DemonWars Saga Volume 2: Mortalis - Ascendance - Transcendence - Immortalis (The DemonWars Saga) (312 page)

Aydrian’s face went very tight.

“You came to Behren with intent of conquest,” said Brynn. “And you stole this
kingdom you now command. What are you—”

“Stole?” Aydrian retorted. “My mother was the queen, do you not know?”

“Your mother bitterly opposes your rule,” Brynn replied.

“And how might you know this?”

Brynn stared at him for a long while, then stepped back. “I have come to form an agreement of nonaggression,” she said in the language of the To-gai-ru, and Pagonel translated it into Bearman. “Your place is not south of the mountains, except on invitation from Chezru Wadon or myself. If you accept that place, then understand that the events in Honce-the-Bear are not the concern of To-gai, or of Behren.”

As Pagonel translated, Yatol De Hamman echoed his agreement.

“Very well then,” Aydrian said, turning and motioning to the long table that had been set up deeper within the room, complete with piles of parchment, writing quills, and inkwells. On a motion from Aydrian, a pair of scribes walked out from the corners of the room and took their places opposite each other.

Aydrian and Sadye sat on one side, with Brynn and Yatol De Hamman taking the two vacant seats across from them, and Pagonel standing directly behind Brynn.

The terms were simple enough, with Brynn and Yatol De Hamman promising not to attack Honce-the-Bear, and Aydrian agreeing to keep his armies north of the mountains. Agreed upon without delay, they set the scribes to work, and soon enough, the three leaders signed.

“Is there anything more?” Aydrian asked, eyeing Brynn with every word, and just to make sure that she understood his meaning, he repeated the question in the language of the Touel’alfar.

“There is so much more that I need to say to you,” Brynn answered, again in the elvish tongue. “Who are you, Aydrian? What have you become?”

“Everything that Lady Dasslerond hoped I would become, and more,” he answered flippantly.

Brynn narrowed her brown eyes. “I know what you did to her, and to Andur’Blough Inninness.”

“And how might you know that, pray tell?”

Brynn didn’t reply to the question, instead changing back to the language of her people and offering, “There is one other matter, concerning the disposition of a prisoner.”

Pagonel translated.

“Do tell,” Aydrian prompted.

“We have Abbot Olin, and will return him to you,” said Brynn.

“How generous. Can you not afford enough rope?”

“But in exchange for one you hold,” the woman went on. “His name is Roger Lockless, and he is kept in the dungeons of Palmaris. Abbot Olin will be traded for him, if you so agree, at a time and place of your choosing.”

Aydrian laughed aloud as Pagonel translated it all. “Ah, my mother,” he said.
“Ever the sentimental and loyal fool.”

“You know nothing of your mother,” Pagonel dared to reply.

Aydrian stared at him hard. “Who are you?” he demanded.

Pagonel offered a slight bow and deferentially receded a step.

“Abbot Olin for Roger Lockless?” Aydrian said to Brynn directly, reverting to the elvish tongue.

“It seems more than fair from your perspective.”

“Then why?”

“Because he was a friend to your mother, and she would see him free.”

“That alone tells me that I should refuse you,” Aydrian said coldly. “Anything that brings comfort to my mother is of no interest to me.”

Again came that judgmental, disapproving look from Brynn, but Aydrian held strong. He shoved his chair out from the table and crossed his powerful arms over his chest. “Your request is denied. Hang Olin from the tallest tower in Jacintha, or from the mast of Prince Midalis’ own ship. I have no interest in him. He failed me and disobeyed me, and the result, by your own admission, is that Behren has been reduced to utter chaos.”

“Behren has its trouble, indeed,” Brynn agreed. She came forward in her chair, leaning right over the table to stare hard at Aydrian. “But I warn you, if you come south to take advantage of that chaos, you will find a unified Behren standing against you, and beside a To-gai ally.” The woman backed off just a bit, and reached out one last time. “Aydrian. Aydrian! You know me as your friend. We were nurtured together—”

“You were nurtured while I was tortured!” the young king roared back, and he leaped from his chair and leaned over the table, so that his face was but an inch from Brynn’s. “Who am I? I am the nightmare of Lady Dasslerond! I am the maelstrom.”

