by A. Wrighton
Higath was excessively handsome for a Council Dragonic, and Vee instantly felt the pang of the war. It made good people bad, and bad people good. There was a deep, inherent goodness to Higath that inspired Vee’s hope. Perhaps, it would all end. It had to end. Soon. And, she would happily let that end start with her.
Higath scanned the scene and frowned. The captive witch stared warmly at him almost pleasantly. The dense fog refused to linger a sprig of mist onto the Cliffs unnaturally. Something was off. Wrong. Killing possibly the only credible lead to a remaining Runic was far from a good idea. Both he and Druff were certain the Runic was a chalked-up fantasy of a money-starved Keeper, since all leads had ended dry but, disappointingly, High Commander Foxun and the Chancellor had insisted on it being true. Their inflicted scouring was tedious and Druff hated nothing more than petty, meaningless tasks. For his lack of humanity, Druff was smart – he knew the way back to leading assaults and raids was to eliminate the situation entirely, innocence be damned.
But, Higath could not agree with the logic and rhetoric. A glimmer of humanity shone in his eyes with protest. “Druff, I—”
“In a moment, Higath. First, we finish this. Place her.”
Higath exhaled at the dismissal and obeyed his slightly senior officer’s command sluggishly. Higath shuddered when Vee caught his soft gaze and smiled happily. No one should be pleased to perish in this fashion; beheadings were a messy affair.
“It’s all right you, know,” Vee said. “ I am sorry that more could not be here as you wanted.”
Druff flinched, shook his head, and withdrew his broadsword. “That’s enough conversation, Witch. Now speak your piece to your Makers, and let’s get on with it. I have more pressing matters to attend to.”
Vee exhaled and shut her eyes. She tried to draw her favorite memory back to her, but all she could find was Alaister and Kalyna. They were as good a farewell party as any. “May the Makers protect you both – Solera needs you more than ever now,” she muttered.
“Done?” Higath asked gently.
Vee nodded. The warm hand of Commander Higath guided her to her knees. He was gentler than he should be, and for that Vee was grateful. She obeyed his hushed directions and relaxed when his hands went to her hair and tied it to the side. He patted his handiwork, unaware of the betrayal to his compassion and brotherly love. The air grew colder when he stepped back. Vee stilled her breath as she stared into the waving blades of grass.
None spoke; none breathed loudly.
The sound of waves crashing filled the area.
Druff discharged a practice swing, metal blade cleanly slicing through the air.
“Fahranta lato vyndat,” Vee whispered.
Higath stumbled back, wondering if he had heard correctly. He stammered, hand on his hilt. He knew he had. Higath leapt forward and stopped Druff’s brutal swing. “Druff, did you hear that?”
“This had better be good.”
“She said something…in Drakanic.”
“Drakanic? You’ve gone mad. She’s a traitor – to insinuate anything else is treason, Higath. Now choose your words carefully. What do you think this traitor said?”
Higath looked from Druff to Vee and back. She could tell from the way he wore his pants, carefully tucked into his boots and bloused, that he would repeat her words even if it meant being locked up. He was the kind of Rider that the Rogues desired, not the Council. She winced for his naivety and waited for his foolishly honest report.
“She said, ‘Fahranta—’”
A wave of flame poured from the sky and drew an emblazoned line blocking Druff from Vee. All eyes looked to the sky. There, on colossally large Beasts, sat the men the Council Dragonics had often dreamed of battling, but desperately feared most.
A wicked smile kissed Druff’s grin. “To your Beasts!” Druff turned to Higath who remained on Vee’s side of the fire line. “Finish her!”
Higath stared blankly after Druff and the growing number of Beasts in the sky. The Rogues were not supposed to have that many Riders. They were not supposed to be that strong. He looked back at Vee.
“You’re a good man, Higath. The choice is yours now.”
“My orders—”
“Yes, well orders are orders, and wrong will always be wrong. Hurry now, Higath. Make the call. Kill or live to ride your Beast again.”
“You’re one of them?” he asked as he stepped closer to Vee to avoid the spreading, crackling flames.
“I’m a friend.”
