Guardian of the North

by Maggie K West

“One of the strongest Rangerians anyone has ever seen.”

  One of? So there was another like me? I spun in a circle, my hand tight around Nick’s sword hilt.

  “Why you, Jackson Marcrombie? What’s so special about you?”

  There he stood. His eyes pierced the darkness from the doorway of an open cell. My satchel was gone. He lifted the pictures of Grandpa. “Great-grandson of Rowan Tyler. He was great … but you…” He looked past the photos straight into my eyes. “I feel so much potential in you, Jackson Laudius Marcrombie.”

  “Give me those pictures back.” My voice rang through the corridor. “Come on. They’re just old photos.” He twisted his hand and they burst into fog. I lunged forward with a cry. He disappeared into the fog.

  “Jack!” It was Aunt Isabel. She lunged against the cell bars.

  I leapt to her side. “Aunt Isabel! Are you okay?” Her hair was streaked with blood and had fallen out of its braid. Her robe was dirty and torn.

  “They came. They came!” She screamed, her eyes wide. And she melted into fog, streaming across my hands.

  “Jack, help! Someone! Help!”

  I spun around. Natanian was there, backing away towards me down the corridor, his face smudged with dirt and ash, his eyes wide with terror.

  A dark shape crept out of another cell and came toward us. It looked like a man, folded over, moving on his hands and feet. Its skin was leathery, its muscles glowing faintly with a cold, pulsing light. It had no eyes. It bared its teeth, turning its head to face Natanian. Rough horns stabbed out from its skull. They curved in toward each other, the dark red tips shining sharp. It smelled like smoke, and dust, and the rotting brine of the sea all rolled into one. It laughed, a rasping, ringing snort that chilled the blood in my veins. I raised my sleeve to cover my nose, my feet frozen to the ground. Its fingers spread wide across the stone as it crept closer and closer toward Natanian and me.

  “Jack!” Natanian shouted. His voice cracked. “That’s it. That’s what was in my house.”

  I gulped. I raised my sword, my hands trembling.

  Then it charged.

  I saw its blackened, human teeth bared before me. I saw its blank face. And I dashed to one side. The thing hit the wall behind me and crashed through, stone crumbling around it in a cloud of dust.

  Natanian scrambled away. “No! Bad!” he screamed.

  “Natanian…” I held out my hand, my heart pounding in my chest. “We have to run.” I heard the last few stones crumble around the thing. I coughed in the cloud of dust.

  “Jack,” Natanian choked. “Jack!” He smacked my arm and pointed, shaking so hard he nearly fell over.

  I saw the thing burst free of the rubble, clouds of dust falling from its leathery skin. Then it raised up off its front legs to stand up before us, towering ten feet tall. It tilted its head and grimaced. Where its eyes should have been there was nothing but rough, pulsing skin. Darkness rolled off its shoulders, across its face, burning away before it touched the stone.

  “I can feel you…” it rasped through its drifting cloak. “Rangerians!” Its head swung around until it stared at me … well … until its head faced me.

  I raised my sword, trembling. “Go away,” I ordered.

  It laughed again, a sound that tore through it, reverberating to the ends of its twisted fingers. The dark cloak hanging around it rippled with its laugh, sparks flickering off the ends.

  Then it leaped.

  CHAPTER 20

  I heard a weak wheeze and opened my eyes, gasping for breath as cold fog pooled off me and drifted across the stone floor. The monster had burst apart when it hit me, just like Aunt Isabel. Natanian, too, was gone. I turned at the noise, and my insides convulsed.

  “Perry!” I shouted. My steed was lying in one of the cells, an arrow deep in his side. I gasped, racing forward, “No, no, no….”

  His eyes met mine, pleading, his antlers shaking with every breath. Then his head fell back.

  My mind was reeling. I didn’t know what I was seeing. I pressed my hand to his still-warm side. He didn’t disappear, like Natanian, like the monster, like Aunt Isabel…. “No, no … Perry?” I whispered.

  The walls seemed to be widening, leaving me in a gaping cavern. My Peryton’s eyes stared up at me, glassy, unseeing. Heat was welling behind my eyes. I looked down at the arrow protruding from his side, his fur and feathers stained red. My fingers curled around the hilt of my sword. I felt eyes on the back of my head. Rage began boiling inside me.

