Far North in Alavaria…

Timur knew Frances preferred Athelda-Aoun and the cavern within. While he enjoyed his home with his love, he had a soft spot for the outdoors. In particular, he quite liked hiking, having gone up and down many mountain ranges in Alavaria.

Of all the mountain ranges in the Kingdom, The Ollanian Mountain Range was probably his favorite, with the Pekara Mountain Range where Athelda-Aoun was being his second.

There was something about how the angular Ollanian peaks of the range fell into deep wandering valleys and steep ridges that connected the summits of different mountains. From what he’d learned, the Ollanian Mountains were once volcanoes. The Alavari weren’t entirely sure why they were the shape they were in, but the sharp lines of the mountains had been the subject of many poems and songs.

They were also where Timur was heading into now. Thankfully he was not alone.

He looked over his shoulder, past his cloak to where an ogress marched up the path. “Mother, how are you holding up back there?”

Goldilora huffed officiously. “Quite well, Timur. I used to hike these mountains in my youth.”

Timur’s eyebrows rose. “I don’t believe you ever told me about that.”

“Maybe when we break camp. It’s a long story.”

“Sounds like a plan. Remind me to show you the locket Frances gave me. It’s very nice.”

“I will!” The ogress hiked up to the ledge Timur was waiting for her on and took a deep breath. “So you explained to me what you are going to do when we find this dragon, which I actually agree with.”

Timur chuckled. “I’m surprised you do. Frances didn’t like my plan.”

Goldilora snorted. “Well, fighting that damn beast would be suicide. Sneaking up, assessing it and then negotiating would be wise, especially since we know it’s intelligent. It knows where we live after all.” The ogress clambered up after her son. “And of course your Mataia would hate this plan. You’re the one doing it!”

The prince pursed his lips and turned to face his mother. “She might be my fiance actually.”

The ogress’s head jerked up, her eyes wide. Slowly a grin widened across her face. “Oh Timur, congratulations! Did you propose?”

Patting his chest where his locket, a gift from Frances, was sitting underneath his jacket, Timur smiled sheepishly. “We plan to work toward it. Frances told me she wants to marry me one day, she just isn’t sure when.”

“Be patient with her. You know she loves you.” Goldilora shot Timur a meaningful look. “That being said, I thought you were being patient with her and weren’t discussing marriage yet? What prompted this?”

A groan escaped Timur. Wiping his slightly wind-bitten lips, the prince continued to hike up. “Titania. Athelda-Aoun’s in her territory and she’s aware that the city wants to remain semi-independent. So she wants to bestow it to me and have me marry Frances.”

“And since Frances is on the city’s council and highly respected by the rest of Athelda-Aoun, it will make Alavarian annexation a little easier to swallow.” Goldilora set her walking staff into another pocket and pulled herself up past several rough-hewn steps. “That’s a bit of a rough deal.”

“But at least Athelda-Aoun will remain safe.” The prince paused and quickly adjusted the grip on his walking stick, he clambered up a section of trail to reach a high point. Turning around he extended a hand and helped his mother up.

“That is true. By the way son, how certain are you that your approach will find us a dragon in this range? I mean we are only two. We can only check out so many places.”

“Fairly certain. We know the dragon was wounded and our interviews with the villagers before we set out led us to believe that the dragon’s flight ability may have been impacted. Dwylina and Anriel told us too that purple dragons have to eat fairly frequently so the dragon couldn’t have made its lair above a certain height on the mountain. Yet obviously it wants to remain safe.”

Goldilora’s tail flicked experimentally left and right as she continued on. “I get that part, but we’ve checked several caves already. How did you figure that the dragon is along these caves in this part of the range?”

“I’ve hiked in this area before and there are only so many caves that are big enough for the dragon they describe. We’ve already checked several of them.” The prince winced, and grunted as he checked the footing of the rocks in front of him with his staff. “If we don’t find anything there, then we’ll have to reevaluate the remaining sites.”

Timur took another step and nearly lost his balance as his mother grabbed his shoulder pulled him to a stop. He opened his mouth to ask, only for Goldilora to quietly shush him and point above him.

The head of a very dead mountain goat sat on a niche atop a rock far above them. It was just the head, no other organs or viscera and flies were still buzzing around it.

Mother and son exchanged a glance. Goldilora smiled, with just a little bit of a smirk. “Good job, Timur. I think we’re close.”

