The Fallen Prince

21. Drakonis

21

DRAKONIS

“ Y ou’ve been hiding something from me,” Drakonis said, dragging Clara through the wood.

His pulse was racing as he held on to her hand. He avoided the ruins like the plague. Ever since that horrid incident. After a ludicrous prophecy, his father pit him and Kazimir against each other, convinced the gods would tell him who the next crown prince would be.

His life changed when Kazimir attempted to take Drakonis’s life. At the brink of death, he heard chanting in a foreign language. Ribbons of white sparkling light that were reminiscent of his strange dreams made him feel like he was between life and death. Multiple females with snake like eyes looked down at him, singing taking away his pain, but replacing it with a new sensation. His dragon grew in strength and intellect after that, pushing and training him.

He vowed to Gavril that he would never return, but here he was. All because Kazimir had nearly killed him by pushing him from the top of a temple. All in the name of being named the crown prince.

Clara looked terrified in Zillah which meant something was going to happen. Basil’s report confirmed his unspoken thought. To protect his people from Kazimir he had to return to his own hell.

“Nothing that brings harm to you,” Clara said. She stumbled, pulling on his hand, and bringing him back to reality.

Drakonis stopped and took in her state.

“My apologies.” Drakonis ran his free hand down her sides and hips, checking for any injury. When he lifted her skirt to see her ankles she jumped back.

“I’m quite all right your highness.”

Your highness. A growl left his throat. He pulled her close and lifted her by the hips, making it easy for him to put his nose in the crook of her neck. He wanted to corner her like in the dracora blossom forest and force her to say his name repeatedly.

He felt her eyes on him when he was changing. It was why he moved to the side to give her the best view. This woman was finally showing an interest in him since the festival. He was not going to allow her to put distance between them again.

You must comfort her.

“Have I done something to offend you again?” Drakonis asked. He ran his nose down her collarbone.

“No!” Clara’s eyes were wide as she answered, louder than her normal voice. She could not tell a lie, so he took her answer at face value. Those tiny arms wrapped around his neck, her fingers running through his hair. Chaos cooled in mind, but his loins began kindling. Clara was the first he allowed such liberties. None but she made him question his actions, but then again, no one saw the world like he did. Until Clara. “I…”

Her looked up. Her rosy lips were so close and slightly parted. The third eye in her forehead was mostly faded back leaving golden speckles in her sun kissed skin. Those lovely eyes of hers were downcast, and her bottom lip disappeared behind her teeth. Drakonis took her chin gently, his thumb coaxing her lip from its prison. It was rosy and became warm as he stroked it. He needed to kiss her again.

Clara blushed. It was an expression she only had for him. Lust replaced the worry he had just felt but he would need to be satisfied with this for now.

Drakonis kissed her nose, lowered her to the ground, and turned his back to begin walking. He stopped when he felt a pull on his hand.

“There has been someone following me,” she blurted. The irises in her eyes were large. The tiny hands that held onto him were trembling and clammy, Her heart was hammering more than normal. “It seems you know about Lord Nero. I do not believe it’s him. He’s not one that would allow himself to be sensed.”

“Who else do you think it is?”

“Prince Kazimir being an obvious one.” Drakonis nodded. His brother was always poor when it came to information gathering, at least compared to himself.

“There is one other,” he stated.

“I don’t know if I should stay.” Clara took a breath and began speaking rapidly. “I’m not a politician Drakonis. I’m afraid I’ll say something and…” Her long locks cast a shadow on her heart shaped face. She squeezed his hand tighter. It made him smile. She had said his name and she found comfort in him, just as he did in her.

“Clara.” He touched the side of her face, guiding her eyes to him. “Just tell me.”

“I have no proof.”

“I still must know. It is better to have an inkling than forever be left in the dark.”

“I think the Pythia has sent someone.” His body froze. Why would the Pythia need to send someone to watch Clara when she was one of her oracles? “She has been sending letters more frequently, asking about my research into the Heir. At first, I answered honestly saying that I just did not know, but the more I learned the less I wanted to tell her. I have been vague, and I think she is starting to get impatient.”

“What not tell her everything you have learned? Is that not why you came to Ouroboros?”

“I have my reasons for wanting to find the Heir.”

Ragnar had told him to be cautious, but he was convinced of Clara’s loyalties. She neither feared nor served the Pythia. To a woman like that, it would be unforgivable. Clara confided that all she wanted was to save her sister. It was only to her family that she had loyalties.

“But those reasons have changed,” Clara continued. “I’m not sure if I even want to find the Heir anymore.”

“Then you would have no reason to stay,” Drakonis said. Once again, he was pushing her to leave even when the thought of it made him want to hold her tight and never let her go. These feelings felt so much clearer and stronger since talking to his mother. He needed her to stay. That was the time he was allotted to convince her to be with him.

