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The witch arrived at Damanacree’s camp unseen and, when she presented herself to him and Analaision, she laughed uproariously at their obvious shock. Damanaclee was all for putting the sentries to the sword for allowing her to slip through the lines without being challenged, but she disabused him of that notion when she disappeared right in front of his eyes.
‘May I introduce you to Hagen, my Lord... the witch I told you about?’
Damanaclee tried to grab hold of his wits, cleared his throat and nodded.
‘It’s an honour to meet the mate of my dear friend,’ Hagen said, bowing low.
‘You are friends, then?’
‘Good friends, my Lord. We’ve known one another all of our lives.’
‘Hagen is the daughter of my mother’s maidservant. We played together as children,’ Analaision said. ‘Her mother was originally from Malass.’
‘The planet of witches?’
Hagen nodded. ‘My bloodline is pure, and my powers
reflect that... as you witnessed.’
‘Why would a witch... a descendent of Malass... help me – a Plutonian? Our worlds were never friends.’
Hagen shrugged. ‘I’m loyal to none but my friends, Lord. Malass was never my home and I have no allegiance.’
‘This... this magic of yours – it is, indeed, a marvel to behold. I profess to never having seen its like before... to make yourself invisible... I am awestruck.’
Hagen accepted the compliment with the faintest of smiles.
‘She will be able to use it on all of us,’ Analaision said, excitedly. ‘Just imagine it... we will be able to move unseen and arrive at the royal castle gates unopposed.’
‘But, the noise? We will be heard long before we reach the royal castle. What would it matter if we were not seen?’
In response, Hagen turned to face a group of soldiers noisily playing cards around a crackling fire. She moved her lips in a silent chant and reached out to point a finger in their direction. They were suddenly invisible to the eye and – miraculously – their chatter and the sounds of the fire ceased.
Damanaclee stood up, to pace the ground in some agitation, and then he stopped and stood staring at the empty space that he knew not to be empty at all. He was greatly affected and, oddly enough, it was not the fact that the spell was so profound that had affected him so much, but that it was a female who had demonstrated so much power... so much magic. It was a sobering thought.
He strove to keep his voice steady. ‘This will win us the throne,’ he said. ‘To have the power of such magic on our side will surely win us everything.’ He trembled with suppressed emotion. He couldn’t quite believe how easy it was all going to be.
‘The gold and stones, my Lord?’
He turned to his wife. ‘Yes. Yes... the gold and stones...
worth every bit of it.’ He called to an aide to haul the treasure from his tent. ‘And, there is plenty more, Hagen. I can shower you with gold. I can make you rich beyond your wildest imaginings.’
‘In return for what?’ she enquired with a quirk of an eyebrow.
‘In return for your presence at my side.’ He looked at his wife. ‘At our side,’ he corrected.
‘An intriguing proposition. May I ponder on it a while?’
‘Of course. Of course. Now, let us eat and discuss our plans.’ Damanacree gave no second thought to the fact that he was going to dine with two females and break the habit of a lifetime by discussing and confiding tactics and strategies with them. His bonding with Analaision had begun to strip him of his ingrained chauvinism and all who knew him would wonder if that would ultimately be a good thing for him, or for them.
*
OZDYRION FELT HER AS soon as her foot struck Icarrion ground. He was in the air – his huge wings beating against a blustery sky – and, such was the powerful sensation suddenly ripping through his chest, that he almost faltered and fell.
He was alone and thanked the universe for that. He had no idea how he would have explained his feelings or his sudden confusion to Flozanya.
He didn’t often leave Flozanya’s side, but she had a hankering for a feast of doodlesquirels and she was too tired to hunt for them herself, so he’d flown off in search of the elusive creatures in order to surprise her.
He wondered if she’d felt it – that sudden jolt in the blood – and if she’d recognised the power and meaning of it? Flozanya was loyal to Serillia, and if she’d felt it, then surely, she must know that her loyalty must shift?
The land beneath him was barren with only a smattering of dead trees. He’d journeyed east from the royal castle, beyond the central mountains, and was circling above a burned-out village when he saw the family of doodlesquirels. There were at least twenty of them – enough, at least, for a snack – and he tucked his wings tight against his sides, stretched out his long neck, and dove for them.
