Harbinger

by Nicole Conway

  Phevos clicked and chattered with approval, his golden eyes rolling closed with a happy grumble when I scratched his favorite spot right between his ears. He sat back on his haunches and started scooting in closer to wrap himself around me.

  “He was worried about you when the Tibrans took you,” Jaevid added. “They’ve been well taken care of here.”

  I sat down across from him, letting my back rest against Phevos’s side. One flop of his giant, purple tail across my lap knocked the wind out of me. It made Jaevid chuckle and even Mavrik, the king drake, snorted like he thought it was funny.

  “I was worried about him, too.” I patted his tail.

  Phevos blasted my face with another hot, stinky breath before he laid his head down next to me.

  “I’ve been so overwhelmed since we got here.” I flicked a quick glance up at Jaevid. “I can’t imagine what you must be feeling.”

  His expression skewed again. He pressed his lips together, jaw tensing as he looked away.

  “Jaevid?”

  Gradually, he raised his pale blue eyes to meet my gaze. I could see it all: pain, worry, and something like sorrow all crushing down over his features. His sharply-handsome face made it difficult to discern what exactly he might be thinking, so I wasn’t sure what to say.

  Thank the gods Phillip was a bit more transparent.

  “Whatever is bothering you, I hope you know you can talk to me about it,” I coaxed. “I won’t tell a soul. I haven’t told any of the others about your memories.”

  Jaevid didn’t reply, but his dragon made a concerned chirping noise and nudged at his back. The two exchanged a heated glare, and finally Jaevid sighed. “I guess sometimes I catch myself forgetting how much time has passed. I know it’s been a long time, but to me it still seems like … only yesterday. And then there are moments when it suddenly snaps back into focus and I’m reminded that everyone I knew, everything I felt comfortable with, is gone.”

  I idly traced the outlines of the deep purple scales on Phevos’s tail. “Not everyone.”

  “Most of them, though.” He rubbed his brow. “And I can’t decide what’s worse—remembering them, what they meant to me, and realizing they’re long gone, or not remembering them at all.” A short, humorless laugh escaped his lips as he buried his face in his hands. “I don’t even understand what’s going on in my own head anymore. Maldobar is burning down around me and everyone is looking to me to save them from an enemy I know next to nothing about, but I can’t stop thinking about how terrified I am.”

  “Terrified of what? Of Argonox?”

  He looked up at me, his expression so broken and anguished I barely recognized him. “No. That would make more sense, I guess,” he muttered. “What scares me more than anything is knowing I have to face your father. I have to account for not being there, for not … doing more to help.”

  I nibbled on my bottom lip, watching the flurry of conflicted emotions that passed over his face.

  “If he turns me away, if he doesn’t forgive me, then—” Jaevid’s voice caught and he looked down again, gritting his teeth. It took him a minute or two to collect himself enough to speak again. “Ever since we left Northwatch, things have been coming back to me more and more quickly. I remember your father so clearly. He wasn’t much younger than you are now. When I look at you, it’s hard not to see him. You have a lot in common.”

  I frowned. “I’ve heard.”

  “For what it’s worth, he didn’t get along well with his parents, either.”

  “The boys have been running their mouths, I see. Telling you all about my dramatic falling out with my father?” I rolled my eyes and went back to fiddling with Phevos’s tail spines. “Bunch of gossiping hens.”

  “Regardless of what Felix may have told you about me, I’m not an idiot. I can tell there’s something up between you two. No one talks about it, but it’s there. It’s the same between you and Aubren. You make a face, the one you’re making now, whenever someone mentions them,” he explained. “I won’t ask what happened, but believe me, I know how Felix can be. He’s as stubborn as an old mule sometimes. Or he was when we—er—he was younger.”

  I leaned forward, letting my chin rest on my palm. “He never said that, you know.”

  “Said what?”

  “That you were an idiot. A little insane, maybe. But never stupid.” I cast him a satisfied grin. “I used to compare myself to you all the time when I was a fledgling student.”

