Immortal

by Nicole Conway

  “I wish there was some way to change your mind about this,” were his only words, as he put his signature and seal at the bottom of my letter and handed it back to me.

  I folded the letter and put it back in my pocket. “Sorry, sir. With greatest respect, I’m needed much more at home than I am here.”

  He nodded as though he understood and dismissed me.

  That was it. With a signature and a few drops of red wax, I wasn’t a dragonrider anymore. At least, not in the military sense. Now I was just Duke Farrow, like my mom had always wanted.

  I’d expected to feel relieved. Instead, I was anxious and uncertain as I left Colonel Bragg’s office. Prax’s words were getting to me, pricking at my brain like a splinter. I wondered if I really was making a mistake.

  I decided not to give myself the chance to go down that road. I hurried to get my bags and made a break for the dragon stables. It was barely after daybreak, and there were already a few men at work mucking out the dragon stalls. I was looking to make a clean escape, to get out without having to make any awkward farewells. Of course, that didn’t happen.

  I rounded the corner, headed for Nova’s stall, and came face-to-face with everyone that was left of Emerald Flight—the guys I’d been fighting alongside. Prax was with them, and at first I was half-expecting to get jumped and beaten within an inch of my life for committing what they most likely saw as desertion.

  There were no traces of malice in any of their eyes, however. I prided myself on being fairly intuitive about that kinda thing. As far as I could tell, these guys hadn’t come here looking for a fight.

  I hesitated and looked around, waiting for someone to explain what was going on.

  “We know you’re anxious to put this place behind you,” Prax announced. “But we were hoping to convince you to come out with us one last time so we can give you a proper farewell.”

  A few of the others were nodding in agreement.

  “To the Laughing Fox?” I asked.

  Prax began to smile. “It is a tradition to give a toast to our retirees and drink to our dead.”

  I wasn’t sure how to say no to something like that. I knew better than to try. “Sure.”

  Prax helped me put my gear down inside Nova’s stall before we all began the downward trek out of the fifty-storey tower. The streets beyond were just barely waking. It was late spring, although that didn’t mean much here. It was always chilly at night in Northwatch.

  We walked together through the mostly deserted city streets, most of the guys laughing and heckling each other as usual. As for Prax and myself, well, I guess neither one of us was in a joking mood. The atmosphere was still heavy. By the time we arrived at the front door of the tavern, I was wondering if he would try to talk me out of leaving again.

  He didn’t, though.

  He didn’t say much of anything until we were all settled at our usual table, gripping mugs of warm ale, and reminiscing about the friends we had lost. That’s something I’d venture to say all dragonriders love—telling stories, the more outrageous or hilarious, the better. And if your story was good enough, it might even earn you a nickname, but not necessarily one you’re proud of.

  “Tell us one about Jaevid,” Prax insisted suddenly.

  That caught me totally off guard. I dared to stare him down from across the table. His expression was steely and impossible to read. I couldn’t tell if he was putting me on the spot out of sheer curiosity or if he had an ulterior motive. Was this supposed to expedite the healing process or something?

  “Yes,” someone else chimed in. “One we haven’t already heard.”

  It wasn’t totally justified, but something about being pinned down like this set me off. I put my mug down, crossed my arms, and let my elbows rest on the table.

  They wanted to know a story about my dead best friend? Fine. I’d tell them one, all right.

  All of a sudden, I had everyone’s undivided attention.

  “When we were fledgling students, you wouldn’t have given him a second glance. He wasn’t dragonrider material, and I think we all knew that. A stiff wind could’ve about snapped him in half. I spent a good portion of my spare time making sure he didn’t get the life beat out of him. I wondered how he was ever going to survive in our world, let alone make it to graduation,” I recalled. “But then I saw him work magic. I saw him speak to animals. I saw him heal people with his bare hands and bend the elements of nature to his will.”

  Total silence. I didn’t look up to see anyone’s expression. I wasn’t interested in whether or not any of them believed me.

  “Jace saw it, too. So did several others when we were nearly killed during our avian training on the Canrack Islands. They all witnessed what he could do. I should have died there, along with everyone else. But he saved my life. He saved all of us.”

  “I heard a rumor about this—that there was some sort of elven witchery about him,” Prax murmured.

  I flashed him a heated glare. “Not witchery. Power. The likes of which I never knew could exist in this world outside of legends and myths.”

  “Could he really be dead, then? Perhaps he swapped sides.”

  I didn’t see who said it, but the mere suggestion infuriated me. I slammed my fists down on the tabletop. “Jae was many things, but don’t you dare smear his name by calling him a traitor. He was a dragonrider—through and through. He never would have forsaken his oath.”

  “Relax, boy,” Prax said gruffly. “No one’s slandering your friend. I agree; I didn’t take him to be a traitor. And I doubt he would have abandoned his dragon unless death itself pried him from the saddle.”

  I swallowed hard. I didn’t want to sit here for another second. I was already behind on my own schedule.

  Prax must have been able to sense that I was on the verge of losing it because he picked up his mug again and raised it to make a toast. “Let us remember him for who he was, for the good he did, for his loyalty and service, and his honorable sacrifice. We honor him and the rest of our dead, good men all. May they find peace on the white shores of paradise.”

