Luminous

116 - The Second Fellowship (2/3)

The room's occupants stirred when Kellis hobbled through the door, with the exception of Gillian and his four fellow dragons. In the shadows outside the hearth's halo they lingered, emerald eyes aglow, awake and in wait. They'd spied on the Council meeting, making sure he did not spill their secrets.

Sylvia rose drowsily from her pillow, but her eyes flew wide open when she noticed his state.

"You're frozen. Did you walk?" She rushed over to peel his damp cloak off his stiff shoulders. Kellis shivered, staggering to the fireplace.

"Grimthel Graye offered me a ride."

Sylvia blinked as she filled in the rest. Her face fell.

"And you turned him down?" She wailed.

"He musta had an offer for you!" On the long chair, Meya bolted upright from Coris's lap. He hastily caught her by the arms to keep her toppling over in her eagerness.

"His vote. For The Axel." Kellis trained a sharp eye on the girl, eyebrows raised. "Would you have me take it, Meya Hild?"

Meya swallowed, looking sheepish. She glanced apologetically at Zier, who kept his eyes on the carpet. Persephia shot Agnes a look of triumph as if she was proven right. Coris squeezed Meya's arms in reassurance and reprimand, then rose to meet him.

"Gillian brought us up to speed." He spared the lurking dragons a glimpse. "So, tomorrow will be your last day on the Council?"

Kellis met his son's eyes—wide, pale and fearful of the unknown horrors this change would inflict upon them. He filled his lungs, mustering his courage.

"I'm afraid so, son." He closed his eyes to open them with fire anew, "I've only realized—it's best for Hadrian, for Latakia, for the far western lands under Nostra's shadow. Humans, dragons and those in between. For the Hadrian men to relinquish our noble duties, free ourselves to pursue the quest we believe to be just. Devote our protection to those who need it most, as common men."

He cast his eyes at the dragons, then the Greeneyes. Gillian's head rose like a serpent catching movement of prey. Vyrgil sighed and hung his head, while his two comrades consulted one another through looks of disbelief. Meya simply gawked.

Kellis returned to Coris, still draped in the colors he must soon shed. The Baron caressed the crimson hem of his silken tunic with unfeeling fingers, forced a smile he shone to his two sons. He foresaw they have foreseen his words.

"Yes. We're going to Everglen, boys."

Silence smothered the room. Kellis allowed them a moment to reel from the impact.

"I leave the seat of Hadrian to Kyrel in my absence, and return Lady Noxx to her kinsmen."

He pleaded with Sylvia, with her unblinking, welling eyes for forgiveness. This duty was in his blood, but she had no part in this ancient feud, none to gain and all to lose from this quest. He caught a tear on her cheek with his thumb, then her quivering lips in his, as sweet and tinged with bitter as the first night he took her.

"We must be prepared to lose what is easy, what is dear." He murmured as they parted. Time for this father to practice what he preached. As Syl crumpled in his arms, he peered over her trembling form at Coris, "I'm sorry for deciding alone—there was no time. And I trust in Freda's sign, and your heart."

Coris remained speechless. His eyes flared wide as the pallor of sinking realization crowded blood from his taut cheeks. Kellis reached out and clasped his shoulder.

"Am I correct, Coris? Is this what you expect of me? Is this what you desire?" He shook him, eyes locked with his wavering gray. Coris woke from his stupor, his breath quickening.

"Yes—Yes, Father!" He cried, back to his fiery self. Then fear gripped him. His eyes strayed to Zier, "—but, what will we do? Soon as Aunt Kyrel speaks, the king will arrest me and cut me open, then they'll turn to Zier—"

"For Freda's sake, focus on your guts!" Zier sprang to his feet. Coris rounded on him, but as the brothers bared fangs, on the brink of a tussle, a new voice cut through the tension—

"I'll break him out."

All eyes turned to the piece of shadow that had detached from the rest and molded into Gillian, but the dragon-man kept his glowing eyes solely on Baron Hadrian as he ventured into the firelight.

"All my seventy years, I watched your kind. Small. Scaleless. Flightless. Fire-less. Short-lifed. Yet somehow, you have always overcome us. I realized that dragons are lone. We fight for our lone self. You are many, with the ability to fight as one for the sake of your kind."

He stopped before the bewildered family. Kellis gathered Sylvia to his chest, but to comfort rather than guard.

"Some humans went further. They fought for a kind they did not belong to, did not have reason to die for. Their blood remain in you. Until now, I believed it had dried."

Gillian's voice petered into a whisper, his eyes dimmed with emotion, shaken as none here had seen before. None here would've expected this from Baron Hadrian, from any nobility—a ruler abandoning his power, his sons' birthright, to fight for the future of countless others.

"Two hundred years ago, a band of humans and Hybrideans almost succeeded. It failed because they did not trust their might was enough. They let benevolent Edward Wynn snare them with prizes—names, territory and a flock to rule!" Gillian spat in disgust, then locked his blazing eyes with Kellis.

"Return to where they left. Bring back the Fellowship. This time with dragons on your side."

Kellis nodded. They were of the same mind. And he was filled with pride to see his sons also understood without more need for words. They couldn't save all the lands, all the peoples when bound by oath as knights to serve the interests of one. Instead of waiting to act once all had united (which may never happen), they must trust in the few they could and lead the charge, so that more would follow in their example.

Coris glanced at Zier, then bore down on Gillian.

"You'll guard my brother from harm?" He demanded solemnly.

"You'll help my brother escape?" Zier growled, usurping his brother's command.

Gillian surveyed the siblings in turn, then nodded once. Coris sighed in relief, then turned to Baroness Sylvia.

"Mother?"

Sylvia extricated herself from Kellis. Her gray eyes glinting with tears roved over her children, from the tips of their hair to the point of their boots, taking in their height, their breadth. She understood then the agony all mothers must bear as they saw their sons to war, their daughters to wifehood. She reached up and cradled their cheeks.

"You're men now. You must do what you believe is right," she choked out. Zier rubbed his nose against her palm, breathing her perfume. Coris held her hand to his cheek, his eyes staid on hers.

"Take care of your brother."

Coris nodded, his eyes like diamonds in the firelight. Her courage spent, Sylvia retreated to mourn her last moments in Kellis's arms. Zier whirled to the sound of rustling lace and silk, facing Arinel who rose to her feet.

"Ari?" He begged, his blue eyes brimming with guilt. Arinel clapped her hand to her mouth, stifling a sob. Failing, she threw her arms around his neck with a weak cry,

"Oh, Zee!"

Zier swung her gently as if it were their last dance. Emboldened, Coris spun to Meya with eyes sparkling with hope,

"Meya—"

His smile sagged, the fire in his eyes doused to death by the cold in her glowing green. She hadn't moved. She sat with her back taut and ramrod straight, her face pale and stony, clawlike, white-knuckled fingers gouging into the cushions.

"Meya?"