by Jada Fisher
His poor body was being pulled backward as if he had a rope around him and a whole team of bandits was yanking him. With every breath, his claws seemed to slide a little from the frame, leaving deep gouges. A short, terrified whine issued from him, and Eist felt something break inside her.
Gone was her calm, or her ability to think in a crisis. Gone was her way of shutting everything out except what she needed to focus on.
“Fior! Hold on, baby! I’m coming! Let me go! Let me go!” Words tumbled from her mouth as she tried to pull from Athar. “I have to save him! We have to save him!” She looked to the others with wild eyes, pressed as they were against Gaius’s side. Ain had a dragon! Certainly, the golden beast could do something! Why were none of them moving!? “Why won’t any of you save him!?”
She was crying, she was fairly sure, but that didn’t matter. She didn’t think she would ever stop crying. Fior was everything to her. Her best friend. Her son. Her charge. Her future. He slept beside or on her cot each night, he nuzzled her when she was uncertain or too exhausted to think. He knew everything about her, both good and bad, and all he saw was his beloved rider.
He was one of a kind. The perfect fit for her. The stunted dragon who used sound as a weapon and the stunted girl who couldn’t hear him. They couldn’t have been more meant for each other if the Three—or whatever deities were in charge—had crafted the pair by hand.
“Oh, screw this,” Dille sighed before standing and vaulting over Gauis’s back in one smooth motion.
The pull of the portal grabbed her the moment she was above the anchor of the golden dragon, and she let it haul her to the door, hand outstretched. Eist felt a bubble of hope raise in her as her friend was yanked toward the struggling Fior, but just when it seemed like she was going to reach him, the frame splintered and Fior was sent hurtling backward.
“NO!”
The rest of the world fell away in nothingness as Eist watched the horrific scene. Fior turned over himself, once, twice, before being dragged right down into the spinning void.
The arm around her waist just squeezed tighter as Eist screamed, broken sounds barely making it through her wracking sobs. This couldn’t be real. It couldn’t. Fior wasn’t gone! He couldn’t be!
“Hey!” she barely heard Dille scream the word, and her eyes blinked back furiously against the tears. The girl was pressed up against the side of the door, facing Eist as the stone at her back stopped her from behind pulled any further.
“You know, I’ve seen this happen before, a lot of times. It was just fuzzy enough that I didn’t really get what was happening, but I do now.”
“What are you talking about?” Ain snapped, leaning over Gaius and extending his long, golden-tanned arm as far as he could. “Get over here!”
“They always cut off suddenly, though, with you crying,” Dille continued as if she hadn’t heard him. “The sound always broke my heart, but I couldn’t help but wonder what would come next.” She took a deep breath, and Eist felt both confusion and dread combine with the utter grief tearing through her. “I guess it’s time to find out.”
“Wha—”
The thin girl took a breath then stepped into the doorway, allowing herself to be sucked off her feet and swallowed up by the portal in the blink of an eye.
“DILLE!”
8
Confrontation
Eist wasn’t sure what happened. One minute she was screaming, her best friend and her dragon having been swallowed up by the churning spell, the next she was slung over a broad shoulder and carried along through a fight.
There was slashing, and yelling, and hisses and screeches, but it all barely filtered to her. Her eyes were too full of tears to see clearly while the throbbing of her head erased what there was left of her hearing.
Fior couldn’t be gone.
Dille couldn’t be gone.
Neither of those things were possible, yet no matter how many times she told herself that, the fact remained.
But it couldn’t.
How could they be gone!?
She let out a kick, trying to get free of the grip holding her, trying to run back to the portal. She had magic running in her veins, after all, born from the first human oh-so-long ago. If her blood had been needed to open the portal, then surely that meant something. Meant that she could undo all of this and bring back those she loved.
She remembered the first moment she had seen Dille, all starving limbs and fierce determination. She remembered the first time they had talked and how easily they fell into alliance. She remembered Dille holding her hand and spending entire days with her when she had been recovering in the infirmary after the forest, the lithe woman’s studies and assignments spread across the ground as she made sure Eist was never wanting for company.
Eist remembered Fior too. From his first breath where he was all crystalline eyes and egg-shiny scales. How he instantly nuzzled into her and used to engulf her whole hand when he fed. She remembered how cute he had been during parts of his teething, but also how guilty she had felt during the painful bits. She’d gone to the healer’s hall several times, despite how much she had come to hate that part of the academy, just to get herbs to soothe the ache and burn of the whole process.
He had been her forever companion. Growing with her, comforting her, experiencing every good and bad thing in her life. She wouldn’t be alive if it weren’t for him and his strange, powerful roar that no one but she and her friends knew about. He wasn’t a stunted, burnt copper dragon, he was so much more than that, and now no one would ever get the chance to see it like she did.
She remembered all of it in the span of just a breath, and it crushed her heart that much more. It wasn’t fair! It wasn’t right! Her parents had been centuries-old dragon riders, ones who knew their lives could end at any time. That was a risk of the job, and one that she and all of her friends would have eventually.
