by C. Greenwood
I shook my head. “Then why lie to me?”
“There was never any lie. You’ve always known I was sent on this journey to keep an eye on you. To ensure your return and report your activities.”
It was true, but my anger was in no way abated. “I didn’t realize you would be taking your duties quite so seriously. You have noted our every stop, our every interaction with the locals. You have been using me and Hadrian like a pair of bloodhounds to hunt down magickers.”
He winced. “That’s an exaggeration. I came on this journey to be with you. But at the end of this year of freedom, you and I both have to return to the province and the Praetor’s service. It’s only wise to curry favor with him while we have the opportunity. I know you hate that sort of thing, and that is why I plan on handling it for the both of us. You must realize this is only good sense.”
“What I realize is that you are as ambitious as you ever were and that you do not hesitate to betray your friends.”
“Don’t say that. I am acting for the both of us.”
“And yet you didn’t consult me.”
“You mean the way you always consult me?” His voice was heavy with sarcasm. “When was the last time you did that, Ilan? When have you asked my opinion on anything? Ever?”
I hesitated, because he was right.
“It is true,” I said. “You and I have very different priorities, and we are both too independent to rely on another’s instincts. That is why this was all one big mistake. We are a mistake.”
He looked bewildered. “What are you saying?”
“That you and I don’t have a lot of trust in our history. I was used to the backstabbing old Terrac who was sometimes my friend and sometimes my enemy. I knew how to deal with him. But whatever we are to each other now requires a whole new level of faith, and it is clear we don’t have that. We never will.”
Surprise and confusion mingled in his expression. “Do not say things like that, Ilan. You are angry now, but tomorrow you will feel differently.”
“No, I will not,” I said sadly. “Because you and I are done.”
They were the hardest words I ever spoke, and I could not look at him while I said them. So I turned fast to walk away.
“Ilan, wait.”
I had only gone two steps when he caught my arm, jerking me to a halt, and spun me around.
But whatever he was about to say or do was cut off when sudden screams erupted all around.
Chapter Five
A dark shadow fell over us, blotting out the sunshine, and there was a rushing, whooshing sound. I looked up to see a giant dark blur of glittering scales and gaping jaws descending over the field.
I had never seen anything like this and did not know what I was looking at until one of the pickers nearby screamed, “Dragon!”
There was no time to think. The beast swooped low, the wind from its massive, flapping wings stirring a mini hurricane of dust and leaves.
Instinctively, I threw myself to the ground, and Terrac dropped beside me as the monster passed so close over our heads we could almost have touched her. I had a brief impression of burning eyes and flashing white claws, and then Terrac blocked my view, shielding me with his body.
There was a roaring sound and a swift wave of heat, as if we were suddenly engulfed in an oven. Hearing screams and glimpsing the flicker of flames, I slithered out from under Terrac and scrambled to my feet.
The crops were ablaze, forming a wall of fire on either side. Through the dancing flames stretching toward the sky, I saw people dashing for cover. Terrac and I were separated from them by the flames.
I looked up to see the dragon turning in the air to make another pass, fire glowing in her throat as she opened her jaws in a roar that shook the earth beneath my feet.
My heart froze in my chest. Neither Terrac nor I were armed. I had not anticipated danger when I left Myria’s cottage. So we were helpless to do anything but stand rooted to the spot, watching as the dragon spewed out another blast of flames that consumed the remaining crops.
All was chaos. Women and children ran, screaming, to the cliff’s edge and clambered down the ropes toward the comparative safety of the village. My confused mind told me I should do something to help them, but I didn’t know what. Everything was happening too quickly.
The dragon beat her broad wings, lifting higher into the sky. It looked as if she was retreating. But then she tucked her wings into her body and dove sharply down past the burning fields toward Swiftsfell.
“We need to get out of here!” Terrac shouted in my ear, his voice rising above the roar and crackle of the inferno. His sweat-streaked face was blurry before me as thick smoke clouded my vision and made my throat burn.
He took my arm and tried to push me toward the end of the row of burning stalks. But I came to a sudden halt, remembering.
Myria!
I whirled, looking for my grandmother. She had been only a short distance behind me mere moments ago. But now she was gone.
I shouted her name and pulled loose from Terrac’s grip, rushing back to where I had last seen her. Acrid smoke filled my eyes, disorienting me. My skin was dry with the heat of the blaze. Burning stalks fell into my path, blocking my way.
Coughing, tears streaming from my eyes, I nearly stumbled over a charred corpse on the ground. The body, huddled face-down, was burnt almost beyond recognition. But I knew the yellow silk scarf in her hair, recognized the beaded belt around her waist.
The world seemed to stand still as, with a howl of pain, I dropped to her side. I was vaguely aware of the flames licking closer, of Terrac trying to drag me to my feet. But I could not take my eyes away from the charred body, could not reconcile what was before me with the living, breathing woman I had been talking with only minutes ago.
A rushing sound in my ears, I gasped for breath as the world around me erupted into showers of sparks and tongues of flame.
Terrac’s strong arms were around me, lifting me away from the heat and the smoke. I closed my streaming eyes and gave in to the oblivion pulling me into shadow.
