Fire Bride

by Ava Sinclair

  “And this is Lady Lyla. I saw you in my dreams, my dear, on the day we sent your name to the priestesses. I never thought to see you again. But your image emerged, a light among the darkness to come.”

  “It is the darkness that brings us here.” Drorgros rises.

  “Yes,” Arvika says. “The ShadowFell. They are waking. Many moons they have slept, and in their slumber formed the darkest of plans. You think your enemies to be simple brutes, but they are evolving with each deep sleep into something more cunning, more terrible. Now they are emerging. Six have awakened to carry out a plan they communicated as they lay in the depths of the mountains.”

  “They seek to defeat us,” I say. “But how?”

  The timeless face turns grim. “By becoming what you are. Your humanity has given you an advantage. The ShadowFell king is determined to harness man magic, as your kind have harnessed dragon magic. The ShadowFell seek to start a new race to rival the Drakoryan.”

  “Is that why they’ve taken the women?” Imryth asks.

  “Yes. And when they have taken all the women from all the villages, they plan to come here. They want to destroy the Mystic Mountain, to enslave the witches and use our magic to fulfill their plan.”

  Lyla speaks up now, and the witch queen smiles. “Forgive me, Queen Arvika. I’ve read much of Drakoryan history since being claimed by my lords. How can the ShadowFell be strong enough to take your magic when its source is the God and Goddess?”

  “Ah, so it is,” the witch queen says. “But there are many gods and many goddesses, my dear. Not all are good and kind. Each has its own unique magic. Dark forces assisting the ShadowFell may lend them the magic of strength, which they need to capture the magic of change.” She reaches out and touches Lyla’s face. “Even a witch can be forced to give up her magic.” A tear comes to her eye. “It is the greatest of violations.”

  “What can we do to stop it?” Drorgros asks.

  The lady steps back. “The villages must be saved, as your lady wishes. You must start with hers. Even now, the ShadowFell plan to attack there on the next new moon.”

  “That’s two days away!” Lyla looks stricken.

  “Yes,” Arvika steps aside, and an orb rises from the water and floats towards us. As it approaches, Lyla begins to gasp.

  “I saw this. In my dream.”

  An image emerges, of her village of two black dragons attacking, killing. Our mate cries out and turns to Imryth, who takes her into his arms.

  “The orb shows what may happen, not necessarily what will happen. There is time.” Arvika lays her hand on Lyla’s shoulder. “Look at me.”

  Lyla obeys.

  “This is where you will be key. It is time for the Drakoryan brides to take a role in saving the empire. That starts with you.”

  “Me?” she asks.

  “Yes. All the dragon lords must fly to the villages. They must take baskets large enough to carry the villagers. All the humans must be removed, brought back to the Drakoryan Empire and resettled in the shadow of the castles.”

  “But how can I help?”

  “Only a sacrificial virgin from each village will be able to convince the villagers to go with the dragons. You will go and save your people, Lyla, and then you will convince your fellow brides to go to their villages, to save those they love.”

  “My queen,” Lyla says. “It may be easier to save my village than to convince the brides to save theirs. So many have forgotten where they came from.”

  “Yes,” she replies. “Which is why you will remind them.”

  “You will need to make haste,” Arvika say, and then turns back, and looks at Jayx as if he’s an afterthought. “I nearly forgot! You…you are here because of a woman, the one from Branlock.”

  Jayx bows his head. “Forgive me; I could not leave her.”

  “And well you did not,” the witch says. “For then you would have truly been unworthy of such a strong woman.” She places her hand on Jayx’s arm and looks towards Drorgros. “Her arrival signals a change for your kind. To bring the humans into the protection of the Drakoryan empire will mean to reveal yourself and end the mystery of the dragons. The time for sacrifices has come to an end. We will still decide who mates and when, but I know the Lords of Za’vol burn for a mate, and no Drakoryan who burns can fight. War is coming, and I will allow the house of Za’vol to take Isla of Branlock as a war bride. Some other houses, too, will be allowed mates, should the war last a long time. But take heed, Lord Jayx. As you burn with need, your mate will burn with anger over what she has lost. My advice to you? When the time comes, do not stand in the way of her vengeance.”

