by D. A. Stone
“Oh really?” Tenlon asked, though he tended to agree with her. Even some children could conjure the Light of Serra.
“Of course. You don’t get to choose the first spell,” Lesandra’s said softly. “The first spell chooses you.”
Tenlon smiled, having heard the axiom before.
“A scholar then?” she continued, confident enough not to wait for a response. “My, how you are a far way from home and even further from your station. Tell me, where did you study?”
“Iralic.”
“Of course,” she arched an eyebrow, a tiny knowing smile on her face. “Dragons.”
Tenlon shrugged in agreement. “It was all I ever wanted.” His days of quiet study and academy life seemed to belong to someone else now.
“Is it safe?” she asked timidly, eyes begging him for a thread of hope. “The package you were bringing us? It’s an egg, isn’t it? Darien and I knew it would be. Please tell me they don’t have it. Please…”
Tenlon bit his lower lip. “It’s safe,” he told her. “For a while, at least.”
This seemed to calm her and she fell silent for long minutes as Tenlon wiped her arms and face with the alcohol, cleaning her as best he could. She was grimy, with sores and bruises all over her limbs. He didn’t want to think of what she’d been through.
“Why can’t I see the stars, young Tenlon?” she finally asked.
“No more ‘idiot’?” he wondered with a smile.
“No,” she whispered. “No more ‘idiot.’”
He moved her buckets away and sat down before her. “We cannot see the stars because we are in the shadow of the mountain.”
She laughed at that, the sound of it empty of all humor. “And I was supposed to ask you about the stars, Lesandra. Not the other way around.”
She tilted her head to the side and closed her eyes again, long hair hanging across her face. “I was supposed to do a lot of things that never happened.”
“What went wrong?” he asked quietly. “Where is your brother?”
“Darien?”
“Yes.”
“I imagine some of him is in the dried puddle beneath the stain on those floorboards.” She motioned behind him and above. “And maybe a little bit is even sticking to the bottom of your boots.”
Tenlon rose carefully, the beam of daylight showing the rusty brown of blood around the edge of his heels. He’d been trudging through a dried puddle of blood that had streamed down through the floor of the first level.
“Either way, his screams ended a few days ago, I suppose. The dripping of his life stopped shortly after. It’s hard to tell how long it’s been when your only measure of time is the frequency of squatted shits into a bucket, which, ultimately, is going to be thrown off by the lack of a well-balanced diet.”
Tenlon heard the locking bar at the top of the steps slide open, rubbing against the wooden door. The sound made him feel sick.
“Is it too much to hope that you have an army nearby?” she asked.
“Where are we?” Tenlon ignored her, hearing the door swing open with a rusted squeal. Bright light filled the staircase.
Lesandra laughed dryly, keeping her eyes closed. “We are in the house I share with my brother.” She spread her chained hands wide. “And I welcome you.”
Tenlon’s heart rose to new heights. They were being held captive in Darien and Lesandra’s house!
Desik had their names, and surely he’d find where they lived. It would be the first place he looked, wouldn’t it? He was out there, right now, searching for him. Tenlon could almost sense it.
Heavy boots slowly began to tread down the steps, one at a time, the stairs groaning beneath massive weight.
He crouched low before Lesandra. “Listen to me,” he whispered, taking her face in his hands. “Open your eyes, and listen to me.”
He shook her gently until he could finally look into her eyes. “A man is coming for me. He will find us, but you must stay alive. Do you understand? We are not alone. Stay alive.”
The steps grew louder, closer. Tenlon could see thick legs coming into view at the corner of his vision. Black trousers, limbs like birch trunks.
“One man?” she closed her eyes, jaw tightening. A tear slid down her cheek. “One man cannot help us here.”
Tenlon leaned in close, whispering into her ear. “I’ve never met anyone like him,” he promised her. “You’ll see. Just stay alive.”
Tenlon rose to his feet and turned to face the mountainous man standing at the foot of the stairs.
