Now, a small confession: I believe I may have gotten Dragon Keep mixed up with that redoubt which appears in the Broken Peaks. However, given that this is AU, I'm going to run with it. I have a reason for this, as you will discover later.
Furthermore, my thanks to annbe11 for giving me a brainwave which has resulted in a couple of new OCs, who you shall meet shortly...
Chapter Twenty-Three
New Orders
The vast, walled bastion stood atop the hill backed by the fading light. The five square towers, one in the middle and in each corner, rose high into the sky. The thick walls were patrolled by battle-hardened men, watchful and vigilant.
Atop the central tower was the statue of a dragon. It was not triumphant, it was in the throes of death, an armoured figure driving a sword into its heart. On the stonework above the portcullis and the gates were several old dragon skulls, one from each type, staring out across the lands, glaring down at those who approached the mighty fastness that was Dragon Keep.
Dragon Keep had to be one of the grimmest and most forbidding structures Bram had even seen in his life, but this was holy ground for the Dragon Knights. This was where the Order had first been founded.
Since then, the area for leagues around the mighty bastion had been completely devoid of dragons. The nearby canyon was known as the Chasm of Bones, and it was filled with the skeletons of vanquished dragons. Close to that was a graveyard filled with fallen Dragon Knights.
The walls of the fortress bristled with specially designed ballistae and scorpions, all of which had seen little use over the years due to the vigilance and zeal of the Dragon Knights present.
Bram followed Kaden and Jorsen into the Chamber of the Order, trying not to look as nervous as he felt. The air within was warm, but the shadows were deepened by the braziers burning around the room.
Sitting in a semi-circle, elevated above the trio below, were the highest ranked members of the Order. Kaden would normally have been amongst them, but not today. Directly ahead of them sat Father Ritterfau and Father Carliven, the current leaders of the Dragon Knight Order.
Ritterfau sat in his gleaming armour, made from the scales of a radiant dragon. His jewelled blade was sheathed at his side. By contrast, Carliven wore plain clothing and was unarmed.
Bram swallowed, feeling tiny and insignificant here in this vast chamber, surrounded by the greatest of the Order. He also feared what they would decree, for they had been summoned to tell the gathering about Davion.
Kaden had mostly recovered from his encounter with Davion and Marci. He still suffered despite the treatment from the apothecaries, plagued by intense, pounding headaches which varied in intensity. He not only wanted Davion dead now, he considered his defeat at the hands of Marci a personal insult.
At a nod from Ritterfau, the Knights standing guard shut the doors and locked them.
'Sir Kaden, Sir Jorsen, Squire Bram,' Ritterfau leaned back in his chair, his armour shifting with him. 'We have all read your reports on the debacle at Weiß Wache. There are... issues we need you to clarify.'
'As you wish, Father.' Kaden intoned, gritting his teeth against another headache. Although he had survived, some whispered that he had likely suffered permanent damage.
'First, can you confirm for all of us here that Vylgranox has indeed appeared?'
'All three of us witnessed his arrival, Father Ritterfau.' Kaden said, a slight bite of annoyance in his voice. Amongst other things, he had been struggling to control his temper since having a mace smashed over his head. 'He slaughtered many of my fellow Knights and ruined the keep.'
'This is troubling,' Carliven murmured darkly. 'Especially since it coincides with the corruption of a fellow Dragon Knight.'
'Vylgranox called Davion an "abomination".' Jorsen recalled. 'He said that he would cleanse the "Thunder".'
'Perhaps we should simply allow Vylgranox to deal with the traitor.' Ritterfau suggested.
'No, Father Ritterfau.' Kaden grated. 'Davion is too dangerous to be left unchecked, and his continued existence shames us. He is harbouring Slyrak, a sworn enemy of the Order.'
'Sir Kaden,' Carliven spoke again, his tone low and cautioning. 'Be mindful of your emotions. We all know that you despise Slyrak, for good reason, but this is something we do not understand. Vylgranox does not appear without great need. He has not been seen for centuries. His arrival now implies that Davion is a threat to him and his kind.'
