Chapter 29 #2
“Roselle’s father?” Alderin nods grimly.
“Yes. And Mhoryga’s plaything for a time, chosen as her favorite to sire the queen’s egg.
Her sons,” he adds with a dismissive shrug, “she can get off any man. But the daughters, now, the queens…they cannot gestate unless endowed with certain unique qualities from the paternal side.” His teeth flash in a grimace.
“There were rumors, you know, that demigod blood flowed in my family’s veins.
I suppose there was some truth to the old stories. Mhoryga sniffed it out, after all.”
My head spins. These revelations are more than I expected.
I know Mhoryga. I know her deadly, immortal beauty.
She often wears a mortal guise, but even in her human form, she is never anything less than a dragon.
She is terrible and worshipful, beautiful and horrible, all things at all times.
A monster whom a man cannot help but abhor and adore in equal measure.
To be taken as the lover of such a being? I can imagine neither a worse nor more intensely desirable fate.
“So you see,” Alderin continues, pacing slowly toward me, that chalice of hellfire in both hands, “I understand you, boy. I understand the lure of a dragon queen. Roselle has it too, even in her current form. But”—he flashes me a sharp look—“the other champions know what is required of them. They know to protect their hearts even as they strive to earn her trust. For they know what must be done in the bitter end.”
At first, I don’t understand what he’s saying. There’s some dire truth in his words, but I cannot quite flush it out. Then suddenly, the answer clarifies.
“You plan to kill her,” I say. The moment the words are spoken is the moment I know they are true. “When she has manifested, when she has defeated Mhoryga for you…you intend for her champion to slay her. Before she can rise up and take her mother’s place.”
Alderin’s eyes are sad in the firelight.
“It is the ultimate purpose of the champion. He must wed the princess, dedicate his life to her service. He must win her heart and implicit trust, because only then can he hope to get close enough to her in her most powerful form. To slay her before she becomes truly invulnerable to any mortal blade.”
He shakes his head heavily, his eyes dropping from mine, staring into the flame he holds.
“We have suffered so much under one demon queen. How can we bear to replace her with another?” He draws a great breath then, squaring his shoulders.
“It is my destiny to bring salvation to the world. I gave everything. I laid with Mhoryga, sired her child. I submitted and debased myself, becoming little more than her besotted slave. And when the time was right, when it seemed as though I had long since forgotten everything I once was, lost in my blind devotion to my new goddess…that’s when Durona found me.
Rescued me. Pulled me out of darkness so that together, we might fulfill our mission. ”
He turns to me again then, a strange light shining in his eyes.
“I am the instrument of the gods. And now, they require a new instrument. A hero willing to go as far as I did, to enter into intimacy so deep, so tender, so passionate…all the while never forgetting his true purpose, his calling.” He sneers then, looking me up and down.
“The true champion of Princess Roselle would know better than to fall in love with her.”
My eyes narrow. “I’m not in love with her.”
Alderin laughs. “Do you think me blind? Do you think I don’t know about your little nighttime meetings, your stolen kisses?
Do you think I don’t know about your explorations of the air shafts, how you come and go as you please about the palace?
” His eyes flash. “I am master of this realm. You cannot draw breath without my knowledge. There is only one thing of which I am not certain, and that is why? Why have you really come here, Valtar Skylock?”
He holds up his chalice then, and the green flame it carries flares, momentarily becoming a brilliant torch.
I feel the dragon blood in my veins throb in response.
As though he felt it himself, Alderin’s teeth gleam in a smile that is more of a snarl.
“Ah, yes,” he purrs. “Dracori. That’s what you are.
Poisoned by Mhoryga, bent to her purpose.
Temporarily beyond reach of her immediate influence, but no less her slave. ”
I take a step back. I don’t want to…it’s like my body does not belong to me, and the nearness of that open flame drives my feet against my will.
“Joro never was the assassin, was he?” Alderin continues relentlessly.
