by T. A. White
Chaos reigned, but a controlled form of it. Amid the panic that had overtaken many, a few shone even more brightly as they took charge.
The Duke of Spiritly shouted instructions to survivors exiting the palace. To Tate’s surprise, Roslyn was next to him, directing healers to those with the worst injuries. The two worked well together, moving in tandem as if they were always aware of the other’s contribution. There was no sign of the immense divide between them.
Already, the pandemonium was beginning to settle from their efforts.
Roslyn looked up, catching Tate’s eye. Relief settled on her face, echoing Tate’s feelings. Everyone Tate cared for was accounted for.
Tate lifted a hand and pointed at the duke, and then Roslyn, before flashing a thumbs up sign. Roslyn blinked at her.
Reconciliation, Tate mouthed.
Roslyn jerked, looking toward her father with a strange expression on her face.
Now she got it.
Maybe the task Tate had asked of her wouldn’t be so difficult after all. Tate made sure to keep her expectations reasonable. They might work well together now but that didn’t mean he’d forgive Roslyn for turning her back on her lineage.
That being said, this was a positive development.
Night lifted his nose and sniffed the air. This way.
The Veles took the lead with a loping run, the pace brisk as Tate brought up the rear. They raced across the palace grounds, leaving the din of the survivors quickly behind. Tate chanced a look over her shoulder, seeing the night sky dyed orange from the flames as they spurted from the windows on the left wing of the palace. Further in the distance, a column of orange reached for the sky.
“How the hell did they do all this?” Tate asked herself quietly.
Stone shouldn’t be able to burn. It might melt from the strength of the flames, but burn? No. Yet that was exactly what she was seeing as the flames ate at the stone—like it was a form of fuel.
It had to be a relic or ancient weapon of some kind. That was the only way for the impossible to suddenly become reality. It also fit with Peter and Nathan’s methods. Both men had a penchant for using the tools of the past in horrible ways.
Of course, it was always possible this was someone else’s doing. An enemy of the emperor or empire that had no relation to Tate.
As much as she’d wish that over the alternative, she couldn’t quite make herself believe it. Maybe if she hadn’t seen Peter or if this impossible fire wasn’t burning.
No, this had to be Nathan’s work. Maybe he and Peter had teamed up to do this.
Either way, she needed to stop whatever they had planned. The consequences if she failed were unimaginable.
Tate slowed as Night paused, pressing his nose closer to the ground as he circled. Although a Veles’ nose wasn’t as sensitive as a canine’s, it was a thousand times better than any humans. If anyone could track Peter, it was him.
Night sneezed. Got him.
He darted away, Tate following. The path they took led them out of a side gate and into the Upper. They dashed through the government district, leaving it behind quickly as they headed into the well-cultivated neighborhoods where many of the nobles resided. Before long, the sights grew familiar as they approached the cliff’s edge that divided the Upper and Lower.
“I think I know where he’s heading.”
Me too. He’ll head for the elevators; it’s his best chance. Night and Tate shared a look before they increased their pace, sprinting at a dead run.
In retrospect, it was an obvious conclusion. Peter would stick out no matter where he went in the Upper. Society was tight knit up here, gossip making the rounds faster than light. With his Silva coloring, he would attract attention ensuring people remembered his passage.
There were also few people who would rent their mansions out. To these people, perception and prestige were as valuable as gold. They wouldn’t want their neighbors calling them low born, after all.
No, the best place to hide was in the Lower. It was more populous and would provide better cover. Although there were two ways down, the elevators were faster than the hill. At this time of night, they’d be busy with those returning home for the evening.
The elevators came into view a short time later. Tate and Night sidestepped the back of the large crowd already queued up and waiting for their turn to descend.
I lost the trail. There are too many people. It’s making it difficult to parse the scents.
Tate had been afraid of that.
“Guess we’ll have to do it the hard way then.”
Check each person one by one until they found him.
Tate pushed through the crowd as Night did the same, taking precious time to glance at each face.
Seeing someone wearing a hood, she raced toward them, reaching up and yanking it back. A loud protest greeted her as the hood’s owner glared.
Not Peter.
Tate took a step back, turning in place. No one around her fit his description.
Let’s separate. There’s too many to search in this way.
“If you find him first, signal. Don’t try to bring him down alone.”
You’re the one more likely to do that. Night disappeared into the crowd before Tate could comment.
“More likely, my ass,” she muttered.
Night was just as much of a loner when it came to hunting. Maybe even more so.
Tate pushed through the people in front of her. There was a heaviness in her chest that made her feel like time was running out. Each second that passed added to the weight.
Tension heightened her senses as she tried to concentrate. Fearing what hadn’t happened yet would only slow her down.
Her progress was slow, the crowd resisting the more she fought through it. Until finally, a large man with a barrel chest, snagged her collar as she passed and yanked her backwards.
“Get in line and wait your turn,” he sneered.
Tate twisted out of his hold when he tried to throw her to the ground. Only to be shoved again by a woman standing behind her.
