The Lost Alliance (Rise of the Drakens Book 2)

by Raven Storm

  “The draken is here! The draken has returned! We are saved!”

  Glancing at Kieran, I still didn’t understand what one draken could possibly hope to do against the demon hordes, but it wasn’t about that, was it?

  A draken means that there is still hope.

  That’s what they needed, wasn’t it? We needed to cause a disturbance—something loud, and something showy, to let the humans know the drakens had returned, and there was hope. Perhaps with the Overlord’s eye turned on Cantrada, Meruse and Astrid could get more answers and find their witches.

  Davos pushed his way to us, his eyes comically wide with shock. I laughed, then his face turned sour.

  “You’re all drakens, aren’t you?”

  Kieran stepped between us, not liking his tone.

  “The female is with us.”

  Davos’s face turned ugly. “I’d heard rumors of a human sacrifice to the drakens.”

  Kieran narrowed his eyes, getting in the man’s face.

  “How fortuitous then that we are not as dead as you all thought we were.” Sweat beaded at the top of Davos’s forehead, even as he managed a tight grin.

  “Yes, how fortuitous indeed.”

  We met with a few of the other rebel leaders out in the open, so the others could see us planning—doing something.

  “Now that we have showed our hand to you, we must strike quickly before word gets out of our arrival.”

  Benedict surveyed the small group before us, his gaze serious. Davos had done hasty introductions, but it hadn’t kept these men and women from openly staring. I didn’t blame them, but it was getting annoying. I sat on Benedict’s left, and Kieran on his right. Stale bread with a weak soup was passed around, each of us clutching small bowels that had seen better days.

  “You do eat…normal food, don’t you? Or is it only blood?”

  Kieran growled, but I ignored Davos.

  “We should evacuate as many people as we can before we make our move. Then, they cannot be retaliated against.”

  Zara was a woman after my own heart. She was covered in leather armor from head to toe, her flaming red hair braided in a tight crown around her head. Her hand continually rested along the base of a long, thin rapier at her waist. Meruse would love her. Zara also was the captain of the Swallow, a slave ship front that ran escaped humans from the Cantrada bay south to Aldur.

  “How many can you realistically evacuate in one trip? If we make multiple runs, it will be noticed.”

  Thad’s long, black hair was braided back like Benedict’s, his eyes just as dark. I tilted my head, considering him. Like Benedict, he radiated the same sort of dark, chaotic energy. He caught me staring and I looked away, blushing. Benedict raised an eyebrow at me, and I shook my head. When I mentioned again the need for a leader to rally the humans, I noticed Davos glaring at Thad.

  “I can fit everyone on one ship, but it won’t be fun. You also risk everyone dying if we’re attacked. I can’t defend them as easily if we’re packed with non-combatants.”

  Thad frowned, making a noise of frustration in the back of his throat. Kieran tapped the worn map in front of us, spread out in center of our circle on a small rock. His eyes brightened with an idea.

  “I suggest a two-pronged approach. We lead an attack with everyone who can fight in Cantrada, while Zara sneaks everyone who can’t out. If the Overlord is busy fighting us, he might miss the fleeing slaves.”

  Zara pursed her lips but didn’t argue. She looked to the last member of our council, an older man whose head was completely covered in grey hair. The wrinkled lines of his face gave him a perpetual scowl, but when he spoke it was in a carefully measured voice. The others simply called him Spike.

  “That’s a large might. And will Aldur even take that many refugees? We have slipped past the notice of the royal family for now, but surely, they won’t miss hundreds of Cantradian refugees appearing in their bay? They might send us back.”

  “Captain Zara has my permission to sail to Lyoness if that is the case.”

  Shocked faces followed Benedict’s proclamation, though Zara recovered quickly, bowing.

  “Thank you. We have noticed a mass of the demon hordes concentrated around your island, but a large-scale attack would likely draw most off, leaving it much safer to sail there.”

