Dragon Tide Chronicles: Dawn Rising

Chapter 13: The Murrmuring King of Light

  Chapter Thirteen: The Murmuring King of Light

I started, realizing I wasn’t asleep, but I wasn’t in the cabin anymore. The surrounding area was nothing but pure darkness, with small tiny flickering orbs of golden light swirling and fading out of existence. I hear a soft sigh, and I whirl towards the noise, and freeze, disbelief running through my body. I beheld none other then the Chromatic Dragonling king, Alexandi. He seemed oddly transparent, and glowed faintly. His eyes were closed peacefully, as if he sleep, yet his mind seemed active, but unfocused. This can’t be right. Alexandi?! I thought he died! What’s going on?

Allow me to answer your question, Danica Crown, Daughter of Elizabeth Crown. A voice echoed in the darkness. I turn, and see a golden doe. I am the Goddess of Light, Irintis. Alexandi in fact did not die, but rather, Remnanted into seven pieces. Light. Shade. Terra. Theta. Everest. Sigma. And Signas.

I gasp. Then… the Covenant is really… the seven Remnants of Alexandi? He never died? This was beyond what I could have ever grasped. Alexandi, the king of the Chromatic Dragonlings, died during the very end of the war, from what reports had said. And yet, alive? Could he hear me right now?

Alexandi is not fully capable of communication, but is aware of what occurs in the world. His thoughts are filled with grief and regret. Even in his waking sleep, he does not rest in peace, and never shall, until the seven are slain.

How sad. But what does this have to do with me? Why are you telling me this and not the dragonlings?

It’s a matter of the extremely explosive politics going on behind the scenes of the dragonlings. Their government is something called Cycolsim. The people control the elders, the law making leaders. The elders controlled the king, the one who carried out the law. And the king controlled the people. …Did you not know that to this day, there is no one on Alexandi’s throne?

Shock registers in my thoughts and on my face. What?! Why is that?! Why hasn’t anyone taken up the throne?

Because both Torik and Alexandi’s descendants view the idea as an insult to their memory, and refuse to take the throne, Danica.. And no one dares offer to take it up because of that. In a matter of speaking, it is mere respect for the dead. It should have everything to do with you Danica. Think about it. What could happen if their government isn’t stable? How could it affect your people? Without a ruler, the people make all of the decisions for themselves, and there is a great bitterness and dissent boiling under the surface.

…They could declare war? I ask, worried. If what the goddess said was true, things could become very bad in a moment’s notice.

…Danica, the Dragonlings never signed that peace treaty. Irintis’s voice rang out sharply.

Ok, hold on. What!? Are you saying…?

The Dragonlings consider themselves still at war. Secretly, your nation is under the threat of a massive cold war. There never was peace. Your grandfather merely sought to end the bitterness of the war, and knew that they would never have accepted the peace treaty even if he could find them. Danica. Be prepared, for the trials ahead will be long and difficult, but you must find what you are fighting for. If you don’t, what use is there in fighting? Consider these things I have told you, and trust in your heart, for it has not lead you astray yet. Farewell.

And with that, I woke up, in a cold sweat, my mind filled with the new revelations that would take a long time to be accustomed to. Alexandi, the war, Alexander, and Grandpa Quin. All of these things whirled about in my head, leaving more mystery then answers, and more riddles to solve. I wondered, when will this world ever begin to make sense?

Alexander yelled, “Alright everyone, no more delays! We’re moving on to Sapphiriana if it kills us!”

Orph’s protests ring out as Alexander straps on his armor and packed various weapons. I glanced at him wearily, concerned about his wound, but he appeared not to notice. He was well armed, knifes, guns, swords, axes, the works. He was like a walking military storage facility. I glance at a shotgun strapped to his pack.

            “That your favorite gun there, Alexander?” I ask, slightly interested.

“Yep. Always have one with me. The greater the kick, the more I like it.” He smirks in his typical annoying manner.

“How much kick does that have?” I ask.

“Let’s just say, I flew head long into a tree. Had a nice concussion for a week.” I whistle. Alexander pats it, as if he cared about the weapon, then begins packing provisions for the day long trek ahead of us. I had absolutely no idea what was waiting for us at the end of our journey, but I was eager to find out.