*They had no chance against dragons,* I said as I wiped my eyes.
*Thorkel doesn’t command dragons,* Mettalise spat. *Those lizards don’t deserve the name.*
She veered toward the Kyer and pumped her wings faster.
I slumped against Mettalise’s back. What did Thorkel have to gain by destroying a peasant camp? They had no magic, no resources to quickly alert Dragonsridge, no dragons.
There was no reason why. Thorkel had lied about wanting unity and social harmony. He didn’t care about commoners, or even for Drageria as a whole. He only wanted power.
Hot anger burned behind my eyes instead of tears.
Just before sunset, Mettalise landed. She was tired, her telepathic range was short. From our perch on top of a tangle of berry bushes, I made out the Kyer’s four peaks. I waited with anxiety as Mettalise mentally searched for someone alive at the Kyer.
*I found Raul,* she said. My stomach flopped at the mention of Shamino’s dragon. *It’s not good. Thorkel took them by surprise. We think Maolmuire took out the sentries.*
As Mettalise talked, I chewed berries without tasting them. I’d need my strength soon, and we’d been foraging the entire trip.
*Thorkel’s dragons went directly for Merram.* Mettalise shook her head. *In war, the Dragonmaster has always hung back so he can coordinate the fighting. He can’t do that if he’s locked in physical battle. Raul says it was chaos.*
“Was,” I said as I wiped my hands. “Not now?”
*It’s not anything now. The Kyer is on defensive. Thorkel’s mages block the interior entrances to Mountain One; anyone who was in the hall at the time we suspect dead. Enemy dragons block entry from the sky. A few attempts were made to get inside, but we don’t do well without a leader. Most of your classmates are no longer with us.*
I’d never felt close to them, but I hated to hear that they had died. “So you’re saying our fighting force is nothing but elderly and unbonded. And commoners.”
*I’m not sure anyone would have joined us, anyway. Merram’s last command was to stay back.*
“Is he dead?” When Mettalise answered that she would have felt the death, I climbed the harness to her back. “Then let’s go. We weren’t there when Merram made the command. Can you stay in the sun until the last minute?”
Mettalise grinned, guessing my thoughts. *Ooo, dive in from the air.*
“Try to drop me on the nearest platform to the Dragonmaster.” I didn’t tie myself to the makeshift harness I’d made from some ‘borrowed’ bedding I’d found along the way. Instead, I took a single strand of bedsheet and wound it around my palm. “If Thorkel’s men are guarding the entrances, then I should be able to get to Merram before they can run down the hallways.”
Mettalise took to the air with powerful thrusts. I skidded, grabbed, steadied. I prayed I’d be able to hold on during battle. I seriously considered tying myself in one other place…
Mettalise laughed, a sound that still sent the back of my mind quivering with fear. *Raul doesn’t approve of our plan.*
My gut twisted. Did that mean Shamino disapproved? That he wanted me safe?
*Raul says you may be a blue, and that I’m a good flier, but we can’t take on the enemy all by ourselves. I told him he’s always been too cautious.*
I mulled over a response. The wind made my cheeks icy, my eyes seep. Finally, *Tell Raul that I am more than a blue. I am Thorkel’s daughter, and I know why his spells are so strong. I’m the only one who can stop him.*
A surge of uncertainty from Mettalise, but she told him. *Well. That was an impressive wave of shock. He’s going to tell Shamino.*
I knew he would, and I was glad. Never again did I want to keep the truth from Shamino.
The blockade of dragons came into view. All the enemies faced the valley of the Kyer. Some patrolled the air, while others speckled the mountainside as they rested their wings. Definitely twenty. Maybe more.
Joy radiated from Mettalise. *Shamino’s coordinating a diversion with the Quarters’ dragons!*
*What!* I wished I could scream at Shamino, but Mettalise would have to do. *Over half of the unbonded are elderly!*
*Yes, and I’m sure they’re shivering with glee.* Mettalise checked the sun behind us and adjusted her angle. *Without mages, they have never gone on a patrol or dealt with raiders or anything. For the first time in their lives, they have some excitement. Now be quiet.*
I sulked while Mettalise and a group of half-blind, creaky, slow dragons plotted how to get themselves killed. A tiny hope of Shamino still loving me tried to break through. I told myself that hope was not the appropriate emotion to be feeling.
