by J. D. Monroe
“How?”
“The Arik’tazhan,” Catrina said. “Lang wants him.”
Don’t you fucking touch him. The ferocity of the thought shocked her, and she concentrated hard on keeping her face neutral, pressing her lips together so the defiant threat didn’t escape.
“Why?”
“The Arik’tazhan possess knowledge that dates back centuries,” Catrina said. “Mr. Lang entrusted one of the other initiates with capturing one of them. The Silent Tempest, I’m told. The operation was a complete disaster.” She tilted her head. “But with you involved, we could get whatever we wanted out of him.”
“What do I need to do?”
“You mentioned that he tried to turn you against us, and you played along to get away, yes?”
“It was all an act,” she protested.
“I know, dear. I’m not upset with you,” Catrina said. “You’re here now. I trust you. You’ll get in touch with him and ask him to meet you. Tell him you’re having doubts and you want to give him information. If he meets you, we’ll be waiting. And when you turn him over to Mr. Lang, no one will have any doubts about your loyalty. Imagine handing one of the Arik’tazhan over to Master Sidran when he arrives. Think of how pleased he would be at such a gift.”
“That sounds good,” she said blankly. Confusion muddled her thoughts about the Chosen, but she knew one thing for certain. She would not give Velati to them. “I’ll do it.”
“Good girl. Now, just get some rest. Tomorrow is a new day, and soon there will be no doubts about your allegiances.”
Excessive blood loss caused nausea, dizziness, and severe headaches. As it turned out, being shouted at by three adult Kadirai shared the same side effects. Once the operation was officially concluded and the injured were stabilized, they’d gathered in a meeting room at Stormcrest for a debriefing that quickly turned into a dogpile on Velati. After hearing Dyadra utter the phrase “I told you so” for the third time, he surged to his feet and grabbed the edge of the table for balance.
“I fucking heard you. I heard all of you,” Velati roared.
The others shrank back for a split second before Dyadra threw up her hands in frustration. “I told you it was a long game, serani,” Dyadra said, somehow infusing the affectionate term with spite. “I told—”
“Don’t you dare say it again,” he snapped. Her glare could have frozen the blood in his veins. “The white dragon is dead because of that girl. The Stormflight queen and seventeen of her people are here safely because of that girl. Yeah, she fucked us. I shouldn’t have trusted her. But I did.”
“You’re strong enough. You could have done it without her,” Dyadra said. “Rihz could have gone with you.”
“Rihz’s brain would have melted out of his skull, and I would be dead in the desert,” Velati retorted. “Even with her at full strength, I fell right out of the sky once. None of us could have survived that alone.”
“Are these the brilliant tactical decisions of the Arik’tazhan?” Rosak asked. His thick arms were folded across his broad chest, lip twisted up in a sneer. “I’m not impressed.”
“Who do you think you are?” Velati snapped. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to smash the man’s nose into his smug face or rip his curled upper lip off with his bare hands.
“Brother,” Sohan said in a warning voice.
Velati ignored his friend. “No. You go back through the Gate. Find yourself one of those monstrosities and deal with it on your own. If you come back alive, you can say whatever you like to me. Until then, shut your fucking mouth.” Rosak’s lips curved up into a smile, which only made him angrier.
“Velati,” Sohan said, his voice rising.
Velati ignored him. “And while you’re at it, how about talking to the idiot of a guard who didn’t put the manacles back on her? You’re up my ass about her escaping, and it didn’t occur to you to take the one precaution that completely shut her power down?”
That wiped the smile off his face. “He had orders,” Rosak seethed. “He didn’t follow them.”
“Well you know what? That’s your problem. Because I got her back to the Gate and passed her off to you,” Velati said. “You want to point fingers, try the mirror, shak-ersari.” Rosak’s jaw dropped at the crude insult. He rose from his chair like he was going to come for Velati.
Come on, asshole. He needed the outlet. Slamming Rosak’s smug face into the table wouldn’t fix anything, but it would sure make him feel better.
