by D. E. Morris
~*~*~*~
It took little time for news to spread that the children were taken, despite Jaryn's orders. Cavalon took off as soon as he heard, Luella right behind. As the castle slowly began to regroup and those who couldn't be found earlier eventually surfaced, the weight of what had happened settled upon all of them. Nuala and Tasarin had been swept away to different parts of the castle and when their enemies fled, were busy healing the wounded. They were both empathetic of the loss of Zarra and offered Mairead and Lilia their condolences. Once they were told of the children, however, their attention shifted. Nuala took to the sky to aid in the search, and Tasarin joined Killian's mounted search party.
With Elas found and tending to Kenayde, and Jaryn and Ashlynn apparently occupied in another part of the castle, Wessely stepped into command and gave the guards who were still within the castle certain tasks to oversee and carry out. He had Zarra's body carefully removed from the bailey to be placed in a private room where she could be tended to before a service would be held. Lilia was quite unable to get herself together and needed to be escorted inside, but Mairead was eager to help anywhere she could.
“I have seen how short life can be,” she told Wessely when he asked if she was sure she wanted to be there. “It has been terribly selfish of me to stay so hidden. I refuse to act that way again.” It was with great admiration that he watched her join in with those who were working to roll the body of the dragon onto a horse-drawn cart.
The dragons in the throne room were small enough to be dragged out by several strong men. Though the three slain beasts were large, they were surprisingly lighter than their size should have allowed. It made taking care of the bodies that much easier.
As Wessely walked into the throne room, he saw Kenayde sitting on the stone steps, Elas on one side of her and Cailin on the other. Upon seeing Wessely, Cailin rose and crossed the room to stand before him. Wessely looked her over with a frown. “Your dress is torn.”
She looked down at the shreds of fabric hanging from the skirt of her gown and one of her sleeves, shrugging. “I doubt I would have worn it again anyway.”
“Pity. You looked lovely in it.” Oblivious to the blush that colored her cheeks, he looked over Cailin's head to where his daughter sat. “Is Kenayde all right?”
“No, actually.” Cailin turned just enough to look at her also. “I think she needs her father right now.”
Wessely nodded. “Thank you, Cailin.” He started past her but stopped, a crease in his brow. “Would you try to find Ashlynn or Jaryn? I know they must be in a panic over the children and that they ordered the search parties, but it concerns me that I have seen neither of them yet.”
“Of course, Your Highness.”
“Cailin...” Wessely's warning tone was met with half a grin before she walked away. At her back, he muttered, “A king without a castle is no king at all.” With a shake of his head, he crossed the large throne room to sit down beside his daughter. She looked shaken, even with Elas' protective arm around her. Wessely took her chin in his hand to gently turn her face to him, examining. There was a bump on her forehead near her temple that was already bruising. “All things considered, I think you are lucky this was the only injury you suffered.” Kenayde looked down and pulled her chin free like a petulant child, making Wessely frown. “I know this was not the wedding you were imagining, Kenayde, but-”
“Am I one of them?”
The question made him stop talking, a brow lifting. A glance at Elas gave him nothing more than a confused gaze in return, the younger man uncertain what the inquiry meant. Wessely looked once more at Kenayde. “One of them?”
“A Gael.”
Both of Wessely's brows shot up so quickly that they almost disappeared into his hairline. “Why do you ask me that?”
“I am not stupid, Papa. I have seen what that noise does to some Gaels. It has not affected anyone who was not a Gael. Each time I heard that sound, I felt exactly what I felt tonight when I heard it, when everyone heard it and reacted at the same time.” Kenayde looked up at her father. “Why did you not tell me?”
Wessely sighed quietly and grimaced. “I have not known for long. It was only last year when I came for a visit to meet Lochlainn that the theory was even presented. Your sister and I-”
“Ashlynn knew?” Her voice broke in surprise. Turning an accusing glare to her new husband, she asked, “Did you know?”
“Of course not. Would I keep something like that from you?”
Kenayde's eyes narrowed. “Like you kept the cure wearing off from me?”
Wessely looked at the water dragon in accusation as well. “What?”
“I didn't...” Elas trailed off with a growl. “That's not what's important right now.”
“I beg to differ.”
Frustrated, Kenayde rose with a grunt of anger, her wedding dress dirty and crumpled from battle. “What happened tonight? Who attacked us? What do they want? When were you going to tell me what I was?”
Wessely said nothing for a moment, only watched as Kenayde paced the room. He and Elas looked at one another, both of them trying to get the other to speak first. Eventually, Wessely rose and ascended the steps to look out the windows behind the thrones. “Kenayde, I love you more than I ever could have imagined loving a child that was not my own. When my brother sent his children to me to raise and care for, I thought that you would be my wards and that was all. I never expected to love you with the love of a father.” Turning from the windows, he rested a hand atop Jaryn's throne. “As I grew to love you, I also grew to understand that you and Ashlynn were very different creatures. What would make your sister barely blink would send you into fits of tears. You have always been far more sensitive than she was.”
