She was wiping the blood from her face when the wind started to sing. So now, even the elements were taking pity on her. Her lips curled in a scowl. She didn’t need their sympathy. But still, the notes grew louder on the breeze. And for a moment, Aza froze in the fear that the Shadow Plane had finally claimed her. That it was the wraiths calling to her one last time.
“Sing all you want, you bloody wraiths!” she yelled, her voice still hoarse. “I’m not listening anymore.”
“I didn’t think you really listened to me to begin with,” rumbled a familiar voice.
Aza whirled and squinted up in the fading sunlight to see Makeo mounted on his tall Dalteek at the top of the slope. The antlers of a second Dalteek edged closer to them. Not even on a lead, it stayed as close as a trained ragehound.
She watched, speechless, as the graceful mounts picked their way down the incline as gracefully as two mountain goats until they stopped before her. “How…? How are you here?” Aza asked, her voice scratchy and rough.
Makeo softened with something that looked like relief mixed with worry. “I rode through the night. I was already here searching for you when I heard your call.” His green eyes combed over the scratches and scrapes littering her body before snagging on her foot. He dismounted and knelt at her side. “Skies, Aza, are you all right? What happened?”
“I’m okay. My leg’s just trapped,” Aza rasped. “What about the others? Is my brother all right? Your people? Where’s Shadmundar?”
“They were doing fine when I left.” Makeo fitted his huge hands around the rock, and with one huge heave, lifted it free.
With a wince Aza withdrew her leg, bloodied but not broken… and most importantly—free. She blinked stupidly up at Makeo, still trying to absorb his presence. “I thought I’d be stuck forever out here.” His gaze swiveled to her, and she had to look away. The last time she’d seen him, she’d thrown words like knives. And now here he was, saving her life. “I released the Dolobra by mistake,” she said softly. “I have to get back to Carceroc before Conrad turns it on Zephyr and then your clan.” She licked her lips and finally met his eyes. “I’m sorry… for everything.”
He squeezed her shoulder with a huge paw, his green eyes as gentle as his voice. “Aza, when I saw Somisidas, I wasn’t sure you had survived. I searched the rubble for you for ages.”
“If it weren’t for Witt…” She nodded to him crouched beside her, a strange sorrow glinting in his eyes. “I don’t think I would have.”
Makeo paused, blinking once, twice, three times. Then he slowly edged closer to her, as if she were a frightened animal. “Aza…” He cleared his throat. “I found Witt… down in Somisidas.”
“What?” Aza looked to Witt on her other side next to Silvix, his image strangely silvery. “What are you talking about? He’s right here.” But even as she said it, her heart stuttered in her chest, something unraveling inside of her.
Witt shook his head, tears glistening in his brown eyes. “I’m sorry, Aza, I… lied to you. I never actually left Somisidas. After the fire… Silvix told me where you were, and I just… couldn’t leave you like that.” His face was translucent now, like a fog lifting in the afternoon sun.
Aza’s breaths came fast in panicked flurries of air. No, no, no, no, no, no, no. She had touched him, hadn’t she? She couldn’t have imagined that. He was right there in front of her.
“With your strength, you have blurred the line between the Plane and the living.” Silvix rested a hand on Witt’s shoulder. “As I once did.”
“But you can’t have.” Aza shook her head, tears spilling from her eyes now. She reached out for Witt, but her fingers could no longer feel him, and the grief threatened to strangle her. Not Witt. Not her funny, cheerful kitchen boy. She would’ve gone back for him if she had known. She would’ve saved him. “Why didn’t you leave with the others? I was supposed to be alone.”
“Come on, Aza. You’ve been ordering me around since we were kids; you know that doesn’t work. You can’t make other’s choices for them.” He exchanged a glance with Silvix. “I stayed in case you needed me.” He ran a translucent finger over the back of her hand, and she choked on a sob. “My only regret is that it’s a little tough to cook for you like this.” He chuckled, just a faint outline now. “But I was glad I could be there for you, for just a little longer.”
