Ylgrin VI Excerpt

Ylgrin had hoped Laird Loffit would carry out her orders with aplomb, a party of scouts to scurry out and search out for resources and maybe shelter in this marshland. Caves and shelter from the rain so that they'd have more than dark branches that were wet with droplets shielding them. She hoped her heirship would be enough to negate the low nature of this order in her mind.

An hour was all it took to prove that hope was vain.

Ylgrin found Laird Loffit eating his lunch with the other lords and nobles of her camp, especially Lady Hellryn and Lord Falirnir, under the arm of the sturdiest tree in this marshland, noble eyes warding away any commoners from joining in. She did not catch all of the laughter, but she caught onto a few words, Ulgrin being the oft-spoken of, which made her wince, but she stomped over to them, Red Coarse Crab and his crude mouth, Jorok and her sharp and pointed snout, snorting like a horse, Farfar and his old creased brows, gently creaked, and Vixen and her slanted, thin eyes right behind her.

The air smelled of moss and cold meats, laughter echoing before dying the moment Ylgrin stepped forth before them. Save for the footsteps of soldiers who followed her and her small group over to the noble's Circle. Before she laid eyes onto Laird Loffit's, she would have liked to forgiven him. That her service could suffer one disobedience before her claw was forced. Yet, Loffit's eyes were cold with mirth and amusement.

"Ooi, what brings leader *m'lady* over here?" Loffit asked,  a sardonic smirk full of scorn on his face. It did not have the fierce snarl and defiance of Kettrin's mouth, but she found herself angrier over this softer kind. A few of the nobles laughed, as if it was a joke. Others remained silent as graves.

Ylgrin took a deep breath before speaking. She could see Lady Hellryn's eyes boring on her. *Be ice, like your father,* she thought. "Laird Loffit, I gave you an order. To lead the scouting party."

Loffit snorted. "Scouting's common work. I let a swamp lizard head that work. She should be grateful!" he exclaimed, laughing through the marshland, "I let her and the other commonbloods roll around the mud her kind so enjoys!"

*One of the MudWings*, Ylgrin thought. Which one, she couldn't know now, but once the scouting party came back, she would know. Not many MudWings joined them. The fact he'd not cared for the name of the one he tapped to do his dirty work spoke volumes. "I gave you an order," she repeated, putting colder ice in her voice, "have you nothing else to say for yourself?"

Laird Loffit's eyes faltered for a moment at Ylgrin's refusal to let a matter lie. He turned to his fellow nobles, half of whom shared their unease, the other half unimpressed at Ylgrin's command. That half emboldened Loffit's next words, "You can shove your orders up your unworthy male tail. You're not your father, nowhere near his equal," a recklessness clearly taking hold of him.

Lady Hellryn smiled an insolent line of ice, clearly remembering the threat on her neck after misgendering Ylgrin. Lord Falirnir and Lady Rettast were subtler, but Ylgrin could catch the stretched mouth muscles twitching. However, Lord Goltry and Lady Tunglskin looked aghast, at Laird Loffit's insolence or Ylgrin's words, she couldn't tell and dared not ask now. She wished she could let this go, she wished she could spare Loffit, but insolence of this nature was poison to a nominal authority. She could hear storm clouds thundering in the distance, above the skies. The time was now or never.

"You speak one truth. I am not my father. Very well," she turned to Jorok and Red Coarse Crab, "please take Laird Loffit to the main camp—"

—And keep him confined to a deep, dark part of the marshland. A day or two immobilized to the trunk of a tree might humble his ego and unruliness, leave him screaming and frothing for mercy, beg and prostrate for release, Ylgrin figured. And he will shout any number of MudWing clans over to kill us all, and force my claw.

—And get him ready for the next scouting party. If Loffit would not willingly go to a scouting party, she would place any loyalists of her to watch over him and force him to scout. And what if he fumes and simmers, plotting against me with some of my scouts, and deserts, taking numbers I cannot spare along with him?

"—and break his wings, then hang him off a tree."