Timur and Goldilora narrowed their eyes at the cave mouth ahead. Scrape marks the width of cartwheels and long dried rivulets of dark red blood marked the entrance to the dragon’s lair.

That and there was an injured purple dragon lying on the ground, half of its body outside of the cave. The other half was crammed into the cave so tightly that every time the beast took in a ragged breath its scales would press up against the cave walls.

Goldilora ducked down behind the rock, pulling Timur in beside her. “Maybe this was not as insane a plan as I thought, son. That dragon is badly wounded. I wonder how it managed to survive?”

“Well, the dragon’s wings are hurt but capable of flight then it would have been able to hunt.” Timur peaked over the boulder they were hiding behind and scrambled back behind it before his mother could yank him back. “Yeah, its right forearm is mangled, and it has wounds all over its torso, but the wings only have a few rips. It might have managed to fly around and grab mountain goats.”

Goldilora frowned. “Why not find a better fitting cave, then?”

“The range it could fly must be limited. We didn’t locate it very far away from the carcass we found. Hunting goats must be all it could manage and those goats are not going to stick around.” The prince suddenly stopped scratching his chin and his eyes snapped to his mother. “Wait, did you just call my plan insane?”

Nudging her son, Goldilora smirked. “Yes, though, I don’t have much of a better idea. Searching the mountain with troops we don’t have much of probably wouldn’t have worked as it is a dragon. It was always going to be better to try to talk it into leaving first. Now, how are you going to do that?”

Timur squeezed his wand. “Well, let’s see if she’s willing to talk first. I’m going to throw my voice over there. If you hear wings, can you set up an illusion to blend us in with the rocks?”

“Certainly, and if she smells us out?”

The prince pursed his lips for a second, before pulling off his glove and raising a finger to the air. “Well we are downwind from the dragon.”

“But if the dragon takes flight that won’t matter.” Goldilora snapped her fingers. “Tell you what, Frances taught you her lightning spell right?”

“Yes, though, I’m not particularly good at it.”

“If it is the scion of that dragon she killed then even a half-powered version should force it to back off or hurt it.” Goldilora grinned as her son nodded and his expression began to mirror hers. That grin was wiped off her face when Timur suddenly lunged forward and hugged her. He let go quickly, his arms moving up, then down, and then up again.

“Can I say, it’s always great to work with you mom?”

Goldilora wiped her eye with her finger, before patting the trogre on his shoulder. “Of course, my dear boy. Now, you ready to talk to a dragon?”

Timur snorted. “Ready as I’ll ever be, mom.” He took a deep breath and whispered several Words of Power, while Goldilora readied her staff.

“Good morning, noble purple dragon! Pardon the disembodied nature of my voice, but I, Prince Timur of Alavaria would just like to talk.”

The pair heard the dragon hiss and growl. The guttural sound, built and grew like an oncoming

rocky avalanche.

“Prince Timur of Alavaria…you are the accursed Thorgoth’s son.”

Goldilora and Timur both exchanged a look. “Well she doesn’t sound happy about your father.”

Timur nodded, lips pursed. After a moment, he called out, “I am Thorgoth’s son, but though he is my father, my allegiance is to my sister, Queen Titania, who is locked in a war with Thorgoth for her rightful throne.”

Dragon claws grated on stone like nails on glass. “I care not for the petty squabbles of you warm-skinned. Leave me alone. You have my word I shall not disturb your kind or allies, human or fae-kin.”

Goldilora nodded and lowered her staff. “Good, now let’s get out of here.” Except, Timur didn’t move, though. Instead he sat, hands steepled, brow furrowed in thought. The troll’s eyes widened. “Son…”

“Great Drake, this is agreeable to me, but if you may indulge in my curiosity what is your name and why do you have a grudge against Thorgoth?”

There was no sound from the cave, aside from the harsh hiss of the dragon’s breath. That regular hoarse sound suddenly gave way to a cackle that rang like the clangor of a thousand cymbals. “Oh why not. I’m going to die anyway and you are doomed. You might as well know what is coming.”

Timur blinked. “You’re…what?”

“I’m going to die, Prince Timur. If not from starvation, from your father’s servants, who are looking for me.” A warbling groan resembling a bird’s cry escaped the dragon’s lips. “My name is Lakadara, eldest daughter of the dragon Telkandra. Almost two years ago, my mother fought the mage Frances Stormcaller and perished.”

