Tempest

by Ryals, R. K.

  I lifted my arm, and the falcon rose. Lowering carefully, her talons wrapped around my wrist but did not dig into my skin. It was the first time I’d ever held her. She was heavier than I expected, but I lifted her nonetheless, lifted her until my wrist was level with my head.

  “Go,” I told her. “Go, and tell us if you see anything. Come back with word of Raemon.”

  Ari’s wings opened, and she took flight, circling as she lifted.

  “As you wish, Phoenix,” she said.

  Instantly, she was gone.

  I turned toward the people standing behind me, my eyes locking first with Lochlen and then with Cadeyrn.

  “We should go,” I said.

  I walked past them. Vaguely, I heard Cadeyrn issue an order followed by the haunting sound of sand being thrown into a grave.

  And then we were traveling again. We walked, we marched, we ate, we relieved ourselves, and we slept. I talked to no one, the trip a collection of blurred images, of tears, of cursing rants that I can’t remember now but never want to forget.

  The desert. The Ardus. It was an empty place—neglected, lonely—but the sands spoke to me, spoke to a vacant heart. The heat was suffocating, but I sweated away the tears. I marched, my head held high, my hand occasionally clutching my chest when the pain was too much. For two days, we walked. For two days, I let myself feel the pain, let it eat away at me because I knew if I didn’t it would destroy me.

  At night, I fell to the sand on my knees, and I stared at the sky. The stars in the desert were brighter than they were anywhere else because there were no clouds in the Ardus. It was either pure blue and hot, or pitch black and warm. No shade during the day, no light at night.

  The second night we stopped, Cadeyrn passed by me. He paused, but I didn’t look up at him. I thought about his wife, about Reenah’s words about his suffering.

  “Does it get better?” I asked him.

  I could hear the tip of Prince Cadeyrn’s sword digging into the sand, and I wondered if he was doing that strange thing I’d seen him do once, running his hands along the blade as if it brought him comfort. It made me miss the forest, made me miss the trees. I wanted their comfort now.

  “You were lovers then?” Cadeyrn asked me.

  I stiffened, my cheeks going red as I stared at the sand.

  I heard Cadeyrn step forward. “There’s no shame in it,” he murmured. There was no censure in his tone, although he was silent for a moment. I didn’t look up. “And no,” he said finally, slowly, “it doesn’t get better.”

  I listened as he walked away, leaving me to my grief.

  Chapter 16

  In the end, I think it was the grief that made me do it.

  Three days after Kye died, I started watching the sky, my eyes narrowed on the wyvers that flew there. It didn’t take long for me to figure out there was a pattern to their flight. They soared when the sun was at its highest as if they enjoyed the heat, but lowered as night drew near. They dove occasionally before rising, sometimes carrying some unlucky beast from the desert. At dusk, they disappeared completely. Sometimes a stray wyer flew through the night sky, but mostly they stayed to the ground.

  For two days, I watched them, my eyes squinted until I suffered from awful headaches from the sun. And yet, I persisted, my heart growing colder and colder, voices running through my head.

  It was likely no accident. King Raemon wanted Kye dead. He uses sorcerers to control the wyvers.

  Voices. So many voices.

  They are all talking about you, about the girl who tried to heal a wyver sting but failed. And yet, your own body rejected the poison.

  Voices. Wyvers and voices.

  It was the fifth day after Kye’s death that I snapped. It was late in the day, the sun lowering in the sky. We had crossed the dunes and moved into a part of the desert that was as much sandstone and cacti as it was sand. The wyvers had begun circling lower and lower until only one still hovered in the sky, his gaze on our group. The horse-sized, serpentine creature had bat-like wings stretched wide, his grey underbelly visible. His two legs were down, the eagle-like talons on the end spread, as if he was ready to grasp prey. His barbed tail weaved behind him.

  I stared at the tail, at the barbed end. It was remarkably small for a creature his size, and I thought about Kye.

  It was likely no accident.

  I hung back from the rest of the group, my eyes narrowed.

  King Raemon wanted Kye dead.

