Dragon Child
Page 15
Heat rose through Keriya, warming her throat and cheeks. She didn’t want to talk about it anymore, but for her drackling, she would continue.
“My secret?” she murmured, twisting the ends of her sleeves. “I had many secrets, but everyone seems to know them now. I was chosen by the goddess Shivnath to save the last living dragon. She gave me some of her magic so I could kill Necrovar, but I failed. So, despite all I’ve done, I’m still broken. I’m the Dragon Speaker . . . and I am nothing.”
She was horrified to hear her voice crack. She cleared her throat and shook her head. “That’s the best I’ve got.”
Uhs wiggled his nose and twitched his whiskers. “Very interesting. Very illuminating, yes. Sadly, as I’m not quite sure what you are yet, I don’t know how to help you.”
Keriya hunched her shoulders. She should have known better than to think Uhs could fix whatever was wrong with her.
“But I will accept your secret as payment for helping your dragon,” Uhs declared. Keriya’s head jerked up. The werelion was no longer looking at her—he was watching Thorion. “For I know dragons hate sharing secrets.”
The shadow of a growl wormed its way through Thorion’s throat.
“It is late.” Uhs rose and stretched. “I come and go during sun-up, but I always return at dusk. We can eat and share stories, and I will observe each of you as the Oldmoon changes.”
Without another word, he darted into the darkness. The yellowish grass of the basin swallowed him, making it impossible to track his movement.
The group made camp outside the cave, since none of them were keen to sleep in the dingy mess of Uhs’s home. Max offered to take first watch, so Keriya and Thorion were free to retreat to the shadows beyond the ring of firelight.
Keriya didn’t want another lecture about how she must, by definition, have magic. She felt drained, and all she wanted was a good night’s sleep. But no sooner had she drifted off than someone was shaking her awake again.
“Mmf,” she grumbled, cracking her eyes open. It was dark. The fire had dwindled to a pile of smoldering coals. A fuzzy figure crouched over her, a bit too close for comfort.
“You have led others to my home,” said Uhs. “Creatures who intend us harm.”
Keriya’s brain churned into motion, fully awake in a heartbeat. “The shadowbeasts?”
“A band of demons is patrolling the southern pass,” Uhs informed her. “I dealt with some of them.” He shoved a grubby hand into her face to show off a palmful of pitch-black ash—the dust of a disintegrated demon.
Keriya shied away, and it was only then that she realized Thorion wasn’t by her side. She leapt to her feet, causing Uhs to skitter back a few paces, and stared around. Seba was fast asleep beside the fire pit, but of Thorion—and Max—there was no sign.
“Your sentry and your dragon were gone before I reached you. I imagine they went to fight,” said Uhs. “There is an enchantment around my home that will keep the fell beasts at bay, so your friends needn’t have bothered. Still, I suppose demons are better off dead.”
“Thorion,” Keriya breathed. Panic, familiar and despised, tightened her chest. She expanded her consciousness.
She sensed him at once and cringed at the feel of his mind. A maelstrom of emotion tinged with bloodlust burned inside the dragon.
Without another word to Uhs, Keriya raced in the direction of the dragon’s thoughts. An angry howl reverberated through the featherpine forest at the edge of the basin, and she veered toward the noise. She slowed as she entered the cover of the trees, stumbling blindly without the light of the moons to guide her.
In response, a deluge of fury and frustration poured into her. A blinding flash illuminated the woods. Keriya raised her hands to shield her eyes from the brightness.
“Thorion,” she screamed aloud, heedless of the demons who might hear. She had no way of knowing what part of the valley was protected by the enchantment, but it no longer mattered. The shadowbeasts were near, and Thorion had clearly engaged them.
“Keriya?” Max’s voice reached her from somewhere close by. He joined her as she ran south, toward where she’d seen the flash of light. “What are you doing?”
“I have to help Thorion,” she panted.
“No, you have to get out of here!”
“Uhs said there’s an enchantment on the valley that will prevent the shadowbeasts from entering,” she told him. “I need to bring Thorion to safety.”
“And what, let the demons roam free?”
“He can’t fight. What if one of them wields and twists his soul?”
“Yes, what if that happens?” Max grabbed her arm and spun her around to face him. “What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to kill every single one of those shadowbeasts if I must,” Keriya snarled.
Another explosion of light burst through the trees, blazing cold and harsh against her eyes. As the afterglow faded from Keriya’s retinas, she heard Thorion roar in pain. A prickling sensation flared briefly on her shoulder—an echo of whatever her drackling was feeling.
Keriya and Max both jumped as a loud crash sounded from a nearby hill. Max began to wield, and Keriya stooped and grabbed a shard of broken rock. But it wasn’t a shadowbeast who was galloping toward them—it was Thorion. He barreled through the trees, snapping branches and trampling the underbrush.
“Get out of the way,” Max yelled, trying to pull her aside.
“He won’t hurt me.” She stood her ground as Thorion charged.
“He’s not himself. The darksalm is—”
“He won’t hurt me,” she insisted. She could see by the light of the dragon’s eyes that a black shape wafted through the forest, trailing him. Her grip on the rock tightened and she heaved it with all her might.
