by Jada Fisher
With all the force she could muster, she shoved both of her fingers right into his good eye, nails first. He howled, boy did he howl, and she tried not to think about the textures she was feeling, but he didn’t let go. The world was spinning away further and further while the fire was slowly dying within her.
She was falling further than she had before, further even than when she was being burned at the stake. She kept waiting for her magic to react, to obliterate the man just like it had obliterated anyone who had tried to kill her. But every time the boiling black tried to rise within her, it was tramped right back down by the two burning points in her body.
How disappointing.
But when the world had reduced itself to a single small circle of sight, he was suddenly ripped away from her. Air flooded down her throat, making her wretch and gasp while all of reality flashed white.
Her body was wracked again, this time with rasping coughs, and before she stopped, several strong bands wrapped under her and she was pulled upward.
Since when could she fly? She didn’t know, and she didn’t get an answer until her head finally caught up with everything that was happening and her vision was filled with only soft, white underbelly. And she was cold too, and not in the about-to-suffocate way, but rather how she felt whenever she was high up in the air on a dragon.
She was being rescued!
If her throat hadn’t just finished being completely abused, she would have laughed giddily. Instead, she just let out an incomprehensible sort of wheeze that no one heard.
Craning her abused neck, she saw a green dragon descending into the same hole that she had been pulled up out of. She’d had no idea that the dragons were right above her, digging down to her salvation. She wondered if they had been doing it the whole fight and she had just been too absorbed to notice.
She supposed that she would find out eventually. The only thing that really mattered at the moment was that she could see Marcellin rising from the debris too, completely limp in the green dragon’s gasp. Was he alive? Had he succumbed to his wounds? From what she’d done to him?
She didn’t know, and all the fatigue she had been pushing off hit her all at once. Somehow, they had survived again, and she had found another vessel.
And maybe also killed one.
She hoped not, because wouldn’t it be a shame if Marcellin had escaped first and caused all the other witches to be rescued, only to die before anyone knew his name?
Her eyes grew heavier and her stomach twisted, but the thoughts wouldn’t ease as she drifted into sleep. Hopefully, when she woke up, she’d hear good news.
She and Sleipffynor drifted to the ground where she saw at least a dozen dragons who were being loaded up with prisoners. There was also a circle of tied-up or chained hunters, all of whom looked either unconscious or spinning off into madness. Clearly, Marcellin’s hold was still strong on several of them.
Good. She hoped it followed them into death. Goodness knew that they all deserved it.
10
Good News, Worse News
Ukrah woke slowly, and she’d been injured enough to realize when she was slowly coming up from a drug’s influence, so she didn’t try to force it. Instead, she just relaxed and let her body do what came naturally to her.
The first thing she noticed, though, besides the fact that it felt like her eyes were pasted shut with scum, was that her body ached all over. It wasn’t the worst thing in the world, but it was still unpleasant.
She let out the slightest of groans and then there was a soft huff of surprise beside her. The next thing she knew, someone was pressing a glass of water against her lips, lifting her up slightly so she could drink deeply.
“Hold on, let me get your eyes for you.”
She relaxed when she heard none other than Crispin’s voice. She hadn’t realized how much she had missed him, and her heart ached for a moment. What would he have done if she had died underground? Thinking about it made her feel far guiltier than it probably should have, so she pushed it from her mind.
Which wasn’t hard to do considering she felt like she was about five steps behind whatever was happening in front of her.
But then a cool cloth was resting across her eyes, feeling refreshing. She hadn’t realized how dry they were, even though they were covered in crust. Had she been out that long? It didn’t feel that way, not like when she had been run through. That had felt like her very bones had been buried and she’d only been brought back up after a hundred years.
But eventually, the crust and the cloth were pulled away, leaving her looking up at Crispin’s very bleary, concerned face.
“Oh hey, there you are,” he said, relief so evident in his voice it made her heart ache again. “I was worried I’d never see you again. Not awake at least.”
She smiled, although she winced when her lips cracked slightly.
“Oh geez, let me get that. Here, hold on a minute.”
The cool cloth was back, resting over her bottom lip, and then her top, before he traced the edges of it. At first, it just seemed like a standard act of kindness, but then his hand movement slowed until it was nearly still.
She glanced up, examining his face. He didn’t seem to notice. His own eyes were so intensely locked on where he was gently dabbing at her mouth. His expression was almost too sweet, too tender for her to bear, and she had to flick her gaze away.
After being so long disconnected, it was still strange to have someone value her so much more than she thought was possible. She hadn’t really done that much for Crispin. She’d saved his life once, but usually endangered it more often than not. Got him into trouble. Involved him in things that were scary—no, terrifying.
She wasn’t particularly gracious or kind. She still struggled with so much of common, laughing too late at certain jokes, or waiting too long while Tayir translated.
But none of that seemed to matter to him.
“How long was I out?”
“Not long, just a day and a half, but the healers said your throat trauma is pretty bad.”
