Caress of Fire (Dawn of Dragons Book 2)

by Mary Auclair

  The first of them took a step forward, then another. Then the flood of hooded figures started, and time was lost in fury, death and blood.

  Chapter 27

  Shouts and screams echoed across the courtyard and Marielle stood as people ran away from the door, their faces twisted in abject fear. At her side, Beral stood, as dumbfounded as she was.

  “What in the world?” Her voice died down as a flood of figures cloaked in gray, with hoods covering their faces, invaded the courtyard from the castle gate. Her eyes widened with horror as a hooded figure drew a wicked, curved blade and sliced right through a guard running in his direction. The guard fell down to the side, his body collapsing with convulsions then, a second later, lying in a morbid stillness. Dead.

  The first hooded figure lifted his hood and Marielle locked eyes with a bright orange, fanatic Delradon stare. The three white circles nestled inside each other were painted on his bald forehead.

  Knat-Kanassis.

  “Send off the transports!” Marielle yelled, springing into action as the flood of hooded men overtook the courtyard. A swift series of screams started a sudden panic and in an instant, the world collapsed into chaos. People ran, overwhelming the doors to the transports, pushing each other in their haste to get away from the threat.

  A door pulled up from the ground, closing on people still trapped. A man shrieked as his arm was severed as the door closed on him. A transport lifted higher above Aalstad castle, ready to shoot into the distance.

  Then the sky filled with fire as the transport exploded, along with everyone inside. Debris littered the courtyard and Marielle screamed as the guard wrapped protective arms around her.

  Another transport hovered above the stone, ready to pick up speed and fly away.

  “Tell them to stand down,” a familiar, fluted voice called from behind, rising above the screams of the people trying to escape. “Or I will blow them all to pieces as you watch.”

  Marielle turned to see a tall, slim figure cloaked in gray, the blood red of her dress shining under the cloak. Her lovely features were set in almost bored lines, and her silver eyes stared at Marielle without a trace of warmth. A golden dragon stayed at her side as the young woman walked amidst the Knat-Kanassis acolytes, ignoring the screams and the violence all around.

  “Silva?” Marielle shook her head, like she was trying to convince her mind that her eyes were lying.

  Silva walked slowly, her eyes set on Marielle, a soft, almost tender smile on her painted lips. Behind her, the golden dragon kept in pace with his mistress, golden eyes set on Marielle with open hostility.

  It wasn’t Isobel. Silva had us all fooled.

  As Silva advanced, the Knat-Kanassis soldiers tamed the terrified people into submission, leaving a stream of blood on the stones, killing anyone who dared to resist. Siva looked over her shoulder as an old man held a wrinkle-faced woman close to his body and a hooded figure raised his sword high over his head, ready to render the killing blow.

  “Stop.” Silva’s voice was unaffected and even cold as the woman looked up at her with hope. “Kill anyone who resists, but those who don’t, keep them in the courtyard. They can clean the blood from the floor of my castle.”

  The hooded figure turned to Silva then inclined his head, the Knat-Kanassis symbol on his forehead shining like a beacon of evil.

  Marielle watched, her mind still rebelling, as Silva turned to her. Disdain was set on Silva’s features as she cocked her head, staring down at Marielle like she would at a cockroach.

  “We looked everywhere for you.” Marielle couldn’t stop looking at the young girl, her mind in a blank. “What are you doing?”

  Silva’s disdain morphed into mockery and she scoffed at Marielle.

  “Just like a human, too dim-witted to understand.” Silva’s soft words hit Marielle like a blow. “You are a disease and I am the cure.”

  Silva motioned to the Knat-Kanassis soldiers and they began corralling people into the middle of the courtyard. Marielle tried to look away but she was unable.

  A Knat-Kanassis soldier stepped closer to Marielle, and Beral moved in front of her. The young guard’s arm shook as he raised his sword. The Knat-Kanassis soldier swiped his blade in a lazy arc and Beral parried, but his face was set in lines of terror.

  Another lazy blow and Beral fell, screeching as his blade clattered to the stones. He held his arm in front of him as blood trickled down over his sleeve.