Kenayde's hands went to her hips. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“Once Ashlynn began looking more into what she was, where the two of you came from, you never hid your unease about it. You never liked the fact that she was a Gael or the fact that there was magic in both of you. I will never forget that first moment you somehow managed to summon fyre.”
The reminder of that humiliating moment seemed to cool her temper some, for she looked down with a small frown. “I frightened myself so much that I screamed.”
“You also had a breakdown when Ashlynn said she was embracing what she was. After both of those instances, could you blame us for being hesitant in telling you what we assumed?”
Kenayde bit her lip, gaze downward. “No...but you still should have told me.”
Wessely nodded, moving to be close to her so he could take her chin in his hand again. “Yes, we should have. I am sorry, my daughter. Please forgive me and forgive your sister. We were only waiting to figure out the best time and way to tell you.”
“I do forgive you, Papa.” She offered him a timid smile, then kissed his cheek. “I cannot say that I am thrilled about being a Gael, but it is not the worst thing in the world.”
Wessely chuckled. “No, it is not.”
“I have so many questions now, though. Why can I not hear telepathic conversation like most Gaels? I have to be touching Elas in order to hear him.” She looked to him now as though remembering he was in the room. Extending her hand to him prompted him to his feet, lacing his fingers with hers and kissing her. She smiled up at him, caressing his cheek. “I am sorry, my love. That was not my secret to tell.” Elas only smiled and kissed her again.
“I am not sure about the telepathy,” Wessely injected, not yet comfortable seeing such a public display of affection from his youngest daughter. “That is something we will likely need to speak with Badru or Cavalon about. As for your other questions...” He sighed. “I wish I had the answers.”
“We heard about the children,” said Elas quietly. “Should I search for ships offshore?”
“By now there are many already flying out over the sea.” Frowning, Wessely looked to the doors that stood open and empty. “We need to regroup a soon as we can, hopefully once
the children are home and safe. This attack will not have come from nothing.”
Kenayde was sorrowful. “What if the children are not found? What if...?” She covered her mouth, unable to finish her sentence. “They are all still just babies.”
“Those men were here for a reason,” Elas assured. “The way they fought - the way their dragons fought - they could have easily killed more than half of us tonight. We were far from prepared for the ambush and that gave them all the upper hand they needed to take us down. Instead, they came in here to simply...what...distract us? Do you think the children were the targets all along? After all, they have the heirs of three high kingdoms right now.”
“That is a fear I have been trying not to give any credence to since I heard the news,” admitted Wessely.
“Your Highness.”
The familiar voice made Wessely turn, a command for Cailin to stop calling him that ready on his lips, but he stalled at the look on her face. Her brown eyes were wide and full of sorrow. He felt the breath go out of him and reached for Kenayde's arm. “Is it the children?”
“No.” Cailin's simple answer gave away little, but as she held Wessely's questioning gaze, her chin shook and her bottom lip quavered. “It's Ashlynn. She's lost her baby.”
“What?” Kenayde tore herself from her father and her husband and rushed to Cailin. “Where is she?”
“She's in her quarters.” The words were barely out before Kenayde was gone. Cailin turned back to the men and watched Elas walk back to the steps to sink down onto them, his head in his hands. Wessely made for the door, his movements sluggish in his grief. As he passed Cailin, she reached out and touched his arm. “I'm so sorry.”
He nodded, his brows knit together. “Thank you, Cailin.”
She waited until he was gone before turning to Elas. For a long moment, no words passed between them, both of them left feeling uncertain and with hearts broken for their friends. At length, Cailin took a deep breath and nodded to the open doors.
“Come on. Let's help search for the children as well. We're not doing any good sitting here.”
“Ashlynn just lost her child,” Elas growled.
“Aye, and she may yet lose another if we don't find him.” Though Cailin's voice was cold, there was truth to her words that Elas couldn't argue. He shoved himself to his feet with a snarl that Cailin knew wasn't meant for her, but hoped would help in his determination to find those they would seek.
Chapter Thirteen
The mounted guards who left the castle spread out into the village surrounding Altaine like ants taking familiar paths through the soil. Tasarin led a company through the southern half of the village while Killian led the other through the north. Though many were still recovering from the shock of what had happened, it was quickly discovered that no one in the village had been assaulted. Unlike the attack on the castle, the riders and the dragons that had stormed the village refrained from striking out unless they were attacked first, and even then they fought only to defend themselves and not to harm. As a whole, the dragons and riders stood in the streets and at doorways, keeping everyone within the village from moving anywhere, holding them hostage until they took their leave.
When Tasarin and Killian met up on the western edge of the village, they compared similar stories from everyone they spoke to; no casualties were reported.
“The riders flew west,” Tasarin said confidently. “There are two major roads leading from the capital that eventually lead to port cities on the western coast. We should begin there and see what we can learn. It may be that they have already flown out to sea, but we must try.”
“Agreed,” said Killian darkly. “I know the high queen has been fearing an attack from High King Connor. If the riders did indeed all fly west, after Mirasean, there is only one country they will meet.”
