ShatterStar

by Krista Rose

  The dragon grumbled again, and Brannyn at last looked up. “Yes,” he murmured, his voice still gravelled and rough. “I understand now.”

  I gaped. “You- you can understand it?”

  “Him.” Smoke trickled from the corner of his mouth as he smiled. “And yes. It’s Flamespeak. Only Firemages can understand it.” The dragon rumbled again, and Brannyn tilted his head, listening. “He says his name is Sylvathi. He’s been looking for me.”

  “Looking for you?” I gazed up at the dragon, incredulous. “What does it- he- want?”

  Sylvathi huffed, a deep, throaty rumble vibrating through my bones.

  Brannyn’s eyes flickered as a shadow passed across his face. “He says he sensed me, that we’re bonded somehow. I don’t really understand it. He’s been looking for me, but the smell of evil here was too strong. It confused him, so he attacked the town by mistake.”

  “Ah.” I gulped, feeling both afraid and foolish as I continued to cower behind my tree. “And is he, um, friendly?”

  The dragon rumbled. It sounded strangely like laughter.

  Brannyn chuckled. “He’s not going to eat you, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  I hesitantly stepped out from behind the tree. “Do you think you could turn that off now?” I gestured to his appearance. “It’s a little unnerving.”

  “Oh, right.” He frowned, closing his eyes. The red lines retreated from his skin, and the blackened flesh returned to normal. Within moments, he was merely Brannyn again.

  He blinked at me, his eyes tired but his own. “Sorry, that’s never happened before.”

  “Yeah.” I swallowed. “I know.”

  He glanced at his hand again, as if he could still see the lines of fire that had crossed it. “A Firemage. What does that even mean?”

  I stared at him, confused. “You do know what a Firemage is, don’t you?”

  “Of course I do. Everyone has been calling me one for years. I meant, what does it mean for me? Do I need some kind of special training? Am I a danger to those around me?”

  “No more so than you were before, I suppose.” I swallowed against the dryness in my mouth. “There are a few places you can go for training, Enevai being one of them. Lady Vysarine is a Firemage there.”

  The dragon rumbled something.

  “What did he say?”

  “He says I need to go with him to Mejares.” Brannyn frowned. “To the-” he paused, puzzling out the words “-home of the ghosts?”

  “Dragonwrayths.” I nodded in understanding. “Specialized Firemages that bond with dragons. They’re the only ones in the world that can ride them.”

  “I’ve never heard of them.”

  “I hadn’t either until I got to Enevai. Lady Vysarine used to be one before she became a Great Mage.”

  He shook his head. “I can’t go to Mejares. We still haven’t found the nest, the legions haven’t shown up yet, and the dark of the moon is only a few days away.”

  Sylvathi rumbled a question.

  “Because the evil you sensed is my cousin Felice, and the Vampyres she controls. The town has limited protection as it is. I can’t abandon them.”

  “Technically, you can. You’re nobility now, being a Firemage and all.” I shrugged when he scowled at me. “None of your previous oaths are binding.”

  “They are to me.” His jaw tilted stubbornly. “I’m not going to leave Fallor defenseless.” He narrowed his gaze at me. “And let’s keep that whole ‘nobility’ thing to ourselves, shall we? I have enough problems right now.”

  “Like being completely naked in the woods?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Nothing. What about him?” I pointed at the dragon. “Will he go back to Mejares without you?”

  Sylvathi rumbled something.

  “He says no.”

  “Well, he can’t just hide in the woods until the legions arrive.”

  “Why not?”

  “For one, because he’s the size of a house. It’s hard to keep something that big hidden. Second, he still needs to eat. You really think you can feed him on a guard’s salary? And your family will eventually notice if he keeps eating their livestock.”

  Brannyn frowned. “You’re right, I suppose.” Then his face lit up. “What if I didn’t hide him?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “What if I take him to the Manor and station him outside? He can protect the family from the Vampyres better than the guards can, and they can feed him in exchange for his protection. They already knew I was a Firemage anyway. I was the only one denying it.”

