Know Your Place

Talor kept his hands pressed over his brother’s ears to protect his innocence. He’d long ago accepted that their mother no longer loved them, but Malor didn’t need to know that.

“Damned demon spawn are more trouble than they’re worth.” The woman who crouched at the end of the stairs like a bulbous, dirt-smeared gargoyle spit into the street and cleared her throat with a hacking, wet cough. Her audience, an older man wearing a sneer that did uncomfortable things to Talor’s insides, chortled low and deep in his throat, sounding more like a frog than a man.

“You think you’re going to be able to sell them now? They’re practically grown, but too damn scrawny to do any real work,” he said.

“Aye. I know,” she replied in a weary voice. “I should’ve just done like my pa said and tossed ‘em in the river as babes. I was too damn sentimental then. Now I’ve got two more mouths to feed and a third on the way. I can’t afford to be coddling these curses anymore.”

“Can’t think of a single soul who’d want to take them on. What with being hells touched and all.”

“Some idiot merchant will want cheap labour. If they ain’t gone by the end of the day, I’ll just send them off on their own. Already out enough money thanks to them.”

“You know that won’t get rid of the curse, aye? It’s yours until they leave by choice or by coin.”

“Oh, I can make them choose to leave. You’ll see.”

Talor glared at the back of the woman’s head.

It wasn’t fair that he could look at those red curls and remember playing with them as a toddler, wrapped up in a world of fire and laughter. It wasn’t fair that the voice that now scorned his very existence had once cooed sweet songs to him and his brother as they lay in the warm security of their own beds. It wasn’t fair that he could remember her smile, her laugh, her gentle touch, and know that nothing he did would ever bring back the person he’d loved with all his heart.

Everything had been fine until she’d gotten pregnant again. As soon as she realized she could have more children than just her two demon spawn, all that sweet care and motherly love had evaporated.

Talor hated his siblings. Despised them with a fury that would have ignited the whole town if he had an ounce of magical potential. Hated them even more because Malor still loved them and their mother, so Talor had to hate them all for both of them.

“Hello,” said a soft voice by his ear.

Talor bit down hard on his tongue to keep from jumping. Blood, sweet and metallic, tickled the roof of his mouth. He turned his glare, now flavoured with hurt, on the new intruder.

The woman was as young as he remembered his mother once being. She had a soft face and wide, bright gold eyes. Eyes the colour of newly minted coins, but with a light that shouldn’t have lingered in the shadows of the red brick hovel he called home. She smiled at him with those glowing eyes and extended a hand through the bars of the bannister at the top of the stairs.

“My name is Mystic. What’s yours?”

“Go away,” Talor spat.

The woman withdrew her hand. The smile vanished from her eyes and from her soft lips, unspoiled by the sun.

“I apologize if I was intruding. I just wanted to inquire as to why it looks like your mother is trying to sell you.”

“Because she is. Are you stupid? That’s what you do when you’ve been cursed with demon children.” The venom in Talor’s voice should have been enough to melt the woman’s pretty face off. Instead, her frown deepened.

“Hello,” Malor said, his voice a little too loud thanks to Talor’s guardianship over his ears. He stuck his hands through the bars and caught up the woman’s hand where it hovered before her. “I’m Malor. What’s your name?”

“Tsh. Stop that,” Talor snapped, giving his brother a nudge.

“What?” Malor demanded.

“Demon children?” The woman asked at the same time.

Malor batted at his brother’s hands, dislodging them from his ears. He raked a hand through his flame-red hair before turning a smile as bright as daylight on Mystic.

“Oh. Yeah. On account of our hair and us being twins. What’s your name?”

“Mystic,” she said distractedly. Then to Talor, “Is that true?”

“True or not, the idiots in this town believe it,” Talor retorted with a shrug. “Look, unless you’re willing to put in an offer on me and my brother here, I’m going to have to ask you to shove off. Mam doesn’t want us talking to anyone.”

“On account of us being demon children,” Malor quipped cheerfully.

“Not that anything you offer means a damn. Malor and I are going to run off and start our own trading business.”

“We’re going to be pirates! The best the world over.”

Talor rolled his eyes.

The woman laughed. It was a musical sound. Light and airy and somehow grounded. When she smiled, the light filled her eyes again.

“Well, I wouldn’t want to get in the way of such incredible dreams. Will you be running away tonight then?”

“Oh. No. Not until mam sells us,” Malor supplied before Talor could stop him. “On account of the curse stays with the family unless we leave by choice or by coin, and we can’t leave by choice until we’ve got some savings. Right now we’ve got a whole two gold.”

“That’s quite a lot,” the woman said gravely.

Talor heard the mockery in her tone. She disguised it well, what with that serious smile and nod to his brother, but Talor was no fool.

“We’re going to do it. We just need some more time,” he said.

The woman’s attention slid past him to the man talking to his mother. The man had not, despite all hopes, taken his leave just yet. In fact, he was eyeing them up with far too much curiousity.