  Then he fell to one side, his body wracked by convulsions. Marielle moved to him, but the Knat-Kanassis soldier blocked her way, an evil smile on his fanatical face. All she could see of Beral around the large man’s hooded form were his legs as they shook uncontrollably.

  “Silva, please.” Marielle spoke breathlessly, her words more for herself than for Silva. She couldn’t look away from the young man, not until his legs stopped moving. “You don’t know what you’re doing.”

  A laugh, musical and cruel, sliced the air as Silva tossed her head back, then looked down at Marielle with perverse amusement.

  “Poor, desperate, pathetic Marielle.” Silva lifted a finger absently to the Knat-Kanassis soldier and he moved fast, surprisingly fast for one so large. The soldier grabbed Marielle by her upper arms and dragged her for a couple of steps but stopped once Silva clicked her tongue in an impatient gesture. “You don’t understand. I was not turned by the Knat-Kanassis. I am the Knat-Kanassis.”

  “Dominus Puritatis. The Lord of Purity.” Marielle’s head swam and if it weren’t for the guard’s bruising hold, she would have collapsed. “Lord Aldric killed him in Katanie two years ago.”

  “Lord Misrael was a fool lured by his ego.” Silva shrugged and her lips lifted in a conspiratorial grin. “Between you and me, I was glad Lord Aldric got rid of him. The man was a thorn in my side from the first day. He had an interest in me, interest which I found repugnant.”

  Marielle tried to move away when Silva came closer, but all she could do was dig into the Knat-Kanassis’ hard chest. She wasn’t confused anymore. Her fear was being replaced by something else. Something a thousand times stronger and way more dangerous. A white, pure form of anger was rising from the depths of Marielle’s mind. White, flashing hot, and focused on only one person.

  That small girl Marielle had been trying so hard to protect from everyone, including her own mother.

  A girl who was perverted past the point of redemption.

  “It was you. All this time, it was all you.” The accusation burned her tongue and Marielle’s hands clenched into fists. “You killed Lord Aymond, then tried to have the blame put on me.”

  Silva laughed in response. Marielle’s vision tunneled, blotting out the world around her and its horrors to leave only the girl. This girl who was responsible for so much pain, so much grief.

  “You’re the one who set Ignio Marula on us.” The revelation left Marielle numb. “It’s because of you that Rela and Devan were tortured. You let your mother get imprisoned for this. You are a monster.”

  “You are the monster!” Silva suddenly lost her girlish, happy demeanor, and for the first time, Marielle saw the madness within, the scalding ugliness that stuck to her soul. But immediately, Silva regained her composure and looked upon Marielle with cold eyes. “You and your kind are an abomination. Once I cleanse you and the likes of you from this world, the Draekons’ curse will be lifted and dragons will soar through the heavens by the thousands.”

  Marielle opened her mouth to speak, to ask more, ask so much more, but Silva turned on her heels. The young Draekon walked away, followed by her golden dragon, then spoke harshly in Delradon to one of the Knat-Kanassis soldiers, who turned to Marielle with dark eyes.

  “Bring her to the throne room. Leave the others out in the courtyard. If she tries anything, kill her.”

  Somewhere far to her left, an old woman began to cry, and Marielle knew she was going to die.

  The hooded man shoved her roughly forward and Marielle fell to her knees on the polish
ed stone floor of the throne room. She gathered herself on her knees, refusing to cry. Her eyes were obstinately cast down, but still she could feel Silva’s glare bearing down on her with triumph.

  Marielle wasn’t going to give her the pleasure of begging for her life. It wouldn’t make any difference anyway.

  No, their only hope was that Fedryc would come back and save them.

  But he’s not going to come back. Silva has won.

  The thought hit her straight between the ribs, sharp as a blade through her lungs, making her breathing grow fast and shallow, painful.

  No. He’s alive. I can feel it.

  But could she? Her heart broke in anguish if she so much as entertained the idea of Fedryc not coming back. She didn’t know anything. She only knew pain, despair and anger. The last one was a lifeline to her sanity, and she held on to it with an iron grip.

