Chapter 28 Nordraven Assault #2
“Because the corruption among our rulers was evident before the rimeshade revived the Void Drinker. I saw what was coming and tried to make a difference. I was targeted by my uncle, who made it seem as though the Vermillion Keep was responsible. Now, they’ve escalated things too far.
I may have come up through the rands as a dragonrider for Nordraven but now I fight for the people of Sataran. ”
“Heartfell or not, your knowledge of what’s happening is set within a strong foundation of honor,” she said, checking with nods of affirmation from her Knights.
Leona continued, “The Keep is in chaos. Half the Paragons claim the King committed treason by working with the North, the other half say he was enchanted and acting without his own knowledge. Meanwhile, Nordraven has slipped an army into position while our backs were turned.”
“So, Leona, Paragon of the Vermillion Keep, what do you believe? Will you join us?” Lark asked.
Leona’s gaze flicked to the celestial marks on Lark’s skin, to the silver traces highlighting the corruption’s scarring on Venrick’s skin. “I believe I’m looking at two people who’ve been through damnation and back to do what’s right.”
The Paragon’s decision seemed to solidify in real time.
“I am among the top-ranking Paragons here in the Vermillion Keep. My riders are yours to command,” she stated, her voice carrying to the other five dragonrider Knights, who straightened at her words.
“Whatever you faced below the Keep, it seems you’ve succeeded where we failed. ”
A ball of orange and yellow catapulted up from the approaching army.
The flaming ball hurled from a Nordraven ballista crashed into the ward boundary, breaking into hundreds of pieces that rained fire down in an arc back to the ground just outside the city wall.
A tremor shook the city, causing the Keep to tremble.
Lark’s confidence in the magical shield protecting them came into question when she saw it flickering after the hit.
“That was a single projectile,” Venrick said. “If they continue with more, those wards aren’t going to hold.”
Lark turned to Leona. “How many dragonriders remain loyal to you?”
“Eighteen, not counting any in your group,” Leona replied promptly. “The rest fled when the Flashover began.”
“Take to the skies. Position yourselves just inside the wards. All our combined troops need to be ready. I’m going to attempt to speak with King Greggor and get him to see reason. But if reasoning fails, or the wards fall…”
“Our wards are among the oldest and most complex on Sataran,” Leona said.
“That may be true, but we know that the Archmagus serving in this Keep was aligned with the Void Drinker’s vision for Sataran.
The Magi Order was helping the rimeshade’s quest for total dominion over magical power.
Now that the Void Drinker and the rimeshade are not a threat, we fear that he’ll turn to his alliance in the North. ”
Leona’s furrowed brow told Lark she wasn’t convinced, but Lark didn’t need her to be.
“All that matters now is Cheyanne’s rebels and the forces of Astral City focusing themselves and preparing for what’s out there,” Lark said. “You do your part, and we’ll do ours.”
As the Paragon gave orders to her riders, Venrick said, “I’m going with you out there.”
“Depending on how this goes, we may need more help in the skies.”
“I’ll be ready if it comes to that, but until then, I’m not leaving your side.”
Leona looked to Lark and said, “My riders will be ready if this goes poorly. If it does, join us. Looks like we’ll need the air support.” She nodded to the cluster of dark shapes growing larger as the Nordraven flight drew closer.
Lark remounted White Eye and, alongside Ingmar and Venrick, they soared out over the city.
As they angled down toward the Northern Gate, Quinthara rose into view.
Hardin leveled out alongside them. “Cheyanne’s been on the same wavelength as us.
She kept one step ahead and has already established her troops in positions to defend the city.
Any hostilities toward them from the city and the Keep seem to have shifted.
Their focus is now on the large threat outside the wall.
Yarla, Sasja, and Ezra are taking positions among the rebels near the North Gate.
From what I’ve seen, looks like the city and the Keep are allocating their forces to the other city gates and filling in along the wall where they’re needed. ”
“That’s progress,” Lark said. “I just hope it’s enough.”
“What should we do about the Nordraven dragonriders?” Hardin asked.
