Kastali Dun

Claire couldn't see her captor. She strained her gaze, but King Talon paced just out of sight. His footfalls were heavy. With each one her anxiety grew. She tried to anticipate his next move, but he was as unpredictable as a rabid dog. Worse still, she was helpless to fight back.

Restraints cut into her skin, harsh and insistent, gnawing at her, reminding her that King Talon's control was absolute. The smell of aged blood was pungent and rotten. It made her queasy. All around her, dim torchlight cast an orange essence upon moldering walls, throwing up monstrous shadows from medieval devices. The chamber itself whispered to her, tortured like the souls who'd come and gone. It was meant for a single purpose, to break the spirit and shatter the soul.

She wanted to be brave. She wanted to be strong and fearless. Those were the marks of a true heroine. Instead, she was a terrified girl sinking in quicksand, weighed down by the irons of her captivity. Cyrus should have chosen better.

A heroine is not born, she is made...

A sudden silence fell. The king's pacing had stopped. Her muscles tensed and her fear redoubled. She craned her head around and caught a movement in the corner of her eye. All too quickly, he came up beside her. She flinched at the sight of him.

"Relax. I am going to remove your gag." He no longer sounded like a snarling beast. His voice was composed and quiet as if nothing had happened, as if his blade had never kissed her throat, as if the guards never dragged her from her cell. Without waiting for permission, he reached behind her head and untied the rope, tossing it aside. Then he stepped out of view.

She moved her jaw from side to side, trying to relax the muscles of her mouth. More sounds came from behind. King Talon was picking something up. She heard metal graze the stone wall. A tool perhaps? Something to cause pain? A fresh wave of panic flooded her system. As quickly as he disappeared, the king reappeared holding the weapon of Cyrus's demise—the Vodar short sword. She exhaled.

"You are lucky to have earned Reyr's good grace," he said. "I do not think you deserve it, but he gives it nonetheless. Luckier still, I owe him a favor. Since you refused to explain this during your trial, we will start here." He gave her a stern glare as if the trial was her fault. "Tell me how you came by this sword."

She wanted to tell him to shove the sword up where the sun didn't shine, but the fight in her was gone. "I pulled it from Cyrus minutes before he died." Her throat was so raw that she could barely talk.

"And how did it come to be there?"

"A group of Vodar wraiths stabbed him with it." It was the first time in weeks she could finally speak their name—that alone was liberating.

"The Vodar?" His eyebrows drew together, pulling the scars on his forehead tight. "Were these the same Vodar wraiths who attacked you on the plains of Kengr?"

"Yes," she whispered. If he was surprised, it didn't show.

He studied it anew, as if seeing it for the first time. His scowl deepened. "You were wounded during that attack, yes?" He looked up at her. Surely by now he knew every detail of her journey. She nodded. "I am told that your skin blackened until you were healed by the Sprites."

"That's correct. The same thing happened to Cyrus's skin when he was injured."

"And he died within minutes of being stabbed?" He appeared skeptical. "Poison does not spread that quickly for a Drengr—his magic would have held it. I saw his body. His entire upper half was black as tar."

"Because the Vodar attacked twice." She knew what was happening here. Talon was attempting to find flaws in her story. "The first attack was seven days prior to the second. If you let me explain, I can start at the beginning."

Having patience was a true test, especially after nearly being killed just a few minutes ago. Her fear kept her tongue in line, but it did not heal her hatred, it only magnified it. She wanted so badly to see him suffer, to snarl at him, spit at him, treat his ignorance with scorn. Instead, she kept her voice calm.

It takes grace to remain kind in cruel circumstances.

"Very well. You may start from the beginning." He moved away to set the sword against the wall before returning. "Leave nothing out. And"—he gave her a look of warning—"do not lie or I shall know."

She wasn't interested in lying. Starting with Cyrus falling from the sky, she described exactly what she saw. "When I went after him, I thought I was going to find a dragon. Instead I found a man who was wounded and bleeding to death."

