82. Our Duty Above All
Chapter 82
Our Duty Above All
22 nd Day of the Blood Moon
Firnin Mountains – Winter, Year 3081 After Doom
The moment Calen emerged through the other side of the portal, Valerys was in the air, Avandeer and Varthear close behind.
Calen looked back as the portal collapsed, the white light along its rim vanishing. Voices called around him, but all he could hear was the beating of his heart and Rist’s voice. “I can’t leave them. I’m sorry.”
Rist was alive. All this time, he had been alive… and Calen had given up looking. Guilt warred with anger in his heart. Rist had just walked away. He could have come, but instead he had chosen to stand by the people who had killed Vars and Freis, the people who had tortured Elia and Lasch to the point of breaking.
Valerys’s mind crashed into his, swarming over his thoughts. In that same breath, their souls wrapped around each other, and Calen was looking through the dragon’s eyes and hearing through his ears as a deep, booming voice thundered, “Calen Bryer. We wish only to talk.”
Valerys and Avandeer dropped from the sky above, wings spreading wide.
Calen looked to Ella, her eyes shimmering gold, her face covered in blood. “Go. Find the others at the sally port. Move towards the Burnt Lands. Tivar and I will take Valerys and Avandeer and keep the Dragonguard occupied. We?—”
A rush of air swept past Calen, causing him to stagger. A dense grey fog swept over him, and he could barely see his own hands in front of his face. Valerys’s roar thundered in the grey, echoed by that of Avandeer and Varthear.
“Ella!”
“Calen?” As Ella’s voice rang out, the grey fog pulled away in all directions, clearing an open space of almost fifty feet.
Fenryr, Kaygan, Ella, and all the others stood in the open, grass beneath them, soft, diffused light drifting through a wall of swirling grey that surrounded them.
At the centre of it all stood Boud, the woman who had appeared as if stepping from the shadows themselves only the day before. A ‘Stormcaller’ Kaygan had called her. Fenryr had spoken of Stormcallers that night in the Eyrie. “ Our people were mighty. Our Stormcallers struck the dragons from the sky with lightning.”
The woman’s eyes were bone white, and she stood with her hands thrust in the air, palms open.
“I told you that you would need her,” Kaygan said, stepping between Boud and Calen. “The fog stretches for miles in all directions. Only around us is it clear.”
A low rumble resonated in the air, and Valerys stepped through the fog behind Calen, eyes glowing with an incandescent purple light, Avandeer and Varthear emerging beside him.
Valerys moved so he stood over Calen, lowering his head, eyes fixed on Kaygan. The dragon trusted the god even less than Calen did, and he remembered the fear in Kaygan’s eyes at the mention of dragonfire.
“The fog will obscure us for now,” Kaygan said, narrowing his eyes at Valerys. “But the Lorians know we are few within here. If I sat astride Helios, I would burn everything.”
“What good is it then?” The anger came upon Calen without warning, Rist still swirling in his mind, fire boiling in Valerys’s veins.
“It will buy them and the others time,” Tivar said, lowering her hand from the scales on Avandeer’s jaw. She limped slightly as she walked towards Calen. “If Eltoar had meant us harm, he and the others would have fallen upon Valerys, Avandeer, and Varthear the moment they arrived. He wants to talk.”
“And you trust him?” Calen spat, immediately regretting the venom in his voice. “And what if I choose to run? Will he tear me from the sky like he has all the others?”
“I make no excuses for Eltoar’s deeds, just as I do not for mine. But beneath everything is a soul that aches. He does not want for more death. His heart is empty, and his soul wanders, him and Helios both. He does not want to see more of our kind slaughtered.”
“Does he not?” The Narvonan woman that Calen had seen in the mountain had been silent until that moment, but now he could see a rage in her eyes to rival that of any dragon. She strode towards Tivar and slammed a fist into her face with enough force to send blood spraying and Tivar sprawling to the ground, her helmet coming free.
Avandeer roared as the woman leapt atop Tivar and wrapped her hands around the collar of Tivar’s breastplate. But with a sudden shift, the dragon’s roar turned to a whimper as the woman slammed her fist down into Tivar’s face again and again. Tivar made no effort to defend herself. She just lay there, staring up at her attacker as knuckles crunched into bone.
Calen leapt forwards, grabbed the woman by the shoulders, and threw her to the ground. In a heartbeat, his níthral was in his hand, purple light glistening in the sweat that streaked the woman’s face. “Lay a hand on her again,” he said, a dragon’s fury burning within him, “and it will be the last thing you do. I swear by the bond.”
The woman stared at Calen, unflinching, the light gleaming in her eyes.
“Who are you?”
She leaned forwards, the flickering edge of Calen’s níthral a finger’s width from her throat. She spoke clear and true. “I am Coren Valmar, Daughter of the Sea, Soulkin to Aldryn, and I watched my whole world burn at her hands and the hands of those she stood beside. And now she speaks of empty hearts and wandering souls. She brings shame to everything that we are. And she owes me a debt of blood that can never be paid.”
