A/N : I must be going mad; why start up yet ANOTHER multi-chapter story? Ah well this one shouldn't be as long as the others (she says ...) Anyhooo read and enjoy and yeah I hope I have you hooked ... *insert evil laugh here* Oh and I'll say this now before I forget; don't expect updates as regular as TBF okay? Have fun :)
The forest was burning.
All around him, he could see the black flames of the Oath-Breaker's stolen dragon consuming the pines and filling the air with smoke. Screams and cries of anguish echoed around him along with the metal clang of steel as swords and spears clashed. It was mayhem. Pandemonium. Chaos. A flickering branch cracked from its trunk and went crashing to the earth, crushing two elves as they fought to free a third from a flame consumed-home. Their screams were cut short by a second branch following suit.
In a bemused stupor he walked through the streets watching as his city and his home was burned to the ground and reduced to nothing more than ash. This was the end. The end of everything. And what could he do? Fight? Why – what was the point? They were all going to die. The Oath-Breaker had won.
The fire gripped the trees, spreading out like a disease as it sought more fuel to consume and spread and burn. It was all burning. It was a hanging offense, to start a fire and let it get out of hand, in Ellesméra … though he'd not had to carry out any such punishment for nigh on three centuries now; no one was stupid enough to risk their beloved forest. And yet. Here it was. Burning.
It was funny. All those thousands of mighty dragons who'd visited the leafy home of the elves … and not one Rider nor dragon had ever lifted a hand against them, nor had they violated the rules and laws of the Forest. Until now. But of course … everything had changed when he had come. That False Rider … that liar … cheat … Oath-Breaker! How dared he burn down Ellesméra! Did he think he could get away with it?
But his heart sank. Of course he could get away with it.
Humans – former soldiers of the Royal Army of Langfield now pressed into service of what was being called the 'Empire' – burst from the brush and trees in red tunics and long pikes and spears and wielding swords and axes and bows. They tore his people from their beds – those that were miraculously still sleeping amidst the burning – and slaughtered them were they knelt. Others were herded like cattle to the main square. He could see his own warriors valiantly attempting to quench the fires with water and spells but it was all for naught. There were too many dragons. Those not attending to the flames were trying to repel the invaders, but the elves had been caught off guard. They were too weak.
The world spun. Tilting alarmingly until he was no longer striding through a burning Ellesméra. No, instead he was standing up on the tower over-looking the glorious home of the Riders laid out before him with his friend, Vrael, standing beside him smiling in the setting sun. Then the world went dark and the Black Demon came, blotting out the sun.
And that glorious city began to burn. Dragons and Riders all flew out in desperation to fight the fourteen of their own who'd betrayed them. But few came back. He saw them all. He heard the anguish at bonds being torn apart after years … bonds he could not begin to understand or comprehend except for in the vaguest, simplest of ways.
Before the vast gate a sapphire dragon fell. She crumpled to the floor as a red dragon, almost as if he were made of blood, roared in victory. Someone cried out in agony and crumpled to the floor in utter despair. Another someone was laughing. How could they be laughing? It was slaughter! This was not something to be laughed about!
Doru Areaba was burning. Burning!
The stone walls around him rose up in flame. The Black Demon swooped in from above and his Rider laughed. Laughed and pointed a sword at him, speaking words of power he had no right to and the walls rose higher in flame as he began to fall. Tumbling through the air into a vast pit of black flames. He cried out in despair as the laughing filled his head, echoing through his mind into the vaults of himself.
The flames merged together to form burning trees and he was kneeling, hidden among his people in the square before Tialdarí Hall as they watched the Black Demon land. The Oath-Breaker got down off the dragon's back as others landed too. Until they were surrounded by fourteen of the most vicious beasts there ever could be. Their Riders all grotesque, terrifying and cruel reflections of the men and women they had once been. Honourable. Every last one of them. At one point, he told himself, they had all been good.
The Knotted Throne had been dragged from the Hall and the False Rider sat down upon it as if it were his. It was not! Kneeling among his people, he struggled not to draw attention to himself and cry out that the Oath-Breaker had no right to sit on that Throne.
