Defiance: Dragonics & Runics Part I

by A. Wrighton

  “Through here,” Alaister said as he smiled and turned to lead her into the Great Hall.

  Into a different world entirely.

  It was not the Great Hall of the evening, lined with stiff anticipation and ordered Dredths. The warmth and noise swelled. Smells of freshly cooked breakfast settled on her tongue. The Hall hummed with the voices of those lounging along the back wall benches. Some had cards; others had wooden boards for games. Some just stood and talked. The sunlight shone through the wide arched window into the canyon, making the Dragon Oil's purple flames weak in comparison to the cascading sunshine. The Soleratin Moss chandeliers were dark.

  Outside, the Dragons danced in either a feeding frenzy or spun flirtatious spirals that speckled the sky. The reflections from their scales shimmered into the room whenever the Beasts neared the window. Sunlight illuminating its entirety, Kalyna realized just how large the Great Hall was. It was a long room, the numerous tables staggered apart and spaciously. The ceiling’s massive expanse was draped with linens that cascaded across in waves, depicting the colors of the Rogue banners.

  Kalyna could see and hear the kitchen. The doors had been left open and the bustle within freely crept out and echoed about the Hall. The air smelled delicious; savory spices Kalyna had never smelt danced about her nose and tongue until her lips were wet with appetite.

  In the distance, a soft strumming rang out from the First Dredth’s Common Area. Alaister caught Kalyna’s inquisitive gaze and nodded, steering her northward behind the large dining tables until they stood at the mouth of the Common Area. The gathered men stood in a semi-circle, watching the musician strum from his seat on the benches running the length of the back wall. The thick swatch of First Dredth colored fabric that was draped behind the bench flapped with the soft rhythm.

  When he sang, Kalyna recognized the musician’s soft accent. “Gage,” she admired softly.

  “He comes from a long line of bards.”

  “Beautiful.”

  Gage strummed on the eleven strings of the gittern, made of a golden white wood that came into Pyran’s harbor on the evening tides. It was an instrument unique to the Pyranese since most Solerans failed to master the numerous strings or could not bear to touch the strings without a reed bow. Their instrumental expertise and musical prowess ensured that the Pyranese were thought of as far superior musicians and bards than any other in Solera. Gage’s skills were a hefty argument as to why that was so.

  Gage's gittern was the shape of a berry and was the size of his torso. It had an exceptionally short neck that made its tone deeper, allowing it to harmonize majestically with Gage's voice. The gittern was decorated with burned swirling designs that morphed into Dragon wings and wrapped around the body.

  Gage played across the taut strings with an impassioned blaze. His fingers never stopped flicking and plucking, casting light then shadow over the pearl-encrusted opening. When he sang, his Pyranese accent returned heavily – something he strived to cover up to avoid the jests of fellow Rogues. His vowels flowed at length and were soft on the ears, while his consonants were truncated and short. In his native voice, even if his words were spoken instead of sung, they would sound musically inclined. None dared speak ill of Gage’s funny words or sounds while he sang. They were all too lyrically and acoustically mesmerized.

  “This way Kal,” Alaister said as he eased them through the crowd until they stood at the front. Gage sat on the maroon bench cushion, his dark hands strumming the strings of his instrument lovingly, as his voice drifted over the chords his fingers chose. The surrounding men chimed in for the chorus but gracefully died out for the verses, leaving Gage to sing alone. His voice was strong and melodic, something to fall asleep to.

  Kalyna stood and listened, resting upon the steady figure Alaister provided. Alaister enjoyed her touch until Gage looked up and acknowledged them with a soft bow of the head. Alaister straightened Kalyna then, pulling back a step as he returned the nod. He scanned his men and happily found them transfixed on Gage’s musicality. They were engrossed. Lost.

  From his perch along the bench nearest Gage, Vylain flinched a smirk of recognition. He had figured Kalyna for a music lover by her habit of tapping hands against any surface she stood too long near or sat too long on, and his instincts had been right about her again. He scoffed at his acute accuracy of judging her character, but he had help. Kalyna was too real and primal in nature to hide herself away from anyone who dared look hard enough. Vylain saluted Alaister before leaning against the back wall and closing his eyes. He let the music flow through him and distract his thoughts. Take him away. Take him home to Brydella.

