Chapter 17: Chapter Seventeen

Armaila’s mind reeled.

She lay in the stable against Shera, with several guards posted outside, trying to make sense of what had happened the night before. Why had Gregory killed Veral?

It was yet another bad dream she couldn’t wake from.

The dragon offered silent sympathy, and Armaila was glad she did not have to speak.

And Eric. How could she face him after his reaction? Surely a kiss on the cheek wasn’t that bad.

A soft knock came at the door and sweet smell filled the stables, blending oddly with the existing scents of hay and animal bones. Teryn appeared with a try of honey cakes and a sympathetic smile. “I heard you had a rough day,” he said.

Armaila nodded and took a cake.

Shera stretched her long neck and sniffed the tray tentatively before trying one. She used her large, rough tongue to select a single cake, and after deciding it was delicious, she licked the rest of the tray.

Teryn lost his grip on the metal and crashed to the floor. As he bent to pick it up, his sleeve brushed against the side of the stable and an old burn scar peeked out.

“Is that from your oven?” Armaila asked.

Teryn’s usual smile faded. “It happened when I was a boy.”

Another knock came and Eric stood in the open doorway. Armaila blushed and tried to stammer an apology, but he was clearly there on official business.

“King Theodore requests your presence. It is about the Legion encampment.”

She bid farewell to Teryn and followed after Eric with a brisk pace. He led her to the throne room, where the king was deep in conversation with the ravens.

“…something must be done,” her mother said.

“We can’t exhaust our forces on this,” one of the others replied with his voice raised.

Their debate was heated, but they fell silent as Armaila entered the room.

The king dismissed Eric and offered Armaila a seat beside him. “We’ve captured a Legion spy,” he said. “He was caught sneaking through the streets.”

“We are discussing whether or not to attack,” Mikayla added. “I believe we should act preemptively, before Azghar arrives.”

“Euler is right,” the king said. “Attacking now would leave us weak and vulnerable later.”

“Do you… wish for my opinion on the matter?” Armaila asked, confused as to why they had summoned her.

“This spy must be interrogated and he must remain alive. I need your magic to ensure that.”

Armaila’s stomach twisted. “I trained with Veral, but I’m not sure if my abilities are strong enough, Your Majesty.”

“Nonsense,” the king said. “Your mother has insisted on completing the interrogation herself, and you will accompany her.”

Armaila’s discomfort grew as she followed her mother to the dungeon. They walked in silence, with their footsteps echoing through the empty halls. The air was cold and putrid as they descending a flight of stairs leading to the darkest depths of the castle.

“What you’re about to see will be impossible to forget,” her mother said.

“Do you have to do this?”

“It is necessary.”

A middle-aged man of medium build and plain features was shackled to the wall. He was unremarkable, the perfect spy.

Not perfect enough, Armaila reminded herself.

“What is your name?” her mother asked. Her tone was cool and level, and Armaila knew it well.

The man spat.

Mikayla lowered her gaze to the pile of saliva a handbreadth from her shoes. “You have one chance to tell me everything.”

He cursed and Mikayla slapped his face. “Watch your tongue in the presence of a lady.”

“I would if I saw any.”

She pulled a knife from her belt and slice through the man’s tunic with little effort, letting the cloth fall from his body. She then proceeded to strip him of the rest of his clothes.

Armaila turned away.

“Humiliation is as effective as pain,” her mother said, and then she laughed at what Armaila could only guess was his manhood.

After refusing further questions, Mikayla held her knife against the lantern until hot and Armaila closed her eyes as screams filled the stale air.

“Tell me your name!”

“Tal.” Anger seethed in the man’s voice.

Mikayla scoffed. “See? Now we’re getting somewhere.” She put the blade against the flame again. “Why did Azghar send you?”

“I will tell you nothing more.”

More screams followed.

Armaila turned with morbid curiosity, and saw blood trickling from his abdomen, down his leg, and pooling at his feet. Within minutes, Tal’s body was covered in wounds and blood. “Do you have a family?” her mother whispered in his ear. “Do they want to see you again?”

Tal spit again. “I have no one.”

“Good.”

An extensive amount of metal hung from small pegs on the wall. There were many blades, dangerous and glistening, and tools Armaila couldn’t begin to name. Her mother selected a bone saw.

Tal gritted his teeth and tried to take the pain, but the blade had barely passed through skin and touched his bone when he cried out for it to stop.

“I’ll tell you everything, bloody fire and ash.”

“Why did Azghar send you?”

“I’m not here on orders from Azghar.” He spat blood, likely from biting his own tongue. “This war has cost lives on both sides and many wish to see it end.”

“What did they hope to accomplish by sending you here?”

Tal closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. “Stop the pain first.”

Mikayla produced a piece of clean linen and wrapped the ankle. “This will do until you tell me the rest of what you know.”

“When Azghar fled the continent centuries ago, his followers were loyal. But many were mortal men.” Tal stopped to cough again. From the amount of blood in his mouth, it was obvious he had bitten his tongue badly. “We have no personal stake in this fight, and we refuse to die for a madman.”

