Kastali Dun

Saffra freed an arrow from her bow. She watched it arc through the air, whistling towards the target. It struck a dummy’s chest, but not its heart. She scowled. Three points were awarded for striking the head or heart, two for the chest or neck, and one for the abdomen, arms, or legs. With the Fall Tournament approaching, she had every intention of defending her title.

She walked over to the dummy some sixty feet away and recovered her arrows. Although it was midday, the sun’s harshness was becoming less of a burden as summer came to a close, but it was still hot. Fortunately for her, she was alone at the longbow range. No one heard her swear in frustration as she wiped the sweat from her brow. Most archers preferred the short distance range. In fact, it was unheard of for a female of her stature—Riders excluded—to possess the strength necessary to pull the weight of the longbow, but she was not merely a female. Magic made her strong.

She found her position again. Taking a deep breath, she focused her mind on the heart of the dummy, nocked an arrow, and pulled her bow tight. Just as her arms tensed with the weight of the pull, the world around her began spinning. She steadied herself, but her sight blackened at the edges. The strength in her arm gave. She released her hold on the bowstring and heard it twang.

Everything vanished.

She was enveloped by darkness and cold, freezing cold. She shuddered, opening her eyes to the vision world.

There was a mountainous hold. It wasn’t the first time she had seen it. Its harsh ramparts were like shards of broken glass decaying into the crumbling heaps of rock that settled around the mountain’s base.

The picture whooshed forward. She found herself standing in front a man. His red eyes, evil and menacing. She knew these eyes—this man. Kane. But he wasn’t looking at her. He was watching someone else. A woman.

Saffra’s breath caught in her chest. She turned to find Claire. Blocks of ice tumbled into the pit of her stomach. Claire stood cloaked in black velvet. This was not the Claire she was used to seeing. She was changed. Her hesitance was gone. Instead she radiated pride, much the same way Queen Isabella did when she cursed the Marble Dragon.

Claire’s face was stone. Unyielding. But she didn’t see Kane watching her.

Kane laughed then, making Claire jump and glance around. The high pitch of his voice left Saffra trembling in the nothingness. He lunged, quick as lightning, shooting forward as he called out words in the old language. A ball of magical energy manifested between his fingers, growing into an orb with blackened veins. It expanded outward like a bubble.

She tried to warn Claire. She screamed harder than she ever had. A human would never stand a chance against an Asarlaí like Kane. But try as she might, not a single word escaped her chest.

Claire was going to die.

Sensing the danger, Claire moved with surprising speed. A staff materialized in her right hand and Cyrus’s Sverak in her left. Saffra blinked, not quite believing. She crossed the two before her like a shield. Her lips moved so quickly, Saffra failed to understand her words, but she could hear the song in Claire’s voice, not a moment too soon, either. The orb of dark magic shattered against an invisible barrier. A deafening crack split the silence. She gasped as the explosion of power surged through her, vibrating within her body, searing her like fire.

Her eyes flew open.

“Lady Saffra! Thank the gods.” A worried voice met her ears, hushed and thick with emotion. She felt her lips pull apart into a pleased smile. She was resting in familiar arms. Her sight cleared from its blurry confusion and she found herself gazing into warm brown eyes.

“Commander Daxton,” she croaked, sending a silent prayer of thanks to the gods.

“I am here.” He kept his voice low, cradling her within his arms, rocking her back and forth. Her brow scrunched in confusion before he bent to kiss it tenderly, as if attempting to smooth away her worry. At the touch of his lips, warmth spread through her insides.

She tried turning her head but it hurt. The sun was glaring down upon them. Despite its warmth, she was still freezing cold. “What…what happened?”

“You fell, Lady Saffra. You were here with your bow.” He lifted it from the grass beside her. “I was training some new recruits. As soon as you fell I came straight over.” He helped her sit up.

The movement brought her vision flooding back. She tensed. Claire and Kane fighting each other? How was it possible? How could a human defend themselves the way Claire had? It hurt her head to question it. She groaned, blinking against her watering eyes.

She needed to record the vision before it faded away.

“Another vision?” Daxton asked.

She nodded and closed her eyes, trying to etch each image into her mind. The darkness of her closed eyes eased the pain. Some of what she saw would be impossible to forget.

“Are you going to be well?” Dax placed his hand over hers and squeezed. She opened her eyes and gazed back into his.

“I certainly hope so,” she muttered. Truthfully she needn’t worry over herself, for she would be fine. It was Claire’s prospects that left her terrified. “Thank you for rescuing me, Commander.” She afforded him a small smile. He was her knight in shining armor, or in this case, knight with a sweaty chest, not that she minded. “I hope I did not frighten you.”

“You certainly did.” He expressed his upset by nuzzling her forehead with his nose. The open show of affection surprised her. No, it scared her. Someone might see them. She hid her dismay for the time being and allowed his touch to calm her.

