Visioner

by K K Ness

  “Of a sort,” Hafryn replied dryly. He squeezed Danil’s shoulder. “We’re on the Orin River, about a half day from the great rapids.”

  “I know the place. We will come for you,” Sonnen promised.

  The tension in Danil’s spine eased a little.

  “Danil, how are you doing this?” Freyna asked, curiosity coloring her voice. “Communicating through kiandrite is a master enchanter’s skill.”

  “I don’t think I’m the one doing it—not intentionally, at least,” Danil admitted, fearful that it was the glyph at work.

  Hafryn shared a similar thought. “It’s easier if we show you what’s happened. But we must make for Kailon. Freyna, are you well enough to meet us there?”

  “Perfectly so, my dears.”

  Sonnen gave a low growl. “She exaggerates and shall remain in bed. I’ll send Elania in her stead.”

  An indelicate snort rang out. “So I’m too frail to leave my sickbed but well enough not to need my carer, hmm?”

  Sonnen sighed, and Danil could all but imagine the dragon prince squeezing his nose in frustration. “Yes, Freyna. That is indeed what I said.”

  She huffed, though her tone was teasing. “Very well. I accede to your greater wisdom, dragon. My leylines are very much still in need of calming—though, Danil, you should know they stand with you.”

  The crystal turned a sallow green as a jealous grumble entered Danil’s mind.

  “I’m honored, Freyna,” he managed, then gave the crystal a gentle squeeze.

  “As does Corros,” Sonnen added, unaware of the crystal’s mood. “No matter the High Council’s decision.”

  Danil shared a glance with Hafryn. “I decide Kailon’s fate, not the High Council of Amas.”

  Hafryn gave him an approving wink.

  “Oh, my dear, we already know,” Freyna said. “It is good to hear you say it, though.”

  “If the winds are kind, we should be with you tomorrow,” Sonnen said. “Hafryn, can we expect trouble?”

  “With Viren? Always.” They both glanced upriver. “We’ll not be retaken, however,” Hafryn vowed.

  “There will be an accounting for what he has done,” Sonnen assured. “In the meantime, keep an eye on the sky.”

  “And a hand upon the blade,” Hafryn promised.

  26

  Buoyed by the prospect of rescue, Danil and Hafryn continued down the river as the day turned to night, passing the occasional village and farmholds interspersed between the grey escarpments and forest.

  Morning came, and Danil took his turn at the tiller as Hafryn caught a rare moment’s rest curled up on the flat-bottomed prow. The sun made the freckles over Hafryn’s nose starkly evident, wisps of red hair loosened from his braid to be pushed about in the crisp air. Even in sleep, Hafryn held their one weapon close, a rusted fishing knife they’d found abandoned under a plank of loose wood. Shifting his vision, Danil saw the wolf similarly curled up, nose to tail, and he admired them both.

  In truth, Danil was similarly dead on his feet. He could scarcely sleep, not with the heated glyph riding like a dark shadow in the back of his mind.

  A flash of blue flitting between the pines on the left bank caught his eye. With a shock of dread, Danil recognized the ghostly owl Trueform.

  He reached down to grip Hafryn’s shoulder. “Hafryn,” he murmured. “Merlias’ Trueform is in the trees.”

  The wolf shifter was alert and upright in a heartbeat.

  A raucous roar came from behind them, and Danil spun to see a fleet of skiffs making their way down the river. Upon the foremost boat, Viren stood ominously on the prow, hands clasped behind his back as the wind whipped his cloak about. Other Eyrie leaned over the sides or clung to the rigging, grins visible in the distance.

  At some unseen signal, owls launched into the air.

  Hafryn moved to the bow of the skiff, rusted knife in his clenched fist. Heart racing, Danil quickly worked to rip free the bandage about his hand.

  Hafryn glanced back at him, scowling. “Don’t—what are you doing?”

  “I honestly have no idea,” Danil muttered, hurrying to join him. He certainly wasn’t going to see them captured again, not without a fight.

  He looked up to see the owls abruptly scatter.

  A great shadow passed over them, and Danil saw blue scales and a long, sinuous neck. The air about them billowed and gusted as powerful wings whomped.

  “It’s Griff!” Danil shouted in relief.

