by Tara West
Dianna leaned against her dragon’s cool scales. “What choices?”
“Which mortals to sacrifice,” Sprout said evenly.
Dianna’s knees weakened. “You killed people?” She gawked at Sprout, then the golden dragon, praying to the Elements they were in jest.
Sensing Dianna’s shock, Lydra’s snout whistled as she whined, but Dianna was too stunned to give her dragon comfort.
We still do, Tan’yi’na said with a gleam in his eyes, as if he took satisfaction in her horror.
“Only those who lack magic.” Sprout darted behind Tan’yi’na’s leg as if she were playing a game of hide-and-seek. She popped back out, giggling. “The pixies require less meat when the crops are plentiful.”
“No, no,” she breathed. “This can’t be true.”
Tan’yi’na’s eyes narrowed to slits. You are calling her a liar?
“Tan’yi’na, do not make me restrain you again,” Sprout said, then gave Dianna an innocent smile. “The pixies ate all our crops during the great famine. Our people almost died of starvation. That was when we were forced to make the sacrifices.”
Her stomach churned. How could this child tell such a tale without so much as a tear? “But I’ve seen how you grow plants.” Images of innocent people being devoured by pixies flashed in her mind. Oh, heavenly Elements, she could almost hear them screaming. “Can’t you grow enough for all the people and the pixies?”
“Yes.” The child heaved an overly dramatic sigh. “But now the pixies have grown to like the taste of human meat. If we do not sacrifice, they attack everyone.”
“Why don’t you just destroy the pixies?” Surely there had to be one person among all of Kyan’s magical offspring who was powerful enough to take them down.
If it was that easy, don’t you think we’d have done so already? These pixies have been flying wild for over a thousand years, ever since your mother destroyed the goddess who controlled them. Their magic is as uncontrollable as they are. They are unstoppable.
“Can’t you feed them animals?” Dianna cried.
Sprout leaned against Tan’yi’na’s leg. “We’ve tried, but it’s human flesh they crave.”
Dianna felt her breakfast making its way back up her throat, and it took all her willpower not to vomit. How could this sweet child seem so indifferent to the suffering of mortals, and what would it take for her to learn compassion? “How often do you sacrifice?”
“Only during full moons.”
Her heart beat so hard, it felt as if her chest would explode. “But that is twelve times in a year.”
Tan’yi’na snorted. Before Sprout was born, we were feeding them twice as often.
As if that made the sacrifices bearable? She shook her head, still hardly believing what she was hearing. “Why do you only sacrifice those without magic?”
Sprout matched Dianna’s direct stare with one of her own. “Because they are less important.”
Dianna pushed off from Lydra’s scales, throwing up her hands. “I’m sure they don’t feel that way.”
The golden dragon lifted his paw, examining grime beneath his talons. That was my mistress’s argument, which is why The Seven make the laws now.
Dianna straightened her shoulders, anger pulsing through her veins. “I wish to speak to these Seven.”
Tan’yi’na sniffed the air. They will return later today.
“Where are they?”
He straightened his long neck, casting a foreboding shadow over her. They prefer to bring the sacrifice to the pixies rather than wait for them to come to us.
“The pixies live several miles below the earth. It takes days to get there, but you don’t need to worry.” Sprout flashed a wide grin. “Your magic is too strong. You will never be sacrificed.”
As if that made it all better? Then a thought struck her. Dianna had been hoping to find sanctuary for her people among the Shifting Sands, the one place she hoped would be far enough away from the ice goddess’s wrath, and the one place she now realized was even more dangerous for mortals than living beneath Madhea’s mountain. How could the descendants of the benevolent goddess Kyan send their own people to be slaughtered by vicious demons? More importantly, how was Dianna going to stop them?
Chapter Eight
Alec was sure he must have died, for when he awoke, he was floating above the trees, traveling across the wind as if by a heavenly carriage. He squinted up at bright lights, stretching his fingers toward the sky and wondering why the clouds seemed within reach yet he couldn’t touch them. He rolled over on his springy bed, looking down at thick, dark strands of dead grass. He sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and instantly regretting the throbbing pain in his nose that shot through his skull like an arrow.
