Dragonshadow

by Elle Katharine White

  “What are you two talking about?” Akarra said. “Of course you won’t be taking a carriage to Selkie’s Keep when we’re done here, and even if it does snow, it won’t take me three weeks to fly home.”

  “About that . . .” I said. “Flying is going to be a problem.”

  “I know you don’t like it, but it is the fastest way—”

  “The baby doesn’t like it either.”

  Her head whipped around so fast she lost her balance on the wall and had to throw out her wings to catch herself. “The what?”

  It took several minutes for us to recover from our laughter. Once we did, we told her our news. Her eyes blazed with delight.

  “My khela, a father! And Aliza, a mother! Yes, of course we must find you a carriage home if you don’t want to fly.” She bent down so her head was level with mine. “But you’re sure? You mightn’t have mistook it somehow?”

  “I’d like to visit the Lambsley midwife when we get back to Pendragon, but for the time being yes, I’m fairly certain I’m pregnant.”

  Akarra threw back her head and trumpeted. Dragonfire seared away the morning mist and warmed my chilled limbs. “Oh, to see the look on Julienna’s face,” she crowed. “And Mar’esh! Lady Catriona will be thrilled, of course. A new Daired heir! The Nestmothers will need to be told, and—”

  “Akarra, Akarra! Slow down,” Alastair said. “Give us a little time before you announce it to the world. We’re still trying to absorb it ourselves.”

  Her wings drooped and she looked abashed, or as abashed as a full-grown dragon in a state of high excitement can look. “I’m sorry. It’s just—”

  From somewhere beyond the castle walls, someone screamed.

  Our moment shattered. The scream came from a human throat, but it was so shrill I couldn’t tell if it was a man or woman. Akarra leapt into the air as Alastair reached for his sword and ran for the gate. After a second’s debate I followed.

  We didn’t search long. An ashen Jen Trennan stood in front of the front gate, his livery travel stained and dusty from the road, clutching the reins of his horse in one trembling hand. He pointed to the wall beside the gate where a ram lay on the grass, its throat severed. Blood frosted in spatters along its dappled coat. One of its horns was broken, and painted in blood on the white wall were words in a language I couldn’t read. It was the same language as on the stone on the cliff.

  “Akarra, do you know what it says?” Alastair asked.

  “IR QUAROS ESH,” she said. “Mermish. It means ‘There comes a reckoning.’”

  I pulled Trennan away from the wall as Alastair inspected the ram. The boy gripped my arm as if I were a piling in stormy waters. “Oh, milady, I didn’t—I just came from the pass—” he said. “I don’t know how—”

  “Did you see anyone, Master Trennan?” Akarra said. “On the road, near the castle, anywhere?”

  “N-no.”

  “This ram wasn’t killed here,” Alastair said. “There’s not enough blood on the ground, and the body’s cold. It’s been dead for hours.”

  “It’s from Morianton,” Akarra said.

  I looked again at the creature, wondering how the Morianton rams differed from any other. “How do you know?”

  “I recognize the missing horn. The cantor showed me the fold the other day.”

  Trennan gave a hiccupping sniffle. “W-was it her?”

  “Who?”

  “The c-creature in the mists. Did she k-kill it?”

  “How do you know it’s a her?” Alastair sheathed his sword and seized Trennan’s shoulder. “Trennan, do you know what did this? Do you know what we’re hunting?”

  “No! I don’t know anything!” he cried and covered his face.

  “Lord Daired! What’s going on?” Selwyn and Rhys burst from the gate, Rhys with a crossbow in one hand, Selwyn carrying an ornate sword that looked better suited to a mantelpiece than a battlefield. Cordelia followed them as far as the courtyard, but stopped at the sight of the slain sheep, her face white as salt. “We heard a scream,” Selwyn said.

  “It’s a warning.” Alastair pointed to the words.

  Rhys lowered the crossbow. “Ye gods.”

  “What does it say?” Cordelia asked.

  “Never mind, my love,” Selwyn said. “You’d better go inside.”

  “Niall, what does it say?”

  “I said go inside, please!”

  I watched as she backed away, then turned and ran into the castle.