  I leaped to my feet and drew my sword, spinning to slash the sorcerer, to hurt him. The slim, tall man morphed before me … and I stood facing Nicolas Krom.

  I froze, my blade millimeters from his throat, panting, my mind spinning circles. Nick folded his hands behind his back and straightened up, his dark, mismatched eyes shining in the torchlight.

  “Who are you?” I screamed through the twisting vortex of my mind.

  Nick shook his head, “Have you not guessed yet?” I lowered my sword. He smiled, and took a step forward. Fog spilled off his shoulders, swirling down his arms.

  “You’re the Sorcerer,” I breathed. His smile widened. Something behind his eyes… I swallowed. “You’re not Nick!” I swung my sword with all my might, screaming in the flood of rage.

  Nick raised his hand, and a shockwave blasted into me. I flew into the air and slammed into the wall beside my dead Peryton. But he melted into fog that spilled across my legs.

  Nick stepped forward, “Are you sure about that?” Lightning rekindled in his palms, the light flickering across his face.

  “Jackson!” Bancroft slammed against the bars opposite me, sending a ringing clang down the corridor. Nick … no … the Sorcerer whipped around and shot a bolt of lightning across the corridor. It hit the bars, arcing across the metal. Bancroft was blasted back and hit the opposite wall, his armor smoking.

  I shouted, lunging forward. Nick spun back and threw up his hand. Another shockwave shot up in front of me. I bounced off and hit the ground. I gasped for breath. He took a step forward. Fog spilled over his outstretched fingers. I scrambled to my feet and raised his … Nick’s sword.

  “Stop!” I shouted. My head reeled. Nick… no. Stop it. It wasn’t Nick. It wasn’t. Nick was somewhere in these dungeons, locked in a dark cell. This was a sorcerer. The Sorcerer.

  But what if he wasn’t?

  He took a step forward. I gripped my sword tight.

  I was about to kill my best friend.

  I felt the familiar cold chill race out from my heart, and icy wind burst from my arms, racing down my sword as I shouted, leaping forward. Nick took a step back, startled for a moment. Then his eyes darkened, and he threw up his hand. Another shockwave slammed me back into the wall. I landed on the cell floor, gasping for air, my sword gone.

  The Sorcerer stepped forward, his smile widening across his face. Electricity sparked in the whirling fog.

  Suddenly the boom of thunder rang through the corridor. The cell was filled with flickering light. Nick cried out and pitched forward to his knees. A second Nicolas stood behind him, lightning sparking up his outstretched arms.

  The Nick on the ground at my feet morphed back to the tall, slim sorcerer. I looked up at Nick, the real Nick, who was staring down at the man with an expression of half shock, half fear. Then he looked up and grinned. Nick’s smile. One I knew well.

  Nick straightened up. “You were about to run me through,” he accused, pointing a hand at the other Nick, flickering light filling his face. The other Nick backed off, scrambling across the stone.

  “Come on, man!” I squeaked, my voice shaking slightly. “I had that.” I spotted my satchel in the corner of the cell. I snatched it up and slung it over my shoulder.

  “You’re welcome.” Nick stepped around the sorcerer and clenched his fists. A low rumble of thunder sounded down the corridor. The sorcerer didn’t take his eyes off me, his gaze boring into me. His smile stretched wide across his face as he melted into fog. Nick cu
rsed, dropping his hands.

  “What … who was that?” I looked up at Nick.

  “A sorcerer,” he answered shortly.

  “Not … the Sorcerer … the one from the stories. He said—”

  “No,” Nick interrupted. “Not the Sorcerer. The Sorcerer would not have let someone sneak up behind him.” A wave of fog appeared around the corner, tumbling down the corridor toward us. “We need to move.”

  I slung my arm around Nick’s shoulders and leaned into him. He clapped an arm around me. We ran down the corridor, the fog swirling around our feet.

  “You made it!” Nick grinned. “You found us.”

  “Half of me made it,” I corrected, wincing at the pain that shot up my leg. “Where are Natanian and Bancroft? Are they alive?”

