by C. M. Hayden
Nima raised the Deeplight forward and spoke. “Stop.”
The Deeplight pulsed at her words and Craetos stopped in his footsteps.
“Lower your weapon,” Nima ordered. Craetos did so without hesitation.
Vexis’s face beamed with a bright smile. “Amazing. Simply amazing. I knew you were powerful, but I never thought you could—”
“Kill her,” Nima ordered Craetos.
Vexis looked momentarily like a frightened deer. “What?” she asked, moving back.
Again, Craetos didn’t hesitate. The hulking dragon brought up its massive greatsword and swung it hard at Vexis. The blade pierced her body at the shoulder, crushing her collarbone and shattering several ribs. Her small body fell back in a pool of blood, twitching.
Craetos pulled his weapon back, setting the bloody end on the floor, and looking to Nima for further orders. Nima walked beside Vexis’s shattered body, staring down at her imperiously. “Partners, huh?”
Taro stared at Vexis’ mangled body as if it were some complex puzzle to be solved. He couldn’t believe it. She was really dead. He looked back to his sister, who looked anything but triumphant. She looked sad, almost broken, as she stared down at Vexis’ unmoving form.
Taro went to Nima’s side and hugged her. “You saved me.”
Nima nodded, looking a bit out of it. “You’re my brother.”
Taro smiled wearily. “I am. Always. No matter what.”
Lokír looked at the scene before him in bewilderment. “Is it over?”
Nima shook her head. “You two should go. Get out of here while you’ve got the chance. The Helians are surrounding the place, and Halric will be here soon.”
“Come back to Endra with me,” Taro said, holding her hands in his.
“We already talked about this, Taro,” Nima said.
“I don’t understand. Vexis is—”
“Vexis didn’t trick me. This is the life I want.” She held up the Deeplight, and nodded toward Craetos. “I don’t need her anymore. Halric only put up with her because she was powerful. Not so powerful now.”
Taro’s face flushed hot. He pulled Nima into another hug. “This isn’t you.”
Nima made a laugh that was almost a sigh. “Maybe that’s the problem,” she said. “You never really knew me that well, did you?”
Taro pulled away, holding her at arm’s length. “I guess not.”
Nima kissed him on the cheek. “I love you, Taro. I’m sorry I’m not the person you want me to be.”
“Nima, I—”
“You little cunt,” Vexis’ voice filled the cavern like a rush of icy water.
Almost too stunned to move, Taro looked back at her mangled body on the floor. On the chain around her neck, her fragments of the Arclight and Netherlight glowed and mixed, running over her bleeding flesh like quicksilver.
Her bones cracked back into place, and her flesh sewed together. She leaned up, her broken face rejoining itself.
Nima was frozen in terror.
“You don’t fucking get it, do you?” Vexis shouted, shambling along like a monster, hardly able to support her body. Her eyes smoldered with hate, and her normal calm demeanor melted away, leaving only raw anger. “You and your brother. You don’t have a clue who you’re dealing with. You think one swing of a sword is going to end this?”
Nima raised the Deeplight toward Craetos, but before a single word could pass her lips, Vexis stretched out her hand. Shadows pooled thick around her fingers, and a thin blade of dark magic extended through Nima’s stomach and out the back of her body.
Nima was momentarily in shock, looking down at where Vexis had pierced her. When the shadowy blade retracted, blood poured from the open wound. Nima stared at it with a strange analytical curiosity, then looked to Taro.
“Big brother,” she said, then collapsed.
Taro rushed to her side, holding his hand to the wound and pulling her close. In that moment, nothing else mattered to him. Not the Deeplight. Not his own life. Nothing. He tried to lift Nima up, but found himself completely drained of templar, and too weak to support her with his prosthetic. Nevertheless, he tried, heaving her up in vain.
Vexis’ body was still not whole. The Arclight and Netherlight’s magic were running up her body, slowly pulling her bones and flesh together.
Using this small window of time, Lokír rushed beside Taro and lifted Nima up himself. “Move, Taro-sin!”