  His brow rumpled with confusion. “To me? Why?”

  I shrugged. “You know, because you were the first halfbreed to attend the academy. I was the first girl. I used to tell myself, ‘If Jaevid could do this, so can I’ whenever things got hard or the others tried to push me around. I would think about all the stories my father told us about you.” I let my gaze settle on Phevos’s scaly, sleeping face. “And then something changed. I changed. I glimpsed the ugly face of war, I saw what men like Argonox did to innocent people, and … your stories started to seem more like fairy tales than history. I didn’t want to believe you ever existed. I wanted to forget all about you.”

  “To be fair, I’m sure your father exaggerated things a lot in those stories.”

  “Maybe so.” I had to grant him that. “But then the Tibrans took us from Barrowton. And when I had no strength left and no one else to turn to for any hope at freedom, you were the only person I could think of to cry out to. And you were the one who saved me.”

  When I looked up again, Jaevid was blushing. Even the tips of his ears were pink. “I-I did have some help, if you recall.”

  “True, but that’s not my point.” I met his gaze and offered him my most confident smile. “It’s been forty years. The world has changed. Maldobar has changed. My father has probably changed, too. But all of that happened because of you and the sacrifice that you made. Even if we never see eye to eye, I know my father has not forgotten what you did for us. I don’t believe for a second that he would turn you away.”

  Jaevid’s broad shoulders steadily relaxed as he closed his eyes. His mouth curved into a calm, gentle smile. “I hope you’re right.”

  As sun set that evening, the storm finally began to break. It stopped snowing, and even the relentless, howling winds had died down to a faint whine. Everything outside was encased in a thick layer of ice and snow, but now you could see the surrounding mountain peaks, jagged valleys, and pine forests all dusted in white as the sun set behind them.

  It was decided—we would leave at dawn.

  After so many days spent in waiting, sitting on my hands just hoping the weather would change, the sudden realization that we would be leaving put me on edge. I was glad to finally have a legitimate excuse to refuse to wear the dresses Baroness Adeline kept sending for me to wear. It was back to thick, weather-treated leggings, pants, layers of socks, boots, and long tunics over a thermal undershirt. Thank the Fates for that. As usual, all were made to fit the shape of a man’s body, so they were strange on the different angles of my frame. It wasn’t anything I hadn’t gotten used to at the academy, however.

  I sat on the edge of my bed, testing the fit of a pair of new boots that laced up the back from my ankles to my knees. They weren’t regulation dragonrider boots, but they’d get me by. Besides, technically, I wasn’t a dragonrider for the king now. Father had banished me, so I was a rogue. I could wear what I wanted.

  A soft knock on the door made me look up. “Yes?”

  Miri entered as quickly as a shadow and began spreading a long, black cloak out for me at the end of the bed. It was far nicer than anything a dragonrider should have been wearing into battle. Made of fine, soft velvet and lined with silver fox fur—I almost felt bad it would most likely wind up stained with blood.

  “I hope this will be warm enough,” she said as she stood back, keeping her head low. “My aunt says she is sending heralds through the streets all day, advising everyone to join us and take refuge in Luntharda.”


  It was no good. I could hear the emotion in her voice without having to see her face. Something was wrong.

  “Miri?” I stood up to approach her.

  She immediately waved a hand, as though trying to brush me off. “I-It’s nothing. I’m all right.”

  “No, you’re not. What happened?”

  She puffed a few deep, steadying breaths and then managed an awkward, forced smile. Her eyes were red and swollen from crying. “I just wish you didn’t have to go. It’s so dangerous. I wish it didn’t have to be this way. He said it’s better if we never saw each other again, but it’s not … is it?”

  “Who said?” My temper caught like dragon flame. “Was it Eirik?”

  Miri’s smile collapsed like a dying star. Her chin trembled as she hid her face against the crook of her elbow.

  Eirik Lachlan—that idiot! What had he done to this poor girl? Argh! Give some men even an inch of a uniform and suddenly they think they can walk over anyone they want.

