6. No Simple Path
Chapter Six
No Simple Path
Alvira sprinted through the keep’s corridors, armoured boots smashing against the white stone.
The moment word had reached Ilnaen of the Karvosi attack, she had sent runners to Farda and Eltoar, and onwards to her commanders.
Fourteen cities along the lightning coast as well as Arathín, Thalieth, and Mhaketh in the Veloran Bay.
It was the largest Karvosi incursion in her lifetime.
Vyldrar roared in the back of her mind as he alighted in the courtyard west of the keep. A fire burned in his belly, an urgency that drove her forwards.
She pushed through the wooden doors on her left into a drawing room with an arched opening on the opposite side that led out onto a balcony.
There were easier ways to the courtyard, but none quicker.
All five of the drawing room’s occupants leapt to their feet at her presence, barely getting the chance to press their fists to their chests as she dashed across the room, stepped out onto the balcony, and launched herself off the edge.
Alvira wrapped herself in threads of Air, pushing threads of Earth into her bones. Four heartbeats and she hit the ground, the threads of Air softening the last few feet and the landing. A shroud of dust and dried winter leaves whipped up around her, a slight crack sounding beneath her feet.
Vyldrar stood in the centre of the yard, a flock of Drac?rdare moving around him, checking his talons, examining his wings for rips or tears.
There would never be a point in her life when she would look upon her soulkin and her heart wouldn’t stop in awe.
He stood over the fussing Drac?rdare, a low rumble resonating in his chest, his eyes shimmering like molten fire.
Moonlight caught in the grooves of the spirals that ornamented his obsidian horns, emerald scales catching the light of the Drac?rdare torches.
At the sight of her, he leaned his head forwards and exhaled a breath of warm air that set a calm in her blood. She was his, and he was hers.
“Once more into battle, my heart,” she whispered.
“Archon.” One of the Drac?rdare – an elf by the name Suithlín – gestured over Alvira’s shoulder.
Alvira clenched her jaw at the sight of six Highguard marching towards her, Councillor Matharius at their head. The man was a slab of onyx, his skin dark as the stone, his voice lilted with the Narvonan accent of his parentage.
Sensing her frustration, Vyldrar lowered his head to the ground and angled his wing so she could climb to her perch.
As she made to do so, Matharius called out.
“Archon Serris – a word.”
“By all the gods,” she whispered, her hand resting on Vyldrar’s scales. She turned. “Matharius, if you haven’t noticed the Karvosi have assaulted seventeen of our cities along the coast. I have sent word. The Draleid will fill the skies. There is no time to waste.”
“That is precisely why I have come, Archon. It is the council’s decision that the Draleid are not to engage.”
Alvira stared at him a moment, then stepped forwards slowly. “You should see a Healer, Matharius. It appears you have fallen, and your head is badly wounded. When I return, I will check on you.”
The man smiled back at her. “If the reports are to be believed, this is the largest Karvosi incursion—”
“Since the seventh, I know.”
“Then you will also know that there are reports of Veyaks swarming the skies. Their acid is to dragons what fire is to trees. You cannot simply charge in head-first.”
“I will do what I must, Councillor.”
“Without Battlemage support, your losses will be without counting, Archon. How many of your kin are you willing to let die from arrogance?”
Sensing the eyes of the Drac?rdare and the others in the courtyard, Alvira moved to within arm’s reach of Matharius, the Highguard encircling them as she did.
“Choose your next words carefully, Matharius. Very carefully.”
“Is that a threat, Archon?”
“Simply a suggestion. Careful words lead to less time wasted.”
Matharius let out a slow sigh, then clasped his hands at his back. “The council have decided the best course of action is to accept the losses of the first landing as collateral. A counteroffensive with our strength amassed will be the most efficient approach.”
“Accept the losses? Those people are still alive, Matharius. They are not pieces on a board that can be simply removed and replaced. They are living souls, and they are under our protection.”
“As is the rest of the continent, Alvira.”
“And they will see us as fools and cowards if we let those souls die. What faith will they have in us?”
“What faith will they have when the bodies of dragons litter the landscape like dead flowers in winter?”
“More faith than you, it appears.”
“You were not alive for the seventh incursion, Alvira. You have read books, but you have not seen with your own eyes, the devastation the Veyaks can cause in the sky when amassed in such numbers. And it appears the Karvosi have finally understood the power they hold. I do not ask this of you to make you look the fool.”
