Fist of the Furor

by R. K. Ryals

  The marks on the rebels’ wrists had been made with ink. I didn’t know what power Raemon’s mages were using to drain our strength, but I knew only one goddess who ruled ink.

  My eyes met Raemon’s as I yelled, “Escreet.”

  Chapter 28

  The world stopped, but it didn’t end. The marks on my wrists exploded with light, blinding everyone in the room before fading. My vision spun, the king’s watery face fading in and out of focus, but I knew when I saw my wrists that I’d won. My marks were gone.

  The dragon pendant was halfway mended, a crack still marring its surface from the dragon’s breast down to its talons. The king clutched it, his grip tightening around my neck. His eyes were wild, unforgiving. There was death in his gaze, and I accepted it.

  Metal clashed against metal, and my eyes found Cadeyrn’s as the blackness closed in around me. I was dying, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

  A monumental roar filled my ears, the sound vibrating through my body. The king’s grip loosened, his eyes going to the study’s ceiling just as the stone was ripped away, rocks and dust wafting down on us. Fire filled the darkness. Snow fell on my cheeks, the flakes melting against my skin.

  Raemon stood, his voice filling the chamber as he bellowed, “I own it now! You cannot harm me!”

  He held the dragon pendant to the sky. I couldn’t breathe; my chest hurt and my vision wavered. There was a flash of gold, a mighty inhuman wail, and then nothing.

  The king was thrown backward, his back hitting the rear of the chamber. The guards and the dignitaries within scattered, their screams following them from the room. Air rushed against my face as mighty wings beat downward, golden scales flashing as Lochlen landed inside the room. His yellow-green gaze skirted my face before going to the king. Cadeyrn had wrestled Neill to the floor, the tip of his sword resting at Neill’s throat.

  Raemon glared at the dragon. “It is finished.” He slid the pendant over his head. “With it, I control all of Medeisia. Including the dragons.”

  Lochlen paced in front of the king. “You are a descendant of the great Hedron. Have you forgotten the myth surrounding the pendant?”

  My head throbbed, my cheek burned, and my eyes misted. Fogginess surrounded Lochlen as I pushed myself off of the floor. My gaze moved from Cadeyrn to the dragon. Something terrible settled in the pit of my stomach.

  Raemon slid up the wall, his fingers black with ink as he grasped the pendant. “Great power,” the king murmured. “I will have great power.”

  His madness consumed him, dimming his wits. It was then I realized Raemon had never truly ruled Medeisia. Neill had been the brains behind the throne.

  Lochlen’s massive head lowered, smoke rising from his nostrils as he eyed the king. Raemon smiled, his grin full of derision. “Great rebirth and great destruction,” the king murmured. “Once divided, the pendant is only restored by death.”

  It was sudden when Lochlen killed the king, his talons sinking through Raemon’s throat. Blood mingled with the chain on Lochlen’s claw, the pendant dangling. Neill struggled on the floor beneath Cadeyrn’s sword.

  Lochlen’s gaze swung to the captain. “Once divided, the pendant is only restored by death.”

  It was then I realized what Lochlen planned to do, and I screamed, my fingers digging into the collapsed wall as I struggled to reach him. The world tilted and then righted itself again. A haze shrouded my vision, and when it cleared, Cadeyrn had run Neill through with his sword. Neill was dead. Not by my hand, but he was dead nonetheless.

  I blinked.

  Cadeyrn’s blade was clean again, the weapon lifted.

  Again, I blinked.

  Cadeyrn plunged, metal gleaming as it sliced through Lochlen’s tender underbelly, the hilt shoved all the way to his scales. Only Cadeyrn would have had the strength to do it. No average man could have driven a sword all the way to a dragon’s heart.

  Lochlen roared, his shriek full of pain. I stumbled toward him, my mouth open in a silent scream, my heart shattering. Ink stained fingers dug into golden scales. Someone tried to remove me, but I held on tight, my fist wrapping around one of Lochlen’s spines as he suddenly threw himself into the air.

  And then there was darkness and falling snow, gentle powder coating my eyelashes as we soared through the night. Only Lochlen wasn’t flying, he was falling. Down, down to the earth, a blade protruding from his heart. I started screaming then, and I didn’t stop.