* * *
When I woke a few hours later, I was lying on a pile of blankets on the hard floor of Calder’s study. There was no sign of Terrac, but Hadrian was at my side.
Other bodies filled every available floor space, and through the open door I could see more of them in the next room, weary, soot-stained people sleeping or holding their loved ones close.
Hadrian told me that after the dragon had burned the high field it had attacked the village. Many had lost their homes today and were crowded into Calder’s undamaged house for shelter.
“Where’s Terrac? Is he safe?” I asked quickly, my voice raspy from smoke exposure.
“He managed to get you both to safety,” Hadrian reassured me. “He’s out there now, helping to put out the fires. Everyone escaped from the high field, although many found no homes to return to.”
“Not everyone escaped,” I said dully, fighting an ache in my chest. “Myria is dead. I saw her.”
Hadrian rested a hand on my shoulder. “Terrac told me. I’m sorry. I know you were only just getting to know her. Is there anything I can do?”
I swallowed. There was nothing anybody could do.
“Why did it happen?” I wondered aloud. “It was a peaceful day until the dragon came out of nowhere.”
“The dragon, Micanthria, is an ally of the Drejian people in the mountains. It seems they wearied of waiting for Swiftsfell’s late tribute and decided to send a message by destroying the village’s crops and homes.”
Throat tightening, hands trembling, I stopped hearing Hadrian’s words. I kept seeing Myria’s face as it had been in life. And then her blackened corpse. I had only just found my grandmother, and we’d had so much left to learn about each other. But now we never would.
Rage rushed through my veins and, with it, determination.
Chapter Six
The cliff path was treacherous by moonlight. In most places it w
as no more than a rough, downward sloping shelf etched into the rock face, scarcely wide enough for putting one foot in front of the other.
At a particularly steep point, I slipped, loose pebbles skittering from beneath my feet and tumbling over the edge into the nothingness. I would have followed them if my desperately searching hands hadn’t found a tree root to catch hold of and steady myself. There were many of these scrubby little trees sprouting, seemingly impossibly, from crevices in the rock. Their presence was lucky because the original creators of this path had not considered it necessary to provide any manmade handholds to give travelers convenient purchase on the way down.
Continuing with renewed caution, I questioned my sanity for attempting this reckless descent. But it was too late to turn back now. Even if I could battle my way back up the steep incline, my absence from the village may already have been noticed, and my friends might well be turning every house upside down, searching for me. I could only hope they didn’t guess my intent until it was too late.
I smothered a creeping sense of guilt, thinking of the stolen supplies I carried. While retrieving my weapons and original clothing from Myria’s cottage, I had taken food from her cupboard. I knew she would not begrudge me that, but I couldn’t say the same for the map I had taken from Calder’s study. I wouldn’t usually question such actions, but maybe I owed better to people who had befriended me. Maybe it was wrong to sneak away like a thief in the night.
But this was the only way. I could not share my plans, even with Terrac and Hadrian. If they knew where I went and why, they would try to stop me—or worse, join me. And it would be selfish to allow that. There was every chance I was headed to my death, and if that was the case, I couldn’t drag the people I cared about down with me. This quest must be mine alone.
So as rapidly as I dared, I made my way down, straining to see into the shadows each time the moon dipped behind the clouds. I tried to visualize the way as it had appeared in daylight, but it had looked much different from the heights above with the rope railings on the Swiftsfell walkways safely between me and it.
As the sound of the rushing river below grew louder in my ears, I knew I was getting closer, even if it was too dark to make out the bottom of the gorge. I tried to remember where the boats were. I had noticed them this afternoon, a line of small green dots bobbing on the water where they were drawn up to the rocks.
I hadn’t far to search. My feet had no sooner reached the end of the path where the ground leveled than I saw the shadowy shapes among the boulders.
I slung my traveler’s pack into the nearest boat and, fumbling in the darkness, untied the vessel from its mooring. I was unprepared for the way the swift current instantly took hold of the craft and wrenched it away from shore. Quickly I splashed in after it, heedless of the swirling water rising to my waist. With one hand I caught the bobbing craft just before the water stole it away, and with an effort, I dragged myself aboard.
The boat dipped wildly from side to side, nearly capsizing, until I redistributed my weight. It was small, made to hold no more than one person, as evidenced by the single paddle I found at my feet. I picked the thing up and dipped it experimentally into the water. I had no experience steering boats, and this seemed the worst place to learn. Fully in the grip of the current, the vessel shot forward at alarming speed. I tried not to think what would happen if I fell overboard. I was a fair swimmer, but the quiet pools and meandering creeks of Dimmingwood were no comparison to what I faced here. I would be entirely at the mercy of the river.
Even now I could hardly see what lay ahead in the darkness and could only vaguely make out the cliffs rushing past on either side. If a floating log or other obstacle appeared in my path, I would be helpless to steer around it in time. Imagining the boat dashed against some rock and me dragged away by the stream, I asked myself again if I was making a huge mistake.
I half turned to look back at Swiftsfell, but the cliff village had already disappeared from view. It was just me and the swirling waters now as I plunged on into the night. I wondered if I would survive to see morning.
