Silverblood

by Jamie Foley

  Dimbae called out to her. Something about the body being dragged.

  Nariellyn appeared out of nowhere. She yelled something about the camp being under attack.

  But that wasn’t possible. Even her luck couldn’t be that bad.

  Orange blur of fire. Dark haze of smoke. Screams. Dashes of running people. Zips of arrows.

  Red and gold of Emberhawk armor.

  Brooke realized she was in shock. She rejected it. Detested herself for it. Leaders couldn’t go into shock.

  She grasped for stability and muttered an incoherent prayer. Mental walls rose around her mind, her heart. She shoved emotions outside them. Feelings in this moment would only cloud her reflexes.

  Heron must have betrayed them to Illiana—everyone else was loyal, and the timing couldn’t be a coincidence. But why?

  The Darkwood had always been more closely allied with the Emberhawk than the rest of the tribes . . . Had Heron’s father, King Raven Eye, allied with Illiana already? Then . . . could Heron have leaked the location of the encampment for Illiana’s benefit?

  Lysander had been right.

  Curse Heron to the pits of Zoth.

  Brooke closed her eyes and recalled her father’s lessons. She was a weapon.

  Know your enemy. Outsmart him. A fast mind is sharper than a fast blade.

  Strike to kill swiftly—this is mercy. Evil will not grant you the same.

  I pray you never have to kill a man. But if you do, let the angels guide your spear and the creator sort your dead.

  Brooke steadied herself and gathered her surroundings. Dimbae must have moved her. She was near the center lodge, pressed up against the bark of an enormous tree that shielded them from a torrent of arrows.

  “Where’s my spear?”

  Nariellyn handed it to her. “They mustn’t see you,” she whispered. “You’re wearing your headdress. If they recognize you, the queen will know you were here.”

  “I don’t care.” Brooke looked around for a target for her spear tip. Emberhawk soldiers were breaching the spike-walls beyond the wigwam barracks. “Where is Coriander?”

  “He’s fine, but Iraleth is injured.”

  Coriander’s wife? But she was with child!

  Wrath consumed Brooke and flickered through her vision. “Go heal her. You stay with them and protect that family at all costs.”

  Nariellyn nodded but hesitated.

  “Go!”

  She ran.

  Brooke sprinted in the opposite direction. Toward the soldiers. Her spear yearned for blood.

  They would pay for this. They would all pay.

  Someone grabbed her from behind. Brooke snarled and nearly stabbed Dimbae through.

  “You can’t fight. We must go.”

  “I can and I will!”

  “They will recognize you. Remember what the elder—”

  “Let me go!”

  Dimbae hauled her onto a xavi and mounted his own. Pulled the reins so Brooke had to grab the saddle to avoid being thrown off.

  Their mounts sprinted through camp at Dimbae’s lead. Brooke gritted her teeth and blinked back hot tears. He was right and she hated it. Hated him. Hated the elder. Hated everything.

  No. Her mind was a fortress. No emotions could exist within. Her heart would be put in its place.

  They broke through a breach in the wall. Sped past a group of soldiers. Into the dark jungle. Over bushes, through bamboo stalks, under vines. Brooke held her spear tight and leaned in close to her xavi, standing in the stirrups and flexing her knees as the saddle bounced beneath. It took every bit of restraint to prevent herself from whirling around and killing as many Emberhawk as fate would allow.

  They’d taken her father. Ruined her childhood. Been a perennial enemy her entire life.

  Why had she ever hoped for peace with them?

  An arrow slammed into Dimbae’s back. He flailed, jerking the reins and saddle sideways. His xavi cried out with a loud shriek and stumbled, spilling the both of them to the earth in a wave of dirt.

  Brooke’s mount reared with a cry, throwing her from the saddle. She hit the earth but didn’t register the impact. She ran to Dimbae as their xavi fled, reaching him before she realized how she got there.

  “Don’t you die on me,” Brooke growled as she offered Dimbae a hand. He grunted and staggered to his feet, then drew his blade.

  Emberhawk soldiers riding striped trace cats approached from behind. Eight snarling saber-tooths with metal armor curving around their heads, their shoulders, their flanks. No, ten . . . a dozen.

