by A. Wrighton
Kalyna continued her trek down the hallway and ducked inside her room. Before she had even a moment to collect her knapsack, there was a tapping on her entryway.
“Enter.”
Alaister ducked through the curtains and stared at Kalyna blankly. He had never seen her in white and she was stunning. One of the only stories Alaister ever remembered his father telling him was of the moment Kai first saw a Runic.
She had stood before him in all white with silver and red trimmings, her hair wildly flowing about her shoulders and down her back. His father had said that the Runic looked like she was freshly fallen from above the skies, and that if he had asked her, she would have granted him anything. Magic – he said – she was living and breathing, pure magic.
Standing before Alaister, Kalyna looked more stunning than the ethereal image he had played in his head from his father’s story. Kalyna wore an icicle white dress that cascaded down from an empire waist into soft curves and turns of supple fabric. He knew from the way it nestled onto the ground, that it was insanely soft to touch.
A black corset covered her waist that was laced with a deep blue cord that pulled the copper shimmer from her eyes and seemed to douse it in her hair. The flaxen curls were deep and rich in their shimmer and spilled off her shoulders, down her back, and tickled her hips. She smiled at him, copper eyes flashing the slivers of colors of the Runes she possessed.
Kalyna looked around behind her and frowned. “Alaister…”
He made no response.
“Alaister… Alaister, what is it that you want?”
“I…”
Her stomach churned under his stare. He looked as if he was looking through her to something else. She wondered if there was something on her face or straw in her hair and she slowly felt for anything array. Nothing was amiss, and yet Alaister maintained the jarring gaze. Kalyna felt so despondent and different that her cheeks burned and her skin flushed with heat. She hated when anyone looked at her as if she were alien or so different from the others that she should not be mixed with them – mixed with him. She wanted to snatch the dazed look right off his face.
“…I love your dress,” Alaister said, finally finishing his thought.
Kalyna flinched before collecting her thoughts into a reasonable reply. “It belongs to Vee.”
“It’s beautiful.”
“Thank you.”
The two returned to awkward stares.
Kalyna shrugged and rubbed her bare arms. “Was there something you needed?”
“Yes,” he said grateful for the reminder. “Yes, I was just coming to check on your packing.”
“Haven’t started really… not much to pack.”
“Right, I’ll leave you be then.” Alaister turned and made his way out the curtain.
“Alaister, wait.”
He obeyed and turned back around. “What?”
“Why is everyone going?”
“Ah, that.” Alaister smiled boyishly. “When we travel we mobilize the full force. We can’t afford to lose any more to skirmishes. There is a bit of safety in numbers, especially when we only have the three Dredths.”
“All this for me to go search for an abandoned palace?”
“Yes.”
“That doesn’t—”
“It’s part of our cause, Kal. To protect you. You are the Prophecy. You are our future. We will protect you at all costs.”
“Who will protect you?”
Alaister stammered.
“If we lose the Rogues, Solera is completely lost.”
“No. Somewhere, someone will always rise to fill our place.”
“And if they don’t?”
“Then this world is no longer worth saving. Which,” Alaister grinned, “is completely impossible.” He watched Kalyna’s thoughts take her a world away as she nodded. He shook off her distance and straightened his shirt. “Call for Lanthar or I, if you need any assistance. Until tomorrow, Kal.”
“Wind with you, Alaister.”
He nodded, smiling as he ducked out. He looked down at his hands oddly. His palms were sweaty. Leaning against the hallway wall, Alaister wiped his hands on his leather vest. He found a momentary release with an exhale before adjusting his belt and sword. He pushed off the wall, leaving the tense ache that lurked in his belly and crowded his chest behind on her black curtain.
Alaister made it to the Armory before stopping to talk to anyone. The weapon racks that lined the cavern walls were unusually bare. They exposed the blank bleakness of the tall cavern that he had seen only once before – when the Rogues first started settling into the Den. He had only been a few cycles old and the enormity of it still mystified.