"You helped him?" There was a flash of something in his eyes but it disappeared.

"I am not the villain you believe me to be."

He grunted. "We will see about that. What happened after?"

"I saved his life."

"You used magic?"

"No, I can't do magic. I stitched him up and stopped the bleeding." Her mind returned to the scene. It was a wonder she managed to stay conscious with all that blood. The king began pacing beside her. She did not allow it to distract her as she continued with her retelling. She told him about the belongings she found with Cyrus, and how she went through them to find clues about who he was.

"I should have known something was up when I saw the Dragon Stones." The words were out before she realized what she was saying.

At the mention of the Dragon Stones, the king froze. He turned slowly until he faced her. "What did you say?"

She swallowed. "I—I said that I should have—"

"I know what you said," he hissed. "Where are they?"

"If you let me finish, I can explain."

In a flourish of movement he bent over the rack, placing a hand on each side of her head. His face hovered over hers, too close for comfort. "I promised Reyr I would not hurt you, but if you do not tell me where the Stones are, so help me..."

"I—I have them," she squeaked, afraid to aggravate him further.

"Where?" His expression relaxed a measure before he stood and moved away.

"In my cell, buried in the dirt under my blanket."

He moved away and turned his back on her for several moments to give Reyr a silent command. "Reyr, go to Claire's cell. She claims the Dragon Stones are buried in the dirt under her blanket."

"The Dragon Stones?! She cannot have them. We asked her. She—she..." It was the sound of someone betrayed. Her heart squeezed. She had wanted to tell him, she'd wanted to tell all of them from the start, but her promise wouldn't allow it. "I will go and check."

King Talon faced her once more, his expression set. "I have sent Reyr to confirm your claim. I hope for your sake they are there."

"You hope? For my sake? Do not deny it, you would like nothing more than to kill me. I doubt you hope at all. If anything, you hope they are not there so you can finish what you started."

He rounded on her. "Would you like your gag back?"

She bit her tongue to keep from saying anything else.

Minutes passed. Finally she picked out Reyr's voice from the many others in her mind. "Talon! They are here. I can hardly....There are two. One black and one gold."

"Thank the gods!" There was relief in the king's voice, but when he next spoke he gave her coldness. "It seems you were telling the truth after all."

No thanks to be had. She'd faithfully protected the Stones, ferrying them across Dragonwall. In return, she received his scorn.

"I do not know if I should be relieved or furious. You allowed all of us to believe the Stones were lost, that we were doomed."

"May I finish my story now?" She spoke through clenched teeth.

"Fine! Get on with it."

"Gladly," she muttered. "Cyrus stayed with me for seven days before the Vodar returned a second time. During that time, he learned to trust me. He told me everything."

"Everything?"

"Yes, everything. And before he died, when he believed no one would come, he made me Promise to tell you everything. You and no one else."

"So you made an Unbreakable Promise?"

"His choice, not mine. Believe me, I wanted nothing to do with you or the stupid Dragon Stones by that point. Cyrus was dying in my arms, so I couldn't deny him what he begged of me. Plus, I owed him a favor..."

The king nodded.

It was finally time to fulfill the Promise. "As you know, everything started with Saffra's vision. Unfortunately, you sent Cyrus on a mission that was doomed from the start. When he got the Stones from the Sprites, he was ambushed. That was the plan all along. Why do you think Saffra had that vision?"

King Talon opened and closed his mouth. "The thief manipulated us? He led us to believe the Stones were in danger so that we would remove them from the Sprite's protection."

"Bingo!" Her voice rang of sarcasm. It didn't take a genius to put those pieces together.

"What—what happened when he was ambushed?"

"Kane tried to take the Stones. They fought each other and Cyrus broke into his mind."

"Kane?"

"Kane is the Asarlaí who planted the vision," she said, telling him about Kane's plan to capture all five Dragon Stones to end the Drengr monarchy. He already had three stones, a fact King Talon was shocked to discover.

"But if he has three, and he nearly had the other two..."

