My belly churned as my gaze slipped over the eight other handles around the Kah’deem. What would it be like for ten people to try this at once? I could already feel energy sizzling between Rakturan and the Crescent Prince as they battled both the machine and each other. How did the machine test them? What, exactly did it do to see their value?
“I think you chose your Prince well,” Jalla whispered beside me. “It is rare to see a contest like this last so long.”
“It just started,” I whispered back, surprised.
“How long did your friend Renn last when he grabbed the handle?”
He’d been knocked unconscious immediately, hadn’t he? And here they were, locked in a duel against each other and the machine. Rakturan’s light seemed to be growing, swelling outward as he focused on the task at hand. But, as his light grew, a slippery feeling of darkness rose up from the other side of the machine – like the taste of bad fish long after you spat the piece out, but the slick oil remained to coat the inside of your mouth. I swallowed down bile at the analogy.
We waited for the first hour in silence, but eventually, the crowd began to lose focus and cookfires sprang up and tea was made. Around us, the only ones still vigilant were Raolcan sitting on his haunches to one side and the long line of soulless dust demons on the other. Which was hardly a fair balance. Enkenay slipped along the edge of the gathering, joining his vigil and Raolcan gave a grunt of approval.
You don’t think we could take them all?
As much as I wished we could, I’d seen them fight.
I’m not afraid.
That part, I believed.
As the hours passed by, eventually food was served to us and we ate.
“They are in an immense struggle,” Jalla said. “There will be legends of this day.”
“What if they are too well matched?” I worried as I ate. Jalla had been clear. We could eat and drink and take care of necessities, but we could not leave.
“Someone is always stronger.”
“What if Rakturan fails?” I hadn’t thought he would, but now I couldn’t help but worry. What if his opponent was truly stronger?
“If they both fail, we will tend them. If they live, I will take up his sword and fight for him as the leader of his people. That is what a second is for.”
“And if only Rakturan fails?”
She shifted, made uncomfortable by the question, but I pressed on.
“Jalla?”
“Then I will take his place at the machine.”
“Your father didn’t mention that in the ceremony.”
She looked around like she was afraid of being overheard even though it was only the two of us and the battling princes. Everyone else had spread out.
“My father doesn’t know everything.”
“But is that allowed?” I pressed.
“Anyone can join at any time.” She licked her lips. “If that person dares to take on a fight this big, that will be respected.”
My gaze wandered to the extra handles. At any time. What if Jalla and I both took handles to help Rakturan right now. Could we turn the tide in his favor?
“It’s better if it doesn’t happen. Better if it is just them,” Jalla said, as if reading my mind. “If anyone joins this battle, they will be compelled to fight until either the machine opens up, or everyone else is incapacitated. If I grabbed a handle now I could hurt Rakturan’s chances as much as help them.”
So, all we could do was sit and watch under the heat of the sun.
I was almost certain that Jalla didn’t know that I could hear her when she muttered, “It might be worth it.”
Chapter Sixteen
At dusk, they lit fires all around the platform as the other princes who came to witness the battle ate and drank together. Despite the line of terrifying Ifrits frozen into place along the bowl, people were beginning to loosen up. Proximity had eased their anxiety about the Ifrits. There was even the occasional laughter from around cookfires. But all eyes were trained almost constantly on us.
Twice, I almost thought I saw an Ifrit twitch as if he might take a step toward us. I hadn’t eaten a bite. I couldn’t shake the feeling that they might descend at any time and dash our bodies on the rocks. I’d seen it before. It was no idle imagining.
The Crescent Prince still stood tall and straight, his eyes fixed on Rakturan, but I could sense something had changed in him. I squinted my eyes, trying to determine what it was. Was it his posture? One of his feet had moved to behind him, perhaps simply to adjust his position. They must both be feeling stiff and tired by now.