“I still want to save my sister. But now I want to protect you.”

“Protect me?” It was words he never would have thought he would hear from a woman. “I do not need protecting.”

Conflicting emotions ran across her eyes. There was more that she was not saying. Could it be…?

“You think I am the Heir.” Clara did not answer, but as she cut her eyes away from him, he knew his answer. “Why do you think I am the Heir?”

“The less you know the better. But if I stop now, it is possible you can remain as you are and become the Crown Prince without becoming the Heir. I can’t tear your family apart.”

Tear his family apart? A dark chuckle left his throat.

“I think Kazimir is doing a fine job of that. You would be completing your mission and doing good for all the continent.”

“I don’t care about everyone on the continent. I care only for you.”

The words made his heart stop. The woman had kept him at arm’s length since the festival, yet she had such feelings. Could it be she was struggling with hers just as he had been struggling with his?

“You are important to dragonkind. Lord Nero and Lord Alastair have made that painfully obvious to me. Right now, your position is precarious. I fear that if you are the heir, and I awaken you, then it will put you in more danger. Something will happen that cannot be undone.” Clara looked haunted the more she talked. “I saw a vision in Zillah. It was something I hoped to never see again. Blood and killing. Dragons using other dragons for sport just as Axel did to my people. It was a sign to me that chaos will erupt here, and for all I know, I will be the reason it does.”

Her eye was still in the folds of her forehead, albeit almost completely faded. Drakonis felt her pain. But he didn’t know how to protect her, or how to stop it.

“If the Fates have destined me to be the Heir, then it will happen whether you quit now or keep pursuing your mission.” He could tell his words hurt her, but he continued. “The reason chaos is happening is because of Kazimir and his thirst for power. Since we were children, he has strived to surpass me and take the crown. If you are right then I can finally stop his antics.”

“But you’ll be sacrificing yourself!”

“It is what a proper royal does for his people. After all, without them I would have no position.” Drakonis pulled Clara back in his arms and hugged her tight. Her thin arms wrapped around his waist, holding him equally as tight. His dragon left his body, wrapping around her. Just like Drakonis, he too, wanted to keep Clara close. It was the only time anything made sense in this world. “I will take what the Fates have destined for me, but that does not mean that I will bend to their every will. If that power becomes mine, then I will use it honorably.”

“Other kingdoms will try to use you. The Pythia will try to use you.”

“They can try, but I am the strongest man in Ipeiros. What was it that you called me when we first met? One of the Great Triumvirate?” He heard a muffled chuckle. “I need you, Clara.” Drakonis continued. The honest feelings felt refreshing. “I understand duty. And you must fulfill yours. And if it is me then I need someone who I trust to navigate the changes in my power.”

“How can you trust me? I am a human woman who is sister-in-law to the gargoyle king and an oracle that the Pythia thinks she has ownership of. I am just an enemy wrapped in a pretty package.”

Someone had stung her with such words. Whoever they were he would kill them. Slowly.

“You are the woman who saw through me when I was lost in my grief. You freed the dragons of this land from their lonely existence in between two realms and brought Gavril eternal peace. And the only one on this continent that truly just lets me be Drakonis. Your willingness to stop your mission in fear of my safety is more reassurance.” Her beautiful face beckoned him. Drakonis first kissed her forehead, easing away the lines that made her suffer. Her skin was warm and smelled of the sea and flowers. Her gasp egged him on to her cheeks, starting from close to her ear to the apples that blushed so prettily for him. Clara’s lips trembled. Gods he wanted to do more and used every bit of control he had. The grip she had on his chest told him she would accept him, but if he kissed her lips now, he would not be able to control himself. He kissed her chin, nipping as he pulled away.

“At this point if you left me, I would just hunt you down and bring you back,” Drakonis continued. Her honesty and feelings steeled his resolve. That damned book she had found was a text he never remembered, but every day he thought of it. Mates were rare and nothing could describe the bond, but there could be no other explanation for his draw to this woman. Clara had to be something like a mate. She saw through him with every action. In a crowded room he could pick her out and follow her anywhere. The thought of her running away made him want to tear down kingdoms to find her. “And now that we got that out of the way tell me more about these caring feelings you have.”

Clara pinched his arm. Drakonis chuckled but was silenced when Clara stood on her tip toes. His breath stopped when she kissed his bottom lip. It was not deep, and the smile she gave him was like the sun. Clara kissed him. She had initiated it. She had to have felt the same draw.

“Enough of that,” Clara said, pushing at his abdomen. His dragon echoed her laughter. She walked past him in the direction they were originally going. “I am curious about these ruins.”

“Are you searching for anything in particular?” Drakonis asked. He shook his head, but he would drill Clara about this once this quest was completed. He strides matched hers, so he remained at her hip.

“I’m not sure what to look for. But I keep hearing these voices. Like a siren’s song.”