  My hand went to the bow on my back, and I brought it forward carefully, pulling an arrow slowly from my quiver.

  He uses sorcerers to control the wyvers.

  I licked the arrow before stringing it, my gaze never leaving the monster above me.

  They are all talking about you, about the girl who tried to heal a wyver sting but failed. And yet, your own body rejected the poison.

  The swoosh that filled the air when I let go of the arrow was loud, and I heard Maeve scream as the wyver above us roared. My arrow was dead on. I hadn’t aimed to kill.

  I ran, climbing a nearby sandstone rock before stringing another arrow, my eyes on the sky. The wyver was circling me now, nasty looking greenish blood dripping from a wound in his armpit.

  “What the bloody hell are you doing?” I heard Cadeyrn shout before he ordered his men back.

  “Stone!” Lochlen called.

  I stiffened.

  “Not Stone,” I replied.

  The wyver was lowering, and I could hear the prince ordering his guards to push his people even further back, but I had sought the sandstone for a reason. I had no intention of getting anyone hurt. Only myself if it came down to it.

  I could see the wyver’s eyes now. They were red with black, elongated pupils. His mouth was open, revealing sharp teeth dripping with thick saliva.

  I smiled at him, my arrow pulled back.

  “I’m a scribe!” I yelled.

  I’d studied books all of my life. I had a lot of knowledge stored in my head, a million stories about wyvers and dragons and other creatures. Each book was different, but they all talked about one wyver weakness.

  I let go of the bow string. “A scribe with the powers of a mage!” I hollered, my heart beating fast as the arrow pierced the end of the wyver’s barbed appendage.

  He screamed, curling in on himself to grab his tail as he crashed onto the hard-packed sand below the rock where I stood.

  I scrambled down the side of the stone closest to the wyver, ignoring Cadeyrn as he pulled his sword and moved in behind me. Lochlen was with him, trying his best to rip the supplies from his back. A crash was the only indication he’d succeeded before he took to the air, his golden body circling above my head.

  “What are you doing, Drastona?” Lochlen asked.

  I ignored him, approaching the wyver, another arrow strung.

  “She’s lost it,” Maeve gasped. “She’s gone mad.”

  The wyver’s eyes followed me as I moved in on him. He writhed; his butchered, barbed tail swinging my way. I sidestepped it as Maeve screamed.

  “Keep her quiet!” Cadeyrn ordered.

  I paid no attention, my eyes locked with the wyver’s.

  “Tell me, wyver, can you speak?” I asked him.

  “Drastona—” Lochlen began.

  “Can you speak?” I yelled at the wyver, cutting Lochlen off as I glared at the creature.

  The wyver’s eyes followed me, but he said nothing. I let my arrow fly, watching as it struck a soft portion of his underbelly.

  He screamed. It was an ungodly sound, a shrill sound that burned my ears, and I strung another arrow, pointing it at his mouth. He quieted, his eyes on my bow.

  “Who are you?” he growled.

  I went still.

  “So you do speak,” I said. “Then tell me, does King Raemon control you?”

  The creature froze, his eyes wild as his gaze swung from me, to Cadeyrn, and finally to Lochlen above him.

  “You smell strange, human,” he responded. “Ver
y strange, indeed.”

  Lochlen flew down to the sandstone rock I’d vacated moments before, his body perched on the edge. It was a low rock, and his head hovered over me and the wyver.

  “They are dim creatures, Drastona. We won’t get answers from him.”

  I didn’t agree with him.

  “Does Raemon control you?” I asked the wyver.

  The creature sniffed. “You smell like one of us,” he said, his voice full of surprise. “Like a wyver.”

  “Like your poison,” I sneered. “Is that it? Is that what I smell like?”

  The creature sat up, his blood flowing over the ground.

  “It is not possible,” he said. “No one survives our poison.”

  I smiled. “Someone did.”

  The wyver froze, his red eyes staring hard at my weapon. I was suddenly more a risk to him than I had been before.

  “You dare attack me here? In the desert?” the wyver asked.

  My smile grew, and I climbed toward him. His tail swung at me, but I didn’t flinch. I’d destroyed the end of it, and I wasn’t afraid of his poison.

