The Ascending

by Jenna Elizabeth Johnson

  He pulled his own hood back far enough for Keiron to get a clear view of the brand burned into his face. The regent’s son stilled in his efforts to break free and paled.

  “As you have most likely surmised, your failure may very well anger someone far more terrifying and merciless than me.”

  He slowly loosened his fingers, but did not let go. Keiron drew in a ragged, sputtering breath, his face reddening from the effort. When he finally regained his composure, he shot Boriahs a deadly glare. The commander merely sniffed and crossed his arms over his chest once again. He was so tempted to squash this annoying little mosquito, but he still needed him.

  “I can salvage this,” the regent’s son snapped once he’d recovered from Boriahs’ attack. “Give me a few more days, and I’ll orchestrate my escape. Surely by acting the part of the hero, that accursed dragon will now trust me. I could go visit the girl, offer to keep an eye on her so Raejaaxorix can scout the city’s boundaries, then slip a drug into her tea and carry her right out the door.”

  Boriahs’ teeth snapped together with a click. “You had your chance, boy. We do this my way now. We strike tonight. It is not yet midnight, and I have fifty of my most highly trained warriors, mages and assassins waiting in the caves a mile from this point. My colleagues and I,” he motioned to the four men still holding the elves in check, “will slip away when this meeting is over and return to the rest of our retinue. In no more than three hours, we can be back in the city.”

  Rage colored the Source’s face, and his jaw worked furiously. “This is my city, and my act of war!” he spat, cutting his hand through the air. “It is my face my father will see as I hand the girl over to you. My face he’ll gaze upon as my sword strikes to remove his pathetic head from his accursed shoulders.”

  Boriahs stepped closer, his eyes once again narrowed, his voice a low hiss. “And just how do you plan on accomplishing that? With your incompetent bodyguards?”

  He jerked his head to the side, acknowledging the disarmed elves.

  Keiron, if at all possible, turned even redder.

  Boriahs shook his head, then addressed everyone in the room. “We return to the caves and gather our troops there. In the darkest hours of early morning, we’ll slip back into the city and overtake the dragon while he sleeps. You, regent’s whelp,” he snapped at the Source.

  Keiron looked at him with fire in his blue eyes.

  “Here is your chance to redeem yourself. We will sneak in through the southeastern gate. You will need to remove the guards from that section of the wall.”

  Keiron looked as if he was going to protest again, but Boriahs’ harsh glare kept him silent. The regent’s son nodded once, his lips pressed tightly together.

  “Once we are inside, we’ll keep to the shadows until we reach the cabin where the girl sleeps. As a single entity, we’ll strike the dragon, not giving him the chance to waken. Once he’s dead, removing the girl will be easy. The whelp will be allowed to show the girl to his father, but she will be in my care the entire time. Once you have managed to prove to your father just how powerful you are,” Boriahs sneered, drawing light chuckles from his men and a burning scowl from Keiron, “we will leave your city in peace and head east with our captive.”

  The high commander of the Red Flange waited for the Source and his conspirators to leave before he turned back to his men.

  “Handeil,” he barked at the soldier closest to him. “Find some water and set up a scrying pool. I need you to contact Armauld or one of the other skurmages and inform them to ready the troops. While we’re slaying this dragon, I want them on the move in case something goes awry. Tell them I want the city surrounded no later than dawn. Make your way back to the caverns when the message has been sent.”

  The man nodded sharply and slipped out of the room. Boriahs barked out a few more orders in the language of Ghorium and as one, the remaining soldiers wrapped themselves once again in their cloaks, completely disguising their identity. They left that room two at a time, Boriahs lingering a few more minutes to give his men time to sneak away.

  So long as that upstart pup followed his directions exactly as he had given them, all would go as planned. He would have the girl, and that filthy Tanaan dragon would finally be out of the picture. Boriahs knew his Master would be displeased that his servant disposed of the dragon Raejaaxorix, but the commander was hoping the delivery of the girl, alive and well, would make up for it. Only time would tell, and his Master’s irritation at missing out on the joy of breaking the fire-breather would be greatly outweighed by his delight at finally having the one thing that could bring about his ruination.

