Ed Greenwood - The Dragon's Doom

"No," the Lady Silvertree said firmly, from behind him. "No, Raulin, this is not the way. Loyalty and trust must be earned… and not by greater tyranny than that practiced by those you deem traitors."

She bent, and picked up the crown. "I think Aglirta deserves better."

There was a brief murmur from the watching crowd as she lifted the crown, and the sunlight caught it, making it gleam in her hands.

"What do you mean?" Raulin whispered, whirling around. "You know I never wanted the throne…"

"Precisely why you've done better than a more ambitious man would have," the Lady of Jewels replied, "yet still there's unrest in the Vale, and swords out, and Serpent-mischief."

She turned slowly to look around at all the faces staring back at her. "I could change all that," she told them quietly. "I am the Dragon. A new Serpent is rising even now, but he'll be but a lone, weak man if none worship him-and for now, I hold sway over Aglirta, to do whatever I desire."

She turned again to regard Raulin, and added gently, "And I desire Raulin Castlecloaks to be free of the throne."

"Aye! Down with the King!" someone shouted, from among the watching warriors.

Embra whirled to face whence that cry had come. "No! Say rather: 'Up with the King!' For years upon years the King slept, and Aglirta was the Kingless Land. The curse of the realm then was ambitious, warring men-each baron ruling as his own king, and desiring the rest of the Vale. 'Tis the curse of the realm now. You folk of Aglirta have too many rulers."

She climbed a heap of rubble so that everyone could see her, and turned slowly to look at them all with the crown shining in her hands. "There was a time when I would never have dared challenge what was right and lawful, what nobles and kings said and did. That time is past. Hear then my will. I desire Raulin Castlecloaks to rule as Regent of all Aglirta. There will be no King, hereafter, and no barons-only tersepts who garrison and give judgment and watch over folk around them in the name of the regent. All of these titled folk shall rule in the name of the people."

Embra sighed, looked down at the crown, and added, "The regent will travel the realm constantly, at the head of an army that will build and fix and tend crops and settle disputes and improve roads as well as fighting. Flowfoam will become a court and a place of healing where folk are tended by priests of the Three, who shall be permitted no temples elsewhere, but only open-air altars. No one shall worship the Serpent in Aglirta upon pain of exile, and in like manner none shall venerate the Dragon."

There was a stirring of released breath from all around her, as folk lost themselves in relief that there was to be no attempted tyranny of sorcery, and started to consider her words.

"I renounce this ancient war of Serpent and Dragon," Embra added, "and so long as I curb my power, and none worship me or the Scaled One, the new Serpent can never become stronger than I am. The madness and the turning-to-beasts were fell Serpent-magic; they will end when the last Serpent-priests are slain or driven forth from Aglirta. The Dwaer are hidden, sealed where they're scattered to by my power-and I shall know if anyone disturbs them. My companions will renounce something else with me: our title of 'Overduke.' Our task here is done."

She tossed the crown into the air and made a swift and simple gesture-and the royal circlet of Aglirta burst apart into ringing shards that dissolved in flame… and faded to empty air ere they hit the ground.

Another shared sigh arose all around her, and Embra stepped down from the height of tumbled stones, saying as she went, "Yet we'll always be guardians of Aglirta. If Aglirta should need us, you'll see us again."

She strode to join the rest of the Four, adding over her shoulder, " Try not to let Aglirta have need of us."

There was a moment of shocked silence, and then Flaeros Delcamper cried, "Behold the Guardians of Aglirta!"

'"the Guardians of Aglirta!" most of the crowd roared back, their cry thunderous, suddenly eager.

"Wait!" a tersept snarled. "Castlecloaks, are you going to stand for this?"

Silence fell again, very suddenly-and into it Raulin said firmly, "I am, and welcome it dearly. I intend to find and meet with every priest of the Three and every tersept and former baron to hear their personal acceptance of Embra's wise way. Those who refuse to accept it will have to leave Aglirta, or face the swords of those who stand with me. I also want to hear from every man and lass of Aglirta the names of any Aglirtans they deem wordiy of sitting in court judgment over them-I'll need such people as officers in my regency. Embra's right: We've seen far too much of sword and spell and Serpent in Aglirta, and too little of honest toil and earned coin and good harvests and feasts-and peace to enjoy those feasts in!"

"Well said!" the Lady Orele said crisply, and from among the warriors Lorgauth the Smith agreed loudly.

"For Aglirta!" Flaeros Delcamper cried, in the manner of grand bards Darsar over. "The Guardians have spoken! The regent has spoken! For Aglirta!"

"For Aglirta!" came the thunderous reply, and then everyone began talking at once.

"Well, that's settled," Craer commented, cradling an exhausted Tshamarra in his arms as he watched Hawkril embrace a trembling Embra Silvertree. "So how about the first of those feasts, then? I'm starving!"

There was a general roar of approval from the folk standing nearby, and a cry swiftly started of "Feast! Feast!" Throats all over the Throne Chamber echoed those words, and folk stirred into action, rushing once more-hurrying past the sprawled, fly-ridden corpses of Ezendor Blackgult, many Lords and Brothers of the Serpent, and dozens of dead Aglirtans.

With his arms wrapped around his softly weeping lady, Hawkril Anharu gazed down at the man who'd been his master for so many years. The grave would be next to Sarasper's. "Four no longer," he murmured-and then discovered he was crying too.

The taverns and feasthouses of Sirlptar were astir with merchants arguing excitedly about one man's arrival in their streets. Word had raced like a storm breeze through the city: Regent Raulin Castlecloaks of Aglirta had come to Sirlptar.

Prelude to an invasion, some said hotly. Come to beg union, or coins from Sirl city to rebuild the Vale, others claimed. In need of seeing what real wealth could bring but he could only dream of, a few insisted. Here like everyone else, to shop or pay debts-or even to collect them, others reasoned, though what some penniless lad from war-torn Aglirta could have lent anyone in Sirlptar was hard to say.

Wherefore curious crowds of the idle, those too wealthy to work, and those whose profession it was to peer and overhear things followed the lad and his sizable entourage wherever they went-which was, eventually, down to the bustling docks, specifically to a wharf of some age and little importance where a long, slender sea-rel creaked at the pilings.

There the sometime king greeted the master of that vessel-one Tel-gaert, whose ship was the Fair Wind-who seemed to be expecting him. The crowd drew close to hear what might unfold, and saw the regent embrace a handsome young lord of about his own age.

"May you have a fair wind for Ragalar, Flaer," Raulin said huskily, his throat suddenly tight. "You always come when I need you. I'll miss you."

"Not nearly as much as I'll miss you, and all green Aglirta, too," the bard replied. "Send word if ever you need us, or want to see us, or hunger to spend some time smelling the sea in Varandaur."

"Aye," Hulgor Delcamper put in, clapping Raulin on the shoulder, "where Orele can mother you like a warcaptain!" He roared with laughter as the aged Lady of Chambers gave him a glare and a prod with her cane.