Talon the Black

by Melissa Mitchell

  For a moment, the unlikely theory that Claire might have Sprite blood crossed his mind, but it was quickly pushed away. Such a thing was impossible. It was completely absurd to presume that a human from beyond the Gate—from a world that was supposed to house nothing but humans—could have anything other than human blood. The Sprites were not human. They had markings to prove it. Claire was a human. She had to be. Still, a little voice in the back of his mind nagged at him: Why then did she live through the poison?

  He slept little that night, unable to get his mind off the same repetitive question. Who was Claire? Part of him believed that if he spent a few more minutes pondering it, the answer might come. The other part of him merely grew frustrated.

  Queries like these forced him to unnecessarily dwell on her. It was dangerous, because it compelled him to admit how different she was—how much she stood out. Spirited, strong of heart, and stubborn to the core, she was unlike most of the women he knew, except perhaps Saffra.

  And what cheek she had! The King’s Shields were elite in both nobility and rank. She cared little for their titles. The way she often spoke to them was evidence of this. Despite it all, these differences were what he admired about her. These were what set her apart. Most women would be cowering in her shoes, which led him to wonder, from where did she derive her strength? And just like that, he found himself back at the same question regarding her identity. Groaning, he flopped over to his other side and forced his mind to go blank. At last, sleep took him.

  The following morning he was eager to rise. A new facet of stress was upon him. Once free of the trees, he would be able to stretch his mind forth with the help of Jovari and Koldis, and contact the king. He dreaded this part of the journey. The king’s wrath would be absolute. He had failed. And King Talon would not be happy about that.

  Their breakfast was more of the same: fruits, roots, leafy greens, and nuts. The stewed bark broth was the worst. No amount of spices could possibly make it drinkable. And he could not help but glare at Claire as she willingly devoured everything placed in front of her.

  “It’s almost like tea, isn’t it?” she said as she sipped from her steaming cup. “I love it already.”

  “It is almost like garbage, if that is what you mean,” mumbled Koldis from across the table, rolling his eyes. Claire blatantly ignored him.

  He shuffled around on his cushion and tossed a handful of nuts into his mouth. The sooner they departed, the sooner he could rid himself of these trees and go hunting. Perhaps they might find some grazers on the planes south of the forest.

  As if reading his mind, Jovari expressed much of the same thoughts. “Please tell me we can leave Claire somewhere and go hunting once we make it out of here,” he begged. “If I do not get meat soon, you will find me to be a real grouch.”

  Yes, he agreed, they would need to replenish their strength before beginning the rest of their journey south. And so they departed Esterpine. Claire was the only one reluctant to go. He saw it on her face, as if leaving pained her. Once more, his absurd thoughts nagged at him.

  After hours of seemingly endless walking, their guide bid them farewell. Reyr could not help the sigh of relief that tumbled from his lips. They came out on the south-western part of the forest, ideally located for his quick trip to the western coast. He owed his brother Davi a visit. Mikkin’s outlandish tale of wild dragons required the fort leader’s attention.

  “We will rest here for a few minutes,” he announced, setting his rucksack on the ground and taking a seat. They would hunt before departing. Jovari and Koldis already knew of his plans to go west and rejoin them two days thereafter. They had discussed this in some detail while Claire was with the Sprite’s healers. Fort Squall would be little over a day’s flight from where they emerged, and he could easily make up time on the flight back if the wind ruled in his favor. But first things first—the king.

  Claire wandered a short distance away, but he paid her little mind. His focus was on his two companions. “Are you ready?” he asked. Judging by their silence and their hard expressions, they were as eager as he. “Very well then.”

  Together, the three of them allowed their minds to meet and meld, becoming a force of strength as they pushed their thoughts forward. Like searching tendrils, they stretched their consciousness over the planes of Eigaden, southward, going further and further, until at last, they reached Kastali Dun.

