Honorbound

by Chelsea M. Campbell

  “And I was there. It was Warwick. He—”

  “I thought you said he got rid of that supposed claw?”

  “He did. And you were supposed to go check it out.”

  “I looked. You were right about the hole in the pond, but there was nothing in it.”

  The light must not have been right. Or she didn’t look very hard. Or it drifted out of view. “But the hole in the pond—that was weird, right? And it’s the size of a dragon’s hand.”

  “Stop trying to make excuses.”

  “Amelrik didn’t kill anybody. He…” I swallow, choosing my words carefully. “They were his claw marks you saw on the body, but it was an accident, and it didn’t kill that man. Warwick’s sword did. If you go and check—”

  “Go and check? Are you insane?”

  “Warwick killed him!”

  She shakes her head, though her eyes don’t meet mine. “He wouldn’t. And if he did, it… it would have been because the wounds were too great. Maybe you saw him end his suffering, but—”

  “That man could have lived. And it was no mercy killing. I watched Warwick stick his sword into his wounds to finish him off. He stuck a sword in his guts, and it was painful and slow. And if he was somehow doing it to help him, he wouldn’t have needed to hide it. He would have told you about it. But he didn’t.”

  Worry creases Celeste’s forehead. “No, that’s—”

  “Henrietta was attacked with a sword, too.”

  “That was a fluke. Some crazy person using the dragon attacks to get away with something.”

  “Yes, exactly. Some crazy person like Warwick St. George. And I’m betting the claw marks you saw today don’t look anything like the ones you saw on the other bodies.” Amelrik’s claws might be deadly, but they’re not nearly as big as those of a full-size dragon.

  She’s shaking her head. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. It can’t—”

  “Stop telling me you don’t believe me and go and check!” They would have brought the body of a fallen paladin back here. It must be at the manor house somewhere. “If you inspect the wounds—”

  “Your boyfriend’s a vicious monster. I’m not going to go poking around where I don’t belong, throwing suspicions on our leader, a legend, just because you can’t accept that!”

  I stare at her. “Amelrik’s my betrothed, and there’s a monster lurking in this town, but it’s not him. Even Char thinks Warwick’s been acting strange.”

  “Warwick’s been under a lot of stress. It must be hard, leading a city during this kind of crisis.”

  A crisis he started. “Now who’s making excuses? If you really believe he’s innocent, then there’s no harm in checking the body. But I know the truth, because I was there.”

  She bites her lip. “I’m sure you just… It must have been a misunderstanding. You don’t know what you saw. You’d say anything to save Amelrik, so why should I believe you?”

  “You shouldn’t. You should go check for yourself. Now get out of my way, Celeste, because I need to get to that cellar.”

  She moves to block me again. “Vee, there’s nothing you can do.”

  “You know what they’re going to do to him.” I know she’s not going to just look the other way while I rescue him—if I could even do it without her help—but can’t she just give me this? “I need to see him.” My voice shakes and my eyes start to water. Part of me really doesn’t want to cry in front of her, especially about this, but part of me doesn’t care, because it’s nothing compared to losing him. “Even if you don’t believe me, even if you really think he’s capable of… of murder, don’t tell me you’re so heartless that you won’t even let me say good-bye.” I choke up on that last word. Something inside me is screaming that this can’t be happening. It doesn’t feel real. It’s not possible.

  Celeste’s face falls. Not in anger, like I expect, but in sympathy. “No, Vee,” she says. “I’m not that… I’m not heartless. But you’re too late. They’ve already taken him to the execution site.”

  26

  HE IS NO MAN

  The public spectacle—because I refuse to call it an execution—is well underway by the time I get there, and I’m out of breath from running the whole way.

  There’s a stage that was being used for the winter festival set up here, and a huge crowd. More than I would have expected on such short notice. But I guess word that they’ve not only caught the murderer, but that he’s some kind of half-dragon anomaly that they’re going to expose in front of the whole town, spreads fast. And no one wants to miss the once-in-a-lifetime chance to see it.

