Talon the Black

by Melissa Mitchell

  “Welcome, Lord Reyr! Welcome home!” many cried.

  Some were too young for him to recognize, others he recognized and knew by name. Many had been companions and friends during his time growing up in the fort. All were glad to see him.

  “Reyr!” Davi’s voice sounded in his mind. “You did not tell me you were coming. Welcome home, brother! I have missed you.” His sentiments were the same, and he felt a pang of guilt for not having visited sooner. Far too often, he found himself caught up in the king’s business.

  Descending towards the torch-lit courtyard, his Drengr escorts followed close behind. Their Riders were all smiles, anticipating the happy evening to come. Every time he returned home, Davi insisted upon throwing a most lavish feast. He hadn’t the heart to tell them—this time there would be no feast.

  As he closed in on his destination, he shifted into his human form, landing perfectly on two feet. His Sverak jingled at his side, metal scabbard clanking against his belt. Davi was already strolling happily towards him from an adjacent corridor. They locked into an embrace while others watched, grinning to behold the happy moment. When they pulled apart, Davi clapped him on the back. “Next time, brother, do not wait so long to visit!” His eyes danced. “We will feast well tonight!” he said to those near enough to hear. In a quieter voice he added, “I heard about Cyrus. Are the rumors true? Is he really gone?”

  Unable to vocalize such a devastating confirmation, he merely gave Davi a brief nod. Word traveled fast when the Drengr lent themselves to it. It was very likely that the sweep team he encountered before entering the forest had backtracked close enough to relay the news.

  “And a human girl from Beyond?” Davi whispered. “Is it true then?”

  “Let us talk in private,” he said. Davi agreed, escorting him to the fort leader chambers. The study they entered, which now belonged to Davi, had been used by their father during his younger days. The moment he entered, the familiarity brought memories flooding back. One in particular came to mind: the day he burst in to tell his father that Gemma had become his mate. His father’s proud expression was one he would always cherish.

  Davi took a seat comfortably behind the desk. The position suited him—though he would not have thought so in years past. He admired his brother for stepping up to the responsibility. Davi never anticipated this outcome. As a younger Drengr, he boasted continuously that he and Emmy would fly off into the sunset. They were eager to explore distant lands and discover new peoples. How it must have killed them to settle down.

  He took a seat opposite Davi. “I must be on my way shortly,” he informed Davi, hating his business-like tone.

  Davi looked both surprised and disappointed. “You have only just arrived,” he said. “Surely you can spare a little time. We are all tense. Many could use a bit of merrymaking.” It was true. Even Davi looked worn and tired—much like how he felt.

  “We certainly could,” he said, sighing reluctantly. “But I must return to Jovari and Koldis. We must make haste to reach the capital.” He paused to recall King Talon’s words. The king mistrusted Claire. He seemed certain that she was guilty. This left Reyr in a very tight position. At last he spoke, “The news is true. Cyrus is dead, and a young woman from Beyond flies with us to Kastali Dun.”

  Davi’s expression softened. “I had hoped to find the news false,” he admitted. “Tell me, how did it happen?”

  Reyr shook his head. He did not know. He hated not knowing. The sooner they got answers, the better. But would King Talon choose answers over his own selfish need for justice? “I wish I knew the cause with certainty, Davi. Poison seems likely. Alas, this woman from Beyond is the key. She possesses the answers we seek.” He proceeded to tell Davi of all that had happened since Cyrus’s departure north. The fort leader listened quietly.

  When his recounting reached Belnesse, Davi no longer remained silent. “It cannot be true! The entire city is gone?” he cried, clear devastation written into his expression.

  “It is gone…”

  Davi fell silent. Together, they sat in the dim light of his study. They said nothing in their mutual need for quiet consideration.

  At last, Davi spoke. “So much death and destruction. Tell me of this Mikkin. You trust his word?”

  “I trust it completely.” He relayed everything Mikkin had told him. “I have no reason to believe ill of the man. I saw the burned city myself.”

