Chapter 54 Finding Purpose
~ brEN ~
Dawn threatened by the time we left the queen. The light in her eyes when she looked at the humbled, defeated king sent shivers down my spine. So, I was glad when Donavyn finally pulled me out of the dungeon and we hurried back through the Palace and down the road towards the Keep.
After days of travel, and being up all night, I was grateful for the sharp cold of the pre-dawn air outside. My body ached from all that flying, from the fear, the pain of being separated from Donavyn… but it had been worth it. Thank God it was worth it, I thought with relief.
When we reached the ancient wood that surrounded the Dragon Keep, I was unnerved for a moment by the shadowy, gnarled trees, dripping with moss.
They reminded me too much of the eerie light in the queen’s eyes when she looked at her husband before we left, and muttered something vague about how she’d deal with him.
But the fear passed quickly as I leaned into Donavyn’s side and hugged his arm.
Which was when it occurred to me… I could touch him, even if we met others here. I didn’t have to let go.
I tensed and Donavyn turned his head sharply to look at me, his face worried, but I smiled. “I just remembered: You told them. About us.”
His expression softened. “I told you I would. I refuse to spend one more day in this Keep without you at my side. If they can’t see that we can work together, even with our care for each other… well, fuck them.”
I laughed, but it was shaky.
Minutes later, our breaths puffing clouds in the slowly paling night, we reached the launch hollow.
There were still countless dragons in the sky, and the distant cries of more. But, as the crooked trees opened near the wide crater carpeted in grass, the towering Academy buildings in the distance behind it, I saw it all with new eyes.
Just months ago, I’d walked into this place completely innocent of dragons, or the truth of the men who worked here—and even my own life. I’d sought this rugged bowl as a place of promise, but also of fear.
Tonight—this morning, I corrected myself, because the sky above the tree line was slowly turning gray—I looked at it with new eyes.
Where once I’d taken in the slashes in the dirt, the clods of grass ripped from the earth with fear, knowing they’d been torn by dragon talons.
Now, I saw those—and the steaming, still smoking carcass in the deepened hollow, along with the spray of mud, blood, and dirt—as mere scars on our path to victory.
This was no longer a place of mystery and unknown. This was the place where dragonfuries gathered with their riders—the Furyknights—as partners in a mission for the greater good. This was where I met my dragon, where I trained, and took my orders.
And one of those men—the most valuable of them. The most handsome, the strongest in character if not also body—belonged to me.
For a moment, as we reached the edge of the clearing, I hesitated.
Donavyn slowed, looking down at me with a question in his eyes.
But I stared out at the torn ground below, the tendrils of smoke, the men moving to clear and clean, then my gaze followed the rise of the land to the trees on the opposing side.
And suddenly, I needed my dragon. My bonded one.
I bit my lip as Donavyn squeezed my hand. “Bren, what is it?”
“Akhane,” I breathed, then pointed.
The early morning mists on the other side of the hollow curled, roiling away from a disturbance, billowing against an impenetrable rock—the gray scales of my queen of dragons.
She kept her snout low as she broke into the clearing, then lifted her elegant head, ears flickering and head turning. Searching for me.
The sight of her stole my breath.
Tall and proud, she slid into the clearing, head high and hot blasts of breath and smoke pouring from her nostrils at the tip of her broad snout as she snorted and turned her regal head to look directly at me.
Only months ago, this hollow had been mere space I moved through. Now, these knotted trees stood guard over a beauty and power so rich, the air shimmered because her marvelous scales pulsed and flickered with the same promise of heat that lingered in the dying coals of a fire.
Standing there with Donavyn, tears threatened to blur my vision, but I blinked them away. I wanted to see her as she’d seen me—so weak and broken. So finished. Nearly destroyed by men.
But not now.
‘Bren? Are you—’
‘I’ve never been better,’ I assured him as I smiled at Akhane and urged her to come closer.
I no longer saw the mist curling between the ancient trees. The pale dawn no longer promised a new day—now it was a mere reflection of her iridescent skin, glowing with power and strength.
I watched, transfixed, as she rippled to the edge of the launch hollow, a high whistle piercing the not-quite-dark, and I laughed, leaning closer, my breath clouding among the mists, as the air vibrated with a beautiful, deep rumble that rose from the bowels of the earth and trembled in my bones.
Then, just as Akhane’s fathomless, amber eyes turned and locked on me like jewels set in the precious metal of her silver scales, another shadow appeared.
Black, savage beauty to rival the night itself as Kgosi flowed out of the misty trees in the wake of his mate, calling to her, and to us.
For one, blessed, shining moment, the world and all its pains disappeared.
And as I stood there, breathing in beauty and power and relief, I felt release. I let go of the events that almost killed me. Forgot the fears that wanted to steal my future, and the specter of shame that had haunted me.
Ruin was revealed for the monster he was, and would never return.
Carnage had been uncovered as a coward and a fiend, and the evidence of his duplicity still smoked in the bottom of this hole.
They would both be remembered, but only as a cautionary tale. And not by me.
With a small, shaky laugh, I let go of the creeping dread that had dragged at me. And for one, breathless, beautiful moment, I looked away from the elegant grace and power of the dragons, and up to my mate, who stared down at me, awe and concern chasing each other across his features.
“Little Flame,” he breathed, his eyes widening.
I smiled, but shakily. “What?”
“Your dragon name. Kgosi told me: They called you Little Flame, because a small flame can be blown out—or it can grow into a devastating fire.”
I shrugged, uncomfortable at his scrutiny, but reveling in it too.
‘My Little Flame,’ Akhane sent fondly, calling to me as she and Kgosi lumbered towards us through the hollow. For one still beat there was nothing in the world but the savage grace of a creature so ancient, it must know the face of God. And the love that creature offered me. Only me. No one else.
