But what did the rest of the Legends want? Why were they so desperate to bend Tamerlan to their wills and rebind the dragons? She felt her eyes narrow. They hadn’t cared so much before the Grandfather had started to kill avatars and then suddenly, they did care. Was it only self-preservation? How much could they communicate with other Legends over the Bridge of Legends? Did all of them know what the others knew, or were they keeping secrets even now? Did they lie and scheme with and against one another already?
“So far, it only tells the story of the first people of the plains,” Tamerlan said. “They lived happily on the shores of the sea. They had a culture very different from ours.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Etienne said irritably, his face twisting as he fought his hand while trying to keep it hidden from the rest of them. Marielle smelled a spike of fear in his scent. To her eyes it was like bursts of electric blue were lighting the room. Because he was losing control? Or for some other reason? She swallowed. “We all know that part. They were the people of the shells. They found these massive empty conch shells that were in each city and the citizens would collect them, claiming to hear things from other worlds or at least other lands in the shells. Voices. Singing. Wisdom. Some even said magic. They traded them as far as the mountain cities and across the sea.”
“I didn’t know that,” Rajit breathed.
“Like the shells that the Harbingers brought with them?” Marielle asked, trying to sound casual. Did the shell she was given possess these same attributes? The Harbingers had been excited when she could hear voices in her shell. They’d thought she had a gift. And then she’d used the echo magic in it to replicate the Grandfather’s time jumps. Could her shell do more than just echo magic back?
Etienne shrugged. “Perhaps. Or perhaps they were only similar. There used to be one in every city, but they were all destroyed in the age of Legends.”
“The book says,” Tamerlan corrected, “that first the Dragonblooded poured down out of the mountains, raving about strange creatures and terrors of the sky. At first, no one believed them. The people of the land took them in, awed by their beautiful purple eyes and fine features.”
Marielle let her gaze wander over Tamerlan. He didn’t have the purple eyes. Not that she would be able to see that anyways. She could see no color at all. But his fine features and straight back and broad shoulders looked exactly like what she thought those beautiful people would have been like. And like him, they brought with them unbelievable tales. She could almost imagine him coming out of the mountains with that same wild look in his eyes and that same tension in every muscle that he carried even now.
“They brought them into their homes and cities,” Tamerlan continued, his voice ebbing and flowing as he told the story. Marielle shivered as she listened, her eyes wandering from one barred door to the next. Where were the Harbingers? What were they waiting for? “And for a few years, they thrived side by side. Intermarrying. Working together. And then the dragons came.”
“Yes,” Etienne said nastily. “They came. And people said that the Dragonblooded were responsible and that’s why they chose a sacrifice to send to the dragons from among the Dragonblooded.”
“The Lady Sacrifice?” Marielle asked coolly, and this time Etienne had the grace to look ashamed. Because she was the one he chose to sacrifice only a few scant months ago.
“The first Lady Sacrifice – not the one who became a Legend – but one of the many who gave their lives over the years,” he said calmly. “They spilled her blood on a sleeping dragon and it bound him in immobility for an entire night. It was only later that the people learned that if they could spill her blood into his veins it would keep him motionless for a year.”
Marielle sniffed. She didn’t know if she was angry at Etienne for still thinking that way was the right way, or at herself for preventing it from happening and starting this tidal wave of disaster that had swept across the Five Cities ever since.
“And do you think that tale is really true or only a Legend?” she asked.
Etienne’s mouth twisted cynically. “Who is to say it’s less true than this book? Winners write history books and they don’t always tell the truth.”
“And everyone spreads rumors,” Marielle countered. “And they don’t always tell the truth either.”
Tamerlan was ignoring their by-play, though he stood facing Marielle, never even looking at Etienne as he read.
“Ram was one of the Dragonblooded and he went up into the mountains to find the source of the dragons.”
“There was no mention of that in the secret histories,” Etienne said stiffly.
“Maybe they didn’t want to remember,” Tamerlan said softly, his eyes running over the paper and he began to read out loud. “Hither he went by long journey and cold, pain his companion and death his constant friend. The party of adventurers who traveled with the Nameless One rose through the foothills as winter’s hold slowly took earth in her grasp and though the plains were hearty and winsome so the mountains were black with ice and dull with cold and the party suffered sorely under such bereft conditions, turning to local hamlets and woodcutters for any spare mercies they could lend. But yea verily a storm blew and covered all ground from hamlet to peak with snow of such depth as to bury a horse and cover a home. The party grew faint with weariness and cold and set up camp in a hole hollowed out of the heavy snow and it was there that most froze in the night, never to again walk the lands of men.”
Marielle shivered, finding her fur cloak and putting it on again.
“A fire here would be nice,” Rajit said wistfully. “I don’t know how he reads a book like that. It’s almost as bad as a religious book.”
“It is a religious book,” Etienne said, examining the fireplace at the end of the room. His head was half up the chimney as he spoke. He was craning his neck to look up it as if their enemies were going to come down the chimney. “What else would you call something that worships a pantheon of heroes and makes blood sacrifices and feasts to them every year? If that’s not a religion, then what is?”
