Dragon's Talon: Weapons of Espar, #1

By D. Lambert

       When the king was killed by his advisors, only the DragonKeeper knew the truth. She was exiled and, without her support, the Kingdom of Espar fell to the Lionian Sovereignty.

 
        Fifty years later, Cairon Mirk is the DragonKeeper, and he has little sympathy for the Esparans who abandoned his grandmother. But an oath remains, that he will defend the line of the Kings of Espar. When Danoron Galanth and his sister Gensiana stumble across him, helping them enrages the Sovereignty and brings a bounty onto the heads of dragons. To save his dragon family, Cairon must abandon his isolated life and do battle with the invincible Lionian Sovereignty. 

        But the Sovereignty does not act alone. Traitors hide among the Esparan rebels. New weapons are raised against the dragons, able to burn even a silver's scale. And an enemy of the past has come to end both Cairon's reign as dragonkeeper and his life. 

 

contains: violence

• Language: English
• Publisher: D. Lambert
• Release date: May 31, 2020
• ISBN: 9781777203412

D. Lambert

At a young age, Deborah's rampant imagination kept her up, lending great detail to all the terrible things lurking in the night. In desperation one night, her mother suggested she invent her own stories to distract her brain. She has been doing that since, channelling her ideas into mainly sword and sorcery-style fantasy novels and shorts.        In her other life, Deborah is a veterinarian. She lives in Sooke, BC, Canada,  with her husband of 10+ years,  their son, and three demanding felines.​

Book preview

PROLOGUE

Perched on the edge of the stone chair, Cairon leaned far over the sixteen game pieces abandoned on the table's carven grid board. Not knowing the rules for the formal game, he had arranged the foot soldiers into an attacking wedge on one edge of the board, faced by the jester and his army of mounted men. For the moment, the horses were dragons in Cairon's mind. The king and wizard pieces had been swept to one side, having no role to play in the mock war. 

The adults sat on other stone chairs around the bed, where Cairon's grandmother lay engulfed by the feather mattress and covered with a thin sheet. She had not been able to rise without assistance in more than a quartercycle now. Keeper Zian, Cairon's father, had taken the role of caretaker. Cairon thought it odd; when Cairon was ill, his mother tended him. His father did not know how to care for someone sick, not like a mother did.

Cairon's mother had explained it. Grandmother Kasha's mind was failing, and sometimes she did not recognize people. Sometimes she did not see Cairon's mother, she just saw black hair. He had seen more than one of those panic attacks. When Grandmother Kasha's mind slipped, she was suddenly young, and the War of the Pass raged. Lionians were invading Dragon Pass, the Dragon Fleet at their command. Anyone not Esparan was the enemy. Even Cairon's black curls could be seen as a threat when Keeper Kasha was in one of her states.

One of Cairon's stone horse riders, gliding on imagined wings, swooped down into the hunters. A blast of fire, mimed by Cairon's tossed hand, threw all the dragon hunters from their feet. The soldier game pieces clattered against the table.

Where is the boy? Grandmother Kasha's voice was thin, like she was running out of breath, when she asked the question.

Cairon glanced at the adults. Cairon's mother sat near the foot of the bed. With a beckoning hand, she called him to abandon the battle on the table. He stuck to his mother's side once at the bedside. If Grandmother Kasha had a fit, he and his mother would both be targeted, despite the gold and red ring on Cairon's mother's finger that matched his father's. Cairon and his mother were not the Lionian of Grandmother Kasha's nightmares, but they shared the distinctive black hair with the enemy, and that was sufficient.

Cairon made an effort to stand a little straighter when his father looked at him. The wooden sword on Cairon's hip, already scorched twice and three fingers shorter than it had once been, shifted to lie at the same angle as Keeper Zian's blade. Cairon had painted the cross guard of his wooden sword white to match the talons of his father's sword, but the paint had been burned black and was peeling. Their hide clothing matched, although Cairon knew a silver dragon scale shirt and a golden amulet lay beneath his father's, and there was nothing but skin beneath Cairon's.

Your grandson now stands at the foot of the bed, mother, Keeper Zian said. Remember, he is Yeahsin, like Elsiena. He is not Lionian.

For a moment, the white-haired woman turned her head to look up at the keeper, and Cairon saw his father flinch. Keeper Zian had stood before armies of hunters and defeated them. He rode on the back of dragons. He had placed himself between Cairon and a Lionian slaver without wavering. Cairon did not understand how an old woman's stare could shake the rock that was the Keeper of Dragon Pass.

