She was no longer worried about how he felt for her. But she still wondered what was going to happen. He was the rightful king. But there was no way a rabbit girl from the Hartglade was ever going to sit by his side as queen. The idea was nonsense. Still, whatever happened, as long as he wanted her to be with him, she would be there.
But first Kal had to deal with his traitorous brother. The spires and minarets of the palace looked like darkening shadows up ahead. They were close.
Thalia wondered what it must be like to have your own kin betray you, for your own brother to murder your father. She had suffered so much loss herself, but she thought perhaps to lose your family the way Kal had was even worse.
As the enormous palace filled the view before them, she also began to worry about archers or catapults. Perhaps Marko had turned the guard against them, convincing them that his brother was a renegade.
But as they flew in to land on a wide, round platform, there were no archers in sight. A trio of men stood at the edge of the landing pad, but while they held spears, they held them upright.
Kal landed, folding his wings and lowering himself to let Thalia slip down from his neck. She nearly let the heavy cloth slip from her body, but caught it in time.
Kal took his human form, also apparently not worried about aggression from the guards. He stepped up to them. The one in front was larger than the others, the insignia of a gold flame pinned to his chest. Some kind of royal guard?
“Welcome home, Kaladon,” the lead guard said.
“Thank you, Doran,” Kal said. “But we have little time for formalities. Everything my brother has told you is a lie. He is a traitor and a murderer.”
Doran said Marko was last seen headed for his chambers, so they all headed that way. Within minutes, the stood outside Marko’s chambers. The guard raised his fist to knock, but Kal stopped him and waved for him to step aside.
Kal raised and armored boot and kicked the door. It flew open with a crash, splinters spraying inward. Thalia stepped inside behind the others.
A half-naked serving girl huddled on the floor, crying.
“Where is he?” Kal yelled.
Thalia ran to where the young woman sat on the floor. She put her arm around her. Kal was enraged, unable to see that the girl was terrified and that yelling at her wasn’t going to get them anywhere.
“It’s okay,” Thalia said. “No one’s going to hurt you.”
The young woman looked up into her eyes. Thalia smiled as warmly as she could. The girl seemed to relax a little. She pointed towards the bed. Thalia didn’t understand, but Kal stormed across the room.
He grabbed the heavy oak frame from underneath and flipped the bed over. It crashed into the wall. On the floor where the bed had been, a hatch lay open, revealing a small dark passage.
“Put out the call,” Kal said. “Search every corner of the palace. I want him found.”
“Yes, sire,” Doran said. He snapped at one his men, who ran from the room. Sire. They were already referring to him as the new king.
Kal peered down into the dark hole. “Any idea where this leads?”
“I did not even know it was there,” Doran said. He snapped his finger at the other guard and pointed to the hole. The guard dropped his spear and crawled down. “We’ll find him.”
But Thalia didn’t think they would. She had never met Marko, but he seemed very crafty. He had planned to be king, but he had also worked out an escape if things weren’t turning his way.
“I want dragons circling the perimeter of the palace,” Kal said. “Search the dungeons, the sewers, every crack and crevice until he is found.”
“Of course, sire,” Doran said. He turned to set to work.
“What are you wearing?”
Thalia looked down at the girl beside her. She was staring at the tent cloth wrapped around Thalia’s body. She’d almost forgotten that the girl was there.
“We had to leave in a hurry,” Thalia said. “The wardrobe options were quite limited.”
The girl’s own blouse hung askew, exposing one breast. She finally snapped out of her shock and pulled it up. Here she was, traumatized by whatever Marko had done to her, yet she was worried about what Thalia's clothing.
“Come,” the young woman said. “We’ll get you something proper to wear. You can’t be running around the palace like that.”
Thalia stood up with her, holding her hand. She looked at Kal. He nodded at her. “Go ahead,” he said, taking a deep breath. “When this is all over I will find you.”