  “Surely it was a mere cooking fire run astray.”

  “Cooking fire,” he grunted. “If only. There were no survivors aside from Mikkin. This was no mere accident. It was intentional. Dragons live among us once more.”

  Davi appeared incredulous—reluctant to accept such an outlandish explanation—even with his brother as his source. “Rarely do our sweep teams venture so far north. There has never been much need to with the mountains protecting us like a barrier. It is the coast we focus on.” Davi put his forehead in his hands. “If what you say is true, then I have failed them. I have no one to blame but myself.” It was difficult news to bear, especially for Fort Squall’s leader. Those of his territory were Davi’s responsibility. “How was I supposed to anticipate a wild dragon attack? Dragons are legend now, nothing more.”

  “So we thought…” He shook his head, for he too struggled to accept the idea. “None of us could have anticipated this, brother. Blame yourself if you will, but it is a mistake any one of us could have made.”

  Davi flashed him a look of helplessness. “More than forty thousand years have passed without a single sighting,” he said. “Do you know what this means?”

  “It means that the days of old are coming back to haunt us. It means that if we do not do what is necessary, many will die.”

  Davi picked up a quill from his desk, twirling it between his fingers. When he next spoke, he continued to gaze absentmindedly at it. “The wild dragons banded together to burn Belnesse. Wild dragons never organize for a common cause—not since the days of Rage. What do they want?”

  “I can only assume their desires are the same as before.”

  Davi looked up at him. “They have come back to claim ownership and dominion over Dragonwall?”

  “So it would seem, unless we can think of a more likely purpose driving them.”

  “What does King Talon say?”

  As far as Reyr knew, King Talon did not know. Wild Dragons were not discussed during their abrupt conversation. The news would likely come as a shock, especially considering everything else taking place within Dragonwall.

  Davi read his mind. “With Gobelin raids to the east, Vodar sightings across our northern territories, and pirate attacks along the coast, dragons can mean only one thing. Our kingdom is close to war. You must tell him, Reyr. We must prepare our defenses.”

  He agreed, nodding. “You will do what needs to be done with the fort, I presume?”

  “Aye. Would you expect anything else?”

  He trusted Davi’s leadership to its fullest. He was about to say so when the door behind them burst open. They both turned to find Lady Emmy. She stood stock still, her face white with fear and agitation. The two of them rose, and for a moment they all fell silent, gazing upon each other.

  Emmy was Davi’s mate. She knew all that Davi knew, for the minds of mates were melded, and it became clear to Reyr that Emmy’s features mirrored everything Davi kept hidden. They were afraid for Fort Squall, afraid for their people, and afraid for their lives.

  “Wild dragons brought nothing but death and destruction upon our people,” she whispered from the doorway. “Our sole existence was to rid the world of them. You cannot possibly believe they are back.” She looked at Davi, as if begging him for comfort where there was none.

  Davi and Emmy had every right to be scared. They all did. Wild dragons had far less to lose compared with their Drengr cousins. It left his people at a disadvantage. The dragons had no riders to protect. They lacked the humanity that afforded better judgement. Everyone knew that dragons were bloodthirsty
warmongers who thrived on death and destruction, though the bards would have people believe otherwise.

  “They will feast on our undoing,” Emmy said, walking forward as Davi took her into his arms. Fortunately, Emmy was resilient. It did not take long for Davi to comfort her before they found themselves sitting and talking like they used to do, discussing strategy and trading news. Aside from everything else, the fort was doing well for itself. Even now, searches were underway to accommodate its need for support.

  When they discovered his hunger, for he was quite hungry after so much flying, Emmy had serving staff bring meals up for them. He ate in a rush. “It is a shame you must go,” Emmy said. “Your nephew will be sore over it. He talks often of you.”

  “His search goes well, I take it?”

  “Aye. Quite well.” Davi was beaming as he discussed his beloved son. “Still no mate yet, but he is young. I am confident.”

