Heir of the Dragon

by Anna Logan

  “You act like Grrake when you’re worried.” Haeric gave him a pointed look. “Is it serious or not?”

  Yhkon sighed. “Yes, it’s serious. You’ll be fine—” probably... “—but we need to get you back to Calcaria as soon as possible. This isn’t going to heal any time soon.”

  “That puts us in a bit of a fix, doesn’t it?” Haeric closed his eyes, trying to relax as Yhkon changed the bandages. “If those Asyjgon are going to follow us wherever we go, we can’t just lead them straight to the outpost.”

  Yhkon had been trying to work out that same dilemma. They could rely on the hope that when the Wardens returned for them, the Asyjgon would have given up the chase...except he knew that that was foolish. One couldn’t rely on hopes in a war.

  If, when the Wardens returned, they found a band of Elikwai to take Haeric back, the Asyjgon might notice and pursue. If he found some now, however, while the Asyjgon had no idea that they were even missing… “This might be our best chance, if I can find some Elikwai and get you out of here now.”

  “Yes...except we don’t have celiths. We have no idea how far away the nearest Elikwai are.”

  “There’s a station thirty miles south.”

  Haeric opened one eye to look at him. “You think I’m going to make it thirty miles?”

  “No…but I can.” He started applying the fresh bandages, shaking his head. “It might be our only chance. We’ll get you away from here, in case the Asyjgon come back to this spot, I’ll make you look like an ugly bush, and I’ll be back within a day.”

  Haeric gave a resigned laugh, only to groan at the pain. Between gritted teeth, he muttered, “I think I’ll be a pretty bush.”

  Thirty miles was a long way. On a celith, the distance could be made in an hour. On foot...his goal was ten.

  He’d gotten Haeric a mile from their original spot—an arduous ordeal, when the man couldn’t walk and had to be dragged on a makeshift stretcher most of the way. Then he’d gone back and covered their tracks as best he could. He’d left Haeric in a thicket with half the food and water, and the blankets. Theoretically, he would get to the station before it got too cold.

  Theoretically.

  It had been six hours and he was almost out of food and water. Provisions for a day of riding were not the same as provisions for a day of hiking.

  He had only his memory of a map of the Zentyren stations to guide him. This station was one he’d never been to, these woods some he’d never traveled. There was a constant, nagging fear that he was going the wrong way. That he would walk and walk and never get there.

  If that happened, Haeric would die.

  There was nothing to do but keep walking. At some point, he started saying it in his head: Please let this be the right way. Please let me get there in time. It probably counted as a prayer. According to Grrake and Jaylee, his lack of prayer over the last few years wouldn’t make Narone resentfully ignore him now. So he kept saying it.

  It probably wouldn’t help. But it wouldn’t hurt, and he needed to occupy his mind somehow.

  Yhkon staggered into the station, not bothering to knock. Having heard him coming, an Elikwai was already coming for the door with sword ready—thankfully, he recognized Yhkon before taking a swing. More Elikwai appeared from the back rooms.

  “Ema’s wrath!” An Irlaish man. Yhkon remembered dimly how Talea used to swear by the Irlaish gods. She still did, on rare occasions. “What happened, Tavker?”

  Tavker? Oh. He took a closer look at the man—he was one Yhkon knew, well enough that he called him Tavker rather than Silquije. “Long story…” He made his way to a chair and sat down. He’d only let himself stop and sit twice over the thirty miles, and every muscle ached. “Haeric is injured. Bad. Thirty miles from here, we need to go get him and I need some of you to take him to Calcaria.”

  “He’s with the other Wardens?”

  “No, they’re being chased by some…” He had to stop to catch his breath. “New warriors, bloody good ones.” His legs were already beginning to stiffen now that he had stopped moving, so he made himself stand up. “We need to go. I’ll expla...explain on the way.”

  “Right.” The man disappeared into the back room, probably to gather gear, and his companions followed. They returned in five minutes with what they needed. Outside it was growing cold, and the celiths resisted leaving the stable. Yhkon didn’t blame them. The Elikwai provided him with more layers, some gloves, the food and water he’d long since run out of, and an extra celith.