  “Explain yourselves!” The king’s voice sounded in their minds. His paired emotion was like a thundering avalanche. “Better yet, explain why you have brought a murderous witch into our kingdom.”

  “Your Grace, my apolo—”

  “You should have killed her! Have you any idea what problems this has created? Gods above!”

  “Please, Your Grace. I do not think Claire killed Cyrus. She—”

  “You dare exonerate her? I am disappointed in you.”

  “Your Grace…” He felt the king’s emotion disappear. “Your Grace?” He reached out with his consciousness, using Jovari and Koldis as a boost to extend himself farther. There was no sign of the king.

  “He blocked us,” said Koldis out loud. “He blocked us out.”

  “Indeed, it seems so.” In his anger, King Talon did not so much as allow them to explain. It was rather unfair, but hardly surprising. “This is going to be much harder than I anticipated,” he said. The others agreed. Confronting the king was going to be an uphill battle. He dreaded it, but what he dreaded more was what might happen to Claire in the process.

  29

  Weldon

  Claire held back her tears until she was airborne: She couldn’t bear for Jovari and Koldis to see her cry, and she dearly needed to cry. Once again, she found herself on Jovari’s back with Reyr nothing more than a golden speck on the horizon, but Reyr’s sudden departure was not the cause of her frustration and anger. The real source of her upset boiled down to two words: the king. He was a man she had never met and already hated.

  The sky was a private place. With the wind whistling in her ears and the ground far below, she let herself go. Each droplet that fell from her eyes carried with it a fragment of her emotion. There was no one to blame but herself. How stupid she’d been to think that this king of Dragonwall would possess reason. Weren’t kings supposed to be wise and level-headed? He was anything but!

  Somehow she had missed it. After everything Cyrus told her—after all the little snippets about the king he had divulged—she failed to glean any true understanding of what this man might be like. Now she knew. Oh yes. She had listened to the abrupt conversation between King Talon and his noble Shields.

  As Jovari and Koldis flew further south, the king’s words continued to echo in her mind. He called her a murderous witch. Just thinking of the insult made her tears flow faster. He believed her to be guilty without speaking a single word to her—without giving her a chance to explain herself.

  Now, she had something more to worry about. If this king mistrusted her so much, would he grant her a private audience? If he did not wish to speak with her alone, how would she fulfill her promise?

  Upon leaving her home behind, she thought that her biggest challenge would be her journey. After all, all that stood between her and fulfilling her promise was a vast stretch of land. She was so wrong.

  It was becoming increasingly clear, the biggest challenge in fulfilling her promise would be the king himself, and if he didn’t come around, if he killed her before she could fulfill her promise, his kingdom would fall. What a shame that would be. She rolled her eyes, wiping away her tears on the back of her hand. Maybe he deserved it. Perhaps a great man like him should be taken down a notch or two by something as devastating as the loss of a kingdom, but what would that accomplish?

  No, Kane had to be stopped. Dragonwall wasn’t the only kingdom threatened. Nothing more than a thin veil straddled her world and this one. With the Gates unprotected, Kane could easily spread his devastation to the ones she loved.

  A new realization h
it her, unfortunate as it was. The king was her only hope. She needed him. She needed his cooperation.

  Bring him to the light and he will see reason…

  She ground her teeth together. Why did it have to be her job to make him see reason?

  Because you made a promise…

  It wasn’t fair that this kind of responsibility had fallen into her lap. She couldn’t turn her back even if she tried. The pull from the Unbreakable Promise was too strong. It wouldn’t allow her to walk away.

  Promise or not, this is your world too, even if you refuse to admit it…

  She grunted. Of course she refused admit it, but she wasn’t dumb either. She hadn’t missed the comments from Queen Jade and Prince Feowen. Their not so subtle hints about how only a Sprite could find Esterpine, and only a Sprite could have made it through the forest without getting lost. Their meaning wasn’t lost on her. Believing what they said was merely too much to ask.