  “I advise approaching on the eastern side of the island, out of sight. You will need to lay anchor off the coast, or the cliffs on that side will destroy you. When you are found, explain the situation. The air witches will assist in getting your people off the ship and safely onto the island. Temporarily, of course, until your homelands are safe again, and only if Aldur denies you entrance. We are currently rebuilding the island, and don’t have many resources or much shelter.”

  Zara blinked, along with the rest of the council.

  “Wait, did you say witches?”

  I couldn’t help it; I laughed. The sound bounced off the stone walls, and people turned to look. Even Kieran and Benedict shot me twin looks of exasperation, but that only made me laugh harder. I wiped a tear away, trying desperately to get myself under control. Some of the lingering tension dissipated, and those around me even offered small smiles of their own. They were a group that looked like they hadn’t laughed in a while.

  “We’re not very good at war counseling, if we failed to mention all our allies upfront.”

  Benedict’s cheeks went dark with color, and an inappropriate grin stretched across Kieran’s face. Taking a deep breath, I gestured to Benedict to continue.

  “As my—Wren said, we have the air and earth covens seeking shelter on Lyoness. We also have tentative agreements with the fire and water covens and have made initial contact with the lykos.”

  Davos’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head, while Thad slapped his knee in astonishment.

  “That’s...that’s more allies than we had in the first ar!”

  Everyone looked impressed. Everyone except Davos.

  “How do we know you’re telling the truth?”

  Spike had barely twitched throughout the entire debate, his brown eyes carefully weighing everything said. Benedict met his gaze head on, his wings flaring out dramatically.

  “How else would we have survived the river from the base of the mountains to Cantrada while tied down with iron?”

  Spike blinked. “Where are they now?”

  “Looking for their missing sisters. Once found, they plan to unite all witch covens together for the first time since the Demon Wars.”

  Spike sat back, reluctantly impressed. Davos leaned forward, licking his lips.

  “And what of the blood witches? I heard murmurings about them.”

  Benedict’s eyes narrowed.

  “You seem to hear many things.”

  Spike waved his hand lazily. “Why do you think we keep him around? It isn’t for his good looks!”

  The council laughed, and again the sound acted like balm to the atmosphere around us. Davos didn’t laugh though; his face twisted into an ugly grimace that I watched with unease. Spike continued.

  “I agree with this plan: we will attack, while evacuating everyone else. The only question now is where, when, and how. But only after I finish my dinner.”

  The council bowed their heads and returned their attention to the meager soup. I frowned at it, sighing wistfully as I thought of the last meal I’d had on Lyoness with Ronan.

  “What is it? You usually stomach broth and bread well enough.”

  Kieran nudged me with his nose, his skin twitching. I bet it was killing him to remain in human form for so long. I wonder why he bothered. I leaned into him, grateful for the support.

  “Just thinking about fruit. I had bowls of it when I went to get Georg, and I tried pergainsa. I loved it.”

  Kieran laughed, but Benedict’s ears pricked back in interest.

  “Not many people have the taste for pergainsa,” He grumbled, and I shrugged.

  “I shouldn’t be surprised,” he continued, his tr
ademark smirk returning to his lips. “You are much like a pergainsa yourself. Small, spiky, and sour.”

  I bristled in indignation, physically resisting the urge to shift and show him just how spiky I was.

  “I am not sour,” I insisted instead, crossing my arms in front of my chest. He reached out an pulled me into his arms and onto his lap. His teeth nipped at my neck, and I couldn’t help the small purr that escaped me.

  “Why don’t I taste you and find out?”

  A loud clunk made me jump, and Thad apologized profusely as he picked up his fallen bowl, his eyes large and dark as he looked at me. Benedict growled, barring his fangs. Thad was gone in a flash.

  “I don’t like him. He smells off.”

  I laughed, pushing him away. “So do you.”

  Benedict snorted. “And here I thought the river counted as a bath.”

