Page 7 of The Truth

Alvira could have heard a pin drop against the stone. But in her mind, in her shared soul, she could feel Vyldrar battling Doaxes across the sky, feel the talons raking her side, hear the roar of flames in her ears.

She took a step forwards, her níthral still ignited in her fist. Panakír watched her like a wary animal, her white steel armour smeared in blood, her face obscured by her helmet.

“You have no right to wear that symbol into battle.” Alvira pointed the tip of her níthral at the symbol of The Order on Panakír’s chest.

Where Alvira had expected indignation from Panakír, she found eyes that held only regret and sorrow. The elf didn’t even look down at the symbol on her breast, as though the sight of it alone shamed her.

The muscles in Panakír’s jaw clenched as Alvira moved close, circling, níthral scraping the ground at her feet.

“Have you nothing to say?” Vyldrar’s fury surged through Alvira’s blood, the dragon hearing everything, watching through Alvira’s eyes. “Innocent people burn around us from your flames, souls you were sworn to protect, and you give me nothing but silence?”

Panakír opened her mouth, but not a sound left her lips, nothing but a short breath, her words stolen by the wind.

In the sky above, Vyldrar caught Doaxes in a turn, his jaws clamping around the grey dragon’s neck, scales snapping.

Panakír let out a gasp. And there amidst all the chaos, tears rolled from her eyes and down her cheeks.

“You dare weep?” Alvira moved closer, until a mere five feet separated them. “You made this. You…” A sudden rush of sorrow filled Alvira as her thoughts drifted to Maquil and Carasín, to Savrien and Daraní. And she found herself capable only of repeating the word Eltoar had spoken: “Why?”

Panakír’s lips trembled, and she dropped her sword with a heavy clang.

“What are you doing?”

A series of monstrous roars tore the sky apart, and a chill shivered through Alvira’s veins. With his jaws still clamped around Doaxes’ throat, Vyldrar watched as five more dragons descended from the clouds a mile or so from the city.

Tarast’s wing, Alvira thought, surely, or Galandíl’s, but Vyldrar saw neither amongst their number.

“I’m sorry…” Panakír stumbled, the tears now flowing freely. She looked as though every ounce of strength had been drained from her body. “I… I’m sorry Alvira…”

Panakír dropped to her knees, hitting the stone with a crack, her shoulders slumped, eyes staring at her bloodied hands. Alvira wasn’t sure what she had expected to find when she came face to face with the traitor, but this was not it. This was not a bloodthirsty monster full of righteous zeal. This was a broken warrior, one who dared not look into her own soul.

The men and women who bore the coiling ravens of Antiloch all looked at each other askance, a wave of uncertainty spreading through them.

Alvira released her níthral, grabbed Panakír by the collar, and hauled her upright, staring into her eyes. “What in the gods is this?”

When Panakír only stared absently back, Alvira shook her and roared, “Answer me!”

The new dragons drew closer, spreading into formation. Vyldrar released the thrashing Doaxes and dropped, hurtling towards the earth before spreading his wings and sweeping back towards the city.

“It was the only way…” Panakír muttered, tears still streaming down her cheeks. She lifted her gaze. “Your presence here only shows me that everything he said was true. You are here. Eltoar is here. Just as he said you would be. How could he have known that you of all the Draleid would be the first to respond? How?”

“Who?” Alvira gripped Panakír’s collar so tight her knuckles lost all feeling. “Who?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Panakír shook her head. “The things I saw, Alvira. I…” Panakír’s breaths came short and sharp. “This was the only way. We couldn’t let it happen.”

“You’re not making any fucking sense!” Panic rippled through Alvira as she felt Vyldrar soar over the city, Doaxes moving to join with the new arrivals.

Unrest stirred about her. The soldiers on both sides had halted almost entirely at the emergence of the five dragons, tens of thousands of eyes staring into the sky. But they knew what it meant for Doaxes to fly at their side, and the scales of battle shifted once more. About her, steel crashed against steel as the Antiloch forces charged, emboldened by the sight of more dragons flying at their back.

Alvira pulled Panakír close, staring into those bloodshot, tear-filled eyes. “I should bleed you out here, carve you apart.”

“Do it.”

Those words took Alvira aback. She swallowed hard, unsure what to say.

“I can’t—We can’t live like this.” Panakír glanced towards the sky, and Alvira knew she was talking of her soulkin, of Doaxes. “We did what was required of us… but no more. We do not leave this place, Alvira. We knew that before we came here. You are my end.”

As the battle reignited around Alvira, the Vastillion soldiers formed a ring about her, voices calling out, “Protect the Draleid!”