Disclaimer: I do not own Wings of Fire.
NOTE: In a few places the wording will be similar if not the same as the Sutherland books. This is done because a re-word would sound silly and the setting, plot, universe, and characters are distinctly different enough to not constitute an infraction of the "no posting the original work with thoughts thrown into the flow of the work" rule.
The next day, three Skywing guards arrived to unchain Cyclone.
Cyclone said nothing, but he growled at them fiercely. One of the guards growled back, and Cyclone immediately began thrashing and lashing out with his claws. He wasn't going to get tossed around like a lump of meat.
As they reached the sandy ground, Cyclone saw Tsunami copying Cyclone when they were unclipping her. It was a good idea; they were the Dragonets of Fate and they shouldn't seem all passive and compliant.
They led him warily into the smoky tunnel, lit with torches and an occasional skylight cut through the rock overhead. The tunnel was wide enough for three dragons to walk side by side, wings spread. It sloped upward through the mountain, into the palace Cyclone had seen from his prison perch.
At one point they passed a large cave with tall narrow windows cut into the walls, casting bars of sunlight on the stone floor. A pool of water separated the cave from the tunnel. On one wall hung a full-length portrait of Queen Vulture, and a smaller one of a goldenrod dragon – probably the deceased King Stratus – beside it. Cyclone spotted the glint of a few copper scales on the floor and wondered if it was Tempest's room. There was nothing else in the cave. It occurred to him that she probably couldn't sleep on animal skins or read scrolls because her touch would disintegrate them.
But if fighting was all she was good for, why hadn't the queen sent Tempest out into the war? Why was she kept here for gladiator fights instead?
Perhaps Queen Vulture didn't completely trust the hold she had on Tempest. If she were let loose into the world, Tempest might realize she didn't have to be a killer . . . or she might decide to kill anyone she liked, without waiting for the queen's permission.
Soon Cyclone heard clattering and clanking and chattering up ahead, as if a crowd of dragons were busily hurrying about. Then the passageway opened out into a vast hall and he saw that was exactly what he was hearing.
He was standing on a wide balcony with no railing, two levels up from the ground floor. The balcony ran all the way around the hall in a large circle, and above it Cyclone could see five more levels of balconies, and above that, the open sky. Each balcony had different types of furniture, and each was cut into fourths, the spaces acting as huge, vertical doorways to fly through. Dragons were hurrying everywhere, glowing in the light. Large windows were cut into the walls all the way up, so the hall was flooded with sunshine. The floors glowed as if little rivers of lightning ran through them.
When Cyclone looked more closely, he saw a design of talon prints, inlaid with gold, running through the stone under his talons. Gold veins were carved into the walls as well, some of them branching into lightning or tracing shapes of clouds in the rock.
Cyclone remembered that the queen must be very wealthy. This showed how powerful she was as well. Even with all this gold at their claw tips, no dragon dared to dig it out and steal it.
The guards shoved him in the direction where the gold talon prints led. Cyclone followed the trail, gazing at the dragons bustling around the hall. Skywings flew from level to level, hopping across the great space and dodging wings and tails as they went. Some of them exchanged small message scrolls in midair; others were carrying buckets of water or clean animal skins or platters of food. Everyone either seemed very busy or as if they were trying to look very busy.
Cyclone saw one lemon-yellow dragonet winging up to the highest level with a bucket of soapy water clutched in her talons. As she reached the top balcony, her tail tangled with another dragon's and she overbalanced. She lunged for the ledge and dropped the bucket, which plummeted all the way down, whooshing past Cyclone and the guards.
A moment later, there was a clang and then a furious roar briefly silenced the hubbub. All the dragons in the hall glanced down.
A furious and familiar roar.
Cyclone broke from the guards and darted to the edge of the balcony and looked down. At the bottom of the hall, under a metal grid, a dragon was trapped like a pinned squirrel. The bucket was rolling across the iron bars. All the suds and water had spilled out over the prisoner.
It was Kestrel. She seized the bars and rattled them angrily as a murmur of laughter rippled around the hall.
Cyclone didn't get a chance to see anything more. The guards yanked him back and shoved him along the talon-print trail again.
