by Kyle West
“Her eyes aren’t brown. They’re green, though it could just be the light.”
“I suppose that’s true enough,” the other guard said. “Well, you’re free to go. Forgive us for the intrusion. Try to get where you’re going quickly. You both seem like out of towners. There are some good inns in the Plaza of Sands, but if you haven’t the coin, you can try closer toward the Waterfront. Not in the Waterfront, mind you, but on your way there. The streets aren’t safe at night...Colonia, it seems, can’t spare the money to even pay the Peacemakers right.”
The other guard grunted his agreement.
“Thank you,” I said. “You’re very kind.”
“Annara be with you.”
I returned to Isaru, and we made our way down the street into the darkness. Once out of earshot, Isaru spoke.
“I thought it was going to come to blows.” Isaru shook his head. “That was some quick thinking.”
“I honestly didn’t know it would work,” I said.
Despite the fact we had gotten off free, I wondered if my eyes were truly green. For as long as I could remember, they were brown with only a hint of green — at least according to anyone who took a good look. Apparently, they had changed over the last couple of months. Even if it had gotten me out of a dire situation, it was still a bit unsettling.
We had entered the Plaza of Sands, a large plaza with a sandstone obelisk rising in the center, commemorating Colonia’s victory during the First Novan War about a hundred years ago. Various shops and inns of red stone crowded the square, most being three or four stories. Most of the masonry had been carved intricately; it was one of the nicer areas of town, and the stone road on the left side of the square winded up and away toward the hill on which the Red Bastion brooded, dark in the night. Several Peacemakers bearing torches walked across the Plaza, but it was otherwise empty. A horse and cart stood in front of one of the ends, tied to a post. The baying of dogs suddenly sounded in the night, setting off a chain reaction all the way to the Waterfront.
“What now?” I asked.
“We make inquiries. And we start with that inn.”
He pointed to the well-lit building with yellow light spilling into the square. Inside I could hear the sound of laughter and the jangle of a guitar playing folk music...an old mining song called “Scrappers’ Way,” a tune that was known by every soul that could claim to be Colonian. No one really knew the origin of the song — in fact, it had multiple names, but usually “scrap” or “scrapper” was a part of it. Remembering my dreams of Anna and the references to scrapping, I knew it had to be an old song indeed, born in the early days of Colonia.
Isaru was walking toward the inn, but I stopped short, seeing something that confused me about the obelisk. There seemed to be something sticking out of it, a formless lump that didn’t make any sense. I saw, after a moment, that it was not connected with the obelisk itself, but almost floating alongside it. Four poles rose into the air, and this thing hung from the middle. I couldn’t have said why, but I had a horrible feeling about the whole thing.
Isaru was looking now, too, and without a word, we went over to see. I wanted to say it was a body hanging, but as I neared, it was clear that it was far too large to be a body.
Whatever it was, it was dark, which made it hard to see in the light. Even so, the light of the nearby inn seemed to glimmer off it. Other features were unmasked as we stepped closer — there was a long torso, curved spikes, a hanging, angular head, all facing downward and hanging by the tail from a beam above.
“No…” Isaru said.
Several spears had been driven though the dragonling’s underbelly, and her form was stained with food and refuse. It was a tragedy beyond words, and I could hardly understand how such barbarism could possess human beings.
A tarp of sorts had been spread beneath her, a tarp that was obviously spread to collect the dried, violet blood.
I fell on my knees, feeling a grief choke me such as I had never known. We could only have been a day or two late. The reason that Jorla could no longer feel the presence of the dragonling now hung before us.
I couldn’t bear to watch, so I turned my face away. Isaru stared at the dragon, at first shocked. But slowly and surely, his face contorted into one of rage.
“Isaru...”
He reached for his blade, and in a flash, he held it out in front of him. “Whoever did this must pay.”
“Who goes there?”
A Peacemaker hailed us from afar, but Isaru did not turn, nor did he bother to sheathe his sword.
“Vengeance,” he said.