  I push my way through the crowd, trying to get closer to the stage. Tall people keep looming in front of me, and I keep having to stand on my tiptoes to see what’s happening, but I catch glimpses of Amelrik. His face is bloody and bruised. He’s in chains, and there’s a dragon ring around his neck.

  Warwick stands in front of him, and there are paladins onstage with them, off to the side, ready to draw their swords.

  “He’s a wanted criminal!” Warwick shouts. “Not just a murderer of the people of East Westford, but a vile creature that’s dared threaten the lives of paladins! Without paladins, there’s no one to keep you safe. He murdered one of my brethren just this morning, right before my eyes!”

  A murmur runs through the crowd. Angry, but excited, too.

  I struggle forward, pushing my way past people, not caring who I have to elbow to get through.

  “In all my years, I’ve never seen anything as horrifying, as grotesque, as what I saw today!” But there’s no trace of horror in Warwick’s voice when he says that. Only excitement, an almost giddiness, and that same hunger I saw in his eyes earlier. “This thing that stands before you may look like a man—he may have fooled thousands into believing it—but I assure you, he is no man. He’s no ordinary dragon, either, but something twisted and wrong.”

  I can’t see the stage, too busy trying to push my way forward, but I hear Amelrik’s chains rattle. “You did this!” he screams. “You’re the mur—”

  The sound of someone hitting him cuts him off.

  There’s a slight pause, and then he screams, “Murderer!” again, actually finishing the word this time. His throat sounds raw, his voice desperate.

  I hear another hit, and then Warwick says, “Silence him.”

  My heart leaps into my throat, thinking he means to get on with the execution, but then I remember he can’t yet. He still has to prove he’s a dragon.

  I accidentally knock into a little girl as I hurry through the crowd. Her mother reaches out and shoves me into someone else, glaring daggers in my direction. I don’t have time to apologize, or to ask who brings a child to an execution. I scramble to get my balance back and keep going.

  “What I’m about to reveal to you isn’t for the faint of heart,” Warwick goes on.

  Amelrik screams, but it’s muffled. I pause and catch a glimpse of him, a tiny bit of relief washing through me when I see they’ve just gagged him. Not that that’s a good thing, but at least that’s all they’ve done. For now.

  “It may haunt your nightmares for years to come. Maybe for the rest of your lives. If there’s anyone who doesn’t want to see, I suggest you leave now.”

  I’m too far into the crowd to be able to tell for sure, but I don’t think anyone leaves. If anything, they’re all pushing closer to the stage, making it even harder for me to get through. And I’m so close. Well, a lot closer than I was when I started. I can actually see the individual bruises on Amelrik’s face now, though I couldn’t tell the color of his eyes if I didn’t already know.

  Warwick calls for Joanna Carver. The crowd cheers as she takes the stage.

  I’m not there yet. And everyone’s pushing so hard, eager to watch her do her magic, practically drooling to see Amelrik change. There’s no way I’ll get there in time to stop her.

  Not that I could, anyway. I don’t know what I’m doing. Amelrik’s surrounded by paladins. Any o
ne of them could easily stop me, even if I did manage to get to him. I have no way of unchaining him, either.

  And now Joanna’s going to expose him, in front of a crowd that’s not only desperate to see the monster Warwick promised, but to have a dragon to blame for all the murders. I wonder if Warwick plans to kill him himself or if he’s going to let the crowd do it. Either way, once they see Amelrik’s dragon form, he’s never leaving this place.

  He’ll die in chains, with all these people staring at him in horror.

  Someone in front of me moves, and I can see the stage a little better. Warwick uses his St. George magic to remove the dragon ring from Amelrik’s neck. It breaks apart and clatters to the floor. The crowd’s full of nervous energy as Joanna Carver lifts her hand.

  At the same time as I lift both of mine. She’s a lot more experienced than me, a lot more in control of her magic, and probably way more powerful, but I cast the binding spell with everything I’ve got.

  I’ve never cast it from this distance before, and I can feel her magic fighting mine. I concentrate as hard as I can, my hands tingling so bad, it hurts.

