The Lost Alliance (Rise of the Drakens Book 2)

by Raven Storm

  Georg’s brown eyes flashed with determination.

  “Drakens saved me; twice. I want to return the favor.”

  I reached a hand towards him, but he shook it away.

  “I’m not stupid, you know. The king and the others left because you’re looking for allies for war. If I can help my people, and your cause, perhaps we can take our fortress back one day.”

  My chest tightened.

  “And if...and if these tales are true, then helping us get our fortress back will be a good start.” Georg whispered.

  He wasn’t wrong. Georg and his Supa retired from the crowd, Georg whispering something in the older man’s ears. Ronan put a hand on my arm, his golden eyes worried.

  “I’ve consulted with the air witches; they don’t think you should have any trouble shifting out of Lyoness; it’s getting back that may be difficult. Will you stay at least another night?”

  It was probably for the best. If I left now, I’d probably tear Benedict to shreds with my bare hands.

  “Fine.”

  Ronan sighed, and I thought of a perfect distraction from the raging maelstrom of my own mind.

  “You’re teaching me some blood magic before I leave, and I’d like another bowl of fruit.”

  He laughed.

  “Blood magick can be white or black. Benedict already explained the difference?” Ronan took me to a small clearing on the edge of the island, still untouched by the earth witches. He carried a piece of chalk in one hand, and began making several markings on the hardened, black magma.

  “Yes. That’s all he would explain.”

  Ronan chuckled.

  “Blood magick is addictive; it is constantly calling on us to share it, to give more to it. The fact that he is keeping you from it speaks to his high regard for you.”

  My stomach twisted uncomfortably.

  “What should I make of you being so eager to teach me, then?”

  He held up his hands in surrender.

  “You asked, did you not?”

  He went back to drawing his strange, swirling symbols.

  “White magick can be used offensively, but has limits based on who is your victim, the level of unwillingness, the amount of pain and terror they feel, well...you understand.” He trailed off at the sickly look on my face.

  “Black magick relies on your pain. It is limited only by how much the individual can withstand, and to that end, is unlimited. Once a ritual is complete, the abilities are there forever to be easily summoned or used.”

  He finished drawing the last swirl with a flourish, then stood up to survey his work.

  “What will you teach me today?”

  Ronan wiped the sweat off his face.

  “I have two choices for you. The first is a simple vision ritual, meant to improve your night-vision. It has a total of six steps, and once you complete them all you will be able to see at night quite easily. Most draken children complete it by their first decade.”

  He paused before continuing. “The second ritual is more...complex, but I thought it fitting considering your situation. Benedict mentioned you have a fear of water. This is a three-step ritual that will allow you to breathe easily underwater, but takes more discipline, and more pain. I wanted to offer it regardless.”

  I wasn’t sure what I thought of Benedict casually chatting to Kieran and Ronan about my darkest fears, but it was touching that Ronan thought of me.

  “Thank you, but easier is probably safer, right?”

  Ronan’s shoulders sagged in relief.

  “You have your daggers?” I lifted them in response.

  “For basic rituals it is best to use the daggers you use most—the ones that are attached to you. As you progress to more complex rituals, you may need daggers made of certain materials, or a certain place or time of the month. Today, you will not need them.”

  I frowned and put them away as Ronan pointed to the first symbol he drew, a large swirl with three large, interlocking circles around it.

  “This is the basic sigil. You must stand in the middle and be able to draw this around you perfectly with no flaws. It will serve to ground the raw magick as you form it into the ritual, and any mistake will kill you. Once you are done with your ritual, it must be carefully undone, or it will kill you. If you step out of the sigil during the ritual, you die. If you pass out from pain or blood loss, you die. If—”

  “I get it, Ronan. It’s dangerous. Maybe...maybe I’m not ready.”

  Ronan glanced at the symbols, and then back to me.

  “Good, because you’re not. I’m starting you at the very beginning, where all young Draklings start. Along with their letters, they learn their sigils. I want you to practice this sigil until you can draw it precisely, even in your sleep.”