  Jovari and Koldis flew for hours until the sun was in the middle of the sky. She never knew what time it was anymore. Supposing there was no need, she still disliked the disorientation it caused.

  Her mood remained sullen until at last, Koldis broke the silence with something to distract her. “Weldon is there,” he said.

  “Aye. I see it now,” came Jovari’s answer.

  Weldon? She squinted south, but her eyes saw nothing more than gently rolling hills scorched from the summer’s heat. And then, much to her surprise, nestled amongst the knolls, she spotted the first road she had ever seen in Dragonwall. It was hardly discernable at this height, but it was there, twisting and winding its way in the same direction as the Flat River. The Flat River was the river they had followed south since leaving the forest.

  Following the road south, she nearly gasped with excitement when she discerned a horse pulling a cart. It was miniature, barely the size of her fingertip, and moving much slower than Jovari and Koldis. Soon they overtook it. She could have sworn that the little man sitting at the reins looked up and waved hello with his cap.

  “I would suggest we give the town a wide berth,” Koldis advised. “But I cannot deny my longing for a mug of mead from the Drunken Maiden and a feathered bed.”

  “Koldis, you cannot possibly be serious.” Jovari seemed against the proposition. “Have you seen the way Claire is clothed? You want to parade her through Weldon?”

  She gave an audible tut in response. Her Drengr companions loved talking about her, especially when they believed she couldn’t hear them. And it wasn’t like her clothes were bad. Sure, she had changed out of her Sprite garb and tucked it away, but there wasn’t anything wrong with a sturdy pair of jeans, paired with a T-shirt and a jacket.

  “I am sure she will bring many curious glances, but so too will we. She is not the only one who will stick out. I imagine the people will want to know what brings two Drengr Fairtheoir and a dead body into their midst.”

  “Exactly. Best to avoid such questions,” said Jovari.

  “Since when have we feared questions? We are Drengr. They dare not question us.”

  She hoped very much that Jovari would agree with Koldis, and almost laughed at herself when she realized that it was Koldis she rooted for.

  “I fear the rumors more than I do the questions,” Jovari said. “Besides, since when am I the voice of reason when you are not?”

  “I suppose there is a first for everything.”

  She couldn’t have agreed more with the emerald green dragon flying beside them.

  “Very well. I take it that you are resolved in this matter?”

  “Aye. I am resolved. Besides, Reyr is the true voice of reason, and I do not see him here to stop us.”

  “Well, you are my superior. I dare not argue.” She didn’t mistake the lack of reluctance Jovari displayed, as if he too welcomed the idea of food, drink, and a soft bed. Nor did she miss the snort Koldis responded with.

  It was in that moment that Weldon finally appeared before her. Little wisps of smoke twisted up from tiny chimney stacks, and as they grew closer, slowly descending, she began to make out the little cottages dotting the landscape below. More horse carts now traversed the road they followed.

  Within minutes, they were on the ground. Jovari quickly transformed, explaining their plan while he untied Cyrus from Koldis.

  “Are you sure that it’s wise to show ourselves in the village?” she argued, mimicking Jovari’s original sentiments. She too was eager for the same comforts as they were, but what fun was hearing their conversation if she couldn’t spite them with it?

  “That is for us to worry over. Not you.” Koldis gave her a stern glance.

  “Aren’t you concerned about all the questions and rumors our visit will create?”

  It was difficult, but she did her best to hold back a wicked grin as Jovari and Koldis shared a knowing look.

  “See?” Jovari said telepathically with pursed lips. “I am not the only one thinking reasonably.”

  Koldis glared back in response. “Quit pointing fingers, Jovari. Had you thought reasonably, you would have given your complaints a greater effort.”

  Oh, this was fun. Pretending she couldn’t hear the silent tirade, she shrugged and stirred the pot a little more. “I only brought it up because any reasonably thinking person would use caution. I thought perhaps the two of you could benefit from a voice of reason.” She felt her nostrils twitch as she said this.

