Knights of the Platinum Dragon: A D&D Story

Chapter 20: The Ways of the Raven

The sky was purple turning to orange by the time Stalk was up, and the edge of the sun's spherical shape was peering over the horizon as he climbed up onto the steeple of one of Chateau Toussaint's towers. Resting his back against the sloping lines of tiles that covered the roof, the talons on his feet hooking him firmly into place and the earthy scent of the clumps of moss that clung to the rooftops filling his nostrils, the kenku ran his gaze across the skyline of Milisevre.

The rows of mountains that surrounded the bountiful landscape on all sides were like the teeth in the jaws of some great beast, silhouetted by a glow that would soon be so bright that none would be allowed to behold its beauty without going blind.

'The Land of the Platinum Dragon certainly looks like it's caught in his jaws...' Stalk thought to himself, smirking. That was something he'd always found quite apt, in truth.

Having been in Milisevre for a few days before the events at the Cockatrice, even though his flock had never even gotten close to the castles and courts of the knights, he'd already heard the streams of religious malarkey about how 'The Platinum Dragon protects his children' and all that.

It was bold of the Milisevrans to assume that a god would care about them at all, Stalk felt. The teeth of the Platinum Dragon surrounding Milisevre were little more than the bars of a gilded cage. As damning as the curse the Raven Queen had thrust upon his own people, just a bit prettier.

'Dragon gods, raven queens... they're all the damn same,' Stalk thought. 'Still, they might prove some use to us...'

Against the fiery colours of the dawn sky, two dark shapes flashed and flitted through the air, small and swift as arrows in flight as they danced around each other.

Swallows.

Stalk's eyes fixed upon them and watched them for a long while, tracking their every move as they darted back and forth, their movements like an acrobatic airshow put on to entertain the rising sun. They sped hither and thither, twisting and changing direction as easily as the wind, rearing up and flapping high into the sky until they were no more than black specks, hovering together to survey their surroundings, and diving down at blinding speed to swoop over the grass and trees that surrounded the castle. As they flew, other birds – larks, thrushes and the other members of the dawn chorus – sung at the sight of the swallow's airborne dance, making it seem less like an act of nature and more like performance put on for him to watch.

Though if they meant to entertain him, it had the opposite effect.

Something began to burn inside Stalk as he kept his gaze upon the flyers – an agonizing longing, a need that seemed to scorch every part of his body from the inside out. His blood boiled, his feathers itched, and as he looked on, the urge continued to claw at him, compel him... telling him to fly.

But he knew he couldn't. Even as he knew, though, it didn't make him any less melancholy or make the ennui inside him any less painful to experience.

"Hey Stalk!"

Bolting upright in alarm as he heard a voice behind him, Stalk twisted around as his chest rapidly rose and fell. His leafy clothing ruffling in the breeze, Finnan was standing just behind him at the very point of the tower, one of his hands gripping the wooden haft planted into the roof that bore Romain's crimson banner.

"Gods above, Finnan!" Stalk yelled out loud. "You fucking scared me!"

Finnan giggled like a schoolgirl as he heard this, then slid down the tiled roof on his bare feet to land just beside Stalk, laying back with his hands resting behind his head. Smiling, he then asked "You think the swallows are pretty? 'Cause I do too!"