by JD Monroe
“I do, don’t I?” he said, his voice dreamy. She spared a look back at him, relishing the subtle smile on his face. He didn’t smile nearly enough, but it pleased her to be the cause when he did.
“In a few days, we’ll be moving out to an outpost and taking the fight right to Sidran,” he said. His gaze drifted away. “Would you be willing to stay here?”
“Are you?” she said.
To his credit, he didn’t argue. “I understand. But I will not lie to you. I wish Velati had denied your request. I would rather know you were safe back at the temple.”
“And then I wouldn’t be here with you,” she said. “I would be back in the temple alone. And you would be here alone. And we would not have done what we just did.”
He sighed. “I don’t like your logic.”
She sighed. “We’ll be fine,” she said as she rolled onto her side and snuggled against him. She was pleasantly surprised to feel that he was ready for her again. Reaching down to stroke him, she parted her legs. “When things are over, then we can figure out the rest.” He took her hint, gripping her hips as he entered her again. She sighed with pleasure as he began to move slowly.
As he made love to her, surrounding her like armor forged from solid flame, she felt like something was slipping away. She was unspeakably grateful for this, for the simple and immense pleasure of being with him. And yet, she was afraid that they stood on the edge of a cliff, waiting to dive into an unknown abyss. She was no fool. If sheer force of will and desire would keep Kaldir safe, then there would be nothing to fear.
But she feared what secrets Sidran still held, and what evil he had yet to unleash upon her people. As her mind drifted, she realized she was wasting this moment. “When things are settled once again, I want to go back to Ironhold. With you.”
“I would enjoy that very much,” he said. His arms folded around her, keeping her tight to his chest as he rocked into her. “After Ironhold, where will we go?”
The gentle movement was a sweet, slow burn. She could drown in this and not mind a bit as the darkness closed in. “I always wanted to visit Theszand. Maybe even the human world.”
“I’ve never been to either,” he said. “I will take you wherever you wish to go.”
“Do I have your word?”
Promise me you won’t fall.
She glanced over her shoulder, and he kissed her brow. “My vow.”
If there had ever existed a man of his word, it was Kaldir Dawnblaze. She only hoped it would be enough.
For five days, Kaldir spent his daylight hours working with his soldiers and helping plan their blitz attack on the Shattered Cradle. And for five nights, he made up for fifty lost years in Sohaila’s arms. Despite the sheer joy of being with her, he did not regret his choice to let her go all those years ago, not after seeing how wise and disciplined she had become.
On the morning that they were set to fly west to the Queen’s Vantage, he considered leaving her there at Adamantine Rise. But when he arrived in the open courtyard where the Scalebreakers and Broodguard forces were preparing to fly out, she was already there with several stacks of crates and a small leather pack on her back.
To his great pleasure, she wore no veil. Since the night of the festival, she had left her face uncovered, but she had spent most of her time either in her workshop or with him. It pleased him to see her out in the light without hiding herself from the world.
Another Marashti was with her, a curvy woman with black curls barely tamed into a bun atop her head. Sohaila spoke animatedly with her, pointing out the soldiers who hurried around the stone terrace. He approached, giving both of them a bow. “Good morning, sisters,” he said.
Sohaila’s cheeks were flushed a pleasant pink, reminding him of how she’d looked last night in his arms. “Kaldir, this is my sister, Citra Mara. She came from the temple to join us for this mission.”
“It is my honor,” he said, bowing politely to her.
“She is very talented,” Sohaila said. Citra smiled. “Both as a healer and a fighter.”
His eyes drifted over Citra, taking note of the thick muscle on her forearms and the thin white scar across her full lower lip. “I was a warrior of the Nightwalker clan until I was called by the Marashti. Mother Akshas felt I would be a good addition to your cause.”
Kaldir nodded to her. “Then I am very pleased to have your help.”
Within an hour, nearly three dozen Kadirai and riders were flying west on a cool wind. Velati Rimewing flew at the point, his silvery scales nearly disappearing against the overcast gray sky. Kaldir flew at the rear, with the two Marashti and their protectors safely ensconced in the heart of the formation.
