Soul of Smoke

by Caitlyn McFarland

  Cadoc thrust down again, then again, cursing gravity. He rose above the mountain, too slow. The small-bodied Quetzals had already sprung into the air after him. He cut through the air, his longer wings giving him an advantage despite his injury. Hoping they would lose sight of him in the dark, he veiled himself and pushed hard for speed,

  Eerily silent on their feathered wings, the Quetzals followed, the Naga swimming through the air behind them.

  Cadoc changed course, hoping to shake them, but they paced him through the star-spattered sky. Slowly, it sank in that he wouldn’t be able to shake them. All he could do was get within range of Ashem and pray the Azhdahā was still awake.

  Cadoc changed course again and again over the next quarter hour. He wove between mountain peaks and flew so high his wings trailed cloud, but still the Quetzals followed. Clouds were gathering thicker, now, and he wondered if he’d lost his way. The Quetzals were close, barely two lengths behind. Cadoc didn’t think his injured wing would last more than another five minutes.

  Finally, Ashem’s blessedly livid voice bounced off the inside of his skull. “You wind-for-brains idiot! Get back here! That’s an order.”

  Cadoc’s breathing came hard and ragged. “I can’t.”

  “Don’t be a scalebrain. Rhys is fine. The girl—”

  “Kavar’s vee is chasing me. If I come back, I’ll lead them directly to the cave.”

  Ashem’s voice went from angry to commander in an instant. “Where? How many?”

  “Three. I followed them to a cave hidden behind a barrier fifty miles northwest of yours. Owain is—”

  Cadoc cut off with a grunt of pain as one of the Quetzal’s bone darts lanced through his injured wing. The poison seeped into the delicate membrane and spread agony like fire.

  “Cadoc? You’re twenty miles east. We’ll be there as soon—”

  “No!” Cadoc swallowed against pain and sudden fear. Knowing what he had to say didn’t make it any easier. “We’re too few already. Stay in the cave. Wait for Evan and Morwenna.”

  Ashem swore long and loud. “Can you lose them?”

  Cadoc didn’t answer.

  “Cadoc?”

  Cadoc flared his wings as a Quetzal darted in front of him, hissing as the motion stretched his burn and the gash left by the dart. Curling back his lips, Cadoc spat fire at the male Quetzal, igniting the feathers of his wings. The smaller dragon caromed toward the ground, a flaming beacon that hit the mountain slope below with a dull thud, cracking several trees.

  Pain in his belly. Izel, the leader, had gotten beneath him and shot him with one of her poisoned spines. Cadoc roared as a gut-twisting, muscle-wrenching spear of agony shot through his midsection. He shot fire after the Quetzal, but she dodged. Her shorter wings and smaller size made him look like a lumbering monster.

  Ashem spoke again. “Don’t be an idiot, Cadoc! Draw them closer. We’ll meet you midway.”

  Cadoc banked away from the cave. “No. Keep them safe, chief.”

  He folded his wings into a steep dive, knowing the female Quetzal would follow. The tenuous connection with Ashem severed; he’d gotten out of range. Just as well. He didn’t want Ashem to overhear what happened next.

  There was another stabbing pain, this one in his back. Izel had speared him with another dart. He roared, a red haze fogging his brain. It hurt. Ancients, it hurt! He writhed in the air, out of control.

  The Naga was on him, then, claws raking his unburned wing, jaws chomping at his side, its teeth glancing off the hard scales but bruising the muscle beneath. It wound around him, its teeth searching for the softer flesh of his neck and belly.

  “Be still!” The Naga’s mental voice was hoarse and sibilant.

  “Eat scales and choke!” Cadoc wrapped his limbs round the Naga’s sinuous body, digging his claws deep. He stopped fighting and let his weight drag them down. At the last second, he opened his wings, roaring in pain as the rushing air and the weight of the Naga strained the burn and his new wounds. But the tactic worked. He’d flipped them, and now Cadoc was on top.

  With an abrupt, bone-snapping thud, they crashed. Snow exploded around them as they slid downslope, scraggly pine trees splintering. The Naga screamed, but it turned to a gurgle. Cadoc roared again as broken branches pierced his wings and stabbed into his body.

