I cannot shake my nightmare from my thoughts as I sit eating chopped fruit the maids have prepared for my breakfast. It has been years since my dreams reminded me of the night I lost my family, the night my father was slaughtered and my sister taken by the Barbaraqs. To this day I do not know the name of my rescuer, the man who led the soldiers that saved the survivors of the attack. Being orphaned at a young age showed me exactly how cruel this world can be; it helped mould me into the person I am today. One that refuses to grow close to people. If I don’t become attached, it will not affect me when they pass to the afterlife.
“Lord Wistler is here,” a young guard announces to the room. The snake enters, his purple silk tunic reminding me of everything that is wrong with this man. He parades around in his fineries whilst letting this kingdom fall into ruin, allowing this castle to fall into disrepair.
“Morgana, how are you on this fine morning?”
There is something different about the coward today. Usually he is a quivering wreck of a person, afraid to challenge his own shadow.
“What has brought you to be in such a fine mood?” I ask, finishing the final piece of jarjoba fruit.
“Nothing in particular.” Wistler smirks as if reminiscing on something. He lifts a piece of fruit from the table and takes a bite from a vibrant green apple with an audible crunch. “Have you heard from your pet yet? How is he doing with the little errand you sent him on. What was his name again?”
“Orjan? Last I heard he was already gaining favour with the Wyverns.” I only have Sparrow’s word on this matter, as Orjan’s correspondences have been rather vague and inconsistent.
“Oh?” Wistler says, making a face.
I roll my eyes. “What is it?”
“It’s just, that isn’t what I heard.” He moves awkwardly as he pulls a chair out from under the table. I find it strange how he goes from walking in with confidence to suddenly being the Wistler that I am more accustomed to. “Word has reached me this morning that the Wyverns despise him, even though he does as they bid, like an obedient dog.” Wistler pours himself some tea and calmly brings the cup to his lips to take an overly loud sip. The way he eats and drinks is as if he were not taught the etiquette of a nobleman.
“What do you mean? Where did you hear this?” I am surprised by my own reaction. It is as if I feel a semblance of concern for a monster that I barely even know.
“Lady Morgana, I still have my own eyes and ears in the streets of Eltera,” Wistler answers, leaning back in his chair. “My messenger tells me that Orjan is nothing more than entertainment for the Wyverns. He hands out punishment in the pits to those who have wronged the Wyverns. They have even given him a new name.”
“A new name?” This isn’t at all what I tasked Orjan to be doing.
“Dragon.” Wistler smiles. “Funny old name, but intimidating nonetheless. If word is true, he is brutal in the pits. No one will want to challenge the Wyverns.”
I saw first-hand what he was capable of in the markets. The ferociousness that he displayed, his strength, his fury. It nearly matched my own. Maybe that’s what I was drawn to that day. He caught my attention before I knew his name after all.
“Dragons are mythical creatures not seen for thousands of years, Wistler.”
“The man has a thick hide like a lizard, yet walks these lands and speaks as if human. I think ‘dragon’ suitably explains him.” Wistler looks quite proud of himself which I find somewhat absurd. Why would he be so invested in what the Wyverns have nicknamed Orjan?
“Lord Wistler.” The young guard returns and interrupts our conversation. “Scouts have returned from Osar.”
Wistler looks somewhat confused by the interruption, and his cheeks redden. “Can’t you see that I am in conversation with Lady Morgana?”
“I apologise, sir. My message is urgent,” the guard counters, his own cheeks flushed with discomfort.
“Well, what is it?”
“Uster has been attacked. Our scouts send word that little remains of the fishing port. The scouts have said it is savages responsible for the attack. They have left the heads of those slaughtered impaled on pikes.”
I curse out loud. “Barbaraqs.” This is what happened to my village, as my nightmare reminded me just last night. “The gods warned me of this attack, yet they were unclear in their message,” I say as I bring myself to my feet. My arms tremble where I stand, and the memories of my village come flooding to the forefront of my mind, the smell of blood mixed with the burning embers of our homes. The sound of steel on steel as the soldiers who rescued us clashed with the remaining Barbaraqs.
“Send word to Codrin in Askela!” I demand. “If the Barbaraqs are on their way here then we are going to need reinforcements. With your fractured kingdom, Eltera stands little chance of an assault given its current vulnerable state.” I make for the courtyard with haste, the veins in my body aching as my heart beats furiously. I am far more powerful than the last time I saw the Barbaraqs, and I swore then I would make them pay. This is my chance and I intend to take it.
“Morgana, where is it you go?” Wistler asks.
“Tell me your name,” I ask the young guard.
“Dante.”
“Well, Dante, gather a handful of guards. We head to Uster.” If we move quickly, we might be able to follow their tracks. That or come face-to-face with the bastards on our journey.
“Morgana, you will get yourself killed!” Wistler contests, but I have already made up my mind.
“Fetch me a horse!” I call as daylight greets me. A young stable maid fetches a grey steed which is ready for riding, and I quickly hop onto it. To my left, Dante speaks with four other guards who hurriedly ready themselves and scramble for their horses. As tempting as it is, I can’t take more guards with me. To do so would leave the castle even weaker, and if the kingdom were to fall, I’d have no chance of getting access to the forge I so desire.
I heel my horse and it neighs wildly as we set off at pace, the wind tangling my hair, my thoughts fixed on the Barbaraqs. If it is them, if it is the same tribe that slaughtered my family, then they will rue the day that they set foot back on the shores of Levanthria. They will know my magic as I send them all to the afterlife.