  He hunkered down in the saddle, shoulders hunched against the cold. He’d made it in his allotted time and they would be back to Haeric within a couple hours. If the Elikwai could get him to Calcaria without difficulty, he would be fine.

  Yhkon felt convinced that the Asyjgon wouldn’t be giving up their chase any time soon. In which case, the Wardens’ role in Talea’s plan would have to wait. They couldn’t risk leading the Asyjgon to any of their stations or allies, so they would have to run circles until they could take them down.

  It would be up to the wards to do the rest.

  16

  Schoolmates and Prison Cells

  T ALEA put down the letter with a long exhale. “So much for that.”

  Rikky joined her, holding up his own letter. “Same thing? Larak says they’re dealing with some new Asyjgon weirdos, and can’t do anything else right now.”

  “Yep.”

  “And what’s taking Wylan’s team so long, I would like to know.” He frowned at the surrounding forest. If it could be called that—it was almost more like a jungle, with its mossy, spongy ground, the moisture, and the thick foliage that shielded them from the sky like a blanket. They were back in the Obsidian Woods, no doubt about that.

  She put her hand on his arm, wondering if his impatience had anything to do with his competitiveness with Wylan. “Let’s just hope it’s not because they’ve run into trouble, too.”

  “Probably is.” Skyve joined them with hands in pockets.

  She let her head fall back in exaggerated exasperation. “So optimistic.” Though she didn’t dare show it, his words felt like a weight on her shoulders. She was terrified that he was right, that not only were Yhkon and the other Wardens in danger and unable to help them...but that Wylan was, too.

  That she was alone.

  “Well…” She checked to see that Terindi had finished her letter. She had. “Let’s...well, I’ll write a letter to Jed and Dranin real quick, and then let’s keep going.”

  It was as brief and concise a message as she could compose. With the Wardens unable to make contact, she was putting Jed and Dranin in charge of mobilizing the army and dealing with the eastern half of Zentyre, so that she and the other wards could focus all their efforts on drawing Kaydor’s attention—and his armies—to the second military base.

  Having sent the letter with the messenger, they mounted and kept going. By nightfall they would be within fifteen miles of the base, where they would have to wait—and pray—for Wylan’s team to arrive. Preferably before they were found by any Kaydorians.

  ~♦~

  A knock at the door.

  Zoper sat up from reclining on the sofa. “Were you expecting someone?”

  Yaila shrugged. “Not particularly.” She got up and disappeared in the hallway to answer, her melodic voice following. “Uncle Kaydor, Aunt Ari!”

  If he’d been drinking something, Zoper would have choked. There was only one door to the apartment. No escape.

  Kaydor and Arineema swept into the room, looking like the royal couple they were: Kaydor in his fine uniform and polished armor, which he wore surprisingly often considering how uncomfortable it was, and Arineema in a beautiful satin gown, a golden band on her forehead. Except, there was always a shadow in her dark eyes that didn’t match the queenly demeanor.

  Jaik appeared from his bedroom to greet them quietly, pretending not to be annoyed when Kaydor ruffled his hair. Yaila got a kiss on both cheeks and a remark on how lovely she loo
ked, and it didn’t annoy her one bit. She beamed.

  And then Kaydor looked to Zoper. “You’re still here, I see.”

  Zoper swallowed hard. “Uh, yeah, well, you know, the leg…”

  “I talked to a medic, he said it was well enough for you to go out again. He said that three days ago.”

  Yaila’s almost invisible eyebrows were puckered together as she looked between the two of them. “What’s the matter? Where is Zoper supposed to go?”

  “I gave him and his Tarragon a task, dear, and I’m simply wondering why he hasn’t seen to it.”

  Her concerned frown became more of a scowl. “I’m not a toddler, Uncle! Let me guess.” She sounded like a miniature lady, as she flipped her hair and took a few steps away. “Your task is to do with killing San Quawr, and he hasn’t seen to it because unlike the rest of the region, he doesn’t want to slaughter them!”

