Shades of Grey

KESTASLA— JUNE 1844

The remainder of the night was spent in silent unease. No one wanted to sleep, but physical need eventually overtook the entire tribe and they all succumbed to slumber. I sat alone on a large prominent root near the edge of the clearing overlooking the sleeping tribe, lit by torches we had been able to light earlier both with our own flames and the sporadic strikes of lightning from the stormy ceiling.

I took a deep breath and cursed my rancid luck: why should these innocent Dragons have to suffer like this? I had at least been trained for such treatment, experienced it out in the world, grown numb to it…

“Forma?” I called listlessly, half expecting her to be asleep.

“Can’t sleep?” she replied instantly, almost as if she had been there with me. I sat up.

“How close are you? It sounds like you are right next to me.”

“I’m inside the castle. I managed to charm the woman in charge of the servant girls into hiring me. It’s going to take time to find wherever you are though. These people keep their secrets very well, almost as if they have had problems in the past with spies or something.”

“Have you discovered anything useful at all?”

“I’m not sure. I overheard a very loud and very angry King Roman having a conversation with Queen Anesthia.”

“Well that’s news! What is the queen doing in Kestasla? The last time she left her kingdom, it nearly crumbled without her.”

“I’m not sure, but she did not seem pleased. They spoke of a wizard named Malehvarei and how the Riadas magic could cure his failing health. Anesthia was not happy that that was the reason Roman had called her here.”

“I should suspect not. Is she still here?”

“Yes. She threatened to leave but for some reason, Roman begged her to stay a little while longer before she returned to Xanthar. He said something about negotiating a deal.”

I frowned.

“That’s odd…why is Roman so desperate to get Anesthia’s help in curing this Malehvarei person?”

“I’m not sure, I’ve asked around and no one seems willing to tell me who Malehvarei is or how to find him.”

“Perhaps Roman wants it kept secret because he’s doing something illegal. Can you find any information about him in the palace’s records?”

“I haven’t looked yet. I’ll stop by there now.”

“Thank you. Tell me if you find anything.”

“Of course.”

I settled back against my tree root and continued to look over the sleeping tribe.

“Can’t sleep?”

I jumped at the new voice and exhaled curtly as I saw Freyja approaching me. She smiled genuinely and climbed onto the root next to me.

“No. You can’t either?”

She shook her head.

“No.”

There was an intimate moment of contemplative silence as we observed the slumbering tribe, lit by the long lightning strikes in the churning red storm cloud overhead.

“What do you think this place is?” she asked after a particularly close lightning strike.

“Some kind of magical prison,” I answered flatly, trying to silence my own outlandish cogitations that would have terrified young Freyja.

“Do you suppose we are being watched?” she queried in a fearful voice.

I flicked my gaze to the ceiling, watching as the red storm clouds churned in vicious discontent while thunder and lightning crashed in the distance.

“Yes,” I replied.

Freyja shivered and hugged her knees to her chest. I leaned back against the tree root, staring at the sleeping tribe as my soporific thoughts began to wander.

“Freyja, what do you know about my father?”

Freyja’s previous anxiety faded instantly and she launched into a very long-winded speech about everything she knew regarding Speaker Echo: his successful hunting trips, the battles he had won for the good of the tribe, numerous second-hand accounts of his bravery and chivalry. She spoke with such conviction and admiration, I felt as though she had actually been there…that she had actually known him personally.

I absorbed her words as I stared up at the stormy cloud-covered ceiling, watching the random lightning strikes light up the steel cavern.

“What do you suppose he would’ve done in this situation?” I asked quietly.

I could hear the admiring smile slide across Freyja’s face.

“I think he would have done whatever he had to do to ensure the safety of the tribe.”

I nodded, having expected such a daunting answer.

“I thought as much.”

Freyja chuckled, when a distant thundering sound that had not come from the storm-covered ceiling echoed through the metal chamber.

“What was that?!” Freyja gasped.

“Wake the tribe,” I cautioned as I heard the thunder draw closer. “Tell them to transform and prepare for the worst.”

Freyja leapt from her tree root and raced over to the sleeping tribe as I transformed and flew just over the metal treetops, tracking the great thundering noises. As I flew, I heard roars echoing off the metal surfaces in the forest and reverberate from the expansive cavern walls. I had a feeling we were about to meet the worst of the many terrors we would discover inside our animate prison.

I landed on top of one of the metal trees and watched as several sabre tooth tigers easily leapt over the metal canopy, stopping to growl at me. My mouth hung agape as I beheld the creatures.

Each tiger was made of steel, just like the forest around us. Their sharp golden teeth were bared dangerously under viciously luminant red mechanical eyes. As they moved closer toward me, I could hear their metal joints grinding against their steel plated skin, growing louder with each step the monstrosities dared to make.

