their path. The purple robes smashed into planters filled with exotic flowers and tumbled over the edge of the balcony. Riding the force of Hallon and Rallon’s charge, the monks broke between the enormous green marble pillars which separated the Great Hall from the outside world.
The fighting was fierce, but Hualiama had eyes only for the far end of the Great Hall, where the Onyx Throne of Fra’anior stood. A single monolithic block of dark, sparkling onyx carved in the likeness of a seated Dragon, the arms were the Dragon’s paws and the seat back, a stylised Dragon’s head rising above the king’s head, which had rubies the size of a man’s fist for eyes, and six-inch garnets for teeth. Its wings spread fifteen feet either side of the seat. This was the symbol of Fra’anior, the ultimate seat of power.
Upon that cold stone throne, flanked by two stolid Green Dragons, clad all in black save for his purple robe of office and a golden circlet upon his brow, sat the false king.
Ra’aba.
Chapter 29: Ra’aba
CHILLS RACKED HUALIAMA’S spine as she locked her gaze upon her nemesis. Finally. All of her life, it seemed, had been spent in preparation for this moment–since before her birth. Ra’aba sat deep in consultation with two ranking soldiers, as if the fighting did not concern him in the slightest. Then, he appeared to sense her special animus. Great rivers of fire rushed in her ears as his sallow, unfeeling eyes sought her out, unerring. Piercing her soul.
Ra’aba’s brow furrowed.
Was that a flash of concern she saw, of recognition, before the fighting closed in? Hualiama threw herself furiously against the Royal Guards, those same men who had bent the knee, swearing to serve the true King of Fra’anior. Her blades burned the air. Pain scored her side. She stumbled over a fallen soldier, but Ja’al leaped in to turn aside a blow aiming to detach her head from her shoulders.
When Hualiama had an opportunity to look again, Ra’aba was on his feet. His usual sneer had reasserted itself. Making a curious gesture with his right hand, the Roc said, “Separate her to me.”
At once, the disciplined Royal Guards closed about Lia like fingers pinching a bud. Hualiama fought like a madwoman, but the soldiers worked in concert to beat her away from her friends. Suddenly, she was ejected into the open. Alone. A half-circle of steel cut off her retreat. For a second, all Lia could think of was how exposed she felt, similarly to the time Grandion had become strangely possessive of her at the blue pool. Then, her anger surged.
“So, Ra’aba. Pleasantly surprised to see me alive?”
“Surprised, aye,” he growled, stalking closer. Lia noticed his hand did not stray far from his sword-hilt, even though he appeared relaxed. “Pleasantly? No. Why won’t you just lie down and die like the good little girl you always were, Lia?”
Flicker landed on her shoulder, baring his fangs at the Roc. Lia was grateful for the dragonet’s support. Having wished for the courage of a Dragon to confront her father, hers was more dragonet-sized. Nevertheless, she forced scorn into her reply.
“Dying’s overrated, Ra’aba. Besides, you’re fouling the Onyx Throne with–”
“Big words, little Lia,” he sneered. “How’s your back?”
She shrugged, allowing her Nuyallith blades to fall to her sides, palms held outward in the second ready position as she matched his slow approach step for step. “I was healed by a Dragoness. You see, while you’ve been trying to grasp a kingdom which is not your own, I’ve been out there, learning and growing in my skills.”
His derision bellowed around the Great Hall. “You still think you can beat me?”
“That prophecy is so awkward for you, isn’t it?”
His yellow eyes blazed. “What do you know about the prophecy? Nothing! Besides, I don’t need to fight you. There are a dozen arrows trained on your heart even as we speak.”
His gesture brought to her notice archers arrayed on the galleries around the magnificently appointed hall, where the great balls and functions of royal Fra’anior took place. Lia returned her attention to Ra’aba, pretending unconcern.
“How then shall I address you, o false king of Fra’anior? The coward king? He who hides behind his soldiers and archers and Dragons. King yellow-belly the toothless. More sparrow than roc. You’re a liar, a traitor and above all a fool, because you’ve stirred up the wrath of the Dragon Elders. They’re on their way here right now, Ra’aba.”