“Oy! You! Away from my boys,” Talor’s mother hollered. She stood, her squat, hunched body folding over itself until she looked ready to run at them on all fours. She lifted one knobbly knuckle and pointed it in Mystic’s direction. “Unless you’re here to pay, get you gone.”

“My apologies, ma’am. I didn’t mean to intrude,” Mystic said.

There was that smile again, though it appeared more like a grimace when directed at his mother. When she turned her attention back on them, Talor seethed at the pity in her eyes.

“I should be on my way then,” she said.

“Yes, you should,” Talor said.

“Okay, bye! It was nice meeting you,” Malor chirped. Without prompting, he lifted Talor’s hands and placed them over his ears again.

Talor watched the woman’s retreat. She kept looking back at them over her shoulder as she went. Though the shadows tried to cling to her, keeping her close to the edge of the buildings, they could never latch on as they did with everyone else around her. Soon she met with a man who did not stick out from his surroundings. He was like steel and ice to her fire, drawing in the shadows as much as she threw them off. At least with his dark hair and tan complexion, he looked like he belonged among the local residents. When he stared at Talor, the man’s ocean blue eyes bore straight through him.

“Give me a day. If they’re still around, I’ll get you the coin,” the greasy man speaking to their mother said.

Ice flared through Talor’s veins, freezing him from fingertips to toes despite the humid summer air.

“Aye. It’s a deal then. If no one better comes along,” his mother said.

The greasy man gave them one more lingering leer before turning around to walk away. His mother didn’t even have the decency to look at them after selling their futures. If anything, from the set of her shoulders and lift of her head, she looked relieved.

Talor didn’t have long to mull over this new source of hatred for his birth giver. His mind was overcome with confusion, and then curiousity, as the golden woman and her companion approached the bottom steps.

“Hello, ma’am. I understand you have children for sale. I would like to buy them,” Mystic said.

“Too bad. They’re already sold,” his mother spat.

“Now I know that’s not true. He won’t have the coin until tomorrow. I’m offering coin now. I’ll even go higher than his offer. Five gold.”

“Ten.”

“You accepted his offer of three.”

“How would you know that?”

“I’ve been listening, obviously. You weren’t exactly being subtle in your discussion.”

Their mother grunted, and for the first time in a long time, Talor felt hope swelling his heart. He hated the idea of being sold in general, but anyone other than that foul beast of a man was an improvement. This woman would be easy to slip away from too.

“Fine. Five. Upfront.” Their mother held out her grubby, wrinkled hand.

A look passed between the woman and her companion. His lips thinned into a tight line, and for a moment, Talor thought he might object. Then he reached for a pouch at his side and counted out five, shining gold coins. These he pressed into the waiting palm, careful not to make contact with their mother’s skin.

“Right. They’re yours. Good luck.” With a chorus of noises that betrayed her age and ill health, their mother pushed herself up to her feet and planted one hand solidly on the small of her back. She turned and marched up the stairs until she loomed over the boys sitting on the stoop. “You two get gone with that woman there. You’re not my problem anymore.”

Then she stepped past them and into the house, shutting the door with a slam behind her.

No goodbye. No hug. Not even a hint of a misty eye to show any lingering trace of the maternal love she’d once held for them. Talor didn’t know why he’d hoped for such a thing.

“Come on, Malor. We’re leaving.”

“Did we get bought? Oh hey, the nice lady is back.” Malor said as he sprang to his feet and brushed the dust off the back of his pants.

Talor looked down the steps at the woman and her companion and felt a twist of sadness he hadn’t expected. He squashed it with a scowl and took his brother’s hand. Together, they stepped down the worn stone steps to stand before their new owners.

“Hello,” the woman said again. “This is my friend, Aaron.”

“Hello, Aaron. I’m Malor, and this is Talor,” Malor said.

“Well you own us now. What’s your will?” Talor demanded.

“Oh, yes. About that.” Mystic paused and reached for a pouch hanging from her own belt. It was smaller than the one that Aaron pulled the five coins from, but instead of withdrawing any of the clinking contents from the bag, she held out the entire thing to Talor. “It’s not much, but it should help you get on your feet. Congratulations, you’re free.”

The confusion lasted only a few seconds before rage bubbled up and boiled all else away. Talor’s features screwed up into a rictus of fury, but he retained enough sense not to smack the bag of coins out of the woman’s hand.

How dare this stranger mock the goals he spent months plotting out. How dare she rip him away from the only home he’d ever known, terrible as it was, and then offer up freedom like it was some sort of prize. Malor looked thrilled at the offer, but Talor knew that a pittance of coins wouldn’t last them more than a few days. They needed months of work to build the base necessary for stable food and shelter, let alone a business, and even then, it would be years before anyone might take two red-headed boys seriously. No, this golden woman’s offer was no kindness. By sending them off on their own, she was sentencing them to death.

“You must really think we’re stupid,” Talor spat. “Keep your damn coin and your freedom. You bought us. Now it’s your responsibility to deal with us.”