It was, perhaps, an hour after dark that the first vision flashed in my head. The armies Leng was flying with had crossed into the plains west of Dominion City. He was seeing the city in the fading light of sunset. I could almost taste his excitement at seeing the sprawling sky city after traveling so far. He was speaking to two men – Castelans, and a gorgeous young woman in battle armor. I felt a twinge of envy at that. Did he see how easily she moved despite the weight of her armor? Did he ever think that maybe he would be better off with a girl who was so healthy? She could give him so much more than me-
“Amel,” Jalla whispered from beside me. I ignored her, trying to pull the vision back as it escaped me. No use. I sighed. Her voice turned to a hiss. “Slave!”
“You called?” I clenched my jaw in irritation.
“Don’t drift off! We can’t afford distraction.”
My visions were not distractions. Somehow, they would help me fight with my friends. I just needed to trust that. I sank to the ground, sighing at the relief in my leg. Standing all day on one leg was exhausting. Jalla folded her arms over her chest, not willing to give in to weakness like I was. But as the minutes wore on, I saw her gaze linger on me more than once before she sighed and sat, too.
“This is the longest battle I’ve ever heard of.”
“Maybe this time someone will open that machine up,” I said. I could almost swear that something was moving inside it now, but the way my gaze slid over the actual structure made it hard to be certain. A very faint whirr seemed to linger in the air.
“Unlikely.”
“Why battle at all if no one believes it can be opened?” I asked.
“It’s important – traditional. Traditions have a weight of their own, whether or not they are true.”
“But-”
I had meant to say more, but a vision hit me so hard that I nearly fell over – maybe I did fall over. Shonan’s face in the last light of dusk looked desperate. He clung to the neck of Rasiapaer as they flew. Behind them, gouts of fire and screams followed.
I sucked in a breath, shuddering. Maybe Rakturan’s relic could stop visions. I would pay good money for that.
“Amel!” Jalla’s tone was so full of hope that my eyes shot open and I scrambled back to a seated position. I really had been knocked over.
I followed her gaze to see the Crescent Prince sink to one knee. I gasped, gaze rushing to Rakturan. He leaned forward, sweat dripping on the machine as the whirring noise grew louder. There! Something was moving in the machine! With a rapid series of clunks, a set of cage supports opened outward like a blooming flower. I squinted, forcing myself to look at the cage. It wasn’t fully open, but the outermost layer of the cage had opened outward, forming a flower-like shelf around the rest of the cage. They’d done something!
“It’s working,” I breathed.
When Jalla didn’t answer, I risked a glance at her. Her mouth was open in a silent “O.”
“Jalla!” I nudged her. “What happens next?”
She was shaking like a leaf. Jalla! The crazy war leader with the big sword and the desire to take people as slaves. She shouted something in her own language. There was a cry from across the bowl and then a rush of feet as people hurried to where we were. I stood up, excitement filling me. Rakturan was going to win! He was going to do this!
A gust of wind made me sway against my crutch, but my eyes were fixed on Raktur
an. He looked undaunted. His features were set in determined lines as he stared across at his opponent. He had the strength for this. His opponent had dropped to both knees now, almost hanging off the handle to keep him from slumping to the rock floor.
I almost cheered, the excitement was so heady. Jalla was explaining something in her quick, consonant-heavy tongue and then all of a sudden, she screamed. I looked up just in time to see a massive Ifrit cross the last foot to the Kah’deem and grab one of the handles in a smoky palm. His form flickered and coalesced only to spread out in a cloud of dust again and reform. But the smoke never left the handle.
No wonder the Crescent Prince hadn’t brought up a second. He had a whole line of them and they were massive, otherworldly, and terrifying.
Chapter Seventeen
The next few minutes were measured between heartbeats. The Ifrit turned his gaze on me, his furnace eyes making my knee like jelly. I swayed on my crutch, gasping for a breath. My lungs were frozen. They wouldn’t take a breath.
Thud.
His gaze swung to Rakturan, and before my eyes, the Dark Prince crumpled like a mighty tree falling. He swayed, back and forth, starting small and then rocking further and further, side to side, and then dropped to his knees, both hands wrapped around the handle of the cage.
Thud.
