Onxy Eyes: Chapter Two

If you’re new here and would like to read the previous chapters, click here.

Also, please note, I changed Drog’s name. It was too close to Drake. He is now called Tulak.

 

Chapter Two

 

Drake rode his horse, Cork, out of the gates of Glasderry. It was late afternoon and the sun was already low in the sky. The coldness of the Old One’s spell still lingered. Drake had never experienced anything like it before. The chill, thoughts of AyanaRynn, and his obsession with impersonating the valet consumed his thoughts on the journey.

It took him less than an hour to reach the Petal River. He slowed Cork to a stop in the middle of the wooden bridge that spanned the water and gazed up to his right. Fog Falls fell in a thin sheet down the side of the mossy green cliff. White clouds hid much of the lower half of the falls.

This was a sight he never missed, no matter how much of a hurry he was in. The beauty of the hard red rock and soft green moss, the sound of the water crashing down the side and pooling at the bottom, the coolness and spray on his face, and the fact that he was almost home.

It simply drew his full attention.

He had to force himself to nudge Cork onward. The horse’s hooves clopped slowly across the remainder of the bridge, and Drake inhaled one last refreshing breath.

When Cork’s hooves met soft dirt, Drake swung his attention back to the road.

A few miles later he reached his destination. Petal Fog was a tiny village of Lighters—adult Malaki that glowed. It consisted of a combination of cottages carved into the trunks of living trees and sod houses. Dusk had fallen and the glow of Malaki moving about the village looked like fireflies.

As Drake passed through the village, he returned the friendly waves of those he’d known in his childhood but held Cork to a trot, sending the message that he had no time to stop and chat. Princess Ayana’s life was at stake. And he’d dawdled long enough at the falls.

He shouldn’t have come at all, really. If he’d had Roose cast him a mask of the valet, he could be in the Aerial’s court right now, perhaps learning the fate of AyanaRynn. But should the Aerials return to Cloudbright and Drake need to go along, he would need real wings. Tulak would know how to get those.

But he didn’t want wings! Where were these thoughts coming from? Drake growled, frustrated with his desperation. He was a soldier. He didn’t like the way his mind was responding to the loss of the princess. He needed to stay focused. Do things right. He couldn’t afford to give in to emotional whims. He was coming to see Tulak to learn of a cold Old One, not crafting wings.

Tulaknamon lived on the far outskirts of town in a sod house that had been built into the side of a hill. The first hill in the foothills that started up the mountain to Aerial territory, actually, so that the house could be tall enough to house Tulak’s great height. Drake had come to live here as a boy, terrified to be so close to the Aerials and even more frightened when he saw the size of his new guardian. But Tulak and his home had quickly become a safe haven to that wide-eyed and frightened ten-year-old, who’d just lost his parents to Aerial thieves.

Drake took in the house in one nostalgic glance. The front window glowed softly, which told him that someone was home. He dismounted in front and left Cork to graze, then knocked on the door.

“He is in the garden.”

Drake looked up to see a black bird staring at him over the grassy ridge of the roof.

“Callinah,” Drake said. “It is good to see you.”

The bird chirped a song, then hopped back out of sight. “Dugbee, see who has come at last? The boy returns as a man. Foyledrake is home!”

“Just for a visit,” Drake said to the bird he could no longer see.

Callinah fluttered back to the grassy overhang. “A visit? But you’ve been gone so long. Why not come home to stay?”

“I cannot, dearest Callinah. The kingdom needs me, now more than ever. We are on the brink of war.”

The bird ruffled her feathers. “Belfaylinn is always on the brink of war.”

“Yes, well, I must speak with Tulak right—”

“And what about Dugbee?” A second, bigger bird hopped onto the roof’s overhang. His movements were slower than Callinah’s, and his feathers had grayed in spots. “Dugbee knows. It’s because the female prattles on that no one remembers poor Dugbee. But I am not dead yet, no. I am still here, forced to listen to her endless chatter day after day and night after night. For she never sleeps. Only talks and talks.”

