Kastali Dun
Reyr tipped the vial to his mouth, swallowing the contents in one gulp. Verath, who'd kept a steady stream of communication with him, went silent. The concoction burned all the way down, its flavor acidic. He recognized hints of dragon's bane and something else. He shuddered. His skin broke out in a sweat and his body began trembling.
A muted gasp sounded beside him. He jerked his head to the side, abandoning his own discomfort. His imposter queen looked exactly like he felt. Her eyes were wide and unseeing. He reached out, taking her arm just as her body sagged. Then her facial features began to change, her hair darkened, and she shrank several inches. His body was changing, too.
Distantly, he registered gasps from the courtiers. Registered that Dallin and Verath were also handed similar vials. Registered that they also drank.
What choice did they have?
He blinked, the discomfort fading. Claire's lookalike was no longer standing before him. Instead, Merrian gaped up at him. He wanted to ask if she was okay, but Kane was already speaking.
"So you see," he told the crowd. "They are not your rulers after all. Your rulers are gone. King Talon abandoned you. He isn't even in this world anymore."
Cries of surprise echoed in hall.
Reyr's skin heated with anger. "He's only there because you—"
"Ah-ah-ah. I'm king now. I get to decide who speaks, and what truths are told. Oh, and I'll be taking that." Kane muttered a few words under his breath, an incantation. The heavy crown upon his brow flew into Kane's free hand. The other still held a glittering golden stone.
If only he could get to it—steal it. If only...
Something about the stones arrayed on Kane's breastplate made him frown—
"Guards!" Kane's voice rang out. "Seize them! Toss them in the dungeons."
"You're not just going to kill us?" he sneered. He would have preferred it. At least dead, he wouldn't have to face his failure.
As if reading his mind, Kane said, "I want you to watch me rule in place of your precious King. If he returns, I'll enjoy witnessing the moment he realizes that you lost him the kingdom."
It took every bit of his control to remain in place. He wanted to surge forward and attack. Wanted to plunge his blade through the sorcerer's chest. Even at the risk of damning all of dragon kind.
But the sorcerer would never allow him to get close.
A set of guards in Oshean livery strode forward. He eyed them with distaste. It confirmed their prior suspicions, that Kane was working with Oshea.
Merrian cried out as they were taken. "Don't hurt her," he growled at her set of guards. They ignored him, wrenching her arms behind her back, clapping her in shackles. He was vaguely aware of them doing the same to him.
Merrian's blue eyes flashed with fear, her chest rising and falling in bursts. He hadn't ever seen her like this and it did something to him.
"It will be all right," he tried telling her in a low voice. It was all he could think to say, even though it was a lie. Nothing about this would be all right.
Kane had succeeded. Their worst fears had come to life. It had been stupid to hope that Bedelth and Saffra might've beat Kane to the stones; he feared to think about that, about what Kane might have done if he'd intercepted them. Or Koldis and Taylynn, for that matter. But they were alive. He knew in his heart that they were alive, because he would have felt their deaths, otherwise. Which meant they'd failed. Kane had the stones and he was helpless to do anything about it.
They were dragged away, Dallin and Verath behind him.
"One more thing before you go," Kane added. "If you try to escape your guards, or if you do not stay where I put you, I'll turn you to stone." He flashed the golden dragonstone again, in warning. "I gain nothing by keeping you and your kind alive. I'm only doing it out of the kindness of my heart."
Reyr scoffed. "Right. Kindness."
"This kingdom never belonged to you. It belonged to the asarlaí. Your kind only took it. So yes, I'm taking it back. Enjoy your cell."
With that, Kane strode forward to the dais. He caught a glimpse of the sorcerer ascending the stairs before the guards resumed their efforts to drag him away.
Just before they were dragged through the doors, he heard Kane's next command to the Oshean guards. "I want everyone in the keep brought to the throne room—immediately. Use force if you must. It's time to learn where their loyalties lie."