“God have mercy…” I exhaled to myself.

They roared again, their voices sounding similar to the voice of the Board I had heard in Murias: a false, pre-recorded declaration of power.

They lunged for me with movement that was just as fluid and loudly grinding as the roots that moved in the ground beneath my feet. In a second, I changed back into my Dragon self and leapt into flight, soaring just over the tigers as I flew back to warn the tribe. However, when I arrived back at the clearing, something else had emerged from the metal Gordian knot of a prison to attack the Shadows.

Enormous, steel woolly mammoths with eyes that were just as red and glowing just as brightly as those of the steel tigers were locked in battle with the transformed Shadows, trumpeting and roaring with the same grainy, distorted voices.

I wasted no time. I dove towards the battle and joined in the fight, taking out three sabre tooth tigers and one woolly mammoth with a single sweep of my massive tail. I then flew to Caelan’s side and together we managed to crush a dozen tigers. We exchanged brief roars of thanks and proceeded to battle the mammoths, eager to quicken the speed of the battle.

All appeared to be going in our favour when the storm cloud above the ceiling then thundered and the mechanical Hand emerged, moving quickly towards the battle scene.

The mammoths and tigers all froze, leaving the Shadows to watch as the hand quickly moved toward us again.

“RUN!” called the chief suddenly.

The tribe wasted no time. Within seconds, we all changed back into our human forms and entered the labyrinthine steel woods, easily leaping through the shifting metal roots and trees as they bent away to allow the mechanical Hand room enough to ensnare one of us.

There was a sudden yelp of fear followed by several angry roars. I turned around, poised on a steel root, and saw that the hand had managed to grab hold of Ravesca.

“NOO!”

The entire tribe transformed again and began to attack the Hand, just as they had before, in a flash of beating wings and exhaled flames. Scratching, burning, melting — so many sounds echoed through the groaning metal forest that I felt sure the entire city of Kestasla would hear.

Then, after relentlessly beating against the Hand from both sides, the weight of the Dragons managed to jostle the Hand loose from its great wrist joint. With a long, whiny crack, it snapped off and fell into the twisted mass of metal roots. Another great moan shot through the air and the handless arm shot back into the stormy red sky.

There was a moment of silence as Ravesca climbed out of the Hand and we all reflected on exactly what had just happened.

“Let’s keep moving,” said the chief in a voice of solemn shock. “We need to make camp and think of a plan.”

Everyone stood in wordless acquiescence and followed the chief through the groaning forest until we heard something in the distance.

“Other tribes!” several people cried as they identified the sounds.

I stopped, recalling the horrific loss the Redlights had suffered, but the others had begun to run, eager to band with other victims. They slipped easily through the twisted metal roots before arriving at the enormous steel crater, inside which were now dozens of other tribes: Blacklight, Darklight and the now significantly smaller Redlight tribes.

The Shadows tribe immediately leapt into the crater and began to converse eagerly with the other Dragons, glad to have found others sharing our fate. I stood back and the Graylight chief noticed.

“Miss Echo? Are you coming?”

I looked at him with wild concern.

“I don’t think it wise to gather in such large numbers. If we are being watched, we will be easy prey for the mechanical Hands.”

The chief nodded.

“But if our numbers are larger, we will also have more Dragons to protect us. An alliance may be useful in the coming hours.”

The chief raised his brow at me, challenging me to reconsider my doubts, and descended the hillside into the crater.

I stood reluctantly on the edge, watching the many species of Dragons — who had until now, bickered fiercely — as they comforted each other and began to formulate plans of attack. I could not help but see this as a strategic move by whoever was controlling the prison. If all the prisoners were in one area, they would be easier to manage and easier for the Hands to abduct.

An abrupt noise then sounded from behind me. My mind flew back to the faceless creature that had taunted me when Natara had sent me into my subconscious forest and how I had been unable to coax it into the light. I resolved not to employ the same methods this time: I would see this hidden being and ascertain some answers.

I crouched, ready and prepared to strike, when a cloaked figure suddenly shot across the woods naught two yards in front of me. I froze, recalling the cloaked figures I had encountered in my subconsciousness, marvelling at the similarity of this forest to the one in my mind.

The figure then shot across the woods again, stopping in between two trees on my left.

“…Echo…” said a deep, hollow voice that emanated from the hood of the approaching figure.

I remained still, even as the figure slowly and soundlessly began to approach me. This was the key to escape, I was sure of it…

Forma’s sudden voice startled me.

“Grey, you won’t believe what I’ve learned!”

I cried out in surprise, causing the cloaked figure to dart away suddenly, leaving a smoky trail in its midst. I clutched my heart, which had nearly leapt from my chest at Forma’s interruption.

