The Rider's Legacy

Chapter 11 - Innoch

Chapter Eleven - Innoch

Nighttime pressed fog down in the streets of Brylahaen. Nethore and I patrolled the dark skies, a blot of ink amongst the starless sky. I had taken a coat from one of the abandoned wardrobes in the Aviary and nestled into it, swathed by a heavy fur that I couldn't place. It smelled, but I preferred that to the biting cold. 

As we glided over the streets, noiseless and large, the people standing on their cold balconies turned their faces to the sky as the wind whispered over them. The guard station had been set up by one of the remaining old watchtowers. Many lay in ruins, destroyed by dragon-fire when Brylahaen fell over a century ago. Three days had passed since we had reached Brylahaen and in those days, I had not managed to catch Nikki by herself.

The shame crawled up my throat, choking me whenever I saw her. She stared at me like I was a ghost, a reminder of her dead partner left to torment her. I could not save him. I wished she could feel the depth of my shame. Maybe it would be enough for her to remain and listen to me. I didn't want to push her – to cause her further pain when I had caused her so much already.

Abner.

The smoke of Ithrall.

Mo Dhia, if only I hadn't been so frazzled. My heart ached and I closed my eyes, feeling the night-air against my cheeks. So easily, I could recall that breathless gasp, that confusion on his face as the blade was driven into his back.

"Human."

I was shuddering in the saddle, unconscious in my movements to stay seated. Blinking hard and willing myself not to cry, I pasted a calm expression on my face as we circled the watchtower. By the time Nethore landed, bathed in the shadow of night, I was a calm mask of control. The night air was crisp and gentle, soft against my cheeks.

Nethore snuffled at my side, large eyes fixed on me even as a long ear raised and twisted towards the dark streets.

"I am fine, Ne."

"You are lying." Nethore's breath was warm as it washed over me. "You miss him. I miss him."

Kissing his horned snout softly, I smiled gently even as grief twisted viciously inside of me. I didn't need to pretend with Ne, he knew how I felt; but for myself and my thin illusion of self-control, I had to.  "We will find time to honour him."

"Like he deserved."

Turning, I eyed the long length of the watchtower. The windows were slim and dark, curving with the thick blocks of stone. Only on the first floor, did there appear signs of life. A flicker of orange light and the soft babble of voices within. Behind me, Nethore slunk up onto the high walls. It was an ingrained instinct of dragons to want to be high up.

He was gone from view up on the wall – the stretch of torchlight wasn't enough to illuminate him. Only the sound of his breathing exposed him, his scales scraping against the stone wall as his great chest heaved.

In the darkness of the street, I sobered again. It was too easy to lose myself when there was nothing to distract me. "Is Abner going to be left in the ruins forever?"

"Nethore doesn't know." He soothed gently. "But he will be honoured."

It didn't feel right to bind him to the earth. Abner had never been a Rider, but he had been one of us. He deserved more than a earthen burial. "He deserves to be turned to ash and thrown to the wind."