"You would have been screwed. It's a good thing Cyrus protected them. A good thing I protected them."

There was no more anger in King Talon's face. In fact, even in the dim torchlight, he looked rather pale. The more she told him, the better she felt. As if an invisible string had been wrapped tightly around her like a snake and the more she told him, the looser it got. "Did Reyr talk to you about the wild dragon attack on Belnesse?" she asked, knowing he had.

King Talon stopped his pacing to look at her. "Let me guess—Kane's orders?"

"Yep."

"But wild dragons hate humans, you cannot expect me to believe they would take orders from one."

She rolled her eyes. "First, Kane isn't human, he's an Asarlaí. Second, before two weeks ago, wild dragons didn't exist. I think it's safe to say it's time to start believing in the impossible. If I can do it, you can."

"Yes, but—"

"Oh, and don't forget about the Gobelins."

His scowl deepened. "We beat them into submission years ago during the Gobelin wars, but they have been popping up in small raiding parties all along the eastern villages."

"Figured it out, have you? Kane has hordes of them under his command, ready to strike."

"To the east? How do you know all of this?"

She grunted. "You really aren't paying attention, are you? Cyrus saw it all in his mind."

"But we cannot defeat dragons, Gobelins, and a sorcerer all at once."

"Guess you'll have to give up the throne then." Her sarcasm had zero effect on him. Maybe he was having a tough time digesting everything. "Oh, and don't forget about the Vodar. There's a reason they attacked us on the planes."

"He's trying to do everything in his power to get the last two stones."

"Yes, and that includes infiltration. How well do you trust those around you, your lower council, for example?"

"Everyone on my council is trustworthy. They've held their positions long enough to prove themselves."

She barked a laugh. He really had absolutely no idea. She could have simply told him, but she didn't feel like making it easy. "Do your really trust them? All of them? Would you bet your life on it?"

His eyes narrowed. "Tell me what you know."

"I know there's a very good reason your council insisted on my immediate death. There's also a good reason they were so eager to pronounce me guilty."

"They mistrust you, same as I."

"Nice try, but no. Have you ever heard of a Nask?"

"Nask?" He frowned. She waited, though her impatience was growing. "The name sounds familiar. I believe I came across it somewhere, the library perhaps. In the days of the Asarlaí, Nasks were used to carry out secret business. They were easily possessed, easily manipulated. The Asarlaí used them exclusively to do their dirty work. Are you suggesting...no, it couldn't be." He shook his head. It finally hit him. She watched his demeanor change. The same crazed fury was morphing back into him. This time she was glad that it wasn't directed at her.

His eyes turned into flashing orbs of silver. His jaw clenched. His mouth curled into a sneer. Small black iridescent flecks of dragon scales seemed to appear and disappear on his skin. Was he holding back the urge to transform? For a moment she forgot to be scared. She forgot to hate him. Instead she watched with utter fascination.

"Who? Who are they?" he growled. "Those who have betrayed me. What are their names?"

"Um..." She had said their names so many times—every morning when she woke and each night before sleeping, just as she'd promised. But now she was momentarily stunned. "Um. I have them."

"Well?"

"Stefan Rosen and—and Euen Doyle." The moment the names were out, her skin began tingling. The sensation started at her nose and ears and worked its way down through her fingertips until it reached her toes. It was strange, like being doused in cold water without feeling wet. The invisible bonds holding her to the Unbreakable Promise loosened and disappeared.

A gasp escaped her lips. She was free! It was over.

She looked at the king. He wasn't taking the news well. His breathing had heightened. There were beads of sweat on his brow. The same strange thing was happening to his skin. It appeared as though he was about to transform into a dragon.

Several things happened at once. Finally losing control, the king opened his mouth and roared. But it wasn't the roar of a man, it was the roar of a dragon. His head started to change, scales appeared across his skin. At the same time, Reyr burst into the room and was now trying to calm him down. All the while, Reyr shouted telepathic commands to Bedelth, Koldis, Jovari, and Verath. The four of them took no time to reach the room. They managed to calm their king before he destroyed half the dungeons. Dragons were not meant for small spaces.