If he was dead, how was he still able to feel pain? And why was he floating through the sky on a patch of dead grass? He tried pulling the grass and was rewarded with an ear-splitting howl. The breath whooshed from his lungs as a giant hand sent him flailing through the air. He was deposited on his arse with an unceremonious thump. He looked up at Gorpat, whose eyes were crossed.
“Friend hurt Gorpat,” she scolded.
“I’m sorry.” He scratched the back of his head as realization dawned. “I didn’t realize that was your hair.”
Zier hobbled up to Alec. The giant pack on his back, clanging pots and various goods dangling down the sides, looked as if it had been strapped to a tree trunk with bent branches. “Glad to see you awake, son.” Zier offered him a hand up.
Alec was surprised when the smaller man yanked him to his feet. He stumbled like a drunk, his world tilting from one side to the other, making him wish he was back on top of the giant’s head.
“You okay, lad?” Grim steadied him with a strong hand.
Alec shook his head, trying to clear it of the thick fog. “I’m not sure.”
“That was a heavy blow you took,” Zier said as he steadied Alec. “Perhaps you should rest on Gorpat a little while longer.”
Alec looked up at the pouty giant. As kind as the girl was, he still didn’t trust her enough to be carried on top of her head without accidentally meeting a bloody and grim death. All he had to do was remember that flattened stag to know he didn’t want to end up in the same predicament.
“No, I think I can walk. I just need a moment.” He scratched the back of his head, scanning his surroundings while the dwarves shrugged off their packs and stretched.
The breeze was warmer here, and the trees had thinned, revealing a bend where the road diverged into two. One went up into the hills, its path obscured by overgrown bushes lined with tree roots and stone slabs that resembled stairs. The other one headed down toward the sound of waves crashing against a shore. Though he’d never before left his home of Adolan, Alec recognized the sound of the sea, for his mother had let him listen to the inside of a shell she’d said carried the sounds of an ocean symphony.
Alec knew Ryne had taken the path to the water. If he followed the shore northeast, he’d eventually run into Aloa-Shay. Hopefully Ryne would make it safely to his destination, where he could find out why their glacier was melting. Alec only prayed that if he should cross paths with Ryne again, there would be no animosity between them. He didn’t believe the dwarves had taken the stone. Where it had gone, he had no idea, but Ryne’s companions had become suspiciously quiet while Ryne accused the dwarves of stealing from them. Why hadn’t they spoken up in support of their friend? Did they know something Alec didn’t? Either way, it mattered little now. He had chosen the dwarves over Ryne, and though it pained him to see the sadness in his friend’s eyes, Ryne had left him no choice. Des’s safety was worth far more to Alec than a stone, and he knew Des would be safest among the dwarves.
The boy came up to Alec, tugging on his tunic. “Are you going to live?” His eyes were red-rimmed and as wide as saucers. Had the child been crying?
He knelt beside the boy, grasping his shoulders. “Of course I am.”
Des pointed at Alec�
��s face. “But last time you looked this bad, it took my sister’s magic to save you.”
He didn’t want to know what his face looked like, though just the act of breathing pained him. Damn Ryne for his imprudent temper. He shrugged off Des’s concern. “I’ve had worse injuries than a broken nose.”
Zier laid a hand on Alec’s shoulder. “We need to be on our way, lads. We only have a few hours of daylight left.”
Alec stood, stretching sore muscles. The fog in his head started to clear. “How long did I sleep?”
“A long time.” Zier chuckled.
He gingerly pressed his fingers to his nose, wincing when the tender flesh throbbed with his heartbeat. “I suppose I needed it.” He craned his neck toward the giant casting a shadow over their company. “Thank you, Gorpat.”
But the giant didn’t answer. She was too preoccupied with something on the horizon, her thick brows drawn down, nearly obscuring her eyes. She held a hand to her ear.
“What is it, my pearl?” Grim hollered up to his daughter.
She pointed toward the ocean’s path. “Doggie coming.”
Brendle took off with a loud yap, racing down the path, his tail spinning like a cyclone.
“Brendle!” Des screamed.
