Prologue #7
The crowd jeered in the darkness, out of Elouan’s ever-narrowing field of vision.
Chants of “Kill him! Kill him!” went up, likely led by Urien’s followers.
The court loved Father, and Elouan worked hard to maintain its love.
Last week, he’d been their beloved prince.
Now, scheming mothers would turn their ambitions to Elouan’s cousins.
The shuffle-click of Sakaris's familiar gait tracked across the bowl-shaped chamber, the tap of the senior mage's cane echoing off the walls. Sakaris, the cloaked figure who’d come to Elouan’s cell.
Why hadn't he revealed himself? Guilt? He’d worn the unaccustomed purple himself tonight, and threw back the hood of his cloak dramatically, a pretentious gesture worthy of Uncle Urien.
He’d wasted no time in switching sides, or had he backed Urien all along, only pretending to be loyal to Father?
Elouan’s anger burned. He dug his nails into his palms.
Here or there, he caught whispers, though none loud enough to decipher, even with his dragon’s acute hearing.
No one cried out in protest. No one defended him.
He was alone. Would die alone. His dragon raged, demanding to be let out.
Somehow, the enchantments of the bowl allowed a knife to pass the wards.
Had the prohibition against shifting also been nullified?
No. He couldn’t be that lucky. Once more he tried to summon the beast within. Once more, nothing happened. Not a single scale or talon.
With none of the rightful king's three sons mated, they couldn't assume their lawful places in the hierarchy. Urien must act quickly, not give Elouan a chance to rectify matters. Father had suggested some perfectly acceptable mates. Why hadn't Elouan accepted any?
Now, Father lay dead.
Elouan would soon join him in death. "What of my brothers?" he dared ask, glancing into the face of his father's old ally. Sakaris. The traitor.
Sakaris leaned down, murmuring into Elouan's ear, "Hush. You didn't think I'd abandon you, did you?" The old mage winked before schooling his craggy features into a severe scowl. Louder, Sakaris called out, "Lord Urien. This man is your kin. Spilling his blood on your crowning day is a bad omen."
Lord. Not King.
Murmurs grew from the crowd.
"What do you suggest?" Urien didn't hide the irritation in his voice.
Crowning day required a crown. If the Goddess hadn’t given the gift yet, she likely wouldn't.
Sakaris attempted all the bow his aging body permitted. "Allow me to take this burden upon myself, Your Highness." Interesting how Sakaris didn’t acknowledge Urien as king by saying “majesty.”
But Sakaris would put Elouan to death? Oh, for Elouan's hands to be free to swing a sword.
“Let me do the honors,” Gwythyr demanded.
Sakaris tightened his hand—clawlike even in human form—on Elouan's shoulder.
“Silence, mage! Let my brother's traitor do the honors. I need you to attend me.” Urien stood. “Let the people know that my brother’s end came because he denied the natural order. I was my parents' first alpha, and should’ve been named king as is my right.”
“Yeah!” called some in the crowd.
Their validation added fuel to Urien’s fire. “Now that you have your rightful king, together we will conquer our enemies. Other courts are decimated, or nearing collapse. They’ll be easily brought to heel by our superior fighters.”
“Yeah!” some shouted. Urien seemed to be whipping them into a frenzy.
“Let our enemies beware! We will rain fire down upon them. We will execute all traitors, just as we are executing the one you see before you!"
Rumbling growls echoed from Elouan’s chest. He’d gladly slay the traitor before him without a trace of remorse.
Once Urien nearly glowed from all the praise heaped upon him, he traipsed through the admiring throng, Gwythyr at his side, whispering into the fake king’s ear.
Urien paused and focused his gaze on Sakaris. "I have decided. Break his wings and throw him off a cliff.”
Far too many of the assembled dragons chanted, “Long live King Urien, long live King Urien!”
What? Forcing a shift, only to break Elouan's wings… Killing him outright would be more merciful. Urien didn't believe in mercy. Not to his brother, nor to his brother's sons.
If the Goddess granted Elouan his fondest wish, he’d show no mercy to Urien when they next met, be it in this life or the next.
Breaking wings was horrifying enough, the doomed knowing they would never fly again. In ancient times, the king's enforcers would’ve left a broken dragon chained for days in agony before finally sending the poor creature to its death.
Soon Elouan would be airborne for the last time, even if only for a few brief seconds. Many dragon bones littered the cliff's base, from murderers to other criminals to enemies. Elouan had done nothing wrong but be his father's son.
Urien addressed the crowd in a booming voice. "I, Urien Thorne, am your rightful king. Bow and pledge to me now, suffer the same fate as the usurper, or face banishment."
