Hand and Talon (World of Kyrni Book 1)

by Melonie Purcell

  Krea shook her head. Why couldn’t she talk around these people?

  “What are your earliest memories? Do you recall having ever been to Shaylith?”

  “No,” Krea finally managed. When Ulryk continued to watch her, Krea stammered on. “I don’t remember ever being in any town other than Trasdaak.” She wasn’t about to share her story of the traders with this woman. Something about her didn’t sit well. Krea couldn’t decide if it was just her position or something about the woman in particular, but Ulryk was no friend.

  “Do you recall having fallen, perhaps? Having hit your head?”

  “Plenty of times.” For a brief moment, Krea considered telling the elder about the dream, but decided against it. “I’m forever falling into things or getting kicked around.”

  The woman seemed to sense her evasiveness. The kind smile faded. Her eyes narrowed. She leaned forward and Krea leaned back. “Your earliest memory, child?”

  A quick glance at Sorin didn’t encourage her. He too had lost his polite disposition and was staring a hole into Ulryk. Royden kept his eyes focused straight ahead. Krea decided it was a neat trick and tried it with Ulryk. She focused on a couple eating just over Ulryk’s shoulder and took a deep breath. “My earliest memory is of a trader who was trying to sell me to a farmer. I ran away and hid. I recall nothing before that. I have lived five years since in Trasdaak.”

  Without looking away, the woman addressed Sorin. “Tal Sorin. Are there other callers in Trasdaak?”

  “Of course, but none that reside there, and none without a link.”

  “Other than you, of course.”

  Royden turned to Ulryk and stared.

  “Other than me,” Sorin replied in a voice edged with ice and menace.

  Palpable silence threatened to suffocate them all as Ulryk and Sorin stared at each other across the table. Finally, Royden attempted to break the impasse. “She is near her shift. Krea, do you know your age?”

  Krea shook her head.

  “Not so near,” Ulryk said. She stood and brushed her tunic, as if her presence at the table had soiled it. “Not so near as you think.”

  Sorin stood as did the rest of the room. “She has already gathered the Essence twice.”

  “Hmm.” Ulryk gave Dane a fleeting glance that dismissed him as inferior without a single spoken word. “Perhaps you should let her have it.”

  “What!” Sorin reached for Krea’s arm and pulled up her sleeve. “And what of this? She got it during the blessing. Surely you do not dismiss this so easily.”

  Ulryk looked down at the red spiral and paled. Royden too lost his color as he leaned over the table. After several tense moments, Ulryk spoke. “I will consult the others.”

  “You do that,” Sorin said, but Ulryk was already walking away.

  The room was as quiet as a graveyard. Royden glanced over to Sorin, lines etched across his brow. What passed between them, Krea couldn’t say, but their silence spoke volumes. Without a word, Royden joined the Second and left the hall.

  Some people stared openly at Sorin, their faces a mix of awe and horror. Others deliberately avoided the entire side of the room, as if evil had just swallowed it and to look upon the darkness would condemn them as well. “We leave now,” Sorin said.

  Krea wasn’t about to argue. Surprisingly, neither did Dane.

  Walking through the hall wasn’t much better than it had been the night before. Sorin still stormed through the corridor, radiating anger and resentment and releasing none of it. For a moment, Krea felt as if she were reliving their arrival in reverse. Once they stepped outside, though, it was a different world.

  The meadow they had landed in was far more expansive than she had originally suspected and it hummed with activity. As far as she could see, creatures and people dotted the grass.

  Dragons—some green, some blue, others red like Kinara—with scales that shimmered in the morning sun dropped onto the field, their massive claws churning up dirt and grass as they trotted to a halt before depositing one or sometimes two riders. Other dragons and at least one hippogryph that Krea could see circled around above them. Whether they were looking for a place to land or catching an updraft to carry them away, Krea couldn’t guess.

