“It will not work,” I finish. “I have a way,” I add, my mind spinning.
Kaden looks at me, then Phoenix, then the steel chest Bix carries on his shoulder. “What is your plan?” he asks.
“I will—”
A battalion of soldiers turn the corner. When they see us, they halt in their tracks, but there is at least twenty of them, and only eight of us, so after a moment they raise their swords and charge.
I clutch my offhand, the one injured by the dragon, and find it mostly healed as I prepare to battle. The soldiers are nearly upon us, their white capes drifting in the wind, when something crashes into the building next to them, breaking its foundation and causing it to collapse on top of the warriors. The stone crushes their bodies, trapping them under piles of rubble. An enormous elephant charges past the debris, and when I see its rider, I smile.
Enzo sits atop his Spirit, clad in gray armor, carrying a bow. He notches an arrow and shoots at one of the soldiers stuck under a beam of wood, putting him out of his misery.
Mabel runs forward, tears in her eyes as she leaps into the sky and lands next to Enzo, embracing him and whispering into his ear.
Everyone is together again. We are nine again.
I stand before my friends, and speak over the sounds of chaos. “The Dragoneyes Squadron is whole once more. Now, we will breach the Palace of Storms and kill the Emperor. Here's how we're going to do it.”
Five minutes after I have explained my plan, Bix, Landon, Enzo and Mabel rush up the hill toward the Palace of Storms, clad in Spirit armor, weapons at the ready.
The rest of our group—Kaden, Phoenix, Raven, Zev and I—take to the skies. We could all fly ourselves, but instead we ride on top of Kaden’s dragon form, because he blends in with the night sky, and because he also carries the heavy steel chest full of dragonstone.
The Palace of Storms stands amongst the clouds, above the soot and smoke filling the city. Its walls are a pale blue in the moonlight, its golden dome roof is dark. I see the Shadows crouching on top of towers and ledges and window sills. I count thirty six in all, but more could be hidden within the structure. Each of them is different somehow, either because of their tattoos or their horns or the length of their spikes. Some are woman, I realize, though their chests are as bare as the mens'. They are all individuals, people, or at least they were before they gave themselves to the Emperor. To Pike.
I feel no pity for what I am about to do. For the deaths I am about to cause, as I flip open the chest and grab two fistfuls of dragonstone, then dive into the sky.
Below me, the Shadows notice our ground assault and leap into the open to strike them down, but before they can attack, Landon and Mabel toss out a dozen barrier talismans on all sides. The Shadows slam against the golden shields, their claws cracking the barriers but not breaking them completely. The talismans will not hold long, but they don’t have to, because now the thirty six Shadows are all gathered in one contained location.
They sense me as I near them, a few turning their heads in my direction, but it does not matter. They are too late.
I squeeze my fists and shatter the dozens of dragonstone in my hands. Power unlike anything I have ever felt surges through me, as my skin turns ivory and my hair turns white, and a storm of lightning explodes from within me.
It strikes at the ground, hitting each of the Shadows and incinerating them instantly. I land in a crouch among the ash statues that remain of their bodies, then turn toward my squad. They are safe, protected by the barriers as I knew they would be, varying expressions of awe on their faces. I stare down at my hands, amazed as well by the power I held moments ago. The power of the High Dragons.
A wave of exhaustion overcomes me, but I am so full of adrenaline, it barely registers.
Then I hear a snap and see one of the barriers shatter into countless pieces. It barely held. I almost broke through a dozen shields. I tremble at the thought, thankful for my luck or my restraint or whatever it was that saved my friends.
Landon looks uneasy, staring at the barrier pieces fading into smoke, then he shrugs as if to say ‘it is what it is.’ He glances at me, then his mouth opens in an o, and before he can yell, I know what he sees. Nine Shadows emerge from the palace.