“Isaru, no! Please, put the sword away...there’s no need to fight.”
“Listen to the girl. Drop the sword.”
“Isaru,” I whispered. “The Prophecy!”
He ground his teeth, and in a flash, the blade was sheathed. When he spoke, his voice was low and dangerous. “Did you do this?”
The Peacemaker frowned. “Sir...it is a demon dragon. The Pontifex ordered its death, seeing that it was too much trouble to keep alive.”
Isaru scowled. “You people really are ignorant. Can you not see that she was a child?”
“Yes,” the guard said, coldly. “But it’s like a snake; best to chop off the head before it can grow the teeth to hurt you.”
“You compare this thinking, sentient being to a snake?”
“Isaru...they don’t know...please. Let’s just leave and tell Jorla.”
Isaru scoffed. “Tell Jorla? When we tell her, she will rage. She will kill everyone in sight...perhaps even us. She’ll become blind to reason. You never want to be around when a dragon rages.”
And at that moment, a high screech sounded from above, deafeningly loud. I covered my ears, just in time to see Jorla’s claws extend. The guard screamed as they pierced armor and flesh, pinning him to the stones below. She grappled the guard, flying upward before banking sharply and letting him go. He flew through air screaming, and crashed into a stone building.
Jorla!
There was a connection between our minds, and a righteous anger greater than anything I had ever known coursed through my veins. I drew Katan, letting the blade sweep through the air. Isaru looked at me, wide-eyed.
Now, he was the one to speak reason to me. “There is nothing we can do, Shanti. We have to run!”
People spilled into the streets as screams filled the air. I watched Jorla as she came down again.
“Shanti, I mean it! She’ll kill us just as surely!”
Jorla’s glowing, white eyes seemed to bore into mine. I felt that she meant me violence — as if I had something to do with the dragonling’s death. Her claws extended once again, but I merely stood, unable to believe that she would kill me.
“Shanti!”
Isaru dove on top of me, bringing down to the stones. Jorla screeched, and with a thunderous crash, picked up the entire platform from which the dragonling hung. She gave a baleful roar, snapping at the ropes that held the dragonling in place. Once loosed, she caught the dragonling in her claws and gently set her on the stones, after which she let out a mournful cry.
“This place will be a bloodbath soon,” Isaru said. “We need to get to the Bastion!”
“But Jorla...”
“Jorla can fend for herself, I assure you, and I don’t want to be in the way. She is in no longer in a state to help us. We’ll have to find a way into the Bastion on our own.”
I felt stunned at those words. I couldn’t imagine how we were supposed to do this without Jorla, but I could see Isaru was right. Already, Jorla was chasing down another guard, and from the looks of it, they weren’t going to get away. Everyone who had come out to see was now running or rushing to hide in buildings. Jorla moved quickly through the streets on all fours, using her wings to maneuver with surprising speed.
“Come on!” Isaru said.
He pulled me away, and we ran. I sheathed my blade, and by this point, there was no one else in the plaza, though screams still filled th
e air. Jorla herself let out a bloodthirsty cry; it was if she intended to bring down the entire city by herself.
For all I knew, she could.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
WE ESCAPED THE TERROR OF the plaza and made for the street ascending the hill upon which the Red Bastion stood. It was the same street I had walked on my journey to Traitors’ Rock, only now, the way was dark, lit only by street lamps. People milled in the streets, confused and fearful, far enough away from the Plaza of Sands not to know exactly what was going on. They looked at us for some indication as to what was happening, but Isaru and I didn’t slow our pace. All of our physical training was being put to use; we ran up the street, weaving back and forth up the switchbacks that took us up Red Cliff. The buildings became finer, their stonework more intricate and artful. Old cathedrals towered into the sky, and throughout the city, bells tolled their warning. From time to time, Jorla’s screams pierced the night while human cries responded in kind.
A squad of Peacemakers ran by, suited in chain mail and bearing halberds. Above from the Bastion, more dragons’ cries pierced the night as they took to the sky.
