Talon the Black

by Melissa Mitchell

She smiled, pleased with her instant success. Few things in life were ever that easy. Looking at him, she tried again. “I can only imagine the things my rotten tongue will do with this newfound ability. Now you’ll never be rid of my snide comments.” She almost hoped her words would fail to reach him, life would be simpler that way, but they didn’t.

  He heard exactly what she said because he grinned and said, “That rotten tongue of yours is going to get you into trouble someday.”

  She laughed loudly.

  “Reyr! Gods, man!” The king’s booming voice interrupted their fun. “Where are you?”

  She winced.

  “Give me a moment. I will be along shortly.” Reyr stood and looked at her. “You heard that?”

  She nodded. He shook his head, still struggling with his disbelief.

  “You—you won’t tell Talon will you? Please don’t!”

  His eyes narrowed suspiciously. “You wish for me to lie to my king?”

  Her heart thumped nervously. It was a big ask. “Please, Reyr. If he finds out, he’ll kill me.”

  “I doubt that.”

  “Please!”

  “I will not lie to my king. You know what I am. You know the oath I am under.”

  “I know,” she squeaked. “But you don’t have to outright tell him. If he doesn’t ask, then it isn’t lying, right?”

  He sighed. It was evident that the idea didn’t sit well with him. Gritting his teeth, she saw his jaw flex and relax, but at last he agreed. “I do not like this, Claire. You should tell him.”

  “I…I will. But not yet.” It was a lie. She had no intention of telling Talon. Whatever it took to buy Reyr’s silence, she would do it.

  At last he nodded. “Very well. I must go. Will you be all right here?”

  She rolled her eyes at him. “I’m not some fragile thing. I’ve been through worse.” And it was true.

  “Very well. When I next return, we will see to your training. There is a way to help you, but I need to do some research of my own. Can you hang tight for a few days?”

  His reassurance gave her the hope she needed. “I’ll be fine.”

  “Good. We will see each other again soon.” With that he left the room, closing the door behind him. She sighed. It could have been worse. Thank goodness Reyr cared for her. Suddenly his voice was in her mind. “Thank you for sharing your secret with me, Claire. I cannot take back the things that were said about you. But I will try to make this right somehow.”

  “Thank you for understanding. And…I know…” She smiled and buried herself under the covers, extinguishing her candle. It was done. Reyr knew. He would see her through this struggle—he would take care of her.

  53

  Kastali Dun

  Saffra freed an arrow from her bow. She watched it arc through the air, whistling towards its target. The arrowhead struck a dummy’s chest, but not its heart. She scowled. Three points were awarded for striking the head or heart, two for the chest or neck, and one for the abdomen, arms, or legs. With the Fall Tournament approaching, she had every intention of defending her title.

  She walked over to the dummy some five-hundred ells away and recovered her arrows. Although it was midday, the sun’s harshness was becoming less of a burden as summer came to a close, but it was still hot. Fortunately for her, she was alone at the longbow range. No one heard her swear in frustration as she wiped the sweat from her brow. Most archers preferred the short distance range. In fact, it was unheard of for a woman of her stature (Riders excluded) to possess the strength necessary to pull the weight of the longbow, but she was not merely a woman. Magic made her strong.

  She found her position again. Taking a deep breath, she focused her mind on the heart of the dummy, nocked an arrow, and pulled her bow tight. Just as her arms tensed with the weight of the pull, the world around her began spinning. She tried to steady herself, but her sight blackened at the edges. Unable to maintain her position, she released her hold of the bowstring and heard it twang. Then everything vanished. She was enveloped by darkness and cold, freezing cold. She shuddered, opening her eyes to the world of between, the vision world.

  Before her was a mountainous hold. This was not the first time she had seen it. Its harsh ramparts were like shards of broken glass decaying into the crumbling heaps of rock that settled around the mountain’s base.

  The picture whooshed forward. She found herself standing in front of terror itself. Red eyes, evil and menacing, gazed back at her. She knew these eyes. They belonged to the thief, to Kane. He gazed upon a woman with a sneer upon his face.

