21. It Begins
Chapter Twenty-One
It Begins
The wind that battered Driftstone was cold as the Eversnow and sharp as a blade. Eltoar knew only the Lightning Coast to be as brutal. He stared out at the waves that shimmered pink from the light of the Blood Moon overhead.
Efialtír’s moon.
He pressed his palm to his breastplate, feeling the power pulse from the gemstone beneath.
Even the simple act of tapping into that power sent lightning through his veins.
Fane had been right. The power within that gemstone was capable of genuine wonder.
It had not quite been Fane’s words that had convinced him, rather it was the complete and utter faith the man had placed in both Efialtír and Eltoar himself.
Eltoar was still not sure what Efialtír truly was, but he could now see the lies that had been burned into his heart, and those lies ignited a fury within him.
Even at just the thought, Helios spread his wings at Eltoar’s back and unleashed a visceral roar that shook Eltoar’s bones and the ground beneath him.
The dragon stared up at the Blood Moon, that fury boiling within him.
Varyn had given him life, but so too had the god chained him, taken his fire away, then left the world to burn nonetheless.
Eltoar curled his fingers into a fist, Helios’ fury pouring into him.
The gemstone glowed beneath his breastplate as though sensing his rage.
For the first time in a long time he felt a sense of purpose within him, a sense of surety.
This night, everything would change. This night, Eltoar would be the blade of the voiceless.
The Order would reap what it had sown, and the world would wake to a new dawn.
He was done allowing so many to suffer at the whims of the few.
The sound of wingbeats rippled on the wind, and Helios snapped his neck around, peering into the dark night blanketed by charcoal clouds.
A few moments passed, another wingbeat. Pink light shone through as clouds swirled and parted, and the golden-armoured body of Vyrmír descended, shimmering like a fallen star.
Vyrmír moved with an effortless grace, sweeping from left to right.
Eltoar had always thought it some form of poetic that Vyrmír wore the crimson and gold of Lunithír when Salara had never been given the chance to.
The dragon alighted only twenty feet away, his talons sinking into the ground, his head sweeping low across the grass, a deep rumble in his throat as he looked up at Helios with deference.
The Black Sun lowered his head and brushed his snout into the side of Vyrmír’s neck, the smaller dragon unleashing a puff of warm air through his nostrils in response.
“Master.” Salara dropped to the ground at Vyrmír’s side, the tails of her long coat flapping behind her as she moved swiftly towards Eltoar. “I saw your note…” She titled her head sideways. “Why are you armoured? What has happened?”
Eltoar looked down at the plate that covered his chest, the symbol of The Order marked in black across its front. It was fitting in a way. Salara must have seen something in the way he looked at her, for she stopped almost ten feet short, and behind her, Vyrmír’s head snapped up and into the air.
“Master?” Salara took another step forwards, her hair whipping in the vicious wind as though it had a mind of its own. “What has happened?”
Eltoar stared at Salara for so long it seemed as though time itself stood still.
There was nothing in this world he loved more than her.
And he cursed Chora Sarn for being so true in her words.
Watching Salara grow had been the single greatest thing to ever happen in his life.
The elf that stood before him now was still that little girl he had first met, but she was also much more.
She was a warrior. She was a Draleid that all should aspire to be.
And these next few moments would change both of their worlds forever.
All he could do was hope that she could see the truth in his heart.
Eltoar drew in a lungful of frigid air and looked back out at the ocean and up at the crimson moon before returning his gaze to Salara, the wind snapping at him.
“Salara, there is much that you do not know. Much that I have kept from you in the hopes that I could spare you the pain for as long as possible.”
Her expression shifted, eyes widening. “Master, you’re scaring me. What has happened?”
“You see the world as I did once. You see the light and the hope, you see it through the eyes of one who knows only a fraction of the pain and the sorrow.” He clenched his jaw, knowing that all he was doing was prolonging what was to come.
“I mean that not as an insult. I admire it, as I admire you. You will never understand the pride that swells in my heart at the Draleid you have become. I would die for you, Salara. I would kill for you. Please, know that.”
Salara took a few steps, and behind her Vyrmír moved away from Helios, watching his soulkin through golden eyes, shifting so he stood over her. “I need you to tell me what has happened. I can’t help if you don’t tell me.”