  Reyr nodded. “He will find her. As you say, he is still very young.”

  At last, he took his leave, much to the disappointment of all, but he was too eager to return to his companions. The idea of them alone and exposed to the Vodar, should the wraiths return, left him uneasy. He especially disliked being away from Claire. He felt that it was his responsibility to look after her now. With her being many leagues away, he could hardly do so.

  He flew all night, and well into the following day, trekking south. As it was before, the wind was not in his favor. At the end of the day, as the sun crept towards the horizon, Jovari reached out to him.

  “We have made camp along the Flat River. There is a grove of trees south of Weldon. We will wait for you here.”

  Weldon—he knew of the town. “I should be there by nightfall. What of Claire? No problems while I was away?”

  “Of course not. Claire is in good hands. After some time with her, we have decided that she is not the nuisance we thought her to be.” Something in Jovari’s tone was different. Had he finally warmed towards the woman?

  With an extra burst of speed, he pushed himself onward. At last, after darkness had fallen, he spotted a small glowing campfire nestled amongst a grove of trees. Breathing a sigh of relief, he descended.

  “Welcome,” came the voices of Jovari and Koldis. He transformed before landing, surveying their camp. In truth, his gaze searched for one thing, and only when he saw Claire sitting beside the fire looking serenely up at him, did he allow himself to relax. She was safe. They were all well.

  “We’ve got stew,” Claire said as she stirred a pot over the fire. Eagerly he went and took up a seat. He was just about to spoon some of the broth into his mouth when a familiar voice greeted him. It was the king, and he was eager for news.

  32

  Eigaden Planes

  Claire sloshed stew everywhere the moment King Talon’s voice bombarded her mind. Reyr had only just returned from his trip west, and the king’s contact was not something she was expecting.

  “Whoa! Careful now,” Jovari said. He took his bowl from her, eyeing her curiously. With her focus set on the new conversation taking place between Reyr and the king, she hardly heard a word from Jovari, nor did she feel the sting from the hot soup burning her hand. At this very moment, nothing else was important.

  Unease crept into the pit of her stomach. After their previous exchange two days prior, she was wary of what the king might say. It came as no surprise when their discussion quickly turned from funeral preparations to her.

  “The people cry for justice, Reyr.”

  “We all cry for justice, Your Grace.” Reyr’s tone was respectful. He was always so polite. In his shoes, she would have lost her nerve.

  “By the gods Reyr! You could have saved us from this added burden.”

  There was a moment of hesitation from Reyr. “Burden, Your Grace?”

  “Yes, burden. The instant you found that girl standing over Cyrus, you should have slit her throat.”

  “Your Grace—”

  “Saffra tells me she was found covered in his blood. What more proof is needed?”

  Her heart lurched. Saffra? She recalled the name. Perhaps Cyrus had mentioned this Saffra person in their discussions. It was hard to say given everything he had told her.

  “Your Grace, with all due respect, there ought to be a fair trial.”

  She awaited the king’s response with bated breath.

  “Yes, I have begrudgingly agreed to a trial. Still, many of the council members have argued against it. They are calling for her immediate death.”

  Immediate death? The words reverberated through her mind as the ground began to spin. This was not how things were supposed to go. She began to panic.

  “Immediate death, Your Grace? It is unanimous then? There has been a vote?”

  There was a pause before the king responded. “No, it is not unanimous. We took a vote today. One vote remains in opposition.”

  “Whose?”

  “Lady Saffra maintains her stance.”

  Surprised, she sat stiff as a board. A realization hit her. Was this mysterious woman, this Lady Saffra, all that stood in the way of her execution? Her eyes snapped to Reyr’s face. He frowned down at his bowl of stew.

  “When you say stance…”

  “Saffra maintains that Claire is innocent.”