  Saffra’s breath caught in her chest as she turned to find Claire. Shock set blocks of ice tumbling into the pit of her stomach. Claire stood before the Asarlaí cloaked in black velvet. This was not the Claire she was used to seeing. She was changed: Her hesitance was gone. Instead she radiated pride, much the same way Queen Isabella did when she cursed the Marble Dragon.

  Claire focused on her adversary with hate-filled eyes. Her face bore an expression of absolute determination creating little lines of frustration that pulled at her forehead. Motion at the edges of Saffra’s gaze recaptured her attention. Kane laughed. The high pitch of his voice left her trembling in the nothingness. Quick as a strike of lightning, his hands moved. He called out words in the old language. A ball of magical energy manifested between his fingers, growing into an orb with blackened veins of evil. It rapidly expanded outward like a bubble ready to pop.

  She tried to warn Claire. She yelled harder than she ever had. A human would never stand a chance against an Asarlaí like Kane. For each cry of warning, not a single word escaped her chest. Claire was going to die!

  Sensing the danger, Claire moved with surprising speed. A staff materialized in her right hand and Cyrus’s Sverak in her left. How was it possible? The golden-haired woman crossed the two before her like a shield. Her lips moved so quickly, Saffra failed to understand her words, but she could hear the song in Claire’s voice, not a moment too soon, either. The orb of dark magic shattered against an invisible barrier. A deafening crack split the silence. She gasped as the explosion of power surged through her, vibrating within her body, searing her like fire.

  Her eyes flew open.

  “Lady Saffra! Thank the gods.” A worried voice met her ears. It was hushed and full of emotion. She felt her lips pull apart into a pleased smile. She was resting in familiar arms. Her sight cleared from its blurry confusion and she found herself gazing into warm brown eyes.

  “Commander Daxton,” she whispered, sending a silent prayer of thanks to the gods.

  “I am here.” He kept his voice low as he cradled her within his arms, rocking her back and forth. She felt her brow scrunch together in confusion before he bent to kiss it tenderly, as if attempting to smooth away her worry. At the touch of his lips, warmth spread through her insides.

  She tried turning her head but it hurt. The sun was glaring down upon them. Despite its warmth, she was still freezing cold. “What happened?”

  “I saw you fall, Lady Saffra. You were here with your bow.” Seasoned hands lifted her bow from the grass beside her where she lay. “I was training my new recruits. As soon as you fell I came straight over.” He helped her sit up.

  The movement brought her vision flooding back. She tensed. Claire and Kane fighting each other? How was it possible? How could a human defend themselves the way Claire had? It hurt her head to question it. She needed to record the vision before it faded away. If only Cyrus were here to help her understand it!

  “Another vision?” Daxton asked.

  She nodded and closed her eyes, trying to etch each image onto the back of her eyelids. The darkness of her closed eyes eased the pain. Some of what she saw would be impossible to forget.

  “Are you going to be well?” Dax placed his hand over hers and squeezed tightly. She opened her eyes and gazed back into his.

  “I certainly hope so,” she muttered. Truthfully she needn’t worry over herself, for she would be fine. It wa
s Claire’s prospects that left her terrified. “Thank you for rescuing me, Commander.” She afforded him a small smile. He was her knight in shining armor, or in this case, knight with a sweaty chest, not that she minded. “I hope I did not frighten you.”

  “You certainly did.” He expressed his upset by nuzzling her forehead with his nose. The open show of affection surprised her. No, it scared her. Someone might see them. She hid her dismay for the time being and allowed his touch to calm her.

  “I ought to return to my room and record what I’ve seen,” she said.

  “And what did you see?” he asked. Curiosity and apprehension were etched into the worry lines now forming on his face.

  She felt a frown pulling at her lips. “I hardly know,” she whispered at last, shaking her head. “Without Cyrus, I cannot seem to understand what I see.”