  “Look at me.” Silva’s voice came from the top of the stairs. Marielle didn’t need to look up to know the Draekon girl was sitting on the throne. Fedryc’s throne. “I want you to look up at me, worm, and see what the pure of blood should look like. Look at the glory of your Goddess made flesh.”

  When Marielle kept looking stubbornly down, a Knat-Kanassis soldier stepped close, grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her head back roughly. Marielle looked up, knowing it would do no good to maintain her stubborn streak. Silva could easily decide she was not worth the trouble and kill her there and then.

  Marielle stared at the slim figure of Silva, sitting in Fedryc’s throne, the very image of satisfaction on her face. Behind her, the golden dragon lay, fast asleep. Just another display of how little Silva thought Marielle a threat.

  “You are fooling yourself if you think you can scare me.” Marielle bit out each word. “Fedryc will come back, and then he will give you exactly what you deserve. You and your mother.”

  “Ha, yes!” Silva laughed shortly, but her eyes shot daggers as she got to her feet, then climbed down the stairs slowly, each step measured for maximum effect. “My dear cousin. He’s dead, you know that, right? Not even you can believe a Draekon rejected by his dragon can win in a battle against Lord Anion and Chazal. There is no hope for you. There never was.”

  “Then why don’t you just kill me already?” Marielle was surprised at the bite of her own words but she was too far gone to care. Silva was right. So she had nothing to lose. “I’ll tell you why. Because with all that power you think you have, you know deep down that you’re just a scared little girl. A scared little girl with a tiny dragon who will never be half as powerful as Nyra.”

  The slap almost made Marielle’s head snap to the side but she couldn’t move, as the guard still held her by her hair.

  “Abomination!” Silva shouted, her eyes wide and crazed, insanity rising to the surface like a disease. “I am only keeping you alive until Lord Anion comes here as the new Lord of Aalstad and takes power. Then you will know the heat of a dragon’s purifying flame. Everyone in Aalstad will know.”

  Marielle gasped as she understood what Silva had in store for her. She wanted Chazal to burn her publicly to show all those left in Aalstad what would happen to those who defied the Knat-Kanassis.

  Just as she was about to spew another round of insults at Silva, Marielle was silenced by the door to the throne room opening to reveal the tall figure of Isobel Haal, flanked by two Knat-Kanassis guards. Closely following was Hydrad, her emerald dragon. Marielle watched in silence as Isobel walked up to the throne steps, her eyes set unflinchingly on her daughter. The blood red gown she wore was torn and stained from her stay in the dungeon, and her face was lined with soot, her hair dirty and out of place. Isobel’s eyes went from Silva to Marielle.

  Her expression was one of terrified disbelief as she stared at Marielle, down on her knees, held by the hair by a Knat-Kanassis guard.

  “Silva!” Isobel stopped short of touching her daughter as a soldier stood between them, a foreboding expression on his face. “My darling, what have you done?”

  Silva stared at her mother and a brief warmth showed on her features, but it was gone as soon as it appeared. Behind Isobel, Hydrad hissed with fury at the guard who threatened Isobel, but the man didn’t even glance at the beast.

  “I have done what you were too afraid to do.” Silva spoke to her mother with a mixture of warmth and contempt. “I took what was ours. What was always supposed to be ours.”

  “You killed Aymond.” Isobel bent over slightly, like she’d received a blow to the stomach. Her face contorted in disbelief and pain as she looked up at her daughter. “Why would you do such a thing? He loved you.”

  “Love?” Silva frowned, her expression returning to one of detached iciness. “Love is a fable those of low rank hold onto to give their miserable lives a sense they don’t have. Aymond was weak, he was a traitor to his blood and he deserved to die.”

  Isobel took this in, swaying softly like she wasn’t a grown, powerful Draekon woman but a blade of grass bending in the wind. “So many lives,” Isobel whispered. “The innocent people in the border town, all those children. It was you, too?”

  “They deserved it, Mother.” Silva nodded in response and if she saw the tears blooming in Isobel’s eyes at her words, she didn’t show it. “I have restored the sacred dominion of the Draekons over all other creatures.”

  “This isn’t you. Who did this to you?” Isobel’s question was a desperate plea and her voice broke with tears. “It was this Lord Anion, he’s the one who put you up to this.”