  We hit the ground together, and I went flying, my back slammed into snow and ice, my eyes on the sky. There was fire everywhere, flapping wings, shrieking dragons, and lots of fire. Stars winked at me, my tears freezing on my cheeks.

  Cries filled the air, the sound mingling with sudden howls from the forest. There were pounding feet and gentle hands against my skin, but I saw nothing. I saw nothing except Cadeyrn’s sword digging its way to Lochlen’s heart. Over and over, I saw it.

  Tears … snow and tears. Fire and ice.

  This time, I was truly dying.

  Chapter 29

  “Aean Brirg,” a voice whispered.

  Little bird.

  I was being lifted, my body weightless. My cheek hit something smooth and wet.

  “Keep her still!” a voice ordered.

  My heart hurt. It hurt so much I couldn’t breathe. I didn’t want to breathe. My eyes were heavy, so very heavy.

  There was a sharp, sudden pain at my wrist, and then nothing. Absolutely nothing. There was nothing except cold and darkness, darkness and cold.

  And nothing more.

  “Aean Brirg.”

  It was his voice. I hated him now. The voice of a murderer.

  A woman’s voice, Maeve’s voice, yelled, “What have you done?”

  His voice came again, only I couldn’t hear him. I was suddenly on fire, my body engulfed in flames. A roar filled my ears with such intensity, I was sure my eardrums would burst. It hurt, the fire and the noise.

  “Back away!” someone cried.

  There was fire, so much fire. Gold and fire.

  “Get up, Stone,” a voice prompted. It was Lochlen’s voice, and I gasped, my chest heaving. My eyes opened, my gaze filling with flames and gold. I could just make out Lochlen’s draconic shape in the light, his yellow-green eyes glued to my face.

  “Get up, Stone,” he repeated.

  I stood, the flames moving with me, my fingers reaching for him. I kept waiting for him to fade away, but he didn’t. His cool scales fell under my hands, and I laughed. Flames surrounded us.

  “You aren’t dead?” I asked.

  Lochlen’s eyes shone. “No, I am not dead. We both are.”

  With those words, the flames flared, consuming everything, completely enveloping me before being snuffed out.

  Then … nothing.

  Chapter 30

  I was in a white, cold world, snow falling on my cheeks when I came to. A crowd of people leaned over me, their gazes full of astonishment. There was weeping and rejoicing.

  “Stone.”

  It was Daegan’s voice, his cold hands finding my face. I pulled away from his touch. There were other hands, other voices.

  “Stone.”

  It was Maeve’s voice, but she didn’t attempt to touch me.

  “Lochlen,” I breathed. The memory brought a fresh wave of tears, a welling scream stopped short by more hands, stronger hands.

  “Aean Brirg,” he whispered.

  I hit him even as he brought me to his chest, his hands lifting me from the snow until my legs dangled over his arms. I hit him. Over and over again, I hit him. My fist caught on his pendant, and I stopped, sobs shaking my shoulders.

  There was nothing he could have said to stop the grief. There was nothing he could have said that would have warmed my heart to him. So he said nothing.

  Instead, he gripped my chin, forcing my face toward the snow, toward a massive golden body curled within a blackened circle. The sword that had pierced his heart was gone, his scales covered in
blood.

  I started to thrash again.

  Lochlen breathed, his chest rising.

  I froze.

  “Lochlen?” My breath misted when I spoke, the smoke curling into a brightening sky.

  Cadeyrn set me on the ground at Lochlen’s head. His yellow-green eyes were open. His gaze met mine.

  “Once divided, the pendant is only restored by death,” Lochlen said.

  His words sunk in, and I glanced up, my gaze raking the circle where he lay. One of my wrists was bound, and I lifted the bandage to discover a fresh gash beneath.

  Lochlen watched me. “Great rebirth,” he added.

  I stared. “The pendant?”

  Lochlen’s talons lifted. From his claw hung the chain, the pendant on the end completely mended. Ink mingled with blood on the gold.

  The words from the Kiarian Freesonalay slammed into me. For out of the ashes of devastation will arise a phoenix …

  My gaze shot to Lochlen. “You’re the phoenix,” I breathed, shaking my head. “But it said a girl …”

  Smoke curled from his nostrils. “Two destinies intertwined, Stone. So closely intertwined that even a prophetic scribe couldn’t discern the difference between the two.”

