Golden

by Melissa de la Cruz

  The old man brushed his hands together. Despite his age, he still held great power—he had called the drakonflame as easily as Nat could have.

  “Was she the one who cursed you into drakon form?” she asked Emrys, trying to distract herself. It was all coming together now.

  “Aye. And the curse includes not being able to tell anyone about it. At least as a drakon I could move. One time she turned me into a tree,” he said wryly.

  “I came for a drakon,” she reminded him. “But now you are no drakon and I fear I will never find mine.”

  She had failed, she thought. Eliza would burn down the tower, or else Avo would seize its power for himself; either way, they were all doomed.

  Emrys studied his hands, as if surprised they were no longer claws. When he huffed, Nat almost expected smoke to come out of his nostrils. He met Nat’s stricken gaze with a stern one of his own. “You do not need a drakon to retrieve your own. You are its soul, its beating heart. Call your drakon, and it will come to you.”

  “But the bond is broken,” she argued. “It has accepted another rydder.”

  “Nonsense. A drakonbond is eternal. Listen and it will hear your call. You have everything you need to get it back,” Emrys told her. “You always have.”

  “Will you not help me with this task?” asked Nat.

  “My time here is done,” said Emrys. “I am needed elsewhere.”

  “Where?”

  “There are other worlds than these, my child, many different pasts, many diverging futures,” he said. “The mirror of Avalon holds infinites.”

  He stared at both of them sharply. “The future of this world is in your hands. Choose wisely.”

  “Is that it? Good-bye and good luck? We rescued you from a curse!” she called.

  “And I am eternally grateful.” Emrys turned to Wes. “Remember what I said, Wes. Remember how the story ends. Remember.” He looked back at Nat. “Do not despair, drakonrydder; perhaps we shall meet again. There are other worlds than these.” With those parting words, he disappeared in a shower of red sparks.

  “Wait! Emrys!” she called, but already the hidden universe was coming apart. The curse was broken, the drakon released from its cage.

  Stars streaked across the sky; the earth rumbled underneath their feet. The dead trees shook into dust, the air became thin, and with a huge crash everything turned black.

  24

  THE DARKNESS GAVE WAY TO FAINT LIGHT, to the distant glow of embers and the sounds of breaking rock. Wes’s eyes blinked open. His head was still spinning from the journey back from the Red, but he steadied himself and tried to get his bearings. They were back in the conservatory of Apis, except the red door was now charred and black like the rest of the city. The drakon’s world was gone, collapsed like a dead star, burnt like the red door. He felt shaken, dizzy. He’d seen the death of the Queen and watched a great red drakon turn into an old man. He’d seen her ashes drift upward to the stars.

  “Snap out of it,” said Nat. He had forgotten she was beside him.

  “What did he say to you? What do you have to remember?” she asked, her green eyes shining in the darkness. Her face and her voice helped steady him. She was the thing that kept him centered, and he knew he did the same for her.

  “He said I should remember to save the world and get the girl.” He whistled, coming alive as he saw her.

  Nat laughed. “Is that so?”

  “Yeah. And he’s a wizard, so you know . . . a pretty wise man.” Wes made a face. They’d both been through so much. It felt good to laugh.

  “Wise guy more like it.” But she was still smiling.

  “Pretty big job if you ask me. Saving the world’s probably easier, though,” he said slyly. He moved closer, cleaning away the rest of the blood from her face with his own kerchief. As he wiped her face gently, it reminded him of the time he had bandaged her wounds on the trip out of New Vegas. Her ability to heal had been extraordinary. “You’re not healing as quickly as before,” he said, concerned.

  “Maybe because Vallonis’s power is diminishing,” she said.

  Wes kept his hand on her cheek, massaging the bruise.

  He leaned in closer, forcing her to look him in the eye. “I heard what Emrys said to you—about the sacrifice? What sacrifice, Nat? What do you have to do? Tell me. I can help.”

  “You can’t,” she said dully. “It’s my fate. Not yours.”