They saw his shadow and scattered and every one of them lived to breathe another day. He wasn’t sorry. It didn’t seem the time to kill. His heart was full to bursting and he was glad that he’d just failed as a predator. Someone was coming – someone who was everything that Serillia wasn’t - and he was so filled with hope and love that he couldn’t wish harm on any living creature.
Wasting no time, he headed back towards the royal castle and to Flozanya. He had to know if she sensed the other. He had to know if they would remain united, or – if she’d failed to feel what he had just experienced – if they would be divided.
*
SERILLIA WAS BECOMING increasingly wary of Cantor. His smiles and his deference grated on her nerves and she wasn’t fooled by either. He had delayed the coronation, yet again, and she was beginning to wonder if he ever intended to have her anointed and crowned.
The people loved her. She only had to be seen amongst them to know how much they revered her, but the sight of her walking with them, talking with them, seemed to make Cantor uncomfortable.
She was often with the dragons and there was nothing she liked better than to lie across Flozanya’s great chest and abdomen and listen to the heartbeat of the baby. It was growing at an extraordinary speed. No one could remember how long a dragon’s pregnancy lasted, but Serillia thought it would be a matter of weeks rather than months. Flozanya was a mammal, unlike the majority of the dragons of ancient lore who were egg layers, and – as such – she would have to give birth. Serillia planned to be there at the delivery and to be the first to hold the infant and to establish the bond before it opened its eyes for the first time.
She had already chosen a name for it. If it was male, she would name him Yozzer. If it was female, she would be named Verittomy.
She had just reached the place in a vast empty corner of the royal castle’s courtyard where Flozanya liked to bathe in the sun, when Ozdyrion returned from his hunt. She didn’t notice when he avoided looking at her and failed to feel the ripple of revulsion spasm across his great muscles when she stroked him. As far as she was concerned, all was as it should be.
Flozanya immediately sensed the change in him and wasn’t blind to his rejection of her mistress. It confused and frightened her, because it was so profound and so inexplicable, and she didn’t know how to react.
Serillia stayed with them for a while, enjoying the smell and the feel of them, before leaving to confront Cantor, yet again, about his delaying tactics.
She entered the formal dining hall to see Cantor stuffing his face and, around mouthfuls of food, engrossed in conversation with several of his cronies. She approached their table and dismissed everyone but Cantor with a flap of her hand.
‘I want to speak to you, Lord Cantor. You’ve been avoiding me, and I won’t have it.’
‘I think,’ he replied quietly, ‘that you ought to mind your manners. I don’t know how they behave on Draggoster, but here, my lady, we refrain from interrupting a person at his
luncheon.’
‘You forget yourself,’ she returned, puce in the face. ‘I command here and, luncheon, or not, you are obliged to heed me.’
Cantor, sure in the knowledge that Astra had landed on Icarrion, felt safe in disabusing her of her imagined position.
‘You are mistaken if you think that you command anything other than your dragons. I brought you here, lifted you up, and now...’
‘Now, my Lord? What, now?’
He shrugged and wiped his mouth daintily with a napkin. ‘Now, I tear you back down.’
She was overcome with astonishment – astounded at his words – and she was forced to reach back to grab at the table to steady herself. She had known that something was coming. She had the sense to perceive that Cantor was up to no good, but... his words, his demeanour came as a total shock.
Her hand itched to slap him, but she held back. She had to have a moment to think, to work out what her immediate action ought to be.
She could clearly see the disdain in his eyes, and she was suddenly afraid. Here was another male ready to put her down, trample all over her and ruin her, and what could she do but be afraid? But, she had her dragons. He was right when he said that she commanded them. So... she would do just that.
‘You are leaving so soon?’ Cantor called after her, as she stalked away. ‘Don’t hurry back.’
The sound of his laughter followed her all the way down the hall and out into the courtyard and it took every bit of strength for her not to drop to the ground in a faint.
The dragons were where she left them, and she suddenly felt safe in their presence.