  As Boriahs snuffed out the lantern and shut the door gently behind him, a small limbit clung desperately to the frozen ledge outside, his heart pounding, his eyes wide and his ears scarcely believing what they had just heard.

  * * *

  Keiron was angry. No, he was furious. For weeks, he had fought his short temper, fawned over that weak human girl so she might believe he actually cared for her. It had been so very difficult not to snap and shout at her, or club her over the head with the pommel of his sword and deliver her to the commander of the Red Flange. But no. He had to make her believe, make everyone believe, that he would be the last person in Cahrdyarein to lift a finger against her. Even then, even when he knew she was falling for his fabricated charms, that thrice-accursed dragon had suspected him.

  The regent’s son growled and kicked at a pile of old snow, cursing when his toe met solid ice instead of the frosty powder he expected.

  “Please, my lord, we do not want to draw attention to ourselves,” Ilian murmured as they hurried along, darting from one shadow to the next.

  Keiron gritted his teeth as the heat of his temper passed. He so badly wanted to beat the men again. How had ten of Pendric’s best soldiers let a mere slip of a girl get the better of them?

  “Shut your worthless mouth, Ilian,” Keiron snapped.

  “But my lord,” another intervened, Orran this time, “if anyone sees you, our ruse will be over. We must do as the scarred one demanded, or he will turn us over to the Tyrant.”

  Keiron paused in his forward motion. Taking the rebuke from Boriahs had grated against his pride, but it had been necessary. Besides, when all this was over, he would have the high commander assassinated. The mishap with Jahrra’s attempted kidnapping was a simple mistake, one he wouldn’t make again, and one that in no way should act as a slight against his intelligence. When all this was over, and those resisting the Crimson King fell, his loyalty and his part in delivering Jahrra would earn him the sovereignty of Felldreim and perhaps Oescienne as well. His father was weak, a mere regent. Keiron would be a king. A king as cruel, conniving and powerful as Cierryon. They would rule the world together, one in the east and the other in the west. Keiron just had to practice a little more patience and avoid making any more mistakes.

  “You’ll not speak of King Cierryon in such disrespectful terms,” he gritted out between his clenched teeth. “We are allies now, and when this impending war is over, he will reward those most loyal to him. When I am king of the western provinces, I shall raise you all to be lords of your own vast lands. If you anger me, you will suffer instead.”

  Orran was wise enough to keep his next thoughts to himself, and they continued on through the night, heading toward the southeastern edge of the city.

  Dispatching the guards was easy enough. Keiron simply limped up to those standing on either side of the staircase leading to the top, babbling about having just escaped his captors. The two Resai guards’ eyes were still wide with surprise at seeing him when they fell to the ground, their throats slit and their blood staining the old snow scarlet. It was the same when he reached the top of the wall. Five more soldiers fell to the ground as Keiron and his mercenaries headed toward the mechanism that would open the grate over the creek below.

  They watched as Boriahs and his men slipped through, like ghosts manufactured of shadow disappearing into t
he night. As Keiron’s five companions spread out to take up the posts of the dead guards, he trained his eyes on the spot where the Crimson King’s men had just disappeared.

  You may think you’re in control of the situation, Boriahs, slave, he mused to himself. But unlike you, I am not a servant owned by his Supreme Majesty. I am not blood-bound to our Master, and it is I who will win his favor in the end.

  * * *

  Dervit had never run so fast in his life, nor had he ever been so terrified. His heart slammed against his ribs as the memories of what he’d just witnessed flashed through his mind.

  Keiron! Traitor! Army! Attack! Death!

  He flew through the abandoned city streets, always keeping to the shadows and staying as close to the buildings as possible. His news was urgent, but it would help no one if those evil men caught him. An image of Keiron’s face, smiling in open admiration at Jahrra, popped into his head, and he gritted his teeth. Fresh anger and melancholy washed over him. How dare he befriend her only to turn her over to the very monster that wished her dead?

  The limbit shook his head. No, Keiron hadn’t turned her over, after all. He had failed, and he would fail again. Dervit would make sure of it.