“The elves would never take part in something as barbaric as this.” Tasarin's horse shifted beneath him. “It is getting harder and harder to give Ibays the benefit of the doubt.”
The two men agreed upon the roads they would take, then once again went different directions. Killian ordered his company expertly, having them fan out through the surrounding forest so that they covered much more land but were still close enough to be in communication with one another. The horses ran at full clips when the treeline dropped away and left nothing but a wide, grassy plane before them, their breath frosting before them as they snorted. The moon was high and bright above them, making the late hour seem a little less daunting.
“My lord!”
Killian tugged hard on the reins of his steed, the horse crying out in protest, dancing on its hind legs before turning and obeying the command given. He pressed his heels into the ribs of the horse, hurrying to where his attention was summoned. The other riders stopped, awaiting his command. A woman stood, already dismounted, with something in her hands. As Killian approached, she lifted a long strip of white and gold fabric to him. Killian accepted it, turning it over in his hands to examine it. His chin lifted and he searched the sky, then turned his attention in the direction they had all been heading.
“This is my daughter's.” Jaw clenched, he tucked the fabric into his belt and turned. “We must hurry!” He waited only a fraction of a moment for the woman to return to her horse before spurring his own on. The heavy beat of hooves across the ground vibrated through his body, his heart racing to match its cadence. The fabric, Rowan's sleeve, would not have been easily discarded. She would have had to work to tear it from her dress and leave it behind. As hopeful as this discovery made him, it also heightened his anxiety. If they didn't find the children before the dragons reached the sea, they would very possibly be lost.
As they climbed a hill, the horses lost some of their momentum. Killian knew how to keep his horse going and reached the crest first. It was with thin patience that he waited for the others to catch up, scanning the valley below. It was calm and would have been beautiful, were it not for the urgency of the situation. As the other riders approached and Killian adjusted himself in the saddle, movement far below caught his eye. He held up a hand, drawing the attention of the others and making them still their horses instantaneously.
There were figures moving in the distance, one of them distinctly a person, the other seemingly a blob of indiscernible objects. Now that the horses were silent, he could hear the slight pitch of a wail in the air, the cry of two small children at once. Killian nodded to the two riders on his immediate left and right, silently commanding them to follow him before signaling the others to stay where they were. With a click of his tongue, his horse began down the hill at a canter, the two riders accompanying him only a few paces behind.
As they approached, the cries of the children grew louder and seemingly more desperate. The shapes began to take on form and Killian soon realized there was a long, sinuous dragon curled around the two children screaming. He could hear the growl coming from the small beast, knowing it was his daughter just by seeing the size of her and the distinct clusters of mottled teal and silver scales against an otherwise blue body. He looked at the man standing beside them, then motioned for his two companions to stay as he dismounted and moved closer. The man with the children also began forward, meeting Killian halfway.
“Your young ones are unharmed,” said the man, his deep voice only subtly muted by the black cloth over his mouth. “I return them to you without opposition.”
Killian glanced at the children, his fingers wrapped around the hilt of his sword, ready for anything. “If you had planned on returning them all along, why were they taken in the first place? What was the point?”
“Your high queen has been warned. She thinks herself set in a fortress that is invulnerable to any that would simply come in and take what they want.”
“So this was a message, a way to prove that she is as open to attack as any.” Killian heard the flap of wings above but refused to look away from the man standing in front of him.
“Make sure the message is deliv
ered.” The man looked up and gave a short whistle of three notes, drawing the dragon down. He extended his arms and the dragon wrapped its talons around his forearms, lifting him. Like a skilled acrobat, the man swung his legs up to wrap around the dragon's leg, freeing his hands to help him climb up the dragon and perch on his back.
“I will deliver your message,” Killian agreed, his voice even. Lifting his hand, he motioned toward the dragon with two fingers as it flew away, casual in its speed as though it had nothing to fear. An arrow whizzed by his ear, shooting upward and finding its mark in the man's back. “And you will deliver mine.” The man slumped forward with no attempt to remove the arrow or retaliate, a good indication that he was dead. Looking now to the children, Killian crouched and focused on Rowan. He wasn't sure how long she had been in her draconic form, but when she didn't shift back to human immediately, he knew something was keeping her from changing.
“Rowan, it's Da.” She turned her head to listen to his voice, her pale eyes unseeing, yet there was still a growl in her throat. Killian glanced at the two crying boys wrapped in her protection and breathed. “Rowan, éist liom. Tú a bheith an-chróga. Teacht ar ais chugam.” The growl quieted, then turned into a high pitched whine like that of an injured dog. Killian opened his arms. “Teacht ar ais chugam.” It took a moment, but soon the dragon began to shift and change, scales turning into skin and hair. With the circle of protection broken, Killian motioned for the two behind him to grab the other children, relieved upon seeing Tiyal wrapped in a blanket on the ground with them. The two riders dismounted and rushed forward as Rowan sprinted across the field, crying as she launched herself at her father. He caught her and held her to him tightly, pressing her head to his shoulder. “You're safe,” he whispered, feeling her fingers curl into his jerkin. “It's all right now. You're safe.”