All things must end

She was panicking and she knew it.  This was so unlike her.  Yes, Ayrial was indeed angry with the young Laurel Brevor, and her revenge would be harsh, cruel and last an eternity.  However, for the first time, for as long as she could care to remember, she was actually afraid.  Ayrial frantically searched through scrolls, books, and tomes for a remedy.  Prayer to her dark goddess offered no relief.  She was vulnerable now and she despised it so. 

Putting effort into anything exhausted her, let alone casting magic or prayer rituals.  The poison was highly effective, a recipe she was sure to steal from Laurel when she became under her control.  Now, though, she needed a cure, something should counter this.  It has been several days since she was struck, and the vile potent was still lingering.  Why her body had not flushed it naturally by now, she was unsure, possibly something to do with the ingredients.

Ayrial knew she should be focusing on other recent events, but her heart forced her to react differently.  Rygerri would be making his move soon, she was aware of that, and Norrelle will need help.  Yes, her eldest sister watched over the young dragon queen, but she alone could not deal with that beast.  Ayrial also knew that Norrelle would more than likely gain no assistance from the other two sisters, well at least one.  The so called Elfin Queen was so high on herself and vowed that Eteliwyth originally wanted humans out of the ruling body of Ine'iss.

According to history, her sister was right; the god Eteliwyth abolished all human kings, placing the realm under dragon leadership, guided by the elves.  Yet the god Asoamar did not agree, and goddess Arerradan cared not all, for she was the death.  Arerradan was her goddess, the goddess of the night, the lady of the Lyrumu and the giants.  Then why should she care?

She gave her word to Norrelle years ago, to aid her, but she has proven to be weak, a push over at times.  Would the young dragon make a worthy queen?

“My sentiments exactly,” came a voice from behind her.

Quickly turning, trying to look strong, she saw a dark skinned male sitting at her table, pouring himself a cup of tea.  “Rygerri, you are indeed bold,” she said slowly advancing toward him.

“Yes,” he said with a smile.  “Well Baelathkai, am I bold enough to be your king?  We don't need a human lover on the throne now do we?”

“You need to stay out of my thoughts Rygerri.”  Ayrial positioned herself strategically in the room, moving closer to her staff.

“Your thoughts betray your desires witch!  Must we play this game?  Your sister is right, Eteliwyth banished those humans over five hundred years ago, he wanted them nowhere near the throne.  The Great Kings are over; they have been for nearly six hundred years.  Eteliwyth wanted only dragons to rule, so I must oblige his wishes.”

“Eteliwyth is dead, killed by Clinox two hundred and fifty-eight years ago.  His wishes matter not.  The prophecies state that Ine'iss will return to its former glory!”

“When was that?  The Great Kings?  Or the rule of the dragons?” Rygerri stated.  “It is a matter of interpretation.  You see it one way, I the other!”

Rygerri stood abruptly, intersecting her path to the staff.  She did not need the enchanted ash staff to cast, but in this current afflicted state it would help.  She knew that the dragon knew this as well.  “I gave Norrelle my word, Eteliwyth as well.”

“And what is the value of the word from a priestess to Arerradan?  The goddess of death, darkness, deceit?  No, my lady your word means little.”

Ayrial moved the other way; she did not want to get cornered.  Moving slowly purposely to build up her strength, she said, “You presume to know me so well?  It is not Arerradan that gave Norrelle her word, it is I. I serve her!”

“Must we do this Baelathkai?  I need your help, at least one of you,” he said as he moved closer, she backed away, glancing quickly behind her, the wall was getting close.  “I grow tired of arguing with each of you!  Your nephew, your half-blood niece, your eldest sister, and the other half-blood Shadowgrass, all of you are stubborn, blind, and foolish!”

“I will not aid you dragon, I must keep my word!”  Ayrial extended her hand, summoning her staff.  It lifted off her throne and began gliding toward her.  Rygerri only smiled as he outstretched his own hand and snatched the enchanted rod from the air.

“So be it witch!  One less Baelathkai to concern myself with!”  He swung his arm outward, the magical force that he released from his palm lifted her several feet into the air and sent her flying backwards.  Her body slammed with a loud thump against the cold stone wall.  Her head bounced back against it, she felt it crack open as she slid to the ground.

Stepping closer he waved his hand again, this time flinging her across the room, only to come to a stop at the opposite wall.  She lifted her arms to protect her face, feeling both of them snap with the force of the collision. Falling to the floor she realized now she was more afraid than she had thought earlier.  Beaten she was, there was no fight left in her.  She was nearly ready to surrender when he magically tossed her again, back from the direction she came, though much higher this time.

Again, she hit the wall, but this time, it was different.  Something slid through her stomach from her back, impaling her.  She did not slide down to the floor.  Looking down she saw a sconce had sliced through her broken body, holding her against the wall.  She wrapped her hands around the icy metal bracket, as if attempting to hold her life giving blood in.  It was in vain however.

The dragon walked up to her, grinning with satisfaction.  Once reaching her he physically pushed her back against the wall, ripping her wound open further.  “The Funny thing is Baelathkai that you have acted in the past for your own gain.  I see this so clearly, I feel the guilt, the shame within you.  You betrayed those that trusted you, you manipulated your friends, your queen, and your family.”

