The king locked eyes on the man. “See it done,” he commanded. “And give them all a pyre each.”
The servant bowed his head despite the reluctance that spread across his face. “It will be done, your Grace.” Vighon almost groaned when only one of the servants left his side.
“Your Grace…” The older Keeper, Quaid, was looking up the main slope, towards The Dragon Keep. “Looks to be something going on.”
Vighon moved to see for himself. A small crowd was beginning to gather not far from the keep’s main gates. The sight wouldn’t have concerned the king too much, but the gathering appeared to be focused around the enormous dragon corpse.
“Now what?” Vighon muttered.
With the Keepers and his remaining servant, the northman trekked up the slope to investigate. The people parted for him just as they had prior to Alijah’s invasion. Something in Vighon still didn’t feel like he had earned his return as king.
The smell of Karsak’s rotten body hit Vighon like a club to the face. He winced and turned his head to the side, though it made no difference. Flies had taken to the beast like crows on a bloodied battlefield, while rats scurried in and out of ragged holes that had been poked through its ancient hide.
“What’s going on?” he asked before noticing Nathaniel and Reyna.
The Galfreys approached from the head of the dragon, both similarly distressed by the powerful odour. Despite the gruesome scene, the pair were a vision of strength and resilience. In their late seventies, the couple appeared no older than thirty years - in fact, younger than Vighon looked in his early forties.
Reyna came to stand beside the king, her bow in hand. “Something stirs inside the beast,” she informed.
Vighon looked at her in disbelief, noting then that Nathaniel was holding his sword. The two Keepers who had accompanied the king removed their wands and began to usher the people back from the dragon.
Something snapped inside the bowel of the monster.
“What new evil is this?” the northman questioned, drawing the sword of the north. The flames blew wild in the wind, forcing him to lower the blade to the ground.
Nathaniel nodded at the headless corpse beside Karsak. “Well we know it isn’t Rengyr.”
More bones were broken inside Karsak and the hide itself moved to some unseen pressure. Distressed murmurs broke out amongst the people and they no longer required the Keepers to usher them back.
Grotesque innards were suddenly pushed out of various wounds in the dragon’s side. The rats displayed the most wisdom when they turned tail and fled.
If Vighon had blinked, he would have missed Reyna nocking an arrow. “Whatever it is, kill it quickly,” he urged.
Reyna pulled taut the string of her bow. “As you say, your Grace.”
Vighon was almost distracted by her words when Karsak’s hide was torn apart from the inside. A hulking form emerged from the dragon, its wide-set frame coated in gore and death.
“Wait!” the northman blurted, halting Reyna from releasing her arrow.
Standing taller than everyone else, Sir Borin the Dread awaited his master’s command.
Nathaniel lowered his sword. “I hate to think how he got in there.”
Vighon had no problem imagining Karsak swallowing the Golem in their bid to escape the cascading slopes that wiped away the eastern Watcher. In fact, he could easily imagine Sir Borin clawing his way out of the mud and stone to challenge the dragon and its Rider.
Realising that the surrounding crowd had become deathly silent, the king glanced around to see the horror on their faces. Sir Borin was the stuff of nightmares, and that was before he had lost his armour and helmet. Now, his demonic features were there for all to see and made all the worse by Karsak’s remains plastered to his pale flesh.
They needed to get him out of sight.
“You.” Vighon turned to the servant, though the man’s eyes were caught by the horror of the Golem. The northman clicked his fingers in front of the servant’s face, snatching his attention. “He won’t hurt you,” he said plainly. “Take him inside the keep and clean him up. Then find something to cover… everything.”
The servant only swallowed in response.
Vighon turned back to the Golem. “Sir Borin, go with this man and do exactly as he says. I will remain close by.”
The servant required an extra nudge to get moving, though the company of Keepers offered some reassurance. Vighon would have enjoyed the moment, free of an entourage, if he wasn’t so caught up in the fact that Queen Skalaf’s monster had returned to haunt him.
The king watched the wall of muscle that Sir Borin called a back disappear into the keep. “Will I ever be free of that thing?” he asked aloud.
“Doubtful,” Nathaniel replied, sheathing his sword. “If he can survive a mountain dropping on his head and a dragon swallowing him whole, what can stop him?”
Vighon sighed and sheathed the sword of the north, extinguishing the flames. “I suppose we need all the help we can get if we’re going to hold the city.”
A shadow overcame Nathaniel’s face as he too considered the hardship ahead of them. “Ravens have been sent to The Black Wood. A rider should be here in a few days with a diviner we can use to reach Ruban Dardaris. His forces in the south are sizeable.”
Vighon wasn’t convinced. “A few days could spell the end of our occupation. And regardless of Ruban’s numbers, they still need to travel the length of the country if they’re to defend Namdhor.”
Nathaniel tried to offer a balm to the king’s concerns. “I have no doubt the rider from The Black Wood will be in the company of a dwarven force. Doran didn’t take every warrior to Qamnaran. And we have allies in Lirian. In fact, the last I heard they were using The Pick-Axe as a base.”
Reyna stepped closer to the northman, her features set. “We will hold this city, your Grace.”
Though his title sounded
