Dream of Dragons

the kingdom. Gaturr was a trusted, treasured friend and ally, and his skin now lay at her feet. Eyes blazing with anger, Queen Katarina snapped at the Warmaster, ordering him to stop.
The panther had his claws around the man’s neck and hissed violently into his face. But at the queen’s command, he did not rip out the messenger’s throat.
The man gulped, feeling Sairus’s claws pricking the skin of his throat. “The queen calls it a gift, my lady. Her message…” he stammered, trailing off. He cast a wary eye at Sairus’s snarl before turning back to the queen. “She says ‘the dragon always protects its friends.’”
Spymaster Isran emerged from the shadows, hurrying towards the king and queen, clutching a scrap of paper. “Your Grace! News, from Rhodia. The king is dead-“
“Yes, we know, Isran. His pelt lies before us, are you blind?”
“That’s not what I mean, Your Grace. The attendants at Rhodia found King Gaturr’s body only now. He was still alive mere hours ago, several of his guards and servants attended to him, pouring him wine and listening to his stories.”
“You!” The queen turned again to the messenger. “Did you kill him?”
The man barely had time to shake his head before Isran continued, speaking urgently. “Your Grace, please, that’s not all that happened. Kaiten is missing.”
Loren, shocked at the news, spoke. “Kaiten? He’s the prince! What happened to him?”
“We don’t know, my lady. It’s as if he disappeared without a trace.” Isran answered. “My spies and the Beastmen guards are looking for him.”
“Perhaps kidnapped. By whoever he was with.” The queen said, venom in her voice.
“Your Grace, please understand, I am only a messenger.” The man pleaded. Sairus’s grip tightened on his throat.
“King Gaturr was like a father to me.” Sairus snarled in the man’s face. “Like a father to all Beastmen. And you killed him.”
“I didn’t kill him! Please understand, I was only sent here to deliver the message.”
“Then who killed him? Who dared to sever his head and cut the skin from his body?”
The man seemed to struggle with his words and gasped for breath. Sairus narrowed his eyes in confusion and distrust; the man’s skin under his hand had become unreasonably hot.
“The queen sent her sister. Princess Seraphis cut Gaturr’s head off with one strike, and skinned him like a hunted animal.” The man’s voice was barely more than a whisper. Sairus yelped and let go of his neck. The markings that circled the messenger’s neck had begun to glow fiercely, flickering like a flame was roaring under his skin.
Loren took a step towards him. It was like Haedria’s mage markings.
The Warmaster stepped back as the messenger burst into flames, screaming, his flesh melting off his bones. Within seconds, he was reduced to ash. All that was left was the man’s bloodied sack, and the skin of the king of beasts.
King Jorrne was the first to snap out of the shock. “Haedria Dagan of Sagna wishes war upon us.” He said, seething. But no one was angrier than the queen, not even the Warmaster. Queen Katarina stormed from the chambers, refusing to look at the remains of Gaturr any longer.
The other advisers turned and followed the queen, but Warmaster Sairus stayed in the throne room. He dropped to his knees beside Gaturr’s skin, tears rolling down his face. He laid a gauntlet-clad hand on Gaturr’s golden mane and wept silently. Other Beastmen, guards and servants alike, stepped forward to the dais to mourn.
King Jorrne said nothing, and let the Beastmen grieve. He would grieve as well, for his fallen friend, but first there was so much work to be done. He followed his queen out of the throne room. She would be in her study, he knew. That’s where he would find her. They had to send word to whoever was left in charge at Rhodia about what happened to Gaturr, and to pledge that Aldoran will aid in the efforts to find Prince Kaiten. Only after all that work had finished, could they mourn their treasured friend.
In all the commotion in the throne room, no one noticed Loren. The young woman slipped away unnoticed, and left the room while people wailed and in sorrow. She didn’t want to hear that. She didn’t want to see Gaturr’s eyes staring blankly back at her; she didn’t want to see the tiny, uneven braids held together with shiny, colored rocks still nestled in his golden mane.
Loren kept walking through the halls of the castle. She turned this way and that, letting her feet take her somewhere, anywhere. Anywhere, as long as it was away from there. It wasn’t long before she was descending a disused flight of stairs. The stairs were worn, carved from the rock of the cliff the castle stood upon. No one kept torches lit along the stairs, so Loren kept one hand on the wall, and slowly felt her way down.
Her footsteps sounded out on the stone, and soon, the sound echoed in a vast chamber. The high ceiling was rounded like an upturned bowl, and one side of the cavern opened into clear skies and a sheer drop to the jagged rocks at the base of the cliff. A low rumbling sounded from the far end, and Loren realized she was crying.
She ran forward, bawling, tears obscuring her vision. The rumbling came louder, and was punctuated by a loud thud: the footsteps of something very large was approaching Loren. She still ran on, and flung herself onto a scaled foreleg, colored blue and gold. The dragon brought down his large head and looked at Loren through a shining, golden eye. His words seemed to ring in Loren’s mind, gently, like an old friend.
At Lind’s gentle urging, Loren found herself sobbing. Like a floodgate that had been opened she started talking about what happened with Gaturr. She recounted