“That they’d risk everything to protect? You’re more than a friend.”
Vee met his expectant stare with silence. She had waited long enough. Eyes crackling green, Vee summoned forth vines to grow around her bindings. The metal snapped under the Runic flora. Vee dusted herself off as she rose to her full height. She was nearly as tall as Higath, her hunch gone.
To his credit, Higath did not back away. “It’s you… You’re the One!”
“No. Not hardly.” Vee gathered her skirt and bowed an archaic gesture of civility to Higath before she ran into the center ground beneath the battlesky. She had stood idly by too many times to not run interference for the Rogues now, and something in her knew that Higath would not attack her. He never could have – not anymore.
Vee sprinted with a youthful vigor unnatural to a woman her age. She commanded her legs to run faster, a smile sliding onto her face. Some secrets she would no longer have to bear. A blast of air cleared the gray from her hair leaving an ink black mess of hair and ribbons down her back. Her eyes transformed into a rich, teal shade.
Vee stopped and inhaled. Uncovered, Vee stood as an impressively beautiful and hypnotizing woman who looked much younger than she truly was. Vee scrambled up the nearest cluster of boulders and commanded the wind to her side. Out of the corner of her eyes, Vee saw Higath run after her but stop short of reaching her. She met his inquisitive eyes.
“If I thought—”
“Then help them.”
“I have—”
“Sometimes Higath, what is right and just is not what is easy or painless. Make your choice, and whatever it is – may the Makers protect you.”
“Wind with you, Runic.”
“And with you,” Vee said as her eyes, shifting into a voidless black shade, returned to the battlesky.
Higath did not hesitate. He jumped onto his Beast’s back and climbed the sky. As he rose above the ground, Higath watched Vee a moment longer. His eyes danced with childlike wonder at her Runes, her existence. She defied the Council. She had made her choice, and he had to make his.
Vee shook off her dismay when Higath crossed her vision bearing the Council colors and refocused her attentions on channeling the wind. Her eyes shivered with sparks of orange, black, and teal. “My turn,” she said with a smile.
BATTLESKY
SOUTHERN DEATHWALKER CLIFFS, CREITALL
Jaxin roared with exuberant glee. He had always loved the occasional barrel roll, especially mid-battlesky. Jaxin’s mouth smoked as they spun around and when he stopped, Jaxin had a Council Water Beast before him. Jaxin blasted the Beast with fire and acid and watched his Runes work. The Council Beast howled and fell from the sky, its Rider clawing his face. Alaister patted Jaxin’s shoulder and commanded him higher. In two beats of his great wings, they returned to the cloud cover before any other Council Beasts spotted them.
They silently lurked in the sky until a flash of green and gold zipped beneath them. It was the largest Earth Dragon Alaister had ever seen flying for the Council, which explained why its Rider wore an officer rank. He had one star on his sky blue cloak – he was the Commander of the First Dredth. Alaister’s lips crept into a chilling smile. He had always savored this Commander as a favorite target, though until now, he had been impossible to catch off guard. Except for today.
Jaxin hissed at the algae green Beast and immediately began tailing it for aerial intercept.
“No, Jaxin. On the ground,” Alaister commanded with a firm squeeze.
Jaxin snapped at the bodily orders.
“Make him land, Jaxin. Now.”
Jaxin snorted and paralleled the green Beast in fitful compliance. Once alongside, Jaxin unleashed a torrent of flame.
Druff looked up at the familiar, fabled opponent with wide eyes. He would know his face anywhere. Any Council Rider would. Paine. It was actually Paine himself. Druff withdrew his sidearm and haphazardly discharged it at Alaister.
The bullet grazed his shoulder as Alaister evaded its path. He fought back his grimace and withdrew his sword. Again, he commanded Jaxin to make the Council Beast land. Jaxin obeyed, rolling under the Earth Beast and grabbing its massive claws as he jerked the Beast to the side. Locked talon to talon, the two Beasts pulled each other to the ground.
