by N M Zoltack
“Odium, we will—”
You will listen and heed me well, the dragon demanded. Not all those you served before, not all those you once loved and cared about, are the good souls you think them to be.
Horatia’s eyes widened. Flavius. The commander had probably already moved on, was flirting with other Vincanan female warriors. He had made it very clear to her that he wished to wed again, but she had not been willing to go that far against the grain of Valkyrie teaching.
And Marcellus. His war against Tenoch… Justifiable? Mayhap but mayhap not. His people were responsible for the death of Aporiatio, of doubt, and that could not and would not be forgiven. The dragons were their masters. The Valkyries and the people might not know and understand their motives, but that was not on them to know.
Good, good. The dragon bobbed his massive head. You wish to know what you must do next. That will happen. You will learn, but first, I must know what you consider of this.
“My thoughts and feelings mean nothing compared to yours.”
Naturally, but humor me. Many of the rulers of the isles and the continents are evil, wicked creatures. They stand against me, oppose me.
“All those who stand against you must be killed,” Horatia said.
Was she the one moving her lips, or was another speaking through her? She could not tell, but for some reason, the thought of facing off against Flavius or Marcellus did not fill her with despair or doubt, not in the slightest.
In time, she could even perhaps grow to hate them, and all others who opposed the rule of the mighty dragon would have to either submit to Odium’s rule and reign or else submit to her blade.
Horatia unsheathed her blade and held it aloft. “My blade is yours to command.”
Very well. Very well indeed. Perhaps you and the others truly do have what it takes to become Valkyries one day after all.
47
Alchemist Apprentice Sabine Grantham
The former queen held up the small vial and smiled brightly, basking in the glow of knowledge. Her own, combined with that of the female alchemists before her, would make her truly unstoppable.
Within the vial were several drops of blood from a newborn. No, she had not killed the babe. Certainly not. She was not that far gone. Nor had she even injured the babe either. She had overheard the cries of the mother as she had given birth, and somehow, minutes after the woman had pushed the child out of her womb, the child was bleeding from the tiniest of cuts on her arm.
Sabine had assisted in the delivery and given a healing draught to the mother as she squeezed out those drops of blood. Somehow, she instinctively knew she needed the blood of a newborn. Perhaps a single drop would be the missing ingredient for Frozen Kiss.
She was just about to add only one drop of the blood of a newborn to the potion when one of the voices in her head stopped her.
You have to stop.
“Why?” Sabine asked, lowering her arm.
You need to make a different potion.
“Why?” Sabine asked again. She stoppered the vial.
You need to create a potion that will protect you from magic.
“From magic?” she murmured.
Immediately, she went stiff as a tower. Aldus. Of course the man would come for her if he had recovered his strength. She had seen the fire in his hands, the little good that his magic had done against the four guards.
Those four guards… She wondered for a moment if Aldus had his revenge against them first and considered that highly likely.
“I do not know how to make such a potion,” she murmured.
Think some.
We do not have to give you every answer, do we?
Sabine considered her ingredients and plucked out three of them and then a fourth. She ground down teeth to dust in a mortar with her club-shaped pestle. Then, she mixed in bone meal. Bloodharrow root she chopped up into fine pieces and added that in and did likewise with earthen bark.
She is learning.
That she is, but she is not finished.
One more ingredient yet.
She smiled. “One of your favorites,” she said.
“Sludge!” she said as the voices cried, Sludge!
Sabine added the sludge, having been certain to acquire some after the alchemists mentioned how potent it was.
The more she mixed the ingredients, the more the dry ingredients turned into wet. It smelled like the earth after a sun-shower, the liquid the color of sunlight hitting moss.
“Do I drink it now?” she asked.
But the voices went silent.
48
Valkyrie Horatia Ramagi
The dragon huffed through his nose, his nostrils flaring, and Horatia called loudly to stir her sisters. Once they were all at the ready, the dragon finally landed. The ground quaked at his mighty weight.
“What will you have us do?” Horatia asked.
You are to go after new enemies, Odium hissed. I have names for you. Ninos Ahmed and Amosis Nejem of Xalac have traveled to Tenoch. They are marching their way toward Atlan, but they will not hesitate to fight and try to bring me down if they see me. You are to prevent that from happening.
“None will harm you,” Horatia vowed.
“None will harm you,” the other Valkyries cried, their voices a bit distant and unfeeling.
They might not be alone, Odium warned. Chieftain Mundzuk from Zola might be with them. Even Jarl Brynja of Tiapan could be marching as well. They might bring armies with them, but the ones you need to concern yourselves with stopping are the leaders.
“Should we merely stop them, or should we end them?” Horatia asked.
You may do as you see fit, the dragon uttered.
But Horatia knew the dragon. He sought the deaths of those who would harm or wrong him. Any who did not submit to the dragon did not deserve to take another breath.
“Where are they?” she asked.