He was a silhouetted shadow with his head bent to the side so as to fit beneath the ceiling, truly a giant if such ever existed. His left shoulder and bicep were overly swollen with muscle, throwing his body shape off into a twisted abomination.
One huge hand wrapped itself around the banister while the other slowly lifted, waving Tenlon to him with unnaturally long, dagger-like fingers. The gesture almost loosened Tenlon’s bladder.
He walked over to the man, who took a step back into the light pouring down from the open doorway, nodding his head to the stairs.
Tenlon was to go up.
The smell of the Volrathi was enough to make him wretch—smoky and putrid, bitter as stomach acid. All of Tenlon’s senses were repulsed by him.
Before taking the first step, the man’s words froze his legs.
“Have you ever seen,” he asked, “eyes like mine?”
Deep and throaty, his voice sounded like blood-stained claws drawn across the gravel.
Tenlon looked up at him, seeing the eerie black pools of ink where his pupils should be. His skin was pale, close to white in the light that filled the narrow staircase. His blood-red lips spread apart in a foul smile, revealing teeth stained yellow and chipped, jagged like crenellated battlements atop a colossal tower.
The question reminded him of his time in the king’s tent, what felt like a decade ago.
Tenlon used every inch of strength he had to force the voice of his next words from quivering.
“Once,” he said shakily, turning away to climb the stairs. “On a dead man.”
The laughter of the Volrathi rumbled low behind him as he went up, voice so deep the vibration could be felt in his chest.
Chapter 21
Natalia ran through the forest, the neck and back of her tunic damp with sweat. She could hear the steady trot of Karin and Argos close behind, both atop the dapple-gray mare her handmaiden had affectionately named Dusty. They held to a thin trail high along the ridgeline and an open valley of green spread to their west, rising to sharp mountain peaks capped with white snow.
Dusty’s hoofbeats were padded by the soft earth and Natalia timed her breaths to match the thudding rhythm. The mount was overburdened with two riders and their packs, but she was a well-traveled beast and had yet to show any sign of failing the last two days.
Their trail gently sloped downwards and she slowed her pace. Injuring herself now could be fatal. Men still scoured the forest, searching for any who tried to flee into the virtual emptiness of the northern woods.
Thoughts of those Gallans within the walls of Corda were like rusty nails plunged into her heart. Images of burning buildings and bloated bodies flashed through her mind. The Amorian capital had been sacked and never before had she imagined such a future.
That first day out, after taking the horse and…dealing with its owner, they had seen countless enemy hunting groups roving the well-trodden routes. She kept to the narrower game trails and figured it may have saved their lives. The tall scrub and pines kept them well hidden during those dangerous and most important first miles.
The daylight hours were long and tiring, the nights and early mornings uncomfortably cold. The further they traveled, the fewer armed men they saw, but still she never let her guard down. A single mishap—no matter how miniscule—would see an end to their little adventure, and most assuredly their lives as well. It was real danger they faced now. Cunning was paramount, and Natalia’s ever-present fe
ar was that she hadn’t enough of it to see them through.
Argos still maintained a slender finger-hold on life. The wind would bounce around the lofty slopes, and often she would catch the sick odor of his wound like a cheese of the foulest stench. Already he looked like a corpse and, were it not for Karin holding him in place, he’d have tumbled lifelessly out of the saddle at first chance. Still, the young Amorian was hard as iron, and men such as he never gave up without a fight. Death was the ultimate enemy to a soldier. Kreiden had told her that.
Well, death and wet boots was what he had actually said. She imagined no one enjoyed a bout of foot rot.
Natalia breathed in the cold air. The evening was growing late and she had hoped to reach Landis Lake by sunset. Argos would certainly benefit from a bath in the chill water and some rest, but it was looking as though they were running behind schedule. Caution had a way of slowing things down, she mused.