*We’re ready. Leave all telepathy to me. I won’t raise the block until we hit the platform.*
*What’s the plan?* I said. The enemy was visible now. Their scales were ragged, rough, like they hadn’t been cared for by a human for a long time.
*To get you inside. Save your Gift and hold on. The dragons are our problem.*
I leaned forward, wrapped the sheet one more time around my hand, and sent a quick prayer to the First One.
Mettalise pumped her wings faster and faster. Our speed increased until my braid hovered in the air. Trees whizzed beneath us. Bursts of warmth flew in my face as we descended and the enemy grew closer. In the valley, corpses of dragons became clear enough that I could identify them.
The enemies on the ground jerked; I tightened my grip as they took to the sky. They didn’t fly toward us—they veered left, to Mountain Four. To the Dragon Quarters.
My beloved dragons took to the sky with roars of challenge. One of the mostly blind ones took off in the wrong direction entirely before cocking his head and sharply turning. The younger ones shot forward like eager puppies, then halted with a backbeat of their wings. They hovered as they waited for the elderly to catch up. Some of the oldest I’d never seen fly before; they wobbled in the sky.
The clusters of dragons collided in a hovering mass of fire, claws, and blood. For a brief moment they resembled colorful butterflies alighting on flowers and springing away. Beauty mingled with violence.
*Five left for me to break through,* came a cheerful Mettalise. *If I dive past the garden platform, can you jump and cushion yourself with air?*
I eyed the flowerbeds that zoomed larger as we spoke. *Sometimes your confidence in me is terrifying.*
*Yes, then.*
Mettalise folded her wings. She dropped like a rock, leaving the safety of the blinding sunset. I rose in my seat. Soon I didn’t ride Mettalise, I fell with her, keeping pace thanks to the thin sheet wound about my hand. I may have screamed.
An orange enemy looked over his shoulder. As one, the four others whipped about. They started toward us.
*Mettalise, we’re falling really fast.*
*Ten more seconds.*
First One, she was going—I fumbled to unwrap my hand while simultaneously holding on to her spines. My stupid dragon was literally dropping straight past the platform. * This isn’t a dive!*
The enemy dragons halted midair. A collision with a dragon going Mettalise’s speed would cause more than a few broken bones. From their expressions, they thought Mettalise insane.
*Run as soon as you hit the platform. I won’t be able to cover you.*
I tucked my legs, ready for a push-off. *Will you live through this?*
A mental chuckle. *Maol and I used to dare each other to do this all the time, until the Council banned it. Go!*
I kicked against her back as she raised a mental and emotional block. Falling, without a dragon—it was as exhilarating as touching my Gift for the first time. Speaking of—I began to weave the fastest Hardened Air spells of my life, trying to make increasingly frail layers above strong ones. Below me, roses began to look frightening.
An enemy dragon began to dive.
I didn’t have time to Fireproof. It took all my concentration to cast an air spell while falling to my death. Vaguely I realized it’d be a shame to be burned to
ash after surviving this, but—
I broke through the first layer of air with a thud and nearly lost hold of the other spells. One by one, my body destroyed my hastily cast layers. I slowed, but not enough.
The approaching dragon inhaled to fill its fire chamber.
I can push off the ground, like kicking off Mettalise. I grabbed raw Gift, filled the sapphire, and shot a precise beam at the ground. It struck at an angle and flung me in the opposite direction. Dragonfire heated the air where I’d been.
The tree saved my life. Thin branches broke and slowed me before I knocked into the thick inner ones; I tumbled down the trunk with a yelp. The dragon roared in frustration as he shot past the platform.
Did I break anything? I thought as I surveyed my torn, dirty clothes. That may have been the stupidest thing I’ve ever done.
Actually, waiting for the next dragon—a nasty-looking green one—that was stupider. I limped to my feet, relieved I hadn’t broken anything, and ignored my bruises as I sped for the door. I shot into the mountain seconds before a plume of orange followed me.