Drake grinned. “It’s good to see you as well, Dugbee, though you do not fool me. You both talk more than any creature I’ve ever met.”

“Ffft.” The old bird’s chest feathers puffed up.

“Insults!” Callinah flew to Dugbee’s side. “Foyledrake returns with nothing but insults on his tongue. Oh, such manners he has picked up at court. He used to be so polite. Tulaknamon should never have let him go away.”

“My humblest pardons, dear friends,” Drake said, “but I must speak with Tulaknamon right away.” He bowed and followed the path that ran around the side of the cottage. It was almost dark now and he had to step carefully, even on the familiar ground. Two shadows fluttered overhead. The blackbirds were following.

As soon as he rounded the cottage, he could see Tulak’s glow as it lit the entire garden. The man who raised him was both Lighter and Old One. He was on his knees in the garden, weeding.

“Ho!” Drake yelled, continuing along the garden path.

Tulak looked up. Those eyes, like flaming torches, always made Drake’s heart skip a beat. He increased his speed, jogging now. He felt his lips stretch into a smile. How he’d missed this man. The birds had been correct in one thing. He shouldn’t have stayed away for so long.

By the time Drake wove past the garden gate, Tulak had gotten to his feet. Drake was struck by how the man had not changed in the past five years. Old Ones were immortal beings, but it always took Drake by surprise how very different they were from the rest of the Malaki. At just over ten feet tall, Tulak had a soldier’s build, though for as long as Drake had known him, he had dressed in the cotton shirts and overalls of a farmer. His face was square with a deep, hairy brow, ears the size of dinner plates, and a nose that hung off his face like a fat thumb. His skin was light brown—not as dark as Roose’s, but bronze, like the fur of a fox, which was also the color of his hair. He glowed from within—due to his being a Lighter—as if his heart was a star that his skin and clothing was not thick enough to dampen. As Drake drew nearer, he could feel the warmth and power radiating from Tulak’s body. It seemed to push the coldness of the spell remnants away. Maybe there was no cold Old One. Maybe he was just feeling a lingering chill of the ice doors the guards used in the dungeons.

Drake saluted Tulak in the traditional way to show his respect for the man who’d raised him. “Kavod, Tulak.”

“Kavod, my boy. Kavod. Are you well?” His voice always sounded like there were three of him. The sensation of such a voice vibrating through Drake’s chest was more like being home than standing in this place or in Tulak’s presence. It made Drake want to settle in and stay.

“I am in fine health, Tulak, though my lot has been lighter.” AyanaRynn’s face flashed in his mind.

“I sense your burden is heavy, indeed, and also… Are you sure of your health?”

“Completely. I feel great. Better now that I’m with you.”

Tulak frowned and rubbed his chin. “Will you come inside so we can talk about it?”

“Thank you, yes. I would like that.”

And so they started for the cottage, side by side. Drake wasn’t the tallest Malaki, but at Tulak’s side, he was a boy again, his head barely higher than the Old One’s belt. Tulak put his arm around Drake, perching his thumb on Drake’s shoulder. The pressure was heavier than any armor, and felt ten times safer.

“You are cold,” Tulak said.

“The long ride chilled me, but your presence is changing that quickly.”

A black streak swooped in and settled on Tulak’s hand that was resting on Drake’s shoulder.

“Don’t be so kind, Tulaknamon,” Callinah said. “He has neglected us for too long.”

“He is a grown man now,” Tulak said. “His allegiance is to his master, the king.”

Callinah cheeped and adjusted one wing. “We all have but one master, Tulak, and he is no earthly king.”

Drake did not want the conversation to steer toward the Maker and Drake’s lack of inner glow. “I am sorry I haven’t come to visit.”

“Or letters.” Callinah sidestepped until her feet were standing on Drake’s shoulder. She pecked softly as his cheek. “Did you hurt your hands? Is that why you stopped writing?”