This was it. Witt was slipping through her fingers. And as he faded away, Aza could think of just one more gift she could give to him—the boy who had longed for legendary adventure. Gaze still wide with shocked sorrow, for the second time in as many days, The Heir’s Way flowed from Aza’s trembling lips:
How can I let you go from here,
When through the years, you’ve always been dear,
Though through my fingers, you slip free,
Into our stories, you’ll always be,
With the other legends of old,
The ones that will be told and retold,
There you’ll be close forevermore,
Till we join you among Odriel’s lore.
As her words faded into the mountain air, so, too, did Witt Corser. The one who’d always been there for her, even when she hadn’t been there for him. The boy who’d taken her hand when she’d most desperately needed it. The boy who’d stayed by her side, even when she’d shouted for him to go.
And in that moment, as her heart broke open and tears cascaded down her cheeks, there was nothing Aza wouldn’t have given to save him.
“Aza…” Makeo whispered, his huge paw squeezing her shoulder.
“You have to go now, Aza. Your time runs short,” Silvix said. “But know that we’re always with you. As a Shadow Heir, you’re never truly alone.”
Makeo turned her toward him with gentle hands; the concern practically radiating from him in a hot wave. “Aza, what are you seeing? Are you still with me?”
Numbly, Aza started to nod and then shook her head instead, her breath cracking in painful wracking sobs. “The Shadow Plane has…” Consumed me, she choked on the words. “Witt’s gone.” She leaned into him until her head rested on his chest and buried her fingers in his thick fur. “You’re not a ghost too, are you?”
Slowly, tentatively, Makeo wrapped his bulky arms around her. Enveloping her in his soothing warmth, in his ring of safety. “I’m here, Aza. I promise.”
Her words rushed out between her hitched breaths “Everything is falling apart, and I have to put it back together before everyone else…”
Makeo gave her a squeeze, his breath warm on her cheek. “It’s okay, Aza, you can lean on me. We’ll fix it together.” Underneath his thick fur, his heart beat steady against Aza’s ear.
“How can you say that after I said all those hateful things?” she whispered.
“I left because I needed to get the Dalteek.” His voice lowered. “You couldn’t frighten me off that easily. You’re not that scary. And…” He smiled, his green eyes tinged with sorrow. “You’re a terrible liar.”
“Right.” Aza wiped away the tears from her sopping cheeks. “But we’re running out of time. Conrad is already days ahead of us.” She looked once more at the space where Witt had been, and she clenched her fists, hating that they had to move on. With a shuddering breath, she gently tucked her grief into the back of her mind. There, it would have to keep for now. She pressed a kiss to her fingers, and let the breeze whisk it away.
Goodbye, my friend.
Rising to her feet, Aza held out a hand to the dark bay Dalteek beside Windtorn, and it pushed its soft nose into her palm as though it had always fit there. She glanced at Keo. “Do you think he’ll let me ride him?”
“Rainracer belongs to my aunt. He’s stubborn, but he knows the way,” Keo said.
Aza stroked the thick ring of black mane surrounding Rainracer’s neck. “Am I doing the right thing this time?” she whispered. “What if it’s just another trap?”
“When in doubt, you’re already thinking twice as much as when you were certain.” Ma
keo mounted, and Windtorn eagerly pawed the ground with a cloven hoof. “My uncle says doubt is like fear. We can’t be courageous unless we’re afraid. We can’t be shrewd unless we’ve weighed all the options.” His gaze trailed to the smoking horizon. “So as long as we can move forward without the doubt and fear weighing us down, then we’ll be brave, and we’ll be wise.”
Aza nodded and mounted the tall Dalteek, the antlers climbing to the sky in front of her. “You know, I think it’s time I started laying a trap of my own.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
A Plan
The sting of Witt’s death and Aza’s scratched and bruised body summarily sucked away the thrill of riding the Dalteek across the twilit Naerami valley. But at least she was moving in the right direction. And if she stumbled, she would have Makeo beside her to make sure she didn’t fall. They rode through the night until Aza threatened to fall out of the saddle, and Makeo finally made her stop to rest.
