Page 132 of To Touch A Silent Fury
In my grandfather’s lifetime, it had seen fifty wyverns.
I stared up through my window as the horses pulled us up the hill. Tens of wyverns careened overhead, so high in the noon sky, blotting against its brightness, that I could not tell greens from yellows. At last count, there were over two hundred wyvern riders amongst our soldiers.
Braxthorn the Breeder, I thought, with a smile. I’m sure he’d fucking hate that nickname, but perhaps it was best suited to his deeds.
The wyverns were far smaller, each wing barely longer than its rider was tall, but they were still a sight to behold. I wondered what Courvin would make of it now, the jewel of his conquest now a decidedly different gem.
I’d requested to travel on dragonback myself today, but my father wanted to save that demonstration of strength for later. I realised then why Braxthorn had chosen this day trip. It was an intimidating sight. The caws of the wyverns, the healthy fields spread out around it, and the five round stone towers, nearly twenty-five feet across and several times as high.
We trundled past the base of one now, and even craning my neck, I could not see full to the top of the nearest tower. Courvin had originally built the towers to half their current height, intended as grand funeral pyres on top of the largest natural hill, as the Five commanded. The remnants of the scaffolded staircase on the near side still showed from where the fortress’ citizens would carry the dead up. Drawings existed from his plans, and even at those dimensions, they were a massive undertaking. They were not used as funeral pyres any longer. They were nests, hollow on the inside with room for dozens of wyverns, and a large shallow bowl at the top for a dragon.
Braxthorn was showing these women what a dragon kingdom truly looked like. What we could unleash, if needed.
We reached the flat of the hill, and I stepped from the carriage before it had come to a halt, needing to escape the stifling and weighty silence of my father’s disappointment, even if I was fucking glad that for once I had not invited it myself.
I thought of her, as I had every minute of every hour since I walked away from her. I hoped she had discovered our trip, and used the time to run as far away from Droundhaven as possible.
After last night’s festivities, I had indicated to my father that Lady Elissa was currently my least terrible option. He took the liberty of also inviting Princess Margot, in case my mind could be swayed.
The two women, dressed spectacularly in pastels with parasols, looked overheated already as they stepped free of the carriage. Banrillen was under strict orders to mention his engagement to no one, and I was certain Braxthorn would look for any way to get him out of it. I, too, hoped he would desert his plan. If anything, I was grateful Margot was there. The Princess of the Tastelands had been hand-picked for me, but perhaps Banrillen could be persuaded to take her off my hands instead.
I offered Lady Elissa my arm, and we began our tour. She was less meek today, and surprisingly both excited and somewhat educated on the topic of dragon breeding. She asked good questions and listened intently to the answers. I found her company pleasant enough, and I even laughed when she shrieked at a young unbonded wyvern who bounded towards her.
Later, we supped on Tastelands bread and figs paired with Scentlands cheese and wine. I forced myself into conversation with Princess Margot, finding lighter topics and thus discovering her a fair conversationalist.
The sun was setting in the central open courtyard when my father stood and nodded to me.
Finally. Chaethor had been nearby all day, and it was frustrating that I couldn’t see her. With all the drama of the last week, we’d barely interacted since returning from the north. I strode out into the courtyard along with my father.
Braxthorn spread his hands as he backed into empty space. “Lady Elissa, Princess Margot. I hope you have enjoyed the day’s tour around the Vidarium. But you did not come to the Sightlands just to see its wyverns.”
The women turned in their chairs. Banrillen kept eating, not looking up from his plate.
Braxthorn whistled, and even high in the orange-tinged clouds, I heard the answering roar.
Is it time?Chaethor yawned.
Yes,I said.Time to stretch those wings.
Did you have anything in mind?
I smirked as Kallamont’s huge shadow cast against the clouds, and then he dived down, punching through the wisping air and into sight.It will be hard to top my father’s flair.
We ought to try, then,she rumbled.Can’t let the old man win.
My thoughts exactly.
Kallamont flared his huge wings as he pulled up from his spiralling nosedive. At just over eight spans of age, he was Braxthorn’s true eldest child by a few years, his wingspan a third larger than Chaethor’s. Dragon wings kept growing throughout their lives, though the rest of their growth would be far slower. The adult sapphire dragon dropped onto the ground, his claws sinking into the sun-dried mud and his wings sending a gust of wind, knocking over a nearby table. Princess Margot gasped as Kallamont tucked his wings to his side with a growl.
The dragon’s brown eyes flickered across us warily as Braxthorn stepped over to mount him. Around us, the attendants were searching the skies for the ruby dragon, craning their heads back to nervously study the empty golden clouds.
Once seated, my father shot me a look dripping with impatience.
I smiled.Now.
In one beat of her wings, Chaethor appeared over the Vidarium’s eastern wall, flying low. She screeched, and everyone ducked, including Banrillen. Lady Elissa swooned as Chaethor dropped over the wall.
Just a little closer. I caught the twinkle in her eye as she approached, fast.