The woman started, her outstretched hand and the pouch it contained withdrawing.

“I don’t understand. I thought you wanted to run away and start your own business.”

“And what kind of business do you think a couple of kids with a handful of silvers can start?”

“We could open a fruit stand,” Malor supplied. His bubbly, bright mood had dimmed somewhat, and he looked at Talor with the hurt puppy expression that he hated.

“We don’t have fruit,” Talor snapped back, raising his voice. “We don’t have a home. We don’t have food. All we’ve got is this stupid curse, which is your problem now. Leave us with that coin purse, and I swear by the Four that you’ll never know a day of peace again.” Talor stuck out his hand, pointer finger extended, in a burst of inspired retribution. “I curse you. I curse you to fail at everything you attempt to build. I curse you to never get another good night’s rest. I curse you to forever know that you are inadequate and will never be good enough for your friends and family.”

The woman blinked, then looked to her companion. Aaron sighed and folded his arms across his chest.

“I told you this was a bad idea,” he said.

“Well I couldn’t just leave them there. That horrid man had unspeakable things running through his head.”

“And now what? The kid’s right. We leave them like this, they’ll waste away on the streets. We take them with us, they’ll be in danger every step of the way.”

“Someone will surely want to take them in.”

Talor scowled and opened his mouth, but he needn’t have bothered. Aaron beat him to the point.

“No, they won’t. They’re-” The dark-haired man paused and shot the twins a chagrined look. “The superstitions of this area are strong.”

“They’re idiotic.”

Aaron hissed and looked over his shoulder quickly, as if expecting the locals to suddenly converge on them in a furious mob.

Talor’s estimation of the man improved a little. At least he seemed to know the depths of the mess Mystic had dug them into.

“Could you not? Look, regardless of what we think of them, the belief system here is strong. We have to respect that,” Aaron said.

“Acknowledge it, yes, but I refuse to respect it,” Mystic muttered under her breath. With a sigh, she looked back at the two brothers. Her expression of frustration lasted less than a minute before some errant thought lit her up again. “We can send them to the Warren.”

“What?” Talor and Aaron said in chorus.

“Cool,” said Malor. “What’s a Warren?”

“It’s my home,” Mystic said. “It’s a place where creatures that people don’t understand or fear are safe.”

“Great. So now we’re pets to add to your zoo,” Talor said.

“No, you’re still quite free. You’re welcome to come and go as you please. But while you’re there, if you help tend to the creatures who already call the Warren home, I’ll pay you. Some of them are quite sick or injured and need help to get back on their feet.”

Talor chewed on the offer for a minute. In all of his planning and plotting, the one thing he’d not been able to figure out was how to get a job. No one in this town would ever hire them, even if they dyed their hair. This Warren place was not one of the nearby towns. He’d never heard of it before. More than likely, no one he knew lived there. It could be a fresh start for both of them.

“Are they dangerous?” He asked.

“No,” Mystic said.

“Yes,” Aaron said.

Mystic shot the man a dark look.

“Some of them are nervous around people because they’ve been hurt before, but they’re not bad. They’re just misunderstood. I can introduce you to them and teach you how to care for them.”

“We’re getting off track,” Aaron growled under his breath.

“A few days won’t hurt our goal. This is what the whole plan is about after all; building up our base,” Mystic retorted.

“An army of children and injured monsters. Yeah, Achille is going to laugh himself to death when he sees that.” Aaron drew in a deep breath, held it for a moment, then released it with a nod. “Fine. Let’s do this.”

Mystic’s smile was radiant as she looked to the two boys once more. She crouched down as if to conspire with them on some big secret.

“Would you two like to meet some dragons?”

* * *

Fifteen years later…

“M’lor, we’re going to be late. Tally, where’s my satchel?”

T’lor stood in the kitchen of their den, which felt more like standing on the edge of a hurricane instead of the massive, open concept living space that it was. The kitchen ran along the far wall with an island to separate it from the dining room, living room, and dragon beds. What should have been a sprawling landscape of cozy furniture and loosely defined room borders had become a warzone of toys, abandoned blankets, and discarded snacks. In the midst of it, his brother charged across the floor on all fours, a pair of toddlers on his back.

“Mom! Momma! Mommy! Mom! Mom, look! Mom,” crowed the purple one.

“I’m a dragon rider! Wheeee,” giggled the golden one.

“Here’s your satchel and your brother’s. Your lunches are already packed.” Tally handed over the two well-worn leather bags then set to work straightening T’lor’s collar and adjusting his rank pins. With her inspection of his uniform complete, she stood up on tip toes and kissed his scruffy cheek. T’lor continued to scowl throughout the routine fussing, watching his brother bounce dangerously close to a coffee table that had already suffered through one too many run-ins with their rambunctious horde.

“Thank you,” T’lor murmured, pausing a moment to wrap an arm around Tally’s midsection and pull her as close as her ballooned belly would allow. “This family would fall apart without you.”