  “They are. Don’t worry,” Daniel’s voice rang out. We slid to a stop.

  He stood at the end of the corridor, flanked by six Ealdra soldiers. I groaned, “Not you again.” I stepped away from Nick and raised my sword.

  “The traitor prince is down here!” Daniel shouted. Six Rangerians came around the corner at the other end of the hall and began moving forward.

  “This is what I’d call bad odds,” I murmured, glancing around at Nick. Sparks flared down his arms.

  Then the sorcerer appeared in front of us, his smile back on his face.

  “Really?” I gritted my teeth and threw up my hand. Wind ruffled through his robes.

  “Is that all you can do?” His silky voice drifted over the stone. Nick took a step toward him. Thunder rumbled down the corridor. The sorcerer’s smile faltered. He threw up his hands, and Nick and I were separated by another shockwave. I landed hard on my bad leg and collapsed to the stone with a cry of pain. The cell bars slammed shut in front of me.

  I scrambled to my feet. The sorcerer turned and drifted back down the corridor, past the Ealdra soldiers. In the cell opposite me, Nick pushed himself up and leaned against the bars, watching him go. There was a dangerous glint in his eyes. The air buzzed thick with electricity.

  “Enjoy the stay, Your Highness.” Daniel swept a low bow, shot Nick a smirk, and strode back down the corridor, followed by his squad of soldiers.

  “Traitor prince?” I said through my teeth clenched in pain. Nick stepped back from the bars and slid down the wall.

  “Yeah…” he sighed. “Welcome to my father’s castle.”

  CHAPTER 21

  “Stop it,” he said firmly, grabbing her hand.

  She leaned back and closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. She squeezed his hand tight. The air felt hot. But it always did. At least here, everything else was cold. Cold, and dank, and wet. “You are not what they say you are. You are not a monster.”

  “Then what am I?” The torch overhead flared, flame roaring up to the ceiling before dying back down to a small flicker.

  “I’m not like you, Colton. I’m not a good person.”

  “Is that what they said, Khadija?”

  She dropped her head, pulling her legs up to her chest.

  “No … maybe?”

  “Who said it?”

  “I’m down here, aren’t I?”

  “You’re not a monster.”

  “They call me the Dragon for a reason.” She looked up at him through the iron bars of the cell. Her short, streaked hair reflected the black and red Ealdra colors. “Colton.” Her eyes felt hot, her face wet. “I didn’t mean for anyone to get hurt, I promise.”

  “Hey.” He turned around and reached through to grab her other hand, “I know. It’s not your fault. It was an accident.” He squeezed her hand. “You feel hot.”

  She laughed a little. “When am I not?” He smirked. She shook her head.

  “Here.” Colton moved closer.

  She brushed her tears from her face. He closed his hand into a fist and ran it across the bars. Thin swirls of frost curled around the iron, twisting in patterns across the cell wall. She rested her hand against the stone, feeling the cold frost soothing on the back of her neck.

  “Thank you,” she murmured. She made herself relax completely. She breathed out, and raised her hand before her. The breeze around her held steady, gently swirling around her hand. Then it caught the flame of the torch and spilled over, streaming through her control, the flame racing up the wall, roaring across the ceiling. She cursed.

  Colton slammed his hand into the hot wall and thick, white frost raced across the stone, extinguishing the fire.

  “Do not lose your concentration,” a voice said calmly from the cell beside hers.

  “I know!” she screamed in frustration.

  “Khadija.”

  She looked up. Two yellow eyes watched her from a crack in the stone.

  “Lay down.”

  “I’m not doing that anymore!” she shouted.

  The person paced away. But it wasn’t a person. It was a panther, with a thin outline of cheetah spots scattered across its back.

  “Calm your energy, little Dragon. Let go of your power,” the panther purred.

  She laid back on the cold stone. They didn’t call her ‘the Dragon’ because of her temper. They didn’t call her that because of her skill in a fight. It was because she burned things. And her court hated and feared her for it.

  Because she didn’t just burn her clothes and her curtains. She closed her eyes and let herself melt into the floor. They were afraid of her. She was still so young for such strength. They called her the strongest Rangerian anyone had ever seen. They feared what she would become in the future. When she got out of this cell. When she mastered her power.

