by Dan Allen
Startled by the accusation, Terith sputtered, “That’s impossible. I have the awakening. It only passes from Montazi mothers.”
“I don’t know about that,” Enala said. “But when Lilleth looked into your future, she also saw your birth. It was like she was right there when you were born. She saw your mother. She was sure of it.”
An arrow slammed into the tree behind Enala and splintered.
Terith shook his head. “Enala, please. We have to go—now.”
“And then she saw your father,” Enala said. “And he wasn’t a dragon rider. He was . . . Erdali.”
“What?” Terith said incredulously. “That’s impossible.”
“It explains your chest hair,” Enala said.
“But how did she know he was Erdali?”
Enala leaned closer. She brushed his cheek, searching for words, not looking him in the eye. “Your father was Toran.”
“Toran the Uniter?” Terith said, surprise and pain turning his words into a gasp.
Enala smiled. She looked into his eyes. “Terith, you are the heir to the unclaimed throne.”
Deep within Terith, where his weak pulse fought to keep his eyes open, fought to keep the blood he had left moving, a shell shattered. “She knew. Lilleth knew all along.”
“So,” Enala breathed, “I just saved the heir of the five realms—and you didn’t even thank me!”
Terith grappled with the enormity of the revelation. So little of it made sense, but when Enala had said the name Toran, it was as though a key had fit into a lock in his heart so perfectly, so securely, it was undeniable. It was who he was.
He wondered for a moment at the strangeness of his life, how he had been born into poverty, the ward of an outer village, and became a rider and champion.
The awakening had chosen him as chief.
None of it was a mistake. It all made sense. The odds of it were staggering, and the implications of it more so.
Then he remembered Tanna’s question before he left for the feast of the challenge: Did you ever feel like your future is outside the Montas?
Tanna had been there at his birth.
A voice sounded from nearby in a harsh Outlander accent.
“Where are you going? Orders were to secure the bridge.”
“There’s still one rider left. He said to kill all of them. I want this one. I’ll drink his blood.”
Enala’s eyes widened in panic, and suddenly Terith was afraid—not for himself, but for her.
Enala looked from Terith to the trees and back as desperation seized her. “I can’t fight them. I’ve got no arrows. You’re too broken to fight—they’ll kill us.” Enala winced at the thought of facing Outlander braves unarmed. “If I had your speed, I could—” She looked at Terith, hope suddenly filling her expression. “Terith, bond with me.”
The idea struck Terith as tempting and treacherous in the same moment.
“With your awakening, I can fight them.”
Reason returning, Terith replied, “But I bonded with Lilleth. I can’t break the promise or I’ll lose the awakening.”
“But I won’t,” Enala said. “I made no oath. I need your awakening—more than Lilleth. They’ll kill us both.”
Footsteps crashed through the brush, likely following Terith’s blood trail—Outlanders out for revenge on their fallen brothers.
“Bond with me. If you don’t, we’ll die,” Enala said. “Please, let me save you.”
She leaned forward, her lips hovering an inch above Terith’s. “Please.”
Terith knew he had to do it, despite the high cost. Enala would keep her awakening—she hadn’t vowed. Terith would lose it forever. He could no longer be a rider, no longer be the chief, and no longer marry Lilleth.
At least he could save a life.
Terith lifted his head and kissed her lips. They were soft. He felt only her lips as suddenly he felt her spirit meshing with his, wrestling for control of his heart. Terith opened himself to it. He knew he had to give himself completely or there could be no bond.
Release Akara.
Release Lilleth.
Release the Montas.
Release the awakening.
Keep Enala. Suddenly, having her was the only thing he wanted, a trick of magic or failure of conscience. Images of her playful laugh and her teasing eyes captured him.
It came. It came from all sides. The awakening drew up around the horizon enveloping them both, tying them in a torrent of light as powerful as the light that had streamed into Terith when Lilleth had read his past and future. Enala leapt back.