She didn’t want to leave him alone, but perhaps that’s what he needed right now. And she did need something other than a torn piece of white canvas to cover her body.
Thalia let the girl lead her out of the room.
“What’s your name?” Thalia asked her.
“Sola,” she said.
“I’m Thalia.”
“A beautiful name,” Sola said. “And you even make that piece of tent look flattering.”
Thalia blushed. “That’s kind of you to say, though I don’t believe it.”
The girl stopped. The look of fear crossed her face again. “I didn’t mean to offend,” she said. “Please forgive me.”
Thalia lowered her voice and tried to calm the girl. “Think nothing of it. I’ve been traveling with Kal for the past few days. But I’m not royalty or anything. I’m not even a dragon.”
Sola looked relieved. “Truly?”
Thalia nodded. She looked up and down the hallway. It was empty. “Look,” she said. Then she dropped the cloth and transformed into a rabbit.
Sola looked down at her, delighted. “A rabbit,” she whispered. “I’ve never met one of your kind before.”
Thalia shifted back, picking up the cloth to wrap it around herself once more.
“That was wonderful,” Sola said. “Can you do it again?”
Thalia laughed. “Perhaps later. Where were you taking me?”
“Oh, of course,” the girl said. “I’m sorry.” Though this time she didn’t sound as if she were worried that she was going to be thrown in a dungeon or have her head chopped off. She took Thalia by the hand and led her down the hall, not far at all.
They entered another room, this one much more ornately adorned than Marko’s.
“These were Princess Siccora’s chambers,” Sola said.
“Oh?” Thalia said. Kal had a sister, too? “Where is she?”
“One of the outer realms,” Sola said. “Some place called Earth.”
“I see,” she said, even though she didn’t. Thalia had no idea what she was talking about. Outer realms? “Is she coming back soon?”
Sola laughed at that, though Thalia didn’t realize she’d made a joke.
“No,” she said. “She was banished. Do you not know the story?”
“You’ll have to tell me sometime.”
Sola walked to a nearby wardrobe and opened it, running her fingers along the dozens of dresses there. The colors were incredible, deep and bright. Most were red, but there were all colors, enough to make Thalia dizzy. Sola took out a dark green dress.
“Perhaps you are homesick for the colors of the forest,” Sola said, holding the dress up to Thalia’s body.
“It’s nice,” Thalia said. “But I think I’d like to try one of the red ones.” She stepped up to the wardrobe herself and picked out a skimpy red dress with fiery orange gems along the hem.
“I’m not sure that one is meant to be worn outside of one’s bed chambers,” Sola said.
“I want to try it on,” Thalia said. She dropped the piece of tent, leaving herself naked. Then she pulled the red mini-dress over her head. The fabric felt exotic and luxurious. Part of her hoped this sister of Kal’s didn’t mind her poaching the dresses out of her wardrobe. They must be the same size, because the dress fit perfectly.
Sola stepped back and gawked at her. “I didn’t really think the red would look good on you,” she said. “But it’s amazing.”
Thalia
felt amazing as well. She hoped Kal would like it.
She felt a little bad worrying so much about fashion while Kal’s brother, the cause of so much sadness and strife, was on the loose. But there was little she could do about, so why not indulge a little? She had nearly died several times over the past few days. Didn’t she deserve a little pampering?
She posed for Sola, putting her hands on her hips and pushing out her chest. “You really think it suits me?” She knew what the girl would say, but still wanted to hear it.
“You look incredible,” Sola said.
“You’re too sweet,” Thalia said. “Now then. Where did this Siccora keep her shoes?”
18: Marko
The sandstone palace held many secrets. Ever since he was a young boy, Marko had made a point of learning them all. He had found blueprints hidden away in clay jars in the corner of one of the basements when he was fourteen. The castle was ancient, and the men who built it had installed dozens of trapdoors, false walls, and secret compartments. Marko had taken it upon himself to find each one.
