Talon the Black (Dragonwall Series # 1)

Chapter 31 - Fort Squall

Fort Squall

Reyr flew hard against the eastern wind. It sang in his ears, whistling past him. He battled it with each downward sweep of his golden wings. His breath came in short gasps, searing his chest as if his own fire burned through him. His shoulder muscles screamed in pain, begging him to slow his pace, but he did not listen. He disciplined himself unfairly, pushing harder than ever before, because he could feel nothing but the wrenching cries of his own heart—the sadness he felt from losing Cyrus, the failure he felt from disappointing his king, the fear he felt for what was to come.

Beneath him the ground sailed past. He hardly noticed. His mind was too consumed with King Talon's disapproval. He blamed himself for everything. Before departing Kastali Dun in search of Cyrus, it was he who tried to dissuade Cyrus from going north. No one else had bothered, not the king, not any of his fellow Shields, only he, because he knew then that something was wrong, even if the others failed to sense it.

In the days following Cyrus's death, he often wondered, what if things had gone differently? Many alternatives crossed his mind, and each scenario resulted in a better outcome than the one he now faced.

This pattern of thinking was familiar to him. He did the same thing when Gemma had died. He asked similar questions. What if they never flew north to fight in the battle? What if he ignored the summons for the war? What if they left Dragonwall together, abandoned their honor, left duty behind, and lived only for themselves? She would still be with him. They would still be together. He would still be happy.

It was dangerous to dwell, and though he tried to free his mind of its burdens, it was impossible during the long flight to Fort Squall. What worried him most were his thoughts about Claire. His mind strayed to her as reprieve. Even in his dragon form he could not control himself, and although he was reluctant to admit it—he hated himself for it—he missed her presence upon his back. It reminded him of better times, happy times, when he would fly with Gemma. He should have loathed her for it, for renewing the pain he locked away after his mate's death, but he found it impossible.

He was relieved when far off in the distance, he beheld a fiery glow upon the horizon. The sun was dropping into the Dragonfire Sea, lighting her waters with hues of orange and red. And there sitting at the edge of Stormy Bay, was Fort Squall. Still miniature, perhaps as large as his tiniest claw, its battlements stood tall like a proud warrior. Courage blazed up within his heart.

Slowing his pace just a bit, he breathed a heavy sigh. Smoky tendrils curled from his nostrils. This felt like coming home—it always did. He knew every silhouette, every distinct feature, every tall tower rising up beside the city. Kastali Dun was his home now, but Squall's End and Fort Squall would always be his true home. The fort was in his blood. His fathers and forefathers held it for thousands of years, passing it from father to son. It could have been his, and would have been, had Gemma lived.

Dusk was upon him when his wings brought him close to the glittering city. And to his delight, joyous bugles rent the silent sky. The welcoming heralds of dragons surrounded him as the fort's Drengr swooped in to greet him.

"Welcome, Lord Reyr! Welcome home!" many cried.

Some were too young for him to recognize, others he recognized and knew by name. Many had been companions and friends during his time growing up in the fort. All were glad to see him.

"Reyr!" Davi's voice sounded in his mind. "You did not tell me you were coming! Welcome home, brother! I have missed you." His sentiments were the same, and he felt a pang of guilt for not having visited sooner. Far too often, he found himself caught up in the king's business.