Timur and Goldilora exchanged another glance. Though Timur found his throat dry, he didn’t need words to convey to his mother his thoughts, and from how stiff she’d become, she hadn’t needed them.

“My six siblings and I escaped, swearing vengeance. But we…we were so blind!” An odd snuffling sound filled the air, interrupted by intermittent splashes. “We wanted the Stormcaller dead and on our flight, we met a tauroll named Helias. He offered to feed us, to train us to fight against mages, and to assist us in our quest for vengeance so long as we helped him and Thorgoth fight what we believed was our common enemy. Like the idiots we were, we accepted and entered his service.”

A cold vice gripped Timur’s stomach. “Oh shit.”

“So you have heard of that bastard? That disgusting liar.”

Timur shut his eyes and put his hand on the rock. “I have. My friends and I have faced him many times.” The prince took a breath. “Lakadara, before you continue on your tale, which I suspect to be of woe, I must confess something.”

The dragon grunted. “Confess what? You are an enemy of Thorgoth are you not? He mentioned you to be his traitorous human-loving son.”

“He would say that, but he seems to have neglected to mention one other thing.” Before his mother could grab onto him. Timur hopped out from behind the rock and pocketed his wand.

That was when his lips dried because to the prince’s utter shock, he could see great drops of tears dripping down the dragon’s cheeks. He could now see, without his sight impeded by the need for stealth, how small Lakadara was compared to her late mother. She was but the size of a small house, but one that had been gashed, as if scoured by the claws of the bulldozers Frances had told him about.

As the violet dragon stared at him, with wide golden eyes still filled with tears, the last of Timur’s fear left him and he straightened.

“I must tell you that I am the beloved of Frances Stormcaller, your mother’s killer and I want to convey to you how sorry we are for the events that led to her death. I only ask for your forgiveness that I did not tell you earlier about my relation to her as I was not aware of who you were.”

The dragon blinked. Shaking her head, Lakadara wiped her eyes with her uninjured foreleg. A low, alien chuckle, akin to the ringing of funeral bells filled the air. “Oh, I knew who you were and your relation to the Stormcaller. If anything, your ‘confession’ confirms to me what fools my siblings and I have been.”

Timur had been braced to dodge whatever Lakadara would throw at him, but her words sent him into a spluttering stupor that only his mother’s hand on his shoulder shook him out of.

“Better and smarter people have been fooled by Thorgoth, Lakadara,” said Goldilora. “You aren’t the first and you will not be the last.” The troll bowed. “I would know. I am Timur’s mother and Thorgoth…he…” Her expression wringing in anguish, her eyes screwed shut, Goldilora’s grasp on her son’s shoulder tightened. “He tricked me into marrying him and then forced me against my will to bear his child, this noble son who stands before you. Through my own idiocy, I did not realize that his plan was also meant to separate me from my child.”

Timur gently held his mother’s hand. “Mom…”

The dragon blinked. “If I may borrow your words. Shit.”

“Yes.” Goldilora shook her head. “So don’t blame yourself, Lakadara. Thorgoth and his allies have a history of manipulation and deceit.”

Lakadara scowled and set her head down on the ground. “Then my story will be familiar to you. My siblings and I trained under Thorgoth and Helia’s direction. We readied ourselves to fight you. As time went on, though, I realized that neither of the two ever touched on what would happen after we won the war and achieved our goals. So I started to talk to some of those that fed me and one of these was a harpy, Helias’s wife, Cyrenica Sparrowpeak. She told me of how they’d murdered her mother, and forced her to marry Helias. She told me of how Helias treated her. That was when I realized the mistake we made.”

The dragon closed her eyes her wings falling limply against her sides. “I tried to convince my siblings but they were too determined to seek revenge on Frances and her friends. They accused me of wavering and of failing my duty to avenge my mother. That only made me question my mother’s death further and after talking to Cyrenica, I soon understood that what my mother had done was horribly short-sighted. I tried to explain as such to my siblings only to find out that they’d told Helias and he’d turned them completely against me. I fled and we fought and now, well…here I lie.”

Timur and Goldilora exchanged another glance and the ogress stepped forward. The dragon’s eyes flew open as Goldilora approached, her staff raised. “Lakandra, I’m a healer. Where does it hurt the most?”

Lakandra puffed a small cloud of smoke, her golden eyes wide. “You would heal me, a dragon.”

“You’re hurt and not only by tooth and claw. Timur, can you watch over us?”