Taro made a last minute dash for the Deeplight, but even through her wounds, Vexis was able to conjure enough shadow magic to shield it from him. It was no use. In moments she’d be back to full strength, and there was murder in her eyes.
They ran out of the chamber as quickly as they could. Vexis swiped at them with her shadow magic, but missed. The last thing Taro saw was Vexis on her belly, inching toward the Deeplight as the Craetos loomed nearby.
Chapter Forty-six
Escape From Nir Daras
The trail Vexis and Nima carved through the underground was truly incredible. A bridge of shadow magic spanned the chasm where Craetos and Kurian had fought, allowing Lokír, Nima, and Taro over the wide chasm. The ichor further in had receded, burned away completely by Craetos’ fire.
They shouted to find Fenn and Kadia, to no avail. They did, however, find the Archivist buzzing around the entranceway with several other spherical constructs. According to him, they’d escaped when Craetos arrived.
Taro and Lokír decided to check the city proper, but upon reaching the surface, they found the city was in ruins. Fire spread out in all directions, blanketing the Temple City in a blaze of heat and light. The once pristine buildings crumbled under the blaze. Craetos must’ve done this in his reckless march toward the Deeplight.
There were screams and shouts from every direction. Crowds of people were panicking, and a great many pushing to get through the few exits Nir Daras had. The high walls around the city proved a fatal problem for a fire of this magnitude, as getting over them, even from the inside, was difficult.
“We have to get out of here!” Lokír shouted, Nima still flung over his shoulder.
“We have to find Fenn first,” Taro said.
They moved as fast as their wounds would allow. Amongst the hordes of panicking citizens, a blaze of burning dragon costumes and paper streamers, they looked very much out of place moving toward the chaos. The main gates of the city were deathtraps, so packed with people that those seeking escape were being trampled or crushed. In an ironic reversal, instead of trying to siege Nir Daras, the Helian soldiers outside were now attempting to save as many civilians as they could. But in the fiery panic, it was hard to get any of them to listen.
“Slow down, please!” one of the soldiers shouted to the pushing and shoving crowd. “Stay calm, please. Stay calm.”
There wasn’t a single calm face amongst the crowd.
Lokír grabbed Taro by the shoulder, pointing to a clear spot on the ramparts. “Look!”
Fenn was standing atop one of the battlements, waving his arms at some distant point in the sky. Taro and Lokír moved toward him, climbing the ladder in a way that sent sharp daggers of pain through Taro’s leg.
“Fenn!” Taro shouted, pulling himself up the last rung.
“Holy shit, you’re alive,” Fenn said, helping him up.
“Where’s Kadia?” Taro asked.
Fenn pointed to the other side of the battlement. Kadia was sitting with her arms wrapped around her knees. Over the wall, Helian soldiers were swarming, pulling people to safety and tending to those who jumped. Jumping was an option, but if they did so, the Helians would most certainly take them into custody.
“We’re going to have to jump,” Taro said. Jumping down a twenty-foot wall was not an attractive idea, but it seemed like the only option available. The bu
ildings behind them were crumbling; the dragon fire spread like no natural flame, as if it were fueling itself.
Fenn jumped, waving his arms wildly at the sky. “No, look!” he said, shouting. “Look!”
Taro cupped his hands over his eyes. Through the haze of smoke and heated air, he saw a small point in the night sky. It moved with unnatural speed, against the wind, leaving behind a trail of steam and smoke.
“Is that…?” Taro asked.
“Hell yes, it is!” Fenn said excitedly, jumping. “We need to get their attention.”
Taro waved his hands at the sky. It was one of the Magisterium airships. As it moved closer, the immense wind from the turbines blew in tremendous amounts of air, stoking the burning city, and dislodging already crumbling buildings from their foundations. The airship moved as close as it safely could, still several dozen feet up, and lowered a rope ladder down to them.
Once they were each on the ladder, it was hoisted up into the underbelly of the ship. As they rose, Taro saw the ship’s name emblazoned on the side: North Star.
