by Sarah Hawke
These men weren’t going to give me time to regenerate, of course, but then again they also weren’t as well-trained as my sister-wives. All in all, I considered it a fair trade.
Before the first group of thugs pounced on me, I opened my free hand and blasted the fountain behind me with a stroke of lightning. The bolt wasn’t powerful enough to damage the stone on its own, but the brilliant crash was so bright it blinded several of my opponents just before they could swing their weapons. I had bought myself a second of reprieve, possibly two, and I intended to make the most of it.
Whirling to my right, I decapitated a staggered human as he desperately tried to blink the afterimage from his eyes, and before his head hit the ground I lunged to my left and impaled a Kolathi brute straight through the chest. Several other thugs tried to pounce on me while I wrenched my blade free, but a heartbeat before they struck I called upon my master’s power and sheathed myself in crackling bubble of pure electrostatic energy. The instant their blades touched the barrier they screeched and stumbled backwards as a current rippled through the steel and paralyzed their muscles. They were only stunned for an instant, but once again it was more than enough—I scythed them down before I tucked myself into a ball and rolled away across the uneven cobblestones of the plaza.
Any sane, sensible band of street thugs would have run screaming after four of their companions had been butchered in a span of ten seconds. Evidently, Garaad’s men were neither. They continued swarming over me, and all I could do was stay light on my feet and remember my training.
You are part warrior, part sorceress. Pain cannot slow you. Magic cannot stop you. You are an instrument of my divine will. Remember this, my Dragon Bride, and you will be invincible.
I grit my teeth and lunged forward. With my bloody sword clutched in one hand and a spark of magic crackling in the other, I carved through Garaad’s thugs like a dervish of death and deliverance. My movements were fluid but powerful—I was faster and stronger than any of them despite my slender frame and modest reach. I knew when to press my advantage and allow my armor to absorb a hit, and I knew when to dodge and retreat so that my opponents would overextend. Soon my mask was so splattered with blood that I could barely even see, but my dance was as much about intuition as reflex. The thugs never stood a chance.
“What in the void are you waiting for?” Garaad screamed as the last of his men joined in. “Shoot her! Shoot her!”
I turned just in time to see a trio of crossbowmen rush up to their master and take aim. I didn’t bother diving for cover—before they could fire, I reared back and threw my sword at the closest one. The blade whirled through the air with the accuracy of a throwing dagger a fraction of its size, and it impaled the marksman just as he pulled the trigger. His companions balked when they saw him fly backwards, and their own shots soared well wide of their target.
It was their last mistake.
Thrusting out both of my hands, I unleashed every spark of power I could muster in a torrent of superheated lightning. Drell might have been able to block my attacks, but these men weren’t so lucky. In less than a second, my magic burned them to shrieking cinders.
Garaad’s red, puffy face completely drained of color. He stared at the corpses of his men in disbelief, and I wouldn’t have been the least bit surprised if he pissed himself right then and there. I knew he would recover eventually—he was a crime lord, after all, and he’d surely seen plenty of carnage in his lifetime. But I had no interest in giving him a chance to escape.
With the master’s power still coursing through me, I reached out and gripped him in a telekinetic vise, then violently hurled him across the plaza until he smashed into the fountain. He collapsed back into the water just in time to watch the statue crack in half and collapse on top of him.
“You bitch!” he snarled between unintelligible whimpers. “You can’t do this to me! I swear I’ll see you dead for this!”
“You are alive for precisely one reason,” I said, wiping the blood from my mask with the back of my hand. “You are going to tell me where Drell and his Vin Aetheri friends are hiding.”
Garaad glared up at me between frantic pants. His shoulder was clearly dislocated, and the statue appeared to have crushed his legs. “I’m not telling you anything!” he growled defiantly. “When my men find out what you’ve done, they’ll—”
“Do what?” I asked, glancing back over my shoulder to the pile of corpses and blood-sodden street. “Help you? Die for you? I doubt that very much.”
