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Chapter 51

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Vanador had flown through most of the night. He had flown fast because he and Siophra had hoped to reach the capital while still under the cover of darkness. Though she had been a prisoner in its finest jail for a very long time, Siophra wasn't very familiar with finding her way around the actual city. She was looking for a place to hide something the size of a large white dragon. He had done some hard flying and so he was going to need to rest. It seemed a little foolhardy to try and park him on a roof somewhere. Besides, they had tried that before, and it hadn't worked out too well. There were not that many doorways that could accommodate something his size. It was ironic that the buildings closest to Argent's palace seemed to have the highest probability of having a door that would suffice to allow Vanador to get inside and out of sight. Since her best information was that her sister Muina was supposed to be in the city center somewhere, it seemed that they were going to have to take some chances. Dawn was upon them. She finally settled on the library. The roof was caved in, so it was likely that not too many people would be inside. Luckily the ground floor had some rather ostentatious doors. Argent loved to impress. The lower main lobby was still in pretty good shape. The books had been removed, probably to ensure that they would not be destroyed if the roof finished coming down. Workmen's bootprints could be seen crisscrossing the carpeted foyer. The prints likely were from the crews stabilizing and repairing the damage incurred when Argent had hit the building with a powerful lightning bolt. That it had done this much damage to the building and had missed them by a very small margin was not lost on Siophra. Vanador had just found a place to wiggle himself down into a sitting position when Siophra heard footsteps approaching down the staircase that led to the upper floors.

An older elf on a crutch and with bandages over many parts of his body stopped at the bottom of the stairs and was staring at her.

"I was thinking you might be Ardwella," he said. "And the black dragon"

"Sorry, she came down with a headache. Said Siophra. You must be Talmadge.

“Yes, I am,” the banged-up-looking elf said. Incidentally, I happen to be the very last elf that knows the spell that self-immolates dragons,” he said with a twisted smile.” He looked at Vanador. “If your dragon is going to survive, you are going to have to do exactly as I say”

” It’s a pity it takes so long to cast that one,” said Siophra, leaping forward while simultaneously drawing the white sword. The lightning bolt that flew out from Tamadge’s hand impacted the blade, and it lit up brightly. With her other hand, Siophra had already drawn the black sword from her other side. She swung it swiftly and cleanly severed Talmadge’s head from the rest of his body. His head bounced on the floor, and the rest of him soon followed. His face briefly looked up at her in shock, having surprisingly landed in a position to do that. The light soon left his eyes.

”Ouch ouch, hot!” yelled Siophra, dropping the white blade where its heat quickly started the library carpet on fire. Siophra stomped out the flames.

“Did you see that Vanador?”

”Of course I did,” said the dragon. It’s a good thing you had both swords.”

”Not that! The fire stomping. It emphasizes the reason for wearing sturdy shoes, don’t you think?”

“It does at that,” observed the dragon

”I’m pointing this out because I think you are still on the fence about the importance of wearing clothes and, of course, practical shoes.”

”You have to admit that they wouldn’t do much for me,” said Vanador.

”I probably wouldn’t have been as eager to stomp out that fire barefoot. You understand that, don’t you? Or even in those little things with the fancy heels that Mavis wears. A female elf needs to wear good practical shoes.”

”Well, I could have done it for you,” said the dragon

‘I can’t have you doing every little thing for me, Vanador. That’s pathetic. I’m a self-sufficient elf!”

”Besides can you imagine the noise it would make with you stomping around in here? That would draw unwanted attention!”

”You mean like him?” Asked the dragon, gesturing to the severed head and body on the floor.

”Exactly! You know he didn’t seem as friendly and helpful as Esmarilla seemed to expect,” said Siophra. “If that was really Talmadge.”

The pooling blood had reached the still, very hot white sword, and it began to sizzle on the floor within the circle of burned carpet. Siophra wrapped her hand in a cloth and picked it up carefully.