I remember, Grandmother Kasha said. I would have him speak the oath.

Keeper Zian glanced at Cairon. Six years old is too young to know what it means.

Cairon felt his heart sink. The wooden sword tucked into his belt felt too light.

I would have him promise, the old woman insisted.

With a sigh, like an adult accommodating a child, Keeper Zian put his hand out to Cairon, and Cairon left the safety of his mother's side. When Cairon stood next to his grandmother, his father's hand rested on his shoulder in ready comfort.

Cairon now understood the keeper's hesitation. White had taken Grandmother Kasha's eyes entirely. Had she been a dragon, the white would have meant fear, but Cairon did not know what it meant in a human.

Boy? Grandmother Kasha called.

I am here, Grandmother, Cairon said. I am right here.

I cannot see, Grandmother Kasha explained, her voice gaining strength, but I hear well. Do you know the Oath of the DragonKeeper, Cairon?

Cairon's lessons with books were new this year, but the Book of the Keeper had been the first he had read with his father. The oath itself had been a lesson in memorization. Keeper Zian said the Esparans believed that a mistake during a vow broke the oath, but that the oath was now to the dragons and dragons were not so fickle. Cairon wasn't sure what fickle meant, but he thought it a bad thing to be.

He had recited the words of the oath dozens of times since that first reading. It was easy to say them now, even if he did not understand what all the words meant.

May the stars bear witness to the oath given here and the gods ensure each word is spoken only in truth, Cairon said, his words running into each other. "By the four gods, I solemnly swear to honor the memory of those of this line who have come before and to follow in their steps in the defense of the dragons of this world. I hereby swear to help all colors of dragons who come seeking aid, to destroy those who wish them harm, and to protect them from danger forever. Using the gift given, I swear to speak for the dragons and respect any request made of me.

In the presence of the god's sanctuary, I swear never to reveal the secret of the gift to any. I swear to hide it and, on my life, never allow its discovery. This oath I give to the dragons present here and all dragons of this earth. I will honor these words until my death."

Proudly, Cairon looked at his father, but Keeper Zian's eyes were on Grandmother Kasha, and Cairon felt forgotten. He went over the words in his mind, thinking he had perhaps made a mistake.

The long pause dragged on. Cairon was not sure if Grandmother Kasha was even aware of him until she briefly smiled and said, Did you know there was more once?

Cairon nodded, but then, realizing she may not have seen, he added, The second part was to the kingdom and King of Espar, but we don't say that part anymore. There is no king.

Grandmother Kasha's smile seemed sad. There is, though, she said. He is just not on his throne. One day, Cairon, a firedrake called WhirlWind may come to you and ask you to help the king's family. I promised that the dragonkeeper would always answer that call, just as your father did. If they call, Cairon, you must help them. Promise me that.

I promise, Grandmother, Cairon replied.

The old woman rolled onto her back, her vacant stare shifting to the ceiling. Good boy. Now go back to your games.

Released from his father's comforting hand, Cairon wandered back to the game pieces on the table. One by one, he stood the pieces back up then, in experimentation, picked up the king piece. The figure was an older man on a throne of what looked to be wood, although it was set in stone. A vine and flower pattern edged the throne and the robes of the king. A crown encircled the balding head. In one hand, the figure held a sword. In the other hand, he held a shovel.

Cairon placed the king piece next to the jester piece. Then the horse rider pieces took flight once more, and the dragon hunters were vanquished again.

1

In the lower caverns of Dragon Pass, where the stone was black instead of crimson, heat spilled from the walls themselves. ShadowMar had chosen this place for that warmth, and for the isolation the deeper cave bought her. Curled protectively around her nest of five eggs, she waited, her body immovable and her breath slow. Warily, she listened for any sound of intrusion.

It would be soon. Those living above her would certainly be counting the days, but she could not hear either the dragonkeeper or his silver dragon friend. Even as ShadowMar strained her ears against the stones of her cavern, she could only make out other sounds. A growl and a squawk told her the younger dragons were playing in the skies above Dragon Pass. A rumble, directly above her, hinted at an elder landing on the ledges high above. She could even hear the distant hiss of the steam and fumes escaping from the volcano that warmed her cavern, but she could not hear the intruders. The low rumble she made was of pleasure.

With never-failing attention, she watched her nest of eggs.