  The one with the most extravagant golden armor wore the broadest grin. “What have we here? It can’t be . . .” His men crashed through the thicket, surrounding them.

  Brooke and Dimbae put their backs to each other, weary of the arrow shaft protruding from his ribcage. She’d let her spear do the talking.

  “Take the woman,” the Emberhawk said. “Kill the other.”

  Not on my life!

  Soldiers dismounted and advanced with swords drawn.

  Brooke screamed a war cry and stabbed her spear at the closest man. He dodged, underestimating her speed. Her weapon slid between his armor plates, catching him in the shoulder. He withdrew as another took his place. She impaled him in the neck. The next was skewered through the thigh.

  Another grabbed her spear before she could withdraw it. She yanked at it for only a moment—he was stronger. She shoved it forward, throwing him off balance as she withdrew her knife, leaped forward, and ended him before he could recover.

  Dimbae cried out behind her. Soldiers surrounded him. Pierced him as he fell.

  One of the men blocked Brooke’s line of sight. She dodged around him and stabbed another in the back.

  Someone grabbed her headdress. Jerked backward. She stumbled and slashed out with her knife. They released her to catch her balance with one knee to the ground.

  The soldiers turned away from Dimbae with bloodied blades. Faced her. Surrounded her.

  She screamed at them until her throat went raw.

  “Lay down your weapons and you will not be harmed.”

  Swords pointed at Brooke from every angle, but she ignored them and charged. Dodged the blade in front of her. Drove her knife into the man’s gut.

  Agony pierced her side from behind. She gasped and whirled, slashing out with her blade. Hitting nothing.

  She collapsed to one knee. Pain blurred her vision. Still she held her knife steady, daring another to approach.

  The earth shook with an impact behind her. Someone screamed. Something crunched. Brooke looked over her shoulder.

  An enormous dragon threw a soldier from its jaws to careen into a distant tree. Then it bit another. Arrows deflected from its back and the spikes on its spine as if its scales had been forged from mithril.

  Brooke gaped at it, panting through the anguish. It was a wyvern. A lake wyvern with glowing green eyes. Teeth the length of her arm, claws the length of her spear. Wings so broad they couldn’t fit into the clearing without crashing into trees, sending cracked limbs down to smash its prey below.

  Through the smear of shock and agony, the reality before Brooke’s eyes fought against the truth she thought she’d known. Weren’t wyverns supposed to be extinct?

  The men and their trace cats scattered.

  Brooke watched as the dragon ended every last one of them with its jaws or its tail or fire from its gullet that lit up the forest with unbearable heat.

  Soon, the only sound was the crackling of dragonfire that fed on the bodies and the environment.

  The wyvern turned to look at Brooke with those green eyes. No pupils. Just like the one that had defended Jadenvive from the giant hawk the night of the Emberhawk attack.

  Brooke stood so still she didn’t even breathe. Only her blood moved, trickling down her leg and dripping to the earth.

  The dragon stared at her for a long moment. The fires surrounding them snuffed out in a simultaneous hiss, leaving only smoke to clog the
air with foul scents.

  Then it spread its wings and disappeared into the night.

  Kira regretted agreeing to come along with Vylia the moment she’d done it. Whether or not this was a fool’s errand, Ryon felt further away every minute.

  Oda’e apparently trusted Kira far more than his soldiers did. The treasury guards looked at her like she was a spoiled teenager poking her nose where it didn’t belong.

  She couldn’t blame them. The Katrosi people had only just begun to recognize her as the one who slayed Zamara. Funny how her own people didn’t know her, either.

  Kira ignored the guards’ stares as they begrudgingly admitted entrance to her, Tekkyn, Vylia, and Sousuke. She let Tekkyn finish up the talking, becoming more annoyed with each passing second it took the soldiers to unlock what sounded like an enormous metal bolt on the other side of thick wrought iron doors.

  The faster she found some glass-gold to make Vylia feel safe, the faster she could go after Ryon. The bangle he’d given her hung heavy around her wrist. She wouldn’t give it up under any circumstances.

  Even if they found translucent gold—and assuming Oda’e let them take it and Brooke wouldn’t consider it theft—what assurance did they have that it would contain Lillian any better?

