Flying is not nearly as much fun as it looks when you’re not wearing a harness or safety belt. As prisoners, we had been robbed of our weapons by the Princess’ guards. They then forced us onto their dragons, without any kind of further restraint. The guard captain, the one with the decadent helmet, snickered at me. “You’ll be riding with me, mage. Better hold on tight, because if you fall off, I won’t be coming after you.” I had a brief image in my head of me plummeting through the air at breakneck speed and I gulped, much to his satisfaction.

He then mounted up on his dragon with a short leap, swinging his leg over the saddle with the familiarity of experience. Two other guards pushed me onto the saddle right behind him, and then tied my wrists together after looping my arms around the captain’s waist.

Alverd was in much the same boat as me; another set of guards was doing the same to him, although they also took an extra second to secure him with a set of leather belts. When it was determined that Alverd wouldn’t slide off his rider’s saddle, the rest of the guards saddled up as well. Alicia climbed up behind one of them, and after she had secured herself, the dragons pushed off in the air, almost in unison.

I swear, the captain must have been pulling all those twists and turns simply because he thought it would be funny to watch a mage lose his lunch. I had no choice but to ride behind him, holding on for dear life. Right up until we landed on the large open balcony designed to receive visitors, my escort seemed determined to make me sick or die trying. Three times he corkscrewed through drafts, six times he dipped without warning, and each time I prayed to the gods that it would be the last.

When we reached the Castle of Brimstone, we flew over a large castle town lying at the base of the structure. A sprawling city lay beneath the Castle, filled with buildings that reached almost forty feet high, with bazaars and market squares visible. The streets were teeming with people, who looked like ants scurrying about from my elevation. Before I could crane my head to try andI couldn’t get a good look at much beyond the buildings and squares, but before I could crane my head to try, the captain veered hard left and swooped down towards the cCastle.

A series of landing zones had been set up on small crags and outcroppings surrounding the castle itself. Our group angled for one towards the side of the castle facing away from the city beneath it. I got a good look at a huge, elaborate stadium of some kind, its seats vacant. It was easily sixty feet high, a small way down a beaten path from the castle. Again, I didn’t get a chance to see much of anything before the captain began a sharp descent to the platform below, and he intentionally made an abrupt stop to rattle me before touching down.

Oh well, the joke was on you, pal. I got both my feet on the ground before I spewed out a stream of vomit. I will note with some satisfaction that I managed to throw up on him. He clobbered me over the head with his steel-plated gauntlet, but I didn’t care. I was also treated to some extra brutality by the guards I was being handed off to, who knocked me to the ground and pinned me with their spears. Once they determined that I was simply throwing up and not conjuring up skin-melting acid from my mouth, they hauled me back to my feet. As the furious rider ran off to wash himself, the other soldiers escorted us into the cCastle.

The Castle of Brimstone was, in a word, depressing. The stone of the walls was a blackened color, as if it had been scorched by some massive heat, and every part of the keep was reflected in its guards, who wore ashen armor that echoed the bleak surroundings. Each hall we traversed, every room we passed, even the various decorations were all the same lifeless ebony color, with only the barest hint of gold to break up the monotony of it all. Many of the walls and the floor were comprised of some volcanic stone. when I took a closer look; fitting, given that the Castle was built upon one. The Ishmarians had taken the natural abundance of solid stone and turned it into a workable citadel. Not surprising. Ishmar was a land plagued by shortages of food and many amenities other countries took for granted. For them to take a giant extinct volcano and build their capital into its side was pure pragmatism. It also emphasized a kind of rugged strength that the entire barbarian culture was obsessed with. Nothing screamed to the world how fearless the Ishmarians were like building their royal palace on top of a volcano. Not sure that meant anything when the volcano was dead, but barbarians weren’t known for their mental acuity, in my opinion.

We were led through a series of corridors and chambers until we reached a pair of large golden doors, which were a welcome sight after all that bland and repetitive interior decorating. The doors were engraved with dragons intertwined and, breathing fire. We were held outside for a short period of time, with Alicia watching over us. Several of our escorts entered the throne room first. After about five minutes, they exited and nodded to Alicia.

“The King has been informed. He is ready for you now, Princess.” Alicia motioned to the two guards flanking the doors to push them open, and Alverd and I were shoved into the throne room by our enthusiastic escorts.

The throne room was no different than the rest of the castle; gloomy, morose, and in serious need of some new décor. The room was designed to draw attention to the man seated on the tall throne, the so-called King of Dragon Tamers. Obsidian pillars stood aside a crimson rug that stretched from the door all the way to the throne itself. The throne in question was made of a material I had never seen; it was clear, like quartz, which gave it the appearance and fragility of glass. Given the King’s physical health, it was coincidentally well-suited for him. Alicia broke into a bit of a run before, stopping only to kneel before her father. That’s when I noticed that we were not alone with the kKing.

