The Sword and The Mountain (Kathardra book 1)

“There is one last item of business Sire,” Aberin said, shuffling a stack of papers before him. No members of his council would look at him, which wasn’t abnormal. They would do nothing so familiar as meet the King’s eye, even in council. What was abnormal was how pointedly they looked away.

“Out with it,” Golathar growled. His patience was nearly gone. A third of the people were too old to be serving on his council, holdovers from his father’s reign, he would have to look for replacements for them. They took so blasted long to get to the point.

Another third were blatantly incompetent at best. At worst, they seemed to be doing everything they could to undermine his rule.

The last third were competent, and had not yet lived to see time stretching their skin, but their problem was a different one. Ambition.

Golathar would not forget that once his own father had sat in one of those seats, and had advised the king he went on to kill.

“Perhaps it would be best to hear the report straight from… the witness,” Frazin said. He was one of the more zealous ones. “Bring him in.” Frazin waved his hand toward the council room door.

Guards in black, one on each side of the door armed with pikes, moved to swing the great door outward. After a moment of waiting two soldiers came through the door, one wore a lieutenant’s cape, the other had the knots of a lower officer. The men came to a halt, they bowed deeply, then saluted. Golathar blinked slowly. Idiots, one does not salute after a bow.

“Deliver your report to the King,” Frazin ordered.

To Golathar’s surprise, it was not the lieutenant who spoke, it was the officer.

“My king,” he bowed once more, “A dragon was seen just north of Bridgetown…” The poor fool started sweating profusely. “I… Well. You see… There was… I…”

“Out with it man!” Aberin barked.

“It was being ridden.”

Silence.

Every set of eyes in the room rotated to Golathar. He was unfazed.

“How sure are you?” he asked the officer.

“Quite sure, sire. I got a very… Close look.”

“How close?”

“My king. The dragon picked me up in its claws and carried me miles from the city.”

Deliberately, slowly, Golathar raised his eyebrows.

The lieutenant stepped forward, “If I may, highness. We found him miles from town with a broken knee, no footprints to be found, and a trail of broken debris where he appeared to have rolled to a stop.”

Golathar raised his hand slightly into the air, a page was at his side at once. “Bring me Solveiga.”

The page darted away.

“You expect us to believe a dragon plucked you up, carried you off without digging its claws into you, and dropped you with no more than an injured leg?” Drusbane said, incredulous. The red-faced man laughed heartily. “My king, I know we haven’t had dragons in Kathardra in generations, but I know they didn’t let people go.” He laughed again.

“There was that report a couple of months ago,” Magda murmured.

Zalfus, the youngest member of the council, spoke. “My grandfather saw a dragon in the Sennius desert when he was young. He said there was a whole tribe of people who worshiped them like gods. Those dragons didn’t hurt the tribe there.”

“This isn’t the Sennius.” Drusbane rolled his eyes.

“Bridgetown isn’t that far from the Sennius. Particularly for a dragon.” Zalfus said, quieter, losing his nerve.

“The fact is,” Magda said, with her mole dancing on her face. Did it have a hair coming from it? “There haven’t been dragons in Kathardra for decades. We do not have enough mages to challenge them if they decide to return. And considering the circumstances it is an issue to be concerned about.” Her eyes flicked to Golathar.

Loathsome woman, why didn’t she just come out and say it?

Solveiga swept into the hall, her dark dress flowing behind her. Much to Golathar’s amusement the council all tensed. They thought her a witch. They were right of course. But the advantages in power afforded by Solveiga’s blood magic couldn’t be ignored. She glided along the table until she was right next to Golathar’s throne.

There, she sank into a smooth curtsy, deep enough to display ample cleavage. “What can I do for you, my king?” The innuendo to her words, accentuated by her smirk and fluttering lashes was obvious for all present.

“This officer claims to have seen a dragon, with a rider. I seem to remember that you mentioned that you had found a spell that would allow you to extract a memory.”

“Why yes, my king, I did find that spell. It would be my pleasure.” Solveiga stood and once again glided around the table.

“Follow me,” she told the officer. Hesitantly, both soldiers followed Solveiga from the hall.

“Sire. Can we trust that she is using safe methods to extract this memory?” Magda asked.

Golathar fixed her with a withering glare. The stubborn old bird didn’t have the decency to look away, or e look abashed. That was the spark that lit the fire. This willfulness would not be tolerated.

“Magda, how was that granddaughter of yours?”

“She is quite well my king, I thank you for asking.”

She just started as a lady’s maid to my wife, didn’t she?” Golathar asked, setting the snare.

Magda stiffened, and her breath seemed to catch. “Yes, Your Highness.”

“How old is she?”

“Seventeen. Highness.” Magda bit out.

“She’s quite beautiful,” Golathar smirked.

“Thank you. Highness.” All color that had been in Magda’s thin skin drained away.

“My king,” Solveiga once again entered the hall, a triumphant smile on her face. The witch came to stand at the opposite Golathar, at the other head of the long table. In line with her dramatic fashion, she threw her hand over the table. Motes of light scattered from her palm, dancing and multiplying in the air, arranging themselves rapidly into an image.

