Keriya felt herself thrashing in her bed. She wanted to wake up, but she was trapped in the dream. Necrovar laughed and the volcano burned her skin, making her sweat through her sheets. When she could no longer stand the sight of him, she opened her mouth and screamed.
That jolted her body awake. Her eyes flew open, and she promptly screamed again. Her room was on fire.
She leapt from the bed, squinting through the searing smoke. Thorion was in the corner. His sides were heaving and his wings fluttered fitfully. He must have knocked over the brazier with his erratic movements.
“Let’s get out of here . . .” Keriya trailed off as Thorion whipped his head around. He wore a vacant expression and his eyes were glowing.
Someone was wielding against him. Necromagic was close by.
Keriya stood amidst the growing flames, gaping at him. “Thorion?”
He blinked at the sound of his name. A flicker of recognition briefly lit his face. Then he jerked and roared in agony. Keriya twitched as faint pain radiated from her chest into her limbs.
Thorion leapt across the room in a single bound and smashed his forepaws into the window. His talons sliced through the heavy curtains as easily as a knife sliding through warm butter, and the glass shattered as he threw his weight against it.
“No! Come back,” she cried, but it was too late. Thorion squeezed through the opening and flung himself into the night. He crashed into the gable of a nearby house before he spread his wings, flapping to gain altitude.
Keriya yanked on her dress and leggings, grabbed her boots and cloak, and raced to the door. She flung it open to reveal Fletcher and Roxanne were there, already dressed and looking alarmed.
“Thorion’s sick,” she told them. “Roxanne, get Effrax and have him put out the fire. Fletcher, come with me!”
Her friends nodded grimly. Roxanne raced toward Effrax’s room at the end of the hall and Fletcher scampered after Keriya.
“Someone’s twisting his soul again,” Keriya told Fletcher. She threw her boots on the floor and stamped her heels into them before dashing into the night. “We have to find whoever it is. We have to kill them.”
She heard herself say the words, and was shocked to discover she meant them. Though she’d briefly thought she had killed Necrovar, she had never taken the life of another living being. But at that moment, she wanted whoever was wielding against Thorion to die.
She wasn’t sure if the sudden bloodlust was Thorion’s, or her own.
“If there’s necromagic close by,” Fletcher panted, sprinting after her, “how come your eyes aren’t glowing?”
Keriya stopped so abruptly that Fletcher ran into her, slipping on the icy street. She turned to a nearby store and squinted at her reflection in the display window. Sure enough, her eyes remained dark.
“The necro-wielder is probably out of range by now,” she said distractedly. Craning her neck, she searched the sky for Thorion. She couldn’t see the dragon, but she heard a crash and suspected he may have hit another building as he floundered in the air.
“This way,” she screamed, pelting off to the west. Fletcher’s footsteps followed, as did the telltale sounds of people waking from their slumber and throwing open their shutters to see what the commotion was. She caught a flash of bronze in the corner of her eye and skidded on a patch of ice as she turned, hurtling down a side street toward the lakefront.
“Thorion, come to me,” she screamed, aloud and telepathically. No response from the dragon. A feral screech echoed through the night and she heard a loud crack, as if a bolt of lightning had struck. At once, an angry orange glow illuminated the fog over Sairal.
“More fire,” gasped Fletcher. “Is he wielding?”
“He’s being forced to wield.” Keriya changed course again and headed toward the light of the blaze. “The necro-wielder must be around here somewhere!”
Even as she said it, she realized her own eyes still weren’t glowing. What was happening? Why was Thorion acting like this if he wasn’t being controlled by Necrovar’s forces?
Something passed overhead, blotting out the light of the Oldmoon. Keriya looked up in time to see a dragon-shaped shadow zoom by, heading for the lake. She tore after him, leaping onto the boardwalk.
She and Fletcher raced past the stilted houses and reached the wharf at the end of the wooden walkway. Thorion circled above the water, shrieking like a banshee. He was silhouetted against the rising Bloodmoon, which bled red light onto the mists that clung to the surface of the lake.
Enraged shouts alerted Keriya to a group of men on a nearby dock. One of them lifted a crossbow and fired an arrow at Thorion.
Furious heat exploded in Keriya’s chest. She tore toward the Sairali group. She wrenched the crossbow from the offender’s hands and hurled the weapon into the lake. It cracked through the thin sheet of ice that had formed close to shore and sank into the black depths.
“What the blood are you doing?” he yelped. She recognized that voice—it was Cai Alvpond.
“That’s Thorion,” she spat, pointing.
Alvpond’s face went pale. “I didn’t mean . . . I didn’t know—!” He seemed at a loss for words as he gazed at Thorion. “Why’s he acting like this? Why’d he attack the village?”
Keriya’s jaw clenched. She didn’t have an answer for that. Fighting a burning sensation in her throat, she pivoted to face the dragon once more.
A crackling noise behind her told her the fires Thorion had accidentally started were spreading. Sairal had many thatched-roof buildings, which were easy tinder despite the snow. She put her head in her hands and sank into a crouch.
