by A. Wrighton
“Carissa would be proud,” Alaister said.
Chloe stopped mid-step and turned. “I hope so.”
THE HALLS
THE DEN, NORTHERN SOLERAN MOUNTAINS
Their arrival lacked the pomp and circumstance expected in Lythgor, and Nylan felt a twinge of disappointment in that deprivation of his home. If anything, the High Runics were a reconfirmation that home was a long way away. Nylan had expected the High Runics to act as they always had but here, they did not give much thought to Soleran quirks. On the contrary, they showed exhaustive fluidity for lack of court demeanor. And, Lord Aiden and Lady Karina Tryn, famed for being overly meticulous and structured, did not seem to notice or mind the differences; it was all normal and same to them.
They accepted the salutes of the core of Rogue Dragonic officers with candor and graciously shook hands with each Dragonic that approached. Their laughter was disquieting, but only to Nylan, who knew them as people with much different a laugh. Nylan watched the couple in stuttering awe. Before he could push closer to listen, Nylan’s father approached and quickly backed him into an isolated corner.
“You did well, Son.”
“Thank you.”
“Grandfather is proud. As am I… though I don’t know if I would have trusted these Dragonics so easily.”
“They’re not so different from us aside from traditions and eating choices.” Nylan smiled. “I dare say I rather enjoy some of their company.”
“Good.”
“Good? That doesn’t sound like you.” Nylan turned and nodded at the High Runics. “Come to think of it, they don’t sound like—”
“Never mind that. You’ll know all soon enough. Where are Shayne and Tylus?”
“Reining in the Beasts down below. I can lead—”
“No. Stay with Lord and Lady Tryn. They wish to speak with you directly. I can find my way.”
“Yes, sir.”
Niko Bendran whirled around without acknowledgment. In the swish of black and purple cape, Niko disappeared toward the stairwell leading deep into the Underbelly.
Nylan’s curiosity burned, despite his inherent distaste of any personal time with the Tryns. As he slipped closer to the High Runics, he could hear their voices. They were joyous and upbeat. They did not whisper even though they were surrounded by Dragonics of all levels and ranks. Perhaps, these Tryns – though the same Tryns he had left behind not too many moons before – could incite pleasurable conversation.
The closer Nylan came to the pair, the faster his hopes fell. This was a side of the Lythgorian High Runics Nylan had never seen. They looked as they always did but smiled more – laughed even.
Lady Karina Tryn almost glowed with her crimson lips smiling, as her dark eyes did not shift about dramatically but calmly settled on each new thing – slowly, precisely. Her usually frizzy mass of a hair was pinned up in excessive little ringlets that hung close to her face and added a touch of vitality to her appearance. She was not beautiful by Soleran standards, though she was not quite unpleasant on the eyes either. She stood solidly in the middle of average and nice-looking. In Lythgor, she was emulated as an enchanting beauty, strictly because of her powers. She was a newborn legend.
In the Chambers of Lythgor, the title of High Runic was not passed from generation to generation but was won in blood. The Tryn family had only recently won the title in a devastatingly powerful way. Their rise to title left the Lythgorian people in awe and they revered and feared Lady Tryn’s abilities even more so than her eclectic husband, for although Lord Tryn was a Tri, she was a Quad. When the two of them fought together, nothing remained in their way long.
Alongside Lady Tryn, Aiden Tryn commanded a fearful, dark presence with his tall, lanky structure, crowned in shoulder-length black hair and creepily light blue eyes well known for instilling heart-stopping fear for their peculiarity. His bony fingers clung to and stroked his Dragon bone chain, as they always did, against his hip. The sound of the charms clamoring still chilled blood. Lord Tryn had fashioned it in his youth and worn the trinket as long as any could remember. It was a chain of nightmarish legend. There were rumors that the bones belonged to Dragonics’ Beasts who failed to recognize the Runic power in Lythgor. There were rumors some of the bones were those of the Dragonics who had agreed with their Beasts.
Lord Tryn swore they gave added oomph to his powers. It was not an uncommon practice and, all of the Solerans eyed the weathered trinket warily. Nylan knew their familiarity with the bone chain as he had read the Soleran stories about it. The Soleran obsession with Lythgor prevailed but without good reason. It was common practice in Lythgor for Runics to fight over excess Dragon bones, as they were rumored to have power amplification properties. Power was something Lythgorian Runics craved and their Dragonic counterparts accepted.