His heart hammered in his chest as the Rider of the Blood Dragon strode into view dragging the queen by her hair. The princess, barely more than four winters old, was squirming and crying out in the arms of a woman who looked like a nightmare. Like a mother gone wrong. The princess was crying out for her father and crying out for her mother.
The elves around him bristled and started yelling slaughter. The Forsworn and their beasts fought back the crowd and not a few were incinerated where they stood. In fact, no sooner as that had happened, did the entire front three rows get consumed in dragon fire. The crowd of elves forced to their knees were silenced.
All at once, Ellesméra ceased burning. Like light been snuffed from a candle. The Oath-Breaker got to his feet and smiled coldly right at him even as he reached for his sword. The Blood Dragon's Rider yanked back the Queen's head and exposed her throat even as the princess was cast down at her feet. She tried crawling to her mother, but the Black Demon growled and she cried and screamed in terror.
The Forsworn laughed.
He was being held down by two more of the Traitorous Riders and the Oath-Breaker was grinning at him as he was dragged to where his daughter and his Queen were being held. Fear gripped at his gut and the flames suddenly flared up around the forest again, bathing them all in their light. The False Rider looked around at them in mild interest before darting forwards and swiftly removing the Queen's head from her shoulders in a single motion.
The princess screamed again while the forsworn laughed and he cried out even as her body was cast aside for the beasts to feast upon. The Rider who'd been holding the Queen picked up her head and tossed it neglectfully in the direction of the Blood Dragon. He snapped it out of the air in a single bite and she was gone. His Queen was gone and Ellesméra was burning.
As king he was made to watch. The Oath-Breaker had each and every elf murdered before his eyes and the eyes of his child. She was cowering in terror and he couldn't escape from the inevitable. He swore he heard swords clashing and dragons roaring. But Oromis had come too late. The instant he and his golden dragon had appeared over the horizon, the Black King had ensured his child met the same fate as her mother.
In numb despair he watched the Forsworn tear down that golden dragon and his Rider before he was grabbed in a dragon's claws and lifted high up into the sky. The Black Demon reached the moon and the Oath-Breaker spoke then, reaching and grabbing him by the shirt and holding him over the land.
"What does it take to kill a king I wonder?"
Then he let go.
Evander went spiralling, tumbling, crashing through the air towards the ground. From the height he could see that it wasn't just Ellesméra burning. The whole world had been consumed by the Black Demon's flames and he was hurtling towards that pit of endless despair and torment. The flames taunted him, haunted him, with the faces of those he'd just seen murdered. He could hear their cries and their pleas. The world had ended. It was over. It was over. He cried out, a yell escaping his lips as he dived towards the solid wall of flames beneath him.
He closed his eyes, ready for the impact. Above him the Oath-Breaker laughed.
Evander sat bolt upright. Sweat covering his limbs and his heart hammering in his chest. He heaved great gasping breaths and struggled to calm himself and tear himself out of the nightmare and into reality. Still trapped within the torments of his mind, half convinced it had all been true and so utterly real he cried out in anguish and went immediately to reach for his blade. Steady gentle hands touched his back and then his shoulders and then his chest as she pulled him into her.
Her touch soothed him and he let her pull him back into the bed as his body still trembled and shuddered with the night torment of dreams. The world is sound. They are safe. But he had to know that. He couldn't just …
Without warning he swung his legs over the side of the bed and tossed back the blankets. Ignoring her cry of, "Evander!" the king of the elves, King of Du Weldenvarden, King of the Knotted Throne, reached for his sword and drew it before getting up and marching to the door. "Not again …" he head Islanzadí sigh as she too rose from the sheets to follow him.
Stalking down the corridor he ignored the guards and reached his destination. He firmly placed his hand upon the handle and lifted the latch, before pushing the door open. Instantly he was blasted backwards as the wards attacked him; denying him entry. Evander crumpled into the wall opposite as Islanzadí dismantled the protection they had around that room and he was able to stand.