Calen released his níthral. He stared down at Coren Valmar and pushed away the rage that bubbled within. He knew that name. Chora had spoken of Coren Valmar. “Uvrín mír, Rakina. La’valkanet vidim.”
Forgive me, Rakina. I didn’t know.
“Uvríníl er kanet itharil,” Coren said as she lifted herself to her feet, brushing the dirt from her elbows. Forgiveness is not needed. “You speak the Old Tongue well for one who was not born to it. Therin taught you well.”
Calen must have given his thoughts away in his expression for Coren gave a soft laugh.
“You have his accent when you speak.” The laughter vanished from her voice, the smile fading to a grim line, her eyes hard and cold as she stared at Tivar. “Last I heard, it was my word that would have taken your head from your shoulders.” She rested her hand on the pommel of her sword. “If not my word, my steel will gladly perform the same task.”
Calen stepped between the two. “Chora changed her vote. Tivar and Avandeer have sworn themselves to me, to Valerys, and to all the lives they have destroyed. They are Onuvrín.”
“It is that simple, is it?” Coren asked, a mocking laugh on her tongue. “She swears an oath, and all her sins are forgotten? The lives she ended, the world she burned? She has made oaths before.” Coren spat at Tivar’s feet. “Oaths to stand by her brothers and sisters, oaths to protect those who looked to us. Those oaths did not stay her blade when Eltoar and Fane whispered in her ear. Her oath means nothing. ”
“It is never simple,” Calen answered.
“Oh, it can be simple.” Coren glared at Tivar. “She slaughtered her own kin. Turned her back on everything. She deserves death. That is simple.”
Tivar stepped forwards, staring at Coren, blood streaming from her nose and across an open cut beneath her eye. “I do not ask for absolution.”
“Good. You will not find any here,” Coren answered.
“I wish I could change everything. Take it all back. But I can’t. I?—”
“Farwen is dead,” Coren snapped, cutting Tivar short. “She sacrificed herself to give us time. She was tired, and her soul was broken, and she had fought long enough. Your precious Eltoar and his Dragonguard took her soulkin from her. He ripped her in half, and not once, not ever , despite everything she lost, did she think to turn her back on her brothers and sisters. She fought until her dying breath, and it should have been you in her place.” Coren’s jaw clenched as she shook her head. “How am I ever to trust a soul who has broken a vow so sacred? Tell me, Tivar, how ?”
“You can’t,” Tivar said, her voice soft. Avandeer let out a low whine and tilted her head to brush her snout against Tivar. Tivar closed her eyes and ran her hand across Avandeer’s scales. “You can never trust us, nor should you. But you can let us die for you. It is only in the sacrifice of that which we took from so many – our lives – that perhaps you can see the truth in my words.”
Coren glared at Tivar for a few moments longer, nostrils flaring, then turned to Calen. She drew in a long breath, then let it out slowly. “You answered when I called.”
“Always.” He looked from Coren to Tivar. “I understand your fury. I do not ask you to forgive them, for I would be a hypocrite to do so. I have my own forgiveness to struggle with. But I do ask that you look past it for now, to focus on those who need us. Can you do that?”
Coren stared at Calen for a long moment. “I can.”
“La?l sanyin, vésani, nur mandahír denír ove’du. Det vur il’uil dantuí.”
I am sorry, sister, for forcing this upon you. It was the only way.
“La quinye,” Coren said, the look in her eyes speaking of weariness. I understand. “You have clearly spent time around Aeson. It is an honour to meet you, brother.” Her gaze turned up to Valerys, whose heart ached at hearing of Farwen’s death. Neither Calen nor Valerys had ever met her, but she was kin and her loss was felt. Coren inclined her head. “And you, young one.”
Valerys lowered his head so his jaw brushed the grass, his breath blowing over Coren.
“I thought I would never see a hatchling again… though he is far from that now.” Coren rested a hand on the side of Valerys’s scales. She looked to the group of rebels who stood a few feet back, then to Kaygan and Boud. “It appears we have little choice. Can you keep them covered while they lead you to the sally port and gather the others?”
Boud inclined her head. “I can do more than that.”
“Then we will go and speak with Eltoar.” She looked to Ella. “There is no place for the people of Tarhelm here in the North, not anymore, not while this war rages. If I don’t return, I need you to promise me you will take them south. Aeson says the madness has left the Burnt Lands. That route would be my choice. It will be a hard road, but?—”
“I swear it,” Ella said, pressing a hand over her chest.
“We?” Calen asked. “You will come with us?” He turned to look at Varthear, who had slowly moved towards Coren, a low purr in her throat. The dragon had spread her vermillion wings and lowered her head. “Varthear may carry you, but Valerys and I would be honoured to do so as well.”
