Fate of Dragons

by Alisha Klapheke

  Barefoot. She hadn’t even had time to put her boots back on before her life had veered painfully off course. Vahly’s eyes shuttered, scared to the core that Arc might be mistaken that Nix was alive. “Can you follow her tracks?”

  He nodded, and they started into an area of oaks growing so close that their branches intertwined to block out what little light had been trickling through the canopy. Arc raised an orb of light with his left hand and released it with a flick of his fingers. The light floated, riding a breeze that was also born of Arc’s air magic, illuminating their way. They followed a game trail, its line narrow, obviously not used by large animals. A head-high branch had been broken and Arc gestured to it. She had been here.

  Vahly had to talk her feet into walking instead of running. Nix was out here, somewhere, hurting and alone. But rushing Arc’s tracking work wouldn’t be a good plan. They had no time to waste on getting lost.

  “What kind of animal runs this trail?” she asked.

  Arc glanced her way and paused, his lips parting slightly as if he were about to ask why she wanted to know, right now, in the middle of this horror. His gaze lighted over the tears that wet her cheeks, and he held back his question.

  “A small, slim deer that keeps to the plateau,” he said. “They have one horn in the center of their foreheads and their coats are metallic in look. The hairs reflect and refract light and mimic the look of golden steel.”

  “Sounds lovely.”

  They walked in near silence. Arc made virtually no sound as he crossed the ground. Vahly’s boots crunched on a leaf or stem here and there, but she too knew how to be quiet when it mattered. Whoever killed the dragons and the elves could still be out here.

  “She listed away from the game trail,” Arc whispered. “See?” He pointed to a large fern someone—possibly Nix—had snapped along its spine and smashed. “And there is a footprint.”

  Vahly cupped a hand at her mouth. “Nix?” she called into the dark forest, daring to make a sound loud enough for Nix to hear. “I remember now. We are here to help you. Nix?”

  What was Nix going through? Had she been forced to watch Ibai, Kemen, and Dramour die? Had she been witness to whatever foul creature had murdered their entire party?

  Vahly drew her sword, the feel of its weight a comfort.

  Arc pursed his lips. “Whoever did this is long gone. I don’t smell anything but dragon here now.”

  They stepped around a clutch of what might have been scorchpeppers. The air held the slight peppery scent of them and it reminded Vahly of the cider house.

  “Do you have any guesses who did this?”

  “It was Canopus,” Arc said.

  Vahly remembered the elf, tall and fair, with that vicious-looking mouth of his. “King Mattin’s right hand.”

  “The elders reprimanded him for using foul magic in the past. He wanted a maiden for his own and she didn’t care for him. She was one of Cassiopeia’s nieces. He tried to cast a spell on her while her father and mother were out hunting and gathering. But her younger brother saw Canopus enter through their back door and he ran to the King’s guards to get help. Mattin publicly thrashed Canopus, a punishment the King had not carried out in an age.”

  “Why would Canopus wish to do all of this?” she asked. “What was his motivation? He killed his own kynd and they had captured us. Where was his head in this scenario?”

  “Perhaps Vega or the others had information about him,” Arc said. “Maybe they knew of a plan of his to gain power.”

  Vahly frowned. “And when they showed up on the border with us, he decided this was as good a time as any to take care of the problem? With four dragons to deal with too? I don’t know. That doesn’t sound right. Seems like there would be easier ways to off a group of scouts. Besides, wouldn’t he at least want to know why we, the dragons and I, had come here, to the forest to find elves?”

  “He may have questioned the dragons before slaying them.”

  Vahly tensed, stopping. To think of them being tortured, used against one another. Dizziness took her and nearly threw her to the ground.

  “I am sorry for your loss, Vahly of the Earth.” The corners of Arc’s eyes seem to turn down in his sadness.

  Swallowing, Vahly worked to find her voice. “I am sorry for yours as well. I could tell you respected Vega and Leporis, and that you loved Pegasi like he was your own.”

  Arc turned away. When he finally spoke, pain cut his words into sharp syllables. “He was a good lad. A strong and good lad.”

  They stood there, quiet and grieving, with the glow of Arc’s magic circling.