  I wasn’t the phoenix, I was the phoenix’s rider.

  My heart swelled, my hands finding Lochlen’s nose, my eyes closing. Snow continued to fall.

  For out of the ashes of devastation …

  I pushed to my feet, weakness causing me to waver. Cadeyrn caught me, his strong arm encircling my waist.

  My gaze met his. “How did you …”

  I thought of the passageway in Cadeyrn’s bedroom in Sadeemia, how Lochlen and Oran had both been aware of it. Cadeyrn’s words at the ball filled my head, Secrets are often best kept between few.

  “The rebels …” I began.

  There was silence. My gaze lifted, and I staggered. The courtyard beyond the palace was littered with bodies, most of them from the rebel camp. I exhaled, my bruised heart tightening.

  I thought it wasn’t possible to cry any more. The chill on my cheeks proved me wrong.

  “The pendant was partly mended,” Cadeyrn breathed.

  Half of the rebels were dead, their bodies drained of life by Raemon and Neill.

  Lochlen rose, snow falling from his scales as he stumbled forward. In the air, two dragons circled. They lowered, their green and red scales flashing as they pushed themselves up against Lochlen, supporting him.

  I glanced at Cadeyrn, my throat tight. “Raemon said New Hope was attacking Sadeemia—”

  The prince cut me off, “Gryphon sent a message attached to Ari. It came when …” he left the words unsaid. “Two ships landed in Sadeemia full of New Hope warriors. They took the village, but our soldiers overcame them. Assassins breached the palace. They wounded my father. There are healers with him, but there is no guarantee. Arien has been crowned temporary ruler. Gryphon and his men have turned back. Their first priority is Sadeemia.”

  There was a moment of silence, and then, “Blayne Dragern has escaped. He’s a threat not only to Sadeemia, but to Medeisia. Raemon’s death has left the country without a ruler and vulnerable. This war isn’t over,” Cadeyrn announced. “It’s just begun.”

  Chapter 31

  It took a full week to lay all of the bodies in Aireesi to rest. Dragons brought more dead from the mountains; children, mothers, and frail men and women who’d fallen victim to the pendant’s power. Raemon was dead, our country left without a leader. The dragons, too, had lost warriors to the fight.

  As a descendant of King Hedron, Cadeyrn was the heir to the Medeisian throne by right of blood. He accepted the crown, but only until a council could be formed and a new king coroneted. Rebels began trickling in from the mountains, many of them returning home for the first time in years. Families reunited, others grieved. It was a light and dark time for Medeisia.

  Lochlen returned the dragon pendant to Feras, and though its presence caused some unrest among the dracon, they accepted the new breeding terms set by the rex.

  We were a country in ruin, the village of Aireesi practically destroyed. It stank of refuse and old blood. With nowhere to go, I’d taken residence at the palace under Cadeyrn’s protection. I had two choices: return to Sadeemia and live in my father’s house, or remain in Medeisia. I couldn’t leave the forest. I couldn’t leave its whispering words and comforting arms. This was my world, even as desolate as it was now.

  The New Hope dignitary and mercenaries Raemon had hired were gone. They had escaped on wyvers, their destination unknown. All of the scribes and mages forced to work under Raemon had been released, while noblemen serving under the king had been imprisoned for questioning. After meeting with a tribunal put together by Cadeyrn, Garod was reinstated as ambassador of Sadeemia. The pendant had played a crucial role in controlling the minds of a lot of the unmarked citizenry; it was a lot to consider. Due to her crimes, Taran was arrested for treason, and Mareth was allowed to return to Forticry with her father. She was a broken, ruined woman.

  Three weeks after unseating Raemon, Cadeyrn had laid to rest hundreds of victims, had begun organizing a council, and had presided over dozens of trials. His father, King Freemont, had fallen into a coma. The healers were confident, but the longer he remained unconscious, the worse it appeared. Arien was now the reigning king in Sadeemia.

  While Cadeyrn put Medeisia to rights, I stayed mostly to the woods, spending my days walking amongst the trees and returning to the palace at night. The castle walls were full of too many ghosts, too many hateful memories I couldn’t forget.

