by A. Wrighton
“Besides… girls never could get the subtle technique of it.”
Her form shook with laughter. “Perhaps not… at the very least, certainly not this one.”
Gage and Vylain entered from a side hallway and joined the procession. They laughed and greeted Callon and Kalyna, quickly chiming in to the banter.
“You Kaly, can do anything – of that I am sure,” Gage said.
Vylain nodded. “I’d have to agree with Gage.”
“You haven’t seen her with swords,” Callon said.
“It’s a disaster,” Kalyna added, laughing. “How are you two doing? I feel like I haven’t seen you in days.”
“Busy… with the ‘Lets…” Vylain started.
“And Recruitment plans,” Gage added.
“When’s the next one? I always wanted to watch.”
The three Dragonics stopped. Kalyna smacked into Callon’s back and rebounded off Gage’s shoulder.
“Did I say something wrong?”
“Recruiting is not a pleasant occasion anymore, Kaly. There’s almost always a resistance or a trap, not to mention the fact that fewer recruits than ever are willing to take the risks.” Gage sighed and then shrugged. “There’s nothing to watch, but the collapse of what faith remains in our Cause and the Rogue Dragonics’ status with the people. It’s sad, really.”
Kalyna frowned.
“I wouldn’t trade your tasking for the world, Gage. Too much—”
“Yes, well we can’t all be in charge of the armory, now can we, Callon?”
“Sneer all you like Brydellan, but acquisitioning new weaponry is never as easy as it seems. It’s not like I can just walk up to the weaponsmiths and request things. Sources are required, alliances are needed—”
“And the talents of thievery and a quick tongue have no use to you?” Vylain asked with a grin.
“I resent your implication that I have ever had to steal any weapons, Brydellan. I steal nothing – it’s all just a delicate matter of diplomacy with weaponsmiths is all. Some are more willing to be diplomatic and some require a bit of delicate convincing.”
Vylain and Callon shared a chilling smile of amusement.
Gage exhaled steering Kalyna on ahead. “You’ll get used to their bickering, one day.”
“Oh?”
“At least…I keep telling myself that.”
“How’s that working for you, Gage?”
Gage smiled at Kalyna with a short wink. “Wonderfully.”
SAGEFALL MEADOWS
ANLE, BRYDELLA
The Brydellan meadowlands were a favorite of Gage’s for recruiting, as the region had the most success and was often ignorant of the greater workings of the Council and its politics. The people were kind and warm and never without a glass of water or scrap of bread for a traveler. Their homes were cozy but somehow more beautiful than the average structure of twigs and bricks. Their cottages, with white mortar and long wooden beams, had character that reflected the inner nature of their inhabitants. The Brydellans were kind and keen, though few ever turned out to be Dragonics as Vylain had. For all their rarity, Gage enjoyed recruiting in Brydella more. To find a beacon in such a pacifistic people would be a blessing now.
Gage closed his fist and the Beasts set down in the trees, allowing their Riders to find perches before they disappeared into the night. The men waited for Gage’s order to descend and approach the house at the edge of the Sagefall Meadow. But, the order never came. Gage’s eyes scanned the perimeter again and again.
“Sir?”
“Hold fast. Silent.”
The hand signal was relayed through the branches.
“What is it?”
A sort of old burnt scent wafted along the fresh breeze. It was laced with acid and dirt.
“This house… something is wrong.”
“There are three lights, sir.”
“I know.”
“So can we…”
There was a shrill scream from the woman tending the side garden as three Dragons descended upon the house, a Fire Beast breathing flames across the rooftop until it crackled in a ferocious blaze. Seven more Beasts landed outside the cottage fence. Ten Council Dragonics on the ground — the woman did not stand a chance. With a slash of a dirty gold-plated blade, her shrieking stopped.
Gage winced. He knew protocol. Outnumbered they could not engage. Losing what few able Rogues they had for one recruit was never worth the cost, even if it went against their natures to protect their people. Gage passed the command to lay in wait, despite the discomfort. He sat obedient and still with nowhere to look away to. The Rogues sat helpless, forced to watch.
The Council Dragonics stormed the house and dragged the remaining occupants outside. They lined them up, ducks in a row. There was an older man, a young girl, and three boys, ranging in age. Two were the age of recruiting. The Council Dragonic with the blue cloak of command spoke fiercely, sharply to the family.
“I am Commander Druff, First Dredth of the Council Dragonics. You are all under suspicion of high treason and allegiance to the Resistance. How do you plead?”
“My wife was merely harvesting the garden. What have you—”
“That is not what I asked. Is it true you are allied with the Resistance?”
“No, Commander.”
Druff snarled, his eye scanning first the burning house and then the remaining family. “Which of you is the Recruit?”
“Leave my children alone. None of them are going anywhere.”
Druff withdrew and cocked his sidearm at the father.
“Do not lie to me, Farmer. Your lights in the window, we know what they mean.”
“Lights? We—”
The pistol rang clear. The youngest girl screamed rushing to her father’s side. Druff raised his sidearm at her just as the middle brother stepped forward.
“I am.”
“Just you, boy?”
“Yes.”