The rock sailed past Thorion. It might have hit the shadowman in the trees, but for the fact that the demon vanished a moment before it struck him. Thorion roared again. He skidded around, uprooting a few unfortunate saplings as he turned, and spat a beam of light into the forest. He whipped his head this way and that, leaving a charred trail in the wake of his spell. It felled a large tree, withered a bush, and found its mark as the demon re-materialized. The light hit the shadowman and he burst apart, disintegrating into dust.
Keriya didn’t have time to let out a breath of relief before Thorion rounded on her. Though the shadowman was dead, his eyes remained aglow. He advanced, a sinister snarl dripping from his lips.
“Thorion,” she said slowly. “It’s over. You’re safe.”
She reached out to him telepathically, only to find his mind had gone oddly blank. He had the same vacant expression he’d worn in her room in Sairal. The shadowbeasts were gone, but the darkness inside him had awoken—and it was driving him mad.
“Keriya,” Max breathed, twisting his fingers through hers. “We have to run.”
She shook her head. “He won’t hurt me,” she maintained, though her voice quivered with uncertainty this time. Thorion opened his jaws, preparing to spit another deadly beam of light.
“Thorion, stop.” She uttered the command quietly, but it was a command nonetheless. The words, spoken aloud in his l
anguage, halted him in his tracks. His pupils slowly expanded and the garish glow faded from his eyes. When he looked at her, it was clear he was himself again—but there was also an unspeakable sadness etched into the fine scales of his face.
Keriya ran to him and leaned against his chest, putting her arms around his neck and stroking his scales. He stood rigidly, not attempting to return the embrace.
“All the shadowbeasts are dead,” he announced in a hollow voice.
“More will come,” said Max.
“You’ll be safe in the valley,” said Keriya, withdrawing from the dragon.
“They’re tracking him,” said Max. “Irongarde, Sairal, now this . . . he won’t be safe anywhere, nor will you. Hiding here will solve nothing. He needs to go to the Fironem.”
“It’s too long a journey,” murmured Thorion.
“It would be a long journey for us on foot, but not for Thorion alone. He could fly there in a matter of days.”
“Absolutely not,” said Keriya. “I don’t want Thorion separated from me again.”
“Why?” asked Max. “Would you put his life and yours in danger because you have some misguided idea that you can help? You can’t save him.”
“Yes I can,” she cried.
Max regarded her with a pitying expression. “With what magic?”
Keriya was tired of that argument—tired of hearing it in her head, tired of hearing it echoed by the people around her. “I need no magic,” she said, recoiling from him. “Hard work, determination, hope—these are the only weapons I have, and they’ve gotten me this far.”
Thorion closed his eyes with a heavy sigh. “Let us pray they will be enough to see us through to the end.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“The reputation of ten ages may be determined by a single act.”
~ Akora Nathreme, Sixth Age
Roxanne nearly cried with relief when she saw the white cliffs of Noryk rising through the mists. The end was in sight. Soon she would sleep in a proper bed, eat a proper meal, and properly wash her hair, which was filthy and tangled.
“Finally,” Fletcher said, sinking to his knees and stretching his arms toward the Imperial City. “We made it!”
Effrax didn’t share in their elation. He clucked to Emyr and tugged on the mule’s reins. “We still have to get into the palace, find Taeleia, explain that we aren’t to blame for the destruction of Irongarde and Sairal, and convince her to come with us to the Fironem, all while avoiding Tanthflame’s lackeys.”
Roxanne’s spirits fell faster than an avalanche. “How are we going to do that?”
“Oh, you’re speaking to me now, Tigress?”
“I want to make sure you have a plan. It would be stupid to come all this way only to get caught,” she retorted. Ever since Effrax had used her to murder the hare, she’d refused to address him unless necessary.
“You may recall that I have a fair bit of experience in covert activities,” he said.
“Sneaking around and spying and blackmailing people, you mean,” she corrected him.
“Call it what you will. Bottom line is, I should have no trouble sneaking us in and spying for information and blackmailing people into getting us an audience with Taeleia.”
Fletcher let out a weak chuckle. Roxanne closed her eyes and prayed to Shivnath for patience.
They picked up their pace now that Noryk was in their sights. Roxanne lagged behind the boys—her body and soul were exhausted from the journey. She’d refused the dead animals Effrax had offered her, insisting on growing her own food. The Aerians hadn’t cultivated many foods, so she only knew the weave of the edible plants she’d come in contact with, such as carrots, apples, potatoes, and wheat. Unfortunately, none of those made a balanced meal. Besides, she hardly could have created an apple tree, so she’d been subsisting on carrots and dried rations.
As they drew near, Roxanne spotted a group of men riding east toward the city. At first she thought they were Imperials, but their garments were white and beige. When the men reached the moat, they turned and headed west.
“Wonder what that’s about,” Effrax murmured, squinting at the men.
Once the riders were gone, the three of them slid down a muddy embankment and merged onto the Imperial Highway. Roxanne’s gut tightened when saw the base of the magnificent stone bridge arcing over the moat was guarded by two dour Galantrian soldiers.