  My smile faded, my eyes going far away as the black water rushed around me, ripping me away from everyone I loved. I tried to take a breath in but only choked, water filling my nose, my ears, my lungs—

  “Wren!”

  A trickle of blood was offered to me and I took it, greedily sucking it down as it calmed my anxiety and brought me back to reality. The wrist was yanked away, and I looked up, noticing we were down a dark alley far from the camp. Benedict’s purple eyes glowed in the darkness, concerned.

  “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have mentioned it.”

  I brought his wrist back to my mouth, and licked it healed. With a sigh I let my draken form out, groaning in relief as I stretched my wings. Benedict was against my body a moment later, his hands running over my waist and stomach.

  “Come with me.”

  I made a sound of disappointment as he pulled away, guiding me further down the tunnel. I had a flash of the first night we met, and it was incredible how far we’d come since then.

  “I thought you would prefer a better backdrop than a sewer?”

  We disappeared in a wisp of black, reappearing at the end of the tunnel. Stars glittered overhead, rippling across the quiet bay. Ships floated restlessly in the harbor, silent ghosts in the night.

  “What if someone sees—”

  He tugged me back into the darkness, a finger on my lips. “You wanted to learn more blood magick, didn’t you?”

  “Yes, and Ronan taught me a few sigils, but—”

  “Draw them here.”

  I scoffed. “In the dark? How can—”

  “If you know them well enough to try your first ritual, the dark won’t matter.”

  I sighed, then took a deep breath to center myself as Ronan had taught me. I imagined the sweeping arcs of the swirls, and the interlocking circles as I traced them in my mind.

  “Do you have something to write with?”

  I couldn’t see in the dark, but I knew Benedict could.

  “Chalk is for children. Do you feel you know the sigils well?”

  I closed my eyes again, assessing myself.

  “Yes.”

  Benedict’s breath was warm against my cheek, and he stroked his thumb across my face.

  “Then use your blood and draw the sigils.”

  I took a shuddering breath in and stretched my body. Ronan had lectured about the importance of being limber—one stiff limb or cramped muscle could tumble you out of the rituals, killing you. Like I had done in my trial run back on Lyoness.

  I breathed out and cut into my wrist. Blood welled immediately, and I tried to steady my anxiety as I patiently let it coat both sides of my dagger. I knelt on the ground and swept my arms out in a wide arc in front of me, and behind me, carefully and quickly drawing precise, careful strokes. The first circle lit up when complete, glowing in the darkness. The light would make it easier to draw the second.

  With more confidence I drew the second circle, nervous as I leaned carefully to the left, paying close attention that my body stayed inside the first. The left circle lit up as soon as I connected the last stroke. I reached to my right and drew the third. When all three circles glowed softly around me, I took a moment to center myself. The swirls would be difficult.

  I stood carefully, blood loss making my head fuzzy. Benedict watched from the shadows, his face underlit by my ritual. I leaned out far, hissing in panic when my balance wavered, and I tilted forward. I threw my arms out and caught myself on unmarked soil, closing my eyes in relief. I opened them and started drawing the swirl. I turned carefully, becoming more confident as the swirl moved closer towards my center circle. When I finished the entire sigil lit in a dazzling shade of white, humming softly at me.

  “Now, make a matching cut on your other wrist. Breathe deeply, and evenly. When you have experienced the most blood loss is when you are in the most danger.”

  I nodded to show I heard Benedict and made the incision on my other wrist. It began to bleed, but sluggishly.

  “Make a swirl sigil deep onto your chest; this will be your anchor sigil that the rest of your blood magic will bind to.”

  I hesitated for a moment, but then cut into my skin as I breathed out, like Ronan had suggested.

  “Draw a matching sigil lightly on your forehead; enough to leave marks, but not enough to bleed. Let your instincts guide you.”

  The tip of the knife caressed my skin, moving smoothly as I closed my eyes and became one with the power leaking around me. I held the knife steady to my forehead, instinct telling me not to remove it.