Timur forced a smile and nodded, his expression being pulled into a bit of a grimace. “Sure mom. If you don’t mind, I’m also going to let Frances know. We have a lot to prepare.”

“That you do. Thorgoth has my siblings and they are far too eager to unleash their wrath on you all.”

With great effort, Frances pulled her face from where she’d buried it in her hands. “Well, at least we now know what Thorgoth has been up to the last year and so.”

“Yeah. But on the bright side, we are facing one less dragon.”

Chuckling weakly, Frances wiped her eyes. “Thanks to you, Timur. Good job talking to her, dear.”

“I think she already realised the truth, Frances, but you’re welcome.” Timur ran a hand through his hair. “Our allies are going to debate whether we should tell everybody about this for sure. What do you think?”

“I think we might have to. Better a shock now rather than having our troops scared on the battlefield,” said Frances.

Timur drew his cloak closer around himself. “I agree, but won’t telling them now might cause them to dread the upcoming battles?”

“It will, but I don’t like the idea of keeping this a secret from our troops.” Frances brushed her bangs out her tired eyes. “Where are you all headed to next? We’ll have to get Lakadara somewhere safe.”

Glancing away from the path he was watching, Timur grumbled as he tightened the fastenings of his cloak. The winds had picked up and they were whipping the ends into his face. “Um, I don’t think Athelda-Aoun is a good place and not in Alavari lands. It’s too close to Thorgoth and people in Athelda-Aoun would be too scared.

“Why not near the Temple of the Otherworlders? It’s got a lot of open space, and it is far in the rear lines. I can suggest it to King Jerome.” Frances frowned as her boyfriend seemed to look at something outside of the mirror. “Timur?”

“I’ll have to call you back. I think we got company. Not sure what kind.” The trogre drew his hood over his head and shot her love a smile. “Love you.”

Frances swallowed. “Love you, stay safe!”

Timur nodded, closed his hand mirror and pulled out his spyglass. There was only one path up toward Lakadara’s cave and it looked like a hundred or so individuals were trekking up towards it. Among them were even some harpies that had elected to not fly, given the howling winds. All of the Alavari looked to be wearing heavy mountain clothing, but the prince could still easily spot the forms of weapons underneath them.

Clambering back up the path, Timur slid into view of his mother. Goldilora looked up from where she’d bandaged Lakara’s side, one eyebrow raised. “Back so soon?”

“We have an enemy company closing on us. Lakadara, can you fly?”

“Wait what? A company? Are there mages?” Goldilora stammered, running up to her son.

The prince pursed his lips. “I’m not sure, but they definitely had guns. Lakadara?”

The dragon struggled to her feet, tucking in her mangled foreleg, which Goldilora had splinted with a tree branch.

“I can, but what about the two of you?” She pointed a claw to the sheer face where the path to her cave dropped off and plunged down the mountainside. “You won’t be able to escape.”

Goldiloar shook her head and checked her equipment bag. “We won’t. It would be better to fight them together.”

“In this narrow environment where we have no reinforcements? We didn’t know the dragons were working with Thorgoth and so we didn’t put combat troops on standby.” Timur’s eyes flickered between the dragon and his mother. “Lakadara, let’s see if you can fly with both of us on you, if not. I’ll find another way and you take my mother.”

“Timur!”

The prince pushed his mom unceremoniously to the dragon. “Mom you have a much smaller chance of escaping them compared to me! Now hurry!”

Lakadara swallowed as she shuffled out of her cave. “I don’t know, but I’ll try. Get on my back.”

Throwing down water bottles, ration packs, anything heavy, Timur and Goldilora clambered up Lakadara’s leg, grabbing at her scales for purchase until they managed to seat themselves on her back. Meanwhile, the dragon flexed and flapped her tattered wings.

Grunting and growling, her feet straining against the rock plateau they were on, Lakadara tried to take off. Her wings beat the air, churning the dust and debris on the ground and sending them flying all over. Yet, despite the ferocious vortex of wind kicked up by the dragon’s attempts, she still remained earthbound.

Without a second’s warning, Timur slid off Lakadara, turned and pointed his wand at the dragon, yelling out a spell. As Goldilora screamed for her son to get back on, a grey glow engulfed Lakadara and the dragon lifted off, rising into the sky.

“Timur! Get back over here you silly boy! Don’t do this! Don’t—”

“Mom, I’ll be fine! Even if I can’t escape, I know how to make them capture me!” The prince shooed the dragon. “Lakadara, get her out of here!”