'I am prepared to agree with Sir Kaden.' Ritterfau said. 'Kill the traitor, and Vylgranox may return to whatever dark hole he calls home. We cannot allow a traitor under the control of an Eldwurm run amok, nor can we allow Vylgranox to cause havoc as he searches for him.'
'What of the two women you mentioned?' One of the older Knights asked. 'Sir Kaden, you claim that one of them is...' he leafed through the parchment scrolls at his side. 'A sorceress?'
'She claimed to be a Priestess of Selemene.' Kaden answered. 'But she stood with the traitor.' He ground his teeth together. 'The other one is more dangerous.'
'How so?'
'She possesses inhuman strength, and was in possession of an amulet worn by members of a dragon-worshipping cult.' Kaden paused. 'What is more, I believe that she might be possessed by a demon.'
'What evidence have you of this?' Ritterfau inquired, hiding his alarm well.
'When she attacked me, her eyes were swimming with light. She was able to hold me back despite the power imbued in my armour. No ordinary human could have such strength.'
'We also believe that she shattered the enchanted chains used to hold the traitor in the dungeons.' Jorsen added. 'Those chains were used to hold dragons. They should have been impossible to break.'
Carliven fixed Bram with his gaze. 'And you, Squire Bram? What have you to say about this?'
Bram shivered. 'I... I don't think that Davion willingly...' he faltered. 'I know Davion, Fathers. He was loyal to us, and dedicated to fighting the dragons. He wouldn't have allowed Slyrak to possess him willingly.'
'You helped him!' Jorsen snarled. 'You should be locked in a cell below.'
'Sir Jorsen, calm yourself.' Carliven held up a hand for silence. 'Bram acted as any good squire should. But that does change the fact that Davion has betrayed us.'
'We should hunt him down.' Ritterfau declared. 'Him and his companions.'
Carliven sighed quietly. 'I concur. We should try to capture Davion alive though, to better understand what has happened to him. Issue orders to all of our outposts and Knights. Tell them to apprehend Davion if possible, but warn them that he is dangerous.'
'Sir Kaden,' Ritterfau leaned forwards. 'You have been deemed fit for duty. We would ask you if you are willing to seek Davion out and deal with him.'
Kaden's brows contracted, a vein in his temple throbbing along with his headache. 'You will find me willing, Fathers. All I need is to know where the traitor is.'
With Sagan's few saddlebags mostly filled with water drake meat, they were able to march for three days before they ran out of food. This was the fifth day.
Since this morning had passed, nobody had been happy.
Fymryn trudged along behind Marci, her stomach empty. Marci had spent most of the morning glowering, with Fymryn convinced that her rumbling stomach could be mistaken for thunder. Now she was plainly dispirited. Davion, Mirana and Fymryn had all silently decided to give her any food they found first.
Sagan was handling the situation better than the rest of them, striding along at a steady pace. His humanoid companions had all been watching each other carefully over the last three days. They had all swallowed riverwater during the debacle with the drake, Marci more than anybody else. It would be just their luck for one or even all of them to be afflicted by some waterborne disease.
Luckily, none of them were sick. But Davion was being plagued by nightmares again, and the song was growing louder in his head. The scales had sliced through his skin every night since leaving the riverbank. Hunger also seemed to bring about nightmares for Marci too. She had barely slept last night.
Despite being kept awake too, Davion had barely spoken to her. An awkwardness had grown between them, and Fymryn had no idea why.
Davion wanted to talk to Marci, Fymryn could see that, yet he could not manage it. She had never expected it, but he seemed to be tongue-tied around Marci now. Marci likewise had become painfully shy in proximity to Davion.
Mirana saved the situation, thanks to her keen eyes and her superb archery. A meal of venison was more than enough to lift their flagging spirits. Marci even let Fymryn help her when she cooked, if only to have somebody to keep her from devouring the deer raw.
Davion only ate half of his portion, despite being hungry. The rest, he gave to Marci.