I thought this might happen, which is why Kaden, Zev, and Phoenix are still in the air. Mabel and Landon toss out three more barrier talismans for protection as I leap into the air, and Kaden dives to meet me. As his massive dragon body falls through the sky, Phoenix throws a small gray sack full of dragonstone from his back. I wish I could have kept a second reserve on me, but I don’t know how to shatter only some of the dragonstone I am in contact with and not the rest, so this plan is the best alternative. I am about to catch the bag, when something grabs me by the ankle and yanks me down. I crash into the ground and my head spins from the impact.
A Shadow stands over me. She raises her claws, about to strike down. I try to roll away, but I’m not fast enough, still stunned by my fall.
The claws slash at my neck.
And Bix slams into the Shadow.
Somehow, he found a gap in the barrier and leaped out to save me. He pushes the Shadow back, holding her away from me, a vein pulsing in his neck from the strain. He did the one things that could protect me, but now he has left himself open.
I jump up to help, but I am not fast enough.
Bix is one. And the Shadows are nine.
They tear into him. Breaking his armor apart. Cutting at the soft flesh below. The giant Ashknight tries to fight them off, but his movements are sluggish compared to his assailants, and they easily evade his attacks while delivering more of their own.
They break him in an instant.
But as he falls to his knees, blood pouring from his mouth, the bag I failed to catch earlier lands beside me, and I grab the dragonstone and shatter. Lightning explodes from my hand, arching before me, incinerating six of the Shadows. Then it turns into Umi and rips into the remaining three, tearing their bodies in half, ripping off their limbs, breaking them apart.
The Shadows die.
And I rush to Bix’s side checking his wounds as Mabel runs up with me, tossing regenerate talismans onto her friend. His flesh begins to knit together, but there are more wounds than I can count and everything is covered in blood. Bix trembles, his jaw chattering, his eyes glazing over. “Stay with me, friend,” I murmur, grabbing his hand. “Stay with me.” The talismans will work. They must work.
Bix hisses in pain, and then his body begins to calm, and his eyes gain focus, and he smiles. “I am not done yet, Sky of the Knightly clan. Not yet.”
I gasp with happiness, clutching his head in my hands and grinning. The rest of our group lands on the ground, Kaden transmuting back to human form as they surround Bix and me, watching for more Shadows as the large Ashknight recovers.
None of us look up.
And in our foolishness, we do not see the attack.
It comes like a soft rain. So hard to detect. So innocent at first. And like rain, I feel it before anything else. A slight breeze. A slight force from above.
I glance up.
And there I see the last Shadow.
He falls overhead, only a few feet away. He must have been waiting on a tower or at a window while I killed his comrades. And when he saw us distracted, overjoyed by our victory, he dived, silent as a breeze in his decent.
I try to blink away, but I cannot; it is a fitful talent over which I have no mastery, and I am too drained after my use of dragonstone.
I know I will not escape this. I know this is the end. But my friends will outlive me. They may yet succeed where I have failed. I close my eyes, accepting my fate, and then I hear his roar.
“No!” booms Bix as he pushes me out of the way, taking my place, standing where I just stood.
And the Shadow crashes into him, slicing open his belly.
I scream.
Raven jumps on the Shadow and tears into him with her sickle, yelling and crying and
howling. This is no Sylus; he dies quickly, but still she keeps hacking away at him, until there is nothing recognizable left of his corpse.
Bix falls.
I try to catch him, but he is too big, and all I can do is slow his descent to the cold earth. He lays on the ground, body shaking, guts spilling open. Mabel places a regenerate talisman on the wound, but the gash is too large to heal. “More,” I yell.
“Sky—”
“More.”
“It won’t matter,” Mabel cries.
It will matter. It must matter. I grab her bag and lay three more regenerate talismans on my friend’s stomach. “You will heal,” I say. “Just give it time.”
He meets my gaze, his eyes shaking. “No, Sky of the Knightly clan. I do not think I will.” His words are staccato, his breath rapid. He looks down at his stomach, and gasps as tears begin to pour down his face. “Is this… is this an honorable death?” he asks, voice pleading.
“It is,” I say, holding his hand tighter. “Your people will sing songs about you for generations to come. They will carve your deeds into the halls of ice and whisper your name upon the frozen winds. They will remember you, Bix of the Dragoneyes.”
