Unable to fight it, she got up, and made another draught of Aegan water. If she didn’t, the consequences would be far worse. She’d learned that the hard way.
You must learn to control the voices. Aegan weakens your mind when you sleep…
She knew Cyrus was right. She had to find a way to control the Drengr voices without using potions. But what did Cyrus mean about the Aegan weakening her mind? Was Kane toying with her from afar? Her eyes widened in fear as she thought of his Nasks. No—she shook her head. It was impossible. Reyr said so himself. Kane had to be present to exercise the magic needed to create a puppet. At last she sighed. If she didn’t talk to someone about this, it was going to eat her up inside.
Her mind jumped back to the dreams. What did they mean? She thought about what she saw. In every scene, she was present. Yet she couldn’t make sense of what she was doing. Was she seeing the future? No, that couldn’t be right. Saffra was the Seer. Saffra was a prophetess. There was no way she possessed abilities like that. Hearing the Drengr? Sure. But that was where her strange talent ended.
The morning dawned more exhausting than the one before. With each day, she lost increasing amounts of sleep. Over a week had passed since first taking the Aegan. She was beginning to fear it, to hate it, to love it. Sleep was a small price to pay for feeling better.
You cannot hide from your abilities forever…
Cyrus was quieter when her mind was numb. Though when he did show himself, it was in the form of protests, complaints, and indecipherable statements.
She and Desaree spent the day working in the gardens outside the servant’s dining room. The private cookery’s garden had become her favorite place. It was easy to see why. Its sun-soaked greenery sat just within the keep’s outer wall. She could hear the city beyond, reminding her that a whole world existed outside the keep. If only she could explore it. She longed to know Dragonwall better.
Within its walls, raised planter boxes were arranged in neat rows. They held every herb imaginable: rosemary, thyme, sage, oregano, parsley, to name a few. Each aroma, mixed with the sea breeze, combined to create a divine smell.
In many ways, the garden reminded her that Dragonwall was not so different from Earth, and these herbs were the evidence. Yet Dragonwall was lost somewhere in time. Where there was technology in Earth, there was magic in Dragonwall. And somehow, that ability to conjure cures and speak words that could do just about anything, had eliminated the people’s desire to advance into what she considered modern times. In a sense, that was the beauty of it. She hoped Dragonwall would never be tarnished by pollution, plastic-filled trash heaps, airplanes, cars, and all the other negative stuff that came with her home.
“Claire?” Desaree’s voice filtered through her thoughts, bringing her back to the present. “Whatever is the matter with you today? Did you not hear what I said?” Her head pulsed momentarily as several Drengr voices pounded against the magic of the Aegan. She’d have to take a stronger dosage tomorrow.
“I’m sorry, Des. I got caught up in my own thinking. I didn’t mean to ignore you.” They were on their hands and knees, pulling weeds from the planter boxes. She buried her face in oregano, inhaling deeply. It cleared her mind.
Desaree had her face down as she worked, but glanced at her. “Oh, do not fret yourself over it. I only wished to know your opinion of the king’s speech.” The morning before last, a big announcement was made, and although the servants were not permitted at court, that didn’t stop them from eavesdropping. One thing she’d learned: the servants loved gossip the way school girls did.
“I think the king was right to tell everyone about the dragons. Our people need to know. We need to be prepared.” After she said this, she paused, surprised by her own words. Our? Was she considering herself a part of Dragonwall already? That was hardly right. She shook her head, feeling the frown that pulled at her lips. She reached for another cluster of weeds. These people were not hers.
“Perhaps it was the correct thing to do,” Desaree said, “but dragons? No one believes it, least of all me.”
She sat back on the heels of her feet and looked at Desaree. “Why ever not? The king wouldn’t lie.”
“Well because…” Desaree paused for several long moments. “Because dragons are extinct. I know you do not understand much of our history, no offense, Claire. Know this: Dragonwall rid itself of dragons tens of thousands of years ago. They cannot simply spring into existence.” Desaree’s point was fair, but that didn’t change the facts. With dragons threatening the North, the South would struggle to believe it. They were too far removed from the action.
