91. Oathkeeper
Chapter 91
Oathkeeper
24 th Day of the Blood Moon
South of Achyron’s Keep – Winter, Year 3081 After Doom
Alina pulled in a breath of the salty, sea-tinged air, savouring the taste of it.
The ships numbered so many their golden sails spread across the entire horizon, the twilight of the Blood Moon marking them clearly. She had never before seen the sigil of the scaled beast emblazoned across them. It was like some wingless wyvern painted in strange colours.
Screeches and shrieks cut through the sound of the gently swashing waves. Alina had brought all but a hundred wyverns with her to the beach. She had wanted a show of force for whoever commanded those ships, but the camp needed enough Wyndarii to keep it safe. Six hundred would be enough to strike fear into anyone’s heart.
Rynvar extended his head over Alina’s right shoulder, and she reached back to scratch at the underside of his jaw. The wyvern purred, a series of clicks reverberating in his throat.
Alina shivered and rolled her shoulders. It took quite a bit for her to feel the cold in her bones. She was one of those people who lived with a warmth, her blood hotter than most. But when the cold did creep in, she despised it. Tonight was a particularly cold night.
“Are you sure we shouldn’t send riders out? Glean what we can?” Amari folded her arms beside Alina, her breath forming in pale mist before her.
“What we would learn wouldn’t be worth the risk. Those ships will be close enough soon. Friend or foe, it’s better to make them face us on our terms, rather than theirs.” She looked about at the hundreds of wyverns gathered on the cliff edges surrounding the short beach. “This beach is big enough for no more than three of those monstrous ships. If they want to land here, they’ll be doing so three at a time, and if they mean us harm, the wyverns will tear them to pieces.”
Alina stared out at the mass of ships on the dark waves. If she’d not received word from her fleet stationed around Stormwatch, then these ships had likely come from the south or west. It could be Aeson. It could be pirates. It could be sellswords from Ardan fighting in Loria’s name. It could be an invading army from Karvos, or Narvona, or any of the other continents. The gods had always had a queer sense of humour. Regardless, caution was best.
Beside her Rynvar shook his head and spread his wings, screeching restlessly.
“Easy.” She stroked his jaw.
Just as Alina had gauged, three of the foreign ships separated from the fleet as it drew in around the basin. Each of the three were built from wood black as coal, their hulls scraped free of lichen. All three were trimmed with gold that shone as though freshly polished, but one ship stood out. At least a hundred and fifty feet long and fifty feet wide along the central mast, she was monstrous yet beautiful, adorned with a golden figurehead that matched the banners. The form was nearly that of a dragon, but with a head far flatter and wider that tapered into a narrow, rounded snout. Its jaw swept out sharply at the back of its skull, and two enormous sapphires were set into the creature’s golden eye sockets.
The massive ship carried on straight towards the sand as the other two drifted left and right, dropping anchor.
“My queen.” Ursla Goan, a Wyndarii commander who had seen ten summers more than Alina, bowed her head. “That ship isn’t dropping anchor.”
“No,” Alina responded. “It’s not.”
“We should move back, my queen.”
“You are free to do so.”
“My queen, I?—”
Ursla’s words were cut short by a low grumble from Rynvar. The wyvern tilted his head back to look at the woman, his teeth bared.
Ursla bowed and stepped back to her own wyvern – Ikuron – and led him away. She knew better than to press the point.
Amari, Lukira, and Mera all stood around Alina, Audin and the other wyverns with them.
The massive ship slowed as it approached the sand but continued on a forward course. It broke through the waves and hit the sand with a deep thump . The sound of grating wood filled the air as the vessel scraped across the beach, the hulking mass biting deep into the ground.
Alina filled her lungs as the ship continued towards her, its true size visible up close, the sapphire eyes of the figurehead glinting.
Amari and Lukira took a step back as the ship’s bow drew ever closer, its enormity bearing down upon them. Alina held her ground along with Mera and the wyverns, her heart keeping its slow rhythm. The vessel finally came to a grinding halt about twenty feet from Alina, the wood creaking as it stopped.