  But I don’t care what it takes, because Warwick doesn’t get to win. Not today, not with this. These people don’t get to stare at Amelrik like he’s some kind of monster, and they especially don’t get to do it because of Warwick, the man who tortured a pregnant dragon and made Amelrik like this in the first place.

  And even more than that, they don’t get to because I love him. Every part of him. Because there is no dragon half or human half—there’s just him. And I don’t care if he has wings and scales, or claws that can rip a man apart. I don’t care if it’s piercing yellow dragon eyes looking back at me or the vivid green human ones I’m used to. He’s the same person either way, and I love him. I would love him even if he never looked human.

  But these people could never understand that, and they don’t get to see that side of him. And Warwick St. George doesn’t get to humiliate him in front of an entire town or blame his own monstrous crimes on him.

  Not with me here. I may not have been a match for him this morning, but I’m not done getting in his way.

  Sweat prickles on my forehead and down my back as I strain to keep casting the spell.

  Joanna has a confused look on her face. I’m guessing she can feel my magic fighting hers. She hesitates, opening her mouth to say something, but Warwick doesn’t let her.

  “Keep going!” he snaps.

  She steels herself, her forehead wrinkling in concentration.

  I feel a surge of magic warring with my own, threatening to drown me out. I grit my teeth, and it’s only through sheer force of will that I keep fighting, that I don’t let it overtake me.

  Her magic might be a hell of a lot stronger than mine, but mine is the only thing keeping Amelrik safe, and I can’t afford to let up. Not even for a second.

  Still, all the months of not practicing are catching up to me. And fighting against Carver magic, the exact opposite of my own, is draining. Sweat pores down my back and pools under my armpits, despite the cold. My muscles start to ache. Not just the ones holding up my arms, but all over. It’s like when I cast the binding spell several times in a row, only worse. My legs wobble a little, threatening to give out. I feel like I’ve been trampled by a horse or thrown against a brick wall.

  I taste blood and realize I’ve been biting the inside of my cheek, but I don’t dare let go. I don’t dare do anything but focus on the spell, even as my strength starts to falter.

  My magic’s fading. It’s not going to last. I put everything I have into it and then some, even though I know it won’t be enough.

  And then just when I think I can’t hold out any longer, just when I feel myself losing control of the spell, Joanna puts her hand down. She stops casting.

  Right as my magic runs out.

  I’m shaking all over. So much so that the people next to me are giving me weird looks. Well, that and the sulfur smell coming off me. But I don’t care, because I did it. Amelrik’s still in human form.

  “It’s not working,” Joanna tells Warwick. “He’s not—”

  “No!” Warwick screams. It comes out surprisingly shrill and desperate. His eyes flick between her and Amelrik. “You’re doing it wrong.”

  An annoyed look twitches across her face. “I know how to do my job. You can’t force something that doesn’t exist.”

  “He’s a dragon—I saw him!”

  Joanna shrugs, like she doesn’t particularly believe that.

  Warwick darts forward and actually shoves her. “Get out of my way, you stupid woman!”

  Joanna stumbles, caught off guard. The other paladins gasp, their hands suddenly on their swords, and a couple take a step forward, though nobody actually attacks him. But it’s clear that of the two of them, their loyalty lies with Joanna.

  There are disappointed mutterings throughout the crowd and a few angry shouts. Nobody’s pressing so hard to see the stage now, and I make my way a little farther forward, even though I kind of just want to collapse.

  “I know what you are!” Warwick screams.

  Amelrik shouts something at him, his words muffled by the gag in his mouth.

  “He’s a dragon!” Warwick tells the crowd again, though the desperation in his voice does nothing to convince them. “If she can’t prove it, then I’ll—”

  “Stop!” Celeste’s authoritative voice carries across the stage. She steps up onto the stage and marches over to him, a few more paladins at her back. “Warwick St. George, I’m placing you under arrest.”

  “What?” He stares at her, and then a look of amused disgust twists his face. “You can’t do that. Who do you think you are? I outrank you. You don’t have the—”

  “Not anymore. You’re under arrest for the murder of a fellow paladin.”

