The Clandestine Daughter

     "Quickly," he whispered sharply. "We've got to hurry!"

     Kass and the little figure continued down the corridor, their claws scraping on the moist stone flooring. Eventually they stopped, standing before a huge Darigan pennant. Kass's eyes roved suspiciously across the halls, his gaze seeking out any movement.

     "Good," he murmured. "There's no one here." The Eyrie reached up to the banner and pulled it deftly to the side with his claws, revealing a large, hollowed out room. Kass gestured to the secret chamber, staring meaningfully at the pet that crouched beside him.

     "Go on, you'll be safe in there," he said. The figure gazed plaintively up at the armored Eyrie.

     "But father, I don't want to go in there! I want to stay with you and help you fight the war!" she protested. Kass's face remained impassive.

     "It's not safe, Iska. I can't stay in the tower to protect you once this war starts; it's far too dangerous for you to remain out in the open." He jerked his head at the little annex again. "I've put plenty of food and fresh water in there, enough to last you months at least. As soon as I conquer Meridell I'll come and get you, alright?" Iska remained outside, arms crossed in front of her chest.

     "No!" the little Eyrie stubbornly said. "I won't go in there! It's all dark and lonely..." Kass regarded his daughter sadly.

     "I know you don't like it, but it's the best that I can do." The large Eyrie knelt before Iska, putting his paws on her shoulders. "I don't want to lose you on top of everything else. I have to go and fight this war, and I won't risk you getting injured or killed." He rose stiffly, brushing grime off his armor. "Besides, this side of the tower faces the moon. It won't be so dark." Iska cast her eyes downward, ruffling her purple-feathered wings.

      "It'll still be lonely," she said softly. Kass sighed deeply.

     "I can't prevent that, Iska. But I promise that I'll come back for you, and when I do, you'll have all of Meridell to play in," he said in a tone of forced optimism. Iska made the soft, chirping sounds that Eyrie kits often make when they're upset.

     "I don't WANT Meridell. I just want to be able to stay with you!" she cried, running forward and clinging to Kass's knee. The Eyrie bent down and gently removed her from his leg, holding her in his arms the same way that he had when she was a newborn baby.

     "I have to do this, Iska," he said firmly, staring into the distance. "You don't understand. The power that they have over me..." Kass trailed off, his gaze hardening. He snapped his head back to his daughter. "This isn't a matter of choice for you, Iska. You have to stay in this chamber; no one knows about that it exists except for me. Even if Skarl's soldiers raid the Citadel they won't be able to find you," he said forcefully. Iska whimpered, burying her face in her arms, away from her father's cold stare. Kass felt a stab of guilt.

     "I'm sorry," he muttered. "I... this is for your own good, Iska." The Eyrie strode forward and carefully deposited Iska in the concealed room, regarding her with as warm a gaze as he could muster. Kass crouched beside his quietly crying daughter and nuzzled her softly with his beak.

     "I will come back for you, Iska," he said. "I promise. Don't ever leave this room, ever! No matter how tempting it may be, you cannot leave, do you understand?" Iska forced herself to look into her father's blood red eyes. She nodded quickly.

     "Yes... I promise, father," she said shakily. Kass rose.

     "Good." He stood awkwardly by the chamber's entrance, one foot already out the door and in the cold hallway. "I..." The Eyrie began uncertainly, his eyes softening. His face suddenly clouded over again. "I'll see you again, Iska."

     Kass strode out of the room, snapping the banner over the doorway after him. Iska stared at the pennant, which was still rustling slightly after being moved by the Eyrie general.

     "I love you, dad," Iska whispered.

     The fleeting goodbye in the hidden room was the last that Iska ever saw of her father. He never returned to the hidden room after that chilly night, though Iska remained true to her word. She stayed in the secret annex, not daring to make any noise or do anything other than eat a little bit of the food that Kass had left for her every day and engage in fitful sleep.

     The young Eyrie was often racked by bouts of crying fits, but she would do her best to stifle them, for she was afraid that someone outside might hear her and tear away the banner, exposing her hiding place. She was terrified of the Meridellian army, Kass had told her all about them. They were ferocious beats; they weren't nice like her father or the Darigan general or soldiers. They were mean and ugly and scary. Their king was a fat, stupid, lazy Skeith who couldn't even run his own country. That, Kass had explained, was why he had to take over Meridell, because he would do a better job of governing it.

     "You see, Iska," he had said. "I want to help Meridell, because they're suffocating under the rule of that idiot, Skarl."

     It had never struck her that Kass might be lying, be it on his own free will or not. She trusted her father completely, and believed every word that he said. As far as she was concerned, Kass wasn't going to hurt anybody in the war. It was the Meridell army that was the violent one, not Darigan's. Iska never questioned anything her father said.