  There was a flash of irritation in Kaydor’s features. Then he smiled patiently. “Dear...you are quite right, I shouldn’t treat you like a child. But you may not understand the issue fully. It’s not that I—or the region—want to slaughter San Quawr. It’s that they need to be put in check. Once the Eradication is complete, we can enter into a peaceful era. They will have learned their lesson and there will be no more need for conflict. If the San Quawr themselves hadn’t started this war, we could have achieved it much sooner, and with much less bloodshed.”

  Zoper cringed. It was a remarkably courteous way of describing a massacre. Yaila would see right through it.

  She glared at Kaydor, without any hesitation. The girl had more courage than ten warriors combined, facing the Dragon of Zentyre. “It is slaughter. Whenever you are killing innocent women and children, it can’t be anything else.”

  Kaydor was loosing his cool. Before he could speak, Zoper tried to salvage the situation. “Easy, little bird! He’s right, it’s not so simple, you have to—”

  Kaydor silenced him with one look. He sat down on the sofa, bringing him and Yaila to eye level. “I do not kill women and children.” His tone was sharp. “Did Zoper give you that impression?”

  Fear grew in his chest like an icy wedge. If Kaydor suspected him of poisoning Yaila’s mind against him…

  “No.” Yaila’s reply was firm. She wasn’t intimidated by their uncle...she was young and naive. “He doesn’t talk about the war, or the San Quawr.”

  “Then who told you that?”

  She didn’t answer. Perhaps a sliver of apprehension had entered her mind after all.

  Jak, on the other hand, rolled his eyes and volunteered the information. “The maid. She’s San Quawr.”

  Kaydor’s eyes turned to steel. Even Arineema was giving him an anxious look, and she was more familiar with his darker side than anyone. “I know she is. But I thought she would have the sense to stay quiet.” The way he said it sounded like a threat.

  Yaila’s lips parted in horror. “Uncle! She didn’t do anything. I asked her about her family, is all, and her childhood, and...well you’re the one who persecutes her people! They—”

  “Enough!” Kaydor was on his feet. Without even thinking, Zoper moved closer to Yaila, putting himself between her and their furious king. “You don’t understand what you speak of Yaila. Your aunt is going to stay and explain things to you, while I,” he glowered at Zoper, “am going to talk to your brother.” He moved closer.

  Zoper recoiled instinctively. Berating himself for his cowardice, he gave Yaila’s shoulder a squeeze and let Kaydor grab him by the arm to lead him out of his siblings’ apartment, into the throne room.

  Once there, Kaydor whirled on him. “Did you have anything to do with this?”

  “No!” He put his hands up soothingly. “I swear it. I never talk to her about the San Quawr and I didn’t know the maid was doing so.” His words came fast and frightened, impossible for him to stop. “Please don’t be angry with Yaila, you know how she is, she’s young and she doesn’t—”

  “I’m not angry with her!” Kaydor began stalking the room, like a dragon pacing as it lashed its tail in frustration. “But I am angry at you. And that maid…” He flexed his hands and balled them into fists. “She needs to be dealt with. And you’re going to do it. Do you hear me?” He stopped his pacing to glare at Zoper. “You’re going to go find her, right now. You’re going to take her below and put her in a cell.”

  Zoper’s head was swimming. “No...please, let me just talk to her, she…” Kaydor’s glare was growing fiercer as he took a couple steps closer. Pressure was building in Zoper’s chest, filling his lungs and throat, making it hard to breathe. “I-I can’t...she’s been with us for three years...Yaila looks up to her almost like a mother! I can’t—”

  Kaydor closed the rest of the gap and slapped him across the face. Zoper froze. The physical sting was nothing compared to the dread in the pit of his stomach. His uncle had never struck him. He’d been mad, even furious, but he had never struck him. Now he looked like he was ready to pull out a sword and kill him.

  Kaydor said only one word, his low, gravelly voice more terrifying than any dragon’s roar. “Go.”

  Zoper turned and fled the room. He fled all the way to the servant’s quarters, swiping at the moisture in his eyes as he went. He must not have hidden the evidence sufficiently—when he found Lanissa doing laundry with her son tagging behind, she took one look at Zoper’s face and rushed to him. “What is it, Zoper? What’s happened?” Two decades in Zentyre and her dialect still matched her Sanonyan features.

  Her hand on his cheek, seeking to comfort him, made it worse. Flushed, he wiped his eyes again and gulped down the lump in his throat. “Is there someone that can take care of your son for awhile?”

