CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 15
Dynarys flew over the sea of green that formed the forest canopy. At times, the trees themselves looked like a great stretch of grass, smooth and even. At others, they rose and fell with dramatic changes in the landscape much like waves. Maybe one day, if he survived this delegation, he would fly east and experience the sea for himself.
But first he had to find Cillumn.
Guilt pressed him hard. He couldn't stop the feeling that Gayriel's return with the Onyx Lord was intricately linked with Cillumn's disappearance.
Celcath had been alerted, of course, but his interest was minimal, despite the obvious implications against him. He had simply looked at Dynarys with those cool black eyes and suggested that Cillumn had simply abandoned them.
Not likely.
Yet there was no sign on the plateau, and his dragon had already flown the forest close to the aerie itself with no results. If Cillumn was out there, he was far enough away that he would have had to turn dragon to get so far.
If only Gayriel had used her common sense. The dragon rumbled at their shared memory of her return to the aerie, flushed and happy as though having just spent the day at the most pleasant of tasks. It rumbled louder when he played through the scene in her apartment.
He should never have touched her. Should never have let his hands run over that smooth olive skin. Proving to her, to himself, that he aroused her excitement as much as she did his.
It had been a great struggle not to complete what he started, his member hard and throbbing with need and the beast inside aroused to a near stupor. The way she stood there, hands bound above her head, delicate chest heaving and desire flashing in her eyes, Great Six he doubted he would ever erase that picture from his mind. Even now, he could feel the creature's regret in leaving instead of taking her.
And that, in itself, was another problem. It was not usual for the Dragon to make its desire known in such a way. He worried that it had to do with his mixed blood, that it simply meant that somehow he had less control over the beast than other Lords.
Yet such a thing had never occurred with any of his other lovers.
Either way, it was a headache he did not need. Not at this juncture. The dragon would have to wait, for the sake of both of their lives.
Another dragon interrupted his internal flogging. Krashac, the Lord he had taken to search with him. Krashac's beast was a black dragon, as well, but there were hints of silver along his wing tips, and the color faded to a blood red at his claws and tail. Amber eyes caught his gaze and then the great neck swung right and down, a gesture encouraging him to follow.
Dynarys could smell the blood before he landed. A great deal of it, tainting the air with a metallic scent. The surrounding forest had been utterly destroyed. Trees lay in tattered ruins, and in between grasses and underbrush lay crushed, or in places dug up from something leaving deep scores in the earth.
A great battle had taken place. A dragon battle. And Cillumn had been at the heart of it, he was certain. Vast stains of blood littered the ground, alarming in itself, but it was the final bloody pool that had Dynarys's heart sinking.
The wound must have been fatal, even for the quick healing of a Dragon Lord. It must have been, or would not Cillumn's body still be there? Where it had gone, Dynarys didn't know. There were enough great predators in the forest that it wasn't hard to imagine something might have dragged it off. For once, he wished that his mixed blood would allow him to scent the Quatori, the same as the Shifters could. They must have been around; such a battle would have created an abundance of noise. And the Quatori were nothing if not scavengers of misfortune. Even if a large predator hadn't happened across Cillumn, the Quatori would have.
The beast's head lowered, feeling the loss keening painfully through Dynarys. His fault. His responsibility. This Lord who stood by him, who claimed him as a brother. And it was Dynarys's fault he was dead.
The great howl that came from his dragon was nearly unrecognizable, so filled with fury and pain, regret and sorrow. It rang out through the forest, startling small mammals from their branches and flocks of birds into flight.
And it echoed the feelings in Dynarys's own soul.

She was furious. How dare he? How dare he use her body against her and then leave her wanting?
The shame of the memory threatened to overwhelm her.
Your desire binds you to me. Well, something would have to be done about that. She had to secure her freedom before she lost it for good.
Which was why she had bullied the timid young woman who had come to dress her hair into giving her an extended tour.