  It became clear that they had had enough. “Our actions are not for you to decide or question,” Koldis said, picking up Cyrus and stalking away towards the dirt road. Her nose was now flaring something terrible, so she quickly turned away from Jovari and followed Koldis. It was all she could do to keep from bursting into laughter.

  Little farm houses lined the dirt road leading to the village. Each was of a similar style, possessing thatched roofs and many paned windows. As they got closer, the cottages grew nicer. Some were two and three stories tall with stone roofs. They were not quite perfect. She found it comical that some were leaning slightly to one side or the other as age got the better of them. What she liked most was that many had small fences and pens holding chickens, pigs, what Cyrus called grazers, and horses.

  All sorts of sounds could be heard during their procession, from the children running about making mischief, to the mothers screeching their warnings as they scolded the youngsters. There were shouts of advertisement from the merchants in front of them, clip-clops from horse’s hooves pulling their carts, and many hushed whispers from those who noticed the passing of two Drengr (one carrying a shrouded body) accompanied by a strange girl.

  A sentry holding nothing more than a spear stood watch at the village wall’s stone entry. He said nothing as they approached. He did appear shocked, but it was likely that he thought better of remarking, so he held his tongue.

  They passed under the large archway and entered Weldon. The quaint little village was entirely adorable. Claire found herself smiling as she trailed behind Jovari and Koldis. The cottages here were nicer, unlike their dilapidated neighbors just outside the wall. Most of them were touching with shared walls. Only a difference of paint color and height made each one discernible from the next. They reminded her of Tudor style town houses, though not nearly as fancy as the ones she had seen in pictures.

  There was a sudden squishing sound as she felt her hiking boot sink into a puddle of muck. “You’ve got to be kidding me!” she groaned as she looked down. Without watching where she was going, she had managed to step into a gooey mess of mud. Appalled by the state of the dirt thoroughfare, and her now filthy boot, she crinkled her nose in disgust and continued on.

  Jovari and Koldis failed to see her misfortune, so she set off at a jog to catch them just before they rounded a corner into a nicer part of Weldon. When Jovari did finally notice her, he laughed. “Perhaps watch where you step next time,” he said. She didn’t find it funny at all, and merely scowled at him.

  Ignoring them both, Koldis hailed a man passin
g by. “Tell me, friend, is the mead at the Drunken Maiden still as good as it used to be?”

  Recognition passed over the man’s face. Shocked to be addressed by one of the king’s own, the man bowed deeply to Koldis. “Begging your pardon, Lord Koldis”—It surprised her that the man knew Koldis by name—“I hate to say it but the Drunken Maiden fell under new management. I’d be tryin’ the Flying Pig, were I ye. Up two streets and make a left, if it please ya.”

  “I see. You are certain?”

  “Aye, milord. Best honey mead for a hundred leagues o’ here if you must know.”

  “I highly doubt that,” she heard Jovari mutter as Koldis nodded, tossed the man a coin, and sent him on his way.

  They continued further down the streets of Weldon. “Did you know that man?” she asked Koldis.

  He grunted. “Of course I did not. Why would you ask?”

  “Because he knew your name.”

  Jovari chuckled. “Everyone knows our names, Claire. Best grow accustomed to it.”

  She turned her attention back to Weldon. This time, instead of gazing at the buildings, which had grown even taller, she looked at the people passing by. She finally understood why she stood out. All the women were dressed completely old fashioned just like her companions, and just like Cyrus was when she found him. She should have guessed it, especially because of what the Sprites wore. But seeing this made it real. She very much felt like she was on the set of a movie. She was an outsider in every sense of the word. It didn’t help that all the people looking at her whispered and pointed as she passed, making her slightly uncomfortable.

  She soon found herself eager to leave the street. “They’re all talking about me,” she muttered so that only Jovari and Koldis would hear her.

  “Aye. They are not used to a beautiful maiden such as yourself, gracing their midst,” Jovari said.

  “You and I both know it’s because of how I’m dressed.”