Her heart ached for the losses suffered by those of the North as a result of the wild dragon attacks. That thought also surprised her. Once more she reminded herself that this was not her world. Why should she care what happened to it? Yet she did care! She found herself more and more concerned with each passing day.
At last she shrugged. “You’re right, Desaree. I may not be from here, but I do believe the king. If dragons are back, then we all have a right to know. Furthermore, we’ve got to do something about it.”
Desaree pursed her lips and returned to her work. She clearly didn’t want to believe the truth, and she wasn’t the only one. The last day saw more rumors than she was used to, but all the same arguments. Everyone conjured reasons for why the king would proclaim the existence of dragons. They were beginning to believe he’d gone mad. She didn’t like Talon very much—actually she hated him—but she knew one thing with certainty; talon wasn’t crazy.
Attempting to right the matter, she looked over at her best friend. “Des, we both heard the Drengr’s cry last week. The sounds they made when they took to the skies in unison, their sorrowful crying, it was heart-wrenching. I know you cried over it. When I heard it, I did too. They wouldn’t have done that for nothing.”
“You truly believe wild dragons are the culprits of those deaths?”
“I do, Desaree. And there are more than just dragons to worry about.” She didn’t want to elaborate further because that required talking about Kane. Fortunately she didn’t have to. Tess materialized from a door in the garden’s wall, covered by ivy.
“Oh, dearie me!” the head woman professed, her face turning a deep shade of agitated red. “I didn’t think you gals would be out here in the heat of day!” She held a basket in the crook of her arm, filled with fabrics, a couple of books, and numerous sherry bottles. There was guilt written all over the woman’s face. She looked behind her to where the ivy had fallen back into place then back at them. The moment was clear enough. There was a secret door, one that led to the city, one that Tess didn’t want them knowing about.
“You need not mind us, Tess,” Desaree said. Tess gave them a curt nod and proceeded inside.
“Des? Where does that door lead?” She’d stopped her work to stare at the ivy-covered wall. It was so well disguised, there was no way to tell it was there.
“Oh, that’s one of Tess’s big secrets. It allows her to go to the market when she pleases without having to deal with the guards. As you know, the keep has been under intense scrutiny as of late. A bit inconvenient if you ask me,” Desaree muttered, getting back to work.
“Does anyone else know about it?” she asked, fear seeping into her gut.
“Of course not. Why do you think she was so surprised to see us? I only know about it because, well, the woman practically raised me.”
For all their sakes, Claire hoped Desaree was correct. Secret access to the keep was not a good thing. In the wrong hands, that door could be dangerous.
After finishing in the garden, she snuck away and scribbled a message to Reyr. She bribed a serving boy to push it under his door. He’d been absent a full week since the dragon attack in the North. There were things she wanted to discuss with him, especially because she hated getting left out. After being at the center of the action for so long, it was a difficult adjustment to sit on the sidelines.
When night fell and
dinner passed, she wasn’t certain Reyr would come. She breathed a huge sigh of relief when he did. “You have need of me my lady?” he said, taking up a dramatic air as she opened her door. He carried a small cloth sack. She eyed it curiously until he set its contents on her small table.
“Reyr!” she gasped. “Candy?”
“Consider it an apology for my behavior during Verekblot. I often forget that you are not familiar with our customs. Sometimes I judge you too harshly.”
She shrugged. “I deserved it. Besides, I’ve forgiven you. Plus”—she was grinning widely now—“this candy makes it so worth it!” She looked at the table. There were all sorts of colorfully wrapped goodies, a rainbow of sugary delights. Her mouth began watering. She had the biggest sweet tooth. Reyr knew this because he made fun of her at the start of their journey. She had packed her entire sugar stash, which she quickly demolished in a few days.
“I should have gotten this sooner, but you know how busy I have been.”
