by Raven Storm
“Ah, well...Bair’s burning ceremony is today.” I halted. “You can ask Domik about it; I don’t know much. It’s how they bury their dead. It doesn’t happen often now, obviously.” He closed his mouth, knowing he was rambling. We finally crossed through a rounded archway, and into a large room. I stared at the shelves that lined every crevice, cut carefully into the stone. Stalagmites on the floor were also carved inwards to hold books, creating a veritable maze of knowledge in front of me. It was quite clever, and there were so many books! I walked over to a shelf, and randomly chose one. The script was foreign to me, all odd squiggles and markings.
“I’d be shocked if you could read that; it’s the draken language.”
Georg and I both jumped as a voice rang out, bouncing off the stone walls. A short, stocky draken appeared, his scales burnt orange that tapered to a deep brown on his lower half. His eyes were a startling shade of orange, and I admit that I stared. His brown hair was tied back in a ponytail. When I finally glanced away, he chuckled.
“The female has finally graced me with her presence.” His tone was neutral, but there was a slight hint of resentment.
“Sorry,” I replied, “I honestly didn’t know all this was here. Are there any maps of the fortress? That would be helpful. You must be Domik.”
He flushed, the orange tone of his skin flushing a dark blue.
“I included several maps in your chambers when you first arrived. Were they not acceptable?”
I blushed, my mind going to the neat shelf in my sitting room I hadn’t perused yet.
“My apologies; had I known you had sent me gifts I certainly would have used them. As it was, everything was just a bit...overwhelming. I haven’t looked at anything in my chambers besides the wardrobe.”
He sniffed but appeared a bit pacified. I realized I’d have to go through my rooms tonight and see if there were any more gifts. No wonder the other drakens thought me rude.
“Of course. Is there anything else I can help you with?”
I grinned predatorily. “Yes, actually. Quite a few things.”
A few hours later Georg and I were on the floor before a cozy fireplace, twenty or so odd books open and spread around us. Domik was in his element, pacing in front of us while gesticulating wildly at a large map he had rigged to hang from the ceiling.
“The demon hordes were beaten into submission by the Overlord, and then banded together to conquer the humans. The humans had the power of numbers but lacked cohesive leadership; easily intimidated by shows of magick and power they didn’t have. The war was mostly on an even footing until the drakens got involved.”
I perked up, and even Georg was engrossed, eyes pinned to Domik.
“With draken involvement, the humans felt they had their own magickal element, and the drakens were fierce fighters who taught them several new tactics. The war quickly swung in the direction of the humans, with the demon hordes being pushed back to the edge of the ocean.” Domik’s voice faltered, and I guessed what was coming next.
“Was the volcanic eruption natural or done by the Overlord?”
Domik’s sharp eyes shot up. “We have never checked, though I would be a clever move by the Overlord.” He shook his head roughly.
I traced the map of Dorea with my eyes, watching how the draken and human armies had pushed back the demon hordes.
“Once the drakens left the war, the humans just gave up?”
Domik huffed.
“The rest is speculation on my part, since by then I was stuck here. I assume that with the loss of the only magical creatures on their side, they scattered. A few tried to band them together, but the damage was done. Scattered and weak, the Overlord regained all the lost land in a matter of weeks, and then it was over. All humans were subjugated, and here we are.”
“I don’t understand; there are other magickal creatures out there. Why weren’t they involved? Surely they didn’t all side with the Overlord?”
Domik sat down, his shoulders slumping.
“We had hoped that more would come to the aid of the humans. With the catastrophe of Lyoness, we could not continue fighting. Though it is easy to blame the draken race for the downfall of humanity, there is a much darker truth that is to blame.”
I leaned forward. “What is that?” Domik’s lips pursed.
“Neutrality.”
My brows furrowed, considering. Domik ploughed on, fire in his eyes.