“Enough,” Sohan shouted over them. “You two can shake your dicks at each other all night and it doesn’t fix it. For those of you who give a shit about the mess we’re in, the girl got away. The car was tracked to a truck stop south of the city, no sign of her.”
“Someone probably picked her up,” Dyadra said. “Or she traded off cars with someone else. With a compulsion like that, she could have done anything.”
Sohan nodded. “She’s in the wind. But we have the hard drive. While you assholes were having fun in Ascavar, I was on the phone with Natalie Thomas. The Skywatch is combing through everything on that drive, and they’ve nailed down the location of a facility in Oklahoma. Similar security to the facilities we’ve raided, but it appears that’s where they’re building the Elegies and stockpiling the elixir.”
“When do we head out?” Velati said.
Rosak scoffed. “I don’t want you on my operation.”
“It’s not your call,” Velati replied.
“They head out as soon as we can swap out equipment and pick up a few replacements for the injured,” Sohan said. “You’re staying home to help me with the Stormflight refugees.”
“The hell I am,” Velati said. Sohan tilted his head, eyes narrowed. Lightning fast, he brought up his cane and stabbed it at Velati’s hip. He lunged to block it, but exhaustion slowed his reflexes. The narrow end slipped past his hand and slammed into the deep wound. Excruciating pain exploded through him. Despite his best efforts to stay on his feet, he slumped back into his chair with his head spinning.
“No, you’re not,” Sohan said, giving him a grim look. “You’re not going to fight off your frustration and either fuck the operation or get yourself killed.”
“Thank you,” Rosak said. “I was—”
“And you, boy,” Sohan said. He narrowed his silver eyes. Though Sohan’s elemental power had been stolen along with his dragon, Velati could almost feel the crackling heat that would have once surrounded an angry Sohan Shadowbane. “Don’t you dare talk to any of us like we’re shit on your fucking shoe. You haven’t earned that. Not even close.” Rosak shrank back. “People make bad calls. He did today. You will eventually.”
One of the other soldiers crept into the conference room. Her wide eyes indicated that she’d probably heard them yelling and had been waiting for the least deadly time to enter. “Rosak? Sir?”
His head snapped around. The woman’s posture stiffened. “Yes?”
“The convoy is ready. We have the Stormflight queen secured, and we’re ready to move out when you are.”
His shoulders settled. “We’ll be up,” Rosak said, his voice tight and strained. “Thank you.” He stormed out of the conference room, leaving the three Arik’tazhan alone.
“Velati, I just…” Dyadra started.
“Don’t start again, please,” he said quietly. With Rosak gone, his anger had turned into resignation. “I know. You told me so. I ignored you.”
“She could have killed you,” she said. The concern in her eyes was even worse than the anger he’d seen before. “If not you, it could have been someone else. You don’t have to risk everything to prove yourself right. It’s not fair to us.” She sighed and followed Rosak.
Velati watched her go and reluctantly turned to Sohan. “I’m sorry I let you down.”
Sohan settled into the chair and shrugged. He was quiet for a while before he spoke again. “We had one casualty, and it had nothing to do with you. Would have happened whether you trusted the girl or not. White d
ragon is dead. Stormflight queen’s alive. You didn’t let me down, brother,” he said. Mirth creased his eyes. “Although I’m not going to let you off the hook entirely. They weren’t wrong.”
“I wanted so badly to trust her,” Velati said.
“Because she’s pretty?”
“Of course not,” Velati said. “Because she’s not a monster.”
“She played you, brother. That’s what they’ve always done,” Sohan said. “You don’t know her at all.”
He shook his head. “She may have lied to me, but I know that much is true.”
Sohan sighed. “Maybe. But whatever’s in that little heart of hers doesn’t matter if she chose them. Actions are a hell of a lot more important than intentions.”
“Would it be easier for you if I leave? I’ll catch a flight from here if I need to.”
“The hell are you saying?” Sohan said. His brow creased. “Rosak’s a scared little boy in a big man’s body. This is probably the first real battle he’s ever been in. He’ll go tattle to the queen. She’ll pitch a fit. It’ll blow over. I need you here. If for no other reason than I’d rather have my brother here than far away.”