Long after the dragonlings had given up on their games, the first of her eggs began to tremble. ShadowMar rose, the cavern's roof high above even her great head, and lowered her eyes to them in silent encouragement. As if the others only needed the cue to begin, all five eggs rustled.

A black beak made an appearance through the leathery shell of one of the eggs, and she growled with pride. The black dragonling was hers, not his. She relished the chance to defeat MoonStone in anything.

No larger than her front claw, the tiny dragon broke its way into the low light of the cavern. Perfect, she purred. The beautiful little creature was covered with pitch-black scale, so dark that shadows sank into them. The dragon hatchling recognized his parent's scent and chirped at her deliberately, demanding food.

ShadowMar sought the others, surprised that the first egg to crack was the last to finish opening. The other four eggs were already shredded under the minute claws of four dragonlings. To her dismay, two of her precious children carried with them the silver scales of their other parent.

Sometimes eggs would simply not hatch. Sometimes dragonlings were already dead by the time the shell fell away. How would anyone know differently?

With care, ShadowMar pulled the three black dragons from the nest and placed them beside her, where they called at her playfully. She hurried to finish, knowing the chirps would soon be heard.

She pulled the two silver dragonlings away from the nest and, with their egg casings, placed them together on the other side of the cavern. As if aware of their danger, they did not chirp like their siblings but sat huddled together where she dropped them. Their bright yellow eyes began to pale with terror.

A blaze may scorch the walls, but it would also leave no remains of her unwanted offspring. Others would suspect, but they would never be able to prove anything.

Summoning fire, ShadowMar blew strong enough to engulf the newly-born silvers.

A wall of silver crashed down in front of her, deflecting the fires harmlessly. The blaze scorched the walls on either side, but not even a lick of flame singed the dragon now before her.

ShadowMar stopped the fires and curled her tail around her blacks protectively.

Are you trying to harm my dragonlings?

The silver fixed her with a glare that threatened to shatter the fire she had just mustered. Although unquestionably an enormous dragon herself, there was no denying MoonStone was larger. He may have been younger than her by over a century, but his scales were impenetrable. The silver had probably not even noticed the heat of her fire.

She lowered her head in submission. I am merely playing with my offspring.

I do not think they are ready for your games, snapped a second voice, and MoonStone's wings lowered to reveal the human rider.

The dragonkeeper was barely more than a shadow in the presence of the dragons. Although ShadowMar suspected he had not finished growing, especially as she knew him to be less than two decades in age, his height reached only to ShadowMar's ankle. A flick of her smallest claw could easily have sliced him into halves. While the heat of the cave would have left any other human uncomfortable, he did not even break a sweat as he slid from the back of the silver.

He wore silver dragon scale shirt but hid it under an old, torn hide garment blackened with soot and covered with an almost regular pattern of burn holes. He had likely washed his face that morning, for it and his hands were the only two places not ash-covered. His hair matched her black hide for color.

Although he seemed tiny to her, the lone human ruled Dragon Pass because of one thing; the amulet hanging around his neck. With the family heirloom, all dragonkeepers understood dragonspeech and were understood in turn. That gave this boy dominion over the Pass. It was an arrangement that spanned generations of humans; this boy had inherited from his parent, who had inherited from his parent. All the dragons of Dragon Pass held the arrangement sacred.

You broke a law of Dragon Pass, ShadowMar, the human pointed out, gesturing at the dragonlings MoonStone had taken to playing with. Perhaps recognizing the scales, the dragonlings were actively demanding attention from their other parent. No dragon may kill another in the Pass.

She heard his unintelligible words, followed in a heartbeat by the magically-translated dragonspeech. The chill in his voice countered her innate heat.

I did not kill them, ShadowMar argued.

You intended to.

You cannot prove that! ShadowMar snapped her teeth in challenge. The dragonkeeper had sworn to serve all dragons fairly. He had to prove she had done as he suggested.

MoonStone, the human called, would the fire you blocked have been sufficient to kill the dragonlings?

Watching ShadowMar's snarling face, MoonStone replied, That fire would have singed a red dragon.

Now I have proven it.

It would be enough. MoonStone was well respected among the other dragons. When it was her word against his, he would always rise victorious.

ShadowMar glared at the keeper, wishing to see him burn. You have no command over me, ShadowMar snarled, but if he noticed her poisonous stare, the keeper showed no indication. Even when she brought her enormous head to his level, growling low in her throat, he did not flinch.

As long as you live in Dragon Pass, I have every command over you, he said. If, however, you break the laws of the Pass, you must leave, the dragonkeeper added.

