Kastali Dun

Tamara leaned into Byron's scaled neck, keeping her eyes trained on the land below. Searching. Byron's voice sounded in her mind intermittently as he called out for Verath.

"I will kill him if any harm has come to Desaree," she grumbled so that he'd hear.

"Peace, love. I am sure she is fine. He wouldn't let her come to harm, even drugged up as he was."

For nearly three days, Verath had been absolutely unreasonable, spending long stretches of time out flying. When he wasn't, he was even worse within the castle walls, striding about making ridiculous demands, operating at a productivity level impossible to keep up with. After his initial return, King Talon quickly realized it was better to send Verath off flying, to get him out of their hair. And Verath insisted on taking Desaree with him every time.

"I told Desaree to refuse his demands," she said, letting the telepathic thought stretch between them.

"I know, love. But she cares for him, worries for him. She doesn't want him out in the wilderness alone in this state."

Tamara all but snorted. "It isn't as if she can communicate with him when he's in form, and especially not when he's this unreasonable."

It wasn't until last night, when Verath didn't return, that they'd all grown worried. They had waited for hours in King Talon's tower beside the fire. It wasn't until Lady Saffra voiced the concerns they were all too afraid to put into words. "We do not know exactly when the Klizite will wear off and the Dragon's Bane will kick in," she'd said. "The combination of Klizite fatigue with Dragon's Bane will all but paralyze him."

"How bad?" Tamara couldn't help but ask.

"Think paralyzing giant snake bite, but worse. Obviously he's the first person we're testing this on, but I suspect his muscles will seize up and and extreme lethargy will take over."

Tamara's jaw had dropped open then. "What buisness did we have allowing him out to fly? He could fall from the sky and..."

"And harm Desaree," Saffra had said at last, leaving Tamara sick with worry.

"He wouldn't listen to reason," Talon said by way of explanation, as if that had made their king's actions justifiable. "I'll go out and look for him."

"We will all go," Bryon had said, jumping to his feet.

And that's how they found themselves soaring over the vast grasslands as dawn brightened around them.

"Don't fret, Tam," Byron said again, banking left to sweep back over the area they'd covered. "If we don't find them, the others will."

"I promised Jocelyn and Saffra that I would bring her back safely," she said. Both women had been close to tears at remaining behind to wait. "And Claire. Gods. If anything happened to Desaree, Claire..."

"I know." Byron's calm helped, but only so much.

They flew for another two hours. Byron was ready to call for a break—more for her sake than his—when she saw a sparkle of red glinting far in the distance below. Byron saw it at the same time as she and let out a roar. A relieved laugh bubbled up in her chest when they grew closer and she saw Desaree standing beside Verath's form, arms waiving to flag them down.

She was alive.

Byron took them in a steep dive. They were on the ground in seconds. She was out of her harness and off Byron's back, racing towards Desaree. Their arms locked around each other. "Verath! He just...he..." Desaree sobbed into her shoulder. "I didn't know what to do. We were flying and he...he..."

Tamara glanced at Verath's large glittering form. "He's breathing," she confirmed, trying to calm Desaree's frantic sobs. "He's alive." To her mate, she silently said, "I'm going to kill that Shield."

"He started acting strange," Desaree managed to explain. Tamara snorted, as if Verath hadn't already been acting strange for days. "But...but I could tell it frightened him. I thought we were going to die, Tam. He went into a steep dive. I barely managed...I almost fell. When he put us on the ground, he didn't even land. It was more of stumbling and sliding and then he just...he just..." Desaree burst into a fresh wave of tears. "We've been out here for hours. All night. I thought no one would..."

"Shhh...." She combed her fingers through Desaree's hair. "We're here now. It's all right. You're both safe."

A series of images and words raced through her mind. Byron's. He was alerting the others to their location and informing them that Verath was alive.

While she was comforting Desaree, Byron began circling Verath. He lifted his hands and began speaking, voice low as he crafted an incantation. She couldn't help but watch in fascination as Byron used magic to roll Verath into a more comfortable position, ensuring that his forearms and legs weren't resting at odd angles and that his tail was spread behind him. Nothing seemed to be broken, or if it had, Verath's magic had already long healed it.

She'd only just started her training with magic. After everything that had happened at Fort Squall, and their trip down to Kastali Dun, there'd been no opportunity to begin until they were safely settled. She'd only just started learning the language and small words. She could summon bits of light and do simple things with hot and cold, move small objects, and the like. She certainly wasn't anywhere as skilled as Byron.

