by Jensine Odom
She does find him, though. Apparently, he was wearing a watch that somehow survived the fire. She pulls it off his skeletal arm, wiping the soot from its face. The fucking thing’s still working. The time reads 12:34, the date May 10th.
With a quick look around, she begins to walk off, heading in the direction of the Thunder Mountain Inn. That was their destination. Only a few strides in, a large shadow sweeps across the ground, stopping her in her tracks. A moment later, a slender milk chocolate dragon lands before her, shifting quickly into a woman.
Several other dragons land behind her, shifting as well, save for the last, large black dragon. It remains a beast, its brilliant blue eyes watching the girl closely.
“A survivor,” Drustana sneers. “You’re strong. It is a shame you’re human.” She walks closer to the scared girl, raising her hand. “You will join the rest of your kind here.”
“Wait! Don’t you need someone to tell your story?” the girl asks, thinking quickly. “How will the world know of your greatness if no one tells your story?”
Drustana gives her a thoughtful look, but it’s more mocking. The girl doesn’t notice, though.
“You’re correct,” Drustana agrees, glancing back at her Acolytes. “You may live, so that you may spread the word of my sovereignty.” She steps aside, waving the girl on, and her Acolytes play along.
Believing Drustana’s lies, the girl begins to run, not looking back, but I know how this ends, or I wouldn’t be seeing this. Once the girl gets about twenty yards out, she spontaneously combusts. Drustana cackles as the girl cries out in agony, her flesh being burned from bone while she’s still alive.
“I’m sorry this happened,” I say aloud as I let my mind drift back to my own body.
I’m curled up against Baldure’s huge frame, feeling small as a child, my cheeks wet from crying, and Caedryn sits beside us, my hand in his. At the sound of my voice, Caedryn looks right at me, relief filling his face and flooding my senses. I smile at him and he pulls me into his arms, holding me tight.
“I thought I was going to lose you,” he whispers against my neck. “I didn’t know how to save you, but Baldure did.” He holds me at arm’s length, his eyes flicking to the big man behind me. “Thank you, my friend.”
“Think nothing of it,” Baldure dismisses, grunting as he pushes himself off the ground and back to his feet. “It’s my duty to keep our High Royal alive.” He smiles, offering me and Caedryn a hand up. “Did you discover when this happened?”
“No,” I respond, trying to hide my disappointment as I brush the dirt and ashes off me, then remember the watch. “Wait!” Without another word, I run to where the girl’s body lies, Baldure and Caedryn hot on my heels.
Sure enough, right on the edge of the carnage lays a lone skeleton, charred black, and in one hand is a military grade watch, still working. The time reads 6:54; the date May 11th.
“We need to leave this place,” I say without preamble, turning towards Caedryn and Baldure.
“Why?” Caedryn asks.
“Because Drustana did this. A day and a half ago.” I look up at Caedryn, but he’s looking just over my shoulder. So is Baldure. “There’s something behind me, isn’t there?”
Whiskey. Tango. Foxtrot.
WITH my energy drained from crossing so many dead, my senses are a little slowed, but I can now see the bright energy signature of a dragon in my awareness. Hoping it’s not Drustana, I turn towards the threat to find the black dragon from the last memory, crouched like a stalking cat, its bright blue eyes focused on me and a gloating smile on its draconic lips.
“Zaara,” Caedryn and Baldure utter together.
Before anyone can react, and moving faster than I thought possible right now, I lunge for the Knight, placing my hands on either side of its head, slamming my mind into its. The dragon’s quickly engulfed in blue energy, and I sink to the ground as it’s released from Drustana’s hold. I don’t know why, but I can feel her rage at losing another of her puppets.
A moment later, I’m cradling a woman’s head in my lap, her raven black hair obscuring her face. She stirs, and Caedryn lifts her into a tight hug, the like I’ve only seen him give me.
“Zaara,” he cries, his happiness overriding my suspicion. “This is Xerxia.” He turns the woman towards me, her face a softer version of Caedryn’s. “Xerxia, this is Zaara—”
“Your twin sister,” I finish for him, both relieved that this is only his sister, and that she’s safe.
