Kastali Dun

Talon wondered which was more difficult: admitting to one's wrongs or apologizing for them. An apology was a gesture, an entry into the unknown. Apologizing was like tossing an egg into the air and hoping it would be caught. No one liked uncertainty, least of all him. The only thing that felt worse than apologizing was admitting to one's wrongs. He feared his faults. He couldn't bear to look weak or inept. He could not afford to feel vulnerable.

After thinking it over, he decided that it took greater fortitude to admit to one's wrongs than it did apologizing for them.

He sat at his desk within his study, staring at the blank sheet of parchment before him. He owed Queen Jade both an admission of wrongdoing and an apology. A deep rumble in the form of a chuckle escaped his chest. At least apologizing to Queen Jade in writing would be easier than his apologies had been with Claire.

He opened his desk drawer and removed Queen Jade's folded letter. She had sent it to him shortly after Cyrus demanded the Stones. He opened the letter and skimmed its words. Queen Jade called him things like inept, rash, and naive. Perhaps he was all of those things and more. Removing the Stones from their protected location was likely the poorest decision he had ever, or would ever make, as Dragonwall's king. Look at all it had resulted in. Queen Jade was correct in her writing about that. But what if...

His mind drifted to Claire in wonderment. How might things have been different if Cyrus had never sought the Dragon Stones? Would Claire be happy at home with her family eating pancakes and drinking coffee? Would she be safe? Surely that was a better place for her. He sighed as he considered it. His life would have been simpler without her, but now that she was in it, he could not bear the thought of never knowing her.

He shoved the letter away. Everything happened for a reason. His mistakes were part of the path he was destined to take; the gods blessed him by placing Claire on that same path. His decisions might not have been the best, but he had made them. He owed Queen Jade an apology at the least. Procrastinating would only make the task more difficult.

He set to work. It would be best to start with the apology portion. That would show him as a humbled individual in Queen Jade's eyes. He spent a few minutes on the effort, writing something from his heart. As he read over the single line, he realized that it was still too terse. Well...he was a man of few words. No, such a short sentence would not suffice. To make up for it, he elaborated on his poor judgement—Queen Jade would like that.

Women! He rolled his eyes and grunted before continuing with the last lines of the letter. He would leave no room for argument: He intended to visit Queen Jade in Esterpine. He would leave the capital as soon as he tied up loose ends, six days would be enough. That would set him to arrive by the end of next week. It would give him enough time to meet with her, discuss business, and make it back just in time for the Fall Tournament. There was no need to go further into detail regarding the reason for his visit—she would know why.

Reaching into his pocket, he removed the weighty leather pouch with the Dragon Stones and spilled them onto his palm. This wasn't the first time he had interacted with them and it probably would not be the last. He felt the power the Stones possessed. It seeped into him the way a magical tonic might, warming his hand first before spreading to the rest of him. As the magical energy pulsed through him, he clenched his jaw, holding fiercely to his resolve. When he glanced down at them, how innocent they looked! They sparkled up at him in the candlelight, surfaces dancing with the sole purpose of enticing him. Odd that one should be black while the other was gold. Was there a reason for it? Had fate connected them to these stones?

Tucking them away once more, he set about proofreading his letter to Queen Jade. When he was happy with it, he left it on his desk for morning. He glanced outside. It nearly was morning. Several hours had passed since Claire had gone to bed. In the meantime, he had already had a bath and cleaned himself up. With his letter complete, he stood up and went to check on her.

The sliding doors to his sleeping chamber were closed. With extreme care, he cracked one open. A thin sliver of light shot into the room like an arrow. Claire lay asleep in his bed, her golden hair fanned out around her. She slept fitfully: behind her eyelids, her eyes moved rapidly back and forth. Her body twitched slightly and stilled. It did this several more times. She was having a bad dream.

An ugly feeling took hold of him. Curse those men for what they had done to her! Their actions would haunt her sleep for weeks, perhaps even months...

He watched for a while, until her bad dream played out. After a time, her chest began to rise and fall more peacefully. Appeased, he shut the door.