She smiled and rushed to the table, grabbing a handful of hard toffies. Prize in hand, she sat down cross-legged on her cot to enjoy them. Sweetness exploded in her mouth leaving her thirsty, so she gulped down a cup of water and unwrapped another. As she did, she watched Reyr.
He sat down in the chair she usually used to guard the door. “I take it you heard the news?” he asked.
She nodded, licking her fingers. “I have. And is it any surprise? Kane promised us that he would attack if we didn’t give up the Stones. He’s making good on that. Now the blood is on our hands.”
Reyr’s eyes closed tightly, showing obvious pain. “Indeed. He warned us. That blood is on our hands.”
“Can you tell me more about what happened?”
“Aye. I suppose there is no point in withholding information from you.”
“You know I don’t like being left out. It bugs me not knowing.” She narrowed her eyes at him hoping to make him feel guilty. After all, he ignored her all week.
“I know. I know.” His smile was rueful. She probably could’ve eavesdropped on information from the constant stream of Drengr voices assaulting her. But with the Aegan, it was too easy to tune them out.
They spent a while talking about the attack. Reyr told her about a small group of Drengr on patrol up near Landow. “Isn’t that the place you visited while we waited for you at the Marble Dragon?” she asked.
“It is. Mikkin was there.”
“Mikkin was the one who survived the dragon attack,” she said matter-of-factly, wondering what might have happened to him.
“Correct. My only guess is, he’s dead now.” Reyr’s face fell as he said this.
“I’m sorry, Reyr. Maybe he escaped?” Her reassurance wasn’t very convincing. Reyr merely shrugged. “What about everything else?” she asked.
“Well, we’ve gotten more information since the attack. Four villages were burned. The dragons got as far as the Vallahurst Forest.”
“That’s horrible,” she whispered as her voice constricted. She didn’t know where the Vallahurst Forest was, but the news was upsetting regardless. “And the Drengr who were killed?” Her chest tightened.
“They managed to send distressed messages. There was another small patrol to to the west too far to help but close enough to intercept their cries, otherwise we would know nothing. Little was said, just that they saw the dragons burning and slaughtering. Then their messages grew panicked as they realized that the dragons were chasing them down. It is my understanding that they tried to defend themselves. They had no other choice. The last cries came when they were being eaten.”
“Eaten?” Her stomach churned. She set down the remainder of the candy, no longer interested.
“Dragons enjoy eating their prey.”
“That’s barbaric!” She shuddered.
“Reyr, I need you. I have a genius idea. Come at once!” She heard the king’s command in her head. The voices of the Drengr were more difficult to block the closer she was to the source or recipient. With Reyr right next to her, Talon might as well have been in the room.
Something stilled within her. She was suddenly compelled.
You need to tell him…
“It seems I must go,” said Reyr as he rose to leave. “I apologize for the abruptness of my departure.”
“Wait,” she cried, jumping to her feet. He turned to her, a curious expression on his face. Her heart began to pound and she immediately sat back down. Taking several deep breaths, she calmed her nerves.
“What is it?” He could see her sudden distress. Concern materialized as his eyebrows scrunched together. He really did care about her. That worried her more than she wanted to admit, because it wasn’t friendly concern that she saw. It was soft—too soft.
Taking advantage of his feelings was unfair. She selfishly knew that if he truly cared, he would go easy on her. “Reyr, I…” She swallowed. “I know the king has need of you.”
Reyr cocked his head to the side, not quite understanding. She’d used the same exact words Talon did. But Reyr was not likely to register this. Meanwhile her pulse was racing, but she knew what she needed to do. If she didn’t enlist Reyr’s help, there was no hope of conquering the voices in her head. She’d be condemned to Aegan forever. That thought was terrifying.
“I can hear the Drengr speaking to each other,” she blurted out before thinking better of it. “All of it, I hear everything. I heard what the king just said to you, that he needed you, that he has a genius idea.” Taking a deep breath, she tried to relax while she awaited Reyr’s wrath.