Marci beamed at him, and Fymryn noticed how she touched Davion's hand as she accepted the bowl—a caress rather than a simple brush.
Not lovers now, but maybe soon. Fymryn thought it was sweet.
'I must have done something right,' Mirana remarked, mostly to herself, chuckling softly.
Marci looked over at her, confused.
'I was just thinking about what happened on the river.' Mirana elaborated. 'You know, I'd almost forgotten how scared you used to be of water.'
Marci flushed. Fymryn snorted. 'You were scared of water?'
Marci scowled at her, still flushing.
'Deep water.' Mirana explained. 'It's nothing to be ashamed of, Marci. Everybody gets scared, and you couldn't swim at the time.' Her eyes became unfocused as she remembered. 'You were trembling like a leaf. I thought you were going to faint.'
'She didn't push you in, did she?' Davion asked Marci. 'That's what happened to me.'
'No,' Mirana shook her head and gazed at Marci, her eyes full of admiration. 'No. You were brave enough to step in of your own volition.'
Marci inclined her head towards Mirana, placing a hand against her sternum.
'Yes, I was there to help you, but you were still brave.'
'I can't imagine you being scared of anything, Marci.' Fymryn said.
'Everybody is scared of something.' Davion stated. 'What about you?'
Fymryn considered. 'Spiders. You?'
'Dragons.'
'Seriously? But you fight them!'
'Aren't you scared of them?'
'Yes, but... oh.'
'Exactly. How about you, Mirana? What frightens a Princess?'
Marci put her hands up to her cheeks and spread her fingers, then made her nose twitch.
'Cats?' Davion almost laughed. 'You're scared of cats?'
'No.' Mirana sighed and shook her head. 'Rats.'
Marci laughed and indicated herself, then made the same sign.
'No, Marci,' Mirana shook her head. 'It's not the same.'
'What does that mean?' Davion asked.
'Back in Rasolir, some people called the children who lived in the poorest districts "slum-rats".' Mirana answered. 'Some of the guards started it, and the name stuck. Before she became my handmaiden, Marci lived in the slums.'
'Wait,' Davion looked round at Marci. 'You're her handmaiden. I thought you were a nobleman's daughter or something.'
Marci shook her head. She seemed to regret revealing so much now. Maybe she thought that Davion would be put off.
'Shows what I know.' Davion said. 'I can't imagine why somebody would call you a rat, Marci. You're much too pretty for that.'
Marci beamed at him, her blush returning.
'All this nobility and royal stuff is confusing.' Fymryn waved a hand dismissively. 'No wonder you humans are always arguing.'
Mirana opened her mouth to retort, then changed her mind. 'You're not entirely wrong, Fymryn. If you were, we wouldn't be here right now.'
Davion knew what she was talking about. 'The coup.'
'They used to call it the Bloody Dance.' Mirana muttered. 'Can we not talk about that now? How far away is the nearest village?'
'Two days.'
Mirana nodded. 'Then we should get some sleep.'
'I'll take the first watch.'
'No,' Mirana disagreed. 'I will. I'm not tired.' In truth, she did not want to sleep. Speaking of the coup dredged up memories and ghosts she would rather forget. If she slept now, they would plague her dreams.
Davion and Fymryn obediently went to sleep, but Marci did not. She padded over and sat next to Mirana, touching her arm and gazing at her sadly.
Mirana reached round with her other arm and held Marci's hand. 'I know.' she whispered. 'I know.' She sniffled and blinked away a tear. 'You saved my life, Marci. I couldn't live without you.'
Marci shuffled closer and rested her head against Mirana's shoulder. Mirana put her arm around her handmaiden's shoulders. 'You always know exactly what to say, Marci.' She smiled. 'Do you remember the weeks before? How scared my parents and my tutors were? They thought I'd crush toes!'
Marci laughed.
