Jovari the Blue

Chapter 17.5: Swearing an Oath

Note: We are backtracking. I'm starting to fill in other characters. This chapter is meant to go between the current 17 and 18, but eventually this will be chapter 18 and everything will be renumbered. This chapter takes place from Tamara's POV right after Kane takes over (before Claire enters Dragonwall). 

Kastali Dun

Tamara's breaths were shallow as they made their way into the quiet streets of Kastali Dun. The difference in the capital was stark. She saw few roaming the streets, shutters locked tight. A heaviness permeated the air, the dread nearly tangible.

Flying over the city was no longer permitted. The drengr were required to enter through the gates, like everyone else. Byron kept a tight hold of her hand, leading her through one of the poorer districts. The drengr and riders of Fort Squall trailed behind them.

They'd been summoned. Ignoring it would have meant the end of dragon kind.

"I think I'm going to be sick," Byron muttered. She squeezed his hand.

"Your father would want you to do this," she whispered. "Reyr would want you to do this."

"Then why does it feel like I am betraying them."

"You are protecting the drengr race. There is no betrayal in that." If only believing her words was as easy as speaking them. The thought of swearing fealty to Kane was abhorrent.

The clatter of hooves and wheels made them stop, step aside. A large, barred wagon came into view, heading towards the docks. The sight of it, stuffed full of people, made ice slide over her skin. Soldiers on horseback wearing Oshean livery flanked the rear. "Stand back," they ordered, turning sneers upon them. She and Byron stepped further out of the way.

She stared in shock as the wagon trundled by. It was massive, a cage, more than anything, with people stuff together like livestock. "Please," a woman cried, reaching towards her, her face stained with tears. "I have children."

She took a step forward, only to be pulled back by Byron. "Careful," he warned, glancing towards the Oshean guards. "We have no power here."

Confusion warred with fear.

A man on horseback trotted somewhat behind, his gaze greedy and pleased. His clothes were different from the fashions worn in Dragonwall. An Oshean merchant, perhaps?

"You there," Byron said, grabbing the man's attention. "Who are those people? Where are you taking them?"

The man turned to scoff at them. "What's it to you, Drengr?" His words were heavily accented. Byron's gaze was hard, unrelenting. "Suppose there's no harm in telling you. They're bound for the slavers, if you must know. Criminals and such."

"The...the slavers?" she cried. Her heart began to race. He couldn't just—

"Don't you know, girl?" The man was quick to grin. The sight made her muscles lock up. "Slavery's legal, now. I paid a pretty steely to by them from the city's jail. Criminals don't deserve freedom."

"And what about when there aren't anymore criminals," Byron spat.

The man fussed at his sleeve, unconcerned. "There are always people eager to break the law." With that, he trotted off, catching up to the carriage.

"We have to do something," Fierran said, behind them.

"There is nothing we can do—for now." Storm clouds brewed in Byron's gaze. "We must do as we were ordered, or risk our kind. But...I will look into it. Now come, all of you."