Are you not the best warriors in all of Dragoona? Odium roared. He belched fire that was only just above Horatia’s head. You know how to track, do you not? Go and track them. Find them, and do as you must.
Horatia hung her head. “Forgive me. I did not mean to aggravate you. I will do as you ask and more.”
Do not disappoint me, the dragon warned. If you do…
“Have faith,” Horatia said, and she laughed.
Odium lifted up into the air and began to fly away.
Horatia and the other Valkyries remained in place, watching the dragon soar until Odium was gone from sight. Then, Horatia lifted her hand into the air, and the Valkyries climbed onto their horses.
The dragon wished for them to track down his foes, and they would. Those various leaders would soon wish they had never left their islands behind once the Valkyries were through with them.
Whatever Odium wished for, the Valkyries would deliver without question and without failing at all. Horatia could almost feel the dragon within her, burning her from the inside out, branding her, rebirthing her. If she could, she would burst into flames and be reborn yet again as if she were a phoenix.
For now, though, she was merely the dragon’s warrior, and a warrior she would always be.
49
Advisor Aldus Perez
The magic coursing through Aldus was feeling more and more powerful every single second. He had never felt this alive before, never felt this in control. The world was his to do as he wished, and all those who had ever wronged him should be cowering with fear.
But if he knew Sabine, she would not be cowering. No, she possessed a silver tongue in addition to her feminine wiles and her good looks, but he would not be dissuaded from this course of actions. She had used him as a test subject, and she had caused him significant pain and suffering. If she had been a better alchemist, she would have killed him.
And now, because of her failure, he would have the chance to fill her.
And he did not mean to fail.
First, though, he had to locate the traitorous woman.
/> Many a time now, Aldus had sought to try to see if he could locate the Li princess through his magic, but although he could conjure her image in his mind without having ever laid eyes upon her, he could not uncover her location.
Perhaps, though, as he had known Sabine, had touched her, had spent significant time with her, he might have better luck using his magic for such a task.
His eyes closed, and he could feel his magic welling within him. His magic, when latent, felt like a presence within him, cool yet welcome. Whenever he called upon his magic, however, that was when he felt his magic turn warm, almost too hot.
Heat-from-a-dragon hot.
And he felt that delicious warmth now, and he could see an image of Sabine in his mind, but this was not a memory. No, she was carrying far more items than she should physically be able to, and she brought them to a house.
Ah, this must be where she fled to from the castle. He recognized the place well enough, and he set out at once, opting to take a horse. He almost flew upon the four-legged beast, and when he arrived, fury consumed him.
As did fire.
His entire body was engulfed in flames. The horse he sat upon neighed and whinnied, rearing up, and Aldus jumped from the horse's back. The animal fled, taking with her the stench of burnt flesh.
Aldus’s nostrils flared. He would have preferred that his arrival had been a bit quieter, but he was not that concerned.
He called away the fire from just his right hand, and he stomped over toward the door, but it flung open, and Sabine stood before him.
“Aldus,” she said with that smug little smile of his that he had grown to hate.
“Sabine,” he hissed.
“Do you want me to douse that fire?” she asked dryly.
“I need nothing from you, but you need everything from me. You only breathe because I have been allowing you to.”
Sabine shook her head. “That is simply not the case.”
“Yes, it is!” he roared, and he flung out his arms. The fire from his arms shifted down to form balls above his hands, and he whipped one and then the other at her.
Sabine merely stood there. She did not try to move out of the way. The first fireball struck her.
The second did as well.
But she did not scream. The scent of burning flesh did not fill the air.
She was unharmed.
Unburned.
Had she acquired magic, too, somehow?
He had discovered conjuring and then even throwing fire to be far easier than levitating items, but he had learned that if he threw something, he could affect its path.
Aldus hefted his gilded-handled blade, and he threw the dagger. With his magic, he altered the arc so that the tip pressed against her throat.
He stalked toward her. “You will listen to me. The time of your playing games and pretending to be an alchemist have come to an end.”
Sabine laughed, her white teeth shining. “Oh, Aldus. When have I ever listened to you? You’re a pathetic, deluded little man.”
He fumed, and he shoved with his magic so that the dagger should start to pierce her skin.
Only the dagger would not move forward anymore. It would not pierce her flesh, only hovering just in front of her throat, barely any space between her skin and the tip, but he could not close that short distance.
He tried again, but she merely plucked the dagger out of the air and examined the ornate carvings.
“This is beautiful,” she said. “Who made this for you? I assume it was a gift, was it not?”
Aldus snarled at her and stalked forward.
Her fingers brushed against it. “A goldfinch. That is your family crest, is it not? But what is this? One, two, three, ah, yes, four. Four six-pointed stars. Is there… Yes. A plum tree. Why, Aldus Perez, this is a gift from the Lis to the Perezes, is it not? Specifically for you? Or had your father been an advisor to the Lis before you?”