Loffit's face went paler than snow itself. His mouth hung, yawning wide and dark like a grave hole. Jorok and Red Coarse Crab nodded their agreement crossing towards Loffit. Lady Hellryn and Lord Falirnir both reached for their spears, while Lady Rettast kept an eye on the atmosphere and who would win. The other nobles reached for no weapons, nor did the crowd of smallfolk surrounding them, but the air was as sharp as a spearpoint nevertheless. Ylgrin readied for that, handling her own spear shaft, the tip cold and piercing. Ready for steel and bloodshed. Ready to show she wasn't her father in more ways than command.

Lady Hellryn stopped short of taking hold of her spear and Lord Falirnir shared the same sentiment, allowing Jorok and Red Coarse Crab to seize Loffit. "No!" Loffit said, some blue flush of courage returning, "No! Unhand me, he's just a male dragonet, not fit for command or leadership here! His father was the better dragon, the worthier dragon!" he shouted as he struggled, "I have powerful friends at the Ice Kingdom! When they hear of my murder, they will scream for your blood, damned wolf pup! They will dye the earth with your blood! Before hanging you for the traitor you are!"

*Yet, you betrayed the Ice Kingdom with my father. If I am a traitor, that makes you twice the traitor I am.* Jorok and Crab dragged him away from the noble's Circle and into the main part of camp, Ylgrin waiting to catch her breath before following. By now, all of Ylgrin's camp was watching, waiting, gazing at the next move.

For a spell of a moment, Loffit broke free from Jorok's hold before the IceWing smashed down his gut, collapsing Loffit's hind legs. Red Coarse Crab snapped his teeth, snarling in Loffit's face as warning, his coarse mouth in the motion to bite out Loffit's throat.

Loffit let out a croak of bravado, "if the dragonet thinks he can frighten me, he touches too close to the iceberg!" Ylgrin heard him say before walking to meet his eyes once more. Crab's eyes met Ylgrin, his claws settling on Loffit's wings, ready for the nod.

*This is wrong*, Ylgrin thought before holding her claw up. "Stop." She turned to meet the fellow nobles that followed her, sensing relief from them.

"Oh, praise the Ice Dragon," Lady Rettast said with a content sigh. Lord Falirnir had a sharp smirk, as if to say *I knew you had no guts to commit.* Lady Hellryn's face, however, paled, remembering what the drip of blue blood from her neck when Ylgrin threatened her.

Ylgrin then returned to Loffit's face, a growing smile on his face, a familiar glint of amusement in his eyes. He would be spared, he presumed. Until Ylgrin took hold of her spear shaft and sentenced Loffit, "to the IceWing way of judgment. Clean through the heart."

Crab swept Loffit's feet off the ground, keeping him knelt. Jorok and Farfar held up each of Loffit's arms, showing the torso, where the heart was. "Please don't struggle," Ylgrin said, readying her heart to commit, "if you do, you'll still die, but your dying will be uglier." There was no sunlight to shine upon the blade of her spear in these marshland. Only the start of rainfall to mark the occasion. Dark weather to merit dark deeds. Nothing of the clean claws IceWings were supposed to have. Claws crusted with mud and dirt and swamp waters, Ylgrin's were.

*Nothing of my father's,* she thought. "Any last words, Loffit?" she asked, meeting his eyes for the last time.

Loffit's courage failed him at last, tears or droplets in his eyes, Ylgrin couldn't tell. "Please, my lord, my queen! Mercy, I'll do what I'm told, I'll do whatever you want..."

*No,* Ylgrin thought sadly. *You forced my claw.* Her spear plunged and jerked, snuffling out Loffit's life. She made sure to see the way he died, made herself watch every moment before his claws went slack and his eyes dimmed. The deed was done.

She ordered a small collection of her soldiers to help her dig Loffit a grave in this marshland. He might have been disobedient, but he deserved a burial as anyone did, at least. As she dug, she caught Kettrin's grey face and cold-greenish grey cat eyes. For an instant, their eyes locked. Then Kettrin nodded and went about his serjeant duties as the rain descended heavy and chilling about them all.

Soaking Ylgrin's soul to the bone.