Reyr's stomach squirmed with dread. There were too many people loyal to the crown—so loyal that they might choose death over life. He didn't want that. He'd rather they pretend to serve Kane. Every death would be his fault.
Cries sounded throughout the castle. People dragged from their chambers. Servants pulled from their duties. He watched as nearby guards escorted a huddle of people towards the throne room. Gods, Kane had made quick work of his takeover. There were no Oshean ships in the port, which meant he'd been lying in wait.
"Can't we...do something?!" Dallin hissed. They were nearly to the dungeons. Once they went in, they wouldn't come out.
Verath snorted. "Do something? And risk the ruination of our kind?"
"What if he's bluffing?"
"He's not bluffing," Reyr said.
"Quiet! All of you!" one of the guards snapped.
Merrian walked beside him, her head held high. Despite her posture, he didn't miss the fear in her blue eyes.
He caught a flash of movement in his periphery. Pale skin and luminescent markings. Prince Feowen. The prince motioned, a finger to his lips, then slipped into the shadows.
Reyr exhaled, his shoulders relaxing. Claire's spriten guards hadn't been in the throne room. From the looks of it, they might be safe. He could only hope they escaped before Kane combed the castle for them.
He wasn't sure how thorough the sorcerer had been. Was the city taken? Would there be Oshen guards at the city walls, denying entry and exit to those passing through?
They plunged into darkness, descending into the depths of the keep. The dungeons were a maze of tunnels. The guards that normally occupied the guard room were on the ground, their throats cut. He swallowed, looking away.
They were taken to cells.
"Enjoy your new home," one of the guards said, unlocking their shackles before they were pushed through a door.
"Get your hands off me!" Merrian hissed from behind him. She stumbled, tripping and falling to her hands and knees before the door clanged shut behind them.
He heard another clang, and then another, before silence descended. Then, there was the only sound of his ragged pants, of Merrian's. The darkness was absolute.
Out of habit, he muttered a cantrip to create an orb of light, but nothing happened. "Godsdamn it!" he swore, pulling at the shackles around his wrists.
"What's the matter?" Merrian asked, standing.
"There was dragon's bane in the brew."
"It prohibits the use of magic," she realized.
"Exactly." He could see in the dark, but he doubted she could, mage or not. "Are you...are you all right? Are you hurt?"
There was a long silence. "...No."
He expelled a breath. "Good." Then he walked across the room and slid down the wall, coming to sit on the floor. He closed his eyes. Perhaps he could sleep and forget any of this had happened.
"What...what do we do now?"
His eyes flew open. "Are you serious? Sing lullabies? Braid each other's hair? Waste away in this cell? How the hell should I know?"
"There's no need to be rude."
"Rude?! Gods above, woman. The kingdom of Dragonwall has just fallen to a sorcerer and you're worried about me being rude?!"
She tutted, then walked over to the opposite side of the cell, sinking down much the same as him. He waited for her to say something back. Claire would have. Instead, she just ignored him. And maybe that was worse.
In the crushing silence, his chest caved in. He had failed. Months upon months of work, and it hadn't mattered in the end. He'd lost the kingdom.
Talon had trusted him with this.
He felt numb.
None of this seemed real.
Maybe it wasn't.
***
Reyr opened his eyes. He was greeted by a familiar darkness. Everything came rushing back. He dragged a hand over his face.
"You're awake." Merrian.
He must have been dozing. Several days had passed, but we didn't know how many, exactly. It was impossible to tell how long it had been.
"Is your telepathy back?" Merrian asked.
His mind was fuzzy. He tried to reach out to Verath, to Dallin, to anyone, but nothing happened. "No."
Kane kept him plied with a constant stream of dragon's bane concoctions. If he didn't drink, the threat was always the same. Annihilation of dragon kind.
Part of him was tempted to test the sorcerer's claim. To see how far he could push before Kane brought the stone into contact with the others. If only to end this.
Merrian didn't answer. He wasn't surprised. She'd taken to ignoring him. Besides the occasional question, she kept to the opposite side of the cell, as far away from him as possible. There were cells enough beneath the keep that they could have been separated, but he had a feeling Kane had paired them on purpose. If only to make everything worse.
