Waiting in the Dark
Written by J-Haskell.
Late at night at the outskirts of the Duchy of Valley, 502 A.E.D.
. . .
Wren twisted her talons into the wooden table of the meeting hall. She didn’t really care if it was one hundred years old, it was just a table and she was anxious.
They’re late. Falcon was supposed to be here an hour ago. She peered out the window into the inky blackness of night that pressed against the glass, masking everything but the faint glow of the sky and the stars. Aside from the faint swaying of the trees, nothing moved.
“Astra,” she said, turning to where her wife stood by the door, perfectly poised aside from tapping one claw on the floor. “Something must’ve happened.”
“Maybe,” Astra flared her shimmering black wings and then folded them back down, something she always did when she was anxious, “perhaps he’s just late.”
“Falcon is never late.”
A noise. A wingbeat? Astra heard it too, and turned just as someone was leaping through the window, a spray of glass fanning out around them.
“Falcon?!”
“You need to go, Baroness.” He said, voice sounding… wet. Oh, oh, Tempest, he was bleeding, “they’re - they’re coming.”
Wren caught him as he collapsed. “Astra, do we have any bandages? He’s hurt.”
“I - I don’t know,” she twisted to look at the young serf who they’d been asking to relay messages for them over the past few years, “Falcon, Falcon look at me, what happened? Who is coming?”
Falcon stared up at her, eyes looking distant and wrong, “don’t know. They tried to take the letter I was carrying, so I… I ate it.”
“Oh,” Astrapia nudged him with her nose, “oh, you did good, Falcon. Wren, I - just use the curtains.”
“No, no!” Falcon tried to fight her, but she pulled them over and bandaged the nasty claw marks on their neck, “you need to go! They were following me!”
As if summoned by the young dragon’s screams, Wren could hear other wingbeats now, more powerful than Falcon’s had been, and unfurled her wings, trying to lean over them.
“GO!” He hissed, wide-eyed and feathers puffed out, attempting to shove Wren towards the broken window. She hardly budged an inch despite Falcon’s frantic pushing, and gently placed a talon on their shoulder to calm them down. They both froze as the door swung open.
A grey dragon walked in, bloody talons clicking on the smooth stone floor. They looked entirely unruffled, as though they were simply making a late-night visit to a dear friend. “Baroness Astrapia Roseglade, good evening.”
“I wasn’t expecting visitors.” Astra hissed, drawing herself up to her full size. Wren caught herself admiring her wife’s iridescent black plumage, and then reminded herself that this really wasn’t the time for that. “Who are you, and what brings you to Roseglade?”
“You may call me Austringer,” they purred, folding their wings at their sides with a false sense of calm. “Chasing a traitor.”
Dread gripped Wren’s chest. They were a Hawk, they had to be. How had the Tempest known? Who had told them?
Astra didn’t react. “How may I be of service?”
The grey dragon paused, peering past her and catching sight of Falcon despite Wren’s efforts to hide him under her wings. A grin spread across their face, tugging strangely at the scars along their lips, “just as we thought. Too much of a coward to run messages yourself, Baroness?”
She hissed, flaring out her black wings, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“I think you do,” they said, and Wren’s eyes widened as she saw the door start to open again and -
Astra lunged.
She knocked the grey dragon to the floor with a snarl, and for a moment she was on top of them, claws glinting in the dimly lit chamber as she swatted at their face. They kicked her hard in the stomach and shoved her off. Black feathers drifted in the air as she slammed into the door.
Astra pressed the door shut and turned the lock, fighting against the weight of the other dragons trying to force their way in. Austringer lunged to their feet, feathers bristling in indignation, and pivoted to go after her wife.
Wren jumped forward, unthinking, and grabbed the dragon’s wing in her teeth and pulled. They whipped around and slashed her across the face, so quickly that she lost her grip and stumbled backwards in shock. They were about to leap at her, then, in a blur of shining black feathers, Astra slammed into their side.
“Wren!” Astra called her name, and she watched her and the grey dragon struggling on the floor. “Wren, you need to go!”
“No!” She shouted, but then heard a soft groan from nearby. Falcon. She’d nearly forgotten about the young serf. He was collapsed where she’d left him, eyes half-opened, reaching one talon towards them as though he still wanted to fight, despite his own injuries.
The door groaned and began to lean inward on its hinges as the dragons locked behind fought to get in. The grey dragon grabbed Astra by the neck and threw her onto the table, and the wood splintered under the weight of the impact.
She cried out in horror, but she was already getting back up to stand between the Hawk and Wren. “Please, Wren. I’ll find you later, I promise.”
“But -”
“Falcon needs help.” She said, and then the grey dragon leaped forward again and her voice trailed off into a snarl.
Wren made an awful sound, grabbed Falcon in her arms - the stupid child protested loudly at abandoning the Baroness - and squeezed her way out the broken window. As she leaped into the sky and spread her wings, she heard the door give way.
She’s dying, she’s dying, she’s dying, Wren bit down on a scream as she flew away, trying not to listen to the awful noises echoing from the building, she’s dying and I’m leaving her.
“Shut up,” she settled for whispering at Falcon instead, who was still making noise, “the Baroness is dying for us, don’t let it be in vain.”
He whimpered and tucked his head into her chest. Together, as the sounds of fighting faded behind them, they flew off into the night.