Queen’s Vantage was an outpost at the northwestern edge of the Iveron Forest. The small fort lay in the lands of the ill-fated Silverflight, a small dragon clan that had been wiped out after the fatal error of murdering Queen Halmerah’s eldest daughter. Their humble lands had come under Halmerah’s rule, though she had decreed that their former capital of Illevina be left unoccupied, as a grisly reminder to those who would engage in such treachery.
He would never breathe a word of it outside the Ironflight war room, but Queen Tarim had hatched many such plans to attack the Stoneflight. But the birth of the twins had changed her. It had not softened her, but had given her a begrudging respect for Halmerah as a mother. When the younger princess was attacked, Tarim was furious at the mere suggestion she would kill Halmerah’s child. She’d told Kaldir and the prince to tell “the stone bitch” that she’d kill her personally if she wanted her throne. They’d diplomatically chosen to couch her message in more polite terms.
As dusk darkened the sky to a rich purple, Velati began his descent into the stony expanse. On his cue, the formation gracefully descended for a landing. Without speaking, Marlena made a circling gesture, pointed to her eyes, then pointed west toward the outpost. From the left point of the formation, Thaleza silently launched back into the sky. Her stone-gray form faded from sight, though he still heard the rhythmic beating of her wings. Kaldir spun quickly in place, surveying the rear for any sign that they’d been spotted.
Thaleza returned a few minutes later, letting out a quiet growl before she landed and released her shimmering mirage. “Safe,” she said. “Empty.”
With her clearance, their formation lifted into the air again and closed the final stretch to the fort. Sitting atop a hill, Queen’s Vantage was a blocky, two-story construction of stone. Within a few minutes, their war party had landed, transformed, and begun the work of unloading supplies into the building. Motes of dust formed hazy clouds in the stagnant air as dozens of soldiers bustled through the halls. Inside were several large rooms with rotted wood frames that might have once been beds, as well as a large dining room.
“With me,” Velati ordered. “Main hall.”
The Scalebreakers followed him into the main hall. The archways were laden with thick cobwebs like gossamer curtains. With a subtle nod, Velati tipped his head to one side. Kaldir took his cue and stood next to him, facing their gathered troops. They had brought twelve Scalebreaker dyads and another two dozen of General Iceborne’s best fighters. They’d debated bringing a larger force, but if Sidran had an Elegy, the large force would become a liability. As Velati had put it, sometimes a stiletto was more effective than an executioner’s axe.
“We will rest here this evening,” Velati said. “Our scouts will keep a steady patrol—one out, one in for the night.” Thaleza nodded to Miko. “After assessing the situation, we’ll hit hard and fast tomorrow night. I’ve already assigned the strike team to target the palace, which is where we think Sidran will be holed up.” His face was grim. “This will be unpleasant business. I don’t encourage cruelty for its own sake, but this is war. The Shattered Cradle has been abandoned for over a century, and it’s safe to say that the people there are not innocent civilians. They serve the Chosen, who aim to eradicate us. Hold nothing back. Strike hard. Kill clean. Be honorable, but show no mercy
. They would show you none, I assure you.” He glanced to Kaldir. “General?”
Kaldir stepped forward. “The Scalebreakers will go in first. If the Aesdar are protecting Sidran, he will likely send them out. We will draw them away from the city to minimize the collateral damage. If we have to retreat, you’ll hear a signal.”
A raucous, blaring noise echoed off the walls, prompting a series of murmurs. A smile played over Velati’s lips. In the crowd, Marlena held up a small metal canister. “This is from our world,” she said. “You can’t miss it.”
“If you hear that, get back here immediately. Do not devise a new battle plan. Just get out,” Kaldir said. “If this place is taken, keep flying due south until you reach Riverglade. We would like to put an end to the Chosen tomorrow, but we aren’t throwing ourselves to our deaths for it. Our goal is to hamstring them and get out clean.”
“Be aware, a sister of the Marashti is in Sidran’s possession,” Velati said. Sohaila stood at Marlena’s side, and she smiled faintly. “If you are able, get her out. If you see Sidran, spare him. He has a lot to answer for, and we have the means to question him. Otherwise, do what you have to. Rest. Eat. You’re dismissed.”