  Tension bled out of me, and I took the piece of chalk he offered me.

  “Touche.”

  He stood back, and I got to work.

  The next day passed quickly, nearly a blur that was hard to pull exact moments from. I was so exhausted that all I remembered was either drawing sigils, eating fruit, or sleeping with Ronan’s arms around me. Ronan taught me a bit of what he knew, though he easily admitted he didn’t have much affinity with it—Benedict was the most familiar with blood magicks both black and white. The witches were eager to participate, having their own brand of blood magick and lore. Well, most of them were eager. The air witch in charge during Astrid’s absence was the same one who had spoken against me that day in the woods, wanting to immediately turn me over to the demon hordes. Her name was Stella.

  “Wouldn’t it be a shame if you twitched the wrong way and blew yourself up?”

  The drakens around her hissed, and even the other witches gave her dirty looks.

  “Don’t speak that way to Wren! She’s my friend!”

  Luci shook a small finger at Stella, and I had to laugh. The little fire witch had taken to spending a lot of time with the fire demon under the volcano, who happily spent hours playing games with her using their own powers. There had been panic and outrage at first, then we quickly realized it kept both enormously powerful creatures happy. I suspected the witches enjoyed having her out of sight and out of mind, her questionable parentage aside. What would happen if the other witches and drakens found out Luci was half-demon?

  I put my arms around the small girl and gave her a shaky grin. I knew what would happen—they would throw her aside or kill her. I couldn’t let that happen. Stella sneered, glaring at Luci. She glanced down at my latest attempt at a sigil and scoffed.

  “Everyone starts from somewhere, Stella.” Ronan said diplomatically. “My sigils don’t look much better, and I’ve had centuries of work.”

  The witch rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest.

  “If it’s so impressive, then have her try some real blood magick. We will watch.”

  Ronan opened his mouth to object, but the other witches and drakens paused in what they were doing to turn and watch. I let go of Luci.

  “It’s fine. If you think I can handle it, then I wouldn’t mind trying.”

  Stella lifted an eyebrow as Ronan cleared a new area and handed me the thick piece of chalk

  “Go ahead and trace it first. If you’re still willing after, we can try with blood.

  I nodded to Ronan, then sat down in the dirt and closed my eyes, picturing one of the basic sigils in my mind. I opened them and began to draw, ignoring the crowd and Stella’s assessing gaze.

  “Don’t screw up. I heard it gets...messy.”

  I ignored her, and focused on Luci, who was watching from behind another air witch’s skirts. I finished the last swirl with a flourish, leaning my weight back on my thighs as I wiped my brow. It had taken at least 20 minutes to draw, starting from the center where I was and working my outwards without leaving the circle or touching any of it. Eager to continue, I stood quickly. Too quickly. My cramped muscles spasmed and I fell, hitting the ground face first and ruining the sigil. Chalk and dirt covered my body
as Stella burst out laughing. Ronan was there to help me to my feet.

  “DON’T LAUGH AT HER!”

  Witches screamed and drakens scrambled away as Luci ignited, wreathed in flames of red and black. I pushed Ronan away and reached out to her.

  “Luci I’m fine! LUCI!”

  I tried to touch her shoulder but was instantly burned, the flames reaching out and wrapping around my wrist. I shrieked in agony; the pain more intense any burn I’d ever received in my life. As a former slave, I’d had many. Ronan reacted on instinct, pushing me behind him and going for Luci. Stella snuffed Luci’s flames out an instant later, and stepped between her and Ronan, putting her hands in front of her. Ronan bashed into a hard, invisible wall. He blinked, then backed down in embarrassment as he realized he almost attacked a child.

  “I’m fine! I’m—”

  I wasn’t fine. The pain made it hard to speak, and Ronan turned to me with concern on his face. The burn turned my fingers and hand black, the agony unbearable. I didn’t have to look at the injury to know my skin was cracked and bleeding. Ronan shoved his arm under my mouth and I bit down, eagerly awaiting his blood to dull the pain and start the healing process.

