Reyr’s eyebrows knitted together. “King’s Shield…” he repeated. “How much did he tell you?”
She contemplated her answer. “He told me everything,” she said at last. The Promise allowed her to reveal that much.
Reyr sighed. “I hardly know what to make of you, Claire. Either way, you must go to the king.”
“I—I know…”
“Shall we depart?”
She looked over at the Gate and her heart began to race. Her feet took several steps backwards. It wasn’t the Gate that frightened her, but rather the thought of leaving her home world behind. She was about to make a monumental decision, one she had little say in. There was so much uncertainty. What would be waiting on the other side? Would she ever return home?
You can do this. You are braver than you know…
She shut her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, ignoring the reassurance coming from the back of her mind. Inside, she was so conflicted. Part of her felt stretched, as if she were being tugged and manipulated like a marionette. The other part held firm to the ground beneath her, terrified and full of doubt, reluctant to move so much as a muscle.
“You have nothing to be frightened of,” Reyr said. “Passing through is not a thing to fear.”
She opened her eyes to look at him. His amber gaze met hers. His eyes were speckled with flecks of gold just like Cyrus’s. They suited his dragon form. In truth, he was hopelessly attractive: His long golden locks fell carelessly over his forehead. A strong jaw bone dominated his face. And he carried himself with poise, with overwhelming confidence. But he wasn’t Cyrus.
“Here, take my hand.” He held his hand out to her. Her eyes widened. This was the first nice gesture he had offered. She gratefully accepted.
His skin was warm and rough, but not overly so, not like her father’s hands after working years on the farm. She was happy to latch on to him, squeezing his hand as if her life depended upon it. They walked forward together.
She did not know where the veil to Dragonwall lurked, somewhere in between the boulders they passed through. However, the moment she stepped through the barrier, she knew. Everything around her vanished, just as Reyr said it would. She saw only blackness, and her body felt the chill of cold. Reyr’s hand could no longer be felt within hers. Her heart began to race. She cried out in fear, but she could not hear her own voice.
It lasted but a few seconds. Darkness was quickly replaced by bright sunlight and warmth. Her eyes sharpened into focus as a new world came into view. The air here was warm. It also lacked the humidity she was used to. A light breeze—gentle and refreshing—rustled her hair. She squinted against the sunshine, looking out into the distance.
Reyr relinquished her hand and moved away, but she hardly noticed. She was too busy taking in her surroundings. Shielding her face with her arm, she looked around. After holding her breath for so long, she finally released a huge sigh of relief. She made it. This was Cyrus’s world—Dragonwall. She was one step closer to fulfilling the Promise. All that stood between her now was a vast stretch of land.
She stood upon a giant hill covered in long dry, grass, which snapped and crunched under her feet. Standing lower than this hill were many others, stretching out in rolling waves that quickly fell flat. Beyond that, she could see the flat ground extending endlessly onward.
The air was cleaner here, allowing her to see far. No man-made pollutants smudged the horizon. Even the sky looked bluer, with puffy clouds scattered across it.
Turning where she stood, she was greeted by the jagged peaks of a mountain range. These mountains towered up over the land like a wall. They stretched to the left and the right as far as her eyes could see. Her eyes fell to Reyr, Jovari, and Koldis. They stood in a little circle talking logistics. She ignored them and looked past them, continuing to gaze along the range.
“Do those mountains have a name?” she asked.
“The Northern Barrier Range,” Reyr answered without turning to her. He then returned to his conversation with Jovari and Koldis. Cyrus’s body was on the ground beside them, still bundled up in the blankets and twine she had provided.
She looked away, back towards the mountains. Nothing came close to the magnificence of the Northern Barrier Range. Even Mount Everest would have paled in comparison. The peeks were lost amongst the clouds. Then they fell straight down into the hills. She trekked her sights along them. There she spotted something that caught her eye—smoke on the horizon. A lot of smoke.
“Something’s burning,” she said loudly. At first her companions ignored her, so she repeated herself. This time, Reyr, Jovari, and Koldis turned in the direction she gazed.