“I see.” Druff stalked around the boy, his pistol running along his skull. “Only you and yet, you squint to see me?”
“Sir?”
“Tell me boy, what exactly is the color of that Beast by the gate?”
The boy stammered only long enough for the trigger to be pulled, its barrel at the nape of his neck.
“That leaves you two boys, eh?”
The younger sister screamed and ran for her brothers as two Council Dragonics ran them through with their swords. When they turned for her, she merely curled into a ball and shook.
“Leave her be. Let her serve as a warning to those who think the Rogues will help them to a better life. Mount up, boys! Many more need a reminder.”
It was not until they skies were clear that Gage signaled the men out of the trees. The little girl, aged ten cycles, remained curled in a ball, surrounded by her broken family. When the child felt Gage’s hand on her shoulder she whispered, “Make it quick.”
Gage froze. “No child, I’m here to take you somewhere safe.”
She looked up at him and saw his cape. Hate filled her eyes. “You! This is your fault! Where were you? You could’ve… done…. Something!”
Gage let the girl beat her fists against his chest until her breath was ragged and her eyes dry. His heart broke with every collision of her tiny fists against his skin. Helpless. They had been as helpless to save her family as they had been against ten Council Dragonics. Helpless because they couldn’t get the recruits needed to stand up and fight to prevent children being made orphans – orphans like the girl before them. The cyclical nature of it hit hard between his brain and heart. There was nothing they could have done. Nothing logical. Illogical. They were just as helpless as she had been.
“Soon, Child. Soon.” Gage collected the limp girl in his arms and whistled for Tiryne. “DeLorne - check the rest of the Meadowlands – carefully. Make no contact, just scan and return to the Den to debrief me.”
“Aye, sir.”
THE UNDERBELLY
THE DEN, NORTHERN SOLERA
N MOUNTAINS
Alaister looked at the fading battle map in disgust. It wasn’t the map itself, but the passing of time that annoyed him. She should have been here by now. She was always there before the first rays hit but now, the sunlight slashed through the print and pierced across maps without any plotting whatsoever. It was well past their usual meeting time.
With Kalyna, his first instinct was to worry.
He abandoned the tavi mugs and quickly walked towards Dormitory Halls of the Den. His feet moved painfully fast, his body muscles tightening to keep up. He wound about the stairwell, jumped off the landing, and catapulted towards her curtained room.
“Kal?”
Nothing.
“Kal…”
“She’s not there?”
Alaister wheeled about, shocked that anyone other than him was up this early.
Brother Feynt smiled tiredly. “She asked me to drop these off for her.”
“I thought she was studying at the Library last night?”
“No, she doesn’t study there anymore.”
Alaister stammered, but Brother Feynt had said it so definitively, so naturally. She was supposed to be studying in the Library by night every night. “I see,” Alaister said. “I’ll take them to her.”
“Thank you, Alaister. At long last, my bed calls and I can happily answer. May They both keep you, Commander.”
“And you.” Alaister stared down at the stack of books nestled against his belly and chest. These were not texts that he thought she would be reading: history, wars, and conquests. “Kal, I’m coming in,” he said as he pushed through the curtain. Kalyna’s bed was empty; the sheets hadn’t been tossed. He looked about the barren cavern walls expecting her to randomly appear but knowing she could not. His worry surged and his voice rose. “Kal?”
Alaister’s mind raced through possibilities and probabilities. His thoughts fell on the off chance that Kalyna, extraordinarily persuasive especially with Callon, might have talked him into training her this early. He turned for the door and saw her sword leaning against the wall. His chest tightened.
He found himself running. He knew Kalyna liked the ‘Lets and that she was often in the company of Vylain at this hour. If she were to be anywhere, she would be there. Alaister turned for the stairs to the Underbelly. His feet pounded against the hardened path until he came to the stockpile of crates and supplies for the ‘Lets. It was where he was so used to finding Vylain perched, half daydreaming, and half humming that he almost imagined him into existing there. But Vylain was not there. No one was.
Alaister spied into the ‘Lets cavern. Nothing human lied within. His face flushed. There was a possibility, though he had never considered it likely, but his doubt remained. Not with Vylain. Not with Kalyna. Even if Vylain had a storming side that seemed to match Kalyna’s moods, especially when they were darker.
A Dragon bellow breached his thoughts.
Jaxin.
His bellow was not out of pain or anger or anything Alaister had heard before. It almost seemed cocky. Challenging.
Alaister crossed to the Underbelly Ledge and peered out into the sky where the first rays of sunlight had started to crest. His stomach dropped. He shouldn’t have been able to see the view unhindered. There were always Beasts flying, wings gliding, blocking his full view. Except now. No Beasts swooped across the morning expanse, as they should. Alaister looked down.
They were all there. Watching something.
His throat tightened. It was a Dragon Dueval – a contest without limits or rules between two Beasts. But Jaxin wasn’t facing any Dragon opponent. His Beast stood facing three human figures. The point figure was easily distinguished by long flaxen hair and a subtle curve to the thin frame.
“Jaxin! No!”
Incoming roars of the Recruiting Patrol drowned out Alaister’s voice.
