Found in Night (The Dragori Series Book 2)

by Ben Alderson

  Nesta placed two fingers into her mouth. The high-pitched whistle filled the forest around us. A piercing cry responded. We all looked up as three amber griffins passed overhead. Their silver armor reflected light across the forest bed. I raised a hand to block the bright glint of light.

  The griffins soon landed, their thick talons tearing up the ground. One raised up on its hind legs as it came to close to the body of one of our attackers. Even they could sense the unnatural power that clung to the dead.

  “Never mind dwelling on what we could have done.” Nesta and the guards began to walk for the griffins. “Come, quick before we are greeted with another attack.”

  With my hands raised in cautious greeting, I climbed on the back of the biggest griffin with Nesta in front of me. I wrapped my arms around her thick waist and clung on. A click of approval came from the griffin’s beak, and its feathers shook in pleasure. Nyah sat with another guard.

  “What about the bodies?” I asked, feeling the movement of the griffin’s wings as it prepared for flight.

  “It is too late for them. Let us hope the Goddess shows forgiveness for their actions today.”

  “And our guard?” His body still lay on the forest bed, surrounded by his killers.

  “The Goddess works in many ways,” Nesta shouted above the roaring winds as we launched into the sky. “Knowing when your life is subject to sacrifice is part of being her child. It is all for the better cause.”

  NEWS SPREAD LIKE Hadrian’s wild-fire the moment our griffins passed over Kandilin. From the skies, I watched as a crowd gathered below on the podium, shielding my eyes from the light reflecting off the Alorian Soldiers’ white and silver armor.

  I clamped my eyes shut and held on tighter to Nesta as we prepared for landing. I still didn’t enjoy the final part of a griffin’s flight. Even after experiencing it almost every day for the past week, I never got used to the weightless feeling of my stomach that snatched my breath as we descended.

  My stomach turned, mirroring my damp forehead and cramping limbs. Flying I loved, but the unruly behavior of a griffin was highlighted as they flew back to the ground. Nesta had explained during my first flight days that the moment a griffin was in the air, they were free of control. When guided to land, they rebelled by making the journey as uncomfortable as possible.

  “Think of it as punishment for our commands,” she’d told me, a hint of laughter creasing her wise eyes.

  “If they are free of control, why do they follow the instruction to land in the first place? Why not just ignore it?”

  “Because loyalty is their greatest asset. Griffins are no more than oversized younglings; they push boundaries but always comply in the end.”

  Just as she finished explaining, she pulled on the leather reins and we pelted towards the ground.

  I broke the day dream as it happened in real time. Opening my eyes, I saw her yank hard on the reins.

  Our griffin dived towards the ground, its wings pulled tight to its body. I wanted to scream, but if I opened my lips, I risked a mouth full of air and insects. I had learned that lesson during my first flight.

  The descent seemed to drag on for a long while. Only when I recognized the familiar click of talons on wooden panels did I open my eyes again. The other griffins from our flock had landed. Nyah and the surviving guards had already dismounted and stood around waiting for Nesta and me to join.

  Nesta turned over her shoulder, her pointed ear almost catching me in the face, and smiled. “You almost winded me with that grip. You will get used to them soon.”

  I smiled weakly back at her. “Why do I have a niggling feeling I’ve heard that before?”

  “Because you have been blessed to have me as a rider.” Her laugh was sweet and trill like a bird.

  Aware of the crowd of waiting hands and soldiers, I bit my lip and jumped from the griffin’s back. I didn’t want them to see, nor sense my discomfort, so I pushed my feet into the ground and steadied my dizziness. Three deep breaths and my spinning mind had stilled. I turned back to offer a hand to Nesta, but she was already jumping from its back and landing beside me.

  Marium greeted us and quickly escorted us for a debrief. It was part of the routine I’d fallen into over the past seven days, ever since Gallion sent word of the plant that could help Hadrian heal. The day when I finally grasped hope he would get better.

