by E. Molloy
She hid behind Ragen as the creature came to an abrupt halt in front of him, hooves kicking up grass and dirt as it stomped angrily in place before rearing back and kicking its front legs in the air. When it landed, it seemed to have calmed, and it stood staring at the burly man that Lillian hid behind.
Ragen reached up a hand to touch the beast's neck, running his rugged palm down the smooth and muscular neck of the horse. "Get on," he commanded Lillian, and she cautiously neared the creature. The horse was gigantic, larger even than the war horses in her father's army.
"Are you sure it's safe?"
The man scoffed bitterly. "Safest place you'll ever be," he responded, and the horse knelt his front end forward as though he were bowing. It got his back low enough that she was able to climb on, Ragen lifting her at the waist to help her a bit before climbing on behind her. He grabbed up a bunch of the horse's mane in his hand, instructing her, "You are going to want to hold on."
Lillian gently grabbed a handful of the hair as well, not wanting to hurt or spook the creature. As soon as she did, the large horse stood abruptly, and her grip tightened substantially. "Let's go, boy, show your old man what you've got," he said, patting the thing's neck with his free hand. The horse stomped its feet a few times, then broke into a run, carrying the two toward the city.
Chapter 23
In the past two days, Niko had managed to learn nothing of whatever he was looking for, here. There was no sign of the dark witch everyone had mentioned. When asked about it, the slaves (who still pretended to be servants) had all answered that they didn't know what he was talking about. The court wizard, king, princess, and every guard in the castle had answered the same.
Of course, there was the matter of the princess being returned to the castle. While this should have been a sign that things were not as out of place as they seemed, it instead only served to further instill suspicion. For being cooped up in a dragon's tower, as the story was told, she seemed in perfect health, and hadn't said a word to anyone since her return.
The King had introduced the Knight who had rescued her, who was now given an honorary title within the country. He had been staying as honored guest until the day that Niko met him, at which point he conveniently was asked to return to the Order immediately. The man didn't seem anything special to Niko. He was large, few of words, very clearly Navarran, and held his chest high. In fact, he seemed almost too perfect. Niko had very little experience with their Order on a personal basis, though, and it was likely that this was just the way their Knights behaved. At least, in front of royalty.
Messages from home came to him through the pyramid many times daily. The unrest in Kaine was growing worse with each passing day as people grew more and more concerned that the magic-fueled technology that their country ran on was weakening them as a people. As part of the Collective, he had sworn to put the world's problems before his own country's, but Niko believed he had found a way to kill two birds with one stone. The sooner he finished up here, the sooner he could take some leave and see what difference he could make at home. Perhaps his task here would lead to a solution for his own issues.
The Collective, as well, sent new correspondences regularly, though theirs were less pressing. They'd only just adapted the technology that the Kainites had made decades ago, so most of their messages consisted of choppy statements, usually only 5 or so words. At the moment, he was looking at one that said, 'WHO BROUGHT DRAGON'. They were referring, of course, to the events that Niko had relayed to them that morning. Indeed, a dragon had swooped onto the streets of Diamondruf, and dropped, of all things, a young human man. He'd sent all of the details that he knew to the Collective, but apparently the bit about not knowing anything about the boy had gotten lost in their sloppy translation.
He decided not to respond to this message, removing the sphere from its place beneath the sun. "That is what I intend to find out," he said out loud to himself as he stood and moved toward the door. He produced the key he'd taken from the slave before, unlocked it, and made his way to the throne room. He'd given himself permission to come and go from that room as he pleased, but hadn't found reason to use it until now. Since the incident in the streets, the King had refused any audience. The boy had only been there for a few hours, but Niko was sure that the sooner he got to him, the better. He wouldn't put it past Harold to kill the boy, if this were indeed part of the secrets he was hiding here. The world did not run on coincidences, after all.
Slaves and guards alike lowered their eyes as he passed. When he arrived at the throne room, he pushed through the doors. One of the guards had started to protest, but the other placed a hand on his chest and shook his head. Niko had already cost more than six of them their jobs for impeding an official investigation, and the king had told them to just let him do whatever he wanted. Likely, he hadn't considered that Niko would think barging into the throne room was an option when he made that command. As soon as the slim man entered the red-carpeted hall, the king sat up in his chair. He had been slouching, as fat lazy men are wont to do.
"To what do I owe the pleasure?" the king asked between gritted teeth. His expression was a smile, but the frustration wasn't well-hidden.
"The rider. Where is he?"
"What business of it is yours?"
"I need to speak with him."
"How is this part of your investigation?"
"That's what I intend to find out. I assume the boy is alive?"
"For now."
"You intend to kill him?"
The king narrowed his eyes and leaned forward in his seat. His voice grew low and menacing. "The man tears through my city, destroys homes and takes lives, on the head of a dragon, and you are asking me if I intend to kill him? Yes. I intend to kill him."
"I suggest you change your mind."
The king laughed. "Well, your suggestions hold no weight in this matter. The people have spoken, and they demand blood. The dragon rider is clearly here to tear down my kingdom. Perhaps he's the one you should be investigating."
