By the time the trio made it to the outer barricade guarding the castle, full dusk had descended. This time, they didn’t have to wait so long for the portcullis to be lifted. The guards posted at this entrance knew Sapheramin and Tollorias on sight, and their association with Jaax gave him safe passage. Beyond the frozen arch of the gate, another bridge spanned a small chasm that acted as a dry moat. Fortunately, the drop wasn’t nearly as deep as the one Jahrra had thrown herself over earlier that day. Jaax fought a shudder as the dread from the still fresh memory returned.
“Are you well, Raejaaxorix?” Tollorias asked as they stepped onto the wide ice walkway. Torches set in sconces placed every twenty feet or so threw flames of bright color against the inky sky, marking the edges of the bridge.
“Yes, I am fine,” Jaax answered a little harshly, scanning their surroundings once again.
A set of tall metal doors waited ahead, doors nearing seventy-five feet tall and sixty feet wide. Jaax was probably eight feet at his shoulder, and fifty feet long from snout to tail, so he was by no means small. But these doors and this castle always made him feel diminutive, like one of the Gili dragons living among the great trees with the woodland elves of southeastern Felldreim.
Jaax sighed. At least this part of the city was familiar to him. The castle of the Creecemind king and his family occupied the top third of the mountain peak, all of the buildings and halls and roads big enough to accommodate the largest of the dragon kruels. Although the lower portion of the castle was guarded by the elvin races of Nimbronia, Jaax knew that Dhuruhn had warriors of his own kind tucked away in the deep shadows between the turrets and cliffs far above. The Creecemind might be enormous in size, but they were slender and their coloring blended perfectly with the snow, ice and granite of the mountains. He had noticed a few when flying Jahrra to her suite, but understood they represented a mere fraction of the true number of Creecemind dragons guarding their city.
The guards posted outside the castle doors, two Korli dragons outfitted in silver armor, stood and pushed the doors open for Jaax and his companions. Sapheramin, staying true to her usual pleasant demeanor, smiled and acknowledged each guard while Tollorias gave them a quick nod of his head, his eyes narrowed. Jaax mimicked his companions, keeping his expression civil but not as serious as Tollorias’s.
The interior of the castle was even more impressive than the artistically interwoven granite and ice of the city surrounding it. The entire heart of the fortress was carved from the rocky mountain top, with slabs and bricks of ice used to seal up any cracks or points of weakness. The main floor and entrance hall stretched on for ages, or so it seemed, and the well-lit corridors offered no shadowed corners for assassins to lie in wait for important diplomats or members of the king’s council. Ethoen citizens of all races moved about the space in their finest garments, their paths interlacing as they crossed over the smooth floor of the grand entrance hall only to disappear down a passageway or through a door or up a twisting, glassy staircase on the opposite side. The hum of voices echoing off the high walls and the general bustle of the crowd reminded Jaax of a busy bee hive. Great, frozen chandeliers blazing with magical light hung from the ceiling far above. In the distance, Jaax spotted the familiar rows of extra columns keeping the final apex of the mountain from crashing down upon their heads and crushing them all.
Despite the throng of people, the three dragons managed to cross the entrance hall with little trouble. By the time they traversed the chamber of frozen colonnades, most of the busy diplomats and nobles had thinned out, their numbers staying mainly near the castle’s entry point.
“Should we announce ourselves?” Jaax wondered aloud.
“No,” Sapheramin sighed. “I’m sure one of his majesty’s dragons has already reported the events of the day to him. He is undoubtedly expecting us.”
Another set of doors, these even larger and more ornately decorated than the ones leading into the castle, loomed ahead. The doors were placed within a solid granite wall, a set of wide stairs fanning out before them. On the other side, Dhuruhn’s throne room awaited. Jaax stopped his forward progress and furrowed his brow, attempting to gather his thoughts before making his grand entrance.
Conferring with the king of the Creecemind wasn’t anything new to him. He had traveled to Nimbronia from time to time while Jahrra grew up under the watchful eye of Hroombra in the province of Oescienne. Every time he paid the legendary king a visit, he was met with skepticism and some level of disdain. And each time, Jaax would have to hold his tongue, grit his teeth, and figure out some other way to convince the sovereign of Felldreim that Jahrra was, in fact, the child promised in the prophecy, and that yes, Ciarrohn was quietly fortifying his strength in the east. Dhuruhn always turned Jaax away with the same song: “Yes, you make a valid point, but I am still not convinced.”
Jaax only hoped this time, now that he had Jahrra as proof of her existence, he’d get through to the stubborn monarch and gain his much needed help.
“Because if you refuse to help us, we do not stand a chance,” he murmured to himself. A chill not associated with the icy walls surrounding him coursed through Jaax’s blood.
No, they would not stand a chance against Ciarrohn’s legions or his dreaded Morli dragons if they could not recruit Nimbronia’s help. His contacts in Dhonoara Valley, just south and west of Ghorium’s border, had kept a close watch on their common enemy, and there was no doubt about it: The Crimson King was amassing an army and breeding his battle-ready monsters. The allies of the Coalition, those Jaax knew he could rely on, would not be enough to defeat Ciarrohn. They needed the help of the Creecemind and the deadly frost they breathed instead of fire.
“Having second thoughts?” Tollorias asked, his deep voice rumbling through the cavernous space.
Jaax shook his head, sending his worries scattering. “No, just trying to organize them.”
With some reluctance, he started walking toward the throne room once more.
“Oh, I forgot to tell you, what with all the commotion earlier,” Sapheramin said cheerily, as if she couldn’t sense Jaax’s darkening mood.
The Tanaan dragon angled his head to acknowledge her.
“While you and your party were making your way to Cahrdyarein, Tollorias and I paid a visit to Lidien. Only when we arrived did we learn of your hasty departure.”
Jaax drew in a breath to respond, but Sapheramin held up a scaly hand. He snapped his mouth shut with a click of his teeth.
“We learned quite a bit during our visit and brought back letters from your colleagues and friends. Tollorias and I were there a week, but we spent most of our time sitting in on meetings and talking with a young elf by the name of Dathian of Dhonoara.”
This time Jaax craned his neck all the way around to focus on his friend. “Oh?” he asked, a sense of anxiety tainting his voice. “What did you learn?”
Sapheramin came to a stop, the scrape of her claws on the stone floor grating against his ears. “Nothing too daunting, I assure you. Shiroxx, not surprisingly, is still up to her old tricks. Apparently she’s been trying to stir the pot and convince the others into believing you made a poor decision in leaving Kehllor in charge.”
Jaax gritted his teeth together. That female was nothing but trouble, and would be even more so after what had happened in Lidien not two months before. He had a terrible feeling she was just getting warmed up.
“And she wasted no time in pointing out that the Coalition, as it stands now, is no match for Ciarrohn’s army.”