Dragonbound: Birthrights (Book 2)

Brinn had only a couple attempts of an attack, but each time they did so, a storm would set in or wind would threaten to carry them away. As the army backed into their own land, the Avestitians had began building a wall to keep Grindall’s men away. It was tall and made of wood with spikes pointing east toward their enemy’s border.

Cyrin stood in the encampment, inspecting the wall that stood near sixty feet tall and only forty long as they worked to stretch it further. Dragons and men, both, worked tirelessly to get the wall up.

He folded his arms across his back, his purple eyes stuck on the wall. General Arnol moved to his side, wearing his armor that shined black and silver with bits of red cloth flowing from beneath the chain shirt. Cyrin flickered his eyes to him, but went straight back to scrutinizing the wall.

“Lord Cyrin, we will keep them at bay...and if we do not, I am sure Kriettor will,” he said.

“Hm...” he replied, absentmindedly. Kriettor was the one controlling the weather, keeping the men away. It was unusual. Kriettor never inserted himself in the wars of humans, seeing as how it would be far too easy for him to win the war for them.

The last time it happened was during the thirty-year war with his grandfather, and then to stop Murdock with Kiaran. Perhaps something was worse than they had thought...Brinn was not a country they could lose against.

Did Kriettor believe otherwise?

As his thoughts twisted, he turned and walked at a quick pace, Arnol at his side. “Thank you, General, you’ve opened my mind back up.”

“Y-You’re welcome?” he replied quizzically.

Reaching the center of the encampment where Ruthianna sat, he climbed onto her saddle. As their minds linked, she knew where to go, and they were instantly in the sky.

He needed to find Kiaran as soon as possible--get her back before something happened. However, he didn’t know where to find her, but he knew Kriettor could. Faster, he nearly commanded and Ruthianna’s wings beat harder.

Soon, they were at the opening of the Hollow Mountain. Cyrin slid off the saddle and looked to the sky, the sun nearly gone and the sky filling with a deep shade of purple. He patted Ruthianna’s shoulder, then moved inside the monstrous cavern.

He fumbled around, the darkness too much to bear. Finally, he could see the faint orange glow in the distance. Rounding the corner, he faced Kriettor.

The dragon stood tall, his wings touching the roof of the cave, his chest expanded. His black root-like veins grew out from his talons and wings, attaching to the stone around him. His mouth was parted as he breathed, licks of multicolored flames flickering across his ivory teeth. Cyrin was caught, surprised by the dragon’s stance. It was alarming.

After a moment, Kriettor lowered his wings and looked to Cyrin with a bored expression. He let out a long, deep, low growl--one that was not intimidating, but more of a question to his presence.

“I need you to contact Kiaran,” he said. The dragon watched him, his eyes lighting up with surprise. After a moment, the dragon sat down and slowly shook his massive head. “What--Why not? You are obviously placing yourself in this war between us and Brinn. That entails that things are worse than we thought. You can’t let Kiaran stay in Trindal alone and expect her to be fine.”

"Vrathimal,” he roared, his word stabbing at Cyrin’s subconscious. He cringed and the dragon repeated, ”Hush.”

“Why won’t you do it?”

“It is not necessary,” he answered. Then, he turned away and lied on his side, his spiked back held to Cyrin.

Tossing his hands in the air, he grew frustrated and marched out and back to the entrance of the Hollow Mountain. Ruthianna looked over her shoulder at him and stood. She could feel discomfort swallow him and she trilled lowly. Reaching her side, he sighed heavily and said,

“If Kriettor is not bothered...perhaps I shouldn’t be either.” Climbing onto her saddle, he said, “Want to fly?”

She trilled happily and launched herself into the sky. She climbed higher and higher until Cyrin found it difficult to breathe. Lowering a bit, she drifted on the wind.

They overlooked the beautiful land that was washed with rich colors from the setting sun. Flying with Ruthianna, Cyrin found it much easier to ponder on many things, keeping himself distracted from that which was troubling.

After thinking on several things, he thought back to Elsibellem’s sadness. Ruthianna was unsettled by it, believing that something so pretty should not be tainted. The meaning of Ruthianna’s name was of beauty. Spectacular beauty--such as a setting sun or the glass-like mountains. Cyrin smiled a little, finding it odd that she found a small woman as equivalent to such beauty.