  “Do you swear to remember?” she asks.

  “Yes,” he says. “I swear it.”

  “And what of breeding?” Zelki boldly asks. “Must we wait? Wars can last for years and years.”

  The witch smiles. “We shall see.” She looks at our mate. “Would you like to bear children, Lady Lyla?”

  Lyla glances at us. “I…I don’t know.” The witch queen smiles. “Do not be afraid. You will be a wonderful mother.”

  She steps back. “Go now. There is much for you to do. There are villages to save, and for the lords of Za’vol, a mate to claim once the humans are safe. And there is a war to plan for.” She pauses. “Will the Drakoryans defend the Mystic Mountain as they always have?”

  “Yes,” we say in unison. Even Lyla answers. The witch queen smiles.

  Our time with the witches ends abruptly then. Wordlessly, we make our way to the stairs, for the long journey up. Despite the grueling climb, it doesn’t seem to take as long. This time, Lyla chooses Zelki to ferry her home.

  Later, Lyla will observe that Zelki is in the air as he is in the bedchamber. He tests her limits, taking her up to the clouds before looping and reeling downwards. I try to squelch my disapproval, for I cannot begrudge her this moment, this burst of freedom that takes her over the mountains and plains. I know it is the last peaceful moment she will enjoy before she knows her loved ones are safe.

  Chapter 14

  LYLA

  Today is the day I fulfill the promise I’ve silently made each day since coming to the Drakoryan Empire. Amid the happiness I’ve found here is the shadow of sadness each time I recall my mother’s anguished face the day I went to Altar Rock.

  It seems so long ago, even though it has only been months since I left. So much has happened. I have so much to tell her.

  But first, I must save her and everyone else.

  Perhaps this is why I was chosen. Perhaps the pain of separation was the price I paid for the chance to save my people.

  I am standing before the mirror, dressed now for my ride to the village. The bodice of my blue-gray gown is fitted and high-necked, with a row of lacing down the front molding it to my body. A long, pointed hood hangs from the back to cover my head against the wind. The skirt is split, revealing a pair of trousers I had Beti sew into the garment for me; the legs are tucked into black boots. Beti was scandalized when I described the modifications. Why would a lady need trousers? I kindly told her it was none of her concern. For some reason, this seemed to please her. I look forward to having my mother back in my life. I can only imagine her umbrage if I dismissed her in such a way.

  I stayed with Imryth last night. I could not sleep, and he took me fast and rough several times — so unusual for my usually methodical lover. But I’d needed my rest, and he was eager to exhaust me. We’d fallen into slumber in a tangle of sweaty limbs. This morning, I’d asked if I could take the dragon scale shield he’d given me on our first night together.

  “Of course. It’s yours,” he replied. Now he walks into my chamber just as I pick it up. His gaze meanders down my body.

  “You look every inch the lady warrior,” he says, and I smile.

  “It will only be a battle of wills. A sacrificial virgin back from the dead to convince villagers to climb into cages? I hope it will work.”

  “It will.” He lifts my hand to his lips an
d kisses it. “And your mother shall meet us and say, ‘What fine mates my daughter has. How proud I am!”

  Imryth mimics a high voice and I roll my eyes. “My mother sounds nothing like that. You’ll see. And I get my strength from her, so have a care, Lord Imryth.”

  Our eyes lock. “Are you ready?” He’s grown serious.

  “I’m scared.”

  “I know.” He offers me a reassuring smile. “But take it from someone who is often afraid. Fear is something you ride out, like a storm.” He looks down at the shield. “You’re taking it?”

  “For luck,” I say, with more optimism than I feel.

  “Here’s a kiss for luck to go with it.” He tips up my chin. His lips are warm on mine. My gentle lover, my scholar. Will he ever completely understand how I adore him? Will any of my mates ever understand how their differences appeal to me? Steady Drorgros. Guarded Tythos. Hot-headed, fun-loving Zelki? I try to focus on tomorrow, imagining us all returned, safe, with the villagers.

