It feels like recalling the life of another, Ilargo began. We were different back then. The future seemed so bright and full of hope. I felt so strong.
You are stronger now than you ever were, Gideon encouraged.
I do not feel it. As magic flees this world, I can feel it taking me with it.
Gideon wasn’t sure how much he believed his own words but he said them anyway. Have faith in our friends. They will save it. And when they do, we will be there to make sure this war comes to an end, one way or another.
Will you make me a promise, Gideon?
I don’t need to make that promise, he replied, well aware of what his companion was going to ask of him.
I need to hear you say it, Ilargo pressed. Promise me you will find a way to go on, to find a new life without me.
You think after fifty years that’s even possible. Could you? he fired back.
Yes.
Gideon rolled his eyes and glanced back at the resting dragon. Liar.
A quiet moment existed between them for a time, each settling in to the thoughts and emotions of the other. I am sorry for the way I spoke to you earlier, Ilargo said softly.
You don’t need to apologise, Gideon replied. Were I in your position I would be angry too. What’s happening to you isn’t fair. It isn’t right.
I believe the true source of my anger lies in our bond, Ilargo admitted.
How so? Gideon asked, unable to sense the truth behind the words.
As much as I hated to see you share my wounds, everything was easier when we bore it together. This new existence, though practical and fair, is somewhat… lonelier.
Gideon couldn’t argue with that. Life did seem less complicated. But we will find a way to make this work. Dragons and Riders lived this way for eons. We’ll find a way, he promised.
Ilargo shifted his front right leg and twitched with the pain that ran through it. Rest, old friend, Gideon bade, hoping the dragon would regain some of his confidence to fly again soon.
“Gideon.” The call came from Galanör, who had wandered a little further ahead of Ilargo.
Since there was no tone of alarm in his voice, Gideon made his way down the arena in his own time and met up with Aenwyn, who had also come to see what had attracted the ranger. Galanör’s back was facing them, his blue cloak perfectly still in the cool evening air. He pulled back his hood as they approached and stepped to one side so that they might see what lay on the arena floor.
Gideon frowned in his attempt to understand what he was looking at. Human as he was, his eyes quickly detected the familiar shape of a person’s skull. It was filthy and severely cracked across the top. He crouched down and moved some of the debris away to discover the rest of the skeleton, though the limbs were notably far away from the main body. Most of the bones were damaged in some way and decades old by their colour.
Standing up, he stepped back to take in the whole scene while his memory caught up with him. Looking around at the arena, Gideon quickly placed Rainael the emerald star and Queen Adilandra, both of whom had once stood where they were now. At the time, the Goddess of the Darkakin had been stuck between them.
“The Goddess,” he announced.
“She liked to think she was,” Galanör replied.
Gideon examined the gaps between the limbs and the main body again. “I remember Adilandra breaking a lot of her bones. I don’t remember her tearing them off.”
Galanör kicked one of the leg bones with the tip of his boot. “That’s because she didn’t. If I had to guess, I would say her subjects found her up here and—”
“Perhaps you don’t need to guess,” Aenwyn interjected. “This is picture enough I feel.”
“You know,” Gideon said, “for all her wickedness, I never gave her another thought after leaving here.”
“Nor would she have been deserving of it,” Galanör stated. “This is what she deserved,” he added, gesturing to her broken remains.
“Then let us not disturb her,” Aenwyn suggested, half turning back to their camp. “I would hear of Queen Adilandra though. The two of you spent much time with her.”
Gideon and Galanör shared a brief exchange of looks. “The Darkakin tried to break her, but she left these shores a stronger person,” the ranger declared. “You should have seen her when we rested in The Hook of the World, surrounded by dragons of every size and age,” he went on, returning to the fire beside Aenwyn. “She met Rainael face to face and convinced the queen of dragons to fly immediately to Velia. Had she not, that battle, nay the entire War for the Realm, might have ended very differently.”
Gideon gave the Goddess one last look before trailing them. “She was a demon on the battlefield too,” the old master recalled. “She required no aid that day.”
The trio took a seat around the fire, shared food and drink, and swapped stories well into the night. For a brief moment, Gideon forgot all about the troubles of the world and enjoyed the company of his friends and the rhythmic breathing of his companion behind him.
42
Preparations
A heavy slumber had settled upon Asher, taking the ranger back through the eons to a time of dragons. He sensed his young companion’s consciousness entwined with his own as Avandriell’s inherited memories gripped them both. It was an extraordinary experience to be awake yet trapped in his sleep, helpless to do anything but be carried along in the currents.
Though he saw naught but mist and shadow, the sound of beating wings and rushing air filled his ears. A familiar female voice called out to him through the ether, tethering him until the memory sharpened into light and colour. Asher wanted to hear Avandriell’s voice again but he was presented with a scene from millennia past, stealing his