“Please don’t do that, this place is not one where you would wish to receive such a jolt of adrenaline,” I grumbled.

“Sorry, but you have to know what I’ve discovered!”

I sighed and leaned against the tree root, keeping my eyes peeled for a sign of the hooded figure.

“Alright, what have you discovered?”

“I’ve just been observing King Roman in his throne room. He stood in the middle of the room, surrounded by floor length mirrors, looking as though he hadn’t slept in days and raving about how ‘the signs are showing’ and he ‘needs another dose.’”

My interest piqued.

“Dose of what?”

“The servants kept telling him that the dose was not ready, the Sorceress needs more time to brew the potion.”

“Who is the Sorceress?”

“I cornered three servants and asked them but they would not tell me. They only said that she visits Kestasla in secret once a year to brew his potion since his breakdown.”

I sat up.

“Breakdown?”

“Yes. Apparently, Roman lost his parents and became King when he was thirteen years old. But he was not as ready for it as Anesthia had been. The power has corrupted his mind and now he thinks of nothing but staying young and powerful so as not to die and repeat his parents’ fate. They told me he had not aged since his twenty-fifth birthday…fifty years ago.”

I sat back, absorbing this information.

“He refuses to age… to die…”

A wild, horrific thought then struck me.

“Forma, is Dragon hide an ingredient in the potion?”

“Unfortunately so.”

“Did you uncover any information about any sort of prison that could hold the Dragons?”

“Nothing direct or specific, but I did overhear mention of something called Truceris when I was eavesdropping on the King. He said that the procedure had to be doubled in speed; he said Truceris must be twice as powerful as it is now if he is to combat the ‘degenerative disease of time.’”

I paused, contemplating all that Forma had just told me. Roman needed Dragon hides for an anti-aging potion, made for him by this mysterious Sorceress. That must be where the great mechanical Hands had taken Syla. My stomach clenched: the others had to be warned, especially if Truceris was to become twice as powerful, whatever the devil Truceris was...

I leapt from the root and ran down into the canyon where the tribe chiefs were busily discussing escape tactics. They all turned to me at once, worried at my expression.

“What is it?” asked the Graylight chief.

“Roman is harvesting our hides for a potion meant to slow the aging process,” I said in a hushed voice. “He says the potion must be doubled, which means more Dragons will die.”

They gaped.

“How do you know this?” asked the Darklight chief with an air of cynical doubt.

“My Maisling is currently inside the castle gathering information. She told me just now.”

There was a silent beat of contemplation.

“Our hides?!” exhaled the Redlight chief.

“This must be why he sent your mother into our camp…” said the Graylight chief, more to himself than to the group. “To assess the strength of our tribe…the value of our hides…”

“Her mother? Is this the spawn of Speaker Echo and the mysterious Hunter?” inquired the Darklight chief, his cynicism disappearing.

“Yes. This is Grey Echo,” said the Graylight chief with an air of paternal pride.

I shifted uncomfortably under the admiring gaze of the four chiefs. This was not the time to marvel at my lineage.

“Please, we need to formulate a plan,” I pressed.

“She’s right!” bellowed the Blacklight chief. “We have to escape! We will not stand to sit here and wait for our tribes to be slaughtered!”

No sooner had the words left his mouth than the woods around us began to retreat back into the twisted roots that made up the floor of the cavern. After minutes of excruciatingly loud whines of metal against metal, the cavern was soon a flat wasteland of roots. A loud cackle then echoed in the giant chasm.

“You think you can escape from my ever-watchful eyes?” spoke the great voice.

No sooner had the voice finished speaking than the mammoths and sabre-tooth tigers rose out of the roots, roaring and staring at us with their red glowing eyes. Every Dragon immediately transformed as the sentry animals approached the clearing where we stood, but the cackling voice caused all movement in the cavern to cease.

“You do not understand. There is no escape from Truceris. You will never escape.”

A horrible, high-pitched twisting noise then echoed in the cavern and all the Dragons watched with horrified eyes as a face made of the metal roots emerged from the red storm cloud above, staring at us with the same luminescent red eyes as the mammoths and tigers.

I froze in the grip of realisation.

“Forma, Truceris is a prison! A prison for the dragons!”

“A prison? Where is it? Can you tell?”

“Underground from the looks of it. I can’t see the ceiling, but the walls are solid rock and the floor is made of shifting, mechanical trees.”

“It’s got to be beneath the castle, then. Alright, I’ll start looking.”

The chief of the Redlights transformed back into himself and stepped boldly up to the huge face.

“You shall not hold us here. The loss of tribe members will not stop us! The Dragon races are stronger than your mighty prison!”

His declaration was met with a cacophony of acquiescent roars from the other Dragons. The great face just laughed again and retreated back up into the storm cloud.

“Dare to dream, Dragons…dare to dream.”