“And be shot at by eagle-eyed Elves who have joined The Rebellion?”
“Even with the loss of the Elves from our armies, we would still overwhelm them.”
Sebastian gritted his teeth as his horse miss-stepped and jarred his spine. “We can take no risks. Kinna and Cedric both have proved slippery; I want every last creature, Dimn, and soldier present, armed, and ready when we reach them, and the faster we can trample them into the dust, the less likely it will be that they pull a surprise move.”
“Aye, Your Grace. I would agree that speed is key. I have met the twins, and I can see the cunning of your brother in their features.”
Sebastian's horse stumbled again, and the King cursed. “Is this nag the best you could do for me? Stop talking, Jerrus; you pain my head.”
His Commander didn't say another word as they wended through the valley and back up another steep mountain trail. However, Sebastian's mind rankled with the final thought Jerrus had left in his mind: Liam, and his cruel, cruel gaze peering out at Sebastian from his handsome features, a knife in his hand, Sebastian's tunic bunched over his chest as his brother carved his artwork into Sebastian's skin.
Sebastian would crush Liam's offspring if it was his final act on this earth. He swore it with every slow thud of his horse's hooves into the undergrowth below him.
It took three days to cross the Midland Ridges, and Sebastian chafed at the slow pace. Speed is laughable, he thought as the armies finally amassed atop one of the final ranges before the Marshlands of Cayne. Cold porridge would be a better description.
Sebastian paced across a rocky outcropping that overlooked the Marshlands beyond the next range. His top Commanders had gathered behind him, awaiting his decision. He squinted into the distance. He couldn't see them, not this far out, but runners had ascertained The Rebellion's presence.
“An attack by night could be an advantage,” he said, yet again. Jerrus had been advocating the necessity of a daytime attack. “The only creatures with high visibility would be Embers and Phoenixes. We could, possibly, send those in a frontal attack, as a distraction, while our divisions closed in on the sides by stealth.”
Four of the Commanders were nodding at his words, but Jerrus still balked. “Night is an advantage, Your Grace, as far as being able to move under cover of darkness, but it also is a disadvantage, because we have a lack of Elves and Elvendimn due to—well, circumstances.” He coughed delicately, and Sebastian understood. The Elves, from long-standing enmity with Sebastian, had defected from all three of Sebastian's army bases in West Ashwynd and the six Lismarian bases as well, and had joined The Rebellion. Ice rippled across his skin.
Jerrus went on. “Since The Rebellion has the Elves' keen eyesight on their side, night will be less of a hindrance to them than to us. I still think it may be better to attack during the day.”
Sebastian opened his mouth to respond in the negative when he spotted one of his aides panting up the hill toward the gathering on the rock. He glared at the young man. “What is it?”
“Your—Grace,” the aide puffed. “An attack. From an unexpected direction. It's—happening. Now. Right now, as we speak.”
“What?” Sebastian snapped his head to the north where the aide pointed.
“The Northern division was attacked by a large formation of rebels strung throughout the Midlands, led by Iolar the Elf—our runners have managed to discover their trail clear from the Sand Flats. The Elf's rebels have caught up with our northern division, and gained the upper hand when they fired on our platoons while we were passing through a deep ravine onto those plateaus over there.”
“Is Commander Naman there now?” Jerrus asked, his voice sharp.
“He was just leaving, Your Grace, to come here, but got caught in the melee. Aye, he is there, but as we had the lower ground and the rebels the surprise element, they have decimated the front half of the platoons already.”
“My horse!” Jerrus shouted, and four boys who stood in the shadow of the trees behind them leaped into action.
The stallions came pawing onto the rock, tossing their heads, and snorting in protest of their excited handling, but Jerrus grabbed a bridle and swung into a saddle. Sebastian moved to do the same, but a sharp voice from the trees called his attention.
“Your Grace!” Brughale stepped forward into the sunlight.
Sebastian swore under his breath. “What?”
“Take the Dragon, Your Grace. He will fight for you. Like you, he needs to find his niche.”
