by Ava Sinclair
Some of the young priestesses start to approach the cages, but Myrna halts them with a word.
“Don’t do this,” I say, exasperated.
I move to Imryth. “Is there any way you can show her, the way you did in the Deepening?”
He shakes his head. “Regrettably, no. One can only divulge such a thing to a being who is bonded.”
“Bonded?” My eyes widen. “Imryth, what greater bond is there than family?”
Myra is leaving, her priestesses reluctantly trailing after her. Some villagers, devoted to her leadership, follow in her wake. Others continue moving towards the cages. Still more stand in the center of the village, undecided.
I run to my aunt. I will get through to her.
“Stop,” I say.
“Get out of my way.” Her tone is hard. “I do not believe you. I do not believe any of this. It’s trickery. The witches…”
“…are creatures of great mystery, Myrna. And if you trust them you will trust that they do not always do what we expect. You told me to trust their judgement, when you sent me to the rock. Now you must trust.”
“How do I know this comes from the witches?” she says.
Instead of answering, I reach up and clasp her head. I close my eyes, willing my thoughts to travel into her mind. She stiffens. I have never thought so hard, never pushed my mind to such limits. It is harder than it is with my mates, because pride is making my aunt resistant. But I feel our minds merge then, and I show her the ShadowFell. I show her glimpses of the great battle. I show her Isla, our conversation. I show her the ancient cave, and the terrible beauty of Arvika, Queen of Witches. I feel her sink to the ground and I go down with her. We are on our knees. Her hands are on mine. She is shaking.
I open my eyes to see hers staring at me, full of fear.
“By the gods,” she whispers, and I know now she believes me. Shame has replaced anger on her face, shame in her pride. Myna turns to her priestesses, calls them to her. The run back towards the village and fan out, carrying the message that the Head Priestess has had a vision, that the message of Lyla the Dragon Rider is true.
The Dragon Rider. I smile when Tythos hears the descriptor and winks at what has become our private joke.
We begin to organize the villagers into the huge iron cages. It is no easy task. Some young boys are in the hills, gathering berries. Their wailing mothers understandably refuse to leave without them. Jayx and Zelki shift back to go search for them.
My mother, who looked so depleted, has been revived by my presence. She and some other women join her sister and the priestesses to evacuate the older villagers into the cages. They bicker with some who want to bring their favorite things from home, even though we tell them that they cannot. A few of the older villagers refuse to go in the cages, still clinging to Myrna’s initial assessment and the belief that I am a sorcerer.
“Should we force them?” I ask Tythos, feeling helpless.
“They are your people,” he says. “But if it were me, I’d rather die free on my own land than captive in another.”
When I point out that they are already under Drakoryan rule, Tythos counters that this is different, that here their world is known. “We are asking them to trust us, to get into a cage and leave all they have ever known behind. Could you?”
“I did,” I tell him.
“They are not all so brave.” He turns serious then and points to the sun. The evacuation is taking longer than we expected, and the sun is sinking fast in the sky.
“I will not leave without my boys!” A woman nearby throws off Drorgros’ gentle hand as he directs her towards a cage. Her son is one of the lads in the hills. I walk over to her.
“And you shall not,” I promise. “The Drakoryan will find him.”
But even as I make the vow, I am growing nervous. I can see the reeling forms of the dragons scouring the hills. I try to imagine what I’d do if I were a child and saw dragons overhead. I’d likely tuck myself in a cave.
Search as men, I convey to Zelki, and he drops into the trees on the hills along with Jayx.
I turn back to sorting the villagers. Mothers with children go into one cage. I allow them to take bread and milk for the journey. Everyone is allowed a blanket. I explain how the dragons will rise up and down, exhaling warm breath on the cages carried by others to keep the air above the mountains warm and breathable. I tell them to focus on their children and not to be afraid.
I caution the old people to set an example for the young ones, to think of their grandchildren. I am slowly convincing more of them to enter the cages. I know the trip will not be easy for them. I fear some may not survive, despite our best efforts.