“The Dragonguard comes,” Isaru says.
“Jorla…”
At long last, the buildings ended in a final square at the top of the hill, on the other side of which were the towering gatehouse and the Inner Wall that protected the Bastion and the Dome of Annara within. Another line of guards, some on horseback, spilled out of the gate, and Isaru and I moved to the side to avoid being run down. The guards paid us no mind; their focus was completely on the threat in the city below.
Isaru watched them depart, and then looked to the sky, where the trail of dragons descended toward the square.
“She’ll bring down dozens before the dragons can stop her. And many of those dragons might lose their lives. They don’t fight the way a free dragon does; a free dragon fights for her dignity, her life, and her young. They only fight from fear of pain.”
Isaru turned, boldly walking to the Inner Gate. It was wide open to allow additional troops to pass through.
“They’ll be so focused on Jorla that we can just walk right in,” Isaru said.
“Someone will stop us,” I said. “They’d have to.”
“Don’t draw attention to yourself,” Isaru said. “Seek Silence. Wrap yourself in it. We’ll get through this all right, and we have to trust Jorla will as well.”
Isaru and I walked past the gate without opposition, into the wide inner courtyard from which rose both the Dome and the Bastion. The Dome of Annara came first, its wide marble steps leading up to an arched entry open to the night. Its high, golden dome still shone in the night, and its four turrets shot into the sky from each of its corners. The courtyard was deserted for now, but at any moment more Peacemakers could pass on their way down to the city. The Red Bastion itself was further up Red Cliff, at the very back, for now hidden by the enormity of the Dome.
“Let’s get inside there,” I said. “We can exit through the back and avoid notice.”
Isaru nodded his agreement.
“And hide your blade well,” I said. “No weapon is allowed inside the Dome.”
“It looks dark in there,” Isaru said. “That should be easy enough.”
Isaru and I ran up the marble steps, and before we knew it, we were both inside the Dome. Indeed, it was dark inside. The only light came from a ring of torches ensconced on the thirty-six sandstone pillars arranged in the shape of a perfect circle, pillars that held up the Dome itself. Additional light emanated from the hundreds of candles surrounding the high statue of Annara in the center. Her features were masked in the shadowy darkness, and I was thankful for that. I had no desire to see if she looked anything like me, though I couldn’t have told you how the Annarans would have known what she looked like, a woman who had lived four centuries ago.
At the top of the Dome was a wide circle that was open to the night. During the day, that opening allowed plenty of sunlight to stream in. Though the Dome was built to revere Annara, there were alcoves dedicated to each of the principal deities of the Covenant — Samal, Retha, Makai, Larana, and Elekim. The Elekai gods might have been the same as the Covenant’s, though they served a different ultimate purpose. Elekim, as the husband of Annara, had a larger alcove than the others, and each of the alcoves was situated on the periphery of the Dome, each lit with candles with offerings of wine, flowers, gold, perfume, and other luxuries. But Annara’s statue in the center had the most candles of all.
We made our way quickly along the periphery of the Dome, where the torches didn’t cast their light. We left the Dome by the back way, finding ourselves in the part of the courtyard that connected the Dome with the Red Bastion. An additional wall surrounded it, called the Bastion Wall, and it was only through its single gatehouse that we’d have to get inside. The Bastion itself rose high above the wall, its towers and turrets silhouetted against the starry sky. From behind us, one of Jorla’s screams echoed throughout the city.
This was where my parents were...this would be where the Prophecy was kept. It was hard to believe we were mere minutes away from finding the truth.
But that would only come if we could get inside and not get caught.
“It’s been easy so far,” I said.
“All that changes now,” Isaru said.
He gestured toward a large tree in a nearby meridian, which we both hid behind to be out of sight of the gate and wall. We hid just in time for a contingent of Peacemakers to march out of the gatehouse, their chain mail clinking. A distant shriek sounded again — Jorla was still fighting. No more dragons flew out of the Bastion courtyard.
“Just go in?” I asked.