  Lanissa took the little boy away to another maid able to watch him. She returned still looking concerned. “Now what’s the matter?”

  There was a physical pain in his chest as he grabbed her wrist. “Come with me.”

  She didn’t resist. Until he took her past the stairs to get back into the upper levels of the castle, and instead to a set of locked doors. Few servants knew what lay beyond them. Few in the region even knew—every castle had servants’ quarters under its base, but not many knew that there was another, even lower level under this castle.

  Lanissa tried to stop as he pulled out a key to unlock the doors. “Zoper, what’s going on? We aren’t supposed to go in there. Why—”

  He jammed the key in and yanked open the door. The smell of rot, mold, and death hit them instantly from the torchlit tunnel with its descending stairs. His voice came out feeble and pitiful. “I’m sorry.” Then he forced her to follow him in.

  She didn’t ask any more questions as they entered the prison. He took her to the cleanest-looking cell, one where she wouldn’t be too close to any other prisoners. She willingly stepped inside. Only then did she turn to him and grab both his hands. “Did I get you or Yaila and Jakkit in trouble?”

  More tears stung his eyes. That was how Lanissa was—she treated them like family, she thought of them before herself, she held no bitterness that she was their servant, or even that their uncle sought to eradicate her race. “We’ll be fine...but Kaydor didn’t give me a choice. I’m so sorry.”

  Lanissa hesitated, still holding tightly to him. For her overall tranquility, her hands were trembling. No woman should even have to see the horrid place, let alone be left in it. “I understand...but Zoper...you need to understand.” She pulled him closer, lowering her voice. Her eyes glistened too, now. “You already know your uncle is capable of cruelty...but you don’t know how much.” She caught her breath. “He...the way I came to be a servant here...I was eleven years old, living in Zentyre with my siblings and aunt, when he started the Eradication...one night he and some of his men broke into our haliop…”

  Zoper shook his head, trying to pull away from her. Whether it was the smell of the place, or where he suspected her story was going, nausea was twisting his gut. “No, please, I can’t—”

 
“You have to hear this!” She gripped him so tightly it hurt. “He took us all outside. There, with us children watching, he killed my aunt.” She bit her quivering lip. “When my older brother struggled, he killed him too.” Her cheeks were dry, and he couldn’t remember ever seeing her cry over the years. But his were damp. “My sister and I he took to be slaves. But my little brother, he was just nine years old, tiny and harmless from years of malnutrition…” Tears finally filled her silver eyes. “The last I saw of him, Kaydor had ordered two of his men to beat him. I don’t think he survived.”

  Zoper believed it. He believed it with terrifying certainty. All he could do was hug her as she cried, unable to prevent his own tears, utterly sick and disgusted and appalled and above it all...afraid. He hated Kaydor. Not as much as he hated himself, when he stepped back and locked Lanissa in the cell.

  ~♦~

  Terindi yelped as she accidentally poked herself with a needle.

  “Uh-oh.” Rikky laughed as she stuck the offended finger to her mouth. “Maybe you should save your mending jobs until Kae gets here. Isn’t she the seamstress?”

  Talea’s amusement faded. If Kae gets here. Wylan’s team’s expected arrival time had come and gone a week ago. It was past the point that she could convince herself that they were fine, simply delayed.

  If logic didn’t tell her, her gut did: something had happened to them.

  “Let’s stop pretending that’s going to happen,” Skyve voiced her thoughts. “Talea, we need to make a new plan.”

  A new plan. It had taken all she had to make the first plan. She’d come back to Zentyre, she’d fought, she’d taken charge and been the Aysa, she’d been strong when it was time for Yhkon to leave. And yet again, it wasn’t enough. “I know we do...but I can’t figure this out.” She looked to each of them, hoping someone had the insight and ideas she was lacking. “We can continue on and make the attacks on the base, just us four, but first off I’m not sure we can handle it by ourselves...and second off, what then? What’s the point of drawing Kaydor’s attention here if we’re not going to be ready to make our move at Aydimor? We can’t do it without all eight of us, and probably not without the remaining Elikwai and Wardens, either.”