  Vahly touched Arc’s sleeve. “Wait. Didn’t Leporis tell Vega and Pegasi to leave Nix because she was injured?”

  Arc’s face cleared. “Yes. That’s why she escaped the massacre. But I do think she is here now. Somewhere.”

  Arc regarded Vahly, his gaze mournful, before he headed deeper into the wood. Vahly whispered to the Source, her heart aching, begging for Nix to be alive.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Vahly and Arc pressed through the bracken, faces scratched by thorns and branches, and hope dwindling as they failed to find Nix.

  “What do we do when we find her?” Vahly said the word when like a prayer.

  “I will heal her if I am able.” A branch caught on Arc’s surcoat and he brushed it away.

  Vahly flexed her sword hand. “Then we confront Canopus.”

  “Perhaps we should talk to Mattin first,” Arc suggested.

  “What if they’re in it together?” They had seemed close when she’d first seen them at the throne.

  Arc blinked, then rubbed a hand over his sharp chin. The orb painted his forehead gold. “Do you truly think they are?”

  Vahly shrugged. “Mattin looked exhausted. Bags for days. Isn’t that odd for a powerful being like him?”

  “It is strange. I thought perhaps he had been ill while we were away. We do suffer from illness time and again, as humans did. As humans do.”

  “Possible. But I think a straight-on attack in public might be the way to go,” Vahly said. “If we expose him, the truth might force the spell from the others.”

  “All right,” Arc said. “It’s agreed then.” His gaze snapped to a spot on the forest floor, at the silvery base of a towering beech. “Vahly.”

  Without an explanation, he took off into the brush. Vahly hurried after him.

  Arc directed his orb of light over an area of crushed plants.

  Nix lay there, asleep in her human-like form, her broken wing at an odd angle.

  Vahly hurried to kneel beside her. “Nix?” And then Vahly was crying again. Where had her steely resolve gone? “Nix.”

  Nix’s eyes fluttered open. “Vahly!” She collected Vahly into a hug and Vahly breathed in the rosy scent of her scales. “I thought they killed you too.” Holding Vahly at arm’s length, she studied her face. “I have terrible news.” Nix’s eyes tightened and she squeezed Vahly’s shoulders, her talons biting into flesh.

  “I already know. They’re gone. They’re all gone.”

  And then they were embracing again, Nix’s sobs causing her body to heave.

  “Who did it?” Vahly asked gently. “Do you know?” She didn’t want to ask if the murderers had forced Nix to witness the deaths. “When did you manage to climb up the plateau? They had left you in the marshes, right?” Vahly hugged her one last time and then helped her to her feet.

  “Yes. But I followed them as quickly as I was able. I planned to do whatever I could to fight. My wing is broken, but my fire works just fine.” Nix seemed to notice Arc for the first time.

  Arc bent his head. “I am sorry.”

  “You didn’t do this crime, Arc,” Nix said.

  “But it was my kynd, wasn’t it?”

  “It was your King.”

  “I knew it,” Vahly said. There was no victory in her voice though. It would be nearly impossible to fight Mattin. They had to expose him in front of his kynd and hope the spell
on their minds would break, forcing them to band together and overtake the monster.

  Arc sat on the ground and removed his boots. He looked positively stricken. Between the death of young Pegasi and the fact that his king was most likely the one who’d spelled him—his own cousin—he seemed about to break. Vahly wasn’t sure how to help him. She was still reeling herself.

  “What are you doing?” Nix asked, standing with Vahly and wiping her tears with the back of her hand.

  Arc offered the black boots to Nix. “Please. Wear these. It’s the least I can do. While you put them on, I’ll attempt to finish healing your wing.”

  But Arc’s magical strength hadn’t changed since the spell dropped away. He was still bogged down somehow and Nix wouldn’t get the benefit of a fully powerful royal of Illumahrah.

  Nix started to argue, but then agreed. This was a quieter version of Nix, muted in her grief.

  After laying hands on Nix and being unable to heal her completely, Arc stepped away and snapped out a phrase in elvish.