Zev falls to his knees beside us, and I see him cry for the first time.
“Do not weep, friend,” says Bix. “I go to the world beyond, where I will once again see the face of my father, and feel the warm embrace of my mother. I go to be with my people, to hear them share their tales and this time share my own. Once, I lived in shame of who I was, but then I met you, and I learned to embrace all that I am. I thank you for that, friends." His words are cut short by a cry of pain, but it does not deter him. He squeezes my hand. "I will tell your stories in the world beyond, but I know they are not finished yet. And one day, you will have to tell me the endings. But I like a long and happy tale, so do not rush to greet me.”
He gazes at each of us then as his eyes begin to close. Zev chokes out a sob and grabs onto the Ashknight in panic.
“Do not weep, friends,” says Bix. “For we will see each other again.”
Life leaves him then, and the Spirit known as Gaf the Mighty materializes one last time, before fading into dust. His remains catch in the wind, swirling up to the sky, and land amongst the stars.
Forty-Seven
The Dream That Cannot Be Dreamt
There is no time for mourning. No time for a burial. It is almost midnight, and we must press on. Kaden and Enzo pull open the massive golden gates of the Palace of Storms, and we enter a hall shrouded in darkness, large windows casting pale blue moonlight onto the floor. A giant statue of Nir stands at the end, large and magnificent. And at its base sits Pike.
The man I have sought for so many years. The man who stole my daughter and destroyed my family. The man who robbed me of happiness. He is alone, on one knee, back turned to us, as if praying to the statue of his father.
Now, I will fulfill the promise I made three years ago. Now, I will save my daughter. I clench the new handful of dragonstone in my hand, and I shatter.
It doesn’t work.
Because, I realize, I am no longer in my body. I am drifting away. And I appear in my Sanctuary. Dressed in white, feet bare, hands empty of dragonstone. I still wear the Outcast's sword, however. This should be impossible, and I wonder if one of the unfamiliar glyphs allows the sword to travel into the Spirit world.
Pike stands across from me amidst a sea of grass that is too real and beautiful. Two graves rise to our side. A silver tree sways in the warm breeze.
He summoned me here, I realize, like he did before when he poisoned me. I assume he wants to talk, but I don’t let my guard down.
“I have come for Kara,” I say.
“Then you best turn back,” he says. He does not speak of the bones and the blanket he left me, at the ruse he played. Perhaps he sees I am beyond that. Instead he says, “Kara must play her part, perhaps the most important part of all, to end the Sundering.”
“The sacrifice won’t work,” I say.
He freezes. “How do you know of such things?” By his tone, I can tell he means not how do you know about the future, but how do you know about the sacrifice.
“Illian told me about the Pyre of Souls,” I say.
“Illian… it cannot be… she is Corrupted…”
“She found a way to regain control.”
He shakes his head in disbelief at first, then chuckles madly. “If anyone could, it would have been her. She was, is, I suppose, truly, the greatest Twin Spirit of this world. And she was a good friend, until she betrayed me.”
I snicker. “I recall the story differently. I recall you left her for dead.”
He clenches his jaw. “There was no other choice. She wanted us to abandon the duty Nir himself had given us. She read some fable that my sacrifice would end the dragons, and she became obsessed with the idea, convinced my death was necessary. But it could not be true. Nir himself ordered me to sustain the Wall of Light, to continue the cycle. And though I never knew my father well, I knew he did not wish me dead. Illian was wrong. I tried to tell her so, but she would not listen. She insisted I give myself to the Pyre, said she would throw me in herself if I did not. And so, for the good of Nirandel, for the good of the Nine Words and beyond, I did what I had to do. I trapped her beyond the Wall. It broke me to do so, don't you see? But we all have our duty.”
There are two sides to every story. And this one is so ancient and lost, there is no way I will ever discern the whole truth. I cannot sway him with the past, but perhaps I can sway him with the future.
“Each Sundering, the Wall of Light demands a stronger sacrifice, does it not?” I ask.
