Spell Fade (32 page)

“That’s Jarel,” Alain said.

“Sorry to disappoint you, Jarel,” Dartan called back as he stepped through the open doorway.

“Disappoint? Far from it. If you were dead, then things just wouldn’t … make sense.” The pause made Dartan pause himself. Alain passed by him, headed for the far side.

“Careful,” Alain said. “He’s up to something.”

“Really?” Dartan whispered with sarcasm.

“Did you say something?” Jarel asked.

Dartan cleared his throat and covered with, “Are you alone?”

“In here, yes.”

“He’s telling the truth,” Alain said. “The dragon-skin box is here, and there are several piles of ash around it. He got it open, but it cost him some men.” Dartan was now relieved they hadn’t decided to try opening the box when they found it.

“How about in the rest of the castle?” Dartan pressed.

“I believe there may be one or two guards roaming the halls out there, but they should just be rounding up the stragglers.”

“Stragglers?”

“Well, of course. When you move such a large group, there are bound to be some left behind.” Dartan moved across the room as Jarel spoke until he was finally able to make out his figure. Jarel was draped across a pelt-covered throne, hand propped on the side of his head. He wore an easy smile and didn’t appear the least bit concerned by Dartan’s drawn sword or serious face.

“Ah, there you are,” Jarel remarked, his smile growing wider. “You look so much like your mother.”

“The people,” Dartan pressed, ignoring Jarel’s comment. “Where are they?”

“And the manners of your father,” Jarel mumbled as he straightened himself on his throne. “They are women and children mostly,” he explained. “I’ve brought them into the castle for their own protection.”

“Protection? From what?” He paused a moment, then had another thought. “And where are all the men?”

“You left me no choice,” Jarel replied with outstretched hands.

“Careful,” warned Alain.

“I don’t follow,” Dartan had that feeling, a sickness in his gut. If anyone here had been left without a choice, it was him. Jarel was planning something, but what was it?

Jarel pointed a finger at Dartan. “You led an elite group of warriors over your border and into Northern Kingdom territory.”

“I did what?”

The finger did not waver. “You let loose a dragon. Something unseen in our skies for centuries, and you let one free to terrorize our lands.”

“It’s dead!” Dartan insisted. “Logan killed it!” Jarel raised his eyebrows and shrugged – how do we know that? This was not going the way Dartan had imagined. It felt like a trial, and worse than that, he felt guilty. And why wasn’t Alain saying anything?

“You massacred a unit of my best men and then marched straight to my castle. You’ve left me no choice.”

Dartan had only asked one question and had yet to have it answered. He stepped forward and lowered the point of his sword to Jarel’s chest. “Where are the men?” he asked slowly.

Jarel barely looked at the sword, instead staring straight into Dartan’s eyes. “I can understand, no, even more, I can sympathize. I too was a new and young king once. For you it must be so much worse though. Being an unknown to your people, and following such a legacy. The desire to prove yourself must be impossible to deny.” His smile broadened, showing his teeth. “And while I can understand your actions, I doubt anyone else will.” He leaned forward, opened his shirt, and placed the point of Dartan’s blade on his bare chest. “History will mark you as the cause of this war.”

Dartan blinked, took a step back, and lowered his sword. “War?” The word tasted foul in his mouth. There hadn’t been a war in Pavlora since the Great Dragon War, and now he had started one? “What?” His question was cut short as Jarel abruptly stood and stared down at him.

“Every able-bodied man in my kingdom marches straight to your capital, destroying every one of your towns, villages, and citizens they come across. They do this in response to your attack, and they will not stop until the city has fallen or they are dead.” He took a step forward, closing the distance between them.

“Alain will stop you,” Dartan grasped, even as he knew Alain’s power was fading.

Jarel laughed. “I think he may be a little too preoccupied to deal with me,” he said, kicking open the dragon-skin chest at his feet.

Dartan raised his head, curious of the contents. Jarel saw him and smiled.

“Do you have any idea what you risked your life for?”

Dartan shook his head. “No. I know only that it is important.”

Jarel laughed. “That sounds about right. Alain never has been very forthcoming with information, especially if it isn’t his own neck on the line. Unfortunately, it also means either he doesn’t trust you, or, perhaps even more painful, he doesn’t think you worth the time to explain.” Dartan stole a glance at Alain – stone-faced as always.

