Deep inside the dragon’s mouth, a smoldering blue fire appeared.
Loran had no reply. Aside from her skills as a humble swordmaster with a handful of pupils, she was merely a widow who had only seen thirty-some years, and entirely without means—“brash” was right. But the dragon was wrong that she didn’t mean it in her heart. She had meant every word. For it was the only path left to her.
Loran stood her ground. She met the dragon’s great eyes until eventually the blue flames in its throat subsided. The dragon asked in a calm voice, “What is your name?”
She had not expected this. Then again, she didn’t know what she had expected after declaring she’d become king. “My name is Loran.”
The dragon asked again, this time in an almost caring tone, “What were your husband and daughter called?”
Her mouth opened halfway, but the words wouldn’t come out. She hadn’t spoken their names aloud for some time now. Their names reminded her of the countless times she had uttered them with love. It ached even more than remembering their deaths. The dragon studied Loran’s face as she stood silent, then spoke.
“Never have I forgotten the day the Empire’s legions swarmed our land like ants,” the dragon said. “Their chains bind me, and I have tried to pass my imprisonment in slumber. But sleep only brings dreams, and in dreams, I watch again and again as the king, riding on my back into battle, is slain. Perhaps you suffer as I do.”
Loran waited for the dragon to continue.
“If we enter a pact, will you banish the Empire from this land and become king, Princess of Arland?”
“I am not a—”
The dragon hissed and raised a single claw, quieting her.
“Will you become king and break these cursed chains?”
Loran nodded solemnly.
“Then give me your left eye to seal our pact, as the first of your kings did, so that I may see the world through you.”
The dragon’s claw approached her face. Instinctively, she tried to blink, but she couldn’t—she let out a piercing scream as her eye was scooped from its socket.
She wasn’t sure how much time passed before she managed to uncurl from where she had fallen, doubled over in pain, and to open her remaining eye. The dragon now had eight eyes. Its new eye felt familiar to Loran, as if she were looking at her own face in the mirror.
The dragon brought its claw to its mouth and broke off one of its fangs. It seemed to grimace, as if this caused it pain, then wrapped its claws around the bloody tooth. It closed all eight of its eyes and spoke words that Loran did not understand but that rang achingly inside her head. Smoke issued from the cage of the dragon’s claws. When they opened, there was an ivory-colored sword glowing with a strange light.
“This, too, is a symbol of our pact. This sword shall slay our enemies in my stead.”
Pressing the pulsing wound of her eye socket with one hand, Loran reached for the sword with the other, taking hold of the hilt. It gripped back. A wave of heat rippled through her.
“There are many lands in this world. They have almost all been taken by the Empire. In these lands, many died, others were enslaved, and yet others became slave drivers for their new masters.But there are still those who fight. And there always will be. Now you may count yourself among them.”
Loran nodded. The dragon pointed to one of the walls.
“Go there. A path shall open to the valley for the bearer of the sword. That path is unguarded. Even if someone is there, they shall be no match for you, or my fang.” The dragon made the strange laughing wail again. “You must succeed. For me, for your vengeance, and for Arland.”
Thus spoke the fire-dragon of Arland, guardian of legend, before slowly closing its eyes.
Loran bowed deeply and made her way to the wall indicated by the dragon. The barrier melted like snow in spring, revealing a tunnel just big enough for a single person to pass through. She heard water trickling on the other side. Loran stepped into the passageway, then hesitated, looking back at the dragon.
Without opening its eyes, the dragon said, “Speaking after so long spent in silence has exhausted me. Be on your way. Is the burden on your shoulders not heavy enough? Or the path you must walk not long already?”
Loran gave a final nod, then left the stone chamber. In the dark passage, her sword shone lightly, guiding her, and she whispered though there was no one to hear.
“I am a princess of Arland. And I shall become king.”
2CAIN
Cain had just stepped into the alley that would take him home when the blue light of the streetlamp behind him blinked once before going out completely. A gust of winter cold rustled his old tan coat. The ghost-like shadows that haunted the buildings melted into the dark, and now the only light came from a smattering of candles in the windows above the alley.
The Power generator in this run-down part of the Imperial Capital was low-grade, and old at that, so simply covering the fuses with a thin lead panel could disrupt the lamps for a while. A method commonly used by muggers, but no mugger or thief in this vicinity would dare make a mark of Cain.