Catching her reflection in the stream, Aza grimaced. Her hazel eyes stared flatly back at her, her dark hair falling across her pale face. The blood from her tumbles onto the rocks had crusted over on nearly every inch of her skin. She let the cold water run over her, washing the cuts clean. Her fingers scrubbed at her arms, neck, and face. Nothing serious, nothing too deep, except the heavy ache in her chest.
Makeo knelt beside her, letting the water run between his long, clawed fingers. “If we’re going to battle the Dolobra tomorrow, I need you to promise me something.”
Aza dipped her flask into the water, the air bubbling up as it filled. “What is it?”
“If things don’t go as we planned, I need you to promise you won’t sacrifice yourself to cage the Dolobra.”
“Why would I promise that?”
“Because you’d be damning yourself to an eternity of imprisonment with that monster.”
“Silvix did it.”
“Yes, but there wouldn’t be another Shadow Heir to save you.”
“My father’s still alive. I know he is. He could do it,” Aza whispered, letting her fingertips numb in the water. “If I just bought him some time.”
“Even if he is alive, you don’t know if he could walk the Plane.” Makeo’s voice tightened. “With Seela gone, who could teach him?”
“There were survivors who could teach him.” She rose and stretched out her cramped legs. “I don’t think there’s much my father couldn’t do.”
“Every child thinks that about their father,” Makeo murmured. “That doesn’t make them right.”
“So what if it doesn’t? Isn’t my life worth the hundreds of others I would save?”
Makeo met her gaze. “Not to me, it isn’t.”
Aza softened at that. She let the breath go out of her, the dark falling thickly between them now. The chattering of the brook and the rustling of leaves above them filling their silence. Not comfortable. Not painful. Just silence.
“It won’t come to that,” she said at last. “Zephyr and I will bait the Dolobra. Two traps at the same time. Together, it won’t be able to resist the lure of our yanaa.”
Without her constant visits to the Shadow Plane, her mind was finally sharpening once again, her energy returning. Everything seemed so much clearer to her now. With fresh muscles and mind, she would be stronger than when she had last faced Mogens. And with her brother fighting beside her, together they would strike fast and hard—killing the Dolobra in both realms once and for all.
“And if Conrad and the others come, then the Maldibor will be there to buy time,” she continued.
And once she defeated the Dolobra, she’d have to move quickly to claim Mogens. If he disappeared again, who knew how long it would be before she got another chance to even the score. He would never stop coming for them, and she wouldn’t spend her years wondering where he was and what he was plotting—looking over her shoulder, checking her drinks, sleeping with knife in hand, never truly resting… like her mother did. She would end this here.
“So you won’t promise then?” he pressed.
She raised an eyebrow at him. “Do you lack faith in my plan?”
“Do you?” He straightened, towering over her. “You seem to have thought a lot about trapping the Dolobra in case we fail.”
“I’ve learned lately that my confidence isn’t always well placed, but I’ll do what has to be done.” She crossed her arms. “Isn’t that what you said about Ivanora?”
Makeo growled and raked a paw through the fur between his ears. “That’s not the same.”
“Of course, it’s not. Just two different kinds of life-changing sacrifice.” She shared a half-smile. “I guess we’re just not very good at making promises.”
He grunted, his ears flattened against his head.
“But how about a small wager?”
“A wager with a Shadow Heir? That doesn’t sound wise.”
She eyed Windtorn as he bent his antlers down to the stream. “If the plan goes without a hitch, then—”
“That confident are we?”
She went on as if he hadn’t spoken. “You put in a good word to Tekoa about maybe getting me a Dalteek.”
He broke into a great booming laugh she hadn’t heard in weeks. The very sound of it made her ache just a little less.
“You’re still going on about that? And here I thought you’d finally given up.”
“I’m just saying, put in a good word.” She smirked. “You know, after I kill the monster I brought to life in the first place.”
He nodded, eyes glinting with a smile. “Okay, I can do that. But what do I get if there is… a hitch?”
“What would you like?” she said lightly, the devil-may-care pre-battle high coursing through her now.