  A deafening screech cut the air behind them. She spun around in time to see a massive dragon as pale blue as a cloudy sunset pound the air with its giant wings. It appeared to be struggling to stay aloft while just below it a noble backpedaled, his expression frozen in horror. The dragon’s tail darted sideways as it tried to push off the ground. Clumps of dirt pelted a cluster of people running the other way. Another rider, a caller, ran to the motionless noble and threw the man to the ground barely an instant before the dragon lost its battle and dropped to the ground with a thud that rocked the ground under Krea’s feet.

  Heaving giant breaths, the dragon folded its wings. Its head swiveled around to peer at the noble that lay trembling between its front claws. The dragon laid its webbed ears flat against its head and snapped its teeth together. Its nostrils flared.

  “Is he gonna eat that noble?” Dane asked.

  “No, but I’m sure she wants to.”

  “How does you know it’s a she?”

  Sorin started to answer, and stopped. “Trust me. The dragon is female.”

  As the noble scrambled out from under the dragon’s chest, she twisted her head to follow him. He wasn’t terribly steady on his feet and fell forward twice before he finally made it out of the dragon’s reach. She started forward, but her link patted her neck and she stopped.

  “I bet he doesn’t do that again, whatever it was he did,” Krea said.

  “Bet not,” Dane agreed. “Bet he needs to change his clothes now.”

  Krea laughed. “Is it always like this?”

  “No.” Sorin glanced up as a giant bird soared over their heads. Its rust-colored wings were at least as wide as Sorin’s barn. A draft from its passing lifted through her hair as it gave three mighty backflaps and landed with ease on top of the building they had slept in the night before. The scent of dew and grass carried over the clearing.

  “Well, that explains what them banging noises was all night,” Dane commented as they watched the rider slide off and the bird get swallowed by a spiral of light.

  “No. The banging was people starting the wedding celebrations early. You can’t hear them land from inside.”

  A man stood where the bird had been. He and his rider quickly disappeared down what Krea assumed were stairs leading into the building. “Why are there so many kyrni now?”

  Sorin started walking again. “The city is getting ready for the wedding. The kyrni are delivering messages and collecting nobles from old and prestigious houses. Royden was right. This was a terrible time to hope to get help from the council.”

  “I don’t think Elder Ulryk likes me,” Krea said.

  “I don’t think I like Elder Ulryk.”

  “I know I don’t like her, and neither do your dagger.”

  Krea had all but forgotten the menace and nearly jumped out of her skin when she looked down and saw that the sheath and hilt had turned black. “When did it do that? I hope no one saw.”

  “It changed as soon as you walked out of our room, but that ain’t why I said it. I said it ’cause the dragon comed out on the hilt while the lady was watching you.”

  She reached for the hilt and slid her hand along the sculpted handle. “You sure you don’t want this dagger?”

  “No way.”

  Chapter 23 - Rumors

  Shaylith stretched out farther than she could see in any direction. Standing at the edge of the meadow, Krea realized the hold used by the kyrni and callers was built into the tail end of the Morkeen Mountains. The Royal City lay at the mountain’s feet. Roads of packed dirt and flat stone laced in and out of the manors and lodges and the many rows of merchant shops. Like tributaries cutting away from the main river, all of the roads seemed to feed from one central source—the palace.

 
; How any one building could be so large, Krea could not imagine. It seemed from where they stood that all of Trasdaak could have fit inside the palace walls. The main building towered over the rest of the city with its walls of earthy stone. Pointed roofs capped an array of towers, each one taller than the next, as if they competed with one another to see which would touch the sky first. In the center of the building was the winner. A red-spired roof crowned the square keep that looked out over the entire city.

  “I bet that balcony is big enough to hold a dragon,” Dane whispered.

  “I’ll bet you’re right.” Why Krea was whispering back, she wasn’t sure, but in the presence of something as grand as the palace, it seemed appropriate.

  “Look at them farms out there. They look like a patched blanket.”

  “A patched blanket the size of Ryth, maybe.”

  “Is we going down there?”

  Sorin’s frown was answer enough. Krea and Dane started arguing with him before he even opened his mouth.