It was quite an altered state from Solera.
But then, almost everything Lythgorian was. Lythgorian manners, customs, societal expectations, and especially their sense of fashion and beauty ranked far different from common Soleran practices and it disturbed to see the High Runics tone down their normal behavior.
Their muted customs left an odd taste; they made no sense. The Tryns normally held fast to the traditions of Lythgor Runics and made sure the Academy did so as well, leaving education at the forefront of their reign. Lythgorians equated power with education and maintained high standards for Runic power. Under the Tryns, Lythgorian Runics were the best trained and said to have the highest probability of overturning the legendary that Soleran Runics – more powerful by nature of being the first Runics – would forever reign supreme. Their appearance and behavior had consistently reflected their pride-driven goal. Until now.
They eyed the Solerans like children waiting for fish to bite.
Lady Tryn’s mahogany eyes snapped to Nylan. Her stare demanding he disclose which was the Runic.
Nylan shook his head; his reports on Kalyna’s powers and usage would have to suffice for now, even with Lady Tryn’s protests. He watched the curiosity dance in her eyes and linger on her tongue. She exhaled and took to straightening her black and gold dress showing a trait a Lythgorian Runic would have killed to see – a trait that made the liquids in Nylan’s stomach rumble. She was nervous. Worried. Because of Nylan’s descriptions – because of Kalyna’s abilities.
The power Kalyna yielded was undoubtedly horrific. Horrific and beautiful. Power oozed from her pores and escaped through every vessel of her being. She did not have to try to find or hone the powers, as Lythgorian Runics did. She just was power. She emitted a natural bestiality that left her abilities untapped in the comprehension of Lythgorian Runics. It shone as clear as the rising moons in her eyes and, rightfully so, Lady Tryn was happily frightened by the prospect of it all.
Synge approached the pair and clasped onto Lord Tryn’s forearm.
Without hesitation, Lord Tryn returned the gesture. “Well met, Soleran.”
“Well met, Lord Tryn.”
“Please, call me Aiden. My wife and I, we had heard of your Rogues for some time, but we had always thought you more story than reality.”
“I am sure,” said Lady Tryn, “you could say the same for us.”
Synge laughed and gestured Vee to his side. She looked stunning and as vibrant as she had over twenty cycles ago. Time had aged her well and Vee’s beauty could not be denied. She met the Tryn’s gazes evenly and unflinchingly. Before a word passed her lips, Lord Tryn sensed the Runes flowing within Vee and angled his head into a respectful bow.
Intrigued, Lady Tryn stared at Vee without movement. Though not threatened by her Runes, there was something deep-seeded inside Vee to be aware of – Lady Tryn could almost taste it in her breath. Something deep writhed under the raven hair, begging to be released. Lady Tryn snuck another glance at the folded note Nylan had given her upon arrival. Her eyes widened and found Nylan once more.
He nodded with a firm face. He was beyond certain – certain that Vee was a pure Solastian Runic. She was one of the first, riche
st Runic lineages. Vee was an impossibility that ignored history. The Solastian Runics had left, disappeared from Solera long before the First War, and the few remaining Solastian Runics had fled, denouncing their homeland, just after the Sickness and long before the Council came to power. At that point, what diluted bloodlines of Solastian Runics that remained was erased by the Collection. Solastian Runics simply did not exist. They had not existed for decades.
But, there Vee stood – long raven hair flowing and scanning the pair with lively teal eyes. Vee stared back at Lady Tryn as if she saw right through her – as if she knew that they wanted Kalyna as much as the Rogues did – for some greater purpose, for some fated destiny. Vee blinked and then bowed her head in respect.
Surprisingly, Lady Tryn followed suit and bowed her head. “So,” Lady Tryn sighed, “I suppose you are the High Runic of Solera?”
Vee shrugged. “I've hardly earned that title fairly, but it is a truth I must accept. It is good to meet you… to see another Runic face to face. It has been just us two for so long.”