A frown graced Golathar’s face as he tried to decide what he was looking at. There was a girl’s face there, but her hair hung around her like her gravity was in Golathar's direction. Along with the girl was a mass of green, but the recreated memory was not wholly defined. The motes were creating part of an image, but it was missing much of its depth.

“What am I looking at?” Golathar frowned at Solveiga, if this was the best she could do, it wasn’t worth the time.

“I’m sorry my king, let me try this.” She twisted her hands, one over the other. The image responded by turning perpendicular to the ground. Solveiga then raised her hand over her head and the image rose high above the table. In unison, all eyes moved upward. “This is the proper perspective, highness.”

Indeed, with the image above his head, the aspect was suddenly clear. He was looking up at a dragon’s leg, its wing extended to the side until the motes broke apart like scattered sand. The neck of the beast disappeared in a similar way above Golathar’s head. A girl’s face peered over the side of the beast, and looked down at him, partially obscured by her hair.

Something that had escaped Golathar until the image was at the correct angle was that the girl was armed. There was a sword on her hip.

For the first time in many years, Golathar’s body did something of its own accord. His hand rubbed his chest. That girl. That sword. What had the prophecy said?

“What are we supposed to make of this?” Frazin demanded. “We can’t even see the girl’s face!”

“Of course,” Solveiga responded coolly. Her hands twisted around the air again, and the images responded, but instead of the image just moving the motes shifted around again. They swarmed, like birds, until they rearranged into the full-sized image of the girl. This time she was standing alone, a sword in her hand.

Her eyes. She had demonic green eyes. Someone had plucked the eyes of a beast out and shoved them into the skull of this girl. The sword was in her hand. It was dark black, a blade of smoke and shadow.

Her eyes.

Golathar swallowed hard. He realized how silent the hall had gone. How long had he been staring?

“How can we be sure this image was not a delusion, nightmare, or worse?” Aberin demanded, looking at Solveiga. “How do we know this image wasn’t a fiction designed to manipulate?”

Soveiga turned her eyes on Aberin. “Do you doubt my abilities, Lord Aberin?” her tone was dangerous. “If you need a more personal demonstration I could pull an image from your mind and we could verify its validity.”

Aberin’s jaw clenched but he said nothing else.

No, Solveiga was manipulative in every other way. Not blatantly like this.

“Have a bounty drawn up.” Golathar stood, “a thousand crowns. Dead or alive. Oh, and Magda asked me to announce her retirement from the council.” The old bird looked sharply at Golathar,

“You have served so long. You have earned a much-deserved break. I will accept recommendations to fill her position over the next week. I will announce her replacement before we next convene.” The snare snapped closed with his words. He wouldn't have to stare at that mole anymore.

She dipped her head slightly in acquiescence.

He walked. He did not stomp storm or run. He walked. Controlled, measured steps. Was a girl really making him… panic?

No.

He forced down the anxiety. Now that he was in motion he started to feel better, he even laughed at himself a little.

“My king!” Solveiga’s light voice followed him down the corridor.

He headed her off, “Did you find the full text of the prophecy?”

“Of course, your highness.”

Could she manage to sound more smug?

The guards guarded Golathar’s chambers bowed once he rounded the corner, they then opened the door and closed it behind Solveiga.

He turned and glared at her immediately.

She curtsied, “My king, there is good ne-”

“Out with it,” he growled.

“Upon dragonback, a swordmaiden, will enter into Kathardra, wielding a black blade forged by magic. It is upon her choices and her blade that your line will end or Kathardra will be conquered. Only by her hand can the son of Kathardra and Rhodrin be crowned and returned to the Mountain Seat.”

In a rush, the blood drained from Golathar’s head. This couldn’t be happening. The image of the girl broke into his mind again. A hand was crushing his heart. He turned from Solveiga, nobody could see him like this.

Losing control.

“Your Highness, can’t you see? This is good news! There is space in this prophecy to use it to our advantage!”

“What do you mean?” His fingers found the back of a chair. He gripped it hard enough that his knuckles and fingertips turned white.

“Her choices. If you can get her to make the right choice you can conquer Kathardra!”

“Kathardra is mine,” he growled at her.

“I know that! But if we can ensure the right choices are made then she will not take it.”

Her arms wrapped around his back, her fingers spread across his chest and stroked his abdominals.

“Or I could just kill her.”

“Sire?” she mumbled into his back.

“If she is dead she can’t do any of those things.” His eyes were locked down on his fingers, but he didn’t see them. He could only see the swordmaiden.

“I suppose,” Solveiga’s thumb slid across the top of his pants.

For a protracted moment, Golathar didn’t respond. But it would provide adequate distraction. Burning off excess energy would be helpful.

Golathar turned, and grabbed Solvega’s hair, forcing her mouth to his.

A gasp woke Goalthar. It was his own gasp. Those green eyes haunted his dreams.