Alaister leapt from his saddle into a tucked roll and steadied himself along a boulder as Druff rose from his own rough dismount. Their Dragons remained ensnared and continued to battle each other, talon to talon. With a slash of his barbed tail, Jaxin broke free and dodged two advances before cawing a taunting cry at the larger Earth Beast. The Earth accepted the challenge and leapt into the sky after Jaxin’s fast disappearing form. Druff called after him, but his Beast paid little attention. With two more flaps of the green wings, the Earth Beast was gone. Alaister Paine and Xander Druff – Commanders of the First Dredths of Solera’s Dragonics – were alone.
Alaister withdrew his sword and charged Druff. They met steel for steel. Alaister had the speed and agility, but Druff had the strength. Alaister bit back a balk at the unfaltering strength Druff possessed. It was a rare occurrence for him to be the weaker opponent. For all his height and lean tone, Alaister remained one of the strongest Rogues, but Druff was a brute and a terrifying one at that. Druff’s black hair crossed his eyes that grew darker with insanity – and he hit with the force of a Dragon’s tail. He was a formidable opponent that struck with deadly accuracy.
Caught thinking, Druff kicked Alaister in his gut.
Alaister slammed to the ground and skid back into the boulder outcropping. Grappling for a hold, Alaister rose, slower than he should have, and waited for the goliath to charge again.
Their blades clanged and clattered in a bitter harmony. Alaister ducked and deterred the heavy blows with agility that proved effective only in avoiding injury. It worked well, but it was no way to win a fight. It was no way to be the combatant that walked away as the victor. Alaister knew he had to find a weakness. He had to find it now or face the daunting fact that his own strength could not last.
Alaister scanned the probabilities and weighed the impossibilities. If it was not a weakness of body, he wagered it was a weakness of mind. Druff pursued Alaister again, an arrogant step to his gait. Alaister smiled at his sudden advantage and gratefulness for Callon’s insistence on his learning Caldenian tricks.
Alaister waited to be cast down again and Druff was quick to oblige. This time, the blow stung harder and he was even slower to rise than before. Alaister pained his way to one knee – then to one leg – and the other.
Druff scoffed at the display, accepting the cryptic challenge. He withdrew his sidearm and aimed it at Alaister’s temple. “Rot in Udlast, Rogue.”
Alaister recoiled from his hunched position and flung two daggers from inside his boots. They found their marks. One in his throat. One in his chest. Druff crumpled to the ground, a leaf on the wind.
“You first.” Alaister rose and retrieved his daggers, replacing them after a quick wipe along his leather pants. Head towards the growing fog, he called for Jaxin and waited. Two heartbeats. Six breaths.
Jaxin eagerly bellowed his arrival, despite the massive Earth Dragon remaining on his tail. Jaxin eyed his opponent’s fallen Rider and snatched up the cooling body in his mouth. Landing with a slide, Jaxin turned and flung Druff’s body at his Beast. The giant Dragon caught his Rider in his mouth and instinctively squeezed. The Beast’s pupils narrowed. He spat out Druff’s body and dry heaved. Dragons notoriously hated the smell of human death and were known to go mad at the taste of human flesh – especially someone bonded to them. The Beast howled and leapt into the sky, mad with the scent.
Alaister patted his Beast’s hide and remounted. “Again.”
Jaxin chortled and opened his mouth into an attempt of a smile. His teeth shimmered with a fresh coating of acid. Jaxin crouched low and then bolted into the air. They rose almost completely vertically, slowly turning as they went. Alaister smiled at Jaxin’s antics, jealous of his Beast’s ability to find fun in war, especially after a kill.
Alaister patted Jaxin’s shoulder and inhaled a deep taste of the fog-kissed air. He willed himself to savor the respite, while it lasted. To enjoy life’s fleeing moments before daring his mortality again. Alaister’s breath seized up in his lungs at the echo of a hollow thunk against his saddle.
Alaister watched a body spin in a rapid descent. The body screamed as it spun.
Looking after the cries, for a heartbeat, he found the fearful eyes. He ordered Jaxin to stop and looked after the body. It was one of Callon’s men. Ascelonn Jorne.
“Behind!” Callon’s voice lacked his normal candor and humor. Syralli, purple chest heaving, pinned back her wings as she dove after the body. A Riderless turquoise Water Beast circled nearby.