  When she became queen.

  She took a deep breath and spread her fingers across the stone.

  “Tell me what you feel,” the panther ordered.

  “I feel the stone beneath me. I feel my heart on my ribs, my breath in my chest.”

  “Do you feel Colton’s frost?” Cold drifted across the stone toward her. She felt his frost spread beneath her hands, curl around her fingers.

  “Yes,” she breathed.

  “Focus, Khadija.”

  She let the floor, the frost fall away, and she felt the energy in her chest. It was dry, electric, pulsing. The Masters said that North Wind was ice cold, South Wind hot; West Wind brought words, messages, whispers on its wind … but East Wind was pure energy, taking heat and cold and flame, and turning it up to eleven.

  “Do not lose your concentration,” the panther repeated.

  Khadija let the energy in her chest seep out along her arms. It gathered in her palms. She felt the frost on her fingers turn to cold mist.

  “Now get rid of the frost.”

  She stretched out her fingers, feeling the warmth. Then the frost turned to ice and shot out across the floor and up the walls. She shouted in anger.

  “Stop,” the panther ordered.

  Khadija clenched her teeth, breathing fast and hard.

  “Try again.”

  “No!” She bolted to her feet and stumbled back into the wall. Flame roared up behind her, turning the ice to streaming water. “It doesn’t work, Daetho!”

  “You need patience,” the panther answered calmly.

  “How much longer?” she shouted.

  “I do not know,” he admitted.

  “Maybe Rangerians weren’t meant to learn control without their Tyrest.”

  “Even with their Tyrest, Rangerians don’t learn to contain their power for a while. And the True Borns, such as you, take even longer. Your Wind vial was shattered, so you do not even have your Tyrest to begin to learn control. Your court knows your strength, Khadija Krom. They will stand behind you. But if you do not learn to contain your power, this coming war with the Áccyn will be more disastrous than any of us can imagine.”

  CHAPTER 22

  Nick sat in the cell opposite me, twisting his titanium ring around and around his finger, the jagged golden lightning bolt flashing in the torchlight. Low rumbles of thunder echoed down the corridor. The air felt heavy with electric
ity. I pushed myself up against the cell wall, wincing as pain shot down my injured leg.

  I looked across at Nick. “What do we do now?”

  The trembling fear in my stomach was growing stronger with each minute that passed. They caught me. The Hunters were probably here now. Yes, I had stopped running … but because I’d lost. My power was growing weaker by the hour, deep underground in this cell. And it would continue to weaken in the next few days, if I didn’t get out. Then what would happen? If I stayed underground in these dungeons, if I didn’t get outside, my power would continue to fade until it pulled me down with it.

  I took a deep breath, closing my hand around my vial. I wouldn’t let that happen. I would get out.

  “Nick?” I called again. “You alive?” There was a long moment of silence in which I turned the vial over and over in my hand, waiting for his response. I glanced around. I could barely make out his form in the corner of the cell.

  “Do you know what the Ealdra do with deserters?” he finally answered, leaning forward into the light.

  I laughed nervously to myself. “Well…” I tucked my vial back in my shirt and turned to face him. “I’ve heard stories. They set Hunters or monsters after you. You’re basically banned for life.”

  “It’s a death penalty.”

  My stomach dropped. “Oh. Whoa.”

  “So if the crown prince deserts…” he tossed a stone up and caught it, laughing to himself. “By the way, you’ve taken that news surprisingly well.”

  “What, that you’re royalty?” I paused. “I’ll freak out on you when we aren’t about to die,” I promised.

  “How’s your leg? ”

  “Hurts like all high heaven.”

  “I don’t think that’s the expression.”

  “You can shut up, Your Highness.”

  “Think you can run?”

  “What?”

  He stood up. “Can you run?”

  “Nick…” I pushed myself to my feet, “What are you saying?” He only stared at me, his smile spreading. “I’m not sure,” I answered. “I ran from a sorcerer, so I guess so. But if you’re planning on getting out, may I just ask how? On top of these iron bars, we’re at least thirty or forty feet underground.”