The dragon hovered in place, golden eyes wide as Timur glanced over his shoulder down the slope and path. Goldilora fumbled with her staff, trying to get it pointed in the right direction whilst hanging onto the rocking dragon. “Timur!”

“GO!” Timur raised his wand and ran toward the edge, set his pack down and yelled a Word of Power. The outer portion of his pack hardened and glowed as he reinforced it. Staring down the sheer slope, the prince mustered his courage with several quick breaths and sat down on the pack. In the same motion, he kicked himself forward, wand at the ready.

It had taken only a moment. By the time Goldilora managed to fumble her staff into position, her son was glissading down the slope into view of the hunting party, who were already firing at him. If they got any closer, they’d see her and Lakadara.

“Goldilora—”

“Go.” The ogre shut her eyes. She’d barely been able to croak out that single word. “We need to go. We can’t let Thorgoth find out about you yet. Hurry!”

With a single melancholy grunt, Lakadara turned and lofted towards the sky. As the majesty of the view opened up beneath her, Goldilora’s thoughts were only for her son, who she was getting farther and farther from.

The troll company commander pointed her saber at Timur, the tip almost tickling his nose. “You led us on a merry fucking chase. Who the fuck are you?”

Timur smiled as innocently as he could. A small blessing was that while his hands were roped behind his back, he had been sat down against a rock face. He could hide how sweaty his palms felt, especially when surrounded by the entire company of soldiers.

“I’m a cartographer. I was mapping the range and you kinda spooked me. I mean, an entire company of soldiers with mages treks up the mountain? You know how dangerous things are in these times with Titania and Thorgoth fighting one another for the throne.”

One of the harpies sighed. “Well he’s not wrong—”

“Please shut up, Danae.” The troll waved her hand. “Sorry, he’s not wrong, but we have orders and we know there are enemy agents here who might be trying to recruit a dragon.”

Timur arched an eyebrow, and that eyebrow continued to rise as he examined the soldiers surrounding him. From a distance, with their weapons and equipment he couldn’t get a good idea of their age, but now up close, he couldn’t see a wrinkle on any of their faces.

“Recruit a dragon? You can’t be serious, miss. Whoever your commander is, they wouldn’t send such young soldiers like you to apprehend a dragon and enemy agents would they?”

The troll captain’s flinched, her edges of her eyes and mouth crinkling with anguish. Her fingers tightening around her saber’s handle, she scowled at Timur. “That’s Colonel Tara to you. Now answer my question, who are you?”

Timur blinked. The troll was so young she still had blemishes on her nose and cheeks, only made worse by her far too large dark purple uniform of King Thorght’s Alavari forces. “Colonel? You can’t be serious. You’re a regiment commander?”

“What’s fucking left of it,” muttered a centaur.

Pulling up her sleeve, Tara glanced over her shoulder. “Quiet in the fucking inn please! Now who the fuck are you?”

The prince took a breath to buy himself some time. “I’m Theo from Minairen. Which claimant are you fighting for anyway?”

“We’re the 204th Regiment fighting for King Thorgoth. You say you’re from Minairen…you’re a long way away from there.” The tip of Tara’s sabre touched Timur’s shoulder. “You’ve seen a dragon hearabouts?”

“I noticed a dead goat’s head. Just the head, up there. I figured something wasn’t right about this place. Been getting a weird sensation all morning, and so when I saw you lot, I decided I better glissade away.” Timur shrugged at the group. He was a little comforted when some of them whispered between each other. He couldn’t help but sit a little straighter as Tara sheathed her sword, her eyes narrowed at him.

“Search him. I want to know everything.”

“Hey! What the hell! I’m one of your own citizens!” Timur gritted his teeth as the soldiers undid and upended his pack, whilst another hauled him to his feet and began to pat him down. Hopefully he didn’t have anything too incriminating.

Out came his rations, his maps, his spare clothing, coin purse and his khopesh, which the soldiers eyed like it was a cake. He could tell because they gave the same look to the remainder of the twice-baked hardcake Frances had made for him for the trip. Trying not to hold his breath, Timur frantically wondered if he’d brought anything that would be incriminating or identifying. He’d left his prince’s crown (a belated birthday gift from his sister) with Titania and he hadn’t really brought any royal-like clothing. He did have his notebook, but he’d left his old one on his writing desk, so his new one shouldn’t have anything the soldiers could use. He should be fine. All he had were rations, maps, weapons, mage equipment and—Oh dear.