“Is that—”
“Smoke—yes.” Reyr cut off Jovari’s question. They both appeared startled.
“That is abnormal,” said Koldis. “Something is amiss.”
She heard their worry.
“Your sight is the best, Jovari. What do you see?”
“The aftermath of a blaze. It is some distance away. What cities lie north? Any?”
“There is but one city large enough to create that blaze. It lies further north than any other. It is also the most isolated. I have been there only once, as has the king, Cyrus, and Verath. It was used as an outpost during the war with the Kalds.”
“Belnesse?”
“Aye. That very one. Known for its iconic bell tower.”
“I do not understand. Why should it be burning? Why should an entire city be burning?”
“That, Jovari, is a very good question.” Reyr had his hand over his face to shield his gaze from the sun.
“I see no signs of life,” said Koldis, searching the skies above them.
“Are there any sweep teams in the North? Can anyone hear my call?” Reyr’s voice sounded very loudly in her mind as if he shouted at the top of his lungs. She listened for an answer, but none came. Again Reyr called out, “My name is Reyr. I am a Shield to the king. If any be near, I would have you answer.”
He was attempting to contact any others who might be near. Cyrus told her that telepathy depended on distance. If no one was around, Reyr’s calls would go unanswered.
“All is silent,” Jovari concluded after several long minutes.
“Then I must fly to their aid immediately.” Reyr’s declaration left both Jovari and Koldis protesting.
“Have you forgotten Cyrus? Have you forgotten this girl?” Koldis demanded, now angry. “We must stick to the plan.”
“Koldis is correct. It is too far out of our way.”
“Then what would you have me do?” Reyr sounded helpless. “Am I to leave Belnesse to its fate?”
They were all silent for a time. “What of Davi?” Koldis asked at long last. Reyr shook his head. “Doubtful that my brother would be aware of it. Not with the lack of sweep teams in the area.”
“We cannot afford to tarry, Reyr. Alone, it will take a full day to reach the city. With weight,” Koldis paused to glance at her, “it will take two days at least.”
“Then I must go alone. The two of you must continue on with Claire and Cyrus.”
“I do not think that this is a good idea.” Jovari wiped his brow, looking uncertain.
“I cannot turn my back on them. I cannot do nothing. Such an act does not sit well with me. They aided us greatly in our war with the Kalds. Koldis, you can carry Cyrus. Jovari, take Claire upon your back.” Jovari looked as though he would protest, but Reyr silenced him with a single stern look. “Get over it, man. There are more important things in this life than your dignity. You need not worry about what is proper out here.” He spread his arms wide. “Not a soul will know that you did something which is considered…distasteful.”
Her face burned hot with annoyance. What was so bad about carrying her? This wasn’t the first time they had talked about it. They acted as if it was shameful. Why?
“I will fly fast. If all goes well, I can determine what happened and return to you in three days’ time. We can meet at the Mar
ble Dragon. Wait for me there.”
Before Jovari and Koldis could further protest, Reyr transformed into his behemoth golden form and leapt from the ground. Each flap of his great wings took him further away. As he receded into the distance, flying towards the smoke, she heard his voice in her mind. “Do not mistreat Claire. She is innocent in my eyes until the king decides otherwise.”
“You cannot possibly be serious, Reyr.” Koldis sneered as he silently spoke these words.
“I am entirely serious, Koldis. I gave you an order. I expect you to follow it.”
Jovari said nothing in response. Instead, he shrugged and knelt beside Cyrus, fussing over the ties holding the shroud in place.
Eager to look anywhere but Cyrus, she finally noticed the Gate standing beside them. The name was fitting. Two tall square columns rose from the earth. They were made of black onyx. She went to them and brushed her fingers along the glossy surface of the left pillar. Both were covered in symbols and runes. After attempting to read them, she gave up.
