The Dragon's Doom - Ed Greenwood [209]
She shook her head and sighed. "Lads never grow up, do they?"
The Tersept of Thornwood died screaming an instant later, his fingers hacked away by the cortahars of a rival and a spear run through him-and at the same time, not far away, the Tersept of Harbridge took a hurled Serpent-dagger in the face and went down, tripping over the heaped bodies of his fallen armaragors.
The ruined Throne Chamber was strewn with the dead and dying now, and as the Tersept of Mesper roared out a challenge to his rival of Tarnshars and launched into a lumbering run, Embra Silvertree suddenly threw up her hands and bellowed "Enough!" in a voice that rocked Flowfoam and echoed back from the banks of the Silverflow and the crumbling battlements of the Silent House.
Scales rippled into being on her cheeks, and then as swiftly faded again. Dragon scales.
"Sithra dourr" she whispered, her voice still thunderous with the awakened power of the Dragon-and all drawn swords, daggers, spears, and like weapons in the room were plucked into the air. Above the roofless part of the Throne Chamber, the sky was full of swords-and where there was still a ceiling, the weapons were driven deep into smoking stone.
Silence fell as dumbfounded men turned to stare at the Lady of Jewels.
Wild-eyed, her breast heaving and her hair standing on end, Embra Silvertree glared back at them.
"There's been more than enough killing in Aglirta today," she said fiercely. "Let it end, now."
A deeper silence fell, wherein men glanced sidelong at each other, and then hurriedly back to the tall, slender woman still sheathed in wisps of bright blue flame, wondering what she'd do next-and what they dared try, in the face of her fury.
"The King lives," Craer Delnbone remarked, into that stillness.
"H-help me up," Raulin said urgently. Hawkril Anharu took one great stride and plucked the King of Aglirta to his feet.
Raulin Castlecloaks's face was bone-white, and he was still drenched in his own blood, his breastplate missing and the rest of his armor much hacked and dented. Yet he looked both calm and older than he'd ever seemed before as he faced the silent crowd and announced, "I'm very weary of Serpent-priests and warring barons and tersepts alike. Henceforth, let it be known that the penalty for worship of the Serpent, anywhere in Aglirta, is death. There will be no more barons, and any tersept who does not declare loyalty to me-and prove it, by service in the army I shall whelm today, to scour the Vale-shall lose his rank and his life. Loyal Aglirtans, to me! No longer shall-"
"No," the Lady Silvertree said firmly, from behind him. "No, Raulin, this is not the way. Loyalty and trust must be earned… and not by greater tyranny than that practiced by those you deem traitors."
She bent, and picked up the crown. "I think Aglirta deserves better."
There was a brief murmur from the watching crowd as she lifted the crown, and the sunlight caught it, making it gleam in her hands.
"What do you mean?" Raulin whispered, whirling around. "You know I never wanted the throne…"
"Precisely why you've done better than a more ambitious man would have," the Lady of Jewels replied, "yet still there's unrest in the Vale, and swords out, and Serpent-mischief."
She turned slowly to look around at all the faces staring back at her. "I could change all that," she told them quietly. "I am the Dragon. A new Serpent is rising even now, but he'll be but a lone, weak man if none worship him-and for now, I hold sway over Aglirta, to do whatever I desire."
She turned again to regard Raulin, and added gently, "And I desire Raulin Castlecloaks to be free of the throne."
"Aye! Down with the King!" someone shouted, from among the watching warriors.
Embra whirled to face whence that cry had come. "No! Say rather: 'Up with the King!' For years upon years the King slept, and Aglirta was the Kingless Land. The curse of the realm then was ambitious, warring men-each baron ruling