“The satchel is enchanted with a pocket dimension,” Gideon said rather redundantly. “If we place the Crissalith inside, we can transport it anywhere without it affecting us. Of course, as soon as we retrieve it from within, we will require the Hastion gem to maintain our advantage when facing Alijah or Malliath.”
“Won’t the Crissalith prevent the enchantment from working?” Aenwyn pointed out.
Gideon shook his head. “No. My first up-close encounter with Crissalith severed my bond with Ilargo, but it didn’t affect the enchantment on Mournblade - a fact that saved my life once upon a time.”
“It doesn’t affect objects,” Aenwyn said with revelation.
“Exactly,” Gideon replied with a broad smile.
“Well, what are we waiting for?” Galanör took the satchel from Gideon and draped it over his shoulder and hip. “Let’s go and dig up the past.”
As hard as it was for Aenwyn to leave the library behind, they returned to the council chamber. The trio paused briefly so Gideon could retrieve the three crystals he had hidden in his room, two of which were vital for their errand. Despite having everything Gideon had outlined in his plan, Galanör held loosely to any hope that they could actually free Alijah from Malliath’s influence. After all, they still had a long way to go and no end of perils in their path.
Ascending Ilargo’s green scales once more, they braced themselves as the dragon dived from the cliff and spread his wings to carry them into the vast blue of the heavens above. He turned south-east, to a murky horizon of waves, and put civilisation behind them.
39
An Alliance of Two Shores
Feet firmly planted in the land, his land, Vighon Draqaro ignored the icy blast of wind that sent his dark cloak billowing and kept his eyes fixed on the misty plains to the north. Nothing. It had been two days since Inara had left with the others and he believed another whole day would come and go without any sign of them. He knew it wasn’t nearly enough time to complete their errand but his attention continued to divert to the north.
He sighed, his eyes narrowing in the rising sun.
The king had enjoyed every minute of his time with Inara since her return to Illian, but it had been all too brief. Fate continued to intervene and find some new way of separating them. There was a growing part of him that feared the war would rob one of the other before the end.
“You are watching for her too,” came Reyna’s distinct voice. It was melodic and soft and drew the northman’s attention to his side, where she had quietly joined him.
“I have been watching for her all my life,” he replied dryly. “Why should I stop now?”
Reyna glanced up at him before returning her emerald eyes to the plains. “I am sorry to have seen Gideon and the others set off without you. Time is against us.”
Vighon considered looking down at the elf, who had been like a mother to him, but he couldn’t deny the sting of being left out of such a pivotal discussion, especially when it resulted in The Rebellion losing a dragon. Instead, he kept his gaze distant and said, “I have spoken with Asher.” His response turned the queen’s head. “I know this weapon they have gone to retrieve offers Alijah some kind of redemption. Or, at least, that’s what you’re hoping for.” As Reyna made to speak, the king continued. “I would have sanctioned such a mission,” he clarified. “Though I realise neither you nor I command the likes of Gideon Thorn and certainly not Ilargo. But I would not have objected.”
Reyna took a moment of contemplation. “Inara would have,” she remarked.
“You’re not wrong,” he replied, well aware of her feelings, or lack thereof, where her brother was concerned.
“I thought,” the queen pursued, her sight moving away, “given everything he’s done to you - taken from you - that you would want to see Alijah dead.”
Vighon swallowed. “I would be lying to you if I said I hadn’t dreamt of killing him. Many times. I would settle for Malliath’s head,” he continued. “But I could live with Alijah in chains.” His last comment had the queen’s head whipping around to look up at him again.
“In chains?” she echoed, her tone incapable of disguising her dismay.
Vighon met her gaze. “What else?” he asked. “His crimes against the realm demand punishment. Chains and a locked cell are the best I can do. And I will face opposition from those who want a more… permanent punishment.” Reyna looked away but the wind could not steal the stray tear from her cheek before the northman noticed. “What had you desired?” he enquired softly.
“The fancies of a hopeless mother I suppose,” she muttered. “I had dared to dream, should he be made to see sense, that I could take him back to Ayda. Without Malliath…” Her voice faltered before she found her courage. “Without Malliath he will be mortal again. I know it is more than he deserves, but I would have liked for my son to spend his final years among the trees of The Amara. A simpler life.”
Vighon recalled, with painful clarity, the young man Alijah Galfrey had once been. “I’m not sure even he would allow that. If he truly saw himself for the monster he has become, I think he would want to be locked away. Perhaps worse.”
Reyna’s shoulders sagged and her head dipped down to her chest. Vighon didn’t hesitate to reach out and pull her into his embrace before more tears streaked down her face. He was sure to keep his back to the camp, concealing their moment.
The king’s shoulders bobbed with a silent chuckle. “What are we doing talking about the future? Has there ever been a more uncertain thing? The realm of magic is crumbling to ash and our enemy has but to wait it out. If we lose the dragons our fight is over.