"There now," Reyr said, resting his hand on King Talon's shoulder. "Control yourself."

"We have been betrayed," he snarled through his heavy breathing. "Bring Stefan Rosen and Euen Doyle." His Shields blinked several times. They were surprised but they obeyed his orders. Reyr stayed, keeping a hand upon the king's shoulder. Koldis was the last to move away. Just as he turned to leave, he spotted her.

His eyes widened, seeing her tied to a torture device. Clearly none of King Talon's Shields except perhaps Reyr had any idea what transpired. "Gods above!" he cursed. "Claire?" He rushed to her instead of leaving with the others.

"Hi Koldis," she whispered, giving him a weak smile. He attacked her restraints with his hands, undoing the ties on the cuffs, freeing her wrists and ankles. He was gentle as he helped her from the table.

She was immediately overcome with emotion. This was the same Drengr who had tried to kill her at the onset of their meeting. He'd shown hostility towards her for much of their journey, hating her for a crime she never committed. But clearly she had changed his mind, winning him over little by little. The Koldis fretting over her was nothing like the Koldis she'd met. His kindness and concern was too much to handle.

She broke down in tears. All of the fear, terror, hopelessness, and despair, everything she had felt over the last few hours came crashing down at her. Her adrenaline was gone, leaving her weak and shaky. Even as she tried to stand, she faltered. But Koldis was there to steady her. When he saw what a wreck she was, his arms wrapped around her. He tucked her head beneath his chin, comforting her. It was an invaluable gesture of friendship and concern.

"Can you stand?" he asked when her short bout of crying subsided. She nodded into his chest. He backed away to arm's length distance, still offering her support until she steadied herself.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"Koldis, where are you?" Jovari's demand blasted through her mind. "A little help would be nice! This wretch is putting up a fight."

"It seems I am needed elsewhere," he said before giving her an apologetic look. "Will you be all right here?" He glanced around, fully aware of the discomforting environment they were in.

She nodded. "Go, I'll be fine."

Before bolting off, he gave her a brief smile. She glanced over at the king and Reyr. They were too worked up to notice her. Both were discussing Kane. Based on Reyr's current reaction, he was taking the news the way the king had. His face was pale and his eyes worried.

Unsure of what to do with herself, she stood motionless and waited, hugging herself. Her exit might have gone unnoticed, but where would she go with guards everywhere? There was no point in running now.

Several shouts of protest captured their attention. King Talon and Reyr fell silent. The cries echoed down the corridor, filtering in through the open door. The king squared his shoulders and stepped into the shadows, making himself invisible.

Reyr remained motionless for several moments before coming over to her. He was upset with her and it showed with his clenched jaw. How long would it take him to forgive her for hiding the Dragon Stones? "It may be best if you wait outside," he said. His voice was flat. The way he looked at her made her heart constrict.

"I—I'd rather stay. Cyrus died in my arms. I held him during his last moments. I may not have known him the way you did, but I deserve justice too."

Reyr's jaw muscles flexed several times before he nodded and moved away.

The shouting in the corridor increased and the traitors were brought into the room. The light was poor, but there was enough to make out their faces. Yes, she remembered seeing these two men during the trial. They glanced around with unseeing eyes that had not yet adjusted to the low light.

"I demand you release us, my lords! I demand it at once!" one of them shouted. "There has been a mistake."

"Wait until the king hears of this!" the other cried.

They did not yet know the king was present, and when their gazes fell upon her, their mouths closed. Kane may not have known how much information Cyrus gained, but seeing her was enough to scare them. The king took that moment to step in the light.

"Your king has heard of this." His voice penetrated everything in the chamber. "It was your king who gave the command that brought you here." They began shaking in earnest. Part of her felt sorry for them. She had gone through the same kind of terror only a short while before. Yet it was because of these men, and because of Kane, that she had gone through it at all. There was no question, they deserved what was coming.