Alina stared up at the golden head above her, into the sapphire eyes. After a few moments, she stepped back to get a better look at the ship.
The freeboard must have been forty feet, the hull a pristine black. Heads flitted about on the open deck above as deep groans and clangs came from within the belly.
Alina would never have beached a ship unless the hull had been compromised or it was an unavoidable obstacle. But the tide was at its lowest, and so when it came in, it would free the vessel from its lodging. Still, it was a needlessly reckless manoeuvre done clearly to make an impression. Whoever it was didn’t plan on killing them, at least not right away.
Just as Alina turned to speak to Mera, a series of strange roars sounded from within the ship’s belly. Deeper than a wyvern’s, rougher – and yet not entirely dissimilar. That roar was answered by shrieks and chirps.
Mera placed her finger and thumb between her lips and gave a sharp whistle. The sound was answered by shrieks as fifty or so wyverns lifted from the overlooking cliffs and alighted across the beach, their Wyndarii drawing their javelins.
A wyvern with pale cream scales and blue wing membranes landed not two feet from Alina, Rynvar hissing as it did. The Wyndarii dismounted, bowing to Rynvar before doing the same to Alina. “My queen. It’s Narvonans. The deck is thronged with them, all clad in gilded plate.”
Alina nodded her thanks. She’d met many Narvonans in her lifetime, as was the case with most who lived along the southern and southwestern coasts of Epheria. The Valtarans were a people of the sea, but the Narvonans’ love of the open water was even greater still. The Narvonans Alina had encountered had been smugglers, or traders, or pirates, or those come to make a home in Epheria. Many of the Wyndarii were descendants of Narvonan settlers. But whoever commanded these ships was no pirate or smuggler. These were some of the finest vessels Alina had ever laid eyes on. And there were hundreds of them.
Alina found herself praying to Achyron. If these Narvonans had aligned with the Lorians, then the rebellion was over. If they were here to invade, then the rebellion was over. She would not let that happen.
Alina turned to Amari. “Take ten Wyndarii and bring all of the Godfire we have left. If these Narvonans wish to do us harm, we will set their fleet alight from the sky.”
“At once, my queen.” Amari mounted Syndel and took to the sky, calling ten more Wyndarii to join her.
“If it comes to it,” Alina said, talking to Mera. “We will hold them here at the beach as long as we can. It’s better we take them slowly while their numbers are filtered through the narrow passage. We can pick them off from the boats as they try to land. If we retreat and allow them the freedom to come ashore, that will be our death.”
“Agreed.”
Mera relayed Alina’s instructions to three of the Wyndarii commanders, who in turn took flight to arrange the defence in the event that things took a turn for the worst.
Alina cleared her throat and called out. “Who goes there? Who sails a fleet to the shores of Valtara?”
No answer came, but a horrible creaking sound groaned from the ship and a section of the starboard hull came away from the inside and slid to the left, leaving an enormous opening. After a moment, two beams of dark wood, each thicker than Alina’s torso, slid from the opening on a set of hinged brackets, dropping down into the sand with a thump .
A pair of dark-skinned Narvonans appeared at the opening, both garbed in vibrant blue pantaloons and loose golden shirts marked with that same reptilian sigil. They were the finest dressed sailors she’d ever laid eyes on. The two sailors disappeared and reappeared as they loaded tethered slats into a groove in both beams of dark wood and slid them down one by one.
Upon seeing what had to be the largest gangway in existence, Alina had one thought and one thought only: what in all the gods required a gangway that large? It was at least twenty feet from edge to edge, thick and solid as a house.
It wasn’t long before Alina’s question was answered.
Those same deep roars echoed from within the ship, clearer this time, unmuffled by the wooden hull. Even stranger chirps followed, like that of a bird but more… otherworldly.
Commands in the Narvonan tongue sounded from within, and then the entire ship trembled where it stood, rattling in response to massive thumping steps.