His mind jumped to those responsible. Two of the scoundrels were below in the dungeons. Thinking of them brought his inner monster to the surface, masking the humanity within. He was and would always be a dragon, first and foremost.

He glanced back at the sleeping chamber, picturing the sleeping woman within. The image of her calmed him. "Bedelth, are you busy?" he asked.

He doubted that any of his Shields would be sleeping tonight—not after the ordeal of Claire's kidnapping. They all slept little as it was, a few hours stolen when they could afford it. He slept less than the lot of them; there were always important matters of business to attend to, most of which got pushed to the late hours of the evening.

"I am never too busy for you, Your Grace. Have you need of me?"

"Aye. I do. Please come to my tower at your earliest convenience."

He was trying to attach the ties on his sleeves to his doublet when Bedelth entered. Since the servants were all sleeping, Bedelth came to his aid, pulling each of the laces on both shoulders into place.

"Have you been down to the dungeons this evening?" Talon asked.

"No. Not since we deposited the men. Koldis is there now—keeping watch. He is impatient to begin, but will not do so until you are present."

"I am impressed by his eagerness."

"Aye." Bedelth looked thoughtful. "I believe Claire's kidnapping was harder on him than he is likely to admit."

"Perhaps she is growing on him." After he said it, he frowned. Claire's hold on his own heart had quickly taken root, and it strengthened with each day. The same could be said of Reyr. He hoped none of his other Shields were fond of her in such a way.

Bedelth's chuckle was more of a deep, draconic rumble. "I think she is growing on all of us, Your Grace, but not in the way you are thinking. We merely care for her. Shall we go down to the dungeons together?"

"Actually, I need you to remain here. I told Claire that I would be available in my study should she have need of me. I cannot leave her alone, and this cannot wait." He was lying. The matter of Claire's captors could wait, but he still had too much pent-up anger. His selfishness was a brute sometimes.

"Wait, is she...?" Bedelth looked over at the closed doors of the sleeping chamber and his eyes widened for a brief moment.

"Yes, I dare say she is." Talon sighed. "I wanted to make sure she slept. She would have stayed up all night—chatting, no doubt—had I allowed her to return to Saffra and Desaree. She needs rest."

"As do you, my king. You look too weary."

Talon shut his eyes tightly for a brief moment. Yes, he was weary. Perpetual tiredness was his burden to bear. "My position has left me jaded. I try so hard to please them—you know I do. Sometimes I feel as if I'm stretched in a hundred directions. Worse still, my failures nip at my heels. I think I shall never be good enough. My father would be ashamed."

"I beg to differ, my king. You are twice the king your father was, and your father was a great king."

There was no use in arguing. He exhaled and squared his shoulders. "I will recover."

Bedelth nodded. "Shall I wait here until she wakes?"

"Please do. Hopefully I will return before then, but if not, inquire after her and see to any needs she may have. When she is ready to leave, escort her to her chambers."

Bedelth bowed his head in acceptance. Talon was about to walk away when Bedelth stopped him. "Your Sverak, my king." Bedelth walked over to retrieve it then handed it respectfully over. Their eyes locked. Things that went unspoken—but were well understood—passed between them. Bedelth was a brother Talon was lucky to have beside him.

He left Bedelth and went in search of Reyr. When he knocked at his door, Reyr opened it almost immediately. He poked his head out into the hall, looking left and right, as if something were wrong. "Is everything all right?"

"I am heading down to the dungeons and I thought you might like to accompany me. Koldis is already there."

"I would like nothing more." Reyr stepped out and shut his door. "And Verath?"

"He informed me earlier that he does not wish to be disturbed this night."

Reyr nodded. "Perhaps he is with Desaree. Although...I suppose it is none of my business, as he informed me." Reyr appeared snubbed.

"He is entitled to his privacy. It is not your business, but it is mine as his king."

"So, you know then?"

"Yes, I know. He came to me anxious and guilt ridden, asking for advice."

"When was that?"

"The eve of our trip to Fort Lin. It feels like an age ago."

