Chapter 38 Remember #2
“For you, Ella, I will do this, but don’t test me,” Barrik said.
Ingamar bared his teeth as he moved in to stand next to Venrick. Hardin joined them, dropping the scale at Lark’s feet before leaving.
“No,” Barrik said. “Take the brismil scale and sword.”
“What of the dragon?” Hardin asked.
“The one Joc killed?” Barrik replied.
“He is not dead,” Hardin said.
Barrik gave a nod.
“Lark,” Venrick said, his face contorted in pain. His body was broken and battered, and he was clearly unable to continue to fight. “Don’t do this. We can beat him.”
Lark shook her head. “I can’t lose you. I won’t let you, Hardin, or anyone else sacrifice themselves for me. All of you got what you came for. Now I need to get what I came for, answers.”
“But,” Venrick said.
Hardin and Sasja blocked Venrick. They forced him onto the dragon.
He was too weak to stop the two of them.
Ingamar walked with the three of them to where the wounded dragon lay.
He stooped his head, dropping a tear from his eye on the dragon’s side.
The scale sealed. The dragon’s chest rose with breath.
He lifted himself up and they walked out of the throne room, the whole time Venrick continued to voice his frustration.
“Now,” Barrik said, turning to Lark.
Lark opened the veil to the fae realm, pulled on the power and channeled it through her. Her vision blurred for a moment, her head felt light from the blood loss and energy drain before she was able to focus on her target. Black spines forced outward from her at Barrik.
“Bah,” he growled as they peppered the stony shield wall he once again created around himself. Several of the spines lanced into the shield, becoming wedged there. “This was not what we agreed on, Ella,” he scolded.
Barrik muttered his counter to Lark’s silent attack.
Stone debris scattered around the dais lifted, swirling around them so quickly it was all Lark could do to keep from being struck by flying rocks.
She lost sight of him and moments later strong arms wrapped around her.
Barrik held her firmly, pressing his gauntleted palm to her face.
Through the cracks in his fingers, she saw Killaborden stomping over to her.
“Remember,” he said as the dragon blew a sulphury gas over her.
Lark’s vision blurred, the fog evaporating from her mind.
The armored palm cupping her face lifted, Barrik’s face appearing before her.
Lark felt a needle driving into her mind.
She tried to resist it, but the probe dug deeper.
Lark struggled. Her body did not respond.
She blinked, forcing her eyes closed in an attempt to focus on blocking his mental probe.
“Look at me!” he shouted, shaking her face. He peeled her eyes open to stare up at him. “I want you to remember everything from before. I want you to tell me why. Why did you betray me, Marcella?”
That name sizzled as the mental probe cleared the haze around it. Ella. Marcella, she was the rider, known to the rest of the world as Marcel… No, that can’t be!
“That’s it. Realize the truth. Own your memories as they come back,” Barrik said.
The probe dug deeper. Images appeared, flashing in segments before forming into whole memories. They appeared to her as though they were happening right then.
In the memory, an older man waved her over. “Marcella, come here.”
He was dressed in regal copper clothing and sat on a lavish throne. Nordraven banners hung on the walls of the grand room around them. A cast of Nobles and soldiers all bearing the Skol crest crowded the room.
She stepped up onto the dais to her grandfather’s chair. She tripped over her feet on the way up the stairs. She wasn’t used to the larger boots she had yet to grow into as a youth. She stood before the King as he held out an open chest holding a glowing Hyalite.
“For centuries the Kingdoms of our world have fought over the powers that allow us to bond with dragons. It wasn’t until our forefathers formed the Northern Alliance, forging Nordraven into four united Kingdoms that we stood a chance of controlling the Everburning Forest,” he said.
She absorbed the history her grandfather, the King of Skol, was recounting. At the time, she remembered truly believing that their people were the rightful owners of the region where firestorms produced gifts of power from the gods.
“Do you know what this is?” the King asked her.
She nodded slowly.
