Sixty
Rohan
I’ve waited years for this moment.
Wished for it.
Envisioned it.
Dreamt it.
Now it’s here, so close that I can almost taste it.
The Enclave is ruined.
What was once a place filled with our misery is now full of still-burning banners, collapsed tunnels and broken seating. The royal balcony a shadow of what it once was, and the sands now full of rubble.
Our blood is upon it, our dragons’ blood… and now our tormentor’s will join it.
“Dragorie!” I shout, looking upon them all.
All the clans are gathered tonight. The dragons have removed the dead, including their own. We’ve taken this place, no one daring to come near as the torches surrounding us illuminate us in an eerie glow.
“The day has come where The Games are no more!” I shout.
They pound fists against their chests.
“The day has come where we no longer have to suffer under the hands of Halen, a once cruel king!”
More chest pounding.
“No longer will anyone take from us how he’s taken from us!”
Cheers.
I look across to Halen. He’s tied to two wooden posts, half way up. Rope circles his wrists, holding him in place, feet dangling, barely reaching the floor.
“I know nothing will ever be enough to bring justice for the harm he’s caused. The deaths. And not just in the Enclave, but in The Glade, too. Over the years, when he sent others to torment us in our homes.”
Names and faces filter through my mind.
Emmy, Leon. Lykke and Maery. Agnis, Beau and Calian. Doren, Blaise, Alter, Agnar. Frelia. Herja. My mother… Everyone else we have lost with every game that has passed.
“When we’re done here, we will show Dracozar that we have no mercy in the Dragorie way. And Halen will stay here until his bones turn to dust, so that if anyone were to come across him, it would be a stark warning of what will happen if they dare to cross us again.”
Pound. Pound. Pound.
My eyes drift to Alara where she watches me next to her sister.
Her hand is clasped in Niyah’s.
I know she hates violence, hates the thought of ever killing another, but she gives me a nod, and my shoulders relax.
I didn’t know that I needed her approval for this, but it seems I did.
And if even my little dragon whisperer approves of his death, it goes without saying just how evil he is.
“Drogonah!”
He lands on the Enclave wall with a roar, the metal keeping them out now warped from how they attacked it.
Escor appears, Sparks on his back. Solia is next, then Hakkon, Magnus, Hedoric, and Vex.
Celeste, and the rest of Sigrid’s dragons follow, Varan’s and Durruk’s also joining. Clan Redhorn’s on the other side.
Rubble falls down from beneath their feet, heads lowered and watching intently.
The Dragorie step forward and circle Halen, torches lighting the way.
“W-what’s going on?” Halen says groggily, finally awake. “Release m-me this instant you barbarians!”
He struggles against his binds, feet scraping the floor, naked body on display for all.
“We are preparing you to meet Morana’s wrath,” I say, making him jolt, his eyes flashing to mine, face twisting into a sneer.
“Get me down, immediately!”
I tilt my head. “Or… what?”
He splutters, spit dribbling down his chin as he glances behind me.
“My son will kill you.”
I raise a brow.
“He is the commander of my army, you think you can best him?”
“I’m not here to fight him, father.”
I step aside and make room for Alexandar as he steps up beside me, wise enough to still give me space.
“Get me down, Alexandar.”
“No.”
“What?” Shock covers Halen’s face.
“I said no, father. Enough is enough.”
“You.” He eyes both of us. “You are working with this barbarian?!”
Alexandar holds his arm out, and a Raven descends, landing upon it before hopping up to his shoulder.
“I planned with my brother.”
“Not my brother,” I mutter.
Alexandar eyes me. “I planned with Rohan to give him the opportunity to kill you.”
“You betray your king? Your land? Your family!” Halen rages, cheeks red.
“It’s you who betrayed us a long time ago.” Alexandar pulls something out of his pocket and holds it up. “I just set up an opportunity.”
Halen’s eyes widen at the sight of the port stone that he tried to flee with. The one that didn’t port him to safety as he thought, but ported him straight to me.
Alexandar gave him that to use in a time of need to escape, just like we planned, and Halen trusted him.
I didn’t think it would work, as port stones are usually only able to go to a location, but Alexandar said he knew how, and it did work.
“You traitor,” Halen seethes.
“No,” Alexandar says, throwing the stone at his feet. “I protected my family, our name, just like you always wanted.”