On Alaister’s approaching boot steps, Callon perked up from directing and administering weaponry. “You look like gavasti, Al.”
“Same to you, Cal.”
“Har, har, har. Saucy today, I see. Good. I like you that way – always makes battles more fun.”
“We will not be seeking battles tomorrow, Callon.”
“Yeah, yeah. Just the ruins of a haunted palace of untold death and misery. I’d much rather fight, thank you.”
“As would I.”
“Supposing you want your report, eh Al?”
Alaister nodded and bemused, leaned against a vacant weaponry rack.
“All issued out to the fighting Dredths – working on the elder recruits now. You know… those that might actually last long enough to use them.”
“Save a dagger for Kal, please.”
“She already has one.”
Alaister cocked an eyebrow.
“One thing you should realize by now, Al. When it comes to the heartless and metallic – I am one step ahead of everyone.”
“Thank you.”
“Anytime, brother. Don’t worry. She’ll be more than safe.”
“I always worry.”
“It was worth a shot,” Callon said, a sheepish smile on his lips.
GRAY STAGG INN
NORTHERN ANRAK, CALDENON
The lobby felt like the only safe place. The inn would have felt homey, with its open ceilings and wooden balustrades, had it not been for the potent smell of unkempt dust and wet wood that snuck in from the snowy outdoors. The linen white walls barely made up for the dimness that the inn’s mountainside location allowed, and gratefully, the inn was well lit – overly so – with lanterns every few feet and a roaring central fireplace in the lobby that was surrounded by worn but delightfully fluffy couches and chairs.
Kalyna nestled herself onto one of the old sofas, a noon blue color with stuffing poking out from its worn laced corners. She purposefully kept her book to her face and refused to make eye contact with anyone. Fifteen cycles in an orphanage like Keeper Marnee’s had taught her one thing – men were relentless and lust-driven when traveling.
“Well, good morrow, Milady.”
Eyes nestled in her book, Kalyna shook her head until her loosely knotted hair cascaded down her shoulders. “No,” she said.
“I was—”
“No.”
Kalyna enjoyed the draft of the man’s exit before refocusing her attentions on the text. It was a piece about the original Solastian Runics, written entirely in Drakanic. If it had not been for the illustrations, her translations would have been juvenile, at best. It took focus, patience, and a deep level of concentration that the lobby failed to provide, but she had nowhere else to go. She was well-adapted at making do with little, but when Alaister told her they must pass the night’s storm there and to make herself scarce, he had forgotten that being a woman in an inn where hardly a woman is seen, rendered scarcity impossible.
Every sharp exhale or whisper about her lush curls sent her mind dashing and her cheeks burning. They never stopped. Kalyna paused her translations, eyes fixated on the script, as footsteps of another man drew near. Kalyna sighed and vowed to refuse to acknowledge the man more than she needed. He approached the sofa back and stood silently watching her.
�
��No,” she said.
“Hmm?”
“I am not one of the inn’s.”
The man chuckled before leaning on the back of the sofa. She felt his breath on her neck, but she fought the urge to face him. Kalyna turned a page.
“You get that?” the man’s voice mumbled, his voice distorted by a cough.
Kalyna flinched, trying to ignore the man’s steadied breathing. It was rhythmic and smelled of spiced tavi. Kalyna was grateful she did not have to conceal the nature of her text, as Callon had assured her that even if occupants of the Gray Stagg Inn could read, none cared for the Council or Drakanic. She should have been safe to read in peace then, but the man remained.
She squirmed at his insistent presence. He remained, even as she turned another page, and it irked her that he did not make any attempt at further vocalization. He was content to just stand behind her, leaning near enough to read over her shoulder, without further utterance.
Kalyna slammed shut the book and snapped around. “Do you—” Her mouth nearly crashed into thin lips that spread into a satisfied smirk. “Alaister?”
He nodded a warm greeting. “Kal,” he said intensely amused at her dishevelment.
"What are you... I mean I thought you would be...” Kalyna nodded towards the upper rooms. “Taking care of business… or… whatever it is that you do.”