Behind Brughale, the dark shadow of the deformed Nine-Tail moved, his glistening black scales swallowing the light all around him. He lurched forward and lowered his snout to the ground, his gleaming dark eyes regarding Sebastian carefully, steadily, without blinking.
Sebastian hesitated, considering. Jerrus had already spurred his horse into the trees, and the other Commanders were following. Sebastian released his horse's bridle and approached the Dragon.
“He will carry you, Your Grace. He will be loyal.”
“How do you know?”
“Perhaps because—forgive me—he sees a little of himself in you.”
Sebastian did forgive her. The words and the meaning were harsh, but the truth bypassed the scales with which he had coated his heart and embedded in the soft flesh beneath them.
Slowly, he stepped forward, stretching out his hand, waiting until the Dragon raised his head, the nostrils flaring as he sniffed the air. Sebastian flinched as flames licked the scales around the Dragon's mouth.
“Briste.” The name slid across Sebastian's tongue like silk. He tasted the word and liked it. The Dragon seemed to like it, as well.
Brughale's eyes widened. “Why did you choose to call him broken?”
“Because together, we are whole.”
“You have yet to achieve psuche.”
“It will come with time—a commodity I do not possess at the moment. We are at war. I must go.”
As if the Dragon understood, Briste moved forward a step, his wings flaring wide. He paused, his head cocked so he looked at Sebastian where he stood nearly behind him.
Sebastian strode forward. Taking a deep breath, gripping one of Briste's fins, he swung himself up onto the ridged back of the Dragon, closer to the stump of his tail to help counterbalance the Dragon's heavy frontal weight. It wasn't comfortable by any means, and being so high off the ground on an unsteady and unbalanced creature kept Sebastian's hands tightly grasping the fins.
“Are you coming?” he asked Brughale. “I'd like your Siren-tongue to use against the enemy.”
“I am not such a powerful Siren, Your Grace, as to be heard for fieldspans, but I can use what little power I have for those within hearing distance.”
“Then come.”
Brughale smiled and ran to Briste, grasping Sebastian's proffered hand and swinging onto the Dragon's back behind the King. Only one fin separated her from the tail stump. “Even with our combined weight back here, Your Grace, he will not be smooth in flight because he has no tails for balance. But I'll guarantee that you will beat your Commanders to the fighting.”
She was right.
Briste's powerful wings snapped outward at least six lengths on either side of them, and the Dragon burst into the air. He dipped and weaved from side to side as he gained his balance. At best, he still occasionally rolled to the side without warning, nearly dumping his passengers, but his wing would catch the wind and pull them upright again.
Sebastian breathed deeply of the wind that whipped his face. At last, at long last, he rode on the back of a Dragon, as his nephew and niece had done. No longer could he say that he did not possess the traits of an Andrachen, a Dragon king. He was flying.
His spirits lifted as he and Brughale and Briste soared, unevenly, jolting through the air, but flying nonetheless. Even with Briste's hindrances, the three crossed the top of the mountain. Far below, on the other side, was the ravine to which the aide had referred. In its depths, Sebastian could see movement
.
He sighted the carnage created by the line of rebels who had attacked from the north. As fire swirled black smoke skyward, the smell of charred remains hit Sebastian's nostrils.
“The rebels are burning our platoons!” he shouted over his shoulder to Brughale.
“The dead ones, yes,” she said. “They're creating a blockade, see?”
She was right. At the head of the ravine, at its narrowest point before it emptied into a valley and the last mountain range, a pile of bodies, both creatures and humans, stacked the ground. Four Dragons breathed fire at the stack, sending flames leaping spans into the air.
The walls of the ravine were too high to pass around the fire, and Sebastian's platoons were struggling behind in the valley against the Elves and Elvendimn—led by Iolar, who stood atop a high cliff in the distance. The Elves, excellent marksmen that they were, hid in the trees on the northern slopes of the mountain and shot arrows into the fray below. Rarely did an arrow miss its intended target.