  Kira was the first to slip through the opening in the treasury doors as soon as the gap was wide enough.

  The room wasn’t as large or as well-lit as Kira had expected. Well, she didn’t know what she had expected, but it wasn’t this—the treasury looked more like a large closet than a dragon’s hoard. Gold, silver, and bronze bars were stacked neatly next to boxes full of rupero. Copper vases, sculptures, and artwork sat on shelves in various states of patina. A crystalline chalice looked like a bowl balancing on top of a stem, like an oversized wine glass. Boxes that smelled of spices stacked in the corner beside a massive dragon skull.

  But some shelves were empty, and the folded d’hakka silk was hardly more than Kira had seen at Monty’s shop. How much had Brooke spent and traded already to recover from Zamara’s attack?

  Kira took a cautious step toward a fist-sized gem displayed on a pedestal in the center of the room. It didn’t appear to be a diamond—its facets seemed cloudy. Quartz, perhaps? Why would such an unassuming rock be placed in this position of importance?

  There it is!

  The watery voice in Kira’s head felt so loud that her eardrums might have burst if she’d heard it aloud.

  That’s the keystone. Get it for me!

  Kira covered her ears as if that would stop Lillian’s demands. She waited a moment, hoping Tekkyn wouldn’t think her mad.

  You will be given anything your mortal heart could possibly desire. Take it!

  Kira reeled from the intensity of the voice and looked at Vylia, who’d also entered the treasury behind her. The princess looked like Kira felt: confused and scared and bent over in pain.

  “I will not,” Kira said through gritted teeth, no longer caring what Tekkyn thought. She wasn’t alone in this struggle any more.

  “Whatever you are, you’re evil,” Vylia said, her gentle voice growing strong. “I will not obey you, eithe—”

  I did not come this close just to be denied by ignorant youth! Lillian’s voice slammed through Kira’s head like a mallet to her skull. You doubt me now but you won’t as soon as I’m free! You will be my avatar—whichever of you takes it first. Hold it in your hand and reach into it with your aether. You will absorb it, then do the same to my Malo stone. Then I will show you the power of a god, and you will want for nothing ever again!

  Kira gritted her teeth. The stone just sat there on top of its pedestal. She wondered if it would shatter if it hit the floor.

  “What’s happening?” Tekkyn demanded. “Kira!”

  “Find something made of glass-gold!” Sousuke shouted from across the room.

  Vylia pawed at her belt. “The creator locked you up for a reason,” she growled, taking a step away from the clouded gem on the pedestal. “To Zoth with your empty promises. I’d rather die than let a demon like you free!”

  Lillian’s voice turned to a shrill shriek, so high-pitched that Kira couldn’t fathom anything else. It consumed her in an instantaneous rapture, like a siren who’d lured her prey into an echo chamber. It would scream her apart, piece by infinitesimal piece.

  Distantly, Kira felt herself collapse. Something caught her—she couldn’t see what. Couldn’t think, couldn’t speak. Only pain.

  Were her ears bleeding? Her brain was bleeding.

  She would die. But if she survived, she would not return with her sanity.

  Was resisting worth this pain? Worth her life? She didn’t know anything about the voice, except that it had the power to rend her sanity. Maybe giving it what it wanted wouldn’t be so bad. Didn’t the prophecy say that the greater amos elementals couldn’t be released until the end times? Then surely anything she did would be of no consequence.

  I don’t want to hurt you. Lillian’s voice turned sweet. Soft. Comforting. Tell me you’ll do it, and I’ll set you free.

  Kira reeled as the shrieking abated. Just enough to tempt her.

  Curse this creature—whatever it was. She would not be manipulated into becoming its avatar, or aiding it in any way. Lillian had asked the wrong girl.

  Kira gritted her teeth. “No!”

  Agony consumed her. Rocked and tossed and drowned her like a raft in an ocean storm.

  She thought she heard Vylia cry out, anchoring her back to reality. But it must not have been reality. Water floated in droplets all around them. Seeping upward through the floorboards. Flowing through cracks in the walls. Streaming through the doorway.

  Then I will do it myself.