Tally smiled and leaned into his embrace for a moment. Just a moment. Then something crashed behind them and both of them turned to see what had broken this time.

Maintaining a household of three, plus four pets and four dragons, was already a tall order. Now that they had four children plus another on the way (T’lor still wasn’t convinced there wasn’t a second hiding in there somewhere), meant that peace had to be found in snatches and seconds in the midst of the endless chaos of their home. What made matters worse was that M’lor seemed perfectly content to revel in this chaos and never showed a hint of interest in growing up.

At the very least, he had enough sense to sacrifice himself rather than endangering the twins. Two giggling, unblemished toddlers sat on the floor a foot away from where M’lor sprawled in the splintered remains of the coffee table.

“M’lor, come on. Haven’t you made enough work for Tally already?”

“It’s fine, really. We should have gotten rid of that coffee table ages ago. The corners are too sharp,” Tally soothed.

T’lor didn’t miss the resignation in her tone. It seemed like they left her with some extra chore every morning. Usually due to M’lor’s antics. She already had enough to deal with given the advancement of her pregnancy. She needed them to be present caregivers. Not another couple of children.

The irritation at the edges of T’lor’s thoughts crept into the ranges of outright anger.

“He needs to grow up already. Sometimes I wonder if things would be easier if we got sent to the front lines for a time,” T’lor snapped.

“Don’t say that. I’m happy you can come home almost every night. I would be worried sick if you went that far away.”

“Well maybe he needs to see what war is really like. Knock some sense into him.”

“I’m happy that he’s always so happy.” Tally placed her hands on T’lor’s chest and drew in a breath before he could interrupt with another gripe. “And I’m happy that you’re always a little grumpy. You keep us grounded. He keeps us entertained.”

T’lor scowled. Tally kissed him. T’lor grumbled under his breath.

“I wouldn’t be so grumpy if my brother wasn’t such an idiot.” He turned then and raised his voice. “M’lor, let’s go already.”

“Hang on. They’re trying to save me,” M’lor retorted. Though his mouth moved, the rest of him remained absolutely still. He lay prone in the wreckage of the table, arms splayed and tongue lolling from his mouth.

“Nooo... Daddy-dragon hurted his wing. I will kiss it better,” said the purple toddler. With infant seriousness, she waddled over to her fallen parent and leaned down to plant a kiss on his brow, complete with “mwah” sound effect.

“You did it!” M’lor shot up from the debris of his crash site and swept the two toddlers up in his arms. He lifted the squealing, squirming children in the air and spun them around, before putting them back on their feet. “Okay, daddy has to go to work with papa now.”

“One more ride,” pleaded the golden one.

“One more,” echoed her sibling.

“When we get home, I’ll give you rides until bedtime, but only if you’re good and listen to your mom today, okay?”

“Okay,” they chorused.

M’lor planted one more kiss on each of their foreheads, then stepped past them. With a few bounding steps, he cleared the minefield of toys and blankets and swept Tally into his arms. He planted a swift, affectionate kiss on her lips as she squealed from the surprise assault. Then with speed that a man his size should not have been capable of, he snatched his satchel from T’lor’s hands and bolted for the towering double doors that led out to their dragon ledge.

“Come on, T’lor! We’re going to be late!”

T’lor rolled his eyes with such force that it was a wonder his eyes didn’t lodge in the back of his skull. With one last exasperated look at Tally, he turned to follow M’lor outside.

Though identical in most respects, T’lor and M’lor had settled into differing builds in their adult years due in large part to their hobbies. M’lor loved anything physical and often spent his free time working out with his muscle-bound friends. T’lor on the other hand, enjoyed more cerebral pursuits. While still fit from the endless hours of dragon rider training, he hadn’t bulked up like his brother. T’lor also preferred to maintain a sharp, trim goatee while M’lor remained clean shaven. Though in truth, he knew they could be physically indistinguishable and people would still tell them apart just by the expressions on their faces.

The double doors opened up to a wide, mossy ledge sheltered by the dense tree canopy that clung to the side of the Dragon Tooth Mountains like a barnacle. One had to go quite high up the range before the trees gave up their chokehold on the landscape. At their lower altitude, the trees provided just enough cover to cut the humidity of the day while permitting a wind off the ocean to perfume the air with an invigorating mix of flowers and brine.

Two dragons waited for the twins on the ledge. Both were small blues with the telltale characteristics of Denners and opposing colour schemes. Merlinth was a sky blue with night-dark wings, while Dracoth bore that twilight blue across his hide with the sky blue on his sails. Dracoth huffed as the boys approached them.

::About time,:: M’lor’s bond griped.

“He was playing games again,” T’lor said.

::He’s always playing games.::

::That’s because games are fun,:: Merlinth cut in as he dropped a shoulder to aid T’lor’s ascent.

