Dawn of Cobalt Shadows (Burning Empire Book 2)

by Emma Hamm

  “Why?” Sigrid asked again. “This is as good a place as any for you to answer my questions.”

  “It isn’t. Simply won’t do, because we aren’t supposed to remain here and we’re already late. I didn’t want to rush you after your long journey. Sometimes, other people aren’t as patient as I am.” She tucked the skull back into its holder, wrapping the string tightly through the eye sockets. “Are you ready to go?”

  “Not in the slightest.”

  “Well, hurry then, child. We’ve a long way to go yet.”

  Sigrid watched in astonishment as the woman reached out and pulled her clothes off the branch. They were thrust at her with no care toward the fire. Sigrid fumbled with the leather, rushing out of the flames and pulled them onto her body.

  “You never told me your name,” Sigrid said as she hurriedly got her things together. “And who is calling for me?”

  “The matriarch. And my name is Eivor,” the creature swept into a kind of bow, then tossed another layer at Sigrid. “Are you ready yet?”

  “Eivor?” Sigrid repeated, pulling the shirt over her head. “I’ve never heard such a name.”

  “That’s because it came from a time before you were born. A time before the Beastkin forgot where they came from, and what their true names were.”

  “My name is Sigrid; my mother’s was Freydis. I know these names are true and ours.” It felt important to say that, as nothing else she’d ever said before.

  Sigrid finished pulling the shirt over her head, the last layer before her jacket, and froze when she saw the woman had lunged forward. Impossibly close, she could feel Eivor’s breath on her face as she breathed.

  The strange creature tilted her head, bones shifting at her sides and scraping down her shoulders. “You say it strangely, but your name is Sigrid. It’s a name for victory. A name for wisdom. You will walk your path with strength, and it is the right one for you to take.”

  Apparently, all she needed was a woman who talked to dead animals to tell her that. Sigrid straightened her shoulders, and nodded. “I’m ready then.”

  “Good. We have but a short way to go.”

  Eivor moved away from her and Sigrid’s jaw gaped open. “You mean, I’ve been near the ancients this whole time?”

  “It’s hard to find us when there’s a storm on the horizon. You walked around us three times before you finally found the cave. The storm is over now, and I will take you to the matriarch without getting lost in the white beast. Come.”

  Sigrid snagged her pack on the way out, swung it over her shoulder, and plunged into the blinding whiteness of fresh snow.

  Not a single thing had touched the blanket which now laid across the earth. Pristine and pure, she lifted a hand to shield her eyes against the blinding whiteness. There was at least a foot of snow which had fallen since last night.

  She recognized the tree in the distance. It had appeared much taller in the dim light of the storm. Now, it looked more like a shrub.

  Eivor moved across the snow as light as a feather. She barely even left footprints where she walked. “Come alone, dragon. There’s no time to waste!”

  If Sigrid could walk on top of the snow like her companion, that would have made things easier. Instead, she had to trudge through the wet, sticky substance. Every step felt as though it were sucking into the ground as the earth tried to hold her in place.

  She was strong, she reminded herself. Endurance was the greatest gift of the dragon Beastkin. If this creature wanted her to walk through the snow, then she would. Over and over again until they reached their destination. She would not give up.

  The sun lifted on the horizon above their heads and then dipped down onto the other side of the world. They’d traveled for half a day, and there she was thinking the woman had said they were close.

  Huffing, face hot and back already aching, Sigrid called out, “How close are we?”

  “Not far now!” Was the answering call that floated from somewhere up ahead.

  “Of course,” Sigrid muttered. She eyed the ground, trying to find the faint prints Eivor left in her wake. “It was ‘not far’ a few hours ago as well. Doesn’t seem as though we’re any closer, but what do I know?”

  Snow crunched next to her as something plummeted from the sky and landed hard beside her. Sigrid lifted her fists, ready to strike out at whatever had dared startle her.