“And what am I to tell my kin?” Thoughts of Vastillion flickered in Alvira’s mind.
Of that horrific day. It had been her rashness for which Maquil and Carasín had died.
This day was much the same, except on a far grander scale.
“That we are to simply stand by and watch as the souls in those cities die?”
“That is not of my concern, Archon. It is yours. The council have made their decision. To go against it… is not something I would advise. You are still to take to wing and assert positions beyond the city limits for soldiers to fall back. The forces of The Order are being mobilised and will reach the nearest cities within two days. We have sent word to the elven kingdoms, and to the Jotnar, and the realms of men. You are our greatest spear, but all spears must be aimed.” He stepped closer, his dark eyes staring into hers, the smell of honey on his breath touching her nostrils.
“This command is to save the lives of Draleid, Archon Serris. Can you not see that?”
“That is your failing, Matharius. Our lives do not exist to be preserved.”
“Nor do they exist to be thrown away by arrogance and hot tempers. Is that not the purpose of the bond? To provide balance to the rage of dragons?”
Alvira pursed her lips, and behind her, Vyldrar lowered his neck, his enormous head hovering, eyes fixed on Matharius.
The dragon’s rage bubbled in his chest, simmering into Alvira’s blood.
One breath, and the man would be gone. And a whole new war would start.
The man knew his power, knew the strength the council wielded.
It was The Order who owned the farms, ran the fisheries, laid claim to the lands.
The Order who controlled the flow of coin.
And more importantly, the flow of information.
Alvira had to take care with every word she spoke.
The sound of thunderous wingbeats erupted overhead, and through Vyldrar’s eyes, Alvira saw Helios angling to alight in the yard, the crimson scales of Karakes beside him.
Matharius’s eyes shifted, just for a fraction of a second, as he cast a glance at the descending Helios.
The flash of uncertainty in the councillor’s face brought Alvira no dearth of pleasure.
And as the man looked as though he were about to take his leave, Eltoar descended from Helios’s back, threads of Air whipping about him as he landed on the white stone barely five feet to Alvira’s left with all the grace of the Enkara themselves.
“Archon.” Eltoar’s feet were moving before they’d even touched the stone, his crimson cloak drifting behind him.
He pressed a closed fist to his chest and bowed towards Alvira, showing Matharius nothing but a cold glance.
He looked to Alvira with concern in his eyes.
“Why have you not taken to wing? The scout’s message was urgent. ”
As Eltoar spoke, Helios and Karakes alighted in the yard, and Karakes’ soulkin, Lyina, had dismounted and was approaching.
“That is a question for Matharius, Eltoar.” Alvira looked to the councillor. “Do you care to explain to my First Sword why I have not yet taken to wing to meet the Karvosi where they slaughter our people?”
The man’s lips stretched into a half smile, and he gave a short bow. “My message has been carried. You know the council’s will, Archon. Do your duty, and all will be well.”
Matharius turned and left before the words had even finished leaving his lips.
“What was that?” Eltoar asked, glancing from Alvira to the departing Matharius. He fixed his gaze on Alvira. “Alvira?”
Alvira shook her head and looked to the approaching Lyina, her hand resting on the pommel of the massive sword at her hip as she bowed to Alvira.
“Archon.”
“Lyina. You are to send word. We are to take to wing but the Draleid are not to engage at any point unless forced to do so. We will take up positions at each city and establish a barricade to prevent expansion and to provide a haven for retreating souls.”
The woman raised her eyebrows in curiosity but didn’t speak, instead waiting for the First Sword.
Eltoar gave the response Alvira had expected: he stared at her open-mouthed.
“You cannot be serious,” he said after a moment. “Surely not?”
Alvira gave a short nod.
“Was this Matharius? The council?”
“They ask for us to await reinforcements. The Karvosi numbers are too large and their Veyaks fill the sky. The Order’s forces have been mobilised.
For now, our priority must be the greater continent.
” She turned and made for Vyldrar, her own words paining her.
She could see the sense in Matharius’ words, but that didn’t mean the choice to heed the council was any easier. “We must take to wing.”
Eltoar grabbed Alvira’s arm and pulled her towards him. “There are Epherian souls still fighting in those cities, Alvira. Still bleeding in the hopes that we will save them. This cannot be your command.”