  Except it didn’t.

  I dug my teeth in harder, Ronan wincing as I took more and more. I whined in frustration as the pain only grew, the black flames creeping up my wrist. Ronan pulled away from me and took a predatorial step towards Luci, but Stella held the shield firm.

  “FIX HER NOW!”

  Luci was crying, hiding behind the other witches. One tried to stay calm, whispering into her ear. A few others wondered out loud if we should get the fire demon. I couldn’t focus on anyone’s voice, all I could focus on was the pain, and how it wouldn’t go away—

  Then Georg and his Supa were in front of me, the older man laying his hands on mine and chanting something in his strange language. Georg’s head tilted, his brow furrowing as he struggled to keep with the speed and cadence of the words. I think I was crying, only because I noticed when I stopped, the pain finally diminishing to a more manageable level. I drew in great, gasping breaths, reaching out for Ronan while Supa held onto my injured hand. I bit down onto Ronan’s hand, this time his blood bringing effective relief. When I had enough, I withdrew and gathered the courage to look down at my arm.

  Supa had it covered with a soft linen bandage and was inspecting the bindings carefully.

  “What the hell was that?” Ronan demanded, but at no one in particular. I looked around for Luci but didn’t see her anywhere.

  “He says they used to see injuries like this in the mountains, and over the generations figured out ways to treat them. He’s stopped it from progressing, but unless the person who cast it can reverse it…” Georg trailed off, not able to meet anyone’s eyes. Supa patted my hand gently. I sighed loudly.

  “Benedict’s gonna be pissed.”

  Ronan went white.

  “He’ll kill me for letting you get hurt.” I whirled around, fangs flashing.

  “You didn’t let anything happen. Take me to Luci. I need to talk to her.”

  The witches and drakens shot each other looks, but no one moved.

  “Where is she?” I demanded. “I order you to—”

  “Wren, they’re just trying to protect you. I promise nothing will happen to Luci. You just...I can’t risk you getting hurt again. What if you’re pregnant?”

  I froze. “What?” Ronan tucked me against him and growled until the crowd dispersed. He held up a hand, asking silently for Georg and Supa to stay. His arms around my shoulders were a steady force as my entire world bent and tilted under me. Pregnant?

  “You’re not yet of course. Or we just can’t tell yet.” He sat down gently, running a hand through my hair.

  “After a mateship is completed, the female’s fertile cycle usually begins. Since there are three of us, we figured it wouldn’t start until all three of us had you, together. Now that has occurred, so…” He trailed off, a hopeful look in his eyes.

  “So.” I said back, my voice flat. “You said...you said I wasn’t pregnant?”

  His golden eyes were full of fear...fear of what?

  “Well, no. I’d smell it on you if you were.”

  I looked up at him, my stomach turning.

  “And if I do get pregnant, then what?” Ronan found my hands, squeezing them tightly as he rushed to reassure me.

  “We will take the utmost care of you. You will stay where we can keep an eye on you, and your every need will be attended to until the birth. You’ll be—”

  “A prisoner again, just like the women at the breeding house.”

  Ronan blanched, then shook his head furiously. “No, Wren, no—”

  “Yes,” I said emphatically, standing and ripping my hands from his. “You will be worse than you’ve ever been, and Kieran and Benedict! You will take away my freedom and my choices because of fear—you will be afraid of anything and everything where it concerns me.”

  Ronan’s face twisted. “Please try to understand, there has been a draken babe born since—”

  “You will NOT ruin my life!” I roared, and then the darkness was surrounding me, closing in...I stalked over to Georg and Supa, extending my hand.

  “Are you ready?” They shot each other a look, then shrugged. Georg and Supa clasped their palms against mine, and we disappeared into the shadows. I ignored Ronan’s voice in the background, crying out my name.