“What in all that is sacred…”
A hulking scaled creature emerged from the hull of the ship. It walked on four thick-muscled legs, and its shoulders were easily twice as broad as that of a horse, its chest dense, its neck thick. The beast’s skull was shaped precisely as that of the ship’s figurehead: long and wide, its jaws curving out to the side, sharp and flat. Its curved snout tapered towards the end, fronted with two slits for nostrils.
Polished gold barding covered a large portion of the creature’s body. An ornate helmet protected the top half of its head, leaving slits for the eyes, nostrils, and horns, which were also capped with gold. Articulated plates of golden armour stretched along the back of the creature’s neck, the bottom covered in silver mail. More plates stretched across its back and legs, along with thick pauldron-like segments at the shoulders and rump. More silver mail, clipped to the plates, protected its belly.
A man in silver and gold armour was mounted on the creature’s back, sitting in a gold and leather saddle that sat like that of a horse, adapted slightly to fit the curve of the reptile’s spine. The man was heavily muscled and held a set of reins connected to the creature’s helm. A massive, curved blade hung at his left hip, while a thick-shafted, eight-foot spear was clipped to the side of the saddle.
“That’s a lot of gold,” Mera whispered.
The gangway, thick as it was, groaned beneath the monstrous creature’s weight as it disembarked. Something about the way the beast walked told Alina that although it seemed slow and cumbersome, it was anything but. The razor-sharp teeth that jutted down past the golden helm were those of a predator, and the short black claws on the ends of its feet were made for tearing prey to ribbons. Just as the beast stepped from the gangway onto the sand, a second followed it, equally as massive and imposing.
There wasn’t a shield wall in the world that could stand against one of those creatures, never mind two.
Once both creatures had reached the sand, they walked side by side towards Alina and her Wyndarii, stopping a few feet short. They snorted and stomped, those strange chirping noises resonating in their chests.
One of the beasts reared onto its hind legs, nostrils flaring, but as it did, Rynvar stepped across Alina and roared, his frills rising. The wyvern puffed out his chest and hissed, shielding Alina protectively.
Beside her, Mera’s wyvern, Audin, did the same, snaking his head low to the ground, his lips peeling back to show his razor teeth. Audin was far smaller than Rynvar but no less savage in the protection of his family. Urin and two other wyverns joined them, hissing and baring their teeth.
The man atop the reptilian beast made a clicking sound and slapped its side with a leather whip. The creature snorted but stepped back, its eyes darting between each of the wyverns.
All five of the wyverns’ heads shot up as a fanfare of horns sounded and the two reptilian mounts separated, creating a space between them.
A stream of men and women marched down the gangway. The four at the front wore loose blue trousers and stiff golden shirts and blew long horns adorned with triangular flags. Brass rings hung from their ears and noses, each of their faces marked with a myriad of white-ink tattoos.
Two rows of ten warriors followed, clad in the most opulent armour Alina had ever laid eyes on, all polished black steel and gilding, embellishments of white enamel worked into the breastplates and pauldrons. Their helmets were formed from a single piece of metal lined with gold that broke up the black plate, almost like scales. A single slit two fingers thick ran from eye to eye.
The hornblowers and the warriors lined themselves in front of the mounts, twelve on either side. Once they were all in place, the horns sounded once again, and more souls poured from the opening.
These were not of Narvona. A man in black studded leather walked at their front, two swords slung across his back. A woman in a dark hooded cloak walked on his left, while a grey-haired beast of a man moved on his right, skin leathered, a well-kept grey beard covering his face. A column of others walked at their backs, several in mixed leathers and cloaks, followed by a number of warriors armoured in the black, gilded plate.
The man in the black leather stopped a foot or so before Alina, his chin tilted upwards as he stared at the five wyverns who stood over her protectively.
Rynvar leaned forwards, his black-scaled lips lifting in a snarl, his winged forelimbs pressing into the sand. The wyvern lowered his head, a growl resonating in his throat. Audin, Urin, and the other wyverns moved back, deferring to Rynvar.