So, she heard them too?

“Songs without words,” he said offhandedly. “I’ve heard them the last time I was here.”

“What are you talking about?” Clara asked. “They speak clearer than some of the nobles in your castle.”

“You can understand them?”

“Of course. Can you not?”

His silence was answer enough.

It is good she is coming with us. There will be much to see.

Cold dread filled Drakonis’s stomach. “What do you know?” he thought back to the dragon. His dragon had always guided him but how did he know more than Drakonis did. “If you know something you must tell me!”

I am to guide you to the truth. We need her to help us.

“Drakonis?” Her hand went to his cheek. He touched his palm to his temple as he looked into the distance.

“You’ve been hiding something from me,” he thought to his dragon.

He did not answer. Drakonis looked over his shoulder. Grabbing Clara’s hand, he pulled her quickly to the temple.

The ruins were as haunting as he remembered. Hidden behind heavy greenery and moss stood the temple of his ancestors. It looked unassuming at first with plain white stone hidden by the earth in front of a faded blue wall. Paling copper serpents slithered from the sides of the remaining structures to the arched entrance lined in dirtied stones, in all varieties, around the frame. Humidity tinted, and a heavy aura, tinted the air and the only sound was the blowing of thick vines hanging, and sticking, to the ancient building. Like Zillah, the dilapidated buildings were flat at the top with a dome peeking through a mile of vines.

Drakonis’s heart stopped. It was like where Kazimir cast him from.

Physically his body did not want to move, but he took deep breaths as he filtered through his emotions. He had to go. Gavril had told him he needed to return one day to face his demons, and now Clara was here trying to connect to the ancestors. To Phaedrus.

His heart pounded as fast as when he first came here. He could not call Kazimir a coward when he refused to face his demons.

“Drakonis?” The sweet voice of his princess said his name. If she had called him by his title he would have blacked out from the stress. It seemed she always did say it when he needed her the most to. “Do we need to stop for a moment?”

“No,” he answered. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he gulped. “It seems ghosts still haunt this place.” Not the ghosts of his ancestors, but ones of his childhood. That trial was the death of his childhood. His innocent naivety.

“Take the time you need,” Clara said.

Her third eye, which faded soon after they began their trek was slowly appearing on her forehead again. It blinked slowly, looking around as an eye does.

“Your eye?”

Clara touched her forehead.

“It has never stayed open for so long,” she said. “It must be the magick in this place. It feels different than Zillah or the capital. It’s more…eerie somehow. Like it’s a gateway to something.”

Clara was as sensitive as Kazimir. Drakonis remembered voices as a kid, but Kazimir saw things. He never let go of Drakonis and dragged him everywhere. Something in the Ruins frightened him. Drakonis tried to ask about it later, when seemingly returning from the dead. It was the last of the faith he had in his brother. Something compelled him to try and kill Drakonis. Kazimir refused to tell him anything.

“These ruins are alive. There will be things you think are real. Stay close and tell me if you sense anything.” Clara nodded. He squeezed her hand. As long as he could, he would not let it go. Kazimir fell to something here and he would not allow Clara to. “And do not touch anything.”

The grand arched entrance dwarfed Drakonis and Clara as they entered. The greenery grew thicker and taller, vines attaching themselves to the wide bricks of the wall. A torn fresco painted on the vaulted, round, roof was barely discernible. Sunlight peaked through holes caused from the heavy rain and through arched windows that mimicked the entrance.

Indiscernible chanting echoed in his mind. Colorful blurs briefly appeared and, when he caught them, they disappeared. His feet wanted to stop, but something pushed him forward. His fingers tightened around Clara’s. She was real and would keep him grounded.

It is time you face your destiny. his dragon grumbled.

“I make my own destiny,” he thought back. Gavril believed in him, and drilled survival techniques in him since he was a boy. He would believe in those things.

Two dragon ghost boys, one that was depicted as the sun and the other the moon, entered this lair terrified at what the trial meant.

“ Don’t worry Kaz! We will get through this!” The black-haired boy said.

“But father said this trial is to see who has the gods’ favor.” The brown-haired dragon said. He shook where he stood with a small sword strapped to his waist.

“Gavril says the gods abandoned us after Hades changed us. What can they do when we stick together?”

His eyes followed the figures as they ran past, he and Clara. Up ahead there would be two grand statues like those in Zillah. One of a Drakaina, a hauntingly beautiful image of a trapped dragon women, and the other of Phaedrus in his dragon form. The great father that made his kind as strong as any gargoyle.

“Drakonis?” Clara touched his arm, squeezing his hand. He looked down. Sympathy was etched in her features. Kazimir hadn’t willingly betrayed him all those years ago. It was something about this temple. And he would be damned if it happened to her too. Especially since he had just realized his feelings for her.

He leaned down and left a lingering kiss in her hairline.

“Come.”

