Page 12 of Shadowborne: Reckoning

I’d taken her blade, because I’d left the castle in such a hurry, I’d overlooked bringing my own. An oversight I would not make again.

I placed the tip at his throat—sliding nicely into the nick she’d already left—and tipped his chin up.

“I am your Commanding Officer. I sent you on a mission to Draeventhall, yet she finds you in the wilds of Fyrehold? You tell me everything that happened to bring you here, or I will slit your throat and leave your body here to be consumed by rats. Which would be fitting,” I seethed.

Ruin’s eyes narrowed, but I sensed no fear in him. “It’s complicated.”

“I have time.”

He flicked his eyes over my shoulder, toward Bren, though he kept his gaze from actually meeting hers. “Is she allowed to hear—”

“She knows everything, Ruin. In fact, I learned a great deal from her. About you. I suggest you start talking before I lose my patience and my hand slips.”

His nostrils flared, but he took a breath and began to speak. And the tale that unfolded wasn’t just shocking, but sadly, filled in details of things he couldn’t possibly have known before he left.

“It became apparent early on in Draeventhall that something was wrong. Each time we’d send a report, something would change in the aftermath. As if someone read our intelligence and changed the players to ensure what we’d sent wasn’t accurate by the time you received it. The only explanation was that we had a traitor in our midst,” he said through a tight jaw.

“Informants disappeared at inopportune times. Allies hedged. Always just when we needed them, but never anything dangerous enough to alarm us or cause an extraction. Just… inconvenient.” He paused, his jaw jutting forward. “As far as they knew, we were mercenaries, so I couldn’t play political cards quickly. Davros and I quietly searched for a traitor among us. But our investigations led us to contacts back home.”

“Vosgaarde? How?”

Ruin scowled. “I almost killed an informant when he knew something we’d just learned from a report from the Council. I was sure he had to be intercepting my messages. But he led me to a group in Draeventhal. A network. Eyes and ears. Not political. They trade in information—you know the type.”

I nodded and gestured for him to keep going.

“It was clear that group was connected to someone in our king’s palace. But they didn’t know I was Vosgaardian. They were just collecting information—and I was a man willing to buy it. The others didn’t know—even Davros. That’s the thing, I did exactly as I was trained. I didn’t even tell my best friend and most trusted squad member about this group, or the information they fed me. But then one day, Davros casually let slip something that I’d learned from this little nest of rodents. He said it like I’m the one who told him. But I know I didn’t. I played along, didn’t let him know he’d slipped up.

“But, then I had to figure out—was he my mole? Or were there more? Every step I took had to be secret. I couldn’t even trust my best friend!”

“Devastating, isn’t it, when people you trust turn out to be the enemy?” I seethed.

“I’m not the fucking enemy here.” Ruin’s jaw went tight, but he didn’t drop my gaze. He leaned forward as far as the bonds would let him, eyes locked on mine. “Just as I narrowed my investigation, just as I thought I had eyes on the right person and uncovered their links to Fyrehold, that same day I returned to my rooms, and my quarters had been searched.”

“How do you know? What did they find?”

“Only fake missives. Reports that were too far out of date to be of any use, and coded as well. But I kept them as bait with traps they wouldn’t notice so I’d know if I was searched. Sure enough, someone went looking. They left the reports there, but I knew I was uncovered. I grabbed my fly-bag and ran for Carnage outside the city, trying to figure out how the hell I’d get to you without raising alarms in the Palace… but Carnage didn’t respond to my call. Carnage always responds. That’s when I realized I hadn’t seen any member of my squad all day.

“By the time I snuck out of the castle and got to our rendezvous point, I was too late. Davros was dead, Ciar was out of his mind, and the other dragons were fighting among themselves, but not for dominance. They were killing each other.”

Shit. Shit.

“Why?” I asked, but I knew. In a small cluster like the squads, the dragons functioned as a small herd—the strongest and oldest among them given authority, each in a line, so every dragon knew where they stood. There was one reason why any dragon would kill another from their own herd. While it was true that males fighting for dominance of a herd might accidentally kill one another in haste, murder among dragons was virtually unheard of—unless it was in judgment. Just as a dragon could declare judgment on their rider, those in authority within the herd could call judgment if they learned another dragon had betrayed the rest.

Ruin’s lips twisted like he tasted something sour. “They were in chaos, fighting between themselves—for death! Out of their minds. They killed two riders who tried to get between them just to make peace. I’ve never seen anything like it. The only one who was calm was Carnage, and he was so intent, I had to snap him out of a… a trance to get him to listen to me.”

“What does he say the dragons were doing?”

“He says Ciar started it with his judgment on Davros, but two of our dragons tried to stop him, then others jumped in… until it became what I saw, which I could only describe as a… a brawl. By then, they weren’t talking anymore. Carnage said he’d never seen dragons lose their control with such a brutal edge. He was terrified.”

I rubbed my chin, reaching for Kgosi. ‘Does this sound even possible?’

‘I might have said no before,’ Kgosi offered, his voice heavy with grief over Ciar. ‘But after what we saw… it could happen, Donavyn. Though I shudder to think why. It seems either Ciar’s judgment was not entirely righteous—or he unleashed his rage on his brothers. I do not know which, because he didn’t share.’

Sadly, Ruin was casting light on what had happened with Ciar back in Vosgaarde—not only had that dragon been destroyed by his judgment on his own rider, but he’d also been so shamed, he’d kept all the finer details from Kgosi… a reaction which had baffled us, but which made sense if he’d fought and killed other dragons. Any dragon that lost control and killed another of their herd without proper judgment would be executed, or at the very least, punished and ostracized by a responsible Primarch.

But, if that was the case, I was surprised Ciar had hung onto life as long as he had.

Ruin continued, unaware of my discussion with my dragon. “I’m convinced, whoever figured out that I was a spy, somehow got to the dragons too. They had to have had a connection in Vosgaarde. A high connection. In the Palace. No one else would know about the dragons we took to Draeventhall, or where they were hidden outside the city.