“That woman was a Sprite queen?” At the time of the occurrence, she knew little about the Sprites. But she remembered seeing the woman’s appearance and the markings upon her skin.
“She was Queen of the Sprites at the time. In fact, Queen Isabella was Queen Jade’s aunt.”
She sucked in a breath, unprepared for that revelation. “But, why was she inside of the Marble Dragon’s memories?”
“Some legends claim that it was she who turned the infamous dragon to stone.”
“Didn’t all the dragons come from stone?”
Reyr chuckled. “Did Cyrus tell you that?” At first she hesitated, but then she nodded. He smiled. “You know, when this is all over, I would like to hear all that he told you.”
“When this is all over, I would be happy to grant your request. So, tell me about the dragons, if they were created from stone, who made them?”
Reyr contemplated her request. “I suppose the sun is not yet due to rise, so we have time. Make yourself comfortable.”
She was as comfortable as she was going to get.
He began his tale. “It is said that the world did not always have dragons. Ages ago they were created—carved from stone by powerful sorcerers known as the Asarlaí.”
She knew about the Asarlai from Cyrus—Kane was one of them. They were dangerous and too powerful for their own good.
“Dissatisfied with their already impressive powers, a group of Asarlaí known as the Five, sought to rule the world. It was they who worked tirelessly, chiseling from colorful rock the beastly forms that would later be called dragons. Before breathing magic into the enchanted stone, none of the Five knew what to expect, so as a fail-safe, they each removed a small palm-sized chunk from the lifeless bodies.” A thrill shot through her. She knew exactly where this tale was going. “These stones were polished and rounded, later becoming known as the Dragon Stones. The Dragon Stones offered a way of rendering inert the giant dragons should they become too powerful. The Asarlaí could not stand the idea of losing control; after all, the world was theirs to rule.
“The dragons cooperated with the Five for a time, using telepathic powers bestowed upon them to communicate amongst themselves and with their makers. Together they claimed the territory, later named Dragonwall, in honor of the mighty beasts who conquered it. Thus dawned the Second Age.”
She grew increasingly excited.
“The dragons were too much like their masters—greedy, power hungry, and proud. They truly believed that they were never meant to be controlled, so they plotted in secret against the Five, stealing the Stones and killing their creators.”
At this, she grunted. Even from the start, the Stones had a terrible past—a past built on deceit and treachery.
Reyr stared out over the dusky landscape as he spoke. “After killing their masters, the five dragons did not stop there. They swept through Dragonwall in search of any remaining Asarlaí, sending the last of the great beings into hiding. Some say they traveled to distant lands, sailing across the sea.”
“So they all left? The Asarlaí?”
“Aye. We have not seen or heard from them since.”
His words left her screaming inside. She wanted so badly to tell him about Kane. Even though she knew it was impossible, she opened her mouth and tried. The words were formed and everything, but just like before, no sound came out.
“Is everything all right?” To Reyr, she must have looked like a fish out of water, or a croaking frog who’d lost its voice. Clearing her throat and then coughing a couple of times, she nodded. “Sorry. Just a tickle.”
He frowned. “Very well. Shall I continue?”
“Please.”
“When the dragons were happy with their work they settled down, proliferating and multiplying throughout Dragonwall. Thirteen clans were formed. These clans divided up Dragonwall into territories that they presided over. For the most part, they left Dragonwall's habitants alone to work the land as they saw fit. Great houses were established with long ranging dynasties. Humanity thrived. Aside from the occasional Gobelin raid, humans and beings of magic worked and lived in harmony. Over time, the Dragon Stones were lost and even forgotten.”
“Oh,” was the only thing she could think to say. Anything else might have given her secrets away. All she needed was for Reyr to discover the little leather pouch hiding in her bra. If that happened, her entire mission would be blown. “So what happened to the thirteen clans?”
“Rage—Rage happened.”
“Who is Rage?” Her curiosity was stoked once more.