“The other creatures pledged neutrality, not wanting to get involved. Humans have never been the friendliest of races, especially when it came to magickal creatures. Some even figured it was nothing more than the humans deserved for how they treated others. It was maddening really; between humanity’s superior numbers and the combined magicks of all the remaining creatures, we could have beaten the Overlord in a matter of days.”
I didn’t know how to process all of that. The reason humans were enslaved and treated like animals was because the other magical creatures were neutral? It was horrifying. Domik read the look on my face.
“I agree completely.”
It would be easy to hate the drakens for withdrawing from the war—too easy. I couldn’t blame them though; with one fell swoop, most of their species had been completely wiped out. The anger belonged at the others; the ones who refused to help.
“To be fair, there is another element at play. It is difficult to combat white magic with black magic. I’m sure you can imagine why. It is much easier to use multitudes of unwilling sacrifices to ward your lands, when you would need just as many willing ones to dismantle it.”
I could easily see where that would be a problem, asking people to die for a species who didn’t even like you.
“Benedict said Rhyfel’s sacrifice is what keeps them tethered to the mountain; to keep them safe.”
Domik’s eyes flickered in recognition. “You know that much? Good.” He paused, as if thinking how to begin. His eyes darted between Georg and I, and with a roll of his eyes, Georg went to the other side of the room, running his fingers along the aged spines. Kieran and Ronan stood stonily behind me.
“I hear you are not on good terms with Benedict.”
That was a mild understatement. Time to change the subject.
“Benedict said he knows where the lost draken is, but that she’s ‘lost’ to him. What does that mean?”
Kieran and Ronan jerked, bumping their knees against the chair I sat on. I ignored them as Domik went very still and considered his next words carefully.
“Sometimes, knowledge that is widely known can be more deadly than helpful. I think this is one of those times, don’t you?”
I had to agree. Domik sighed.
“As for Benedict, there are several things that could mean. Perhaps he knows where the lost daughter is, but she is a captive. Or she could be dead, and he knows that knowledge will destroy the drakens here. Taking away hope is a dangerous, deadly business. As for staying within the mountain, many would argue his job as King is simply to keep as many drakens alive for as long as possible. In this regard, he has done his duty admirably.”
I stood and ran my hands through my hair. It was easier to have more sympathy for Benedict when I realized what a weight he carried on his shoulders. He likely had no one to confide in. I turned back to Domik.
“Do you think she’s dead?”
He shook his head, a small smile at the corner of his mouth.
“No. I think Benedict knows exactly where she is; he has a few extra abilities as king that we don’t. It makes sense to me that she is alive, but out of reach. After all, wouldn’t she be subjected to the same curse of immortality we are?”
That did seem like a nice perk. Domik came around the table and sat across from me, folding his hands neatly in front of him. I latched onto another subject.
“Can you tell me about the last female draken? Rhyfel?”
Domik’s eyes grew dark.
“There isn’t much to tell. She wasn’t a member of the royal family, and n
ot particularly gifted with white or black magicks. She tried for years to have her own draken young, and this pregnancy was her first.”
How awful to finally have your dreams come true, but only in your darkest hour.
“Who was her mate?” I ventured, wondering if he was here in the fortress. Domik flipped opened a book, only half paying attention to me.
“He died a week prior to her capture, which was probably a blessing. He likely would have died in a misguided attempt to rescue her. Draken instincts are a great strength, but also our greatest weakness.”
The library fell silent, the only sound Georg’s fingers running over the book spines, counting the colors of the different tomes.
“What can you tell me about D’Arcy?”
He gave me a bemused look and started flipping through another book. “The king’s uncle? What do you need to know about him?”
I shifted uncomfortably. How did you go about asking if someone was a traitor?
“I just think there’s more to him than he lets on.” A twinkle glimmered in Domik’s eyes, and I thought some flattery with the reclusive draken may work in my favor. It had worked for Bair, after all.
“You notice things that the others don’t, I bet,” I began, putting a hand on his shoulder. “You probably know everything about everyone!”