Cutting between valleys was quicker then traversing the high slopes that created them, but Natalia knew the Gallan hunting parties would likely feel the same, so the easiest path must, of course, be avoided at all costs. Instead she kept to the high trails. It resulted in rougher terrain and a lengthier trek but lessened their chances of being discovered.
She was paying for it now, however. If they didn’t reach the Gambit soon, then Argos would surely pass through the Veil. How many days remained with the young soldier before the poison’s grip fully closed on him? she wondered. How many hours before his weakening pulse went still?
Her heart begged the land to open up and show her that glimmering lake. Once they reached it, she could orient herself and know which mountain to head toward. From the lake, they’d be less than a day’s hike to the Gambit. Less than a day from safety, from help.
Their trail dropped suddenly, continuing on a bending course to the east. Loose soil and rocks made the descent more challenging, and Natalia had to take the mare’s reins and lead them through the occasional spot of difficulty.
Another hour passed before their path leveled out and the slope they had traveled all afternoon rose up behind them so steep and treacherous that it almost looked impassable. They had done it, though, the three of them. And Dusty, of course.
Short minutes later she was rewarded with the glistening sight of Landis Lake.
Natalia could see it in the distance, growing larger through gaps in the trees and reflecting the warm colors of the sunset. For the first time in many days, her heart lifted with hope. Perhaps they would reach it before night after all.
She broke into a run, hearing Dusty’s hoofbeats drumming in pursuit.
***
It took the both of them to haul Argos to the lake’s edge. He was far heavier than he looked, and the young man looked heavy to begin with. Fully clothed, they sat him in water past his hips and made him drink until he hacked it back up. She wedged another of the dry Axian leaves into his mouth against the gums, the last of the remaining herb, hoping the potent leaf would continue to keep his murderous fever at bay. The warrior’s breath was thin and weak as an old man’s and she dared not open his bandages to check his wound again. The last time she’d done so, he had screamed so loudly it had startled the birds in all directions for miles. There wasn’t much to be done for him out here but keep him cool and hydrated.
Dusty’s reins were tied to a dry thorn bush nearby, though she looked to be perfectly happy in their company, taking long drinks of the cold water in between nibbles of grass. Natalia drank slowly, feeling the water revive her aching muscles. The sky was painted a vibrant blend of pink to purple—not a mottled spread of warm sunset colors but a near-solid canvas, as if the heavens only had time for the two shades tonight that slowly melted to one.
She stripped her sweat-soaked clothes off and looked across the still water. It was an L-shaped lake, and the three of them were at the lip of the shortest stretch. Tall trees of pine and spruce lined the water’s edge, with the occasional gathering of rocky overhangs to give its shoreline an uneven contour. Deep in the wilderness, the mammoth Amorian mountain ranges enclosed them from the west, north, and east. Whenever she thought of Amoria, this was the view that came to mind—thick forests and grand mountains.
“The water feels good,” Karin said. Her boots were off and her trousers rolled up to the knee, her feet in the water.
Natalia stepped naked into the cold lake. “You should go in all the way,” she said, feeling a shiver course through her body.
“Oh, no, my dear. Such a pursuit belongs to more slender and graceful beauties such as yourself. Dipping my toes is fine enough.”
She nodded, offering no further argument. Karin had been exposed to enough outside a handmaiden’s level of comfort over the past several days. Her friend could do as she pleased for as long as it suited her.
Natalia walked out the few steps to Argos. The man’s eyes were closed as he sat, his face the pallor of death. Coming up behind him, she dipped her hand in the water and pressed it against his forehead. He was still feverish and unresponsive. She leaned over and kissed the top of his head before walking further out.
“Which mountain is it?” Karin asked. “This place we’re heading to?”
Natalia was in water up to her knees. Taking a few breaths of courage, she dropped flat, submerging herself below the icy water.
Surging back up with a sharp breath, she slicked her hair back. “There,” she said with a gasp, pointing north to a mountain taller than the rest. “The one with the most snow.”