But not now.
It was too soon.
They were all so…young.
A hand gripped her chin, stopping short whoever was trying to carry her through the battle. The fingers dug into her face, and Eist tried to blink away the tears to see again.
Somehow, she was unsurprised to see Farmad there, grinning at her manically. He was still glowing, crackling even more intensely with all that power he shouldn’t have.
“My poor dear,” he cooed. Eist was faintly aware of the rest of the group stopping as well, and Athar straining against the hold as he turned. “You know, you’d probably be a lot less upset if you had just let yourself fall in just like your little one. Now you’re separated forever.” His thumb stopped biting into her skin only for the pad of it to gently stroke down one of the many tear tracks along her face, smearing the salty, stinging reminder of her loss across her reddening cheek.
“But they wouldn’t let you do that. Your followers love you so much, don’t they? Do you think they’ll still love you after they realize how you’ve put them on a path that only leads to death?”
Eist knew that he was taunting her, that he wanted to use his words to hurt her in the deepest way possible, but she didn’t feel despair. No, there wasn’t enough room for all of that.
Instead, she felt blinding, burning, all-consuming rage.
She ripped her head to the side, earning gouges in her cheek from his nails. Good, now the scar on her tongue would have matching marks. Without a second’s hesitation, her teeth latched around the closest two fingers and she bit down as hard as she could.
Yes, the man had magic. He had so much that she never would. But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t feel the pain of a bite just like anybody else.
He let out several curses and tried to yank his hand away. Nothing like the element of surprise to put a spellcaster off their mark. Eist felt blood pool into her mouth, but she didn’t care. She put all the energy she had into her jaw.
He had taken everything from her, so she would take at least a little away from him.
“You insipid
quim!” he screamed, raising his hand in a spell that would no doubt be devastating. Maybe it would even end everything, and she wouldn’t have to deal with the gaping, aching hole where her heart had once resided.
“Let her go!”
Abruptly Yacrist was there, his hand wrapping around the sorcerer’s wrist. He muttered several short words and the ground beneath the man seemed to grow slightly soft before it surged upwards, slamming the sorcerer to the wall, pinning him.
“That’ll only hold a moment or two,” Yacrist said, turning to them. “You get her out of here. We’ll clear a path.”
Get her out of here? Oh. He was talking to Athar, who was still holding her. Still preventing her from going back and diving into the portal, the pull of which she was beginning to feel again.
No, no, no!
It was all wrong. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Another raking sob fought its way out of her chest, and she succumbed to the angry tears again, letting herself hang limply from her giant friend’s shoulders.
She didn’t lift her head, didn’t try to help with the battle. She didn’t have the energy. There was just so much…pain.
Even her physical body seemed to echo the gaping maw within her, the wound in her stomach rubbing against Athar’s shoulder with every movement as he ran through the hall that Ain, Gaius, and Yacrist were clearing for him.
Yacrist, who had just used magic that he very much shouldn’t have known. It went beyond a rune or knowing the right ingredients to negate a magic poison. He had used a spell. How was that possible? While Dille had the same strange sort of feeling to her that Eist had felt ever since the forest, Yacrist never felt like anything other than human. No strange energy about him, no invisible bonds that only she could see. He was safe, natural.
And yet he had used magic.
And Dille was gone.
And so was Fior.
How did it all go wrong? She had a stupid eye that was supposed to see things, and yet she had lost two of the most important beings she had in her life. And…and…
There was something in her mouth.
Her jaw ached in protest and she realized that her teeth were still tightly clenched together, holding the blood from the sorcerer’s hand within her mouth. She opened it, expecting just thick and heavy liquid, but was surprised to see something solid bounce across the floor as Athar sped away from it.
It was a finger, just past the first knuckle.
Oh.
She barely was present enough to feel the cool air of the night as their fight spilled out into the court. More monsters surged up from the hall, but it seemed that their dragons had been ready and waiting for them, pressed up as close as they could get to the entrance, hearing that terrible things were happening but unable to fit through the inner doors.
Athar didn’t stop running, and Eist could hear the dragons ripping and shredding things behind them. Did Veralda know that…that her rider was gone? While the massive red dragon was easygoing, Eist knew that she was just as attached to her rider as the overdramatic Alynbach. She always slept on the balcony or the roof right above their room, still ate from Dille’s hand even though she was more than capable of taking care of herself. She was a loving, compassionate girl, and now she was going to die.
Because that was what happened to dragons when they lost their rider. Nine times out of ten, they would stop eating, stop drinking, and just waste away until they rejoined their rider beyond the veil. It didn’t seem fair considering that riders could live without their mounts, but Eist found herself wishing that she herself was dead rather than feeling the terrible, burning loss tearing through her.
She was wondering dully if she could somehow fling herself to the ground and make her way back to the portal when Athar stopped short, slamming her face into his broad, muscled back. The man was like a brick house, and the bit of pain brought her back to reality just in time to realize she was being thrown through the air.
