by T. A. White
Ben looked like he’d been in a battle, his uniform disheveled and dirty. There was a bruise blooming on his cheekbone and his hand was wrapped in a piece of Roslyn’s dress.
Of the three, the duke was the worst off. His mouth pressed into a flat line of pain, his clothes sporting similar rips as his daughter’s. Only, unlike her, red stained his previously immaculate jacket and pants. More blood marred his pants and a ribbon of fabric matching the remainder of Roslyn’s dress was wrapped around his upper thigh.
Gone was the nobility Tate was accustomed to seeing in the duke. They all looked like they’d been in a battle and lost.
Thaddeus and the rest of them crossed the lawn, meeting them where the gravel turned to grass.
“What happened?” Thaddeus barked.
“There was an attack at the Rift. We couldn’t hold it.” The duke gathered the last dregs of his dignity, despite his exhaustion and pain, and straightened. “We barely got out of there alive.”
Ben’s eyes were tinged red as he saluted William. “My lord, the rest of the men at the Rift didn’t make it out.”
The Lord Provost let out a soft hmm. Not betraying his emotions by even the flicker of an eyelash. If the loss of his men touched him at all, Tate couldn’t tell.
“Where are your cubs?” Tate asked Night.
They’re with the dragonlettes.
“You should get them and get as far from here as you can,” Tate said with a calm she didn’t feel.
She’d fucked up. She shouldn’t have left the safeguarding of the Rift to the duke and Roslyn, no matter what argument he’d made. Now, everyone would pay for her oversight unless she figured out how to stop this.
How long do we have?
Tate didn’t answer immediately, her mind racing.
Think. You’re still alive. Fight until the last moment because you never know what luck will fall your way.
“An hour. Maybe two.” If the fates favored them. As someone who didn’t have a lot of luck, Tate thought it was the first rather than the second. “The ship has lain fallow for an eternity, and it took damage when it came down. Nathan will need time to accumulate sufficient power to phase long enough to escape the bedrock it’s trapped in.”
Tate discarded the thought of trying to directly interfere with the Rift. It was impossible. Even from here she could feel the pulses of energy as it charged the air. They were like the waves of the ocean, drawing you near before pushing you firmly away. The closer to the Rift, the more powerful those pulses would become. Eventually, they would be able to pulverize bone and warp matter.
Mia moved closer to Night, her hand finding his shoulder almost by habit. As if the touch of his fur gave her comfort even in the face of something she didn’t understand.
You have a plan. I can see it. Night leaned into Mia’s hand but didn’t acknowledge her otherwise.
Mia’s fingers clenched in his fur as she glanced at Tate in sudden hope.
“I do but the chances of success are very small.”
Even if they successfully infiltrated the tunnels, they had to find the control room on the bridge, which was likely located in the deepest sections. If Ai didn’t spot them long before they reached their destination, the denizens of the tunnels would.
To do all that on such a short time schedule was unlikely. Tate didn’t plan to leave the fate of Night’s cubs to such small odds.
“If you leave now, you can get out of the city. Both of you.” Tate looked between Dewdrop and Night.
The future would be harsh if Nathan was successful, but they’d live for now.
She didn’t want to admit, even to herself, that a part of her didn’t think she could stop it. As corny as it was, positive thinking took you further than a self-defeatist attitude. If there was even a microscopic chance of this working out, she’d hang onto it. Logic be damned.
“You’re going,” Dewdrop said, sounding certain.
Her smile was wry. “It’s who I am.”
She had to try.
“I can do it,” Mia suddenly volunteered. “I can get the cubs and the rest of the dragonlettes out. I owe it to you for what you did for the Harridan. They’ll be safe with us in Silvain.”
Night shook his head. They’ll never go with someone they consider a stranger.
“And whose fault is that?” Mia’s tone was arch.
Night’s face turned grumpy.
Tate’s lips twitched even though this wasn’t the time for humor.
“They’ll go with me.” Dewdrop lifted his head. “They know and trust me. They’ll listen.”