  “This part is the hardest. Make twin diagonal incisions on each eyelid, but connect the incisions from your forehead, then back down to your anchor sigil. The knife must not leave your skin until you are finished anchoring it to your chest.”

  I made the cuts before my brain could throw a fit about cutting near my eyeballs. Without hesitating I did the other one, adrenaline shooting through my veins. My body started to shake from blood loss and tension as I brought the knife down behind my ear, my neck, and connected it to the chest sigil. Benedict exhaled a heavy breath.

  “Lower the knife and jump straight up into the air. Fly over the markings, and land by me.”

  It sounded easy, but the moment I told my body to jump my leg muscles protested, cramped from kneeling for so long. I flapped my wings frantically, barely clearing the glowing lines as I ploughed into Benedict, covered in blood. He lowered me to the ground and tossed dirt over the sigils, breaking the connection as the markings were scattered and wiped away.

  “Water works best, but you use what you have.”

  He gathered me to his chest, and I didn’t hesitate when he offered his neck. Hot, glorious blood filled my mouth, and I nearly moaned as the aches and pain from the ritual melted away. I heard him groan in answer, and then he had us turned around, my back hard against the stone wall as he grinded into my pelvis. He made quick work of my human clothes, discarding them to the ground as he took me quickly and mercilessly.

  My claws dug into his shoulders as my back slammed against the wall, repeatedly. His fangs fought against mine as our mouths became a battleground, swallowing the sounds that would have otherwise rattled the cavern and traveled to the camp. Benedict paused, his tongue trailing lazily down my neck, tracing the blazing sigil that shimmered gold against my skin. It hummed in recognition against him, and I felt an answering awareness surge through my body.

  We both cried out in release, and it was over quickly. I wasn’t sure if my peak came from Benedict or the seductive power that thrummed against my skin, but I didn’t care. We slumped down together, collasping. He held me gently, and I licked the wounds on his neck.

  I stood, power thrumming through my body as the new blood sigils glowed gold on my skin. My eyes sharpened, and suddenly I could see through the darkness of the tunnel. I blinked, and the sigils vanished back into my skin.

  “There are a few more stages to that ritual. By the end, you will see as well in the dark as you can in the day.”

  He held out a hand for my knife, making small knicks on his own body. His skin glowed, all his blood sigils lighting
up at once. It was impossible to pick any specific ones out; his entire body appeared to be made from flowing, gold lines. He drew a small line over his nose and down to his chest, and the markings went dark. I touched a hand to his chest, trying to remember where the lines were.

  “We need to get back.”

  And just that quickly, the spell was broken.

  Sixteen

  We arrived back at the camp, Kieran deep in discussions with the other leaders. I didn’t like the look Davos shot at me, but I was distracted by Thad. His gaze was on my bare midriff and shoulders, and I realized I’d forgotten to put my tunic back on. The men’s eyes lingered on me as I stood in nothing but my breeches and the band around my breasts, and Benedict huffed in annoyance.

  “Change, then.”

  An order, more than a request, and one I was happy to oblige. With relief I shifted into my draken form, and Kieran along with me. Benedict strode to the center, sitting down and forcing their attention to him.

  “What have you decided?”

  Zara waved her hands.

  “No, we’re not going to just run past this. How many drakens are alive?”

  “More importantly, how many will fight?” Thad added, his eyes glued to me. Benedict rolled his eyes.

  “Enough to make a difference, though they will not be involved with this assault unless the Overlord pulls his forces from the island.”

  “Not as extinct as we all thought, then.”

  “Clearly,” Benedict drawled.

  Finally breaking his gaze from me, Thad drew everyone’s attention back to the city map, pointing to a large structure in the middle. Kieran’s eyebrows rose.

  “Attacking Severn’s place? That seems risky.”

  Spike spit into a small chalice.

  “You said you wanted something big.

  The large palace was built of stone and had layers of walls surrounding it. It had been five hundred years since the royal family of Cantrada had lived there, chased out and then assassinated by the hordes. I even knew that much.