A warrior snarled close by. Enala, moving with the speed of Terith’s awakening, dodged out of the path of an arrow and caught it in her hand as it passed.
She was even faster than he was.
Terith turned his head as Enala charged at the warrior. She ducked under his arm and ripped the corner of the razor-sharp arrow across his neck, then plunged it into the heart of a second attacker, stole his knife, and dashed through the trees a short distance.
Moments later, she was back and the awakening faded to black.
Deep black.
The sky was bright. Enala was bright.
Terith was lost.
“I did it,” she beamed. “The bridge is down. Guardians’ golden gate, that was amazing—it was like they were standing still.”
“Thanks, Enala,” Terith managed, feeling unsettled and empty.
“Come on, we have a few more minutes now. I think there might be another way out of here. I saw something on my way in.” She grabbed his upper arms and dragged him into the woods, away from the battle near the fallen bridge. Every step and breath pained him as the muscles near his broken ribs inflamed and cramped.
“Where are we going?” he asked.
“Here,” Enala said. She leaned him against a tree trunk in a clearing.
Terith’s heart leapt. Another dragon!
In the center of the clearing was Cymr, a fruit dragon with one of Tanna’s custom saddles.
“That’s Nema’s dragon,” Terith said with a note of hope. “I sent him back to spy on the horde. But where did he—”
A suppressed scream sounded from Enala from around the other side of the dragon. “Oh my, is he . . . ?”
Terith forced himself to his knees. “Nema?”
Terith dragged his bandaged leg behind him on one knee until he could see the body.
Nema lay face down. Cymr, one of the loyal Neutat breed, had stayed by its fallen rider, bound only by a small tether it could have easily snapped.
An arrow stuck out between Nema’s ribs. It had pierced his liver or lungs. Somehow, Nema had had enough time to find a clearing and land.
Strange.
“He must have been in pain,” Terith said. “It looks like he tried to slit his wrist.”
Enala covered her mouth and looked away.
Terith’s eyes took in the two-inch pocket blade sticking out of the ground and then his arm where the skin was crudely carved, its edges painted in rivulets of dried blood.
“Why would he do that?” Enala said.
Never, Terith thought, pulling himself alongside Nema’s body. Nema would never hide in the open, unless . . .
“Could those be letters?” Enala pointed to the scratches on his arm. “I don’t recognize them.”
“And why would he tie his dragon to his body?” Enala asked.
“Because he wanted to be found,” Terith said at last. “Besides, Nema can’t write.” He pointed to the red gash on Nema’s arm. “I think that’s a circle with a cross over it, like a compass—the symbol of Toran’s kingdom.”
“So what is that squiggle supposed to mean?” Enala asked. “A snake?”
“No, I’m guessing that means a road or a path,” Terith’s head reeled.
“No . . . No. No! Toran’s trail! Enala, he cut himself because he’s trying to tell us we’ve been betrayed by our own.”
Terith put his dizzy head in his hands. “This attack was all just a distraction. There must be a traitor leading a second Outlander force up Toran’s trail.” Terith’s eyes met Enala’s. “Pert.”
Enala sank to her knees next to Nema’s body. “But the horde is attacking here. And they’re still coming.”
Terith shook his head. Too few Outlanders had crossed onto the crossroads megalith. Too few arrows were flying. Too few cannons were booming. “There could be a hundred warriors across the canyon by now if they were trying.”
“But they’re not pulling back,” Enala said.
“They’re baiting us,” Terith said, wiping blood from his chin with his good arm. “Keeping us engaged so we don’t suspect they split their forces.”
“We’ve got to tell my father,” Enala said, her eyes fixing on Terith’s.
“Of course. But I have a promise to keep,” Terith said aloud. “I made an oath to protect the Montas realm when I became a rider. As long as I breathe, I must do what I can to stop them. We have a clear warning. The Outlanders will go across at the falls and up the secret stairs onto Toran’s trail. There’s still a chance I can stop them.”