Just as his eyes widened, Timur saw the harpy Danae step up and draw a wand from its holster on her feet. She said several Words of Power and her eyes started to glow. “He’s got something made of metal around his neck apart from the usual belt buckle and buttons.”

“Thank you Danae.” Patting the harpy’s shoulder, Tara brushed by her. “I told you guys to pat things down better. And calm down, Theo, we’ll give it right back.” Timur grimaced and braced himself as the troll pulled the silver chain off his neck.

“Is that…that’s pure silver. What the the fuck?” Danae raised her wand at Timur. “What the hell’s a cartographer doing with a pure silver chain?”

“Cartographers could make a lot of money. People pay a lot for good maps, but…” Tara flipped the locket opened and her narrowed eyes widened and snapped to look at Timur.

“Hm, Plan B then.” Timur sat as straight as he could. “So, Colonel, what do you see?”

Tara’s hands were trembling as she showed the locket to her company. Timur knew exactly what they saw in the locket, a lock of chocolate brown hair, and a picture of Frances and himself, seated side by side in casual clothing. It’d been his twenty-first birthday present and he’d never gone far without it. He didn’t regret taking the locket with him today, but he was certainly hating that it was giving his identity up.

“You’re Prince Timur.” Tara shook her head and pinched herself. “Oh wow, oh wow. King Thorgoth will be pleased to have your head delivered to him. Hopefully enough to give us a reward.”

Timur winced. He hated how that statement hurt, and how it made his shoulders sag. “So it’s kill on sight orders now. I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised by that, father.” Meeting Tara’s eye again, the prince smiled. “Let me ask, though, Colonel, you and your regiment like living, right?”

The centaur snorted and there were a couple of disbelieved snorts from the Alavari behind him. “You can’t threaten us, traitor. We have you tied up and disarmed.”

A flash of a smile came over Tara’s features. Something on his expression must have spooked her, though, as it was quickly replaced by a frown. “Sergeant Leroy is right, Your Highness. We have our orders to bring your head to your father. You won’t live past sundown. This isn’t the time for blowing hot air.”

“I love to talk, but I am not blowing hot air. Let me walk you through what happens to you and your regiment after you kill me.”

“Your head rolls on the ground?” cackled a goblin.

“We loot your corpse?” snarked the centaur.

Tara snapped her fingers, making the centaur and goblin jump. Her eyes narrowed, her fingers tightening around her saber, the troll hissed. “Sergeant Leroy, Corporal Tansy, quiet. I…I have a bad feeling about this.”

Timur smiled. “You are a very good officer, Colonel Tara, because you’re right. After you deliver my head to my father, you and your soldiers will take whatever reward my father gives you and go to the nearest courtesan house or pub and tell everybody how you killed Prince Timur. Even if you try to keep it a secret, drink and pleasure tend to loosen tongues. Even assuming my father doesn’t publicly reward you for your deed and have the names of every Alavari here spread as part of his propaganda machine, your names are going to be known throughout the kingdom. Or at the very least, your name will be known, Colonel Tara and I can tell that you’re a very good officer because you know every name of your regiment’s survivors.”

Danae covered her mouth with her wings. “Oh. Oh no.”

“I love Frances very much, and she doesn’t scare me despite her power. That’s because I know she’d never hurt me. I also know, though, that she loves me very much and if you kill me here and now, she won’t stop trying to hunt every single soldier in this regiment down and electrify them. I don’t need to describe what getting hit by lightning does. Just know that my father’s bards didn’t have to exaggerate much.” Timur allowed himself a grin as not a single one of the hundred-or-so Alavari were laughing now. They were being very quiet, or muttering to one another. “Just look beside you, and imagine your friends and comrades being zapped because you killed the Stormcaller’s love.”

Licking his cold-chapped lips, the prince coughed and piped up. “Oh and um, before you forget, you just killed royalty. You killed the brother of Queen Titania. Even if she didn’t care for me, and I know she does, she’d make sure that every single one of you will get caught and killed just to save face. She might even do it herself, with her bare hands. Believe me, she’s a trorc and was one of my father’s former assassins. She could definitely do it.”

Timur was exaggerating slightly, but only just so. He knew Frances would be enraged and he knew that if she encountered any one of these Alavari, she’d be tempted to kill them. He was also aware however that her kind heart might just win out. If he was being honest, he wouldn’t have wanted Frances to seek revenge, but he definitely was aware of the strength of her fury.

