Fallen King

by Olive Creed

  “Zell here. With a message from the king.”

  He groaned, sliding the dagger back in its sheath and opening the door.

  Zell shoved his way in. “He changed his mind about you going to Achia. He’s sending me instead.”

  Cyprian narrowed his eyes. He’d volunteered to take an important message to one of the lords in Achia—and had planned on stopping by Gashir on his way back. Why had the king changed his mind?

  It probably had something to do with Zell’s smug grin.

  Well, Zell was an annoying, lying, sneaky, yellow-bellied, poor excuse of a Shadow. There was a high chance he’d had been assigned a mission he didn’t like and was trying to trick Cyprian into taking it instead.

  He rolled his eyes, waving for Zell to leave and turned back to packing. If King Corynth wanted him to take a different assignment, he needed to send someone other than Zell.

  “I’m serious, runt.” Zell grabbed his shoulder. “He—” A fist crashing across his face sent him sprawling. He glared up at Cyprian, rubbing his jaw as he picked himself up off the floor. “You’re gonna pay for that.”

  Cyprian squared his feet, unbuckling his belt that held the daggers and tossing it onto his bed. He’d whip the idiot barehanded. There would be more pleasure in beating him into unconsciousness than simply threatening to kill him.

  Zell came at Cyprian. Hedidn’t bother dodging. Zell’s fist glanced off his cheekbone. At the same time, his crashed into Zell’s throat. Cyprian followed it with an uppercut into the chin with enough power to knock him back into the hall. He stared dazedly up at the ceiling. Cyprian stepped over. After a moment, he kicked his hip to get Zell’s attention. His eyes rolled around a bit before semi-focusing on Cyprian. Cyprian held out his hands, motioning him to come get him.

  Zell growled, rolling to his feet and staggering towards Cyprian. He swung, sloppily, weaving like a drunk. Cyprian spun, Zell’s fist sailing harmlessly by, and kicked his legs out from under him.

  Zell cursed at once again finding himself on the floor. With a groan, he staggered upright, only to receive a crashing blow to the face that laid him out cold.

  Cyprian brushed his hands off, buckling his belt back on, grabbing his knapsack, and heading out. Now to report to the king to get the paperwork.

  “You what?”

  Cyprian cringed at King Corynth’s tone, thankful that, for once, the king’s anger wasn’t directed towards him. He closed the door quietly, moving over to stand beside Peter.

  Why were so many people gathered in the king’s study?

  The soldier standing in front of King Corynth swallowed. “We retreated, sire. The drake... sir, the drake was hunting us down and we couldn’t fight back. We tried every—” His words were cut off in a wet gurgle and he slumped to the floor, blood streaming from his throat.

  Cyprian stared at the body. The sooner he helped King Torrin get rid of this bloody king, the better.

  “Where’s Zell?” Dawsyn hissed.

  Cyprian shrugged.

  “You did somethin’ to him,” he snarled, lunging forward.

  “Dawsyn!” The Achian Shadow froze, glancing meekly at Peter, who’s stare was cold as ice. Peter rested a hand on Cyprian’s shoulder. “Don’t touch him.”

  King Corynth handed his dagger to the clerk to clean. “Fools. I send six men out together and they can’t fight off a single iina?”

  Cyprian felt the blood drain from his face. An iina?

  Ronan, who stood behind the king staring down at the dead Shadow on the floor, shook himself. “Sire, an iina is a powerful drake with high intelligence. It took—”

  “Silence!”

  Ronan stiffened and nodded jerkily.

  The door creaked open and Zell crept in, bruised and a bit bloody, one hand pressed to his head. Both he and Dawsyn sent murderous looks Cyprian’s way.

  King Corynth ignored them, glancing out the window and rubbing the scruff along his jaw. “This is the third man to tell me there was an iina in the area.” He glanced at them. “Peter, I’m pulling you from the trainees. Cyprian, someone else will deliver the messages for you. I want you four to track down the iina and bring it to me.”

  Cyprian mentally cursed in every language he knew. So Zell hadn’t been lying.

  “Why not kill it, sire?” Zell whined.

  “For reasons that do not concern you,” the king snapped. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Cripple it, if you must, but do not kill it. Or I shall boil you alive. Is that understood?” He fixed them with a look.