But then the dog raced back with Ryne’s large mutt by his side.
“Tar!” Alec bent on one knee, petting the furry beast behind the ears. “What are you doing here?”
Tar bounced around, his frantic barks sounding more like the wails of a wounded animal.
“Where’s your master, boy?” Alec asked.
Tar answered with a bark even more shrill.
He stood. “I think Ryne is in trouble.”
“Of course he is, if they went that way.” Zier gestured at the downward path and spat into the dirt. “That way leads to Siren’s Cove.”
What little moisture was left in Alec’s mouth evaporated. “S-Siren’s Cove?”
“Aye.” Grim slung an axe over his shoulder. “’Tis where the sirens like to swim—and eat.”
’Tis true what I heard about them?” Des scooped Brendle into his arms, holding him close. “That they feed off human flesh?”
“Aye.” Zier blew out a slow breath, shaking his head. “There’s nothing to be done for your friends now.”
Tar continued to frantically bark, spinning in circles. This excited Brendle, who squirmed and yelped in Des’s arms. Zier and Grim’s cousins removed their caps and bowed their heads, grumbling. Alec felt as if he was living in a dream—nay a nightmare. This couldn’t be happening. Ryne and the others eaten by sirens?
Alec lunged for his pack, which was leaning against a nearby tree. He pulled out his bow and quiver and slung them across his shoulder before marching back to the others. Tar’s wails were so loud and pitiful, his heart would have broken if he hadn’t been so singularly focused on his mission.
“I can’t stand idly by while they are eaten.” Alec’s voice cracked.
“Son, the sirens devour a human in a matter of moments.” Zier smoothed his beard, his eyes dark with heavy shadows. “Your friends are long gone.”
Alec’s chest tightened. “I must see for myself.” He refused to believe them all dead. What would he tell Markus when they met again in the spring? That he’d let Ryne run off and get eaten by demon fish? The dwarves had the same grim expressions, though Alec had no idea what they were thinking.
Grim turned to Alec, clearing his throat. “The dwarves will not risk their lives for those blue-skinned gnazes.”
“I don’t expect you to.” Alec’s heart constricted. He hadn’t expected help, but he certainly for wished it. He struggled to find his voice. “I will go alone.”
Grim’s bushy brows lowered. “But young Des is depending on you.” He motioned to Des, who’d gone eerily still, gazing at Alec with wide, watery eyes.
Alec’s chest tightened even more, his breaths shallow. “And the ice people are depending on Ryne’s party.” His limbs fell heavy, as if they were encrusted in blocks of ice. “Zier, should I not return, Dianna will come for her brother in the spring.”
Zier pulled a trembling Des to his side. “I will keep an eye on the lad until then, but this is madness.”
He squared his shoulders, summoning a confidence he didn’t feel. “I will not let them see me. I have stalked prey for many a year.” And he had, with Markus, though not often for he had a habit of spooking his brother’s prey. He thought it best to leave out that detail.
Grim clucked his tongue, doubt in his narrowed eyes. “But this time you are the prey.”
“I will not go up against the sirens if it is hopeless,” he assured them, wishing his argument worked on himself, for his innards were twisting like a nest of starving serpents.
“Alec, don’t go.” Des threw himself at Alec, wrapping his arms around his waist and sobbing against his tunic.
Alec grabbed Des by the shoulders, forcing him away. Each second he dallied could mean the difference between life and death for his friends. “Des!” He didn’t mean to sound so harsh, but he had to make the child understand. “You must be brave and mind Zier should I not return.”
Much to Alec’s surprise and relief, the boy stepped back and nodded, wiping snot off his nose.
Gorpat blasted Alec with a nauseating wave of her rancid breath. “Friend no go.”
Alec patted the giant’s arm. “I’m sorry, Gorpat.”
“Son, this is a foolish quest.” Grim threw his axe to the ground, stomping his feet as if he was squashing a nest of fire mites. “Your friends are dead by now.”
Alec leaned down and grabbed his friend’s shoulder. “Grim, I thank you for the kindness you have shown Des and me. You are truly a good friend.”
Grim scowled and turned from him, swiping moisture from his eyes.