Are you sure?
Dewdrop’s eyes were suspiciously red as he nodded. “Yeah. Besides with this arm, I’ll just get in the way.”
Dewdrop’s voice was tight, making it clear he didn’t want to go. His place was beside them.
Only, life didn’t often give them everything they wanted. It took and took. Sometimes you had to be willing to sacrifice for the greater goal.
“You’d better come back, though, or I’ll never forgive either of you.” Dewdrop opened his eyes wide to prevent any moisture from leaking free. “I’m not going to be responsible for raising your terrors.”
Movement from Tate’s side sent her heart into her throat. She shoved Dewdrop to the side as George slashed her blade toward Tate’s neck.
Liquid metal boiled out of Tate’s fingers forming a silvery blade as she raised her hand to block. The impact from blades crashing reverberated through Tate’s arms.
George bared her teeth as she bore down, trying to out match Tate through pure muscle.
However, Tate wasn’t her body’s only occupant—and her other half was very upset due to what she could feel coming out of the Rift. Anger and aggression poured into Tate, allowing her to withstand the onslaught.
“What’s the matter? No longer satisfied with your empty title?” Tate taunted amid the cries of confusion from those around them.
Tyne threw his head back and laughed.
“What is the meaning of this?” Thora thundered furiously.
“Lord Provost get ahold of your people,” Thaddeus ordered.
“Something like that,” George said, answering Tate’s previous question.
She shoved Tate away hard, the action acting as a signal. The pontificator and the rest of his anti-sleeper allies poured out of the palace.
The pontificator raised his blade toward the sky. “For our future.”
Tala and her people whirled, their claws out as they showed fangs. Growls and hisses joined the cacophony.
The Shodon’s guards withdrew their hidden weapons, falling into a protective wall around him.
“Are they really this stupid? There are three dragons, the Lord Provost, and his men here. They’re dead men walking.” Dewdrop positioned himself so he could keep one eye on George, and the other on the mob.
Night crouched low to the ground; his body tensed to pounce.
A few feet away, Roslyn hovered protectively in front of her father.
Ben stared in dismay at George. “What are you doing?”
“What needs to be done,” she said, not taking her eyes off Tate.
The duke limped forward, pulling Roslyn behind him as a whip of energy the color of sapphire appeared in his hand.
Sparks sizzled the air, a low buzz coming off the whip, growing in intensity any time it moved. Almost as if some aspect of it was alive and eager for the blood of its enemies.
“Dewdrop and Mia, get going,” Tate ordered, not taking her eyes off George and the mob behind her.
“But—” Dewdrop started to protest.
“This is a distraction.” Tate could feel it in her bones. It had Nathan’s touch all over it. Why act yourself when you could get a bunch of patsies to do it for you?
This was likely intended to delay and demoralize them. Even if the chances of them stopping what was happening were infinitesimally small, Nathan would want insurance.
Tate flicked a look at Night in a
n unvoiced order.
Go, Night snarled.
Not waiting to see if Dewdrop listened, Night raced toward the traitors, staying close to the ground. They split in an unsuccessful attempt to avoid the Veles.
One of them fell to Night’s claws; a short scream came seconds later before it was abruptly silenced courtesy of Night’s teeth in their throat.
He lifted his face, his snout and lips stained red with blood. A silent hiss came from him before he fixed his eyes on his next target.
Tyne danced forward on silent feet. “Oh good. Is it my turn to play?”
He paused and glanced at Thaddeus in expectation. The emperor didn’t hesitate. “Kill them all.”
Those before Tyne flinched, but held their ground.
Taking advantage of the distraction, Mia grabbed Dewdrop’s arm and raced for the hole Night and Tyne had created.
We won’t let you down, a feminine voice said in Tate’s mind.
Despite it being her first time hearing the mental voice, Tate knew it belonged to Mia. It carried her essence and conviction.
“You should get going too,” Tate told Tala and Gabriella.