     The Eyrie even grew rather accustomed to her little hiding place. It was almost pleasant in the daytime, with the sun streaming in through the small window, warming her dark purple fur and inky black mane and allowing her to daydream of the day when her father would return and they would both be happy again.

     It was night that Iska hated. Though the moon did indeed shine on her side of the tower, what little light managed to strain into the annex was cold, threatening and silver, not warm, gold and inviting like the sunlight. The moon seemed to transform what was almost a cozy hideaway in the daytime into an oppressive, steel prison cell after dark. Iska also hated the way that the shadows from the outside world would play on the walls of her room, jumbling and jostling along the rough stones like the marionettes of an ersatz puppet show. She never slept at night. She would retreat to a small corner of the chamber and cover her eyes with her wings, cowering and trembling until the sun rose again.

     Days passed, turning into weeks and eventually months. Iska had no way of telling time in the chamber, and was quick to lose track of how long she had been in hiding. All she knew was that it had been a very long time, and she missed her father more with each passing day.

     It soon reached a point where Iska was certain that her father had indeed been slain on the battlefield. The rational side of her brain knew it to be true, but the rest of her refused to believe it, preferring to hang onto the small shred of hope that he may still be alive, perhaps just waiting for the right moment to reappear in the secret room and take her back into the sunlight. And it was because of that wisp of hope that Iska stayed in the room, carefully rationing her food stores so as not to run out before her father came to retrieve her.

     It didn't take long for Iska to run out of food. It was on a rainy day, the sky outside was dark and overcast, the gray-bellied clouds rolling leisurely past her window. The little Eyrie stared idly at the slightly moldy piece of bread that she held in her paws. She turned it over, not really wanting to eat it, for that would be to destroy the only tangible reminder that she had of her father, the last bit of food that he had collected for her, that his very paws had touched. It was also be, on a subconscious level, Iska's final acceptance of Kass's demise. If she ate the last of her food then she would eventually have to leave the chamber, thereby going against her father's final command to stay where she was. Iska didn't like to disobey her father, but she was so hungry, and so lonely.

     The Eyrie continued to gaze at the little morsel of food, not really seeing it anymore. She didn't even notice that she had started crying until a few large, salty tears dropped onto her paws. Her stomach lurched as she finally realized what she had known for a long time. Her father was gone, and he wasn't going to come back. Iska tossed the bread out the window, unwilling to eat it.

     She lay in a shuddering heap of purple feathers on the floor of the room, her wings heaving as she sobbed away all of her previously restrained tears. She didn't care if someone heard her anymore. Let them! Let them come and find her, it didn't even matter anymore. The Eyrie remained on the ground long after she had finished crying, feeling dead both inside and out. She was weak, and she needed food. Finally, it occurred to Iska that her father would not want her to let herself die in the annex. The Eyrie gave one last, racking sob and pulled herself to her feet, swaying unsteadily on her paws.

     She staggered to the door and placed a tentative claw on the banner. Iska paused. It had been a good two months or so since she had been out of the secret room, and she honestly didn't know what to expect. She had gathered, from her father's failure to return, that Meridell had won the war. Had they taken over the castle? Was there a guard standing outside this very room? What would they do when they saw her? Iska shook her head to clear her thoughts of such questions. She didn't know the answers and it wouldn't do her any good to stand around mulling over them. The Eyrie steeled herself and jerked away the cloth pennant, stepping resolutely into the hallway.

     It was as empty as it had been on the very night that she had been forced to go into hiding. The young Eyrie crept gingerly down the corridors, taking care to tread as lightly as possible. Nothing appeared to have changed, the decorations and colors were still of Darigan influence. Iska's heart leapt. Was it possible that her father was still alive? Perhaps he had just been unable to return to the Citadel! The little Eyrie felt a balloon of happiness begin to swell in her chest.

     She threw all caution to the winds and tore down the hall, dashing up the winding tower staircase to the main throne room, her father's room. Iska stood panting before the heavy oak door that led to her father's chambers, her paw quivering in anticipation as she raised it to the broad wooden surface. She was about to knock when the door swung open, revealing the most terrifying creature that Iska had ever seen.

     He was tall, and towered imposingly over the little Eyrie, his pallid gray skin pulled tight across his skeletal frame making his large yellow eyes seem to bulge out of their sockets. He looked vaguely like a Korbat, but he was so twisted and mutated that he could have been anything. He turned his lamp like gaze down to Iska and bared his fearsome fangs. The Eyrie squeaked in fear, taking a wobbly step backwards.

     Iska gave a small squeal as she tripped over her tail and fell to the floor, staring open-beaked at the horrifying... thing that stood before her.

      "What have we here?" the creature said, bending down slightly to get a better look at the little Eyrie. "An Eyrie kit! Why are you here, little one? Are you the daughter of one of the soldiers?" he asked. Iska gulped.