  “We’ll share it,” he told her, taking her hands in his, the way he had when she had brought him back to life on the ferryboat, their fingers intertwining.

  “NO!” she cried, looking horrified. “You can’t!” She pulled her hand away.

  It cut him to the quick.

  “Look, Wes, nothing’s wrong except the world is falling apart, and every minute we spend here puts everyone at risk.”

  “Liar,” he said, remembering Emrys had called her one.

  She bristled. “You can call me names but that’s not helping anyone.”

  Wes decided to bluff. “If you don’t want me around, that’s fine. I’ll leave you alone. We can go our separate ways,” he said, even though he wasn’t sure where that would be. Where would he go? The world was empty without her.

  Nat exhaled in palpable relief. “Great.”

  “Fine,” he said, his jaw clenched in anger. He’d bluffed and lost, but he didn’t show it. He was once the best runner in New Vegas. He kept his poker face. “If that’s what you want. I’ll find my own way back. Don’t worry about me; like you, I can take care of myself.”

  He left her at the conservatory and true to his word, he didn’t look back once.

  25

  NAT CLOSED HER EYES SO THE TEARS wouldn’t fall, pressed her lips together so she wouldn’t call his name. She hadn’t expected him to go, but he had. Was he just bluffing? That’s probably what it was. He’d wanted her to stop him, to say something, anything to make him stay. But she’d just stood there, biting her lip while he walked away. It’s better this way. This burden was her own, and if she was going to fulfill her destiny, she would have to stay focused. At least that’s what she told herself. Half of her wanted to run after him. Half of her wanted to forget about whatever it was she was supposed to be doing. Hell, part of her just wanted to give up and collapse right there and then.

  Call your drakon and it will come back to you, the Merlin had advised. Yes. She would do that—she’d come too far just to give up, though part of her wanted desperately to do just that. But too much was riding on what happened next. She told herself to get a grip, and to focus on the task ahead.

  She closed her eyes, willing back the drakonsight. Let me see once more through my drakon’s eyes. The Merlin had said her bond still existed—that it could not be broken. If it was there, buried somewhere within, she needed to find it, so she went back to the time when she last rode upon the drakon’s back. How did I feel when I rode upon the drakon? She recalled the wind in her hair and the heat rising off the drakonflame. The thrill of diving through the sky. The heart-pounding exhilaration of victory. She remembered the way the creature trembled when it readied itself to breathe flame, the way the fire would churn within it. She could almost feel the wind on her face, the warm scales shifting beneath her legs.

  At first she only saw what was in front of her, the glass conservatory of Apis, the rubble and the broken statues, the charred door.

  But then she saw it again.

  A second image, one of the skyline of New Dead City. Two images laid over each other. Two sets of eyes. A warm feeling stirred within her. She was back inside the head of Drakon Mainas. She knew the creature’s thoughts, its urges, its fiery heart, and, this time, she knew Eliza’s heart as well. Nat felt the weaver’s desperation, her thirst for revenge. They were ugly feelings, but try as she might Nat couldn’t shield herself from them. She felt the hatred, the confusion. She pitie
d Eliza. To live with such hate. She wondered how anyone could manage.

  Eliza had bonded with the drakon, and now Nat would be bonded with both of them. It wasn’t exactly what she’d wanted. Her head felt like a loud room, her thoughts were crowded, unclear, but Nat cut through the static. She cried out with her heart of dread.

  Drakon Mainas, come back to me.

  26

  THE SPEAKING STONE TURNED HOT WHEN he held it. Where are you? Wes sent. Send coordinates.

  New Dead City, Shakes replied. You guys out of the Red?

  Yeah.

  You got the drak?

  Not exactly.

  Huh?

  Wes, what is going on? Liannan’s voice cut through like crystal. Where are you? Where’s Nat? Is everything all right?

  But before he could respond, the ground rumbled under his feet. Godfreezeit. Hold on. He put the speaking stone away and ran back to the conservatory, cursing himself for being as stubborn as Nat. He wasn’t too proud to admit when he was wrong. He would happily eat his words if only it meant nothing had happened to Nat in the few minutes he had left her side. What had possessed him to leave her?