Alaister could not resist smiling at her fluster. He shrugged and stretched out of his hunched pose before walking to the front of the couch. Kalyna’s copper eyes followed his every movement, down to the cracking of his knuckles as he spoke.
“It’s not all it’s cracked up to be.”
Kalyna scoffed. “Women throwing themselves at you isn’t all it’s cracked up to be? For a man, Alaister Paine, I do declare you are insane.”
“Perhaps.”
"You're telling me you've never..."
Alaister sighed as he sat across from Kalyna on the sofa. His eyes lingered briefly on her feet, which she had propped up on the table in front of the sofa, exposing another Drakanic tattoo. The ink in this one was meaner, darker. Catching his gaze, she jerked her legs down.
“I didn’t say that, Kal. I just said it’s not all it’s cracked up to be… one grows tired of that sort of thing, eventually.”
Kalyna frowned as she adjusted the hem of the dark brown dress. “I’ll take your word for it.”
“What is it you’re reading?”
“Just some old stories from Solasti.”
“I’ve never known anyone who could read Drakanic – not even my father.”
Her cheeks singed pink. “Vee can be a pretty insistent tutor.”
“I can imagine.” Alaister smiled gently before picking up the town manuscript from the table. Kalyna watched him from the corner of her eye until she was certain he would ask nothing else. After a long moment, Kalyna dove back into her book but found her mind lingering on the tenderness she had seen in the gray-blue eyes. It was a rare sighting to find warmth or any sort of happiness in those eyes.
She refused to let it go.
Kalyna set her book in her lap and leaned across the sofa to gently tap his knee. Alaister looked over the paper at Kalyna and shrugged his eyebrows.
“Alaister, may I… may I ask you something about your father? Please do not fear for my feelings, if you’d rather not…”
“Of course, you can, Kal. Ask away.”
“Your father’s Dragon. What was she?”
Smiling, Alaister folded the town manuscript. His eyes danced a warmer shade of gray. “She was the most spectacular female Fire Dragon Solera has seen in decades. Her name is Mylfina.” Alaister watched Kalyna’s copper eyes shimmer, her focus somewhere deep in her memory. His own memories of the purple leviathan warmed. Mylfina was missed almost as greatly as Kai himself – even by Kalyna.
She started a smile. “She had purple on her throat, didn’t she?”
“Yes. You actually remember her… Don’t you?”
“Every night when I was little I would dream of the night your father left me at the place with yellow stone walls and how beautifully sinister she was. I will never forget how she looked or sounded.” Kalyna frowned, a fleeting smile dying on her lips. “I will never forget that night. Sad to think that that my one night safe in that castle under her watch was one of the happiest of my life…”
"Dragons do that to a person. When I first laid eyes on Jaxin, I swore I’d never have a happier moment in my lifetime. And, when he chose me and bound us by blood, I thought I could fly. Truth be told, between you and me Kal, it is a rather bad idea to test that.”
“Bound by blood?”
Alaister pulled on his linen shirt neck to expose three long slashes across his collarbone. “It’s part of the ritual of becoming a Dragonic. Once the Dragon accepts your choice of them, they attack the Rider, pulling back before killing them. To complete the ritual, the Dragon will then offer their own blood to atone, and the Rider marks the Beast in the same place with a dagger.” Alaister flinched at the warmth of her fingertips along his collarbone and scar.
She stared fascinatingly at the three marks. “Jaxin has this too?”
“Yes.”
Her fingertips pushed gently along them as they traced their length. A chill rushed through Alaister that he fought to stifle from her presence. He clamped shut his eyes and let the sensations settle under his skin. Kalyna’s voice was so soft that he did not hear her at first. Only when she squeezed his shoulder did he open his eyes to her warm face.
“Alaister, what happened to her?”
“Mylfina?”
Kalyna nodded, her fingers resting on his skin only until she realized they had stayed there. She jerked her hand back and tucked it into her lap.
"I don’t know. It’s not like the stories say. They will live without their Riders. They just… become feral, untamable by any other until they too pass on.”
