Shadow Wings (The Darkest Drae Book 2)(24)

We passed over another deserted town of scraggly shelters, though this time I smelled smoke. Gray billows of acrid smog puffed into the blue sky, creating a dirty haze above the settlement. I circled lower and flattened my body as my sharp eyes detected movement in the rocky valley below.

The jutting cliffs made spying hard. I tucked my wings in closer to my scaly body and cut through the air current holding me aloft. A descent of a few feet was all I needed, just enough to see better through the smoke. I’d never ventured out of Verald, though the Gemond Kingdom had often been featured in Mother’s stories. I knew little of the people, beyond their mining reputation, but after hearing the words ‘alliance’ from Caltevyn’s and Dyter’s lips, I assumed an attempt to rally Gemond to their cause was imminent. If they planned to recruit these people, and I was being dragged along for the ride, I needed to learn as much as possible.

In my heart, I hadn’t mustered the strength to throw myself into a rebellion against Emperor Drayden. I was resigned to being hauled through the civil war, regardless, because of who I was and my friends’ roles in it. I didn’t want to just go through the motions, as I was doing, and felt no small measure of guilt about my lack of dedication, but I didn’t feel capable of more. Deep down, I wondered if this realm was even worth all the pain I’d been through, let alone the pain I expected was ahead if I entered into this fight.

I steadied myself at the lower altitude, feeling Tyrrik close by my left wing.

Concentrating on the diminutive forms, several seconds of my attention remained fixed before I could accept what I was seeing. Even in my Drae form, my stomach tightened at the sight. I’d believed Verald owned a monopoly on suffering and hardship. The people below appeared barely human. Their hunched and emaciated bodies were twisted and gnarled. Their long stringy hair, all gray, giving them the look of an ancient community of women. Their clothes hung tattered and ill-fitting off their wasted frames.

I would expect more women present than men, given the Emperor’s War, but something about the community sent shivers running to the tips of my wings. Were there no men?

Tyrrik shifted beside me as a man, distinguishable by his white beard, hobbled from a dilapidated structure in the center of the settlement. The guy was ancient. A woman rushed up to him, and another chased after her, waving her arms.

Ryn, Tyrrik called. He dipped down, circling back until he was alongside me.

His voice felt like warm embers, and a strange sense of longing welled from deep within. Irritated, I shoved the emotion away.

Come on; we’re really close now. See the golden energy by those rocks? I didn’t answer, and his tone dropped and was laced with warning when he added, You don’t want to see that.

How would you know? I shot back, gliding off to the side so I could orbit back around the encampment. The golden energy he referenced radiated into the sky, but this was my first glimpse at the neighboring kingdom’s people. This wouldn’t take more than a few minutes at most. Have you been in Gemond before?

Trust me, you don’t want to see what happens next.

Therein lay our problem. If I could have rolled my Drae eyes at him, I would have because he asked the impossible. Trust was earned, not demanded, and even when earned, trust could be broken rapidly. As he should know.

I kept my gaze on the pocket-sized ancient humans and their pocket-sized problems. One of the women had caught the man by his tattered shirt hem. The man turned and pushed the woman to the ground. The second woman stopped her chase as the man towered over the first. A moment later, a dozen other women came running, and then another dozen shuffled from the tumbledown shelters. They coalesced on the fallen woman with sticks and rocks and even their own bodies, beating her. The second woman hesitated for only a second before joining in.

Why are they beating her? My insides chilled as I watched, transfixed by the horror of the scene below. These were Gemondians? I was certain at any minute, the women would stop, that they would come to their senses or someone would control them, but there didn’t appear to be anyone else. Mother’s stories never mentioned Gemond’s violent culture. Had their society crumpled under the stress of starvation? Or had their ruler, like our previous king, put his needs above his people’s?

Tyrrik’s hesitancy leaked through our connection, and I snapped my fangs together. Why are they beating her?

Because she tried to monopolize him. He is their only man.

You’re kidding, right? He’s the only dude, so he gets all the ladies? For real?

I don’t make their rules, Ryn.

The horror I felt wasn’t Tyrrik’s fault, but I couldn’t dam the emotion when the tendrils of the woman’s screams echoed in my ears. I whipped my tail, a growl swelling in my chest. They’re going to punish her because she wanted to . . . ?

Tyrrik remained silent, waiting for me to finish my question.

They’re doing that because she wanted to sleep with him?

When it wasn’t her turn, he corrected. Yes.

So they’ll torture her. All of them on one person.

He sighed. Yes. Are you happy now that you know?

Would you prefer I bury my head in the sand? I asked sarcastically. Why would we seek alliance with these people? People seemed too generous of a term. This community was filled with the worst kind of animals.

Tyrrik picked up his pace, and I cast a suspicious glance at him and then circled down. My gaze shifted back on the people below as I scanned the settlement anew. Most of the women were dispersing. No, just backing away. Two of them held the unconscious female by the feet and were dragging her across the stony ground toward a ring of large, smooth rocks with a fire pit in the middle.