowed his head then continued on his way. The reception area was eerily quiet, the seats empty—no farmers with land disputes awaited his judgment, no merchant with a claim for unpaid goods to beg his intervention.

Even the courtyard was quiet compared to the past few weeks. The king looked up and scanned the top of the wall surrounding the city. Some of his men were visible
—some were shielded by the parapet. From the part of the wall closest to the castle, one man waved. Edmund recognized Pernus, mostly because of the large dragon standing next to him. He waved back. “Can you send a message to Arcese and ask how they’re going?”

“Yes, certainly.”
Good afternoon, Arcese.
King Edmund would like an update.

We can’t see anything. They’ll probably wait until dark to attack—they can see well in the dark, and being out in the full sun is painful for them. They wouldn’t be traveling in daylight hours. Maybe they won’t make it tonight. Have you checked their position recently?

I checked this morning, and they weren’t that far away, although it’s hard to be exact. I’d say four or five hours flying time.

Thanks. Let Edmund know the archers are ready, the army is hidden throughout the city and the dragons my father is sending will be here within the hour.

Will do.
“Everything seems to be in order, and the dragons will be here within the hour.”

“Good.”

A boy, not much older than Arie, ran from the main castle doors to the king. He bowed, and his blond fringe fell in his face as he looked up at Edmund. When he stood straight, the top of his head barely reached the king’s shoulder.

“What is it, lad?”

“Captain Chapman said he needs Sir Elphus again. We’ve got another batch of arrows.”

“Is that okay, Elphus?”

“Of course, but this will be the last. All the power I’ve been using the last few days has tired me out, and I need my strength for tonight.”

The king noticed the dark circles under the realmist’s eyes. “Go and do that, and then have a rest. I’ll send someone up to fetch you in two hours. We have time before they get here, don’t we?”

“Around four or five hours.”

“Go. I’ll see you later.”

The king watched Elphus walk back to the castle and noticed that as large as he was, even he had lost weight. The stress of the coming battle was affecting everyone. Edmund took a deep breath. Facing his brother, after everything that had happened, would be heartbreaking. How had it come to this? He wondered if there was anything he could have done differently when they were growing up that would have averted this disaster.
It’s too late now. Better focus on what I have to do.

“King Edmund.”

He turned to see a soldier, the brown vest over his armor marking him as one of Alaine’s soldiers.

“I’m Captain Lingus, Your Highness.” The tall, broad-shouldered man bowed, and when he straightened, Edmund saw a faded scar that drew a line from his temple to his chin.

“What can I do for you, Lingus?”

“I wanted to walk through the placement of our troops, so you know where everyone is. Pernus has had a look, but he asked me to show you.”

“Of course. It was on my list of things to do. Let’s go, Captain.” Edmund followed Lingus out of the gates and down through the city.
What will be left after the gormons have been through?
He wanted to slap himself for the morbid thoughts, but it was hard not to mope just a little. His wife and child were gone, his brother wanted him dead, and now his city and people would be next—unless they could stop them.

The next hour was, thankfully, taken up by inspections with Lingus. And when they had finished,
Fernis’s captain wanted his advice on the placement of his troops. By the time Edmund had reached the courtyard again, torches had been lit and all the shutters on the windows were locked. It was like Bayerlon castle didn’t want to see what was about to happen—the gods new Edmund didn’t either.

“Excuse me, King Edmund.” It was Calen,
Pernus’s errand boy. His huge blue eyes were open as wide as they would go. “I’ve been sent to tell you that the dragons are here.” He pointed to where Arcese and Pernus stood atop the wall, and then raced into the castle, back to his captain.

The king followed the boy’s path through the reception area and into the great room. Whenever he entered this
grand room with its vaulted ceiling, he felt at peace. He could still imagine his father reading to him and Leon while sitting on the rug in front of the massive hearth, the firelight throwing shadows on the shields and banners hanging from the walls.

Before walking through the room, he turned right. Reaching the wall, he stood in front of an enormous tapestry depicting his
great-great-grandfather kneeling in front of a priest of Decrus—god of order—on his coronation day. He pushed aside the tapestry to reveal an open door that led to the stairway accessing the top of Bayerlon’s walls.

Ascending the stairs, the din of excited conversation floated to him.

As soon as Edmund emerged at the top, he received a greeting.

“King Edmund, I am Aramonius and am here to serve.” A blood-red dragon bowed as much as his body and the narrow confines would allow. When he straightened, he even towered over Arcese. He was the largest dragon Edmund had ever seen.

“As are we.” Three other dragons, more rust colored than blood red, also bowed. Then Edmund noticed that Arcese was covered in patches of red.

“Thank you. Veresia is most grateful. Why are you all red? I didn’t think there were that many red dragons.”

“It is the color we wear in battle.”

“Ah. Pernus, have we had any news on
Perculus’s whereabouts?