“You must be the Royal Drustana’s pursuing,” Zaara says, her voice softer than I thought.
Her piercing blue eyes sweep over me, her face so like Caedryn’s the first time we met. Confusion, with just a touch of disbelief. Involuntarily, I straighten up, squaring my shoulders much like I had on that day, and observe her just as she is me.
She’s tall, at least six feet, with the same square jaw and angled features as her brother, just more feminine, her long black hair loose around her shoulders. Her outfit gives off a definite Xena vibe, with a battledress, leather leggings and short boots, all in black like Caedryn. Topping off the look are matching leather bracers and metal arm cuffs, but these are in blue, matching her eyes.
On her back sits a short sword with a brilliant blue topaz set in the hilt and a small round shield made of a curious black metal that seems to absorb light rather than reflect it.
“Xerxia is the reincarnation of—”
“Allowyn,” Zaara cuts him off, nodding and coming to stand right in front of me.
She reaches for her sword, triggering the muscle memory burned into my mind from a year of surviving, and I go for the only weapons I have; the new Karambits sitting conveniently on my belt. Zaara laughs, the sound oddly light for a warrior, and the same smirk Caedryn’s always prone to tugs at the corner of her mouth.
“I like her, Caedryn.” The smirk evolves into a full-on smile. “She’s brave.” Zaara finishes her move, grabbing her sword and shield, planting them respectfully at my feet as she kneels. “I will serve you until I have taken my last breath, then I will serve you in the next life.”
“Wow. That was dramatic,” I observe, laying a hand on Zaara’s shoulder anyways. “I accept your oath.”
“I very much like her,” Zaara quips, a humorous glint in her eyes. She stands quickly, giving me an unexpected, fierce hug. “Baldure?” she says suddenly, changing from elation to confusion in a heartbeat, and releases me. “How has this come to be? Alivia thinks you dead.” She turns on me again. “Is he your prisoner?”
“Does he look like a prisoner?” I ask in return, a slight sarcastic edge in my voice.
She looks back at the big man, then me again. “What’s going on here?” she asks.
“Long story short? I convinced him to join the winning team,” I reply, shrugging one shoulder dismissively.
“How can you possibly win?” Zaara asks next, disbelieving. “Have you seen Drustana’s army?”
“Oh, you mean the army we’re going to steal out from under her?” I can’t help the gloating smile at her shock.
“How?”
“That requires more of an explanation than we have time for,” Caedryn interjects. “We need to leave this place. If you’re here, Drustana has to be near.”
“She is. I was sent to check the rubble and was returning to her when I discovered you here. She will soon know I have encountered you. Alivia has reported your ability to release the Knights,” Zaara’s voice holds a hint of suspicion.
“We will explain everything, but we must leave this place first,” Caedryn tells his sister. “How near is Drustana? Can she see into this valley?”
“I don’t believe she can, but she may have moved since she sent me away,” Zaara answers, picking up on her brother’s unease.
“Just to be safe, we can fly north around the mountains and come up the back side. That should lose any tail we may have,” I offer.
“Very well. Xerxia, fly with Baldure. I’m going to speak with my si
ster while we travel.”
“Have you transformed yet?” Zaara asks me.
“No, but Caedryn and I are leaving in the morning so I can do just that.”
“Good.” She nods agreeably, and shifts.
Caedryn follows her lead, and the two near identical dragons take off. Baldure shifts beside me and lays down.
“It will be easier if you ride me,” he says, offering a hand to help me onto his shoulders.
I step into Baldure’s scaly palm and he lifts me, settling me in the crease between his neck and shoulder muscles. He stretches out his massive wings and I lay flat against his neck, my stomach lurching like I’m on a rollercoaster as he takes off.
Once we reach cruising altitude, I get brave enough to sit up a little, letting the draft coming off Baldure hold me in place. The valley below passes by quickly, the barren crop circles sprinkled with new growth as the native plants reclaim the earth.