Think, she told herself desperately.
“Keriya!”
Keriya jolted at the sound of Roxanne’s voice. She glanced over her shoulder to see the taller girl huddled with Effrax in the shadow of a house on shore, clutching Emyr’s reins. The whites of the mule’s eyes were showing and he looked ready to bolt.
Roxanne beckoned madly. “Come with us!”
Fletcher, who had followed Keriya onto the dock, took her by the arm. “We have to go.”
“No!” Keriya struggled against him. He held her firmly and pulled her away from Alvpond and the Sairali.
“I’m sorry, Dragoneyes,” Effrax said when they reached him. “There’s nothing you can do.”
Those words hurt as much as every nasty taunt Penelope Sanvire had ever thrown her way. The Aerians’ insults resurfaced and echoed in her brain: You have no magic. You are a cripple. You are worthless.
“You don’t know that,” she retorted in a ragged voice.
“I know we’re in danger and we can’t stay here. Thorion’s set fire to half the town. It doesn’t matter if he didn’t mean to,” he added when Keriya opened her mouth to argue. “It only matters that it happened, and people saw.”
“Why don’t you extinguish the fires?” she demanded.
“Right,” he said dryly. “What do you think will happen when they see a Fironian wielding anywhere near a fire? I’ll be a pincushion for their arrows before they can figure out I’m not attacking them. We need to leave while we can.”
“I’m not leaving,” Keriya hissed. “I’m not a coward, and I am not abandoning Thorion—”
“Keriya, shut up.” Roxanne snaked her arm through Keriya’s. Fletcher tightened his grasp on her other side, and the two of them led her away from the lake.
They paused to let a group of townspeople thunder past in the street ahead of them. Some were wielding water, no doubt hurrying to douse the hungry flames.
“You two he
ad that way! Naliki, follow me!”
“Are we under attack?”
“Gotta be—there’s a fire-eater around here somewhere, and Zumarra save his soul if I get my hands on him!”
Keriya saw Effrax flinch. She assumed ‘fire-eater’ was a derogatory term for a Fironian.
“It’s Irongarde all over again,” said Roxanne, staring after the Galantrians.
“Worse,” said Fletcher. “There’s no necro-wielder this time.”
“There has to be,” Keriya insisted. “Thorion wouldn’t do this—”
“I know.” Fletcher’s voice was grave, his face drawn. “It must be the work of the darksalm in his soul.”
They were three streets in from the boardwalk, but Thorion was still visible over the lake. His form was swallowed by a burst of light as the wind caught a tongue of fire and carried it to the roof of a new building. The thatching flared and faint screams rang within. A wave of nausea hit Keriya and she stumbled, only remaining upright because of Fletcher and Roxanne’s support.
How they escaped was a mystery. Keriya blacked out—because of something that was going on with Thorion or due to her own shock, she didn’t know—and when she came to her senses she was rounding the northern tip of the lake, blindly following Max.
She blinked and took stock of her surroundings. The group was hurrying through the shallow snow by the edge of the lake. Seba rode Emyr. Effrax served as rear guard. He had a walking staff, but his limp looked bad. Behind them, dark smoke rose in ragged ribbons from the smoldering town, marking places where water wielders had managed to extinguish fires. Thorion was nowhere to be seen.
No response.
They turned south to veer away from rocky terrain and entered a marshland where the ground was more slush than snow. Fleshy mushrooms three times their size shone ghostly pale in the starlight, and giant reeds grew in scattered clumps. The group made their way into the cover of the vegetation. Sairal vanished from view.
Keriya tried contacting the dragon again. This time she felt an answer—no words, just a slurry of exhaustion, confusion, and hurt.
“Stop,” she said, her voice cracking. “Thorion’s coming.”
She dimly registered the reactions this pronouncement brought: Fletcher and Roxanne seemed relieved, but Max frowned, and Effrax’s eyes tightened with fear. Anger rose within her, flaring in her heart as easily as the fires had flared on the rooftops of Sairal.
“Thorion didn’t do any of that on purpose,” she grated, directing her wrath at the Fironian. “He’s innocent, and you should know it. Everyone should!”
“Calm down, Dragoneyes. For what it’s worth, I’m on your side,” said Effrax. “But the Sairali aren’t. He looks guilty.”
“He only looks guilty because you made us run.” She jabbed an accusatory finger at Effrax. “Guilty people flee the scene of the crime.”
“He looks guilty because he burned half the village.”
“IT WASN’T HIS FAULT!” Why could none of them comprehend that?!
“Keriya,” Max said softly, “this sort of thing will happen more and more as the darksalm works its way into Thorion’s soul. There will be episodes where he can’t touch his source at all, and some episodes, like this one, where he will lose his grasp on his power and wield without restraint or direction. When that happens, destruction will inevitably follow.”
Keriya feared that if she tried to answer, she would start to cry. She turned her back on Max and scanned the clouds for Thorion.