  “You dared attack us. Why are we not allowed the same luxury? I’d kill you all if I could.”

  The coldness in my tone got the wyver’s attention more than anything else I’d said. There was no remorse in my voice, nothing to suggest I cared if he lived.

  His head came down, stopping a few inches away from my face. His breath didn’t smell like sulfur as Lochlen’s often did. The wyvers didn’t breathe fire. With their poison, they didn’t need to.

  “Who controls you?” I asked.

  The creature laughed, the sound harsh. “We control ourselves.”

  I lowered my arrow, my eyes on his. “You lie! Who controls you?”

  The wyver’s red gaze studied me. “You really survived our poison?” he asked.

  I lifted my bow again, the arrow pulled tight. The wyver ducked his head.

  “Answer me, beast!” I yelled.

  The creature’s black pupils were dilated when he finally looked back at me.

  “I was going to kill you during the storm, when the tent lifted. I’d been ordered to. But, in the end, the boy got in the way,” the wyver growled.

  My blood began to boil, my cheeks heating, the tears threatening to escape.

  “King Raemon?” I asked.

  The wyver didn’t answer me, but I saw what I wanted to know in his gaze.

  “You are all connected, aren’t you?” I asked. “All of you.”

  The wyver stared. “We share thoughts often,” was all he said. “I ask again, who are you?”

  I smiled, the grin feral.

  “I am the Phoenix. And, in the end, when people talk about my story, you won’t be a part of it.”

  The wyver had grown weak from blood loss, his tail having housed a major blood artery, and I took advantage of his weakness.

  “You share this thought, and you tell the other wyvers to give Raemon a message for me. Tell him I’m coming for him. Tell him I’m going to destroy him. And, most importantly of all, tell him I’m not afraid to die.”

  I lifted my bow, my arrow pulled back, and I let go.

  I turned away even as the wyver’s piercing scream filled the air, my eyes meeting Cadeyrn’s.

  “They could attack us all because of you,” he said coldly.

  I was standing toe to toe with Cadeyrn now, and I peered up at his chin.

  “They won’t attack now. Not now. No, Raemon will want that pleasure for himself, and I’ll be ready.”

  With that, I walked past him, my gaze meeting Daegan and Maeve’s. Daegan’s eyes glowed, a new respect in them I’d never seen before. I’d proven myself a warrior, proven I was willing to lead them now, even if it meant dying myself.

  I stared down at my wrists, at the tattoos that marred my skin. Kye and I had been the only two to bear both marks. They were a curse and a blessing. They reminded me of Kye, reminded me of our love, but they also reminded me of what I was, what I could be if I tried.

  Chapter 17

  “Care to explain this afternoon?” a voice asked.

  I knew without looking it was Cadeyrn. Not long after I’d faced off with the wyver, we’d camped for the night. I now sat on a cot under the stars, talking quietly with Daegan while Maeve finished eating the rations we’d been given by Reenah. Oran lay at my feet while Lochlen was decidedly avoiding me. The dragon and I were long overdue for a talk.

  I looked up, my eyes meeting the angry gaze of the Sadeemian prince.

  “There isn’t much to explain,” I answered.

  Cadeyrn glanced at Daegan and Maeve.

  “Go,” he ordered.

  They both looked at me, and I nodded.

  “Should we take Oran?” Maeve asked.

  I shook my head, and Daegan and Maeve both disappeared into the night, walking toward the hasty fires and torches thrown up by the Sadeemian guard. Cadeyrn took Daegan’s place across from me, folding his large frame onto the cot before leaning over, his hands on his knees, a silver pendant hanging from his neck. I stared at it rather than at his flashing eyes.

  “You challenged your king while traveling with a party of Sadeemian soldiers,” he fumed.

  The pendant was as strange a design as the tattoo I often caught glimpses of on Cadeyrn’s chest. An intricate woven design of three knots.

  Cadeyrn’s Adam’s apple moved as he swallowed. “Do you understand what you did?” he asked.