Instead, she flattened her palm against the onyx and felt the rigidity of it beneath her skin. Under the intense sunshine, the surface was hot. The world around her went dark, as if taken by a powerful storm. Rumbling with anger, clouds quickly moved in. Unable to pull her hand away from the shock of such a peculiar turn of events, she blinked several times.
Now, standing before her were people, lots of people. They stood in orderly lines, such that their procession stretched far down the hill. Something was wrong though. These people weren’t solid. They were slightly translucent, almost like ghosts. Still unable to pull away, torn between horror and fascination, she allowed her gaze to shift over them.
The longer she looked, the more disgusted she became. All were dressed in rags. Many in the line were wearing manacles, others were clutching children, crooning at their frightened babies. There were people of all ages, but they each wore the same expression—that of devastation.
Then she saw powerful shrouded men on horseback, patrolling the procession. Sometimes they used whips to keep their prisoners in line. One by one, these poor individuals were forced through the gate where she now stood, disappearing forever into the world she called home. Not a single being saw her as they passed Beyond—she was invisible to them.
The masters on the horses were evil. She knew this immediately when she saw one whip a mother who was moving too slow. The poor woman stumbled, earning another lash. “Stop it!” she cried. “You’re hurting her!”
Just as the words fell from her mouth, her blood chilled. Looking up from the horse, the hooded man’s gaze found hers. Red eyes stared back at her—eyes like Kane’s—eyes that she had seen recently in her dreams. The people couldn’t see her, but the evil men could. Like a rippling effect, the other hooded riders looked up. They too found her. They too had red, glowing eyes and pale faces.
Giving a yelp, she quickly pulled her palm away from the pillar. Like a light switch, everything disappeared. There were no more clouds, no more thunder, no more wailing people, no more evil masters. Everything around her was exactly as it had been moments before.
Blood rushed past her ears, drumming in her head. Had she seen a distant memory of the past? She couldn’t help but wonder if the Gate contained a history darker than its own surface.
Despite the sweltering sun, she shuddered. Then she turned in search of her companions. Had they witnessed the same thing as she? From the looks of it, they had not. Koldis was already in dragon form. Jovari was busy strapping Cyrus to his back. Neither of them noticed her activity at the Gate. When Jovari was finished, he moved over to her. “Let us depart,” was all he said before changing into a stunning blue dragon.
She had an easier time climbing onto his back. He wasn’t nearly as large as Reyr. On his back, she got herself situated, adjusting the pack she carried so that it sat in front of her. “I’m ready,” she said at last, loud enough for him to hear.
They immediately launched into the sky. She held on for dear life, clutching tightly to the ridges along his neck. Her constant fear was that she would slip off and fall. After a few days of flying with Reyr, the sensation hadn’t departed.
Beneath her, the black pillars fell away. So too did the large hill that had held the many prisoners and their masters. Try as she might, she couldn’t leave the scene behind, though she wished it would disappear as quickly as the ground did.
Minutes later they were airborne, steadily flying towards the flat plains. These stretched out in front of them all the way to the horizon. She glanced over her shoulder in the direction that Reyr had gone. Squinting hard, she could no longer see him. But at the last moment, just before she turned forward, she thought she noticed a bright glimmer of sun reflecting off his golden scales.
“With our added weight, how many days to the Marble Dragon?” Jovari’s voice sounded in her mind.
“Two, likely.”
The Marble Dragon was a strange name. Not only did it have a nice ring, it sounded like the name of a tavern. She low-key hoped that it would be. After days spent flying and nights spent sleeping on the ground, she already felt eager to be done with this whole escapade. More than that, she was desperate to wash away her stink with a hot bath. All she could do now was hope. Hope, and wait.
18
Kastali Dun
Saffra cursed the gods more times than she could count in the days following the death of Cyrus. The austerity of her sorrow was suffocating. More stifling still were the walls and people surrounding her. There was no way to escape any of it. Granting such a wish was impossible.
The moments following her harrowing vision, when at last she knew Cyrus to be dead, she confined herself within her chambers. She had neither the courage nor the forbearance to face the many occupants residing within the keep. Suffering their questions, their mournful faces, their looks of sympathy, were impediments too heavy for her breaking spirit.