  “Don’t you remember?” Silva smiled and it lifted her face with true evil, transforming her harmonious features into a mask of madness. “You’re the one who told me the old stories. How your great-grandfather fought for the Knat-Kanassis in the Civil Chasm, how he hid his allegiance pledge in the old desk but you never found it. Well, I did. I found it, and what I read inside told me everything I always knew.”

  Silva reached into the folds of her gown and withdrew an ancient scroll, its paper faded and brown, but with ink still visible on its surface.

  “All we needed to know was in there.” Silva showed it triumphantly to her mother, who now sobbed quietly. “Our low fertility and our small dragons aren’t a result of some recessive genetic defect. It’s a curse. We of pure blood have been cursed for allowing the abominations to mix our blood with theirs. All we need to do to regain our power is to cleanse the world of their disease, and our dragons will be restored. We will rule this Earth together, Mother. And then, we will purify Dagmar.”

  “Sordied sangui.” The Knat-Kanassis soldiers in the room all raised their closed fists, shouting in unison. “Mors abomina.”

  Isobel stared at her daughter, wide-eyed and wordless. The Draekon woman swallowed, hard, then looked down at Marielle with such sadness, such regret.

  “Please, daughter.” Isobel approached, but was again prevented from reaching Silva by a soldier whose eyes were as feverish as they were cold. “Don’t do this. Marielle is with child. A child of our family.”

  Marielle stared at Isobel, surprised to see the plea in her face, the loyalty she’d never expected. Silva cried out in disgust at her mother’s words.

  “She’s a cow. She got pregnant faster than I thought.” Disgust and jealousy made Silva’s lips curl. “But it won’t matter. That horror growing in her belly will die with her, and with it, the stain on our bloodline. After this, finally, Lord Anion’s seed will take hold.”

  Isobel shook her head, like she could just shake off the words, the madness from entering her body. But it was too late. Silva was too far gone.

  “How long have you planned this?” Isobel’s beautiful, musical voice had turned into a crone’s croak. “You are the one who killed Asha. I can’t believe it.”

  Isobel crumpled under the weight of her daughter’s betrayal, falling to her knees, long-fingered hands clutching herself in her pain.

  “I have been his mate since I was sixteen,” Silva answered, her eyes greedily drinking in her mother�
�s grief, insanity shimmering clear as day on her face. “You were too busy being the Lady of Aalstad to notice.” She scoffed. “You didn’t even notice when I almost wiped out Lord Aldric Darragon and his Draekarra. Blind, Mother, you were always blind.”

  Isobel turned her face away from her daughter and looked at Marielle. Sadness and acceptance washed over her once beautiful features.

  “I’m sorry.” Isobel mouthed the words, but not a sound escaped her lips.

  Isobel curled in on herself, and sobs shook her entire body. Her long black hair fell over her face and she cried in silence, lost in her failure as a mother. Her failure as a sister. She was a broken woman.

  She can’t help us. No one can.

  “You know this is madness.” Marielle spoke despite knowing that Isobel wouldn’t side against her daughter. “You have to stop this.”

  “She can’t!” Silva stepped between Marielle and Isobel. “No one can stop me now. I have the two most powerful kingdoms in North America, and soon, I will hold more. I will cleanse this land with fire. No human will survive my wrath, no human-loving Delradon and no abomination of mixed blood. My new world will be pure.”

  Marielle lowered her head and allowed the despair and pain to wash over her. Her shoulders heaved with soft sobs, and she knew she had lost everything.

  Chapter 28

  Everywhere he looked the desert was painted red.

  Blood. Enough to quench the sand’s thirst and run rivers between rocks and the bodies of the fallen.

  Fedryc couldn’t look away from the carnage. Everywhere the eye could see there was a body, eyes already clouding over, looking straight at the blazing sun. Death had followed him to the desert and had made it its home.

  The brown feral ripped off another Knat-Kanassis soldier’s head with a great splash of blood. The few who remained at their Lord’s side watched with horror in their eyes. The brown feral roared, his jaws painted with the blood of his victims, savage and untamed in his violence.