  Together all who listened found peace.

  The peace lasted until an unsettling choral roar of Dragons came from the canyon. Vylain’s eyes snapped open; he felt Alaister’s gaze and nodded, closing the distance between them before Alaister opened his mouth to address him from afar. Vylain gripped Alaister’s shoulder and smiled. “I’ll check on the ‘Lets, Alaister.”

  “Thank you, Vylain.”

  “It’s a pleasure.” Vylain saluted and then nudged Kalyna's hand, stealing her attention. “Kaly.”

  “Vylain,” Kalyna said with a fleeting glance before returning her focus to Gage.

  With two breaths and a sideways glance, Vylain departed from the Great Hall leaving Alaister free to return his gaze to Kalyna. She smiled at his persistent watch. Her eyes transfixed on the strumming on the gittern, she cleared her throat to address Alaister.

  “What do you think is bothering the Beasts?”

  “Hunger more than likely. There are a few ‘Lets that like to monopolize on their brothers and sisters when it comes to eating. Tends to cause a bit of an uproar if they end up being challenged.”

  His words caught Kalyna’s attention squarely – as anything about the Beasts did. “The new Alphas, right?” she asked, facing him.

  “So they think. We’ll see what Jaxin and Syralli have to say about that.” Alaister smiled and gestured to the adjacent Common Area. “I need to speak with Callon, if you’d like to join me, Kal.”

  Kalyna nodded and glanced back at the shortly silent Gage. She wanted to stay, but her curiosity spoke with more imperative. She swore Alaister banked on that notion half the time he asked things of her. She smiled and caught Gage's eyes. They exchanged nods.

  Kalyna ducked away after Alaister as Gage began a fast song that the men kept time to with their boots or hands. She followed Alaister through the crowd to the Common Area beside Gage’s that, from the color change of burgundy and black to black and orange, belonged to Callon’s Second Dredth. There in the corner, in a calm and silent state, sat Callon. He stared at a board with movable play pieces.

  “Is he all right?” Kalyna whispered.

  Alaister laughed at her innocent observation. Callon never sat still nor did he ever prove silent for long – unless he was playing Pettzia.

  “He’s only like this when he plays. Don’t worry, Kal; he’s completely fine.”

  “I’d be more fine if Jorne would get back here and make his move. Bretzing Gage and his music…I’d have won by now, if Jorne wasn’t so easily distracted.”

  “I hear a lot of ‘ifs’ there, Cal.”

  Callon snapped up at Alaister. “Would you care to play then?”

  “I prefer to have a chance to win when I play.”

  “What is it?” Kalyna asked.

  “It’s all strategy, Kaly. I can teach you if you’d like. After our sword lessons, naturally.” Callon winked at Kalyna, despite Alaister’s obvious annoyance for his addiction to Pettzia. It had always been a weakness and distraction for Callon, proving second only to women. How Callon found sustenance in the game of capture and escape on a flat board of thirteen squares by thirteen squares defied Alaister’s logic. It was simplistically too complicated for relaxation – at least for anyone who possessed semblance of normalcy.

  The song ended and Callon glanced over to where Gage stood poised over his instr
ument. “Damn you to Udlast, you Pyranese Dirt Flapper! Stop distracting my opponent or I’ll make you be a Shipman, as is proper for your kind!”

  None of the men moved out of concern that Callon just might be serious.

  Gage lifted an eyebrow and shrugged. A smile spun in his eyes. “They’d throw me back to The Den within days, full of plenty new melodies to share. Suit yourself, Caldenian.”

  Callon scowled and turned towards a shorter, well-built Runic at the edge of the crowd. “Jorne! I refuse to wait all morning. I do have things to do. Either fold or make your move.”

  “Outer corner moves three across and four up.”

  Callon moved the piece as directed. He frowned. “Gavasti.”

  “I do declare, Cal. You’re either losing your touch or your anger is impeding your judgment. Wait… where have I heard that one before?” Alaister smirked a bright smile and eagerly anticipated Callon’s reply, as he pushed back from his chair to stand inches from Alaister’s face – Caldenian temper at its finest.