Relief washed over him. “Okay. Thank you.”
“Now get your shit, we’re going home.”
The trip home was awkward as he rode with two of the queen’s entourage who were so exhausted that they fell asleep instantly upon getting on the road. Sohan and Dyadra rode separately, leaving him no one to chat with.
Perhaps it was for the best. He didn’t know whether to be more angry or hurt by Marlena’s betrayal. He’d suspected her change of heart was an act, but he’d wanted so badly to believe it was real. Maybe his desire had clouded his judgment, letting him overlook the signs that she was playing him. She’d broken his trust, which hurt. And she’d made him look like a fool, which pissed him off. The Cold Death thwarted by a twenty-nine-year-old girl with hypnotic eyes.
But worst of all, she’d gone back to those assholes. Even if she wasn’t ready to fully commit to the Kadirai, she saw what the Chosen had done. The pain in her eyes as she surveyed the ruins of Natar wasn’t an act. So how could she go back?
They were going to turn her into a monster, just like Kohra. Just like the poor bastard he’d killed in the desert, shattering its wings like glass and leaving it to bleed out far from anyone who gave a shit. That was what awaited her, and she chose it. How blind could she be?
Sunrise blazed a rosy veil across the sky over Skyward Rest. An entourage of palace guards and healers waited at the doors, welcoming their guests and guiding the injured ones off to the healer’s ward. Rosak and his squad parted immediately heading for the Tempest Wing. Dyadra was close on their tails, not sparing a look back at him.
They were going to have to talk eventually. They’d butted heads in the past, but they didn’t stay angry at one another. He briefly spoke with Sohan, telling him about Tandar and Kohra and eliciting a promise that they would be protected. With his pride and his leg wounded, he limped back to his room in the Obsidian Wing. With a groan, he flopped back onto the bed. He grabbed the closest pillow and put it over his face, then bellowed, “Fuck!” into it as loud as he could.
Some risks didn’t pay off, it seemed. He tossed the pillow at the door with a satisfying thump, then hobbled into the shower.
“She’s in your head, you fucking idiot,” he muttered. He was going to have to accept that she’d sized him up and played him like a fiddle. Despite his belief that she had a heart of gold, she wasn’t as naïve and innocent as he’d thought.
He stood under the hot spray of the shower, letting it cut away the grime of sweat and dried blood. As he gingerly dabbed at the swollen gash on his hip, his mind drifted to that sweet memory. Even with his mind awash in pain and panic, he’d relished the way her smaller hand pressed to his thigh, radiating heat through his frost-tinged skin. Red ink over black.
Warmth surged down his spine. “No, no,” he muttered. “This situation is fucked enough as it is.” As he turned the water to cold, he glared down at his groin. “Not doing this.”
After a frigid shower, he dried off, put his phone on the charger, and crawled into bed. He’d hoped he would come back here to Skyward Rest and prove Valella was wrong to throw him out. Instead, he’d proved that not a damn thing had changed where Velati Rimewing and his ego were concerned.
Fifty years ago, he’d made a similar mistake. Dyadra and Sohan were alive, but out of commission. The Raspolin were finished, or so they had thought. Kaitora, Valella’s mother, had officially announced that the threat of the Raspolin had ended. Her Skywatch would be vigilant, but the war was over at last. That claim was supported by her daughter, Valella, when she took the throne. Everyone liked the illusion of safety and security.
But Velati was never convinced. Even Sohan told him he was obsessed, and that at some point, he had to let it go. “I’m not saying you’re wrong, but until they show themselves, you can’t do shit,” he’d said as Velati insisted they had to get out there hunting. “Brother, you’ve been fighting, life or death, for nearly a century. You don’t know what to do with yourself now. Get a hobby. Find someone to keep you busy.”
