Chapter 5 Alarik #2
Alarik reminded himself of the treacherous blizzards that had swarmed Gevra these past weeks, ripping through the seas and yanking trees from the ground. No doubt they had made for a choppy crossing from Carrig. Still, impatience gnawed at him.
He looked to Elias. ‘Forget Regna’s spies. Where are her troops?’
Elias shook his head. ‘Not yet at the Blackspires.’
‘Then push your scouts further north. Send them into Vask. I want to know her numbers. Her weaponry.’
Elias raised his brows. ‘And if she catches them?’
‘Then you’re not very good at your job, Elias.’ Alarik levelled him with a hard look. ‘You’re the best spymaster on the northern continent. Are you not?’
Elias bristled. ‘On all continents.’
Growing up as the unclaimed bastard son of King Soren’s youngest brother had made Elias hungry to prove himself at court. It was Alarik who had given him the opportunity, time and time again. Elias had not failed him yet.
‘I want numbers. Positions. The full scope of her plan, as best you can get it.’ He looked to Vine. ‘Start the soldiers on battle drills. From today.’
‘We eat, sleep and breathe battle drills,’ said Vine.
The king almost smiled. ‘The first archer to bring me a dead Vaskan eagle gets a month’s wages on the spot.’
Vine smirked. ‘I’ll hike the Fovarrs myself if the coin’s that good.’
Vesper turned to the king, not wanting to be outdone. ‘I’m still working on our fire lances. But the range should be three times as far as our cannons.’
Alarik noted her twitching fingers. ‘You’re nervous, Vesper.’
She hesitated.
He pitched forward. ‘Tell me why.’
But Vesper looked to Elias, a question in her eyes.
Alarik whipped his head around, skewering his spymaster with another blistering gaze. ‘Keep your secrets, Elias. But never from your king.’
‘It’s not a secret. It’s a rumour,’ said Elias, a hitch in the usual silkiness of his voice.
‘Unconfirmed, but … concerning.’ At Alarik’s thunderous silence, he went on.
‘A merchant sailor from the north-east came to trade with the kitchen staff last week. He told your cook, Harald, that there are rumours swirling in Vask … rumours that say Regna has a beast of her own.’
‘We have hundreds of beasts,’ said the king, dismissively.
‘A dragon,’ Elias amended. ‘They say Regna has a dragon.’
That word – dragon – chased the warmth from the room.
Alarik peeled his lips back, his hand coming to the pommel of his sword like he might fell the rumour before it took flight. A dragon here on the northern continent. A thing of war and flame. And after all this time, when such creatures had long faded into myth and legend.
Almost at once, his thoughts turned to his mountains, to the strange rise and fall of their peaks, and the uncanny sense that something might be hiding there.
Or perhaps … waking. A beast that belonged to another time entirely.
A beast he used to dream about, before the nightmares came.
He was reminded suddenly of a half-forgotten tale often whispered to him at bedtime when he was a boy and his father would come to tuck him into bed.
Once upon a wilder time,
When beasts soared as high as hawks,
And fire streaked across the sky …
No. It was not possible. There hadn’t been a sighting of such a beast in two thousand years. Dragons had been extinct for so long, they dwelled now only in stories.
‘This is a trick. The queen’s game,’ he said, darkly. ‘I will not play it.’
‘It’s not possible,’ said Vine, lending her voice to his. ‘Dragons are a relic of the past.’
Even Elias himself seemed unsure. ‘Well, whatever she has, people are talking …’
‘I hope they’re wrong,’ muttered Vesper. ‘I have nothing in my arsenal that can kill a dragon.’ After all, how would a ballist, versed in fire and gunpowder, fight a creature of flame? There wasn’t a beast in all of Gevra that could best such a thing.
There was an uneasy silence.
Alarik glared once more at the empty chair, fighting the urge to pick it up and smash it through the window. He dragged a breath through his nose, settling the dangerous swirl of his panic, and turned to Elias.
‘Get me proof,’ he said. ‘Whatever she has, I want to know it.’
Elias frowned, nodding.
Alarik reached for his coffee, downed it, then poured another. They went on, all four of them tearing into the platter of pastries as they poured over war strategy until the king’s head began to pound.
Vesper glanced at the clock on the wall, then cleared her throat. ‘It’s getting late. I’ve got a shipment of gunpowder coming in from—’
‘Go,’ said Alarik, waving her off. ‘Both of you. We’ll reconvene next week.’
Vesper and Elias got up and left without a breath of hesitation.
Only Captain Vine remained. She took a bite out of her lemon, then immediately spat it back out. ‘Eugh. What the hell is this evil, squishy mouth curse?’
Alarik looked up at her. ‘Haven’t you ever had a lemon before?’
She licked her sleeve, trying to rub the taste from her tongue. ‘I have not had the distinct displeasure.’
Alarik bit back his laughter. ‘It’s better on the second bite.’
Vine glared at him, then slowly set the lemon down. ‘Sadist.’
He surrendered the ghost of a smile. ‘I forgot what an impressive judge of character you are.’
‘Why would anyone want to grow this stuff, let alone eat it?’
‘You forget my sister’s a sadist, too,’ remarked Alarik, plucking his own lemon from a nearby tree and biting into it. He held Vine’s gaze as he swallowed it down, rind and all.
There was a sharp knock at the door. Alarik whipped his head around expectantly only to find Lief, poking his head inside.
He swallowed a groan. ‘Your Majesty, pardon the interruption.’ Lief glanced at Vine nervously, then back at the king, dipping his head in deference.
‘But if you could please follow me, there is something urgent I must discuss with you.’
Alarik lowered his brows. ‘Is it more urgent than war, Lief?’
The steward was unmoved, his face as serious as Alarik had ever seen it. ‘I would wager that it is, Your Majesty.’
Despite his annoyance, Alarik was seized by a rush of worry for his mother. Why else would her steward have come to seek him out, and interrupted a war council, no less? He was on his feet in a heartbeat, at the door in the next.
‘Then move,’ he urged the steward, following him out into the hallway.