  The Naga thrashed, dark blood bubbling at the corners of its mouth. Cadoc tried to shove it away, but the Naga’s teeth found his forearm and sank deep.

  “Sweet dreams, fire eater,” it hissed.

  “All the sweeter, snake, because they begin with your death,” he gasped. Cadoc managed to rise to his three uninjured feet and staggered off the dying dragon. The Quetzal’s darts were still in his gut and back, and his forearm burned. Soon, the sleep poison from the Naga’s bite would take hold, as well.

  He was dead.

  Cadoc wrenched out the Quetzal’s poisoned bone dart, but couldn’t reach the one in his back. He tried to run, to take off, but he only stumbled, crashing hard into the ground. Stars spun above him.

  Snow crunched. The female Quetzal landed. She curled her lip at Cadoc, and then bent her head to examine the Naga.

  “Well served, Ranvir. Be free in death,” she intoned. One long, wickedly curved claw sliced across the soft part of the Naga’s throat. Blood spewed, spattering yellow scales, steaming in the snow.

  The Quetzal wiped her bloodied claw on the ground. To Cadoc’s poison-addled mind, she seemed to move in odd bursts.

  She turned her back on the Naga, now examining Cadoc. She raised a claw as if to slit his throat, as well. Cadoc closed his eyes and tensed, fear pooling in his belly, making his heart jump no matter how he told it to stop. It was a good death. A warrior’s death. His parents had died serving Rhys’s father. He’d make them proud.

  Pain pricked the corner of his eye. Cadoc jerked his head back as best he could, blinking away a trickle of blood that clouded his vision.

  “Amethyst eyes and fire-red scales. You’re Cadoc ap Brychan.” She bared her teeth in a fierce smile. “How perfect. We’re combing the mountains for members of the false king’s vee, and you fly right to us. The rest must be around somewhere.”

  Cadoc couldn’t answer. He couldn’t breathe. He tried to push himself up, but the smaller Quetzal knocked him back with a sharp shove. His vision blackened at the edges, and he felt himself shrinking. He’d taken too many injuries. His body was making him human, trying to help him heal faster.

  “Let’s get him into the pit.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Without Her, I Am Not

  Rhys burned. Relentless pain radiated from his chest, seeping into the rest of his body. He threw off the sweat-soaked blankets and sat up.

  Kai.

  The farther he was from her, the more exquisite the ache. It infuriated him. A different kind of pain accompanied that thought, a twinge he didn’t expect: rejection.

  Anger flared. At himself, for being so stupid. At Kai, for her selfishness. At Cadoc, for his betrayal. He pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes. Trying to distract himself, he reached for his father’s journal. He ran his fingers over the three-dimensional design on the front cover, taking comfort from the familiar gesture. The cover was wearing thin. Soon, it would fall apart completely.

  The tithe arrived today. Fifteen human girls and none worth a second glance. They’d better come up with something better, or the people of Gwynedd are going to find themselves without protection...

  Rhys flipped forward a few pages. His father had, in general, been a decent king and a good leader. He just hadn’t been very generous when it came to humans.

  One week since becoming heartsworn. Mair isn’t bad to look at. Not as juicy as her cousin, the little peach Dumos ended up with, but not bad.

  Rhys grunted, glad Kai hadn
’t come with a sister. Though heartswearing to humans tended to happen if a dragon spent too much time among them, it was almost guaranteed within certain human bloodlines. The last thing any of them needed was another Wingless mate.

  ...When the heartswearing took hold of me, she tried to run. She didn’t care who I was or who she’d become once we were sworn. When I pinned her and got the kiss, the wench actually bit me hard enough to draw blood. She managed it right in the middle of the swearing. I got a good laugh out of it. She hasn’t shown much backbone since.

  Rhys snapped the book shut, wincing when the delicate pages clapped together. The journal was on record, but there was something about having the actual book, his father’s handwriting.

  And his mother had beaten his father in the end, more or less. If the Council was to be believed, she’d gone to Owain to sunder the heartswearing and both his parents had ended up dead.

  Rhys rubbed his chest. Thinking about his parents would do more harm than good. He tried to lie down again, only to find himself out of bed less than a minute later. Ancients, it hurt.