ShadowMar drew back her head and did not speak.

The silence lingered between them. He studied him with his narrowed gaze, his blue eyes giving her no indication as to his mood. She suspected he was angry, yet she could not see it.

Finally, he spoke again. You have broken a law of the Pass. You and your three blacks will leave Dragon Pass and make your way in this dragon hunter-infested world.

Not my dragonlings, ShadowMar demanded. Let them stay, even if I go. Let them stay!

The dragonkeeper did not hesitate. The law had been spoken. You knew the consequences of your actions. You are unable to live among us. This sanctuary is closed to you.

But the dragon hunters! ShadowMar tried again. The dragonlings are young and vulnerable! How can you damn the offspring of your friend?

You knew we would be unable to raise the blacks for you, ShadowMar, the keeper answered, turning away. Your dragonlings will fast become strong and violent. I am sorry, but you must take them with you and go.

She had no words for arguing. As much as she did not like remaining, Dragon Pass was the only place dragon hunters could not reach. Even blacks were not safe from the dangers of the human killers. She would die outside Dragon Pass and so would her young.

The dragonkeeper had almost reached the exit by the time ShadowMar roared and lunged at him. Before she moved more than a step, the silver dragon blocked her, his growl an earthquake.

Are you attacking my keeper now, ShadowMar? MoonStone lowered his head and bared his teeth. Through his glare, he looked amused by the prospect.

ShadowMar took several steps away, seeing the red tinge in the silver's eyes. When they had last fought, MoonStone had been practically a dragonling, but he had bested her. Now over a hundred years old, she had no doubt he would win any confrontation between them.

She did not dare. Dragon hunters may kill her eventually, but pressing MoonStone now would see her dead before she even set foot outside.

I did not think so, he snarled when she retreated. A silver dragonling on each of his mammoth shoulders, MoonStone followed his keeper out.

She would kill him, she promised her chirping young. One day, the dragonkeeper would know fire he could not avoid, and he would regret having stood against her.

WAS IT NECESSARY TO exile them all? MoonStone asked as he followed his friend out, taking a single step, then waiting for the human to almost pass him before taking another. Behind them, ShadowMar cursed loudly, curled away in the back of her cavern with three little blacks poking at her mischievously.

We have tried before to raise reds, the keeper admitted with a sad sigh, but they have always been too violent. Blacks are magma dragons like reds. They will be the same, only stronger. Only you could contend with them. It is impossible. He paused, his expression thoughtful. Do you worry about your offspring?

MoonStone snorted smoke at the thought. Those are hers. These are mine. You have done right, keeper. Our alliance was precarious from the start. Now that she has tried to slay my dragonlings, I think I will be glad that she will be farther from here.

MoonStone could tell the decision weighed heavily on the keeper. MoonStone's own arrival to Dragon Pass as a dragonling had been because of the threat of dragon hunters, making him sympathetic to the plight of all dragons, including the magma ones. Nevertheless, he found it difficult to get along with the aggressive dragons.

The keeper paused on a cliff edge and was staring absently into the distant human-controlled lands. The silver lowered his head to see the view from his human friend's angle and decided the keeper was looking at the gathering of dwellings the keeper's parent had called home.

You made a deal with the humans in the south, the dragon said. We will have food. I expected you to be pleased.

The human dropped his shoulders. They will grow dragon weed for us, but I fear it will not be enough. It is late in the season now. We will get only one crop before winter, if that. Fifty years ago, there were only seventeen dragons in Dragon Pass, and now we have reached how many? Thirty? More? The dragon hunters are getting stronger, and I... His eyes went to the pillar of stone they had erected over OceanBreeze's grave as he finished, ...and I can no longer keep up.

The grave, only two days old, was fresh enough to be frequented by the blue's siblings daily. By now, the soul was in the stars above, but Dragon Pass still felt the absence of the young dragon.

You are only one person. You did all you could, Keeper.

I have thirty dragons at my disposal, the keeper frigidly answered. I should have been able to save OceanBreeze.

You did not know they were coming from both sides, Keeper. You are too hard on yourself.

The dragonlings chirped from MoonStone's shoulders hungrily, distracting him. When he looked back at the dragonkeeper, the human was smiling, for a moment his guilt forgotten. There had been death, but new life had replaced it. For the first time, silver dragons had hatched in Dragon Pass. MoonStone was no longer the only one of his kind.