The final thud echoed.
Alaister raced after Syralli. “Where’s Drystan?” he shouted.
“Busy. I’ll take him back. If he’s ali—”
Jorne moved and groaned.
“I’ll handle your tails.”
“Perfect,” Callon said nonchalantly. “There were three, Al. Enjoy.”
Alaister nodded and wheeled Jaxin about in time to catch a frost barrage from a pursuing Water Beast and the blast of water from the second. The third Beast was a Fire that seemed more intimidated by Jaxin’s size than willing to provoke him. Alaister seized the red Dragon’s momentary hesitation.
Jaxin roared releasing a torrent of acid on all three Beasts. They roared in choral unison as a loud sizzling sound filled the air. The wind carried the poignant scent of decaying scales. Immediately they turned around and headed for the ocean waves. Alaister urged Jaxin after them, his Beast responding with a gleeful roar.
Callon watched Alaister and Jaxin disappear into the fog before dismounting and rushing to Jorne’s side.
“How bad is it, sir?”
“You’re siring me. So bad. Steady yourself, you’ll be fine. I’ll take you back to the post, but I’m afraid Syralli is no Air Beast.”
“I’ll take what I can get. Cal… I can’t feel—”
“Yeah, yeah. Hang on.” Callon avoided staring too long at the mangled mess of Jorne’s legs and focused on hefting his weight along his shoulders. Callon carried him to Syralli, whose eyes methodically scanned the sky while she waited. She seemed less curious about any Beasts nearby and more so about the odd shift in the wind and the encroaching fog.
It was a strange sort of fog. It crept with a purpose along places it should not be. It covered most of the open area about the Cliffs and provided perfect cover and strategic advantage to the Rogues, who excelled with guerilla tactics. The setting was pristine for skirmishing. Too perfect. Syralli looked to her Rider. Callon smelt it too. The fog was unnatural. Premeditated. Runic. Callon immediately thought of Kalyna, but dismissed her just as quickly. This fog was different from Kalyna’s. It smelled more of earth than water.
Syralli tried her best to lay prone so Callon could situate Jorne on her saddle, and he loved her even more for it. For all her vicious playfulness, Syralli was one of the kindest Dragons he had encountered. And, while he was not Vylain, he certainly was no stranger to Beasts. Syralli was different. Special. Syralli purred as Callon mounted. He steadied their passenger and commanded Syralli back to the rear detachment.
Syralli flew low and clung to the cliffs until they were free of the battlesky, and the roars and bellows of fighting grew faint. Syralli banked north hard and sped on to where the Rogues had planted
their rear detachment – in a forgotten cave northwest of Deathwalker Cliffs.
Callon did not have to urge Syralli to fly quickly; Jorne's Beast did the job well enough. The large turquoise Beast landed first with a pitiful cry that quickly drew Kalyna to the opening.
“Callon! Are you—”
“It’s Jorne, not me. He fell…”
Kalyna’s face tightened.
“Far.”
She nodded. “Synge!”
The old man appeared and ushered Kalyna and Callon, who carried Ascelonn Jorne, to a makeshift pad in between other wounded Riders. “What did I tell you about hurrying back?” Synge asked with a hefty grunt.
“Not to?”
Synge smiled and quickly set to work on bandaging Jorne. Kalyna watched Synge’s handiwork for a moment, wishing she could bring herself to help, but instead found herself wanting to run – after Callon. One stare more and Kalyna rushed after Callon. Darting in front of him, Kalyna blocked his path.
“Take me with you,” she said.
“No.”
“You need me.”
“No.”
“That’s nearly six that have been brought down and it hasn’t been that—“
“No.”
“Callon, you know I can help.”
“We can’t lose you too.”
“Vee?” Her voice panicked.
“I didn’t see what happened to her. I just… I don’t know.”
“Then, I’m going.”
“No”
Kalyna ripped free his swords with a gust of wind and clung to them. “Yes,” she said.
“Bretz! Old Man, talk some sense into this woman. I have a battle to get back to. My rapiers, Kaly.”
“No.”