  Without realizing it, she exhaled a loud sigh of relief. A weight lifted from her chest. Someone was on her side. “Is everything all right, Claire?” Jovari forced her attention away from the secret discussion. “You look upset. I certainly hope you plan to eat sometime tonight.” She looked over to him and nodded, noticing that he and Koldis had nearly finished their stew. She dished up a bowl for herself.

  “Your Grace, I believe Saffra has good reason to claim Claire’s innocence. I too must side with her,” said Reyr. She nearly whooped at Reyr’s response. He believed her. After all this time she had finally won him over.

  “You are being careless, Reyr,” the king said. “I know you. You have always been quick to forgive and forget. You have spent too much time traveling with this girl. Perhaps you have forgotten that she is an outsider.”

  Her happiness quickly faded and was replaced by the rapidly growing enmity she felt towards this ruler of Dragonwall. What was his problem? If Reyr believed her, why couldn’t he?

  “Perhaps you are correct, Your Grace,” said Reyr. “Yet, Claire has shown no signs of dan—”

  “You do not know what she is capable of, Reyr! Have you considered that she claims an Unbreakable Promise simply as a foolproof way of manipulating you?”

  Once more, Reyr hesitated before answering. “I considered it, Your Grace, and I believe it unlikely.”

  “Cyrus would never do such a thing, Reyr. I command you to withdraw your trust from this girl. Until there has been a full trial, she is guilty.”

  Her heart sank. Reyr begrudgingly accepted his king’s command. She could hardly fault him for it. He was too honorable. The conversation ended thereafter. Pretending she heard nothing, she turned her attention to her stew. If Reyr discovered her ability, it would only make matters worse. He would be furious if he found out she had secretly listened to everything. Right now, she needed all the trust she could get.

  Try as she might, she couldn’t eat a bite of dinner. She pushed the chunks of meat around in her bowl. Her appetite was ruined. When the others began chatting about Reyr’s trip, she poured the contents back into the pot hoping they might not notice.

  Her companions talked long into the night about Reyr’s brother and preparations to come. Under different circumstances, she would have been interested in the conversation. She was eager to learn everything she could about Dragonwall, but in her current mood, exhausted as she was, she curled into a ball and tried her hardest not to cry.

  The next morning they departed early, flying south. She noticed no difference in Reyr’s behavior towards her, though she expected him to turn cold after the king’s command. It was an uneventful day. She thought perhaps the king would contact them
again. Truthfully, she dreaded it, but he did not, nor did he reach out to any of them the following day.

  As the days passed, her mind often drifted to the king. Each time that happened, she grew angry. The king considered her guilty without any evidence. How could he be so stubborn? So obtuse? His narrow-mindedness infuriated her.

  The night before they were set to arrive, her nerves took a turn for the worse. All sorts of scenarios flashed through her mind. If everyone on the Council wanted her dead, then she would not be safe in the capital when she arrived. If the king planned to try her as a criminal, how would she relay Cyrus’s message? How would she fulfill her promise? Would she ever get the chance to speak to him alone?

  That night, she tossed and turned, getting no sleep at all. When she grew fed up with her aching shoulders and back, long before the sun had risen, she got up to find Reyr. It was his turn to keep watch over their little camp.

  When he saw her coming, he patted the ground beside him, inviting her to sit. It was rare that she ever got time alone with him. They were silent for a while before she worked up the nerve to say anything. “Reyr, we never got a chance to talk about what happened with the Marble Dragon.”

  “That is true. I forgot all about it,” he said. “Why don’t you explain what happened.”

  She eagerly obliged, relaying every detail. She held back her suspicions because she worried that the experience had something to do with her ability to hear the Drengr.

  “It is strange, to be certain. I have never heard of such a thing,” he said at last.

  “So you believe me then?”

  “Aye, I do not think you would make this story up. It is too far-fetched. Besides, some of the things you mention are written in history.” His confirmation was reassuring. Perhaps she wasn’t crazy. With all that had happened, she was starting to believe it.

  “What do you mean, written in history?” she asked.

  “Well, for instance, the woman you described seeing in your mind is Queen Isabella.”