Roger Parkinson - Summon Your Dragons

“So you think Althak will get Azkun to fight these Gashans and beat them again?”

“Perhaps. We'll fight, but I'll not risk all our folk in this war.”

“But if we lose against Gashan…”

“Then I'd rather we lived to fight again. I saw those stable hands when we came in. They're so young. I've seen so many like that on the way here, young and fresh faced. They think it will be a huge spring games or a great cattle raid. I don't want to lead them to their deaths.”

“If they die in battle and are pure of heart then Kiveli will take them to heaven.”

“If Kiveli really wanted to aid us she could help us win.”

“Then perhaps she will.”

Menish could not keep the cynicism from his voice.

“In which case she could tell me to stop worrying about the battle.”

“You joke. You shouldn't joke about these things.”

“Do I joke? Perhaps not. But if Kiveli promised her help it would have to be more than just to win the battle.”

“What more could you want?”

“I don't want our people slaughtered like they were last time. I'd ask that none of them die.”

“In a battle? You ask much.”

“She's a goddess. Why not? The question is: can your Kiveli promise this? Aton certainly can't. He failed us last time.”

The next day Menish called a court in his hall. A number of thals had converged at Meyathal to hear news from Menish and the local townspeople were also present.

There were no petty disputes to judge, no one wanted to hear anything but Menish’s tale of Gashan first hand. It took some time, for there were many questions and interruptions. One man had heard a rumour that Azkun had hurled fire at the Gashans and this had to be denied. He had difficulty convincing them that Azkun’s perception of the Gashans’ plans was reliable, and he found himself telling them much of their previous journey as well.

At last he was able to tell them what he proposed to do about it. Vorish had promised aid as soon as Menish was able to confirm that the Gashans really would attack. He could now send that confirmation to Vorish, and when the Emperor’s forces arrived they would meet the Gashans at the old battlefield in the mountains.

Menish knew they would murmur at that. The Anthorians were a proud people. They did not want to share their victory with the Relanese Emperor.

When he finally sat down on the fur blankets by the central pillar there was a silence. Then Azkun rose from beside Althak. A murmur went through the hall. Many did not recognise him and asked their neighbours who he was. Others shushed them, for they wanted to hear.

“I claim the right of a guest to speak here,” he began. “I am Azkun of Kelerish and, as you have heard, I went with Menish to Gashan. You have listened to your King plan a war with Gashan. Once I would have been appalled at such a thing, for I hate death and killing. But now I have seen the Gashans with my own eyes and I can no longer disapprove. The Gashans are evil. They lust for nothing but blood and horror and death, even their own deaths are sweet to them.

“But if you suppose that your swords will save you from this evil, if you suppose that Relanor will deliver you, then you are tragically mistaken. You will fail if you trust in swords.”

“What do you want us to use, then?” called a man, “Axes?”

“Menish told you how I was bitten by a centipede in Gashan just as Althak was. I did not sicken as he did because I am in the hands of the dragons. Only the dragons can deliver you from Gashan!”

“But Althak does trust in dragons,” said someone. “He's a Vorthenki. Kopth did not look after him well.”

There was a vague murmur of agreement and Menish rose.

“You've said these things before, Azkun. But your dragons did nothing for Grath, nor Hrangil, nor Althak. They didn't find us when we were lost in Gashan, they didn't protect us from pursuit. If you'd help us then help us in the battle, but don't promise us dragons which have already failed.”

“They have not failed! It is we who have failed. They are not ours to command like your cattle. They must be asked for help with humility, not arrogance. Perhaps it will cost us much to ask them. But I, myself, will bear this cost. I will travel to Kishalkuz to seek their aid.”

There was a mixture of gasps and questions of ‘where?’ from those gathered, for many had never heard of the place. Menish was taken aback. In all Azkun’s talk of dragons he had never heard him express any intention of going to the dragon isle.

“Fanciful tales!” shouted Menish. “There's no such place. Ask Althak, do the Vorthenki tell of anyone who ever returned from Kishalkuz? So how can it exist? Don't be a fool, Azkun. Stay with us, we need your help.”

Azkun shook his head. “I must go. I must serve my masters. This is what I was sent for.”

“What do you mean ‘sent for'?” asked Menish. Azkun could not leave them. He was their only hope for defeating Gashan, and a slender hope at that. “How can they have sent you if all you're to do is to return to them? Surely they sent you to help us fight.”

“No. I do not expect you to understand. I have stood in dragon fire, I have received their wisdom. What may seem foolish to you is wisdom beyond your grasp.”

“So, you would deny us your help and then call us fools in the same breath! I am weary of this, Azkun, you try my patience beyond its limits. If you go, you go alone. I will give you a horse, only because I want you out of my sight. Go! Summon your dragons! I don't expect we will ever see you again.”

In the hush that fell after Menish’s anger one voice spoke.

“Not alone. I'll go with him.” Althak stood, towering above the seated Anthorians. For a moment Menish thought he was saying he would try and bring Azkun back to help them rather than continue on his mad quest. But with disbelief he saw a grim determination in the Vorthenki’s mouth.

He clamped his jaw shut, afraid of what he might say. Not Althak! Grath and Hrangil were dead, now he needed Althak more than ever.

“I've heard him speak of dragons many times now. I've seen him do great works in their name. He has power and where there's power there's truth, so say the Vorthenki. I've seen the host of Gashan and their magic stone and they're to be feared. I must fight them the best way I know.”

Menish heard the echo of their conversation of a few nights before, and the plea in Althak’s voice for him to understand his decision. But he also heard the Vorthenki proverb.

“Damn you, Vorthenki,” he said in a quiet rage. “You desert us too for your foul dragon gods. Go then. Seek them on a trail of murdered maidens and wanton orgies!”

“M’Lord-”

“Go on, go! Get out of my sight.”

But Althak did not go yet.

“We'll travel to Atonir first, M’Lord. We can take your message to Vorish.”

“Take it then. It will be the last service you ever do me!”

Silently Althak and Azkun, trailed by Tenari, made their way to the door. The crowd drew back from them as if they carried a plague. Menish watched Althak go with a bone-weary bitterness. He had always seen Althak as different but, after all, Kopth came before Menish, a god before a king, before a friend.

Althak and Azkun found horses immediately for themselves and Tenari. Althak visited the men’s lodge and returned with a bag containing his belongings and the dragon shield that had been his father’s. He threw them both across the back of his horse.

“Wait!” from the doorway came the familiar voice of Keashil. Olcish who also carried a pack for them containing blankets and food led her. “Wait, Althak. Take us with you.”

“You dislike Meyathal?” Althak walked towards them and took the pack from Olcish.