Rakturan clung to the handle as the Crescent Prince finally lost his grip, splaying across the rock, his face falling with a smack into the small pool of blood that had gathered beneath the handle. I watched with horror as he twitched, spreading the blood across the rock in fast-drying trails.
Thud.
My vision blurred for a moment as I steadied myself on the crutch. If Rakturan let go of his handle, there would only be the Ifrit left. Would that mean the Ifrit was now the leader of Baojang? What other power might that artifact give him? But what would it mean to challenge a dust demon in this test when a mere man was such a difficult opponent? I swayed a single step forward.
Thud.
Jalla yelled out something and I looked over my shoulder to see people packed around the platform, shoulder to shoulder, body to body, their faces displaying multiple iterations of the same gasp of horror.
Thud.
I snapped into a vision of Savette - in a white tabard now, edged with gold – fighting in the moonlight on the top of a hill. Her people were surrounded by a grim army below. The light in her eyes was fainter. She turned to me, as if she could see me there in spirit.
“Help him,” she said, her expression desperate.
Thud.
I gritted my teeth and took a second step forward.
Thud.
“The Dark Prince needs our help,” Jalla screamed, rushing forward. She was going to grab a handle, wasn’t she? But she wasn’t up to this challenge. I knew that, without knowing how. I knew that if Rakturan – loyal to Savette as no one else was, and with the light of Truth in his eyes – if he couldn’t fight off the Ifrit, then Jalla certainly could not.
Thud.
Or at least, not alone. I took a third step, this time with purpose in my heart. My palm tingled at the thought of grabbing that spiked handle. Fear shot through me, cold and acid. I swallowed it down, wiped my palm on my thigh, and seized the handle.
Thud.
Pain burst through me and I gritted my teeth as I tightened my grip. I wouldn’t let go now. Not until it was done. Jalla was yelling something, but I didn’t even listen. There was work to do now. She could call me “slave” and order me around when this was all done.
Thud.
My vision went white.
Chapter Eighteen
I was in a camp sitting beside a fire with a ring of others. Everyone looked tired as they sipped hot drinks from battered metal cups.
“Even with our forces combined, our numbers are even with theirs,” one of the women said eventually. Her clothing marked her as a soldier – high ranking, I thought.
I reached for my own cup and startled. My hand was much larger than usual. Calloused. Manly.
“If we attack before first light, we run the risk of losing men in the dark,” a second woman said. She looked like she ate dragon scales for breakfast. “The sky is heavy with clouds and torches would give away our positions.”
“But we can see the fighting on the hill,” one of the men said. A Castelan by his fine clothing and armor. “Those are our allies. If we delay, they may not survive until morning.”
I followed his gaze to a hill in the distance where light flashed from time to time.
“It only started when we pitched our tents – less than an hour ago,” the first woman said. “We don’t really know how many allies are there – our scouts didn’t see them. We only got a good look at the enemy camp.”
“But Leng Shardson said the Chosen One fights with light. What if that is her out there? What if she needs us?” the Castelan asked. He looked at me. “Do you think it is her, Shardson? Should we attack tonight?”
I was in Leng’s body! Somehow this machine had taken it over! In the distance, I saw a flash of light – definitely Savette. Was the Ifrit being asked to make choices on the other side? What devilish plans would he approve?
I needed to speak up. Everyone was looking at me. But I was no military leader! I had a sudden feeling that my answer would make a difference not only for Leng and Savette but also for the test back at the Kah’deem. I swallowed.
“We need to risk it. By tomorrow, it might be too late.”
Pain shot through me, so powerful that I couldn’t see, couldn’t think, couldn’t even scream. There was a flash and I was back on the platform in the bowl, facing the Ifrit. His eyes were wilder than usual, flame bursting from them. I sucked in a gasp of breath. The pain was dulled. Still there. Not gone. But not as sharp, either.
I was there with you. I felt that.
I wasn’t alone! But how could Raolcan be there, too?