  I thought it over, and finally shrugged. “It’s not a very good plan, but it’s better than keeping him in the apartment, I suppose.” I jerked a shoulder toward the dragon. “What does he have to say about it?”

  Sylvathi huffed flames.

  “He says he’ll do it, as long as he can kill the Vampyres when they attack. He doesn’t like the way they smell.”

  “He could eat them.”

  The dragon recoiled and retched flames, which danced dangerously across the fallen pine needles before Brannyn stomped them out.

  “I’ll take that as a no,” I managed, and gulped.

  “Come on, Vitric.” Brannyn grinned, his eyes dancing despite the circles beneath them. “Let’s introduce a dragon to the Dragon.”

  BRANNYN

  Rose Manor, Fallor

  Great-Aunt Amandine was, to put it mildly, less than thrilled when I brought a dragon to her door. She cursed with a fluency that would have brought sailors to shame; my ears burned, and Vitric’s face turned so white it was nearly grey.

  “I didn’t even know you could do that with a donkey,” he murmured to me, his eyes wide as he stared at the small, delicate-looking woman who ruled as matriarch of my father’s family.

  “I don’t think you can,” I whispered back, and gulped. “Maybe hiding the dragon in the woods was a better idea. Or maybe we could fit him into the apartment somehow.”

  “Is he housebroken?”

  “Don’t talk like I can’t hear you whispering.” The Dragon of the Rose Family scowled at me. I thought any moment that she might breathe fire, though I doubted I would live through her blast. “I’m not deaf.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Though she barely reached my chest, I still cowered away from her. “Sorry, ma’am.”

  This one has the temperament of a Styrach, Sylvathi rumbled in approval. His head took up much of the entrance to the Manor as he watched Amandine from behind us. Perhaps she truly is a dragon.

  “What’s a Styrach?” I repeated aloud, confused.

  “What he is,” she snapped, gesturing to the dragon. “It’s his breed. Honestly, if you know nothing about dragons, you have no business imprinting with one. You’re too young for it in any case.”

  “Amandine, please.” I flushed to the roots of my hair as anger and embarrassment flooded through me. “I’m a grown man. I’m more than old enough to imprint with a dragon.”

  She said a word so foul even Sylvathi flinched, then threw her hands up. “Fine. But you still can’t keep him here.”

  “What?” My stomach dropped in dismay. “Why not?”

  “Because we’re under attack by Vampyres, and I don’t feel like having my home destroyed.” She glared at me, as if that explained everything.

  I stared at her blankly.

  She growled, frustrated with my lack of understanding. “Dragons are the Guardians of Fire, created by Destiny itself at the beginning of time. They are as pure as their Element, and created specifically to protect it from misuse by the creatures of the Darkness- like Vampyres.”

  “But that should make it even better, shouldn’t it?” I asked, still uncomprehending. “Don’t you want something to protect the Manor that can’t be corrupted?”

  She shook her head. “The Guardians of an Element, especially Dragons, can’t even be in the presence of one of these creatures without going mad. Berserker, as it were. If a Vampyre came here while your
dragon was present, your dragon would destroy everything for a mile in every direction trying to kill it, including the Manor.”

  I glanced over my shoulder at the dragon, who nodded his huge head in acknowledgement. It has happened before, I am afraid.

  “The tavern,” I remembered. “You said you sensed the Vampyres then.”

  It is like ice beneath my skin, freezing my heart, he explained. My thoughts are not my own. I must rid myself of the pain to melt the ice. But if it makes the Dragon-Woman feel better, I will promise not to burn her house. I have some control over it.

  “He says he promises not to burn down the Manor when he fights the Vampyres,” I repeated. “He says he can control it.”

  She frowned, her brows drawing together in a way that made my heart ache for Kryssa. “Ask him how old he is.”

  “Two thousand seven hundred and fifty-two,” I repeated after listening to his rumbled response.

  Amandine’s expression changed from suspicious to one of awe. “He is one of the Syrallas, then.” She bowed as if to a king. “I apologize, Syro-orin. I meant no offense.”

