Page 50 of Kingdom of Darkness and Dragons
My father’s bargain. The dungeons. The child’s face.
“North Wing, on me!” The words were torn from my throat, raw and broken. “Engage!”
And with my command echoing in the chaos, we dove, a cascade of silver and blue plunging directly into Inferi.
As we began our descent toward the valley floor, I caught sight of something that made my blood run cold. A figure stood on one of the high ridges overlooking the battlefield, barely visible against the starlit sky. But even at this distance, I could see the unnatural way shadows seemed to flow around him, and the faint white glow of eyes that pierced the darkness like stars.
A shadow mage. One of the beings whose very existence I'd dismissed as superstition only hours before.
And as our small formation dove toward the hell below, I realized that everything I thought I knew about warfare had just become obsolete.
The frustration that had been building in my chest for days finally crystallized into bitter certainty. This battle had come upon us before I'd managed to think of any way to avoid it, before I could find some diplomatic solution or strategic alternative that might spare both sides the horror I was witnessing. All my careful planning, all my attempts to minimize casualties and find honour in an dishonourable war—none of itmattered now. We were committed to this path of violence, and there was no turning back.
As we swept lower over the valley, the carnage became even more horrific in detail. I could see individual soldiers being torn apart by tendrils of living shadow, watch free dragons incinerating entire formations with surgical precision, hear the screams of men facing death by supernatural means they couldn't comprehend or fight.
But it was movement near the centre of the trapped formation that caught my attention and sparked a desperate idea.
"There!" I called out, pointing toward a cluster of figures huddled behind an overturned supply wagon. "The slaves and servants from the baggage train!"
Even in the chaos and darkness, I could make out familiar faces—Marcus with his gladiator's build, Antonius clutching what looked like a broken spear shaft, dozens of others who'd been reduced to helpless spectators in their own potential deaths. They were unarmed, defenceless, trapped in the middle of a supernatural battle with no way to protect themselves.
"Ascleius! Teron!" I barked at two of my riders whose dragons carried the heaviest loads of salvaged weapons. "Get down there and arm those people. Everyone deserves the right to defend themselves."
"Sir?" Teron's voice carried obvious confusion. "They're just slaves—"
"They're people," I cut him off sharply. "Get those weapons to them. Darius, Vex—provide cover while they work."
It was Valeria who voiced the objection I'd expected. "Commander, why risk ourselves and our dragons defending worthless slaves? We should be focusing on military targets, not wasting time on—"
"Nobody is worthless," I said, my voice carrying the full authority of my rank and the cold fury that had been buildingin my chest since this nightmare began. "Every person in that valley has the right to defend their own life. And if you say another word about it, if we live through this, I'll have you discharged from service and see how you like being on the other side of that collar."
The shocked silence that followed was broken only by the sound of wing beats and distant screaming. Valeria's face had gone white with either rage or fear, but she said nothing more. Around the formation, I could see the other young nobles reassessing their assumptions about their supposedly weak-willed commander.
It was then that I caught Livia's eye, and saw something there that made the knot in my chest loosen just slightly. She was smiling—not the polite, diplomatic expression I'd grown accustomed to, but something genuine and warm that suggested approval, perhaps even respect.
At least someone thinks I'm doing the right thing,I thought grimly.
"Teron, Ascleius—execute the drop," I ordered. "Everyone else, defensive formation around the landing zone. Let's give those people a fighting chance."
As two of our dragons peeled off to make their dangerous descent into the heart of the battle, I allowed myself one moment to hope that we might be able to save at least some of the people trapped in this chaos. It wasn't much of a victory, arming a few dozen slaves in the middle of a supernatural massacre, but it was something.
And sometimes, when the world was ending around you, something was all you could manage.
19
As Sirrax's powerful wings carried us down through the smoke and chaos, I found myself forced to witness the systematic destruction of an army—an army I was supposed to be part of, fighting for a cause I had never believed in. The Talfen were defending their homeland against invaders, fighting for the same freedom that burned in my own heart, and I was being ordered to help destroy them.
This is wrong,I thought as we swept over the carnage below.Everything about this is wrong.
But I had no choice. To refuse orders now would expose not only myself but potentially doom every enslaved dragon in the Imperial forces. So I guided Sirrax into formation with the other ten dragons, my hands steady on the reins even as my heart rebelled against every movement.
The battle below was unlike anything I had ever witnessed. Shadows moved with malevolent intelligence across the valley floor, seizing Imperial soldiers and flinging them through the air like broken dolls. Free dragons—dozens of them—wheeled anddove through the smoke with a grace and power that made our enslaved mounts look clumsy by comparison.
And everywhere, the sound of men dying in ways that defied natural law.
"Remember," Jalend's voice carried across our small formation as we approached the eastern slope, "stay tight, watch for the shadow magic, and don't get separated."
I wanted to admire his courage, leading eleven dragons into a battle that would likely claim all our lives. But watching him prepare to attack people who were fighting for their freedom left me feeling sick with conflicted loyalty.