“See? Your bond gets it. Lenoth’s not going to penalize us for a few minutes.” M’lor paused to throw a smug smile at his brother. He stood with one hand on Dracoth’s shoulder, who had lifted a foreleg to give him a leg up. M’lor barely needed it as he vaulted to his bond’s bare back.

“One of these days, she will,” T’lor vowed.

“And on that day, you can say I told you so.”

Any retort that T’lor might have given was cut off as both dragons launched themselves off the ledge. It took them only a few seconds of steering around trees and through foliage before the pair of them soared upward, above the canopy and over the lush valley that housed the Warren. They hovered there for a handful of breaths, both dragons revelling in the freedom of the open air, before they dove down again.

When T’lor and M’lor had first come to this place, the Warren had been little more than a barren rock, a cancerous growth protruding from the earth, in the midst of a dying forest. Now, that same forest flourished with life, and the Warren bore a coat of green moss and vines. Dragons of all sizes and colours dotted the field around the Warren, their shining, shimmering, vibrant hides adding to the riot of flowers that spread across every unoccupied inch of ground. When Merlinth came to a landing outside the towering tunnels that led into the Warren, he did so with mincing steps to avoid crushing a patch of tiny, white flowers. Dracoth did not practice the same care and huffed at M’lor as the twin protested his carelessness.

The twins dismounted and jogged into the tunnel as the dragons turned and lumbered off to join their wing mates. As expected, T’lor and M’lor were the last to arrive.

Lenoth had little care for her den, despite maintaining the prestige of still having a den in the Warren itself. Though she had a bed and a few creature comforts here, she much preferred a life on the road. More often than not, she and Aisinith were off on assignment or else wandering the countryside looking for adventure. As such, she’d turned the majority of her den into a common room for the Ranger Wing to hold their meetings.

When the twins made their entrance, the other rangers had already found their seats on the couch or the mismatched armchairs gathered in a semi-circle around the chalkboard. Lenoth stood by the board itself, a cup of coffee in one hand. She raised it in salute to the boys as they hurried to find seats on the couch.

“Thank you for joining us,” the elven woman quipped. “How many times in a row does this make it now?”

“Don’t pretend you weren’t late to your own debrief,” B’ard drawled from the armchair in which he’d settled in for half a nap.

“And yet I still beat them here. It’s bad when I’m not the last to arrive. I work hard on my entrances,” Lenoth said.

“It is your den. Why are you late to your own den?” Sa’yest, the towering, white drasis called from where she leaned against the far wall. Her mentor and friend, Illiara, let out a short snort beside her. They alone came on behalf of the drasis clan who had attached themselves to the Ranger Wing. Too many drasis in one place tended to make people uncomfortable, even if they were on the good side.

“Alright, let’s get this show on the road,” Lenoth said a little louder than necessary. Her way of redirecting people away from questions she didn’t want asked. Lenoth was good at distraction.

Placing her coffee on the side table beside the chalkboard, Lenoth reached for the chalk and directed their attention to the simple lines and swirls that represented a coastal village already drawn up on the board.

“Today’s the big day, as you all know. Before we head out, I know some people had some lingering questions about the plan. Let’s have them out now before we hit the field.”

T’lor studied the map as Lenoth spoke. They’d been working on this plan for weeks. It was a good plan. They knew the hydras were hitting coastal villages. They knew this particular village was at risk. They’d arranged with a neighbouring village to evacuate the people. All the Ranger Wing had to do was oversee evacuation day. A lot of people hitting the road at once was like a dinner bell for the hydras. Yet all intelligence reports had indicated that the main host of the hydra army was occupied elsewhere. It was a sound and safe plan. And yet T’lor hadn’t been able to shake a feeling of unease since their last meeting.

Against his better judgement, T’lor raised his hand.

Br’n groaned across from him. Yes, alright, he often raised points of contention in these meetings, but that was what they were for.

“The road between Myasy and Rovisi turns into a choke point when it dips into that forest valley. What if the evacuees get attacked there? The dragons can’t reach the valley floor.”

“This again? You brought this up the last time. The path is secured. Our people have been crawling all over it,” Br’n said.

“T’lor’s point is valid,” Sa’yest said. “A location that has already been secured provides the best opportunity for a surprise assault.”

“How are they supposed to surprise attack when we’re watching every angle?” Br’n countered.

“It is impossible to be alert to all potential attack vectors. An effective assault needs only one lapsed sentry point.”

“And that’s easy enough to secure with one sentry eliminated,” Illiara added.

A twist of something dark and suspicious crossed Br’n’s face after the second drasis spoke up. He was one of many who still considered the draconid people to be suspect until proven innocent.

T’lor didn’t blame him. Drasis were intimidating creatures before one considered the fact that they were rumoured to eat people. Even so, T’lor couldn’t help but feel a little grateful for Sa’yest’s intervention. If anyone could sniff out a weakness in a plan, it was the drasis.