He blubbered something else in his native language before he shook his head. “Your master has tried to kill me before. I always get my vengeance!”
I sauntered over to him and braced my boot on the edge of the fountain. “Not this time. Tell me what I want to know, or you will rot alongside your men in the void.”
Garaad chortled to himself even as he spit up a wad of blood. “Your master won’t survive the winter. Don’t you understand? His own servants are turning against him! The Vin Aetheri knew you were coming!”
He either delirious or lying—the thought of a Dragon Bride willingly cooperating with the Vin Aetheri was so preposterous I didn’t even know where to begin. Only a handful of my sister-wives even knew I was here…
Grimacing beneath my mask, I extended my arm and reached out to my sword on the other side of the marketplace. The blade was still lodged inside a corpse, but my telekinesis wrenched it free. The moonlight glinted off the steel as it soared through the air and into my waiting hand.
“The Vin Aetheri are doomed,” I said. “And every traitor who stands with them will bow before the might of Emperor Kamir.”
“You have no idea what’s coming for you,” Garaad breathed, his lips curling into a sadistic smile. “The Conduit has awakened. She will destroy your master and every last one of his dragon whores!”
I pointed my sword at his face. A droplet of blood dripped from the tip onto his forehead. “This is your last chance. Where is Drell hiding?”
“To the void with you, cunt!” Garaad spat.
The fingers on my free hand crackled with magic, and I touched the touched the flat of my blade. Electricity surged up and down the steel as if the sword were a lightning rod. Garaad clenched his jaw in anticipation of my final thrust, but I had no intention of stabbing him. A man who had wrought so much suffering across Narthil didn’t deserve a quick death.
“So be it,” I murmured, dipping my crackling blade into the water. It was an even better conductor than I’d hoped.
By the time he finally stopped convulsing, the air reeked of fresh blood and seared flesh. I could feel the eyes of the townsfolk watching me from the shadows, wondering if I was about to turn and come after them next. But I wasn’t a murderer or a criminal—I wasn’t a thoughtless brute like Garaad who left death and misery in his wake.
I was a loyal servant of my people and the Dragon Emperor who ruled them. I was a fearless warrior of justice and order. I was the last line of defense against the barbarism of the Deadlands and the tyranny of the Five Kingdoms.
I was a Dragon Bride of Narthil. And one way or another, I would help my master redeem this world before it fell into darkness.
Chapter Two
Considering how brazenly I had disobeyed orders by crossing into the Deadlands, I didn’t expect a heroine’s welcome when I returned home to Thalamar. I was not disappointed.
“And so the prodigal bride returns,” First Wife Lysandre scolded me from across the pier. “You ignore my commands, you fail to capture your target, and you leave a river of blood and death in your wake. I still can’t decide whether your insolence or your incompetence offends me more.”
Bracing myself for the inevitable barrage of recriminations, I stepped off the boat and slowly approached my mistress. Her withering gaze was as intimidating as ever, especially since she never bothered wearing a mask here on the private pier behind the palace. Her arms were crossed, and her flowing white robe spilled out across the dock. From a di
stance, she could have been a wandering priest or monk.
Up close, her concealed armor and tattoos betrayed her true identity. She was the most powerful woman in all of Narthil, and little happened here in Thalamar without her knowledge or consent. Those who allied themselves with her were often blessed with riches and opportunity; those who defied her often found a Dragon Bride looming over the corpses of their loved ones.
Lysandre had never been particularly fond of me, not even when I’d dominated my fellow acolytes at the academy. I doubt she would have been impressed if I’d dropped Soren Drell’s head at her feet.
“My disobedience is inexcusable, and my failure is unacceptable,” I said, dropping to a knee at her feet. “I humbly submit myself for punishment.”
