“What about us?” said Fletcher.
“We can’t go back out there,” said Roxanne. “The villagers are so crazy, we can’t reason with them. My father’s with them, and . . . I don’t think I’m safe anymore.” She looked at Keriya. “I need help.”
The watery shine in Roxanne’s honey-hazel eyes softened something inside Keriya. As she stared at Fletcher and Roxanne, a sense of purpose and power stole through her.
She might not have magic to protect them, but she could offer them something else: an escape from Aeria.
“You can come with me,” she whispered, feeling lighter as she said it. Her lips curved in the ghost of a smile. “Both of you.”
Fletcher wrinkled his nose, but had no time to ask questions. The sounds of an angry mob reached the hut. The villagers were approaching.
“Go,” barked Erasmus, ushering them to the back door. As they stumbled out and started for the woods, Keriya glanced over her shoulder. The old Healer stood in solemn silence, watching her flee.
Whatever was to come, she was certain she would never see him again.
CHAPTER FIVE
“A journey across the world begins with a single step.”
~ Elven Proverb
“This is all your fault!”
“My fault?” said Fletcher. “How is it my fault?”
“It’s your fault for getting me tangled up in your mess,” Roxanne retorted, her voice sharp and cutting.
Fletcher ignored her. If she was dead-set on blaming him for everything, he wouldn’t waste his breath arguing.
“Quiet,” Keriya hissed.
The three of them crouched in a copse of briars at the eastern edge of Aeria, peering at the field between the Felwood and the stone huts. This was the unfashionable part of town, where glacial runoff from the mountains turned the ground boggy. Fletcher’s home wasn’t too far from here. People with the least power in the village hierarchy were relocated to the marshland, and Fletcher’s family had been in the lowest social caste since his father’s death.
“Why can’t we stay in the forest?” Fletcher asked yet again. He didn’t like Keriya’s plan of crossing Shivnath’s Mountains. Stepping foot in the dragon god’s territory was a sin. They’d have a better chance of survival in the Felwood, even factoring in the evil spirits.
“Because no one will follow us into the mountains,” she said.
Fletcher shuddered as he met her uncanny gaze. It wasn’t just the color of her eyes that bothered him, though that was bad enough. It was the fact that they seemed to emit an aura of something indescribable, something that made his gut twist. Power, perhaps . . . or danger.
When he looked at his best friend in the world, he now saw a stranger staring back at him.
“There’s a reason for that,” Roxanne snapped. “We’ll die if we go up there!”
“We’ll die if the Elders catch us, too,” Keriya snapped back.
“Shh!” Fletcher raised a hand to silence the girls and pointed toward the field. Someone was emerging from behind a nearby hut.
“We wait until they’re gone and head south,” Keriya whispered. “There’s a passable part of the slope beyond the Lowers’ settlement.”
Fletcher sighed miserably. If Keriya went into the mountains, did he dare follow? He absently watched the person in the field as he considered his options.
“Asher?” he breathed, leaning forward to peer at the lone figure tramping through the stringy yellow weeds.
“It’s him!” Fletcher poked his head out from the bushes and waved at his younger brother. “Asher, over here!”
Asher Earengale jumped and turned to face him, but did not approach. “Where is she?” he demanded.
Fletcher blinked, nonplussed. “Where’s who?”
“The witch,” Asher spat.
It was only then that Fletcher noticed the heavy wooden club in his sibling’s hand. At the same moment, Asher caught sight of Keriya’s white mane shimmering through the brambles.
“You fool, Fletcher,” he growled. “As if things weren’t bad enough, you throw your lot in with her.”
“Asher, listen.” Fletcher tripped as he extricated himself from the briars and stumbled forward. “It’s not what you think—”
“First father, now you!” Asher advanced, brandishing his weapon. “You were deemed unworthy to participate in the Ceremony of Choice. It wasn’t because you’re weak, it’s because of who you are. What do you think the Elders will do to you now you’ve helped the witch escape? What do you think they’ll do to our whole family?”