  “The what?” My head was starting to ache. “What did you call him?”

  “Syrallas. A Great Dragon, one of the old ones. Any dragon that lives past two thousand years becomes a Syralla. He is second only to the King of the Dragons in position.” Her eyes were thoughtful as she glanced at me. “Syrallas rarely imprint upon humans. Usually they only bond with Elves, because of the life expectancy.”

  “How exactly do you know so much about dragons, Lady Amandine?” Vitric asked curiously.

  “When I was young, I ran away to the Allun Temple.” She shrugged at our disbelieving expressions. “I was different in my youth, wilder and more uncontrolled. I thought it would be a great romance to join the temple of the Dragon-Worshippers. I was right, but it was little that I expected. After a year I left, and returned home.” Her smile was wistful. “But I never forgot the dragons.” She held her hand out toward Sylvathi. “May I?”

  Sylvathi lowered his head in assent, and she stepped forward to touch the ridge above his brows, between his horns.

  “Magnificent,” she murmured. Then she glanced sidelong at me. “Though I still think you are too young for such responsibility.”

  “I’ve been too young most of my life,” I reminded her. “I don’t see why now would be any different.”

  “Very well.” She stepped back with a sigh. “Position him by the gate, and see that he is comfortable. I will inform the family of our new guest, and arrange for his meals.”

  I grinned, and hugged her.

  She shooed me away with a huff, but her eyes glimmered with pleasure. “Go on with you.”

  Vitric and I walked back out of the Manor, heading across the neat lawns of my family home to station my new dragon beside the front gates. Fire burned beneath my skin, seeking freedom once more, seeking to purify the air around me, to burn everything in ash so that it could be reborn. I repressed it, though it was uncomfortable.

  I glanced again at Sylvathi, wondering how in one breath he had been able to release my terrible and wonderful power, when I had spent so long suppressing it. I wondered what might happen if he were to do so again.

  I sent a prayer up to any Gods that might be watching over me that I had made the right decision.

  KYLEE

  4 Syrthil 578A.F.

  The Rhyulian Mountains

  “Lyssen! Lyssen, can you hear me?”

  I blinked groggily, my vision wavering as I struggled to open my eyes. The flickering light of a fire on cave walls blinded me, sending searing pain through my head, which throbbed viciously. My mouth tasted as if I had swallowed half a desert. I managed to rasp, “What happened?”

  “We were attacked.” Vanderys’ hands were gentle as he helped me sit up, lifting a cup of cool water to my lips. It tasted like miracles. “Do you remember?”

  I had a sudden recollection of waking to the sound of clanking chains as green… things… boiled out of the mountainside like ants from an over-turned nest. Hundreds of them had surrounded our campsite in a matter of moments. They had seemed uninterested in talking; in fact, other than the odd clicking noises that they had made, I was uncertain that they could talk. Their skin had been a dark, unhealthy green, their eyes yellow and their teeth sharpened to points like an animal’s. Each had a prominent white scar in the middle of its chest, like a multi-pointed arrow with a cross through it. I had watched in confusion as they had surged toward us amid a forest of iron spears, the tips of which glinted in the morning sunlight.

  There had been no time to ask questions, to figure out what these strange, evil-looking things had wanted. Vanderys had yelled something, and I had lifted my hand and fired my lightning…

  I groaned. “I used too much, didn’t I?” It explained the spike of pain being driven through the back of my eyes, and the faint metallic taste that lingered on my tongue.

  “It was very impressive,” Vanderys answered carefully. “You killed many of the goblins.”

  “Goblins?” I repeated, squinting at him. “Is that what those things were?”

  He nodded, his face grim. “Dwarven arrogance. They experimented with magics from the other world, what you call Ca’erolne, in an attempt to make mindless slaves to serve them. Instead, they created the kay’Bayst’enoll, what you humans call goblins. They are horrid creatures, bent only on destruction and replication. They infest these mountains. I should have been more careful.”

  “It’s alright.”

