Talon the Black (Dragonwall Series # 1)

Chapter 44 - Rumors in the North

On a separate sheet of parchment, he began writing his own list of action items, assigning teams to each of the duties by way of brainstorming. If everyone cooperated, tighter measures could be achieved, but it would be a stretch.

A door closed in the main chamber. The sound was muffled, but enough to get his attention. It was fully dark now, which meant he'd missed dinner, but the glorious scent that met his sensitive nostrils meant Emmy—bless her—had taken care of that for him.

His heart quickened the moment his eyes fell upon her. After two hundred years, she still had that effect on him. Yes, he was lucky.

Her eyes sparkled. She perceived his thoughts. "You may be lucky," she teased, "but you will kill yourself if you do not take care. I cannot bring you dinner every night. Eventually you will starve."

He sighed. "I would have died a long time ago were it not for you."

She set a plate down beside him and stepped away, but he was too fast for her. Grabbing her arm, he pulled her into his lap. The sound of her giggles left his insides warm. "You best not get distracted, my love. Eat." She tried to stand, but his arm tightened around her.

"I can eat just fine with your company, thank you." To prove his point, he plucked up a roll from the platter and consumed it.

"Well you had better hurry. The meeting will start in a few minutes. Shall I join you?"

"I would appreciate you there." He spoke through a mouthful as he quickly crammed food down his gullet. "Even if the other Riders do not choose to attend, your presence would be welcome." The Riders rarely attended meetings held with his higher ranking Drengr. It was unnecessary due to their bond. With connected minds, having one present was as good as having the pair.

"If you will benefit, then I will attend."

"You are the ranking woman of the fort, Lady Emmiline, it would be wise." His serious voice and the use of her full name made his stance obvious.

When the Drengr began filing into his quarters, they set up in the conference room. It was a good thing their Riders did not attend because many of the wing-seconds were forced to stand. The fort was two-hundred Drengr strong, with every wing consisting of twenty pairs. Each wing had a wing leader and two wing seconds, based on the wedge formation in which they flew. He only had sixteen chairs around the massive oak table. Emmy sat at the head. He chose to stand beside her.

The first orders of business were mundane affairs.

"Byron." He turned to the wing second, reminding himself to spare the lad embarrassment by remaining professional. "How fares the Search? Have you found enough volunteers?"

Byron nodded, glancing at a wing second named Fierran before speaking. "Aside from those who have already arrived, thirty-some travel from Redport as we speak. They should be here within the week." The Search kept him away with Fierran for nearly a fortnight, ranging all along the coast of Stormy Bay and inland as far as Mistport.

"Good. You have done well." He bowed his head, pleased with Byron's performance. He was always pleased with Byron. It was a primary reason the young Drengr was promoted to wing-second so quickly. The lad was meant to lead, and one day he would.

"He is hardly a lad, Davi. He's already fledged. You must face his adulthood sooner rather than later." Emmy often scolded him for this. He looked fondly at Byron, studying his golden hair and prominent features. The lad looked more and more like him every day. "Besides," Emmy reminded him, "a day will soon come when he has a mate. Do not let him hear you call him lad then, or he may take offense."