Michael Mathias - Kings, Queens, Heroes, and Fools

“Dugak and Master Oarly would feel like giants in that wood,” Mikahl observed.

“Who?” Lord Gregory asked. Mikahl smiled at his old friend. “Dwarves from Xwarda that I know.” Lord Gregory actually heard the answer, which surprised Mikahl. The Lion Lord’s head had been in the clouds since he’d found his lady wife.

“You’ve met dwarves?” Lady Trella asked curiously. Prince Raspaar seemed interested in Mikahl‘s story now, as well.

Lord Gregory slipped behind his wife and put his arms around her gently. He breathed deeply the scent of her hair, seemingly uninterested in anything Mikahl had to say.

“Aye, m’lady, I have.” Mikahl’s smile was wide. “And elves, and even a blue-skinned pixie that would fit this forest well. The dwarves are…” he paused in search of an appropriate description of his hairy, usually drunken friends. “Unique,” he finally said, remembering Dugak’s sweet bearded wife, Andra.

“And giants,” Lord Gregory added with his chin resting on Lady Trella’s shoulder. “Don’t forget the giants.”

“Not just giants-King Aldar, the king of the giants,” Mikahl said proudly. He reached into his collar and pulled out the piece of bone that the Great King had carved into a lion’s head for him. “It’s dragon bone,” he boasted. “It was supposed to be for my father, but, well, you know.”

The sudden thought of King Balton triggered a memory of the dream he had been having for the last few days. He wasn’t sure why he started dreaming of his father, but he had. He’d never dreamed of King Balton before. He decided that it was because of the familial feelings he held toward Lord Gregory and Lady Trella, and the memories that being around them evoked. They had raised him in his awkward years while he squired for the Lion Lord and struggled to become a man. Still, the image of his dream-his father, half-decayed and worm-ridden, telling him to save the Princess of Seaward, while Rosa screamed in terror in the background, was an unsettling thing to recall so suddenly.

Lady Trella, noticing Mikahl’s loss of color and the change in his demeanor, put the back of her fingers against his cheek. “You’re fevered, Mik,” she said in a motherly tone. “You should rest.”

“Aye,” he replied, unable to shake the morbid picture his mind was displaying. He had the strange feeling that he had been magicked in some way. Instinctually, he stepped away from his companions and pulled Ironspike a few inches out of its sheath. The sword’s radiant blue glow brightened the leaves of the fairy trees near him and as soon as the symphony of the sword’s magic was in his ears the eerie feeling left him, but not the memory of it.

A monk in black robes who had been silently meditating nearby at one of the many altar-like shrines that were spread around the gardens, came upon them with an excited look on his face. The man was plump and bald, save for a thin horseshoe of graying hair that ran around the back of his head from ear to ear. The circle of his wide open mouth could barely be seen through the silvery gray mustache and beard that ran down to the rope that held his robes closed at the waist.

“Look!” he gasped, pointing at the fairy trees nearby. “It’s miraculous!”

When they turned to see what the man was so excited about, they were treated to one of the rarest sights to ever been seen in the realm. Everywhere Ironspike’s magical light had touched the leaves of the fairy trees, crimson flowers were blooming before their eyes. They appeared like droplets of blood, and after a moment a bright yellow and red explosion of needle-like pistols formed at the center of each flower. As they bloomed further, the yellow and red combined into a flaming orange that made the trees look as if they were catching fire. A light breeze ruffled the flowering leaves, and the phenomenon began to spread across the entire copse to the other trees until soon the whole grove had bloomed.

Mikahl and the others were left speechless. Only Lord Gregory braved the silent awe to speak.

“M’lady,” he whispered softly into his wife’s ear. “It seems the local foliage has grown jealous of your beauty and is now trying to compete.”

Mikahl’s dream had been wiped completely from his mind by the sweet fruity smell of the blooms. At Lord Gregory’s words he glanced at Prince Raspaar and rolled his eyes. Both of them gave Lord Gregory a look and they eased away from the newly reunited lovers. The monk moving around the walkway was watching with shocked fascination. As the blooms matured he started to join them, but a look from the Prince sent him scurrying around to study elsewhere.

“There’s no doubt what they will be doing tonight,” the Prince said to Mikahl with a laugh. “I do believe that, if he hadn’t had his arms around her, she would have melted into the earth.”

“He does have a way of speaking to her, doesn’t he?” Mikahl said. “Even the most prudent of maidens couldn’t have resisted a compliment like that.”

“As you mainlanders always seem to say,” the Prince said in agreement. “Aye.”

News of the High King’s arrival at the Westland settlement on the island of Salazar traveled swiftly. When the Seawander anchored in the great port of Sala, the Harbor Master sent word to Captain Trant immediately. Hyden was pleased to hear that Mikahl was just a short sail away, visiting the island of Salaya. He, Oarly, and Trant traveled by carriage to the Westland settlement called Balton while Deck Master Biggs went about finding a ship to haul the dragon’s hoard.

Hyden Hawk needed Mikahl’s advice, and he had to let his friend know what sort of damage he had done by letting the black dragon fall under the control of Queen Shaella’s wizard. He didn’t relish telling Mikahl the news. Already Mikahl was miffed at him for not killing Shaella when he’d had the chance. Shaella had truly loved Hyden’s brother Gerard and for that reason he had foolishly let her live. Now his mistake might cost Phen his life. There was no guessing how much death and destruction would fall on his shoulders for letting the Silver Skull and the black dragon slip into the bitch’s hands. He was in such a state that it was all he could do to keep from taking the first ship to Westland to find out what happened to Phen and kill Shaella himself. The urge to do something, anything, to help right the wrong was overwhelming. This feeling was only eclipsed by his desire to save Phen.

Oarly insisted that the High King and the Lion Lord be included in the planning of any attempt to go into the Dragon Queen’s domain, and Captain Trant’s conclusion that if Phen wasn’t dead already then it was unlikely that they would kill him now, helped Hyden keep his cool.

They’d sent word to Mikahl and Lord Gregory by swifter hawk and Mikahl was to return on the morrow from Salaya. Then they would all sit down and figure out what to do. The fact that Lord Gregory was alive and had spent the whole winter among Hyden’s clan folk hovered in the back of his mind as well. He hadn’t spoken to, or even sent word to, his people since he had set off into the Giant Mountains what seemed like a lifetime ago. He decided that, as soon as he’d saved Phen and retrieved Gerard’s ring from the Nethers, he would go home for a while.

Oarly was glad Hyden was remaining semi-clearheaded about the matter. He was on the cusp of finding something in Phen’s translation that was just out of reach. He had seen something happen in the dragon’s treasure cavern that hadn’t seemed possible until Phen made the strange statement about finding something invisible in his work. Just before the dragon had liquefied the seamen, Oarly had seen Phen huddle behind an artifact and disappear. The dwarf had dismissed it as being a trick of the eye caused by the rush of fear when the dragon came in on them, but now he felt that he might have been seeing true. As they waited for Mikahl to return to the Lost Lion Inn, and enjoyed the kind hospitality of the mother-to-be who was running the place, Oarly was delving deeper into Phen’s books trying to figure out the conundrum.