by Jaye McKenna
“Tell me about this process, Vayne,” Ilya said. “The manipulation of mythe-shadows at that level is incredibly dangerous. What sort of success rate did you have?”
“Some of the dangers have been exaggerated, no doubt by the Wytch Council,” Vayne replied. “But I will not lie to you. Half of the men who volunteered for the procedure died in agony.”
“And the other half?” Ilya’s voice was only a hair above a whisper.
“Survived to become dragon shifters. The core of my father’s army.”
“How many?” Garrik demanded.
“Fifteen, before my father was murdered.”
“And you want to do this thing to my brother?”
“No. To be perfectly honest, I don’t.” Vayne raised his eyes to meet the Wytch King’s. “I’ve come to care for your brother enough that I don’t like the odds against his survival at all.”
“Oh?” The Wytch King’s eyebrows flew up.
“But I can’t think of any other way to get him back to Altan,” Vayne continued. “The terrain is too difficult for any but the most experienced climbers to attempt on foot, and Jaire is the only one of the three prisoners light enough to be carried out on dragonback.”
The following silence was broken by Ambris’s quiet, “Prince Vayne?”
“Yes?”
“If you had a healer working closely with you… would it increase their chances of survival?”
“It depends on the healer. Larana and I had only just found one who could actually see our mythe-shadow manipulations. He only had time to work with me once before we were betrayed, but that particular transformation was successful.”
“Then I shall come with you,” Ambris said. “I believe I may be able to assist you.”
“When was it decided that this would be our course of action?” Garrik asked, his face darkening. “I don’t recall anyone consulting me.”
“I should think this is a matter for Jaire, Kian, and Tristin to decide,” Ambris said boldly. “Each for himself. Jaire is no longer a child, and he is perfectly capable of weighing the risks for himself.” Golden eyes met fierce black ones. “Unless you have a better plan, Your Majesty?”
To Vayne’s surprise, it was the Wytch King who looked away first. “Do as you will,” he growled. “But if my brother comes to harm—”
“Enough, Garrik,” Ilya said sharply. “Threats will not help. Vayne has more reason than anyone to want to keep Jaire safe.”
Vayne looked at Ilya in surprise, and Ilya gave him a nod. “Yes, I sense the depth of your concern, and it is of the same flavor as Ambris’s concern for Kian.”
“Concern, is it?” Garrik’s scowl was fierce.
“Indeed,” Ilya said, lips twitching.
Garrik opened his mouth to say something, then snapped it shut. After a few moments of taut silence, he fixed both Ilya and Vayne with a fierce glare. “Very well. Now if you’ll excuse me, I must have words with Ord.” The Wytch King strode off, only to stop at the door and turn to pin Vayne with a dark look. “Tread ever so carefully, Vayne of Irilan, for if my brother comes to harm of any kind, you will have me to answer to.”
The door slammed shut, and Ilya and Ambris exchanged an amused look. “Well, then,” Ilya said to Vayne. “Now that you’ve been sufficiently warned, let us consider what supplies you require for this procedure, and how quickly they might be obtained.”
* * *
“Kian, you have to eat.” Jaire pushed the platter of warm, buttered nut bread across the table toward him.
Dark, shadowed eyes settled on Jaire’s face for only a moment before darting away to focus on the open window. “You’d think it would be colder in here, what with the window broken,” Kian said.
Jaire rolled his eyes. “It is cold, if you go and stick your hand outside. They’re probably using the mythe to keep it warm in here, like Ilya did when he set those heating stones in the hearth in your little hideaway. Now stop trying to change the subject. You didn’t eat at all yesterday, and you need to stay strong. What if Vayne comes back with an escape plan, and you’re not strong enough because you haven’t been eating?”
Kian dragged his gaze away from the window. “You really think he’ll be back?”
“He’s only been gone two nights.” Jaire did his best to keep his tone light and hopeful. “I think it’s far too early to start thinking he won’t. We have no idea how far away we are from home. I’ve never heard of Shadowspire before. It could be anywhere. We don’t even know for certain we’re in the Iceshards. And Vayne can’t just turn around and fly back when he gets to Altan. They’ll want to get us out of here, and it will take time for them to come up with a plan.”