Caedryn and Zaara fly ahead of us, neither one seeming to move their jaws, and I find myself wondering how it is they’re speaking, if at all.
They have a bond that allows them to speak in one another’s mind. Baldure answers suddenly.
Oh. That makes sense. I nod, more to myself. Hey, wait! How did you know what I was thinking?! I give the back of Baldure’s head a stern look, narrowing my eyes.
I feel more than hear Baldure’s chuckle. We share a certain bond as well, Little One, he explains cryptically.
Go on, I coax when he doesn’t elaborate.
Baldure takes a moment to answer, and I know he’s thinking of a good explanation. It’s a soulbond, similar to being soulbound, only not as strong.
It happened because of what we did back there, huh? I ask redundantly.
Yes, Baldure answers anyways.
Oh Gods! Does that mean Drustana has the same bond with every Knight she controlled?! My heart races as panic overcomes me.
No, Baldure reassures. What she did was not mutual. Also, if she did have this bond with those she controlled, she would have found us already.
True, I agree, my panic subsiding. It would probably stretch her kind of thin if she had so many bonds pulling at her, too, I comment, rubbing my chest where I now notice a new pull, not as strong as the one with Caedryn, but there all the same. When I focus on it, I notice it’s the soft yellow of a cloudless sunrise.
Baldure and I slip into a companionable silence, the only sound being the occasional beat of his wings. The sun dips below the horizon as we bank around the back of the mountains, splashing the clouds with crimson, and by the time we reach our campsite the world is bathed in the deep purple of twilight.
A small fire flickers between the two tents, barely illuminating the surrounding area. Stormwing is sitting beside it, staring into the flames, unaware of our approach, but Irontooth is watching vigilantly. He barks at our presence, alerting the whole camp, and soon we have a nearly full welcome party.
Caedryn touches down first, then Zaara, and everyone halts their eager advance at the newcomer. Baldure sets down carefully a moment later, and I leap from his back into the waiting arms of Caedryn. Only then does everybody move again, a little more slowly, save for Petrie.
Just a flash of blue gives me warning before she crashes into me, squeaking happily. Zaara looks bewildered as Petrie lets me up and Irontooth greets me with a little more restraint.
“These are the young beastlocked Xerxia imprinted with,” Caedryn explains.
“This one is Petrie,” I introduce, laughing as the little dragon hides behind me to peer at Zaara. “And this is Irontooth, the oldest.” I point to the almost dramatically stoic Beast beside me. “The one by the fire is Stormwing.”
“You control them?” Zaara asks, a bitter note in her voice. Apparently, she’s not completely okay with the whole Esper thing.
“No. They obey me, but only to a degree.” In example, I turn to Irontooth. “You can go. Zaara’s a friend.” As I thought, Irontooth refuses, grunting and laying beside me, still watching Zaara. “See? He can tell your uneasy about me, and won’t leave my side until either I leave, or you calm down.”
“I simply don’t know how to feel,” Zaara says, exasperated. “Mother would have never stood for this!” She waves at me, as if that’s an answer.
“Mother is dead, Zaara, and so are the old ways. She was wrong, about so many things. We were all wrong.” Caedryn looks at me, nothing but love in his eyes.
“You tell me Father may yet live. He surely will not allow this,” Zaara rebuts.
“Father isn’t the High Royal,” Caedryn points out.
“He’s the Knight-Commander. That has to give him some kind of power!”
“It does, just not the power to destroy our only Royal,” Caedryn reasons.
“You’re forgetting one thing,” I interject. “I have a draquus.”
“Where is Alarr?” Zaara questions, an accusation in her voice.
“Out getting his own dinner, and taking a break from the unwanted attention of Petrie,” I explain evenly. I knew the Knights would have trouble coming to grips with the new world order.
“How do I know you speak the truth?” She inquires. “How do I know you don’t already control the minds of all here, and they spew your lies?”
“Zaara, calm yourself,” Turhion speaks up. “Think. Has she taken your mind?”
“No,” Zaara admits, her shoulders dropping in defeat.