“Who are you to cut the line?” the woman demanded. “We’ve been waiting hours.”
Tate lightly touched the shoulder, not answering.
A finger jabbed her in the chest. “Hey! Are you listening to me?”
In fact, Tate had long since dismissed the two as unimportant, more interested in scanning the faces around her.
That person was too short. That one too tall. The coloring of that man’s hair didn’t match Peter’s.
On and on until she’d worked through the people in her immediate vicinity. Tate took a step forward only to be brought up short as the man from before grabbed her arm in a harsh grip.
Ilith snapped, flooding Tate’ consciousness.
Tate/Ilith whirled to face the man. “Do you want to die today?”
Fear rose in both the man and woman’s faces as their gazes locked on Tate/Ilith’s. Tate knew without needing a mirror that her eyes had shifted to the dragon. With rage scorching her insides, those eyes were probably deep pools of black.
The smell of urine tainted the air as the front of the man’s pants grew wet. The woman stumbled backwards, tripping and falling on her ass. “Dragon-ridden.”
Their reactions should have made Tate feel something. Regret. Remorse. Anything. Instead, all she felt was distant and detached, a barrier between her and her emotions.
It was a side effect of the mind melding, Ilith’s conscious serving to blunt normal human emotions. Things like compassion and mercy.
It wasn’t that Tate didn’t feel. More like those feelings came to her from some far-off place and by the time they reached her they no longer seemed so important.
Logic and reason reigned supreme.
Like this, Tate could see how she annihilated one of the Saviors’ bases before her sleep without ever changing her expression. The thought snapped her out of the mind meld.
Ilith hissed as Tate broke free. They deserve to be punishe
d. They tried to hurt you.
Maybe so but not like this.
She never wanted to be someone who terrorized others. A person who took joy in another’s pain and fear. The coldness Ilith offered was tempting. There was no fear in that space. No uncertainty. No pain. Only cold, hard assurance.
It was a subtle and addictive poison, allowing you to act from a place not influenced by the darker side of human emotion. It also ran the risk of turning her into a monster. Intellect was only one side of the coin. Emotion was the other.
Without it, you could justify damn near anything if you put the right spin on it. A part of Tate felt like she’d already fallen into this trap once. Perhaps that’s why her former friends were so willing to put her to sleep—because she’d forgotten the core of who she was while trying to run from the reality of the situation.
Those near Tate pulled away as whispers of dragon-ridden traveled through the crowd. They created a small, open circle around Tate. Hostility built, growing as more and more people took notice.
Tate’s hands clenched and then loosened. “I apologize if my actions created any confusion or pain. It was not my intent.”
Anger simmered under the surface of the crowd. Tate didn’t think it was enough to compel them to attack her right now, but she worried about whether this incident would fester in the future.
The dragon-ridden walked an uneasy balance between being respected and feared. If the scale tipped too much to the fear side, it could very well create the conditions ripe for an uprising. If the entire city turned against them, how long would it be before its streets ran red with blood?
Tate, I found him. He’s next in line for the elevators.
Shit. Time was running out.
Stay or go?
She reached into her jacket pocket, withdrawing a token that had a dragon engraved on it. “Hand this to the emperor’s guards and they’ll give you recompense. Unfortunately, time is pressing, and I must go or I’d do it myself.”
Tate didn’t know if it was enough of a gesture. Truthfully, she felt a bit like a sleaze offering money for what she’d done. A villain would think everything could be solved with money. Unfortunately, it also was her only option to get out of the situation quickly.
Not waiting for their reaction, Tate sprinted toward the front of the line, the crowd parting before her. There. Peter was just about to step onto the elevator.
Drawn by the commotion in the crowd, he looked over his shoulder. Tate expected surprise. Maybe a little fear that a dragon-ridden was dashing straight at him, no sign of stopping.
There was none of that as he stepped out of line and backed toward the cliff’s edge between the two elevators. The elevator Peter had been in the process of boarding started its descent. Its companion beginning to rise from below.
With nowhere for Peter to escape to, Tate gradually slowed her advance, stopping when she was within a few feet of him. “You’re going to need to come with me, Peter.”
Peter turned away from her, facing the bay and the ocean beyond. He spread his arms. “What do you see when you look at all this?”
It was a question Tate might expect from Christopher but not Peter. It didn’t fit his personality, which was quiet and reserved.
“Why did you attack the palace?”
He looked over his shoulder with a sincere smile. “I see potential.”
Instinct warned Tate as she jolted forward. Not soon enough. A cutting blade of white light arrowed at the cable of an elevator, sawing it in half instantly.
Peter dove off the cliff.
Tate ran forward, spotting him standing on the top of the second elevator, his face tilted up.
“Time to choose, Savior.”
She could try to save the people on the other elevator or she could go after him. There wasn’t time to do both.
“Saviors’ curse it,” Tate spat.
Several more strands of the cable started to snap. Screams came from those inside the elevator.
“Ilith.”
Tate stepped off the cliff’s edge; Ilith roared to ascendancy.