  Eivor’s mask met her gaze. “Not far, like I said.”

  “How did you—” Sigrid glanced up at the ledge above her. A great mountain peak lifted out of the ground, stretching toward the sky with small bits of stone arched over her head. “Ah.”

  “I have to make sure we’re not being followed, Beastkin. Too many people are interested in your journey and not enough are willing to help.”

  “We’re not being followed.”

  “There are creatures who can silently take flight. Those who burrow themselves into the earth and only awaken when footsteps disturb them. You know this, Sigrid, and yet you refuse to imagine there is more to this world than just humans and Beastkin?” Eivor clucked her tongue. “Someday, you’ll learn to accept there are things you cannot understand.”

  “What are you, some kind of medicine woman?” she called out as Eivor darted past her on top of the snow.

  “In part! I guide souls where they need to be, and collect them if they’re wandering. Where did you think I got Grim?”

  “In some black magic ritual where you sacrificed a rat?” Sigrid muttered under her breath, then called out, “Souls?”

  “Everything has a soul. You, me, the trees, the animals. Everything leaves a little bit of themselves when they pass. It’s a beautiful thing, and only some of us can see them. When the enclave finds out that you can see souls, we’re all placed into a specialized training.”

  “Ah,” Sigrid said. A large clump of snow fell from the cliff edge to land in front of her with a loud clap. She lifted her hand, shielding her face for a moment then continued. “So there are different positions within… the enclave, you called it?”

  “The home of the ancient Beastkin, yes.”

  “So there’s matriarch, medicine woman… what else?”

  “Warrior, brood mother, there’s a hundred different positions, each as important as the last. Why are you so curious?” Eivor paused and gestured with her hand for Sigrid to hurry up. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

  “Will I?”

  Sigrid huffed and puffed until she stood next to Eivor. The woman was exceedingly tall when she was standing on a foot of snow to prop her up. It wasn’t fair. Sigrid had enjoyed looking slightly down at the woman. Now, she felt like a child begging an elder to tell the stories she’d missed.

  Eivor smiled at her, lips curving underneath the lip of the mask. “Look your fill, dragon Beastkin. See where you came from and what you will become.”

  Sigrid followed the line of Eivor’s hand and gasped. A large canyon spread out in front of them, made entirely of ice. Cold, clear blue like a precious stone, it sang an ancient, rumbling song.

  Hung between the two giant cliffs of ice was the skeleton of a massive dragon. Its head rested on the top of the canyon, its bat-like wings spread wide between the expanse. Back legs hung over the abyss below. Shards of ice and snow dangled in great times from its toes and ribs.

  “What is this?” she whispered.

  “The very first dragon to ever walk this earth. This is your greatest grandmother to ever have lived. She was the sun dragon to her people, golden as the day is bright. A goddess among her people, and even more.” Eivor’s eyes filled with tears as she stared at the dead creature.

  “You kept her? You didn’t bury her or give her any kind of ceremony to guide her soul into the beyond?”

  “Why would we do that? She never wanted to walk a path where she couldn’t return from. She wanted to be with us until the end of time. Her soul is in everything around here, just as her body fed the ice and the creatures that live beneath it. The greatest o
f all matriarchs is still here with us. That is an honor, Beastkin. Not a slight against her soul.”

  Eivor strode down the steep path toward the canyon. Sigrid did not.

  She stood, staring at the remains of the greatest creature to ever live, and met her own future head on. This would be her someday. She would be nothing more than bones hanging like this. Some great beast long forgotten.

  Why had she come here? Why hadn’t she stayed with her family and friends, far away from this cold, desolate place?

  “Come along! The matriarch has waited long enough.”

  Forcing her feet to move, Sigrid followed the medicine woman down into the canyon. She told herself not to listen to the haunting song of wind whistling through the giant rib cage above her, or the way the ice clinked together like the chimes of a bell. It wasn’t the soul of a long forgotten creature trying to speak with her. It wasn’t a sun goddess welcoming her home.