The man didn’t so much as flinch. He stared straight into the wyvern’s eyes, then dropped to one knee, a fist across his chest, and looked to Alina. “Queen Alina Ateres, my name is Aeson Virandr, and I have come to keep an oath I made to your father and mother. I failed them, and that will haunt me for the rest of my days. But my oath is not dead. I will see Valtara free, or I will die in the trying, on this you have my solemn vow. I bring with me four thousand free Epherian swords pledged to rid this world of the Lorian Empire, five hundred of the finest Arkalen Stormguard sent by Aurelian Animar, and twenty thousand strong of the Latrakian Kingdom of Narvona. Allow us to fight by your side, and together we will drive your enemies from this land, and we will burn the Lorian Empire from Epheria.”
The lines beneath his blue eyes creased as he stared at Alina, his hand firmly pressed to his chest, awaiting her response. Behind him, the others stood silent, and more soldiers marched down the gangway.
Alina allowed a few moments to pass, nodding slowly. Aeson had not mentioned that his swords would be those of a Narvonan kingdom. “Aeson Virandr. I have known your name since I was a child, yet I had never seen your face until this moment. You are not what I had imagined. Rise.”
Aeson stood, bowing slightly at the waist. “What had you imagined, Your Grace?”
Something less . The man had an aura about him, a sense of strength and surety that radiated from every movement he made. For some reason, it irritated her.
“I’m not sure,” Alina answered, feigning a smile.
Alina had been prepared for a battle of words the first time she would meet Aeson Virandr. For years she’d thought of what she’d say if she ever looked into his eyes. But in that moment, it all evaporated. She had not expected such deference from the man her parents had spoken of like a god. It had put her off balance.
“Where is Dayne?” Aeson looked past Alina at the other Wyndarii.
“Captured.”
Aeson’s expression shifted the moment the word left Alina’s lips. “When? Where?”
“A few days past. Loren has him in Achyron’s Keep. We march tomorrow.”
“It is a good thing, then, that we arrived when we did. I had hoped to reach Valtara sooner, but the winds have not been kind, and Lorian ships patrol the waters all about the coasts of Varsund and Arkalen.” He let out a short sigh. “Please, my manners.”
Aeson turned to the side, the companions behind him parting.
A man and a woman stood at the head of a column of armoured Narvonan soldiers, flanked by four warriors in pearlescent plate astride two-legged reptilian mounts. These mounts were far smaller and leaner than the massive creatures that had first come down the gangplank, and they looked quick and ferocious. She had heard stories of the Narvonan darvakin, savage war mounts that could tear a man’s arm free and outrun a horse.
The man was tall and wiry, though well-muscled. His head was shaved clean, and white-ink tattoos decorated his face. Armour gilded from top to bottom and bearing the face of one of those monstrous mounts fit his form perfectly, and the sapphire eyes in the breastplate sparkled fiercely in the sun. His pauldrons were shaped like snatching claws, the detail beyond anything Alina had ever seen wrought in metal. A long sword hung from the belt at his hip, a cut ruby set into the pommel.
The woman stood with her chin high, her right hand on the sapphire pommel of her sword. Thick braids adorned with sapphires and rings of gold hung nearly to her waist. A white dot was inked below each of her eyes, along with two white lines that moved from above her top lip and down over her chin. The armour she wore was wrought entirely from a smooth, pearlescent material that caught the light in many colours, gold worked into its edges. As she stared at the incomparable plate, Alina realised what it was: Atalus shell. The shell of the great Atalus turtles, hard as steel and capable of absorbing magic. Alina had only ever heard stories of it. It was granted to the greatest warriors of Narvona – the Isildans – and to royalty. It was said that Narvonans guarded it more closely than Godfire, more closely than their own souls. She looked back up at the warriors in the same plate mounted astride the darvakin. Were they truly Isildans?
The man stepped forwards. He nodded to Aeson before turning his attention to Alina. He bowed and pressed his two clenched fists together.
Alina knew the gesture: a Narvonan sign of respect. She mimicked it, drawing a smile from the man.
“Queen Alina Ateres of Valtara, First of the Wyndarii, it honours us to hunt by your side.” His accent was thick, clinging to the vowels and rolling ‘R’s.
