Talon the Black

by Melissa Mitchell

  Ignoring Talon’s accusation, he backtracked. “You think killing her will bring Cyrus back? That it will fix this mess? Is that what you intended by it? Slit her throat and be done?”

  At the mention of Cyrus, Talon’s shoulders dropped a measure. He began to look more human. “I admit it crossed my mind, but no. I do not intend to kill her, only to scare her.”

  “Scare her?” He nearly choked before repeating the words again for emphasis. “Gods, Talon! Of all the insane things you have done in your many lifetimes of years, this is the most reckless and dishonorable.” Now was not the time to scold him. When the dragon within finally receded, Talon would feel remorse enough.

  “Reyr, she humiliated me.”

  “She gave you no less than you deserve! Like a cat to bait, you threw yourself right back at her. You are the king, not the reckless youth of your past! Furthermore, by coming here tonight, you have merely proven correct everything she said against you.”

  “All I have done was done to protect this kingdom.”

  “At the expense of your reason! And you have done splendidly until now—until she came into the fold.”

  “Reason? Bah!”

  “I told you she was innocent, Talon. Did we not advise you to forgo the trial? Did we not advise you to speak with her alone as she wished?”

  “If you believe she is innocent, that merely confirms my theory. Your mind is poisoned to her.”

  “I am not under any spell!” he roared, finally losing control of himself. “She has not bewitched us. You merely fail to see what we see.”

  Talon was unused to Reyr yelling at him. It unsettled him and he fell silent. Perhaps he was finally paying the matter adequate consideration.

  “Talon, when you asked me to take up my oath as one of your six, I made a promise to you. Do you remember? I vowed that I would be truthful to you, even when the truth was difficult to bear. I told you that I would never hold myself back, even if what you needed to hear was unpleasant. Well I tell you this now: you have made many poor decisions, but this one is both dishonorable and appalling.”

  He waited for a response but none came, so he continued. “You also made me a promise. Do you remember? We made a bargain long ago—remind me of it again.”

  Reluctantly, Talon sighed. The beast was stepping back into the shadows of his mind. This was a more familiar Talon, the Talon he swore his oath to: reluctant, headstrong, stubborn as an ass, but reasonable. “I promised that if you stood by my side, that if you joined my six, I would grant you one favor, anything within my means to give, at the time of your choosing. But you cannot possibly mean to spend your favor now—not on this woman.”

  “That is indeed what you promised, and I intend to spend it on this woman. The time has come for you to grant me the one favor you promised. I wish for you to take my side on this matter and adhere to my wishes regarding Claire.”

  Talon was cornered. He gritted his teeth and scowled as he considered the request. “I suppose I have no choice in the matter?”

  Reyr shook his head.

  “Very well. What then do you suggest I do, since you are clearly wiser than I?”

  “I suggest you go in there and put things right. Fix this mess you have created.”

  Talon sighed. He placed both hands on the back of his head and walked several paces away. His back was visible, but his face was hidden. He was thinking things over. The relief Reyr felt was formidable. Perhaps one day Talon would ultimately succumb to the black dragon within, but today was not that day.

  After several long minutes, Talon faced him. “How, Reyr? How can I fix this? Will you go talk to her? Will you go and find out what truly happened?”

  “Oh no!” He held up his hands in refusal, taking several steps away. “This is your mess, Talon. Besides, she will tell me nothing. It is you she must speak to.” He paused to consider Claire’s circumstances. She was waiting inside desperate to tell Talon whatever Cyrus asked her to. The image of her on the rack flashed into his mind. He shook his head, still struggling to believe it. “Gods, Talon. You had her gagged?! She probably would have told you everything you needed to know. You should never punish others for standing up to you—especially when you deserve it.”

  “I still do not trust her.”

  “It seems you will never trust her until you talk to her. I will wait out here. If I hear so much as a yelp, if you so much as harm a hair on her golden head…” He let the sentence go unfinished. Talon was far more powerful than he but he made the threat anyway. He knew his king would deliver on his end of the bargain. A single favor for a life spent in servitude to his king. Was this favor truly worth it?