  It was a good change of subject and everyone joined in. I raised my glass, too. But my heart wasn’t in it. I was angry. There was a bitter taste in my mouth that the ale couldn’t wash away.

  The others seemed content to waste the day there, drinking and eating while they told more stories. If my head had been clearer, I might’ve enjoyed it. It might have been a relief to voice some of the memories haunting my mind.

  After only an hour, I got up and put on my cloak again.

  “It’s not even midday,” Prax pointed out. “You could stay a bit longer.”

  I shook my head. It wasn’t open for debate. I was finished here. I knew what he was trying to do, anyway. I wouldn’t be persuaded to stay. If anything, I wanted to leave now more than ever.

  I kept my goodbyes brief and made a clean break for the door. Pulling the hood of my cloak over my head, I took a breath and stepped out into the pale, hazy light of Northwatch’s dreary sky. The air was heavy and it smelled like it was going to rain again soon.

  I’d only just left the Laughing Fox behind me. I was headed straight for the citadel, making my way through the streets alone. That’s when I started to get the weird feeling that I was being watched—watched and followed.

  Whoever it was, they were good. Better than most. I’d only catch a glimpse of a familiar combination of colors and clothing out of the corner of my eye, but just as soon as I’d turn to look they were gone, as quick as a shadow. It had my heart pounding away in my ears.

  I decided to alter my route. I took the long way, crossing through the tangled alleyways behind some of the old shops. I thought I might lose them that way.

  All I did was make myself an easier target. After all, I didn’t know anyone who would have been a match for her speed.

  I rounded a corner quickly and walked right into the point of a slender dagger. Just like that, she c
ould have run me through. Thankfully, she didn’t. Beckah was on our side.

  Her big green eyes were wide and desperate as she stared up at me, her hand gripping the dagger with white knuckles

  Slowly, I raised my hands up in surrender.

  “Why isn’t Jae with you?” she rasped. “Where is he?”

  I could see she was at her wit’s end. Her voice was hoarse and thick and her chin was trembling. Tears were beginning to pool in her eyes.

  After staying up all night sorting through my thoughts and writing a letter to her family explaining what had happened, I had hoped I would know what to say when I finally came face-to-face with her. But I didn’t. I couldn’t remember anything I’d written.

  “Gone,” I managed. “Dead.”

  “No!” She pushed the point of that dagger against my neck until it started to hurt. “I saw the roster they posted on the fort gates. I read every name. His wasn’t there!”

  “Because they never found his body. They only post the names of the ones with a body left to bury, so the families can come retrieve it if they wish.”

  She took a few deep, frantic breaths. Her eyes widened and her chin trembled. “No … no, you’re lying!”

  “I’m not.”

  “He talked about going to Luntharda. He said he felt that—”

  “He talked to me about that too, Beckah. But do you honestly think he’d go without telling us? And during the middle of a battle when he was supposed to be watching someone else’s back? I think we both know … Jae wouldn’t have done anything like that.”

  “Then it’s your fault!” She started to scream. “You were supposed to protect him!”

  The look of betrayal and raw agony on her face was more than I could take. I let my arms drop to my sides. If she was going to lash out and ram that dagger through my neck, I wasn’t going to try to stop her.

  “Tell me the truth, Felix Farrow,” she railed. “Where is he?”

  I couldn’t look at her. It hurt, like nothing else ever had. I was a man. I wasn’t supposed to show emotion. I had to swallow it, bite it, do anything to keep it from surfacing. But I nearly broke down when she slapped me across the face.

  “I hate you. I’ll never forgive you. Ever.” Her voice was broken by sobs. “You abandoned him. You let my Jae die. You selfish, miserable coward!”

  I didn’t say anything. She wasn’t telling me anything I didn’t already know.

  Beckah slapped me again, harder this time. “I hope you rot in that castle of yours.”

  Those words hung in the air, beating down on my head, long after she’d stormed away. I lost track of time as I stood there, staring at the tops of my boots. I was jealous of her. She could let it out. She could say what I was too afraid to admit to myself—that I had let him down. That my best friend was dead because of me.

  Once I made my way back to the citadel, I found I couldn’t get out of there fast enough. I didn’t want to see or talk to anyone else. I’d had enough with the stalling games, the painful farewells, and the horrible way this place made me feel. After my dragon was outfitted and loaded down with all my gear, I strapped on my armor and clipped my sword on my belt. I pulled my helmet down over my face and climbed onto Nova’s back.

  The infantrymen manning the platform waved me out as they rolled the gate open so we could pass. Outside, the sky looked heavy. Dull gray clouds were gathering. It was bound to start raining any second.

  Nova spread her wings wide, embracing the stormy winds and diving into the air. My stomach fluttered at the sensation of falling. Then we were up, soaring higher, shooting through the clouds, and breaking free to the clear skies beyond. We left Northwatch behind, and I never looked back.

  It took well into the night to make it to my family’s estate on the eastern coast. As we started our final approach, I could see the winking lights of Solhelm—the city that my family was responsible for as part of our estate’s duties. We were the local authoritative figures, answering only to the king himself.