  Selwyn lowered his sword with a sigh. “Forgive me, Lord Daired, but what does it say?”

  Akarra translated again, but I was no longer listening. As gently as I could I disentangled myself from Trennan’s grip, deposited him into Selwyn’s care, and followed Cordelia. I found her standing by the windows in the Lake Hall.

  “Cordelia?” I asked. “Are you all right?”

  “I told you to leave,” she said in an undertone. “Mòrag told you to leave. Why are you still here?”

  “Because . . . because that’s not what Daireds do.”

  “You’re no Daired.”

  My face grew warm. And no one in the kingdom will ever let me forget it. “Maybe not,” I said, “but I am stubborn, and there’s more going on here than a Tekari hunt. Those words by the gate were in Mermish. IR QUAROS ESH. Akarra said it means ‘There comes a reckoning.’”

  She waved a dismissive hand. “She has the right idea, but her vocabulary is limited. ‘Justice approaches’ is a better translation.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “You don’t seem surprised, Cordelia. Do you know what’s out there?”

  “Even if I did, there’s nothing you can do. There’s nothing anyone can do.”

  “I don’t believe that.”

  “You should, because it’s the truth. Please, Aliza. Go home. Take your family away from these cursed shores before the snows come. You may not get another chance.”

  “We can’t leave while you’re in danger.”

  “I’m not in danger.”

  “How can you say that? This thing’s already killed humans, trolls, pixies, and now it’s leaving bloody warnings on your doorstep. Do you really think it’ll stop there?”

  “No. It will not stop.” The utter conviction with which she spoke the words sent chills down my spine. “It will never stop until it is satisfied.”

  “Satisfied with what?”

  Cordelia looked at me. It may have been a trick of the light, or only my imagination, but it seemed for a moment that her eyes flashed even blacker. “Vengeance.”

  “So you do know what it is.”

  She turned away again.

  I seized her arm. “Cordelia, this isn’t a game! If you know what this Tekari wants, you must tell me now. Before anyone else gets hurt!”

  She wrenched out of my grasp, eyes wild. “You don’t think I would if I could? Do you think I wanted this, Aliza? Any of this? I didn’t ask for it! I never asked for it! If I could prevent—” Her voice caught. “If I were to tell—” She stopped, fingers fluttering at her throat as if to tear away whatever kept her from speaking. Tears spilled over her cheeks and her hands fell to her sides. “Nouroudos help me, I cannot speak of it. If it were in my power, I would, but I . . . I cannot.”

  She swept up her skirts and ran from the hall.

  I found Akarra and Alastair alone in the front courtyard. Rhys had gone to bury the ram in the softer ground west of the castle and Selwyn had ushered the near-hysterical Trennan inside. Quickly I told them what Cordelia had said.

  “‘Repent’ first, and now ‘justice approaches’?” Akarra asked. “What kind of Tekari announces itself like that? And in Mermish too?” Her words held the crackle and heat of dragonfire. She spread her wings. “I need to speak with the king of the merfolk again.”

  We watched her until she disappeared beyond the castle’s towers. “Was Cordelia telling the truth?” Alastair asked.

  I crouched next to the gate, examining the ground where the ram had lain. The grass was t
horoughly trampled, but aside from Akarra’s tracks the only footprints were those of humans. “She was telling someone’s truth.” Her husband’s? Mòrag’s? Or someone else altogether?

  A cold wind sent the grass on either side of the road rippling in green and silver waves. Alastair sheathed his sword but left his scabbard on his hip. “Aliza, will you do me a favor?”

  “Aye, what is it?”

  “Stay inside today. Please.”

  Once I might have argued, might have tried to convince him of my ability to take care of myself in a confused attempt to disguise stubbornness for bravery, but not this time. The lines between courage, recklessness, and stupidity were fine ones, and after everything that had happened in the past few days I was prepared to tread a little more cautiously.

  I nodded, reaching up to plant a swift kiss on his cheek before we parted: he to his patrol around the perimeter of the castle, me to my wanderings inside. Wandering, and contemplation, and the piecing together of clues, and—

  “How could you let this happen?”

