Page 8 of Iron Hearts and Dragon Magic

“Understood.”

This return to Ironhold surprised River. King Harold had been away for a while, traveling from kingdom to kingdom, gaining allies, or rather, weaving lies, sometimes with River’s help. That king had no idea how poisoned this help was, how it was set to backfire in a few months. Of course, an ambitious man like that delighted in feeling invincible, strong, in thinking that the Ancients were cowering, hiding, and under Ironhold control.

King Harold’s ultimate plan was the annihilation of River’s people, but it didn’t matter. River could pretend he was being played, being fooled. He was biding his time. The only issue was that now his city had awakened, and time was something he no longer had.

Ancients traveled from circle to circle, and so did River, except that he could create bigger circles and move within them. For Frostlake, it had been quite easy, as the dome around the city provided the material anchor for his magic.

The Iron Citadel was also quite easy, surrounded by a cliff, which also worked as a circle. Umbraar was harder, but he had an entry point near the manor and another near the Royal Fort, the places where the twins could be found, and managed to enlarge his circles. This wasn’t something most Ancients could do, and it reminded him of his father’s words about hiswasted potential. He was trying to make it right now, even if any craving for his father’s acceptance had been replaced by repulsion, loathing, and disgust. No, he couldn’t let those ugly feelings take over his mind, and yet, the memory of Naia in pain, of what his father had tried to make River do, those images would never go away.

Still, here he was, trying to unravel Ironhold’s secrets, trying to do what was within his reach, as the sole Ancient not confined to their city, probably the only Ancient immune to iron magic.

Despite being able to move within the Iron Citadel, River usually came to a small circle close to it, which had been reactivated for him. He didn’t want them to know how much he could do, or it would ruin his plans. That was how he found himself crossing one of their bottomless bridges. It had railings on the sides, but it still had a view of the pit beneath it, something grotesque and unnatural, dug much deeper than anything should be dug. There was magic there. He’d always thought that his discomfort was because it was metal magic, but now he wasn’t as sure, and felt his hairs rising as he wondered what was down below.

After the first gate, he moved to the entrance reserved for castle staff, a normal-sized bronze door. The bronze reminded him of his city, of his past long gone, and yet coming here always reminded him of his sister, always made him wonder if her departure from this world had been painful, and if it had been mixed with fear, horror, regret, or anything of the sort. Dying was certainly better than being taken captive, depending on the adversary, but it still hurt so much that she was gone. Gone for almost twenty years now, and he hadn’t even had time to grieve. His father and siblings hadn’t grieved either. Perhaps that should be a reason to try to understand his father, but no, he’d told him Naia was his life companion, and still King Spring insisted on hurting her. River no longer considered him his father.

River brushed all these thoughts away as he stepped into the king’s antechamber. He had many rooms for meetings, audiences, and conferences. This was one of his most private ones, but it was where he usually spoke to River. It felt like yesterday that he’d first come here, with a faint hope, a half-formed plan, but also the certainty that the only way to defeat such a formidable enemy was by getting close enough to stab them from behind. His thoughts had been marred with bitterness and revenge, after so much loss and death, after his only spark of hope had ended in a poisoned kiss. A poisoned kiss that had made him stronger, insensitive to iron magic and iron, if not completely immune to them, a strength that had given him this insane idea, that had led him to this moment.

River stared as the door opened, and he stepped into King Harold’s magic room. This was a huge, windowless chamber, surrounded by metal walls, the magic in them thrumming in the air. A polished black granite floor reflected the light from sconces on the walls, while some fifty white pedestals supported relics from Aluria and other places. River had never truly looked at what was in this magic chamber, as he didn’t want to appear curious. There was no place to sit here, which was a good reminder that this was not a room for pleasant conversation, but a place where one should remain alert.

Two guards stood by the walls, wearing helmets covering their faces. River was glamoured, and found the king examining a mask.

When King Harold turned and noticed him, River bowed. “Your majesty.”

The king looked at the mask again. “You’re not curious why I’m back in Ironhold?”

As always, River kept his composure calm and his voice steady. “I don’t believe it concerns me.”

The king chuckled. One thing that River found odd was that he couldn’t sense any bizarre magic in him. Sure, the man was evil, perhaps nefarious, but the only magic River sensed in him was metal, which wasn’t unnatural in Ironhold, and certainly shouldn’t make the dead rise again. There had been another magic at work in Umbraar, but he sensed no trace of it on this king.

“Any idea?”

There was likely a reason why the king was trying to probe him, but River didn’t let it faze him. “Frostlake was a clear victory and you’re satisfied with our work there, I assume?”

“What would you say about Umbraar?”

“Are you going to tell me about your victory?” Questions were open enough that there was a lot of room for hiding the truth, and that was one reason why River liked them so much.

The king narrowed his eyes. “Victory? So you don’t know what happened?”

“I’m waiting for you to tell me.”

He chuckled again. “So you can’t lie, right? Tell me then, did we win or lose?”

“I can’t guess things, your highness. What I can’t do is contradict my thoughts, perceptions, and beliefs with my words, but I’m not omniscient. That said, I can notice that your highness is strangely uneasy—”

“Cut the crap, will you? Do you know anything about demons? Dragons?” His voice was partly mocking.

River’s stomach sank, even if he showed no reaction. He hadn’t considered that Ironhold must have had spies watching the battle from a distance, and hadn’t considered what it could mean for Naia if they found out her brother was a dragon. If only River had thought better about it, he could have found Ironhold’s informant, could have even changed their memories. Now it was too late. “Perhaps Your Majesty might want to get straight to the point?”

The king eyed River attentively. “Indeed. First of all, they were prepared. They had wooden weapons. Not only that, they were ready. They were ready for our attack hours before we got there.”

“I see.”

“You know what I see? Someone informed them. Someone who can move fast.”

River pretended to ignore the implied accusation. “A person with a communication mirror could also be an informant, or else Umbraar predicted Ironhold’s move.”

“I thinkyouinformed them.”

---