“Why not join forces with Erithor?”

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

Tal laughed, the sound little more than a gurgle through the blood and pain. “Your king is no better. He rules only to serve his own inflated ego.”

Mikayla paused. “What if we turn on Azghar together, and when the dust settles, we find new leadership?”

“I have a hard time allying myself with anyone who did this to me.” Tal glanced down at his naked, injured body.

“Armaila, mend him.”

She stepped forward with her gaze focused on the floor. After a deep breath, she recited words that she hoped would mend the deep cut on his ankle. The skin knitted together and she felt her own energy drop, but she pressed on the healed most of the injuries that remained.

“I’ve seen the full extent of Theodore’s corruption,” Mikayla said. “I would not shed a tear if he lost his crown.” She tossed the man’s trousers at him and undid one of the shackles so he could dress himself.

“That’s treason,” Armaila warned. She kept her voice low, expecting the king to be listening from the shadows.

Her mother ignored her. “How many are with you?”

“I am sure half would side with the cause to free Erithor.”

She considered Tal with cool eyes. “Isn’t that what Azghar claims he will do?”

Tal shook his head. “This would be different. We would have no king.”

“Anarchy would never work.”

“There has been talk of a new system, one in which the leader’s power is limited and he is held accountable to those below him.”

“Azghar is, at present, the greatest threat. What are your plans to remove him?”

Tal hesitated, deciding if his secret was worth the pain to keep. “I was sent to spy on the dragon and her rider in the hope we could sway them to our side.”

Mikayla extended her hand. “Two can accomplish more than one, yes?”

Tal made no motion to return the gesture. “My word is enough. If I can escape, I might be able to arrange a meeting with the leader of this cause.”

Mikayla nodded. “I’ll send a guard down to put you in your cell, for now. More will be discussed later.”

“The girl,” Tal said. “I will only go with her.”

“Absolutely not—”

Armaila stepped forward. “I will do it,” she said, “but my dragon will come too.”

Tal agree and her mother’s frowned deepened, but she didn’t object.

Armaila waited until the dungeon was behind them to speak about what had happened. “What were you doing?” she demanded, staring at her mother with a gaping mouth.

“He is a weak-minded fool and he told me everything I wanted to know. And now, we have a meeting with the man behind the conspiracy against Azghar.”

They returned to the throne room and Mikayla gave an update on the situation with the spy, including her promise of treason.

“Well done,” King Theodore said. “You acted wisely.”

Exhausted tugged on Armaila’s bones from using magic, but she forced herself to stay awake. The conversation turned to battle strategy and several of Thedore’s important captains joined them.

“We should position more men on the eastern wall,” the man called Euler asserted, pointing to the city map. “It’s our weakest point.”

“It would be more effective to place the dragon there,” another said. “That would allow us to put more men on front gates.”

We would be most effective on the southern wall, Shera remarked. The dragon had left her stables and stood below the nearby window, allowing her to communicate. The forest is thick and almost reaches the wall, with one breath it would be engulfed in flames.

Armaila voiced Shera’s observation to the king.

“That is an excellent point,” Theodore said, despite obvious opposition from several of the men. “However, once the forest has burned, placing Shera on the eastern wall is the best course of action.”

“What about the forests further from the walls?” Armaila asked.

“Shera would be too exposed to reach those during battle. If we cannot burn them while soldiers are inside, it is to our advantage for the forests to remain, since it will limit the directions they can bring siege engines and battering rams from. It will slow their progress.”

Should I lay heavy logs over the roads? Shera asked.

Theodore nodded as Armaila repeated the suggestion. “Complete this before dusk,” he said. “Then you will rest, and tomorrow Tal will escape.”

Armaila joined Shera and they flew high above the city to avoid the chance of arrows from angry citizens, and once they were over one of the roads leading into Normar, the dragon dove for the ground. She pushed against a tree until it gave way with a crash, covering the road, and completing the action several more times until it would be difficult to clear. Once that section was complete, they moved on to the other roads and smaller pathways surrounding the city.

This will slow them for a while, Armaila said. She could nearly taste pine sap in her own mouth, from the amount Shera had swallowed.

Shera grunted in response.

Armaila sensed several figures approaching. “We’ve got company.”

There wasn’t enough room for Shera to spread her wings, so Armaila climbed on and the dragon ran toward Normar where it opened into fields. She held tightly to the spikes on Shera’s back and let her mind melt into the dragon’s.

A group of townsfolk armed with swords and spears ran toward them from across the field, and they were nearing the forest just as Shera was almost to the field.

Just a little farther.

There was no way past the weapons into the field. With a roar, Shera jumped into the air, keeping his wings closely pressed again her body so they wouldn’t hit sweeping tree branches. Hot pain erupted from her neck as she sailed over the people, and drops of hot blood fell to the ground. She landed with her claws in the dirt, and without pause, extended her wings and took flight.