He was far more certain that Titania would take revenge for him. Of course, he imagined that it would be more out of guilt due to the fact she got him involved in this mission in the first place.

Neither of that mattered and Timur wasn’t going to tell because his words had had their effect. Tara was standing in front of him, saber pointing right at him, but the smile was gone from her lips, replaced with a quivering lip and gritted teeth. Behind her, the soldiers of the 204th were starting to raise their voices and not at him, but to each other.

“Bullshit. We could just keep it a secret and ask the king to keep it a secret too!” Leroy stammered.

“Assuming you completely believe that my father who definitely did kill my half-brother Teutobal, covered up for that massacring bastard Helias, and betrayed everybody at a peace treaty, and also killed king Tagus and did numerous horrible deceitful things…” Timur swallowed and shook his head. “Let’s just assume he keeps his word, and lets assume all of you keep your word. All anybody has to do is find Colonel Tara.”

Tansy frowned, “Wait, why?”

“Because they can torture the names out of her.”

The color had drained from Danae’s face and she faced the colonel. “Tara, I told you taking this mission was a bad idea! What are we going to do now? We can’t let him go! We can’t kill him either!”

“I know I know and I’m sorry! I just wanted to get us all some damn fucking food and pay. Just let me think!” Tara hissed, pressing her hand against her head.

Timur smiled. There, now he just had to execute the second stage to his plan.

Tara sheathed her sword and drew her pistol.

Timur blinked. “Uh, Colonel what the fuck are you doing?”

The troll cocked the pistol and put it to her temple. “Fuck this stupid, fucking war. Look, all of you, chop his head off, take it back to the king, take your rewards and then disperse as far and wide as you can. Those are my last orders—”

Leroy and Tansy tackled Tara to the ground whilst Danae kicked the pistol out of her grip.

“No more dumb hero shit, ma’am. We’ve told you that!” hissed Leroy.

“Let me—okay fine fine!” Tara stopped struggling. After several long moments, Leroy and Tansy got off the troll, who scrambled to her feet and straightened her uniform. “Oh…oh fuck sorry. The stress and everything—”

Danae patted Tara on the back. “We know. We know. We’ll think of something.”

“I was just about to suggest that you could all just take me back to Minairen, alive and my father will be happy to um, take care of me.” The prince took a deep breath. “Also, um, if you don’t mind, what the fuck? If being in my father’s army is that stressful, why just not desert or defect?”

“We have nowhere to go. We’re all orphans from Thorgoth’s orphanages. And if we defect, well they’ll decimate us if we’re caught or a random regiment of orphans.” Wiping her eyes, Tara let out a humorless chuckle. “Why else do you think our regiment is so low in numbers?”

“You mean kill one in every ten—” Timur’s voice trailed off as he was met by the grim looks of those in front of him. He wanted to be sick, but he had to maintain a straight face. He had to be intimidating—Oh fuck it. The prince winced. “I’m sorry. Look just…take me to Minairen, my father won’t like it that you didn’t obey his orders to the letter, but I suspect he wants to have his fun with me before he executes me. I’ve been dodging his attempts to kill me for far too long.”

“Sure—” Tara blinked. “Wait, attempts to kill you?”

Timur grimaced. “Yeah, ever heard of Friganoth’s Curse?”

Danae and Tara nodded and froze. “No fucking way,” whispered Tara.

“Frances saved me from that one and well, rest is history.” Timur sighed. “Look, untie me and give me my notebook and a pencil.”

“Why?” Tansy asked.

“Do you want me to keep the Stormcaller off your backs?”

Tara nodded and two other soldiers untied Timur, whilst the rest kept their weapons pointed at him. Working quickly, Timur scribbled the note, signed it with a flourish. “Here. Keep that with the locket. Once you hand me off to my father, defect if you can and bring that to Athelda-Aoun.”

Tara read the note, read it again, and looked up at Timur. She was shorter than him by a few inches. “But why?”

The prince took a deep breath. “I know what it feels like to be trapped. If the last thing I can do is to free someone, then so be it.” Closing his eyes, Timur put his wrists out. “Now let’s get going. My father does not like being delayed.”

The Alavari stared at him. Nobody touched him for a long moment. Finally, Tara took some rope from a frozen soldier and gently tied Timur’s hands.

“Thank you,” she croaked, so softly that only Timur could hear her.