Unlike the many people within the keep’s walls, she had truly known Cyrus. He was like a brother to her. There were few within the whole of Kastali Dun whom she found herself capable of caring for. But assuredly, Cyrus was one of them.
“Lady Saffra,” Jocelyn softly spoke, calling her forth from her sorrows. Her handmaiden busied herself, tucking away their morning breakfast remnants whilst paying her worried glances. “Might we take a turn about the keep’s gardens this day? ‘Tis such a lovely sunrise. The fresh air would do you great good, my lady.”
Recognizing Jocelyn’s wise advice, she heaved a sigh. She was indeed in need of renewed breath. The morning air would do well for her mood. “I suppose, Jocelyn, such an excursion will be beneficial and even welcome.”
“Wonderful. I will see to your bath then, my lady.”
“Thank you, Jocelyn. And my gray gown will do for today, and for every day following until I say otherwise.” She planned to wear gray for some time. Nothing demonstrated mourning more accurately than the ashen shades of drab melancholy.
Nodding, Jocelyn retreated.
As she prepared for the day, Saffra’s mind continuously reverted to the very sights she tried so hard to circumvent. The vision she saw within the king’s council chambers, brief as it was, plagued her dreams; it haunted her footfalls; it preyed upon her with the intention of driving her mad.
While the gods saw fit to show her very little, they had bequeathed her with enough. What she witnessed in those short moments, Cyrus lying motionless, his body still with cold lifelessness, stab wounds to his abdomen, and skin blackened, was disturbing to no end. In truth, it was horrific. More troubling still was the golden-haired woman with the unnerving green eyes. That woman had been there, crying over his dead body. She was the same that Saffra had seen since childhood. What could be the meaning? Furthermore, should she tell the king?
Like her, the king also remained locked away. He took no visitors and turned even his guards away from the inner portions of his chambers. Only those standing watch outside remained. It was said that his grief
placed him in a great rage, and none dared call upon him in such a state. Even his own Drengr Fairtheoir kept their distance.
Should she trouble an already burdened man with such encumbrances? Was it necessary to share her vision? Surely knowing Cyrus was dead was enough. The king did not need the gritty details. She dreaded the idea of describing the blackened skin of Cyrus’s body or the stab wounds he had suffered. And what of the woman? With no other culprits present at the scene, what were the gods trying to tell her?
She considered the possibility that this woman might be responsible for the death of Cyrus. But surely it could not be! Her gut said it was not possible. What if this woman’s familiarity had turned Saffra blind to her true colors?
“Here, my lady. Let me lace your ties.” Jocelyn prompted her to turn. She acquiesced, only half aware of Jocelyn as she went through the mechanical motions of dressing.
“There now. You are ready.”
She gazed at her figure in the looking glass. Every aspect of her appearance spoke of death. The blandness of her attire, the pale shade of her brown skin, the redness of her eyes. Even the expression she took up spoke volumes about her sorrow.
She watched herself for many moments—a dangerous thing to do. Every time she allowed her mind to meander, it traversed the same perilous pathways.
“My lady? Shall we depart?” Jocelyn’s voice was only a distant whisper in her consciousness.
Quickly she shut her eyes, giving her head a subtle shake to recover her thoughts. “Yes, Jocelyn. Let us go.”
Together they walked through the many flowers and trees contained within the vast gardens of the Great Keep’s lower levels. The beautiful greenery was a small island of paradise within a sea of wretchedness. How horrid cities were, their awful stench, their filthy inhabitants, their loud obnoxious noises. Not a day went by that she didn’t long for her country home, poor as it was. She would have traded a hundred lavish lifestyles for the single possibility of returning to her family in such times of sadness. But duty and honor—those were the things that bound her. This was her position now, to which she was condemned. She was Lady Saffra, royal prophetess to King Talon. Hers would be a long life. A cursed life. Where she went, only grief and bad tidings followed.
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