“I, on the other hand,” Jarel continued, “believe a man should always know what he’s fighting for. Perhaps, had you known what lay in this chest, you would not have given it up so easily.”

Dartan started to protest, but Jarel raised his hand. “I’m sure you fought hard, but the fact remains, it left your possession and came into mine.” Dartan simply lowered his head. “Come closer, and decide its importance yourself.”

Alain moved beside Jarel, and Dartan gave him a quick glance. Alain nodded and Dartan moved closer. Jarel caught the glance and peered over his shoulder. Even though he saw nothing, he was sure he knew what, or rather who, was there.

The chest was lined with dragon skin on the inside as well. Peering into it, Dartan saw three dragon parts. He looked to Jarel.

“These are three of the four pieces used to create the portal separating the dragons from our world. They also happen to be needed to destroy it.” Jarel pointed to each item in succession as he described it. “An eye to see the spell. A tongue to know the words. A claw to tear the bind.”

Dartan stared down at the contents, still amazed at the emptiness he felt around them. “Three out of four doesn’t seem like much of a diversion for Alain,” Dartan observed.

“Did I forget to mention? You’re going to provide the final part I need.”

Alain’s eyes widened, and he gasped, “He knows.” Dartan looked over at him, the question in his eyes. Alain’s only answer, “We have to get you out of here. Now.”

Chapter Thirty-one

Roal stood on the city walls, a faint smile on his face. The city was spread out before him, unaware of its fate. He had found his spot. This is where he would watch the fall of the capital. He had spent the past two days on the front lines, pushing the army through every town, village, and farm between here and the border. He had left behind him a path of scorched earth and smoldering bodies.

His orders now were clear – no one in, no one out. That part was easy, but he was also told to wait. He didn’t have to ask for what. He knew what he was waiting on, and the only way he was able to stand the waiting was knowing he now had the best seat to watch it all unfold.

The Northern Army. His army. True, its front lines consisted of fiercely independent Ogres, and the majority of the men were only there because their families were essentially being held hostage. Still, they were all under his command, and they were now spread around the entire city, like a second wall. The inhabitants had no idea yet, but they would soon. Roal almost wished he hadn’t killed Dartan and Logan. Almost. He would have enjoyed watching them try to defend the city.

Chapter Thirty-two

“I’m not leaving without Aliet,” Dartan announced to the room.

“I didn’t say anything about you leaving,” Jarel answered. “But I have the feeling you weren’t talking to me.” He looked again over his shoulder, still not seeing Alain, but now surer of his presence. “It seems perhaps I should have asked if you were alone.” Jarel turned back to Dartan, whose cheeks were reddened.

“No reason to be embarrassed,” Jarel said. “I’m actually pleased to discover he’s here. I’d hate for him to miss this. However, I’m even more pleased to hear you mention the girl.” He turned towards the doorway and called out, “Come!” He then turned back to Dartan. “I had forgotten about her,” he admitted with a sly grin. “I assume from your outburst Alain has advised you to run from here. If you value her life though, I would remain.”

“If you have harmed her,” Dartan threatened.

“Yes, yes,” Jarel replied dismissively. “I’m sure there’s some threat of bodily harm you think will sound frightening, but if you’ll just look, you’ll see she’s perfectly fine.”

Shuffling footsteps drew Dartan’s attention to the door. It sounded like someone being dragged against their will, but he could only make out one figure in the doorway. His breath caught in his chest as Aliet appeared from the shadows. The dirt and grime from their travels had been washed from her body and hair. Dartan looked down at his soiled hands, suddenly self-conscious of his disheveled state.

Aliet was cradled by a dress that revealed curves and shapes Dartan had only seen hints of before. Her dark hair, smooth and straight, framed a face he had seen a thousand times, but never quite like this. A hint of red on her cheeks led to a deep crimson across her lips, and that was where he first saw her distress. Her normally full lips were tight and thin, showing the strain she was under. His eyes were then drawn into the dark circled grey-blue of hers, and it was in that moment when she finally saw him. Her will loosened the spell, and her plea for help in that instant was unmistakable.