“Healers came to the manor?”
“Yeah, they wanted to take you to the academy, but Eist pitched a real fit. Practically brought the whole team here.”
“You’d think the god-woman wouldn’t have to pitch a fit to convince anyone to do anything.”
“Well, a lot of them are pretty mad at the stunt she pulled with you and the good ol’ black dragon.”
Oh goodness! How could she have forgotten about Voirdr? “Where is he?” she asked, startling herself.
“Whoa, whoa, it’s okay. He’s asleep right now under your bed. He just passed out, so I would let him be still for a while.”
She settled, feeling slightly less like a terrible parent. He must have been worried sick about her. Even though their bond was relatively new, she had heard about dragons being able to tell when their rider was hurt or sick, when they were in pain. It must have been awful for him to sense those things but not know where she was or what to do about it. In that moment, she swore to herself that they would never be separated again, no matter how trivial the amount of time apart would be.
Well…except maybe trips to the chamber pot. He was just so big and always knocked her over, which made things much worse than they had to be.
“What about… What about Marcellin?”
“Marcellin? Is he the lad you brought in all dressed up like a lass?” She nodded, fearing the worst. “He’s alive, but uh, he’s in a rough spot. Maybe you can see him later once you’ve had a chance to recover, but it’s more likely than not the healers won’t even let you in his room.”
“That bad?”
He shrugged. “I’m not quite sure. I just know that they’re being very quiet about his condition and there are some awful sounds coming out of there sometimes.”
“Do you…” She licked her lips, hoping she wasn’t asking too much of her friend. “Do you think that you could find out for me? Or at least see if you can get any in
formation?”
“Yeah, sure, I can do that. But first let me go get the healer and make sure you’re okay? You’ve got some bruising around your neck and you took some pretty bad blows to your head, from what they tell me. You might want to avoid mirrors for a while.”
“I was never overly fond of them anyway.”
“Pfft, now I know you hit your head. You’ve always been the mo— You know, you must be starving right now. Let me go fetch that healer and see if I can’t get the go-ahead to put some broth in you.”
He hurried out at that, leaving her puzzled at his very sudden shift. Then again, that really wasn’t outside of Crispin’s normal mode of conduct whenever she was injured. It just so happened that this time, she was the only one wounded instead of both of them being beat up, so he had more energy and wherewithal to focus on her.
You really did it. You found the other vessel and brought them home.
Ukrah turned her head, her neck protesting violently at the action, and saw Tayir sitting in her window, grooming his little brown feathers.
“Aren’t you mad at me for risking my life?”
While you are frustratingly headstrong, in this situation, you did what was right. The world is being reborn, and if things are going to be set right, we can’t have zealots wiping out the children of dragon’s blood. He swooped over to the bed, and if Ukrah wasn’t so used to him being cranky and rude all the time, she would have sworn that he sounded affectionate. That’s the beauty of our realm, you know. It’s supposed to be humans, dragonbloods, and dragons all working together. We all need each other for the cycle that makes our world blossom and grow. That was why the Three were so dangerous, even though they meant well enough. They broke the order.
Ukrah nodded. “I feel like it should be obvious that killing each other is wrong, or that wiping out an entire chunk of the population for no reason is just plain murder, but apparently that line of logic is less common than I thought.”
Oh, they have a reason, or at least they think they do. Carefully crafted reasons by the Blight, who used their greed and need to be superior to its advantage. That’s what’s so insidious about it. Evil never presents itself as evil. It’s always wrapped up in order and pride and pretty bows.
Something in those words made a shiver go through Ukrah, far too able to understand what he meant. “Tayir?”
Yes?
“Am I evil?”
That is a very strange thing to ask.
“I don’t mean literally. I know that I, the person, Ukrah, am not evil. But what about the spirit inside of me? The only thing that’s really keeping me alive? Helena has comfort and light and protection, but all I seem to have is death and violence.”
That’s not true. You saved the vessel you found.
“Barely. And instead of healing him, or taking his pain, or even giving him an iota of comfort, my only option was to turn two out of his four limbs to ash.”
You seem decidedly pessimistic right now.
“Look, I’m pretty sure you know what spirit is inside of me. Even though Dille can’t remember, you’re a guardian. You have to know. So why don’t you just tell me what I am?”
It’s not for me to tell. It’s something for you to discover. The spirit is a part of you and your journey with it shouldn’t be—
“Well then, I’m discovering it by finding the information in you! What am I, Tayir? Am I evil? Am I… Am I death?”
The last of her words came out in a tremble. She knew that death was a necessary part of life. She also knew that death could be a relief for many people, embracing them like a lover or an old, old friend. But that didn’t mean she wanted to be death. But sometimes, when the bubbling blackness inside of her was especially virulent, it was hard to see herself as anything but some reaper trying to cleanse the land.
No, you’re not a shepherd. Those aren’t really old spirits, but more like guardians.
“Wait, shepherds?”
See, this is what I mean. You need to find this on your own!