  “All right! Mother of mercy! We can go down into the city, but not today. Today, I need to talk to some people, Krea needs to meet some of her kind, and you, Dane, are going to spend time with a mage.”

  The hard glint in Dane’s eyes made Krea take a second look at the boy who had grown up so much just since leaving Ryth. He was up to something, and whatever it was, Sorin wasn’t going to like it.

  As Sorin turned and headed down a well-trod path, Krea leaned over to whisper in Dane’s ear. “We meet up in merchant row as soon as we can, right?”

  “Aye. Don’t tell Sorin.”

  “Not a word, but no lifts. We don’t know this city, and it won’t be good if either of us gets caught.”

  “No lifts.”

  She slipped her hand in her pocket and handed him the extra coin bag. The small purse he had collected from the dead trader outside the Nayli hung from his belt, but contained only a few coins. “Here,” she said, handing him the money.

  He clapped his hands over the bag and looked up at her in confusion. “What’d you give me this for?”

  “It’s for you. You should have some money. It’s a lot of money, so don’t go letting some pelt take it from you.”

  Dane’s eyes grew wide. After a second, the money disappeared, safely tucked into the purse. “Ain’t no way no pelt is liftin’ that off me.”

  Krea smiled. “Merchant row.”

  “Merchant row.”

  ###

  Unlike Arie, the mages of Shaylith lived in small buildings located just outside of the Skyline Hold. There were no looming trees or hidden rooms; only a carefully arranged circle of simple cottages whose doors faced out to the well-used path. Oddly enough, the cottages appeared to be empty.

  “May I help you, Tal?” asked a young woman dressed from head to toe in a gown so plain it had neither form nor color. Krea’s heart flipped over in her chest. That girl had not been there a moment before.

  Sorin looked out of sorts as well when he answered. “Aye. I seek Damaria.”

  “She has not returned from offerings. Can I help?”

  Something about the girl seemed oddly familiar. Krea stepped around Dane so she could get a better look without being quite so obvious. Dane didn’t even try. He stared straight at her. He didn’t so much as blink.

  “I need to leave Dane in her care for the day. When will she be back?”

  Was it her voice?

  “Soon, I imagine. She is usually back by now. She probably stopped to talk with one of the guests who came in last night. Dane can stay with me until she comes, if you’d like.”

  Not her voice, exactly. It was more the actual words or maybe how she said them.

  Sorin looked down at Dane for a few moments before finally nodding. “That will be fine. She will know what to do when she gets here.”

  The noble woman from behind the candlemaker’s shop. That was it. This mage sounded just like Lady Carene. Krea snapped her head around and stared at the woman. Their eyes locked for a heartbeat before Krea looked away. They had the same eyes also, but that was impossible. Even if the woman had left the same day, she would still be a week behind them, maybe more. This could not be her. And that noble had been no mage.

  “I will see that he is delivered, Tal.” The woman gave Sorin a deep bow before waving Dane over. “Come with me, child. You can help carry water while we wait.”

  Krea shook her head and chanced another glance. It simply could not be the same person, but the resemblance was uncanny.

  “My thanks,” Sorin said. “Dane, I will be here to pick you up at nightfall. Remember what I taught you about mages. Mind yourself, and you will be glad for today’s lessons.”

  Dane’s expression bordered on excited as he walked away with the strange woman. That was disconcerting enough. It didn’t help that he was walking away with a woman could not possibly be there in the first place. A woman who was anything but a mage. “Are you sure he’ll be okay?” Krea asked as she followed Sorin along the path back to the hold.

  “It is not him I’m worried about. He is the most willful child I’ve ever met. The mages are the ones who need our petitioning.”

  She couldn’t argue his point. Still, something didn’t seem right. She didn’t give it any more thought, though, because the hold loomed in front of her and it held enough troubles on its own.

  Sorin led her down another path to a massive stone building not far from the landing field. A steady flow of kyrni and callers passed as they walked. Some tipped their heads to Sorin. Others gave him a small smile or a wave, but without fail, their eyes lingered on his gloved hand and then on her arm.

  “Why are they looking at me?” she whispered when two more gaping kyrni passed.