“Prepare yourself to join the riders of the Vermillion Keep. If this fight begins, we’ll assist them as we’re needed.”
Hardin nodded, keeping pace with them as they approached the edge of the city.
White Eye and the other dragons flared their wings, landing just within the city walls. As the three of them dismounted among the rebel forces at the North Gate, Cheyanne strode in to greet them.
“We’re pinned in here unless we can defuse the situation,” Cheyanne said, her face dirtied with the grime of battle.
“Hardin just updated us. And just so you know, the Vermillion Keep dragonriders are with us in this.”
Cheyanne nodded, “As long as we’re turning our focus away from the Keep, I expected as much.”
“Venrick and I are going out there to talk to Greggor,” Lark said.
“I’m going with you,” Cheyanne said.
“As am I,” Hardin said.
“I won’t stop you,” Lark said.
She signaled to the Morsythians guarding the gate.
The gate mechanism groaned as guards operated the ancient winches, creating just enough space for a small party to exit.
Lark and Venrick passed through, accompanied by Cheyanne and Hardin.
Outside the wall, they stood in the narrow space between the city’s physical defenses and its magical wards.
On the other side of the shimmering ward barrier, the Nordraven army pounded their weapons against their shields, stamping spears against the ground, and shouting battle cries.
Dragons roared overhead as a dragonrider in maroon brismil armor led a flight of forty dragons and their riders in over their army. Lark recognized him instantly.
“I thought Thorn had retired to train Nordraven Paragons,” Venrick said.
“Without Tel Roan in the Vermillion Keep, it looks like he’s come back to the battlefield,” Lark replied.
The army before them parted and a mounted Honor Guard rode out before the Nordraven front line.
Lark saw her cousin wearing the battle armor of Skol’s fighting kings.
A copper breastplate etched with the same runes her father and grandfather had once worn, bracers and greaves designed for mobility rather than ostentation, and at his hip, a brismil sword that she recognized with a jolt.
It was her father’s blade, Dawnrender. And atop his head, he wore the copper crown.
Greggor put on a grimace for the benefit of Skol’s soldiers, who cheered him on.
Behind him Lark noticed a tall slender figure in Magi Order robes.
Venrick tensed, drawing a sharp breath. “That’s Hierro,” he said, readying his hand over his brismil scale harness.
“Don’t let him get to you now. Stay strong,” she said.
As the King drew closer, Lark could see her cousin more clearly. He bore the same high cheekbones and firm jawline as Lark. He looked like a younger version of Barrik, though Lark knew he held none of the experience.
The entourage stopped just short of the ward boundary, close enough for conversation but separated by thin veil of magic.
She saw her cousin’s expression fall flat when he saw her, like he was seeing a ghost. He said something to the members of his guard, then turned back to speak briefly with Hierro.
Lark saw the Magus’ lips moving but couldn’t identify what kind of lies he was twisting into the King’s ear.
“Cousin,” Greggor called. His voice carried the arrogance of youth and assumption of power. “I’m disappointed. For a time, I thought you had died. Now I see you standing over there, aligned with our enemies. You’ve joined the red cloaks of Lamar. Where is your Northern pride?”
Lark stepped forward. “No, cousin. I do not stand against my countrymen or the North. I stand with anyone who fights against the rimeshade and their leader who was corrupting your father’s mind, twisting your ambitions and shaping the North to his will.”
Greggor spat, his spittle sizzling against the glossy wards in the air between them.
“Nothing you say can be trusted. You turned against us, you attacked one of our own and stole a Hyalite meant for a dragonrider of Nordraven. Now that I have come to claim this city after Lamar has overstepped its reach, I find that you’ve killed my father. ”
Lark met the Archmagus’ gaze as he gave her a hooded smile.
“Will you stop at nothing to tear down our kingdom’s pride?” Greggor barked.
“No one has murdered your father, Greggor.”
The young King’s eyes widened. “Did you forget who you were talking to? I am your King.”
“You are not my king. You were not in the line of succession. You stole that crown, murdered my father, and exiled my mother,” Lark hissed.