Taro was the first one inside. He thought it was a warder who grabbed him and pulled him a clear distance from the hatch, but when he looked up, he saw a familiar face staring back at him.
“Suri?” Taro asked, his eyes lighting up. “What the hell are you doing out here?”
Suri kissed him on the cheek. “Just following orders. You don’t say ‘no’ to a princess, you see.” She nodded toward the corner of the cargo bay. Kyra was standing there, goggles on her forehead, looking rather pleased with herself.
Lokír, Nima, Kadia, and Fenn were pulled aboard, too, and below, the city was engulfed in fire. Lokír laid Nima out on the floor, and Taro went to her side.
“We need a medic!” Taro shouted, pulling Nima’s shirt up slightly to get a better look at the wound on her stomach.
Nima was very much awake, shaking and breathing hard. “It hurts, Taro.”
Taro grabbed her by the hand. “It’s okay, it’s all right. Just keep breathing.”
Suri dropped beside Nima to examine the wound. She touched her fingertips to the skin, and a soft light emanated from them. After a moment, she sighed.
“It could be a lot worse,” Suri said. “Whatever it was missed her vital organs, but just barely. I’ll sew her up, she’ll be fine.”
By now, Taro was used to rotten luck. Hearing that Nima would survive sent a rush of relief through him like he’d never felt before. Tears swelled in his eyes, and he felt like his heart would explode.
However, in all the commotion, there was one thing he’d forgotten.
Kyra’s expression took a turn for the worst as her glance darted between them. She looked down at the hatch as the last bit of the ladder was hauled aboard. She hesitated, as if she wanted to ask a question, but was afraid of the answer.
“Taro…” she said, her voice weak and fragmented. “Where’s Kurian?”
“Yeah,” Fenn said, glancing around. “Where is the old shitfire? Flying around somewhere?”
There was long, horrible bout of silence. Lokír spoke first. “He fell.”
Fenn furrowed his brow. “Fell? As in…”
“He’s gone,” Taro said. “He tried to fight Craetos by himself. He didn’t make it.”
Kyra shook her head. “No, you’re wrong. He’s too stubborn to die.”
“I saw it with my own two eyes,” Taro said, touching her arm. “I’m sorry, he just—”
Kyra pulled away, her voice suddenly hateful. “I said you’re wrong. He’s not dead. He wouldn’t do that to me. He promised he’d…”
“I’m sorry,” Lokír said. “Understand, he died a hero. His sacrifice will be honored among—”
“Kurian can’t die. He’s stronger than you give him credit for, I’ve seen it. I’ve seen him do things I couldn’t imagine.” She slumped onto her knees. “We have to find him.” She looked to one of the warders. “Land the ship.”
“No!” Suri shouted, grabbing her by the arm. “It’s an inferno down there! We’ll never be able to take off again!”
“We can’t leave him down there,” Kyra shouted, making a motion toward the engine room. “I’ll land it myself.”
“Grab her!” Fenn shouted.
The warders didn’t seem to know what to do for a split second, but Suri and Lokír moved quickly to seize Kyra by the arms.
“This isn’t the way,” Lokír said softly, holding on to her wrist.
“Let me go! Let me go!” Kyra shouted. “If you want to abandon him, fine, but I’m going down there.”
“If you do that, the Helians will capture you, or you’ll be burnt to cinders,” Taro said, holding on to the hem of her uniform.
“It’s my life,” Kyra shouted, pulling away furiously. “Let me go!”
Suddenly, the ship rocked as if struck by the hand of a god. The cargo bay went from upright to sideways in an instant, and everyone was thrown violently about the room. Out the open hatch, Taro saw an immense silhouette of a dragon set against burning firelight.
“It’s Craetos!” Taro shouted as the ship rocked again.
“Get the cannons,” Suri shouted.
“No!” Taro countered. “We can’t fight it. The Eventide couldn’t even put a dent in him. We have to try to outrun him. Bring the ship about and go in low to the water, try to lose him!”