Aldus stood before her. He warred with himself whether or not to yank the dagger from her hand first or to merely burn her to ashes first and then reclaim his weapon.
Yes, the latter option suited his purposes best.
He reached out, his flames licking his arms, not burning him, but the moment he touched her skin, his fire went out, and nothing he could do conjured it back. The moment he released her, the flames returned.
Somehow, she had uncovered a way to prevent him from using his magic on her.
His jaw set, he yanked the dagger out of her hand and lifted his arm. He still had strength on her. He could kill her without magic just the same.
As he brought his arm down, her hand snatched up and gripped his wrist. She plucked the dagger back again, twirling it, a finger touching the tip, the hilt spinning in her opposite palm.
Her grip had been that of five men at least. She could have snapped his wrist easily, could break his arm… his neck…
He stepped back, his hand to his throat.
She had taken potions to protect herself, to ward off his magic, to give herself strength. Aldus cursed himself. He’d seen her carry far more than a woman or any man for that matter should have been able to all by herself. That should have alerted him to the notion that she had the means to augment her might.
For the first time since he had acquired his magic, Aldus shivered. He conjured his flames to try to warm himself, but his arms turned to ice.
Shocked, he bent down and plucked a flower. The petals turned to ice beneath his touch.
Slowly, the ice faded from his person. He did not like the feel of it. Fire was what he had an affinity for, but her potion…
“Perhaps you and I should not be fighting,” he murmured.
“Whyever not?” she asked idly. ‘I cannot trust you, and you cannot trust me.”
“You can trust me,” he said, holding out his hand for his dagger.
She made a point of brushing her fingers against a star on the hilt.
“My mother had been an advisor before me, my father as well,” he murmured. “They were given the dagger.”
“Whatever happened to them.”
He did not blink. “They met an untimely end. An accident. They both drowned.”
“Hmm. Were there any survivors of the outing?”
“Myself.”
“And you think I am to trust you? When you killed your parents so that you could take the throne?”
“And yet you killed the king, your husband,” he countered. “Did you not?”
“There is no proof of that, and I cannot be certain that I did. You, on the other hand… There might not be proof against you, but you know. I truly do not know if Jankin died from choking or… another means that I might have instigated.” She appraised him. “If we were not to fight, what would we do?”
“Join forces,” he said swiftly, firmly. “You and I both can kill the dragon together. Then, together still, we can take over the world, all of Dragoona, and we can jointly rule.”
Sabine grabbed his hand and sliced a line down his palm. He hissed, and she lifted the blade such that it covered half of her face before licking the tip of his blood and handing it to him.
“I suppose any queen needs a king,” she said slowly. “Why not yourself?”
He grinned at her and stared at the wound in his palm. Attempting to heal it magically did not work, but he instead infused fire into the wound to at least stop the bleeding.
“To us,” Aldus said, holding out his wounded hand.
“To us.”
And they shook on the deal made in darkness, made in secret, made in blood.
50
Alchemist Apprentice Sabine Grantham
Sabine was eager. Her potion, she was certain, was ready, but she was not about to go ahead and give it to Aldus. No, they might be allies, but the potion was her crowning achievement. It would supplant her place in history as the woman who became an alchemist and queen, the most intelligent and formidable woman to have ever lived.
No one could ever stop her once s
he gained everything her heart had ever desired.
If only her mother could see her now.
But until her potion was used and had the precise outcome she wished to achieve—namely, death by freezing into a statue—she could not claim the title of alchemist. Not yet, but soon, very, very soon.
“We will attack the dragon together,” Aldus said.
The preposterous man thought he would dictate how this would go. For now, she would allow him to delude himself of that notion.
“Of course,” she cooed. “You will use your ice.”
“My fire—”
“Was given by the dragon and would not harm him,” she said idly.
“I realize that, but—”
“An ice blade…” She pointed a long finger at his dagger. “What do you think about an iced blade? Stab the dragon with an iced blade.”
He eyed his dagger.
“You could either stab first and then turn the blade to ice and work that ice into the dragon himself, or else you could turn the blade into ice first.”
“The latter would have the ice shattering on impact.”
“And you could turn those ice shards into mini daggers, couldn’t you?” she asked sweetly.
Aldus scowled, and he tested her theory to some extent by trying to ice rocks and then throw them.
She smiled despite her gritted teeth, but eventually, Aldus made enough progress that even she was impressed and a bit envious besides. Why had she not been given magic as well? It could prove so very useful, but then, the dragons most likely had thought that would not be advantageous for them if she were both a magic user as well as an alchemist.
Of the two disciplines, alchemy was far superior. Magic was too unpredictable, and it might be used up or have long-term side effects that they did not know yet. Perhaps the magic might even harm the user over time, consuming them. From her studies of alchemy, it seemed to her that something could not be brought about from nothing, but something could be altered into something else entirely when combined in certain measures. Plus, some potions required boiling or draining. Some had to be cooked into food or drank or applied to the skin.