“Give the boy a chance to sit down before interrogating him, Callinah.” Tulak shooed the blackbird away with his hand, and Callinah soared along the ground. Tulak opened the side door. Drake followed him inside and shut it quickly before Callinah was able to circle back.

Inside, the cottage smelled like soil, hickory, and bread, a combination that twisted Drake’s stomach with longing. Nothing had changed inside, either, though the cottage did not have immortality as its excuse. Drake took in the mud room with the stacks of pots and bags of seed. He followed Tulak down the hallway, running his fingers along the scrape he’d put on the wall when he’d been careless with his first sword. They passed by the closed doors to Tulak’s bedroom and Drake’s old room. And then they stepped into the front room. Again, nothing out of place. Same dirt floors. Tulak’s massive chair that was carved out of a fat lump of cedar and padded with moss, sitting where it had always been. The smaller, matching chair beside it. The roughhewn table under the front window. The crack in the windowpane. The braided cedar mat on the floor by the door. The river stone fireplace, the fire within the lone source of light in the room. The picture of Tulak and Drake that hung over the hearth.

Drake smiled at it, remembering one of the times Tulak had taken him to the human realm.

“Some things not even magic can do. And humans do photographs best,” Tulak had said.

“Care for some tea?” Tulak asked.

Drake looked up into those glowing eyes and smiled. “Yes, please. Thank you.” Manners seemed the best way to show his respect at this point, knowing he was going to ask something unpleasant.

Was he? Oh yes, the wings. But why would he ask about wings? He had been so set on it before, but now, here, in Tulak’s presence, the idea seemed ludicrous. There was something more important he needed to ask about. What was it?

Tulak, hunched over since he was too tall for any house, moved the kettle hook over the flames. “It has been a while.”

“I’m sorry. I’ve been . . . busy.”

“Protecting the princess. I heard you were promoted to Captain.”

“I should have written to tell you.”

“Yes, well, that’s why I keep the birds around. They are good company. And worthy spies.”

Drake smiled, wondering when Callinah and Dugbee had come to spy on him. “My promotion is part of the problem.”

Tulak settled into his chair. The nearness of his body produced a warmth greater than the fire. “How can a promotion be a problem? Please, have a seat.”

Drake sat down in his old chair. It was harder than he remembered. “Princess AyanaRynn has gone missing without a trace.”

“Has she? And she told you nothing?”

Drake shook his head.

“Did the two of you quarrel?”

“No.” But women were confusing, so he added, “Not that I know of. I had finally earned her, as the king commanded me. I’ve been captain of her guard now for five months. But since then I’ve not been able to get an audience with him so that he could make good on his promise. He would not see me. And then . . . First, did you know King Aelfric and his court have come to Glasderry?”

“For peace negotiations. I’m sure that will work out.”

Drake chuckled at Tulak’s sarcasm. “Yes, well, last night King FosterBrokk held a banquet. And there he announced that Anaya would marry Prince Suel.”

Tulak frowned. “That tiny-nosed peacock?”

“I’m afraid so. The price for peace between Aerials and Grounders is Ayana’s hand.”

“You’re sure she didn’t leave on her own once she found out what her father wanted?”

“I don’t think so. She packed nothing. And . . . she would have told me if she’d planned to leave. I’m sure of that much.”

Tulak got up from his chair and lifted the kettle off the hook. He carried it to the table and poured two mugs full, then added teabags. He glanced over his shoulder. “They blame you, don’t they? The king’s court.”

Drake looked back to the fire. “I don’t know. Kenneth thinks they will.”

“He is wise, for a human.”

“That’s why I keep him around.” He should ask about the wings—no, not that. There had been something else. He fought to recall it.

BayHawk! The coldness! He needed to tell Tulak about the Old One’s spell on the Aerial spy. Yet it took great effort for Drake to force out the question. “We caught an … A-Aerial spy trying to … cross… the border.” Drake gasped as pain spiked through his skull.