  “What?” he says again, a giddy disbelief creeping into his words. “He was killed by a dragon. This dragon!” He waves at Amelrik.

  Celeste takes a long, slow breath, and I can tell she’s pissed, even if she looks calm. “The cause of death was a sword wound.”

  “Im-impossible! The man was killed with claws! You all saw the body!” He gestures to the other paladins.

  A few of them nod tentatively, while a couple take a step back from him.

  Celeste shakes her head. “You tried to hide it. You made it look like it was a dragon attack, just like you did all the others.”

  Warwick’s face pales and one eye twitches. “Be careful who you’re accusing.” His voice is a low rumble, a threat.

  Celeste only stands up straighter, her hand resting on her sword hilt. “I came here to hunt a dragon, but what I found was worse. We expect dragons to kill people. Paladins are supposed to protect them.”

  “I am protecting them! Do you know how many people a dragon could kill in its lifetime? And if it’s allowed to roam free, to breed, think of all the deaths not only it, but its children will cause.” He winces at the thought. “What’s a few sacrifices if it means destroying that kind of killer?”

  Celeste recoils at that partial admission, like she hadn’t quite actually believed it until now. She looks him over, as if she’s truly seeing him for the first time.

  “Think of how many lives have been saved,” Warwick goes on. “There are always dragons hiding among humans. Always. You get the town to put up a barrier, and then you wait.”

  A sick look passes over Celeste and the other paladins. Several of them glance between her and Warwick. Joanna moves closer to Celeste, her hand on her sword, ready to back her up.

  “You’ve done this before,” Celeste says, the words quiet, barely carrying to the audience. “You faked dragon attacks to get the town to approve the barrier.”

  “But you killed Henrietta after the barrier was up,” Joanna points out.

  “And I was right to do it,” Warwick snarls, abandoning any pretense that he might still be innocent. “No dragons were transforming, and there was talk of taking it down,
but I knew there was a dragon here! Hiding amongst you!” He turns to the crowd when he says that part. “And I was right.”

  Joanna shakes her head. “You weren’t. He’s not—”

  “I can prove it!” Before anyone can stop him, Warwick unsheathes his sword.

  There’s a chorus of metal shinking sounds as all the paladins on stage hurry to draw theirs, too.

  But it’s not them he’s attacking.

  “I don’t know how he resisted your magic,” he says, sword aimed at Amelrik, “but he’ll have to transform now!” He lunges.

  He’s going to hurt him, to mortally wound him, and force him to transform in order to heal himself. My heart pounds, because I just cast the binding spell on him. And I know it doesn’t last long, and I know most of my power probably went into fighting Joanna’s magic, so that I have no way of knowing if he’s still bound. But if he is, he won’t be able to transform. And even if he does, he’ll prove Warwick right, and then they’ll kill him anyway.

  Amelrik’s eyes are wide.

  Warwick’s sword’s aimed right at his heart.

  I feel like the whole world stops.

  And then there’s a loud, reverberating clang as Celeste’s sword suddenly blocks Warwick’s, only inches from Amelrik’s chest. Warwick glares at her. “You don’t know what you’re doing.”

  “Yes, I do.” She doesn’t take her eyes off him or let up on her sword when she shouts, “Arrest him!”

  The other paladins rush in, looking more than ready for this to be over. They quickly overpower Warwick, disarming him.

  “The prisoner’s free to go!” Celeste turns to the crowd while one of the other paladins starts unlocking Amelrik’s chains. “The town of East Westford is safe, and the Strongshields are taking down the barrier even as we—”

  A roar interrupts her. The unmistakable roar of a dragon as three of them come rushing into the square.

  27

  DON’T THINK THAT JUST BECAUSE YOU’RE RIGHT MEANS YOU WEREN’T BEING STUPID

  I assume the dragons are from Hawthorne clan, since they’re black, and I get confirmation when one of them rears up, spreading its wings out behind it, showing off the telltale flashes of red. It leans its head back and shoots flames into the air.