  He skidded to a stop when he reached the glass chamber. The Great Conservatory of Apis was collapsing, its glass dome breaking, sending fatally sharp shards falling to the floor. One was headed right toward Nat, who was looking up at the ceiling, paralyzed.

  “Nat! Above you!” he warned.

  She didn’t move, and so he made a flying leap and tackled her to the floor, rolling her to the side before it could hit her. The glass crashed a hairsbreadth away from where they lay.

  “We need to get out of here,” he said, breathing heavily from the effort and trying not to crush her body with his. “But I’m not sure I remember the way back to the surface.”

  “I don’t think we have to take that route,” she said, still pinned under him as she pointed to the glass dome above them.

  A shadow passed across the glass, a great black beast, its wings stretched like two dark sails. Mainas.

  “You called it back,” he said, reluctantly disentangling his body from hers.

  “Yes, but it’s fighting me,” she said, taking his hand this time when he offered it to help her stand. Neither of them mentioned the earlier spat or that Wes had returned. It seemed trivial once the enemy had appeared. “Where’s Eliza? She doesn’t seem to be riding it.”

  “Maybe Mainas got rid of her when you called it,” he said hopefully, although he knew that was a pipe dream, as sweet as one of those violet cigarettes Shakes preferred.

  “Maybe,” said Nat, unsure.

  Drakon Mainas’s dark silhouette passed across the glass once more, its shadow growing larger. This time, it struck the glass with enough force to rattle the entire conservatory. A terrible wrenching sound shot throughout the chamber. Its talons broke through the dome, sending more sheets of glass tumbling toward them. A mighty crash echoed through the conservatory. The drakon came again, its shadow visible through the cracks in the dome. It descended, turning in a great circle before laying its talons into the dome, rending the great curving iron beams that supported the glass, twisting them like twigs and tossing them aside. Above them, the ceiling collapsed in a shower of broken glass, metal, and stone.

  Nat called to her drakon. She screamed its name as Wes grabbed her and raised his shield, so that the debris bounced harmlessly around them. The sound was maddening. Everywhere around them the glass was shattering upon the stones, but none of it touched them, not even the smallest piece.

  “Thanks,” she whispered, her head tucked under his chin.

  “I shouldn’t have left,” he murmured, holding her close. “I won’t ever again.”

  “I’m sorry, too,” she whispered, so softly that he wondered if he had dreamed it.

  There came a screech like a banshee’s, and they looked up to see the black drakon hovering above them, blocking out the blue sky, circling.

  Nat pulled away to scream at the monster. “Drakon Mainas!” she cried out again, but the monster gave no care.

  The creature breathed fire so hot it melted steel and glass. Only Wes’s power kept the flames at bay, keeping them safe. Arches collapsed and columns buckled. The ground tilted and threatened to give way. They rocked on their feet, holding close to each other for balance. It seemed as if the whole conservatory would be gone in a minute, and maybe all of Apis would be gone, too. The creature seemed bent on destroying everything it could lay its claws into.

  The drakon burst through the remains of the dome. It roared and set the walls of the conservatory on fire. Everything crumbled into ash; the walls of the conservatory were collapsing. This was it, the end. They had no more time.

  Nat called once more to her drakon. “Mainas!”

  It twisted its neck toward her, then snorted, raking its claws on the shattered floor where it landed.

  “Don’t!” Wes said, holding her back.

  “It won’t harm me, it won’t,” said Nat. “It is mine.”

  The creature bent its neck, bowing low before her, as if daring her to come to its side. It looked as though it might tear her to pieces. It regarded her as if she were a stranger, but Wes knew she was no stranger to it. Eliza had only confused the drakon. She’d woven a web of illusions, and it was Nat’s task to break that web. Wes knew about Eliza’s power; he knew what Nat was up against and pitied her. This would not be easy.