“Are you saying that the Legends are our gods?” Marielle asked. It seemed plausible. But it also seemed crazy. They were just people who became immortal. And saved cities. And ruled the pattern of our years and festivals. And took over Tamerlan and made him do horrific things.
She could feel her mouth forming the shape of an “O” as Etienne smirked at her.
“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” he said.
“And our gods want to kill us,” Tamerlan said. “Or at least, they do now.”
His nose was out of the book and he was walking around the edges of the room, his eyes studying the books chained to the shelves while he kept the little book clasped gently in his hands. His eyes were hungry, as if he wished to read every one of them, but he didn’t touch them. It was almost as if he was afraid to breathe on them. She’d only seen that look of reverence on his face before when he looked at her.
“But this isn’t what they wanted before! They only wanted to be free of their boundaries,” Marielle said. “What has changed?”
They were all silent. Only Rajit moved. His hands ran along the bar in front of the door as he watched them as if he was nervous about whether it would hold even though there hadn’t been an attack in long minutes.
“I can hear breathing,” he whispered. “They aren’t done with us.”
The room felt warmer as Marielle’s head spun so suddenly that she stumbled forward a step. Her windrose flared with pain and her feet tugged toward the door of their own volition. Tamerlan’s hand reached up to his head, his face etched with immediate pain. Etienne mirrored his pose almost exactly, only with a sword in his hand instead of a book.
Were the Legends trying to take them over by force again?
“What are they waiting for?” Rajit asked, his words getting higher at the end of the sentence, betraying his fear.
Marielle swallowed, getting her sword ready. Everything seemed brighter, hotter,
as if her anticipation of their madness was making her senses overly keen. The pain in her chest choked out coherent thought, forcing her to clench her jaw and focus just to make it through the waves of agony without moaning. She could even swear that she was smelling the smoky smell of violence. Maybe she could smell what was happening inside their heads now. The violent smell of smoke grew stronger.
They’re at war, and we are the battlefield,” Tamerlan said at last through clenched teeth. “It’s Ram against the others. He’ll never let the dragons go. But in order to be free, the Legends have to let them go. It’s not that they want us dead. They want us to surrender. To give ourselves as their avatars. And if we do that, the rest of the Dragonblood Plains will be ruined.”
“And Ram? What does he want?” Etienne asked. His hand spasmed wildly, reaching toward the barred window beside him. “Why this obsession with dragons so many centuries since he bound them?”
Tamerlan shook his head. “It feels – ongoing – like he never stopped fighting. Like it was never really over.”
“Do you think it’s the egg?” Marielle asked and they both turned their eyes on her. Her eyes narrowed as she fought another spasm of pain, tugging her toward the door.
“Egg?” Etienne asked.
“The breathing has stopped,” Rajit announced, freezing beside the door.
“The one that they drew on the map next to their city,” Marielle said, clutching one hand to her chest. “The dragon egg. Maybe he won’t rest because there’s still a dragon out there who isn’t bound.”
“If it hasn’t hatched in centuries then I doubt it will hatch now,” Etienne said dryly.
Rajit’s eyes sought hers across the room, as if he was trying to tell her with only his gaze that he was panicking.
“Maybe it just needs the right conditions,” Marielle said. She shook her head at Rajit. They needed to help him calm down. A jumpy ally was no ally at all.
Etienne snorted. “And it hasn’t found them in all these years?”
“Do you smell something?” Tamerlan said, shoving the hidden book in his shirt. He was half-way down one of the aisles of books, frozen over one shelf as if he had been studying that book. Which one had taken his interest so strongly? They must be priceless to have been chained here. But it was as if her mind was trying to tell her something about them. Something about how they hadn’t burned. Tamerlan’s brow was wrinkled with worry. “Smoke, do you smell smoke?”
Marielle gasped. The books. It wasn’t that they hadn’t burned. It was that they were burning.
“The back! Have they lit the back on fire?” she asked at the same time that Rajit gave a panicked yell.
“Wait!” she cried, throwing up a hand, but it was too late.
The boy was already pulling the bar off the front door and yanking it open.
Fire burst through the cracks around the back door as if the cold air rushing in from the front had called it. It leapt through the cracks with a fump, searing the books on the nearest shelves. They lit instantly, the fire jumping from book to book to book until it was surrounding them at the same time that Rajit screamed again.
Marielle spun, sword in hand, barely fast enough to deflect the slash aimed at her by a shadowy figure.
She recognized Anglarok’s haunted eyes immediately as she tried to recover her balance, barely catching it and getting her sword back up into a second defensive form before his next flurry of attacks rained down. Behind him, Liandari lunged through the smoke, fighting Tamerlan and Etienne both at once, her sword flying through the forms like it was a race.
“Anglarok? It’s me! Marielle!”
His face was blank, as if he didn’t know who she was, or simply didn’t care.
“We want to get you free! We’re trying to find a way!”
The Harbingers were outnumbered two to one, and yet Marielle was the one who felt outnumbered.
She saw Tamerlan from the corner of her eye, reaching for his sleeve with his spare hand while the other blocked a blow.