Lady Tryn wrinkled her nose, her eyes wandering to her husband. “We would have been here sooner…”
“No, no,” Vee said shaking it off. “Now is fine.”
Lady Tryn gestured to a tattoo on Vee’s hand but could not bear to touch it, or Vee. “That's Solastian, isn't it?”
“Yes.” Vee grasped it gently. “Yes, it is. So I suppose you know what I am then, right?”
The Tryns faked shock horribly.
Vee shook her head with a laughing smile. “No, Lady Tryn... Not one of those Solastian Runics.”
Lady Tryn nodded, grateful that while she had not expected it, Vee knew well of the tales that Lythgorian Runics lived in deep fear and loathing of – the tale of a Solastian Runic that nearly destroyed Lythgorian Runics out of jealousy, spite, and hate. Hate was a powerful driver in all Runic history; it was as unavoidable as the joined history between Lythgorian and Soleran Runics.
Hundreds of cycles ago, Lythgor was settled by a faction of Solastians that believed in a caste system, where those with powers were held to a higher standard, praise, and acclaim than those without. While the majority of Solastians preached equality for all with government by a few, the members of the faction refused, and after the rise of the populace to power, they fled first Solasti, and then Solera itself, upon discovering that the six other Kingdoms remained loyal to the Solastian Kingdom – the first in their realm. The members of the Solastian faction stepped onto a seafaring vessel and pointed it west, never to be heard from again.
It was an old story. A story used to remind Runics of the scale of power. To remind that should a pure Solastian Runic desire, they would be able to destroy a Lythgorian Runic, no matter the skill of their Runes. Solastian Runics remained the purest – reigned supreme. They were invincible.
Vee tapped Lady Tryn's hand gently. “Although,” she smiled, “I did hear a good story once.”
Lady Tryn laughed too loudly, and cloaked her flustered anger with her hand.
“So you are this Kalyna’s mentor?” Lord Tryn asked, giving his wife a needed respite.
“Yes.”
Lady Tryn looked around but sensed no other Runes present. “Where is she now?”
Nylan cleared his throat and joined the gathering, graciously saluted the High Runics. They returned the formality and watched as Nylan saluted Synge.
Vee smiled warmly at the young Dragonic and enjoyed watching the intricate bout of Lythgorian tradition playing before her. In Lythgor, to approach the High Runics was akin to approaching royalty, as the Runics were a class above all others. Dragonics were still considered above the common Lythgorian, but remained subject to the powers and whims of the Runics. By the depth of his bow, Nylan held the Tryns in deep regard. No smart Dragonic would dare lower their eyes below their opponents, but to the Tryns, Nylan nearly bent over far enough to kiss his knees.
“If I may answer, Milady?” Nylan asked.
“Do then,” Lord Tryn said flatly.
“Kalyna and Commander Paine were on a quick visit to the King of Creitall in an attempt to get his public allegiance. I must also admit that I fear their interlude will not fair too well for the Cause.”
“You speak boldly, young Bendran,” Lady Tryn snipped.
“He is of great importance and value to us here,” Vee offered, sensing the heat of their indignant stares on Nylan’s exposed skin.
“He has gained the trust and respect of our officers and myself. His opinion is always valued,” Synge said. “I beg you, let him speak freely.”
Lord Tryn looked about the group, a firm scowl on his face. When his eyes lingered on Lady Tryn, his lips relaxed. He shrugged his eyebrows. “Continue.”
“Thank you, my Lord and Lady,” Nylan said with a short nod. “The Council still has enormous sway over the Soleran people. No kingdom can ally with the Rogues publicly for fear of the retaliation that will ensue. Not yet, at least. We can get there…”
“We?” Lady Tryn’s tone cut violently.
Nylan stammered.
“Perhaps it is best if we continue this discussion in the Commanders’ Meeting Room, your Graces?” Vee asked.
Nylan looked at Vee gratefully, flushed from another slip up.
“This way,” Synge said, concealing a pat on the shoulder for Nylan.
The five walked in complete silence, save for the swishing of Lythgorian cloaks against the cavern floors. The rhythmic cadence of luxurious textiles led Vee’s mind to wander. She remembered why the Lythgorian stories set her at unease. Lythgorians were always described as a proud, vain people that set ideals before individuality and expression. That preferred the light of some to the light of all – Darklings. Constrained by rules and decorum, they crushed individual spirits for the greater good. Vee looked behind her at Nylan, whose eyes kept to the floor with a contorted twist of shock and anger stitched on his brow.