She was a pale thing, too thin to be used as one of Celcath’s statues, with a wide smattering of freckles against her nose and cheeks, pale blue eyes and brunette hair braided back and tucked beneath a veil. She cowered behind as Gayriel opened the door to the suite.
Strale leaned casually against the wall of the suite next door, watching the courtyard and the skies alternately with a firm attentiveness. He straightened when she emerged.
He was dressed this day in a deep jade, tight fitting shirt and matching pants. Gold embroidery flickered as he moved, most of the pattern so tiny and intricate she had to squint to make it out. Unlike other days, however, he had strapped on blades. Lots of blades.
“You aren’t going to a meeting like that?” she asked. The blades would never protect him when he was so outnumbered by Onyx dragons, but they would send a message.
“There will be no meetings until Cillumn is found. Dynarys and Krashac search the forest now,” he raised a blond brow.
“The Onyx dragons are not aiding in the search? After they promised the safety of the delegation?”
“Celcath insists that Cillumn has returned to the Amber aerie, or that he had other plans. Since he left the aerie of his own free will they refuse to interfere.”
Gayriel studied Strale, his words were emotionless, without hint of accusation. His eyes flicked behind her, the girl stood, eyes downcast, waiting patiently.
“I am getting a guided tour,” Gayriel explained.
“You think that is wise, at this juncture?”
She frowned. “I am not leaving the aerie, I see no harm.”
Strale grunted. “I do not think Dynarys would approve.”
“Dynarys is not here to ask. If he had his way, I would stay confined to my chamber and never venture forth for risk of a hangnail. What good would come of me then?” Some of her frustration over last night’s encounter must have bled through her tone; both of Strale’s eyebrows shot upward.
“Is it really so terrible that he wants to keep you safe? I have seen your actions, Lady. You behave like a child that wants her own way, regardless of the danger, yet you wonder at his firmness.”
She pressed her lips tightly together. Strale obviously did not see it her way, it was no use arguing with him. Besides, his words were pulling a little at her conscience and she wished to stay mad...emotionally separate from the man in question.
“I cannot simply sit in my rooms. I need something to do, Strale.”
Strale sighed, his fingers gripped and then released the pommel on his hip. “Fine, you have an hour. You will stay within the aerie,” Gayriel smiled at him, relieved. “And you do not go unguarded,” he said at last and waved an arm. Pourtus appeared from the suite across the courtyard and strode toward them.
“I do not need a babysitter. I promise I simply want to look around.”
“I am not debating the subject. Pourtus, you will see to the lady while she is on her tour?”
Pourtus nodded, but he did not look impressed. He was probably thinking about all the better things he had to do, especially with the meetings breaking down and a delegation member missing. He narrowed his eyes at Gayriel, as if she had forced such ridiculousness upon him.
“Do not make me regret this allowance, Lady Delegate,” Strale warned.
Oh, she wouldn’t. This tour would be a model of obedience. It would be dark before anyone realized its true purpose.
“Please, start with the aerie’s main buildings,” she told the girl.
The woman jumped a little when she was addressed. Maybe she thought her quiet demeanor had hidden her from the confrontation. She shuffled from the apartment area, her stride agitated and nervous.
“This is their tour guide?” Pourtus muttered, falling in by Gayriel's side.
“This is my tour guide, yes.”
Pourtus eyed her. “For a human, you are quite a bit of trouble, and irreverent, too. What is it that you are up to now?”
“I am up to nothing. I am bored. I’ve been stuck inside my suite for three days, and the one invitation I had to leave seems to have initiated trouble that has nothing to do with me,” she sighed.
“Indeed.”
The girl stopped at the base of the large, tall central building. The main tower, like enough to the banquet building at the Amber Aerie that Gayriel assumed it held similar purposes.
“This is the tower, the most important of the buildings in the aerie,” she murmured. “Would you like to see inside?”
They had, once already, when the delegation was greeted by the Archon, but Gayriel didn’t say. She turned her head up. The tower was several stories higher than the other buildings. An idea came to her that might shorten the tour and negate the suspicion both Strale and Pourtus wished to straddle her with.
