They entered the Great Hall, as Kylan called it.
Inside, the chiefs sat before Amalia and Kylan on long, short benches made of smooth wood. Their families were shown to rooms within the building where they could refresh themselves and rest after long journeys from different areas of Fjord.
There were handed ale and wine, and trays of salted pork and pickled vegetables were passed around.
"Let's get to the reason we are all here," Lachlan said. He was the youngest, with red hair and bright green eyes. Pale, tattooed, and the only one with two wives, he seemed to be impatient.
"We broke off ages ago to not draw attention to ourselves," he added. "Now, you want us to pack up our things and travel across the Dragon's Pass and who knows where else to return to the desolate land that spit us out? And, for what? A foreigner with no proof she is the heir."
Kylan nodded, taking in his concerns. "I understand what you're saying, brother. We've all grown comfortable. We've set roots, and raised families right beneath the steps of our enemies. We have an uneasy truth with those enemies. But, Kjos is where we belong. It calls to us. Have you not heard it?"
Lachlan scoffed, but didn't reply. He drank more ale and one of his wives whispered something to him, while staring at Amalia.
"We all know what dangers lurk in the Dragon's Pass," Vorg said, and everyone turned to him. "But, we are brothers, and we can defeat anything if we stick together."
"He's right," Amalia said, speaking up for the first time. Her throat was dry and her face was hot from nervousness, but she knew more than any of them.
Only she and Kylan had seen what their future could become.
"We can face whatever awaits together. Let me tell you, Kylan and I have seen what lies beyond those walls. It is a paradise. Whatever desolation drove the dragons and my Mage ancestors away has passed."
"How do you know this?" Harald asked, lifting a thick, blond brow. “You’re nothing more than a child. A Mage child and an outsider.”
She looked to him, swallowing. Her cheeks heated at being called a child. She’d seen more and experienced great trials throughout her short life. “Because, we've seen it. Our ancestors revealed themselves to us through dreams.”
"Nonsense," Harald said, standing. He shook his head, straightening his cloak over his broad shoulders. "I've heard enough. You two children have played us for fools and I'll not have you poisoning the minds of my people."
Amalia frowned. "Sit back down," she said, her fingers curling into a fist.
He looked to her, utterly stunned. His lips parted as if he were about to say something, but instead, his eyes widened as she tilted her head and nodded to his seat.
Everyone quieted, staring at her in disbelief.
The child had spoken.
It wasn't a question. She knew what she must look like. A little girl with pretty jewels and a fresh face. They had no idea what she'd been through.
She'd show them.
Amalia stood, and with a ring of steel, she swung her ax upward, pointing it at the ceiling. With a breath in, and a clenching of her fist, the steel began to glow.
"Enough of this sorcery," Harald said, but his eyes showed a curiosity that Amalia didn't miss.
"How does this show she's nothing but another Mage?" Lachlan asked, shaking his head.
Amalia closed her eyes, and by summoning her rune spirits, she did something that elicited a cry of surprise from those assembled.
She spoke in the ancient tongue of the dragons. Kjoshi fell from her lips as if she'd been born and raised with that as her first and only language.
Even Kylan turned to her with a stunned look in his eyes.
It was a feral language. One that wasn't taught to outsiders, and hadn't been uttered around anyone but of the dragon race. And, Amalia spoke it will full fluency, reciting the history of their people, and the bond her ancestors had with the dragons, and how they built something the world had never seen before.
A paradise destroyed by The Brotherhood—one torn apart by a vengeful god—one they could restore to its former glory.
They bowed to her then, as her body glowed, her ax shimmered with magic, and her lips promised them victory.
She promised them glory, and there were no more questions. From the Kjoshi she spoke, she ignited a feral thirst within the dragons, and reminded them of their true purpose.
Her eyes opened, a euphoria surging her entire body.
There was only awe in the expressions of those before her, and tears.
The Erani Heir had truly returned.