There was one more tremendous shake as something struck the hull above deck. The girders creaked, and the ship listed sideways. Overhead, a pipe burst open, spewing foul-smelling steam through the cargo bay.
In an instant, it was all over. The ship resettled in the air, and it was as if the weight of the dragon had vanished. Everyone in the cargo bay was quiet for a long moment, with only the rush of air on the outside of the ship to punctuate the silence.
Taro looked into Suri’s eyes. “Will you stay with Nima and Kadia?”
Suri nodded. “They’ll be in good hands.”
Kyra and Fenn hurried out into the corridor and up one of the service ladders that led above deck. Taro followed behind as quickly as he could, but they were out of sight within seconds. The hatch to the deck was open, and when he made it to the top, he saw Kyra, Fenn, and several warders crowding a ragged body.
Taro couldn’t believe it. It was Kurian. Unconscious, but breathing. His clothes were smoldering and torn, his face was burned and bleeding from the base of his eye down to his bare chest. There were deep cuts all along his shoulder and neck, and blood was pooling in his clothes—but he was alive.
Taro knelt beside him, and lifted his right eyelid. Kurian’s iris was dark and colorless.
Kyra took his hand and leaned in. “Kurian?” she asked softly. It was hardly audible over the rushing air around them.
Kurian didn’t respond, and his arm fell limp.
Fenn gave him a light pat on the arm. “Kurian!” he said loudly. “Come on, shake it off, you’re stronger than this.”
“We need to get him to the Arclight,” Taro said.
“He might not survive the trip,” Fenn said flatly.
Kyra shot Fenn an incredulous look.
Fenn didn’t back down. “I’m just telling the truth. The Arclight won’t heal him if he’s dead.”
At this, Kurian stirred slightly. His eyes cracked open, showing the barest hint of yellow. His gaze went immediately to Kyra. “Sorry I’m late, princess,” he said, his voice barely breaking over the wind.
Kyra put her hand over her mouth, laughing so hard that she was crying. “I tried to tell them,” she said through her tears. “You’re too stubborn to die.”
Chapter Forty-seven
The Bright Dawn Ahead
Even travelling by airship, the way to Endra Edûn was a long one. They were literally on the other side of Lorne-Aldor,
and had to travel past the entire Helian desert, the Dragon Wastelands, and the Endran Tundra to get home.
Suri was as good as her word, and patched Nima up easily. Kurian, however, was another matter. His surface wounds were just the beginning. Suri knew only the most basic of healing templary, and virtually nothing about dragon physiology. This meant that aside from a few bandages, Kurian had to tough it out for the entire trip. He had fits of fever that spoke of infection, and his mood ranged from quiet sobs to shouting agony.
Kurian and Nima were housed in the same infirmary cabin, similar to the one Taro had been shuffled into months ago. There were a dozen beds in the same room, and shelves and cabinets filled with gauze and medical supplies.
Taro and Kyra never left their sides, despite Kurian’s insistence that she not see him in such a state.
Late the first night, when most had gone to sleep, Taro stood awake in the corner of the infirmary, his back propped up on one of the medical beds. He just sat, staring up at the ceiling, wondering what awaited him in Endra.
Kyra had fallen asleep an hour ago, and her head rested at the foot of Kurian’s bed. Nima was sleeping contently, though turned away from Taro.
Outside the porthole on Taro’s right, the sky was dark. The only noise in the room came from the soft hum of the North Star’s engines, the air curving around the ship, and the breathing of Taro’s sleeping friends.
As he sat, Taro felt something familiar. Like he was being watched. One of the deck plates creaked as someone moved from the corner of the room toward him.
Taro didn’t bother looking in Aris’ direction, but knew it was him.
“Now you show up?” Taro asked bitterly.
“Hello Taro,” Aris said calmly. The magister walked softly through the infirmary, looking first over Nima, and then over Kurian.
A slight twinge of irritation struck Taro. “Can I ask you a serious question? How do you decide when to help, and when not to help? I can think of three or four times when having you around would’ve saved us a ton of trouble, and instead you show up when it’s all over.”