Niko considered this. "I would speak to him, before his death."
"Speak to him now, if you like. He's in the dungeon," the king waved his hand dismissively. "Doubt you'll get anything out of him, though. He hasn't said a word so far."
Niko nodded his head, then went back out the way he'd come in. Behind him, the king barked, "Do not enter my throne room again without invitation."
The slim man smiled, but didn't turn to face him. "I'll see what I can do."
An icy cold shock preceded sharp white light filling Daveth's eyes suddenly. Water ran down his face as he gasped and scrambled to get to his feet. A man's gruff voice, unfamiliar, ordered him, "Get yourself in order, scum. You've got a visitor, someone better than you wanting to grace you with their presence.”
Daveth wiped the water from his face and back into his hair, pushing himself to his feet wearily. The effort was made worse by two things: the sharp pain still searing through his shoulder, and the heavy chains that weighed down each of his legs. His vision cleared, and he saw thick rusty bars all around him and a small wooden bucket in the corner of his cell. On the other side of the bars were a guard and a small table.
"Where am I?" he asked, the only question out of the thousands swimming through his head that he could find the words for.
"Shut up," the guard said, rolling his eyes.
A soft knock sounded on the door that stood on the far side of the guard, and he moved to unlock it. From the other side came a small figure, dressed in a light blue and purple lace lined gown that looked the type reserved for special events. As she entered the light, he took in her face. Perfect green eyes were framed by dark orange hair that was pinched and pinned in so many places that it almost looked like painted waves on a sea of fire. Her lips curled up in a gentle smile, and Daveth's eyes went wide.
"Lillian?" he said quietly, and she nodded.
"It's good to see you. I'm...sorry it turned out this way. My father, he won't listen to
reason," she said, her voice gentle and comforting.
"Wait, what? How did you get back? How long have I been out? Did you kill the witch?"
She paused looking pained by the question, and then shook her head. Moving toward the cell, she touched a soft hand to his, which he just then realized was desperately gripping at the bars. "None of that matters, now. They're...they're going to hang you tomorrow," she said, a sob forming in her chest. Tears began to sneak their way out of her eyes and she hurriedly turned them up to the ceiling.
Daveth froze. "W...bu...But that doesn't make any sense. Lillian, please, I need to know what happened. I need to get out of here. Get me an audience with your father, so I can..."
She rubbed her finger across his hand again. Her touch was so soft and gentle. He didn't even know she had it in her. "I'm so sorry," she said, then placed a gentle kiss on his forehead through the bars. "This isn't how it was supposed to turn out." The princess turned to leave.
"Wait," he said, reaching through the bars toward her. The guard moved to hit his hand with a stick, but Lillian motioned for him to stop. Daveth retracted his arm anyway, gripping the bars that held him and would likely hold him until he died. "If I'm to die, I have to know it was worth it. You're safe, and that's what matters. But..."
"Yes," she said, seeming genuinely eager to hear what he had to say next.
"I just...I need you to tell the story. I can't disappear down here. Someone has to know what I did."
She nodded solemnly. "Your bravery and legend will be always in my heart," she said with tears in her eyes.
Daveth sighed, and turned away from the bars, shaking his head. Bravery and legend was the story she would remember? The glory he would receive for a task he never completed, he wouldn't be alive to feel guilty about.
He heard the door close behind her, and whipped his head around to find himself alone. Even the guard had gone. His eyes quickly scanned for keys on a table or hung on the wall somewhere, but it was no use. Not that he'd had high hopes to begin with. Turning back to the stone wall on the opposite side of the cell, he drew his eyes to a small stone window. It, too, was barred with rusty black poles. So quiet. So empty. And there was no escape.
"I've always found prisons to be the most dreadfully depressing places in the world. I'd rather live in the sewers than spend an hour in a prison," chimed a rather proper voice behind him. Odd, since Daveth hadn't heard the door open or close after the guard and princess had left.
Daveth kept staring out the window. "You here to bring me to my doom?" he asked solemnly.
"That entirely depends on how truthful you intend to be with me."
Daveth chuckled dryly. "None of it matters anymore. Lillian is safe. Just let them hang me."
"Lillian? I wasn't aware you two knew each other."
"Yet you managed to visit me right when she was leaving."
The extended pause on the other man's part caused Daveth to turn around, curious now to see who was talking to him. He half expected nobody to be there, but the figure that stood in the room was not only very real, he was also inside of the cell. Daveth was taken aback by the closeness, and stepped back a bit. "Whoa..."
The man had the most intimidating look of concern on his face, like half of him wanted to shake Daveth until whatever he was looking for fell out, and the other half wanted to leave completely. It was a strange expression, but one that did not come without words.
"I assure you, I didn't even know she was here. Which is indeed strange. But, I am sure that's not the first time I'll be surprised today. So..." The man moved closer to Daveth now, and he realized that he stood almost a full head taller than him. Reaching into a pocket, he produced three small metal cuffs and began latching them to the tips of his forefinger, middle finger, and thumb.