His shape appeared through the murky darkness. Keriya ran to him as soon as he landed, flinging her arms around his neck and hiding her face so he couldn’t see how close she was to tears.
Even hearing it from Thorion himself, Keriya refused to believe it. She looked at her friends. They hung back, watching with apprehension—even Fletcher and Roxanne.
“We don’t have much time,” said Keriya, her voice thick with the strain of holding back sobs. “We need to get to Valaan as quickly as possible.” She hated the idea of taking Thorion to the kingdom where Necrovar was lurking, but she was at the end of her rope.
“The Valaani Temple is a long way away,” said Seba.
Thorion heaved a sigh. “Perhaps we should look into short-term solutions. Is there something that would lessen the effects of the darksalm while we travel? I need to ensure the safety of those around me, and in my current condition I can’t guarantee that.”
Everyone softened at the dragon’s honest plea.
“You might benefit from regular healing sessions, to take the edge off,” Effrax suggested.
“Lady Taeleia would help,” said Seba.
“Lady Taeleia is also far away,” Max reminded them, “in residence at Noryk.”
“And Thorion would be likely arrested if he steps foot within fifty leagues of the city,” said Effrax.
“I can’t go on like this,” said Thorion.
“Certainly not,” Effrax agreed. “But you also don’t have to be the one to find Taeleia. I can go to Noryk on your behalf and bring her back to help you.”
“What sort of idiotic plan is that?” Seba scoffed. “If we part ways, how would you ever find Thorion again?”
“I’d follow the trail of destruction,” Effrax retorted blithely.
“I’ll go, too,” said Roxanne, cutting in before his flippant comment could spark an argument. “If I’m with Effrax, I can use the animals to help us track Thorion.”
“What?” Keriya was too tired, too upset to comprehend what Roxanne and Effrax were implying.
“Are you saying we should split up?” asked Fletcher.
Roxanne shrugged. “Thorion needs to go to the Valaani Temple. Effrax needs to find Taeleia. I need to go with Effrax so he can find Thorion again. It’s the only way.”
“No,” said Keriya. “It’s too dangerous. I won’t allow it.”
“Allow?” Roxanne repeated, raising her eyebrows.
“Perhaps we should leave this decision for the morning,” Max interjected. “After we’ve slept on it.”
So it was that they made camp for the night. Max cut some reeds and Effrax set them alight. Everyone settled down around the fire. Emyr’s saddlebags had already been packed, so they had their provisions—a small miracle amidst the tragedies of the evening.
Max doled out waterproof bedrolls, but Keriya refused hers. She sat by Thorion’s side, letting the cold sink into her, hoping it might numb her pain.
“I wonder where I got that trait from?” he hissed aloud. The comment slipped between her ribs and stabbed at her heart. She hunched her shoulders and hugged her arms to her midriff as misery curdled in her gut.
Keriya didn’t rest that night. She stared into the fire for a long time, contemplating her options. She didn’t want to ask a god for help—Shivnath had been uncooperative at the best of times, and Keriya had little cause to think Valaan would be any different.
Did Shivnath know what had happened? She must, for Shivnath knew everything . . . but if that were so, why hadn’t she reappeared to Keriya? Surely Thorion’s illness and the loss of the sword warranted some meddling on the dragon god’s part?
<
br /> Even if it’s just to remind me how miserably I’ve failed, Keriya thought with a wry grimace, putting her head in her hands. I wish I could talk to her. I need advice.
Her brain circled back to their current plan and she sighed in defeat. The Rift, the tear in the threads of Necrovar’s prison, was widest in the Fironem. It was dangerous. It was a terrible idea.
But terrible ideas were all they had left. Thorion thought going to Valaan was worth a try, so she had to do it for his sake.
For my sake, she amended herself as dark visions clouded her thoughts. She pushed them away, refusing to give them any credence.
She refused to imagine a future where Necrovar ruled.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“Strength can be gained and cleverness taught, but loyalty is key, for it cannot be bought.”
~ Smarlindian Folk Saying
Fluffy snowflakes drifted from the heavens. The dawn was dull and cold. Fletcher stood in the chill of the morning and watched his two best friends bid each other farewell.
Roxanne leaned forward to hug Keriya. “Go fast.”
“Be safe,” Keriya replied.
They broke apart, and Roxanne returned to Effrax and Emyr. They needed the mule more, so he had gone to them. Keriya nodded to Fletcher, inviting him to walk with her as she turned west.
Steeling himself, he said, “I’m going with Roxanne.”
“What?” said Keriya, freezing in place.
“What?” Roxanne echoed behind him.
“You have Thorion and Max,” Fletcher explained to Keriya, lowering his voice. “Roxanne needs someone to go with her, look after her.”
“And who’s going to look after you?” Keriya asked softly.
“We’ll look after each other.” He wasn’t a child anymore. He might not have Roxanne’s wielding abilities or Effrax’s skill with a bow and arrow, but he was more than dead weight. He’d proved useful to Thorion in the dragon’s time of need; now he hoped he’d be useful to Roxanne, too.
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