Fort Squall

Reyr disengaged, kicking a dragon away with his hind legs. The frenzy of battle gripped him, sent him into a frenzy. He hardly recognized himself—what he was. He only knew one thing. Defeat his enemy.

His powerful thrust sent the dragon spiraling off. Freed, he abruptly changed course, looking, searching. There! He found what he wanted.

Below him, a wide swath of Squall's End's eastern quarter had erupted in flame. The smoke billowed up in black plumes, blotting out the sky. He flew through a column of it and the world around him winked out. Darkness. Moments later, the sunshine reappeared.

Sounds pierced the air like knives slicing the world. Screams. So many screams. Everywhere. The scent of charred flesh drifted up into the sky. He followed the green dragon responsible for the flames, beating his wings to the breaking point, pushing against the strain to catch his prey. To kill it. And then he'd find Kane.

Closer, closer...

He could almost reach out with his snout and snap its spiked tail. He flapped his wings harder, pushing. Nearly there now. His jaws opened, readying for the bite. His teeth, pointed and sharp enough to rip into scale, clamped down! He latched onto the tip of the green's tail, jerking it back with a flick of his head.

Everything stopped. His vision flashed white. Blinding. Immense pain pounded against his heart, stabbing, suffocating. He roared, releasing the green. It flapped wildly away, putting distance between them.

He didn't notice its retreat. He didn't notice anything. Only the death pain in his chest as it all but stopped his heart. His body seized. He forgot to flap his wings, forgot to breathe, to think.

"Davi!" There was no answer. He cried out again, already knowing there would never be an answer. His body shuddered. His maw opened wide. His roar split his throat wide open, tearing through his vocal cords.

Davi was...gone.

Other roars followed his. He joined their cries. Each keening call, each choking screech turned pitiful, pathetic. He searched the sky, scanning the bay, the coastline. Davi had fallen, and Emmy with him. There one moment, gone the next.

How?! How could this have happened? What he saw broke him anew.

The city burned, dragons and Drengr alike were dead, floating in the bloodied waters of the bay. Screams of loss and pain. And for what? Death? Destruction?

They had lost. It was all lost...

His breaths turned to sobs as memories of Gemma's death began to mingle with Davi's. His heart stuttered. Skipped. Convulsed. His lungs heaved, gasping at air as he tried to remind his wings to keep beating, to keep flying. He wanted to stop, to fall to the earth, to leave the fort to its fate. And why shouldn't he?

It was over...wasn't it?

Shock and denial gave way to burning anger. It replaced the clawing ache in his chest. Dragonwall had taken everything from him. Everything! This kingdom had taken all he had ever held dear. Taken it hungrily. His parents. Talon's parents. Gemma. His brother. Gone. All gone. He had nothing now.

Nothing.

His chest deflated.

"I couldn't save them, Uncle..." Byron's voice was a distant thought, barely noticeable.

Byron. His nephew. So...not everything. There was still something left, someone left. Someone worth fighting for.

Images flashed through his mind. Byron sent a stream of explanations for what had happened. He saw Davi's neck snap. He saw Emmy sliced open from shoulder to hip, innards spilling out, cradled in Byron's arms.

"Father and Mother...They are both...I couldn't...Reyr, what do we do now?"

At the barrage of projections, he screamed again, loud enough to shatter glass. The gods were cruel. So cruel.

"Uncle Reyr?"

He hadn't the will to respond. What was he supposed to say?

He flapped his wings, laboring, fighting as the air became viscous and thick. He glanced around, frantic. Everything froze, movement ceased, leaving him suspended, motionless, as if time itself had stopped. A voice filled the void. "Your leaders are dead!" it hissed. His mind reeled. The telepathic thought permeated everything. Kane's voice, magnified, paralyzing them. "Give up the fight. Surrender, and you will be spared. Surrender, and the city will be spared. Or I will burn the city to the ground and kill every last one of you. You have one hour."

As quickly as it had sounded, Kane's voice disappeared.

