Epilogue
High in the Nildörian Mountains, Cëladyn gazed across a campfire, staring into the dying embers. The crisp wind causing him to pull his robes more tightly around his shoulders. He observed shrewdly as his army of elves and Ismal barbarians readied themselves for battle. At dawn they would attack Castle Greyfall.
It had taken nigh on two centuries, but his plans were finally coming to fruition. Plans he had long ago begun with Mnuvae. His grip tightened on the fabric of his robes as his mind wandered to her, while he thumbed a loose thread through his fingers. He still remembered when he had found her. He had traveled out to the old quarry where the young prince and druidess had been found and with them the Book of Souls. The picture was still so fresh in his mind…
Night had fallen and a pitchy blackness engulfed the quarry. Cëladyn stood back surveying the scene, jaw set, his eyes fixating on a place in the dark. His elven eyesight piercing the night to where Mnuvae’s body still lay. The prince had been found hours ago, and from the disjointed, asinine drivel spouting from the boy’s mouth, Cëladyn had ascertained the location of Mnuvae’s body.
He snapped his fingers and a wisp of mage-light burst to life in the palm of his hand, casting its bluish glow across his face, lighting his path to her body.
He crouched in front of her, his usually blank expression faltering—exposing his true feelings to the night as he gazed upon her corpse. Carefully he removed the slim blade that still protruded from her throat, releasing the mage-light to drift at his side. Her eyes were closed for which he was thankful. He did not think he could bear to see her dead eyes gazing up at him, eyes that had been so like her mother’s.
He gathered her into his arms, holding her close against his chest, scraping the dried blood from her pale face with his thumb. And for the first time in many years, Cëladyn wept openly, wept for the niece who should have been his daughter.
He fought against the rage and grief that threatened to engulf him and suppressed the violent urge to rain fire and lightning down upon them all in his anguish. It would do no good to expose himself now. That would come later.
Vengeance could not be claimed whilst clapped in chains, rotting in his brother’s dungeon.
Cëladyn gathered the young woman into his arms, cradling her against his chest. He would bury her in the grove, beside her mother. May Ildaer’lor guide her, they could be together in the afterlife.
“My Lord?” Cëladyn was snapped from his reverie. “Are you coming back to bed?”
He turned a chilling look toward his tent, pinning the red head with an icy stare. He had already forgotten her name. He merely nodded to indicate he had heard her, and she slipped back between the tent flaps.
Cëladyn stared down at the cooling embers. He had lost the only two people he had ever cared about at the hands of his own blood kin. Tomorrow he would strike, and he would strike hard. He had nothing left.
And nothing to lose.
~*~
The Ballad of the Last Dragon Rider
~*~
A glorious sight to behold
Courageous in battle
A dragon rider was she
Eyes of gold and hair of copper
No force in the skies they thought could stop her.
~*~
A warrior to the core
A fabled Nuvian you see
Arrogant and proud
A prince of Elven Blood he be.
~*~
Her eyes of gold, his silver hair
Passion and fire,
Heat and desire
A love more true was never told.
Than the Nuvian Prince and his Dragon Rider fair.
~*~
But in every story there must be a twist
And a love so bright could never be
And on a blustery day from the West
Rode a witch upon a mighty steed.
~*~
Dragons rained upon the ground
And Dragon Riders from the sky
The prince could not save his lady fair
And in despair he bade her wait.
~*~
She sealed herself within a crystal tomb.
To await her love to set her free.
Forever he vowed to roam the land
And seek the words to break the spell
~*~
But ages passed and hope grew dim
And he could not see his way ahead
He marked his body with runes
Of failure
And the prince danced on without her.
~*~
Her eyes of gold, his silver hair
Passion and fire,
Heat and desire
A love more true was never told.
Than the Nuvian Prince
And his fair Dragon Rider.