“It looks as though such a building has a wonderful view, are we allowed in the upper levels?” she asked.
“Not the very top ones, those are for the dragons only. But I can take you up to the upper dining hall. The servants are allowed in there to clean and prepare. I am certain it would be allowable,” the woman smiled, relief taming the fear on her features a little. Had Gayriel truly come across as so unreasonable she feared what would be asked?
“That would be appreciated. Can one see out of the aerie from there? The plateau and the forest as one?” If so, it would definitely be high enough for a comprehensive view of the aerie’s layout.
She nodded, her voice rising with excitement. “It is beautiful, do you paint?”
“Sometimes,” Gayriel nodded. Terribly, but the guide did not have to know that. Let her think this strange woman from the Amber Aerie was interested in an artist’s perspective.
The woman moved before them, her gestures more excited now than nervous, yet it still put Gayriel in the mind of a mouse inside the cat's lair. She led the way to a set of stairs, tucked in its own section of the tower, and they began the assent.
“Liar, liar,” Pourtus muttered in Gayriel's ear when he made the staircase behind her. “Has Dynarys not taught you that dragons can scent emotions and lies, Lady Delegate? Just what are you up to here? My dragon tells me you do not seek a view worth painting.”
Crap. And this was why she did not need an Amber Dragon babysitter. She would have to be extra attentive to her visualization and any lies. “I do seek the view, I’m just rather terrible at painting,” she explained, with her barriers erected. “That does not mean I do not enjoy such things.”
Pourtus said nothing, but she felt his eyes upon her, studying her as though a curious specimen he wished to dissect.
The dining room was high enough that her energy was piqued by the time they stopped climbing. Not that they could have continued if they wanted to. The stairs simply ended there. If dragons used the levels above, they must fly in.
It was a massive affair, a tall room with two walls that had windows stretching from floor to ceiling between heavy pillars. The glass seemed nearly non-existent, so perfect was it in its cleanliness and quality. Each of the pillars was identical, smoothed until they shone.
Eight enormous tables filled the floor; each looked as though the plank that formed the top came from a single tree. She studied them a moment, puzzling how one might get such a monstrosity up the spiral of stairs, before deciding that they must have once hoisted the creations from the building exterior up and through the window openings, maybe before they had placed the glass.
Stone and wood carvings filled the spaces as center pieces upon the tables and bright tapestries hung along the walls wherever the windows did not take precedence.
“Impressive,” she noted.
“I have not been here long enough to see it used,” the woman told her. “The head of house says that, once, the Archon held many affairs here. But it hasn’t been used in years.”
“That is a shame,” Gayriel approached one of the windows, oriented east, and began to note buildings and obstacles. The direction gave her a partial view of the cliff-edge and the forest far below. Was Dynarys out there? She turned her attention to the other direction. Crops of grain and happy green plants waved in the afternoon breeze. It was hard to believe that Cillumn could have been ambushed in such a setting. Even if the Quatori were invisible and wandering the fields, he should have been able to fly as soon as trouble presented itself. Maybe Celcath was right and he had just returned to the Amber Aerie. Would he do such a thing? For back up, perhaps?
“The coming of your people has allowed us to see more of the Archon than most of us have ever glimpsed him. He spends most of his time in the chambers up there where no human goes,” the woman joined Gayriel at the window. Her feigned interest in art must have disarmed the guide somewhat, for she was friendlier than expected since mentioning painting. Did she realize she had just given Gayriel the prized information that she sought? The location of the Archon’s chambers?
“Such a beautiful view going to waste,” Gayriel told her, sympathetically. “I would love to come up here and paint it at dusk, I bet the sunset from here is magnificent.”
“Most certainly it is. If you would like, I will see if the head of house will allow such a thing?” She hesitated a moment, “and if it wouldn’t be too much bother, I would love to watch you work. I always wanted to learn to paint.”
