Dragontiarna: Defenders by Jonathan Moeller

Author:Jonathan Moeller [Moeller, Jonathan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Amazon: B08DBQNHCT
Barnesnoble: B08DBQNHCT
Goodreads: 54615896
Publisher: Azure Flame Media
Published: 2020-07-18T23:00:00+00:00

“He is alive, I know it,” announced Rhiain.

“Eh?” said Calliande, dismissing the Sight.

She began the tasks of the day as she always did, using the Sight to seek out her children in distant Tarlion. They shared her blood, had grown in her womb, so she could use the Sight to find them anywhere. As far as she could tell, Gareth, Joachim, and Rhoanna were safe and well. She had left them in good hands. Gareth was a page in High Queen Cearowyn’s court at Tarlion…

Queen Mother, Calliande corrected herself.

Joachim would be beginning his studies at the Tower of the Magistri in Tarlion, and Camorak and Calliande’s other friends among the Magistri had promised to look after him. And Rhoanna would be in the care of her nurses at the Tower of the Keeper.

Calliande missed them so much, and the guilt of their separation never ceased to gnaw at her.

But she could not have done otherwise. The new High King needed her help, and there was more at stake than simple conquest. If the Heralds succeeded in their mission and claimed the Great Eye, the dark shadow of the Warden would fall over the world. Calliande didn’t know what the ancient dark elven wizard intended, only that it would be something catastrophic and dire.

Something they had to stop.

Calliande only hoped that her children could forgive her, that they would understand when they became adults with duties of their own.

Because sometimes duty made no allowance for its cost.

It often didn’t, really.

“Niall,” said Rhiain.

Calliande stood with Rhain outside her tent. Ridmark was off dealing with one of the innumerable problems brought to the Constable of Tarlion. Ridmark’s squires (or, at least, the Constable’s squires) were packing up the tent and the other baggage, loading it into one of the carts. Rhiain was supervising them, at least ostensibly, though there was a distant look on her face.

“I’ve realized that he is alive,” said Rhiain.

“I hope that he is,” said Calliande. She meant her words, though she doubted them. Some survivors had managed to escape the fall of Cintarra, but not many. Knowing Niall, he had been at the forefront of the fighting. Either he had been killed by the Heptarchy’s strange fire weapon, or he had fought to the last and had been overwhelmed.

She had heard Rhiain weeping in the night.

“No, I know that he is,” said Rhiain. “It is…I woke up this morning, and I knew it. He is still alive. I know it. I know we shall see each other again.”

“I pray that it is so,” said Calliande.

Rhiain didn’t seem to hear. “It is as if God told me. Do you know the story of Simeon and the Dominus Christus from the scriptures, my lady?”

“Simeon was a devout man,” said Calliande. “God promised that he would not die until he saw the Dominus Christus with his own eyes. When he did, he sang a song of joy. I think many monks sing the song as part of their daily prayers.”

“I am sure of it,” said Rhiain.

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