“By all of the ancestors, if you don’t—”
Calm down. I’ll tell you, if you’re going to make yourself sick over it. While all of the old spirits were considered equal, there was one considered to be a…leader figure, of sorts. An elder. It was the spirit of justice, protection, and order. It was called upon to settle disputes, and to make sure punishments were just. It was the patron of all those downtrodden and called upon everyone to help their fellow man. Protector of the small, the blind, the deaf, and the cripple, guardian of all those who had nothing, and the executioner for those who willfully and purposefully abused the weak.
You, Ukrah, are the vessel for that old spirit and all that it entails. You are justice, unyielding and absolute. You are protection, fierce and devoted and relentless. And you are order. That is why I was awoken as your guardian. That is why you can sense the other vessels. I think that is even why you and the black dragon have become intertwined.
You are not evil, Ukrah. But that does not mean that your burden is any less heavy with this knowledge.
Ukrah sat there a moment, her jaw moving like she wanted to say something, but her brain supplied nothing.
That was… That was a lot of information for her to understand and contemplate all at once, and it felt like her emotions were flying in a million different directions.
She wasn’t evil. She wasn’t! The darkness inside her wasn’t really malevolent and didn’t want to rain down destruction for destruction’s sake. She didn’t have to worry about the things that the Sect of the Three accused her of, that lingered in the back of her head in doubtful whispers.
But still… Being a leader of the old spirits? Leader of the vessels? Essentially responsible for the success of their destiny? That was… Yeah, a heavy burden was right. Ukrah could already feel the weight of it pressing into her, laying on top of all the responsibility she already felt. The rider of the black dragon, the spirit of justice and protection, the lynchpin of the rebirth of their world.
And she wasn’t even sixteen yet.
Surely there had to be some sort of mistake. There had to be some sort of strapping, brave, smart warrior out there who was meant to have such a position. Not an orphan from the wilds who still occasionally pronounced “animals” as “aminals.” Who was she, in the grand scheme of things? Who had looked at her and thought that she was appropriate to lead so many toward something so important?
Although she had always empathized with Eist and the incredible position she was in, Ukrah finally felt like she understood it. Despite everything that she had been through, Eist was still a mortal trying to live a mortal life. She had run along the edge of destiny and flown headfirst into the apocalypse, but now she was changing diapers and trying to get her baby to say Mama before Papa. Human, and yet something entirely beyond, with all of history etched into her face, her bones, her very existence.
How exhausting.
“Hey, you okay there? Sorry I took a few moments. The healer said you could have some clear broth if you want, so I went down and had Mrs. Kaldonner warm you up some chicken stock from the larder.”
Ukrah pushed her thoughts down for a moment to see Crispin at the door, a tray in his hands with a steaming bowl in the center and a small pitcher of what she guessed was water. The cold that had been rising in her, the sparking stress, all quieted slightly.
“Think you can manage something?”
“Yeah,” she managed with a weak smile. “I can manage.”
“Good. Because if something ever happens to your appetite then I’ll know I should be real worried.”
“You don’t have to worry about me.”
“You know that’s not true.” He sat beside her and placed the tray over her lap. Her hand went for the spoon, and that was when she noticed the bandage wrapped around it. That was strange. She hadn’t hurt her hand…had she? “What’s wrong?”
“Uh, what’s this for?” she asked, gesturing vaguely.
“Oh.
That. There were these, uh, marks I guess, burned into your skin. Dille said we had to get them off. That they were sealing away your magic or something? So they, uh, they… They just cut the skin off. Apparently, it’s the only way to get them off that they could find before it, well, it did something bad.”
It was unusual to hear Crispin trip over his words so much. He’d always had a charming way of speaking, effortless and joking, but it also touched something inside of her. He must have been so scared for her.
Ugh, there was that responsibility again.
“Oh. I guess that’ll scar.”
“Probably. Nasty stuff. I should have been there.”
Such a short sentence, but it was filled with so much emotion. Tentatively, she laid her hand over his. “Hey, it was just supposed to be a short ride. A picnic. There was no way we could have known.”
“You say that, and yet I feel like I should have.”
“Yeah, well, that’s just silly. And who has time to waste on being silly?”
“Certainly not any of us,” he responded with a small smile, knowing the answer she was looking for.
“Exactly.”
“Alright then, point made. Eat your broth.”
“Yessir.”
She happily did so, even though her hand was trembling. Huh, hopefully that would fade in time. The shaking was quickly forgotten as the delicious liquid coursed down her throat, soothing the ache. It ended up being a struggle to go slow, but Crispin was a good nurse, making sure to catch her when she started speeding up too much.
But as a result, by the time she finished, she was feeling warm and sleepy again. It felt so selfish to just slip off into sleep again, so she looked drowsily to Crispin.
“Marcellin?”
“The healer said maybe tomorrow. He’s gotta rest, and so do you.”
“Okay. Tomorrow then.”
“Yeah, tomorrow. For now, just sleep.”