Gabriella caught one of the traitors, snapping their neck with the same ease she would a chicken bone. The man slumped to the ground.
Gabriella aimed a fierce smile at Tate as screams came from Tyne’s victims. “And leave you with all the fun?”
“We owe you a debt,” Tala said firmly as she met Tate’s gaze. “Nor would our ancestors welcome us to their halls if we were to abandon the field of battle simply because the odds weren’t in our favor.”
“I don’t know. I kind of think they’d be happy about your longer life expectancy,” Tate said, keeping one eye on George, who hadn’t made a move since that first attack.
“Better to die on our feet than in our bed,” Gabriella returned as she fixed a predatory gaze on the traitors.
“We need to move,” Ryu said.
Tate nodded and looked at George. “Sorry, dear. No time to play with fake dragon slayers.”
Ryu raised his voice. “Thad, can you hold them?”
The emperor withdrew his bloody fist from the chest of a traitor who’d gotten too close, a heart held in it. He squeezed, turning the muscle into pulp. As he opened his palm, red dust spilled out of it, all that remained of the heart.
“Save my city,” he ordered, looking fed up.
Tyne danced by, every swing of his hand claiming more lives.
“Tate,” Ryu prodded.
“Coming.”
Thaddeus’s bearing was regal as he faced the rebellion. “You have one chance to surrender. You’ll be imprisoned for the rest of your life, but your families and land will be spared my reprisal. If you don’t, not a single one of you will leave this place alive.”
Tyne’s high-pitched laughter sent chills down the backs of those who were listening. His eyes glowed as a bone sword appeared in his hand. “Now that’s the sort of emperor you should be.”
Night sent him a disgusted look. Where did he hide that sword?
“We can ask him later,” Tate said. “Let’s go.”
As she started to withdraw, keeping a careful eye on George in the event the other woman attacked, the pontificator and his people let out war cries.
“We will never surrender.”
Thaddeus’s expression was cold, somehow making those present feel as if he were looking down at them from some lofty, untouchable position high above them.
“Very well, you’ve made your choice. Arrest them,” he ordered the Lord Provost.
William’s expression was remote, reminding Tate of her unease in the meeting room. That feeling grew to a scream inside her as she noticed George’s sly smile.
A warning bubbled up in her throat as William reached into his jacket, withdrawing a metal item in the shape of an infinity symbol. He slid the first two fingers of his hand into the loops and pointed them at Thaddeus.
“Watch out,” Tate screamed.
A deafening roar shook the ground as Thora threw himself in front of the emperor. There was a mournful, pain filled cry, seconds before Thora crumpled to the ground. His robes split apart to reveal limbs twisted and misshapen from the beginning of the change. Scales covered his face which was caught between human and dragon. Neither and both.
Tyne whirled, his eyes wild and insane. Ryu’s roar of denial came as the Lord Provost calmly stepped over Thora’s body and advanced on the emperor.
Forgetting George, Tate started to follow Ryu in a vain effort to stop what was about to happen. The world seemed to slow, each moment feeling like it lasted an interminable length of time.
Tate strained to move faster, but it felt like she was moving through molasses. Time at once too fast and too slow.
Between one blink and the next, Ai appeared next to the emperor wearing a cold, remote expression. Her manner untouchable as she took in the slaughter. The deformed figure belonging to Thora.
Lastly, her eyes met Tate’s. She blinked and it was like someone reached a hand out to press pause. Tate and all the rest came to a stop, freezing in place.
Ai’s lips didn’t move and yet Tate could hear her voice in her head as clear as if she was standing right next to her. It’s almost time.
The world came unstuck.
A searing pain penetrated her chest. George’s smiling face looked at her from inches away. Tate looked down to find a blade the color of the void sticking out of her chest. Frost spread from it as numbness slowly replaced the pain.
George leaned close as she whispered into Tate’s ear. “Well, look at that. It seems you were wrong. I deserve my title after all.”