“It is your birthright,” he said. The King snapped his fingers. A man in brismil armor led a small black dragon on a chain to the side of the throne. The dragon was no taller than she was. A hatchling.
Her memories suddenly flashed forward, speeding through the time she grew up with the unbonded hatchling, learning its behaviors, its personality.
Then the ceremony where her grandfather, one of the four Kings of a unified Nordraven, cracked open the Hyalite.
The power inside leached out into the dragon.
She held her palm against him, and the dragon passed his power into her, forming their bond.
Time sped forward, through her training.
How she discovered a pool beneath the forest that led into the fae realm.
How she befriended a fire fae, supposedly a creature of evil and bad luck.
Together, they formed their bond in secret, away from the influences of her elders.
What she had to do to betray another Nordraven Paragon, making a deal with the rulers of the dark fae, the Night Court, to allow her fire fae to travel in and out of Sataran.
But it was worth the cost to keep dark fae worse than the rimeshade trapped in their realm.
Lark remembered what she and Nix would be forced to do in exchange at the next Flashover.
Lark returned from the fae realm to her dragon changed, now responsible for sharing two bonds and having access to a whole new set of powers.
The memories ran on into her young adult years, extended beyond that of other humans. How her grandfather sent her to train with Barrik, the best dragonrider the North had ever seen, until she surpassed him.
Time flashed forward again. She was at her grandfather’s side. This time, he looked ancient. Run down. So much weaker than he had been when she was a youth.
“Marcella,” he said in a raspy voice.
“I’ve told you before, it’s just Ella now.”
“Ella isn’t what they’ll call you when you graduate and enter into your father’s services.”
“I thought I was meant for the Northern fight. To battle the rimeshade that are plaguing the northern reaches of our neighboring Kingdoms, Fjern and Elderice.”
“No, the war against the rimeshade can be won in time. Their threat is not as pressing as Lamar’s effort to drive us from collecting another Hyalite. You will serve your people better by becoming Skol’s next Paragon.”
“My skills will be wasted. I’ll spend most of my time searching the firestorms when I could be put to better use with our armies.”
“You are exactly what we need to ensure Nordraven continues to collect Hyalites.”
“I could help bring an end to this war, for good, then turn our full might on the rimeshade. Why?”
“Lamar will continue to raise armies as long as they can continue to collect Hyalites. They will not commit their dragonriders to the war, instead securing their most coveted fortresses and using their most skilled fighters to collect more power from the forest. Your task is to become the most formidable dragonrider Lamar has ever faced. That is how we will win this war, by collecting more power than Lamar ever can.”
“Is this order coming from my father, the Acting King of Skol, or my Grandfather who still sits on the throne?”
“We are both your elders. You will obey or be stripped of your dragon.”
“Yes, Grandfather.”
“By becoming Skol’s Paragon, you’ll allow your cousins time to develop the armies they need to crush Lamar and turn their sights on the rimeshade of the far North. You will no longer be known to the world as you are now.”
He presented Lark with a matching onyx black brismil scale and sword set .
“With this brismil armor and sword, you will become death from above. The South will fear you, but they can’t know you are Ella, my granddaughter.
They must believe you are another rider.
For the sake of our people, you will not go into battle unless you wear this.
You will never take it off in front of anyone outside these halls.
You will be known to the world as Marcel Heartfell. ”
“This is not what father wants for me,” she said.
“While I live, your father has yet to truly become King. You will do as your kingdom commands. Become Marcel. Drive the fear of the gods into the Paragons of the South.”
Again, time sped forward. She was fighting along the Southern border against Lamar.
Facing troops sent by their King’s Paragons.
Holding their lands but never taking more when she could easily have flown east and wreaked havoc on Lamar’s armies.
Frustration in Nordraven grew as she focused their attacks at the Southern border while reports of rimeshade, frost wielding shades in the distant North, continued to fell Nordraven Paragons sent to squelch them.