“Alright, fair. This is why I wanted to have an open question period. See? We’re learning together. Let’s explore what happens if the evacuees get attacked on route,” Lenoth said as she flipped the chalkboard over, revealing a blank slate on the opposite side. With quick, sure strokes of the chalk, she sketched out Myasy as well as the valley through which the evacuees would need to travel to reach Rovisi. It was by no means a professional drawing, but it worked.

Lenoth turned back to the group, ready to launch into theoretical attack patterns. Before she could draw breath for a single word, every expression in the room went blank. As one, the Ranger Wing received the alert from their dragons while outside, a horn blared.

::Time’s up!:: Merlinth said chipperly. ::Hydras have been spotted moving up the coast. We need to move the townspeople now.::

T’lor cursed under his breath. Around the room, he watched the news leech into the faces of his friends and peers. Brows furrowed and frowns developed on every face.

“We stick to the plan,” Lenoth called over a chorus of scraping chairs and tromping boots. “Eyes in the sky. Don’t engage unless the targets are directly threatened.”

T’lor caught up to his brother as they hustled back out the tunnel to the blinding brilliance of the flight fields. In a matter of minutes, they would all be airborne. In the back of his mind, he mused on how he would get his wish in a manner of speaking. They were about to be within earshot of the front line.

* * *

Mystic stood at the back of the room, one hand looped around her staff and the other held loosely behind her back in a pose of attention that didn’t leave her muscles screaming from strain at the end of these hours-long meetings. She kept her focus on a point of the ceiling that was at once just interesting enough to keep her mind from wandering without drawing her attention away from the chatter of the men seated at the table.

Five princes sat in five ornate chairs decorated to represent their specific princelets. Behind them stood five mages, including herself. Five powerhouses with five cannons at their backs. She knew as well as the rest that the mages were not there as advisors or consultants. They existed only as a show of force. Even so, she couldn’t let bad ideas go unremarked.

“The hydras are moving up the coast, but they’ve left a significant number of units behind at every important landing site. This would suggest they’re not planning on abandoning any territory they’ve already claimed,” Aaron said.

“I feel the need to remind my esteemed brothers that (capital of Pentas) is one of those important landing sites,” Achille sneered through the forced smile quivering beneath his mustache. “We are not going to abandon the heart of our homeland to those beasts.”

“You are wasting lives, Achille,” Prince Reuss groused. “Pull back and regroup. Or hells, let the dragons help you already.”

“I would sooner see my entire army skewered and offered up as tribute to Toth himself before I allow those winged lizards to burn my city to the ground.”

“You may yet live to see that day,” Reuss said under his breath.

“You claim to fight for the preservation of your princelet, and yet you work towards ensuring that you will be left with no subjects left to enjoy it at the end of this war. Let us help,” Mystic said.

In immediate response to her words, Reuss sighed, Aaron flinched, and Andel covered a laugh by coughing into his fist. She’d gotten used to this response by this point. What still galled her was the way Achille stared her down as if she were lower than the dirt beneath his feet.

“That’s odd. Did anyone else hear the furniture speak?” He asked.

Mystic sucked a breath in through her teeth and clamped down on the first retort that came to mind.

“I meant no disrespect, my lord. I merely wished to offer a solution that would not result in the annihilation of your entire army.”

Achille held her gaze for several long seconds, his grey eyes boring straight through her. The prince of Pentas had long held a grudge against everything Lanuthan for daring to rise up and reclaim their homeland from him. He held a personal loathing for Mystic, viewing her as the font from which all of his troubles had sprouted forth.

“Prince Aaron, muzzle your magi,” he said in a low, warning growl.”

“Gentlemen, we’ve been at this for hours. I recommend a break,” Aaron offered quickly.

“Seconded,” Reuss said.

“Hear hear,” said Prince Andel of Sudland. “My old bladder can’t handle these long meetings anymore. We’ll reconvene in an hour. Agreed, gentlemen?”

A chorus of agreement went around the table. Chairs scraped back, and one by one the princes preceded the mages out of the room. Last to leave was Andel, already bowed with age and relying on the arm of his mage in white robes to see him through the door.

Only Aaron remained seated, head in his hands, until the door had shut behind them.

“Why do you have to antagonize him?” He asked.

The shock of his words robbed Mystic of her stewing anger toward Achille.

“Antagonize? I was simply offering him a solution. One he should have taken ages ago. Countless people have died because of his stubbornness.”

“And more will die still as a result of today.”

Mystic wheeled around Aaron’s chair and came to stand beside him. She placed her hands on the table and met him stare for stare when he looked up.

“Why? Because I spoke?” She demanded.

“Yes. Exactly. You know the rules.”

“And what happened to writing our own rules? Wasn’t that what you declared to me the day you asked me to be your princess?”

Aaron let out an explosive sigh and pushed himself up from the table. His chair scraped and clacked against the worn stone floor with the force of his movement. He stalked around the other side of the table, as if needing to put a physical barrier between them, and gestured wide as he spoke.

“That was different and you know it.”

“Explain it to me like I don’t, Aaron.”