"There now, see?" she said, patting Desaree's hair. "Byron has him in a comfortable position now. He'll be all right."

"I'm so angry with him for volunteering," Desaree cried. "He could have been killed."

"Could have, but he wasn't," Bryon said, striding over. He took Desaree's free hand and gave it a squeeze before turning his gaze to the skies. "The others should be here shortly."

"What are we going to do?" Desaree said, wiping her eyes on the back of her hand, sniffling. Tamara pulled a clean handkerchief and handed it over.

"Well, there won't be any moving him in this form. I'd say our best bet is to let the poison run its course. We're only a few hours from the capital. We can get a couple of tents together—set up camp. Don't worry. You won't go through this alone, my lady." With that, Byron paid Tamara a quick, knowing glance, then stalked back over to Verath.

"I'll make sure the others bring plenty of refreshments," she added in quieter, soothing tones, "and warm clothes." She had only just realized Desaree was shivering. "Here, come rest against Verath. His warmth will keep the chill away." The tension in her shoulders began unknotting once she'd seen Desaree comfortably settled in the crook between Verath's forearm and his chest. Verath's eyes were closed, and his breath steady. He may as well have been sleeping deeply, which made sense because he never answered any of Byron's telepathic calls.

She ground her teeth together then let out a long, calming breath.

***

Hours later, tents were constructed and a comfortable camp born. Much to her surprise, Bedelth had agreed to bring both Saffra and Jocelyn. She supposed that Claire having flouted propriety forged the way for others. But she didn't miss that it was Bedelth who delivered Saffra with her handmaiden, and not any of the other Shields.

Jocelyn and Saffra ran to Desiree and the three of them hugged and broke into sobs as Desaree recounted her story all over again. Saffra didn't notice the way Bedelth's eyes followed her through the camp after he'd transformed. He stood off to the side, arms crossed, observant as ever.

King Talon didn't stray far from Verath's side. Half the words out of his mouth were curses as he muttered under his breath. The others never strayed far either, but she was certain that King Talon felt entirely responsible for how things had turned out. So furious was he, that every question directed at him received a snapping answer and none of them dared bother with him after that. They left him to his fussing.

Desaree and Jocelyn being the sensible ones, quickly took charge over their camp, overseeing supplies as they were unpacked. Tamara jumped in when she noticed the spread of food before them. "I'd be happy to help with the dicing," she managed, a small smile at her lips as she recalled her first few days at Fort Squall.

"Nonsense," Jocelyn said, shooing her away. "Desaree and I can manage."

But she wouldn't take no for an answer; soon enough she was dicing carrots, onions, and potatoes, wielding a knife as if she were born to it. The cookery had sent along a generous slab of meat as well, along with rolls and cake. It would be a merry meal.

Saffra kept busy, circling Verath, scribbling notes on the parchment she had clipped across a thin board. King Talon's Shields had erected a makeshift writing desk for her, complete with plenty of parchment and ink for her observations.

As the afternoon wained and the fire glowed brighter, everyone calmed and fell into a steady ease. The danger was over. Verath was safe. Now they could all relax and discuss how well the brews had actually worked.

***

It took nearly two days for Verath to wake up. Another two before he felt well enough to fly home. He managed to make it back to the castle before transforming and collapsing on the king's tower stones in the Queen's Garden. Jovari and Bedelth had to haul him away to his chambers. Desaree had followed, fussing and giving orders for food to be brought immediately.

Tamara smiled, recalling the way Desaree had hovered and cared for him in his weakened state. It would be some days yet before he was back to his normal self. In the mean time, plans had continued. Saffra had already set up nearly a hundred cauldrons in the caves beneath the keep. She'd begun the process of brewing enough poison to fill Lake Plymlet. Tamara and Jocelyn helped for now, and as soon as Verath was better, Desaree would join them.

Byron handled most of the matters pertaining to Fort Squall, which consisted of frequent meetings at Fort Kastali. She checked in with him often, letting her mind drift to his. It still thrilled her that he was a mere thought away, that she could step into his mind, or he hers, whenever the need arose.

Today, however, she set aside the tedious work in the caverns and flew with Byron over to Fort Kastali. Her chest was aflutter, her body jittery with nerves. She glanced at the landscape below, placing a hand on her stomach. "You're sure this is a good idea?" she asked, yet again.

