Tristan's Arc

Chapter 3 of 5

The black dragon set them down at dawn, and Tristan saw the ruined castle for the first time. Broken towers leaned against the pale sky. Faded banners hung from cracked arches. Rubble buried the steps. Faelynn kept the invisibility spell wrapped around all three of them as they climbed inside. Ashton walked ahead, blue light glowing at his fingers. This was the seat of Tristan's bloodline. Somewhere in these walls waited the proof his claim needed. They searched the great hall. Dust covered every surface. Then Ashton stopped before a tall painting on the wall. "Tristan," he called. "Look." The painting showed a line of dragon riders, their names written beneath in gold. Tristan wiped the grime away. He found his own name. Beside it, he found Elizabeth's. His sister belonged here too. His hand shook. This portrait proved his blood ruled this castle. It was exactly what he had flown here to find. The three split up to search for more. Tristan climbed a broken tower alone. Through a shattered window, he saw them. Soldiers marched toward the castle across the rubble field, spears bright in the morning sun. The throne's forces. They had found him. He ran back down, heart slamming, and reached Faelynn in the hall. "Soldiers," he gasped. "Outside. Many of them." Faelynn's grin vanished. She lifted her hand and the shimmer over them flickered, then thinned. "The spell," she whispered. "I have held it too long. It is fading." Tristan looked at his own arm. He could see it clearly now. Faelynn was no fragile girl. She had flown him here through the dark and hidden them all night. But even she had a limit, and they had reached it. The great doors burst open. Wood splintered across the stone. Tristan grabbed Faelynn's sleeve and pulled her behind a fallen column. They pressed flat against the cold stone. Boots crossed the hall. A hard voice barked orders. "Search every room. He came here. Find the elf prince and kill him." More boots spread out. Faelynn's bow was in her hand, an arrow already nocked. Tristan met her eyes. Neither moved. The spell was gone. Ashton was somewhere in the castle, alone and cut off. The soldiers stood between Tristan and the doors. His plan to slip in and out unseen had failed completely. He had the proof he wanted, rolled tight against his chest where he had cut the canvas free. But now the throne's forces had him trapped inside the very castle of his blood. Faelynn drew the arrow back to her cheek and waited for the first soldier to round the column.