"Must you do this to yourself every night?" She asked in a gentle voice, reaching for his sword and taking it firmly from his grasp. Evander watched as Islanzadí handed it to the head of the guard. "At least I had the foresight to invent a way to keep the disturbance from waking her. She needs rest; and having her father come haring into her room each night with sword drawn is enough to terrorise her!"
Now she was scolding him. In front of his guards no less. Couldn't she have waited until they were in private at least? Surely she knew by now that the nightmares were a regular occurrence … that they weren't going away no matter how many spells and so forth Oromis invented and had cast. Evander suddenly deflated and sunk to the floor in a dejected heap.
"Forgive me," he murmured to his knees.
Islanzadí crouched beside him and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Always." She kissed his cheek and held him there for a while. The guards had with drawn to the end of the corridor to give them privacy, though they were still shooting their king inconspicuous looks just in case he demanded back his blade.
"What has become of me?" Evander asked, turning to the love of his life.
She didn't know.
"Come." Islanzadí got to her feet and pulled him up with her. "Your mind will not be at ease until you have seen she is well and safe and whole. Come." He let her guide him into the room he'd attempted to march into sword drawn.
There, upon the small bed beneath the window that had been covered with a light drape to soften the glare of the moon, lay his daughter. Snug asleep – as all elven children were wont to do at such a tender age – and blissfully unaware of her father's tormented dreams and fears. A warm glowing smile lightened Islanzadí's face as she beheld their child, as it always did, and he found himself smiling too. Yes. Yes his family was safe.
There was nothing to be worried about.
She sat upon the edge of Arya's bed and stroked her soft black hair – as dark and as lustrous as her mother's – before placing a kiss upon the child's brow. On impulse, Evander gathered his snoozing daughter in his arms and lifted her from the bed. He turned and carried her out of her small chamber, back up the corridor and into his own chambers he shared with Islanzadí. When he reached the bed, he turned, but she was already there, turning back the sheets and taking Arya from him as they settled back down in the bed.
She murmured; "It's hard enough getting her to stay in her own bed as is. I thought tonight was going to be the first."
Evander stroked his daughter's fair cheek before kissing her lightly. She smelled of cut grass and crushed pineneedles and fresh air and of life. The way a little girl should smell; sweet and full of hope and joy. But he didn't respond to his queen. It was right; the little pest had him wrapped neatly round her little finger and she knew all she had to do was look at him imploringly with her emerald eyes stretched wide and her bottom lip sticking out and the best look of innocence she could muster and his heart would melt. Any heart would melt.
"I need to know you are both here with me. Both safe."
Across the child's head Islanzadí gazed at him intently. "For months have you been plagued by these occurrences. Will you not share them with me? How can I help you if you will not let me?"
He set his jaw but didn't answer. Irritation flashed across Islanzadí's face and her look became hard as she unconsciously tightened her arms round Arya and pulled her daughter in close, away from where he lay. "You told Oromis!"
Evander rolled onto his back. "I see the world end in flames." He said softly. "The Oath-Breaker and his Forsworn burn the world to ash and I see every one of my subjects murdered before me. I see you … I see Arya … I see you both die at his hand. Then I fall – I fall into the flames and I wake in this bed trembling like Arya does after dreaming she got lost in the woods."
"Evander … 'tis only a dream my love."
He turned to her, wrapped his arms round them both and held them tightly as he could. "I know that. But they will not fade … not while that Oath-Breaker and his Black Demon still roam about these lands unchecked."
Islanzadí's voice was low and she was close to slumber once again – to the restful wakefulness of twilight – as she said; "But we are safe here. He cannot break our wards."
Her rhythmic breathing told him she'd succumbed to the fatigue and he smiled as he beheld the two who held his heart in perfect balance. His queen and his daughter. Before he too succumbed into a fitful rest, he whispered, "It is only a matter of time …" Evander didn't know if she heard him and he didn't ask. It was one matter they would forever disagree upon and neither wanted an argument that could not be resolved.
Again the Oath-Breaker's voice echoed through his mind, though he'd never actually heard it in person before. "What does it take to kill a king I wonder?"
What did it take?