The Final Clash

The lieutenant who had worked closely with Brand during the past few days of military rule was disappointed. Sure, he knew that the young king was only fifteen years old and shrimpy, but still, he didn’t put up much of a fight. All those drills, some of them at three in the morning, and just for a kid who wasn’t even going to try anything cool. Even Brand’s younger brother-- known as the scholarly wimp-- had put on a decent show and fought a good duel, even if it ended with his getting chained up while laughing like a hyena.

Now, instead of this whole royal debate ending with an awesome display of power and swordsmanship, it was going to be words, arguments, interrogations, and punishments. Long, boring stuff, all of it. He tried to disguise his disappointment with a stern, blank expression on his face as they marched down the halls of the castle and to the old throne room where the other prisoners were. He’d expected the kid to have some passion, to be angry, to-- be more rash, at least! But no, he allowed himself to be shoved through the door quite placidly.

The other two prisoners, feet chained to the floor, looked surprised to see him. The all-too-submissive king casually nodded his blond head at them.

“Hey, Ashlyn, Ciaran.”

The lieutenant found that the respect he had gained for the three renegades while they had been so hard to catch had vanished, now that they’d been captured so easily. Some resistance they were. As one of the prisoners, I was thinking about the same thing.

“This is part of the plan too?” I asked Ciaran. He responded with a grimace and shrug, as if to say he wasn’t sure. I turned to the mastermind. “Donal, what are you doing here?”

Donal looked at me sadly. “I’m sorry, Ashlyn.”

“Yes, yes, this whole matter is very regretful. Sit down, your highness.” Brand waved him towards a simple, wooden chair that one of the soldiers placed in front of Ciaran and I, a chair that looked similar to the one Ciaran had seen in his duel.

Donal sat. Brand had the old throne pulled out for him-- a large, silver-gilded chair which was sagging slightly. He sat down in it, leaning an elbow on one side. We faced him and about ten others: soldiers and politically important people. It was all very solemn.

“Now! Down to business.” Brand cheerfully rubbed his hands together. “Here’s what’s going to happen, little king. I suppose you’ll want to protest, but in the end, you’re going to hand over the keys to me, and I’m going to rule over the kingdom instead. How quickly and painlessly this happens is up to you.”

Donal frowned and looked at the men surrounding Brand. “All of you agree with him? None of you see how power-hungry he is?!”

Brand laughed. “Of course they don’t. All they’re witnessing is a fair trial.” he waved his hand in front of the lieutenant’s face. “See? No objections. It’s just us.”

“Is that how you’ve tricked them this whole time?” I asked indignantly.

Brand smiled at me. “Don’t interrupt again, dear.” This shut me up as if he’d put a knife to my throat. “If you need your situation summed up further, fine. You can’t unlock your own shackles, and now you’re bound to a chair like a damsel in distress. No one’s coming to save you. I’m waiting for your answer, little king.”

“You know what it is.” Donal replied coldly. “I can’t let a murderer like you have that much power.”

“Tut tut.” Brand crossed his legs. “Didn’t I explain to you the unfortunate circumstances of your father’s death? No? Well, let me do so now.”

“You won’t get me to believe that he was possessed by a demon. That hasn’t happened for thousands of years, and even if it had, you should have called for an exorcist. There was no call to kill him!”

“Normally, no. But this was a serious case. Your father was spouting nonsense, babbling on about unthinkable, terrible things, and it wasn’t at all like him. He wasn’t himself anymore. He’d gotten soft.”

Dona’s face hardened. “Go on,” he said.

“He had turned crazy.” Brand continued with a shrug. “I did try to reason with him. I told him you were foolish, absent-minded, radical, and far too fond of the humans. If you were king you might even be stupid enough to form an alliance with them one day, allowing them to trample and destroy all we worked so hard to keep hidden. I told him he should give me the right to the throne. I’d protect the old ways, I’d keep the humans out, and I’d keep my head on my shoulders. I deserved it.”

“Protect the old ways? Radical? If you were king, you’d do whatever you wanted, and play with the humans like toys!”

“They are toys.” Brand looked surprised. “Do you really think of them as more than that? Really?”

“Of course I do!”

“Well, that’s foolish. Think of all the fun we can have with them! Starting wars, and watching them fight each other, causing floods, and watching them scatter... They only exist for our amusement. Beyond that, they’re nothing more than troublesome insects, you must see that.”

“I don’t.” Donal disagreed. “If you had spent any time observing them, you’d know they’re more like us than you say. If you--”

“This is where the word ‘radical’ comes to mind. Humans are not like us. Their tiny minds can’t even handle the mere fact that we exist.”

“That’s not true--”

“As soon as they find out we’re not human, it’s nothing but tears and panic.” Brand stood up, starting to pace. “Of course, watching them try to run away is all part of the fun, unless the idiot happens to be your mother.”

Those last words stung, although I wasn’t sure whose mother he meant. They struck me figuratively in the stomach, imposing the twisted, guttural feeling of words that were meant to be left unspoken.

“Shut up, Brand.” Ciaran said harshly.

“Tell me, little king,” Brand went on, ignoring him. “Are we supposed to respect a woman who leaves her husband and sons, and runs away because she can’t handle being apart from the human world any longer?” Brand spat out. “Are we supposed to love a pitiful creature like that?”

“Shut up, Brand!” Ciaran yelled, crashing his heavy manacles against the floor.

“You hate her as much as I do!” Brand shouted back, pointing an accusing finger at his brother. “She only pretended to be happy so she could get away from us! And what did that get her? You don’t know, do you, Ashlyn?” He turned to me suddenly. “Do you know what your precious human race did to her? I’ll tell you!”