“No, my king. No doubt he will pop up when we least expect, or want.”

“No doubt. Arcese, would you mind calling Elphus? I’m afraid there’s no more time for him to rest.” Edmund looked over the wall and into the countryside beyond. Thick clouds enclosed the moon, muffling its light, hiding the hills and fields. His skin prickled. They wouldn’t see the gormons until they were almost on top of them.

“What are your tactics with the dragons?” Edmund, feeling more exposed, turned to Pernus.

“We’re going to have them hang back at first. Once we’re engaged, and the gormons have other things on their minds, the dragons can intervene where they’re needed most.” Pernus lowered his voice. “They’re your only quick way out of here, and I don’t want to risk them if I don’t have to. If they die, you’ll likely be next. It’s the only viable exit strategy we have.”

Edmund gripped his sword hilt, his veins bunching up under his gloves. “Pernus, if things deteriorate quickly, I want you on one of those dragons. We’ll need your expertise at Vellonia.”

“I can’t abandon my army.”

“I can’t abandon my people, yet I might have to. I won’t throw your life away. If we get to the point where we can do nothing more here, you know that’s the
tactical
thing to do.”

Pernus gritted his teeth.

“King Edmund!” Arcese called across the group of dragons. “It’s Elphus. He didn’t make it back to his room. He’s just woken up on the floor, near the dungeons.”

“Is he all right—what happened?”

“He says he was attacked.” She listened as Elphus finished explaining what happened. “Almighty mother of Drakon! It was Perculus. Elphus says your advisor is turning into one of them.”

“One of them?” Pernus asked.

Edmund’s face paled, which went largely unnoticed in the dim torchlight. “One of them. He’s a gormon?”

Arcese nodded.

“Arcese, come with me. Pernus, let us know when the gormons arrive.” The king motioned for two soldiers to join them and hurried down the stairs, drawing his sword at the bottom. As he raced through halls and rooms, servants and soldiers stared in surprise—none of them had experienced battle. Seeing their king, sword drawn, reminded them that the time of peace was finally over. Death would visit soon, and none knew who would receive his invitation to the afterworld. After Edmund passed, soldier looked at soldier, servant at servant, and each wondered who would be His next guest.

The musty air filled the king’s nostrils with the smell of earth as he marched through the underbelly of Bayerlon’s castle. The two soldiers ranged out in front of him, swords drawn, while Arcese
walked behind, ready to draw power. They took a right-hand turn then a left into darkness—the torches had been extinguished. The dragon grabbed the nearest torch and passed it to Edmund.

The voice that came from just out of sight was not quite a whisper but was strained nonetheless. “I’m over here.”

They slowed, wary of walking into a trap. Eventually, Edmund’s torchlight found Elphus. He sat on the floor, leaning against a closed cell door. The soldiers checked the surrounding area and, convinced it was safe, motioned Edmund to approach. The king kneeled next to the realmist. “That’s a nasty gash on your head.” He pulled out a kerchief and wiped at a dried ribbon of blood that had crusted from his temple to jaw. “Sorry, it’s not going to come off.”

Elphus’
s laugh was weak. “If you spit on the kerchief and wipe my face like my mother used to do, I’ll zap you with lightning.”

Edmund laughed. “Don’t worry
—you won’t suffer my saliva today. So, what happened?”

“We were in one of the rooms down that way.” Elphus pointed into the dark. “It was safer to do what I had to do away from the crowd. I’m making the
arrow coatings flammable on contact with the gormon’s hides, for those who don’t have time to light them, but accidents happen, and I didn’t want anyone injured if one was accidentally set off.” He groaned and gently touched his fingertips to his injury. “Anyway, I was in there with one of the young men from the blacksmith’s—Fawl, his name was—and that young lad who fetched me earlier. He waited outside, on account of me saying it was too dangerous inside, so he was the first to die.” As old as he was, and as much as he’d seen, he still covered his face with one chubby hand to hide his sorrow.

“Go on.” Edmund rested a hand on his shoulder.

“I heard screaming from outside, and then silence.” He shuddered. “Then the door burst in, and it wasn’t clear at first if it was Perculus standing there or a creature from the Third Realm. It was hideous—worse than watching him eat.” The realmist tried to laugh, but only managed to make his lips tremble. “I concluded it was more monster than man. It still has Perculus’s face . . . but his body . . . and the tail….”

“What happened next?”

“He . . .
it
laughed and said ‘Give this message to your king’.” Elphus let his hand fall from his face, and he looked into Edmund’s eyes. “That’s when he grabbed Fawl and bit his neck. There was blood everywhere. He left Fawl on the ground and came for me. I tried to link to the Second Realm, but I was being blocked. He said, ‘Kwaad is coming, and Leon will take his revenge. Within hours, this city will be overrun with the rightful owners, and your king will be dead.’ And that’s when he knocked me out, I suppose, because I don’t remember any more.”