She spoke to them in their common tongue. ‘My darlings’ she said. ‘I need you. You must rise up and guard me.’
Flozanya raised her massive head and uncurled her tail. Curiosity turned her eyes from fluorescent violet to deepest red and, when they rested on Serillia, they softened and lost a little of their fire. She stood immediately, and she gently butted her mistress’ shoulder with her snout, as if to say it’s all right... I’m here.
Ozdyrion yawned and seemed reluctant to rise. He rumbled deep in his throat and slowly blinked his reptilian eyes. His tardiness was not lost on Serillia and she admonished him with a look.
‘Lord Cantor has betrayed me,’ she said, ‘He wants to send us away from here...to banish us... and we need to show him the folly of that.’
Her anger transmitted to Ozdyrion and he finally pushed himself to his feet, threw back his head and let out an ear-shattering bellow that had most of the pedestrians around the courtyard fleeing for cover.
Serillia turned on her heel, searched and spied an android lurking behind a cart. She called it over and said, ‘You will find Lord Cantor in the dining hall. Go to him and tell him, if he doesn’t show himself to me, my dragons will lay fire to the royal castle.’
The android hesitated. It stared up into the glowing eyes of the dragons and contemplated the truth of her words.
‘Do you not understand me, android? Go immediately to Lord Cantor and give him my message.’
The android seemed to reach a decision, bowed and scampered off.
Flozanya’s nostrils widened as she dragged in the scents surrounding them and suddenly turned to stare across at the door to the dining hall where the android had, only moments
before, gone through.
Cantor emerged and squinted across to where Serillia stood with the dragons.
‘You mean to frighten me?’ he called over. ‘I am not so easily frightened, my lady.’
There was a pause, and then Serillia shrugged. ‘So be it,’ she said. And, then, to the dragons, ‘Singe his hair, Flozanya. Destroy the ramparts Ozdyrion.’
A ferocious flame, riding on a roar from Flozanya’s mouth exploded across the air and spread out above Cantor’s head. The heat was unbearable and, although no flame touched him, his hair caught and crackled with bright orange sparks. He screamed and desperately swatted at his head with frantic hands and then dropped to his knees to scoop up dirt from the ground to douse the growing flames.
Not to be outdone, Ozdyrion sent out his own column of fire that blasted through the stone ramparts and sent masonry crashing to the ground. Long fingers of scorching flame leapt to every piece of dry wood and set them ablaze.
Cantor’s shrieks could barely be heard through the thunderous roar of violent fire and the screams of terrified Icarrions, and it was only when he held up an imploring hand that Serillia finally commanded the dragons to cease.
There were a few brave souls scattered at the far end of the courtyard, near the main gates, who stood rooted to the spot, appalled and disbelieving of what their eyes told them. Horrified, they seemed unable to flee and save themselves and it was just as well that they were far enough away, or they would have been burned to a crisp.
An eerie silence descended, only disturbed by the pitiful moaning of Cantor, still on his knees on the ground.
Well satisfied that her demonstration had been wholly successful, Serillia addressed all those still within earshot. As she spoke, her voice rang out and all trace of her previous fear was gone. She said, ‘I am your queen. I am unanointed and uncrowned, but your queen, nevertheless. Does anyone doubt it?’ She swept her gaze from Cantor to those remaining in her eyeline. No one dared to disagree with her.
‘I will wait no longer to sit on my throne and I task you, Lord Cantor, with arranging my coronation immediately. We will hold it here - in the courtyard – where my dragons have room to attend me and where every courtier can bear witness. Send for the council and order everyone to come. I give you until the sun sets before I unleash my dragons on you all. If I am denied, I will destroy Icarrion and every living being.’ She paused a moment. ‘I give you only until sunset, so mark my words.’
Cantor, trembling all over and cursing himself for his hasty, inopportune words to her only moments before, pulled himself to his feet and staggered off on unsteady legs. She had terrified him and humiliated him and very nearly killed him. He’d learned a sore lesson and knew that he had no choice but to obey her. He had foolishly underestimated her, and he knew that he would live to bitterly regret it... if he was allowed to live at all.