“Good. I lived.” My legs wobbled. I told myself not to faint and checked the hall. Empty. The Dragonmaster’s door hung open, not far from the garden’s door. I rushed to it and halted as I stepped into the foyer.
Bodies.
Messenger children slumped against the wall, lined up and not moving. The old steward sprawled over his desk. Blood trickled down mahogany.
I shouldn’t be surprised. Thorkel burned children when he destroyed the camp. I knelt by the nearest body with little hope. A brown-haired girl, maybe eight years of age, her face peaceful as if in sleep. I checked her for wounds, and when I found none, I moved to the boy next to her. No wounds either, and—breathing.
A sob of relief escaped my throat. They weren’t dead. In fact—an empty bottle rested on the floor beside the boy. Thorkel must have killed the steward and huddled the children together before drugging them. A touch of mercy in the monster.
Not enough mercy.
I went to the waiting room.
Jerroth leaned against the doorway of Merram’s study.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
“No,” I said. Jerroth’s figure blurred in front of me—a black mage stands against me, flinging chairs—the vision’s black mage and Jerroth focused into one disappointing reality.
There is a choice, I told myself. I may not need to fight him.
“I told him you’d come,” Jerroth said as he pushed himself off the wall. “Thorkel laughed at me. He underestimated his own daughter.”
“You joined him.” I struggled to keep my voice neutral, to make the sentence a fact and not an accusation. I wanted us to both walk away unharmed.
“I had no choice.” Jerroth took a step forward and spread his hands. “You didn’t grow up in our world, Adara. You don’t know how the Kyer has faded. Thorkel’s success exposed the Kyer’s weakness.”
“So you give your loyalty to the winner,” I said. “I thought you had more honor than that.”
Jerroth flinched as if slapped; he shook it off. “As if there is honor in following a liar. Thorkel told me how Merram allowed his ‘beloved’ to die and how he kept you from inheriting what was rightfully yours. During this war, Merram’s neglect has led to dragons’ deaths. I will not serve a man who doesn’t deserve loyalty.”
“Thorkel speaks half truths,” I said. I dared not let the conversation go on much longer, yet I had to try. I eased closer as I spoke, keeping furniture between us. “You were the one who spared the messenger children, weren’t you? Half a day’s flight from here, Merram created a camp for women and children he’d rescued from the war. Thorkel’s dragons burned them alive. Now who deserves loyalty?”
Doubt crept into his eyes.
“If you let me pass, Jerroth, I’ll talk to Merram. I’ll ask that you aren’t tried as a traitor.”
Jerroth swallowed. “War isn’t the best place to point fingers. Everyone is in the wrong. I’ve made my choice.”
The regretful acceptance moved my heart. Why was he doing this? I myself had nearly been persuaded by Thorkel—and then I knew. Thorkel had focused on what he thought I’d care about: the peasants I’d grown up with, Mother’s death. Thorkel had found a similarly persuasive topic for Jerroth: A month ago, when I’d delivered a potion to a heartbroken Jerroth, he’d muttered how Maolmuire was right, it was the only way.
“Thorkel promised you the Kyer when he becomes King of Drageria,” I whispered. “Tressa loves the idea, doesn’t she?”
Jerroth flushed. “When I’m Dragonmaster, Tressa and I can put things to rights. We can restore the Kyer to its place of glory.”
I took in the room. Four chairs and four tables. Portraits of the Dragonmasters, tapestries of dragons. Books and the decanter of water. Every single one, a weapon for a wielder of Telekinesis. But I had to tell him.
“Jerroth,” I said as gently as I could, “Tressa is a Jeweltongue. She’s manipulating you with magic.”
He frowned. “That’s impossible.”
“It’s rare. She uses her Talent through touch.” I pointed to his arm. “Think of every time you disagreed with her. She leaned against you, didn’t she? And when she did, you found her next words persuasive. Jeweltongues amplify your thoughts and emotions. You love her, Jerroth, that’s true—but the real Jerroth wouldn’t shame his father by joining the enemy.”
Jerroth began to tremble. He knew my words were true, he had to.
“Let me pass, Jerroth.”
“No.” The word shook, and the chair in front of him rose into the air. “Out of fondness for the friendship we shared, I’ll let you leave. But if you move any closer, I promise, I will stand against you.”
