Fiction The String is Severed End of the Valdragon Dynasty

By Felix Campbell

E n d o f t h e Valdragon D y n a s t y

and saw his eyes lingered on the dragon with something she didn’t recognise for a while. He led her down the corridor, which twisted and turned gradually leading downwards, naming each face on the left, giving description of their actions where they fought which king, expanded their holdings in which area, and then described each companion dragon on the opposing wall and in which way they had helped or in some cases hindered the advance of the Empire. Liya tried to commit it all to memory but there were over 30 faces, and they walked and discussed them without recess. Eventually they came to the end, where his own face was on the wall. He looked a little younger and leaner looking than she knew him, but it was him for sure, the mosaic had captured the sparkle of steely curiosity in his eyes.

“But what about mummy? She’s not even on the

wall!”, Liya said, looking back and forth for her.

T

he castle was sleeping, but the emperor woke suddenly in the dark. The silk hangings of his royal chamber fluttered with the warm sea air flowing in through the window. Leisanne was nowhere to be seen. He called out to her. “No, dear. She is gone”, said a sinister female voice from the shadows. He leaped up immediately towards the dressing table for the dagger simultaneously realising it was a cataclysmic mistake, having already gifted it to his daughter. He looked to the wall where the crossed swords should have been. “Looking for these?”, said the voice looming out of the dark. She stepped forward, swinging the blades in either hand. She was wearing a red robe with temple-dragons, and her eyes were storms, intent written all over them. “Guards!”, he yelled. The woman chuckled vindictively, a cat imposing its power on the mouse between its claws. “Lakshmi?”,he said, taking a step away from his assassin.

“Leisanne is not a Valdragon, child, haven’t you

“Summoned to the spire, of course”,she said, her fierce eyes

been listening? Only our blood appears on this wall. When I am gone, your face will appear next to mine, just as mine appeared next to my father’s when I ascended the throne.” She looked at the empty space on the wall opposite his mosaic.

“But what about Lady Lakshmi? Isn’t she a

companion?”, she asked. He chuckled.

“What a smart young lady you are. Yes, you will make a fine Empress.

intent, circling him as he moved, the blades still swinging with menace. He glanced at the window. “Go on, make it easier.” “The princess?”, he enquired hoarsely, dreading the answer and taking another step. “Asleep. Soon not to wake”, she said, almost motionlessly moving towards him like a wolf. Rage poured into him but the sound of the blades slicing through the air stopped him from making the fatal mistake he wanted to.

“Stop. Have you ever killed an emperor? I

think not. There is ceremony. You can’t kill

Empress Aathaliya the second. I

like it.” He smiled pure warmth and one in his pyjamas.”He said, not taking his eyes off her and slowly bending to pick up his cloak.

pride at her. “I ascended the throne

on my own strength, there had been no companion dragon for three generations. Lady Lakshmi has entered the royal court since then, and a fine companion she has been. No doubt opposite your face will be Arkay. The first honey dragon on these walls. An honour for us. And for him.”

They continued down the corridor and down several sets of steps passing several more soulstone doors. As they continued walking, her father spoke of the duties of an Emperor, of justice, of kindness, and of strength. The first two, he told her, balanced one another, but the third was the most important because they could not be maintained without it. Her brow furrowed like a ploughed field.

“You? Dress yourself? Do you even know

how?”, she mocked. “I think not. The string is

severed.”She lurched forward towards him. He parried with the cloak and simultaneously jumped back, but not quite in enough time, his weight slowed him against the agility of the woman. The blade sliced through the cloak like butter and gashed his arm. The assassin moved quickly and moved to strike again and he twisted away, but she hit home again, stabbing him deeply in the shoulder. He bellowed in pain and anger, and with his back pressed against the side of the window, he kicked her backwards before half-jumping, half falling out. “LIIIIIYAAAAAAA!”, he bellowed as he fell fifty feet before bouncing on jagged rocks and falling another two hundred feet into the sea and unseen rocks below.

“So ends the Valdragon dynasty. The string is severed”,