I shook my head and laughed shakily. “I don’t know about the devastating part,” I whispered.
“I do,” Donavyn said tenderly. And when I met his eyes, my heart swelled with the rush of love that reached me in the bond.
We met the dragons in the bowl of the hollow, ignoring the men who were working to remove the last of Carnage’s remains so they wouldn’t create an obstacle for landing or launching dragons.
The men ducked their heads at me, and saluted Donavyn, their eyes curious—some a little wary.
But no one commented on his grip on my hand, or my embrace of his arm.
They focused on the task set for them, while Donavyn and I reunited with our dragons and tried to convince our bodies that safety had returned.
I turned that thought over in my mind—had I ever felt safe before?
Then I looked up at Donavyn, and then at Akhane, and my heart said yes. Yes. I knew what safety felt like, now.
And for the rest… well… Little Flame indeed.
I grinned.
“Sir! Donavyn!”
We both looked up to find Olve trotting down the side of the launch hollow nearest the stable.
The man was older than Donavyn, but still vital.
He made it to us quickly. Kgosi snorted, and I couldn’t help agreeing with him that I’d hoped for a little more time before duty called again, but Donavyn clasped the Captain’s arm and asked for a report.
He still didn’t let me go.
Olve gave one, mildly surprised glance at where I hugged Donavyn’s arm, then returned his gaze to my mate and didn’t waver.
“The wild ones are… agitated. I called Barak and he’s here—they’ve sent some unbonded dragons into the sky to see if they’ll open up. But it’s clear they don’t want to be here.”
“Kgosi told them they can stay, but they don’t have to,” Donavyn rumbled. I felt the vibration in his chest against my arm and it made me shiver in a delicious way.
Olve nodded. “Yes, we’re aware. Only… they seem confused.”
Donavyn sighed and glanced up at the sky where the forms of the hundreds of dragons were more easily visible now with the sky lightening from gray to pink behind them.
“They have been… woefully mistreated,” Donavyn said sadly.
“Once this ground is clear and safe, we’ll need to bring all the Officers together so I can explain what’s been—”
A shrill whistle of alert broke through the sky, somewhere to the nearby south, and the dragons wheeling above all began to flap and turn, calling to each other—and to whomever had whistled.
Donavyn frowned at the sky. Olve shaded his eyes as if he might see more easily, despite the low light, but it was Kgosi who turned bodily, his head lifting to his full height, and wings rustling.
Both he and Akhane watched the dragons as they swooped and gathered—like a flock of starlings near the lake in summer—and suddenly they were all flying to the south and west. Together.
“What the—?” Donavyn muttered.
“What is it? What’s called them?”
Donavyn glanced at Kgosi, so I reached for Akhane who also stood, ears perked and head high. ‘What’s going on?’
“Holy shit,” Donavyn breathed. Olve and I both looked at him, shaking his head as he stared at the sky, scratching at the stubble that was thickening to a beard because he’d been flying for days.
I was about to ask him what had surprised him, when Kgosi rumbled again and every dragon in the vicinity suddenly raised their heads and turned, following the sudden migration of the wild dragons in the sky, all of them pouring away from us, and towards the south.
“What’s going on?”
“They’re coordinating,” Donavyn said, his tone thoughtful.
“I thought they didn’t have a leader.”
“They didn’t,” Donavyn murmured. “But someone’s called them and they’re answering.” Olve looked at him, but Donavyn shook his head. “I’ll explain later,” he said to the Captain.
‘Akhane? What’s going on?’ I asked my dragon in the bond.
‘Kgosi says the Wild Ones are retreating… and they are coordinating.’
‘Isn’t that what dragons usually do?’
‘Yes,’ she said, sounding amused, and a little startled. ‘But these dragons were never healthy in their minds. They didn’t understand true leadership. There has been no challenge for dominance, or even scuffles among the males…’
‘Then who is leading them?’
‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘But Kgosi says it would take a true lionheart to call them and give them the confidence they need.’
Lionheart? Wasn’t that how Kgosi referred to Benji? I blinked and looked up at Donavyn. “Is he saying—”
“I think we can leave the dragons to sort out their own hierarchy, right? If they aren’t following Kgosi… they’ve earned their freedom,” he said. ‘I don’t want to tempt men or dragons to pursue them, Bren. Kgosi says let them go, so we will.’
I nodded, swallowing hard, but following the last of the dragons as they rose slowly out of sight, flapping towards the mountains and the wicked seas to the south.
Akhane must have heard my thoughts because a slow wave, like a growing smile, glowed in our bond.
‘Everyone, but especially the young, and isolated, must find their purpose, Bren. Whether it aligns with the traditions of men, or not.’
And I supposed that was only true. So, I said nothing as the dragons slowly disappeared from sight, and the Furyknights and their furies all returned to the work they’d been assigned after this dramatic night.
But I couldn’t help smiling a little myself as we strode out of the launch hollow towards the stables. It wasn’t until Olve had been sent to a new task by Donavyn, and we entered the nearly-empty stable aisle, our boots echoing on the stone, that I paid attention and asked Donavyn.
“What are we doing here?”
He walked with a determined air, his expression somewhat stern, eyes focused on the intersection of aisles ahead—and to the right, which would be towards Kgosi’s stable.
“We’re getting the last of your things before we return home—our home—and rest,” he muttered.
I opened my mouth, a reflexive argument on my lips—then stopped myself.
No. He was right.
We were right.
This was our purpose.
And to hell with anyone who thought it didn’t fit with tradition.
The roar from Kgosi behind us, shuddered through the building and sent a stableboy yelping back into the stable he’d just cleaned.
But even though it left my ears ringing, I just smiled.
It was good to be where I belonged. Whether men could see that or not.