My heart sank as I stared at the hovering chair. “You’re not a killer, Jerroth.”
“I don’t need to kill you to stop you.”
The chair sped toward me, but it was more a warning than an attack. I had plenty of time to raise a shield of fire. Ash rained upon my upraised arm. Other chairs rose, and I became the Adara in my vision. My shield consumed half the chairs that sped toward me, and I calmly took out others with quick fireballs. Then the table beside me shuddered—I flung fire toward it just as the book upon it rose, arced behind me, and struck my back. I fell forward, toward my own shield spell. My hair, my shirt, my breeches, all caught fire, and I spent a precious second sucking the heat out to extinguish the flames.
I took the heat I’d snatched and hurled it his way—but Jerroth had moved and a portrait burst into flame instead. The book struck me again and I batted it away. As I did, a tapestry ripped from the wall above me. Cloth enveloped me and wrestled me to the floor.
I pushed with my hands, I pushed with Telekinesis. The fabric tightened until it pinched my arms to my sides.
Fire will burn me. My Telekinesis is weak. Lightning, Air—All the spells I knew were either lethal or clumsy or just as dangerous to myself. Illusion, useless. I couldn’t see him; I couldn’t see anything.
Footsteps. I rolled just enough to take the blow of something heavy on my left shoulder instead of full-on. My fingertips numbed.
If I can’t face Jerroth, I have no prayer of facing Thorkel. I rolled again, and something shattered—the decanter?—beside me.
“Stay still!”
The tapestry pressed against my feet, pinning me. I squirmed anyway, and my fingers brushed against the dagger I’d taken from the guard back at Thorkel’s mansion.
Wood creaked above me. My fingers fumbled on the hilt. I moved my fingers faster, slid out the blade, caught the hilt—
“You’ll see, this is the only way,” came Jerroth’s muffled voice. “Thorkel is the best option we have.”
If Thorkel used magic to propel spears, I can do something similar. I filled my hand with air, coiled it tight, and released the dagger in the direction of Jerroth’s voice.
The tapestry went limp.
I kicked away the fabric, raising an Air shield at
the same time. No need. Jerroth hunched with the dagger in his gut.
“Jerroth?” I hoped it wouldn’t kill him. “Stay still and leave the dagger there. I can have Merram send for—”
Jerroth’s hand shot up, and a column of black fire rippled toward me. It tore through my shield and I reacted with a column of raw Gift. The two shafts collided, the air shuddered, and magics clawed at each other. I shunted my Gift through the sapphire, but my side only shifted a little. I couldn’t fight effectively without knowing what he had cast. How did he keep the spell going while in pain?
“Drop it,” Jerroth grunted. “If you go in there, Thorkel may turn on you. Let me save your life.”
“A life of what? I won’t be a captive princess while my father destroys Drageria.” I shoved. The flames didn’t shift. I needed something else. We stood perpendicular to the doors, Jerroth close to the foyer and I to the study. If I dropped the spell and lunged, could I dive through the study door before Jerroth recovered?
The foyer door opened and the distraction cost me a hand’s-breadth. Tressa entered with a yawn, a lacy gloved hand to her mouth. “There is nothing happening out there. The dragons are the only ones—you. How did you even—Jerroth, kill her before she ruins everything.”
His jaw tightened. “Thorkel wants her alive.”
She walked over to him, hips swinging. “If she lives, Thorkel will make her queen. Once more you’ll be overlooked. Thorkel will honor a dirt-raised ingrate instead of the man who risked everything for him.”
“Don’t let her touch you!” I exclaimed. The spell shifted an entire foot. My way.
It was too late.
Tressa gripped Jerroth’s shoulder. Her knuckles turned white under the lace. “You are the reason her precious dragons are dying out there. She will not forget that. Once she is queen, she will do everything in her power to ruin you, a mere Dragonmaster, and then she will seek revenge on me.”
The feel of Jerroth’s magic changed. I hadn’t even known it had a texture until it prickled painfully against my own.
“Tressa’s using magic right now,” I cried. “Can’t you feel it? She’s playing on your fears—”
Blue Fire Page 25