  Next thing he knew, he had hauled the curtain aside and was shaking Ashem, who lay on one of the beds in the sleeping room. He looked over to where Kai slept, but her place was empty. So was Cadoc’s. Guilt closed a tight fist around Rhys’s heart.

  “Rhys?” Ashem went from sleep to wakefulness so fast, Rhys wondered if he’d truly been sleeping in the first place. The Azhdahā peered at him, dark brows furrowed over golden eyes.

  “I can’t sleep.”

  Ashem sat up, pushing disheveled black hair off of his forehead. “Sunder it, Rhys. There might be something in the hoard. Why did you wait so long?” Instead of waiting for an answer, he pushed out of bed and padded barefoot out of the sleeping room. Rhys followed. In the entrance cavern, he noticed a blanket-swathed lump next to the wall.

  It was Kai. She had fallen asleep in the same spot he’d seen her last. Someone—likely Ffion—had covered her with a blanket.

  “What is she doing out here?” Rhys rubbed fingers across his chest. The pain had plateaued, but it hadn’t gone. Need twisted inside him. He wanted to go to her, touch her, wake her, lay her in bed and—He bit back a moan and shut down those thoughts before they went any further.

  Ashem made a sharp, dismissive gesture and led Rhys through the kitchen and down the tunnel to the hoard. They rummaged through the organized chaos of one shelf, then another. Finally, Ashem swore. “I told you there wouldn’t be a sleeping draft strong enough for this here. I’ll have to go back to the garden in the meadow. I’ll take Ffion to hasten the work. Ancients know she’s smarter than the rest of you combined.”

  Rhys shook his head. “No. There’s too much risk.”

  Ashem scowled at him. “You need sleep. You still aren’t well.”

  Rhys forced his face into a neutral mask. “I’ll live.”

  Ashem grunted, then asked, “The pain lessens when you’re near her?”

  Rhys nodded.

  With a sardonic smile, the Azhdahā said, “You could ask her to sleep in your bed.”

  Rhys closed his eyes, willing himself not to let his mind go there. “And while I’m at it, I’ll ask if Owain will off himself and end the war.”

  “I’m going to the meadow, Rhys. If I can’t make her swear to you, I can at least help you sleep.”

  Rhys’s mouth pressed into a grim line, but he nodded. They headed back up the tunnel. Ashem was silent. That was normal, but there was something especially tense about it tonight.

  “Is something wrong, chief?”

  Ashem winced. “No.”

  “No?” Rhys stopped. Ashem never winced. Rhys’s mind raced. “You’ve heard from Cadoc. Something has happened.”

  Ashem scowled and kept walking. “No.”

  “Where is he?”

  “I haven’t heard anything,” Ashem snapped.

  They passed Kai again. Rhys nearly went to her, but stopped himself. He was still too out of control. He might have to force her to heartswear, but sunder him, she’d at least be awake. “If you’d heard something, you’d tell us?”

  Ashem didn’t make eye contact. “I’ll tell you anything you need to know.”

  * * *

  Hours later, Rhys sat in his tangled blankets, clenching his teeth against the pain. From the intermittent sound of snoring coming from the other room, Ashem had fallen into a fitful sleep a while ago. It was probably a good thing, since he planned to leave in the morning with Ffion.

  When Rhys couldn’t take the ache any longer, he stood and headed for the main cavern. Someone, probably Ffion or Griffith, had moved Kai from the entrance into her bed.

  He made himself walk by without stopping.

  Griffith kept watch near the cave mouth, just inside the spell that kept warm air in and cold out. Instead of sitting, he worked through a form with a massive oak staff that whistled as he whirled it through the air.

  “You’re up late.” Griffith stopped to lean against the staff, sweating, green eyes bright beneath the tightly curled hair plastered to his brow.

  “As are you,” Rhys replied.

  Griffith’s face was grim. “I don’t have it in me to sit still tonight.”

  Rhys rubbed his chest. “Neither do I.”

  “If I could, I’d go after him.”

  “We could go together,” Rhys said, only half-joking.