Drakonis tugged on her arm, their footsteps echoing against the walls.

“How long has your kind been away from here?” Clara asked. Even though her voice was quiet, it was real and helped tune out the chanting that was getting progressively louder.

“Since the Stonefire War. Our history says that Scaeva was becoming more belligerent as he gained powers from Gaea. They were jealous that we were free of all the gods while they had to trade chains for chains.” He stopped pointing at the ceiling. “Look. There are numerous frescos like this that are immortalized in our pottery, paintings, and writings. Phaedrus brought us to our full potential when we needed to be. While the gargoyles wanted to hunt us for slaughter, we used our newfound fire as weapons.”

“But why do you not use your fire now?”

“We do in our dragon form.” He pulled her along. “We established our dominance in the Stonefire War. Neither gargoyle, orc, nor any other aggressor would challenge us. We moved to Ouroboros because our populace began to grow too large for this small site.”

Clara looked interested but unimpressed. Was it because she had already read about such tales? There was none as intriguing as the war between Phaedrus and Scaeva. It may have been a draw, but both had established a dominance in the new world built by the Olympians.

“Have you ever wondered…” She trailed off.

“Wondered what?”

After a few moments she shook her head. “It’s not important. You said we had a long trek, yes?”

He was curious, but he would ask her later. There was something more on her mind, but he wanted to get this over with as soon as they could. If she questioned their history, it would only be a distraction. This place would tell all. It did not censor.

The next room was darker than the last. Broken pillars leaned at an angle, faded in colors of blue, red, and green. Attaching the intact pillars, and square domed ceiling were statues of more cartoonish dragons with wide detailed snouts; some had dirty jeweled eyes and others had pocketless eyes. A variety of stone guards stood at attention, some fully intact and with a missing head or arm.

“Oh!” Clara’s hand left his, grasping onto her forehead. He moved close, wrapping his arms around her.

“Grab your swords, grab your spears

To the land of death we go

To fight for freedom

To fight for glory

We go go go!”

Ghostly children ran around the room with soldiers decked out in the armor he had at the royal library. They grabbed each other’s hands and skipped around soldiers. One had even run into a brighter version of the destroyed statue.

For Phaedrus!

We fight the stone with fire

For Phaedrus!

Who defeated the mighty Hades

For Phaedrus!

We give them dead and bring the gold

Now go go go!

When they spoke of Phaedrus, swords and spears were thrown in the air. Even in this weird vision, the electricity was palatable. He had not seen these before when he was a child. The ache in his head was getting greater.

“We need to keep going.” He pulled Clara under his arm and gripped her waist. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Clara said.

Drakonis was enamored with the scene. The further he walked the more shadows were added to the room. Some were drinking and others were strapping up, adding as much armor and weapons as they could handle. He didn’t notice when his boot stepped on a tile that sunk into the ground.

“Shit!”

He hauled Clara away, as he leapt to the side. At first it was quiet. The spirits and visions disappeared, but then a low rumble began. The statues began to move stiffly, grabbing swords and approaching him. Clara wrapped her arms around his neck as he unsheathed his sword from his side.

“Wrap your legs around me and do not let go!”

Clara did as she was told. He flexed his claws and swiped at the closest statue coming towards him. The sword went through another one. For every body part that fell it moved, reattaching itself to the stone body. Damn it all. He continued to swipe his sword to at least fend off the ones closest to them.

“Drakonis! Up there in the corner! There’s an exit.”

Instead of screaming, Clara was attempting to guide him.

Drakonis, sheathed his sword, leapt over a headless statue, bouncing off a pillar towards a vine. With both hands he climbed up until he was at the flattened top. He only rested for a second before statues were shaking the pillar. He crouched, wrapping an arm around Clara’s waist. Ahead, he could barely see it behind foliage, but there as a doorless exit. He wanted to extend his wings, but he didn’t know how a partial transformation would affect Clara. He wanted to believe that she would always fit perfectly against him, but he had no total control over what happened to his body when he half transformed.

Drakonis dove, swinging again. As he got closer to another vine he grabbed onto it. Four times he had to go from vine to vine before he finally made it to a flat rock.

“Eeek!”

Clara’s arms and legs tightened around him as he slipped. The heavy stone feet of the golem-like soldiers were louder as they came together. His claws screeched against the stone, some pieces chipping away and falling below.

With a bout of strength, Drakonis ground his teeth pulling he and Clara up.

“Are you alright?” he whispered in her ear. She nodded, but she trembled in his arms. He buried his nose in her neck, inhaling her sweet scent. The pounding in his head calmed a little.

“How are we going to get out of here?” she mumbled.

“We will find a way,” he said.

And he would. They would find what was hidden here. What Kazimir thought was here that would make him Emperor. He would either destroy it or take it for himself. At this point, there was no turning back. Not for him. Clara. Or his people.