  “They heard about your markings.”

  Her hands went to her face. “I don’t have any markings. Not yet.”

  “On your arm. The mark of the Promise.”

  Krea looked over at him in confusion.

  “The Prophecy? Remember? That mark is called the Promise because it was carved at the bottom of the Prophecy and in other places where Nordu’s word is written. We take it to mean she will fulfill her word.”

  “But how could they have heard about it already? We were only just in the dining hall.”

  “There are no secrets in the Hold. I’m going to introduce you to a teacher…”

  Krea stopped on the path and was nearly run over by a young caller following too closely. “Do you want to just join us so you don’t miss anything?” she demanded.

  The girl hurried around them, and Krea turned back to Sorin. “A mage? I don’t want to see a mage.”

  He smiled. “No. A kyrni. You need to learn about your kind.” Sorin resumed his walk. “Come on. He doesn’t bite.”

  She hurried to catch up, but was sure she heard him say often just before he opened a door that led to absolute chaos.

  Bodies filled the room. Magic pulsed in the air. Kyrni and callers were so thick they had to turn sideways to pass each other. Voices shouted orders above the din, but Krea was hard-pressed to see who was listening to them. Everyone seemed bent on a mission, but from where she stood, nothing was getting done.

  Beds stacked three high lined the entire back wall. To her right, a long dais seemed to be a center of activity. People stood on the platform and called out names and places, but only rarely did a kyrni-caller team answer the call. For the most part, everyone else pretended the dais didn’t exist.

  Sorin stood in the doorway for several seconds before a passing kyrni finally pushed him the rest of the way inside. “Mother of mercy.”

  “Is it always like this?”

  He shook his head. “Kardan would drop his scales if he saw this. What’s happening? Spies. Ulryk. This. I don’t understand.”

  “Kardan?”

  “He used to be in charge of the fields, of this.” Sorin waved his hand across the room. “He was killed shortly before I left for Trasdaak. Come. I see Bri.”

  Krea fol
lowed him through the river of people, many with faces painted in designs of blue, brown, green, red, and even orange. She watched them watching her and finally smiled. Sorin had said that the day would come when she would get all the looks she could stand. Well, that day had arrived.

  “Sorin, you crippled old man, you look like proth bait.” A woman of average height with sparkling blue eyes and dark brown hair walked up and kissed Sorin on the forehead. “Goddess, it’s good to see you,” she said, before giving him a hearty hug. “Tell me you have finally come back to save us.”

  Sorin blushed two shades of red. Krea looked back at the woman. Her hair hung in braids like the mages, like hers now, each ending in different colored threads. She looked younger than Sorin, but given the effects of the kyrni magic, she could easily be his same age. Considering the fact that Sorin still couldn’t figure out what to say, Krea guessed they had also been more than friends.

  “I don’t know that this mess can be saved, but thanks for pointing out my new look. How’s your link?” Sorin finally managed.

  “Oh, she’s fine. Trying to keep the hatchlings on the ground until after the wedding. This damned thing has the whole Empire turned on its tail.” She turned to Krea in a flurry of braids. “And you are the callerless wonder, are you not? Let’s see the sign.”

  Krea blinked up at her for a moment before finally putting together what she had said. When she pulled back her sleeve, it felt like half the room leaned in to see. The spiral on her arm glowed the same kind of red as burning coals deep in a fire. Even Krea drew in a sharp breath. She was just starting to grow used to the strange markings. Now it had to start glowing?

  “They don’t usually glow like that,” Sorin said, brushing his finger over one of the dots.

  Bri started to touch Krea’s arm, but held back at the last second. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  “Maybe it’s because of all the magic in the room,” Krea said. “It’s almost hard to breathe in here.” She pulled her sleeve back into place.

  “No, that would be because people don’t bathe.” Bri yelled her last few words into the crowd, earning her several laughs as the onlookers moved away. “So, if you aren’t here to save us, which is why you should be here, by the way, then what brings you to the fielding room? Somehow, I don’t think you are just here to see me.”