Ice swept through Fletcher. He hadn’t considered how his actions would affect Asher and his mother. Aerian law decreed that the shame of one family member was the shame of all.
“It’s okay,” he said. “We can fix this.”
“Yes, we can,” Asher agreed. He pointed the club at Keriya. “Hand her over.”
Fletcher froze. Slowly, he looked at Keriya. She and Roxanne had risen. Roxanne’s fists were tightly balled for a fight, but Keriya looked limp and fragile, like the slightest wind might knock her off her feet. Her eyes shone overbright in the shadows of the trees.
“Asher,” Fletcher whispered in a stricken voice. “I can’t.”
Asher’s face clouded. He raised his club and cried, “I’ve found them! Elders, to me!”
Fletcher felt as though someone had kicked him in the stomach. He gaped at his sibling as answering shouts echoed from across the valley.
“Why did you do that?” he asked in a thin voice, the words a paltry reflection of the tumult he was feeling inside. “I’m your brother.”
“I don’t have a brother anymore.”
A dull roar filled Fletcher’s ears. If he looked at things objectively, he could understand why Asher would choose to betray him. Handing him over to the Elders might be the only way for Asher to save himself from sharing whatever punishment Fletcher received.
Understanding didn’t take the pain away.
Someone grabbed Fletcher’s hand, jolting him to his senses. Keriya had joined him.
Asher leapt forward to intercept them. “Surrender before you bring any more shame to our family!”
He faltered at the sight of Keriya’s red-violet gaze, dropping his weapon with a gasp. Pressing her advantage, Keriya ran, Roxanne following close behind. Fletcher allowed Keriya to pull him along, feeling numb.
The three of them wove through clustered huts toward the Lowers’ settlement, which lined the base of Shivnath’s Mountains. A muddy ditch separated the slave quarters from Aeria. There was a sorry excuse for a bridge—no more than a couple of rotting logs—that led to an ill-kempt path through a thicket of tall, thorny bushes.
Fletcher coughed and panted as he raced along the overgrown trail. Thorns tore at his skin and clothes, but instinct kept his legs pumping.
They emerged from the bushes onto a muddy, weed-ridden plain. Decrepit huts dotted the open land. Some sagged against each other, each preventing the other from collapsing. Rag-clothed people with sunken eyes milled about, all of them filthy. Fletcher couldn’t believe the Lowers were forced to live this way.
“That’s where we have to go,” said Keriya, pointing to a narrow chute in the cliffs.
The mountains didn’t have much in the way of foothills—about thirty heights up, dirt turned to gravel, grass turned to rock, and trees turned to stunted tangles, clinging desperately to sheer walls of stone. Fletcher craned his neck to scan the soaring peaks that stretched as far as the eye could see. The tops of Shivnath’s Mountains were lost in cloud before they began to taper to a point.
“I don’t like this,” said Roxanne. “Leaving now means leaving forever. It’s self-banishment. Going up there . . . it’s mad.”
“You think your chances are any better here?” asked Keriya.
“They’re better t
han yours,” Roxanne replied honestly.
Keriya’s face twitched. She looked at Fletcher.
“You should stay,” she murmured. “Blame everything on me. Say I bewitched you to run against your will.”
“I couldn’t do that,” Fletcher said automatically.
“You’ll have to, if you don’t want the Elders to punish you.”
A painful lump formed in Fletcher’s throat. Everything he’d been taught about the evil forest spirits, every ghost story and dark legend of witchcraft, festered in his chest. If he listened to his upbringing, he’d run from Keriya and return to the town.
But his legs weren’t moving. He stared at the red-violet orbs glimmering out of her face, trying to make sense of it.
“If I go back,” he whispered slowly, “you’ll be alone.”
And so will I, he realized, thinking of Asher’s betrayal.
Keriya opened her mouth to respond, but a sharp shout rang across the valley. Behind them, a seething mass of people was flooding toward the Lowers’ settlement. At the head of the crowd was a livid Elder Fleuridae.