Floating up to her level he leaned to her ear and whispered, “See, your word means nothing to me or them.  You violated their trust too many times.  You reveled in their fear of you, their awe.  And when they needed you most, you betrayed them by plotting vengeance and nearly foiling their goals.  Yes, let the guilt eat at your dying soul.”

He dropped to the ground, her vision fading as he stepped back from her.  Ayrial felt guilt, as he knew, the beast was right.  Her time was past; no one feared or respected her now.  Shamefully, it was all her doing and she died knowing this.

* * *

The incessant pacing was beginning to get on Colin's nerves.  Colin Brevor sat with his feet propped up on Lord Stephan Hardin's desk as the irritated councilman passed to and fro in front of the window behind the desk.  He puffed on a cigar as he watched the noble shake his head and wring his hands nervously.

“My week has been far worse Stephan,” Colin said breaking the silence.  “I've lost my son, my wife, my empire...”

Stephan stopped, turning to look at him he said, “Empire?  You have far more than your little underground smuggling and slave trading my friend.”

“Right,” Colin inhaled the cigar.  It tasted good, though the Dyginian Tobacco was illegal, but being a smuggler did have its advantages.  “You can't guarantee s**t Stephan.  You do not even know if King Richmond is alive or dead.  With Clinox dead, you rule nothing.  Now there's a rogue dragon flying around and Norrelle suddenly thinks she runs the city.  Your plan, our plan, has fallen to s**t, my lord!”

Stephan pulled out his chair and sat.  “I know, but we can rectify it.”

“How?  Soon Queen Anne will take control, and young Tanner will be King.”

“That b*****d is only eleven years old, he can't rule.”

“But she can advise him, it's the law,” Colin put out the cigar.

“Yes, but we can eliminate them,” Stephan said, leaning back and propping his feet up likewise.

“Assassinate the royal family?” Colin said surprisingly.  “Are you crazy,” this was beginning to get to bold.  Clinox capturing Richmond and killing was one thing, but this, well it was brash.  Colin could not do such a task, nor could anyone under his command.  He had to ask to see where this was going, “Who?”

“I've got someone.”

“Who?” he repeated.

“Kyrian Seiamble,” Stephan said with a grin.

Colin sat up, placing his feet on the floor, “I thought that, that Dyginian Elf b***h was executed?”

“So did everyone else,” Stephan also sat up.  “I had someone executed in her place, then hid her, kept her on the payroll for odd jobs here and there.”

“Isn't that what I get paid for?  That b***h is damn scary.  She nearly got Richmond the first time.”

“Right, if it wasn't for Fiona, Shadowgrass and the knights, she would have,” he slammed his fist.

“You paid her then?”

“Since we can't hold Shadowgrass much longer, we'll let him go in the morning, three days is all we can detain him, or Norrelle will be on us with everything we have.  We don't have proof, though I said otherwise, it's all circumstantial.  Then, I'll arrange for Kyrian to remove the royal family and we'll pin it on Jason,” he laughed.

Colin just rolled his eyes.  “Will you give it up?  You'll never get Shadowgrass short of killing him yourself, he's too careful.  He's also got too many allies now, after all, he saved the friggin' city from Clinox.  No one will believe, especially now with Norrelle backing him with so much vigor.”

“I want that b*****d to feel pain, crushed, ruined!  Him, then the b***h Norrelle!  They are the last of the knights,” he angrily ran his arms across the desk, sending papers, quill, and inkwell to the floor.

Maybe Patch was right; maybe it was time to move on.  The city was in ruins, the government in shambles.  If Stephan could not take control of the city, then all associated with him would more than likely go down with him, including Colin.  Clinox attacked his home, nearly killing Laurel, slaughtering his men, he had so little left.  It would take him years to rebuild, if he were to try it alone.  He sighed; Stephan was staring at him, waiting for him to speak.

He was in the deep so far, abut not deep enough he could not get out.  The only thing he feared was the Elfish Assassin that Hardin now was willing to unleash.  Sighing again, maybe he would be safer should he bear all to Norrelle and bury the hatchet with Shadowgrass.  The thought did not sit well with him, but Patch was right, they were the best of friends when they were younger.

Standing he looked at Stephan, “Unleash your unholy terror on the royals Stephan, but this is not what I signed on for.”

Hardin stood quickly, slamming his fist to the desk.  “You cannot walk out now, I won't have it!”

“Seems to me you have someone else that can do your dirty work, so count me out!” He walked to the door.

“I'll not let you go so easily Brevor!”

“I've survived much worse Hardin, much worse.”  Turning to face him, “Your world is falling around you; you would be wise to back out now too.”  With that he moved through the door, slamming it behind him.  Pausing for a moment he sighed again.  What had he done?  Who had he become?  His anger and hate consumed him, and because of it, he now was alone.  Colin Brevor walked down the hall, “I want my life back,” h

Reviews

[James Watts]

Not bad. I noticed this was book II. Did you have the first one published? Or maybe it was posted here during my absence from the cafe. I would love to read it. If it published email me the details so that I can buy it.