“Burning blood smells so nasty,” she said.

“It certainly paid off for us to have worked so much on your body and nerve clusters. Your movements when fighting were very fluid and smooth.

“Thank you for all the help with that. I agree that it is time to start living my life.”

”I completely agree, sister,” came a voice from the top of the stairs.

A female elf that looked shockingly like Ardwella, Beautiful but in a much more believable way, began descending the stairs.

”Muina!” Said Siophra. You just saved us a lot of time. I was just about to go and look for you”

The elf named Muina approached the body on the floor. She looked down upon it. Her face was an unreadable mask.

”I can’t believe he is actually dead!” Said Muina with a quiver in her voice. “I can finally be free!”

Suddenly she pulled back a leg and let loose with a savage kick that sent the head flying through the air and bouncing off a few empty bookshelves before falling with a strange splat that remained Siophra of a summer mellon being dropped.

Siophra looked appraisingly at her sister and nodded knowingly to Vanador.

”See what you can do when you don’t bow to fashion and are willing to wear sturdy shoes?”

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Tundor flapped hard for quick altitude. The elf on his back was hanging on the best he could, but it was not a smooth ride. He shouted something to Tundor but the sound was torn away in the wind. Once Tundor reached a height from which he could temporarily glide, he rotated his neck and turned so that he could see the elf. Clark looked a little green. His eyes were wide, and his lips were closed tightly as if he might violently expel something from his digestive tract. Tundor didn't remember Ardwynn having problems when first flying on his back. Thinking about it for a few seconds, he supposed that the bond probably smoothed out some of the anxiety.

"Where are you going?" called Clark loudly through the wind.

"Not sure yet," said Tundor. "The farther I can get from Ardwynn, the better!"

"We need to break the bond!" yelled Clark. "I can take you to someone, but we have to hurry!"

"Who?"

There were a few moments of silence while Clark seemed to be considering something.

"If Ardwynn wakes up and you know the answer to that question, she might be able to drag it out of your mind. I can't tell you. If you want me to take you to someone who can help you, then you are going to have to trust me."

Tundor had to start flapping again. His glide was running out of altitude. He began flapping again for lift as he thought about his options. He believed that Esmarilla would probably know how to break the bond without killing him or causing him excessive damage. Yet she had not offered to do so when it seemed that Ardwynn was starting to show her true self.

Through all of this, now that he considered it in retrospect, the large black dragon and her rider Ardwella had made some very bad decisions. The worst seemed to be saying nothing and even offering tacit approval while their son Lothinar married the niece of Argent. Her pheromone camouflage might be one thing, but after smelling Argent's true bloodline, Tundor wondered how Ardwella could have ever accepted that. Something devious and unsettling was going on. He didn't know what it was, but Clark had come through for him in a big way.

He stopped flapping and began to glide again.

"Tell me where to go. Just keep pointing, and I'll get you there," said Tundor.

"Good choice! said Clark. "Thank you for trusting me!" Clark began pointing off to Tundor's right. Tundor adjusted his course accordingly. They continued to fly into the night, Clark squinting for a landmark, pointing, and Tundor making adjustments. Around dawn, they left the forested lands and began to fly over what looked like almost completely overgrown farmland. Trees that had to be hundreds of years old were spreading through what had been irrigated fields. Tundor could still see the patchwork of farmland and outbuildings that looked largely crumbled and decayed. Soon they reached the ruins of an elven city. Burned-out shells of buildings lined what originally must have been wide, beautiful streets. They spread out from a huge central building in the city center like spokes on a wagon wheel. The destruction went on for miles.

"The dragons did manage to fight back when Argent and his forces initially attempted to enslave them," said Clark gesturing to the destruction below them.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

"How many of them did it take to do this? To destroy this entire town?"

Clark laughed evilly. "Only one! And you are just about to meet her!"