  The blue dragon roared so loudly Danil had to cover his ears.

  Hafryn climbed the railing, cheering as the fleet tacked wildly to avoid a massive ball of flame that struck the water with a violent, boiling hiss. Viren quickly retreated from view, the lead skiff yawing hard to turn about. Griff raked powerful talons across the bow of one boat slow to flee, sending its occupants diving into the water.

  Danil whooped in delight.

  Griff launched back into the air with a single flap of his wings and swung about. Releasing a tremendous roar, he came barreling down toward Danil and Hafryn.

  Hafryn stepped down from the railing. “Fala—”

  Danil had no time to brace. A tremendous weight slammed into the skiff, and suddenly he was catapulted into the river. Frothing water churned about him as he was pulled down by the current. Broken planks of wood and rope tangled about him. Danil pushed to the surface, gasping. The air rang with an enraged dragon’s screams.

  Griff flapped above the remains of the skiff, hissing and snarling as he scored the deck with powerful talons. The blue dragon ripped apart the mast where Hafryn had last stood.

  “Hafryn!” Danil screamed, fighting the current.

  The blue dragon swiveled his powerful head toward Danil. A heartbeat later, Griff launched across the water and landed atop him. Powerful talons snared Danil and forced him deep underwater. His back struck the muddy bottom, and Danil thrashed, air forced from his lungs from the immense pressure of the dragon’s grip.

  Above the frothing water, a red wolf launched onto the dragon. Griff’s enraged bellow reverberated into the depths as Hafryn scrabbled to find purchase on the dragon’s scales. The wolf sunk powerful jaws into the meat of Griff’s shoulder. Griff raked at Hafryn to tear him loose.

  Danil grabbed a rock and smashed it against the dragon’s talons. Through the blurred surface, he saw blood hit the water before Hafryn was hurtled across the river.

  Bubbles released from Danil’s mouth as he screamed. He stretched out his hand toward the surface and felt something push through him.

  In a blast of poisonous red light, Griff was shunted backwards.

  Lungs burning, Danil kicked up to the surface. Bursting free, he gasped, sucking in great gulps of air, and thrashed about. Hafryn floated face down only a few feet away. Danil splashed toward him, turning him about to see blood covering his front.

  A flash of blue caught Danil’s eye as Griff crashed downstream. The dragon seemed disorientated, momentarily blinded as he flailed about in the water.

  A heartbeat later, a golden dragon landed on top of him with a wild screech. Griff floundered, trying to launch with a desperate splash but Sonnen had him by the neck. They bit and tore at each other with shocking intensity.

  Coughing, Danil kicked for the bank, hauling Hafryn’s unconscious form with him. Beyond the fighting dragons, Viren’s fleet of skiffs continued to retreat, with only one boat pausing to collect those who’d been tossed into the water.

  Hands suddenly reached down from the bank, and for a terrifying moment, Danil thought Merlias had them. He blindly struck out, only for his wrist to be firmly snared. Flinching, he looked up to find Patril, the commander of Altonas, together with a dozen crow shifters.

  “Patril?” he choked.

  “Steady, custodian,” Patril said as she heaved him up the rocks. Two men moved quickly to get Hafryn out of the water. “We have you both.”

  Four of her archers lingered on the bank, bolts trained on the fleeing Eyrie skiffs as an
other crow rolled Hafryn over and pressed a finger to his throat. She quickly set her hands to the deep claw marks raked across Hafryn’s chest as an enchantment burst forth. Danil desperately clasped Hafryn’s hand, fearful of how deep the wounds were now that the river wasn’t washing away the worst of the bleeding. His crystal sang loud enough for Patril to give it a sharp look.

  Moments later, Hafryn heaved in a strangled cough as his eyes snapped open.

  Danil choked out a relieved cry. He pressed their foreheads together, eyes stinging.

  “Steady, now,” the healer warned.

  “Hardly a scratch,” Hafryn rasped with a weak smile. He tried to rise but grimaced in pain.

  Upstream, Sonnen forced Griff into his human form. The blue dragon shifter appeared unconscious as Sonnen hurled him onto the bank.

  Blinking away tears, Danil sucked in exhausted breaths. “Why would Griff do this?” he wondered aloud. “Why fight off the Eyrie if only to attack us himself?”