“Rage was the leader of the Ice Clan. He was the leader of that general you saw, the one we now call the Marble Dragon, if history is written correctly.”
“Wow.”
Reyr broke into a chant:
Thirteen clans there were—
Thirteen clans when Rage did rise—
Thirteen clans to conquer.
And so he fought with tooth and claw,
Then pronounced himself their ruler.
When he finished, she was left to process the meaning. “So Rage tried to conquer them and take control of the clans?”
“Very good. Yes.”
“That’s greedy.”
“The dragons were greedy. Rage went to each of the clans petitioning his cause. The Fire Clan was first to swear allegiance to him, followed shortly thereafter by the Storm Clan and the Desert Clan. Soon, even the Cave Clan came out of hiding to profess their loyalty. However, there were many who did not. One clan in particular, the Iron Clan, rallied the remaining clans to fight against Rage, but it was not enough. Rage's evil acts washed across the land instilling fear into the inhabitants of Dragonwall, giving all the dragons a bad name, even those who wished to continue living in peace.
“As a result, they were hunted—quite brutally slaughtered—the good ones and the bad. After all, how could the poor humans distinguish between an evil dragon like those of the Ice Clan, and a good dragon, like those of the Iron Clan, who simply wanted peace and to be left alone.”
“I thought all dragons were bad,” she said. Reyr shook his head, a strange expression crossing his face. “No. Not all were bad.” His response surprised her, but she silenced her questions so that he could continue.
“It was a dark time,” he said. “Very bad for dragon kind. Then came a young dragon from the Iron Clan by the name of Vigilance. Seeking to unite the population of Dragonwall against this evildoer, he wanted the humans and magical peoples to band together and fight alongside the rallying clans, but Vigilance had a dilemma.”
“I can already guess,” she said.
“Can you?” He grinned.
“Vigilance didn’t have a way of communicating with people, did he? Since he was a dragon, and dragons can’t actually talk, how could he tell them he was good?”
“You are correct. Dragons cannot talk out loud, and humans cannot hear the telepathic voices of dragons.”
“No humans?” Her heart began to race. She hadn’t anticipated this lead-in.
“No, no humans. Humans do not possess the ability for telepathy. Some Sprites can, yes, but humans have never been able to communicate with us.”
“What about your mates?”
“Ah. That is different. When a Drengr develops a bond with his mate the telepathic ability is established to allow for telepathic communication.”
“I see.” Another question suddenly popped into her mind. “How is a bond developed?”
“You have many questions, Claire.” He laughed in good humor, flashing her a charming and utterly disarming smile. “Already we have digressed.”
“Sorry,” she mumbled.
“Shall I continue?” he asked. She nodded. “Good. Where was I?” He paused for a moment. “Ah, yes. Vigilance needed a way to bridge the communication gap between dragon and human. He needed a way to explain that not all dragons were evil. He went in search of a solution, one that would change Dragonwall forever.”
“He became a Dre
ngr,” she whispered, guessing the end of the story.
Reyr nodded before he continued, “In the Gable Forest, Vigilance came across a powerful Sprite named Queen Isabella.”
Her eyes widened. “The same queen I saw? She created the Drengr?”
“Aye. Queen Isabella was so beautiful and so enchanting, that at the first sight of her, Vigilance bowed his great spiked head and surrendered himself to her, pleading with her to help him defeat Rage.”
She felt goosebumps prickle up on her skin. The story was wrapping itself around her, and she could imagine it very clearly, Vigilance in the Gable Forest bowing his dragon form before the beautiful Sprite queen.
“Fortunately, Queen Isabella heard the pleas of Vigilance. She was one blessed with telepathic abilities. She took pity upon him, offering a trade. This trade would ensure his success, but granting his wish would come at a cost: It would change him, and that change would be irreversible. Vigilance willingly agreed, desperate to do anything and everything to save Dragonwall. And so she blessed him with humanity, bestowing upon him the ability to shift into human form.