'I think you're still the better dancer.' Mirana murmured. 'Maybe you should ask Davion for a dance when we return to the Nightsilver Woods.' It wasn't an easy thing to say, even with the love she shared with Selemene, but Mirana still wanted Marci to be happy. If she was happy with Davion, so be it. 'You taught me to dance, I'm sure you can teach him.'
Marci smiled wistfully at that. Mirana opened her mouth to speak again, only to notice that Marci's eyelids had closed. She was fast asleep in moments.
Mirana sighed, envious of how easily Marci could do that. 'Sweet dreams, Marci.'
As Marci slept, Mirana allowed herself to slip into a memory. It was a bittersweet recollection, a time in which Miranna had realised a simple truth which would forever define her.
Rasolir, six years ago...
'You do realise that painters flatter their subjects in portraits?' Mirana muttered.
Marci raised an eyebrow in response.
'I'd rather know who they are.'
Marci shrugged, then nodded.
Mirana sighed and examined her reflection. 'And I can't believe they expect me to wear this.' As dresses went, this was far from being a favourite. The sleeves were much too puffy for Mirana's liking, and it was thick and billowy beyond sense. 'How am I supposed to dance in this?'
Marci looked away, hiding a subtle smirk which Mirana noticed anyway. 'I'm trying.'
Her handmaiden turned back to the mirror, looking contrite. For some reason, the Emperor was insisting on having Mirana choose a suitor as soon as possible. Now twenty, Mirana had hoped that they would put if off for a bit longer. She did not really want to be married.
She was also afraid.
She had noticed, as had many others, how her father's health was declining day by day. Marci kept her spirits up as Mirana's mother became more withdrawn. Though she hoped for the best, Mirana knew, deep in her heart, that her father's time was running thin. If it wasn't for Marci, she would have been overwhelmed by anxiety and despair.
Mirana sighed and glanced at her handmaiden's reflection. Marci had recently turned sixteen, and Mirana was aware of how much she had changed since their first meeting. She was still on the short side, but slim rather than skinny. Her training with Hyses had resulted in an athletic build which Mirana had found herself admiring on occasion. Her hair was also a little shorter these days, held back in a tufty tail with loose hair left hanging over her forehead and temples. Mirana liked that too, it suited her.
'You know, Marci, I've never seen you wear a dress.' Mirana commented. It was true, Marci always dressed conservatively. She did this mostly out of practicality, but also to hide her scars. Though the marks on her arms were fainter now, the scars on her neck were still obvious.
Marci cocked her head, a little frown wrinkling her forehead.
Mirana bustled over to her wardrobe as fast as the annoying dress would allow her and peered inside. 'Here. This one might fit you.' It was one she had not worn for years. It would probably still be a little big on Marci, since Mirana had always been taller than her handmaiden.
Marci humoured Mirana, and their roles ended up briefly reversed, the Princess helping her handmaiden into a dress. It was one of Mirana's simpler garments, but by no means a cheap one. It was a rich red in colour, and it seemed to suit Marci. It was a little large on her, and too long, but adjustments could be made.
Mirana guided Marci in front of the mirror when she was done, impressed. 'Look at you!'
Marci stared at her reflection. She grimaced and covered the scars on her throat with her hand.
Mirana gently took her hand and lifted it away. 'No, Marci. Look.' She smiled, feeling an odd fluttering in her stomach. 'You have nothing to be ashamed of. You're beautiful.'
Marci raised her eyebrows, sceptical. She did not think very highly of her appearance, no matter what Mirana told her. She always wore long sleeved tunics with high collars to hide her scars.
'I'm serious.' Mirana said, stepping back. 'You look lovely, Marci.' She stepped around Marci, wondering. 'Maybe you should come to the dance too.'
Marci shook her head and made a series of gestures.
'I might need a little help.' Mirana told her. 'Suppose something comes loose? Anyway, it'll be nice to have somebody to talk to who will be honest.'
Marci indicated the dress.
'It really does look good on you.' Mirana insisted. 'We can have it adjusted, put on some longer sleeves if that works for you.' She grinned and gave Marci a teasing poke in the arm. 'Who knows? Maybe some handsome man will notice you.'