“You killed her!”

“I wish I had!” Aydrian snapped back. “But no, I was robbed of that pleasure by the witch herself!”

Brynn slammed the table, and Sir Mallon Yank rushed forward, as if to cut in front of Brynn.

Of course, Pagonel was far the quicker, spinning past the yelping Yatol De Hamman to easily intercept the Allheart. Mallon Yank went for his sword, but Pagonel caught him by the wrist as he closed his hand over the hilt, and with a proper press on the sensitive areas, locked the man’s hand in place.

Yank responded by swinging his left for the mystic, but Pagonel easily avoided the lumbering blow, stepped back, and pushed the man along in his swing, knocking him off balance and turning him right about. The mystic’s foot planted against the stumbling Allheart’s rump and shoved him hard across the room, to crash into the far wall, where he stumbled down in his heavy armor and floundered about.

Yatol De Hamman yelped again and ducked for cover; Aydrian’s hand went to his sword, as did Brynn’s.

Outside, the guards cried out, and then they screamed out, and a great roar shook the house. The door burst open and the lizardman Agradeleous stepped to the threshold, smoke wafting eagerly from his nostrils.

Brynn threw up her hands and stepped back, shouting, “Enough!”

But then something strange happened, something unexpected and frightening beyond anything the onlookers could have anticipated.

For Aydrian looked at the dragon, and Agradeleous at he, and both roared out in revulsion! Agradeleous bared his great fangs and seemed as if he meant to immolate the entire room, but Aydrian was the quicker, lifting his hand from his pouch and covering himself in a blue-white serpentine shield, and then blasting a bolt of lightning at the dragon that knocked Agradeleous back out of the room.

“Enough!” Brynn cried again, and she leaped forward at Aydrian, who turned on her angrily.

“You would consort with such a beast, and yet you question my actions?” the young king yelled at her. “Begone from here! At once!”

Brynn saw that there was something deeper here, something almost feral within Aydrian. How could he know anything of dragons? Why had he acted so violently, without the slightest hesitation?

And why had Agradeleous?

Brynn stared at him for just a moment longer, then rushed out the door, fearing that her dragon would assume its greater form and simply stamp the house flat.

She found Agradeleous hardly in a position to do so, for Aydrian’s bolt had stung him and stunned him. He was many feet back from the doorway, sitting in the yard, and seemed more shaken than Brynn had ever before seen him.

“Quickly, let us be out of here,” Pagonel said to her, moving by and taking her by the arm. He pulled her past the dragon, with Yatol De Hamman moving even faster and farther.

But Agradeleous did not stand to follow.

“Agradeleous?” the mystic asked. He let go of Brynn and rushed back around to regard the dragon directly, to see the curious expression. Was it rage? Fear? “Come along,” the mystic prompted.

The dragon stood up, still staring with obvious murderous intent at the house.

“The treaty is signed,” Pagonel went on. “Our business here is done. Let us be gone from this place.”

“Long gone,” the dragon finally agreed. “Long, long gone.”

“A
ydrian!” Sadye yelled, grabbing the young king as he broke from his pacing and stalked determinedly toward the door.

Aydrian turned on her, his eyes glowing with outrage, his expression more ferocious than Sadye had ever seen. But she, who had tamed the weretiger within Marcalo De’Unnero, did not back away.

“What are you doing?” the woman asked, and as Aydrian’s muscles tightened with tension, she tightened her grip upon him.

“What was that?” the woman calmly asked.

“A dragon,” Aydrian explained, though his teeth were so tightly gritted that he could hardly push the words through. “The second oldest of the races and the most vile by far!”

Sadye shook her head with every word. “You knew that Brynn Dharielle was rumored to possess such a beast,” the bard reasoned.

“So?”

“So explain your reaction,” Sadye replied.