Coren lowered her hand from Valerys’s jaw, a smile spreading across her lips as she stared at Varthear. “Varthear, you are as beautiful as the first day I saw you, my sapphire queen.” She took a few steps closer, staring up at the dragon in wonder. “I had thought I’d never again see the fire in your eyes. It would be the honour of my life to fly with you… but alas, I cannot, for the fire in my heart would not allow it.”
At that moment, Valerys tilted his head, and the sound of heavy wingbeats drifted at the edge of the dragon’s hearing.
Coren pressed a hand to her chest. “Calen Bryer, I do not know you, and yet I have already lied to you, and it is the greatest lie of my life.”
Calen drew in a sharp breath, allowing the Spark to hover just out of reach, a pressure building within Valerys. He saw the same apprehension in Tivar and Avandeer. Even Fenryr took a step forwards.
“On the night I last saw my master, Kollna, daughter of Luan, she told me something that shaped everything from that day forward.” Coren looked up at Varthear. “She said ‘our duty, above all else, is to our soulkin.’ Farwen and I, and Aldryn and Syndril, we fought for years. We watched hundreds of our kin perish… watched their souls shattered, their hearts torn to pieces. Have you ever seen the moments after a dragon loses their soulkin?” Tears rolled down Coren’s cheeks. “It is a rage like no other. This whole world could burn, and it would not be enough. And that rage is followed by a darkness that swallows everything.”
Coren stopped for a moment, steadying herself, the wingbeats growing louder. The fog above shifted and swirled, parting as a massive figure descended.
A dragon larger even than Sardakes emerged from the grey, thick tendrils of fog whipping around its silver-streaked orange scales. The membrane of its wings shimmered gold, and the horns that grew from its skull were three times as long as Calen was tall. The creature was immense, its muscles thick and powerful, eyes like swirling fire.
The dragon cracked its wings and alighted over Coren, a deep rumble in its throat followed by a high-pitched whine as it stretched its neck forwards and brushed its jaw against Varthear’s.
The dragon lowered its head to Coren and nuzzled into her shoulder, like a horse nuzzling a mouse.
“For nearly three centuries, I kept Aldryn safe. A dead dragon cannot be killed. New eggs were not hatching, and dragons were dying in their scores. Aldryn was amongst the last.” Coren shook her head, tears dripping from her chin. “I refused to let him die like all the others, pointlessly, needlessly… If we kept fighting as we were, Helios would have ripped him from the sky. The Dragonguard were too many, and we too few. I made a choice.” She swallowed hard, running her tongue along her teeth. “When we found Aeson and the others, I told them Aldryn had died. I told them the Dragonguard had murdered my soulkin along with Farwen’s. And for all these years, I pretended to know their pain, to know what it is to be Rakina.”
“Why?”
“Because none of it made sense. When you watch dragons fall from the sky like rain, you understand that there is no rhyme nor reason, only death. Being stronger, more powerful, it meant nothing. So many dragons larger and stronger than Aldryn perished the night Ilnaen fell, without more than a whimper. Alvira’s soulkin, Vyldrar, was a legend. His name was whispered in the halls where I apprenticed. And yet he died like all the rest. My master’s soulkin, Tinua, she never saw another sky after Ilnaen.”
“She died fighting,” Calen said without a thought.
Coren stared at him for a moment as though she wanted to question what he’d said but continued. “It was Farwen who suggested it. After Karakes killed Syndril over the Aonan Wood and I found Farwen broken and alone, she made me promise to not throw Aldryn’s life away, said there was no reason for him to die. That we could keep fighting while keeping him safe, in the hope that one day a time would come where every drop of blood we had spilled, every moment we had given, would amount to something. A time where Aldryn’s strength could make the difference.”
Aldryn lifted his head in the air, looking into Valerys’s eyes.
“That time has come. The Dragonguard are only three now. Time has brought them low, and their numbers no longer swell the sky. No matter how little I trust her,” she said, glancing at Tivar, “she is right in one thing. I know Eltoar, I know how he hunts and kills, I know the measure of his mercy. If he had wanted us dead, we would be dead. We could run, but there is no telling what course that might lead us on.” She took a few steps towards Tivar, her soulkin, Aldryn, looming over her, a deep growl in his throat. “If you betray us, I will rip you apart piece by piece. I will break you. Believe me when I say there is no power in this world that could stand in my way.”
“I will not,” Tivar responded simply, returning Coren’s stare.
Coren held Tivar’s gaze for a few moments longer before offering her hand to Calen. “Det v?re myia haydria na iralíse nai din siel, akar.”
It would be my honour to fly by your side, brother.
Calen moved forwards and offered his hand to Coren. “Ar myialí na iralíse nai diar, Coren Valmar, Davitir un il’Ilaríal.”
And mine to fly by yours, Coren Valmar, Daughter of the Sea.
“Though perhaps Aldryn should stay hidden for just a little longer.”
“What do you mean?”
Calen smiled.