The buzz of conversation in the great hall diminished as dusk crept over the horizon, extinguishing the blaze of sunset. Gradually, their soldiers grew restless, abandoning the remains of their meals in favor of stretching and changing into loose clothing. Hybrid riders dressed in leather armor, checking buckles and straps repeatedly. Azeria sat in a corner alone, sharpening one of her blades with a dead-eyed intensity that would have frightened him if she weren’t his partner.
Kaldir had been in and out of discussions with Velati all day, as their cycle of scouts brought updated information. They had long exhausted the discussions of tactics and strategy. He was ready to crawl out of his skin with the apprehension of waiting.
A flicker of blue caught his eye as Sohaila walked into the great hall with Citra on her heels. She approached Velati and whispered in his ear. Breaking from his quiet conversation with Marlena, he nodded to her, watching intently as she turned to face the room from the raised dais.
“Excuse me,” she said quietly. Her amber eyes were downcast, and she absently passed one hand over her braid, then trailed over her scarred cheek. Teeth tugging at her lip, she searched the room. When her eyes landed on him, he smiled. Her chin rose as she spoke again, her voice now resonant and confident. “Excuse me.”
Silence fell over the dining room. That was his comet, brightening the darkness.
“I wish to send you into battle with the Skymother’s blessing,” she said. She raised her hands, and immediately, several of the soldiers knelt on the stone. Kaldir followed their lead. “Blessed Skymother, guide your faithful safely through the trials to come. Help their eyes see true and their minds to be clear. Let your power flow through them so that all of your children would be safe, and through them, all the peoples of this world whom you protect.”
And with that, she began to sing.
In all the years they had known each other, he had never heard her sing like this. Her voice was high and clear, singing a haunting melody in a language he didn’t recognize. Something in the song dug into him, like unseen arms wrapped him in a tight embrace.
He caught a glimpse of Velati gazing at her in wonder.
He wasn’t the only one. Half of the soldiers stared at her, mouths agape. Stranger still, she walked around the room, bending down to kiss the brow of each warrior. But her song never stopped. The sound echoed, hanging in the atmosphere like smoke until she picked it up once more. One by one, she approached each of the soldiers and kissed them on the forehead. Several of them pressed their hands to their faces, as if they expected to find something there.
She bent to kiss Kaldir. “You have my protection,” she murmured. Instead of kissing his forehead, she kissed his cheek, letting her fingers trace the back of his ear for a split second. “Come back to me. You made me a promise.”
After bestowing her kiss upon Marlena and Velati, she rose, swaying slightly. “Go with my blessing. I pray for victory, and that you will have no further use of me.” There was a light chuckle, but most of the soldiers were frozen in stunned silence.
“Move out,” Velati announced as he rose to his feet. He bowed deeply to Sohaila. “Thank you for your blessing. Please rest until we return.” With a subtle nod, she walked out of the room. Kaldir didn’t realize he was staring at her, mouth open, until Velati nudged him, a cold jolt against his bare arm. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” he said. “That was…”
“She’s something, isn’t she?” Velati said. “I haven’t heard that in over a hundred years.” He pressed his hand to his forehead, as if feeling for where Sohaila’s lips had touched him.
“What was it?”
“The Aegis Hymn, and the Kiss of Mara,” he murmured. “Very old magic. The good kind. Irazia said she’d been digging through her old books all week. I guess she really wanted to prove me wrong.” He smiled at Kaldir. “Let’s kill these evil fucks so you can get back to her, huh?”
“That’s the best suggestion you’ve made yet.”
Adrenaline surged in Kaldir’s veins as he flew toward the Shattered Cradle. Moonlight painted the broken city in stark lines. Burning campfires were hazy twinkles of orange amidst the ruins. All was quiet, except the pounding of his own heart and the thrum of Azeria’s on his back.
Let this be the end of it, he prayed.
Even through his transformation, he still felt the burning afterglow of Sohaila’s kiss on his cheek, and a strange, tingling warmth in his body. It was something entirely different than the usual flame of his own spirit. It was like she still held onto him from across the growing distance.