“I ought to return to my room and record what I’ve seen,” she said.

“And what did you see?” he asked. Curiosity and apprehension were etched into worry lines now forming on his face.

A frown pulled at her lips. “I…I hardly know,” she whispered at last, shaking her head. “Without Cyrus, I cannot seem to understand what I see.”

He sighed. “Cyrus was your crutch. There was once a time when he was mine, too.”

It was Cyrus who had trained Commander Daxton. Cyrus taught him everything he knew about sword fighting.

“But Saffra, you are still the king’s prophetess. You must learn regardless. I know you can do this—you were meant to do this.”

She gave him a weak smile. “I will try.”

“Very well, little dove.” Concern did not leave his eyes as he helped her to her feet, handing over her things. Then he walked her to the edge of the practice yard.

“Uhm…Saffra?” He hesitated. “May I come by your chambers later this evening?”

“You wish to visit me? Are you not worried someone might find out?”

To preserve their secret relationship, a great deal of sneaking was required. For Dax to be seen entering her living quarters was dangerous.

“I do wish it. I promise that I will use the utmost discretion. You have my word.” He placed a hand over his heart and bowed his head.

Her heart melted and she smiled. “Then of course you may come.”

“Excellent.” His wide grin crinkled his eyes until they were narrow slits of happiness. How strange he was being! But she loved him all the more for it.

“See you tonight.” She turned to leave. Suddenly a hand grasped her arm. Dax pulled her back to him. The force of it left her breathless. He cupped her cheek in his hand and bent to kiss her gently. She could hardly take in air.

“Commander!” she scolded, pulling away from him, becoming instantly apprehensive. She shouldn’t have allowed it, not out in plain sight as they were.

“There now,” he said. “That is a proper goodbye.” His grin left her heart racing.

“What are you playing at?” she whispered, glancing around.

“Do not fret, my lady,” he said, affording her a quick wink before walking back to his students.

***

She was still flustered when she returned to her chambers. Dax never showed his affection in public and for good reason. They both worried over how the king would react. Neither knew if their relationship was permitted so out of fear, they’d kept it secret for many years. Yet, today he was displaying his feelings openly.

She rummaged for her journal. Already she could feel pieces of her vision drifting away. She grabbed a quill and bottle of ink from her desk and began scribbling down notes. She had seen Kane and Claire. Seeing them together in a single vision was peculiar and alarming.

Claire had been holding something too. Was it a sword, perhaps? A staff? What was it? She tried to remember. Squeezing her eyes tightly shut, she pictured the image in her mind. Only then did she realize that both weapons were present. Keeping her eyes closed, she allowed her mind to wander over the scene. The staff was strange, made of dark wood with a single gem glittering on top. Glowing Sprite-like markings were etched into it. She wondered about the gem before shaking her head. It was a shame she no longer remembered the color. But the sword—she knew the sword.

“It cannot be possible!” she muttered, jotting down more notes, trying to draw little sketches of what she’d seen.

“My lady?” Jocelyn’s voice sounded from the bathing room. “You wished for a bath upon your return. Your gown is laid out and ready too.” Jocelyn took one look at her and rushed over. “My lady? Is everything all right?”

“I…I hardly know…” She turned back to her scribbling. “It is the most peculiar thing, Jocelyn. Absolutely confounding.”

“Do you wish to speak of it?”

She shook her head and pursed her lips. “Not now. My head aches terribly. Get some of my Aegan from the private stash I have under my bed.” She had given Claire nearly everything except a very small amount leftover from two years ago.

“Will you go to the king again?” Jocelyn sounded hesitant. “I know how he flusters you.” The reminder was meant to deter her from visiting King Talon.

“I…” Should she take this to him? She considered it. “No. I do not think I know enough about this vision to waste his time. Perhaps when I learn more…” Would she learn more? Would more visions like this one visit her?

***

After dinner, she snuck through the keep. She found Claire in her room, albeit surprised by the unexpected visit. Claire quickly ushered her inside.

“Would you like one?” Claire asked, offering up a toffee. “They’re from Reyr. He brought me a whole bag yesterday.” She took one of the brightly wrapped candies and popped it in her mouth. After savoring it for a moment, she pushed it into her cheek and explained the reason for her visit. She told Claire everything she knew about the vision.

“Let me get this straight,” said Claire, frowning. “You saw me battling Kane and somehow I defended myself against him?”

“I warned you it was strange,” she said, frowning. “Claire, the Asarlaí are an ancient race, powerful and terrible before they disappeared. Cyrus told you all about them, yes?”

Claire nodded.

“No human is capable of doing what you did in my vision, of defending themselves against an Asarlaí.” Pausing for breath, she allowed her own words to sink in, coming to a single conclusion. “This might sound far fetched but…I do not think you are human. You cannot be. I thought all of my visions foreshadowed your coming here. Now I believe there is something more.”