Below, Sebastian could see Jerrus's horse arrive, rearing in its master's vehemence. The bugler near him sounded a signal; Sebastian couldn't tell what it was. “Jerrus!” he shouted, though he knew the Commander couldn't hear him from this height. “Jerrus, have them retreat, reform, and then attack at that point!” He motioned to the northeast where he could see the greatest collection of Elves and their Dimn gathering in a clearing and sorting archery supplies before dashing into the woods again once they'd refilled their quivers.
Jerrus couldn't hear, of course, and the platoons straggled in confusion as Jerrus cuffed the bugler, knocking the man senseless onto the ground. Jerrus himself sounded the bugle, and the platoons slowly worked their way back down the ravine to the west, sliding into shelter on the southern side of the ravine.
“No!” Sebastian yelled in frustration. “He can't see from his vantage point. Briste, go lower!”
Though the Dragon couldn't understand Sebastian's thoughts, he seemed to comprehend his words. Sebastian and Brughale circled lower on the Dragon's back, and aspects of the fight came into clearer focus. Many more men than Sebastian had originally thought littered the ground. Some Elves still pulled the dead ones up the ravine to the east to add them to the flaming pile, but most still aimed and shot arrows into the melee happening to the west.
An arrow whizzed by Sebastian's foot, striking the armored underside of Briste's wing. The Dragon flinched, and nearly tilted out of control before he pulled himself upright again. More arrows followed, each one striking Briste's scales harmlessly.
“Briste, land!” Sebastian yelled. “Up there, to the east.”
“Are you mad, Sebastian?” Brughale screamed in his ear. “None of your men are there; it would be suicide!”
“I have a plan!” Sebastian yelled back, taking Brughale's arm around his stomach, clenching his own arm over top of hers. “Hang on!”
Briste pumped his wings, and the air billowed outward in great draughts as they sailed over the trees toward the clearing and the supplies.
An arrow from farther up the mountain ricocheted off Sebastian's helmet.
Furious fire exploded from his free hand, outward and downward, sweeping across the landscape like an inferno, leaving behind a crackling trail of ash. Another arrow whizzed by his ear, earning a small squeak from Brughale. Her hand jerked beneath his. Ice ripped from his fingers, tearing in lightning-fast shards toward the area from which the arrow had come.
“Are you all right?” he yelled over his shoulder.
There was no answer, and Sebastian turned.
To his horror, his utter horror, Brughale leaned limply against Briste's fin, her gaze fixed straight ahead, an arrow protruding sideways through her throat, extruding from the other side beneath her ear.
“Brughale!” he screamed. “Brughale, no! No!”
He knew her look, knew it anywhere. It was the same look he'd seen on a thousand faces—men and women and creatures he'd ordered to the gallows, soldiers he'd fought with and against in battle, his brother when he'd finally rid the earth of his scourge... Olivia, when she'd birthed his babe, his one and only son, and the babe himself, blue and cold in the midwife's arms.
It was a peaceful look, separate and distinct from anything else the world over, a look that presented itself only when the last thought had fled, the last breath had expired, the last sigh had escaped.
Death sealed the look and took captive the possessor, and Sebastian was left behind.
Again.
“Brughale. No. No.” Holding tight to Briste's fin with one hand, he twisted, his arm circling Brughale's thin, lithe form with his other, holding on to what remained of her like a drowning man who searched for an anchor. He stared for a long moment into her still face. Slowly, he lowered his head and gave himself permission to taste her lips for the first and the last time.
And Sebastian found that he wept because he had truly cared for her. He'd loved her, an emotion far more powerful than lust. Such a realization surprised him more deeply than anything else had for as long as he could remember.
Chapter Seventeen
Kinna
The bugle woke Kinna before Ayden did, but he wasn't far behind. His warm hand on her shoulder shook her urgently as the last notes of the instrument died across the mountain ranges. “Kinna,” he hissed.
“What is it?” She sat up, blinking in the moonlight at Ayden, sleep tainting her mind with confusion. “What time is it?”
“The moon has just risen. Iolar got word to us; the troops he sent through the Sand Flats attacked Sebastian's northern flank hours past. Sebastian has gone mad; Kayeck taught him the control of the Touches, but it is detrimental to us at this point, because we can't reach him to get the Amulet yet, and he's creating colossal chaos among our troops while he hurls his Touches everywhere.”