“You can’t fail us, Amel, straighten up. Fight!” Jalla was as enjoyable as ever. But I noticed that she hadn’t grabbed a handle. I sensed her beside me and out of the corner of my eye, I could see she was bandaging Rakturan’s hand. He was sprawled across her lap, unconscious, the light in his eyes so faint that even though the blindfold had slipped off, it hardly seemed to matter.
I think your choices are being judged. Choose well and you are rewarded. Choose poorly ... well, even the reward hurts. Try to see if you can open that cage somehow. I wonder if those handles do anything.
I gritted my teeth and twisted at the handle, gasping when something clicked, and a second layer of the cage opened up like a clock-work onion.
Yes!
I tried again but it wouldn’t budge. My victory was short lived.
Chapter Nineteen
At least I was expecting it this time.
When I shifted, my first reaction was to take in clues, but I’d expected a battlefield or at least some place I could identify and this was neither of those things. Around me, everything was black with the thick blackness of suffocating darkness. Only faint outlines in a light blue so faint I could barely make it out showed some sort of landscape. It was like the shadow of a light after the light was extinguished. I tried to keep my breath even as I grew used to seeing the world in shades of black. There were walls around me – pretty far away, like I was in the center of a large room – and they went up, up, up until I couldn’t make out the blue outlines anymore. It was like I was in the world’s most massive underground cave. I thought I heard the trickling of water and then a shuffling sound drew my attention. I gasped as a single Troglodyte walked into view, his glowing, translucent skin bright as the moon in this black world.
ARE YOU AGREED, THEN? YOU WILL REMOVE THIS PRETENDER?
They must be speaking to Shonan about the false Dominar! Shonan hadn’t been decided on that when last I saw him, but my own mind was made up. Still, I hesitated. I shouldn’t answer on his behalf, shouldn’t take his free will. Hadn’t Rakturan been angry with me for making promises on
his behalf about the Kah’deem? What made this any different?
WELL?
“Yes,” I said. It was best for him and best for everyone. I screwed up my courage. I was the one making the decision at the moment. I would make the right one, even if it wasn’t the one he would want me to make.
AND WILL YOU TAKE HIS PLACE?
Something shoved me out of control of Shonan so suddenly that I was still reeling when he said, “No.” Was that what he really wanted? What was happening? A feeling of malevolence reached out to me from his direction and in horror, I realized what had happened. The Ifrit was here in this test, and he had wrested Shonan from me and answered on his behalf.
NO? YOU INSULT US!
I pushed back as hard as I could. Whatever Shonan wanted, he wouldn’t want to be taken over by a demon. I had to stop this. I hit up hard against something, mentally, and then pushed a second time, feeling it give against my thrust.
“No insult is meant,” I gasped. How did I recover from this without losing the dragons as allies? “I will remove him so that the person of your choice may take his place. The Troglodyte Elders should choose.”
Was it enough? They seemed mollified, but I didn’t get to hear if they were. I was snatched away, gasping as I gripped the pain handle and wracked with shudders of bone-breaking pain rippling through me. Across the Kah’deem, the Ifrit rocked in fear. I wasn’t the only one experiencing this pain. Maybe the pain was even worse if you didn’t get your goal.
There was a snick sound from within the cage, but nothing else happened. I took a deep breath, mentally preparing myself for the next trial. What if the Ifrit was stronger this time? What if I couldn’t keep him away? What if the stakes were too high and something terrible happened? I wasn’t ready. I needed a minute to breathe.
Just breathe. It will be okay.
I was plunged head-first into someone else’s consciousness. We were running over the rooftops in a strange city. Far out on the horizon, light flickered and flared like a battle was being fought. My lungs ached with every breath like I’d been running so long I’d worn them ragged. Behind me, someone half-sobbed and her footsteps skidded. There was a strangled cry and I spun to see Haskell slip on the roof tile and slide over the edge of the roof. I scrambled down to where she was, my old joints aching, my muscles stiff. She’d caught the edge of the roof and was hanging, mutely, on the edge, her teeth gritted in fear.
Dragon School_Ancient Allies Page 6