Hyden wrestled Shaella from her seat, and shoved her from the dragon’s back. She landed in an awkward heap, still clutching her staff as if it held the world in its crystal headpiece. As soon as she gained her feet, she began to cast a spell, but Claret’s big horned head, and toothy maw curled around, and loomed in the darkness beside her, reminding her of the reality of her situation. The casting of her spell stopped immediately. It was all Shaella could do to keep from retching from the sulfuric stench of the dragon’s hot breath. To her credit, she showed no fear whatsoever, only furious indignation over what she had let happen.
“I’ll ask you only once,” Hyden said down to her. “If you tell the truth, I’ll leave you to your fate. If you lie to me, then Claret here will gladly roast far more than the rest of the hair from your head. Am I being clear?”
Shaella didn’t respond. She turned, and glared at Claret’s huge, unblinking yellow eye. She knew that, through the link of the collar, the dragon could tell Hyden anything it knew. She cursed herself for carelessly sharing her feelings with the beast. Then, with a scrunched up face, she looked back up at her lover’s older brother.
Her face was tight, and dark with emotion, save for the pale scar that ran down the one cheek like a tear drop.
“Is he alive?” Hyden asked. “Did you betray him? Did he go into that dark place? Is he still alive?”
Having Hyden place the blame on her, caused her to stiffen, but his brotherly concern for Gerard softened her resolve more than just a little bit. If she truly loved Gerard, or what was once Gerard, then she couldn’t lie to his flesh and blood about what had happen to him.
“The Gerard you know is dead, but I love what he is now, no less than I loved him before.” Her answer was no lie, and through Claret, Hyden knew it.
“What has he become, then?” Hyden didn’t understand.
“Ask the dragon,” answered Shaella coldly. “Between my father’s insane magic, and the effects of the dragon’s yolk, what’s left of Gerard is barely alive, and trapped in the Nethers.”
She turned then, and strode stiffly off into the darkness, wiping the tears from her face as she went.
Hyden had to stop Claret from blasting her with dragon’s fire. He wasn’t sure if it was the tears she had shed, the look in her eyes, or the knowledge of the depth of her love for Gerard, but he felt in his heart, that she had been truthful, and he didn’t want to kill her.
She truly had, and still did, love his little brother. Part of Hyden wanted to kill her, and if Mikahl ever recovered from his injuries, he would probably never forgive him for not doing so. But what’s a Dragon Queen without a dragon? There would be time to deal with her later. He was about to be forced to seal his brother into a blackened void full of demon kind, evil spirits, and all other manner of dark things. If Mikahl couldn’t understand the show of compassion, then so be it. Gerard had loved Shaella. Through Claret’s memory he had seen the last moments of his brother’s life. His brother had loved her as well. How could he possibly kill her?
As Claret lifted back into flight, Hyden tried to clear the mess from his head. He knew what he had to do when they got to the Seal. If he could figure out how to dissolve the Night Shard into the carved symbols, he would have to do it. There was no sense in tormenting himself over it. With a deep sadness gnawing at his heart, he closed his eyes, and sought out Talon’s vision.
Outside of the city’s innermost wall, the wall that protected the palace itself, the city of Xwarda was a smoldering ruin. The moonlight, the wavering illumination from the scores of burning structures, and the thick smell of rotting corpses, lent the place a hellish air. The shrill, repetitive call of a wyvern, and the horrific pleas of a dying man only added to that sense. It was no place for the living, and every man who still drew breath, was doing his best to retreat to the pseudo safety of the castle grounds.
All along the top of the castle’s defensive wall, men raced to and fro. Archers held off the undead, while groups of exhausted soldiers retreated in from the city to the castle grounds. The Highwander Magi used fire, smoke, and a plethora of illusions to confuse the dark enemy, so that as many men as possible could get inside the gates.
The castle’s wall remained intact, but it didn’t give the feel of safety to those behind it anymore. Their final defensive fortification was the oldest, and least formidable of the three protective walls that ringed Whitten Loch and the palace. The other two walls had not just been breached, but had been pulverized – leveled in some places. Everyone knew that it was only a matter of time before this wall fell as well.
From above, Queen Willa surveyed the destruction. She slowly walked the circumference of the tower roof, trailing a hand idly along the tops of the crenels. To the south, the battle raged on. She could see the tiny glints of firelight reflected from the swords and armor in the streets, and along the alleyways, between the castle’s wall, and what was left of the secondary wall. Any minute, those men would get the order she had just given to retreat to the inner grounds. She hoped they lived long enough to find a way back in.