She hit hard, her back slamming into the dirt. The stars spun above her before they were blotted out by a large object. She barely realized that it was Athar, and she rolled to the side as he slammed into where she had just been.
She panted a little, lifting her head to look back the way they had come. There was a massive battle of at least a couple hundred of those disgusting, dripping creatures with too many eyes, limbs, and teeth, but the four dragons seemed to be holding their own. Ain and Yacrist were helping, shielded by Ethella and Veralda, one loosing his bow almost too fast to see while the other did more spells that he wasn’t supposed to be able to use.
If she was fast, and quiet, she could probably get around them and back into the castle. But there were probably even more monsters inside, forming a barrier before she could ever hope to get to the pull that the portal had created.
It was worth a try though, wasn’t it?
She scrambled to her knees, trying to hurry before Athar recovered. But something gripped her and yanked her flat before flipping her over harshly.
It was Valatos, his good hand around her ankle and his face twisted in an ugly snarl. Eist felt her middle throb at the reminder of who had slashed it, and she kicked at his face with all her might.
His already swollen, bruised, and bloodied nose crunched even further, and he fell to the side, cursing vehemently. Eist scuttled backward, only for some strange sort of…something to wrap around her and pull her to her feet, dragging her across the ground.
Her toes barely touched the grass, wind whipping past her as she was yanked through the night, until she ended up right in front of the sorcerer again.
Farmad.
What a stupid name.
How had someone with such a stupid name ruined so much for her?
“I should kill you right now,” he said, gripping her chin again, but keeping what was left of his fingers away from her mouth. She could feel him smearing his blood all over her cold, clammy face, and she wanted nothing more than to dive into the closest lake to wash it off.
If he sensed her discomfort, he didn’t care. His other hand went to her hair, which he stroked gently, like she was a cat. Always so patronizing, like she couldn’t possibly be a threat to him despite the fact that he was missing the tip of one of his fingers because of her. “But I want you to witness this. Please, my little Eist, won’t you watch it with me?”
She struggled against his hold, but the invisible pressure upon her kept her limbs pinned to her sides. “Hush now. I know it’s your nature to be obstinate, but this is a once-in-a-lifetime show.”
It reminded her so much of the forest, when he had first manhandled her. When he had given her the little crescent scar on her tongue and the arrow hole in her shoulder.
He liked doing that, she realized. Superimposing his force on her because she was smaller and technically weaker than him but had managed to do so much damage to all of his plans. He wanted her to fear him, to feel that he was above her, but she didn’t think that at all.
While he could kill her easily, he would never be above her.
His grip on her chin squeezed harder and he turned her, forcing her head to point straight at the castle. She felt his chest against her back as he held her, intent on making her watch whatever grand thing he thought he had set up.
Eist burned with anger again, bright and blinding. She reached into herself, down, down, down deep into the strangeness that had been growing in her ever since she earned her second witch’s eye, and she pulled all of it up to the surface.
She felt rather than saw the energy burst from her, heat and power and fury erupting from her core. The pressure holding her released, and she turned to face him with fists raised.
“You always have to fight me on everything, don’t you?” Farmad hissed, recovering his balance and striding toward her again.
“What can I say?” Eist spat, her words venomous through clenched teeth. “It’s just my nature.”
What looked like lightning lashed out from one of his hands like a whip. Eist r
aised her own hand and caught it, pulling it into herself like it was something she could absorb and rebound back onto him.
Which was actually what she did.
She didn’t know how, but the bolt curved away from her and went right back toward Farmad. For a moment, she thought that she had the drop on him enough for the lightning to hit home, but he waved it away like it was nothing.
The next thing Eist knew, that pressure hit her again, throwing her back into Athar, who was just getting up. He gripped her, eyes wide with confusion, then they were ripped apart from each other.
She couldn’t see where Athar went, he was propelled back so far, but she couldn’t worry about him now. The only important thing was making Farmad hurt like she was. She wanted him to ache, to burn, to be barely hanging on to the precipice, knowing that only despair lay below his feet.
Yeah, that sounded nice.
She dug her hands into the ground, whispering pleas for it to help her. She continued to slide backward until the dirt began to ripple and buck, eventually welling up and gripping her arms hard enough to slow her to a stop.
“What’s this, Eist? Have you learned magic?”
Farmad didn’t seem upset about the group’s talents, but he should have been. Eist was intent on using whatever strange abilities she had to utterly destroy him.
She whispered into the dirt once more and it shifted up beneath her, building upon itself until a large, rocky sort of creature rose from below her. Eist slid to the ground and pointed one shaking hand at Farmad.
“Creating golems now, are we?” he asked with a laugh. “I don’t think even your mother could do that.” He made a specific gesture with his hand and the dirt rose in front of him too until he also had a stone creature.
The two golems lumbered toward each other, trading blows and terrible bellows. Eist didn’t allow herself to be distracted by them, however, and barreled toward him.
She lashed out with a hot spike of anger, which manifested in a bolt of purple light that arched toward the sorcerer. It hit square on his chest, making him stumble back, and she put all she had into her charge.