  Hafryn gave a new groan, although it was laced with cynical realization. “Because that’s the only way he could be sure you wouldn’t get away. You’ve escaped two assassinations already, fala.”

  Danil stared down at him with confusion, wondering if Hafryn had injured his head, also.

  Patril quirked an eyebrow. “Sonnen has had us follow Griff for some time now.”

  But that made no sense, either.

  “Don’t you get it, fala?” Hafryn pressed bitterly. “Griff’s been trying to kill you for weeks.”

  27

  A copse of pine trees gave them sanctuary away from the river. Patril sent her crows to scout the area about the camp and upstream for any sign of Viren and his followers. The branches overhead creaked and sighed in the breeze, with a crow perched in the foliage to watch over them. Patril herself walked a slow patrol about the camp, dark eyes intent.

  Still, Danil couldn’t shake the rush of fear at how close he and Hafryn had come to capture and death. Rattled, he had to accept that his journey into Amas had been nothing like he’d expected. There was so much intrigue, vendettas and deals within deals that he wondered how the kingdom wasn’t at war with itself. His only hope was that Arlyn hadn’t reached a similar conclusion. A fractured, discordant Amas would only make Roldaer bolder.

  Hafryn lay stretched out on a cloak amidst the dry pine needles, his stomach and chest exposed as the healer continued her work. Small iridescent glyphs dotted Hafryn’s skin.

  To Danil’s relief, the bleeding had stopped, but the long wounds courtesy of Griff’s talons appeared raw and painful. For his part, Hafryn remained still and white-lipped, though he complained bitterly at the loss of the fishing knife to the river. Danil suspected his friend had spent long, quiet moments imagining how he’d use it should he ever face Viren again.

  With a sigh, the healer sat back. “You’ll scar handsomely, my friend.” She sounded pleased with her work.

  Grabbing a clean tunic given to him by one of the crows, Hafryn tipped Danil a rakish wink. “As long as you agree, fala.”

  Danil ignored Hafryn and instead addressed the healer. “Can he travel?”

  “By morning, I expect, if he doesn’t do anything stupid,” she said as she tucked the small vial of iridescent paint away into a pack. “Injuries inflicted by a dragon are the most difficult to remedy. Even your master healer friend would find it a struggle.”

  “You mean Elania?” Danil asked in surprise.

  The healer merely nodded and pointed to his hand. “May I attend you, custodian?”

  Curling up his hand, Danil resisted the urge to hide the glyph behind his back. “I’m not sure a healing can fix this,” he admitted grimly.

  “There’s a darkness about you, but I don’t think it’s of your own making,” she observed calmly with a tilted head.

  Danil stared at her, wondering if her lack of disquiet was related somehow to her crow heritage. During their adventures in Altonas, he’d discovered crows were unflinching and resolute no matter the danger.

  Her Trueform perched on her shoulder, gazing back at him with beady black eyes.

  “I, too, can sense the wrongness,” Sonnen said, stepping away from where Griff sat bound and surly on the ground. Two crow enchanters guarded the blue dragon shifter, having cleared a circle about him in the pine needles to etch warding glyphs. Shifting his vision, Danil saw Griff’s Trueform stalk outside the ring, unable to enter.

  “Might as well show them, fala,” Hafryn said, gingerly climbing to his feet.

  Danil nervously raised his palm. Blackened blisters scored the edges of the glyph, and the glyph itself radiated such heat that Danil wondered if his companions could feel it.

  Sonnen’s eyes widened slightly in recognition. “It would be most unwise to place a healing enchantment over Danil’s injuries,” he said to the crow healer. “Herbs and unguents only, if you please.”

  She bowed and stepped away to gather the necessary materials.

  “You know what it is,” Hafryn surmised with a mix of relief and trepidation.

  Sonnen gripped Danil’s wrist to tilt the glyph toward the dappled sunlight spilling through the pines. “Indeed. You must tell me how you acquired it, Danil,” he said urgently. “Spare no detail.”

  Heart racing, he and Hafryn recounted the events that had transpired since their capture. Danil took pains to remember all that had happened in the tower that had been beyond his friend’s ability to see.