“Skol is my Kingdom. I won this crown through legal combat,” he whispered. Raising his voice as he spoke, he continued, “For your crimes of treason, murder, and betrayal, you are officially declared an enemy of Nordraven. For these crimes, I sentence you to death!”
“Your father brought this fight to me. I did not kill him, he yet lives,” Lark replied evenly. She moved closer to the ward boundary, letting him see her clearly. “Look at me, Greggor. You know who I am. My dragon and I have never stopped trying to make the world a better place for my Kingdom.”
The King’s face contorted, struggling to process his emotions. “I won’t listen to your lies. You betrayed our Kingdom. You abandoned your heritage, your responsibility.” His hand moved to the sword at his hip. “And now you stand with Lamar, our sworn enemy.”
“I stand against a greater threat,” Lark countered. “The corruption that has infiltrated out homeland’s courts. The same corruption that drove your father to attempt to harness all of Sataran’s magical essence for his own ambition.”
“More lies,” Greggor declared, though with less conviction than before.
“My father was targeted time and again by this group of rebels in the Everburning Forest and the Paragons of Lamar. You’ve murdered him.
Killaborden has confirmed that he is no longer with us.
My father’s death is an attempt to shift the dragonriders’ control to Lamar’s clutches.
I will not allow it. I will control of the Everburning Forest and its resources. ”
“Listen to me. Your father isn’t dead,” Lark insisted, trying to get her cousin to see reason.
Greggor froze.
“Barrik escaped during the Flashover through a tear between realms. He’s alive, but no longer on Sataran.
Even if you don’t believe the Void Drinker’s influence and its rimeshade servants were spreading corruption throughout our society, then you know the Flashover creates tears in our realms.” Lark met her cousin’s gaze directly.
“Barrik manipulated you, Greggor. As he manipulated me. As he’s manipulated events for decades, all to serve his own quest for power. ”
Greggor’s certainty wavered, his expression softening for a moment. “You’re lying. If my father were alive, he would be here. He wouldn’t abandon us outside the Vermillion Keep. Not when we’ve been preparing for this.”
“Unless he had a different goal entirely,” Lark suggested. “One that required sacrificing even his own son’s well-being.”
Hierro laid his hand on Greggor’s shoulder, his grip whitening as he shook him.
“Enough of these distractions,” the Archmagus said.
“Barrik’s status doesn’t change your objective.
Your terms are simple. Force them to surrender Astral City.
Hand over the mad King Agadorn and take full control of the Everburning Forest’s resources. ”
“And if we refuse to surrender?” Cheyanne asked coolly.
Hierro’s smile was thin and without warmth. “Then Nordraven will take it by force. The city wards will fail against the assault. I made sure of that before the city fell to your rebels. No one is coming for you. You’re outnumbered three to one.”
“Surrender now, and I may show mercy to Astral City’s people,” Greggor said. “Resist, and I will ensure history remembers Astral City and your rebellion as a cautionary tale when it comes to the might of Skol and the strength of the North.”
Lark felt her magic stirring, responding to her rising anger.
“You speak of rightful claims while you allied with forces that would’ve consumed all realms without distinction.
” She stepped closer to the ward boundary, letting the constellations now prominent on her skin flare brighter.
“This is your only warning. Withdraw your army. Return to Skol. Accept that the balance of power has changed.”
Greggor’s hand tightened on his sword hilt. “You abandoned your claim to Skol’s throne years ago. You chose to become Marcel Heartfell, not Princess Marcella.” His voice hardened. “And I will not be lectured about rightful rule by a deserter who attacks her own kin and hides behind Lamar’s walls.”
“Don’t let your foolish pride blind you,” Lark said. “Turn back and no Nordraven lives will be lost today.”
For a heartbeat, doubt flickered in the young King’s eyes. Then the twisted influence of the Archmagus reasserted itself where once Barrik’s had. His hand tightened on Greggor’s shoulder again.
“Prepare the troops,” Greggor said. “We’re going to war.” He signaled to the riders flying overhead and the dragons began their attack.