Flight of the Fallen

small dagger she unearthed in a drawer.

She had just finished tying a carry strap around the rolled up blanket when the guard returned. Behind him entered the Akkad-Dar, looking refreshed and pleased with the proceedings of the evening. He ran his eye over the two women and smiled a cool grimace that did nothing to melt the ice in his eyes.

Both women watched silently as the Akkad-Dar walked to the chair by the table and made himself comfortable. He had the air of a king in his own throne room, Linsha thought, rather than a man visiting a courtesan.

“Callista, you have done well,” he said, pouring himself a goblet of wine. “She has cleaned up nicely.”

The courtesan tilted up her small nose. “I wouldn’t have had so much to do if you had treated her better than a dog,” she snapped.

Linsha’s eyes widened. She hadn’t expected feistiness from this young woman.

The Akkad-Dar chuckled. “The conditions of travel were her choice.” He sipped his wine slowly, savoring every drop.

Linsha knew he was deliberately keeping them waiting, but she didn’t protest. She was dreading his next move. Her jaw set, she stepped around Callista, picked up her own goblet, and refilled it with wine. Without waiting for permission or an invitation, she sat in another chair by the fire and said, “What do you want?”

She already knew. Why else would he have her cleaned up like this? The fleeting moment of peace brought on by the bath and the wine slipped away, and a heavy despair filled her.

He lifted his goblet to her. “You have had a taste of slave life and time to think. I am offering to marry you one last time. This is the last time. If you refuse now, you will be sent to the slave pens for the rest of your life.”

Linsha heard Callista give a small gasp; whether of fright or surprise, she didn’t know. She was startled when the young woman took her hand and pulled her out of the chair to the window, away from the Akkad-Dar’s hearing.

“Lady Linsha,” the courtesan whispered vehemently, “you are going to accept, aren’t you? You must.”

Linsha kept her expression passive. She turned her back to the Akkad-Dar and asked, “Why? I despise the man. You want me to marry him?”

Callista’s beautiful face filled with anger. “I’d rather you shove a knife in him. But if you say no, he’ll send you to the pens.” She clutched Linsha’s arm. “I’ve seen them. You won’t last more than a few days in there.”

“I can handle myself in the slave pens,” Linsha replied, her voice belying the fear she felt.

“Not if the Tarmaks know the Akkad-Dar has removed his protection from you. If the officers don’t take you, the warriors will put you in their war games and fight you until you are killed. Accept his offer.”

Linsha did not answer immediately. Thoughts tangled in her mind with regrets and grief and a loneliness so powerful she ached from it. Marry the Akkad-Dar, the man whom she had once known as Lanther. By the gods, how could she do it? Was death preferable?

As if Callista could see the path of her thoughts, the courtesan squeezed her arm again. “If you chose this way, you chose a chance at life. Just do what you can until your destiny reveals itself.”

Destiny. Linsha snorted. Yet… she did not know where her destiny lay anymore. For years she’d thought her destiny was the Solamnic Knighthood where she would serve with honor until the end of her days. Look where that had brought her! Dishonored, falsely accused, black-listed, abandoned, and now trapped as a captive in a fallen city. There was nothing left but emptiness.

She twisted to look out the open window, and as her body moved she became aware of the slight shift of the dragon scales under her shirt. Although she had deliberately ignored them since the battle on the Red Rose, they had remained hanging on the chain around her neck, warm against her skin.

Her fingers lifted the chain and clutched the scales through the fabric of her tunic. The reminder of the dragons brought such a rush of sadness that she swayed against the window frame.

Callista stared at her worriedly and grasped her elbow to steady her, but she said nothing more, allowing Linsha to reach her own decision.

Lanther was not quite so patient. “The tide is moving, Linsha. I must be away. What is your answer?”

She turned to him, her hand still clutching the scales. “I have a price,” she said. “A bridal gift.”

His eyebrows lifted. “Your life is not enough?”

“No,” she said with an empty voice. “My life is over. Take it if you want it. I don’t care. But if you want me, you must pay my price.”

“What then? What is it you want?”

Far away in the distant memories of a day that seemed so long ago, she remembered the words of a magnificent brass dragon, her friend, standing by the leaves of the ancient Grandfather Tree. The bond formed between a dragon and a human is worth the effort to forge it.

“Oh, Iyesta,” she breathed.

Gathering her courage, Linsha Majere faced the Akkad-Dar.

“I want the dragon eggs.”