“We both know that is not the reason Gideon has flown all the way to Ayda,” Inara countered. “And it’s the same reason why my mother was happy for them to go.”
Vighon nodded to himself, sure that they were getting to the truth of her ire now. “You do not want redemption for your brother,” he stated.
“Do you?” Inara put back to him.
Vighon didn’t answer right away, his gaze taking a moment to drift across the land. “I want my kingdom back,” he finally said. “I want my people to live without fear. I wouldn’t mind mounting Malliath’s head in the throne room. Do I want you to lose your brother? Your parents to lose their son? Do I want to lose my oldest friend?” That last one brought back so many memories for the northman: experiences by Alijah’s side that clouded his judgment.
“Sometimes I wonder if his would be a death too many,” he continued. “Selfishly, I wonder that because I know his death would affect those closest to me. The realm is filled with people - many of whom are right behind us - who have already suffered the loss of those closest to them. As their king, I know I should avenge those deaths and kill the one responsible. There have certainly been many times when I can think of nothing but running him through with my sword.” Vighon paused to look at Inara. Her features had softened but she maintained an air of resolution where the subject was concerned. “In the moment though,” he added, “I imagine Alijah won’t give us a choice. We will be forced to kill him or be killed ourselves, Crissalith or not.”
“In the moment?” Inara repeated incredulously. “The moment has passed. We are already without a choice.”
Vighon sighed inwardly and nodded in agreement. “Perhaps you are right,” he lamented. “Either way; I believe Gideon’s decision to be the right one. Had I been present, I would have encouraged them to go.”
Inara continued to ride beside him in silence, though her thoughts might as well have been on the outside.
“Just say it,” Vighon urged. “I can see it’s killing you.”
“You would have been wrong,” Inara was quick to say, her tone low enough to reach Vighon alone.
Vighon couldn’t help but smile. “I’m allowed to be wrong. Such are the privileges of being king.”
Inara rolled her eyes. “You’re insufferable.”
“You know, if you were… queen, we would have to make all of our decisions together. We could be wrong together,” he said, hoping to bring some levity to their conversation.
Inara turned to lay her blue eyes on him. “That, Vighon Draqaro, is not a proposal. Though you would be wrong far less of the time,” she added with a hint of a smile.
Vighon realised it was the first he had seen on her face since Athis had returned with all his considerable strength. Whatever their future, the northman knew there and then that making Inara smile was his reason for living.
“When the time comes,” he said, adopting a serious tone once more, “we will face Alijah and Malliath together. And whatever happens, we will live with the consequences together.”
Inara reached out and squeezed his hand, a genuine look of appreciation on her face. “Together,” she echoed.
“Your Grace!” The call drew their attention to the road ahead, where both scouts were quickly returning on horseback.
Captain Dardaris intercepted them first. “Report!” he commanded.
“They do not answer to our calls, Captain,” one of the Namdhorians replied. “There sounds to be a battle taking place.”
“A battle?” Vighon scowled as he narrowed his vision at the gates. There did, indeed, appear to be people moving frantically atop the walls but the details were still hazy from this distance.
Without a word to Ruban or his men, the king set his mount to a gallop and rushed ahead of The Rebellion. He was quickly followed by Inara and the captain before the bulk of the force caught on and hastened after the northman. Closing the gap, he witnessed a man fall to his death from the top of the wall, shortly followed by a pair of Reavers, one of which had a spear impaled through its chest. The fiends crashed into the ground and struggled to rise with so many broken bones, but rise they did - just in time to glimpse the flaming sword of the north.
From atop his horse, Vighon cut down the closest Reaver with a single strike across the head, before kicking the second back. An arrow whistled past him and took the Reaver in the face. The fact that the Reaver’s head exploded and the arrow continued until it drove into the stone of Palios identified the archer as Reyna. Looking over his shoulder, he saw the elven queen was hanging over the side of her saddle, another arrow already nocked.
Bringing his horse to a halt, he could hear the fighting taking place above - the clash of swords, the screams of men, and the wretched howls of Alijah’s twisted Seekers. “We need to get up there!” Vighon yelled to his arriving forces.
“I can do up,” Inara remarked, jumping down from her horse before it even came to a stop.
Beside the road, Athis thundered to the ground with such might that he rattled Palios’s towering doors. Inara had been running towards the dragon before he landed and was quick to ascend to his back. Not one to miss a good fight, Asher was close on the Guardian’s heels before he too climbed onto Athis’s back. One beat of his wings cleared them from the ground and one more brought them in line with the top of the wall, ideal for Inara and Asher to leap from the dragon’s head to the battlements. Even Avandriell followed them into the action, her bronze scales glimmering in the sunlight.
That was the last Vighon saw of the pair and the young dragon.