“I see no other option,” Isaru said.
Once the Peacemakers had passed, we skulked through the shadows, heading for the main gate. Getting to the aqueduct, as we’d discussed with Elder Isandru, would be impossible without Jorla. Through this entrance was the only way.
More Peacemakers passed through the gate, and Isaru and I shot toward the wall. It didn’t seem that any of them noticed us, thanks to the darkness, but all it would take was for one of them to turn his head to see us both straddled against the wall. The column went on for a while, filled with men carrying harpoons, longbows, and crossbows — powerful ranged weapons designed to pierce a dragon’s thick scales.
“Jorla can’t survive all that…”
“Don’t underestimate her,” Isaru said. “I’ve seen her pull through much worse.”
Despite saying this, it sounded as if Isaru himself wasn’t so sure himself.
“Do we go now?”
Isaru was quiet. We had gotten this far, but this was our first major block. But the truth remained: we had to gain access to the Bastion, and the only way was through that gate.
“Let’s wait a bit longer, just to be sure.”
So we waited. Each minute that passed made me feel as if we were losing time. In the long silence, no more Peacemakers left the gate.
“I think that’s all of them,” Isaru said.
And like that, we were running. I sought Silence, which helped to calm my nerves. I kept my hand on the hilt of Katan, knowing I could need it at any moment. Running became merely an action, and my fear became something distant; an emotion to be considered rather than embraced. We passed through the threshold of the gate, until we were standing on the other side, in the inner courtyard of the Bastion.
I looked up at the gatehouse, hardly believing no one had stopped us.
Had we really done it?
“Stop!”
An officer stood behind us, having run out of the gatehouse. Isaru and I froze, saying nothing.
“What are you doing, skulking about? Get to the barracks and find your regiment! And change into your uniform! Move, move!”
“That’s where we were going,” I said, before adding a hasty, “Sir.”
It was the wrong thing to say. “What’s your name, Peacemaker?”
Wit
hout thinking, I gave him the first name I thought of. “Shara Laen.”
The man blinked, confused. “Lietenant Laen? I didn’t recognize you in the dark…”
I blinked. His voice still sounded suspicious, but I was committed, now. Might as well play it until the end.
“Return to your post, soldier! You’re supposed to be watching the gate, not interrupting an officer on important business!”
There was a moment’s hesitation. “Right away, Sir. At once.” He placed a hand over his heart, the Colonian salute, before slinking back into the gatehouse.
“Well done,” Isaru whispered.
“Let’s move,” I said. “Before he realizes what an idiot he is.”
Isaru got moving, but the Peacemaker’s immediate obedience made me wonder what Shara had been up to.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
SINCE THERE WAS NOWHERE ELSE to enter the Bastion that we could see, Isaru and I went through the front entrance. The two oaken doors were wide open, and luck was still with us: there was no one waiting in the wide red hall lit from above with a fiery chandelier.
I wanted nothing more than to go straight to the dungeons to search for my parents, but the Prophecy came first. It would be easier to carry that around than try to go for the Prophecy with my parents in tow.
And then, everything hit me at once. The impossibility of this. The fact that we were both going to die attempting it.
“This is hopeless, isn’t it?” I asked.
“Nothing is ever hopeless,” Isaru said defiantly. “I will learn the Prophecy’s location even if I have to place my sword at the neck of the Pontifex himself.”
“Maybe he’s the one we should be looking for, then.”
“Honestly...that’s probably the most efficient way. But a high-ranking priest or officer could work, too.”
We walked forward and took the leftmost corridor. The red halls were empty and silent, something that wouldn’t have been the case had Jorla not caused her disturbance. The majority of the Peacemakers had left the Bastion, so it could not have worked out more perfectly. However, the Red Bastion was large, and there was no telling where the Prophecy might be hidden. Elder Isandru had suggested it would be contained within Colonia’s treasury, but we had to find that, first. According to the Elder’s schematics, it was somewhere in the back of the Bastion on the first floor.