Tate’s eyes were wide as she reached up to touch the blade. The scream of a Veles and the roar of a dragon shook the air. Her strength abandoned her halfway and her hand flopped uselessly to her side.
There was a chiming in Tate’s ears as silver filaments surrounded the blade in her chest, waving gently around it as if not knowing what to do.
There was surprisingly little blood loss as the silver spread across her chest, eventually enveloping half of the blade. Some of the silver flaked off and fell to the ground as the blade’s severe cold damaged them.
Shock blanked Tate’s mind as her gaze moved over George’s shoulder to Ryu, where an uncomprehending look replaced the urgency of only seconds before. He shook his head, his eyes full of horror.
Tate’s legs stopped supporting her and she fell to her knees.
This wasn’t part of the plan, she thought distantly. She wasn’t ready to leave. Not yet. Not when she had so much still to do.
Ilith, Tate whispered, even knowing it was useless. I could really use your help right about now.
An invisible wall existed between Tate and her dragon. If Ilith answered, Tate couldn’t hear. Like this, the transformation between human and dragon felt far away. The distance insurmountable.
The blade acted like a straw, devouring the faint flicks of power as Tate struggled to stay conscious.
The screams of the blade’s previous victims beat at her mind, the pain of those dragon-ridden becoming hers. Ah, so that’s why the blade was inherited. What a nasty thing they’d created.
It didn’t simply kill its victims. It consumed the intangible thing that made them, them. Soul, as some people called it. It trapped them inside for an eternity, using those souls as its fuel.
How monstrous. A true abomination.
She could see now why George was so rigid in her views. The blade didn’t just feed off its victims but its owner too. Carrying that thing by her side all this time would corrupt even the most righteous of individuals.
“What’s this? You finally have nothing else to say?” George taunted as she looked down at her.
Tate summoned the last of her strength, letting out a wet chuckle that wiped the gloating expression off of George’s face.
“Stop laughing,” George snapped in frustration. “What do you find so funny?”
Stupid woman. Tate would pity her if the woman hadn’t killed her. Though Tate supposed, she could explain. Call it a departure gift.
Her voice was mostly gone as she mouthed, “You’re dead.”
George’s head jerked back as she started to whirl. Night never gave her a chance as he sprang onto her back, a silent killer as he buried his face in her neck.
George’s expression changed to one of shock.
Night gave a powerful jerk. There was a crunch as he ripped out her spine. Blood spurted as George’s expression went slack. Night leapt off her body bare seconds before Rath’s head descended and the wannabe dragon slayer disappeared into his maw.
How thoughtful of her guys to arrange such a gift for her final moments. Tate let out a wry chuckle, her eyes rising to the nightmarish sky. Too bad this was her final view. It would have been nice to see the old, familiar Aurelian sky one last time.
A rip began forming in the sky above. Harsh black lines that fit with the nightmarish sky rippling out in pulses.
The Lord Provost lifted his arms, tilting his face to the sky with a worshipful look.
With a sense of detachment, Tate took in Archie’s determined expression as he moved to protect the emperor.
A hand appeared from the rip and then a leg. Nathan stepped out of the void, the cruel lines of his face arrogant, pale gray eyes observing those on the lawn below like they were insects.
His gaze locked on Tate and the blade lodged into her chest. His lips curved. “Well, well. Isn’t this quite the sight?”
Rath’s head whipped to look up at the ancient. Murderous rage showed on his face. His lips peeled back as a ball of fire erupted from his mouth.
Nathan lifted a negligent hand. “Ai.”
The adult Ai’s eyes started to glow, and a shield erected itself in front of Nathan, stopping the fire in its tracks.
“As entertaining as a fight with you would no doubt be, I have a strict time schedule,” Nathan glanced at the Lord Provost. “Retrieve the Apportens Mortis.”
Rath hissed as he lowered his head and moved to intercept. He made it two steps before gravity suddenly pressed down on everything in the area. His muscles bulged as he fought against the sensation, unable to move forward as the Lord Provost strolled toward Tate.