  And yet… It felt as though it was.

  The path down into the canyon was well-maintained. Unlike the rest of the mountain, this trail was mostly dirt and earth. Someone had recently spread soil across the expanse so her feet could find purchase rather than sliding wildly to her death.

  Still, she saw no one. It seemed as though no one lived here other than the medicine woman and the souls of long passed things.

  “This is where you live?” she asked quietly as they rounded a large boulder. “Alone?”

  “Not alone. They’re all within the enclave.”

  “Which is where?”

  Eivor sighed, then pointed ahead of them. “Further on! We must pass through the ancient mother first, so we know she has blessed our journey. Stop asking so many questions, youngling. All will be revealed in time.”

  She didn’t want to wait. Secrecy wasn’t necessary in times like these, and she wanted to tell Eivor exactly what was going through her mind.

  At the moment she opened her mouth, a rather large gust of wind pushed through the ancient skeleton above her. The echoing groan was a sound she’d never forget her in her life, nor the shifting of the tail that sent shards of ice raining down from above.

  Perhaps the soul of the first matriarch wasn’t all that much of a myth then. Sigrid glanced up at her ancestor and blew out a breath through her teeth. “Fine,” she muttered. “I’ll wait and see what is to be revealed.”

  The wind died down.

  She followed Eivor for a while until they finally reached a small doorway carved in the great ice monolith. Symbols had been buried in the ice, refrozen so they would never move. Sigrid reached out to touch her finger to one which looked like a snake eating its tail.

  “What is this symbol?”

  “That of a house which lives within.” Eivor pointed out others buried in the crystal clear ice. “So many of them used to live here. Some are long gone. Others are still here. We’re a dying race. Still, we exist for those who need us. Like you.”

  The medicine woman ducked through the doorway, and then disappeared into the shimmering wall of the frozen waterfall.

  Did she want to follow? This was her chance to leave. She could turn around immediately and go back to the keep where she would be warm and safe. It wasn’t likely another snowstorm would pop up on her way back. If she were to believe the medicine woman, that was the ancestors guiding her anyways. She could forsake them and all this madness.

  She reached out again and touched a golden medallion at the top of the doorway. A dragon had been etched into the soft metal, wings spread wide and mouth opened in a roar.

  It felt as though she were meant to be here. Her entire life had drawn her to this point in time where she could finally figure out her story. The story of her ancestors, and where she’d come from.

  After all this time… she wouldn’t be alone.

  Taking a deep breath, she plunged through the doorway and into the unknown beyond.

  12

  Raheem

  The damned sand had clogged his nose so deeply, he couldn’t even breathe. Raheem pressed a finger against one nostril and exhaled as hard as he could. Still, it didn’t dislodge the particles which had stuck so far up his nasal cavity that he feared they’d never get out.

  And still, he’d missed this place.

  He stared up at the Red Palace and felt something shift inside him. A small sliver of humanity that meant the world to him. This was his home. Not that emerald green place, so lush and overgrown that it overwhelmed him. This place with its golden colors and brightly decorated people.

  The front gates to the palace stood open, guards on either side. They didn’t give him a second glance when he carefully walked by. He’d wrapped his head in a scarf so no one would recognize him.

  Were they laxer in their protection of the sultan? Not a single guard even asked where he hailed from or what his business was in the palace. Anger bubbled in his throat, pushing words against his tongue until they wanted to fly from his lips and shred the guards to pieces. They should be more prepared to protect their sultan at any cost.

  Bymere looked better than he had expected. Though it had been over half a year since the war, he’d thought it would be far more damaged than it was. A dragon had destroyed the city, after all.

  The buildings were still sheared off at the tops, but they weren’t scorched anymore. Someone had painstakingly washed all the red rock and now built on top of the broken pieces. He could see the line where the damage had cleaved through the stone, and the new stone which mended the structures.

