Page 48 of The Dragon King

Talon

I lay in bed with Calista in my arms, the fire in the hearth barely alive. Shadows were across the walls, but they were dying as the flames slowly started to fade. My eyes were closed, and I was tired from the constant travel over the last few days. I was used to riding Khazmuda wherever I needed to go, but I felt obligated to ride alongside the queen and her soldiers to feel united.

The warmth was suddenly gone, and I felt a jerk that yanked me sideways. The softness of the bed was gone, the quiet room with the low-burning fire disappeared, and it was dark.

My eyes opened, and I heard a hum, the hum of a thousand tongues, a solid baritone that never faded. I sat upon a high-backed chair made of black wood, and my naked body was now covered in the uniform and armor I’d left on the bedroom floor. I looked at the table in front of me, also black with faded skulls carved by a sharp knife. Tall black candles formed a line along the center, wax bubbling down the sides.

A shadow passed—and then I saw him.

Seated at the head of the table in the midnight-blue uniform he always wore when he appeared before me sat Bahamut, God of the Underworld. His arms were flat on the armrests, and he stared at me with eyes that were gray instead of blue.

It was then I realized there was no color at all. Everything was in shades of black and gray. My eyes flicked left and right quickly, taking in the stone archway that rose high above, the black sconces on the wall that held flames in the color gray. The last thing I remembered was falling asleep in a warm bed, so was this a dream.

“I own you, Talon Rothschild. I can take you whenever I wish.”

My eyes found his once more, still unsure if this was real or a horrible dream.

“You were spared my wrath in Riviana Star because I’m barred from those lands, but the second you left that forest, you were vulnerable. If you thought the presence of your companion and the horde of elves that travel with you would prevent my visit, you were dearly wrong. Your soul is indebted to me, and I can take you whenever I wish.”

So, this isn’t a dream.

His jaw tightened noticeably as he suppressed his rage. There was a sharpness to his eyes I’d never seen, even in the absence of color. “You’remyservant, but you aided my enemy. A betrayal that runs deeper than a blade through the heart. How dare you defy me?” He cocked his head slightly, his anger rising like steam from lava.

“I didn’t defy you?—”

“You took up your blade and defended the God of Caelum. We don’t interfere with the living, but you decided their fate with your sword.” He struck with the speed of a vampire and slammed his fist hard onto the table. “And you thought I wouldn’t know…”

I heard a yelp from the other room, a screech from a frightened human. I wanted to glance to see, but my eyes remained on Bahamut. “You weren’t my concern, Bahamut. If the Great Tree had fallen and the Realm of Caelum was overrun by dark elves who sought to claim the afterlife for their own, then the souls of my family would have been at risk. The souls of the people I care for on this side of the veil would have also been at risk. Just because my soul is forfeit doesn’t mean I want the same for others. It was my choice—and they deserve to have the same choice.”

His eyes were still packed with rage.

“I don’t regret what I did.” And I would do it again. “You said you don’t interfere with the living, but if I fought with the dark elves, I would have also interfered. No matter what I did, it would have been an interference?—”

“You could have stepped aside and let the mortals settle their quarrel.”

“Stepping aside is still a choice—a choice that affects the living. I know I made the right choice, and you will receive no repentance from me.”

He continued to stare at me with a quiet rage he struggled to sheathe.

Footsteps sounded, slow and with an uneven gait, flesh against stone. Then someone, or something, appeared. Hunchedforward with a spine so bent it nearly doubled back on itself came a creature that seemed human…at one point in time. Dressed in brown rags with flesh that looked burned by fire, it continued to make the painful walk toward the table where Bahamut sat, carrying a bowl in its shaky hands. Its breaths were deep and labored, like the unnatural bend of its spine made it hard to draw breath.

I shouldn’t stare, but I couldn’t not stare.

The creature reached the table and placed the bowl in front of Bahamut. It appeared to be a soul, judging by the steam that wafted from the surface toward the high-vaulted ceiling. The figure hissed in its breathing before it turned around and began the painful shuffle back to where it came from.

Bahamut hadn’t taken his eyes off me once.

It was the first time that unease prickled my skin, that I felt cold from the lack of light, that I saw a glimpse of the underworld. Every conversation I had with Bahamut had happened in the lands of the living, under the clouds and the sun. But now, I didn’t know where we were.

He grabbed his spoon then slid it into the bowl. When he lifted it, a ball of black slime stretched from the spoon, looking like burned cheese or black spinach. He stared at it and slowly watched the material stretch until it plopped back into the bowl with a small splash.

Then I noticed the smell…of burning flesh.

“Would you like some?”

I knew it was a question I shouldn’t answer.

“How does a god remain immortal?” He scooped the spoon into the bowl and repeated his actions, revealing the black sludge that slowly slipped off his spoon and splashed back into the broth again. “Souls.”

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