Tulak returned, bringing his warmth, and the pain faded from Drake’s head. Tulak handed Drake a mug. His old mug with the Disneyworld logo. Another thing Tulak said humans did well. Fun.

“How do you know he was a spy?” Tulak asked.

“Because, well …” How did he know? “He’s an Aerial.”

Tulak settled back onto his chair. “Come now, Drake. You know better than that.”

Yes, his comment had sounded prejudiced. Something was wrong. He could barely manage to speak the words he wanted to. He needed to tell Tulak about the spell. Find out if there were any cold Old Ones. That was why he’d come. Yet when he opened his mouth to speak, he said, “One of my men suggested we impersonate the Aerial. Send a spy back in his mask.” These words had been effortless.

Strange.

“You’re against the idea?” Tulak asked.

“No, it’s just that King Aelfric will be leaving soon. What if the mission lasts longer than King Aelfric’s visit in Glasderry?”

“Then your spy goes to Cloudbright.”

“Yes, but, they’re Aerials, Tulak. Should they fly, my man would be discovered.”

Tulak tipped back his head. “Ah, that’s a real danger. The illusion of wings would not make them work.”

“Exactly.” Drake paused, confused about his motive for coming here. He’d wanted to tell Tulak something about BayHawk. There was a spell of some kind. “Something … about … a … A spell!” Pain stabbed his mind again and he groaned.

“Foyledrake, are you well? I sense a wrongness here. Did someone cast a spell on you?”

A chill ran up Drake’s arms. The pain vanished. His mind was blank. “Me? No, I’m fine, Tulak. The road was long, that’s all. Um… You were asking about a spell.” Yes, that was it. The words came to him and he spoke with ease. “Is it possible to stonecast real wings onto a Grounder?”

Real wings? Why would he ask that? Why would any Grounder want wings?

“Many things are possible,” Tulak said quickly, “but that doesn’t make them right. Onyx spells are forbidden.”

Onyx? Had Drake asked about onyx? Every Malaki know onyx spells were dangerous. “Oh, I know that. But do you know why?”

“Onyx is Shapestone. It’s a dark thing. Forbidden by the kings and the Maker because the magic is destructive. It changes what is natural into something unnatural. And there is no reversing it. And unlike other forms of stonecasting, onyx requires a sacrifice.”

Drake frowned at that. “What kind of sacrifice?”

Tulak sighed and turned his glowing eyes on Drake. “I hesitate to share this information with you, boy. This magic is the darkest of its kind.”

Drake shivered, cold again. He leaned forward in his chair to be closer to the warmth of the fire. What had they been talking about? Flashes came to his mind. Blood seeping from BayHawk’s eyes. An Old One… a spell…

That’s right. The onyx spell. But if he was going to get Tulak to tell him how to stonecast wings, he had to convince the Old One that he would never try it. “I have no intention of stonecasting such a spell, Old One. My instincts tell me that the Aerial spy is not really an Aerial. That his wings are false. Yet I cannot prove it. There must be stonecasters who are capable of such magic.”

The lie flowed off his tongue like water from Fog Falls. Why had he lied? Drake had never lied to Tulak before.

The Old One eyed him warily. “Perhaps, though this prisoner of yours would have to be desperate to do so.”

“Can it really be that dangerous?”

“It requires a sacrifice, Foyledrake.”

A sacrifice. Drake shivered again. “A death?”

“A bond. Onyx spells are bonding spells. And one cannot cast the spell onto another. One can only cast a bonding spell on oneself.”

“Then why call it a sacrifice?”

“Because to cast such a spell, one must find a being that has what is sought. If one seeks wings, the sacrifice must have wings. The onyx—the Shapestone—will bond the caster to the sacrifice and the caster will take from the sacrifice that which is desired. But such magic eventually kills the sacrifice and often the caster as well. Be sure to question your prisoner well. If he has killed his sacrifice, he might not be with you much longer.”