An expression flashed across Claire’s face. She worried at her lower lip, like she wanted to say something but was holding back. “Saffra, maybe…maybe I’m not entirely human. “I… ” Claire shook her head and sighed. “There’s something I should tell you.”

Saffra sat up straighter.

“I was hesitant to tell anyone,” Claire admitted. “Last night I finally came clean to Reyr. I suppose you deserve the truth too.”

Her heart quickened.

“Maybe what I know might help put the pieces together in your puzzle.”

“What did you tell Reyr?” Curiosity seeped into her voice.

“I told him…Well, I…I’m not normal. I can hear all the Drengr talking to each other.”

Saffra opened her mouth. “The other Drengr? Through telepathy? Explain.”

“I heard them before Cyrus died,” she said, going on to explain her strange ability to hear all the conversations exchanged between the Drengr. She described the way she felt when Jovari, Koldis, and Reyr talked secretly about her, and the way she cried when she heard the king’s voice.

By the end of her story, Saffra did not bother closing her mouth. “But…no one can hear all the Drengr, Claire. No one! Not when they do not wish to be heard.”

“I know,” Claire muttered.

Everything she saw in her vision was suddenly a possibility. She cleared her throat and thought of her vision. “Can you think of any reason why you were holding Cyrus’s sword in my vision?”

Claire’s face turned red. “Uhm…I…I don’t know.”

“Are you sure?”

She began biting her lower lip. “I think Cyrus and I are connected.”

“Connected, how?”

“I know it sounds weird, Saffra, but I can hear his voice in my head sometimes…talking to me.”

Her eyebrows pulled together. “But how…?”

“I don’t know! Believe me, I wish I did.”

It was all so unexplainable. They talked about it for a few minutes more, trying to discover the reason for it. But nothing made sense. When she finally left Claire’s chamber, she was left with more questions than when she had arrived. Explaining her vision was challenging enough, but coming up with an explanation for Cyrus’s voice was an entirely new obstacle. The day had been full of impossibilities.

As she crept through the corridors she wondered over it. Which was harder to believe: Claire hearing Drengr voices or Claire hearing Cyrus’s? Perhaps it was the latter, especially since Reyr had already confirmed the matter of the first. That left her to ponder Cyrus’s decision for singling Claire out. Why not choose Talon instead? Or why not her, since they’d trained together?

A tiny pang of jealousy pierced her heart. She missed Cyrus so much that it hurt to think of him. To know that Claire had the ability to converse with him when it was Saffra who needed him so desperately, was unfair! But none of this was Claire’s fault, and pining over it did not help solve the conundrum.

At last she shook her head and planted herself upon her sofa within her chambers. All she could do was stare at the fire in the grate. “Is the Commander still coming by tonight?” Jocelyn’s voice roused her from her daze.

She jumped from the couch. “Commander Daxton. Good gods! I had forgotten!” With Claire’s revelations, she was entirely consumed. Daxton would arrive at any moment. “Hurry, help me with my gown.” She had already started unlacing it upon returning. It hung loosely about her body. She wanted to look her best when he arrived. Jocelyn helped her freshen up before dismissing herself.

She hadn’t long to wait before he made good on his intentions. “Good evening, my lady.” He greeted her as she opened her door. Seeing him dressed in a fine tunic and freshly shined boots increased her admiration. Too often she saw him in training clothes.

She stepped aside to allow him to enter, offering him a shy smile as she did, but he stayed put. It was very strange indeed and she cocked an eyebrow to inquire. He pulled from behind him a bouquet of wildflowers—bluebells and orange poppies. Her face flushed. “Those are for me?” she stupidly whispered, flattered by the romantic gesture

“You like them?” he asked, hesitant. “I picked them before dinner in the fields outside the city.” If she wasn’t mistaken, there were bits of color rising on his cheeks. He looked so bashful. It was a sweet emotion from him. Certainly he was self-assured, cocky, and brash at times, but he never acted shy, especially not around her.

“They are positively beautiful!” She inhaled deeply, closing her eyes to enjoy their scent. Her heart began racing. “Do come in!”

He entered, and after putting the flowers in a vase of water, she poured them goblets of wine. Then she sat upon the sofa just close enough that their thighs nearly touched. He immediately scooted a cushion’s length away and angled himself to face her. She almost giggled. Now they sat with knees nearly facing as he studied her intently.

“You are behaving rather oddly tonight,” she said. His face paled, leaving her to regret her teasing. Perhaps he was upset.

“Saffra…” His throat bobbed. “Do you love me?”

“I…” Her brow furrowed. “You know I love you. I’ve told you so many times over. I love you more than anything.”