  He sighed. “Cyrus was your crutch. There was once a time when he was mine, too.” It was Cyrus who trained Commander Daxton. Cyrus taught him everything he knew about sword fighting. “But Saffra, you are still the king’s prophetess. You must learn regardless. I know you can do this—you were meant to do this.”

  She gave him a weak smile. “I will try.”

  “Very well, little dove.” Concern did not leave his eyes as he helped her to her feet, handing over her things. Then he walked her to the edge of the practice yard.

  “Saffra?” he asked before she took her leave. “May I come by your chambers later this evening?”

  Her brow furrowed. “You wish to visit me? Are you not worried someone might find out?” To preserve their secret relationship, a great deal of sneaking was required. For Dax to be seen entering her living quarters was dangerous.

  “I do wish it. I promise that I will use the utmost discretion. You have my word.” He placed a hand over his heart and bowed his head.

  Her heart melted and she smiled. “Then of course you may come.”

  “Excellent.” His wide grin crinkled his eyes until they were narrow slits of happiness. How goofy he was being! How strange! But she loved him all the more for it.

  “See you tonight.” She turned to leave. Suddenly a hand grasped her arm. Dax pulled her back to him. The force of it left her breathless. He cupped her cheek in his hand and bent to kiss her gently. She could hardly take in air.

  “Commander!” she scolded, pulling away from him and becoming instantly apprehensive. She shouldn’t have allowed it, not out in plain sight as they were.

  “There now,” he said. “That is a proper goodbye.” His mischievous smile left her heart racing.

  “What are you playing at?” she whispered, glancing around.

  “Do not fret, my lady,” he said, affording her a quick wink before walking back to his students.

  She was still flustered when she returned to her chambers. Dax never showed his affection in public and for good reason. They both worried over how the king would react. Neither knew if their relationship was permitted so out of fear, they kept it secret for many years. Yet today, he was displaying his feelings openly.

  She rummaged for her journal. Already she could feel pieces of her vision drifting away. She grabbed a quill and bottle of ink from her desk and began scribbling down notes. She had seen Kane and Claire. Seeing them together in a single vision was peculiar and alarming.

  Claire had been holding something too. Was it a sword? Perhaps. A staff? Maybe. What was it? She tried to remember. Squeezing her eyes tightly shut, she pictured the image in her mind. Only then did she realize that both weapons were present. Keeping her eyes closed, she allowed her mind to wander over the scene. The staff was strange, made of dark wood with a single gem glittering on top. Glowing Sprite-like markings were etched into it. She wondered about the gem before shaking her head. It was a shame she no longer remembered the color. But the sword—she knew the sword.

  “It cannot be possible!” she muttered to herself, jotting down more notes, trying to draw little sketches of what she’d seen.

  “My lady?” Jocelyn’s voice sounded from the bathing room. “You wished for me to have a bath ready upon your return. The water is hot.” Jocelyn took one look at her and rushed over. “My lady! Is everything all right?”

  “I—I hardly know...” She turned back to her scribbling. “It is the most peculiar thing, Jocelyn. Absolutely confounding.”

  “Do you wish to speak of it?”

  She shook her head and pursed her lips. “Not now. My head aches terribly. Get some of my Aegan from the private stash I have under my bed.” She had given Claire nearly everything she had except a very small amount left from two years ago.

  “Will you go to the king again?” Jocelyn was hesitant. “You know how he flusters you.” The reminder was meant to deter her from visiting King Talon.

  “I…” Should she take this to him? She considered it. “No. I do not think I know enough about this vision to waste his time. Perhaps when I learn more...” Would she learn more? Would more visions like this one visit her?

  That evening just after dinner, she snuck through the keep. She found Claire in her room, albeit surprised by the unexpected visit. The woman quickly ushered her inside.

  “Would you like one?” Claire asked, offering up a toffee. “They’re from Reyr. He brought me a whole bag yesterday.” She took one of the brightly wrapped candies and popped it in her mouth. After savoring it for a moment, she pushed it into her cheek and explained the reason for her visit. She told Claire everything she knew about the vision, expecting her to be just as terrified.

  “Let me get this straight,” said Claire, frowning. “You saw me battling Kane and somehow I defended myself against him?”