For the second time in her life, Vee pitied a Rider.
“Here we are,” Synge said as he parted the heavy curtain. The High Runics entered first and, as Synge took his first step inside, he nearly collided into Lord Tryn’s chest, stopped just inside the curtained doorway.
“Young Bendran, go and fetch the Commander,” Lord Tryn said.
“Yes, my Lord.” Nylan half-smiled at Vee’s warm touch of concern before he turned and sprinted towards the Underbelly, his purple cloak waving wildly behind him. Vee waited until Nylan had disappeared to duck inside the Commanders’ Meeting Room. Her mouth dropped at what met her eyes. Lord and Lady Tryn had taken the two plushly lined, velvet and wood seats that had not been disturbed in nearly twenty cycles. Vee tried to swallow her snarled grimace, but Lady Tryn caught it.
She instantly rose. “Where would you like us, Lady Vee?”
“Vee is fine, Lady Tryn.”
Lord Tryn stared at his wife oddly but rose as well.
“I am sure the Commander would be honored if you sat in his seat, Lord Tryn… and the Lady in the Second Dredth Commander’s chair?” Vee gestured and with her Wind Runes gently swept back the chairs.
The High Runics smiled and gracefully sat themselves.
Synge saw Vee’s eyes wander back to the disturbed chairs of Kai Paine and Trent McKafrey. He caught her gaze and frowned. It was not the time to mourn or get lost in the past. They had to move on. Vee nodded.
“That map on the wall there, it is of Solera?” Lord Tryn asked.
“Yes,” Vee said.
“And, that one?”
“Aleria in particular – where the Council seat is,” Synge explained.
“Bendran’s scouts did quite well, didn’t they, Dearest?” Lady Tryn boasted proudly.
“You had scouts mapping our realm?” Vee asked. Her tone stung with indignity.
“Yes,” Lord Tryn nodded slowly. “We plan on punishing those who damned the Runic Race. Naturally, we needed maps.”
“You could, of course, just ask…” Synge said.
La
dy Tryn smiled. “Wonderful! That would be most kind.”
“So long as we continue to work through this together,” Synge added.
Lord Tryn’s eyebrows raised, but he nodded. “Naturally.”
The ensuing silence screamed.
Vee exhaled and seized at the chance to instill kindness back into Nylan’s favor. She cleared her throat and widened her smile. “It is no wonder the scouts did well. Nylan is an excellent Commander—”
“My husband meant the Great Niko Bendran…”
“Ah,” Vee swallowed.
“Young Bendran’s father,” Lord Tryn added.
Synge looked to Vee at the strange nickname the Tryns continued to call Nylan – it was the same way Synge scolded Alaister. Vee shrugged, an angst-ridden smile on her face. They were off – different – but their only allies. There was no option for lack of diplomacy. There would be another time for questions – another time for investigations.
“You summoned, my Lord and Lady?” Niko Bendran asked, his gravelly voice filling the cavern. Niko swept inside the room with the same honor and prestige that his name allowed and with the highest grace and mystique a Dragonic could have had. His face was stern, his jaw square, and he looked merely like a more aged Nylan, except for his dark brown eyes.
Nylan had his mother’s eyes.
“It is a pleasure to finally meet some of your kind, Solerans. I am Commander Niko Bendran, High Commander of the Lythgorian Dragonics – at your service.”
Synge silently offered the archaic Soleran Dragonic salute before sitting where he always sat – at the far end of the table.
Vee flushed at his formality and handsome voice. Both Bendrans were handsome and proud. Nylan stood two strides behind his father in a lessened poise than what the Rogues were accustomed to seeing, though it made sense as he was now outranked and outgunned. Vee pointed Nylan to a seat, but he refused, instead standing attentively behind his father’s chair.
Vee claimed the chair to Syn’s left. “I am Vee and this is Former Commander Synge Heftin.”
Niko’s smile shone. “I have heard stories of your greatness, Heftin. It is my utmost honor.”