Chapter 29 King and Queen
KING AND QUEEN
Chaos erupted as fire rained from above.
Nordraven dragonriders launched a heavy magical assault against the wards shielding the city.
As Lark, and the others rushed back through the gate, flaming projectiles from the ballistas showered down against the magical barrier.
Lark looked up, at the flickering wards as they strained under Nordraven’s offensive.
Under the roar shaking the protective dome, Cheyanne’s voice rang out, giving the troops to brace for battle.
“Hardin,” Lark called, angling for their dragons.
Hardin came to her side.
“If the wards begin to fail, can you and Quin reenforce them?” she asked. Lark knew she couldn’t under this much pressure, with so little time.
Hardin paused for a moment, checking with Quin. His face soured. “That’s not how my abilities work. I can shift them, make gaps, but I can’t build them up quickly without knowing more of the details about the protective spells were used to create the wards.”
“And if we send the dragonriders out to engage the Nordraven flight, they’ll be too overwhelmed to protect the city,” Lark said.
“I wish I we had more riders,” Hardin said.
Venrick came to Lark’s side, saying, “I may not be a rider, but let me know what I can do to help. I’ll do whatever it takes Lark, just give the word,” Venrick said.
“We’ll do whatever it takes,” Hardin added, giving an affirming nod.
Lark looked from him to Hardin, then out at the faces of the rebels in the street. They’d been through so much fighting already. They’d survived the rimeshade, the Void Drinker, and the Flashover. “These people have been through enough war,” she said.
“What are you thinking Lark?” Venrick asked.
“Hardin, I’m going to need you to get me and White Eye through the wards one last time.”
“Lark, don’t do this alone. We can help you,” Venrick said.
“I won’t stop you from doing what you think is right, but this isn’t either of your fights. This is between me and Greggor now. I’m going to put an end to this before it drags this entire city into a full-scale war.”
“I’m coming with you,” Venrick said.
“And I can get us through the wards, but once we leave, we’ll be completely exposed,” Hardin said.
Lark looked at Venrick, meeting his emerald eyes, seeing the determination he held. “Ven—”
“Lark,” he cut her off. “I won’t leave you behind again. I’ll be there to watch your back.”
“As will I,” Hardin said.
Lark nodded. “But I don’t want anyone without a dragon to help defend them coming beyond the wards. Is that clear?”
“We’re with you,” Venrick said firmly.
“Right,” she said. “Hardin, create us a gap in the wards.”
Hardin raised his hands, focusing as he created an opening in the energy shielding the city.
White Eye and Ingamar launched into flight.
Lark gripped the saddle tightly, her brismil armor protecting her body against the arrows as the came hurtling at them.
She heard the crackling as Venrick and Hardin cleared the ward boundary and Hardin let the shield pop back into place.
Arrows scraped off them as they flew in a spiraling descent over the King of Skol. Lark summoned her energy through her bond. She glanced at the Nordraven dragonriders as their leader set his sights on the three of them.
Take us lower, she directed White Eye.
White Eye flew close enough that she could lock eyes with her cousin.
Soldiers piled up against one another as they cleared an opening for the dragons to land, clearly trying to escape being crushed by them.
They landed hard, White Eye roaring, Quinthara snarling and Ingamar lashing to keep the crowd clear.
Despite the army’s show of force, Lark was surprised to see the soldiers holding themselves back from attacking the dragons.
The troops stood with shields raised, weapons trained on them but did not voluntarily commit to engaging the three dragonriders.
As the dragons maintained the clearing, Venrick and Hardin stood in their brismil armor, swords ready to aid in any attack on Lark. She glanced up to see the Nordraven flight commander, Thorn. He kept his forces in the air, circling overhead, and watching to see what they would do.
Even he knows the three of us are not a threat to destroying the entire army, Lark thought.
“Marcel!” Greggor shouted, pushing his way to stand in front of her.
Lark dismounted in a single fluid motion and summoned Nightfang.
Greggor and his Honor Guard approached slowly.
They formed a semi-circle, shields interlocked, brismil weapons drawn.
Warriors she had trained with, fought alongside, shared meals and stories with, all from another life shadowed in the haze of her past. Faces she remembered from her childhood in Skol’s frozen citadels.