* * *
Dawn’s first light found me cold, wet, and exhausted after a night spent battling the river. But at least I was alive. At the first shades of gray in the sky, I began scanning the shoreline anxiously. I had studied Calder’s map until it was imprinted on my mind, and I knew exactly what landmarks to look out for.
It wasn’t long before I recognized the first marker. The leaning tower of rock on the near shore jutted into the sky, rising higher than the cliffs to either side. I steered toward the shore, grateful the current had slowed some miles back, allowing me to maneuver the boat with relative ease.
The rocky landing rose in a steep incline. There was no gradual bottoming out. My craft simply slammed into the rock, and I had to leap immediately ashore. Half dragging, half lifting the boat after me, I was thankful for its lightweight construction.
When I straightened and looked around, the first thing I took in was the changed terrain. This landscape was even harsher than what I had left behind. Here there was no grass to be seen, and the only trees were low and scraggly and looked half-dead. Great cliffs rose on all sides, except directly ahead, where I could make out the purple shapes of mountains rising in the distance. The Arxus Mountains, marking the last border of the provinces, were my destination. When I stood on those mountains, I would be on unfamiliar ground, but my enemies would be all too comfortable there.
I swallowed. But this was no time to feel overwhelmed by the enormity of my mission or the low odds of success. I must keep going, one step at a time. So I refilled my waterskin, partially depleted from the long night. The land ahead was a desert place, and according to the map, there were few sources of water once I left the riverside. I summoned my resolve, shouldered my travelers pack, and set out.
* * *
It was midafternoon when I made my first stop. I had walked hours without rest, and the sun was now high in the sky. I took shelter in the shade of a tall boulder, where I had a few sips of water before chewing one of the rough strips of jerky I had brought with me.
Waves of heat rose from the rocky ground, reflecting the sun’s rays and increasing my discomfort. I would have to be careful of my water supply. I wiped beads of sweat from my brow and closed my eyes for a second, envisioning the cool shadows of Dimmingwood.
Then I shook myself. The longer I sat here, the weaker I would grow and the more I would deplete my rations. I had to keep moving. My feet, unused to ground that alternated between sand and shale, ached in protest as I shouldered my waterskin and walked on.
I was so distracted by my discomforts that I did not immediately notice I was being followed. It came as a gradual realization, the feeling of unseen eyes watching me, the eerie sensation creeping down the back of my neck. I had felt this before leading up to the mysterious attack at the stream outside Swiftsfell. The half-healed wound between my neck and shoulder smarted at the memory. The dragon attack had driven from my mind the fact I was being tracked by a deadly stranger, but my fears were revived now.
Uneasily, I looked around. Nothing moved on the horizon. With no foe in sight, there was nothing I could do but continue on. Still, I cast constant looks behind me and felt a growing conviction it would not be long before my enemy made his next move.
* * *
A sudden noise bounced across the walls of a canyon, a sliding, shattering sound as if someone had unsettled a lot of rocks and sent them tumbling from a height. It was alarmingly close. I scanned the cliffs rearing up on either side of me. Anyone could be peering down on me from the safe vantage point of one of those ridges. But I glimpsed no flurry of movement and nothing out of place. The nervous feeling that I wasn’t alone was growing stronger.
Intentionally dropping my waterskin and turning back to fetch it, I used the opportunity to look surreptitiously behind me. But here too there was nothing to be seen. Only the miles of rocky ground I had already traversed, with the con
stant rock walls and boulders lining the way.
I thought of the black-cloaked attacker who had nearly killed me only days before. I had not seen him coming until it was nearly too late. If he were following me again, he had an even better opportunity now to destroy me. I was utterly alone, having slipped away from the relative protection of my friends. And these surroundings were an ideal place for a bowman to hunt his prey. There was no place for me to run and few spots that would make suitable cover. Even now, he could be looking down from an outcropping or peering around a boulder, waiting for his perfect shot.
Hopelessly exposed in the open, it was all I could do not to make a mad dash for the closest shelter. But if my enemy had me in range at this very moment, the last thing I wanted was to alarm him into immediate action. Instead I forced myself to move slowly and casually to the towering rock wall along my path. I had spotted a big, shady cleft cut out of the wall, and as I climbed a pile of rubble to reach it, I unshouldered my traveling pack as if I planned to rest when I reached the top.
In the shadow of the cleft, I was sheltered from attack from most directions. No enemy could reach me here unless he dropped all subtlety and came at me directly. I had bought myself a few minutes to think, to form a plan. What I needed was to turn the tables on him, to know his exact position while leaving him guessing at mine. But how to accomplish that?
An unexpected tingling sensation brushed the edges of my consciousness. This wasn’t the natural instinct that had first alerted me to danger. It was something different, that little tickle along my senses that said my magic had picked up the presence of another person. Startled, I reached into the loose neck of my tunic and drew out the glossy dragon scale from Myria. The augmenter dangled at the end of its chain. I was still learning to use the thing, still unused to drawing magic through this new source to bring my powers back to life. Did I dare trust it now?