They rounded a corner and several early-risers passed by. Talon fell silent for a moment until they were out of hearing range. "At first I was surprised by it—that he should seek me out. I told him much the same as I would have told you had you come to me early. I cannot deprive a person of love, no matter what that person has promised me. My only requirement for Verath is that he exercise caution when walking the fine line drawn around his oath. As of yet, he has not miss-stepped."

"Nor will he ever," Reyr said. They both knew enough about Verath to know that much. "He is a finer Drengr than many of us will ever be."

"Aye. I think you are right."

Verath was the oldest of Talon's shields, and by far the wisest. When Verath was young, he had only just taken his oath for King Tallek when King Tallek was called north to fight the Kalds. He was the only Shield in history to serve two kings. Most served one king long enough to take up a quiet life afterward, like Lord Avreaen.

"He is older than both of us by nearly a hundred and fifty years," Reyr said. "I should hope he would be wiser." They both chuckled at this.

When they reached the cells beneath the keep, they walked through the darkness to the Screamers. That was where Eagle and Tark were being held. Koldis sat in vigil outside their cells with a single torch for light. He rose from his chair to greet them. "Your Grace, I was hoping you would be along soon."

Talon nodded then glanced at the closed door. "No problems, I trust?"

Koldis shrugged. "Tark has been moaning something terrible. I have had to bang on the door several times and tell him to shut up. Eagle has been silent."

"Shall we start with Tark then? Perhaps we should heal his wounds before getting started?" Reyr looked between Talon and Koldis.

"I can handle that." Koldis entered Tark's cell. It would not do to have the man pass out prematurely. And there was no point in torturing an unconscious person. A moment later, he returned. "He cursed me, he spat on me, but at last he let me heal his leg."

"Like he had a choice!" Reyr said.

"Very well, shall we?" Talon led the way. Koldis held the torch, but even with it, there was little light in the room, making their shadows appear monstrous. Reyr went about the chamber, muttering under his breath as he lit several wall sconces.

"Hello, Tark," Talon said, placing himself before the man. Tark's arms were raised high, tied to a rope that hung from one of the many steel bars along the low ceiling. His feet were free to move, not that they would or could go far. Tark responded to his greeting by spitting, though it missed Talon and fell into the dirt.

"That is no way to greet your king, scum." Koldis appeared beside Tark and slammed the blunt end of his torch into the side of Tark's face. "That was for Claire, by the way," he added, looking pleased with himself as he moved away.

"For Claire's sake, you'll be receiving much more than that tonight." Talon felt the sadistic grin as it spread across his face.

"You won't hear me screamin'."

"Oh, is that so?" he baited. "Singing a new tune, I see. Do you know the name of these rooms? We placed you in the Screamers for good reason. You will scream; I can promise you that."

"Ain't gunna give you the satisfaction, King. Not even if you beat me for it."

Talon's laugh was inhuman. "We shall see about that, we shall. But no need to fret just yet. Since it is only your first time, and I long to get better acquainted, we will start easy. I shall save the fun for later. Another time, perhaps."

Reyr brought Talon the first object. Without removing his eyes from Tark, he took it. He did not need to see what he held. He already knew what it was.

"Are you familiar with the Claws of Fire, Tark?"

Tark's eyes flashed, but he said nothing.

"I thought not. It was invented here, in the keep. In this very room. Perhaps you are curious about how it got its name?"

"You gunna talk me to death, Dragon? Get on with it." Once more, Tark spat into the dirt at Talon's feet.

"The Claws of Fire device is similar to a common flogging whip with one brutal difference. At the end of each tail there is a thin, dragon's talon—from the pinky, just here." He held up his pinky finger. "When the lash, talons and all, strikes the human body, each rips the flesh apart, until your skin feels as though it is on fire." He had the satisfaction of watching Tark's eyes bulge. "There now, have I gotten your attention?"

"Do your worst."

"Oh I will. I will, indeed. Shall we begin?" He did not wait for an answer. Koldis made quick work of Tark's tunic, exposing the flesh of his back. And just as its name suggested, the Claws of Fire did its work. The Screamers came alive. 

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