  It was the fourth week after the rebellion that Cadeyrn found me. I was sitting on the ramparts wearing the tunic made of dragon hide Lochlen had given me. My hair had finally reached my shoulders, and I’d wrestled it back behind my head with a ribbon. Most of it slipped free, waving wildly around my face in the breeze. I was still healing from the rebellion, my neck fading from black to green. The scratch on my cheek was a light pink shade that would whiten over time.

  The sun was rising over the horizon when the prince joined me on the ledge. Pink and violet chased each other across the sky, playing hide and seek with the rising ball of orange. White clouds dotted the atmosphere. It promised to be a sunny day, a welcome respite from the frigid, grey weeks we’d suffered.

  “You’ve been hiding in the trees,” Cadeyrn murmured.

  I glanced at him. “The forest is a healing place, Your Majesty.”

  Cadeyrn caught my hand. The marks on my wrist were gone. Every rebel who’d survived the attack was mark free, their lives full of possibility. They’d never be the same, but they had a chance at freedom. Only a scar marred my flesh now. It wasn’t until later I’d discovered Cadeyrn had bound me by blood to the dragons. Sometimes, I felt the pendant’s strength running through my veins, and it scared me.

  “I think you’ve earned the right to call me Cadeyrn,” the prince said.

  I should have pulled my hand away, but I didn’t.

  His gaze searched mine before he suddenly stood, bringing me with him.

  A soft smile played on his lips. “You don’t smell like her,” he murmured. “You don’t look like her, you don’t taste like her, and you don’t speak like her. You remind me of the sun when it’s rising. Other times, you remind me of a wounded animal, too afraid to be touched.” He gestured at the village below. “You’ll never be the same, Aean Brirg. There will be no more war moments. No reason will ever seem reason enough to fight again. War does that. It strips you bare, and still manages to keep stealing from you.”

  I gazed up at him. “Then why do you keep doing it?”

  His head lowered. “That moment when you saved hundreds of rebels at the cost of your own life. That moment when Lochlen asked me to drive a sword into his heart to save you and the dragons. Those moments are why I keep doing it.”

  I touched his cheek, my palm catching on stubble. “You remind me of the Archives.”

  He chuc
kled. “I remind you of books?”

  For the first time in weeks, I felt myself smile. “When I stand inside an Archive, I feel like I’m with an old friend. There is wisdom there, the smell of leather and ink. It’s comfortable and full of love. But it can also be terrifying.” My gaze met his. “Find the right book, and there’s always the danger of being lost.”

  For a moment, we just stood there, the sound of the wind loud in our ears. The sun chose that moment to break free, scattered rays thrown over our faces. Above us, a falcon called.

  “Aean Brirg,” Cadeyrn whispered.

  Little bird.

  His lips were warm when they met mine, gently insistent. His hands slid into my hair, pulling my ribbon free before running his fingers down the strands. Our tongues danced. His fingers traveled the planes of my face, skirting the scar on my cheek before cupping my bruised neck. His lips suddenly brushed my collar bone, as if his kiss alone was enough to rid me of the pain.

  My hands gripped the front of his shirt, my fingers digging into the fabric.

  He’d left his tunic unlaced, and I traced the top of his tattoo before leaning forward to place a soft kiss on his chest. It should have been awkward, this strange dance of kisses. It was like being a child again, having hurts healed simply by kissing them away.

  His lips pressed against my forehead. “Aean Brirg.”

  There was pain behind the words, and I realized in that moment why this kiss felt so different. He was saying good-bye.

  Wrapping his arms around my waist, he pulled me into him. His body pressed against mine, his lips tasting my lips. This kiss tasted like the wind, beautiful but fleeting.

  “Birds,” he whispered suddenly against my ear, “are often magnificent survivors.”

  He pulled away then, his gaze searching mine, and I knew before he even said a word that this had to be enough for both of us. Cadeyrn had become a comfort to me. He’d been a war torn man marred by tragedy who’d still managed to help a grieving young woman. He’d fought with the rebels, offering us a large part of himself despite the fact that we’d never been meant to survive. But he wasn’t mine.