“Relax, Tigress,” Effrax said when Roxanne tensed. “Just act like you’re supposed to be here.”
The Galantrians skewered them with angry looks and lowered their halberds to block Effrax before he could step foot on the bridge.
“Afternoon, gentlemen,” Effrax said easily, as if he didn’t have a care in the world. “Is there a problem?”
“Routine checkpoint,” grunted the man on the left. “We need to examine your eyes.”
Effrax smiled politely and leaned forward. The Galantrian grabbed his face with one meaty hand.
Roxanne took an aggressive step forward, but Fletcher caught her arm. They watched as the Galantrian raised a metal instrument to shine a thin beam of light in each of Effrax’s eyes.
“They’re looking for the bogspectre,” Fletcher breathed.
When the soldier was satisfied that Effrax wasn’t possessed by a murderous monster, he released the Fironian. Effrax stood aside, inviting Roxanne and Fletcher to come forward for their inspections. Roxanne tolerated the procedure, allowing the unpleasant man to hold her. She squinted against the steady glow of the instrument when he pointed it in her eyes.
“Carry on,” he growled, scowling as if he was disappointed that he hadn’t found a reason to detain any of them. Effrax breezed past, and Roxanne and Fletcher slunk after him.
“That was easier than I thought it would be,” Fletcher said as they ascended the bridge.
“We’re not in yet,” Effrax reminded him, nodding to the grand gates that loomed at the edge of the white cliffs above. Two more guards were stationed there, and these were Imperials. Roxanne hunched her shoulders and pulled up the hood of her coat.
“State your name and business in Noryk,” said the older of the two soldiers.
“Ravin Felcoal, visiting my brother who’s employed in the Imperial Barracks,” said Effrax.
Roxanne stifled a snort. This was like the first time she’d visited Noryk; on that occasion, Cezon Skyriver had also lied his way in.
“Felcoal?” The guards straightened and their gazes sharpened. “You Fironian?”
“Only by birth,” he replied. “I was raised with my cousins in the Smarlands.” He grabbed Roxanne by the crook of her arm and yanked her forward, showing her off to the guardsmen.
“Smarlands,” repeated the old soldier. “Then why are you three in the Galantasa?”
Roxanne’s heart beat faster. Something was wrong, she could feel it.
Effrax furrowed his brow, looked genuinely confused. “Is there a reason we shouldn’t be?”
“Haven’t we seen you somewhere before?” said the younger of the two, squinting at Effrax.
Roxanne’s instincts were screaming an alarm. She balled her hands into fists and made a desperate mental lunge for her magicsource. She only managed to snag a few feebly glowing threads.
“We were in the Galantrian Village,” Fletcher offered. “We’ve been helping with the decontamination efforts. My sister is an expert earth wielder. She was sealing the darksalm in the stone containers. If you worked any time there, that may be where you know us from.” He edged closer to Roxanne and elbowed her in the side.
“Uh . . . yeah,” she added.
The Imperials nodded, accepting this story. The younger soldier brought forth a ledger and made them sign in. Effrax took the stylus and scribbled three lines of Allentrian runes.
“Here,” grunted the older man, handing something to Effrax.
“Put that on.” Effrax obliged, pinning the object to his chest—it was a silver brooch bearing the Imperial Crest. “You’re free to proceed.”
“Thank you, soldier.” Effrax tugged on Emyr’s reins. The mule plodded forward as the gates swung inwards.
“You watch your back in there,” the man advised. “We appreciate efforts to fight the dragon, but the city’s not as safe as it once was for folks like you.”
“What?” Roxanne said without thinking. “What do you mean—”
“Thanks for the warning,” said Effrax. He grabbed Roxanne’s wrist, pulling her through the massive gates. “I’ll be sure to keep my cousins out of trouble,” he added pointedly.
They entered Noryk, which was not at all like Roxanne remembered it. The city had been thriving with life and vibrancy in the summer; now the wide cobblestone thoroughfare was deserted, and the colorful flags and banners had vanished. She noticed boarded up shop windows and painted runes scrawled across doorways or burned into lintels.
“What happened here?” whispered Fletcher, staring aghast at the squalor.
“And what did they mean about fighting the dragon?” hissed Roxanne. She became aware that Effrax was still holding her wrist and yanked it from his grasp.
“What happened is Tanthflame got here first,” said Effrax. They turned onto a smaller street where some pedestrians and vendors were milling about. “From the look of things, I’d say he’s been feeding the city some very interesting stories.”
“Why would anyone listen to Tanthflame?” said Fletcher. “Keriya proved he’s a traitor!”
“Keriya also fled Irongarde after eyewitnesses saw Thorion wield necromagic,” Effrax returned. “And she lied under oath, which renders the rest of her testimony useless. She told the world Necrovar was dead.”
“She didn’t lie,” snapped Roxanne. “She thought she’d killed him.”
“But he’s alive.” Effrax lowered his voice as they passed between a bundled-up beggar and a sorry-looking fellow selling mince pies from a cart. “And don’t go screaming about Necrovar or Thorion, alright? We don’t know what Tanthflame’s told these people, and we don’t know who we can trust. In fact, best not to trust anyone.”