Question the prisoner. But Drake couldn’t! He had bled. There was a different spell that—

“You would be wise to remember that selfishness always has a cost,” Tulak said.

Tulak’s words pulled Drake back to the onyx spell. There seemed to be much risk involved. Why did he even care? It was unlike him to even consider a difficult cast, let alone a forbidden one. “Selfishness? What do you mean?”

“When one uses magic to take from another and give to himself, there is a cost. It is why Grounders so treasure all living things. Do not forget who you are, AlstonFoyledrake.”

Drake looked at the mug in his hands, ashamed, yet he knew of no reason he should feel that way. Was Tulak accusing him of something?

It was time to leave. He had work to do. He stood. “I have to go.”

Tulak watched him, warily. He did not get up. “Remember who you are, AlstonFoyledrake. Fight for it.”

 

●          ●          ●

 

It was the middle of night when Drake made it back to Torcrann Castle. He fell into his bed in the barracks and slept almost instantly. In his dreams, AyanaRynn was there, waiting, a chain of wildflowers in her hair.

She sat on the edge of his bed. Are you coming for me, Drake?

I will always come for you.

You must get wings. You will need them to come to Cloudbright.

Is that where you are?

Please, Drake.

Ayana, I cannot. The spell requires onyx. Onyx spells are against Malaki law.

But you said you would do anything to protect me.

I would. I will!

They’re going to kill me, Drake. There isn’t much time. And AyanaRynn vanished.

Drake sat up in his bunk, teeth chattering. It was the dead of night and the blackness only made him feel colder. He pulled his blanket tightly around him, trying to get warm.

Tulak’s words came back to him then. “I sense a wrongness here. Did someone cast a spell on you?”

Someone must have. The signs were clear. The chill. The discord in his mind. The desire to break the law.

Drake was not a lawbreaker. He was steadfast. Obedient. True.

But AyanaRynn needed him. Unless the dream had been part of the spell…

Why would anyone cast a spell on him to get wings?

Because he’d be breaking the law. He’d be arrested. He’d lose his post. He’d lose AyanaRynn.

He should ask Roose to check him for spells.

“Captain?”

Drake jumped and looked toward the doorway. Kenneth stood there, fully dressed. “What’s happened?”

“The king has summoned you.”

“At this hour?”

“It is mid-morning, Captain. You came in so late, I figured I’d let you sleep.”

And then Drake noticed the daylight. But the dream had woken him only moments ago, he was certain.

Yet there stood Kenneth. And he could not argue with the daylight outside the windows.

“I’ll be out in a moment,” Drake said.

“Very well.” Kenneth turned and departed the room.

Drake was dressed in his clothes from yesterday—was even wearing his boots. He pulled off his shirt and pulled on a fresh one. Put his belt back on. Combed his fingers through his hair.

Good enough.

He left the barracks and headed for the castle. Now that the king’s daughter was missing, he finally wanted to talk with Drake. He still didn’t understand why the man had been ignoring him. Had he done something to offend the man? Drake entered the castle foyer where Kenneth was waiting.

“For what purpose have I been summoned?”

“You think the king shares his plans with a lowly freeman?” Kenneth said, walking beside him. “I know not, Captain, but I have a guess.”

Drake stopped at the bottom of the stairs that led to the throne room. “He means to question me about the investigation.”

“What will you say?”

“I don’t know. Did you learn anything in my absence?”

“Nothing new.”

Drake released a heavy sigh. “Very well, I shall go to the king. If I don’t return, Roose becomes captain. Remind him that I said he needs you.”

“I’m sure keeping me on will be his highest concern,” Kenneth said.

Drake gave the human a wry smile. “Just tell him.”

“You are overreacting,” Kenneth said. “He likely only wants a report on our progress.”

“Then I doubt he will be pleased with how little I have to share.” Drake turned and climbed the steps to the throne room.

