Vessel of the Gods Boxed Set

by Jada Fisher

  Before anyone could reply, several roars rumbled through the air.

  “Dragon riders!”

  As if all of one mind, they rushed to the window, looking out into the night sky to see several shapes already over the burning palace.

  “They responded so fast!” Eist breathed, sounding relieved. “I don’t even know if I could have gotten my armor on that qui—”

  She was cut off—not because of a noise or someone interrupting her but because one of the flying, serpentine forms opened its jaws and breathed fire directly onto the in-progress castle.

  I could be wrong, but that is the opposite of what they are intended to do, yes?

  Eist let out a series of curses that Ukrah didn’t even know existed and spun on her heel, bolting out the door without a word. Seemingly less than a breath later, Athar was carefully handing their daughter over to Crispin.

  “You take her, and you hide her. You don’t come out until we come to get you ours-s-selves, alright?”

  Crispin nodded, his expression as shocked and concerned as Ukrah’s. Everything was going much too fast, with important things seemingly being decided in less than a blink. But then Athar was out the door too, no doubt following his wife into danger.

  Ukrah looked out of the window to see that there were six dragons above the palace, only two breathing fire while the others seemed to be swooping down and doing…something? She couldn’t quite place their movements, but they looked purposeful.

  Everything about the experience was so surreal that she stood there for several beats, trying to get her sleep-addled mind up to speed, until Yacristjin’s soft hiccup spurred her into action.

  “We have to get Marcellin,” she said, snapping to herself. If she wanted to lead, if she wanted to protect, she couldn’t do that as she watched the people who were supposed to be on her side attack her witch brothers and sisters.

  It didn’t make sense. Why would dragon riders be attacking their own city of Rothaiche M’or? Ukrah knew that there were rogue riders, those that fell to the lust of gold and fame and abandoned the council. She knew that one job of the council was also to hunt down and either bring in or kill rogues that grew to be too much of a threat.

  But the dragons in the sky didn’t seem like rogues. Their armor was too nice, too new, and she could see the emblem of Rothaiche M’or emblazoned on it of them when the firelight hit them just right. These riders were supposed to be her allies, were supposed to be protecting the witches. Not attacking them.

  More roars filled the air, and she heard the distinctive shriek of brindled dragons. No doubt Eist and Fior were leading the rider-less beasts to the battle, where hopefully they would be able to deal with the assault quickly.

  But she couldn’t think about that. She had a job, and that was to protect everyone in the house. And considering that one of them was a toddler and the other was a still-recovering vessel that couldn’t quite walk yet, she needed to get moving.

  It certainly wasn’t for a lack of effort on the young man’s part. But his injuries had been so severe, and he’d been so lacking in nourishment, that his healing process had been…complicated at best. And that was even with the help of Dille and other witches. There had been infections, fevers, and a solid week where this disgusting, whitish pus oozed up from his arm and his leg and the cut on his head, but he’d somehow survived that too.

  Tayir said it was because of the spirit housed within him, helping him last through what he shouldn’t. Crispin and Ukrah didn’t understand why it could help her survive a sword through her gut but couldn’t do more to help him with everything going on with him.

  Once more, the guardian explained it was probably due to the pervasive state of his injuries, but honestly, Ukrah felt like he was mostly talking out of his feathered butt. Sometimes she felt like he was as mystified by the unknowns of being a vessel as the rest of them were.

  “Children, lovelies, what is going on?!”

  Ukrah was almost surprised to nearly crash into Helena as she stumbled out of her room. The woman was a heavy sleeper, but the desert girl had no idea how she was just now rising to her feet. In answer, she merely clutched the woman’s arm and continued leading her to Marcellin’s healing room/bedroom.

  “Hey, there you are! Thought I was going to have to crawl across the floor.”

  For being in the middle of an attack, Marcellin was surprisingly calm, sitting up in bed and trying to put on the wooden leg that he had just started using a couple weeks earlier. His eyes were still a bit heavy with sleep and his short hair was mussed. He had shaved his head entirely a few days into his recovery, saying his thick waves reminded him too much of the wig he’d had to wear for so long, and it was just beginning to grow back.