  I glared at the pendant. There was something about Cadeyrn that made it hard for me to look him in the eye.

  “I challenged my king’s supremacy,” I responded.

  Cadeyrn inhaled. “You did so while with a Sadeemian guard,” he repeated. “You do realize he could see that as a threat?”

  The pendant was silver, the metal work beautiful. It shone as if the prince polished it often. Three silver knots.

  “Are you afraid of him?” I asked.

  The question threw him. “What?” Cadeyrn asked. “Of your king?”

  I shrugged. “Raemon will get his war. He wants your father’s throne. You’ll discover when we reach the coast that it won’t matter if I challenged him. It won’t matter in the least because our king has already declared war on Sadeemia. You just don’t know it yet.”

  “And still,” Cadeyrn said, “you challenged your king while in the company of people I am sworn to protect. I have nothing against your vendetta, I even respect it. Nevertheless, as much as I pity your plight, my people come first. Do you understand?”

  I didn’t answer him. I reached for the swinging pendant instead, letting it fall in the palm of my hand. Three silver knots. Cadeyrn froze.

  “What does it mean?” I asked.

  Pulling it from my grasp, Cadeyrn shoved it into his tunic.

  “Don’t do anything like you did today while amongst my people. Understand?” he ordered.

  I finally looked up, my eyes meeting his.

  “Three knots,” I said. “I’ve seen that before. On a damaged Henderonian armoire I had in my room. I looked it up because it fascinated me. Two knots stand for love. Three for family.”

  Cadeyrn’s eyes flashed. His long hair was down around his shoulders, and his white, sand-stained tunic was splayed open at the chest. The pendant kept falling out of his shirt, but he didn’t put it back in again. Three knots.

  Cadeyrn stood.

  “Never again, Medeisian. Understand?”

  I nodded, and he moved around me. My back was to him when I cleared my throat.

  “Raemon killed him. He used the wyvers, used the magic he’s forbidden his people to track me down, and he killed Kye. Did you know he doesn’t know I’m a girl? Did you know that I almost hung as a boy named Sax. Two weeks after that, Kye—Raemon’s son—knelt before a group of rebels and took the brand of the scribe and the brand of the mage, despite not having magic and never having studied scribery. He did that for us. And now ... now I’m doing this for him.”

  T
here was silence. I thought for a moment Cadeyrn had left, but then he exhaled, the sound long and suffering.

  “You are young,” he said. “Tragedy ages us, yes, but in the long run, you are still naïve in so many ways. Love can be more dangerous than any weapon. It tears a person apart, it builds him up, and sometimes it completely destroys him. Most of all, it blinds him. You challenge a king, but do you challenge him because you are in pain? Or do you challenge him because you care about your people?”

  I stiffened.

  “You loved once, did you not?” I asked.

  Cadeyrn laughed, the sound harsh rather than humorous. “My consort speaks too much.”

  I glanced over my shoulder, my eyes finding Cadeyrn’s swinging pendant once more.

  “You loved once, did you not?” I asked him again firmly.

  “I did,” the prince answered after a moment.

  He leaned down unexpectedly, his knee landing in the hard sand at my feet. His fingers went to my chin and lifted my face to his, lifted it away from the pendant.

  “I wouldn’t tell you how dangerous love is if I hadn’t been there. You are young. Don’t let grief make you rash.”

  I felt the tears, and I didn’t fight them. My chin trembled.

  “I loved him,” I whispered. “I loved him so much it hurts, but I love my people, too. I challenged my king because I watched him burn the only mother I’ve ever known alive because she bore the mark of the mage. I watched him hang innocent people. I watched good warriors die, and I bathed the face of my deceased lover. I’m not rash, Your Highness. I’m tired … tired of losing people I care about. I’m not sure a heart can survive being broken as much as mine has. I will never be whole again.”

  Cadeyrn’s face searched mine a moment, and then he nodded as if he’d come to some unspoken conclusion. He released my chin.

  “Love and war. They don’t go together, Aean Brirg.”

  Aean Brirg. Little bird. I stared at him.

  “You don’t love your people?” I asked him.