  Cyprian stared back at him, gripping the hilt of his dagger. Things just got tricky. He still needed to get to Gashir before someone else heard Ace was back. The inhabitants of Zaraya worked with dragons. If this drake was protecting Zaraya, he somehow had to keep the others from capturing it without everyone getting killed.

  He glanced at Dawsyn and Zell. Well, without getting Peter and himself killed.

  “You’ll be accompanied by Gannon Miles. As a bounty hunter, he’s very skilled in tracking and familiar with hunting dragons. He is coming with you.”

  Cyprian felt a cold weight settle in his stomach. Peter’s hand tightened on his shoulder. Just when I thought things couldn’t get any worse.

  Thunder rumbled in the distance, humidity from the approaching storm making the summer heat nearly unbearable, even with the borrowed sleeveless tunic and shorts Torrin had borrowed from Raevyn. He couldn’t wait until the storm broke and finally cooled everything down just for a little bit.

  At least the clouds had covered the sun. And standing under a tree kept him from dying of heatstroke.

  “Roscoe wanted to talk to all of us after chores?” Raevyn made a snorting sound, muffled a little as she was half under a coop. “That chicken?”

  Briley rolled her eyes. “That’s not nice. He’s not a chicken for not liking social situations—”

  “No, Bri, ‘e’s a chicken. I ‘ave scared ‘im so many times.”

  Torrin raised a hand to stop them, grinning a little at Raevyn’s smug tone. “He did. He wanted to tell us all about a man named Ace Pariah.”

  “Well.” Raevyn passed back the last egg before wiggling out from under their large chicken coop. One of the children had informed Raevyn of hens going under the coop and they’d investigated—which ended up with Briley and Torrin both holding baskets full of too many eggs to count and Raevyn covered head to toe in dirt, chicken waste, and cobwebs. “If this man is important enough to make Roscoe talk, I guess we gotta go see.”

  He nodded, glancing down at his overflowing baskets. “What do we do with these?”

  “Chunk them. At least ‘alf of those could explode any moment.” Raevyn grinned. “We could chunk them at the soldiers.”

  “No thank you.” Briley shuddered, looking a little green. “The last thing I want is to be around when they burst.”

  Torrin glanced between them, just a little confused. “What do you mean they explode?”

  “I do not know the smart answer to it, someone else could explain it better than me, but stink builds up inside the egg as it rots and it turns into a deadly weapon.” Raevyn cackled. “My friends and I used to throw rotten eggs at each other when we were little.”

  Torrin shuddered, handing the baskets over to Raevyn and hobbling back a safe distance. “That is very interesting and very disgusting.”

  Ryan would have loved to learn about that.

  “I guess we can take them to the lake and dump ‘em there.” Raevyn wrinkled her nose. “They already stink.”

  “We’d better hurry.” Briley glanced up at the dark clouds. “Where are we going to meet Roscoe?”

  “I think he said to meet him at the barn.”

  She nodded. “Okay. We’ll be there as soon as we finish taking care of these.”

  The rain started right as they reached the barn. Zeno was already there, writing something in a small notebook. He glanced up as they entered and tucked it into his pocket. Torrin lowered
himself to the floor, leaning against the stall door and letting his bad leg stretch out in front of him. Raevyn hopped up on a feed bin while Briley sat down beside Torrin, tucking her feet underneath her. Alaric leaned against a barrel.

  Several curious goats jumped up to peer at them over the tops of their stalls. One leaned over, sniffing and nibbling at a satchel.

  “‘Ey.” Alaric snatched it. “Not for you, kunu.”

  “What is it?” Raevyn sniffed. “Do I smell cookies?”

  “Yes. Mema made a fresh batch for everyone.” He avoided eye contact, setting the satchel down in a safe spot.

  Raevyn snickered, sliding down to sit beside Torrin and elbow his arm. “If there’s one thing that boy loves more than stitching people up, it’s ‘is mema’s cookies.”

  “Boy?” Alaric exclaimed indignantly. “I’m four years your elder!”

  Raevyn opened her mouth to respond, but Briley jumped in. “Where is Roscoe? He is supposed to meet us here, right?”

  “‘E’s actually ‘ere.”