The keeper, on the other hand, was still the only human in Dragon Pass. It had been years since his parent had died and left him in charge.

They are beautiful, the keeper said. MoonStone showed his pride by nudging both little ones, and, in a whisper, promising them food soon. You should stay with them.

Despite his reluctance, MoonStone said, No, Keeper, I will come with you. My scales make me the strongest. I will not miss the chance to destroy those who harmed my friends.

Had the dragonkeeper been a dragon, MoonStone suspected he would have growled in agreement, but the human merely turned to the stone pillar over OceanBreeze and fell back into his contemplative silence.

DANORON SLIPPED THROUGH the kitchen window by swinging on the reinforced frame. He pulled himself up, knowing down was death and not from the three-story fall. Below, a dozen Lionian soldiers held a perimeter around the grounds of the manor, each wearing their drab blue and black uniforms and silver helms. Their eyes appeared to be on the exits, not the windows above, and Danoron thought he passed into the upstairs unseen.

The room above the kitchen was a sleeping area for the slaves and had three occupants. Two rushed to the door upon spotting Danoron, there to stand guard, chair leg clubs in hands. The real armaments had already been stuffed into caches. None of them wanted the Lionians to realize Danoron and his allies had been collecting swords, shields, spears, and more.

The third slave held no weapon. Rumors said that Denthas, the old scholar, had become a pacifist since the death of Danoron's father, turning his attention to the study of history and logistics. Other rumors claimed Denthas needed no training; none of the younger generations could teach him anything new.

Denthas kicked aside two cots and pried open a hidden trapdoor. They're rather persistent, he said, glancing at the door where the two other slaves were warily watching the corridor. Danoron followed the old man's stare and wondered what the man and woman on guard would do if the Lionians marched down this corridor. While branded as slaves, both were part of Danoron's protectors. They could fight if they had to, but he prayed they would not. If he could get away, no one needed to die in his name today.

How much do the Lionians know? Danoron asked. He looked at Denthas, waiting for the adverted gaze to meet his. This is a deliberate raid, Denthas. These Lionians are seeking me.

Best they not find you then, my king, Denthas replied, nodding toward the passage. Akasik awaits you at the far end. You'll find the supplies—

I know, I know, Danoron said. He lowered himself into the passage and kicked until he found the loose rope ladder. Second tunnel on the left, then third on the right. Go straight until the torch bracket and then climb.

One of the protectors at the door cursed,  and Denthas' smile fell from his face. The old scholar placed a hand on the king's head and shoved him down. The other hand hooked the trap door and began closing it. Danoron had to descend or have the wood land on his head.

We'll be fine, Dan, Denthas said as the door shut. They would not dare kill the entire Callidus household without proof. A cry rang out from below, making Danoron's stomach lurch.

No, not the entire household, but would Master Callidus object to a few slaves dying to prove there were no criminals in his house? The Lionian master would at least be convincing, having no knowledge of the many Esparan rebels using his estates and name.

Be careful! Denthas warned. Who knows where else they've hit?

The door sealed above him, and Danoron heard the shuffling of cots, followed soon by the barking orders of Lionians. He hoped the two protectors had put aside their clubs. Even well-trained men with clubs had little hope against a Lionian soldier. The lowest ranked Lionian, the diasist, carried double-edged dius swords and shield, plus a spear if they felt the need. They were also armored at all times, leather woven with iron. Danoron's men had no hope under these circumstances.

Danoron reached down and grasped the rope he stood on, then lowered himself and searched for the next rung with his bare feet. Thankfully, the kit awaiting him contained shoes, else he would be left to travel without. His feet would not have enjoyed managing the gravel and stone slab roads. The cycles of fall were half done, and the seasons had shifted. Outside, the trees dropped their sunset leaves. The harvest was almost done.

One more rung of the ladder brought Danoron to the corridor within the Manor of EvenWood and into the pitch black. He already knew which way to travel. The rehearsals had been useful after all.

He paused at the first left, something Denthas had said coming back to him in the dark silence.

Who knows where else they've hit?

What about Gensiana? If they had found his location, did they know hers?

Danoron felt his chest tighten, and he redoubled his speed, one hand on the tunnel's wall. He knew Akasik would object, but Danoron could overrule him if he needed to. Neither Danoron nor his supporters could afford to lose Gensiana. Her royal blood was no less pure than Danoron's own. Danoron could not lead anyone against the Lionian invasion without his little sister at his side.

They would have to get her.