  Dervit raced around a final corner and spotted Jahrra’s cabin up ahead, the dark, serpentine shape of Jaax curled up around it like a snake coiled around its nest. Approaching the sleeping dragon was a bad idea, so Dervit checked the street for spies hidden in the darkness one more time before bolting toward Ellyesce’s quarters. He came to a skidding halt in front of the door, and as he sucked in huge gulps of air, he pounded his fists against the wood as loudly as he dared.

  A few moments passed before Dervit’s sharp ears picked up the sound of movement inside. Ellyesce yanked the door open just enough to reach out and grab the limbit by his vest collar and yank him inside. Dervit yelped in surprise.

  “What are you doing causing such a racket in the middle of the night?! Do you wish to wake Jaax and entice him into breathing fire before you have a chance to identify yourself?”

  Dervit gasped and pushed against Ellyesce. Surprised, the elf let go and arched a dark eyebrow at his small friend. The coals in the fireplace were just bright enough to make out the silhouette of his face.

  “Keiron!” he wheezed. “Keiron is in league with the high commander of the Red Flange. They are planning to attack tonight. We must tell Jaax!”

  Suddenly, Ellyesce was alert and moving across the interior of his cabin. He didn’t even bother to question Dervit’s claims before he scooped up his bow and arrows.

  “Come with me,” he hissed, his tone and continence instantly severe.

  Dervit nodded and trailed behind him, his legs suddenly weak from the rush of adrenaline.

  Ellyesce moved stealthily across the road, keeping his distance as he approached Jaax from the side.

  “Jaax, wake up,” he breathed.

  The dragon’s eye shot open, the brilliant silvery emerald of their irises gleaming despite the dark night. His head shot up, and immediately, he began testing the air with his nose.

  “What’s amiss?” he hissed on a low, steaming breath.

  Ellyesce instructed Dervit to tell his tale, and so he did. When he finished, Jaax’s scales rippled the way the ridge of hackles on a dog’s back might rise when it sensed danger.

  “We must leave this city. Now!” he growled.

  He moved out of the way so Dervit could step inside the cabin.

  “Ellyesce, can you go fetch the horses?”

  The elf ducked his head at Jaax and slinked off into the darkness.

  “We must move quickly,” Jaax told Dervit. “I’ll need you to help Jahrra pack. She’ll not be able to do so on her own.”

  Dervit nodded and began to push the door open.

  “And Dervit?” Jaax said behind him, his voice softening ever so slightly, despite its urgency.

  He turned and gazed up at the dragon. The weak light coming from the glowing coals within the cottage illuminated his face just enough for Dervit to read the concern there.

  “Don’t tell her about Keiron. Not yet at least. She does not need that sorrow burdening her heart just now.”

  Dervit tightened his jaw and jerked his head in agreement. Jahrra may not always hold her guardian in the highest regard, but he never failed to protect her in what little way he could. The limbit very much appreciated him for that.

  By the time Jahrra had awoken from all the noise, Ellyesce was back with the horses, fully tacked and waiting for their saddle bags. Dervit, too, had made great headway. All of the small items from the drawers and most of Jahrra’s clothes were in their respective bags.

  “What’s going on?” Jahrra asked groggily as she rubbed at her eyes with the heel of her hand. She accidentally brushed against the long welt on her jaw in her efforts, letting out a sharp hiss of pain.

  “We have to leave,” Jaax rumbled from the doorway. “Now.”

  Jahrra started and glanced at her guardian.

  “What?” she managed. “In the middle of the night? Why?”

  “You, we, are in danger,” the dragon grumbled, his voice snapping with impatience.

  “I was taking a late night stroll,” Dervit cut in, “and I heard voices. I wandered over to listen to what they were saying, and I discovered it was soldiers from the Red Flange. They said they would be sneaking into the city tonight to capture you.”

  Jahrra sucked in a breath, dread crawling along her nerves. She made to sit upright, but cursed when the sudden movement shot pain down her leg.

  Jaax swore in Kruelt and called Ellyesce over.

  “Can you do anything about her leg?”