  Griffith smiled. “All right. Shall we strap Kai to your back or mine? The condition being, of course, that you explain to Ffion.”

  Rhys laughed. “I’m more terrified of her than Owain’s entire army.”

  “As am I.” Griffith grinned and whirled the staff. He jerked his head toward the wall, where another staff leaned against the stone. “Are you going to stand there, or are you going to work?”

  They’d been friends their entire lives; there was no need to ask how Griffith had known he would come.

  Rhys rolled his injured shoulder. The lingering weakness of Kavar’s venom still made his limbs feel like lead. “I can go a few rounds.”

  With the first resounding clack of the staves, the world drifted away like smoke. Action, reaction. Block, parry, block, thrust, the back-and-forth of feet across stone. No incomplete heartswearing. No Kai. No missing Cadoc—

  Griffith called a halt half an hour later when Rhys buckled to his knees. He leaned his forehead against his staff, panting and frustrated. Even against Griffith, he should be able to manage two or three times longer.

  “We’re just resting,” Griffith said. He offered a cup of water, and Rhys gulped half of it down in one long pull. “Truly, though, how are you?”

  “Out of control.” Outside, the snow from earlier had stopped. Mountain peaks glowed white, rolling away into the distance, reflecting the light of moon and stars. Rhys turned away from the sight and took a deep breath. It didn’t dull the pain. “I don’t know if I’m making the right decision. Cadoc—”

  “Did a scalebrained thing. I’ve lived through heartswearing, Rhys. Instinct takes over. It wasn’t your fault.”

  “He’s half in love with her.” Rhys hadn’t meant it to sound so bitter.

  Griffith chuckled. “He’s not in love with Kai. He just wanted to be. He lost his heart to someone else a long time ago. Though he wasn’t lucky there, either.”

  Rhys raised an eyebrow, skeptical.

  Griffith shook his head. “It isn’t my place to tell.”

  Rhys didn’t respond, not believing that Cadoc could be in love and never have mentioned it. The only thing Cadoc talked about more than women was music, though food took a very close third.

  Silence was easy with Griffith, and this one stretched. Finally, Rhys caught his breath. He licked his lips, salty sweat mingling with cool water. “Griff. What was it like? For you and
Ffion?”

  Griffith leaned on his staff, his face thoughtful. “Quick. And unexpected. Like being struck by lightning, I imagine. She wasn’t thrilled at first.” He smiled. “Though I think I changed her mind.”

  Rhys smiled, as well. “Thoroughly. Are you worried about her going tomorrow?”

  “Ashem will keep her safe.”

  Griffith’s tone was confident, but there was worry beneath. Unlike most heartsworn pairs, Griffith and Ffion had known each other their entire lives. They were members of the same vee, which was rare enough. Instead of heartswearing during a ceremony in Eryri, they’d sworn during a reconnaissance mission over the Chukchi Sea. Like Cadoc, who was well-known for his music, Ffion and Griffith were famous among dragons for their romance.

  Rhys licked his lips again and changed the subject. Ffion and Ashem would be at risk tomorrow because of him. He had to believe that they would keep each other safe. “I’ve felt the lightning. I wondered more about...after.”

  Griffith straightened and arched, the bones in his back cracking. “It’s...entirety. Completeness. Finality. You are half, and then you’re whole.”

  “Isn’t it strange? To have someone else in your mind?”

  Griffith shrugged with one shoulder. “When you’re sworn, it feels wrong not to have them there. But there are levels of intimacy. And if you want, you can block each other out.” He shook his head. “I know some who live that way. I don’t think I could.”

  “But you love Ffion.”

  He smiled, glancing toward the sleeping room. “Ffion is my soul. Without her, I am not.”

  Rhys pushed himself back to his feet. “I don’t know if I can love like that.”

  Griffith gave a rumbling chuckle. “You’ve only known her a few days. There’s plenty of time for love.”

  “Or hate, if we’re like my parents.” All Rhys could see when he closed his own eyes were her fey green ones, the scattering of freckles over her nose...lips, sweet and full. Ancients. That was lust, not love. Lust had caused him enough problems. “What am I supposed to do? Take her to Eryri and hide her? I didn’t choose this. I don’t want this.”