Marci blushed and made it clear that she doubted that. It was sad, but true. Men overlooked her all the time, and the few who did get curious quickly gave up on her simply because she was mute. Mirana had noticed Marci's interest in Barrus, her personal Sun Guard, but Barrus found Marci strange, and a little intimidating due to her expertise in unarmed combat. Only last week, Captain Hyses had told Mirana that he could no longer train Marci because she was now better than he was, though he was still happy to spar with her.
Mirana also realised that the thought of Marci meeting a man made her feel... strange.
She tried to tell herself that it was just because Marci had been such a constant in her life for so long. She was there when she woke in the morning, though unlike any other handmaiden Mirana usually had to wake Marci. She was not a morning person, unless presented with breakfast.
From the morning onwards, with a few exceptions, she would spend the entire day in Marci's company.
Marci did spend time down in the kitchens with her family. She liked to prepare meals for herself and Mirana whenever she could. Apart from that, she was always around. She had spent so much time with Mirana that the Princess could often tell what she was thinking just from her expression.
She was far from the girl she had been and close to the woman she was becoming. Mirana wondered how she'd look in a few more years. Even prettier, she expected.
Marci turned to her and raised an eyebrow, then indicated the window. It was noon now. Mirana was expected to refine her lacklustre abilities as a dancer.
'Oh, of course.' Mirana moved over to help Marci with the dress. 'Here, let me give you a hand. You can watch me stamp on Briseen's feet again.'
With Marci back in her servant's garb, they set off for the solar Briseen had chosen for Mirana's lessons. Like every royal child, Mirana had been taught how to dance. The problem was that Mirana was clumsy, and they had given up on teaching her a few years ago. They had perhaps hoped that she would not need to find a suitor for a few more years.
Why she had to dance, Mirana did not know. Why couldn't she just talk to people? She could do that. Talking to Marci was so easy.
It didn't help that Mirana had not found any of the potential husbands attractive, flattering portraits or not. They were all suitable nobles from across the Imperium, and Marci had given a few opinions, but Mirana simply wasn't interested.
Briseen had cleared the solar on the west terrace. The palace had numerous rooms like this poking out like enclosed balconies. When it had first been built, it had been a pyramid, except the top was flat rather than pointed, with a glass roof. Centuries of modifications and additions had somewhat changed its shape. Though it was still a pyramid, its sides had numerous extrusions and balconies sticking out and was squarer than it had once been.
It had taken less time for Marci to learn her way around than Mirana had expected. Mirana had rather enjoyed showing her around. She had worried that it would feel like showing off. Marci was a poor slum-dweller after all. But Marci had enjoyed it too, treating it like an adventure. It must have been like exploring a whole new city.
Briseen was waiting for them inside. He was hiding it, but Mirana could tell that he was dreading having his feet squashed again. Without furniture, the solar seemed vast and lonely. The balcony doors were open, allowing a pleasantly warm breeze to filter in.
Marci gravitated towards the balcony. She had long since stopped asking Mirana for permission to wander, simply because Mirana was happy to let her.
Mirana watched as Marci leaned on the balcony railing, gazing out across the horizon. She wondered if she sometimes missed the slums. They sometimes ventured into the rich districts and the Merchant Quarter, but never into the slums. The Sun Guard sent to protect Mirana would never allow it.
Privately, Mirana did not think that she needed the Sun Guard to escort her. She had seen Marci sparring with them, and she really was formidable.
'Princess,' Briseen bowed. He was about the same height as Mirana, with a lean build. He was not actually from Rasolir. He had been brought here from another city because he was supposed to be good at teaching nobles how to dance. He had to be annoyed that Mirana was so difficult to teach. 'A pleasure as always,' he lied smoothly. 'Shall we begin?'
Suppressing a sigh, Mirana nodded. It went about as well as it usually did.
'Now step to your left and—' he winced. 'Back a bit, and... ow! No, it's fine, Princess. You need to move your hand a little lower, now step back again. Good. Ouch!'