“If there’s anyone left there when he arrives,” Kian said. “Two nights is a long time. Taretha could move from Blackfrost to Askarra in the blink of an eye. If Faah is powerful enough to hold a mythe-gate open for any length of time, he could march an entire regiment through and put them anywhere he wanted. They could already have Ambris collared and caged. Garrik, too.”
“Not if Garrik has anything to say about it,” Jaire said firmly. “He swore to protect Ambris. He’s not going to let anyone hurt him. Or us.”
“He might not have a choice,” Kian said darkly.
Jaire leaned back in his chair and folded his arms, not sure what more he could say. Kian was normally like a ray of bright sunshine, even on the gloomiest of days. The defeated slump of his shoulders and the haunted shadows in his eyes made it difficult for Jaire to keep his own spirits up.
What if Kian was right? Jaire shivered as visions of Ambris and Garrik, chained and collared, swam in his mind’s eye. “Eat anyway,” he said sharply. He got up and went to the window, where he leaned on the sill and drew in a deep breath of crisp mountain air as he scanned the endless array of jagged, snow-covered peaks.
Jaire adjusted his shielding pattern and tried to ignore the sticky darkness coming from Kian as he cast his awareness about the tower, letting his mind range out over the mountains until it snagged on—
—someone familiar and completely unexpected.
Ambris?
Ambris and Vayne.
His breath hitched as he squinted, eyes searching the sky and finally coming to rest upon two dark specks to the east.
“Kian! Come and see! Vayne is coming, and he’s brought Ambris with him!”
“Ambris?” Kian was at his side in an instant, peering out the window.
Jaire pointed out the two dark shapes, which were rapidly resolving into the familiar lines of dragons in flight. Kian tensed beside him as Jaire tugged at his sleeve. “Come on. We need to move back. There’s nowhere for them to land. They have to shift as they come through the window, and we’re only going to be in the way.”
Kian reluctantly backed away, and he and Jaire waited near the table. After a few minutes, a green dragon head appeared through the window. The creature smoothly shifted into human form as it passed through the open space, and Vayne tumbled into the room in a tangle of long limbs and leather straps.
Ambris was next, his shift as smooth as Vayne’s had been. Their landings were not so graceful, what with the bulging saddlebags they both wore.
“Ambris!” Kian ran to his husband while Jaire went to Vayne’s side.
“Are you all right?” Jaire asked, helping Vayne untangle himself from the straps.
“I’m fine,” Vayne said, getting to his feet. “A little tired. We’re a lot farther west than I’d imagined. North of the Westlands. It took us all night to get here. We left Altan just before sunset.
“You came the whole way in the dark?”
“I used a combination of landmarks in the mythe and the positions of the stars to guide me.” He lowered his voice then to ask, “How is Kian?”
Jaire glanced over to see Ambris stroking Kian’s hair, his eyes distant as he examined his husband’s mythe-shadow. “I think he’ll be all right now that he knows Ambris is alive and free.” He kept his voice low, so only Vay
ne could hear. “He was terrified that Ambris and Garrik would be caught before you could reach Altan. Or that the Council’s troops might have already arrived by mythe-gate.”
“They still could, but nothing like that had occurred when we left,” Vayne said. “Your brother was off to talk to Wytch King Ord about the castle’s defenses. He’s… he’s quite fierce when it comes to your well-being.”
“Ai, you can say that again,” Jaire muttered. “I’m surprised he didn’t insist on coming with you. Did Ilya have to tie him down to keep him in Altan?”
“Nearly.” Vayne smiled faintly, then bent to rummage in one of the saddlebags. “Ilya told him if there was a plot against his throne, he was needed in Altan and must turn his mind to the defense of his kingdom.”
“That sounds like Ilya.” Jaire returned the smile with a small one of his own. “He knows exactly how to manage Garrik.”
“So it appeared.” Vayne extracted a pile of clothing and gave half of it to Ambris.