“Friend no go,” Gorpat cried again.
Tar bit Alec’s tunic, ripping the hem as he pulled him toward the downward path.
Grim’s bulbous nose and cheeks were as red as two ripe apples. “Do you not understand the power of a siren’s song?”
“Easy, boy.” Alec jerked his tunic free of Tar’s jowls.
“Here.” Zier held up a leather cap with two fluffy muffs sewn onto the sides. “Put this over your ears.”
He slipped the cap over his head, shocked when all sound was sucked from the forest, drowning out even Tar’s incessant barking. He jerked the cap off his head. “I can’t hear with it.”
“Aye, ’tis the point. May the Elements protect you, son.”
“Thank you,” Alec said. Turning his back on his friends, he slipped the cap back on and took off after Tar, refusing to look behind him lest he lose his nerve, knowing full well this could be the last time he ever saw his friends.
* * *
Dianna’s thoughts raced as she followed Sprout to the gardens, an underground farm even farther below the earth than her bedchamber, with rows upon rows of vegetables as far as her eyes could see. Though the cavern was dark, a generous amount of light was produced by hanging crystals. The gardens were flanked by fruit trees, some as large as the mighty Lyme trees back home, with huge dangling pods that appeared to encase hundreds of smaller fruit. Though such trees didn’t grow in Adolan, Dianna recognized the palma fruits. The trader Zier had brought a small pod with him to their hut years ago, and Dianna’s father had exchanged a young stag for the succulent fruit. She and her family had eaten most of it that night, unable to control their appetites, it tasted so good.
She smiled when she thought of her brother and what his reaction would be to the rows of palma trees. Her smile faded when she realized he’d never be safe in the Shifting Sands as long as they sacrificed mortals to vicious little demons.
There were many workers in the gardens, picking fruit, pulling weeds, and watering plants. They shot Dianna sideways looks before continuing with their chores. They all had dark eyes and dark skin. Several guards flanked the perimeters of the gardens, gripping lances in their meaty fists. Dia
nna wondered why they were there. Was it because the people of the Shifting Sands still didn’t trust her? A nearby guard leered at a young, pretty woman bent over a flowering plant, plucking large red beans and depositing them in her basket.
Dianna’s stomach soured. The memory of Sprout’s question about Dianna’s brother echoed in her mind. Is he your servant? Because Des had been born without magic, Sprout assumed he was a servant. But did servants have to be watched with spear-wielding guards? The Kyanites born without magic were slaves, not servants. They weren’t just assigned menial, grueling tasks, they were forced to do them, just like they were forced into becoming pixie sacrifices.
Though Dianna plastered on a smile as Sprout took her down a row of colorful plants, she felt anything but joy. The food she’d eaten that morning had been harvested and prepared by slaves. They wouldn’t even look at Dianna as they worked, methodically filling their baskets. When she came upon a row of spiky plants, Dianna had to repress her tears. A young girl not much older than Des winced picking berries, her hands covered in cuts, dried blood, and old scars. No doubt the Kyanites had witches who could have healed her. Other slaves had scarring, too, and several had ears that looked as if they’d been chewed by mites.
They stopped at a long, low hut with a thatched roof and no walls, held up by a thick wooden pole in the center and a pole at each corner. Beneath the hut, women and girls sorted fruit, vegetables, and grain into barrels.
Their guards stayed outside, their stony gazes following the women who passed by carrying baskets on their heads, laden with the harvest.
Immediately upon entering, her attention was drawn to a young woman on a low stool in one corner, picking stems off fruit. The other women gave her a wide berth, moving away from her when she loudly sniffled. She kept her eyes on the basket by her feet, tears silently streaming down her cheeks. The woman’s anguish pulled Dianna in, like their souls were tethered by an invisible cord. She knew she should look away, but she felt compelled to offer the woman comfort, for a dark, consuming grief shrouded her like an invisible cloak. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but there was something strikingly familiar about the woman. Mayhap it was simply because Dianna recognized a kindred spirit. For many a night, she’d shed silent tears over the loss of her parents, too afraid to let her baby brother see her grieve, lest her dark moods cause him to suffer as well.