“I can’t believe it’s true,” one of them called out. Lark knew him as Keldrin, a lieutenant under her former command. “The terror of Nordraven returns, but under a new name.”
“And fighting for Lamar,” added another. Lark knew her as well, Vanessa, a shieldmaiden who had once saved Lark’s life during a Morsythian raid. “Have you forgotten your oaths to Skol so completely, Marcel?”
The accusation stung, but Lark kept her expression neutral. “I’ve forgotten nothing, Vanessa. Including how Barrik manipulated all of us, twisted our loyalty to serve his ambitions. And I have not come here now to fight my countrymen. All of this can be resolved without a war.”
“Silence!” Greggor pushed through the final line of his Honor Guard that separated them.
She noticed he was wielding Dawnrender, the brismil sword the ruler of Skol was entitled to wield.
The sword that her grandfather and her father had used in battle.
The sword that should’ve been given to Lark, not her cousin.
“You abandoned Skol,” Greggor accused. “And when you abandoned Nordraven, the weight of ruling our Kingdom was left to me. Then you turned on us and disappeared. You betrayed Skol.” His voice cracked slightly on the last words, revealing the youth and uncertainty beneath his regal bearing.
“And now you reappear, opposing us at the moment of our greatest triumph.”
“This isn’t triumph, Greggor,” Lark replied, taking a step forward and removing the brismil scale from her side.
“Look around you. This is manipulation. The rimeshade and the Void Drinker used Barrik’s ambition as their vector.
They harvested magical essence from living beings, creating weapons that would upset the balance between realms.”
“More lies,” Greggor snarled, but Lark noted the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes as he looked at her with a blank, cynical stare. Then he broke into a guttural laugh. “The spell my father defeated you with in the Everburning Forest has warped your mind.”
“I defeated the Entity known as the Void Drinker. Barrik was there. When he realized he couldn’t stop what we were doing to bind the Void Drinker and stop power from ever being used again, Barrik escaped. He used a tear that formed during the Flashover and left this realm of his own doing.”
“You’re making this up. You’ve lost your mind. I don’t believe you that this creature that created rimeshade ever existed,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief.
“Then how do you explain this?” Lark exposed her arm, which flared briefly with starlight through the markings on her skin. “How do you explain what happened during the Flashover? The auroras above Astral City, the tears in reality?”
Murmurs rippled among the Honor Guard. Several of the older warriors exchanged troubled glances. They had seen enough in their long service to recognize when something fell outside the bounds of normal explanation.
“Natural phenomena,” Greggor insisted, though his conviction seemed to waver. “Magical anomalies, nothing more.”
“Your father knows the truth,” Lark pressed.
“Why do you think he isn’t here leading you personally?
Because he attempted to manipulate forces beyond his control, and when they threatened to consume him, he fled through a tear in reality rather than face the consequences.
I trained under your father as a rider. He may have brought you up as his son, a Lord of the North.
But he never saw me as just his niece. And to me, he wasn’t just my uncle.
He was my mentor as a skilled rider. When I was under his tutelage I couldn’t see the big picture.
It took me a long time to realize that his ways were flawed.
That what he was trying to do by gathering more and more power, expanding his web of control over others, was selfish and dangerous. ”
Greggor’s expression hardened again with Lark’s view point of Barrik. “Enough! My father is dead, killed by you and your agents of Lamar.”
“You murdered my father at the direction of Barrik,” Lark accused, holding back her rage as best she could. “I am standing here willing to negotiate now so that others will not have to suffer at our family’s hot-headed temperament and proclivity to incite violence.”
Greggor raised his sword. “Your father knew the risks of the duel. The results were me becoming crowned. You turned your back on us. You didn’t show your loyalty to Skol.” He pointed Dawnrender directly at Lark. “For that betrayal, there can be only one answer.”
“Stand down, Greggor,” Lark warned, rage boiling from within her. But despite her anger, she forced herself to say, “I don’t want to fight you.”
“Then surrender,” he replied. “Return to Skol in chains to face judgment for your treason.”
Lark’s gaze swept over the Honor Guard, noting their positioning, their readiness. Some seemed eager for battle, others more hesitant. The older warriors, those who remembered her from before, showed a reluctance she might be able to exploit.