“Has that crown actually made a good dwarf of you?” Asher jested.
Doran looked up, though he couldn’t see it resting on his head. “Somethin’ had to, I suppose,” he agreed with a laugh.
Asher’s head turned to his left as Avandriell slowly rose from the street with a low growl in her throat. “I think that did it.”
“Finally,” Doran grumbled, rising to his feet beside the ranger. “I was beginnin’ to wonder if all this talkin’ was for nothin’.”
Asher drew his broadsword, the rising steel enough to home the Clackers in on his location. “Perhaps now would be a good time to retreat and plan our infiltration.”
Doran looked up at the ranger’s face and discovered the same hungry expression that ruled his own. They shared a hearty laugh before the dwarf separated Andaljor, taking axe and hammer in hand.
“Ye take the hundred on the left. I’ll take the hundred on the right.”
Asher raised his sword in both hands while Avandriell bared her fangs. “Seems fair,” he remarked.
“Aye!” King Doran hefted his legendary weapons and braced himself. “May the best dwarf win!”
61
Legacy
Seated comfortably on a smooth rock, his wand spinning endlessly between his fingers, Kassian Kantaris let his head loll back while he basked in the summer sun. South of The Evermoore, the Keeper had found the climate he felt suited to. He had longed for it after a freezing winter in the north and a spring that still felt like an extension of winter to him.
But it wasn’t the climate that had brought him to The Moonlit Plains. Ever since he had passed through the region on the way to the battle, Kassian had come across something he hadn’t been able to get off his mind.
Returning to a level gaze, he narrowed his eyes through the light and looked upon West Fellion. It was a ramshackle of a ruin. Long abandoned, its upkeep had been neglected and none had tried to piece it all back together. The stone was crumbling in places and utterly shattered in others. Anything made from wood was in the process of rotting and the surrounding moat was better described as a swamp.
It was perfect.
Approaching from the ancient fortress, Aphira cut a fierce figure with her wand holstered to her thigh and her sword tight to her hip, the hilt poking out of her Keeper’s coat. Beyond her, Kassian caught sight of a few other Keepers as they inspected various parts of West Fellion’s ramparts.
“Well?” he called out to Aphira.
“It’s a dump,” she told him plainly.
Kassian grinned. “But it could be our dump.”
Aphira raised a sceptical eyebrow. “The required work aside - and it is considerable - it’s very exposed. Even with a moat, which needs clearing,” she caveated, “we could be approached from all sides. At least in Valatos we had Velia’s high walls around us.”
“It needs to be here,” Kassian stated. “If this is truly going to be a sanctuary for people who are conduits - as well as a place to learn - it needs its privacy.” The Keeper opened his arms to take in the plains. “The closest anything is miles from here.”
“What about something like Korkanath?” Aphira put forward. “That had privacy and security.”
Kassian shook his head. “We can’t be an island. We need to be seen as part of the country, part of the people. Here, in the middle of Illian, there is no disputing that we live on land owned and governed by the house of Draqaro. We need to be making laws with the king and queen, not trying to live outside of them.”
Aphira chewed over his answer and offered no protest. “The middle of Illian,” she echoed. “Why would it ever be called West Fellion?”
Kassian gave a short laugh. “Back when Gal Tion was the king of Illian, it was a much smaller Illian. Where we stand was the most western border of his realm. This is where Tyberius Gray founded the Graycoats, on the edge of the wilds.”
Aphira’s eyes ran over the old stone. “And this is where they fell.”
“More or less,” he agreed.
Aphira turned to him. “We aren’t keeping the name, are we?”
Kassian smiled knowingly but his response was drowned out by a loud call from the top of the ramparts. Following Ayden’s direction, he turned on the rock and looked to the north where a hundred or more horses trotted down The Selk Road.
Aphira squinted at the distance. “Is that…”
“Our king and queen,” Kassian finished. His spinning wand slipped through his grasp and he promised himself he would continue to practise the trick until his hand adapted to having only three fingers and a thumb.
“What are they doing here?” Aphira asked.
“I invited them,” Kassian informed her. “They had business in Lirian,” he added, gesturing to the north, where The Evermoore lay just out of sight.
“You just invited the king and queen of Illian!” Aphira said, her voice suggesting she was somewhere between disbelief and amusement.
“It’s like you said: I’m uniquely positioned.” Kassian rose from his perch and prepared himself to greet the royals.
Leading the long procession, Vighon and Inara approached the fortress on horseback, both wearing a warm smile for the Keepers.
“Kassian!” Vighon called out as he climbed down from his horse.
“Your Graces!” Kassian bowed to the king before the northman embraced him.
Inara refrained from anything so physical, though she did respond with a polite bow of her head. “It is good to see you again,” she beamed. “And it has been
