by Jensine Odom
I shake my head to clear it. Sylaena may dislike me, a lot, but she wouldn’t do that. Besides, she won’t be fighting. She’ll be hiding, like Royals are supposed to.
Not this Royal; I’ll be on the battlefront. Caedryn’s uncomfortable with that, but we have no choice; only I can release the Knights. I can also fight, and when it comes down to it, if we fail, I’m as good as dead anyways; I’d rather go down fighting than hiding.
The fire in Sylaena’s tent is suddenly snuffed, and Malakai walks out a moment later, disappearing just inside the trees with a certain spring in his step. With a rush of clarity, my mind grasps what Sylaena was doing, and it definitely wasn’t plotting against me, or plotting anything.
My hot breath vaporizes in the cool morning air as a humorous chuff escapes me, scaring the deer that have snuck out to drink from the lake. The grass behind me rustles with a ghost breeze just as I stand, shaking the drops of dew from my scales. It would have startled me had the pull in my heart not grown stronger with Caedryn’s approach, his sparkly black energy appearing in my mind’s eye.
Without a word between us, he wraps his arms around my waist, drawing me against his chest and kissing the top of my head.
“Look at all of them down there,” I say, gesturing to the camp below, just beginning to stir. “Willing to fight for me. Ready to die for me, if that’s what’s asked.” I quickly let the air out of my lungs and lean into Caedryn. “And their numbers will only grow, if we’re lucky.”
“Are you having second thoughts?” Caedryn asks, his humor calming me.
“No.” I smirk up at him, but it quickly fades. “Just apprehensive. We’re past the point of no return. This is happening. Too many people rely on me to finish this.” My breath leaves me in a rush, and I turn to face Caedryn, laying my hands on his chest as I look up into his silver eyes. “Thank you for being by my side.”
“Always.” He smiles softly, caressing a thumb across my lips and cheek. “I love you, Xerxia.”
“I love you, Caedryn.” I throw my arms around his neck, pulling him down to me, kissing him deeply, as if I could hold him tight enough to never lose him.
My anxiety and fears about the coming battle echo back to me across our bond. Without another thought I pull Caedryn’s mind into mine, burning away our uncertainty in the flames of my soul as we crumble to the ground, softly kissing and caressing, tenderly making love to one another in the misty early morning; the words ‘if we don’t make it’ left unsaid.
✽✽✽
We lay in each other’s arms for some time, watching the sun begin to bathe our meadow with soft golden light. The breeze ripples through the grasses, whispering the secrets of the night and filling the air with the smell of fresh water. Birds begin to sing somewhere beyond the meadow, and just like that, the day has begun.
Caedryn squeezes me tight, just as reluctant as I am to get up and face what comes next. With a quick graze of his lips against mine, he’s up getting dressed, and I have no choice but to do the same. Shifting, we fly the short distance across the lake, returning to camp.
You’d think, with dragons being the more advanced species, they would be punctual, but you’d be wrong. They’re more like cats. Waking slowly. Stretching. Laying about for a while. When they finally get up it’s only to wander around and do as they please.
It could also be they’re just as reluctant to start the day as I am. With Caedryn and I touching down in the meadow, however, they shape up quickly. The Outcasts I didn’t get to know that well all scramble, terrified of being caught just sitting about.
Sylaena appears from her tent, looking perturbed by the sudden commotion as dragons fumble things around the camp, unsure of what it is they should be doing. She opens her mouth, most likely to bark some order.
“Let’s get some breakfast,” I suggest, cutting off whatever Sylaena was about to say, and smile kindly at the uncertain Outcasts.
I grab my backpack and begin to hand out all the remaining jerky, surprising many of the Outcasts with the caring gesture. Caedryn follows my lead, taking his bag around to the other half of the camp.
Eventually I find myself face to face with Sylaena, and hold out the last of the deer jerky as a sort of peace offering. She doesn’t see it that way, though, glaring between me and the dried meat in my hand with near disgust, as if it offends her.