  Solhelm was nestled in a shallow valley, between a few small mountain peaks. I’d probably spent more time there as a kid, getting into varying amounts of trouble, than I had at my own house. My family’s ancestral house was lit up like a beacon. Mom had really outdone herself this time. There was a candelabra burning in every window, and the paved courtyard for dragon-traffic to land was blazing like she was afraid I’d miss it or something. How embarrassing.

  Servants were waiting on me when we finally touched down. They bowed or curtsied as they came to help me bring in my gear. Normally, I would’ve insisted on carrying it myself. But I wasn’t in the mood to argue with anyone else right now.

  I handed Nova’s care off to one of the stable hands that’d also come to meet us. They would take good care of her; I had no doubt about that. She was in for a good meal of fresh meat, a soft bed of clean hay, and space enough to stretch out if she felt like it. After all, any lady of mine was going to get pampered. And as it happened, she was my queen.

  “Welcome home, sir.” One of the white-gloved butlers manning the front door addressed me with a stiff bow as he let me inside.

  I didn’t answer, mostly because of who was standing on the other side waiting for me.

  My mom looked older every time I saw her—and not in a good way. It was as though she was withering away, drying up under the searing heat of her own scowl. Her eyes had once only regarded me with apathetic coldness were now brimming with what I could only guess was subdued fear. Why she’d ever be afraid of me, I didn’t know. I’d never raised a hand to her, and neither had dad. But she looked thin and timid standing there, looking me over like she wasn’t sure it was really me.

  I couldn’t remember her ever looking at me for that long before. It was unnerving. “Something wrong?”

  Mom opened her mouth, but closed it again just as quickly. She shook her head, making the light catch in her jewel-encrusted earrings and hairpins. Her hair was slowly turning gray and her skin was beginning to wrinkle. She still dressed like she was going to a party all the time, decked out from head-to-toe in the finest adornments our estate could afford. It was like a barrier she’d built up around herself, although I wasn’t sure what or who she was trying to keep out. Poor people, maybe?

  “Send word to the groundskeeper. I want to see him in my study first thing in the morning,” I told her as I walked past.

  “Whatever for?” She sounded suspicious.

  I didn’t stop to explain. Did it matter? It’s not like she cared. “Don’t worry over it, mom. I’m not doing anything to your precious tea garden.”

  I heard her puff an annoyed sigh as I walked away.

  And that was it—my welcome home. That was about as warm as things had ever been between my mother and I. It hadn’t ended in a shouting match, which was actually some form of progress for us. When I was growing up, we never agreed on anything.

  Actually, I’d never gotten on well with either of my parents. I was an enormous disappointment to them, which they both let me know several times. I was reckless, foolish, wasteful, and unappreciative. I didn’t take my role as duke seriously enough to suit them.

  Well, that much was about to change. I was lord of this manor now, and I already had my first task in mind. Boy, was she going to be furious when she found out what it was—even if it didn’t involve her stupid tea garden.

  After they took away all the pieces of my armor and drew up a bath, I dismissed all the servants from my quarters. There was a spread of food set out for me, since I was way too late for dinner, but I wasn’t hungry. Instead, I poured myself a tall glass of the strongest liquor I could find in my wine cabinet and went to sit in the bath. I sat, sipping in silence and going over plans in my head, until the water had grown cold. Then I got to work.

  I sat hunched over the writing desk in my private parlor, scribbling on sheets of paper until dawn broke. My nightshirt and hands were dotted with ink and there was a stack
of completed order forms spread out all around me. It was finished. Or at least, it was ready to begin.

  The chimes outside my private quarters sounded, warning me that servants were coming in. They brought in breakfast on shining silver platters, clearing away the meal left from the night before. The housekeeper, Miss Harriet, was the only one bold enough to ask about it, though. She’d been in charge of running the household for as long as I could remember. She was a plump, elderly woman with a blunt way about her, which I’d always liked. She took her job seriously, too. She managed all the other servants and made sure everything ran smoothly, just the way my parents wanted.

  Only now, things were going to be done the way I wanted, for a change.

  “It’s not like you to turn down a meal, Master Felix,” she pointed out as she poured a cup of tea and sat it down on the desk before me. “Was it not to your liking?”

  “I’m sure it was fine. I’m just not in the mood.”

  I could hear disapproval in her tone. “Not in the mood for poached eggs and bacon over toast? That’s not the man I know.”

  I shrugged as I stacked up all my papers. “Is the groundskeeper in to see me?”

  She nodded. “Aye. Waiting in your study. I told him you’d be in shortly, once you’d had breakfast.”

  “Tell him I’m coming now,” I commanded as I stood up and went to get dressed.

  “Master Felix?” She called after me. “May I ask what’s going on? Are you all right?”

  “Fine,” I answered curtly. “Planning a funeral just doesn’t leave me with much of an appetite.”

  I guess she got the message—I was not in the mood to be interrogated by the hired help. She left me alone with a few other servants who helped me dress. It was stupid. I knew how to put on my own clothes. But I figured this was one of those “duke-ish” things my mom had always nagged about. When I was ready, I took my papers and headed for my study.