Those bloody idiots, Armaila seethed, her mind separating from the dragon’s. One of the spears had found its mark between her scales. This war is difficult enough without them attacking us.

The wound was shallow and Armaila mended the skin in the same way she had Tal’s, but it left her shaking an unable to walk more than a few paces without pausing to rest. She would have to be conscious of her energy when the real battled arrived.

She crashed into an exhausted heap on her bed.

It was dark when she woke, with King Theodore standing over her.

“It is time.”

Still dressed, Armaila rolled out of bed and tried to calm her wild hair while the king explained Tal’s escape plan. All guards were aware of the plan and some had special instructions for their role. Above all else, Tal had to believe she was willing to commit treason.

Shadows flickered and her footsteps echoed in the silence as she crept down the hall. She coughed and pressed the sleeve of her tunic to her nose as she descended into the dungeon

The key hung on a wall opposite the cells, which was the easy part. She motioned for Tal to remain quiet and led up the stairs and down the empty hall, turning quickly to reach the armory. From there, she took another key the king had provided her with and opened the entrance to the secret tunnel, then one she and Shera had traversed some time ago with Florine.

In places, Armaila saw scratches on the floor from Shera’s claws. The marks were covered under a thick layer of dust.

Armaila held her breath as they neared the end. There had to be a guard—Tal would be suspicious if there wasn’t. The swung the door opened and a young man pretended to be caught by surprise. She thrust her dagger underneath his arm, positioning herself so it looked as if the blade had driven into his chest.

“Hurry,” she hissed.

Shera waited on the outskirts of the forest, well-hidden by thick autumn foliage. Tal stopped in his tracks at the sight of her looming in the darkness, but he quickly regained his nerve and followed Armaila closer.

“There will be suspicious if we go directly to the camp,” he said. “I was supposed to rendezvous with them some distance east of here.”

Shera knelt and Armaila instructed Tal how to properly climb the dragon’s back. She mounted first, using Shera’s front leg to hoist herself up to the spot just below her neck. “Hold on,” she warned.

The ground passed quickly below, a dark blur of trees and moonbeams. “Which way?” Armaila yelled over her shoulder. Though she could easily communicate with Shera in the air, doing so with another human proved to be difficult.

Tal extended his hand eastward.

Shera flew close to the ground to lower the risk of being seen. Her scales, though dark, reflected glints of moonlight. The landscape was rough, an uninhabited series of hills and valleys with a road from Normar to Northford following the base of the mountain.

“Turn right,” Tal shouted.

Shera veered to the side.

“Here.”

Armaila scanned the surrounding area, but other than the usual forest animals, they were alone. Whoever Tal was supposed to meet was not close.

“This could be a trap.”

Tal smiled before slipping into the forest. “It could.”

He followed along the base of the mountain and disappeared into a valley further ahead. Should we follow? Shera asked.

Not yet.

If he didn’t maintain his end of the bargain, it would be relatively easy to find him again in an area with so few people.

To Armaila’s surprise, Tal returned some time later, in the company of three well-armed men. They wore the Legion’s classic gray cloaks and held themselves with an air of decided seriousness.

“We’ve met before,” Armaila said, inclining her head to the man with a scar. Vincent Ergath, the leader she had spoken with at Stonebrook. “I assume there is no need to introduce myself.”

Vincent smiled, and unnerving sight, and cast his gaze up at Shera. “I’ve heard enough about you both.”

“Tal claims you are willing to make a deal that is in the best interest of Erithor.”

“Yes.” He uttered a spell and a fire appeared between them, illuminating their small portion of the forest. “There will be three main waves when the battle begins. One from the east and one from the west, followed by a third and final assault mounted by my camp. I cannot control the first two.”

“If our goal is truly the same, why won’t you actively aid in defeating Azghar?”

“These are the terms.”

Armaila frowned and extended her hand.

“One more thing,” Vincent said. “Tell Gregory that his mother is on her way.”

“What business do you have with Gregory?”

“We had a deal, under orders from Azghar. Information about his mother was all it took for him to betray you.”

Armaila was not angry with Vincent. He was a man she didn’t trust, an enemy she had little more than a shaky alliance with.

Gregory.

Her anger burned hot as Shera winged her way back to Normar. Armaila did not see the king first to update him on the status of her mission, as she was supposed to—that could wait.

It was not difficult to find Gregory locked away in one of the back cells in the dungeon. He stared at her in shock and his mouth opened, but she did not let him speak.

“By the mountains, what were you thinking? You betrayed me—no, your kingdom—on a promise from a stranger?”

When she finished, her voice was raw from yelling and Gregory was in tears. Once, Armaila would have moved to comfort him, but those feelings were long gone.

“She abandoned me,” he said through quivering lips. “I had to know why.”

“You won’t get to meet her from this dungeon.”

His plan, Armaila realized, was to be liberated when Normar fell to Azghar.

She vowed not to let it happen.