“What?” Enala said. “In your state? You can’t turn back an angry swamp fly without hurting for it.”
Enala wrapped her arms around Terith’s helmet, holding his head against her neck for a moment.
“Enala, I need you to go to Ferrin.”
“I know. I must go to Father and warn him,” she said softly, without any urgency.
“Tell him I am taking Nema’s dragon east to Toran’s trail. I’ll take out as many of the hidden bridges as I can. If I survive, I expect to meet his reinforcements at Neutat.”
“But you’ll fall,” Enala said, biting the words as she said them.
“I won’t.”
“You will.” Her voice shook. “Look what happened when you tried to take on the whole horde yourself.”
“Enala, you know what Nema found out. The Outlanders are planning to cross into the Montas on Toran’s trail and somebody we know is helping them—Pert, probably. I can’t just sit here and do nothing.”
Enala stood, entrancingly beautiful, a reminder of all that Terith could not have.
“We’re alone,” she said quietly. “This may be the last time.”
Terith winced for more than one reason.
“We’ve bonded,” Enala whispered. “Doesn’t that mean anything to you? Because it does to me. It means everything. You mean everything.”
“What are you going to tell Lilleth?” Terith said. “That we had no choice?”
Enala’s eyes, bright and bold, found his. “We’ve bonded,” she said. “That’s all that matters to me.”
He had bonded with Enala, a promise to her that had undone his oath to Lilleth. But what did such a promise mean now? He was not a rider anymore. What awakening he had would fade before the dragons left in the autumn. He had no right to marry an eligible.
The only way to keep the promise was exile, for both of them. And what of Lilleth? Just leave her? The thought was terrifying.
“I can’t rule the Montas,” Terith said. “I broke my oath. Enala . . .” Terith’s chest tightened. His breathing quickened. Something was taking hold of him, something disabling.
“I’m afraid,” Terith whispered. His lip quivered. “Enala, I’m afraid.”
“You can’t be afraid,” she whispered, a tear forming in her eye.
“It’s gone,” Terith said. He turned his head to see Enala out of the corner of his vision where the light of the awakening had shown him things as they truly were in a fleeting glance.
Darkness.
Terith’s breaths gave way to a rush of panic. His breathing came in anxious gasps. “I’m dying.”
“No,” Enala said. “You’ve just lost the awakening. It’s my fault.” She put a hand on his chest. “Relax.”
When his breathing at last returned to normal, Terith found his voice. “I don’t belong here.”
“You weren’t even conceived in the Montas, Terith,” said Enala coolly, desperately. “Your mother was an Outlander. But you made something of your life—don’t throw it away.”
“I don’t understand,” Terith breathed as pain in his ribs flared. “I had the awakening. I must have Montazi blood.”
Enala’s eyes looked into the distance as she spoke. “Maybe she had Montazi in her lineage. They keep slaves, you know.”
His mind spun. Morning light danced off leaves in the canopy overhead playing tricks with his eyes. Vague memories flooded to him: the night walk from Neutat to the feast, the meeting with Lilleth on the bridge. “Lilleth knew,” Terith whispered. “She knew and she never told me.”
“She never dared!” Enala said, looking to Terith in desperation, voice filled with enough power and anguish to make Terith wish he had only his flesh wounds and not the knife-sharp feelings that rent his heart. “She would have lost you to another kingdom.” Enala stifled a shiver as the beginning of a flood of tears brimmed in her blue eyes.
Terith lowered his head as her words assailed him.
Enala spoke as if she had to force her mouth to make the words. “You are more important than one battle, than one bridge. I came here for all our sakes, not just yours.”
“So that’s the reason?” Terith asked, cradling his throbbing ribs with his good arm. “You wanted me to break my promise to Lilleth . . . to give the alliance a leader.”