  “You wait right here,” I snarled, jabbing a finger at my bed. “I’ll sort this out.”

  “B-But, wait!” She began to protest, but I didn’t stand by to hear her out.

  I stormed from the room, tasting cinders as I started my search. It didn’t take me long to find him sulking in the study, leaning against the window with an unusually pensive frown creasing his forehead.

  “You!” I slammed the library door behind me to get his attention.

  “What? What happened?” He jumped, eyes as wide as saucers.

  “You did, apparently.” I fixed my glare on him, fists clenched. “What did you say to Miri? Did you dump her right before we’re about to leave? You rotten little … If I find out you took her to bed while planning to leave her all along, I swear by the Fates, I will—”

  Eirik threw his hands up in surrender, leaning away when I got in his face. “No! Gods, Jenna. It was nothing like that, I swear!”

  “Then start talking.”

  Slowly, he lowered his hands until they sagged limply at his sides. With his head hung, he didn’t have the smug look about him I’d been expecting. “I never touched her. Not that I didn’t want to, but I couldn’t even talk to her without acting like a fool. I’ve never met anyone who makes me feel that way. And then after what her aunt said at dinner the other night, it just made things even worse. I couldn’t stand the thought of her being with anyone else.” His eyes closed while his brows drew together in a look of absolute misery. “Then I realized her aunt is right. Miri is the kindest, most beautiful person I’ve ever met. She deserves the best … and I can’t give her that.”

  “What?” I sputtered.

  “My family has been in the ranks of dragonriders for generations, but we aren’t wealthy. We aren’t nobles—you know that. Our only legacy comes from whatever glory our ancestors won in battle, and we all know that sort of fame usually only lasts as long as the people who remember it firsthand,” he replied. “Baroness Adeline is never going to let her only heir be with a man like me—someone with no title or anything but a few acres of soggy farmland in Two Rivers to his name. With Feena lost at Barrowton, I don’t even have a dragon to rightly call myself a dragonrider anymore. I have nothing to offer her.”

  My temper fizzled, doused by the sincere anguish on his face as his head bowed lower and lower until I couldn’t even see his face anymore. I’d known him for years and had never once seen him so upset. He’d been less worried about losing his own leg.

  I put a hand on his shoulder. “Have you even talked to Miri about this? What if she doesn’t care? What if she wanted to be with you anyway?”

  “You think the baroness would ever allow it? I’d basically be asking her to elope, to betray her whole family. A man of honor would never do that. I may not be the finest the king’s riders have to offer, but I do have some sense of honor.”

  Looping my arm around his neck, I dragged him in to a rough hug, being sure to mess up his neatly-styled hair as much as possible in the process. “For crying out loud, you were only supposed to tell her she was pretty. Couldn’t even manage that, could you? You really are hopeless, you know that?”

  “Yes. I know,” he moaned.

  “And if you wanted a noble title, all you had to do was ask.”

  Eirik choked. “No! I wasn’t asking for that!”

  “Am I really supposed to hear a story like that, told with such conviction from one of my very best friends, and not do anything?” I smirked.

  “I’m not noble material, Jenna. You of all people should know I’d never fit in with those kinds of people.”

  “I don’t either.” A soft, teary voice interrupted us from the doorway. Miri was standing, wrenching the hem of the loosely-knitted blouse she wore over her dress. Her wide, doe eyes shimmered with tears as she stared at him. “I’ve never fit in with anyone. Not until you came here.”

  I could have knocked Eirik over with a stiff sneeze. He was frozen under my arm, scarcely breathing, and his face had turned a disturbing shade of red.

  I tried nudging him back to consciousness before he started bleeding from the ears. “Well? Aren’t you going to say anything?”

  He made a few sounds that might have been words in some ancient, forgotten language. Or it might have just been the panicked garbling of a man about to pass out. I couldn’t be sure.

  And suddenly, there wasn’t time to sort it out.