  “What are you talking about? It’s just a normal night, like any other.”

  “Uh-huh, sure. We’re all just going for a walk, right? Because we all know how much I love those.”

  Crispin offered a chuckle and handed little Yacristjin to Cassinda, who gave the baby in her arms a bewildered look before handing her quickly to Helena. Before anyone could question him, he went around the side of the bed. Ukrah wasn’t exactly certain of what he was doing until he crouched down next to the bed, his broad back to Marcellin. When did he get so big? She knew in her head that nearly two years had passed since they had met—or wait, was it longer—but so many times, she still saw him as that rail-thin, lanky boy who had saved her in the woods.

  “Ugh, you know, if I wasn’t so secure in myself, I’d feel a bit self-conscious about being toted around everywhere,” Marcellin said, draping his one arm around Crispin’s shoulders, his thighs going around his waist despite his lack of a calf. If anyone noticed how Crispin had to reach behind him and support the other young man’s bottom since he couldn’t grip with two of his limbs missing, no one said anything. There were some things that didn’t need to be commented on.

  They made it down the stairs quickly. Mrs. Kaldonner and one of the house workers—Phillyp, if Ukrah recalled correctly—met them at the bottom, both dressed in their nightclothes. The third worker wasn’t there, and it was only after a jolt of alarm that she remembered that the woman had traveled to visit her family in Baeldred.

  To the older woman’s credit, Mrs. Kaldonner didn’t say much. She simply tipped her head in greeting before turning on her heel and leading them toward the kitchen. Ukrah didn’t ask, just followed as she headed straight for the hatch that led to the larder.

  They piled in, the lot of them, although Voirdr was whining the whole time.

  “Huh, not exactly a lot of room down here,” Marcellin huffed as jovially as he could. But then another explosion sounded right as Cassinda shut the trapdoor and supplies began to tumble off the shelves.

  It wasn’t safe enough. The larder wasn’t enough, and all of Ukrah’s mind clamored for it. She needed to protect her family. Her ragtag, late-found, destiny-wrapped family. She could try to make a shield, to keep anyone from coming in, but she needed to do more. She couldn’t just hide underground like an animal while who knew how many refugees were fighting for their lives in the crumbling remains of the new palace. She couldn’t…

  “Help me move this shelf,” Mrs. Kaldonner said firmly, pushing her graying hair away from her face. “It’s heavier than I remember.”

  Move the shelf? Ukrah didn’t bother to question it but hurried to do so with Phillyp grabbing the other end. They moved it only a few inches, but it was enough for Mrs. Kaldonner to slide her arm behind it and press at something Ukrah couldn’t see.

  A moment later, there was a horrible grating sound, then part of the wall was swinging forward. Not much, but enough to bump into the back of the shelf. Then Mrs. Kaldonner did something else, and a series of lanterns illuminated in the small sliver of space, showing a staircase leading down.

  “We will be safe down here. But someone has to stay and put the shelf back.”

  Ukrah saw her opportunity and jumped at it. “I will.”

>   “Uh, what?” Crispin tacked on quickly. “No, you don’t. You’re going to run off into battle as soon as we’re all inside. No. Nope. I’ll do it.”

  Ukrah rolled her eyes. In the six months since she had returned with Elspeth, Crispin had only grown more attached. “I am a literal vessel of protection. You are Marcellin’s legs. I stay.”

  “We don’t have time for this,” Cassinda said quickly, ushering the others toward the small entryway. “Mrs. Kaldonner, Phillyp, Helena, Marcellin, and the baby will all stay here. They will hide and won’t come out until one of us comes to get them. The three of us will all go out into the battle. I know all of us want to, and I know that the four of you know that it’s fruitless to stop us.”

  “I have to admit,” Helena said quietly, gently rocking Yacristjin. “I do not like this plan. I do not like this plan at all.”