“I came because . . .” Enala laid her hands over her collar, where mud mingled with blood clung, “because . . . I love you.”
“I . . . I,” Terith stammered, “I’m following my path, Enala. I’m doing what is set before me. I can’t be turned any more than I can stop the seasons.”
“You are more than you know, Terith.”
“I know only my duty.”
“You are the heir to the unclaimed throne. What will become of the alliance? Who will help us beat the horde? We can’t do it alone.”
“Does it matter?”
Enala wrung her red-stained hands into little fists. “Of course it matters. For the sake of the kingdom you must live! Look, I know what you want to do. You want to go out to meet them. You know where the Outlander army is. You think you know. And you think you can stop them, and maybe you can—but maybe you can’t! Maybe you can’t, Terith. Did you ever think of that?”
Terith turned his head slowly from Nema’s motionless form and looked Enala in her azure eyes. “Is my blood any better than my men who died burning the bridges? Am I any better than the ones who stayed to slow the Outlanders while we fled across the bridges?” Terith shook his head. “They lived and saw their oaths fulfilled. They stood when I said stand. They fought when I said fight. They asked no questions. No tears. No pleading. They died with their oaths unbroken.
“Now my enemies gather. My time for sacrifice comes. Am I supposed to let these murderers walk over the bloodstained earth untouched? I can no more change my duty than I can go back and undo all the choices of ten years that made me champion.” Terith put his hand to his forehead to steady his dizzy head. “Or the ones that left all my riders slain.”
Enala’s eyes begged. “Don’t go.”
“Enala, don’t you understand?”
Her eyes showed no sign of change. “I understand that I love you. I understand we need you—I need you. Terith. Please.” Enala’s fingers found his hand and squeezed it.
“You can make it to Ferrin-tat,” Terith said emptily. “Take the low path under the west bridge on foot. There is a way across and a trail up the other side. Werm used it during construction. The flies will be feasting on the fallen Outlanders at the east end of the megalith, so you’ll be safe if you go
quickly. I’ll fly south to see how far the horde has come up Toran’s trail. I’m the only one who can reach the bridges in time.”
“Yes, I’m sure that will be excellent,” Enala said coolly, “but not right now. You need a rest as bad as the dragon. There’s water here, and your wounds need better cleansing.”
“I know what you want,” Terith said, eyes fixed on Enala’s only a few inches away. “You want to keep me here. You want me to flee and break my last unbroken oath to defend the Montazi.”
Enala knelt in front of Terith. She stroked his earlobe and traced his jaw. “The important thing is to keep alive what we have.”
Terith nodded. “And what about Lilleth? I owe her my loyalty—
I love her.”
Enala dropped her head onto his shoulder, hopelessly. “Will I never have you?”
Terith could scarcely speak. “You’ll have another champion.” He felt her strange song leave him as she stood to retrieve his armor.
“Oh,” she laughed bitterly, wiping tears, “you always say that.”
“This isn’t about you, Enala,” Terith said. Visions of what was, what he should be, filled his imagination. “This is about doing what my father would do, any father.”
“Toran wasn’t a fool, Terith. And he would want grandchildren.”
“I’m not even sure he wanted children,” Terith said distantly. “He didn’t seem too keen on making them a part of his life.”
“Terith—”
“If he were my father, he would be proud to see me fulfill my oaths, whether or not I live. He would be proud to see me spill my blood alongside that of the loyal.”
“Is that what this is?” Enala spouted. “A big guilt trip? Your men died and you didn’t, so now you have to go out and commit suicide?”
“It’s about duty.”
“It’s madness.”
“It’s the only thing I can do.”
“No, it’s not. You can do more. You can lead our retreat. You can regather our strength, stop Pert and—”
“I will. First, I must slow the horde. I have to give you time to warn the others.”
“But you won’t.” Enala choked up, unable to argue any longer. There was nothing she could do to change his mind. Terith saw her resignation and her grief.