  At last Talon nodded, leaving him to breathe a sigh of relief. “I hope I will not regret this,” he muttered, stalking towards the door. His shoulders slumped; he had been beaten.

  “I assure you, my king, you will not.”

  Without another word, Talon opened the door and vanished into the depths of the cell.

  41

  Kastali Dun

  Claire couldn’t see her captor. She strained her gaze, but King Talon paced just out of sight. His footfalls were heavy. With each one her anxiety grew. She tried to anticipate his next move, but he was as unpredictable as a rabid dog. Worse still, she was helpless to fight back.

  Restraints cut into her skin, harsh and insistent, gnawing at her, reminding her that King Talon’s control was absolute. The smell of aged blood was pungent and rotten. It made her queasy. All around her, dim torchlight cast its orange essence upon moldering walls, throwing up monstrous shadows from medieval devices. The chamber itself whispered to her, tortured like the souls who came and went. It was meant for a single purpose, to break the spirit and shatter the soul.

  She wanted to be brave. She wanted to be strong and fearless. Those were the marks of a true heroine. Instead, she was a terrified girl sinking in quicksand, weighed down by the irons of her captivity. Cyrus should have chosen better.

  A heroine is not born, she is made…

  A sudden silence fell: The king’s pacing had stopped. Her muscles tensed and her fear redoubled. She craned her head around and caught a movement in the corner of her eye. All too quickly, her captor came up beside her. She flinched at the sight of him.

  “Relax. I am going to remove your gag.” The king no longer sounded like a snarling beast. His voice was composed and quiet as if nothing had happened, as if his blade never kissed her throat, as if the guards never dragged her from her cell. Without waiting for permission, he reached behind her head and untied the rope, tossing it aside. Then he stepped out of view.

  She moved her jaw from side to side, trying to relax the muscles of her mouth. More sounds came from behind. King Talon was picking something up. She heard metal graze the stone wall. A tool perhaps? Something to cause pain? She panicked anew. As quickly as he disappeared, the king reappeared holding the weapon of Cyrus’s demise—the Vodar short sword. She exhaled.

  “You are lucky to have earned Reyr’s good grace,” he said. “I do not think you deserve it, but he gives it nonetheless. Luckier still, I owe him a favor. Since you refused to explain this during your trial, we will start here.” He gave her a stern glare as if the trial was her fault. “Tell me how you came by this sword.”

  She wanted to tell him to shove the sword up where the sun didn’t shine, but the fight in her was gone. “I pulled it from Cyrus minutes before he died.” Her throat was so raw that she could barely talk.

  “And how did it come to be there?”

  “The Vodar wraiths stabbed him with it.” It was the first time in weeks she could finally speak their name—that alone was liberating.

  “The Vodar?” His eyebrows pulled together, stretching the scars on his surrounding skin. “Were these the same Vodar wraiths who attacked you on the plains of Kengr?”

  “Yes,” she whispered. If he was surprised, it didn’t show. He placed the poisoned blade flat in his hands and studied it anew, as if seeing it for the fi
rst time. As he did so, his scowl deepened.

  “You were wounded during that attack, yes?” The king looked up at her. Surely by now he knew every detail of her journey. She nodded so he continued, “I am told your skin blackened until you were healed by the Sprites. Is that true?”

  “That is correct, and the same thing happened to Cyrus’s skin when he was injured.”

  “And he died within minutes of being stabbed?” The king appeared skeptical. “Poison does not spread that quickly for a Drengr—his magic would have held it. I saw his body. His entire upper half was black as tar.”

  “That is because the Vodar attacked twice.” She knew what was happening here: Talon was attempting to find flaws in her story. “The first attack was seven days prior to the second. If you let me explain, I can start at the beginning.” Having patience with King Talon was a challenge, especially after nearly getting killed by him. Her fear kept her in line, but it did not heal her hatred, it magnified it. She wanted so badly to see King Talon suffer, to snarl at him, spit at him, treat his ignorance with scorn. Instead, she kept her voice calm and cooperated.