When Ambris had dressed and Vayne had pulled on a pair of breeches, but was still holding onto his shirt, Kian turned to Vayne and dropped to one knee. “I am in your debt, Prince Vayne. Jaire told me what you did for me before you left. I thank you for that. And for going to Altan to warn Garrik and Ambris.”
“I could do nothing else, though I was as loathe to leave you in such a state as I was to leave Jaire alone. And please… do not kneel to me. I am no prince, Kian. Not in this time. I am simply Vayne. We have more important things to worry about than titles and Court etiquette.”
Kian rose slowly, and Ambris moved to his side, putting an arm around him.
“Do you have a plan to get us out of here?” Jaire asked. “You’re not wearing saddles, and I know for a fact that Ambris can’t even carry me. Did you bring ropes so we could climb down out of the tower?” He tried not to dwell on how ill-suited he was for the long, cold trek home through the mountains, but Jaire could think of no other way of escape.
Vayne and Ambris exchanged a long, meaningful look.
“The plan,” Ambris said, “is for Vayne to teach you two and Tristin how to shift. Then the five of us will fly back to Altan.”
Jaire was certain he’d misheard. “We’re going to what?”
And Kian said faintly, “Teach us how to…?”
Vayne moved a little closer to Jaire. “I told you my father was trying to build an army of dragon shifters to challenge the Council.”
An uneasy tension came over Jaire, comprised of excitement and fear, in equal measures. “Ai,” he whispered. “I remember.”
“An army of dragon shifters?” Kian echoed. “Is that even possible?”
“It is indeed,” Vayne said with a grim little smile. “How do you think we were building that army?”
Jaire swallowed, heart beating faster. Did Vayne mean…?
Vayne didn’t wait for him to guess. “I can give you the patterns that would allow you to shift. It is not a pleasant procedure, however. I would essentially be burning the ability into your mythe-shadows, and to do that, I would need to mark you, as I am marked.” Vayne turned and presented his bare back to them, displaying the brilliant green dragon tattoo. “Ambris and I discussed it at length on our flight, and we think that if we work together, we can do it with minimal risk.”
Ambris slipped a hand into his pocket and drew out a faceted blue gem hanging from a silver chain. “Normally when Vayne performs this procedure, it drains him entirely, but we have this to draw on.”
Jaire studied the jewel. It was sapphire blue with tiny flecks of gold swirling within it. When he shifted his focus slightly to examine the jewel’s mythe-shadow, it blazed like a small sun.
Whatever it was, it was powerful, indeed, though Jaire was not enough of a mythe-weaver to be able to discern what it was for. “Is that…” He glanced at Kian. “Is that the jewel Faah was after? Taretha’s jewel?”
“Ai, it is,” Ambris said slowly. “But how did you know about it?”
“Vayne was there the first time Faah questioned Kian,” Jaire explained. “He didn’t hear a lot, but it was enough to know that Faah was after more than just hostages to force Garrik’s cooperation. But what is it? And how will it help us?”
Ambris held the jewel up and stared at it as if captivated by its glinting facets. “This jewel holds the energy Taretha stole from me during the years she held me captive and tortured me. Every time she forced me into a partial shift, she diverted the energy that should have made it possible for me to complete the shift into this jewel. The longer she could hold me there, the more power she was able to store.”
“A power reservoir,” Jaire breathed, grasping the concept immediately. “And all that energy is yours.”
“Yes. I can use it not only to replenish my own energy reserves, but to support Vayne as well,” Ambris said. “Ilya taught me how to access it. Not that it’s difficult. The power was drawn off of me in the first place, and responds to my will easily enough. Ilya and I were investigating ways in which we might use it to extend Kian’s life.” He smiled at his husband, whose dark eyes went soft with affection. “Dragon shifters are long-lived, but Kian is not a dragon shifter. The prospect of a long life without the other half of my soul by my side is not an appealing one. I had intended to use the jewel to keep Kian by my side somehow. Transforming my husband into a dragon shifter would certainly accomplish that.”
Jaire licked his lips and glanced at Kian. “I… we’re going to be dragon shifters?”