Instead of suffering in silence, he suffered with an audience.
It was just as bad, if not worse for her. There was no privacy. They were forced to use the bucket in the far corner, which got dumped once a day. While he didn't particularly care about such things at his age, she was younger, and had balked, holding out for a long as possible. He didn't tell her that the drengr could see in the dark. At least she had the illusion of privacy.
Not for the first time, he wondered how old she was.
Her words came back to him—that she was a mage. She might have looked twenty-something but, she could have been a hundred and he wouldn't know it. Mages lived long lives. The more powerful, the longer they lived. Marcel was hundreds of years old. Saffra would live to be hundreds of years old—until she completed her bond with Bedelth, after which she'd share his lifespan.
A clang sounded. He jerked, then came to his feet. The sound wasn't unusual, so he already knew what to expect when the small pass through opened and a tray of food slid in. The pass through closed with a clang.
He eyed the tray. A spread of boiled meat, bread, roasted carrots, and fruit. There was a pitcher of water. It was barely enough for two. At least it was edible. He'd half expected starvation, or to be served some form of mush. Many of the prisoners were given rations of pottage, daily. Kane was flexing the supposed kindness he'd mentioned, probably congratulating himself over it.
Such a kind and just and fair ruler.
He pictured the gaunt sorcerer sitting on Talon's throne, smug expression on his face as he went about ruling Dragonwall.
That was the worst of it, though. Not knowing the truth of what was happening. All he had to go on were Kane's words. It sent his mind spiraling every time he thought about it.
A light flared, an orb, brought into existence by Marrian's muttered words. Kane didn't know she was a mage, so he hadn't bothered to take her magic. He plucked up a bit of food, quickly swallowing it down, and took the rest to Merrian. "Not half bad."
She only huffed, snatching the tray and scarfing everything down. If she noticed that he was purposefully eating less than usual, just so that she could have a full serving, she made no comment. Gods, what would happen when he went without hunting? How long could a drengr go? Would the dragon in him go insane?
He went back to his spot opposite Merrian and leaned his head against the wall. All he could do was sit and think. And think. And think.
It was a blessing when he managed to doze. At least then, his mind softened, so that he might temporarily forget how bad this was. How horribly he'd failed.
The guards came with another vial of dragon's bane. He'd swallowed three now. No, perhaps four. He was losing count.
It never tasted quite as harrowing as the initial potion, the one that had also reversed the sprite's magic. Whatever Kane had concocted for that had been powerful. Still, it was no treat.
They didn't simply drop off the vial and disappear, either. They stayed to make sure he took it. He knew what would happen if he didn't. It wasn't worth the risk.
"The king has a message for you," one of the guards said.
It was always the same. A scrap of information from Kane that couldn't bet be trusted. Yet, he latched on like a starving dog to a bone.
"Oaths from the courtiers have been given. Rewards granted to those especially loyal. The leaders of the fort are on their way to swear their troth today. Invitations have been sent to the sprites and dwargs. All those who fail to appear will be considered traitors."
"Kane is delusional if he thinks—" He keeled over, the wind knocked out of him by the guard's fist as it connected with his abdomen.
"You will respect his majesty with use of titles when you speak of him."
Reyr spit on the ground beside the guard's foot. "Maybe I'll return that blow, see how far King Kane lets me go before he makes good on his threat. Hmm? I doubt he'll destroy my kind if I break your nose."
The guard took a step back and said, "His Majesty fully expects the dwargs and sprites to refuse. He's hoping for war." Then he retreated from the room, empty vial in hand, and slammed the cell door.
💕❤️💕Don't forget to heart this chapter!❤️💕❤️
Hello Bookdragons!
My poor babies! I kinda feel bad for Reyr since he's been through so much during this series. The guilt has got to be eating him up inside.
But, onwards we go! Next week's chapter is from Bedelth's POV. I know you have been desperate to hear news about Saffra.
See you then!
--Mel
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