  Wes looked down at Nat, so small in his arms, and knew he had to let her go even though everything in his body and mind screamed he was insane to do so. With his heart in his throat, he released her and watched as Nat slowly picked her way toward her drakon.

  For a moment, he thought it would relent, that it would dip its neck and accept its rydder, and Nat would be back where she belonged.

  Until he saw, from the corner of his eye, a white fluttering atop the drakon’s back. It was a corner of Eliza’s white robe. She had burrowed herself deep into its scales but now she appeared, triumphant and crazed.

  “Nat! Stop!” he yelled.

  Too late.

  Eliza tugged on the reins she had fashioned around the drakon’s neck, ugly iron chains that had melted into its hide.

  “Burn her!”

  27

  NAT LOOKED STRAIGHT INTO THE drakon’s gaping maw. There was a light at the end of it. Like a dim candle at the base of a deep well, the light flickered on and off. Then it grew brighter and Nat had the sensation of falling, tumbling toward that distant flickering. The dim flame grew brighter till suddenly it was no longer a candle. It was a bright and blistering sun. Drakon Mainas gave a tortured scream, shaking her out of her trance. Wes was yelling, stumbling as he ran to her; he hadn’t had time to deflect the creature’s attack, no time to send up his shield. She saw the drakonflame coming closer and steeled herself for the blast. The drakon exhaled. White-hot flame engulfed her, leaving her all alone, bathed in fire, trembling at the creature’s might. The roar of the flame and the sheer intensity of its light blocked out everything else. For a moment Wes was gone, the drakon was gone. There was nothing but white light, surrounding her on all sides.

  If she were anyone else, that light would be the last thing she ever saw. For anyone else, the heat of the drakonflame would mean death, the end. But Nat was no ordinary person—she was the rydder. The heat left no scars on her flesh, no blisters or burns. The white-hot light did not make her blink or cover her eyes, nor did she cover her ears to squelch the roar. She felt no pain, no discomfort of any kind. Like warm water in a bath, the flame caressed her skin, rejuvenating her.

  Nat stretched out her arms and let her head fall back. A great gout of flame washed down upon her, and she did not shrink from it. She stood in the middle of the fire, letting the flames lick every part of her, so that it burned inside and out. Don’t worry, she wanted to tell Wes. There is nothing to fear.
The fire did not harm her—it restored her.

  Each burst of flame made her feel stronger.

  She heard a voice echo in her thoughts. Is that you, Wes? No. It wasn’t Wes, but it was a familiar voice. It was garbled at first, faint, incomprehensible. She tried to ignore it, but it kept coming back, surrounding her like the flames.

  Is that you, Mainas?

  A powerful roar echoed in her thoughts.

  The flame had not simply restored her strength. It had begun to mend the bond between drakon and rydder. Little by little the drakonflame was restoring their connection, slowly stitching their souls back together. The drakon exhaled once more, covering her in flame, and she heard its thoughts, clear as they had once been. Soon, she would be whole again.

  When the flame faded, she was not only uninjured, she was glowing with good health. She felt more alive, even stronger than before. The light was pouring from her, radiating from every inch of her body.

  The feeling didn’t last.

  Eliza screamed her rage, pulling on the reins so that Mainas gnashed against the iron hooked around its mouth. With an angry shout, she shot back into the air, the drakon swooping and swerving without warning, attempting to throw her from it back. The drakon had two masters. Though Nat shared a link with her drakon, the creature was still bonded to Eliza.

  From below, Nat could see the black drakon struggling, its wings flapping oddly, its muscles convulsing.

  If Eliza couldn’t have the drakon, she would destroy it, Nat saw, terrified for the creature.

  Mainas, stop. Mainas, calm, she tried to send, but she fell backward as if she’d received a blow to the head.

  SHE IS NOT YOUR RYDDER! Eliza sent. The shock of Eliza’s strength sent her reeling. The warm glow faded from her skin.

  Nat touched her face, felt blood dripping out of her ear, while Wes scanned the skies, alert for another assault.