The First Wife scoffed in disgust. After nearly a week on horseback and another on a longboat, I’d had plenty of time to rehearse my apology. In the end, however, I had decided to dispense with any excuses and endure whatever torment Lysandre thought appropriate. I may have been young, but I was still a Dragon Bride. I wasn’t going to flee from my responsibilities like a groveling acolyte.
“I read your letter,” she said after a moment. “What I don’t understand is why you felt compelled to send a courier rather than return home yourself.”
“I had hoped that I could follow Drell’s trail and apprehend him in the mountains outside the city,” I explained. “Unfortunately, he and the Vin Aetheri covered their tracks well, and I didn’t wish to travel any deeper into the Deadlands without your approval.”
“You didn’t have my approval to travel anywhere,” Lysandre reminded me tartly. “You were supposed to patrol the border and return home. Our husband may have taken a liking to you, girl, but you are not his wife just yet.”
I nodded, still unwilling to lift my chin and face her directly. “You are right, mistress.”
“Of course I’m right. That’s the whole bloody point.”
Lysandre sighed, and for a long, harrowing moment she remained completely still. I had known all along that she would respond like this. She was the one who had taught me nuances of fear, after all. The anticipation of pain was often worse than the pain itself, she had explained, and she wanted her underlings to envision the whips cracking their backs or the needles piercing their flesh.
She should have known I couldn’t be manipulated so easily. I wasn’t a little girl anymore. I didn’t fear pain or punishment. The only thing I truly dreaded was failing our divine husband, and the fact I already done so was torture enough.
“Rise, sister,” Lysandre said.
Swallowing heavily, I slowly stood and looked upon my mistress. As always, her flawless olive skin and piercing green eyes were even more arresting up close. Despite the fact she was in her mid-forties, she didn’t look a day over thirty. The master’s power shielded all of us from the ravages of age.
“If it were up to me, you would spend a night in the pillory and another on the rack,” she said after a pause. “You are a Dragon Bride, a chosen enforcer of the Emperor’s divine will. You exist to obey him—and through him, me.”
She sighed heavily and paced in front of me, the heels of her armored boots clicking on the wood. “Unfortunately, our husband has decided that the normal rules do not apply to you. There will be no punishment. In fact, His Majesty seems quite pleased by your performance.”
I blinked in confusion. “Mistress?”
“Lord Garaad was a blight on Narthil, and his demise was long overdue. But His Majesty was most impressed by your initiative in pursuing the Vin Aetheri at any cost. He wishes to reward your perseverance.”
I blinked again, unsure of how to respond. I had spent the entire trip back to Thalamar assuming I would spend at least a day beneath the whip for my failure. But if the Emperor had personally intervened on my behalf…
“It’s no secret that I have never fully understood what he sees in you,” Lysandre went on. “You’re a skilled duelist and a powerful sorceress, but you’re still young and inexperienced. You answer every problem with brute force, and you’ve yet to master the subtleties of politics.” She reached into the folds of her robe and withdrew the letter I’d sent ahead. “You barely advocated for yourself in your own report. If not for my other spies in Last Hope, I never would have known how many of Garaad’s thugs you dispatched.”
“You have always preached brevity, mistress,” I said. “I only included the most important details.”
“Like I said, you don’t understand the subtleties of politics,” she murmured. “You killed over a dozen of Garaad’s thugs at once. How many of your fellow Brides would have survived such an ambush?”
“I-I do not know.”
Lysandre scoffed. “Very few. You have great power, girl, but you have no idea what to do with it. Appearances matter even when they should not. It is not enough for our enemies to fear you—your sisters should as well.”
“I see,” I whispered for lack of anything better to say.
“No, you don’t…but you will.” Lysandre sighed again and gestured towards the end of the pier. “Walk with me. Something else weighs upon your mind.”
I nodded and tried to collect my thoughts. This debriefing wasn’t going at all like I’d expected, but Lysandre was right—I did have something else to tell her. “If your spies informed you of the battle, perhaps you already know how it ended,” I said. “Drell didn’t escape because he outwitted me—he escaped because he is a sorcerer.”
