Dragonfly by L. Kendecia Bastian (recommended ebook reader .txt) 📖

on most of our parts, Keith speaking enough for all of us.

Ingram was the first to depart, saying something about going to train. Keith had been listening intently to the tale one of the entertainers had strung together for him. I had long since finished my meal and was listening to the tale myself.

"About those plans of yours, Luxor," King Heath stopped my focus on the story with the curiosity in his voice. Luxor, too, had finished. The shaman turned to me.

"Leave for the fields until I've come to fetch you."

Keith had sent the entertainer away by then, seemingly keen on what Luxor had to say as well. I nodded and stood to bow. "Many thanks to you, Young Prince. And you, your Majesty."

I turned heel and left the Hall, well aware of my way to the meadow. My pace had quickened and I breezed past the servants, bypassing the painting altogether in favor of spreading my wings. I'd found the doors leading out into the palace hind gardens and shed my cloak near the second tree I saw. I sprinted into the cluster of trees, running a good distance before I felt myself change.

My tail carried in the air behind me and I was soon on all four of my limbs. My snout, long and rounded, became visible to me and I felt my wings unfold. My body rose and I lifted high into the air with a screech of victory. I was free.

Well, free as can be when one has a cursed seal branded onto their body, but I take what I can get.

My wings were nearly invisible to my own enhanced vision whilst in motion, as I remained in one spot to warm them up and stretch them. I let my eyes travel over the castle grounds, or what I can see of it. I was considerably high up and the castle still seemed to be the same size despite my vantage point. I zipped across the meadow to the stables, descending low enough to frighten the horses as they were being led out for a run.

I made an entire lap around the meadow, just reveling in the feel of being able to fly again. It would have been nice just to hunt a little as well but then that may be asking for more than what was given. I reared back without much trouble at all and darted back to the center of the field only to float in place for a bit, almost unsure of what to do next. I looked up at the very highest point of the castle and ascended, just to look over the large palace. And it was a splendid idea, apparently. An arrow sped by just beneath me. I looked down to see none other than Prince Ingram with his quiver still aimed at me and right arm drawn back.

"Dragonfly," his lips read. His arrow seemed to set off a barrage of many, and I slid neatly out of the way. Not too far behind him was Roderick and the rest of the imperial archers. All were aiming freshly drawn arrows, waiting for Ingram's signal.

Bewildered, I kept moving form side to side careful not to remain still for more than a few seconds. I was at a loss as to what was going on. I'm but an innocent creature wanting to have some undisturbed time of recreation. Why the sudden hostility? I caught Roderick's eye and opened my mouth to… I know not what, but all that sounded was that screech from before. The brassy haired lad merely stood looking up at me as if in shock, much like everyone else, but not readying his bow just the same.

"Fire," I heard Ingram command his subjects and I tore my gaze away in order to save my own hide. I had escaped the arrows again, but the assault had yet to cease. In the midst of the fifth attack, I spotted a lilac tipped arrow within the wooden cluster. It had narrowly missed and I chanced a look at Ingram's lieutenant who was set to fire again.

Before I could move however, strange images came unbidden into my mind, overshadowing the here and now. The practice arrows shifted from those of the flaming steel kind repetitively. My concentration was interrupted, making my movements more jerky than usual. My mouth opened to relay the building pain in my skull, the control I had over myself slowly diminishing. My body reacted on its own, taking me toward the archers. Ingram's face was no longer on his body, but Luxor's took its place. His hood was gone, revealing the black hair slicked back underneath it. A hand was held out toward me, and the most foreign expression was affixed to his face. One akin to…fear.

A word tumbled from his lips, inaudible. A name of sorts. Was it mine…?

Reality stormed into my vision and I reared back just in time to avoid yet another onslaught. Ingram no longer wore the mask of stoicism he came with, but was now ready for the nearly unavoidable battle. I forced my unwilling body back, eyes scanning the meadow. Liquid red smattered the green field, bodies of archers strewn helter-skelter. My mind's eye flashed again, the castle grounds awash in flames and blood curdling cries. Peculiar brown eyes met me in the midst of the chaos, overshadowed by green tresses.