  In the morning, after breakfast, we’d be sent out on a search party, and returned empty-handed. Each time, the silent Marium greeted us. But there was no denying today was different. We’d never returned to Kandilin with one missing party member.

  I didn’t miss the look Marium gave Nesta, and the slight bow of Nesta’s head as she silently confirmed Marium’s query.

  Marium, although the main waiting hand, never spoke a word. At least not one I had heard. I’d watched from a distance as she commanded with her eyes, not once giving guidance or answering queries of those around her. It was known not to provoke her, yet why, I still had not worked out. She reminded me of Alina. A thought that only turned my stomach. In a certain light, they almost looked the same.

  My feet echoed across the paneled flooring as I followed behind Nyah towards the main building in Kandilin. The council Hall was the heart of the city, a puzzle of wood and glass. It hovered over the central riverway of Eldnol below, balanced perfectly across two giant trees on either side of the waterway. Kandilin was small compared to Olderim, but that didn’t take away from its sheer beauty and power. It’d been built at a height to prevent from invasion from below. There was only one way out of the city by foot, and that was down the winding pathway towards the north of the town. I’d still not ventured there, instead opting for griffin flight as my main means of transportation.

  I peered over the bridge that connected the west of the city to the council Hall, welcoming the usual flip of my stomach. Far below, I watched dreamy ships float upstream, heading in the direction of Lilioira.

  Nesta had explained that the riverway connected every city, town and village in Eldnol like a stretching vein of life. It was a path for trading, just like a dirt track I would find in Thessolina. Home. The thought knotted my brow and made me fiddle with my hands. I missed home. At least those who were still there. Mam and Fa.

  A shadow distracted me from the painful thoughts. I looked up, watching the looming building come into view, blocking out the sun and all around it. The Council Hall was beautiful, a grand structure that dwarfed everything around it. As we closed over the bridge, a haggle of cloaked figures burst from the doors, huddled in conversation. I moved out of their way as they brushed past me, sensing the urgency from their rushed whispers and quick feet.

  Unconsciously, my eyes drifted to a window towards the top of the building, hoping to catch a glimpse of him. Hadrian. It was easy to conjure (the memory of??) the struggle four days previous as he was moved to his new room. At first, Hadrian refused, his thunderous mood only worsening with every passing day, but soon, he gave into the many hands that carried him to his new dwelling.

  He’d not said much to me since, not that I gave him much of a chance. It was hard being around him with the secrets I was forced to keep. Secrets that even now weighed my shoulders down. I was forbidden to speak of the Druid. Still Hadrian believed it was his father who caused all of this. Lying to Hadrian was close to impossible, so I opted to stay away from him, creating more of a distance between us.

  “We request an audience with Queen Kathine’s council.” Nesta’s stood tall, hands on her waist.

  The two guards stopped their chatter and looked towards the group. Like twins, each was equally tall, broad and rude. Although their grand silver helmets covered their faces, I was sure from their tone that they were scowling.

  “You are early. You were not expected back till sundown,” the first guard said.

  “Just open the doors.” Nesta’s voice dipped.

  When Nesta meant business, her tone was as sharp as the blade around her waist. The guard
s got the hint, both moving to the large brass door rings and pulling them open. They nodded to Nesta, who thanked them as we passed inside. I felt their shielded eyes follow me every step until the doors closed behind us.

  Each time we passed into this historic building, I lost my breath.

  The bottom floor was open and large. A rolling space with two sets of wooden stairs disappearing to the second floor on either side. Rows upon rows of benches took up most of the room, a single walkway cut down the middle of the room. Our destination was to the far side of the room where the council sat, waiting.

  We passed in single file towards the front where the long desk was placed. The woven carpet of silver and emerald cushioned our heavy footfall as we closed in on the many waiting eyes of the council. Stopping before the desk, the council greeted us with a mixture of stares and emotions.

  The council was made up of Queen Kathine’s greatest warriors and scholars. They’d been sent in place of her majesty as her mouthpiece until she visited herself. I’d asked Nesta why she’d not just come herself, and she only raised her shoulders and shook her head.