* * *
Stupid, foolish Savior.
Ilith dug her claws into the cliff side, stopping her descent. Grumbling to herself, she crawled headfirst down the cliff until she reached the metal monstrosity her Savior referred to as an elevator.
Strange for two leggers to allow themselves to crawl inside its cavernous maw only to be dangled over open air. This was the expected outcome of such idiocy.
Not everyone here has wings like you do, Tate told her patiently.
Ilith snorted, blowing hot breath on the faces peering up at her. There were choked cries that were quickly silenced by their companions.
This was why dragons were superior to these creatures.
Ilith batted at the cage, sending it spinning. Sobbing came from those inside.
Ilith, Tate growled.
Alright, alright, Ilith wouldn’t really let the frail creatures die now that her Savior had gone so far as to summon her. She couldn’t pretend their fear didn’t amuse her though.
It looks like the operators are already trying to mount a rescue operation.
The cliff face looked like someone had kicked a beehive. Humans climbed quickly using metal rungs Ilith only now realized were attached to the rock face. She flicked the one next to her with a claw, making an interested sound at the ding.
Why couldn’t I have gotten a dragon capable of focusing?
Ilith’s butt wiggled as she flicked the rung again.
Ilith!
Ilith smacked her lips together but obeyed, reaching out to hook one paw’s claws into the elevators bars near the top.
Tate’s sigh of relief came too early as the last strands of cable supporting the elevator snapped. The remnants slithered down, hitting Ilith on top of the head before continuing their fall.
The heavy cage, no longer supported, dragged at Ilith. She let out a startled cry as it dragged her down. She scrabbled at the cliff, digging her claws in.
Long marks showed their passageway until finally Ilith got tired of it all. She sprang away from the cliff, the cage now clutched in both front paws.
Why would you jump away from the cliff? You’re going to fall, you idiot! Tate screamed.
Ilith flapped her wings like mad, struggling under the heavy weight. This had seemed like a much better idea before. The muscles in her back burned as she roared.
The ground rushed up at her. Ilith spread her wings at the last second. She landed awkwardly, her back paws touching down first as she lifted up her front, somehow managing to avoid crushing the cage under the bulk of her weight.
Satisfied with her endeavor, she let go of it much too soon, squawking when it fell onto its side. Ilith peered through the bars, nudging the cage. Terrified humans huddled on the ground.
They’re alive, Tate said in relief.
Ilith nodded once. Of course, they were. She was the one to save them.
Her head tilted in confusion. How were they supposed to get out like this? She didn’t see a way for them to fit through the narrow opening.
Don’t—
Tate was too late as Ilith unsheathed a claw, bending the metal to create an opening large enough for a puny human to pass through.
That is rather terrifying on so many levels, Tate said around a sigh.
Nonsense. The humans were grateful for her help. Look at the way they quivered.
That’s called fear.
Ilith ignored her negative Savior, humming to herself as she looked from the opening to the humans, waiting.
Hmm. Why weren’t they moving? Perhaps they were stupider than the ones she was used to since they couldn’t figure out such a simple thing as this.
Ilith decided to help by showing them, reaching into the opening with a sharp claw. They wiggled in delight. Ilith appreciated their awe, but it was making her job difficult. Finally, she managed to snag her claw on one of their shirts, dragging her prey out of the openin
g.
She set him down on his feet and then looked expectantly at the rest. They fought each other for the honor of scrambling out of the exit first.
Good. They were learning.
Looks like you’re not the only one who can be a Savior, Ilith said smugly as she waddled away.
Tate was quiet as Ilith headed toward the second elevator, which had already completed its descent. The dragon reared onto her back paws, sniffing at the top of the cage.
The prey her Savior had been pursuing was gone. No trace of him remained except a faint scent that tugged at long forgotten memories.
Humans clustered around Ilith, making sure to keep an appropriate distance as they gestured and exclaimed.
Ilith dropped back to all fours and sat, her tail whipping as she considered.
Where could the prey have gone?
As Ilith was considering her options, a tiny human staggered toward her holding out a skewer of meat. “Dragon. Present.”
A woman cried out, breaking through the crowd and running toward the tiny human. She fell to her knees beside the little person and gathered her into her arms.
Ilith considered the tiny human who babbled incessantly. It was obvious this human wasn’t even half as intelligent as the rest since most of what they said was indecipherable—even for a dragon of Ilith’s rare intelligence.
Still, it was commendable the tiny human put so much effort into offering her tribute. It was only proper to accept.
Ilith lowered her head, ignoring the way the woman went as still as prey. Her arms tightened around the tiny human in a concerning way.
If she squeezed like that, she might crush the tiny human’s ribs.
Carefully, Ilith caught one chunk of meat and pulled it off the stick. She gobbled it down. Yummy. She repeated the act until there was no more meat left.
It was tasty but barely even counted as a snack.
Despite that, it was a fitting tribute, well worth rewarding.
Ilith lifted a foot scratching at one of the scales along her neck. It was a little early for those scales to molt, but she only needed one.