  Vahly was surprised she understood the curse. She’d have guessed the ability to understand elvish—put there by whoever had spelled her—would have disappeared when the temporary amnesia and false memories departed.

  Arc took a deep breath, removed the tie from his hair, and faced Nix. “My power remains stifled by spellwork. Do you have any ideas on how I might rid myself of this curse? I’ve never seen anything like it. Not in my alchemy work. Nowhere.”

  “How about we head toward Mattin and see what kind of trouble we can make?” Nix didn’t wait for Vahly or Arc to agree. She shuffled into the dark as if she knew the way.

  Arc smoothly slipped in front to guide them, and in silence, they trudged back the way they’d come.

  Vahly dreaded seeing the mounds again.

  Numb, she kept her focus on Arc’s back. It was too bad he had taken off his bow and quiver at the King’s home. At least he still wore his throwing knives.

  Every step closer to the site where their friends had lost their lives felt like a step closer to dying themselves.

  Vahly grabbed Nix’s arm. “Can we stop? I … I need a minute.”

  Nix’s features tightened like she was bracing for a strike. “Of course. Maybe we should say a few words.” She closed her eyes briefly and shivered, wings quivering.

  Arc stood close, forming a circle with them. His glassy orb of light floated above them. “I would like to participate, if that doesn’t offend you.”

  “Of course you’re participating.” Vahly used her sword to cut a small line in her palm. A few drops of blood dropped to the damp earth. “I bleed for you, Dramour. I bleed for you, Kemen. I bleed for you, Ibai.”

  Arc obviously wasn’t familiar with this dragon tradition of personal mourning. He watched with respectful curiosity as Nix did as Vahly had.

  Vahly held her sword out for him and he took it with careful hands.

  “I bleed for you, Pegasi.” He cut his own palm, not without some effort. Elves’ flesh was stronger than Vahly’s. “I bleed for you, Leporis.” Blood glistened on his shining skin before falling into the dark. “I bleed for you, Vega.”

  The three of them joined hands and bowed their heads in silence.

  “Source keep them,” Vahly and Nix said in unison.

  “Be of the air.” Arc’s voice rumbled in his chest and his fingers twitched against Vahly’s. “Be of the light and the shadow. Never forgotten.”

  The wind stirred Vahly’s hair and slid across her face, drying the last of her tears. They stood there for a while and Vahly was in no hurry to let go of Arc or Nix. Both were a comfort, a balm against the raw pain of loss.

  Nix finally broke the silence. “We need to solve this problem or our friends died in vain.”

  Arc politely gestured to Vahly’s fresh wound. She gave him her hand and he held it softly, his thumb dusting over the back as he poured magic, warm and sure, into her cut. When it was healed, his gaze flicked to her face. She stared into those glittering black jewels, wondering how she’d been so Blackwater blessed to find this ally. This friend.

  Next, Arc took Nix’s hand. Her eyes narrowed as he began his work, but she remained still and thanked him genuinely at the conclusion.

  Vahly started down the path, Arc beside her and Nix just behind. They passed the mounds and remained quiet until the place was well behind them.

  “How did Mattin act?” Vahly asked Nix gently. Then she turned to Arc. “Do you have any idea why he would do this?”

  Nix gripped the front of her dress, her hands shaking. “He came with only one other elf.”

  “A fair-haired male wearing a vial around his neck?” Arc asked.

  “Yes. They had magic I’ve never even heard stories about. Not only light and shadow and wind. It was …” She stumbled a step and shuddered.

  Vahly put a hand on her forearm. “You survived. You are strong. And we will annihilate Mattin and Canopus. Just you wait, my friend.”

  “Mattin spread his arms, whispered elvish spells, and then Dramour, Ibai, and Kemen fell on their own swords.”

  The words were a hit to Vahly’s back. She nearly dropped, but Arc caught her arm. She squeezed his elbow and steadied herself. “That bastard.”

  Nix walked on as if she were afraid to stop. “He did the same to your kynd, Arc. But he told them to cut their own throats.”

  The wind gusted as if it could sense Arc’s growing rage. “We will avenge them all.” His words were steel, sharpened to a deadly edge.