“In so doing, the Sprite queen gave him a way of appealing to the people so that he might rally Dragonwall's inhabitants to his side. Several of his comrades followed suit, taking on Queen Isabella's blessing and becoming Drengr, which means dragon warrior in the old language.”
She was awestruck. The retelling was more than she had bargained for. Reyr was grinning, clearly pleased that he could offer up such entertainment. “Vigilance and his newly formed force of Drengr rallied the humans to their side, and they did not stop there. Sprites and Dwargs joined their cause.
“Never had Dragonwall witnessed such a uniting of peoples. Together, they battled the clans that supported Rage, driving them from the lands until all that remained was the Ice Clan, but they too eventually fell in some of the greatest battles Dragonwall ever witnessed. When Vigilance defeated Rage in a show of aerial combat, the world rejoiced. Since then, the habitants have flourished under the rule of the Drengr Monarchy.”
“So where does the Marble Dragon come in?”
He chuckled. “I believe the Ice Clan sold him out.”
“They betrayed him?”
“I think so. Perhaps it was done to save their own hides. Isabella found him and battled him, at last turning him into stone. I suppose she intended to punish him for all eternity, forcing him to dwell forever upon the land as a monument.”
“That’s…”
“An impressive story. I know. We take great pride in our history.”
“Thank you for telling me,” she said. Now was perhaps the only time she would have with Reyr before their journey’s end. It had to be a good sign that he was willing to open up about his ancestors.
“I am always glad to share history with those who are willing to listen,” he replied.
“I admit, I find your world fascinating. We don’t have magic where I come from. There are no Gobelins or Dwargs, and especially no Sprites, dragons, or Drengr.”
“It seems rather boring to me.”
She laughed at his bluntness. “Well, yes. I suppose it is.” She didn’t bother telling him all the things that they did have—things that Cyrus was amazed by. It would be too difficult to explain technology.
“Reyr?”
“Hmm?”
“What is going to happen to me when we arrive?” She was hesitant. “I know I broke the law. According to Dragonwall law, my people are forbidden from entering into your kingdom. And then there’s the whole Cyrus thing. Everyone thinks I killed him.”
Reyr stiffened. He was not expecting such a direct question. “How do you know the law about the Gate? Did Cyrus tell you?”
“Yes,” she whispered. “He said the crime was punishable by death.”
“He was correct.”
“Are they going to—are they going to kill me? Is the king going to kill me?”
For a moment, Reyr did not answer. When she looked over at him, he was gazing east, watching the sun peep up from the horizon. “The king is suffering from a great deal of grief.”
“So are you!” she cried, trying not to let her frustration show. “But at least you’re being reasonable.”
“Aye. I try to be. The king…”
“The king, what?”
“He has been through far more in his lifetime than many have had to suffer. He will come around.”
It took a lot of strength to hold her tongue. Life experiences were no excuse. “Don’t let him kill me, okay? I need to speak with him about Cyrus.”
“Aye. You mentioned that when we found you.”
“Well, I wasn’t lying. Cyrus told me everything.”
“I see, and did he tell you about the Dragon Stones?”
She choked on her spit and began coughing loudly.
“I shall take that as a yes.” Their gazes met. With only her eyes, she begged him to see into her soul. If only he could read her innocence. “Look, Claire, I cannot make any promises. You made your choice. You chose your path. I will speak to the king when and if he will hear me. I will do my best to facilitate a meeting between the two of you.”
“Thank you.”
The sun was free of the horizon now, and the morning was already warming up. Reyr suggested that they get some breakfast and depart. Departing was the last thing she wanted, knowing what she would soon face. What she failed to tell Reyr was how terrified she was. Not knowing her fate was a scary thing.
33
Eigaden Planes
Claire savored her last day in the sky. She loved flying, and though it made her sore and achy, she adored the freedom of the sky, the cool wind that whistled in her ears, and the sense of separation between her and the ground below. The closer she got to the capital, the more she wished she could remain in the sky forever.