“Come now, dear,” Jarel called to her, removing a dragon tooth hidden beneath his shirt. “We don’t have all day.” His grip on the tooth tightened and he mumbled something too low for Dartan to hear, but he saw the effect all too clearly. Aliet’s eyes turned vacant, her face slacked, and the shuffling became a smooth glide directly to his side.

“Now,” Jarel asked, “shall we discuss a trade?”

“Consider that she is only one person,” Alain advised, “while Jarel’s plans threaten everyone in Pavlora.”

Dartan glared back at him. “She’s more than just one person. She’s the one person I care for the most in all of Pavlora. He can have whatever he wants for her.”

“Let me guess.” Jarel still wore his smile and held the tooth loosely in his hand. “Alain is giving you some speech about how her life isn’t worth the lives of everyone else. Right?”

“Something like that,” Dartan said through clenched teeth.

“Dartan, don’t,” Aliet started, but was stopped by Jarel. He touched the tooth, mouthed some words, and the vacant stare returned to Aliet’s face.

“We discussed this, remember?” Jarel scolded. “It’s seen and not heard.”

Dartan’s hands balled into tight fists, his face grew hot, and he took two steps towards Jarel.

“Not a smart move,” Alain cautioned. “I warned you about your emotions. You’ll most likely strike Aliet with anything you throw at Jarel.” Dartan paused.

“Is that the sound of a tightening leash I hear?” Jarel mused with a smile. The anger renewed within Dartan and he reached out with it towards Jarel. What he found made him pause again. The emptiness of the dragon artifact Jarel held radiated in a cloud around his entire body. What could he use against something he couldn’t even feel? And why hadn’t Alain prepared him for fighting against this?

“It’s too bad, really,” Jarel broke into Dartan’s train of thought. “I was beginning to think you were actually going to stand up to the all-knowing Alain.”

“He hasn’t changed my mind,” Dartan said.

“Then perhaps there is hope for you after all,” Jarel said with an approving nod. “If my parents had been so bold then we wouldn’t be in this situation now.” He added it almost as an aside, but it grabbed Dartan’s attention.

“What do you mean? Who were your parents?”

“He didn’t tell you?” Dartan shook his head, and Jarel mirrored it, adding a disapproving grunt. “Add it to the list of things you’re not worthy to know, I suppose.” He released the dragon tooth, letting it hang loose from the chain, and stepped towards Dartan. His control over Aliet eased, and Dartan saw some of the fear creep back into her eyes.

“What don’t I know now?” Dartan asked, backing away from Jarel, starting a slow circle that would eventually put him next to Aliet.

“Let me ask you a question,” Jarel began. “Do you two plan on having children?” Dartan froze in place. His eyes shifted rapidly between Aliet and Jarel, while his mouth opened and closed but refused to voice any of the thoughts racing through his mind.

Aliet did not fare much better. Her eyes widened and a flush of red covered her cheeks, ran down her neck, and disappeared into her dress. Dartan wondered if his own face was a similar shade. He also wondered just how far down her dress it ran, but he quickly forced that thought from his mind.

“Awkward,” Jarel noted in the silence between them. “I had no idea it was an unprofessed love between you.” He paused a moment, shifting his gaze from Aliet to Dartan, who now seemed too embarrassed to look at one another. “I don’t think there’s any other kind of love that is so hopeful, sad, optimistic, and pathetic, all at the same time.” He focused on Dartan as he added, “It’s also the most potentially tragic.”

“Since we only know for sure how one of you feels,” Jarel continued, still staring at Dartan, “and in the interest of moving this along, let me change my question.”

Yes, please change your question,
Dartan thought, although he dared not look up. He was certainly sure of his own feelings, but this was neither the way nor the time he had imagined Aliet finding out.

“When you have children, with
whomever
it may be,” Jarel emphasized. “Who decides which one of them rules after you?” Silence fell again, and it was a few moments before Dartan realized Jarel was waiting on an answer. He looked up to find Jarel staring at him, and all he could do was shrug.

“Fate, right?” Jarel answered for him. “It is the birthright of the eldest offspring, is it not?” Dartan nodded, and now that he was no longer studying the floor, he found his eyes drawn to Aliet. He was powerless to stop himself from stealing a glance at her. She was staring at him, but he could not bring himself to meet her gaze, afraid he would see pity, or even disgust, in them. Jarel continued on, oblivious to this brief, agonizing exchange.