Mirana released him, allowing him to hop backwards, hissing in pain. Mirana flushed as she realised that Marci had been watching. To her credit, Marci was not laughing. She actually looked concerned.
Briseen stopped hopping and limped around. 'Let's... let's try something else. I should have brought an assistant.' He looked around, spotting Marci loitering by the balcony. 'You there! You're the Princess' handmaiden, aren't you?'
Marci nodded, looking suddenly nervous.
'Come here, please.' Briseen beckoned her over. 'Can you dance?'
Marci shook her head, then indicated that she had been watching. Briseen did not understand.
'She's watched us.' Mirana supplied. 'Marci's been here for every lesson.'
'Good. Maybe it will be easier to show you rather than teach you, Princess.' Briseen stopped with a stammer. 'Erm... no offence was intended, Princess. Forgive me.'
'There's nothing to forgive. I know I'm not very good at this.'
'Thank you, Princess. Now, Marci—you did say that was her name, yes? Marci, take my hand and put your other hand—yes, very good. You have been paying attention. Now, step...'
Mirana watched, knowing that she should not have been surprised. Marci's training had made her very dextrous and given her excellent spatial awareness, as well as brilliant coordination. It turned out that as well as being an expert in hand-to-hand combat, she was also a graceful dancer.
It would have actually made more sense to have Marci do the dancing for her when the time came. She was that good.
'All right then,' Briseen stepped back, clearly impressed. 'Now, you trust your handmaiden, don't you, Princess?'
'With my life.'
Briseen did not quite understand, but he took it as a good sign. 'Good. Now, let's see if she can help you. Trust helps, Princess. Perhaps you will be more comfortable practising with somebody you know.'
Mirana took Marci's hand and rested one hand on her back. Her palm and fingers were warm against her skin. Mirana was not looking forwards to standing on poor Marci's feet.
Marci was not worried though. Just as Mirana trusted her, so too did Marci trust her.
Somehow, she did not get a single step wrong. If Marci was moving her feet to avoid Mirana's, Briseen did not notice.
Something strange was rising in Mirana, something she had never acknowledged before. This felt genuinely pleasant. This felt... intimate.
She had hugged Marci many times before now, yet this felt different. In the Imperium, dancing was part of courtship. Even though this was just for instruction, Mirana was suddenly nervous. She kept losing herself in Marci's soft, pale brown eyes, flashing to amber whenever the sunlight touched them. She could barely hear Briseen's comments.
Although she felt inexplicably nervous, she also felt confident with Marci. She could always trust Marci. Marci was always there for her. Always.
For the last eight years, Marci had been somebody to talk to about anything. Mirana could even lay her worries about ruling correctly on her.
Marci was even willing to discuss politics with her, and she actually had more than a few good ideas. Mirana would have liked to have taken her into those meetings her father insisted on her attending. They were necessary, she knew that now. But she worried about trying to live up to her father. She would have felt more comfortable if Marci could have been there to advise her, she could always trust her to be honest.
Marci kept Mirana's secrets—and not just because she was mute—and Mirana kept Marci's. She had provided a shoulder to lean on, or even to cry on. Though they'd had a few minor disagreements in the past, they had never really been angry with each other. They always settled their differences amicably. She could always trust Marci to care.
Marci smiled at her, her eyes catching the sunlight again. Mirana smiled back. Whenever Marci smiled, the world was a brighter, happier place. Whenever she smiled, Mirana felt her heart leap with joy.
Marci continued to beam at her, making Mirana's heart sing. She lost herself in those beautiful, perfect eyes as she smiled.
She loved that smile.
She loved Marci.
Mirana felt her smile fade and she came to a halt. The revelation was like walking into an unseen wall.
For years, Mirana had been aware of how she seemed to find women more attractive than men. She had dismissed this, knowing that she would be expected to marry a nobleman and continue the royal line.
Every time she had found herself admiring Marci, she told herself that it was just because she was talented, impressive, always dedicated.