I thought she might halt in place or the very least stumble. She did neither.
“Yes, I know.”
I stopped instead. “I don’t understand. How could—?”
“The Vin Aetheri claim that the Conduit is the source of their power,” Lysandre said. “This is nonsense, of course, but every charlatan needs a shill. The rebels use Drell’s power to sell their lies and recruit fools into their ranks.”
“But if his power isn’t coming from the Conduit, then who…?”
She paused and studied me for a moment. “I do not know,” she admitted. “It is a troubling development, to say the least…but also one that I’ve known about for some time.”
“How long?” I stammered. “Does His Majesty know?”
“Calm yourself, sister,” Lysandre admonished. “We had never even heard of Soren Drell until last year, but the Vin Aetheri have been around for over a decade. I suspect that his ‘powers’ are some kind of clever chicanery.”
“They were no illusion, I assure you. He absorbed an attack that should have killed him—twice!”
“Did he retaliate? Did he weave any other spells?”
“No. Garaad’s men swarmed me after he attacked.”
Lysandre nodded slowly and started walking again. “Varellon is littered with relics from the Dragon War, as you know. The Avetharri left behind many strange devices when their empire crumbled. It is conceivable that the rebels unearthed something powerful in the Deadlands—an enchanted artifact that can mimic the powers of a true sorcerer, for example.”
My brow furrowed, but I didn’t reply. It wasn’t the most ridiculous theory I’d ever heard—she was right about the many relics scattered across the continent and the Deadlands in particular. Before the dragons rose up against them, the Avetharri were said to have been powerful mystics and sorcerers. They certainly could have created a device capable of absorbing magical energy.
But I had seen Drell’s power with my own eyes, and I wasn’t convinced that he’d deceived me. Still, the alternative was truly terrifying. What if the Conduit really could grant her followers power like a dragon? What if the Vin Aetheri had been telling the truth all along?”
“In any event, I have concealed this revelation from your sisters for rather obvious reasons,” Lysandre went on. “I do not wish to cause a panic, and you shouldn’t either. You will not speak of this to anyone. Do you understand?”
I nodded obediently. “Yes, mistress.”
“Good.”
Lysandre held her e
yes on me for another few moments before she glanced back to towards the palace. Two of our sisters were guarding the rear door, but they were still well out of earshot. Otherwise, the dock was empty.
“There’s something else, wasn’t there?” she prompted.
“Yes,” I said, wetting my dry lips. “Vin Aetheri knew I was coming. The only reason Drell escaped is because Garaad had time to plan an ambush.”
“Their operatives must have spotted you approaching the city,” Lysandre mused.
“I don’t think that’s possible, mistress. I was very careful to avoid any roads and settlements after I crossed the border.”
“Not careful enough, obviously.”
I swallowed again. “Garaad told me that one of the master’s servants had betrayed him.”
The First Wife cocked a black eyebrow. “And you believed him?”
“Not at first,” I murmured. “But I had a great deal of time to think on my way back to Thalamar. I mentally retraced my steps just like you taught me, and I don’t believe that anyone could have spotted me and alerted them.”
“Well, you’re obviously mistaken,” Lysandre said. “Unless you’re accusing someone on the Council of Wives of treason.”
“I’m not accusing anyone,” I insisted. This was dangerous territory, and I almost regretted bringing it up altogether. No one would ever believe a mere Bride’s accusations over one of His Majesty’s full Wives, even if they were the only ones who actually knew I’d crossed into the Deadlands.
“You must have made a mistake somewhere,” Lysandre said after a moment. “That, or Garaad simply reacted more quickly than you expected. In any event, he was obviously just attempting to confuse you. The Vin Aetheri have had great success sowing dissention among the ranks of the army, and I suspect they’re attempting to do the same with our sisters. Thankfully, they’ll find that we are not so easily manipulated.”