“And I, you,” he finished, saying nothing more as he fidgeted with his hands. Why wouldn’t he look at her?

“Is everything all right?” she asked.

“Yes.”

She took several deep breaths before shaking her head in confusion. As if the day hadn’t been strange enough. Forcing her gaze away, she sipped on her wine. Whatever ailed him would come out soon enough. If it meant they had to sit here all night, she would get to the truth.

He exhaled. “Do you remember when we met?”

She smiled and looked down at her wine. “Aye. I remember it well.” She had been a nervous child at that time, in possession of an incurable fondness for him, though he never knew it until they were much older.

“I too remember it like yesterday. You were just a child to me then.” He frowned. “When I came back from the Gobelin Wars five years later, that was no longer the case. You caught my eye immediately. I saw you that day at the target range. Do you know the time I speak of?”

She thought back to his return, the day she had laid eyes on him after so many years of absence. The memory was strong. She wasn’t sure she’d ever forget it. “I do. You came over to me. I believe you told me my archery progress impressed you.”

He chuckled. “And it did, but it was far more than that which caught my attention. The moment I laid eyes on you I longed for you. I may have not said so, and obviously I did not express as much. I can be overconfident at times, even I admit to that.”

She barked a laugh. At times? He was none too liberal with the admission. There was no denying his characteristics, but she had come to love them. It was his swaggering personality that first drew her in against all rational thought.

“You may not know it, Saffra, but I was not true to you initially. I hid my true feelings from the outset. I knew I wanted you even then, but I also knew you were a lady of the Court. Not just any lady, but the king’s own royal prophetess, and I, a lowly commander in his army. It occurred to me that if I was ever to win you, I would have to make you want me first.” He shook his head, perhaps ashamed of his behavior. She frowned, never guessing his behavior had been purposefully done. “I believe my tactics—no matter how conniving—worked?”

His grin was devilish.

“You self-righteous, boastful, wretch!” she cried, reaching over and slapping his chest as hard as she could with each word. He grabbed her arm and encircled her waist, dragging her across the sofa so that her back sat flush against his chest. Her wine nearly spilled from its goblet. Now atop his lap, he wrapped his arms around her so that she could no longer fight him. All the while she giggled.

Removing the goblet from her grasp, he drank the remainder in one gulp, and then tossed the empty cup away. “I knew I had to make you mine,” he whispered into her ear. His touch sent warm tingles down her spine. Her laughter stopped. “Do you wish to be mine, Saffra?” he asked.

“Yes!” she whispered, breathless. He turned her in his lap so that he could look at her. The relief in his expression surprised her. Had he actually doubted her? For years it was she who doubted his desires. This was an unexpected turn of events.

“If that is true,” he said, “if you would have me, then I would make it official. I would ask for your hand Lady Saffra, to make you my wife.” She opened and closed her mouth several times, stunned.

“You—you want me forever?” she asked, incredulous.

“I never wish to share you with another. You are mine—forever—if you would have me.” His request was no small feat. She possessed magic, powerful magic, and that would age her more slowly. She would be forced to watch Daxton grow old. Who could tell how much longer she would outlive him? Yet her love for him trumped everything.

“I would have you forever and ever, Dax,” she said. “You have always held my heart. Surely you know that.” Her words left him smiling.

“Aye, I know, but I wanted to hear you say it.” He bent down and kissed her softly. Then he nuzzled his nose against hers and happily sighed.

“Since you will have me, we can be married as soon as you wish.” She stilled at his words then pulled away from him in alarm.

“But the king! What if he is against it?”

“Not to fear little dove, not to fear.” He was being far too calm. “I spoke with the king early this morning and he has graciously given his consent.”

“What?” she shrieked, pulling away to slap his chest yet again. She was both shocked and excited. “You never told me!”

“Of course I didn’t,” he admitted. “I wanted to be sure of where we stood before asking you. But I wanted the king’s consent before that.” Again he took her in his arms. “It was all a process. I have also spoken with your father if you must know, quite some time ago. He too gave me his happy consent.”

“My…my father?“ How long had he been planning this? A rush of overwhelming happiness flooded through her as she finally allowed herself to imagine a future with him. She pictured their lives together, the memories they might share, the children they might have, the experiences they would live through together.

She burst into tears and laughter all at once. Dax squeezed her tighter. This man—one whom she met under unlikely circumstances—wanted to marry her. When she was ten, she never imagined such a thing would be possible. Now here she sat, nine years later, tucked in his arms and overcome with so many emotions of joy.

“As I said, my lady. Whenever you are ready, we may be wed.”

Could one die from too much gladness? If so, she might have dropped dead then and there! Yet she did not. Rather, she relished in the moment, enjoying the safety and assurance his arms afforded her. After she composed herself and wiped the tears from her eyes, she reached for his head and met his lips. It was the sweetest kiss they had ever shared.