     "I-- I'm Iska. Lord Kass is my father," she stammered. Darigan's eyes widened.

     "Oh my... I didn't know that he had a child." He knelt down and offered his gnarled claws to the Eyrie. "Stand up, Iska. Now, tell me exactly where you have been these past months," he said kindly. Iska grasped his hand and pulled herself up, not feeling quite as frightened now that she knew the creature didn't seem to mean her any harm.

     "Excuse me," she said boldly. "But could you tell me your name?" The bat-thing smiled sadly.

     "Certainly. You may have heard of me, no doubt your father has mentioned my name before." He inclined his head in a small bow. "I am Lord Darigan."

     Iska gasped. She had heard of Darigan, everyone had. Her father had told her endless stories about him, about how he "had vision but was too weak to fully realize his power." She had never really known what to think about Darigan. Her father hadn't been terribly fond of him, but he didn't seem so bad now that Iska had met him for herself. She had just never imagined that he would look like that. The Eyrie nodded quickly.

     "Yes sir, I've heard of you," she said, keeping her eyes locked on the decrepit Korbat. "And... I've been in hiding for the last few months. My father was scared that I might be hurt by his enemies so he kept me a secret, and then put my into a hidden chamber that only he knew about so that if Meridellian soldiers raided the castle I wouldn't be hurt," she explained. Darigan nodded.

     "I see. A clandestine daughter; I never would've imagined it." Iska glanced up, her eyes shining.

     "Is-- Is my dad alive?" she asked hopefully. Darigan lowered his eyes.

     "No," he said quietly. "He was consumed by the evil that he willingly embraced."

     Iska started crying again. After getting her hopes up so high, only to have them dashed down again... It was almost like losing her father a second time, for she had been so sure that he was alive. If she had glanced to Darigan at that moment, then she would've noticed that he looked somewhat guilty, as though he wasn't quite telling the little Eyrie everything. Darigan cleared his throat.

     "I'm sorry... What did you say your name was? Iska? I'm sorry Iska. It was for the best, your father was committing evils without even realizing what he was doing." He choked on his words. "I struck him down, but he was essentially destroyed by himself." Iska rose her head, eyes blazing.

     "What did you say?" she asked softly. Darigan was taken aback.

     "I said that it was all for the better that he came to an end, for he had turned himself into a monster through his quest for power, and that it was I who initially defeated him."

     Iska snarled, launching herself furiously at Darigan. "You killed my dad, and don't you dare call him a monster!" she screamed. "He wasn't a monster and he wasn't evil! He wanted to help people!" Darigan grunted with pain as Iska began raking at his chest with her claws.

     "Get off me!" he commanded, pulling the struggling Eyrie off himself. "I'll call my guards, and-- Ouch!"

     Iska had bit Darigan on the hand, causing him to release his hold on her. She dropped to the ground and took off, leaping nimbly onto the nearest windowsill. Darigan got up, holding out his claws.

     "Iska! Don't, I can explain everything!" he yelled, but it was too late. The Eyrie flared her wings and jumped out the window, catching a thermal and gliding away from the Citadel. Darigan ran to the window and stuck his head out the small portal, catching a fleeting glimpse of Iska's silhouette as she soared into the moonlight.

     The Korbat stepped back from the window, sighing heavily. "She'll have to accept the truth sometime," he muttered. "She can't live off her father's lies forever."

***

     Iska landed a short distance away and collapsed gratefully to the ground. She hadn't flown like that for a long time, and her wings were weak and sore from neglecting to exercise them for so long.

     The little Eyrie lay in the cool glade that she had landed in and mournfully nursed her wounds, refusing to even think about what Darigan had said. They were lies, all of them. Her father wasn't a monster and he wasn't evil. He wouldn't have told her all those things about making Meridell a better place if they hadn't been true, she knew it! Iska took a deep breath and rose to her paws. They were the liars, not her dad. Darigan had lied to her, and so did everyone else who opposed her father.

     Iska's eyes, that were normally so full of kindness and warmth, began to harden as she filled herself with hatred and contempt for everyone else in Meridell. It was all their fault that her father was dead, all their fault.

     Iska began pacing restlessly up and down the little glade. She was weak, but she would become stronger. Her ears twitched and she snapped herself around, instinctively flinging out a paw and trapping a large wild Symol. Her beak twitched in a smile, and anyone who had been present to see it would've said that it was the exact smile that Kass had worn when he gave the order to attack Meridell.

     Like father, like daughter.

     Iska raised her head and gazed at the floating Citadel, the sharp turrets and towers backlit and framed by the full moon. The young Eyrie wondered how she could've ever been afraid of the night. She turned back to captured Symol and chuckled darkly.

     They had all lied, and they had all caused her father's death. And they would pay, every single one of them. Iska would avenge her father and make him proud. Just as soon as she got her strength back.

The End