He felt a bit guilty, thinking of her worry for his safety and for Ritiann’s health. Sighing heavily, he directed Ruthianna to return them to Vintar. It did not take long for them to reach the castle, where she had landed them in a small courtyard.

Leaving the dragon’s back, he removed her saddle and rubbed her skin. “Thank you, Ruthianna. Go and enjoy yourself,” he said, giving her one last pat. She trilled, touched her forehead to his, and then shot back into the sky.

Walking into the castle, he found that it was quiet, nearly everyone already retiring to their quarters or were cleaning silently. His boots padded quietly on the red rug as he headed toward the kitchen, his gut starved.

Reaching the room, he was surprised to find Ritiann and Elsibellem sitting at a small table in the corner, eating on some cheese and bread and whispering to one another. There was a long and depressing look on the queen’s face as she held a hand to her forehead, her elbow resting on the table.

Her eyes moved past the girl to him and she remained expressionless--as if she had no energy. Elsibellem looked over her shoulder at Cyrin, a look of relief touching her eyes, though there was no other sign of contentment in her. Facing Ritiann again, she said a few things and stood. She made her way over to Cyrin and bowed for a second.

“Are things being handled well in the north?” she asked lowly, though he knew that was not what she wanted to say.

“Yes,” he answered simply. “Is Ritiann alright?”

Elsibellem’s lips parted, but she quickly clamped her mouth shut. After a moment, she finally said, “She is not doing well...Who is to say, though. She will pull through again, I am sure of it.”

Again? His eyes watched the woman with worry. He had seen her weak and sick, but this was alarming. “She has done this before?”

“Her time is coming...Lord Cyrin,” she answered reluctantly with tears in her voice, though her eyes were dry. “I should get her to bed...”

“Let me speak with her for a short moment,” he said, resting a hand on her shoulder as he walked past. Reaching Ritiann, he sat beside her. Holding her hand in his, he said, “Ritiann...your daughter will be home soon. Do not worry about that, at least.”

“I believe in her, yes,” she nodded, her voice weak and exhausted. Her blue dragon sat anxiously beside her, watching with deep, saddened eyes. “You are doing well, Cyrin.”

“Thank you,” he replied softly.

She patted his hand and stood. Looking to Elsibellem, she said, “I can make it to my room with Rathen. Give Cyrin some company, won’t you?”

“Of course,” she bowed as the queen walked away. Facing Cyrin, she found him to be holding his head in one hand, the other tapping the table slowly, as if in deep thought. She took a seat across from him, her back erect and her hands in her lap. “...Is something wrong, Cyrin—uh-Lord...Cyrin.”

“Cyrin,” he corrected her. “And I am fine.” His hand fell from his face. “You don’t have to call me Lord. But yes, something is wrong.”

“What is it?” she asked quietly, pulling the plate of breads between them so he might eat.

He pinched off some of the bread and squeezed it between his forefinger and thumb before tossing it into his mouth. “More than I even know, myself.”

That was unsettling. Cyrin was a very knowledgeable man. If he did not understand what was wrong, how could anyone else? Worry settled on her face with creased brows and a heavy frown. Taking another chunk of bread and some cheese, he said very flatly, “Do not look so worried, Elsibellem. It does not suit you.”

She was confused by the statement, her expression twisting slightly. “I-I am sorry,” she said.

“No need for that,” he said, taking a bite. “How old are you, anyhow?” She lowered a brow at the question, seeming less worried and simply confused at this point. That was his point: Get to know who Elsibellem as a person and get her to focus on something other than the bad.

“I will be twenty-four in late autumn, sometime before the first snowfall, but after the leaves are gone of the trees,” she answered.

“Are you from Vintar?” he questioned, spreading some more cheese on his bread. “I do not recall seeing any family of yours here.”

“My only living relative brought me here in hope to find me a job. He wanted security...” she answered. “My Uncle.”

“Security?” he asked quizzically. “Most would simply put you up for marriage rather than find you a job.”

She frowned again, lowering her eyes. Shrugging a shoulder, she touched the tips of her fingers to her the lip of her cup. “Most would,” she agreed.