  I drew back behind a corner just as Trennan and Rhys hurried out of the servants’ hallway.

  “You were supposed to protect the castle, not stand around while this thing paints bleschang warnings on the bleschang walls!” Trennan continued, his Noordish accent getting stronger as his voice rose. “And what have you done with my bleschangenfelt bird?”

  “Jen, calm down,” Rhys said. “Tatterdemalion is fine. She’s with the falconer in Morianton.”

  “You were supposed to keep her with you!”

  “Good gods, boy, make up your mind! Did you want me to protect the castle or the bird? I can’t very well go fight this monster with that mass of feathers on my arm.”

  Trennan grunted.

  “I kept my promise,” Rhys said. “Your bird is fine and it’s not my fault Selwyn doesn’t trust me enough to tell me what’s really going on. I can’t go out and kill something I can’t see. Lord Daired and his dragon have been more than willing to take up the hunt in the meantime.”

  “They’re doing their job. You might learn a lesson or two. Grandfather would be ashamed of you,” Trennan spat. “Coward.”

  “Pragmatist, actually. And anyway, I didn’t think you’d be back so soon.”

  “I rode fast.”

  “You’d have been safer if you rode slow.”

  “Aye, but unlike you I still have a shred of honor.”

  Rhys laughed. “Your honor doesn’t stop you from being a fool, boy. You should have stayed in Dragonsmoor.”

  “I couldn’t leave Bret—” Trennan stopped.

  “Aha! So there is a girl.”

  “Shut up.”

  “I knew you were seeing someone.”

  “She has nothing to do with this, Owin. I brought the Daireds and I came back. I’ve done my duty.”

  “Then you’ll be happy to know that they’ve already found Isolde’s body.”

  The air in the corridor crystallized, frozen to a point of thunderstruck silence. Even though I couldn’t see his face I felt Trennan’s horror. “She’s dead?” he rasped.

  “Broken neck,” Rhys said. “The merfolk pushed her body ashore near Morianton a few days ago. I’d bet anything she took a tumble off the cliff that night she went missing.”

  There was a slumping sound. “Oh Thell.”

  “She didn’t deserve that end, even I’ll admit,” Rhys said. “Some others I can think of, yes, but not that girl. It wasn’t pretty.”

  “Does Bretta know?”

  “Contrary to what you might think, I don’t make it my business to dally with every chambermaid in the county,” Rhys said. “I have no idea what your ladylove knows or doesn’t know. You may—oh, why do I bother?”

  Footsteps all but drowned out his last words as Trennan rushed away. A door banged somewhere in the distance.

  “You can come out now, Lady Daired,” Rhys called.

  I gave a violent start and looked around, wondering what had betrayed me, and my heart sank as I glanced over my shoulder. The reflection of the window on the opposite wall showed the entirety of the adjacent hall, including me. Blast.

  I stepped around the corner, head held high, daring him to mention the blistering blush that had taken up residence in my cheeks. “Captain Rhys.”

  He swept his cloak aside in a mock bow. “You’ve a mite of stealth, I’ll give you that. I hope you heard something interesting. I’ll bid you good morning.”

  “A moment, Captain.”

  “My lady?”

  Subtlety had no place in dealing with a man like Rhys, and as I’d likely not get the chance again, I threw caution off the metaphorical cliff. I could hardly embarrass myself further. “Why are you here?”

  “Well, as a matter of fact, I was just on my way to the privy when my cousin—”

  “Not in this hallway. I mean here, serving in Master Gorecrow’s place.”

  “Selwyn asked me here to protect the castle.”

  “You don’t like him much,” I observed.

  “Now, my lady, whatever makes you think Niall Selwyn and I aren’t just the closest of friends?”

  I let his sarcasm thicken in the silence between us. It was answer enough.

  “Oh, fine. Look, it’s not that mysterious. I command the largest fighting force within sight of the castle. Selwyn controls trade on the lake. A mutual understanding is beneficial for everyone involved.”

  “If your regiment is so close, why did he bother inviting Riders at all?”