Halen snarls, and Alexandar clicks his tongue. The raven screeches, and then it descends on Halen, pecking and clawing at his left eye. He screams and pulls against his binds, blood dripping down his face.
Another click of his tongue.
“Here, Modin.” The raven stops and flies back over to perch on Alexandar’s shoulder, feathers bloodied where it holds the eye in its beak.
“An eye for an eye, father. Just like you taught me.”
Then Alexandar turns, his raven flying off. I don’t see where he’s going, never once taking my eyes away from Halen as he cries and whimpers.
I smirk.
“Let’s begin.”
One by one, every single Dragorie comes up to Halen and inflicts some form of pain on him. The dragons watch over us, growling and purring their approval.
A punch, a cut, a broken rib, which is helpful for later. Broken ankle, elbow. Shoving tiny stones into his empty eye socket.
And he cries.
Oh, how he cries.
Just like he made my mother cry.
Made Alara cry.
He starts to pass out, and I throw cold water at him, jerking him awake. I grip his hair, yanking his head back.
“No, we’re just getting started.”
And so it goes on, deep into the night until every Dragorie has Halen’s blood on their hands.
Varan walks up to him and breaks a finger, Durruk stabs him in the back of his arm, carving something in the skin there. Sigrid is up next, and she takes his face in her hands.
“You broke my dragon’s heart when you killed her mate,” she seethes, taking a knife to his ear and slices through, then punches him in the face. He screams. “This is part of the payment for the pain you’ve inflicted. I can’t wait to see you die.”
Then she spits on him and walks back to the crowd, Celeste purring down at her.
And still it goes on until Alara, the last one, walks up to us.
That’s the only thing that can make me take my eyes off the cruel king.
I didn’t expect her to be up here, knowing she doesn’t like violence.
I’m proven right when she comes to me instead and raises on her tiptoes, placing a gentle kiss to my lips.
My heart skips a beat.
“Let’s be done with this and go home, Rohan.”
Home.
With her.
Back to the Wilds.
I look over her shoulder to Niyah, who watches her sister closely. Alexandar stands by her side.
“You don’t want to go to the Elven lands?” My eyes go back to her. “To be with your family?”
She smiles softly at me, never once looking at the mess that is the king.
“My place is with the Dragorie,” she whispers, and my chest heats. “I would like to visit the Elven lands soon, but for now, there is much to do, and I want to be there to help. To go home.”
My fingers clench with the urge to grab her, but I don’t want his blood on her.
She nods like she knows.
“Soon,” she says.
“Soon,” I whisper, and she turns and goes back to her sister.
I look back at Halen.
He’s barely recognizable, mumbling incoherently, but his one swollen eye still lands on me as I near.
“Let’s give you wings like the dragons you were obsessed with trying to control. The difference is, yours will be made from your lungs.”
I go behind him then, and pull out a smaller blade, cutting into his back.
He arches, a whimper coming from him.
“You were a fool to think you could have the Dragorie under your heel forever.”
I pull back skin.
“You were an even greater fool to think your own children wouldn’t despise you. Were you jealous that they hold power you don’t? That you’re simply an average human and they are not?”
I break a rib. He screams.
I break another, he throws up.
“Now,” I say, sweat beading my brow. “Under the eyes of my people, of dragons, you will die here as a traitor, as a warning from the Dragorie, the barbarians you despise, to never cross us again.”
Another broken rib, and he barely makes a sound now.
He’s dying.
I know it.
He knows it.
The dragons know it as they chuff their encouragement.
I drop the blade, and my hands go to either side of his spine. Then I dig in, grabbing his lungs and pulling them out, placing them on the side of his back, spread out.
Just like wings.
I step in front of him, watching the light fading from his eyes.
I grin.
“May Morana meet you,” I say, wrapping my hands around his neck, squeezing. “And may you feel her wrath.”
He gasps for breath, eyes wide, gurgling and jolting, and then his head drops.
Dead.
I step back, taking in deep breaths as the Dragorie pound their chests and the dragons roar.
It will be known on this day that the cruel king is no more.
And it will be known this day that still, all will fear the Dragorie or feel their wrath.
I take a step back, then another and another, looking upon the man that sired me, who hurt my family, and all I feel is relief that finally, he’s gone.
“Are you proud of me, mother?”
The wind flows past me in that moment, and as it does, I swear I can hear her say, ‘of course, my son.’