Usurper? Elouan hadn't tried to take the throne. He’d been the heir. Too many of the court wanted Father’s leadership. Too many for Urien to allow Elouan to live and perhaps return one day.
One by one, the crowd followed their self-proclaimed king from the bowl, many taking a torch with them. Gwythyr cast a haughty glare as he passed.
Elouan glanced up. The removal of most torches allowed him a view of the sky. Beautiful night tonight, the perfect chance for flying. He noted the positions of the stars. If he must die, may his gaze remain fixed on the heavens when he drew his last breath.
Sakaris said he wouldn’t abandon Elouan. Did he mean a merciful death? Elouan stood, shaking off the humiliation of being made to kneel before his uncle.
Finally, only he and Sakaris remained in the bowl, along with a few guards who stood around the exits. Sakaris gave Elouan a weary smile, sorrow filling his soulful brown eyes. “I cannot tell you how this pains my heart to see my good friend’s son falsely condemned as a traitor.”
Was Sakaris still loyal? Could Elouan hope?
Elouan lifted his hand to rest on Sakaris's shoulders. His shackles held him back. "Sakaris, for love and loyalty to my father, please spare my brothers."
Keeping his normally booming voice low, the old dragon replied, “I suggested banishment for them, as they’re not alphas and can’t take the throne, but he’ll never find them. I’ve already seen to their safekeeping.”
“They’re still alive?” Despite the circumstances, hope flared in Elouan’s heart. Please let his brothers be alive. Deep inside, in the place where a sibling connection formed seasons ago, he concentrated on his brothers now that he was free of the dampening effect of the dungeons.
“Yes, Your Highness.” A not-quite-smile lifted one side of Sakaris’s mouth.
Alive! They were alive! Elouan delved deeper than usual inside himself, searching for the connection. If they were alive, he’d have to feel them. Deeper and deeper he went until a tiny spark grew into a flame. Daire! He’d found Daire!
“What of Anrai? He’s so young to be alone in the world.” Why couldn’t Elouan sense him? Wait! There! Not a spark, but more like a vibration. Music? No denying Anrai.
Flame and music. His brothers.
Sakaris gave a bit more of a smile. “He’s not alone. I assure you. You yourself tasked an honorable man with his well-being. Teron would give his own life before he allowed any harm to come to Anrai.”
Teron. So he’d survived, too. Elouan nearly groaned in relief. He met Sakaris's eyes. "I hate putting this burden on your soul. You have been my father’s lifelong friend. It shouldn’t fall to you to kill me, or do you delight in doing Urien’s bidding?"
"It's no burden at all, Prince Elouan." Sakaris spoke softly, kindness in his dark eyes.
What? "You want me dead?"
"Nay. I’m wanting you in your rightful place, king of High Reaches, and producing young to play pranks on a tired old dragon like you and your brothers did."
Another bit of hope flared to life in Elouan’s heart, gone in an instant. "I can’t be king. I have no mate."
Sakaris rolled his narrow shoulders. "A simple enough problem to remedy, I think."
Dare Elouan wish for a better fate? "What will you do?"
"What I must…."
No one would miraculously save Elouan. "My uncle will never believe I'm dead without proof."
“The night your father died, hundreds of dragons took to the skies, some controlled by Urien, some loyal to your father, and some unaffiliated dragons who appeared to fight alongside the loyal. One of the unaffiliated dragons bore similar markings to yours. Despite my best efforts, he succumbed to his injuries earlier today. I will let our king,”—Sakaris spat the word — “see the body if he so chooses. I’ve given him no reason to doubt me.
” He gave a weak shrug. “Or so my magic tells him. Now, hurry. We haven’t much time. "
“What of the other mage?”
Sakaris growled as they passed through the first set of wards.
“Gwythyr is pure evil from a coastal court. He doesn’t mete out cruelty at Urien’s command, but because he loves inflicting pain on others.
” A touch of his staff on the chains sent them tumbling to the ground, releasing Elouan’s wrists and ankles.
Elouan rubbed the chafed skin on his wrists.
His dragon wanted to dart to the exit, shift, and fly. “But you’re a strong mage.”
“Aye, but I fear Gwythyr is stronger. At least at present.”
He must be strong indeed. Strong enough to keep Sakaris silent, strong enough to overcome the wards. Strong enough that Sakaris couldn’t act openly against Urien now. A shiver ran down Elouan’s spine.
Sakaris led Elouan through the second set of wards. Two guards barred the way. "Stand aside," Sakaris commanded. Beta he might be, but he’d lived long enough to gain power through knowledge alone, plus his considerable magic.
Not to mention the rumors of Sakaris turning dragons into toads, no doubt started by Sakaris himself.