  Roscoe pushed open the door, hunched over with a lump under his shirt. He straightened with a sigh, pulling his purple dragon out from under his shirt. “Are you satisfied now, Catnip?” he asked with a hint of sarcasm. He shook his wet hair out of his eyes and sat down where he was. Catnip squirmed out of his grasp and trotted across the barn floor. “Did I miss anything?”

  “No, we just got ‘ere ourselves.”

  “Now that we’re all ‘ere.” Alaric shoved Catnip away from him. “Roscoe, keep your dragon in one spot, will ya?” He snatched his hand back as the dragon snapped at him. “Anyways, you wanted to tell us about someone that could ‘elp?”

  “Yes. Um, Ace Pariah. I’ve worked with him many times on rescue missions. He hates K—Corynth. And the pirates and Kyrnians and Slavers... basically everyone posing a threat right now, he hates. And I know he would jump at the chance to put the right king on the throne.”

  Raevyn nodded. “So, why do we need to ‘ave this meeting?”

  “Because I don’t know if he would come here into Zaraya or not. And I don’t think your parents would appreciate us just bringing in strangers.” Roscoe held his hand out to Catnip, the corner of his lips turning upwards when she rubbed up against him, purring. “So, since you’re now an adult and old enough to make decisions for your people, I figured we’d get your permission to bring in Ace.”

  She hesitated, biting her cheek. “Pepa says it’s not something we need to get involved in. That we’ve always been safe and secluded from the rest of the people.”

  Torrin blinked. “The people here feel they’re safe. Corynth has never invaded Zaraya and they don’t see why he would now.” He gave Raevyn and Alaric an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, but your people are fools.”

  Alaric ducked his head, fiddling with the fringe of his buckskin pants.

  Raevyn crossed her arms. “Bold words for a dethroned king. We ‘ave always been safe. Even trading with some of the towns outside Zaraya. What makes you say we’re at risk now?”

  “Corynth has something against our people.” Briley’s voice was low, her eyes fastened on her skirt. She cleared her throat. “I... I used to live in Achia before coming to live here. My pepa was Elyndian, but my mema..." She cleared her throat. “It was me, my parents, and my real grandparents. Corynth rode in on our farm with his Shadows and killed them all. Burned them at the stake.”

  Torrin reached over, squeezed her shoulder.

  She looked up, her eyes shiny with unshed tears. “He never attacked Zaraya because the Elyndians would see it as an act of war, since most of Zaraya lays within the Elyndian borders. But now that he’s ruling both countries, it’s only a matter of time before he comes for us.”

  Raevyn’s hands were curling into fists. “That filthy,” she spat something in her native tongue that had Briley, Roscoe, and Alaric glaring at her. “So, we ‘ave to fight.” She sighed. “My people also aren’t exactly trained for battle. We ‘ave guards, yes. I train with them. But our battles ‘ave always been with the occasional rogue Anatheman.”

  Torrin felt his eyebrows disappear into his hair. “You fight the Anathemans?”

  “Uh. Yeah.” She looked at him like he’d sprouted wings and a tail. “What’s so strange about that?”

  Torrin scrambled to his feet, in his excitement forgetting about his weak leg until it buckled. He grabbed the stall to brace himself. “That’s incredible! If you can fight them, you can surely fight Corynth’s soldiers.”

  Everyone in the room exchanged glances. “What do you mean?” Briley tilted her head. “What’s so special about the Anathemans?”

  Torrin gaped at her. “Haven’t you heard the stories about them?”

  She raised an eyebrow. “No. I haven’t. I’ve lived in the forests my entire life, how could I? What are they?”

  Alaric and Roscoe glanced at each other, fighting back grins. Torrin had the distinct feeling that they knew something he didn’t and he was about to look like an idiot. “Um, different things. Some people say they are monsters, who live in the trees and come out at night and will eat anything and anyone they find.”

  Briley pressed her hand against her mouth and coughed. Alaric and Roscoe both snickered. Zeno ducked his head. Torrin frowned and turned to Raevyn. “What?”

  Raevyn studied the ground, rubbing her chin and nodding. “Mm. That’s interesting. I didn’t know that.” She looked at him and grinned deviously. “Might not want to come around me once the sun sets. I just might eat you.”

  “You are Anatheman?” He turned to Briley and Alaric. “You... you all are? How did... why did nobody tell me?”