  I’ve decided to ride Drorgros to the village. It seems appropriate, to return on the dragon that bore me away. The castle smith began working on the cages as soon as we returned, and they are sturdy and foreboding. I wish there was another way, but the cages – to be carried in pairs by my mates and the dragon lord allies accompanying us – are the most effective way of evacuating my people.

  I stand at the mouth of the tunnel while my lords and their companions change into their dragon forms. My heart swells with pride as the multi-colored blazes shoot to the rocky roof over the platform at the edge of the inland sea. The flames morph, solidify and now there are eight dragons of varying hues. I walk between them towards Drorgros, unafraid now of the beasts that once made me cower and sob in the dark.

  Drorgros kneels and stretches out his neck. The pupil of his great golden eye shifts back to look at me. The eye is soft with the love only a dragon lord can have for his mate, and I climb on his back with pride. He shifts his scales and I move my legs beneath the one facing his head, wedging my shield beneath another scale. A scale lifts behind me, and I am secure as I fix my eyes on the dot of light at the end of the inland sea. The dragon beneath me pumps mighty green wings, rising into the air.

  And we are flying, this time with a cadre of dragons by our side. Drorgros shoots through the mouth of the cave and rises high above the land. The day is cloudy and cool as we pass over the hills and plains of the Drakoryan Empire, skirting the ridges holding other castles. I am more confident on my third ride, less prone to dizziness as I look down.

  We gain altitude as we head towards the mountain. Riding a dragon is so different from being carried. I breathe in the air Drorgros exhales, which keeps me from losing consciousness. Below us, the jagged peaks look close enough to touch. We move in and out of clouds, the cool mist dampening my skin.

  With catch an air current and glide, and my heart pounds when we clear the mountains that separate the Drakoryan Empire from the realm of humans, from the villages.

  From my village.

  Drorgros descends below the clouds. As we swoop over the fields of ash, I think of my fellow villagers, who surely must see us on the horizon. Until now, the Drakoryan have only allowed themselves to be fully seen on Claiming Days. What must they think, to see what looks like an army of dragons arriving so boldly, unannounced?

  I have my answer soon enough. When my village comes in view, I can see people running from the fields they’ve been tending. Women drop baskets and tools and scoop up children as they flee for home.

  Our descent takes us past Altar Rock, and my head swims with memories of the day I left my village. I am back now. I am home. The other dragons are already on the ground and Drorgros sets down, his landing far lighter than I imagined it would be. A cloud of ash rises from the ground.

  Not all the villagers make it to their houses before we land. Many are huddling behind carts or by walls. Women wail as they clutch their children. They send prayers to the gods. Men pick up pitchforks or scythes and stand in front of their huddled families, holding the crude weapons in shaking hands. They are prepared to make a last stand, prepared to die.

  Then I hear my name. Someone has seen me.

  “Lyla! It’s Lyla! Lyla! Lyla has returned!”

  Then I hear my mother’s name called even louder.

  “Sela! Get Sela! Someone fetch Sela!”

  My gaze moves to my house, the little stone hut that was my home until a dragon stole me away and took me to his castle. My eyes cloud with tears when I see her form emerge from the doorway.

  My mother. She’s thinner. Paler. Even after a few months, she looks older. My heart twists with guilt. She has not weathered my absence well.

  Drorgros lays down and stretches out his neck. He raises his scale and I slip from beneath it, swinging my legs over the side and descending the scales like steps. The village is silent save for the sound of dragons breathing and frightened children that still wail in their mothers’ arms. They loom over the villagers.

  “Mother,” I say, and begin to walk towards her.

  She takes a few steps from the house, sways then begins to run towards me. When she reaches me, she stumbles and together we sink to the earth. I hold her — the mother who held me — like a child in my arms. Her face registers the disbelief of a mind trying to process that which cannot be. Her dead child returned.