Three blasts – something had gone terribly wrong.
Alaister took to the Ledge and began climbing up the fifty feet to the main Dragon Landing – it was the fastest way to reach them. He pulled himself up onto the Ledge as the final Recruiting Patrol Dragon touched down. From the steady sound of beating wings, Alaister knew the Beasts from down in the canyon were fast approaching.
“Alaister! Watcher be praised you’re here!”
“What happened Gage?”
“The Council, they’ve been going around to every house with the lights and just… it’s…”
Alaister silenced Gage with a firm hand when he noticed the little girl behind him. She stood firmly planted, only her soft brown eyes darting about, her curled pigtails snapping with each direction change. Her hands trembled through her thin linen dress pockets.
“What’s your name, Child?”
“Neeva.”
Alaister looked up and caught Drystan’s eye. He nodded.
“Well, little Neeva, My friend Drystan here is going to make sure you’re not hurt and then he’s going to take you on to get something to eat. You’re hungry, I bet?”
She nodded.
“I’ll come see you in a bit, all right?”
The girl wrapped her small arms around Alaister’s knelt frame and squeezed.
“Thank you, Commander.”
Alaister smiled at her aptitude for noticing his rank from his cloak. “It is just Alaister, Neeva,” he said.
The girl smiled and took ahold of Drystan’s hand. His curly red hair made him even more docile than his gentle green eyes and demeanor allowed and, beside Neeva – the tiny beacon of hallowed strength - Drystan appeared childlike. He nodded at Alaister’s silent instructions. He would question the girl accordingly and report anything that Gage might have missed. He would not allow the girl’s losses to have been in vain. And, he finally had someone to share a spot of candy with down in the infirmary. Drystan squeezed Neeva’s hand and nodded forwards. Together they departed leaving Alaister and Gage to tend to the rest of the recruiting party.
“Gage – handle your Beasts, regroup your men, and then report to me in the Commanders’ Meeting Room immediately.”
“Wind with you, Commander.”
“And you.”
Turning abruptly, Alaister smacked into Callon. His jaw tightened. “Did you know about this?”
“The raid?”
Alaister scowled.
“The Council?” Callon paused, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Look, Al. I just woke up and I have had one Udlastian night. Can we please cut the gavasti and you just tell me why you’re upset at me, so I can go and get on with my bretzing morning?”
“Alaister, let me explain…” Vylain offered, arriving on the landing with Lanthar and Kalyna behind him.
Kalyna pushed past and clutched onto Alaister’s forearm. “Is Gage all right?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“And Tiryne?”
“I assume so.”
Kalyna exhaled and released his arm, but now he held fast to her. His bind was not painful but firm. She looked away.
“How long?”
“A while.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“Alaister…. Commander….”
“I’ll get to you, Atkin.”
Vylain bowed his head and exhaled.
“How long?”
“Long enough. Alaister, it was my idea. I convinced them…”
“I don’t care whose idea it was. You went against my direct orders—”
Kalyna jerked free as she felt the telling heat build inside her. “Because they’re wrong—”
“What?”
“You’re wrong, Alaister.”
Callon looked between Kalyna and Alaister. The intensity of their stare made him itch. He swatted between the two and gestured towards the on looking Recruitment Patrol that had, though barely, managed to return with a few new members of the Order.
“Maybe somewhere else is better…”
“The Commanders’ Meeting Room. All of you. Now.”
Kalyna started to follow, but Alaister s
topped her.
“Go clean up Kal. When I am ready to deal with you, I will come to you.”
“Alais—”
“Go.”
Kalyna huffed and departed as the men silently walked to the Commanders’ Meeting Room. All refused to speak first, and none could find the appropriate words. Even Alaister fumbled with what to say; all his energy was diverted to making sure he didn’t yell. His father had taught him reserved, composed leadership, but there were times – most times – when it went against his inner natures. Times like now. Alaister wanted to beat them all – beat them for risking her life. Risking Kalyna and wagering a bet that would render all their work, all their lives as nothingness. That wagered that The One could be lost.
They were wrong.
COMMANDERS’ MEETING ROOM
THE DEN, NORTHERN SOLERAN MOUNTAINS
The men swung into the Commanders’ Meeting Room and Alaister dropped shut the thick curtains behind them. “Sit,” he said through clenched teeth.
They obeyed.
Alaister remained away from his men, trying to calm his instinctual tirade. The silence putrefied. No one liked Alaister Paine silent. It never fared well for anyone.
Vylain hesitated then softly started, “Sir…”
“We wait for Gage. He needs to be present, as well.”
“You know…”
“Not now, Callon.”
“Hey, look Al – for once I had absolutely nothing to do with this. This is monumental! For once, I am not in trouble!”
“I think he fails to see the happiness in that, Callon,” Vylain said.
“Nonsense, Brydellan. Somewhere in him, he’s smiling.”
“Hardly.”
Callon scoffed and propped his feet on the table until Lanthar shot him a look. Callon slowly pulled his feet down and crossed his arms.
“You’re worse than your father with your silent treatment, ya know. Bad form, Al. Bad form.”
Vylain rose, leaning across the table. “Callon I swear to–”