  A gaggle of children raced past him, one of the larger boys striking his shoulder as they ran.

  “Slow down!” Raheem shouted after them.

  Their laughter trailed behind them like a beacon of brightly colored intent. They were probably going to steal something from one of the many vendors set out on the street. The moment he thought it, another man came charging down the main street, waving his hands above his head.

  “And there’s the shopkeeper,” Raheem said out loud. A bemused smile spread across his lips. Oh, how he’d missed this place and all the people who had no problem expressing themselves. Earthen folk were cold compared to the loud, boisterous shouting of his homeland.

  He strode through the streets confidently and without fear. No one would attack such a large man, but also because there was little violence within the shadow of the Red Palace. Up through the gardens of the palace he went, then slipped through a side door only the servants knew about.

  Again, no guards tried to stop him. Why weren’t there people at every entrance to the palace? Had Nadir lost his mind? Or had Abdul finally convinced him a god king no longer needed guards?

  Raheem was going to give the boy a piece of his mind. He was foolishly endangering himself at every moment. Guards needed to be on their posts at all times. It didn’t matter if they were tired. The man who fell asleep on watch was whipped publicly to remind everyone else what would happen if they endangered the sultan’s life.

  It wasn’t that Raheem wanted to be cruel to those who protected the palace. He wanted them to take their jobs seriously, and only find reward in good behavior. Becoming a palace guard wasn’t like a city guard. So many people, important people, lived within these walls.

  He’d need his position back immediately. Whomever Nadir had hired to take on the role of Head of the Army was doing a terrible job.

  Raheem walked briskly through the halls toward Nadir’s private quarters. The boy would be there, as he always was. A few maids raced past him with sheets in their hands. Another one with a swath of brightly colored fabric.

  Were the concubines being outfitted? The boy had seriously lost his mind.

  Rage boiling beneath his skin, Raheem didn’t knock on the sultan’s door. Instead, he opened it immediately and strode into the room with words already dripping from his tongue.

  “Have you lost your damn mind, boy? I walked into this palace without a single question from any person!”

  He’d expected Nadir to be relaxing on
the bed, perhaps even at the desk overlooking some documents. But no one stood where the boy usually entertained himself. Even the sheets didn’t look slept in.

  Had he gone to spend more time with the concubines? After having a wife like Sigrid? Raheem wasn’t going to just yell at the man he considered his dearest friend. He was going to punch him so hard in the mouth Nadir tasted blood.

  The cold prick of a blade touched his throat. “And you are?”

  “Raheem,” he grunted, reaching up to yank the fabric away from his face. The blade held it in place at his throat, but at least the boy could see who he was. “I’d thought you’d know that, however.”

  “I’m afraid I don’t. You’ve entered the private room of the sultan without permission. The punishment for that is death.”

  The voice wasn’t… quite right. The tones were correct, the accent as well, but there was the faintest dip in the sentences that rang a bell in Raheem’s mind. It wasn’t wrong exactly, but it wasn’t the boy he knew.

  In fact, the lyrical voice was almost like one he’d heard long, long ago. And only in the Beastkin of Bymere.

  Raheem slowly canted his head, glancing over at the man standing behind the doorway with a wicked looking blade. “You aren’t the sultan.”

  A bandage wrapped around the man’s head, crimson fabric hiding any blood which might have dotted the fabric. He was the right build for Nadir. Strong and broad, taller than most men and a wicked look in his yellow eyes.

  Raheem was certain this wasn’t the boy he’d helped raise.

  The man narrowed his eyes. “Perhaps you’ve forgotten what I look like.”

  “Who am I to you?” he asked.

  “Raheem, Captain of the Guard and wiped from all history for leaving with the Beastkin of Wildewyn and the dragon woman who destroyed the city.”

  “But who am I to you.”

  The man didn’t have a response. His eyes remained narrowed, then he slowly removed the knife from his neck.