“What did you say?” He stood frozen in disbelief. Maybe he didn’t want to believe.
“I said, I can hear the Drengr speaking to each other. I can hear everything.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
She swallowed the lump in her throat. “I—I do.”
“What you claim, Claire, is fully impossible. No one can hear all the Drengr.” She heard his voice in her mind. The telepathic thought was meant to fool her—to test her—but she wasn’t lying.
“My claim is not impossible, Reyr. I can hear them all.”
His eyes widened. He opened his mouth and then shut it immediately. At last, he returned the abandoned chair. There he watched her with an accusing glare. “For how long?” he finally asked. There was festering anger in his voice.
“Since the beginning,” she whispered. She tried to think back to the first moment and got choked up. “I heard you calling to Cyrus, begging him to hold on, begging him not to die.”
His face screwed up in anger, but it quickly changed into something else. She braced herself for another of Reyr’s reproaches. At least it would be less severe than the king’s. Dread washed over her. What if he told Talon? Talon’s fury would be absolute.
“Claire, you wound me.” In the deep wells of his eyes there was hurt. Much to her surprise, no scolding came. “You have heard us all this time and you never mentioned it?” It was natural for him to feel betrayed. She expected it. “Why did you keep this from me?”
“I—I wanted to tell you,” she croaked. “But after everything you guys said about me, about how I was guilty, how I deserved to die, what the king said, what Koldis and Jovari said to you when you found me. I just couldn’t bring myself to it.”
“You heard all of that?” His shoulders fell as he crumpled back against his chair. His eyes fell to the floor and did not look at hers.
“I heard everything everyone said about me.” She shrugged. What was in the past was past. She didn’t want him to feel ashamed about it. She merely wanted his help. “Some of what I heard made me sick. Some of it terrified me. Some of it made me cry…” She recalled her tears from the king’s words.
“How? How is it even possible?” He was incredulous. His eyes finally rose too meet hers.
“I—I don’t know. What’s wrong with me? Why can I hear them?”
He shook his head. “Nothing is wrong with you, Claire. I cannot say why. It certainly is not
normal.” Suddenly his eyes widened. “Your headaches!”
“Yes. The voices are to blame. I didn’t want to reveal the true reason,” she admitted. “But they’ve become unbearable. I need your help, Reyr. If I don’t learn to block them out…” She shook her head, unwilling to think of the consequences. “I have to figure it out. Cyrus said…”
Reyr sat up straight. “What did Cyrus say?”
Her breath caught in her chest. No! She couldn’t. Not that. “Nothing. What I meant was, if I do not learn to block the voices, the headaches will ruin me. I need to learn. There must be a way.”
As he studied her, guilt seeped into her heart. Should she tell him about Cyrus’s voice? After seeing how much her secrets hurt him, shouldn’t she tell him to avoid further upset?
“There is a way, I think, to mute the voices.” His eyebrows were pulled tightly together. “We Drengr can block each other out if we choose. Sometimes the king blocks me when he is upset. I am sure the technique is the same.” He grew thoughtful then his eyes widened. “Hold on a moment. Can you talk back?”
“Talk—talk back?” She swallowed. “What do you mean talk back?”
“I mean, can you reply to my thoughts?”
She shook her head without really knowing. “I don’t think so.”
“Well, how do you know?” Excitement seeped into his voice.
She shrugged. “I suppose I’ve never tried.”
“Well, try now! Say something to me with your mind.”
She was silent as she considered it. How did it work? Was she simply supposed to think her words instead of speaking them? And what was she supposed to say? She became very self-conscious. “I don’t think it works that way, Reyr.”
“You will never know unless you try.” His reassurance was firm.
She focused on Reyr, on his voice. “What do you want me to say?” It was merely a thought, no different than if she had spoken it to herself, except she thought of Reyr while she said it.
“I can hardly believe it!” he gasped. “You can talk back!”
Talon the Black Page 48