  Sitting along the desk were the six that Queen Kathine trusted in her place. Each with their own skills, it was down to them to guide us during the times of tension. Shame they only added to said tension.

  “I see you are one short,” Kazmir, the elder healer and head of the council, said. Her voice seemed to bounce across the room and envelope us in its high tones. She was the oldest of the council, with a braid of silver and chestnut hair. Her hunched stature only added to her age, but her eyes were bright blue, like the open skies and the ocean on a summers day. Like all Alorian elves, she had a hint of gold that hung beneath her skin.

  “We were ambushed,” Nesta replied, her voice cold. “I gave the order to abandon the day’s search.”

  “And here I thought he simply became lost. I see the Dragori is still unmarked…” Kazmir’s judging eyes looked me up and down. “And empty-handed.”

  I took a careful step forward, trying my best to hold her intimidating gaze. “We couldn’t find it. I still believe we’re looking in the wrong place.”

  “Since when do you know more about the lands of Eldnol than its very people?” Penna practically knocked his chair to the floor as he stood abruptly. He was the chief Gazer, an elder who studied the stars and mapped out Eldnol itself. He was short for an Alorian elf; I wondered if he had red swirling within his golden veins.

  He was also brash and rude. His face seemed to always be pinched as if he sat on a thistle.

  “I meant no disrespect—”

  “Then keep your beliefs to yourself.” Penna’s face turned ruby. “Nesta, what is your verdict?”

  “I am with Zacriah. I lost a man today, a good man, in search of a flower that promises to fix the prince. Do I believe it? Well do you want the answer to that?”

  Kazmir reached and pulled at Penna’s hanging sleeves to seat him. Nesta’s responses had Penna choking on a reply.

  I caught Nyah shifting on her feet out the corner of my eye, and the raise of her freckled hand as she pressed it to her mouth, stifling her laugh.

  I shook my head and looked back up, flicking my tongue across my teeth. I was angry, tired and frustrated, and this old buffoon would soon learn how to speak to me.

  “What gives you the right to tell me how to behave when all I’ve done for the past seven days is follow your commands—which have lead us only into an ambush?” I enjoyed watching Penna’s face slack as I shouted back. “If you are the blessed fool that the stars have chosen to speak through, then why can’t you locate a measly flower? Instead, you keep sending us on missions with nothing more than dead ends to pluck from imaginary stems.”

  “Now, Zacriah, that is quite enough.” Kazmir’s voice was hoarse and stern.

  “No. It’s not.” I waved my hand to silence her. “Until you figure out where it is, don’t come asking for me. I am pulling myself out of any further expeditions until we have a genuine lead.”

  Someone sniggered to my side.

  “I suggest you calm down, Zacriah. You forget you are speaking to the very people keeping you safe.” Kazmir was calm, but a hint of warning warmed her voice. “We have shown you and Prince Hadrian nothing but kindness. You owe us respect.”

  “Keeping me safe? From what, a missing Druid? Do we even know his name, his true identity? No. I owe you nothing. You know we would rather return to Olderim. It is the Council who are keeping us here.”

  Kazmir nor Penna replied. The six council members shot each other a look, and Kazmir sat back down. I couldn’t help the laugh that slipped past my lips. “And Hadrian is locked up in that room, too weak to leave by himself, and still no one has addressed whether his father is even alive. Have you discussed when you are going to tell him that? Or have you been too busy sending us on a wild chase to find some mysterious flower?”

  Nyah was standing before me, one hand on my shoulder. “Zac, you need to calm down.”

  Her voice was like an anchor. It broke through the haze of anger, bringing me back into the room.

  I looked at her, stunned. “Are you joking? I finally have the backbone to speak out, and I am in the wrong? I speak only the truth. If they don’t want to swallow it, that is their trouble.”

  “I know.” Her grip on my shoulder tightened, her eyes flashed and her brows pinched, then my anger melted away like butter over a fire.

  No, she didn’t!

  “Thank you, Nyah. We appreciate your help.” Kazmir hands were planted on the desk, each knuckle white from tension.