Domik preened a bit, his wings flaring upwards. I felt Kieran and Ronan stiffen behind me, aware that I was lying through my teeth.
“You’re not wrong.” Domik trilled. “I do know quite a bit about every draken here. D’Arcy though, he is an interesting one. He is the only draken that always wears a shirt or tunic. Did you notice that?”
“Benedict said it was magick gone wrong.”
Domik shook his head. “Half of a truth! Benedict was supposed to be part of the rescue party that day with King Fane, to rescue Rhyfel. As it was, he had been wounded fleeing from battle, and forced to stay behind. Thank the gods he had!”
Thank the gods, indeed.
“When D’Arcy returned alone, Benedict’s fury was terrifying as he challenged D’Arcy in an honor match. D’Arcy tried to perform white magick to protect himself, but it backfired, exploding and killing three other drakens. It burned the skin down to the bone on his shoulder. Benedict figured it was punishment enough. That is why we wears a tunic.”
I blinked, trying to take it all in. Domik continued.
“D’Arcy loves intrigue and games of wit; he is manipulative of other drakens and loves to cause discord, just to see what will happen. He is a white chaotic force to Benedict’s controlled darkness.” Domik froze, as if just remembering who he was speaking to.
“Or at least, that’s just my opinion.”
I snorted. After another hour or so, Georg’s stomach started rumbling, and mine grumbled in sympathy. It was the first time I'd felt hunger in a few days, so Kieran and Ronan were quick to usher me up and out of the library. I convinced them to go on ahead and send for food, so it was there waiting for me. They were so relieved I was willing to eat that they left me alone with Georg without another thought, rushing ahead to prepare.
I still didn’t feel well but having something else to focus on for a few hours had done wonders for my mood. I allowed Georg to lead me back to my quarters, but halfway there my legs gave out, weak and unsteady. I was confused by my sudden bout of weakness and reached for Georg.
“Go find Kieran or Ronan.” Georg backed away; his face twisted in uncertainty.
“I promised them I wouldn’t leave you alone.” I was losing my battle with exhaustion, and it was difficult to focus on his face.
“Just...please. I don’t want to call for help...it’ll just make it worse.”
George reluctantly agreed and disappeared down the dark corridor. I curled my arms around my knees as I sat down. It was cold and slightly damp, but I didn’t care. Sitting up seemed like so much work…
Footsteps echoed from the opposite direction Georg had gone. I could hear the scrape of claws against the stone and prayed whoever it was wouldn’t notice me. Unlikely with the draken’s sense of smell, but I didn’t have the energy to come up with another plan. I looked up; Benedict’s figure was stopped in front of me. I forgot to breathe, rigid with fear as I was barely able to meet his eyes. We stared at each for a long while, until I gave up and looked away first. I made an odd, distressed sound in the back of my throat, and my arms reached out to him. He wordlessly bent and picked me up. As he cradled me against his chest, I noticed the dark rings under his eyes, which were nearly pitch black with none of his usual purple coloring.
“You haven’t been sleeping either,” I whispered. His grip on me tightened.
“I wonder why.” He shot back.
I flinched and shut my eyes. “Don’t wanna fight. Sleep.”
He exhaled a puff of air through his nose, and then the world dissolved into black. We landed in my bedroom, and he laid me down with a surprising amount of gentleness. He wiped his bloody nose, growling in irritation.
“It’s affecting you, isn’t it?”
Benedict whipped around, not noticing Kieran sitting in the corner of the room, one red eyebrow raised.
“Definitely affecting you if you didn't notice me.”
Benedict hissed, and I threw a pillow at him. Or at least, I tried to. It flopped uselessly off the bed, and onto the floor. I groaned, holding my hand out. Benedict rolled his eyes but picked it up and handed it back to me. Kieran’s eyes sharpened, his gaze serious.
“Spend time with her. You don’t have to like her, but don’t kill yourself in the process.”