Pain, hot and relentless, coursed throughout my body from my nape outward. The images had faded almost instantly. My mouth was open in the traditional human form of screaming bloody murder, only to be replaced by a not so human high pitched wail. I felt my strength dissipate and I lowered myself best as I could. My eyes darted around, looking for the shaman whom I knew had activated the seal. I found him standing just in front of the crown prince, face set in stone: it was so different than the one I saw mere moments ago. My body felt lighter and I could tell I was back to what they regarded as 'normal'. Darkness gathered at the corners of my eyesight and I made no move to fight it, knowing it would be futile at this point. I met Roderick's somewhat confused gaze and his image clashed with the green haired archer from my visions.

The last thing I saw before I let go of consciousness were Luxor's blue clad legs advancing toward me.


"You are awake, Young One."

I balanced my weight onto my hands, noting that I was again in my cage. I looked up at the person who spoke, belatedly realizing that it was Glen. Glancing around quickly, I saw that I was back inside my Tower. I felt a rush of acute dismay but quickly shook myself out of it.

"How long?" was the first question from my lips. It wasn't the first time Glen had arrived to the tower and found me prone on my cage floor.

"Not long," he said, finally turning his attention from the large window and looking at me. His face seemed… more haggard looking than before. It had been six weeks since I last saw him, really. Six weeks since that disturbing message he gave me.

He had taken a step toward me and stopped short only to cough violently. I wanted to reach forward, and I did, only to meet with the iron bars and the hostility of the seals atop and beneath my prison. I could only watch him double over and wait with him as the fit subsided.

" 'Never you worry for my well being' you said," I told him as he drew nearer. He only smiled wanly at me and squatted to open my cage. No sooner than I was out did I assist him to the only chair in the room and squatted before his knees. I peered up at his face. His wrinkles, drawn on his face by age and experience, seemed to ever so slightly grow in number and delve deeper into his tanned skin.

"If you are not well, why are you here at this hour?" I had noticed that the sun gave way to the moon eons ago. Clearly I had been out of it for longer than he'd less than specified but I decided not to question it. Glen looked down at me with his kind gray eyes, and ran his bony fingers through my hair, stopping only to pull the pony tail forward and examine it.

"I'd thought you finally escaped, Young One," he rasped, throat rough from his earlier coughing fit. He had sidestepped my question neatly with another. But somehow I refrained from bombarding him with my usual demands of a clear answer. Tonight wasn't… didn't feel right for such things. "I've not long before I close these old eyes."

"I'd been to the castle," I answered past the lump in my throat. I still couldn't bear the thought of losing my closest friend so soon, even as he spoke of it as if it were merely describing the weather. "Luxor let me take to the skies for a bit."

Humming softly in acknowledgment, my feeder freed my recently cleaned hair from the tie placed around it. He'd once told me it reminded him of his daughter's hair when she was younger.

"She'd looked so much like her mother," I recalled him saying as his knobby fingers carded through absently. His eyes met mine once more, the tinge of sadness in them vanishing almost completely. "Why did you not escape?"

"You know I can be brought down by a simple recitation, Glen," I told him just as softly, almost afraid that if I raised my voice, something would shatter. "Even so, I was too caught up in the old feeling of flight."

"It had been a time since you'd last flown," Glen mused, his eyes moving from my hair to somewhere across the tower room. "I've heard of your little incident, Young One."

I resisted the urge to sigh. Glen never seemed to tire of throwing me onto different topics without so much as a pause.

"They had attacked me," I tried. I knew it sounded petulant to him if it sounded that way to me. But it was the truth.

"You killed fifty men."

"I had no control over my actions at that moment," I defended quickly. "I cannot even recall the deed."

"There was blood on your hands when you were brought in."

I tilted my head quizzically at my feeder who had yet to look at me. He'd been here?

Glen's fingers stilled in their actions and he glanced down at me with an almost calculating look. He held my gaze for so long that I grew uncomfortable and averted my own eyes.

"You must leave," he told me. "And quickly."

"And I ask again," I said at length. "Where will I go? To whom will I turn? What about the cursed mark?"

"That I cannot tell you," Glen replied. "But you must go."

"I cannot leave you here," I argued. "Not while you're ill. You must go to a doctor."

"What I have cannot be cured, Young One. My time is limited."

His words cut me even deeper than the last time he'd reminded me of his coming passing. So, to get myself away from that horrid feeling of impending loss, I used Glen's own tactic.

"I couldn't see what was in front of me," I said. Glen's fingers resumed their course through and through my