Eigaden Planes

Claire savored her last day in the sky. She loved flying, even though it made her sore and achy. She adored the freedom of the sky, the cool wind that whistled past her ears, and the sense of separation between her and the ground. The closer she got to the capital, the more she wished she could remain there forever.

A deep foreboding had settled over her, which intensified around mid-day, when the king's voice sounded in her mind. This time, he addressed all three Drengr. "How long until you are upon the city?"

"Several hours still, my king," came Jovari's response. "We will arrive before night falls."

"Good. I need not remind you that we are to pay proper respect to Cyrus when you arrive. All the traditions will be upheld."

A procession through the city was scheduled for that evening. Cyrus would then be taken to the pyre and burned by the fiery breath of King Talon himself. Following this, three days of funeral games would commence, as was custom for their people.

"We will observe the proper grieving time before we divert our attention to this girl from beyond."

"Of course, Your Grace," said Reyr. "What then is to be done in the meantime, until Claire can speak with you?"

"Speak with me? She will not be speaking with me. I will face her at her trial, as is custom for suspected criminals, and if she is found guilty of killing Cyrus, she will beg for mercy before the end."

Claire gasped, unable to conceal the shock of his words. She was not generally weak stomached, but here and now, the king's words did not sit well with her. Was this the monster she was up against?

"I do not think that is wise, Your Grace," said Reyr.

"My verdict is not up for negotiation. When she arrives, the guards will be there to take her."

"Take her where?" Reyr's words were measured. His golden scales heated up beneath her legs, as if the fires within him were stoked. She shifted uncomfortably.

"To the dungeons. Where else do we keep criminals awaiting trial?"

"The...the dungeons, Your Grace?"

Her heart stopped. Angry tears clouded her vision. This wasn't supposed to happen.

"Your Grace, if I may—" Jovari tried to cut in.

"You may not!"

She glanced over at the sapphire blue dragon beside her, surprised that he'd been about to defend her.

"These are my commands," the king said. "They are not up for negotiation. This girl has poisoned your minds. Do not assume her innocence."

Silence fell heavy between them.

The king's voice sounded once more, this time softer. "The three of you have spent far too much time with her. It is a dangerous thing, fraternizing with the enemy. When you arrive, you are to sever all contact and leave her to the guards. That is final."

"Yes, Your Grace," came their responses. And then the contact was broken.

Reyr gave a frustrated growl. It reverberated through her legs. The others said nothing.

She wanted to scream. So many emotions flooded through her—anger, frustration, fear. Especially fear. She shouldn't have come. Shouldn't have agreed to Cyrus's request. Shouldn't have made an Unbreakable Promise.

She was about to find herself in a huge city, very much alone. The king wanted her locked up like a common criminal. He failed to see what she was doing for him. He was so blind!

A groan fled her chest. This was hopeless! Absolutely hopeless.

Tears slid down her cheeks. She furiously wiped them away, sniffing. She had cried too many times since losing Cyrus. Enough was enough.

She sighed, squaring her shoulders. There was nothing else for it. She'd just have to beat the king at his own game. If he wanted to behave like a selfish, nearsighted brat, she was going to fight back.

The first step was to quit crying. She had to be strong, or at least, pretend to be. She'd take whatever came and face it head on. There was no other choice.

***

The day quickly passed, with Claire's mood taking many shades between dismal and fearful. Long before Kastali Dun materialized on the horizon, she heard the city's Drengr. The cacophony of voices began as intermittent whispers, growing in strength with each beat of Reyr's golden wings. Closer and closer the King's Shields brought her. Louder still the voices became. Soon she could make out full conversations.

The things she heard were of little importance, but still, she listened, if only to keep her mind off her impending doom. This ability was the one thing that she could use to her advantage. Despite the growing headache it gave her, she was determined to listen, just in case some snippet of information proved useful.

Before long, she gasped. The vast expanse of Kastali Dun stretched out before her. Behind it, the dark blue sea stretched on and on until it met the horizon. Located on a rocky outcropping was the biggest castle she had ever seen—the Great Keep of Kastali Dun. It was the largest keep in Dragonwall. Like a scene from a fairytale.

Its tall ramparts were topped with spires and turrets that starkly dominated the skyline. The sight of it left her heart pounding. She was both impressed and afraid.

Trumpets sounded in the distance. An announcement of their impending arrival. The proclamation was dreadfully beautiful. It spoke in so many ways to her heart.

Reyr increased his pace, as if eager to be home. She leaned into him for comfort, placing her cheek against his warm, scaled neck. As they arrived, her eyes swept over the city, taking it in. It was so many times larger than Weldon—unfathomably large.

There were wisps of smoke rising from chimneys, and below the smoky tendrils, a sea of rooftops. Everything was tightly packed together. In between the buildings, narrow streets gave way to wider ones. These snaked their way up to the keep.

She sucked in a deep breath. Out of nowhere, Drengr swooped in around them. The sight left her wide eyed. It was a rainbow of colors. Dragon scales sparkled brilliantly in the late afternoon sun. She had never seen so many at once, and nearly all of them had Riders.

It took a matter of moments before they were surrounded. At least one hundred strong, the Drengr pairs assembled into V-formations as they escorted her over the city. Some of the Riders looked at Cyrus's body strapped to Jovari, as if confirming that he was truly dead. Most just looked at her instead. She saw their searching gazes—their suspicion. It left a tight ball in her stomach.

Ignoring all the telepathic speculation shooting from Drengr to Drengr, she kept her face forward, determined to stay strong. On the inside she was crumbling, like broken rock.