"We cannot avoid it forever, my love."

He hadn't actually answered her question, but he was right. In truth, she had hoped to, even despite the tension building up to this moment. Perhaps it was best to get it over with.

Fort Squall needed to select permanent leaders. It was time for the dreaded vote. While the position of fort leader often passed from father to son, a vote was always taken, and there was a chance she and Byron wouldn't be selected by the majority. Votes were especially welcome in times like these, when a fort leader's son was young enough to have his authority questioned. Byron, after all, was still a boy in the eyes of many, especially those pairs who were verging towards five hundred and beyond.

She worried at her lower lip. Byron didn't show any concern. If only she could approach the matter with such nonchalance. Especially knowing there were other, equally suitable contenders. Alark and Brylee were the first high ranking pair that came to mind. Alark was a wingleader and had been very close with Davi. He was also some six hundred years of age—seasoned and experienced. Dagen and Sandra would also be a good choice, favorites among all, capable of leading the fort just as well as Emmy and Davi had.

"Peace, love. Let's not worry over the outcome."

But of course she was worried. Mainly because she wasn't even sure what she wanted. If they didn't win the vote, the succession of fort leadership in Byron's family would end. But if they did...Gods above. No one would vote for her and Byron knowing she wasn't yet twenty. She had no buisness whatsoever leading a fort.

"There is more to leading than age and experience. We have advisors for that. Those older and wiser to guide us. If chosen, we would lead for many long years."

He was right, as usual. But her stomach lurched as he descended towards the fort's battlements. So she clamped down on her thoughts and dismounted from his back.

Fierran greeted them warmly, clapping Byron on the back and bowing formally to her with a "my lady" before escorting them into the darkened corridors of the fort. It was bustling, as always. This was what it was like to see a fort at full capacity. It's corridors thriving, rooms filled. They were greeted by all who passed. Some she recognized from her own fort, some she didn't.

"My lady," Amirah said by way of greeting, falling into step beside her. Amirah was Soren's Rider, a wing second. She would be one of those present for the vote. "You look as if you're going to be sick," Amirah added, voice low. "Can I get you some tea?"

She pursed her lips and shook her head. "No, thank you. Having you beside me is strength enough." Amirah reached for her hand and squeezed it. It was the nicest gesture the woman had ever given her. Then she scurried away, ahead, to warn those gathered that she and Byron were on their way.

When they entered the conference room within the fort leader's chambers, it was packed full of bodies. Most were wingleaders and seconds from Fort Squall, since they were the only ones permitted to partake in the vote. But since they also planned to discuss battle matters first and foremost, there were a few of Fort Kastali's leaders and seconds present. She spotted Reyr in the corner, lounging against the wall casually with a foot propped, grinning at her like a cat with its face in a bowl of cream. She offered him a shy smile in return.

After friendly introductions, Byron wasted no time in taking charge, quieting everyone, bringing the room to order. She admired his ability to display authority. She still didn't have the courage to step up the way he often did. Most times, nothing more than a quiet squeak escaped her lips.

"Be patient, you will find your courage," was all Byron said as he continued speaking. "...with the Dwarg's pledge and word from our spies, we hope to leave in as little as two weeks time," she found him saying.

"So soon?" someone gasped. She didn't recognize their voice, someone from Fort Kastali, she realized, when she got a closer look. "How is that possible? What solution have we reached for keeping Squall's End safe from dragon fire in light of an attack."

Byron nodded. "A valid concern. We have formulated a plan with King Talon that will see them entirely safe and allow us a formidable advantage. Only..."

"At risk of divulging too many secrets, we must keep this one tucked tightly beneath our wings for the time being," Tamara said, surprising even herself. She didn't let it show on her face. It must have been Byron's thoughts that she'd somehow plucked from his mind, or him speaking through her, perhaps. "Very few people know, and we will only reveal what is pertinent for the time being. You will have to trust us—trust your king." Her gaze met Reyr's and he nodded. Byron's hand slipped into hers and offered a reassuring squeeze.

There were nods of acceptance and a few murmurs. She waited for someone to contradict her, to tell her she was too young to quiet their concerns, but no one spoke up. Byron took advantage of the silence to plunge on, discussing a few more bits of strategy before it was time to move towards the dreaded vote.