“The honour is ours. May our hunt be short and fruitful.” Her father had taught her the words many summers ago, when he’d traded with Narvonan merchants to purchase the sapphire pendant she’d worn about her neck until the Lorians destroyed everything. She had been but a child then. And she would have paid a hundred times the price to have that pendant once more.
“My name is Akraf Latrak. Prince Consort, Commander of the armies of Princess Kayala Latrak, and Sworn Shield to the princess herself.” The man smiled again before gesturing towards the woman. “May I introduce you to Princess Kayala Latrak, Blood of the Water, Scourge of the Antigan Ocean, and third in line to the royal house of Latrak.”
Princess Kayala inclined her head and pressed her two fists together.
Alina stared back, unsure what to say. Aeson had not simply brought Narvonan warriors to her shores. Not sellswords or men and women looking for a new home. He had brought Narvonan royalty. There would be a price to that. “It is an honour to share the wind in your sails, Princess Kayala.”
“And I yours, Queen Alina. On my journeys, I have received many reports of the Wyvern Queen of Valtara.”
A tense silence passed between them, and Alina looked from Kayala to Aeson and back. “Forgive me,” Alina said. “But our march has been long, my mind is weary, and my brother is in chains behind the walls of my enemy’s keep. And so I apologise for my curtness when I ask why Aeson Virandr has brought a foreign army to my shores and what he has promised you in return for your aid.”
Aeson made to speak but stopped at a glance from Kayala.
“Your people are foreign to these lands if I am not mistaken. We share the same ancestry. The first settlers of Valtara and Daris both come from the old lands, do they not?”
“That was three thousand years ago.”
“So it was. And so in three thousand years, I will no longer be foreign, no?” The princess gave Alina a half-smile, looking towards Rynvar, who still loomed over Alina’s shoulder, though the growl was long gone from his throat. “There is a price of blood I am owed. I wish to drain that blood from the heart of the black lion. To put it simply and in a way I believe you will understand, I want vengeance. For too long the Lorian Empire has burned our ships with impunity, killed my people, and hidden behind their dragons. If left unchecked, who is to say they would not turn their eyes on my homeland? I believe it is time to put them to the sword.”
“And your queen or king? I know something of the histories of the Narvonan Kingdoms. Endless war. I cannot imagine they simply let you sail twenty thousand warriors across the Narvonan Sea? For what, vengeance? What do they seek?”
Kayala touched three fingers to her lips and laughed. “Perhaps we might discuss this over some wine and swordfish, but I feel that suggestion might not be one your ears wish for. No, they did not simply let me sail away. I am on what is called Aramuthíer. It is a word in my tongue that means ‘in search of legacy’. I will never sit the throne of Latrak. I am third in line, and my Queen Mother will soon sail the River Trian – Akopa guide her. And as such, I must find my own way. To become Aramuthíer is an old tradition amongst the royal houses of Narvona, to allow the sons and daughters with no crown in their stars to find a glory of their own. And of course, were my mother to hear that the Lorian Empire was in ruins, she would no doubt find happiness in her heart.”
Alina bit at her lip, tucking her thumb inside her right fist. There was more to this. She knew it. But without the warriors on those ships, Valtara would never smell the air of freedom and Dayne would die alone. She would be trading an enemy now and risking another later. But the choice had been taken from her.
She needed this Kayala Latrak and her army.
Alina exhaled slowly, counting her heartbeats and looking back at Mera. She nodded. “Swordfish, you said?”
“Indeed. Much swordfish, caught fresh by our fishermen as we journeyed. In fact, we have brought you hundreds of barrels of sausages, hard Narvonan cheese, salted beef and pork, smoked achkaret, pickled cabbage and beets, fresh apples and plums from the orchards of northern Unair – enough to fill every belly in your army. Consider it a sign of my intentions. Aeson Virandr said food was in short supply. Now it is not. Is your camp far?”
Alina shook her head.
“Trust is earned, Queen Alina. So tonight let us dine like gods. And come the morning, I will earn your trust in the blood of your enemies.”