You are strong. Do not let their misguided words steer you off course.

It had been a while since her conscience had spoken.

What if I am too weak? she dared to ask.

Be brave. It was you who saved me, remember? You are strong.

It felt like a punch to the gut. Those words—they were the same ones Cyrus said just before dying.

"Cyrus?" she gasped, far louder than she intended. "Is that you?" The voice in her mind did not answer.

"That's it," she whispered. "You're losing your mind. Your cracking under all this pressure."

She needed to pull herself together. If she was going to get through this, she needed to be strong. Shaking her head, trying to clear it, she turned her attention back to the city.

The keep loomed up before her. Reyr began to descend. With each bit of altitude lost, her heart beat faster and faster. She tried to ignore it, focusing her eyes upon the castle.

The rocky edifice looked almost green. Thin sheets of velvety moss from centuries of accumulation blanketed it, giving the walls their eerie sheen. This place was old, very old. She could feel its magic too, ancient and powerful, as it radiated towards her and tingled across her skin. What an odd sensation! Almost like charged air before a thunderstorm. Goosebumps erupted across her skin.

Reyr landed in a large courtyard on the keep's lowest level. He was followed shortly thereafter by Jovari and Koldis. Everywhere she looked, hordes of people gathered. She hated all of them for their desire to gloat.

She dismounted gracefully. Her limbs were shaking, but she didn't let that show. The moment her feet touched solid ground, guards latched on to her arms. The metal of their armored gloves chafed against her sunburnt skin.

"Reyr!" she cried, pulling against them. "Reyr!"

They pulled her away. Her voice was drowned out by the booing of the crowd. She cried out again, but still her voice was lost. The guards were forcing her away. She didn't even have the chance to say goodbye.

All around her the crowd screamed. Their words made her eyes water.

"Murderer!"

"Traitor!"

Slap. She jerked. Something wet hit her face. The guards held her too tight to wipe it away. When she looked down at her shirt, she saw what looked like tomato juice. Smack. More things were thrown at her, more harsh words were uttered in her passing.

She had just enough time to look over her shoulder before entering a shadowy corridor. Reyr was transforming into his human form. Above them, Drengr circled like vultures. Koldis took flight to join them. She had been all but forgotten by her traveling companions.

That hurt the most.

"You can do this," she whispered under her breath. "You can do this." She began to chant words of encouragement. But it was difficult to find her courage in the face of adversity, harder still to maintain fortitude as the guards pulled her away from the only familiar thing she had left in this world. Reyr, Jovari, and Koldis.

They escorted her into the keep and said nothing. "Where are you taking me?" she demanded, even though she already knew.

The keep's dark walls were foreboding and unfamiliar. She was rushed down a series of stairways and through a number of eerie corridors. This place was like a maze. Even if she attempted escape, she would never find her way out. The lower they went, the deeper her breaths became.

Gulping air into her lungs, she did her best to keep from bursting into tears. She was determined to stay strong, lest these men run straight to the king and tell them what a blubbering crybaby she was.

There was a loud clang. She was thrown in a cell. Just as she scrambled to her feet and turned, the door slammed in her face. "Manners might be nice!" she shouted at the guard's retreating footsteps. Silence was the only response.

She stood motionless, staring at the closed door. Minutes passed by, and still she did nothing. The entire experience left her too shocked to respond.

Eventually, when her mind got a hold of itself, she came out of her daze. The guards hadn't bothered to remove her backpack or confiscate any of her belongings. The Dragon Stones were still safely tucked in her bra.

Perhaps she was luckier than she realized.

Coming to her senses, she wiped some of the muck and mud off her face and arms, getting it all over her hands. It stank. So did she. At that very moment, she would have given anything for a bath.

She looked around her cell the way a caged animal might. There was a flashlight in her pack. She removed it and tapped it against her palm several times before light blazed around her. The cell was small, maybe half the size of her bedroom at home. It had stone walls, no windows, and a dirt floor. It was completely empty, except for a small pot—a chamber pot. She groaned in disgust.

Venturing to the corner, she sank to the floor and burst into tears. Screw strength! Screw courage! Screw her vow that she wouldn't cry anymore. What she needed more than anything was a good, long cry. It would be the only relief she'd find here. Her body shook with great sobs, her eyes blurred and her nose ran.

What had she done to deserve this?

***

She calmed down, her tears stopped, and she relaxed a little, coming to terms with her position. What else could she do but accept where she was? She removed the Dragon Stone pouch from her bra, where it was becoming too uncomfortable, and tucked it safely into the pocket of her jeans. From her backpack, she pulled out her bedroll and spread it on the floor beneath her. She removed a cloth and used it to blow her nose and wipe herself off. Even still, she was exceedingly filthy.

There was nothing to do but sit and wait. She longed to know what was taking place outside. What special respects would the kingdom pay to honor Cyrus? She knew for certain that none of them would understand what he had been through—not like she did. She was the one beside him in his final moments.

What hurt the most was that she would not get to honor him the way Dragonwall's citizens did. They had excluded her from the funeral and all its festivities, confining her to a cage. She wanted to be there when they set his body on fire, when he passed into the afterlife.

It was so unfair!

What was even more unfair was that she would be stuck in her cell for three days. Three long days until the grief period was over. Three long days of confinement in the darkness. She would save the batteries in her flashlight and only use it when absolutely necessary. Knowing what was to come left her anxious. Perhaps the cell was a better alternative than what she would soon face. She thought about the king. His voice was scary enough. What would he be like in person? A monster most likely, and for that, she was terrified.     

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