“Suit yourself,” I say, not trying to hide the annoyance clawing at me. With a snarky bite to the jerky, I abruptly turn my back on her, the slight causing Sylaena’s displeasure to radiate up my spine as I walk to rejoin my people.
The Outcasts watch us like we might explode at any moment, and I can’t blame them; that’s a real possibility until Sylaena officially concedes. Which I hope she does. I don’t really want to fight her. That would destroy Caedryn, and Zaara, but I’ll do what I must to save everything I’ve worked for. Everything we have worked for.
To continue annoying Sylaena, I keep my back to her while I finish eating, feeling her eyes on the back of my head. I don’t need to see her face to know what it looks like.
Malakai returns carrying a large elk buck slung across his shoulders, giving me a reprieve from Sylaena’s attention. He nods courteously as he passes me, flashing a quick smile. Only then do I deign to turn towards Sylaena, watching as Malakai drops the fresh kill at her feet, already gutted and bled.
“Caedryn, Zaara, come eat,” she orders, clearly expecting them to listen.
Zaara looks uncertain at her twin brother. Caedryn looks at all the Outcasts being left out of the fresh breakfast.
“No, Mother, we have already eaten,” he replies with a tilt of his head.
“Suit yourself,” Sylaena repeats my words with acerbity.
Malakai shakes his head at her while he hoists the carcass onto a spit. I’m about to tell him we don’t have time to cook an entire deer when he shifts suddenly and roasts the meat. The sheer heat of dragon fire sears the hair and skin off almost instantly, leaving the meat perfectly cooked and juicy underneath.
Shifting back to human, Malakai draws a small dagger from his belt and slices off a chunk from the haunch, fat dripping down the deep red meat. It makes my mouth water. Sylaena looks overly pleased with herself, turning a gloating grin on me and the others around me, until Malakai turns from her.
With a gasp from everyone, Malakai walks straight for me, bowing slightly as he offers the meat up.
“Thank you,” I say genuinely, smiling, and take the proffered food.
Malakai nods, but doesn’t walk away until I’ve taken a bite. Only then does he make another cut and give it to Sylaena, something she doesn’t look too happy about. Taking her breakfast, she turns abruptly and disappears back into her tent.
Malakai takes another cut for himself, then looks at the rest of us. “Come, eat. Enjoy!”
After a solid minute of shocked silence, everyone moves, with Zebulon and Tristin racing each other for the cooked deer. Tristin’s first there, but lets Madelaine pick her cut first, slicing out the small chunk for her. Malakai smiles, returning to my side to watch while the Outcasts and Knights alike take turns cutting into the tender meat.
“What just happened?” I ask, curious. I’m no fool; I know his little display had significance.
“I chose you as my High Royal.” Malakai answers after chewing his food for a moment, and gives me a warm smile. “Sylaena may not see it yet, but you are what we have needed for some time.”
“Soft enough to understand, yet strong enough to do what must be done,” Baldure agrees, stepping up beside me with Caedryn.
“I am sorry it took losing Allowyn, Son, but I much prefer Xerxia.” Malakai smiles at us both.
“I do as well,” Caedryn agrees, pulling me into his arms for a quick kiss.
“Glad to know I measure up to everyone’s standards,” I joke dryly.
Soon enough, everyone’s finished eating, the deer picked clean. Volpe’s gnawing on a bone and Sylaena’s been forced to evacuate her tent
so it can get packed up. Standing in the clearing, we’re ready to go.
“Lead on,” I tell Kalos, gesturing for him to go first.
With a reluctant glance around, he shifts and takes off, beating his wings a few times to clear the meadow. He circles around while the rest of us join him. Zebulon climbs onto his dragon brother, and Allicyn holds Madelaine in her arms. Caedryn and I go last, Volpe at my side. Flying in a haphazard formation, much like a murder of giant Ravens, we head southeast towards what was once Texas.
Alarr and Epona run tirelessly across the land as we leave the mountains, passing over grassy plains and sandy deserts. Once we reach the oilfields, however, the scenery changes dramatically.
