A Song of Askaldenfirsts and Dragons. Part eight: The New Queen
Chapter 2: Skergalda

“It suits you,” Skergalda said, looking at Edelmer in his light painted caftan.

“I never thought I would be temporary steward of the kingdom,” the slightly gray-haired Edelmer wondered.

“You might be king!” Skergalda said proudly.

“Sweetheart, they will never make me king. We’re not just another people, we’re aliens to them. The council is already taking a risk by making me temporary ruler. The people will rebel, and they will get a civil war before they have even decided on the future dynasty. Besides, the tarsuranians continue to prepare for war.”

“King Jagodar is not stupid, he knows that if he invades Brangolf, our Sand Alliance will respond with triple force.”

“But if Ellemakia and Daretkhan want to invade Zualafaran, Ballaraz will fall within weeks,” Edelmer parried. “I remember at the battle of Phillakalan one evkager grabbed a dragon and then tore off its wing without the slightest effort.”

“Those strange giants are so skinny, how can they have so much strength?” Skergalda wondered.

“When you’re a twenty yard giant, no matter how skinny you are, you’ll still be very strong,” Edelmer remarked, looking at himself in the mirror. “After all, I’m not a politician, it’s not my thing.”

“You went to see him?“Skergalda changed the subject.

“Itullannoth thinks that Edelmer will mess with my head,” Eder answered, realizing who she was asking about.

“It seems to me that Itullannoth is the one who’s been messing with our heads. And anyway, why do you still listen to him as if he were a king?”

“He saved us, Skergalda,” said the northerner. “Or have you forgotten?”

“Saved, yes. But why didn’t he bring us home?”

“Itullannoth showed us with his magic what our home had become. He saved two hundred and ninety-two Hoogmeerfall dwellers and about three thousand seven hundred more from Järvanhogen and Jöhnstromken. And we now have four thousand three hundred and something northerners! Yes, some died in the wars, but then we were able to create families and carry on the family line, of course some assimilated with the natives, and then some went off and formed this… Northern Heritage Order.

“Well, they’re trying to preserve our culture,” Skergalda countered.

“Exactly! It means that the snunorfs of Ermir will never be forgotten, will never be lost, and the memory of our homeland will live on, even in this narrowly national form,” Edelmer said without enthusiasm.

“But Itullannoth could move more here, save more. When the dragons came and started burning everything down, it was possible to teleport the northerners here, or the tonnebeards, or even the forest elves. And if isterses were taken, they could be counted as natives. Or if Itullannoth could persuade Tsakdolf to send Zualafaran dragons to fight for Ermir.”

“No, Skergalda, that is politically impossible. If there were more northerners, it might pose a threat to the local population. And in general, the local population would be unhappy. And if we sent Zualafaran citizens to die in someone else’s war... The king would be overthrown and we’d all be beheaded.” Sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ (F)indNƟvᴇl.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

“You see, you’re not such a bad politician,” she smiled, coming up to him and kissing him on the lips. “I’m going to go down to young Eder, someone needs to talk to him,” she said, smiling.

“All right, but be careful,” Edelmer said, taking her hand and pulling her to him and kissing her. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

She went down into the dungeon, passed the prison bars, and peered cautiously into the one where Edelmer was. Young Edelmer jumped up immediately upon noticing her.

“Skergalda?” Edelmer was surprised.

“Yes, did you recognize me?” Skergalda was also surprised.

“Of course! Although you are a little... matured,” he chose an inappropriate word.

“Aged,” said Skergalda and smiled. “But you and I have never met, Edelmer.”

“What do you mean? We’ve known each other since childhood! Where is Thedgar? Is he with you? Here on Malderfir?” It was obvious that Edelmer was more concerned about his friend than what might have happened to him.

“Unfortunately, he is dead... Or rather, he was killed.”

“By whom, how, when?” Edelmer’s questions came out at her.

“Let’s not talk about that now, all right?” she felt the pain.

“All right,” the northerner said soothingly.

“They say you were in league with the flying woman?” Skergalda cautiously began to question him.

“Yes, with Lisandra, is she all right?”

“She killed our king,” Skergalda said.

" ‘Our’ king?” Edelmer wondered. “Ah, the local king,” Edelmer realized. “So he threatened her, or one of the dragons. She wouldn’t–”

“They say you’ve gone mixed up with the arqilunians and the tukhtaashes to betray Norvinoria,” Skergalda interrupted him.

“What?! Who says that?”

Suddenly she heard footsteps, and it was her husband. A slightly gray-haired Edelmer approached the bars of the prison. Despite the fact that young Eder was half undressed, sweat dripped off him.

“Beloved, would you bring him a towel or something,” Skergalda said.

“Let him dry himself with his shirt,” Edelmer said sharply.

“Beloved?” young Edelmer asked dumbfounded.

“Yes, we’ve been together a long time,” Skergalda said.

“I don’t think Thedgar would approve of that!” the prisoner said. “He was my friend and how do you–”

“He was my friend, not yours!” Edelmer flared up.

“Calm down, both of you. You know you’re not the real Edelmer,” Skergalda told the prisoner. “But I want to hear your story.”

“Why should I talk to you? You locked me in this unbearably humid, hot prison, you won’t tell me where Lisandra is! You don’t want to talk about Thedgar!.. Our group was forced to be on this planet! And we come in peace!”

“Peace?” Edelmer boiled over, as if he were about to throw off his caftan and go beat up the young Eder. “Your flying woman killed my friend, my king! Not to mention the casualties on the battlefield!”

“Was there a battle? Who died?” Edelmer asked.

Suddenly they heard a familiar sound. Edelmer and Skergalda ran out of the king’s palace prison, where mostly political prisoners were held, and climbed the city wall.

“Again?” Edelmer became indignant.

Skergalda saw several dragons hovering on the horizon, and since there were light dragons among them, it was clear that they were not from Zualafaran, because the only Zualafaran-friendly light dragon in all of Malderfir was Edelmer.

“I’ll fly alone,” he said.

“What? No, you’re not!” Skergalda insisted.

“I don’t want another massacre, even if there are less than a dozen of them, but suddenly some of their mothers are with them!”

“Eder, don’t take that risk, please.”

“You said yourself I’m not such a bad politician. I’ll see what they want, and then...” And he ran out into the palace grounds where the zualafaranians were transforming into dragons. He transformed into a dragon and flew.

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