Roxanne blanched and fled before her father. A fresh surge of terror pulsed in Fletcher’s gut and he tore after her.
They dashed past the Lowers’ huts and entered Shivnath’s forbidden domain. Fortunately, as Keriya had predicted, their pursuers stopped before setting foot on the slope. The mob gathered at the base of the chute, but dared not trespass on the dragon’s hallowed grounds.
Crash!
Fletcher flung himself out of the way as a large boulder careened toward him. The villagers had resorted to using magic to stop them. He scrambled to his feet and kept running, certain his doom was upon him.
“Can’t you do something?” he asked Roxanne, gasping for breath. “Use your magic!”
“I’m already doing everything I can,” she said, her face shining with sweat.
Fletcher squinted at her, as if hoping to see a spell. It was no good, of course—people with strong magic could sometimes see the strands of energy that were woven together to create spells, but Fletcher struggled with the simplest magical feats.
Another rock tumbled across his path. It might have crushed him had Roxanne not diverted the boulder with a graceful gesture.
“You could consider helping, you know,” she said through gritted teeth.
“I’m not strong enough. Besides, my brother might be down there!”
“Your idiot brother’s probably the one who threw the rock at you. Do it if you want to live!”
A lifetime of strict discipline and punishment had cowed Fletcher. Children were forbidden from using their powers outside of lessons, and to commit violence with magic was a crime punishable by death. No matter the danger he was in, he couldn’t strike—not against the villagers, not against Asher.
Roxanne cried out and fell. Someone had conjured vines from the ground and twisted them around her ankles to restrain her.
Fletcher’s heart thundered with renewed force. He knew there were two kinds of magic: manipulation and creation. Manipulation was the easier of the two since it made use of preexisting materials. Creation required much more power—and Fletcher was certain there were no vines living naturally beneath these rocks.
“Roxanne! So help me Shivnath, if you don’t come back down here, I’ll name you a Lower myself!”
It was Elder Fleuridae. Most of the Aerians were hesitant about pursuing them into the mountains, but not him. Roxanne struggled against his vines like a moth in a spider’s web as he clambered toward her.
“Do not disobey me,” he screamed. “You will do as I command!”
Tears formed in her lovely eyes. “Not anymore,” she whispered, and the vines snapped, falling away from her in shreds. She pushed herself to her feet and made a sweeping gesture. More boulders crashed around them and the men below scattered, trying to escape the avalanche she had caused.
Amid the storm of rocks and dust, Fletcher caught a glimpse of Elder Fleuridae attempting to stop the earthen deluge. He held fast against Roxanne’s spell for a moment, arms outstretched and face red with the strain of rerouting the tumbling stones; but ultimately he, like the rest of the Aerians, fled before the force of nature his daughter had conjured.
Shying away from a rock that tumbled too close for comfort, Fletcher limped onwards. Keriya doubled back to help him. Her fingers closed around his, and she gave them a reassuring squeeze as she led him to an opening in the mountainside. She waved Roxanne over, and the three children crawled to the far end of the small cave to huddle in a corner.
They hid until the last of the tremors stopped and the voices died away. Fletcher rocked back and forth rhythmically, dwelling on thoughts of Asher.
When the light faded, Keriya and Roxanne left the cave. Fletcher mustered the strength to follow.
“All clear,” whispered Keriya, scanning the Lowers’ settlement, which was as dark and still as a grave. “Let’s go.”
“Go where?” said Roxanne.
“We should keep climbing. The villagers might decide they hate us enough to follow us into the mountains. And in my case, they’ve always managed to dredge up a little extra hatred.”
“You missed my point,” said Roxanne. “There’s nowhere to go. Shivnath doesn’t want us here.”
“Yes, she does.”
“You think you know what Shivnath wants? You’re as crazy as everyone says!” Roxanne whirled downhill but stopped. Fletcher suspected she was thinking of what she’d done to her father. There was no going back after that.
