Chapter 31 #2
"I should have known when you pissed off Astrea Talay you were a man others would follow into battle." The Dwarven King taps his fingers against his knees. "But even brave leaders need to strategize. Sometimes it's best to be defensive."
"What if I told you there was a way we might be able to release my father and the other Celestials from Orabelle?"
My question piques the Dwarves' interest. Both men stare at me in speculative wonder.
"I'm listening." The king's focus is now on me, but it's Professor Riggs who graciously saves me.
"Aurelia and her kin journeyed to the Northern Crest where the Portal to Orabelle once stood.
" Professor Riggs withdraws a linen cloth from his lapel pocket and lays it in his lap.
He uncovers it and reveals the glass shard I gave him for safe keeping.
"She found a piece of the portal. I've consulted with the Master of Literature at Calmara and she believes it's possible to reconstruct the portal using this as its base.
Your engineers are the best and brightest, and with this, there's a chance we open Orabelle again. "
The king and prince remain silent.
"If you can construct it," I add, "my blood can open it."
My heart gallops through my chest, anxiously awaiting any response from the Dwarves. After an agonizing minute of the king mulling over our plan, he shakes his head, sadness creeping over his face.
"None of my engineers know how to forge portals," he explains. "Those notes were lost after the war one thousand years ago. The project leader burned his plans, not wanting anymore portals to be opened and unleash hell on our realm again."
"I know it's a risk but – "
"It would take an eternity to convince Dwarven engineers to do what they were all warned to avoid dabbling in," the Dwarf Prince chimes in.
"So, that's it?" I ask, more anger than I expect lacing my words.
Maybe it's more than the idea of opening the portal that fuels my crusade for them to help us.
The idea of reuniting my mother and father after two decades, the hope I could one day meet him, drives me to not take no for an answer.
"You are their king. If you ask it of them, I'm sure they will do everything they can to make you proud. "
His eyes find mine and there's a nonchalance in his gaze that solidifies he isn't going to help. "The most I can do is promise my blacksmiths will forge weapons for your armies and if all fails in your crusade to destroy the demons and their portal, I will give you shelter in Durne."
"That is your decision?" Ronan growls, his back teeth grinding.
"We don't have to do either," Olav grips the arms of his chair, knuckles whitening. "Consider yourself fortunate my father is willing to provide Dwarven forged weaponry."
Everything suddenly goes quiet, as if time itself has stopped. Ronan and Olav exchange choice words and I'm worried the next step is a full-blown fistfight. Riggs does his best to diffuse the situation, but his words fall on deaf, stubborn ears.
Fuck. This isn't going well. Thrane is going to be monumentally pissed off when we come out with our tails tucked and nothing to show for it. The louder Ronan and Olav get, the more my nerves are on edge.
My fingers twitch against the dagger holstered to my hip. The slight movement draws the Dwarf King's gaze and then his eyes widen.
"Your dagger. It's Dwarven made." His statement silences the feuding princes. By the hilt alone he identified his people's craftsmanship. I swallow hard, hoping he doesn't think I stole it.
I slide the weapon from its holster and lay it flat across my palm for him to examine. At first, he just stares at it, as if he's seen a ghost. Then he tentatively reaches for it. I don't move, despite Ronan's shoulders tensing. The king reverently picks the knife up.
"Where did you get this?" The question is asked in more wonder than accusation.
I shift in my seat. "It.. it was a gift."
His bushy eyebrows pinch together in a frown. "A gift from who?"
I inhale deeply and admit, "Bastian. It was an engagement present. I plan to get a new one but – "
"Do you know whose dagger this is?" There's a nostalgia in his face that makes me pause. Does he recognize the blade? But that's impossible. How would someone be able to recall every blade that was forged in Durne?
"No," I shake my head. His eyes cloud. "Should I?"
He smiles, his moustache twisting with the upcurve of his lips. "It was made for your father."
"That's – " My breath hitches and I stare at the dagger. Really stare at it. "Are you sure?"
"Am I sure?" The king huffs, glancing at his son, slightly offended. "She asks me if I'm sure. As if I would forget a blade such as this!"
"I'm sorry," I stammer, hoping I haven't made the situation worse.
"I could tell you the history of many blades, my dear," he says gruffly.
"This one especially." He twists the dagger, wiping the tip of the hilt with his sleeve.
Once satisfied, he turns it for me to see.
"His symbol is right there." Sure enough, the Celestial marking is etched.
It's small. Small enough I never noticed it before.
But then again, I wasn't looking for signs of the dagger's former master.
I hated it the second Bastian gifted it to me.
I didn't even think to polish the golden handle.
But this is too insane to be true.
"You've been carrying your father's dagger this entire time," the Dwarf King passes me the blade and sinks in the leather chair.
"How is that possible?" I stare at the knife cradled in my hands. "If it's my father's weapon, shouldn't he have it with him in Orabelle?"
He strokes his chubby fingers through his beard, twirling one of the golden beads. "Your father was given twin blades. One, to my understanding, was lost during the Great War. The other, was still with him when he crossed through the portal and destroyed it."
"So, if Bastian found this then he didn't find it in Durne."
"My guess would be he found this out in the Midorian Desert where your father last had it."
"Where they might be reconstructing the portal to Malvolio?" I flick my eyes up to meet his gaze and after a moment to contemplate my question he nods.
"That would make the most sense."
My mind is spinning. Still not sure this is real. But then a thought crosses my mind. "Wouldn't Bastian or Vesper realize it belonged to my father when they found it?"
"Why would they?" He shrugs his broad shoulders.
"Bastian didn't fight in the Great War and Soul Eaters wouldn't be able to identify daggers like the Dwarves who forged them.
You're the only one who can sense Enver Sol.
Maybe you sensed him as strongly as you did when it first came into your possession because he wanted you to. "
I internally question why my mother never said anything about the blade but then realize, she's never seen this.
I've kept it on my person during training, but I've never wielded it.
Never paraded it on a platter for anyone to see.
I've kept it hidden and I've only used it when I've had to because I've been ashamed of this weapon.
Ashamed because of the person who gave it to me.
In my mind, keeping it was permitting a piece of Bastian to remain with me.
I've wanted so badly to replace it with a new blade. Something entirely mine with no trace of Bastian and his demons. But now. Knowing this was my father's – that he has its twin – makes me pause.
It could be tossed up as coincidence this knife came to be in my possession.
Or it could be fate. Destiny. I've heard legend blades forged by the Dwarves bond with their wielders.
I highly doubt the validity of such fairytales, but a small hopeful part of me believes maybe the dagger found me. It sensed who I was before I knew.
What a silly, girlish thought.
Bastian found it in the desert and gave it to me for protection, knowing one day someone would come to harm me on account of him.
A warm hand wraps around my wrist, drawing my gaze. "I suppose if we open the portal, your father can give you its twin," the king smiles and my heart stutters. "One must always have a matching set."
My mouth opens and closes. Words fail me. Thankfully, Ronan is beside me to ask what I'm thinking. "So, you'll help us?"
The Dwarven King nods, shifting his sights back to me.
"Aye, we'll help you. We owe Enver Sol for saving our realm before.
Besides, we Dwarves can't sit by and let everyone else have all the fun slaying creatures from the underworld.
" He winks, clamping a hand on his son's shoulder.
He smiles at Riggs. "We will leave the morning after Prince Ronan's wedding. We have a lot of work to do."