For this, members of Fort Kastali departed. Reyr would oversee collecting the slips of parchment. As was custom, the doors were locked and they would not be disturbed until a decision was reached. Each pair was only allowed one vote, otherwise the room would have been twice as full. As it was, there were still a couple of Riders in attendance, those likely to be voted for.

One at a time, each Drengr went to the front table and cast a name on a slip of parchment that was folded and placed in a deep stone bowl. Reyr remained at the back of the room, allowing each voter complete privacy. When it was Byron's turn, she detached herself from his mind, not wanting to see the vote he cast. It felt...strange to vote for herself, even though she knew he was doing it. He believed they were a good fit and stood by it.

When all votes were casted by the thirty-four wingleaders and seconds in the room, Reyr went to the front of the room, took up the chair behind the table, and began unfolding each sheet of parchment. He read each vote out loud, placing each in a respective pile.

"Dagen, Sandra. One vote," he said, reading the first. Her heart galloped forward. Byron reached for her hand. There weren't enough chairs so they'd opted to stand against the side wall while they waited. She didn't dare look at a single person in the room. She kept her eyes firmly fixed on Reyr.

"Dagen, Sandra," he said again. "Two votes." This time, her shoulders tightened. Another parchment was unfolded. "Byron, Tamara. One vote." A huge breath rushed out of her lungs, quiet enough, fortunately, to be heard by no one but Byron. "Alark, Brylee. One vote." Byron's hand gave her another squeeze.

This was too much. She wished more than ever she could flee the room. She shouldn't take it personally, each vote against them. And perhaps it was better this way. A unanimous vote would not feel earned. And yet...

"Byron, Tamara. Two votes." Reyr announced, reading the next parchment. He continued on like this. Nearly all votes were between the top three contending pairs. However, someone had thrown Soren and Amirah's name in. Surprising, given that Soren had only been a second, more recently moved to wingleader when his own wingleader died in the attack on Fort Squall.

Time moved at a snail's pace. At this pint with the votes so well balanced, to reach majority, any pair that surpassed eleven would win. Reyr was approaching the bottom of the bowl. "Alark, Brylee. Eight votes." He took another. "Byron, Tamara. Nine votes." She had to work from keeping her tears back as they pulled ahead of a pair that had been alive so much longer. "Byron, Tamara. Ten votes." She was all but trembling now. Tied with Dagen and Sandra. She'd been keeping count. There were only two folded parchments left. Reyr pulled the second to last. He hesitated. She couldn't breathe. "Byron, Tamara. Eleven votes." He carefully set the parchment down on the pile. If the last was Dagen and Sandra, it would be a tie, and a revote would be cast between the two contenders. Reyr pulled the final parchment, opened it, and said nothing. His eyes flicked up, the first time. His gaze locked on Byron's. Her stomach sank. "Byron, Tamara," he said. "Twelve votes."

She blinked. The room was silent a beat. Then it erupted. Fists banged on tables, several of the occupants roared their congratulations. She simply stood mute, not quite believing. It wasn't until Byron took her waist, pulled her into his arms, and kissed her in front of the entire room that she realized it. They'd won. 

⭐️🌟⭐️🌟⭐️

Happy Friday, Bookdragons,

Well, my hand has gotten a little better but not as much as I'd hoped. I took a trip to urgent care this week (to play it safe) to get Xrays. They weren't sure what they were looking at, so they recommended me to an orthopedic doctor for a better analysis because they're worried it could possibly be a fracture (they don't know yet, which tells me that if it is, it must be too small to pick up on the Xray, which means it must not be that bad??). 

Needless to say, I can't type much without irritating it. I tried writing today and managed 500 words before it was irritated, so I did another 500 using the speech to text feature, which helped. But I've realized that talking uses a different part of my brain compared to actual typing. So who knows...maybe what I spoke/wrote was a crapy 500 words. LOL. I'm not in much pain, fortunately. Just some cramping, a dull ache, and nerve numbness. I haven't needed to take any pain killers. The bruising is almost gone. I guess the worst part is, the lack of overall pain fools me into using it more than I should. 

Next week's chapter is the last full chapter I have written (yikes!) We'll see if I can get another one drummed up this weekend. It's called, "Answers in Ashvale" so you can imagine who it will follow. Our favorite hero, Claire. 

I hope you all have a great weekend! 

All my best,

Mel