"I am going to ask you some questions, and you are going to answer them. If you answer wrong, you will suffer."
"Wrong?"
The man held up a cuffed finger to shush him. "If you ask questions, you'll suffer more. Please, it's in your best interest you follow the rules." The man grabbed Daveth's head, resting his metal-plated thumb on the prisoner's temple, and his middle and index finger on the center of his forehead. Daveth tried to pull away, but his body wouldn’t budge. He was stuck. The man continued to speak with little concern for Daveth’s comfort, "You'll forgive me if I have to make some of this up as I go. I've more questions now than when I got here."
"Sure thing, buddy," Daveth said sarcastically, gritting his teeth as he desperately tried to escape the man's grasp, to no avail.
The pale man cleared his throat. "What is your relationship with the princess?"
"I..." Daveth had to think about it. He needed to be truthful. But, if Lillian was going to tell everyone one story, how was he supposed to tell the truth? "I was helping her get home." He hadn't even planned his answer. Words fell out of his mouth without him having to form them the moment he had parted his lips.
"From where?"
"The dark forest," he said, again answering the question before the words could even form in his mind.
"What were you doing in the dark forest?"
"Hiding from the dragon."
"The same dragon that brought you here?"
"Yes."
"Why did the dragon bring you here?"
"I..." He struggled, eyes closing against a sudden pain that shot through his head and down his spine. His teeth ground against each other as he held his breath, then finally released it as words again shot from his lips, "...it was an accident."
"You flew a dragon into a city by accident?"
Daveth's chest heaved in pain as he tried to find the right answer to the question, but he couldn't even think.
The man corrected himself, and suddenly the pain stopped. "I'm sorry, that was worded poorly. I will try to keep it simple. My mistake. Let me see here...Ah yes. How did you end up with the dragon?"
"We were fighting it."
"Who is 'we'?"
"Me, Lillian, Glop, and Ragen." He chided himself for being so open. He couldn't stop answering questions, and he felt as though he was saying far more than he should to this man. Daveth didn't know who this guy was, but it wasn't comfortable to know that he was just feeding him information. He couldn't help it, though. Every time he tried to stop and think about his answers, a tiny shock jolted the side of his head, and words spilled out.
"You were with the princess, before you came here?"
"Yes."
"How long ago would you say that is?"
"How long have I-" he was cut off by intense pain shooting through his head that sent his lower jaw stretching downward and eyes rolling up in his head. What lasted only a moment felt like a lifetime of pain, but it ended just as abruptly as it began. A tear formed on his face against his will.
The man shook his head. "Ah, I hate it when this happens. So sorry, that was my fault. You've only been here half a day. I assume that was your question."
"Half a day," Daveth repeated, his teeth grit together as he spoke.
"Correct. How long ago were you with the princess, given that timeframe?"
"Half a day," Daveth reiterated, and the pale man frowned.
"You saw her, this morning, before you came in on the dragon?"
"Yes," he said, his mouth tasting of iron.
"Where?"
"The dark forest."
The man removed his hand from Daveth's head, and the boy slumped to the ground. "Fascinating, but you aren't telling me everything," the man responded thoughtfully.
Daveth laughed, coughing from the effort, "What...what am I not...telling you?"
"That is what I intend to find out."
Kneeling on his hands and knees on the cold stone floor, blood dripped from his mouth as he spoke quietly, "She came to see me in here. The last thing she said to me before the dragon was that I should just leave, that I was useless. And she comes here, and she's so nice and beautiful, and..." He shook his head. "I couldn't save her.
Don't let her tell you that I did; don't let her tell anyone that. I failed, and they deserve to know that."
"Excuse me?" the man demanded. He seemed more curious than angry, but his stern voice implied urgency. Daveth wiped at what he thought was water at his chin, but a trickle of blood had seeped from his mouth. He didn't look up at the figure, but he could feel it looking down at him. After a few moments of silence, the man replied quietly. "The princess won't be singing your praises, of that I can assure you. In fact, if what you say is true, you are the only person she's spoken to since the knight returned her."
Daveth raised his head finally, eyes shooting up to the man who, somehow, now stood outside the cell's bars facing away from him. "The knights found her?" he asked, both relieved and panicked at the same time. "I guess...I guess we were all just paranoid, then. I don't know why, we thought it was something bigger. I should have just let them take care of it to begin with."
"That's the thing," the man replied, not looking over his shoulder as he did. "He tells a fantastic tale of the slaying of the beast in its tower. Imagine my surprise when you show up this morning, riding on its head."
Daveth pushed to his feet eagerly, the spinning of his head beckoning him to the floor again. Refusing, he threw himself against the bars, using his arms to compensate for the weakness in his legs. "That's not true! I was the one who received the message they were trying to send to the knights! She saved herself from the tower!"
The man remained silent, still not turning to face him. Daveth's features scrunched in a mix between determination and confusion.
"Something's not right," he said quietly, but couldn't figure anything else of worth to put in. Nothing seemed to be adding up from the beginning of his little adventure, but he'd thought that by now it would all be making sense.