Kinna scrambled to her feet, fumbling with her hair, swiftly plaiting it to keep it out of the way. “Why weren't we warned before this? Hours past? Surely Iolar could have gotten us word earlier.” She glanced into the sky at the moon.
Ayden shook his head. “Only three hours. Still, enough to cause devastation on either side. Iolar had the element of surprise and height, but now Sebastian is there.”
Kinna stared at him, her thoughts shattering. Details of the last hours replayed in her mind. The meeting beneath the trees with Cedric, Lanier, Ashleen, others. Her realization that Ayden could die in their planned ritual to destroy the Amulet.
“Ayden—”
Knowledge shaded his silver eyes. He'd already guessed her hesitation, her dread, her protests before she could even say it. “We don't have time, Kinna. People, creatures are dying by Sebastian's hand. We must act now and talk later,” he murmured.
Kinna's throat was dry as sand. “But what if we can't? What if—”
His hands gripped her shoulders and his lips brushed her forehead. “Kinna, we must both be strong. I'm going to go get the Ongalian Dragons who have joined us and lead them over the mountain.”
Kinna swallowed her tears and firmly settled her mind on the present circumstances. She swiftly tied the twine into place at the end of her plait. “No, I want you to find Kayeck. Her role within Paik's Seer Fey Council has played out; she is no longer useful in the Ancient's circle, and it is time to bring her to our side. Go find her. Cedric!”
Movement behind Ayden pulled her gaze over his shoulder. Her twin brother moved closer. “Ayden's right, Kinna, we do need to get the Ongalian Dragons, all of them, to rally to our side. The ones here are not enough. I've just returned from a flight on Ember's back over the top of the mountain, and I've seen it. Sebastian's hordes have passed through the final mountain passes and are climbing the slopes of this mountain even now. They will crest it before long, and we must be ready for them.”
Kinna paced, her hands twitching nervously on the hem of her tunic. “Have either of you heard from Lord Fellowes?”
Cedric and Ayden both shook their heads.
Kinna huffed a fr
ustrated sigh. “We have to have the Ongalian nobles and their soldiers. We don't have enough yet.” A thought struck her. “Cedric, tell Ashleen to go north to the Valley of the Dragons to discover why the remaining Dragons are hesitant to come. She can take Julian and Sage with her for protection. Pixie charm is a powerful shield, but Sage will not go without Julian. Also, have Ashleen find Lord Fellowes in Allande to tell him the battle has begun and we must have what men he can bring us. There's no other way we're going to win this.”
Cedric's brows furrowed. “That's an important mission to trust to known traitors, Kinna.”
“I know. But it must be done, and we have no time to quibble over past offenses. I can't send Linc; I need him here. Tell Ashleen to take Sperah with all haste, and come back to us with as many of the Ongalian nobles and their soldiers as she, Julian, and Sage can find.”
Cedric nodded. “I will. Then you and I will go meet Sebastian on the mountain.”
“Aye.”
Cedric hurried from the makeshift shelter, and Kinna turned her gaze to Ayden. He stepped closer, his warm hands massaging her shoulders. “I'll come back,” he murmured. “For you.”
Kinna lips trembled, and she mashed them together. She would not think of what lay beyond this moment, this place in time. “I rely upon it.” Kinna tilted her head up, swiftly and passionately kissing Ayden, and then ducked out of the shelter, half running, half sliding down the hill toward where Chennuh and Luasa slumbered together. Lincoln met her halfway down the hill.
“I'm coming with you!” he shouted.
Kinna didn't argue. They'd been a team before, he still took seriously his responsibility as her guardian, though she was of age, and though he had promised Marigold he would relinquish his duties as soon as the war was over. Kinna pushed the thoughts aside and accepted his offer of help. “Get on, then!” she shouted back.
Both Dragons woke before their psuche partners reached them. The urgency of the situation thundered through Kinna's head, resounding in Chennuh's as well. He stretched his wings outward, and a deep rumble vibrated from his mouth.
Unleash the Inferno (Heart of a Dragon Book 3) Page 29