When the first two cages containing elderly and mothers with young children are filled, it is decided that they should leave for the Drakoryan Empire. Xarsi, one of the Lords of Za’vol, carries these first passengers away from the village. I feel for the men they leave behind. The women sob as they watch the village recede. Their mates look to the skies, uncertain. I tell them all will be well, but I know they won’t believe me until they are reunited.
“We can’t wait much longer.” Drorgros is growing concerned. Clouds are moving in, prematurely darkening the sky. My mother and I have convinced many of the village women to enter the cages, but some refuse in solidarity with the mothers whose sons remain in the hills. The men of the village have all agreed not to enter the cages until the women and other children are safely inside.
I am pacing now, and realize that I no longer see my mother. But I know where to find her. I walk to our little hut, and there she is, standing inside, looking around. I walk up behind her and embrace her in a hug.
“I can’t believe you’re back. My daughter is home, but the day she comes back to me is the day I lose the home she returns to.”
“I’m sorry.” I press my cheek against her back. She turns around.
“Don’t apologize. I’m so proud of you, Lyra. Shocked, but proud. I wish I’d known you were alive. These months…”
“You don’t have to tell me, Mother. I missed you every day.”
She turns and holds me at arm’s length. “Let me look at you.” Her eyes scan me up and down. “You’re married…”
“Mated,” I say.
“And I didn’t see your wedding.”
I smile. “They are dragon lords. Our union was…unconventional.”
“I can only imagine.” She arches a brow. “Four, you say?”
I blush. “Mother…”
She laughs. “Now, now. I won’t pry. Not yet, anyway. But once we are settled, you must promise to tell me everything.”
I consider this. “I promise to tell you almost everything, Mother,” and we are giggling like girls.
It’s a brief bit of merriment, however. We hear shouts, and run outside to see Zelki and Jayx have returned, leading four boys. Shouts of relief rise from the villagers. Finally, everyone is heading to the cages, and not a moment too soon. The sun is starting to sink behind the mountains, but tell myself not to panic. The ShadowFell were not seen to attack until tomorrow. We have time.
“Is that the last of them?” I ask when Drorgros shuts a cage door.
“I think so. But we should check just to be sure.” He sends the other lords from house to house, and even to the outbuildings to make sure nothing is left behind. Some of the children cry as their livestock is set loose. Tythos has said they will try to come back by day and salvage what animals escape the Wolven or ShadowFell. I hope the animals will hide. The children of the village help raise the stock, and often become attached.
It is time to go. I look at the filled cages lined up in a row. My mother looks out from one. I run over, take her hands, and kiss them. Imryth will carry her cage.
The dragon lords step back and shift from human to flame to dragons once more. They begin to fan their wings until they are hovering above the cages, each grasping iron rings welded to the top and taking off. I can hear the villagers inside cry out.
I hope they will remain calm.
Drorgros kneels, stretching his neck once more. I mount confidently, seating myself within his scales. I am ready to fly, but I am not ready for what we see on the horizon behind us. A black dot against the darkening sky that is getting bigger by the minute.
Chapter 15
ZELKI
No.
It cannot be.
I am the youngest. I am the bravest. I am the strongest. But my heart turns to ice when I see the what is coming over the northern horizon. It is the enemy, and he is coming.
Fast.
What can we do but flee? We have a head start.
Fly fast. My brothers and I share the same thought. Were it just us alone, we would face him down. But we have human cargo. Villagers. Lyla’s villagers. If we sit them on the ground to fight, the ShadowFell may incinerate them. We have no choice but to fly.
I can feel my brothers’ worry. The dark clouds are bringing storms, and a headwind that batters us as we fly. There are no currents to carry us. We flap our wings, strained by the extra weight we carry.
Formation!
Tythos is ordering some of us lower. We obey, opening our mouth and breathing out, not fire, but warmth that flows over the cages. We have no choice as we climb higher, but even this precaution slows us down. I look back. The dragon is larger. He pumps his wings savagely. I can see the ember flame of his eyes.
