Page 2 of The Truth

“It doesn’t matter why,” Alvira said. “What matters is that they have turned on us, and they are slaughtering those we swore to protect.”

“The why of things always matters, Alvira.” Eltoar folded his arms as he looked to her. “If we do not understand why something has happened then we are doomed to watch it happen again. The cause of something is rarely what we see on the surface.”

Those dark eyes held Alvira in place, chaining her thoughts. Vyldrar rumbled in her mind, a warmth spreading through her. She stared back at Eltoar, her jaw clenching. “I understand what you are saying, Eltoar. I know my own ignorance on this, but with respect, I will not stand by and watch people burn simply because I do not understand the why of things. Draleid l’aël. Er myia vayîr. Er vîría vayîr.”

I am a Draleid. It is my duty. It is our duty.

Eltoar rested a hand on Alvira’s shoulder, his fingers gripping the steel of her pauldron. “I do not question your devotion to our cause, Alvira. Not for a moment. And the fire that burns within you is something fierce. But we must use both our hearts and our heads. If we do not wait, there is every chance that none of us leave this place alive, that Vastillion will be our grave.”

“Then so be it.” The words left Alvira’s throat in a growl.

Eltoar smiled at that, smothering the beginnings of a laugh, which only served to feed Alvira’s anger. “I cannot allow you to throw yourself upon a spear for courage and duty alone. The life of a Draleid is not something that should be so easily given.”

“My life is not worth ten thousand of theirs, and I will not weigh it so. To die for the people of Epheria is the vow I made. If I am not willing to do so, what would that make me?”

“I did not say you should not be willing to give your life, simply that you should not do so with such little thought. I admire every word that leaves your heart, Alvira. It stirs the fires within us to hear your courage.”

Behind Eltoar, Helios shifted in place. The dragon lifted his head, muscles rippling, blood-hued wings spreading wide. Eltoar’s soulkin was a third again larger than Vyldrar. Even still, a rumble dropped into Vyldrar’s throat, and he pulled back his lips, baring savage teeth.

“But courage is not all that is required of us,” Eltoar continued. “The Archon has bid us wait, and so that is what we do.”

It was Farda who spoke next. The man’s words were low and unshaking. “The darkness of this world needs nothing more to triumph than good souls looking on and doing nothing.”

Eltoar gave him a half smile. “Jon Stilvar Milner. Wise words.”

“Indeed, brother. Words to live by.”

Alvira looked between the two of them. “You both can stand around and quote philosophers while people die. I will not.”

“The Archon himself ordered us to wait,” Eltoar said as she walked to Vyldrar’s side. “You would defy his command?”

“The Archon isn’t here. He doesn’t have to stand and watch while those people are butchered. Thousands that we swore to protect, slaughtered by our own kin. I will not stand by any longer, no matter what orders are given.” Alvira climbed to the nape of Vyldrar’s neck, the warmth of her soulkin’s scales rushing through her body. “Our Archon wants to wait, wants to ensure a dominant victory so the continent knows our strength. But the cost of that victory will be borne by the people down there. I cannot allow that. We are Draleid. Whatever the price of disobedience, I will pay it.”

“And you?” Eltoar asked, looking to Farda.

Farda gave his friend a smile, then glanced up at Alvira, then to Maquil, and back to Eltoar. “You already know my answer, old friend. I fly with Alvira.”

Behind the man, his soulkin, Shinyara, lifted herself to her full height and shook her body as though loosing a layer of snow. The dragon was slender but dense, not a single piece of wasted energy in her movements. Her scales were the colour of beaten gold, her horns flowing across her skull like streams of water.

She lowered a winged forelimb, and Farda climbed astride her back.

“I would rather face the consequences of disobedience than those of inaction.” Farda looked to Alvira and nodded. “I’m with you sister. Draleid n’aldryr.”

Dragonbound by fire.

“Rakina nai dauva,” she replied. Broken by death. A flicker of fear ignited deep within her as the words touched her lips. But the fire in Vyldrar’s heart set that fear aflame.

“Må vaera tié.” Let it be so. Eltoar pulled a long breath inwards, then exhaled slowly, shaking his head. “Uthikar. Altinua uthikar.”

Together. Always together.

Eltoar turned and strode towards Helios, calling to his apprentice. “Maquil. V’iralíse.”

Maquil. We fly.

Like a shifting mountain, Helios rose, Eltoar seeming to shrink in his shadow. A series of deep, guttural booms reverberated in the great dragon’s throat as he spread his crimson wings and lifted his head. Alvira could almost feel the air being pulled from around her as the dragon’s chest swelled before he unleashed a roar that shook through her and Vyldrar’s bones.

That primal sound surged through them like lightning. A call to the fires of battle, a warning to those who would stand in their way.