But who else could it have been?
Marci was always there for her. They had shared so much, from food to secrets. They had shared a life.
It had always been her.
Marci stopped, staring at her with concern.
'Princess?' Briseen frowned. 'Is something wrong?'
Mirana swallowed and tried to keep the tremor out of her voice. 'N-no. Nothing is wrong.'
Everything was wrong.
Right now, she wanted to pull Marci close. She wanted to tell her how she felt. She wanted Marci to feel the same way. She wanted to kiss her.
But she could not.
She was the Princess of the Helio Imperium and Marci was her handmaiden. Mirana's duty was to continue the royal line, or else Shabarra would take the throne. She knew that he would make a terrible Emperor, he had proven that, and unlike Mirana he had not changed at all. If anything, he was worse.
So she told herself that she was being stupid. Yes, she did love Marci, but she told herself that she should love Marci as a sister.
Mirana had no wish to be an Empress who kept a lover in the dark, that was the sort of thing Shabarra would have done—assuming there was a woman who could stand being near him. Besides, Marci did not seem to be romantically interested in her. She never had been. Mirana had seen the way she looked at certain members of the Sun Guard, all of them men.
Mirana cleared her throat. 'I'm sorry. I'm not feeling well. Let's continue this another time.'
Marci released Mirana and motioned, asking if she should find some medicine.
'No. I'll be fine.' Mirana lied. She started working hard to convince herself that she was being foolish. Marci was her friend, no more, no less. 'Lets find somewhere to sit, Marci. I just need a minute.'
She could perhaps dance without crushing too many toes now. That was a small victory. Now though, she had to lie to herself for the sake of the Imperium. She would adhere to the same creed Marci swore by.
Duty came first. Others before herself. Always.
Always.
Mirana forced herself back into the present. She still struggled to face what came next: the Bloody Dance. The night she and Marci had been forced to abandon their families and their lives.
Marci was still fast asleep, her head resting against Mirana's shoulder. She could sleep almost anywhere.
She looked so peaceful. So adorable.
Mirana watched her as slept, conflicted again. How hard could it be to tell her?
Marci was sleeping. It would be easy. Mirana thought about those simple words, then rethought them.
Her love belonged to Selemene, and so did her heart.
Even as she thought this, the words rose from her heart and she opened her mouth to speak. It would be so liberating just to say those four, simple, beautiful words.
But would it be right?
She stopped herself. Selemene loved her, and she loved the goddess in turn. She had sworn to always love her above all else.
And though she felt great affection, even love, for Marci, she was clearly smitten with Davion, and he obviously felt something for her too.
All Mirana wanted for her was happiness. That was all.
Mirana sighed, smiling at Marci as she slept. So long as she was happy, so was Mirana.
Fymryn lifted herself up and caught Mirana's eye, then indicated that she would take the next watch. Mirana nodded gratefully to her and closed her eyes. When Fymryn looked round at her again, Mirana had rested her head against Marci's, a small, contented smile spreading across her face.
Fymryn sighed, wondering just what she had gotten herself into.
They were supposed to be her enemies. The Invoker would likely treat them as such, though he had said Mene had need of them too.
Fymryn watched them, fretting long into the night.
Caewyn stepped back and admired her handiwork. 'There! Good as new.'
Eserren looked round at the sunset orange spaulder and nodded. 'Well done, Caewyn. Your aim has improved too.'
'You taught me well.' the elven squire grinned.
'You had the talent.' Eserren stated, standing and taking up her bardiche. She towered over Caewyn, as did the black-bladed polearm she favoured. She cast a respectful look at the dead sky dragon lying nearby. A crossbow bolt protruded from each eye.
Caewyn picked up her crossbow, making sure that it was not loaded before slinging the strap across her shoulders. She had nearly put a bolt through her foot once. How Eserren had lectured her!
But Caewyn did not resent the Dragon Knight. Eserren was just trying to keep her alive. She owed the woman her life, and it was an honour to be her squire.