Man’s greed became its downfall, with the fractured shale beneath the pumpjacks having crumbled in the world-wide cataclysmic event, the destruction spreading to the outlying cities. There’s no vegetation to be found, and black smoke still spews from several fires, the smell of burning crude oil filling the air.
It’s in the middle of this Mad Max wasteland that Kalos decides to put us down.
“Why are we stopping here?” I ask the moment I touch down. “The gasses in the air are toxic.”
“To other beings, yes, but not to dragons,” Kalos explains. “We are nearing Drustana’s camps. If she still has her sentries out, they will see us should we continue to fly.”
“Fair enough,” I accept and glance around the burning plains, spotting the spires of a refinery in the distance. “We’ll make a base camp there, if it’s stable.”
With a quick assent from everyone but Sylaena, we move out, trudging across the desolate landscape, the smoke turning the sun a deep shade of red.
✽✽✽
In any ordinary circumstance, the heat from the fires and the toxins they throw out would have literally killed me, but now that I’m a dragon the heat just feels nice. We’ve reached the refinery and I haven’t even broken a sweat. The same goes for Zebulon. I had worried he would still be susceptible to the heat and toxins, but he’s just fine, too.
Half the refinery is collapsed thanks to a massive explosion, but overall it seems to be stable now. It’ll give us adequate cover should any dragons fly over, or chance to peer this way.
Sylaena starts to order a few Outcasts to erect her Gods awful tent, but they have no intention of listening.
“That’s a negative, Sylaena. You can see that thing from space,” I tell her when she looks about to forcefully make the three Outcasts listen.
“Do you expect me to sleep in the dirt like some Baseborn?!” she asks, indignant.
“Yeah, I kind of do. It’s what the rest of us are doing. If you can’t live with that, then feel free to put up your own tent. Out there,” I gesture to the wasteland beyond the large holding tanks, “so you don’t get any of us killed, too.” I’m not even trying to be nice at this point.
Sylaena balls her fists at her side like she might actually hit me, but Malakai rests a hand on her shoulder, stopping her.
“We must endure this for only a short while longer. Once Drustana is defeated, we can have our luxuries,” he assures her, nodding to me.
With an exasperated huff, Sylaena walks off, and Malakai follows. I roll my eyes and walk beyond the tanks to look out over the desolate flatlands, Kalos and the others close behind me.
“How close are we to Drustana?” I ask. I can’t see her exactly, but I can sense her darkness wafting across the bleak landscape.
“Close enough,” Kalos answers, his curiosity apparent at my ability. “The real question is whether her sentry camps are still operational.”
“Do you know the layout of the camps?” I check the sun’s position, barely finding the red orb in the dark smoke to the west.
“I was never made privy of those plans,” Kalos begins.
“But…” I turn my gaze to him, the corner of my mouth turning up.
Kalos smiles at my astuteness. “I have my sources.”
I brush my mind against his. May I?
In answer, Kalos lets me in, sharing his memory of the last known locations for all the sentry camps. Aside from Drustana’s main camp, though, he’s unsure as to which clans are where.
From where we are, the closest should be only an hour and a half out on foot, with two others to the north and far northeast of it. They have the high ground beyond the burning oil fields, giving them a good vantage point during the day. They’ll be able to see us coming from a mile away, and each camp has an Esper loyal to Drustana implanted within, ready to alert her should they suspect anything amiss.
We do have one advantage, though; Drustana thinks we’ll be coming from the north.
“Good thinking with the southern approach,” I praise Kalos, withdrawing my mind from his. “I’m going scouting.”
Alarr moves beside me and I leap easily onto his back without him needing to kneel. Volpe flies over and perches on Alarr’s hips behind me with a helpful yip.
“You can’t come with me on this one,” I apologize, scratching behind the little creature’s ears.
With a dejected look, Volpe leaps off Alarr and slinks away, his bushy tail hanging low. He sits beside my brothers, ears and wings drooping. He’s working really hard to make me feel bad.
Caedryn comes up to me, squeezing my knee. “Be safe.”
“Always.” I smile, leaning down to give him a quick kiss. “I’ll be back.”