  The droplets joined into a floating current of water, like a river that had been turned upside-down. It swirled into a pouch on Vylia’s belt, spinning into a vortex and lifting the Malo stone to whirl and shimmer, flashing with a thousand colors.

  The water turned like a snake’s head, growing and smoothing into a shape like a cobra. It shot toward the keystone.

  Kira cried out, the pain in her head preventing her body from movement. The room darkened and blurred, and she knew they’d lost.

  The screaming in her head abruptly stopped, and the silence somehow felt deafening in its absence. Kira gasped as the world righted itself and the pain vanished.

  Water crashed onto the floor, splashing her with a chilling burst.

  She looked toward the keystone. It was still in its place on the pedestal.

  But where was the Malo stone?

  Sousuke knelt with both hands on some sort of glass candlestick. No, it was an upside-down chalice he held flat against the floor. No, the cup was too large to be a chalice. The decorative bowl with its long stem?

  Kira stared in confusion, then looked to Vylia. She was sprawled on the floor as well, looking just as relieved and bewildered. Tekkyn frantically searched the treasury shelves beyond.

  “Where is the Malo stone . . . ?” Vylia’s girlish voice cracked.

  “Under here.” Sousuke didn’t move, but his gaze flicked to the both of them, then back down to the glass. “You okay?”

  Vylia pushed up to her knees and rubbed her ears. “I . . . think so.”

  “Is that glass-gold?” Kira asked once her tongue decided to work again. She could just make out the aquamarine opal between Sousuke’s fingers and through the crystal.

  “I guess so,” Sousuke said. “Looks like Uma was right.”

  Relief flooded Kira, and she saw the same feeling on Vylia’s drooping shoulders.

  “What now?” Sousuke muttered, both hands still holding the oversized chalice against the floor as if he’d caught a rat inside it.

  Kira resisted the urge to badmouth Lillian until she felt better. Her mind was blissfully quiet aside from her own frantic thoughts.

  She looked back to Vylia. “Do you hear her . . . ?”

  Vylia shook her head. “Either that stopped her, or she decid
ed to stop at the same moment.” Her lips pursed and her brow furrowed. “It didn’t sound to me like she had any intention of quitting.”

  “Is there any other glass-gold in here?” Kira shakily pushed to her feet. “Preferably with the weight of an oliphant.”

  “Don’t see any more,” Tekkyn called from the back of the treasury. “Plenty of regular gold though, and this gem-like thingy.”

  “It needs to be transparent gold,” Vylia said. “Although it seems this chalice worked, so it must be.”

  “Thank the creator,” Kira murmured as she swept water droplets from her arms. She began to move toward Sousuke, then thought better of it.

  Tekkyn jogged over and handed Sousuke a thin crystal serving tray etched with snowflake designs. Kira looked as closely as she could from the distance. Translucent as it was, it didn’t have the streak of gold stretching like lightning through its features, nor the faint golden hue that Ryon’s bracelet did.

  Still, Sousuke carefully slid the tray under the chalice. It clanged against the Malo stone inside as he inched it across the chalice. Had he swiped the opal out of the current of living water and slammed it on the ground? Good thing the chalice hadn’t broken.

  Sousuke turned the chalice upright and pulled the crystal tray back to reveal the fist-sized water opal. It sat there like any ordinary gemstone, as if it hadn’t just spoken to them and nearly shorn their sanity.

  Kira wanted to throw it in the nearest volcano.

  “Don’t touch it,” Vylia said. “We should find another piece of glass-gold so it can be fully surrounded until I can return it to the temple in Maqua.”

  Tekkyn was watching Kira with perceptive eyes. “How about we find the nearest glacier and drop it in an ice crevasse?”

  Kira offered a weary smile to let him know she was all right. She looked down at Ryon’s bracelet and tugged at it but didn’t remove it. “Ryon said the whole palace in Quin’Zamar is made of gold. I don’t remember if he said it was translucent, though . . .”

  “But we’re going in the opposite direction,” Vylia said as she moved toward the collection of d’hakka silk. “I have to return this to its place in the temple in Maqua as soon as possible. If this chalice could stop Lillian from achieving her goal just now, hopefully it will be enough to contain her for the journey.” She took a piece of purple silk, laid it carefully over the top of the chalice, and tied it tight around the stem.