  Sonnen looked troubled at how the crystal had played its part. “We can only hope that Kailon’s leylines know things that we do not.” He examined the sharp, pulsating lines more closely. “It has taken my House glyph,” he noted somberly.

  Swallowing against a sudden ache, Danil whispered, “Yes.”

  Despite how he’d not found much sense of belonging in Corros itself, Danil mourned the House glyph as a symbol of his unlikely friendship with the dragon prince.

  Hafryn shifted anxiously on his feet. “Sonnen, what can you tell us about the damned thing?”

  Sonnen gave Danil’s wrist a gentle squeeze before releasing him. “In the catacomb libraries at Corros, there are numerous references to Kaul’s magi-generals—they bore this very glyph.”

  Confirmation that it was one of Kaul’s workings came hardly as a surprise to Danil, not when the glyph emanated such foulness.

  “To what purpose?” he asked with an effort.

  “There are writings by enchanters who fought in the Great War. They tell of firemages who set about burning the forests that grew above the leylines. Kaul’s magi-generals somehow harvested the dead kiandrite released with the ash.”

  “Ash? Firemages?” Hafryn threw Danil a startled look. “Fala, your visions.”

  Sonnen looked between them, a low rumble in his chest.

  “I’ve seen Kailon burn,” Danil admitted to the dragon prince. “First in Corros, and then since getting the glyph, I’ve had dreams and visions of the entrance to Kaul’s temple.” The crystal on his chest was a beseeching hum in his mind. “We have to go down there.”

  “Are you certain that’s a good idea?” Hafryn asked, caution in his green eyes. “Entering Kaul’s former domain when you bear his glyph doesn’t seem wise.” He glanced at Sonnen hopefully. “Unless you can remove it?”

  Sonnen shook his head. “I fear what would happen if we try.”

  Danil swallowed, rubbing his uninjured hand over the crystal. “I have to trust that the leylines have a purpose driving all of this.”

  Sonnen studied him contemplatively for a time. He nodded. “Very well. We shall make the journey to Kailon.”

  Relief left Danil almost dizzy.

  “And preferably before Viren decides to return,” Hafryn added with a grim look toward the river where it sparkled between the pines. “But what about Griff?” Hafryn asked.

  They all turned to stare at the blue dragon. Griff raised his eyes to glare back with haughty contempt.

  Danil shook his head. “I still don’t understa
nd how you figured out Griff was behind the assassins.”

  “Griff’s activities of late have been unusual,” Sonnen started.

  Hafryn gave a derisive snort. “You mean he volunteered to help find us when we went missing from Corros.”

  Sonnen grunted in acknowledgement. “That he also flew Elania to Corros was irregular. I’d hoped it was out of genuine concern for Freyna, but when he offered his aid in the search for you, my suspicions grew. Griff has never been one to care deeply for others.” He shook his head. “Patril was happy to lend some of her crows to the task of keeping an eye on him. She sent word of Griff being hereabouts last night.”

  “We’re fortunate she did,” Hafryn muttered, giving the commander a bow as she continued her patrol about the camp.

  Patril paused and inclined her head. “My people in Altonas haven’t forgotten what you’ve done for us, Custodian Danil.”

  Flushing slightly, Danil replied, “I’m grateful to you.” Without her warning to Sonnen, he was sure he would have lost Hafryn to the river and likely died himself.

  Patril smiled and continued her patrol.

  Danil thought back to Griff’s mad fury as he tried to kill them. His skin pebbled, and he rubbed his arms briskly. “I don’t know how we could have offended Griff so much in the first place.”

  Sonnen raised an eyebrow. “Shall we ascertain his reasoning?”

  Hafryn glowered across the camp. “By all means.”

  They made their way to where Griff sat within the enchanters’ circle. The blue dragon didn’t bother to rise, gazing up at them with disdain.

  Sonnen crouched until they were at eye level. “You have betrayed me, Griffin. And your people as well.”

  Griff sneered but said nothing.

  “What insult could Danil have possibly perpetrated to inspire your rage, hmm?” Sonnen pressed. “Or is your hatred of humans so deep that you cannot see Danil for the man he is?”

  That irritated Griff into speaking. “I couldn’t care less who and what Danil is,” he spat. “It’s what you plan to do with him, Sonnen, that forced my hand!”