“Xerxia is not Drustana, Zaara. She is what we need to defeat Drustana.” Turhion smiles at me, resting a hand on my shoulder.
“Balance,” Zaara nods. “I know this. It will simply take me some time to become accustomed.”
“I would love to say you have all the time you need, but we don’t have that luxury,” I tell her. “Is there some way I can help alleviate some of your concern?”
“Let her in your mind, Zaara,” Turhion persuades. “I did, and it changed my perspective.”
Zaara looks unsure between Turhion and me, teetering on the edge of acceptance. She glances at her brother, and Caedryn nods encouragingly. Zaara looks at the ground for a moment, then gives a deep sigh.
Meeting my eyes, she nods assuredly. “Do what you must.”
I step towards her, but Baldure stops me with a hand, looking at the dark sky.
“What is it?” I can feel his sudden anxiety.
“We have been found,” he states, oddly calm, and looks back down. “It’s Drustana.”
“Douse the fire,” I command.
“No,” Baldure countermands.
“They don’t know that we know they’re here,” I finish his thought, and Caedryn gives us both a questioning look.
“Precisely. Let’s act as if we’re unaware,” Baldure agrees.
“Go to the fire,” I change my orders. “Act like we normally would.”
Zebulon and Tristin look at each other, throw their arms in the air and run for the fire, pushing each other along the way, and I can’t help a laugh. With a look at everyone else around me, I start to walk calmly in the same direction.
Sitrian breaks off with Petrie halfway to the campfire. I will keep her out of the fighting as much as I can. She sends to me, grabbing a rock and tossing it into the trees for the youngling to chase, disappearing right after her.
I look at Irontooth, and he nods agreeably before I can even tell him what to do, walking out into the field and laying down like normal. With the new tension in the air, Stormwing has sobered up, and joins her brother, sitting vigilantly beside him.
I make a pitstop at my discarded bag, grabbing my bow and a sharpening stone. I would stop by Mary’s tent, but she’s already at the fire, quietly staring into the flames, the dagger Kerric gave her across her lap. We begin to sit around her, and she gets up, moving to stand by herself at the far edge of the light.
I shake my head, but have more pressing things to worry about than Mary’s drama.
Alarr, where are you? I ask, focusing on the bond between us, the thin line of energ
y appearing just as he replies.
I am on my way to you, but I fear I have wandered farther than I thought. Alarr’s worry trickles into me.
I can see that. Just get here when you can. I switch to speaking out loud, making sure to keep my tone conversational. “So, what’s our plan?”
“When the fighting starts, you, Zebulon, and Mary need to run for the trees there,” Caedryn points to the trees at least one hundred yards out, clumped thick enough that a dragon can’t fit. “The rest of us will need to keep the Honorless in the field and away from Xerxia.”
A dragon passes overhead, a barely darker shadow against the early night sky, the whistling wind over its wings the only thing giving it away.
“We are outnumbered,” Baldure reports.
“Don’t forget you have Stormwing and Irontooth,” I remind him.
“They’re just younglings,” Zaara points out.
“Yeah, and they feel the need to protect me. You can’t make them sit this one out.”
“Even with the young ones, we are outnumbered,” Baldure insists, his eyes focused on something internal, and I realize he’s speaking with his sister.
I lay a hand on his arm, getting an idea. Let me speak with her, I plead, letting my mind drift into his, but standing outside his fire despite the way the flames warmly flicker at my presence, almost inviting me in.
For a moment I’m alone, then Baldure appears beside me. You don’t have to ask, Little One. He smiles, gesturing towards his soul. I will warn you, I’m unsure as to how Alivia will react.
I’ll always ask, I assure him. And I have to try. If there’s the slightest chance I can stop this fight before it happens, I’ll take it.
Baldure nods, and I step into the flames of his soul, waiting a moment for our minds to become one.
Baldure? Alivia’s voice sounds in my mind, softer and not raspy like her actual voice. I can feel her presence through Baldure, and the sudden presence of many more dragons. Who is this? she asks now, suspicious, obviously feeling me just as I can feel her.