A Dragoneer's Silver Lining

Chapter Twenty Seven

A/N: Romance ahead, be warned. What kind? I'll never tellXD

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Scott’s head throbbed in unison with his heart beat. He groaned, acknowledging the absent pain that was slowly haunting his consciousness. Never opening his eyes, he moved to cradle his aching head only to have something cold bite into his wrists, followed by the sonorous notes of metal that echoed his movements.

He was chained.

Immediately he forced his eyes wide open, completely ignoring his mind-splitting headache. And yet, everything around him was black as a starless evening.

"Whistle?" his voice cracked from misuse. He rolled to his feet only to gasp when something bit into his ribs, countering his actions. He fell back to the damp ground, his joints giving way.

"Drostan?" he hollered a little louder as his mind began to register the fact that wherever he was not a safe place to be in. He began calling out the names of his Dragoon as he flailed in his chains feebly trying to break free. His muscles strained against the thick metal before he began banging them against the ground, confident in his own strength.

It would have been easier if he could see what he was doing. But for some sick joke fate decided to play on him, it wasn’t the case.

"I see you're awake," said a deep rumbling voice that reverberated against the floor he lay on.

"Oh no, I'm still dilly-dallying in dreamland--of course I'm awake!" Scott snarled blindly at the source of sound. He did not need someone to state the condition he was currently in. It was like being told to do something he was already about to do.

The voice hummed thoughtfully, “you must be from Pendragon, I presume,”

“Are you here to help me out or are we just going to talk all day long?” Scott was rolling his head against the sharp rocks beneath him in attempts to divert his attention from his internal pain.

“We are about to do the latter, if you must know,” said the voice, Scott could feel a malicious grin in his tone, “I have quite a few questions to ask you,”

Scott groaned, “you have got to be kidding me,”

XXX

After a very proper ceremonial farewell march from Blouyein--which mainly consisted of boats sailing beneath them as they soared away--they finally began their journey to Mellador, the Land of Valor.

There was a sheet of gauche silence as thick as the morning fog that hung over the group as they all watched Scott maneuver Whistle restlessly over and under Drostan’s dragon.

It was Morschell who had crept up to Drostan as he sat himself down behind the driver’s seat as he whispered, “should we ask about Whistle’s sudden hostility?”

From this, Drostan sighed. As inevitable as it was, they all knew that they eventually had to ask Scott a few questions for his dragon’s inexcusable behavior. They were lucky his dragon misbehaved in a very forgiving Kingdom. But should his dragon act like such in Mellador or Phoen, it was a grave sin.

“Scott,” Drostan said aloud. When the redhead didn’t seem to hear, him he maneuvered his dragon so that the carriage scooped the smaller one up like a net catching fish. Luina and Galvus quickly retreated to Morschell as Whistle and Scott tumbled in the sturdy vessel like toys tossed out of a jar.

“What was that for?” Scott snapped, quickly recovering from landing on his face. Whistle snorted irritably and shook his body like a wet dog before quickly taking off to fly independently as if it were in a hurry to distance himself from the group.