  “I warned you about the strangeness of it,” she said, feeling her brow crinkle. “Claire, the Asarlaí are an ancient race, powerful and terrible before they disappeared. Cyrus told you all about them.”

  Claire nodded.

  “No human is capable of doing what you did, of defending themselves against an Asarlaí.” Pausing for breath, she allowed her own words to sink in, coming to a single conclusion. “Claire, I do not think you are human. You cannot be. I thought my visions foreshadowed your coming. Now I believe there is something more.”

  An expression flashed across Claire’s features, something liken to guilt. Claire clenched her teeth together until her jaw flexed. When she next spoke, it was with hesitance. “Saffra, maybe—maybe I’m not entirely human.” Even as she spoke it, Claire’s mouth began to pull into a frown. “I… ” Claire sighed as if giving up on an internal battle. “There’s something I should tell you.”

  She sat up straight.

  “I was hesitant to tell anyone,” Claire admitted. “Last night I finally came clean to Reyr. I suppose you deserve the truth too.”

  Her heart quickened.

  “Maybe what I know might help put the pieces together in your vision puzzle.”

  “What did you tell Reyr?” She could not help the desperation seeping into her voice.

  “I told him…” Claire paused. “Well, I—I am not normal. I can hear the other Drengr talking to each other.”

  Her breathing hitched. “The other Drengr? You must explain everything!”

  “I heard them before Cyrus died,” Claire said. She went on to explain her strange ability to hear all the conversations exchanged between the Drengr. She described the way she felt when Jovari, Koldis, and Reyr talked secretly about her, and the way she cried when she heard the king’s voice. By the end of Claire’s story, she did not bother closing her shocked mouth. The curiosity of it was overwhelming.

  “But no one can hear all the Drengr, Claire. No one! Not when they do not wish to be heard.”

  “I know,” Claire muttered.

  Everything she saw in her vision was suddenly a possibility. She only had one other question. “Claire, can you think of any reason why you were holding Cyrus’s sword in my vision?”

  Claire’s face turned red and she swallowed. “I—I don’t know.”

 
“Are you sure?”

  Claire began biting her lower lip. At last she spoke, “I think Cyrus and I are connected.”

  “Connected?”

  “I know it sounds weird, Saffra, but I can hear his voice in my head sometimes…talking to me.”

  Her eyebrows pulled together. “But how...”

  “I don’t know! Believe me, I wish I did.”

  When she finally left Claire’s chamber, she was left with more questions than when she arrived. Explaining her vision was challenging enough, but coming up with an explanation for Cyrus’s voice was an entirely new obstacle. The day was full of impossibilities. As she crept through the corridors she wondered over it. Which was harder to believe: Claire hearing Drengr voices or Claire hearing Cyrus’s? Perhaps it was the latter, especially since Reyr had already confirmed the matter of the first. That left her to ponder Cyrus’s decision for singling Claire out. Why not choose Talon instead? Or why not her?

  A tiny pang of jealousy pierced her heart. She missed Cyrus so much that it hurt to think of him. To know that Claire had the ability to converse with him when it was she who needed him so desperately, was most unfair! But none of this was Claire’s fault, and pining over it did not help solve the conundrum.

  At last she shook her head and planted herself upon her couch within her chambers. All she could do was stare at the fire in the grate. “Is the Commander still coming by tonight?” Jocelyn’s voice roused her from her daze. She jumped from the couch so quickly that she might as well have been bitten by a snake.

  “I had forgotten!” she gasped. With Claire’s revelations, she was entirely consumed. Daxton would arrive at any moment. “Hurry, help me with my gown,” she cried. She had already started unlacing it upon returning; it hung loosely about her body. She wanted to look her best for the commander. Jocelyn helped her freshen up before dismissing herself.

  She hadn’t long to wait before the commander made good on his intentions. “Good evening, my lady.” He greeted her when she opened her door. Seeing him dressed in a fine tunic and freshly shined boots increased her admiration. Too often she saw him in training clothes.