"Please, Your Grace." One of them fell to his knees. Bedelth and Verath pulled him to his feet, keeping a tight hold on his fleshy arms. They both began babbling, begging for mercy, pleading for forgiveness.

"Silence," King Talon hissed. He stepped up to face the man on the left, dressed in fine clothes with a jewelry-like cloak fastener. "Stefan Rosen," King Talon said, "just weeks ago you insisted I marry your daughter. You convinced the lower council that my death would leave the kingdom without an heir. You have tried to weasel your way into my household the same way you weaseled yourself into my kingdom." The man's gaze widened. "Oh yes, I know all about your start, of how you gained your wife's titles when she died. I never considered it worrisome at the time. That was my mistake."

Stefan Rosen began stuttering. "My—my daughter is innocent, my king. Innocent!"

"You mean to say that she is not a worthless traitor like you?"

"No! No, my king. No! That is to say, I am not, I did not—"

"Not what?" the king roared. "Not a traitor?"

"No! No, my king!"

"You would lie before your king! You would deny Kane's hold upon you?" At the mention of Kane's name, both men crumbled. They were already trembling. "You are both Nasks! You both spent your time whispering to the lower council, planting seeds of doubt within their hearts about my rule. Do not think I haven't noticed. No. It all makes sense now!"

"Please, Your Grace. Mercy!" Stefan Rosen cried.

Suddenly, the other man loudly gasped. They all turned to look at him. It was a painful choking noise that sounded like he was suffocating. His face contorted and his eyes glowed bright red. Then he began to laugh. It was a sick, twisted cackle. It left the hairs of her arms on end.

"How it pleases me to see you suffer at the hands of my work, King Talon." Euen Doyle's voice was strange and hissing. "Give me the Stones and I will show your kingdom mercy."

"Kane!" King Talon moved away from Stefan Rosen to face Euen Doyle.

"Yes, yes. You have found me out. My failure to kill Cyrus's little messenger has put a kink in my plans. The Vodar paid dearly for that mistake." Euen looked directly at her with Kane's eyes, the same eyes she had seen in many dreams. "Mark my words you pretty little wretch. You will pay for your interference. You should have stayed in that disgusting rat hole of a magicless world where you came from."

Her heart raced. It was only a threat. He couldn't touch her, right?

"How dare you address her," the king roared. "How dare you show yourself here! The Stones will never be yours."

Kane began to laugh again. "I do hope you reconsider. I would hate to destroy your precious kingdom. What will I have left to rule after I rip your heart out?"

"You will never succeed," the king cried. In a flourish of movement, he produced his dagger and thrust it into Euen's belly. The man cried out in pain, doubling over. Kane's red eyes disappeared the instant the blade struck him.

It was like watching a horror movie unfold before her eyes. She began breathing very hard, finding it difficult to get enough air. Her vision was darkening but she strained her gaze.

A new laugh rang out. "I do hope you are prepared for a good fight, dear king. I hope you are prepared to watch your legacy crumble. I will wipe out village after village. I will take numerous lives. There will be nothing left for you to rule. Give. Me. The. Stones!" This time Kane possessed Stefan Rosen.

Enraged, King Talon lunged again, stabbing him the same way he'd done with Euen. Kane vanished. Both men were left howling in pain, held erect by the King's Shields. King Talon continued his onslaught now that he had succumbed to his madness. He began sliding his blade across parts of their exposed skin, drawing blood, feeding them agony.

Their cries echoed in her mind. But that wasn't what made her weak now. Kane was going to continue hunting her. He was going to try to kill her for this.

She couldn't breathe. Her heart pounded, blood rushed past her ears, and her head was light. The world around her began to spin like a Tilt-A-Whirl. Blood was everywhere, so much blood, all over the floor, oozing from the traitors' wounds. She hated blood. She tried to take deep breaths, fighting the overwhelming dizziness. Then her vision blackened completely. The last sensation she felt was the hard ground smacking her cheek, then everything vanished.

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