  Rhys ran a hand through his hair. “Lady Daired, I’m not the man to plumb the dark and twisted recesses of Niall Selwyn’s mind. He’s a man used to fine things, and your husband and his dragon are fine warriors. I’m here to uphold my end of a bargain and that’s all there is to it.” He pushed past me. “Now begging your pardon, but I really do need to piss. Good morning.”

  The day passed slowly in the confines of the castle. Whether they were frightened of confronting me or simply didn’t care, none of the servants made any attempt to prevent my explorations. I passed the portrait hall several times but didn’t step inside. Those dripping letters from this morning had stained my mind’s eye scarlet and I didn’t fancy a second trip in the dark.

  Cordelia remained absent, though Mòrag appeared in the library around noon to summon me to lunch. She said nothing of her earlier warning, nor gave any other hints that anything was amiss. I ate by myself in a smaller dining room off the Lake Hall, in which a handful of navy-clad servants labored, scouring the floors, washing the windows, and setting the table for the Martenmas meal later that night. Yet for all the activity the castle stayed strangely quiet. The servants talked in whispers if they talked at all. I didn’t see Trennan or Rhys again.

  Mòrag served lunch with her usual alacrity, answering my questions in as few words as possible. Yes, Alastair and Rhys were dividing their patrol around the castle while Akarra covered the nearby area. No, Selwyn had not accompanied them. Yes, her mistress regretted she could not join me for lunch. No, she was not ill, merely resting. Her nature was delicate and the dead ram had disturbed her greatly.

  Did she know anything more about it?

  No.

  It was the last word I got out of her before she swept up my dishes and hurried out of the room.

  The sun was setting over the western mountains when the bell rang to summon us to Martenmas dinner. Alastair had returned from his patrol not long before, bringing Akarra’s disappointing news. She hadn’t been able to call even one of the merfolk, let alone the king. As he dressed he told me of their plans to visit Morianton in the morning, hoping to ask the local shepherds if they knew anything about the ram. He struggled to buckle his sword-belt with his unmaimed hand, but when I offered to help, he waved me away.

  “Akarra thinks they’ll talk to me. They don’t seem to like dragons much.”

  “What, do they think she’ll accidentally set fire to their roofs?”

  “Not accidentally.” He continue
d fiddling with his belt. “They seem to be under the impression that dragons destroy everyone and everything that doesn’t give them the answers they’re looking for.”

  “That’s a pity, and—oh, for gods’ sakes, let me,” I said, and finished buckling his belt for him. “There. Honestly, if you don’t want us to be late next time, just ask. Selwyn probably thinks we fell asleep.”

  But it was clear Selwyn wasn’t thinking of us at all when we arrived in the Lake Hall. The largest beoryn I’d ever seen stood at the end of the table, his head bent close to Selwyn’s. His fur was dusty and tracks outlined in mud led from the door to the place he stood. An empty war-saddle sat askew on his shoulders. There was no sign of his Rider.

  “Chirrorim!” Alastair cried.

  The beoryn swung his shaggy head around and fixed us with a stare that pierced me to the soul. Beoryns had no tears, and they didn’t need them. In that single look I felt his heartbreak like physical pain.

  “Alastair,” Chirrorim rumbled. “I am glad to see you.”

  “Where’s Theold?” Alastair asked.

  “I’m sorry, my friend. Theold is dead.”

  Chapter 19

  Martenmas

  Alastair sank into his chair, his face pale. “What happened?”

  “We left Selkie’s Keep nearly a week ago,” Chirrorim said. “We planned to cross at the mouth of the Langloch and join a caravan across the Winter Spear to Lake Meera, but the caravan was delayed. It was Mikla’s will, I think; the village at the ford was attacked by a pack of direwolves the night after we arrived. As the only Riders nearby it was our duty to defend the village. Theold tried to hold the gate.” Chirrorim lowered his head. “He fell five days ago. When the direwolves moved on, I built his pyre, burned his body, and continued by myself.”

  Alastair closed his eyes. His lips moved silently. When he looked up again, his face was hard as flint, his voice flat. “What were the packs doing so near the coast?”

  “I wish I knew. They turned south after Theold fell. They didn’t even try to savage the bodies.”

  “That’s not usual direwolf behavior, is it?” Selwyn ventured.