A young man stood next to the glass throne, clad in glittering golden armor and a black cape. He possessed a helm in the shape of a dragon’s head, complete with jaws reaching over his face, and horns sloping back majestically. A look of haughty disinterest was on his face, but when he saw Alverd and me in the background, his eyes widened in amazement. He managed to rein it in quickly, though. He regarded us coldly as the guards brought us forward, the way one looks down on others they don’t consider a threat.

The King had obviously seen better days. He was a wizened old man, with a long, scraggly beard, sunken eyes, and thin, wispy hair beneath his golden crown, and his gnarled hand held a gilded scepter topped with a brilliant ruby, which had to be bigger than my curled fist, cradled in the grasp of a miniature dragon, also made of gold. His eyes, though blue, were faded and unfocused, as though he were on the verge of blindness. His robes hid what I suspected to be a frail body, wracked with age and the ravages of his illness. Yet, when he spoke, his voice still held the authority earned by decades of power.

“I see we have a pair of foreigners in our midst. Do tell, what are a pair of vagabonds like yourselves doing in our country, hmm...?” His voice was clear as a bell, still masculine, without a hint of stutter. Yet, it also contained a hint of amusement as if, as though he could scarcely believe what he was seeing. He widened one eye as he waited for a response.

The two of us did not answer. I tried to maintain eye contact with the King, but it was hard to do so with all the sweat cascading down my face. I fumbled as I tried to wipe my face on my sleeve, trying to brush it away. His eyes narrowed when I did so, and I flinched slightly. Alicia stood up and walked to the side of the throne, then leaned over to speak into her father’s ear.

“Father, I caught them near the mountain pass. They killed my dragon. They claim to be nothing more than travelers, but I defer to your wisdom on this.” She backed away respectfully and resumed her position off to his left. The other man’s eyes also narrowed. I could tell he had heard Alicia’s statement, but if he had any feelings about it he didn’t show them. Instead, he looked back over at Alverd and I, waiting for the King to speak.

The King turned his eyes back to us. “Is this true, vagrants?”

Alverd didn’t hesitate. He stepped forward. “Yes, that is true, Your Highness. But I alone am to blame. My friend is…”

Alverd never got to finish. The King slammed the scepter on the ground, cutting my friend off, and making the man in the golden armor jump slightly. When the echo finally died down the King spoke once more. He certainly knew how to throw his weight around, despite his age and illness. It was humbling, even for me, who would normally be ready with a sarcastic comment for just this kind of situation. I decided to keep my mouth shut for the time being. Probably for the best. When the echo finally died down the King spoke once more.

“Do not insult my intelligence, boy. I know damn well that no mere man can kill a dragon with a weapon made from steel. Only a mage can kill a dragon, or assist others in doing so. Therefore, both of you are culpable for this offense.” For good measure, the King rapped his scepter on the ground again, and the empty hall echoed with the sound. It did a good job of masking the sound of my jaw hitting the ground.

Well, I thought, this is it. The two of us were as good as dead now. I had a vivid image in my head of being fed to a dragon, its teeth sinking into my delicate mage flesh. I had no doubt that the dragon would savor the experience by chewing me into tiny little pieces before eating me, and nightmare scenarios began running through my mind. Would I live long enough to suffer through the whole process, or would I mercifully expire before I became an over-sized chew toy? Damn my overactive imagination!

While I began imagining my inevitable and painful death, the King began speaking again.

“In accordance with Ishmarian law, the affected party will be the one to pass sentence. Therefore, your fates will be left to the mercy of Eighth Princess Alicia.” He gestured to Alicia, standing to his right, still looking very much like the cat that ate the canary.

No, scratch that. She looked worse. She looked like a cat that had just cornered a mouse… the kind of cat that plays with its food before eating it. Gods only knew what she had planned for Alverd and me. A new plethora of horrendous situations presented themselves, each one worse than the last. Again, damn my imagination!

Alicia walked back in front of us and addressed her father. “In that case, Father, would you agree to allow me to bind these two with the Rite of Reconciliation?” His eyebrow quirked up in surprise. I didn’t say anything. I’d never heard of this Rite, so I decided to listen for the time being.

The King spoke again. “For someone to bind a mage with the Rite of Reconciliation…it has never been done in the history of our country. Since the dawn of our kingdom, we have hunted those who use the repugnant devilcraft of magic. Every King and Queen before me would have sentenced these men to death with a swiftness that would rival the fleetest of dragons.”

But then the King leaned back in his throne, resting back against the tall clear back. “But as I said, ultimately, the decision lies with you, Alicia. If you feel that is the best course, you are within your rights to do so. Very well. I hereby sentence both of these men to the Rite of Reconciliation.” He leaned forward again, addressing me and Alverd directly. I got the distinct impression that he was grinning behind his beard.

“You belong to the Eighth Princess, now. May Evros, the Progenitor Dragon, have mercy on your souls.”