He and Azeria were assigned to hit the tents, hopefully catching the Chosen by surprise. He let out a quiet, chuffing sound to alert Azeria. Her legs tightened on his neck, and she gripped his scales tight. “I am with you,” she said solemnly.
They were half a mile from the city now, with the sea of tents in sight. Through the night, he had wrestled with his conscience. It seemed dishonorable to strike this way, likely killing many of the Chosen before they even knew the attack was coming. He’d told Azeria as much. Without hesitation, she said, “Do you think they gave anyone in Farath a chance? In Arvelor? Tahlan-Lev? Greenspire? If they wanted to fight honorably, they shouldn’t have thrown in their lot with the Chosen.”
“It doesn’t bother you?”
“No,” she said. “And if we take care of them today, we save more people from the fate that Arvelor suffered.”
He nodded thoughtfully, though he didn’t entirely share her grim resolve. But he could still remember the smell of death hanging in the air in Arvelor, the stunned silence of its few survivors emerging from hiding. There were too many small bodies wrapped in short linens among the dead.
Azeria was right. He would do what had to be done. For everyone who had died. For the shattered beauty of Greenspire. For the desolate ruin of Arvelor. For those who had not yet known the ugliness of war. For Sohaila, who was scarred but unbroken.
The flame swelled in his chest, boiling and searing. He savored the pain. Every living, breathing particle of his flame bore his fury. This was his gift and his weapon.
He skimmed over the sea of tents. The wind off his wings billowed the dark fabric. He unleashed the flame, igniting a long line of tents. Heat licked at his belly as he banked wide and laid down another row of blinding flame. He expected to see the Chosen emerging from the conflagration in a panic, but it was strangely still.
Below him, fiery tongues rose like waves from a sea of flame. A distant metallic clang rang into the quiet. He instinctively braced himself for the Elegy, but it was only a signal bell. From within the city, there were roars and snarls of dragons leaping into action.
The fight had begun.
Leaving the tents burning, he drove himself upward to survey the city. Sca
les gleamed in the moonlight as the Scalebreakers swarmed across the ruined city. Weapons glinted as sentries took the walls. “Below us,” Azeria shouted. “Your right.” Kaldir dipped lower and saw a red-clad soldier aiming a ballista at him. He twisted hard to dodge the sharp bolt and shot a thin beam of flame at him. With a screech of pain, the soldier fell back, frantically trying to put himself out.
In the center of the city, a familiar flash of white light burst outward. With a deafening roar, a gargantuan white dragon rose on impossibly huge wings. Pulsing blue eyes lit the night, like stars that outshone the moon.
“Here we go,” Azeria murmured. As she extended her warm protection over him, her mind connected with his, a tiny tug at the base of his neck. He felt her intensity and fear pulsing through the connection.
He banked wide. As he moved toward the Aesdar’s flank, he aimed a thin beam of fire at its right eye. The undulation of its wings shifted the massive body, and the beam struck it just below the eye, prompting a shriek of rage.
“You made it mad,” Azeria said with a chuckle.
“Good,” he growled. Sure enough, the Aesdar turned toward him, and he flew straight south to lead it away from the city. Below them, soldiers in red emerged from ruined buildings. But there were dozens, not thousands like they’d projected. Strange.
“Get up!” Azeria shouted.
He didn’t look back, just arched his back and flew straight up. Below him, a beam of pure white shot through where he’d just been flying, like lightning hammered straight.
Azeria squeezed her legs around his neck. “We’re clear!” He wheeled around to face the white dragon directly. A shimmer at its tail signaled one of their wind dragons was right above it.
“Down,” Kaldir growled. Azeria threw herself low against his neck, and he barreled for the Aesdar’s face. The Aesdar had a smaller orb, like a third eye high on their heads. He reared back to slash it with his talons, but a blinding burst of light exploded from the orb and slammed into his chest. Kaldir hurtled backward, like a huge fist had punched him. His head swam, and he felt Azeria’s grip on him tighten, pulling hard on the leather strap around his neck.