Gayriel nodded, but scrapped the plan immediately. Too many people would know of her presence there for her to find some way to the upper levels. Still, she recalled that the stones that formed the outside of the building were fairly rough. She might climb...if she could make it so far. The height worried her, not only for her own endurance, but if she made a mistake, it might be the last she ever made. And there was the risk of getting caught; pretty hard to explain herself out of that.
She pointed at a few buildings and asked questions, innocent questions that should mislead the woman if she later found any of her actions suspicious. And then she paused, next to a window, thinking.
They were six or seven stories high; the levels above constituted at least another three. Getting in safe and unseen would be a feat. Finding the correct chamber added to that. Faced with the realities, she wasn’t sure she was up to it.
“The great war,” Pourtus announced from behind her shoulder.
“What?” she blinked at him.
“The tapestry,’ he nodded to the heavy wall hanging next to her. It was where she had stopped to ponder, so she supposed it made sense he thought she was studying it in depth.
She looked at it now, a long narrow scene. Dragons flew through a smoke filled sky, the representation of town and forest both red with fire. On the ground many humans lay dying, interspersed with the odd dragon littered with thousands of arrows.
She had heard of the great war, but the people of the streets were little concerned with histories from thousands of years ago. Both it and dragons themselves were spoken of as mythical. In fact, she had only seen a dragon once, near dark when she was five, flying so high above the city it might have been mistaken for a large bird. All of this was new to her in the last two weeks.
Her eyes drifted lower...and caught on a gruesome depiction of eight men around a fallen body. It looked as though they were...eating it. Blood stained their hands and beards and they grinned at each other, some raising their fare upwards to the heavens.
“The beginning of the Quatori; evil, benign spirits until the humans offered them their own corporeal bodies in exchange for wiping dragons from the earth.” He scowled at her. “I wager you didn’t know that the blight on all the races began with your own people’s intolerance.”
She shook her head, turning back to the scene. How could anyone create such beings?
“Figures. Humans never did take responsibility for the mistake. Even after the Quatori grew in number and turned on them, feasting on human, dragon, and even Shifter blood alike. And now we must protect you from your own folly, or see our own race decline, as well. Celcath is not entirely wrong, despite what Dynarys thinks. The least your people owe us is whatever females we wish.”
Gayriel bristled a little at his words. If it was true, then humans had made a very poor judgment indeed. One with consequences far greater than should have been possible. But she did not feel women were owed to anyone. A little of her anger at Dynarys subsided. She was relieved he fought against such beliefs.
“Has my lady seen enough? We have not gone to any of the other buildings, but the hour your Dragon Lord has allowed you is nearly over,” the woman twisted a finger.
“The dining room was experience enough,” Gayriel smiled at her. She didn’t even have to lie.
She did work her way from Pourtus. She found herself disliking him, not just for his opinions, which were terrible, but for reasons she couldn’t place. His presence next to her made her nervous, and though the situation was safe, she couldn’t help but think she didn’t want to be left alone with the man.
As they began down the staircase, she pretended to bend and check the ties on her silk slippers, pausing just long enough that she would follow Pourtus down the stairs instead of the other way around. That way she might regulate the distance between them a little.
Her visualized barrier must have been effective, he did not hesitate at all, but slid into the staircase. She made sure to follow quickly so he had no reason to suspect her motives, but she allowed some space, and she watched him.
She had noticed before that he was not the largest among the Dragon Lords, but his grace spoke to a speed and agility that was best not taken for granted. Besides, even smaller than Dynarys and the others, he was many times stronger than herself.
Catching her thoughts, she shook her head. Why was she planning defense against him? He wasn't likely to challenge her to a duel. She put aside such ridiculousness for later consideration and focused on her descent.
A large arm flashed from the alcove on the landing they approached, a gesture meant to catch her attention.
The guide and Pourtus were already past, so she slowed, her heart slamming into her ribs. Maybe getting behind Pourtus was not such a great idea after all.
Her shoulders slumped a little when Scet melted from the shadows, but they tensed again with his expression. Something was wrong.
“Lady,” he muttered, so low she struggled to hear. “We have trouble.”