He nods. “Well, yes. The Wall of Light was created by Nir’s magic, but his magic fades. It requires more and more Spirit to remain alight.”
“Then is it not possible that this sacrifice will not be enough?”
He pauses, considering, and a flash of panic fills his eyes. “No. She is strong. Strong enough.” He talks more to himself than me, and the more he talks the more the panic fades. “Yes. It will work. She is the strongest I have ever trained. The strongest there ever was. If she had more time, she could exceed us all.”
“The sacrifice will not be enough,” I say again fiercely. “The Outcast told me herself. She had the mask.”
“The mask…” his face lights up at the mention, and I see Orcael in him once more. What good friends we had become, until I learned the truth. “It’s real, then? I knew it. Could it truly be only used once?”
I nod. “Only once, as the Valarata said.”
He smiles, but then his face turns angry. “And she used it for… what? To return here? To try and stop me? She… she could have gone anywhere. To the time of Nir and Val and the Elder Dragons. To the time before even then. She could have learned the secrets of the past. She could have preserved the knowledge that is lost to us, kept it safe so that perhaps we could benefit from it.”
“I know you would have done so,” I say, remembering our talks and studies in the library. “But she was more concerned with the future than the past.” I step forward, my voice hard. “If you go through with the sacrifice, it will fail, and the Wall will fade, and the cycle you have fought so desperately to continue will end. Dragons will spread over Nirandel, perhaps even beyond, turning all to ash. Your father's sacrifice would have been for nothing.”
His eyes twitch at my last words, and I know the mention of his father hits him harder than any physical wound. He has always sought Nir’s approval, even when Nir was dead, perhaps even more so then. I could see it, in the way he spoke of the Elder Dragon as Orcael. At the time, I thought it an odd curiosity, a childhood fantasy, but now I understand the deep roots of his obsession. His father was the greatest being in all the Nine Worlds, and yet, he had never cared to know his son. And the son wondered why. Why was he not good enough? Not worthy enough? And there was no answer. And all the son could do was try to impress his father, try to become worthy of
his name. He tries still. A millennium later, the son seeks to honor the father.
“If…” Pike says softly. “If what you say is true, then what do you propose? That I cast myself upon the Pyre as Illian wanted?”
He already had the chance—many times over as each Sundering came and went. He will not give up his life, this I know. So I propose the only other option.
“Sacrifice me,” I say, stepping forward. “Take me to the Dream that Cannot be Dreamt, and I will walk into the Pyre of Souls. I am High Dragon. My Spirit is stronger than Kara’s. She will break the cycle, but I will make the Wall shine another hundred thousand years.”
Pike does not respond right away, considering, a sadness in his eyes. “But you are…” he chokes on the words. “You are my daughter. I will not lose you again.”
And now we come to this truth. How different it is to the both of us. “I have no father,” I say. “And my mother was not your wife, Elliana. My mother was Laura Knightly. The woman who clothed me, fed me, told me stories at bedtime and held me close as I trembled from nightmares. The woman who gave her life to be my mother.”
Pike scowls, hands trembling. “Laura was but your mother’s handmaid. The two of them conspired to keep you away from me. They had no right. If I had known you were my daughter, I would never have… “ He grits his teeth. “I would never have taken Kara from you. They made fools of us both.”
He makes no apology. Takes no responsibility for his own actions. He is a man blinded by his own vision of the world.
“If you care at all for me,” I say, “then you will sacrifice me instead of Kara.” I beg. It is all I have left. “Let me save my daughter. Let me do this one thing for her. Do not take her from me as your child was taken from you.”
My eyes fill with tears, because I do not know what to do if he doesn’t listen. I do not know how to defeat him. And so I plead once more, “Sacrifice me.”
He says nothing. Shows no hint as to his feelings, his face empty, eyes hollow, as if he has become a shell of a man. And perhaps he has. Perhaps being confronted by the memory of his dead wife and the daughter he never knew he had has broken him.
Of Dreams and Dragons Page 38