Faster! Tythos urges, but we are at maximum speed. The ShadowFell will overtake us. Second thoughts run through my mind — perhaps we should have just forced the villagers into the cages rather than spend time reasoning with them. Perhaps we should have left without the children and come back. But I know we’d still be there if we’d tried to take the village by force. They would have scattered. Lyla may have stayed rather than return.
A gust of wind to my left nearly sends me reeling. The ShadowFell has zoomed past me in a burst of speed and has disappeared into the clouds. He’s toying with us. Up ahead, I see Drorgros, his head cocked up to the sky. Lyla is looking up, too, and then the black dragon is coming again, breaking through the clouds. His mouth is open and I realize with horror that he is aiming at our eldest brother who carries our mate.
I don’t have time to react, but she does. Lyla pulls out the shield she’d tucked under Drorgros’ scale and covers herself. Drorgros is protected from the flames by his own scales. Lyla protects herself with Imryth’s gift. Did she have some premonition to bring it?
I hear screams from the cages Drorgros carries, but his body acted as a shield from the fire. Showers of sparks rain from around him, but none of the villagers are harmed.
Where did the dragon go? I look up to the sky. Yes, that is where he must be, up high, refilling his glands with fire venom. The clouds have grown thick, increasing our nervousness as we approach the mountains.
It is the worst thing that could have happened. Fire we were ready for, but not this. No one expects the dragon to backtrack through the crowd cover and emerge not from above, but from the side. He hits Imryth broadside, using a spurred claw on to slice my brother cross the top wing joint. Imryth bellows and reels, losing his hold on one of the cages.
I feel instantly sick as I watch it reel downward. I hear Lyla scream. It is the cage holding her mother. I instantly react, folding my wings and drawing my feet to my belly, holding my own cages against me. The dropped cage is plummeting fast, but just before it strikes the side of a mountain, I grab the ring in my mouth and ferry it back upward.
The ShadowFell has seen me. It narrows its eyes in anger, deprived of the reward of seeing the cage smashed on the rocks. My cargo is in for a wild ride, but there is little else to do. We are now flying over mountains we know. I have the advantage here.
The villagers are screaming now. I let them. The ShadowFell will follow me, drunk on the sounds and smell and taste of fear on the air. I am heading towards a pass that was one of my favorites as a young dragon — one with a special anomaly. Years ago, it was partially blocked when a portion of the upper peak crumbled and collapsed, leaving two gaps — one large and one small. My father always warned us to be careful when flying, to always take the lower gap, for the upper one was too narrow for any dragon. But I head for the higher one in the cloud-shrouded gap, slowing until I feel the heat of the black dragon’s breath on my tail. He is breathing too hard to fill his fire glands, but I know if he could get beside me he would slam me into the mountain or spur me as he did Imryth. Fortunately, the pass is too narrow for two dragons to travel abreast.
Come my brothers, I call. Come now! I’m counting on what I’m about to do to be a success. I am less than a furlong away from the top gap. At the last minute, the clouds thicken, as if by magic. This is the best possible scenario. I dive, zipping through the bottom gap. A second later, I hear an angry scream. I glance back and my heart leaps in victory. The ShadowFell is stuck in the top gap, his wings pinned at his side.
I fly up from the pass, setting the cages I carry on a ledge. I take off, flying higher and higher, filling my fire glands. I loop around, and reenter it. I do not want the villagers to see what I am about to do, but it is unavoidable. I reenter the pass and hover, expending my fire on the ShadowFell. It screams in anguished rage — a horrible sound, even to another dragon.
I leave the gap. Tythos enters. Smoke rises and the dragon screams again as Drorgros, with Lyla on his back — her face set in grim determination — burns him again.
Nearby, I see our wounded Imryth on a ledge, his cages beside him. Blood trails in thick streams down his side. My sympathy for the screaming dragon disappears. I fly back up once more and this time when I dive, mine is the killing stream of fire. The trapped ShadowFell twists and writhes, then goes limp. The stench of his burned flesh fills the air.