“Helkryvt take it all,” she cursed, kicking a stone in frustration.
“Our only hope is to leave,” said Keriya. “Once we’re over the mountains—”
“There is nothing beyond the mountains,” interrupted Roxanne. “It’s a wasteland, and we’re all going to die!”
“Are you a Hunter or aren’t you, Roxanne?” said Fletcher, speaking for the first time since they’d entered the cave. “I think we can survive if we try.”
He didn’t really think that. He hoped it, because moving on was better than waiting for the Elders to get them. He hoped there was something on the other side of the mountains, because the alternative was frightening and grim.
“I’m not a Hunter because I haven’t been named yet,” said Roxanne. “How do you know about that?”
Fletcher shrugged. “I pay attention. I know lots of things. You want to be the first female Hunter. You think Cole Ballebrus is good-looking. You’ve always dreamed of being free of your father.”
He half expected her to yell at him, but she tilted her head thoughtfully. A strange gleam came into her eyes.
“Free of my father,” she repeated softly.
Wind whistled through the peaks and raced across the slope. Fletcher wrapped his thin arms around himself. His warm-weather clothes did little to ward off the chill of the impending night.
Finally, Roxanne voiced aloud what Fletcher feared most: “What if we don’t make it?”
“Would you rather go back?” said Keriya. Fletcher closed his eyes, unwilling to think about either course of action. “We can sleep here tonight, but we need to leave at dawn.”
He nodded. Everything would turn out alright in the end—he had to believe that. They would survive if they stuck together.
By their third sun of climbing, he was not so optimistic.
Fletcher estimated they’d ascended at least ten-thousand hands from Aeria. The air was thin and cold. It hurt his lungs when he drew breath. He felt like he was always on the verge of being sick.
“I hate this,” he whined to the girls.
Keriya gave him a bracing pat on the shoulder as she helped him over a sharp ledge. “It’s not that bad. We’re nearly there, see?” She pointed at the summit, which seemed impossibly far away.
“Are you joking?” said
Roxanne. “Do you think any part of this situation is funny?”
“I’m just trying to lighten the mood.”
“Well, stop it.”
“Give her a break, Roxanne,” said Fletcher. He didn’t think he could stand listening to them argue again.
Keriya flashed Fletcher a thin smile. He wanted to smile back, but as soon as he met her gaze, now so foreign, he had to look away. What had happened to her during the Ceremony of Choice? What sort of terrible power could turn eyes purple?
They stopped when it grew too dark to continue and took turns drinking from a trickle of glacial melt. Roxanne put her hand over a patch of dirt, and green buds magically sprouted beneath her fingertips. She completed her spell and yanked on the sprouts, producing three grubby carrots.
Keriya’s mouth twisted as she accepted the vegetable. Roxanne’s eyes narrowed.
“I’m sorry, are these not good enough? Let me use the last of my energy growing an apple tree for the two of you. And no,” Roxanne added, noticing the look of longing that crossed Fletcher’s face, “I can’t do that. The amount of energy I’d have to use to grow a tree would kill me right now. You ought to know at least that much about magic.”
Fletcher was ashamed. He hadn’t known that. The schoolelders had never bothered to teach him anything beyond basic manipulation spells, like moving pebbles back and forth. Even Keriya knew more than he did, since she studied magic obsessively.
The reminder of his shortcomings would have upset him at any other time, but by this point he was too exhausted to care. Besides, they ought to be grateful for what Roxanne was offering.
As they settled down, Roxanne’s mood worsened and she complained of a headache. In fact, she complained about a lot of things.
“I think I can see where we stayed last night,” she groused. “We’ve hardly moved.”
“I wish I had different magic,” Fletcher commented absently, staring into space. “Maybe some kind of powers that could let me make a fire.”
“There’s no such thing as fire magic,” said Roxanne. “And a fat lot of good that kind of talk will do you.”
Dragon Speaker Page 5