“Maybe we could be… like we used to be.” He fiddled with the bags on Windtorn’s saddle. “Close”
“We’ve always been close,” she answered automatically, but even as she said it, she knew it wasn’t true.
“No, Aza.” He took a step toward her, the green of his gaze deepening with an urgent sincerity. “I want to be there for you, I want you to talk to me, I want us to laugh and have fun, I want us to be… together.”
She cocked her head, her heart skipping with the idea of it. “Together?”
“N-no. Not like that.” He looked away quickly, and if it had been a dark moon, Aza was sure his cheeks would’ve turned red. “You know… like before.”
Before. When they’d been unscarred. When they’d shared worries, fears, and joy. When their eyes had sought each other’s across a campfire. Could she even be that person anymore? She wasn’t sure. But she was willing to try.
“The deal is struck.” She stuck out a hand, and his paw swallowed hers. “Now, let’s go kill a Dolobra.”
✽✽✽
The scent of smoke and death hung thick in the air when they arrived at Carceroc in the early morning, mounts heaving. The trees grew taller here, with branches that wove a thick canopy overhead, sheltering the lush forest floor sprinkled with stormblooms and starclover. Blue-backed singing bees fluttered among the dewy, scarlet flowers, humming softly. But between the massive trunks, Aza could just make out the movement of people and flicker of campfires.
A young, dark-furred Maldibor sentry emerged from the shadows to intercept them. Atop his brown Dalteek, he reached out to grasp arms with Makeo.
“Cousin, it’s good to see you back. We worried something had befallen you.” His green eyes shifted to Aza, and he bowed his head. “Shadow Heir.”
Makeo slowed Windtorn to match the walking pace. “And you, Alakai. How’s the camp since I left?”
“We were able to relocate the clan. But the strange Lost continue to ambush us from Carceroc. The Dragon Heir thinks something in the forest is creating them, but we haven’t been able to get deep enough to find out what without the other creatures attacking.”
“Casualties?” Aza asked.
“Three of our own,” Alakai replied. “And a few of the humans the Dragon
Heir brought with him, but everyone is tiring of the never-ending battle. They attack every night now.”
Aza winced. Those would have been the Greens who had followed Zephyr down here. That probably hit him hard, and she still had to tell him about Witt… But the Dolobra hadn’t attacked yet. So what were Mogens and Conrad waiting for?
The trees thinned into a small open lea, and the camp spread out before them. A handful of hastily erected tents ran in rows down the verdant field still wet with morning dew. And though men, women, and Maldibor strode between small fires, a strange, tense quiet stretched between the warriors. They nodded at Aza and Makeo with weary, preoccupied faces and whispered to each other over steaming tin mugs.
Energy and cheer seemed to have drained from the camp like water through sand. How many days had they been fighting? Aza turned to Alakai. “Where’s my brother?”
The small Maldibor tipped his head and led them to a slightly larger tent. Even before they entered, Zephyr’s raised voice cut through the air.
“We can’t stay here forever. Can’t we just leave Carceroc for the creatures and move the village to Catalede? They’ll wear us down at this rate.”
Tekoa’s deep rumble answered, “But you’ve heard the yanaa prison of Carceroc cracking. The creatures of the forest are trying to escape their bonds. If we retreat now, we may just be leading them back to Catalede, where more innocents will be hurt.”
“But surely no man has the power to break the magi’s yanai barrier,” Hoku cut in.
Makeo pushed aside the heavy canvas flap and gestured for Aza to enter. Zephyr, Hoku, Shadmundar, and the barrel-chested, rust-furred Maldibor chief, Tekoa, turned to her as she stepped inside. But Zephyr’s black ragehound was the first to respond. She rushed at Aza with a happy yip, planting her paws on her chest and snuffling at her hair.
Aza ruffled the hound’s fur with a wry grin. “Luna-girl, I missed you.”
Zephyr’s arms were around her next, his words equal parts ecstatic and angry. “Where have you been? I can’t believe you literally disappeared.” He stabbed an accusing finger at Makeo. “And you’re late getting back, we thought something had happened.”
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