Michael Mathias - Kings, Queens, Heroes, and Fools

Cole was another matter. She was completely infuriated with Cole. Despite her orders, he’d let one of the Choska slip into the world without being bound, and had instead bound the will of an overgrown insect. Gerard hadn’t loosed those demons for her to squander. She wasn’t sure if Cole was going mad down in the dungeons, where he spent most of his time these days, or if he had some strange purpose that she didn’t know about. Cole had always been more like her father than Flick. Maybe that’s what it was. She would deal with him soon. It had to be done.

Shaella hated having to bother with Ra’Gren again, but it was necessary. She was certain he would put her in a mood. She decided that she would save dealing with the breed for last, that way the fires of her wrath would be fully stoked when she found them.

The statue-filled bailey before Ra’Gren’s palace was crowded as she circled low over it. Clouds were building up in the sky and she wanted this part of her day over with so that she could fly above the coming storm on her way north to Locar.

She loved to skim the tops of the storm clouds. The kinetic energy built up in them was powerful and seemed to charge her blood.

The people below cleared away for her as she brought Vrot smoothly down. With a wide snap of his wings his hind legs touched the ground.

The dragon took a lurching step before his front claws went forward and his wings pulled in. Shaella didn’t bother to dismount.

“Go fetch your king,” she ordered a uniformed man who was posted at the top of the steps. His expression showed his reluctance to do any such thing, but he didn’t balk. He glanced at the dragon fearfully, then turned and strode into the palace entrance.

It didn’t take Ra’Gren long to appear. He was followed by a dozen of his overlords, all but two of whom chose to stay high up on the stairway away from the dragon. Ra’Gren’s expression was angry, yet curious, as he strode powerfully toward her. He stopped when he was on a level with Shaella’s eyes. Just to be difficult she had Vrot raise her up a little higher so that Ra’Gren was forced to look up at her or back up a few steps.

“You failed me in Seareach,” Ra’Gren barked. “Your creatures were of no real help.”

“I didn’t agree to help you take Wildermont,” Shaella snapped. “I only agreed to help you defend against the Eastern Alliance. Those hellcats were supposed to be a gift to help you guard the pass, but still you lost it.”

“Nevertheless, those things failed us.” He looked at the messenger who’d arrived earlier with the particulars of the battle. It irritated Ra’Gren that Shaella knew what happened before him. “My man tells me that your half-breeds betrayed you and helped Jarrek win the day. If this is the sort of assistance you give, I’m not sure I want it anymore.”

“You’re an old fool.” She hawked and spat at the ground a few steps below him. “Do you even know what sort of threat approaches?” She looked at him hard, hoping he would try to come down on her for calling him a fool in front of his court. His face was red, and cords throbbed under his clenched jaws, but his eyes kept darting down to Vrot’s slobbery maw and then back to her. His voice was level and controlled when he spoke.

“Tell me of this threat.”

“An army, twenty thousand strong, is marching across Valleya as we speak. They mean to storm your border and attack here at O’Dakahn. Queen Rachel didn’t like the party you threw for her men in the Seareach passage.” Shaella allowed herself a smug smile. It was nice having a spy in General Spyra’s bed. “Are you prepared to defend your borders, and if not, are you prepared to defend the city?”

Ra’Gren’s mouth opened and closed like a fish, but no words came to him.

“That’s what I thought.” Before he could respond she waved him to silence. “If you don’t want my assistance, if my aid isn’t to your liking, then I’ll be on my way.” She started to urge Vrot into flight but, as expected, Ra’Gren stopped her.

“Queen Shaella,” he said in a way that hid his deprecation in the tone of his voice.

Shaella heard the inflection and knew it for what it was. It was a plea.

“What can we do?” he asked her when she didn’t fly away. “I have men, plenty of soldiers, but it would take days to get them all to Oktin and Lokahna to defend the bridges.”

Shaella waved her hand and spoke a word in the language of demons. The huge gorax appeared right in the middle of the bailey among the statues in a brilliant flash. People gasped and yelled and nearly trampled each other trying to get away. Even Vrot took a cautious step back from its sudden appearance. The wolf-headed gorax growled out loudly and waved its huge bone club about. It stood over twenty feet tall, and its black ape-like chest rippled with muscle that contrasted with its thick gray fur. As if irritated at being called upon, the demon bashed one of the marble statues into a crumble. The head and shoulder of the destroyed monument flew ten feet and bounced into the base of another statue with a heavy thumping crack.

“My new friend can keep the Seaward army from crossing at Lokahna. That will buy you some time to get troops to Oktin. I doubt Rachel’s army would want to march that far north anyway, not after losing the element of surprise. Send a few thousand archers to help the gorax cover the banks of the river, and a few hundred cavalry to round up any stragglers that might win their way past him, but warn your men to stay clear. If it is in his way, and alive, the gorax will kill it if he thinks it came across the river into your kingdom.”

Looking at the gargantuan demon beast Ra’Gren found that, for the first time in a very long time, he was speechless.

The Shark’s Tooth fought its way up the channel against the mild current of the Leif Greyn’s diffused flow. They had long since passed under the shadow of the Dragon Spire and were nearing the open marsh where the Leif Greyn River split. Once, the route would have been impossible to travel due to Claret’s presence, but now the spiking volcanic formation was nothing but a sinister landmark amid a swampy half-submerged jungle. The normally snapper-filled waters seemed empty of life. Even the insects seemed to have better things to do than bother Lord Gregory, Lady Trella, and Oarly as they stood on deck and watched the swamp go by.

Maxrell Tyne, now Captain Tyne, with the aid of his partner Grommen, had readily agreed to take them. After all, Mikahl owed Maxrell a fortune, and he wasn’t about to forget it. They’d taken on a Water Mage to help power the ship against the current, and so far he had done well, but he was tiring. The Lion Lord hated it, but the ship was flying the lightning star banner. This served to kept the few curious eyes they came across from lingering. Save for in the night. At night it seemed like there were always a dozen pairs of eyes watching them from the marshy darkness.

The hardest part of the voyage was going to be getting past Seareach, where the Leif Greyn’s flow was most potent. The Shark’s Tooth would travel at a snail’s pace against the current, and for a time the ship would be in the archers’ range from either side of the river. Once they were through they could hug the Wildermont shoreline and make their way slowly up to Castlemont, where King Jarrek was supposed to be trying to regroup.

As the ship moved into the dangerous run of river, Lord Gregory ushered Lady Trella below, using the dark clouds building in the sky as his excuse. He’d spotted a bug-covered, half-consumed, human body floating in the water and wanted to spare his wife the sight of it.

“There’s why we’re not being eaten alive by the flies, Lord Lion,” Maxrell Tyne said. A look from Lord Gregory, as he gently turned Trella’s eyes away, spoke daggers. Tyne cringed and shrugged his apology.