“Stop it!”

“They killed her in an alley, and dumped her with the trash. They didn’t have a reason, apart from some jewels she had with her. After all that effort, she didn’t even last one night!”

The image Brand had flaunted in front of Ciaran during the duel: the dumpster in the alleyway... the broken bottle rolling across the pavement...

“Is she the reason you hate humans?” Donal asked, awfully composed.

Brand paused, and smoothed some of the silky, white bangs away from his face. “One of them. ” He sat back down. “The both of you are incredibly stupid for thinking that you can trust any of them, just because this girl here thinks she’s special.”

“Our mother,” Ciaran began unsteadily, looking at the floor. “might as well have been drugged. She wasn’t allowed to know where she was, or what was going on-- for years, she thought she was just dreaming. When reality hit her, it drove her mad because all of her freedom was gone before she knew it. Anyone might have done the same.”

“Any human, yes!” Brand corrected him.

“I want to stop that from happening again, even if it means taking a small risk!” Ciaran continued. “It’s possible to change the way we deal with them; Ashlyn has shown that. We can stop this. Aren’t you tired of lying yet?”

The two brothers stared at each other, one of them painfully sincere.

“As I said,” Brand repeated, unmoved. “Incredibly stupid. Are you going to hand over the bracelet, or not? This is pointless.”

“I’m not going to.” Donal said. “Are you going to kill me to get it?”

“I could, but that would be harder to explain.” Brand said casually. “I think persuading you comes next.” He flicked his finger, like he was flipping a switch.

The floor beneath Ciaran and I suddenly separated from the rest of the room and began to lower itself like an elevator. Donal’s chair was just next to the edge.

“What’s happening?” I squeaked, not liking this new turn of events.

“Ohhh.” Ciaran said, as we were about three feet lower than before. “I forgot the old throne room used to have a swimming pool.”

“You’re joking!” I started beating the weights around my wrists against the ones around my feet, hoping they’d break. “Get us out of here, now!”

“These cuffs are meant to be magic proof! I can’t undo them! But don’t worry, we’re going to be fine!” Ciaran hastened to assure me. The hypnotic bravery must not have worn off yet. I let out a shriek as cold water snaked around my ankles. We struggled to stand up as the water rose, but the weights around our hands made it difficult to stand up straight.

“Freeze it!” I told Ciaran, as the water crept up to our knees. “Freeze the water around the cuffs and make them break!”

“Good idea!” Ciaran agreed (still not panicked enough for my taste), and tried it. The continuously filling pool kept melting the ice. “Um, it’s not working!”

“Brand, stop it.” Donal commanded. “If you hurt either of them, I’ll make you regret it.”

“How?” Brand asked, tilting his head. “With your faery fire?”

As he spoke, the floor beneath Donal’s chair turned into a ramp that slid him into the pool, which was now getting close to three feet deep. Donal’s chair fell backwards, and sank into the water, submerging him completely.

“Donal!” Ciaran and I both yelled, trying to get him out again. In my panic I looked toward the others in the room, the faeries who would have protested this, who should have helped-- they were staring blankly ahead, looking bored. We managed to get his head above the surface, but then Brand stepped down the ramp and pulled him up again, the chair was standing again, but the back legs were still in the water.

“Can you?” Brand asked Donal. “Can you use your fire if you’re completely soaked? Because that’s something that I’ve been wondering for a while. If there’s not a single flame already in the room, can you use your fire at all? If you’d like to try, now would be the time. Or else I might let you drown.”

Donal coughed, unable to reply. There wasn’t any fire in the room. I hadn’t noticed, but instead of torches, there were weird, glowing rocks for lights.

“How are you going to make this look accidental?” Donal asked between coughs.

“I’ll make them believe it was a fabulous escape attempt through the sewers.” Brand grinned. “Don’t underestimate me, boy. I will kill you.”

“Ideas?” I yelled to Ciaran. At that point, I thought I heard someone banging on the door outside, but couldn’t see that far.

“Before you kill us,” Donal began. “Before we die, tell me what my father said before you killed him.”

“You don’t have to die, just give me the keys!” Brand sounded frustrated.

“Tell me! What did he say that made you kill him?”

The water was up to my chest now, and still rising.

            “Is it so important? He said no. He said that he could trust you. That you’d do whatever you felt was right and as king it would be your lawful duty to do so. He said he’d never give the throne to me. So I killed him. And it was easy.”

            Brand paused his monologue, looking confused. “Are you crying?”

            “No. The smoke’s stinging my eyes.” Donal said defensively.

            “Smoke?”

“Behind you.” Donal jerked his head.

Brand turned to see that the door was open, and a trail of smoke was swirling from the nostrils of of a rather big, black dragon. In disbelief, he looked back at Donal, who smiled slowly, and triumphantly.

The dragon opened its mouth, and Donal’s fire was born. Ciaran and I ducked down under the water to avoid the wave of intense heat.  Everything in the room burst into flames. From the storage boxes in the far corner, to Brand’s clothes and hair, to the men standing around the throne. They woke up from their dreams of justice and ran around in panic. They dove into the pool. The cuffs around Donal's wrists melted off, and the wet, wooden chair burned. He stood up.

Brand tried shielding himself from the fire. He tried putting it out, but it ate at his every defense relentlessly. Donal's sword materialized in his hand, and the flames danced across the blade. He didn't need it. Brand screamed from the scorching pain and joined us in the water. 

Everything burned. Donal smiled and held out his hand to the dragon in front of him, the blue flames gently licking them both. “Welcome back, Sol.”