When he was sixteen, he had tricked his sister into switching rooms with him, telling her that he had read in the history of the palace that several murders had happened in her room. The chambers were haunted with restless souls, he insisted. Before long, her imagination had preyed upon her to the point where she couldn’t sleep. Every little noise or shadow upon the wall seemed like a spirit to her. So she agreed to switch. Their father didn’t care. He had other things to attend to, such as the ongoing conflict with the Nightshadows.
The reason he wanted that particular room so much was the secret door in the floor. It opened into a passage that snaked under the palace, all the way to a rocky egress in the rocky hills far to the south. It would allow him to come and go unseen as he pleased. The idea of keeping secrets from everyone he knew, especially his father, warmed him to no end. Several times he had almost told Kal. They shared much. But not this. Some secrets he had to keep for himself.
So for years and years, no one knew of the secret passage leading from Marko’s room to a place far and clear from the palace.
It was this very tunnel that Marko took once he saw that his brother was not only still alive, but headed toward him.
When he saw Kal on the horizon, he crawled under his bed, flipped the hatch, and climbed in. He moved as quickly as he could through the narrow passage. The walls were a dark, glassy amber, as if someone had seared the sand into glass with fire long ago. He had used it several times when he was younger, just to feel as if he were sneaking out of the palace without anyone knowing. Though no one really cared.
Now they did. If Kal caught him, it was over. He emerged from the hole and looked back at the palace in the dark purple light of after-dusk.
He had been so close. The Sunscales were supposed to take care of Kal. Agna was supposed to take care of his father. Never leave an important chore to someone else. That was one lesson he had learned from this, one he would take to heart.
Now there was only one place to go, one place to hide. Marko transformed, launched himself into the air, and headed west under the cover of the growing darkness.
He glanced over his shoulder often as he flew, but no one followed. He soared over the Scorched Mountains, wondering how everything had gone so wrong. But there still had to be some way to make it right. He still loved Nevra, and she still loved him, didn’t she? And the demon was as powerful an entity that had ever existed. Perhaps they could find a way to set him free. He wanted that, Marko knew. Nevra claimed she knew no way to free him from his prison, but he also thought she was holding something back.
Letting Vish’Kazir loose was dangerous and risky, but perhaps now it was their only play. The Everfrost whelp had eluded their plans, taking the throne of his late father with the help of some woman who had walked between worlds and was a dragon herself. So they had given up on the north and focused on the red throne. Karth was dead, and that was a success. But now Kal stood to take the throne for himself.
The dragonlords were supposed to topple one by one. That was what Nevra had said. That was the plan. They had, but heirs kept popping up in their place.
So he would go to the demon’s prison, wait for Nevra, and regroup. She had said she was meant to marry the Tanglevine king. If they could wrest away control of the Emerald Isle, there might still be hope to formulate a new plan to take the rest of the mainland.
Marko landed near the entrance to the chamber. He pressed his hands against the featureless rock face just as Nevra had showed him. The wall folded inward, revealing the dark passage.
As Marko entered, the rock sealed itself behind him, the dim, ever-burning torches lighting the way. The main chamber was empty. The best thing to do would be to simply wait for Nevra. He had no way to send her a message from here, but she would show up eventually.
But he heard a low murmuring coming from the inner chamber, the one where the demon was actually caged, the tight circular room with the pit, the metal box suspended from somewhere up high by chains carved from bone. The room made him feel dizzy and nauseous. He had once made the mistake of glancing into the pit, only to see an endless void below.
Marko didn’t want to go into the inner chamber, but he felt as if something were calling him. Perhaps Nevra was there. But then, if she was, she would have simply called out, wouldn’t she?
The wait would be long, and he had nothing better to do. He wasn’t sure he could sit and listen to that incessant humming voice without going mad. He would enter the inner chamber and see for himself. Perhaps he could even talk to the demon. Nevra was the only one who had done so, but he might be able to develop his own rapport with Vish’Kazir.