  It takes grace to remain kind in cruel circumstances…

  At last the king agreed. “You may start from the beginning.” He moved away to set the sword against the wall before returning. “Leave nothing out. And”—he gave her a look of warning—“do not lie or I shall know.”

  She wasn’t interested in lying. Starting her narrative with Cyrus falling from the sky, she described what she saw. “When I went after him, I thought I was going to find a dragon. Instead I found a man who was wounded and bleeding to death.”

  “You helped him?” The king’s face had become impassive. Perhaps he wondered how a woman so evil as her could be so kind.

  “I am not the villain you believe me to be.”

  He grunted. “We will see about that. What happened to Cyrus?”

  “I saved his life.”

  “You used magic?”

  “No, I can’t do magic. I stitched him up and stopped the bleeding.” Her mind returned to the scene. It was a wonder she managed to stay conscious with all that blood. The king began pacing beside her. She did not allow it to distract her as she continued with her retelling. She told him about the belongings she found with Cyrus, and how she went through them to find clues about who he was.

  “I should have known something was up when I saw the Dragon Stones.” The words were out before she realized what she was saying. At the mention of the Dragon Stones, the king froze. He turned slowly until he faced her.

  “What did you say?”

  He did not yet know she had the Stones. She nervously swallowed. “I—I said that I should have—”

  “I know what you said,” he hissed. “Where are they?”

  “If—if you let me finish, I can explain.”

  In a flourish of movement he bent over the rack, placing a hand on each side of her. His face hovered over hers, too close for comfort. “I promised Reyr I would not hurt you, but if you do not tell me where the Stones are, so help me…”

  “I—I have them,” she squeaked, afraid to aggravate him further.

  “Where?” His expression relaxed a measure before he stood and moved away.

  “In my cell, buried in the dirt under my blanket.”

  He moved away and turned his back on her for several moments, giving Reyr a silent command. “Reyr, go to Claire’s cell. She claims the Dragon Stones are buried in the dirt under her blanket.”

  “The Dragon Stones?” Reyr’s shock was evident. “She cannot have them. We asked her. She—she…” It was the sound of a man betrayed. Her heart squeezed tightly. She wanted to tell him, she wanted to tell all of them from the start, but her promise wouldn’t allow it. “I will go and check.”

  King Talon faced her once more, his expression set. “I have sent Reyr to confirm your information. I hope for your sake they are there.”

  Courage was difficult, but she worked up enough to respond. “You hope? For my sake? Do not deny it, you would like nothing more than to kill me. I doubt you hope at all. If anything, you hope they are not there so you can finish what you started.”

  He angrily rounded on her. “Would you like your gag back?”

  She bit her tongue to keep from firing back.

  Minutes passed before she picked out Reyr’s voice from the many others in her mind. “Talon! They are here. I can hardly believe it. Two: one black and one gold.”

  “Thank the gods!” She heard the king’s relief, but when he next spoke he gave her coldness. “It seems you were telling the truth after all.” There were no thanks to be had. She’d faithfully protected the Stones, ferrying them across Dragonwall. In return, she received his scorn. “I do not know if I should be relieved or furious. You allowed all of us to believe the Stones were lost, that we were doomed.”

  “May I finish my story now?” She spoke through clenched teeth.

  “Fine! Get on with it.”

  “Gladly,” she muttered. Her attitude was coming back as her fear receded. “Cyrus stayed with me for seven days before the Vodar returned a second time. During that time, he learned to trust me. He told me everything.”

  “Everything?”

  “Yes, everything. And before he died, when he believed no one would come, he made me promise to tell you.”

  “So you made an Unbreakable Promise?”