Brother. I call to Imryth. Can you fly? I pick up my cages and glide to where he is. He looks up at me, his eyes swimming in pain.
The other dragons take his cages in their mouths. Imryth can still fly, but only with great effort. His golden scales take on a lackluster appearance. Two dragons fly beneath him, ready to support his weight should he fall.
But he doesn’t fall. We make it back to the Empire, back home. I have never been so relieved to see the other side of the mountain range. Imryth manages to stay aloft until we reach the cave. He has no strength to land on the platform, but crashes into it. We set the cages down as carefully as we can. Lyla does not even wait for Drorgros to shift. As soon as he lands, she wedges herself from beneath the scales, sobbing, and lowers herself down his neck and shoulder. Her cries fill the cavern as she runs to Imryth, cradling his great muzzle in her arms. His eyes roll back in his head.
“We must get him to the pools!” she cries, but I am afraid. We cannot while he is in this form. He must shift. I tell her this, then I tell her he lacks the strength.
“No!” She looks Imryth in his eye, heavily lidded now. “Shift, Imryth! You must! Don’t leave me!”
He groans. A pool of blood is spreading across the platform.
“No!” She kneels, not caring that she is knee deep in blood. The women in the cages watch and cry, partly from fear of what has happened and partly in grief for the woman who saved them. “Don’t leave me, Imryth!” she cries. “I can’t live without you!”
Imryth’s tail moves then, slowly, but deliberately. It hooks around Lyla, pushing her back. He struggles to sitting, curves his neck. He is drawing on all his strength. For her. For love. He bursts into flame. It is a weak flame, but it is sufficient. The shift takes longer than usual, but there, in the place of a flame lies the human form of our fallen brother.
We rush him to the pool, running as fast as we can. A few of the lords had the foresight to stay behind and check the cages for villagers who might also need the healing waters. But at the moment, Lyla’s eyes are only for Imryth. She wades into the water, cradling his head in her arms, cooing to him like a baby. Her tears fall on his face.
I keep my eyes on his wound. It is deep. It remind
s me of father’s. But it is on the shoulder, and I allow myself to breathe when the water begins to knit the flesh back together.
We can’t allow Lyla to stay in the pool. The waters are too strong for a human to stay in too long. We have to forcefully pull her away as I take her place holding Imryth. I angle him so that she can touch him from the side. Soon he stirs, opening his eyes. The first face he sees is Lyla’s. She kisses him. She kisses me. She stands, kisses Drogros and Tythos. We are laughing. We are crying. We are home. We are safe.
For now, at least, we are victorious.
Chapter 16
LYLA
“Our world is changing. You may not like it. I don’t like it, either. But in the short time I’ve been here, I’ve come to love so much about being a Fire Bride. We are cherished. We are protected. We rely on the strength of our lords. Now, if the Drakoryans are to survive, we must be as strong as our lords.”
I am in the Crystal Cavern, facing the other Fire Brides. There is no lounging today, no wine or music or gossip. There are only unsmiling, anxious faces of women who have learned that their world is changing, and that they will have to change along with it.
Their lords have told them that a war is coming. King Vukurcis himself will soon call a war council. But defeating the ShadowFell is only part of the coming fight. Isla sits beside me. She told them the story of what happened to Branlock. Each Fire Bride comes from a village. Now, they must collectively decide to do as I have done. I am appealing for volunteers from each remaining village to return to their homes with their lords and an army of dragons, to reveal to grieving families that they live, to convince their friends and family and neighbors to relocate to the empire, to new villages, to better ones, under the protection of the Drakoryans.
I am not surprised to see Syrene is the first to step forward. Others are more hesitant. They are afraid, they say. They are afraid to leave their sons. What if something should happen. I tell them the truth, that they must have faith in their lords to protect them as my lords protected me, that without saving the villagers, their sons will never marry, and the empire will fall. The future lies in the village they left.