Tundor looked down and couldn't miss what Clark had to be talking about. A blue dragon was poking her enormous head out of the ruins in the center of the wrecked elven city. Tundor had thought Esmarilla and Vanador were large. This dragon made them both look small. She obviously saw Tundor and his passenger because she quickly excavated herself from the hole her head had previously occupied and stepped into the open space next to the temple. The wall proceeded her as it explosively got out of her way. The large central building's roof, deprived of its support on one side, began to sag. The dragon shrugged it off as large roofing tiles tumbled off her. She shook out her wings, flinging dust.

"Ooh. It looks like we actually caught her by surprise," said Clark. "She was keeping the rain off with that roof. She's always been very careful not to knock it down before."

Tundor changed course and prepared to flee. It was not a conscious decision. Something deep and primal in his brain was calling out for a self-preserving quick retreat. His only hope was to try to get some distance before she got into the air... Nope. He was too late, As big as the dragon was, she moved fast. Her jump took her a full thirty feet off the ground, and she pounded the air with her mighty wings. Tundor instinctively knew that there was no way he was going to be able to outfly her, even with a head start.

He tried anyway. Beating his wings frantically like a bird terrorized by a huge cat. A cat with three-foot fangs could fly. Clark was strangely silent. Tundor felt enough impending doom for the both of them.

The dragon closed, but just before swatting him from the air with a huge talon, she stopped.

"Where did you find this beautiful little white dragon Mandel?" came her huge but surprisingly sweet voice.

"I rescued him from where Argent's niece Ardwynn had him held captive in the capital Vanquish. He needs your help right away. Somehow he got bonded to her. He will have to explain how that happened. She's going to be waking up any minute now. Can you break the bond? It's probably going to have to be quick!"

"I can do it," said the dragon. "But quick is going to hurt. No doubt quite a lot! Little dragon, do you want to be free?"

For Tundor, it really wasn't much of a choice. If Ardwynn somehow got control over him again, he knew he would end up bonded to Argent"

From terror to hope. Tundor's feelings were in turmoil.

"Yes, please. Quick would be fine. Thank you!"

"You had better land then." said the dragon that Tundor had only now processed that Clark had called Vanquish.

Tundor turned in the air and dropped quickly. Clark let out a little yelp but held on. Once on the ground, the white dragon cringed as the huge blue pounded into the ground near him and quickly closed the distance. Tundor was quivering. Is this what Candasar would eventually become?

"Are you ready little one? This is probably going be pretty painful."

"Do it!" said Tundor.

Vanquish drew near and somehow surrounded him with some sort of spell. It washed over him. It peeled back the layers of his soul like flaying skin. Could a body survive this much pain? Just before Tundor passed out he had a last thought....

"Wait... who is Mandel? He said his name was Clark!" Then someone turned out the lights.

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Three of Enderline's men had tackled Albarad to the ground. There had been a lot of shouting. Then, the heavy footfalls of a huge dragon vibrated through the earth. Albarad had felt them through his left cheekbone, which was firmly pushed into the ground where he had been forced down. More men had yelled, and an ear-shattering roar had ensued. A gout of flame had shot out once again into the air. Albarad had felt the heat on his back and had been suddenly grateful for the humans between him and the flames.

The pressure of the three men holding him down had vanished, and then Albarad had felt himself snatched up quickly in the mouth of his wife's dragon. Her long and pointed teeth had grabbed him but did not pierce his skin. Belatedly Albarad had come to the conclusion that he might have acted hastily in striking the priest. In all the excitement and getting shaken around that came with flying in the mouth of a giant dragon, he might have passed out.

Now it was the next morning, and Albarad found himself waking up in a strange room. The bed was covered with a very beautiful quilt. Just as he was about to call out, his son Lothinar walked into the room.

"Hello, father," he said with a smile. "Thanks for coming to visit!"

