Page 7 of To Touch A Silent Fury

I wish you luck with that endeavour.

She had no faith in me whatsoever.

Did you watch that whole thing?I asked her.

Unfortunately,she replied.You shouldn’t let your confidence cloud your judgement.

Thank you for that assessment.

And you feinted to the left again,she scolded.

I rolled my eyes as the boy reached me.

He bobbed a hasty bow. “My prince, the king desires your presence.”

I raised an eyebrow. “And where is the king?”

“The war room, Your Highness.”

I nodded, flicking a silver coin into the boy’s waiting hands as I turned to Foxlin. “Duty calls.”

“What do you think it’s about?”

“Five gold says he’s going to berate me about something.”

Foxlin grinned, holding his hands up. “I won’t take that bet.”

I sighed and patted his shoulder before heading back through the winding streets and bridges of Droundhaven.

The houses, canal bridges, and cobbles of the Sightlands’ capital were all made of the same firm white rock, some greyed by weathering and dirt, some polished and gleaming silver in the sun. Beams of dark wood framed the doorways and balconies, and everywhere there was a pleasant bubbling of noise. Boatmen warned of a low bridge, hawkers yelled about their wares, fishermen touted their catches, and women hummed as they hung their clothes. But the noise I liked the most came from the skies above. The Vidarium was a league from the city’s northwestern wall, and its wyverns constantly flew overhead.

Chaethor’s voice slid into my ear, gravelly and deep.I’ll take that bet.

What do you know?I asked.

Little,she said.But I think there is more to this than meets the eye. I can feel something coming. Something bad.

She knew Braxthorn’s temperament as well as I did. She sat in my head during every meeting, every chastisement. If she thought this was something else, she must have a good reason for it.

I crossed the Bridge of Echoes, one of the oldest in the city but far from the grandest, keeping my head down.And what use does a dragon have for gold?

Little, again,she admitted.But it is pretty, and I like pretty things.

I laughed, making a passing couple stare at me. Stupidly, I returned the look, and they recognised me instantly. I returned my gaze to the cobbles and walked faster, ignoring the woman’s pointed finger.

Longdawn cast heavy shadows in the mid-morning, the flowers in the pots sprouting a hint of new life from the dead soil. The cold air cut through me without my coat, but my tunic was heavy enough and the warmth of the sparring filled my veins.

I enjoyed the fresh air and the freedom. My father didn’t like it when I roamed the city alone, but it was the only way to have a semblance of normality. If I wore my furs instead of my regalia and kept my head firmly down, most of the city folk didn’t look at me twice. Sent out with a bodyguard or four, and it was all banners, babies, and hushed prayers to Edrin.

The castle’s main tower rose beyond the huge obscuring walls, its magnitude a quiet threat to all who looked upon it. A narrow central cylinder rose above the wider main tower, its flat roof a common landing spot for Chaethor. Behind the walls, the castle’s hulking base hid, squared with a number of smaller towers at irregular heights.

I approached the drawbridge as a wyvern’s cry sounded from above; it was different from the playful calls of the others, more angry and disgruntled. I searched for it in the skies, finding them quickly, a pair of wyverns caught in a tussle. One in a shade of olive green, and the other a deep yellow. Both medium-sized, likely adults and bonded to riders. They swirled before diving on one another, calling to each other like the gulls spiralling far below them. It didn’t look serious. Perhaps its riders had disagreed the night before over cards or a woman.

The formation of the bond between wyvern and man was no different to that of mine with Chaethor. It occurred between the creature and its early caregiver, usually at some point in thefirst two years. The success rate of young wyverns bonding with our chosen riders was impressive, and a closely guarded secret.

The Vidarium kept the Sightlands the feared force it was. No other state claimed one bonded wyvern rider, let alone two hundred. But the true might of the Sightlands was not its wyverns; it was Kallamont and Chaethor. If the wyverns were the backbone of the Sightlands’ army, the dragons must be its heart.

I nodded to the guards on either side of the war room. They opened the doors as I took a deep breath and rolled my shoulders back, rearranging my features into something less readable. Here we go again.