Fan Fiction ❯ Spirit of the Dragon ❯ Cloud on the Horizon ( Chapter 19 )

Chapter Nineteen

Gardrothians. An army hit the shore of Betony without so much as a warning. No one knew how they did it. No one had expected it. Curses! Acanthus went down the halls in a flurry. His fists were clenched tightly at his sides. A whole city. Taken overnight. He mumbled a series of profanities while he entered the throne room.

"Prince Acanthus." His father sat tiredly upon his ornate golden chair. It was placed atop a raised ovular platform whose stairs were carpeted in jade. He seemed very small amidst the vast domed chamber. Marbled columns whose heads were bridged with green velvet curtains circled the perimeter of the polished floor, where scribes and palace advisors were rushing about frantically as they scribbled notes and exchanged messages. "I trust you heard the news."

"Permission to take the Rose Cavalry down to Betony immediately." He got right to the point. Betony was their closest harbor, and a primary source of economic import and export. Had there been any clue to a Gardrothian retaliation, it would have been protected more thoroughly.

"Permission denied." King Cornelius replied, to his irritation. "I know it is not what you want to hear, but I cannot risk your fighting there. Lethris will go."

"Lethris!" Acanthus was frustrated. "Lethris cannot command an army!" At that moment he hated the man more than ever.

"For all we know this could be a trap for you." Cornelius didn't want to deal with this. "I will not send my son on such a questionable mission."

"If you shall not give me an army---" Acanthus headed towards the exit, "---then I will go myself!" He knew he was being difficult. But he was headstrong, and did not like to be denied. So he was going.

He burst through the heavy wooden doors, and went to find Moonstruck.

"Please, Sir Prince! Will you not reconsider?" Squire Kaiden had overheard the events in the throne room, and now ran alongside him. "It is not safe, milord!"

"By the time my father takes action, who knows what the roths will have done!"

Kaiden knew his prince was angry, for the word `roth' was an especially derogatory term for Gardrothians. "Well at least let me come with you, then."

Acanthus calmed a little, enough to nod gratefully at his friend. "Alright. Let us go."

The youths set out on a yellow and a dappled gray. Unfortunately, the blazing summer sun was high in the sky, and would make for hard riding. Sweat was already coating the stallions' flanks as they reached the outskirts of Azalea.

They were forced to rest over in Dahlia, for the day was ending when they reached its walls. Two more days of riding brought them to Four Crossings, and then to a station down the road. Finally, the glittering Odessa Ocean appeared on the horizon. They were nearing Drunesmerre's southern shore.

The pungent smell of brine met their nostrils, and they heard the cries of gulls. It was not long before the city came into view; it was a crowded mass of white box-like homes that covered a varied expanse of elevated land. Any gaps were lanced by quaking aspens or thick spongy moss. There was a single definable road that snaked up to the city's pinnacle. Here at the top was a shimmering ivory tower. In the nighttime it acted as a lighthouse; a monstrous flame would illuminate its core.

An uneven stone wall the height of two men kept the city enclosed. Like Azalea, there was a wide barred gate at the entrance. Apparently the enemy had penetrated it without difficulty, because scattered blots of black appeared among buildings like ants. These had to be Gardrothian soldiers.

Acanthus could see seven of their ships anchored along the docks. Dozens of sails with the mark of Xethia's claw flapped in the wind. How could they have emerged unseen with no fog to shroud them? Surely the Betonians had some warning.

"No they didn't." The spirit was certain.

Whatever do you mean?

"Look at the Gardrothians, Acanthus. Look at who's with them."

The pair came to a halt just before a drop. There was no point in trying to hide from the siege, because Betony had been built as a harbor and lookout point. Anyone inside could see arrivals from all directions. Chances were the soldiers were preparing their weapons at that very moment.

Acanthus shaded his face from the glaring sun, and squinted at a distinct clump of warriors in black livery. The cluster was denser here, and there were ripples of movement. It looked like this group was herding another group down to the base of the city. He swallowed as he realized the second group consisted of villagers. And then he frowned, because there was something especially worrisome about their harsh shepherds. As the image gradually came into focus, his eyes caught a flash of red. Red sashes…that meant only one thing…

"Sorcerers." The spirit hissed. "They were ready for us this time." In Acanthus' haste to arrive, such a possibility had been overlooked. But it made perfect sense. Someone had survived the fire, and had gone back to warn Gardroth. Then he had spent half a year drilling what was left of his acrid soldiers, and had also recruited a rarer breed of fighters: the notorious red mages. It had taken him more than two seasons to accomplish, but once his task was complete, he had gone to Betony in confidence, for the ships could be concealed in a magic cloak of shadows. And when they finally arrived, he was ready to exercise his pending vengeance.

Ronori. It had to be. There was no other explanation. I suppose I cannot blame him. Acanthus thought, chagrined. As far as he knows, I killed Crowe. It had probably not been difficult, to convince his people to attack Drunesmerre either. After all, men with grudges follow in eager stride.

I will need you now, Spirit. More than ever.

To his alarm, there was no response.

A piercing red light swam in the corners of his vision. Before his mind could grasp what was happening, countless hands were grabbing him, uprooting him from the saddle. By the time he thought to grab his sword, it was too late. Something very heavy wrapped against his temple.