Young Writers Society

Zoltar glanced at Felistia, his heart thumping in his chest. Would she tell the Queen where Shriken would be waiting, even though she wouldn’t be allowed to go?

Felistia’s crest of horns had flattened against the back of her neck and her face was creased in thought as she waged an internal struggle.

“Well,” Lezeeru said, tapping her talons against the floor, “I’m waiting.”

There was a dangerous edge to her voice, like the calm before a storm.

Felistia shook her head in frustration, “I thought you’d let me go. How can I insure my brother’s safety if I’m not there?”

Zoltar touched her paw with his, whispering as softly as he could, “I’ll never let them hurt him. I promise.”

Felistia squeezed his talons, but kept her gaze on the Queen, who hadn’t seemed to notice Zoltar’s comment.

“I insure you that no harm will come to Shriken. That is unless he attacks us. That’s why I want to bring Zoltar. I will send him ahead of my soldiers to inform the Ice Talon of our arrival. That way we should avoid any violence,” Lezeeru replied, flicking out her sapphire blue wings, allowing the morning sun to catch on the bolts of gold streaking across them.

“You must remember that we are a mostly peaceful tribe,” Voltron added, stepping to stand beside Lezeeru, “Your tribe was the one that turned on us and started this war. We’re only doing what we must to stop it.”

Felistia huffed, her spines flattening, “Fine. If you promise you won’t hurt him.” Felistia let out a soft breath, “He said he’d meet me at Viper Rock in the savanna.”

A pleased look flashed across Lezeeru’s face, “Thank you. I’m getting to like you more and more, Felistia.”

“Now,” She clapped her paws together, causing Zoltar to jump at the loud noise “we must get a move on. Shriken is supposed to be at Viper Rock tomorrow and it takes at least a day’s flight to get there. Voltron, I need you to get Oren. You and he will accompany Zoltar there.”

Zoltar saw Voltron cast the Queen a skeptical glance and hiss, “Are you sure he’s ready for a mission already?”

“Absolutely. That dragonet won’t learn anything stuck in this palace. Besides, he’ll do fine with your guidance. It’s not like he’s going into battle.” Lezeeru said dismissively.

“Very well,” Voltron said, brushing his wing with hers as he turned to leave the room.

Just before he reached the wooden doors, Leezeru roared, “Guards.”

The doors swung open and two Wind Talons hurried in, their heads bowed. Voltron strode past them and disappeared around the corner.

“Take the Ice Talon to the Shadow Talons room,” Lezeeru instructed, pointing at Felistia, “and be sure to tell the chef to prepare food for her along with the others meals. She will be staying there until further notice.”

The guards nodded. One of them produced a mouth clamp from a leather bag around his neck.He moved to lock it onto Felistia jaws.

She looked at Zoltar and then back at the Queen, taking a step back from the oncoming guard.

“It’s just a precaution. He will remove it again once you are with the others,” the Queen remarked as she caught Felistia’s glance.

Zoltar saw Felistia’s wings relaxed slightly and she bowed her head to allow the mouth clamp to be locked into place.

“Good luck Zoltar,” she said before the band closed over her jaws.

“I’ll be back soon,” Zoltar replied in his best reassuring voice as he watched Felistia be lead out the throne room.

…

The next few hours were a blur for Zoltar. The Queen had passed him over to Delareth, who seemed extremely displeased with the idea of preparing a prisoner for a mission.

He’d marched Zoltar out into the main hallway and down another flight of stairs which he hadn’t noticed the day before, to a large, sun drenched room filled with tables and benches. There’d been one other doorway leading out of the room besides the main one and Zoltar had heard dragons bustling back and forth behind it, along with the occasional squeak from what he’d guessed to be prey animals.

Delareth had ordered a young Wind Talon to bring him some food, chained Zoltar to one of the benches and had told him to wait there. Zoltar remembered muttering under his breath that he didn’t have much of a choice in the matter.

A steaming hot bowl of stew had soon been brought from the kitchen and Zoltar had devoured it with gusto.

A few other Wind Talons had come in to eat and at first had been startled to see Zoltar, but after seeing his chains, they’d gone back to their meals.

It had felt like an eternity before Delareth had reappeared with a leather satchel for him to wear. With a growl he’d stated that it contained food and water for the journey ahead and that he wasn’t to touch it until Voltron said he could.

With that he’d unchained Zoltar from the bench and had lead him back up the stairs and out into the main hallway.

Voltron and Oren had been waiting just a few talon steps away and Zoltar had got the distinct feeling that Delareth had left him in the dining area until the other dragons were ready.

…

Now as he stood on the marble ledge just outside the palace, his satchel flapping against his chest in the wind, he wished he were still sitting in the dining area. It had been warm with the sun streaming in through the many windows lining the room and the rich smell of meat roasting on open fires had been comforting.

The sun was beginning to sink behind the distant mountain peaks, its amber rays casting an orange glow on the valley below him. Voltron stood tall and stern as he stared out beyond the horizon, his eyes seeming to pierce through time its self. Oren stood beside him, fidgeting in anticipation.

The two dragons spread their wings, one of gold, the other cobalt blue and soared upwards on the strong evening breeze.

Zoltar’s stomach felt like a nest of writhing serpents and he tried his best to not think about the stew he’d just eaten as he followed the two Wind Talons skyward.

As the sun disappeared behind the western mountain range, Zoltar and his companions cleared the outer edge of the valley, leaving the Wind Talon palace and villages behind them as they banked east.