The Gambit was framed by smaller peaks of gray that sat behind its shoulders like ancient sentries. From where they looked the mountain seemed to sit on a bit of a slant, as if it were a sack of rocks that had been hit with a mighty hammer and shifted to the side. Its edges were dagger-sharp, pressed against the fading light, and the western side of its snowcap was lit up purple-pink in the sunset.
“It’s beautiful,” Karin said quietly.
“Yes. Truly is, isn’t it?”
Argos let out a hacking cough that shook his body, sending him backwards to splash beneath the water. He hadn’t the strength to pull himself up.
“Oh, this poor man,” Natalia said glumly, scrambling toward him. She grabbed an arm and hauled him above the surface, spitting out water.
Argos’s eyes were open now. “Tighten this shit up,” he muttered, teeth chattering from the cold.
She sat down next to him in the water, an arm around his shoulder to keep him upright. The fever had been making him say things, hallucinate. It was impossible to tell what sort of delirious dreams were churning through his mind, but they were usually of the martial sort—the mumbled snap of a commander to his men or a frantic scramble to his side for a weapon that wasn’t there.
She rubbed his shoulder, resting her head against him and saying nothing.
Argos’s dreary eyes glanced north toward the mountain peaks. Turning to Natalia, he gave her a questioning look. “How did we…”
As he spoke, his severed arm came out of the water and the leather stump moved to her face as if to touch her with a hand that was no longer there. He looked at the stump for a moment in confusion before it fell back below the water with a splash. His head slumped low and he let out a thin breath. The sadness within him nearly crushed her.
“Come now, soldier.” She rose, trying her best to remove the worry from her voice. Karin walked out into the lake to help her. “Back on your feet. That’s it.”
In a moment they had him standing, one on either side to keep him upright. Already she could smell the rotting wound, now free of the lake’s cool touch. Man of iron or not, he wouldn’t last much longer.
Just as they sat him on dry land, they felt it pass above.
The silence of it was enough to chill your blood.
***
It cast no shadow in the twilight, but they could feel it sail over them, as if something that large and dangerous triggered an alarm in their bodies just by being near. Dusty whinnied in fear, pullin
g at her tied reins as she tried to back away from the lake. The roots of her thorn bush stretched and pulled, but the dry brush in these parts was anchored deep within the soil. There was nowhere for her to go, nowhere for any of them to go actually.
Natalia froze at the sight of it. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. It was so big! Long as a city block and nearly half as wide at the thickest part. The dark dragon dropped like a rock toward the opposite side of the lake, banking sharply to the left before landing, its great gray wings broad as the canvas sails of Prazi Guardships.
Its landing was so sudden that she thought it was wounded or maybe even dying, but the dragon’s wings adjusted and it slowed briefly before its hindquarters touched down at the lake’s edge, followed by front claws that sank into the muddy shore.
There was a tremendous crashing as its long tail swung out behind it, turning thick trees to splinters as the creature edged its way backward for more space. The gray membrane of its wings disappeared as they folded against its upper back.
Natalia could see now that it was black, far larger than any she had ever seen and most certainly not of the Amorian fleet. Even Draxakis would be dwarfed by such a terrifying beast. It could only be a Volrathi dragon.
Its large head was crowned with three horns—two that curved back and up on either side, and one that was centered just above its eyes to slide back between the others. While all were bone white, the final horn was broken off somewhere near the halfway point, though the remaining two were long and sharp as spears.
“Natalia…” Karin’s voice was a tiny whisper, heavy with fear.
“Shhh,” she returned, watching the beast carefully.
It dipped its head to drink from the lake, and only then did she see that the eye nearest them was a dreadful mess of rent tissue and sinuous strands of flesh. There were also terrible gashes that ran down its flank, disrupting the smooth onyx-like scales of shiny black that armored it from nose to tail. The beast had seen battle.