“You know nothing of the power this scale holds or how to wield it. Remember that. Always.” Roal managed a single nod, and Jarel released his grip, dropping Roal’s head back to the floor.
Jarel found the chain around Roal’s neck and snatched it off, revealing the single dragon scale. The dull brown triangle encased in a cage of golden strands twisted slowly over Roal, until Jarel placed it on Roal’s chest. Jarel closed his eyes, placed his hand above the scale, and quietly began reciting an incantation. A low hum matching the tone of his voice filled the room, as if the surrounding stones had joined the chant.
Jarel opened his eyes, and silence fell across the room. He reached out with a single finger, gently touched the scale, then rose and walked back to his throne. He kept his back to Roal, and shielded his eyes as a brilliant white light radiated out from the scale.
Roal’s screams again echoed through the room, fading as the light did. The silence that followed lasted only a moment, broken by a sharp inhale from Roal. His eyes opened, and he sat up, his hand reaching for the loose scale. His breathing was rapid as he looked down at his body, inspecting it with his free hand. Every bone and joint was in place, as was each thread of his clothing. Not even a stray drop of blood remained on the floor.
“Stand up,” Jarel said, turning back around. Roal placed both hands on the floor, testing them with his weight. Convinced they would hold, he planted both feet on the ground and slowly pushed himself up. He flexed his elbows and knees, feeling them stretch, stiff at first, as if they were new, but soon becoming just a normal movement. He finally looked up and found Jarel staring at him. Roal lowered his head.
“Thank you, sire, for teaching me humility.”
“And that,” Jarel said, “is the other important lesson you could have learned from the farmer.”
The scale hung inches from Roal’s bowed face and he stared silently at its crude form, amazed by the power contained within. He slipped the cool scale back into his shirt as he raised back up.
“And what did you learn from him, sire?” Roal asked.
Jarel smiled and draped himself across the throne again before answering. “The heir is on the move, and has found allies.”
“Already? I expected the wizard to wait as long as possible. When do we attack?”
“Sometimes I believe your eagerness may be your biggest weakness. Do not forget, we have promised him a month.” Roal rolled his eyes, but snapped them straight ahead when he saw Jarel raise a hand into the air.
“Have you forgotten the lesson so quickly?” Jarel warned.
“No, sire,” he said to the floor. “What would you have me do?” Jarel lowered his hand and waited for Roal to look up again.
“For now, simply follow the boy.”
“And his companions?” asked Roal with raised eyebrows.
“A girl and a large man, most likely a simpleton.” He gave a small shrug. “They should give you little trouble, should it come to that.” He then planted both feet on the floor and leaned forward before adding, “But it shouldn’t.”
“Understood, sire.” Then, after only a slight pause, “And once we reach the capital, what then?” Jarel simply stared for a moment, then covered his mouth with his hand and leaned back, as if in thought. The sound of his laughter broke free before Roal noticed the smile he was hiding. Once it was out though, Jarel threw his leg over the arm of the throne again, put his hands down, and let loose a few more cruel chuckles.
“My dear Roal,” he said, wiping his eyes. “Sometimes I think I put more faith in you than is deserved.” He leaned forward again. “Why would I have you follow the boy if he were headed to the city?” His smile was fading quickly. “I would have simply told you to take my army, surround the capital, and attack at month’s end.” He pounded the arm of the throne with his hand, all trace of the smile now gone from his
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