  “I guess we thought you knew.” Raevyn shrugged. “Not a ‘ole lot of people ‘ave abnormal hair coloring, ya know.”

  Roscoe raised his hand. “The tropical islands are inhabited by people with not only strange hair and eye coloring, but also their skin coloring is different.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Okay. Well, ‘ere, ‘ow many people ‘ave pink and white hair?”

  “He did just tell us that he thought the Anathemans were monsters,” Briley pointed out. “We don’t exactly look like monsters.”

  Torrin hadn’t really believed the stories had been true, but a part of him had felt that something had to have started them. “How’d... how did the stories get started, then?” He was going to have to fix that once he regained his throne, make sure the people knew the truth.

  If he regained his throne.

  Raevyn shrugged. “I don’t know. But I’d be willing to bet ‘oever chased us from our ‘omeland knows. You could ask my pepa. Or maybe people get confused because there’s ‘uman Anathemans and animal Anathemans.”

  Torrin pressed his hand against his temple. “There’s animal Anathemans?” Once again, his excitement returned. “Do they work with you?”

  “Sometimes.” Briley grimaced. “But you have to convince them it’s in their best interest.”

  He grinned. “That’s great! If we can convince them that it’s better to fight Corynth than to hide—no offense—I bet his soldiers aren’t used to fighting animals.”

  Raevyn jumped up, eyes sparkling. “We can convince the wild dragons to ‘elp us as well. And Aklin. His wolves would be a ‘uge asset.”

  “Who’s going to convince him to help us?” Briley asked. “More importantly, how would we convince him?”

  “I... do not know yet. Maybe we can talk to ‘is mate. Get ‘er to convince ‘im, since she’s the more logical one.” Raevyn shrugged. “But the first thing to focus on is this Ace fellow.”

  Torrin nodded. “Right. And regaining the throne is my responsibility. I should be the one to go.”

  “I... it’s not... the best idea ever.” Roscoe rubbed the back of his head. “But... might be our only choice. None of us can go. And, Torrin, you pretty much look like any other Elyndian. I don’t think the Achians would recognize you..."

  “But is it safe? He’s still recovering.” Briley
looked at Alaric and Zeno. “You two are the healers. What do you think?”

  Alaric shrugged. “If ‘e says ‘e’s well enough to go, ‘e is.”

  Zeno nodded in agreement after a moment. “I, um, I think he’d be fine.”

  Torrin took a deep breath, trying to squash down the overwhelming anxiety creeping up at the thought of going to Achia alone. “Alright. ... Tell me how to find him.”

  Torrin tightened the girth of the saddle, then rubbed the smooth scales of the trialla he would be riding.

  “You are dead set on doing this. Alone. Despite the many times I ‘ave told you ‘ow stupid it is to go find a stranger just because Roscoe said ‘e could ‘elp and you being unable to ‘elp yourself if you get into trouble.”

  “She does have a point,” Briley said quietly from where she was fastening the saddle on the other side of the dragon. “You don’t know what this Ace Pariah is like.”

  “You two ladies should become lawyers,” Torrin mumbled. “I’ve got to. There’s too many people in Achia who would recognize Roscoe. I’m the king, it’s my responsibility, and I don’t have pink hair that would stand out.” He glanced at Raevyn. “And you are not coming with me.”

  She glared at him. “But someone ‘as to protect you.”

  “I have a dragon. What’s going to harm me?”

  Briley walked around, brushing dirt off her dress. “Actually, triallas are a very skittish breed. They don’t really protect anyone.”

  The dragon nodded in agreement. “Take flight we do.”

  Well, there went that argument.

  “I did ask one of the dragons if they knew of anyone who could act as a bodyguard or watchdog or... however you want to phrase it.” Briley glanced at Raevyn. “Does the name Sangre mean anything to you?”

  Raevyn stared at her, eyes wide and mouth open. “Uh, yes it does. ‘e is an iina. The last one, I think. You didn’t talk to ‘im, did you?”

  “No. But one of the dragons said they would ask him to follow Torrin.”

  “I wouldn’t trust ‘im with a rotten egg. I would sooner face an entire army of Kyrnians than that drake. ‘E was banished because ‘e ate ‘umans!”