“Make no mistake,” Vayne said softly, “this plan is not without risk. But I think between the two of us, Ambris and I can bring you through it safely. And indeed, it may be the only way to get you away from here. Do you trust me?”
Jaire stared into those dark blue eyes and his breath caught in his throat. “I… I do trust you, Vayne. With my life.”
Vayne’s eyes softened, and he pulled Jaire into his arms. “Let us hope it does not come to that,” he whispered into Jaire’s hair. “I have only just found you, and I don’t think I could bear to lose you.”
* * *
“I suggest we eat before we begin,” Vayne said, setting one of the saddlebags on the table. “I told Ilya there wouldn’t be enough food here to get five hungry dragon shifters ready for the long flight home. He sent to the kitchen for enough supplies to see us through the next few days.”
Jaire looked around the table. Five dragon shifters… “How are you going to explain all of this to Tristin?” he asked, as Vayne unpacked the food.
“Ambris and I discussed that at length,” Vayne said. “As I can no longer pass through the floor to reach him, I fear I shall have to break into his prison the same way I broke into yours. He’s spoken to me in my human form before, so I’m hoping he’ll recognize me and not be too frightened. Assuming he remembers my visits at all.”
“Ambris can calm him if he doesn’t remember,” Jaire said. “He’s good at that sort of thing. Who are you going to transform first?”
“You and Kian,” Vayne said. “I’d rather not try to break into Tristin’s prison until nightfall.”
Jaire looked over the food Vayne had set out. There were two loaves of bread, several kinds of cheese, cold meat, and a big slab of cake. “Cake! I love cake. And maybe all this will tempt Kian. He hasn’t eaten much of anything since you left, Vayne.”
Ambris arched a thin golden eyebrow at that, and began piling food onto a plate for his husband. “Not eating, Kian?”
Kian gave him a rueful grin. “I feared I’d betrayed you and would never see you again. Now I know you’re safe, and we have an escape plan, I don’t think I’ll have any trouble eating. Especially if this came out of Melli’s kitchen.”
“Did Melli know this was for us?” Jaire asked around a mouthful of cake.
“Your brother was in charge of the preparations,” Vayne said. “I spent the afternoon and early evening with Ilya in his workroom, preparing the inks I need.”
“Inks?” Jaire asked. “Oh
… for the tattoos?”
“Ai. They’re not like normal inks. Their preparation is precise and delicate work, and much of it is done using the mythe. Fortunately, your Master Ilya had everything I needed on hand.”
“That doesn’t surprise me,” Jaire said. “He’s always experimenting, is Ilya. I imagine he had all sorts of questions for you.”
“Actually, he assisted me in the preparations, once he understood what I needed,” Vayne said with a smile. “He’s very quick and very clever, is your Master Ilya. I think he really wanted to come with me, but in the end, it was decided that if Faah should gate troops in, he and Garrik would both be needed in Altan.”
“He can help you next time,” Jaire said.
Vayne frowned at him from across the table. “Next time?”
“I should think Garrik and Ord would be very interested in an army of dragon shifters, especially if their plans involve challenging the Council,” Jaire said quietly. “And if that hasn’t occurred to Garrik yet, it will before long. If, that is, you intend to stay in Altan.”
“I…” Vayne stared down at his plate. “I hadn’t thought much farther ahead than seeing you to safety.”
“Do you think you’ll end up in Irilan, then?” Jaire asked, looking a bit disappointed.
“No. There’s nothing there for me,” Vayne replied. “I have no place in the current royal family, and certainly no claim to the throne.”
“Then perhaps I can talk you into staying in Altan,” Jaire said with a sly smile.
Vayne returned the smile. “We shall have to see what your brother thinks of that.”
“Oh, don’t worry about him,” Jaire said, his grin widening. “He acts all fierce, but he can’t deny me. If I want you to stay badly enough, he’ll let you.”
Unless he thinks I’m a danger to you, Vayne thought. Then watch out.
* * *
Vayne ate quickly, and while the others finished their meal, he sank his awareness into the mythe and studied Kian and Jaire’s mythe-shadows in preparation for his task.