  “His choice, not mine. Believe me, I wanted nothing to do with you or the stupid Stones at that point. Cyrus was dying in my arms, so I couldn’t deny him what he begged of me. Plus, I owed him a favor…”

  The king nodded. Free to continue, she knew it was finally time to fulfill the Promise. “As you know, everything started with Saffra’s vision. Unfortunately, you sent Cyrus on a mission that was doomed from the start. When he got the Stones from the Sprites, he was ambushed. That was the plan all along. Why do you think Saffra had that vision?”

  King Talon opened and closed his mouth several times before speaking, “The thief manipulated us. He led us to believe the Stones were in danger so that we would remove them from the Sprite’s protection.”

  “Bravo!” She sarcastically congratulated him. It didn’t take a genius to put those pieces together.

  “What—what happened when he was ambushed?”

  “Kane tried to take the Stones. They fought each other and Cyrus broke into his mind.”

  “Kane?”

  “Kane is the Asarlaí who planted the vision,” she said, telling him about Kane’s plan to capture all five Dragon Stones to end the Drengr monarchy. He already had three stones, a fact King Talon was shocked to discover.

  “But if he has three, and he nearly had the other two…” It was evident that King Talon finally understood the severity of their situation.

  “You would have been screwed. Good thing Cyrus protected them. Good thing I protected them.”

  King Talon was no longer angry. In fact, he looked rather pale. He wasn’t taking the news well. Seeing him worry was strangely satisfying. Better still, the more she told him, the better she felt. An invisible string was wrapped tightly around her like a snake; the more she told him, the looser it got. Soon it would fully unravel.

  “Did Reyr talk to you about the wild dragon attack on Belnesse?” she asked, knowing Reyr had.

  King Talon stopped his pacing to look at her. “Let me guess—Kane’s orders?”

  “Yep.”

  “But wild dragons hate humans, you cannot expect me to believe they would take orders from one.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Firstly, Kane isn’t human, he’s an Asarlaí. Second, before two weeks ago, wild dragons didn’t exist. I think it’s safe to say it’s time to start believing in the impossible. If I can do it, you can.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Oh, and don’t forget about the Gobelins.”

  His scowl deepened. “We beat them into submission years ago during the Gobelin wars, but they have been popping up in small raiding pa
rties all along the eastern villages.”

  “Well done. Kane has hordes of them under his command, ready to strike.”

  “To the east? How do you know all of this?”

  “You really aren’t paying attention, are you? Cyrus saw it all in his mind.”

  “But we cannot defeat dragons, Gobelins, and a sorcerer all at once.”

  “Guess you’ll have to give up the throne then.” Her sarcasm had zero effect on him. Maybe he was having a tough time digesting everything. “Oh, and don’t forget about the Vodar. There’s a reason they attacked us on the planes.”

  “He’s trying to do everything in his power to get the last two stones.”

  “Yes, and that includes infiltration. How well do you trust those around you, your Lower Council for example?” She had finally arrived at the most crucial point of her promise.

  “Everyone on my Lower Council is trustworthy. Each of them has held their position long enough to prove themselves.”

  She barked a laugh. He had absolutely no idea. She could have simply told him, but she didn’t feel like making it easy. “Do your really trust them? All of them? Would you bet your life on it?”

  His eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Tell me what you know.”

  “I know there’s a very good reason your council insisted on my immediate death. There’s also a good reason they were so eager to pronounce me guilty.”

  “They mistrust you, same as I.”

  “Nice try, but no. Have you ever heard of a Nask?”

  “Nask?” He was briefly thoughtful. She waited patiently, though her impatience was growing. “The term sounds familiar. I believe I came across it somewhere, the library perhaps. In the days of the Asarlaí, Nasks were used to carry out secret business. They were easily possessed, easily manipulated. The Asarlaí used them exclusively to do their dirty work. Are you suggesting…no, it couldn’t be.” He shook his head abruptly, and then it finally hit him. She watched his demeanor change. The same crazed fury was morphing back into him. This time she was glad that it wasn’t directed at her.