2

D o you expect it to change if you stare at it for long enough, DragonKeeper? Spark, curled up across Cairon's shoulders and behind his neck, lifted his head to ask the question. The fairy dragon's long tail wrapped around Cairon's right arm, the pressure familiar enough to allow Cairon to often forget it was there at all.

The hills had gone brown in the fall, most of the fields harvested into straw or haystacks, but the stone walls were a strange mix of grey and lichen-white towering over them all.

Rival, Cairon's horse, stomped his foot and kicked up dust.

Cairon leaned back into the saddle, refusing to move forwards yet despite Rival's impatience. His eyes were still on the walls beyond the hilly farmland. I do not like human settlements.

I had figured that out! Spark dryly laughed. His golden eyes shone in the sunlight, his face as green as the cedar boughs lining the road. You have not been this far north in six years. You hardly even visit the home of your parent, even though you have friends there.

There were few friends in Polain. Like any Yeahsin village, Polain contained a mix of Lionians and the native Yeahsin. The Lionian paki commanding the city, Paki Talc, would have called himself the keeper's friend, but Cairon wanted nothing to do with him or his constant hope that Cairon would commit his dragons to the Dragon Fleet of Lione's army. There had been threats more than once, all of them empty, and bribes high enough to fund a city. In a never-ending cycle, the occupying Lionians flexed their muscles at Cairon, and the keeper growled at them until they left him and his dragons alone. The balance between keeping the Lionian Sovereignty fearful enough not to engage Dragon Pass and not fearful enough to feel threatened by it was a tiresome one.

I have more enemies there than friends. That is true of all human settlements. The Conquerors rule all human settlements, and they are no friends of mine.

There were plenty of reasons to go back to Dragon Pass even now. On his way to Rodons, a firedrake had reported that a woman from his parent's village had come to the fields outside Dragon Pass with a blue flag, indicating a request for a meeting. Cairon had asked the dragons to take the woman to his manor, although when speaking to dragons, he had to call it his cave. The one of many questions as the dragons called her, should not be left in the Manor of Draegot for long.

That being said, Cairon was not keen to deal with Cosima. If he was lucky, the visit to his home in Dragon Pass might convince her to leave him alone, finally. She had been following him ever since he had taken over Dragon Pass. He held little hope of that stopping until he took a wife, another unsavory duty he would have to get to at some point.

If he wished to delay talking with Cosima, Cairon had to go on.

The city of Rodons, the hub for the southern harvest, had grown since he had last visited. New buildings pushed against the far side of the walled city. The only substantial point among the thatched roofs and wooden construction of the city was the single gate in Lionian style; high stone towers flanking a double gate that had not seen repairs in decades.

Although a steady stream of waggons and carts passed through, Cairon was more concerned by the Lionians within who did not know him or his dragons. Unlike in his hometown of Polain on the south side of the mountains, where he had the guards respectfully staying out of his way, Cairon could not expect the Lionians in the north to appreciate the dangers of offending Dragon Pass. If they knew his title, they would want him dead.

But this was where dragon hunters staged their attacks. This was the last stop before coming into Dragon Pass itself. This was where he would find his enemy.

Rival shook his head this time, tossing his long mane and making his bridle jingle.

The horse was right. He had to decide.

Turning around would accomplish nothing. Cairon could not return home and wait for the next dragon hunter's raid to take another dragon from him. OceanBreeze needed avenging.

We will find the dragon hunters, Cairon promised the dragon on his shoulder as he nudged the horse into a walk. We will stop them, and then we will go home.

Spark stretched his wings out behind Cairon, the pink flashing into view briefly, then settled in comfortably and purred as they rode on. As they crested the final hill leading to the gate of Rodons, Spark vanished from sight. Although Cairon still felt the weight of the dragon on his shoulders, Spark's scales shifted to camouflage the fairy dragon perfectly into Cairon's fur coat and the changing scenery behind him.

The wait at the gate was minimal. In the dusk, the crowds headed into the safety of the city, forcing Cairon to dismount and lead the warhorse. He passed through the first archway, where large wooden doors usually resided. Now only the inner old iron gates were present, folded open and rusted so badly it seemed they would crumble should someone attempt to move them. In the space between gates, where a widening of the corridor allowed Lionian soldiers to control the flow of people, Cairon was stopped.

A Lionian soldier, his uniforms marginally better kept than those in Polain, took Cairon's papers. He then ushered Cairon aside into a yard. Defenders of the city could have rushed at their cornered enemies