Eserren clomped over to the dragon's corpse, her gait loping and heavy. She lifted her bardiche, the power imbued in her armour allowing to lift the massive weapon with little effort. She brought the blade down, slicing through the dragon's neck. With a grunt, she hauled the head free and began to clean the bardiche's blade.
She spared Caewyn a slight twitch of her lips, her version of a smile, slightly twisting the two scars which ran over her mouth, past her nose, ending just before reaching her close cropped dark hair. Caewyn smiled more widely, knowing that Eserren was not especially expressive. She was regarded as brusque and unsociable by the other Dragon Knights stationed at Steelpoint Vigil. Caewyn knew her much better than most.
Sky dragons were a pain, but apart from earth and fire dragons, they were the ones most commonly slain by Dragon Knights. Now that Caewyn thought about it, sky dragons were the most commonly encountered. Though they were not close to the Broken Peaks, the range was still well within a sky dragon's limit. They could range for leagues, seeking prey from on high with their keen eyes.
Caewyn had helped Eserren to slay four sky dragons in the time she had served as the Dragon Knight's squire. Her skill with a crossbow was a great help against such dragons, allowing her to blind them once Eserren lured them in and damaged their wings with her bardiche.
'Want a scale?' Eserren asked, plucking one of the white scales from the corpse.
'Yes please!' Caewyn grinned.
Eserren handed it over, that tiny smile on her face again. 'Soon you'll have enough scales to make your own armour.'
Caewyn considered the scale. 'Maybe. But I don't want to stop being your squire.'
Eserren reached over and ruffled Caewyn's short blonde hair. 'Sweetheart, whether you are a squire or a Dragon Knight, you will always be welcome to fight at my side.'
Caewyn grinned again. 'I'd like that!' She nodded towards the dragon's head. 'Shall we call the militia? Or are you going to carry that all the way to Prillen? I bet you could.'
Eserren chuckled. 'I could, but I need a rest. Let's call the militia. They've been waiting long enough.'
Caewyn called the village militia out of hiding. They had been scared of the dragon, and rightly so. Though they had been willing to fight, Eserren preferred to battle dragons herself with only Caewyn for support. If they could not stop a dragon, the militia sure as hell couldn't.
Caewyn watched as the militiamen wrestled the dragon's head onto the wagon. Blood dripped onto the wood and trickled onto the ground. Caewyn could still smell it, rich and potent. Eserren strapped her bardiche to the horse's saddle and jumped up. Caewyn adjusted her crossbow and mounted her own horse. Together, they followed the wagon back towards Prillen. They did not speak much.
Caewyn was used to Eserren's introspective nature, she was a woman who preferred to let her actions speak for her. Her decision to take in Caewyn and raise her, an elf, against orders, was perhaps the most telling of them all. It had felt only right for Caewyn to become Eserren's squire and aid her in battle.
'Are we staying in the village overnight?' Caewyn asked hopefully. She was hoping for a decent meal and a soft bed, little things which were always heavenly after camping in the wilderness.
'Might as well.' Eserren answered briefly.
'Excellent!' Caewyn beamed. 'I don't know about you, but I'm starving.'
Caewyn had no idea just how much things would change for them in Prillen, nor did Eserren.
Only that morning Eserren and Caewyn had been intercepted by a young squire from Steelpoint Vigil, shortly before they had attacked the sky dragon.
The squire had handed Eserren a scroll. These scrolls had been sent via magical means to Dragon Knight outposts all across the world bearing new orders: the Dragon Knight Davion was a traitor and an abomination, and he and his allies were to be apprehended on sight, to be captured alive if possible, killed if not.
Eserren and Caewyn intended to rest in the nearby village of Prillen, the same destination sought by Davion and his companions.
For the record, Father Carliven is "The Father" from the series. I decided to give him a name, partially because I felt it was prudent, but also because I risked getting him muddled up with The Father from The Clone Wars. I have a busy mind.
Apologies if that flashback and the bit after were a bit deep. Once I start on that sort of track, it's hard to stop.