The main tower of Torcrann Castle was carved in the center of a giant redwood. The stairs wrapped around the exterior of the trunk. Inside, each chamber was round, with arched doorways leading to bridges and neighboring tree chambers. The throne room was on the third level. As always, two guards stood sentry outside the throne room doors.

“The king summoned me,” Drake told them.

One of the guards nodded at the other, who opened the door for Drake. He stepped inside. WomBiel, the king’s herald, was standing just inside the door, holding a trumpet loosely in one hand. The throne room was round and smelled of silk, redwood, and roasted chicken. The walls were covered in tapestries that depicted the history of Glasderry. A red carpet cut across the center of the room from the entrance to the throne that sat on a dais built into the front arc of the room.

Four guards stood along the wall behind the throne, two on each side. The king sat on his throne, speaking softly to someone on his right. Oranmore.

That was new. King FosterBrokk abided the Old One’s presence because it was necessary, but he never let him in the throne room unless he was needed.

Why was Oranmore needed now?

“He’s been waiting all afternoon for you,” WomBiel said to Drake.

“I came the moment I received his summons.”

WomBiel lifted the trumpet to his lips and played three notes, two low, the last high and long.

The whispers at the end of the hall ceased and all faced turned toward Drake.

“Who has come forth?” the king asked, his voice soft in the distance.

With a slight of hand that Drake had been trained to spot, WomBiel slipped something from his pocket and held it to his throat. “I present to His Majestic Highness, AlstonFoyledrake, Captain of the Princess’s Royal Guard.”

The bauble must have held a diamond, because when WomBiel spoke, his voice was magnified for all to hear.

“Send him forward,” the king said.

Drake walked briskly up the long, red carpet, his eyes on his king. But those eyes no longer held the familiar affection they once had.

Something was wrong.

Drake bet that Oranmore was to blame for whatever it was.

He stopped at the bottom of the three steps that led to the dais and throne. He saluted. “Kavod, Your Highness.” Then he went down on one knee and bowed his head toward the floor.

“You may rise, Captain,” the king said.

Drake stood. Clasped his hands behind his back.

The king’s clothing was more lavish than he normally dressed for private meetings. He wore a suit of thin, white bark and a heavy robe of purple petals that cascaded into a pile at his feet. He clutched his staff as if he were currently using it. The staff held stripes of precious gemstones in various combinations to meet every need. He was currently clutching the section of inlaid pearls.

Did he expect that Drake might lie?

The king glared down on him. He had golden hair and a small nose, two traits he’d passed on to his daughter. But his eyes were the deepest brown. His pointed ears curled forward at the top, parting his long hair. He wore an emerald in the tip of one ear, a shard of turquoise in the other. Stones to protect his person from sudden magical attacks should his staff be taken. His brow was pinched today, as if Drake had someone displeased him personally.

Drake wasn’t used to such looks from the man.

“It has been brought to my attention,” the king said slowly, “that you have spent time with my daughter outside of your duties.”

Oh yes, something was very wrong. A chill gripped Drake and he shivered. Too many things were wrong.

“Well?” the king asked. “Is that not so?

“I have known your daughter since we were young, sire,” Drake said. “And you well know that we have been secretly engaged for the past five years.”

The king’s eyes flashed wide. “My daughter and a common captain? Preposterous! I would never have granted such a union.”

Drake’s chest tightened. “But you did, sire. You said that if I could rise through your ranks on my own effort to a position on your staff, you would give me AyanaRynn’s hand.”

“He lies, sire,” Oranmore said. “What could you possibly gain from such a bargain?”

Drake stared at the Old One, shocked that he had spoken at all. Oranmore had never dared do such a thing before. Why so bold now? “Your Highness,” Drake said, focusing on the king. “What does your Truthstone say? That I do not lie. I beg you to let us talk privately. This matter was arranged between the two of us.”

“Yet it takes three to make a legal oath,” Oranmore said.

“Legal, yes,” Drake said, “but the king and I are friends. And this was a friendly bargain.”