Aaron pressed his hands to his face and breathed deep for a moment. When he spoke, it was with the slow, measured tone of someone who had explained this same point a dozen times before.

“In Lanutha, our word is law. We can make and unmake the rules as we need to. But when it comes to the council of princes, I am a rookie.”

“You are the rightful heir to Lanutha.”

“Lanutha didn’t exist before us,” he snapped. With each sentence that followed came a wild gesture to punctuate it. “The old Lanutha was cut up and parceled out to the other princes, and it’s only because I pulled a bloody sword out of a bloody cave that I even got the chance to plead my case before the council. And on top of that, I’m not even the oldest! My brother is. And when he challenged me for the throne, I humiliated him. We are upstarts who came out of nowhere, upset centuries old traditions, brought in dragons, kicked the proverbial hornet’s nest, and demanded respect we hadn’t earned. They have so many reasons to hate and mistrust us, Mystic. Why can’t you just cooperate for once?”

“Because he is a pig-headed fool who is getting his people killed. You know it. I know it. Everyone with half a brain cell knows it.”

“He is a prince. You are a mage. His role is to make decisions. Yours is to stand behind me silently while I do my damnedest to convince a room full of very powerful people that we deserve to be here. Stop making my job harder than it already is.”

For a short while after Aaron’s outburst, the room became eerily silent. Mystic stared at her husband, hurt and enraged all at once.

There were so many obstacles standing before them these days. So many enemies who would delight in seeing them fail. It seemed like every day, someone or something was trying to tear down what they had built together. Yet the thing that kept her going, that kept her sane and focused, was that they tackled these challenges together. Only now it seemed as if she was alone in that belief.

“I thought we were going to change the world together.” The words were barely more than a whisper, but they blew away all of Aaron’s bluster like a galeforce wind. He sagged visibly and ran his hands through his hair.

“We are. We have. We will again. But there’s a limit to how many boundaries we can push.”

“Being silenced is not a boundary I can accept.”

“Yeah, that’s loud and clear.”

It was the way he said it. The utter dismissiveness of his tone. As if her independence was the greatest inconvenience in his life.

She remembered the day he’d fought to win her hand. How he’d ranted about the women his advisors and family had tried to set him up with. How they had acquiesced to his every whim. How they had always wanted to do what he wanted. How they had been vapid and powerless and boring. He’d sworn to her that he needed her fire in his life. That a life without the thrill of her intellect and challenge of her pride was no life at all.

And yet that tone, that bitter, disappointed edge, said that he regretted that choice today.

Mystic headed for the door without another word. She caught a glimpse of his start of surprise as she yanked the door open; a flash of his realization and dismay. Then she was in the hall and storming away.

“Mystic. Mystic, come back. Dammit, I still need you,” he called from the open doorway.

She was fully prepared to leave in a righteous huff. Screw the council, screw the protocols, and screw Aaron in particular, but the sound of rapid footsteps coming her way drew her up short.

The rider appeared at the end of the hall, red hair flying behind her as two armoured guards dogged her steps.

Ren, Mystic knew right away. One of her newer riders. A woman quickly rising up the ranks and proving herself invaluable to Mystic’s own circle of trusted advisors. She was as quick with her wit as she was on her feet. Those who knew her joked that she even slept in her riding leathers, never wanting to waste a second that could’ve been spent on an adrenaline rush instead.

Only today she wasn't wearing her riding leathers. She wore her hard-boiled and blackened battle leathers.

“Mystic,” Ren called out breathlessly as she drew within speaking range.

The guards chasing after her used her flagging speed to their advantage and caught up an arm each. Ren snarled at them like a wild beast and tried to shake them off.

“Release her,” Mystic ordered imperiously.

The guards obeyed, though not without a searching glance over Mystic’s shoulder.

Looking for Aaron’s approval. Of course. Mystic tamped down the simmering indignation at that thought.

“Hydras,” Ren spat out between gulps of great lungfuls of air. “They’re moving up the coast.”

“How many? Where?”

“A half dozen or so. They’re headed for Myasy. Lenoth and the rangers are already there taking care of the evacuation. They’re alone.”

Mystic turned, instinct driving her to look for Aaron. He stood a few feet away. His eyes met hers, and a grim determination drew lines in his brow.

“Go. I’ll handle things here.”

She didn’t need more than that. Seconds later, she and Ren were flying down the hall toward the exit.

* * *

Myasy was gone. It hadn’t stood a chance in the first place, but the swiftness with which the hydras had rained total devastation upon the place spoke to the absolute power of these ancient killing machines.

A ceiling of black smoke blotted out the sky. It rolled and boiled like ocean waves during a storm, lit from beneath by the hellish glow of red and orange flames. What had once been the Myasy port and docks, a bustling place of commerce for Lanuthan trade ships, was now no more than a half-buried skeleton of black sticks and smouldering ash. The warehouses that had once housed Myasy’s rich trade goods continued to belch sickly black streams into the sky, feeding the raging waves above. Over the remains of the town, now emptied of its inhabitants, a faintly green miasma hung like a funeral shawl.