Marko entered the narrow hall that led into the inner chamber. The sounds grew louder, a strange mixture of a groan and an ancient chant. It made his skull feel as if it were vibrating and his back teeth hurt.
Nevra wasn’t here. Only the pit, which he was careful not to look into, and the hanging metal box. The sound was definitely coming from that.
Some of the runes on the outside of the box seemed to be glowing with a dull violet. Was the demon trying to get out?
“Hello?” Marko said.
The humming stopped abruptly. Marko flinched. The immediate silence was almost more disturbing than that awful noise.
Then an even worse one filled the tiny chamber, a gurgling whisper that made Marko feel as if he were being submerged in a vat of fat, ripe black spiders.
“The red prince returns,” the voice said.
Could it see him? Hear him? Perhaps even smell him?
“Yes,” he said, trying to sound as if he weren’t afraid and not doing a very good job. "This is Marko."
“Why are you here?" Vish'kazir asked. "You are supposed to be sitting upon the Wildfire throne, are you not?”
“There was a problem,” Marko said. He had decided he no longer wanted to talk to the demon. In fact, he wanted to get out of this place, not just the inner chamber, but out from under the rock. But something was holding him fast, not physical, but something in his mind. He felt as if he didn’t have completely control of his arms and legs. “My brother lives,” he went on. “He was stronger than I thought. I was not able to—”
“You failed,” the demon said. “That is all I need to know. The details are irrelevant.”
“It was a setback,” Marko said. “But I know my brother. I know his weaknesses.”
The runes were glowing more brightly now, and Marko thought he saw a crack along one of the edges of the box. The bone chain, covered in glyphs he couldn’t read, still held the box tightly. But that ugly purple light was leaking out, just a little.
“You are too weak,” the demon said. “Even as a dragon, the fire does not burn strongly inside you.”
Marko felt a flash of anger. The trapped demon was beginning to sound like his father, and he didn’t like it at all.
“What do you know of it?” he said. “You’re a ghost trapped in a bo
x.” He almost immediately regretted his words. It was clear this thing still wielded power, even though it was still imprisoned.
A deep, rasping gargle filled the chamber, and it took Marko a few moments to realize the thing was laughing.
“You speak truth,” Vish’Kazir said. “But I can still share my power, even locked within this place.”
Share his power? What was he talking about?
“Reach out,” the demon said, its voice low and hypnotic. “Touch the seam. Taste what can be yours.”
Half of him was curious. The other half repulsed. But he found he couldn’t help doing as the demon said, reaching out across the pit. He tried hard not to look down, but he failed there as well. The quick glance made his stomach twist, his mind reeling from the swirling roil of absolutely nothingness.
Marko jerked his head upward to focus on the box, which was also awful to look at, but better than whatever was below it. As his finger neared the glowing edge of the metal, he felt a sickening darkness, like dipping his hand into the belly of a rotting corpse.
“Yes,” the demon whispered.
The tip of Marko’s finger touched the edge of the box, and for a moment his fears subsided. He let out a small sigh. Then he felt the flow of some dark energy traveling through the bones of his finger, up his arm, and then throughout his body.
He exulted at the power surging through him. He was already a dragon. Now the demon was infusing him with something else. He would be unbelievably powerful. He would be unstoppable. He would be—
“Never leave an important chore to someone else,” the demon said.
The energy running through him began to grow hot, glowing and searing from the inside. As a Wildfire, Marko had never truly felt heat as others had. But he felt it now.
The energy ripped through Marko and he screamed. He had only time to think of Nevra, picturing her pale face and dark eyes hovering in his mind, now flooded with pain. Then in a flash the heat seared his muscles and his innards. He let out one final scream before he burned to white ash.
19: Kal
Dragon Red: A Fire Unfed (The Dragonlords of Xandakar Book 2) Page 13