  Cassinda sent her a smile with too much teeth, and Ukrah was reminded of how…wild the girl could get when there was a possibility of a fight on the horizon. “The good thing is, even if you don’t like it, you know better than to interfere.”

  “She’s right. We don’t have time for this. Do what you must.” And with that, Mrs. Kaldonner was disappearing down the staircase. Phillyp stayed for a moment, allowing Marcellin to be transferred to his back. Ukrah could see the cloudy expression across the young man’s features, but she hoped he understood.

  “I want to do things to those people out there,” he said nonchalantly as he was getting settled. “I can’t describe this feeling in my gut, but I just want to…go out there and ruin their lives. And I think I could. I could have them all screaming and crying and locked into some sort of nightmare like it was so easy.”

  “I know,” Ukrah said, patting his cheek. Maybe she should have been more alarmed by his sentiment, but she had felt the same thing so many times, who was she to judge? “But you’re still healing, so your protection is more important.”

  “Yeah, says the spirit of protection. Not like you’re biased.”

  She allowed him the smallest huff of a laugh and that was that. He was being carried down the stairs, Helena following, her arms full of baby. Once they were all in, Ukrah and Crispin went about shutting the door then moving the shelf in front of it. Once that was done, they looked to Cassinda, who was already up the ladder and pushing open the trapdoor.

  “Well, you coming or what?”

  2

  Bedlam and Betrayal

  Ukrah was aware that they were woefully inadequate to have any sort of impact on the battle, and yet they rushed forward, pelting across the estate to get to the fight.

  There were more roars above them as dragons kept joining the fray. A quick look up saw great beast attacking great beast, and Ukrah felt the tiniest sliver of relief that it wasn’t all of the riders or council that were trying to kill them. That at least some of them were on the side of good and protection, fighting for all the witches being attacked.

  Ukrah had never seen a dragon battle before. She’d never heard of one either. Sure, one-off fights, but never a couple dozen of the vicious creatures, coming together in great clashes of wings, teeth, and claws.

  “Do we have any idea what we’re going to do?” Crispin panted from beside Voirdr.

  “Well, I was planning on trying to summon the spirit inside of me and see how many of these witch hunters I can instantly end. You’re the one who insisted on coming along with no plan.”

  “Uh-huh, and have you managed to successfully summon your abilities since you’ve been back?”

  Ukrah didn’t answer that.

  The truth was, since her return from her intense trip with Elspeth, Voirdr had been on his best behavior. He rarely left her side and only if Crispin was with him, and all of his toddler acting out had stopped. Unfortunately, as he continued to grow wildly, he still didn’t seem to have a handle on his secondary abilities, and Ukrah found her grip on the bubbling darkness inside her growing more and more muted.

  “I think they’re close enough to the gardens to make things interesting,” Cassinda muttered, teeth flashing. “I’m—”

  She cut herself off, barely diving to the side as a man on a horse went rushing by her. Ukrah jolted, surprised by the hasty retreat, only to realize that he wasn’t alone on his mount. No, there was a young man behind him, bound up and covered in soot.

  She was pretty sure that was a witch.

  “Stop!” she cried, rushing toward him. But the horse was going so fast, she could see the whites of his eyes even as he gained distance. “We need to stop him!”

  Cassinda scrambled to her feet, but before she could even do a thing, Voirdr was bounding forward in impressive strides. He caught up with them quickly, coming around the side and tackling the beast to send both of them flying.

  Crispin rushed for the fallen witch, who had hit hard and bounced across the ground with a pained groan. But Ukrah’s eyes were on the witch hunter. Too many people had been hurt by the virulent men for her to give him even a second to recover.

  But when she reached him, he was laying there, gurgling quietly. Ah, it was unlikely that he was going to get anywhere before he was collected by a rider or a lawman or just died. She had a momentary desire to bring her foot down on his head, but some part of her felt it was wrong to do that when he was so clearly already downed. Besides, if he survived long enough to face the law, he might have valuable information.