“The king friend to a commoner?” King FosterBrokk laughed. “Are you certain you are not my court jester, boy?”

Oranmore chuckled, which seemed to encourage the king, who laughed all the harder.

“Sire,” Drake said, “you are not yourself. I am AlstonFoyledrake, Captain of the Princess’s Guard. As such I have earned your daughter’s hand. Yet you betrayed our bargain by pledging her to our enemy.”

“I betrayed you?” the king boomed.

“See? It is as I said, Your Eminence,” Oranmore said.

The king expression darkened further. “Did you not abduct Princess AyanaRynn in a fit of jealous rage after her betrothal was announced?”

Drake lifted his chin. “I would never. Her safety is my utmost concern.” He should be looking for her now, not wasting time with Oranmore’s tricks.

The king glanced at his staff, moved his hands which indeed had been clutching the pearls.

“I am not lying, Your Highness,” Drake said. “I did not take the princess, nor do I know where she is.”

“King AelfricBillow is livid. He has given us until the blue moon to marry Princess AyanaRynn to his son. If you fail to find her, your selfishness will bring us to war with the Aerials. And I will have you hanged.”

Drake sucked in a short breath. “But, sire!”

“For your sake, I hope that when we meet again my daughter stands beside you.”

“Sire, I—”

“Dismissed, Captain.”

Drake stifled any retort, glanced at Oranmore, who was looking quite smug, then turned and stormed from the throne room.

The king was not himself.

Drake practically ran down the steps circling the tower. He didn’t understand any of this. King FosterBrokk had always treated Drake like a son. Yet, today he had disdained him. Claimed to know nothing of their agreement regarding AyanaRynn. And Oranmore had stood as his side, reveling in it all.

Had Oranmore cast a spell on the king? Or perhaps the Aerials had done so. Could Oranmore be working with the Aerials? Old Ones tended to remain loyal to one king, but perhaps Oranmore had a motive to betray the Grounders.

Drake reached the ground and passed through the foyer, heading for his barracks. The blue moon was only a month away. Drake didn’t have much time to find Ayana. And his only clue lay with the Aerial spy.

He’d have to question him again.

Or he could stonecast himself some wings and take the mask of the valet.

But Tulak had warned against it. It was not safe. It was illegal.

It might kill him.

But he’d die anyway if he didn’t find Ayana. He had to do what he could to bring her back. And she had come to him last night and pleaded for him to get wings.

He needed wings to save her. He could deal with the consequences later.

And there might not be any. Finding Ayana would make him a hero.

If he was going to do this, he needed to find a sacrifice. But who? The Aerial prisoner? He couldn’t risk that. Keeping the man in prison might upset the Aerial king further. Too many guards had seen the man come in. Drake wouldn’t be able to convince them all to be silent about his arrest. King Aelfric likely knew already.

Some other winged creature, then. A bird? No. Aerial wings weren’t feathered. Perhaps a butterfly or a dragonfly.

He sucked in a sharp breath.

Or a dragon.

There were dozens of caves on the cliffs of Sleevmor Mountain. Most dragons were small enough that their wings would look just right on a full-grown Malaki.

A dragon, then. Drake would send Og to abduct Prince Suel’s valet. And he and Roose would go to the caves. If all went well, he’d have wings and be wearing a mask of the valet by morning.

Or he’d be dead.

All he knew was he had to try.

For AyanaRynn.

For the Grounder kingdom.

And, very likely, for his own demise.

 

 

End of chapter

 

Thanks for reading!

Again, my chapter got away from me. (Typical seat-of-the-pants style writing.) I had intended to end this chapter with Drake going to visit the dragon. Do you think that scene is important? Or would it be better at this point to skip some weeks and have Drake show up outside Kaitlyn’s house? Where do you think the story should go?

 

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Chapter three will be posted next Friday on January 24. But it’s up to you to tell me what I’m writing about this time. If you liked this chapter and want to read more, please share this post using the buttons below. Thank you!