“Don’t do it, Tamerlan!” she yelled, distracted enough that she fumbled her block. Anglarok’s steel bit into the side of her calf and she groaned. It was only a nick, but he was already turning the sword back in a new lightning-fast attack.
She clenched her teeth, forgot Tamerlan and brought her sword up with both hands on the grip. She didn’t dare lose focus in this moment or she’d be destroyed.
She flowed through the sword forms with every form she knew, one ragged clash leading into the next. He was far better than her. For each of her successful defenses, he rained down two more attacks. She was backing up almost into the flames, feeling the heat searing the fur of her cloak. The smell of burning hair mixed with the ashes of books as they blew through the room and out into the street.
In the doorway, there was no sign of Rajit anymore. The fool had let both the enemy and the fire in with that single choice to flee when his nerve broke.
She gritted her teeth and tried not to think about that, or about what he might do to Jhinn if he found him in the city. Based on what he’d said about the Waverunners she doubted he’d respect the other boy’s religious views. There was something twisted about him – like he’d suffered too many things and been pulled in too many directions for one so young.
Anglarok’s lips were moving.
They formed the words “help me” in a silent plea before he was fighting her again, raining blows so fast and hard that her arms rang from trying to deflect them all aside.
Marielle stumbled, falling to the floor, weapon raised desperately above her head. Anglarok raised his sword. With his height advantage, he was going to smash hers. She gritted her teeth, bracing herself. She couldn’t retreat, not with flames dancing across the bookshelf behind her and the roar of the fires behind that. She thought her cloak might be close to catching flame already.
If they didn’t leave this building, they would all die here.
Anglarok’s expression looked torn, like he was warring with himself and then, out of nowhere he was shoved aside.
“Run, Marielle!” Tamerlan said, looking for a brief moment at her with his good eye before turning back to the fight. It was actually him, not one of the Legends. He must not have smoked!
Shocked, she felt like she was frozen in place. He’d listened to her. He’d actually had the strength to resist in a crisis. She hadn’t even thought that was possible. His yell of pain shook her back to reality. Anglarok had both hands around Tamerlan’s neck as Tamerlan loomed over him. He smashed a fist into Anglarok’s face, but the man held on. Hit again, and again, Anglarok bucked under the blow, but his hands were clamped around Tamerlan’s throat and Tamerlan’s breath was gone, his face red.
Marielle shook herself, pulling herself to her feet and with a cry she ran forward, driving her sword toward Anglarok. He shifted an instant before it drove through his midsection, preventing it from skewering him, though she smelled blood where it rent his clothing and sliced through the skin of his abdomen.
His grip on Tamerlan fell away Tamerlan threw himself backward, clutching at his throat with his free hand and coughing, gasping for air.
Something behind them crashed and Marielle shot forward, grabbing Tamerlan’s arm and pulling him to the door.
The smoke was thick and cloying. She coughed trying to clear her lungs, her senses swimming in the scent of smoke and blood and violence all tangled together. She couldn’t see Etienne or Liandari. She’d lost track of both of them in the fight. A boom shook the building – something in the backroom or maybe the floor above had fallen hard enough to shake the whole building – and with the shake, they stumbled out onto the street in a gust of smoke and ash.
10: Stalked through the Shadows
Tamerlan
Let us free! Lila snarled. She nearly had him as they ran through the door, seizing his momentary panic that he hadn’t gotten Marielle out in time and using it as a way to find his weakness.
He felt the tendrils of her mi
nd wrapping around his, seeking for one pressure point in which to squeeze and wrest control from him. There was nothing more invasive than someone in the mind, squeezing, manipulating, deceiving. Sometimes he wondered if his thoughts were even his anymore.
Fool! You were willing to do this before to save her! You let us out! You let us play! You didn’t weigh the costs then.
Didn’t he? He knew the costs. He knew how great the need must be before he called them again.
All that sacrifice to save her time after time and you nearly lost her in a fire because you won’t call us! Doubly the fool! Cursed in your mind. Weak as a new-hatched chick!
But if he was so weak, then why was she so angry. There were two things he still knew: first, that he loved Marielle more than his own life. And second, that he must do whatever was necessary to keep the Legends caged.
Fury tore through his mind, leaving runnels of pain that made him feel like he was burning from the inside out. He wanted to scream. He wanted to cut his own skull open just to let the pain out. He wanted ...
Something crashed into his back and he spun protectively, bringing his sword up. Marielle would go free. Whatever this took, she would! The Legends would not prevail!
It was Etienne’s back that had crashed into him. He was still battling Liandari and holding his own over the cobblestones of the street.
Tamerlan – already dazed – could barely keep track of where their swords were, they moved so fast.
Tamerlan stumbled back from the other man, falling into a defensive stance at the same moment that Liandari’s sword plunged to the exact place where his head had been only a moment before. She was fighting differently than he remembered – almost like he did now, as if trying to compensate for missing half her vision.
Etienne whipped out a furious counterattack, gaining a step of ground, but she was too fast. She struck again and he barely turned her blade. They needed to get out of there – and fast. Where had that traitor Rajit gone?
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