Eltoar smiled at that and approached until Salara was barely more than an arm’s length away. “Always, you seek to protect others. If only the council felt the same way.”
“What is that?”
Eltoar followed Salara’s gaze to realise that has hand was still clenched in a fist at his breastplate that concealed the gemstone beneath. He pulled his arm away, spreading out his fingers, his hand shaking. “Salara, I…”
“Master, I don’t know what is happening. I don’t know why we’re here.” She gestured at the island, gazing up towards the moon. “But whatever it is, I am with you. Just speak to me.”
The naivety of youth. Eltoar had always known the way this conversation would go.
That was why he had kept Salara in the dark, why he had waited until the very last moment, and why he had brought her to Driftstone.
He hoped her faith in him was strong enough, but he doubted.
“Salara everything will change tonight, and in the morning the sun will rise to a new world. A world where the innocent do not suffer every time a king is slighted, where cities are not burned to the ground on the whims of someone who cares for nothing but their own gain.”
Salara took a step back, and Vyrmír’s frills stood on end, the dragon shifting so he could see both Eltoar and Helios. “What did you do?”
“We will spare every soul who lays down their sword, but we will do what we must. Tonight, Salara, The Order will fall. ”
Salara’s mouth opened, her body slackening. She made to speak, but her lips struggled to conjure words. “I… No… What are you even…”
“I want you by my side in this,” he said, taking a step after her. “And I’m asking you to have faith in me. To trust that I know what is right. But I also know that you might not see that right now.” He offered his hand. “Please, Salara. Trust in me.”
The look in Salara’s eyes was one Eltoar had expected, but it cut him like a hot knife all the same: disappointment.
“Tell me this is all a lie.” Salara’s voice trembled as she spoke, and in that moment the little girl he knew shone through the armour of the warrior.
“Tell me… please. Tell me you are testing me.” She held her gaze on him a moment longer, then drew her sword from its scabbard, her lip quivering.
“Tell me…” A shake set into her sword, and Eltoar took another step. Her shoulders slumped. “Why?”
“Because The Order has been poisoned, Salara. It is rotten. You do not see it. You are young, and there is much you do not know. I ask you to trust me, to put your faith in my hands as you have always done.” Eltoar kept his hand proffered in the air.
“I have watched over you since you were barely at my chest. And I will continue to do so until the day I die, so long as you let me. Take my hand, Salara. Take it, and we will forge this new dawn together.”
Salara’s blade trembled in the air, and Vyrmír lowered his head over her, a rumble in his chest. Helios watched the young dragon closely.
Eltoar’s heart sank as Salara shook her head, and he felt her open herself to the Spark.
“You are not my master.” He could hear the struggle in her voice, hear the sadness dripping from her words.
“I do not know who you are, but you are not him. He would never stand here and ask me to betray my brothers and sisters. In the name of The Order and of the Draleid, I command you to lay down your blade and surrender yourself to the judgement of the Archon.”
Eltoar nodded, his heart squeezing. He couldn’t help the smile that rested, sorrow-filled, on his lips. “Not the words I wanted to hear. But I respect them. You will see, Salara. In time.”
“No.” She shook her head. “I already see.”
Salara leapt forwards, her blade arcing towards Eltoar’s side.
He pushed himself backwards just in time to avoid the steel carving open his ribs.
Behind her, Vyrmír launched himself into the air, flames flickering in his jaws.
In a heartbeat, Helios was upon him. The great dragon slammed Vyrmír to the ground with such force the earth shook and knocked Salara off balance.
Eltoar moved in to grab her, but she swung back and smashed the pommel of her sword into his cheek. He staggered, and she followed up with two more swipes, one missing his throat by a hair, the other carving a thin line through the symbol of The Order on his breast.
Helios pushed down on Vyrmír, and Salara screamed.
In that moment, Eltoar tapped into the gemstone around his neck and grabbed Salara’s throat with his right hand. A pulse of Essence sent her blade skittering away. He held Salara in the air, the Essence flowing through him, the power pulsing in his veins.
“Master…” she said through muffled chokes. “Please.”