That simple question did ease the tension from the young king and put him back on his heels. He had indeed heard the stories, and had eagerly anticipated the prospects of seeing the creature—had even fancied himself taking the dragon as a fitting mount to the man who would rule the world. Sadye’s confusion was justified, he realized. What indeed had just happened?

“I cannot explain,” he admitted. “The revulsion within me—I had not anticipated …”

“Were you not joking earlier that you would desire such a beast as a mount?”

“I would desire its vile head as a trophy, and nothing more!” Aydrian roared.

“Aydrian?”

Again, the surprising outburst had Aydrian shaking his head with more surprise than anyone in his audience.

“My liege, I will rouse the troops at once,” Sir Mallon Yank declared. “We will bring down the beast and deliver its head!”

“You will stand down,” Aydrian replied immediately. “The southerners arrived under a flag of truce, and we will honor that.”

“Yes, my King.”

“The unfortunate outburst is to be forgotten,” Aydrian told them all. “We have signed a treaty and will hold to it, as will Brynn and her people, and the Behrenese. The issue of the southland is settled for now, to my relief. Let us turn our attention fully to our own lands now, and be done with Prince Midalis and the rebellion.”

It was news that they were all glad to hear.

“Perhaps the next time you request a gathering with Brynn, you would be wise to advise her to leave her beast in To-gai,” Sadye said quietly to Aydrian, while the others went about straightening the room and ensuring that their guests were long away.

Aydrian wrapped his arm about the woman’s shoulders and laughed. “Wise indeed,” he agreed. “Wise indeed.”

Chapter 42
 

U
PON RETURNING TO
J
ACINTHA
, Y
ATOL
D
E
H
AMMAN WAS NOT PLEASED TO LEARN
that fighting had broken out anew along the southern sections of the city. “There is no order! All of Behren is in chaos because of you,” he accused Brynn. “Fool woman!”

Brynn didn’t shrink back an inch from the blabbering man. “Push my patience at your peril, Yatol,” she calmly replied. “Had you not attacked my city, I would not have marched forth in response.” He started to protest, but Brynn raised her hand into his face and spoke over him. “Spare me your talk of a mistake. There is no time for that anymore. Your country is in ruin, and you have no one to blame but Abbot Olin—and yourself.

“So go back to your home, Yatol,” the woman went on. “Secure your province and release this anger you hold toward me and toward To-gai. It is an unhealthy practice, I assure you.” That last threat had been not the least bit disguised, and Yatol De Hamman blanched and swayed back from the imposing warrior woman.

“Let us return to your people,” Pagonel offered from behind Brynn.

“Indeed,” Brynn replied. “I have had more than enough of the Behrenese.”

They found the To-gai encampment up in the foothills easily enough. Many of the warriors had gone home by then, leaving only fourscore patrolling the region. Tanalk Grenk was there, however, patiently awaiting Brynn’s return.

“To-gai’s conflict with Honce-the-Bear is at its end,” Brynn explained to the man. “King Aydrian has been warned to stay north of the mountains, and given his loss here, it will be a long time before he can turn his eyes south to us once more. When the issue of his struggle with Prince Midalis is settled, To-gai will go to the victor in parley again, to reaffirm the treaty we have signed.”

“You have done well for our people,” Grenk congratulated, and he offered a respectful bow. “Yet again.”

“My efforts have been no less fruitful than your own,” Brynn replied. “Your actions and leadership saved Dharyan-Dharielle, and allowed us to break out from the besieged city.” The woman paused and looked to Pagonel, taking strength in his serenity.

“And that is why it is with complete confidence that I hand the leadership of To-gai into your able hands, Chief Tanalk Grenk,” Brynn explained, and for perhaps the first time in his entire life, the powerful To-gai-ru warrior seemed as if his legs would not support him!

“My lady?” he stuttered.

“My road takes me north,” Brynn explained. “By his deeds has Aydrian named himself my enemy, and I cannot go quietly home while he continues his errant
course.”

“An enemy of Brynn Dharielle is an enemy of To-gai!” Tanalk Grenk said determinedly.