  “Wait,” Vahly said, realizing their mistake. She felt foolish about not thinking of it, and also hesitant to bring it up, but… “What if we pretend we don’t know and I go through the power ritual. Then, hopefully I will be far more capable of helping to bring down Mattin. He is most likely lying about the entire ceremony, but that bowl has power.”

  “It does.” Arc’s gaze grew distant.

  A few steps ahead, Nix twisted and put a hand against a young oak. “So the elves did know of a human power ritual?”

  Vahly nodded. “There is a lapis lazuli bowl. Mattin said he used to fill it with Blackwater from the Illumahrah spring for the humans. They would wash their hands and face to wake their powers, both Touched and not.”

  Nix inhaled slowly, a sound almost like a hiss. “Where is this bowl? Can any elf fill it for you? Or must it be an elf of royal blood?”

  “I have royal blood. I would fill it for you, Vahly,” Arc said. “Mattin has the item at the feast.”

  Nix kept an eye on the forest. With her dragon eyes, she could see far past both Vahly and Arc. “Could we grab this sacred bowl and get to that spring without Mattin knowing?”

  “We’ll run a nice little con on him,” Vahly said, anger rising in her and cloaking her grief. “We’ve done them together many times, Nix. We can do it again now.”

  “A con?” Arc’s eyebrow lifted in question.

  “A confidence trick. We shower Mattin with praise, distract him by pretending we are a couple,” Vahly said, wanting to grin at him, but not quite able to make eye contact.

  Nix snorted. “Pretend.”

  Vahly ignored her. “Then we’ll nab the bowl. The bowl might be a trick. It might curse me. But I have to give this a try. I don't have any other options. But we can’t trust that Mattin will actually let me go through with the ceremony, if it even is a power ritual. It probably isn’t. It’s most likely all a lie. Do you have any idea why he would do all of this? The spellwork on everyone’s minds? The killing?”

  Arc shook his head. “It makes no sense. We should all be as one, united against the coming flood.”

  “Nix, are you willing to head to the Source’s spring on your own? That way if we need backup when we arrive, you can bring on that dragonfire of yours.”

  “Oh I’ll be more than ready to roast elves. Sorry, Arc.”

  “Roast away,” he said, his voice tight. “I’ll drive Mattin and Canopus right into your flames if I have the chance.”


  “I just wish we could get you back to your full strength,” Vahly said to Arc.

  “We will make do with what we have,” Nix said. “There is no other choice.”

  “True.” Vahly embraced her.

  Arc looked into the night. “You’ll need to head northwest. Can you use the stars to guide you?” he asked Nix.

  “If your fancy trees don’t block the constellations the entire time.”

  “The Source’s spring pulses with all four magics. Air, water, earth, and fire. As a highbeast and a worker of fire magic, you will feel the Blackwater as you near it.”

  “That sounds ominous.” Nix winked at Vahly and began to leave. She glanced over her shoulder. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll probably smell the fancy magical pond. This thing is the stuff of legends.” She touched her nose.

  Vahly nudged Arc. “She knew I was bonded to Amona when none of the other Breakers realized it.”

  “Good. She is enlightened, and that is one more tally on our side of this coming fight.”

  Once Nix seemed to have her bearings and disappeared from view, Vahly and Arc headed straight for Mattin.

  Vahly’s heart beat so loudly she could feel it in her neck and at her collarbone. She wanted revenge, and by the Blackwater, she would get it.

  Chapter Eighteen

  When they returned to the celebration, the elves had replaced the baskets of berries and vegetables with long, wooden slabs covered in silver platters. Each platter held slices of venison dressed in mild blue peppers and pearl onions. The elves were seated on the mossy ground, chewing and talking companionably.

  Around them, the forest sang. Glowing distura birds chirped like perfectly tuned woodwinds, a warm breeze rustled thick leaves, and the pool of fresh water inside the oaken castle gurgled.

  Vahly sighed and said a silent prayer. She hated that Mattin and Canopus tainted the beauty and peace of this place.

  Arc talked to Vahly as if they had never left to find their kynd slaughtered in the forest. He asked her about her preferred bow and what instruments she played.