  Kalyna stared between the two, unsure if it was as much in play as Alaister thought it was. The room dialed into the pair with silent anticipation. Kalyna almost expected them to start a wagering pool, but none moved to offer coin at the outcome. Instead, a clanking came from outside the kitchen doors. A stout woman well over forty cycles rang metal bells before bellowing, “Luncheon is served!” She shot a scolding look to Alaister before disappearing back inside the kitchen.

  The Dragonics instantly scattered to their proper tables; Callon and Alaister dropped their confrontation and made their way to the table on the platform in front of the window. Alaister’s hand remained fast onto Kalyna’s and she allowed his strength and fingers to pull her along. He dove between the dispersing men and gently maneuvered her through the crowd, whisking her up the stairs until to the Officers’ Table. Alaister sat Kalyna to his right in Callon’s usual seat.

  Callon smiled warmly at Kalyna’s start of an objection. He waved her off and happily took a seat that had been empty the night before. “I hope they service soon. I’m starved,” Callon said with a firm pat to his stomach.

  Alaister scoffed. “If it weren’t for you, brother, our rations would last twice as long.”

  “If it weren’t for me, brother, half of your Order would be dead.” Callon took a swig of ale from the stein before him and smiled. “For that Commander, you are welcome.”

  TRAINING CAVERN

  THE DEN, NORTHERN SOLERAN MOUNTAINS

  Standing in the vastness of the training room, Kalyna stared between the practice sword and Callon. He looked so much shorter on the far side of the room. She tried to maintain focus. Clarity. She had to stop concerning herself with warmth so she could focus on wielding the sword, but the cavern was drafty and cold. She hated the cold.

  She had to focus.

  Kalyna struggled with the dead weight of the sword in her hand, amazed at its motionless inabilities. Frustration settled and pressed on her chest. It grew even more when she had to flee the onslaught Callon brought with his sword. He was ferocity at its finest and just a Dragon’s scale short of genuinely crazy. She ducked and ran out of his leaping attack.

  “C’mon Kaly – defend!”

  Kalyna ducked and returned her blade with just enough time to deflect Callon’s, but the force of his swing proved bolder. The borrowed sword clamored to the ground with a life it had not seen in Kalyna’s hands. She sighed and chased after it under the wary glare of Callon.

  “You really make this look easier than it actually is Callon,” she called over her shoulder.

  Callon did not move. Kalyna re-gripped the sword and stared helplessly at him. His face was devoid. Different.

  “Again.”

  “Callon…”

  “Kaly this is life or death. Now, face me.”

  She obeyed.

  “And again.”

  Callon yelled commands at her as she parried and tried to counterattack, but his voice and her wrist seemed unable to communicate and deliver what she needed. He was faster. Stronger.

  It was pointless. Stupid.

  “Defend Kaly!”

  Callon charged and disarmed her with a hinge and pivot. Kalyna waited for him to back off so she could reclaim her weapon, but he did not. He kept charging and Kalyna instinctively withdrew.

  “Now, what do you do?” Callon sneered and pointed his blade at her throat. “Nothing. You’re dead.” Callon frowned, kicked up her sword with his foot, and caught it by the hilt. With a flashy twirl, the hilt was in her hand. Callon’s frustration was rampant and expected, but the sad look in his eyes shocked Kalyna. Her cheeks flushed a shamed pink. Putting the hilt back in her hand, he squeezed his hands over hers. “Hold it like this Kaly, like this. It's important. Don't hold it like this. Like this. You understand?”

  Kalyna nodded, unsure if she could do what he asked of her.

  “Like this Kaly, they'll kill you if you don't. Like this.”

  She nodded again, if only to get him to stop, because the serious side of Callon was actually quite frightening. She could take seriousness from all, especially Lanthar, but she could not handle the sad look on Callon's face.

  “Hey,” he said as he walked back to his spot across the cavern. "Don't worry. You've got this." He nodded once more. It was reassurance for himself more than Kalyna. He had to believe she would be fine. She had to be fine.