He blinked, coming to his senses, looking around. A fourth of the city was in flames, the rest was unharmed. The dragons disengaged. They retreated, giving the Drengr room to recover.

Was this a trick?

He looked at the Drengr fixed in the sky, still in shock, hovering in place with each flap of their wings. How many pairs had they lost? Ten? twenty? Thirty? And for what? So that Kane could prove a point?

Fury washed over him. Left him trembling with rage. His vision flashed red.

Kane could have flown in under a white flag. Could have negotiated the terms of surrender before needlessly killing so many. But the sorcerer had done this on purpose. Had intended to kill the fort leaders on purpose. He had waited for that very moment, waited until they were dead, to offer his terms. To weaken the fort. To send it spiraling into grief. To break them. To prove the lengths he was willing to go.

Davi would have surrendered in a heartbeat. Davi would have handed the fort over if it meant keeping everyone safe. Davi would have done what was necessary to save the lives of thousands. His death was needless.

A roar built in Reyr's chest. It came barreling from his maw, mingled with flame. A rage he had never known. Not even when Gemma died. This was something deep. Something primal. Blinding. Engulfing.

Kane needed to die. Right here. Right now. There would be no surrender. No negotiating with that monster. He was going to rip the sorcerer to shreds. To ribbons of flesh. It ended today. He would kill every last dragon if he must, even if it was the last thing he lived to do.

Without another thought, he shot forward.

Kane was some distance away now, taking up a vantage point to witness their retreat. He took off in that direction, beating his wings against the air.

"Uncle, no!" Byron's voice filled his mind. "We cannot engage! You will die! The entire city will burn!"

"I don't care if the whole world burns! I will tear him apart!" His voice was unrecognizable.

He gained speed, flapping harder. He would reach Kane in minutes. The sorcerer would die.

"Reyr! This is madness," Byron cried. "We must retreat to Brezen! It is the only way to save them."

"Who said anything about retreat? I never gave such an order."

Byron hesitated. "The order is not yours to give."

He blinked, faltered, pushed away Byron's words. With his father's death, the role of leadership passed directly to Davi's son until a vote could be taken.

Kane was almost before him, his features were discernible. Red eyes. The twisted smile on his lips, daring him to attack. Daring him to give the sorcerer an excuse to burn the city.

"Uncle, disengage now! That is an order!"

He faltered again.

"Disengage I say! Disengage!"

Byron's order, the same word over and over, echoed in his mind. Disengage. But he didn't want to disengage.

Kane was within his grasp. He might never get another chance. And...he wanted to die. Wanted Kane to kill him. Begged for it. To end here. Death was easier. Easier than facing his loss. Easier than facing the world without Davi and Emmy.

Kane watched as he approached, doing nothing to lift his hands, nothing to prepare a magical incantation or counter attack. He simply watched.

Reyr strained, heaving with each downward sweep of his wings. It was now or never.

"Please, Uncle. King Talon would never forgive you."

His mind jolted. King Talon. He swerved, turning on his wing tip at the last moment, just in time, sweeping up and over Kane. The sorcerer's mouth turned up at the corners. A victorious smirk.

The world pitched and heaved sliding around. Stormy Bay was before him, beckoning him. Calling to him.

"Thank you." Byron's voice was little more than a relieved whisper.

He said nothing in return. There was nothing to say. He wanted no more of this.

Flee, his instincts cried. Flee. Everything he was pushed him to get as far away from this as possible. To leave this awful kingdom behind. To be alone. To escape his hurt. His loss. To escape its cruel gods.

He had never fled when Gemma died. Talon had convinced him to stay. Perhaps it was finally time.

Each downward sweep took him towards the bay and then out over the water. He felt the eyes of every Drengr, every Rider, following in his wake. Let them witness his retreat. Let them think what they would. His brother had died this day. How could the Drengr ever know what that felt like?

"Uncle?"

"I'm done, Byron. The fort is yours. Do whatever you see fit."

"You're...you're leaving?"

"Do not come looking for me." He closed his mind, silencing Byron's words. Silencing everything. The deepest wounds were best licked alone. And that was exactly what he intended to do.

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