"What are you smiling for? Something's wrong". Said Albarad. "When I got back, your mother wasn't there. They said that she had been in an accident. She is very important to me, son. I kind of lost my temper"

"Esmarilla told me what happened, and don’t worry, Mother is fine. She is tougher than she looks.” Said Lothinar.

His father looked at him skeptically.

”I let you sleep because I didn't think that there was much we could do about it last night. Some tempers needed to cool. Esmarilla and Candasar are out hunting this morning. Oh, and this is Firestorm"

A little red dragon was poking her head around the corner of the doorway. She walked over to Albarad and gave him a little sniff. Then she turned around three times and flumped down on a small but plush rug by the bed.

Albarad heard some movement from outside of the room. He cocked his head and looked at his son as if asking a question...

"Oh! That's Ronni moving about. She's probably making breakfast for us. She's very kind and really good about things like that. She made me Mung Bean soup last night for dinner, even though I don't think it's her favorite. I know it's not yours either."

Albarad realized that he had made a slight face at the mention of the soup.

"That's not what's for breakfast, is it? I mean, I'm not trying to be picky or anything...."

Lothinar laughed. "No, don't worry. Ronniflass has plenty of other things as well. I had buckwheat cakes for breakfast yesterday."

Lothinar grew serious.

"Listen, I know that you are worried about Mother, but you need to know that what happened wasn't Starett's fault. Something happened between the sisters. Mom and Aunt Siophra. They had some sort of an argument. Esmarilla wouldn't tell me what it was about. She said Ardwella would have to do it. Siophra smacked Mom on the back of the head with her sword and then flew away on Vanador someplace. I couldn't get where they went out of Esmarilla either."

Albarad looked shocked.

"Ardwella got hit on the head?"

"Yes, I guess it was just supposed to knock her out for a little while, only maybe Siophra hit her harder than she thought. She hasn't woken up."

"We need to get down there....find out what’s going on with your mother “

”Esmarilla can still feel her through the bond. She told me that mom and the baby are fine.” Said Lothinar. “Esmarilla thinks that somehow, subconsciously, Mother doesn’t want to wake up yet. It’s like she is concentrating really hard on something she forgot about until now”

”Am I ever even going to be able to go back to Delora?”

"Well, you are in a lot of trouble with the King and most of the city right now. A few of the men got some minor burns when Esmarilla pulled you out of there. It wasn’t the welcome from the 'Dragon God' that the king was probably expecting. Perhaps I should go alone and leave you here while I see if I can smooth things over"

"I'm so worried about her son!"

"Me too, Dad."

Albarad started to climb out of bed, then stopped in confusion.

"Why do I have no pants?"

Lothinar looked troubled for some reason. He almost laughed but pulled it back. He looked apologetic.

"We are kind of making a new tradition that the men of our family have to wake up for the first time in this house naked."

"What? asked Albarad.

"No, I'm joking. Believe it or not I found myself in a not too dissimilar situation only yesterday. Your clothes... at least the pants, they were..uh..wet. We cleaned them. I’m sure they are almost dry. I'll go get them. Oh yeah, you are also going to have to apologize to Esmarilla."

"What for?"

"Apparently, your hasty rescue and departure in the mouth of an enormous dragon caused you to lose control of your bladder."

"NO!"

"I'm afraid so. It's perfectly understandable. It was probably terrifying."

"So I wet myself while being carried in Esmarilla's mouth?"

"I'm afraid so. I'm sure she will forgive you."

"This is terrible. Nothing like this has ever happened…..I wonder how I can make it up to her..." said Albarad.

Albarad was surprised when a young dragon’s voice piped up from her resting place on the rug.

"If I were you, I would never even bring it up." Said Firestorm sincerely. "Ever!"

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Ardwynn woke up hard. Her head was throbbing. Standing over her were two anxious faces. They peered down at her sympathetically. One of them she recognized as the Steward of her father's estate back in the capital. The other was dressed as a housekeeper. How did she get here? Why was she lying on this uncomfortable cot? She struggled into a sitting position. Her mouth felt like it was full of ashes. Where was Lothinar?