  Kalyna sighed and tried to feel out the hilt. It was heavy – so heavy. And, this was just a fake sword. She frowned, bit her lips, and then tried. She tried to remember everything Callon had taught her: Stand like this. Raise your hand like this. Tilt like this. Kalyna exhaled and before she could look up, Callon charged at her again yelling direction as he ran.

  “Dodge! Duck! Turn!” Callon commanded through his swings and her fleeing. “Defense, Kaly. What are you thinking? They will find joy in killing you!” He pushed harder. “Faster! Faster!”

  She felt the anger burn inside.

  She felt it build and build.

  She was not going to get this.

  It did not matter how many times Callon tried to reassure her. She was not going to get it. It was not okay. It was not all going to be all right. The heat inside grew until her cheeks seared pink and her eyes glowed red.

  “Do it again. Again,” Callon said.

  Kalyna picked up the sword discharged from the recent onslaught as Callon charged again. The ferocity of his scream was chilling. It was easy to see why he was the best. He was fast. Swift. Cunning. Deadly. Remorseless.

  She could not handle it. Kalyna ducked his main swing, dodged another blow, and before she had a chance to control the thoughts inside her head - dodge, duck, parry, defend, attack – her body surged with such a heat that she knew, she knew she had lost control.

  The flames burst from her hands and leapt to Callon's sword. His hilt seared and burned. It dropped to the ground with a tinny thump. The metal blade glowed a blue-tinted orange. Kalyna’s eyes snapped to black. A pelting force of air knocked Callon from his feet and slammed him to the ground. Struggling to pull himself up, Callon found a wave of vines lurching from the earth to latch around him.

  It took seconds.

  He was immobile. Vulnerable.

  Callon whipped his head back to lock eyes with a woman who had become one of his closest friends. But her soft copper eyes were no longer there. They were replaced with an angry black-green pair that made her face sullen and dark. Her flaxen waves whipped about her body as she summoned a tornado around her. The air grew and collected the glowingly hot sword.

  “Kaly….” His voice was soft at first but grew with the rising winds. “Kaly…Kal!”

  The tornado grew denser until Kalyna was barely visible through the funnel. The metal sword whizzed about tempting life. Callon struggled against the vines, which held on to him tighter. With a wiggle, he reached for the dagger stashed in his boot. The vines dug deeper. The wind pushed harder. Hopelessness tasted acidic and warm.
<
br />   “Kalyna – enough!”

  Her eyes snapped to copper. The tornado disappeared. The sword skipped along the ground landing near Kalyna’s feet. She stared at the cooling metal blankly.

  “Watcher save us Kaly, point taken. Gavasti!”

  Wincing, she cracked her knuckles and kicked the sword to him.

  “Call off the vines too, would ya?”

  Kalyna grunted in agreement and sat atop a nearby rock. She closed her eyes and calmed her breathing. Slowly, the vines rolled back into the earth, the cracked rock repairing itself after its retreat. She opened her eyes to Callon inches from her. Her face flushed and sweated.

  “Water, Kaly?”

  She nodded and chugged the water from his canteen pouch. She drained the container before she locked her eyes onto his. “I’m sorry… It’s just a defensive—”

  “No, it’s fine. You were in control the whole time…”

  Kalyna huffed.

  “…Right?”

  “Yea.” Kalyna touched his forearm and nodded at the sword. “Look Callon, it is pointless.”

  “Well, no gavasti there, Kaly. What it is… is bretzing brilliant! You made me useless and completely defenseless in a matter of moments and I am a master swordsman – I mean – for a regular Dragonic you could have them at your complete mercy in a matter of … seconds.”

  Callon saw the trace of shame on her face and knew. He knew she had lost control – for a moment, a second – at that if she did it then, she could do it again. He had brought her back, not herself. He caught his upset in his throat and drowned it with an optimistic smile. “We just have to work on your manifesting control of that reaction to sword fighting a bit.”

  Kalyna managed a soft smile.

  “You know, get your timing down, Kaly.”

  “I’d like that. Besides, I think mastering Rune timing is far more likely than sword fighting.”

  “I will drink to that... a lot… Care to join me?” Callon patted Kalyna on the back and ushered her towards the Great Hall. He holstered his rapiers and tapped them to make sure they remained cool. Satisfied, he gestured for her to take the lead.