Sohan wasn’t wrong, but neither was Velati. Working discreetly, he’d put together a small squad of concerned Kadirai who’d also fought in the war. For nearly five years, they hunted down leads, looking for rogue cells of the Raspolin. Their only significant discovery was a pair of adult siblings whose parents had amassed a collection of texts on blood magic. They’d destroyed the books, though the siblings escaped. That was the closest they came. It should have been reassuring that the Arik’tazhan had been so thorough, but it only convinced Velati that there had to be something. If that had slipped past, what else was there?
Then they got a lead. An Edra contact in Nevada told him that they’d overheard rumors of an impending attack on the Stoneflight Gate near Vegas. Velati and his team had flown to Nevada, intercepting what turned out to be Queen Halmerah’s entourage after a visit into the human world. A bloody fight ensued until he realized the mixup. Thankfully the queen was unharmed.
His status kept him out of the dungeon at Adamantine Rise, but Queen Halmerah called for blood, claiming that the Exile queen had overstepped her bounds. When word reached Valella, that was the end for Velati. It didn’t matter that he was Arik’tazhan. His history made it even worse to have made such a colossal mistake.
“I told you, brother,” Sohan had said, this time sadly. “You should have let it go.”
With two of his loyal followers permanently maimed, Velati had stood before the queen and accepted her punishment. He told the others to blame him, but they’d refused and said they joined him willingly. They hadn’t been banished, but all four had been barred from holding any position of authority in Skyward Rest. Velati, however, had been thrown out. Disgraced.
He had believed that he was doing the right thing then. Maybe Sohan was right. He couldn’t sit still, not after decades of battle. But he knew deep in his soul that there was no way they’d taken out all of the Raspolin. It would only take a few of them to hide, to wait it out. And every year that passed without incident felt like a big fucking I told you so from Valella. He had come to accept that he’d thrown away his legacy over paranoia.
He supposed he should feel vindicated now. His worst nightmares had come true. But instead, his people were dying, and he’d stuck his dick in the hornet’s nest all over again. He was no closer to solving their eternal problem than he was fifty fucking years ago, only now the Raspolin had had fifty years to rebuild right under their noses.
What the hell was he going to do?
“Great spirit, we seek to be the vessels of your justice in this fallen world,” the priest droned, his voice echoing in the cavernous space. “Fill us with your righteousness. Guide us to strike down those who would bring corruption onto your realm. Help us stand strong. Help us to see truly as you see. Give us the will to do what must be done.”
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br /> There was a metallic ting as the priest struck a metal bowl, echoing with a shimmer into the quiet. Marlena mumbled through the invocation, head bowed. An afternoon breeze blew dry heat through the open archways, making it unpleasantly warm inside the temple. Her knees ached from crouching on the floor.
Everything was wrong now. The temple seemed off-kilter, like the furniture had been moved ever so slightly out of place. The words, the people, the prayers; they were all familiar, but completely wrong. The familiar red of the Chosen was garish, like bloodstains splashed everywhere.
Maybe it was her. Maybe it was the cursed seed of doubt Velati had planted in her. She gritted her teeth and bowed lower until her forehead was on the cool stone.
Give me certainty. Take away my weakness. Burn away this doubt with your cleansing fire.
She tried to conjure the glowing white avatar of Vystus, his outstretched wings pouring warm light onto her. The warm wind billowing off his wings would sweep away the clutter in her mind, leaving only an unshakeable faith in their cause.
Instead of the soothing image of their benevolent god, she saw the white dragon they’d felled in Ascavar. A host of battered faces glared at her with bloody tears streaming down their cheeks. Tarin Edinas hoisted his state champion math trophy with barbed wire wrapped around his arms. And Velati lay prone in blood-soaked sand, eyes wide and empty.
What do you think of that? she thought, raising her eyes to the stone dais where the priest was putting away the ritual implements. How is that justice?
A hand fell on her shoulder, and she yelped in surprise. She stared up at Catrina, who frowned back. “I didn’t mean to startle you,” she said. “Are you all right?”
“Fine,” Marlena said, trying to control her racing heart.
“Prayers are over,” Catrina said. Most of the others had already cleared out, with two men remaining near the dais with their heads bowed.