“It was you all along. Don’t think your charming story of tragedy and orphanhood fooled me.
You are here, not to avenge your father, but to fulfill Mhoryga’s will.
You are here for the heart of the princess.
” He laughs again then, a dark, bitter sound.
“You couldn’t do it though, could you? Because you love her.
Not with the true love a man gives to a woman—no, for that is not the kind of love which a dragon queen inspires in her chosen mate.
This love is consuming, compulsive. Utterly beyond control.
I know; I have tasted the pleasures of such passion.
She’s in your head now, isn’t she? Perhaps not even aware of what she’s doing. But she’s there.”
I back away another step, raising my knives as though to cut away his words. They are just words, after all; there’s nothing true about them. I know what it is like to have Mhoryga in my head and, more recently, Nyxia as well. I know what it is to be in the clutches of a dragon queen.
Rosie isn’t like that. Everything I feel for her—twisted, sad, and broken as it may be—is real. Freely given, without compulsion. It would be much easier if it weren’t true.
“I see your resistance,” Alderin persists.
“I know what that’s like as well. How many times did I convince and reconvince myself of a similar lie?
While I lay on my back beneath her, as she writhed atop me, ravishing me with ecstasy.
Oh, how I lied to myself in those moments! But even then, I knew it was false.”
Anger boils in my gut. To hear Rosie spoken of in the same breath as that monster? It’s more than I can bear. What difference would it make to Rosie’s fate if I were to cut this man down here and now? If I were to exact payment for those evil words he dares to spew in my presence?
Alderin tips his head, eyeing me with interest. “I can see the rage swelling in you, boy.” He holds up his chalice then, wafting the green flame slowly before me.
“Do you want to take this? I know you can. Put out your hand and summon it to your palm. Wield it as you are meant to, as she intends for you. I’ve seen you dracori in action. I know what you are capable of.”
I adjust my stance, flashing my knives. “I don’t need tricks like that to accomplish my ends.”
“But you want it, don’t you? Dracori cannot resist hellflame when it is offered. It is in your blood.” He lunges a quick step toward me, flashing the green fire at my face. “Go on, boy! Take it.”
I step back lightly, my center of balance poised on the balls of my feet. “I won’t let you hurt Rosie,” I growl, refusing to let the dancing flame distract me from Alderin’s face. “Not you nor any champion.”
“And what will you do, Prince Valtar?” The king moves with all the power of a seasoned warrior, and I feel the prickle on my skin which signals that battle is about to begin.
“Will you and she ride the barges back up the river? Will you cling to the counterweights rising to the surface world?” Some surprise must register in my face, for Alderin’s mouth twists in a knowing smile.
“Oh yes, I’m aware of your little plans, your comings and goings, your schemes.
You can hide nothing from me. And what will you do once you’ve escaped?
Two star-crossed lovers, making your way in the wide world together.
Dodging dracori and warriors of Belanor at every turn, until you find some secret valley of sunlight and wildflowers.
Will you live then, happily ever after?”
I open my mouth to offer a single, succinct word of response.
Before I can utter it, however, Alderin’s hand passes over the flame he carries.
It ought to burn him, to eat up his flesh and sleeve in an instant.
Instead, he catches the flame, swipes it free of the chalice, forming it into a ball.
It whorls in the space above his palm for a moment, a green wheel of hellish energy.
My heart stops. I just have time to think, He’s a rutting dracori—
A bolt of green flame shoots straight at me.
It hits me in the chest, throwing me backward.
I stagger, shocked, and find my feet poised at the edge of the cliff.
I wheel my arms, struggling to catch my balance, only for Alderin to move his hands, drawing the green flame back to him.
With a single, fluid motion, he shoots a second bolt straight at my face. I throw up one hand for protection.
The blast hits. I pivot, tilt.
Fall.
Then I hit the water hard, caught in the vicious flow, rolling, tumbling, dragged down into darkness and oblivion.