✽✽✽
Invisible to the eye, Alarr and I travel several miles across the desolate landscape, eventually coming to what once was a forest. Skeletons of trees poke out of the ravaged earth like giant pikes, an eerie fog concealing everything past a few yards, dampening sounds as we move carefully into the ghost forest.
Long before we even see the first camp, I sense it. Thirty plus individual energy signatures mill about just beyond my vision, and in the center is a bright cluster, probably several people sitting together. Thank the Gods, Drustana was stupid!
A few more steps in and the glow from the campfire illuminates the mist around us. Moving quietly, we get in closer, the mist lifting slightly with the heat from so many dragons gathered in one space.
Barely visible across the clearing are many rough tents. Like I had sensed, about thirty people wander about the clearing, clustering in small groups, all of them looking terribly bored. In the center of the clearing sits a fire, and around it is a handful of men.
Four of them look to be warriors. One of them, an older, fairly tall man with no hair and a deep red beard, looks more important than the others, his large sword a little more elaborate. He nods to one of the younger warriors, his dragon mark flashing wine red in the firelight; four strokes over his bald head.
The last man at the fire looks out of place, sitting apart from the others. He’s definitely not a warrior, with his softer physique, and none of the other men really acknowledge his presence. That must be the Esper loyal to Drustana.
I watch for a few more moments, getting the dynamics of this particular clan. The older man in the center is definitely the Chieftain. All the other people moving around take time to honor him when they get close, or when they have something to say to him.
The three others with him must be veteran warriors, or maybe the Chieftain’s kids. They get respect as well, just not as much as the Chieftain. The Esper continues to get ignored, though, even when he tries to speak. One particularly crude man throws a rock at him one time, and the pain in the Esper’s eyes echoes in my heart.
He’s just trying to fit in, which means he’s not loyal to Drustana, but scared of her. I’m not sure if that’s the case for all the Esper’s she employs, but at least I know how to win this one over. I’ll take this clan later.
Not wanting to alert the Esper, if he can sense when I’m speaking with my mind, I urge Alarr on to the next camp, letting my innate sense of direction lead my decision in where to go.
After walking for a few miles north, we reach the other forward camp. This one’s slightly smalle
r and much less organized. No one seems to be in charge, and the Esper is either not loyal to Drustana, or is an excellent spy.
Having seen what I needed to, I have Alarr head back for our base camp, simply sending impulses through our bond. He moves slowly and quietly until we’re clear of the trees, then runs flat-out the rest of the way.
✽✽✽
We reach the oil refinery in no time, and I jump off as Alarr skids to a halt in the center of our group. Caedryn catches me, my excitement infectious, and hugs me tight.
“Drustana was stupid,” I cheer, turning out of Caedryn’s arms to address everyone, reporting everything I saw.
“From what you describe, Drustana hasn’t changed the positions of the camps. The first clan is Calder’s, and the second is ours,” Baldure tells me. “Alivia was the Esper of our clan. That’s why you couldn’t readily find one.”
“That makes things easier! Baldure, Alivia, you go take your clan back. Destaya, I’m assuming you’ll go with them. Is there anyone else here that can help me turn Calder?”
“I was raised in Calder’s clan,” Kalos informs me, moving beside me. “I’m like a son to him.”
“Calder respects us as warriors,” Mara says, moving over behind me with Ranya, Haelyn, and Cedrick.
I nod when no one else comes forward. “The rest of you, pick a team.”
Darian and Bellamy join Baldure and Alivia. As I thought, Zaara, Turhion, and Kerric go to my team, as well as Sitrian. What does surprise me is Malakai choosing Baldure’s team. I figured he’d either stay with Sylaena or come with me.
Volpe flies to my side, giving me a defiant glare, and I just laugh at him. “You can come this time.” The little drox gives a happy bark and sits beside me, looking self-important, making me laugh again.
“What of us?” Robert asks, standing with his sisters, uncertainty emanating from him.
“What do you want to do?” I look between him and Allicyn. Turhion and Baldure made sure to give them a few lessons, but not everyone’s a born fighter like me.