  Ellyesce nodded grimly. “I can use magic to take away the pain and keep the injury stable while she rides, but it will cost me dearly and she will still have to be very careful.”

  “Do it,” the dragon snarled.

  “Wait,” Jahrra breathed, “did they say anything about Keiron?”

  Jaax watched as the limbit almost lost his composure. Before he answered, he cast the dragon a quick glance. Jaax didn’t have to shake his head. The sharpness in his eyes and the tightness of his jaw was reminder enough.

  “No,” Dervit murmured. “They said nothing of the regent’s son. Only that they planned to storm the city in the cover of darkness in order to capture you.”

  “We can’t go anywhere until Keiron is found!” Jahrra insisted.

  “No, Jahrra!” Jaax snapped.

  She shot him a poisonous glance.

  The Tanaan dragon used every ounce of patience he possessed and worked against the flood of panic bashing against his defenses. He could not lose control. Not now. He had to get Jahrra moving; get her out of the city.

  “Jahrra,” he pressed, “we must leave. If we stay behind, they will kill you, and those who protect you. I cannot fight off the entire Red Flange, and staying behind with very little chance of learning about Keiron’s whereabouts will accomplish nothing.”

  He watched as the wheels turned in her head. She wanted to stay, he could feel it. And he could hardly blame her. Should he just tell her about Keiron, then? Inform her the young Resai elf who she’d grown so fond of had won her trust simply to turn her over to the enemy? And not just her trust, but her heart as well? Liquid hot rage pulsed through him. If the regent’s son were to walk around the corner that very second, Jaax would not hesitate to incinerate him. But he couldn’t dwell on such things now. His priority was to get Jahrra out of harm’s way, by any means possible, and if she hated him for this hasty flight from Cahrdyarein, then so be it. He could patch up their relationship later. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t done so before.

  Just when Jaax thought he might have to tell her of Keiron’s treachery, Jahrra opened her mouth and said tightly, “You are right. I’m sorry. I just wish we knew what happened to him.”

  Jaax heaved a massive sigh of relief. “As do I.”

  After that, their plans unfolded more smoothly. As Ellyesce ch
anted and wove his magic over Jahrra’s injured leg, Dervit dragged the smaller bags over to the door where Jaax picked them up with his teeth and draped them over the horses. Once all the bags had been removed from the cabin, Dervit worked to secure them atop the drowsy animals.

  Jahrra came hobbling out next, the bulky bandages and splint hindering her movement, but apparently not causing any pain.

  “Lead them to the northern gate,” Jaax whispered. “Pendric mentioned earlier at the council meeting that he’d be on guard most of the night. We can trust him to help us leave as quietly as possible.”

  Ellyesce nodded and encouraged his semequin into a quick-paced walk. Jahrra followed behind them on Phrym and Dervit on Rumble, with Jaax taking up the rear, his ears straining to pick up any suspicious sounds.

  It took them thirty agonizing minutes to reach the northern side of the city, but Pendric was there as Jaax had promised.

  “What is this?” the captain of the guard asked as the soldiers keeping watch with him held up their torches.

  “We must leave the city immediately,” Jaax said once Pendric had climbed halfway down the staircase.

  Surprise sparked in the Resai elf’s eyes. “In the middle of the night? With Keiron still missing?”

  Dervit repeated his tale, altering it once again for Jahrra’s sake.

  Immediately, Pendric’s face hardened. “Of course, I will allow you passage.”

  He gave quick orders for his men to open the large gate leading out into the forest beyond.

  “I ask one favor of you, Raejaax,” he murmured, loud enough for only Jaax to hear.

  The dragon inclined his head.

  “Take my wife and son with you. If the Red Flange should take the city, they will question me and use my family against me.”

  Jaax hesitated. The captain’s son was very young, and his wife pregnant with their second child. He wanted to tell him no. Jahrra’s injured leg was already a burden, adding a pregnant woman and a young boy would slow them down even further. But then, Jaax realized that Pendric did not expect to survive a full-out assault upon the city. They would bring him forth and torture him, not only because he was the captain of the guard, but also because he was the one to let the human girl escape.