A deep foreboding settled over her, which intensified around mid-day when the king’s voice sounded in her mind. “How long until you are upon the city?”
“Several hours still, my king,” was Jovari’s response. “We will arrive before night falls.”
“Good. I need not remind you that we are to pay proper respect to Cyrus when you arrive. All the traditions will be upheld,” said the king.
A procession through the city was scheduled for that evening. Cyrus would then be taken to the pyre and burned by the fiery breath of King Talon himself. Following this, three days of funeral games would commence, as was custom for their people.
“We will observe the proper grieving time before we divert our attention to this girl from Beyond.”
“Of course, Your Grace. What then is to be done in the meantime, until Claire can speak with you?” Reyr asked.
“Speak with me? She will not be speaking with me. I will face her at her trial, as is custom for criminals such as her, and if she is found guilty of killing Cyrus, she will beg for mercy before the end.”
His words were so cruel. There in the sky, she thought she might be sick. She was not generally weak of stomach, but here and now, the king’s words did not sit well with her. Was this the monster she was up against?
“I do not think that is wise, Your Grace,” Reyr said. She sensed the control in his voice. It was easy to see that the king was upsetting him, but he hid it well.
“My verdict is not up for negotiation, Reyr. When she arrives, the guards will be there to take her.”
“Take her where?”
Beneath her legs, Reyr’s golden scales were heating up as the fires within him were stoked. She began to shift uncomfortably.
“The guards will be there to take her to the dungeons. Where else do we keep criminals awaiting trial?”
“The Dungeons?”
For a moment her heart stopped. Dungeons were frightening facets of fairy tales and medieval stories like the ones she so often read. They weren’t supposed to be real, but here they were very much so, and that scared her.
“Your Grace, if I may—”
“You may not,
Jovari!” The king lashed out, his voice ominous and commanding. She glanced over at the sapphire blue dragon beside her. Just as the three of them began to protest, the king silenced them. “These are my commands,” he said. “They are not up for negotiation. This girl has poisoned your minds. Do not assume her innocence.”
Silence fell between them. At last, she thought perhaps the conversation was at an end, but it was not. The king’s voice sounded once more, this time it was softer. “The three of you have spent far too much time with this outsider from Beyond. It is a dangerous thing to fraternize with the enemy. When you arrive, you are to sever all contact and leave her to the guards. That is final.”
“Yes, Your Grace,” came their compliant responses. The king did not acknowledge them thereafter. All she heard was Reyr’s frustrated growl as it reverberated through her legs. The others said nothing.
She wanted to scream. So many emotions flooded through her—anger, frustration, fear, especially fear. What the hell was she thinking? She should have let Cyrus die alone. Damn him for doing this to her!
Now, she was about to find herself in a huge city, all alone. What was worse, the king wanted her locked up like a common criminal. He failed to see what she was doing for him. He was blind. Only then did she finally admit to herself that her quest was becoming hopeless. She needed an audience with the king, not seclusion tucked away in a cell, or a trial in front of the kingdom.
A tear freed itself and slid down her cheek. That falling tear made her angry. She had cried too many times since losing Cyrus. Enough was enough. Wiping the tear, repositioning the Dragon Stones pouch in her bra, and squaring her shoulders, she decided then and there that she was going to beat this king. If he wanted to behave like a pompous, selfish, nearsighted brat, she was going to fight back. The first step in doing so was refraining from tears. She had to be strong, or at least pretend to be, but such things were always easier said than done.
All too quickly the day passed, with her mood taking many shades between dismal and fearful. Long before Kastali Dun materialized on the horizon, she heard the city’s Drengr. The cacophony of voices began as intermittent whispers, growing in strength with each beat of Reyr’s golden wings. Closer and closer the King’s Shields brought her, and louder still the voices became, until she could make out full statements.
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