  I tried to pull the anger back, even with the added incentive of Nyah’s betrayal, but I couldn’t grasp a hold of it.

  “I’m sorry,” Nyah whispered over the red glow of her hands. I didn’t believe it.

  “Can we get back to the matter at hand, or are there any more complaints you would like to bring forward. No? Excellent. Nesta, please step forward and share the news of said ambush.” Kazmir turned her attention to Nesta, forcing a weak smile.

  I detached myself from the debrief. I could hear the faint mummer of Nesta as she described the attack, saw the shock on the faces of the council as she displayed the skin with the sigil and caught the hushed chatter. But I didn’t care. I just wanted out.

  “It seems that the sympathizers have finally crawled out of the woodwork. And their presence only solidifies what we already knew. The Druid did survive Emaline’s burial at sea. Our understanding is he has yet to show himself on the shores of Thessolina, so I can only think that he is biding his time somewhere off the grid.” Penna spoke up this time.

  “Have your stars not told you were to find him?” I finally spoke up, a small sliver of frustration returning to me. Penna only looked at me but didn’t answer. I could tell my comment offended him. His neck blotched with splash of red.

  “Whilst we are on topic of Thessolina, we have received news from Vulmar palace. Our soldiers say the city and its people are up in arms. They blame the missing King and Prince on our little friend. We have heard all about the incident between the Druid’s commander, Alina, and what you did to her. Your display of magick has rooted fear in Niraen’s hearts,” Penna said.

  Kazmir cleared her throat and shook her finger at me. “And that is what we will allow them to think. The moment news of the Druid spreads to Niraen ears, true panic will set in. Letting them believe a rouge wielder of magick is their only concern is a blessing. Nesta, I ask that you prepare a griffin and send your best soldier with a note. Explain the news about the Druid sympathizers and command that your troops overseas increase their patrols and keep a keen eye out for any sympathizers on their shores. We need to halt this before it gets any worse.”

  Nesta nodded. “Of course. I shall prepare and have the word out by sundown. But the Niraen people are still hostile towards our soldiers. Since ‘King Dalior’ so evidently spread his lies about the Alorian people, they still believe we are partially to blame.”

  I k
new what Nesta was referring to. The speech the Druid gave in his perfect disguise had rooted itself in the heart and minds of my people. Hadrian’s people.

  “Take Hadrian with you. His presence would calm the people.” I didn’t want Hadrian to leave, but it was the best option.

  “Absolutely not. If the Goddess has brought the Dragori together, we must keep it that way. Separating you will only increase the risk that the Druid gets to you. We almost lost you to him once.” Kazmir was serious. She hardly took a breath until she had finished talking.

  The youngest and most ethereal of the five council members stood up at the end of the table. The folds of her white dress rippled like water when she walked around the desk and stood before it.

  She turned to the rest of the council, her raven hair curling down to the bottom of her spine.

  “I feel that this is the time to bring up the topic of the fourth Dragori. Word has traveled on the wind of the fourth in my homeland. The Morthi elves talk of an elfin girl who caused the ground to tremble beneath her feet. The last we have heard about her was two moons previous when she was exiled for risking the lives of her people. Since then, she’s become little more than a faint memory.”

  It was the first time I’d heard about the fourth Dragori, or even spent a moment thinking about them. My mind was lost, too busy worrying about Hadrian’s health, the missing Druid and the fact Emaline has still shown zero interest in helping us. Now the idea of the fourth only spiked my worry.

  “I appreciate your concern, Cristilia, but for the moment that is nothing more than a rumor. I believe our efforts should be spread more on the issue at hand.” Kazmir brushed Cristilia’s request off like it was nothing more than a flurry of snow on her shoulder. Cristilia only dipped her head, spared me a glance with her onyx eyes and returned to her seat without another word.

  I didn’t drop her gaze. How did I not notice a Morthi on the Queen’s council? Even from the light of the circular window that haloed the council, I noticed the black rush of her blood. Morthi blood. And the double point of her ears that escaped her thick crown of hair.