  The tall window behind us exploded, sending shards of glass flying past my head like daggers. I felt the heat of flame against my back as I was thrown across the room with Eirik. The keep shuddered on its stone foundation. Books, papers, and scrolls were snatched from their shelves. The furniture toppled. I could hear shouting and more things shattering in the main room.

  Somewhere else in the chaos, Miri screamed.

  My ears were ringing with a high-pitched tone. There was blood in my mouth and dribbling off my chin. I’d nearly bitten my lip clean through on impact.

  Eirik, who had cushioned my landing, was coughing and wheezing for breath. “M-Miri?”

  I looked up immediately and spied her lying on the floor right up against the door. With my vision spotting and ears still screeching, I dragged myself off Eirik and tried to stand.

  He kicked off the ground and instantly bolted to where Miri lay. His hands shook as he brushed her hair from her face, calling to her. “What do I do? Do I move her? Is she dead?”

  I joined him in trying to prop her upright. She had a nasty-looking bump on the side of her forehead, but no other injuries that I could see. “Not dead. Just unconscious. She’s still breathing.” I stared around the room as the sounds of screaming and deep roaring echoed from somewhere outside the keep. “Take her to her the baroness. They need to take cover.”

  “From what?” Eirik shouted again. “What the hell is happening?”

  I didn’t know. All around us, puddles of liquid flame licked and crackled. I choked on the intense, acrid smell in the air. It was a stench I recognized right away.

  The smell of dragon venom.

  TWENTY-SIX

  We weren’t ready for this.

  There was barely time to buckle on the pair of short swords I’d been given by the baroness and sprint for the hall. Servants ran past, crying out and sobbing in terror as they scrambled for whatever shelter they could find. Some were still trying to put out the flames while others struggled to carry out the wounded. It was total mayhem.

  The keep shook again, and the muffled sound of a dragon’s roar set my blood ablaze. We were being attacked by one of our own? Why?

  There wasn’t time to figure out the details. I—we—had to get airborne. I left the North Wing, tearing down the stairwells and hallways to the entrance to the caverns. On the way, Jaevid and Haldor fell in step beside me. It wasn’t until I reached Phevos that I realized Calem was right on our heels.

  “What are we up against?” I called to Jaevid as I climbed into my saddle. I had
no armor, no helmet and no clue what kind of a fight we were in for.

  “I don’t know,” he shouted back as he threw his temporary saddle over the base of Mavrik’s neck. “I can barely sense the dragon at all.”

  “Another Tibran divine artifact?” Haldor guessed with a snarl as he joined in helping Jaevid tie his saddle down.

  I hated that idea, but it seemed the most likely.

  Jaevid started giving us rapid instructions. “The city has no defenses for this kind of warfare. Go on, see if you can draw them away, and we’ll catch up!”

  Calem and I gave a dragonrider salute. In a flurry of growls and dragon wing beats, we left the cavern like two enormous bats and took to the evening sky. The bitter wind stung my eyes as we picked up speed, climbing rapidly. Phevos’s strong body rippled beneath me, forearms flexing and rolling with each stroke of his wings. I could feel his heart pounding against the sides of my legs even through the saddle. His golden eyes flashed, catching in the crimson glow of the setting sun. That same light reflected over Perish’s pearly white scales, staining them scarlet.

  Below, the flames from the keep choked the sky with a plume of black smoke. The destruction wasn’t as bad as it seemed from the inside, though. Only the North Wing had been struck so viciously. The rest of the burning spray was cast at random, as though it were meant to cause more panic than damage.

  And then our enemy appeared.

  I saw only a flash of her, a blur of green scales, and my heart dropped like a stone to the pit of my stomach. Vexi wheeled in a broad circle over the city, angling herself to make another dive run at the panicking, defenseless townsfolk below.

  I ground my jaw, squeezing my saddle handles fiercely. From that distance, I could barely make out the shape of a rider on her back, sitting in a strangely crafted saddle. I couldn’t tell who it was—I had to get closer.

  “Split run,” I signaled to Calem. “Take her to the lake.”

  He confirmed, and together we rolled in to pursuit.