“But, you haven’t seen her?”
“No… She hasn’t been seen in the canyons since my father passed. It is odd considering the Beasts have nowhere else to go. But, who knows what happens once a Dragon turns feral. I am just grateful she gave me Jaxin.”
Alaister smiled at Kalyna’s flaxen waves and found that her lips smiled back. He looked about the lobby once more before he pushed to his feet and extended his hand to Kalyna. “Come on. I’ll show you.”
“I thought you said to stay away from the Dragons?”
“I’ll be right beside you. Besides, you knew his mother. Jaxin’s bound to be a bit more understanding for that.”
Kalyna cocked an eyebrow at Alaister’s perked lips before taking his hand. He led her out of the inn, past the staring men Kalyna had long ago refused, and up to the short rocky hill a dozen yards to the side of the old stone building. The night sky shivered with the chill of a coming harsh winter, and Kalyna instantly compensated with kindling an inner fire. Her eyes, a fiery reddish copper, did not unnerve Alaister, but instead set him at ease. He smiled at her odd state before turning to survey their surroundings.
They were truly alone. The mountains and hills surrounding the inn were vacant. The ground was covered in an undisturbed dousing of snow and the frozen rocks abound reflected the starry sky like scattered crystals about a blanket of white velvet.
Alaister scanned the perimeter before tilting his head to the sky. His gray eyes scanned the clouds and shadows. Satisfied at the sky’s vacancy, Alaister released a shrill whistle before backing up and tucking Kalyna behind him. The sky shuddered with the thundering sound of wind gushing forth from under Beast wings.
Jaxin’s descent was sharp and fast and he hovered for a half heartbeat before landing. The Beast shook off the chill of the air and craned his neck to see what Alaister hid behind him. To his Beast, Alaister spoke in Drakanic, provoking an uncontrollable smile in Kalyna. For all Alaister’s earnestness about no one reading Drakanic, he spoke it well enough.
“It’s not food, Jaxin. It’s Kalyna.”
Jaxin
scrunched his neck and exhaled sharply. The smell of smoke filled the air as the great Beast nudged Alaister’s protective arm aside allowing him to find and capture Kalyna’s full face.
Alaister hesitated at his Beast’s newfound infatuation and impromptu staring contest with Kalyna. He had no control or knowledge of the Beast’s thoughts or feelings and for a moment, he feared for Kalyna’s safety.
Two heartbeats passed.
Silent stares remained, but the smoke ceased and Jaxin’s orange-red eyes seemed more curious than hostile. Alaister gently rested a hand on the Beast’s head allowing the creature to take in all of Kalyna’s presence.
Alaister’s alarm for Kalyna’s safety returned when her eyes latched onto Jaxin’s. She showed no fear. Alaister took a sharp intake of air at her hard stare. It was a direct challenge in the Dragon social order to stare down an alpha male. A deep noise built in Jaxin’s throat that grew louder with each heartbeat. He wrapped his hands around Kalyna’s arms to move her but before he could, a guttural growl escaped Jaxin’s jaws as the great Beast raised his head.
Alaister blinked.
Jaxin cocked his massive head in a bow.
Kalyna followed suit, bowing at the Beast before speaking flawless Drakanic. “It is an honor to meet you, Jaxin of Mylfina. I had the honor of knowing your mother and wanted to see her in you. She is strong in you.”
Alaister, whose Drakanic was mainly limited to commands and insults, struggled to understand everything Kalyna spoke to his Dragon. It astounded how she could speak the language flawlessly. Alaister stared in breathless shock as his Dragon seemed to bow deeper in acknowledgment before rearing and spewing a triumphant blast of flame.
“Shhh!” Kalyna giggled softly, a finger to her lips serving as a warning to the oblivious Beast. She quickly extended her hands to pat the Beast’s muzzle.
Jaxin gently nuzzled her before shifting his attention to his Rider.
Alaister’s face was clouded in doubt and impossibility. “I’ll be damned to Udlast.”
“What?”