  “My darling. My Lyla.” She begins to sob, tears tracking down her ash-stained face. “You’re alive. You’re alive.”

  “Yes,” I sob. “Alive. Alive.”

  She looks past me then, to the dragons. “How?”

  I sniff and stand, taking her with me. “There’s no time,” I say, willing myself from grateful sobs to a sterner demeanor. “Mother, the village is in danger. I came back to guide you to safety.”

  I turn to the villagers. “The last time you saw me, I was taken away by the dragon. For years, they have ruled you, but I am here with them today because the time has come for your rulers to save you. There are other dragons coming – enemy dragons. They seek to kill and destroy. They will be here on the morrow, by the dark of the moon. You must come with us. Take only your children, the clothes on your back. You will be taken across the mountains, to a new home, where you will be safe!”

  “Sorceress!” someone cries. A man steps forward, armed with a pitchfork. He turns to the others. “You would heed this woman who now does the bidding of dragons? Look what they bring! Cages! They will eat us! Do not believe her lies!”

  “I am no mere woman!” I say. “I am a daughter of this village, and there is much you do not know. I am no sorceress! And these dragons! I point towards the four that step up behind me. They are more than dragons. They are my mates!”

  My mates burst into flames then. The villagers scream and the gasp in surprise as the flames shrink and morph into four handsome lords who step up to surround me. Drorgros walks past me to my mother.

  “Mother of my bride.” He bows low “It is an honor to meet you and the other villagers.” My mother cannot speak.

  He turns to the crowd then. “I am Drorgros and these are my brothers, Tythos, Imryth, and Zelki. We are lords of the Drakoryan Empire, the land across the mountains. For years, we have ruled you in dragon form, have protected you, have taken your daughters not for sacrifice, but for mates. They are there, across the mountains, waiting for you.”

  Cries come up from some of the women who now realize their daughters live. Cries of happiness, but anger, too, over the years stolen from them. There will be healing needed when we return.

  “Lyla?”

  My Aunt Myrna is coming, trailed by the other priestesses. Her face registers the same shock as my mother. I take her hands. I tell her danger is coming. I am surprised to see skepticism in her eyes.

  “If this were so, why would the witches not have told us?” she asks.

  I shake my head. “I do not know. Likely because showing you the awfulness of what is to come would inspire panic.” I try to take he
r hands, but she backs away.

  “No,” she says. “They would have told us!” The villagers, who have begun to move closer murmur in agreement.

  I look to my mother, whose eyes fill with tears. I can see that she believes me, her daughter. We can both see that my aunt does not. My aunt, whom I had counted on to be an ally.

  “Myrna,” I say. “You must help me in this. You must! Dark dragons will come. They will come and slay anyone who remains.”

  I turn to the crowd. My mates have seen the carnage. Two villages have already been destroyed; the most recent was Branlock, which lies to the north! The dragons that did this — The ShadowFell — now have our village in their sights! Anyone who remains will be torn asunder and burnt.” I pause. “And the maidens…” I turn to look at families with young daughters. “They will be taken as mates, not into the castles of good and worthy lords, but dark beasts who have dark hearts.”

  I turn back to Myrna. “You know me…”

  “I knew you.” She shakes her head. “I do not know this proud woman before me.”

  “Nor do I know this stubborn one,” I reply. “One who would let her anger at the witches endanger her people. Myrna…please.” She looks away.

  My mother speaks up now, her voice loud and clear.

  “I love Myrna,” she says. “I have always looked to her as priestess and sister for guidance and authority. But I believe my daughter now. If these dragons were here to steal us away, why would they give us a choice?” She looks at her sister. “Think on it, Myrna. So many years they have ruled us. But now they offer us shelter and protection, but only if we choose it…”

  I see a flicker of doubt in Myrna’s eyes as my mother’s words resonate with the villagers. Some start to move towards the cages. The other dragons shift now, turning into Drakoryan lords. They open the doors and approach families, talking low.

  Some of the young priestesses start to approach the cages, but Myrna halts them with a word.