The words hurt, but Kieran had a point.
“Ronan and I will stay away tonight. Make use of the time.”
“Or what?” Benedict’s wings flared. Kieran went nose-to-nose with him, unafraid.
“Or you risk killing her or yourself. You might not give a shit about her, but I know you won’t leave us with D’Arcy or Sabien as king. Get your head out of your ass.”
Kieran dashed out of the room, dodging Benedict’s claws and fangs. I was quickly losing my battle with consciousness, but did register the bed dipping next to me, and a pair of strong arms wrapping around my chest.
“I still hate you,” he murmured. I drifted off and slept the entire night through.
FIFTEEN
Benedict was gone before I woke the next morning, though it was probably for the best. I had hoped maybe to get a moment to speak with him, but I knew it was unlikely. He clearly was still furious over Bair; not that I blamed him.
As I ate breakfast next to a watchful Ronan, I realized that the only way to get Benedict to trust me would be to prove myself in some way to him. What good was having important information if no one would believe you? I had to come up with a plan.
“Ronan? Could you get D’Arcy for me?”
His head shot up, pleased to be able to do something for me, but unhappy about my choice of draken.
“I suppose. Why?”
Honestly was the best policy, right?
“I need to talk to him about Benedict.” Ronan’s face went stony, but he huffed and walked through the stone passageway. I finished up my breakfast in relative silence, happy to finally have what I felt was a normal appetite. I finished my eggs, a potato, and a few slices of toast before Ronan returned, D’Arcy in tow.
“Is it alright if this is a private conversation?”
Ronan looked hurt for only a fraction of a second before he wiped it away.
“Of course.”
He left through the still opened passage, and D’Arcy imperiously sat himself on the best chair in the room. He helped himself to a cup of tea and crossed his legs. Only after he had taken a few sips did he finally turn his gaze to me. He wore a fur pelt that covered his shoulders, and to my disgust I saw the stuffed lykos head on his back. He was wearing this on purpose. His eyes challenged me, daring me to say something. I looked away.
“A private word with Wren. To what do I owe the honor?”
I tapped my fingers against the armrest of my chair, eyes narrowing.
“I’d like you to start the Games again. Specifically, something that tests loyalty.” D’Arcy’s face brightened in interest.
“May I ask why—"
“You may not,” I cut in, “besides, what is wrong with me making sure the king’s subjects are completely loyal?”
D’Arcy’s entire demeanor changed to one of extreme caution. It would have been humorous had the situation not been so serious. I nonchalantly picked up another sugar cube and added it to my tea, stirring vigorously. He shifted and opened his mouth.
“I can assure you all drakens have the utmost loyalty to our king, unlike a few humans I know.”
I smiled, but it was a brittle and dangerous thing.
“Then arranging such a challenge will be of no trouble to you. If I die during it, all the better, right?”
D’Arcy sat back in his chair, considering me in a new light.
“You plan to compete? Benedict may hate you, but he still won’t let you die. Draken instincts are so utterly predictable at times. Going through the trouble of making it possible would be dreadfully difficult.”
“But for my death you’d do it, wouldn’t you?”
I kept my face calm, but my palms began to sweat. His eyes were calculating.
“And what could you do for me in the meantime? If I go to such trouble, I want it to be worth my investment.”
His finger trailed lasciviously around the edge of his teacup; his eyes boring into mine. His voice was a dark whisper in the air.
“I think you know what I’d like.”
I forced myself to relax, as if I were considering it. He smirked, so different from Benedict’s that I felt ill. Benedict’s smirk was the confidence of a leader, whereas D’Arcy’s was simply arrogant. He had no idea what I was planning.
“I know. How about you simply come when I call, like the pet you are,” he replied, unbothered. I caught the greedy glint in his eyes and swallowed heavily. Every instinct inside of me screamed, but I needed him.
“Fine.”
I stood, letting him know our meeting was over.