This tugged at his curiosity. She seemed suitable enough. She was pretty, well behaved, smart. What was keeping her from being married? Finally, he just asked. “Why would your Uncle not do that?”

Her eyes shot to him, but she quickly tore them away. “His reasons are his own,” she said flatly. “It has been three years since he’s left, and I am still unmarried. So it is not his fault but my own.”

“I hardly agree with that,” he grunted. She watched him with a confused look and he asked, “Elsibellem, what is your surname?”

“Carpul,” she answered.

“Elsibellem Carpul,” he pondered. “I’ve never heard the name...”

“We were from a very small town,” she answered. “And our family was small. It is unlikely that anyone remembers our family.”

“And yet you work directly for the queen,” he stated. “That is a feat.”

“I suppose,” she smiled a little and took a quick drink. “Shall I fetch you something to drink...Cyrin?”

“That would be ideal,” he nodded. “Thank you.”

The sun had just risen past the mountains, though it didn’t seem to warm anything. Torin glanced to the city in the distance, than to Brick as they rode their horses forward. “They’ll be fine,” Brick had to remind him.

They were worn down and exhausted after their nonstop rush back to the capital. And soon enough, they’d be whisked away and sent back to Rishana. Torin exhaled heavily, his heart in his gut. He had finally found his brother, but was not comfortable with his absence. He didn’t like that he wasn’t coming home with them.

“Walter can’t possibly be behind all of this,” Brick said uneasily.

“I trust my brother over him,” Torin said shortly.

“Perhaps,” Brick said in uncertainty. Brick had known Walter much longer than he knew Davin. But he trusted Davin, after witnessing what all he had accomplished...He trusted he was a good man. But what would Walter gain from betraying him? Surely he wouldn’t do that just to take command…

Within the walls of the city, they collapsed from their mounts, greeted by a few retainers. One quickly rushed inside to fetch Cyrin.

Lethargically, the two made their way inside the castle, finally running into Cyrin who appeared half-asleep. “Glad that you’ve made it back,” he said.

“So are we,” Brick replied.

“We actually,” Cyrin paused, leading them down the hall, “We actually have someone here to see you.”

“Us?” Torin asked.

Cyrin nodded, taking them into a comfortable sitting room. Standing at the row of windows was Stella, her back to them. She held her hands loosely together behind herself, her hair loose to her shoulders.

“Stella?” Torin questioned.

She turned to them, at first with an excited expression. Then, it turned grim. She glanced between the three of them and asked, “You did not find him?”

Torin frowned. How did she know? “What are you doing here?” he asked.

She glanced to Cyrin who quietly stood away from them, giving them some privacy. With a troubled smile, she hesitated to move from where she stood. She finally gave up and remained where she was.

“I knew something was wrong...So I went to the City of Rishana to find out,” she said. “Walter tells everyone that Davin left completely of his own accord. There was no kidnapping.”

“That’s a flat out lie,” Torin bit.

“I know that,” she replied. “I spent some time with a girl who got to know your brother...very well,” she continued in slight displeasure. “She may be in danger, because she was with him the night of the attack. She knows the truth.”

“So why did you come here?” he asked hesitantly.

She frowned, her brows creasing slightly. “I came to help anyway I could...This was also at Kane’s request,” she ended quietly.

“Kane knows?”

“Some,” she shrugged a shoulder.

She glanced between the men and stepped closer to Torin. He leaned in so she could speak quietly, the others not hearing. “Serah...the girl…” Torin tensed. “She’s carrying your brother’s child.”

Torin paled as he eyed her, his heart completely stopping. “That means...in a sense, she’s carrying the heir to Rishana,” he whispered back. She nodded and he realized the danger she was in.

“I couldn’t risk bringing her with me or relocating her...If I did, they’d know something was up,” she said regretfully. “I need to find Davin. We need to solve whatever is happening and get back as soon as possible.”

“I think there’s more going on than what we could ever imagine,” he said solemnly. He gripped Stella’s shoulder and sighed heavily. “Did you see Lianna?” She nodded. “How was she?”

“Worried,” she said softly. “Confused, I think. But she’s fine.”

He nodded and ran a hand through his hair. “It’s alright,” she said gently. “We can get through this.” Though she said it, he knew she didn’t believe it.