No wait... Not Lothinar... Where was TUNDOR?"

"Tundor?" she called, sending out the bond. She called again. There was only silence. It was so strange. It was like her memories had huge gaps and holes in them.. Her brain didn't seem to be working right. Trying to push through the bond just made it worse. She tried anyway but soon fell back. Her body slumped back onto the cot.

"Are you alright, Miss?" Can I bring you anything?" asked the housekeeper. She was a fairly plain looking middle-aged elven woman.

"Did you sleep poorly, my Lady? Echoed the Steward. I was surprised that you wished to sleep here. This cot seems barely suitable. We didn't wish to disturb you this morning, but your uncle has been sending messengers around since very early asking for your presence in the throne room. At first, it all seemed fine, but the last one was rather insistent. I sent them away, of course, but I'm sure you know that one does not say no to your uncle, the Emperor, for very long without repercussions. I certainly hope the messengers understand that my saying no to them, on your behalf, was not me... but you, of course, by proxy and in your name. That is... I would never be so bold on my own. But since you left word through Clark that you were not be disturbed...."

"Clark said that I wasn't to be disturbed?"

"Yes, my lady," grimaced the housekeeper. "He indicated….rather…We assumed that you had been enticed by his charms. He is very persuasive and quite a handsome devil." Then she smiled dreamily. "I can even see that myself."

"Let us not discuss our Lady's proclivities!" said the Steward. "She is entitled now as the inheritor of this estate to sample..."

"ENOUGH!" shouted Ardwynn. "I did not sample Clark or anyone else!" I think someone drugged me! I had planned to wake up early. I have an appointment with the Emperor. What time is it now?"

"It is after Ten." said the steward.

"My appointment was for eight!" groaned Ardwynn.

Even though her thoughts were cloudy and unfocused, the thought of angering Argent seemed to spike enough adrenalin into Ardwynn's system to cause her to stand, though she swayed unsteadily.

"Where is the white dragon? Have you seen him?"

"I assume he is doing what dragons do." said the housekeeper. "Flying about hunting dragon food perhaps? My kitchen staff certainly has nothing to feed a beast of that size!"

Ardwynn was starting to realize that Tundor was gone. Somehow he had broken the bond and fled. It seemed that someone in the capital had managed to help him by drugging her. Who could it have been? There was probably a very short list of suspects.

Ardwynn slumped back down on the cot. Outside, she heard shouting and the sound of running feet. She curled up into a fetal position and pulled the blanket over her head. She knew that hiding wouldn't do any good. The Emperor's men would certainly find her. Once they had searched the house, the barn would be next.

“My lady, please tell us what to do,” came the Steward's voice from the other side of the blanket.

Ardwynn did not reply. Where was the confidence she had felt only yesterday? She tried to think.

That guard Clark. Hadn't he looked an awful lot like Lothinar? How was that possible? Lothinar was back in Delora Natine with his family. Her eyes started to water. She refused to call it crying. She wiped them and rubbed her nose on her sleeve. The sleeve on the blouse that she had last worn while dancing with Lothinar at the wedding reception. They had worked up a little sweat celebrating. That sure had been a good time. He had looked so happy. She remembered being happy too. She hadn't had time to wash anything in the chaos that had followed. It didn't smell bad, she observed. It just smelled a bit like him. That was fine. He always did smell good, she thought....Thinking about him always made her smile. Where is my ring?

When the emperor's men found her, surprisingly, she was smiling. One of the grim faced soldiers had asked her why. She didn't want to tell him that she had just remembered that she was going to be having Lothinar's baby. “He's the best!” She thought. “He''s going to make a great father. I need to get back to him as quickly as possible.”

Argent’s men seemed to have other plans. Her reunion with Lothinar would have to wait.

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