He stopped thinking about Kestrel as the guards pushed him into Queen Vulture's throne room.
The queen was seated on top of the left of two rock columns, equal in height, carved into the shape of clouds, staring down at the dragons on the floor below them. The wall opposite her was entirely open to the sky, revealing a steep drop and jagged rocks below. The gold tracery in the rocks and floor went over the top in here, as if a giant dragon had stumbled around the room spewing gold all over the place. The gold lit the room with reflected sunshine.
The Dragonets were kneeling before the queen in a submissive bow, though loosely, as to withhold some respect. They were the Dragonets of Fate. They bowed to no one.
New anger filled him; he was done with being submissive. He roared, and lashed out at one of the guards, and scored him on the throat. The guard responded, and bit down on Cyclone's neck, only to find that his scales were jewel-hard from all his training with Kestrel. Cyclone smirked and put a few more scratches on the guards until they let go of him. He made eye contact with the queen as he was walking; she was glaring at him. Cyclone assumed the half-kneel pose the rest were, earning another scowl from the queen.
"Well, hello." The queen said, looking amused. "We've been waiting for you. I gather you're enjoying your stay? You're the Dragonets of Fate, yes, very thrilling." She said. "I understand you've been underground for the last nine years, so you probably haven't heard: Not everyone wants this war to end." She paused, glaring at them. "Personally, I think this war is quite entertaining." She gestured toward the direction of the spires. "I pick up lots of contenders for the arena from the battlefield. And it's a terrific distraction for those dragons who might otherwise have challenged me for the throne. No one's even tried in about eight or nine years. Saves me a lot of trouble." I bet I could break that record. Cyclone smirked, his head still semi-bowed.
"So it's alright with you that hundreds of dragons have died all across the world." Tsunami spat.
The queen gave her a pitying look. "As if you know anything about that. Have you ever seen a real battle? Have you ever seen hundreds of dragons die? Do you know anything, really, about this war?"
Tsunami opened and closed her mouth a few times, so Cyclone spoke for her. "We've studied it." He said fiercely. "We know it's awful. We know innocent dragons are getting hurt."
"Well, it's easy to say war is awful." Queen Vulture said. Waving one talon. "But it's a lot harder to solve these problems without having one. Especially when you're talking about dragons. Fighting comes naturally to us." She turned toward Tsunami, Flora, and Clay, her snout slightly scrunching up with anger. "You three should know – you attacked me when you barely even knew me."
She flicked her tail forward, and the Dragonets saw the ugly red gash in her scales. It looked as if a spear had pinned it to the ground. Cyclone glanced toward the three. They must have done it when they escaped.
Clay looked guilty.
Flora was emotionless.
Tsunami looked flustered.
"And what of the next Heatwing queen?" Vulture asked, "Strong Burn, clever Blister, sneaky Tephra, or speedy Blaze? I'd love to know if you've decided that, from the wisdom and wide experience of your safe little cave."
"That's not our fault," Flare said, "We wanted to be out in the world."
"Hilarious." The queen looked amused. "Didn't your minders tell you what happened to the other eggs hatched on the brightest night?" She grinned. "I won't go into details, but let's just say it was very sad . . . and messy."
A quiet growl emanated from Umbra's throat.
Clay silently gasped, sporting a horrified expression.
"We're getting off topic." The queen pointed out. "Tomorrow I will be putting one of you in the arena. Which of you is the most likely to win a battle against, say, a Coldwing?"
"Me." Cyclone and Tsunami both said at the same time.
Winter scratched at the ground.
Cyclone said something before Tsunami could, "I'm the best fighter. Besides, wouldn't a Skywing be more interesting than just another Seawing? And you have to start off strong, do some of the lesser ones, and then you do the big finish. That's how thrilling orders go. Just saying." He grinned, revealing his sharp, white teeth.
Candor gave Cyclone a questioning look.
"I love your enthusiasm, Dragonets." The queen said. "Guards, take them away." The guards eyed Cyclone and Tsunami's teeth unhappily.
"As for this one . . ." Queen Vulture pointed directly toward Cyclone. Her eyes were malicious golden slits. "Prepare him for the arena."
Pretty short, i'd say.
Thanks for reading!