  We emerged back at the campsite, and I immediately knew something was wrong. Our supply packs were ripped and discarded, the food ruined and left out to the elements. Blood sprinkled the ground like a fresh layer of snow. I sniffed the air but got nothing. There were no signs of any living creature other than us.

  “Shit,” I hissed to myself. I whirled back to Georg.

  “Does your Supa have anything to contribute?”

  The older man crouched down by some of the blood, rolling it between his fingers. He sniffed it and made a face. His hands curled into pretend claws, and he bared his teeth.

  “Yartaq.”

  I didn’t need a translator for that: lykos.

  “Why didn’t they just shift away?” I asked the empty air, fighting to keep the panic from overwhelming me.

  “Supa says he knows where they usually camp, but that you can’t go alone. He wants to take you back to our home and try to gather our forces.”

  I shook my head. “No, I couldn’t ask that of you.”

  Supa touched my hand, his brown eyes radiating intent.

  “Dashka’a.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  I pulled away and backed away from them.

  “Wait! We can help! Let us find—”

  “I’m sorry,” I said, my voice choking. “I can’t ask this of you. I will find them.”

  I disappeared to Georg’s cursing.

  I reappeared on the rocks high above Georg and Supa, wanting to make sure they went on their way safely before I left. Georg and Supa argued, but eventually Georg shrugged his shoulders angrily and followed behind Supa, who led him away. Good.

  I flew back down to campground, sniffing the blood and trying to look for details like Kieran had taught me. The witches' footprints were small like mine, and it was easy to see where they had been sleeping, startled awake, and then fighting. Their tracks seemingly vanished in the middle of the campsite, and I growled in frustration. Benedict’s tracks were easy to see as the largest of our group, and with a pounding heart I studied the large indentation in the ground near them, evidence of something large being dragged away. It made sense they didn’t shift away if Benedict was unconscious. What of Kieran?

  I took to the sky, flying high enough just to get to the base of the mountain. I didn’t want to be seen by anyone in the area, so I crawled over the rocks and boulders, climbing my way to a high point. My claws were well-suited to this task, and I quickly made it to a small overlock. I gazed out over a large part of the plains at the base of the mountain, and immediately
saw the smoke from a large fire. I kept low and glided in that direction. I landed about a mile away and creeped towards the camp.

  Twenty or so humans milled about the camp, tending to the fire, cooking, or doing other tasks. One of the humans walked by and kicked another in the face. The unfortunate women cried out as she stumbled into the fire, scalding her feet. My burned hand winced in sympathy. The man who pushed her laughed, as did half the other humans. I sniffed the air, nearly gagging on the scent of burning flesh. Perhaps they weren’t all humans?

  I watched further, noticing the graceful way half of the humans carried themselves compared to the servants. They were dressed differently as well, wearing leather armor, though they didn’t appear to carry any swords. Golden eyes flashed, and then I understood. lykos, but in their human form.

  My eyes scanned the camp, drawn to the sound of hissing and yells. Astrid and Meruse were bound with iron collars and spikes, staked into the ground. Meruse kept up a long litany of verbal abuse towards anyone who went near her, which was fewer and fewer people the more she kept up. At least they were alive. There was no sign of the fire witches. A familiar roar rang out over the camp and I turned, finding Kieran and Benedict on the other side of the fire, across from the witches. My heart sank as I saw them. Kieran was passed out, limp on the ground. Benedict...he roared in defiance at the humans who surrounded him, an iron mask covering his face. Matching iron gauntlets covered his hands, attached to chains that were wrapped around two large oak trees. The lykos hurried around, adding more chains as he struggled to break free.

  “Let’s see you try your little spells now,” one taunted, giving one of the chains a tug. Benedict whirled, nearly knocking him out as he was almost too slow to jump away.

  “Drakens are fabled for their cowardice, killing themselves and as many others as they can with their suicide magick instead of fighting and dying like true warriors.”

  My hands curled into fists, angry on behalf of my people. How was I to help any of them? There was no way I could take this many enemies on my own, and I knew Benedict would never save himself while the others were trapped.