  “Hey, are you alright?”

  She glanced to Crispin, who was untying the witch and removing his gag. When the young man looked up, she could see the same anti-magic brand burned right into the center of his forehead.

  “They’re trying to take us,” he gasped, spitting out soot and blood. “You have to help the others.”

  Crispin nodded solemnly. “You know where the god-woman’s manor is, right? Run there and hide. Go into the kitchens and find the larder. Go down there and wait, okay? We’ll be sending more your way.”

  “I… I should fight.”

  “Look, I’ve seen those markings before. Even if you were a heavy hitter before, you’re not gonna be doing much now. Please, go be safe.”

  The boy nodded and might have said something else, but Ukrah heard more footsteps.

  “For the spirits’ sake,” Cassinda hissed, darting forward, hitching up her night dress to scramble up onto a small wall that separated parts of Eist’s estate from the new palace. Ukrah could feel her power ripple and snap, then there was the sound of a whinny up ahead followed by a solid thump.

  Crispin was already on his feet again, the dagger he had used to free the first witch out and flashing in the firelight. Ukrah would have gone to help too, but then she heard another horse not too far from her.

  Three in less than a few moments. Although she could hear that there was an intense battle going on, they didn’t have a whole army, which meant that wherever they were taking the witches was close enough for them to take multiple trips.

  The thought made her stomach twist. There was some place in the city where vulnerable witches were being dumped so they could be shuttled off into the hands of the fanatics. And it was someplace these hunters felt so comfortable with that they were running back and forth while battling dragons and magic users alike.

  Where was Dille? How had they gotten the drop on her? Ukrah had seen her react to an assassination without even breaking a sweat. It was hard not to think that she, Eist, Fior, and Athar couldn’t have ended the battle all on their own. They had certainly done similar in the past.

  Which meant either she was severely underestimating their enemy or all of them had gotten soft in the years since the great cleansing.

  That seemed unlikely.

  And yet her thoughts returned to that as they worked their way to the raging battle, their progress slowed multiple times as they rushed to stop any of the witch hunters that rushed past them, a few escaping from their grasp even with a dragon and two magic users in their group.

  They saved somewhere over a doze
n in total by the time they were close enough to the battle to make out actual details. All the guesswork, all of the horrors that her mind had been cooking, were laid out before her, backlit by the inferno of the castle.

  “Uh, now would be a good time to summon that power you were talking about,” Crispin said breathlessly, his voice cracking.

  She didn’t blame him. The scene in front of them was surely…something.

  Giant creatures clashed overhead, screeching and roaring. Fire issued from their jaws, igniting clouds of green dragon gas. Lightning cut through the air from blue dragons, followed by the thunder from their twin. It was a pure cacophony above, echoing the tumult on the ground.

  Ukrah didn’t even know if tumult was the right word. It was so much more that. There were bodies scattered on the ground, and she couldn’t tell which side they belonged to. Everything seemed burnt and smelled of something unnatural, cloying at her nose and making her stomach rebel. She could see a few witches standing, casting spells and throwing up defenses as best they could. But no Dille. There weren’t even any of her most trusted apprentices that Ukrah knew.

  But there were horses. So many horses. How had they gotten so many there? There seemed to be more than there were actual witch hunters, which would make sense if they had been planning their mass kidnap to involve multiple trips and possible mount injury.

  People were also running everywhere. She saw a witch and hunter wrestling on the ground, rolling this way and that as each one tried to get the upper hand. She saw a couple of younglings that had clambered partially up a trellis, kicking at a hunter who was reaching up for them.

  All of that was just what she took in in less than a moment, filling her mind with so much information. It was overwhelming, and she felt the bubbling, bright, burning mass of rage inside of her start to react despite Voirdr’s influence. They were all innocents, all refugees trying to escape from fear, pain, and death. They hadn’t done anything wrong; they hadn’t asked to be what they were, and yet they were all running for their lives yet again.