  “No, it is not. I was distracted, and I did not think to put up wards.” He gestured to the entrance of the cave. “I will not make that mistake again.”

  I looked, but saw nothing except pitch-black sky and stars. “It’s night?” I gaped. “How long was I out?”

  “Most of the day,” he admitted. “But that is to be expected. It is the price of using the Binding of Thanir incorrectly.”

  “The what?”

  “The Binding of Thanir. Your ring.” He gestured to my hand. “I took the liberty of examining it while you were asleep.”

  I glanced down at the simple metal band wrapped around my finger. A thin chain connected it to the one around my wrist. I had tried to remove it several times, always unsuccessfully. I hadn’t known it had a name, and, as far as I had known, it only created lightning. “Incorrectly?”

  Vanderys’ brows drew together. “Did the one who gave you the ring explain nothing to you?”

  I thought of the strange, nameless man I’d met in the Siriun Forest, who had insisted on giving me a gift. “No.”

  He sighed. “I guess it is to be expected. After all, the Binding of Thanir has been missing for hundreds of years.”

  “Of course it has,” I muttered. “How good would it be if someone had seen it last week?” I shook my head. “So, what is it meant for, then, since you say I’ve been using it wrong?”

  “Thanir was a king that lived in the Ancient Kingdom of Cardoza, before the fall of the Elder Gods. He was also a very powerful magician.”

  Oh, great, I thought sourly. A history lesson. Because it’s not like my head is throbbing enough.

  “It is said that Thanir was one of the first to recognize that the Old Ones- the First Race- were becoming corrupted, and so he crafted a powerful ring to countermand them.”

  I could feel the scowl forming on my face. “That doesn’t make any sense. If it’s so powerful, then why-”

  “The Binding of Thanir is meant to counter attacks,” Vanderys explained patiently. “You are using it to create them. It is the difference between offensive and defensive, yes?”

  I gaped at him, then stared down at my ring in dismay. “You mean it’s not a weapon?”

  “It is, but not in the way that you are thinking. It is meant to exploit your enemy’s weakness, to destroy them with very little drained from you. Thus, with your strength, it can be used indefinitely.” His eyes gleamed, violet and guarded in the shifting light. “
It is a dangerous gift you weild, Kylee Rose.”

  It was so rare that he spoke my real name, I stared. I didn’t understand what made my ring so dangerous, but the fear beneath his gaze was enough to make my heart clench. I wondered if it was too late to find that odd, irritating man from the woods and throttle him.

  My stomach growled, interrupting my thoughts.

  Vanderys chuckled, and the intensity faded from his eyes. “Forgive me. It is not time for such talk. We will eat, and then you must rest. In the morning, I will teach you how to use your ring.”

  Questions flooded my mind as Vanderys turned toward the fire. How did he know so much about my ring? How had we escaped the goblins? How could defensive magic be more dangerous than offensive?

  The smell of abeline- Cedrani waybread, baked beneath the coals of the fire- drove these thoughts from my head. Exhaustion poured back into my limbs as I ate, and it was all I could do to finish my food before I collapsed back into my blankets, allowing dreamless sleep to claim me once more.

  KRYSSA

  4 Syrthil 578A.F.

  Temple of Sirius, Surak

  I woke to quiet darkness and the roar of whispers in my head. It felt as if I had been asleep for days, though it had been far from restful; the vile-tasting sedative the healers gave me only dimmed the voices, but it could not drown them out. Even in dreams they chased me, pleading and scraping across my skin.

  That the healers thought me mad, I had no doubt, for I was still in withdrawals from the cattakasha, and delusions are common among those purging any type of drug. But I had been mad before, and knew that this was not the case. I was not mad- I was overwhelmed by the sheer cacophany of the dead.

  Agony throbbed through my every limb as I sat up. My head ached. My mouth tasted vile. Even my blood seemed to hurt, burning sluggishly through my veins as it cried out for cattakasha.

  The infirmary was empty, though the door was slightly ajar, and I could hear faint, murmuring voices echoing in the hall. My captors- the healers- had left me alone.