T’lor, seated astride Merlinth, was grateful there was a sliver of space between the clouds and the acidic smog for them to hover in. He didn’t envy the evacuees streaming through the soot-blackened streets below that had to contend with breathing in that burning vapour.

They moved along in a near-single file like a horde of ants on their way to a picnic. Only there was no mountain of sweet treats for them to feast on at the end of their journey. Just an overwrought town that had grudgingly granted them temporary shelter. That and the knowledge that all that remained of their previous lives now existed in the sacks on their backs and trunks on their carts.

No, T’lor didn’t envy them one little bit.

A flare of fresh agony pulsated through his calf and up to his thigh. T’lor grimaced and adjusted his seat in the saddle, making sure never to take his eyes off the sky. How the drasis moved through those choking clouds without suffocating themselves, he didn’t know, but he didn’t want to give them so much as a second of grace to come shooting down at the beleaguered evacuees below.

::Nearly done, rider mine,:: Merlinth spoke reassuringly into his mind. ::We’re at the tail end of the procession now. Then we just have to monitor them over the forest.::

::I’m fine,:: T’lor shot back. He didn’t mean the words to be snappish, but his leg hadn’t stopped aching since he’d taken that glancing blow from a hydra’s acidic spit. A touch of antidote had stopped it from burning straight through his flesh into his bone, but it hadn’t dulled the fire in his nerves.

Thank the gods that the other wings had arrived when they did. Lenoth had led a fierce first assault when they’d noticed the hydras creeping up out of the ocean, but their focus had swiftly turned to defense in an effort just to keep themselves and their charges alive. A few minutes more and they would’ve lost Myasy, its people, and the whole ranger wing in one blow.

::Myrah’Care says they’ve pushed the hydras back to the waterline. We’ve turned the tide.:: The excitement in Merlinth’s mental threads did not transfer to his rider.

::Let’s just stay focused on the task at hand. Where’s Dracoth?::

::He thinks they spotted something moving in the treeline. He’s going to check it out.::

::Tell him to get back in formation,:: T’lor snapped. He knew Dracoth was too sensible to be chasing shadows, but that sounded exactly like something M’lor would do. They were already exhausted and injured. What the hell was he thinking?

::Hang on…:: Merlinth replied, his voice trailing off as he touched a mind that wasd not his rider’s. ::Aisinith says fall in. We’re moving to the next phase.::

Thank the gods. Again. They were so close to done with this nightmarish evacuation.

Merlinth turned and angled toward the other dragons hovering in the haze like ships lost at sea. Their wings stirred the drifting smoke, sending it reeling in tiny whirlpools through the sky. The lack of sunlight had stolen the colour from their hides, but T’lor could still make out vague shapes and sizes. There was Lenoth’s tiny Aisinith and B’ard’s stocky, strong bronze Halcioth. As they moved toward each other, more details resolved themselves. Enough for T’lor to see that Dracoth was still missing.

Irrational rage boiled up inside him, quickly quelled in favour of a level head. It was up to Lenoth to keep his brother in line, not himself. Even so, he couldn’t help reliving every time he’d warned M’lor not to go off on his own. Especially now that they were this close to the action.

It was selfish, dammit. Running off after gods knew what when they had clear instructions to defend and protect the refugee line. Not only did they leave their section of the line open, but they made it infinitely more difficult for the rest of the wing to cover them should something go wrong.

Stupid, selfish, and shortsighted. T’lor would have words for his brother later.

The dragons formed a loose circle in the air, keeping enough distance not to interfere with each other’s wing beats. There was too much smoke and noise to speak across the distance, but T’lor had a good enough line of sight to see Lenoth’s hand signals. Plus he had Merlinth to pass along the commands mentally.

Lenoth had just started outlining their formation for the forest flyover when a furious bellow split through the low rumble of nearby combat. T’lor knew the voice instantly, even before it gave off another guttural and panic-striken roar. Other voices joined the dragon’s. High pitched and human, the evacuees raised their voices in a chorus of terror. T’lor turned in his saddle and spotted the blotch of dark blue powering toward them at incredible speeds.

::What is-:: His question died mid-thought as fear surged through his bond with Merlinth.

::Ambush!:: The blue cried. The mental shout was taken up by the other dragons of the ranger wing, echoed in bugles of alarm and the cries from below.

Over the sudden cacophony, Lenoth’s voice rose like a trumpet of war.

“Break!” She shouted.

But it was too late. Even as Merlinth turned, even as he started to dive, T’lor could not tear his gaze away from the brightness building behind Dracoth’s frantically pistoning wings.

Six new spots of furious, glowing orange. Six mouths opened and aimed at them. A hydra had snuck behind their line and now stood between them and the forest. And then it coughed, and the fire raced toward them.

The last thing T’lor saw before the world went dark was Dracoth’s wings enveloping his world.