The thought twisted at her heart. She hated the possibility of them thinking such a thing, hated the idea of the pain it would cause them. If anything happened to any of them, she’d be brokenhearted, too, and it was difficult not to feel that pain for real.
Beneath her, the dragon flew, its massive wings powering them through the air. For the most part, the creature was able to glide, riding eddies, and only when he needed to increase his altitude or change direction did he flap his wings. They dived through a cloud, and she felt as though wet, cool cotton-candy pressed against her skin. She blinked against the white as it surrounded her before they burst out the other side.
Dela clung on, though, strangely, she wasn’t frightened she would fall. Any time she shifted her weight and felt herself slipping, the dragon adjusted his body to bring her back into equilibrium. Maybe she hadn’t found the dragon egg yet, but she didn’t doubt for a minute that he was protecting her.
Remembering something, she touched the top of her leather pants pocket. The hard lump beneath her fingers told her that she still had the piece of Dragonstone. She didn’t want to push her luck by trying a repeat performance of what had happened back in Drusga, to try to see inside the dragons’ head, or influence what he was doing. Perhaps, after she’d found the egg, he would allow her to occupy that piece of his mind, but for the moment, she wasn’t going to risk him tipping her off and letting her fall hundreds of feet to her death.
Of course, she needed to get to Anthoinia first, and then somehow she needed to break into the castle. There was a good chance she’d end up dead trying, especially if she was going to have to do this alone. She’d thought she would have the others by her side to help fight, that they’d be able to use Vehel’s magic to get them places or open doors, but if it ended up just being her, she’d be at a disadvantage. Of course, being alone meant she’d be sneakier than having the others with her. In a human city, a Norc, a Moerian, and an Elvish prince were sure to stand out, but she had no idea how to get into the castle. She wasn’t going to give up, though. Even if she was the only one left, she’d do whatever it took to stop the fighting. She was still the Dragonsayer. Though she’d never asked for it, here she was, riding a dragon, and that in itself was a great kind of power.
Something else occurred to her. If she was going to Anthoinia, she’d be able to see her parents again. Her heart lifted. Yes, she’d make sure she saw them before trying to break into the castle. Everything else she was doing for other people, but this would be a gift to herself, and her parents, too. For all she knew, it might be the last chance she’d get, and she wanted to hold them one last time and tell them she loved them and she was doing everything she could to make the world a better place again.
It was a simple need—that of any child—but more than anything, she wanted her parents to be proud of her.
Chapter Twenty-three
Warsgra
SOMETHING STRUCK HIM in the gut.
Before he’d even had the chance to wake up properly, he was gasping for breath and curling into a ball. He blinked open his eyes to find a boy of about thirteen standing over him, and from the boots the boy was wearing, Warsgra assumed that was what had hit him in the stomach. What idiot would be stupid enough to kick a Norc when he was barely conscious? Clearly, this person hadn’t thought Warsgra was unconscious. From the fear in the boy’s eyes as Warsgra unfurled himself and clambered to his feet, he’d assumed the Norc was dead.
The boy turned to run, but Warsgra swiped out and caught him by the back of his shirt, hauling him up so his feet didn’t even touch the ground. The boy pedaled in the air.
“You dared to kick me,” Warsgra growled.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I thought you were all dead.”
All? That gave Warsgra pause. Frowning, still dangling the human boy in mid-air, he looked around. It was dark, so he struggled to see his surroundings at first, his eyes getting used to the poor light. How long had they been unconscious? They’d left the north in daylight, but due to being in the cavern for so long, he had no idea what time of day it had been when Vehel used his magic.
Lying on the dirty, cobbled ground were Vehel and Orergon. His insides clenched as he remembered the reason Dela wasn’t with them. Was she safe? He couldn’t contemplate the possibility that she hadn’t made it. This wouldn’t be a world worth living in if it didn’t have Dela in it. Could she have been caught in the outskirts of Vehel’s magic, and so was here, too, or was her body now broken and crumpled against the rocks at the bottom of the cliff face?
He gave the boy another shake. “Tell me where we are.”
Confusion crossed the boy’s face. “Err ... you’re in the city.”
“Aye, but what city?”
“Anthoinia.”
At least Vehel’s magic had brought them to the right place. It was little comfort if Dela was dead, though. What good would they be without the Dragonsayer? They’d just be a strange group of foreigners in a place where they weren’t welcome.
He thought of something. “Do you know the Stonebridge family?”
“Um ... I ...” The boy stuttered through his fear. “I don’t think so.”
Warsgra lifted his upper lip in a snarl, and the boy paled even further. The city was big, with thousands of inhabitants. He couldn’t expect the boy to know everyone.
“Fine.” He set the boy back down on his feet. “Don’t tell anyone you saw us, got it? My friend here can do magic, and if you so much as breathe a word, he’ll send a swarm of demons to your door.”
The boy nodded and backed away, then turned and fled down the narrow cobbled alley.
It was still the early hours, he guessed from the lack of light in the sky. He needed the others to wake up before more people found them. He doubted they’d be received with much hospitality when they did, and it wasn’t as though the three of them could blend in. Maybe Vehel and Orergon could hide their hair and faces with a hood, but there was nothing Warsgra could do about his size. Most of the young men in the city had been sent off to war, but that didn’t mean there weren’t enough people around to overpower the three of them. King Crowmere wouldn’t have been stupid enough to leave the city completely unprotected, even if he did believe it was protected by the Great Dividing Range. There were other ways to reach the other coast, if the will was determined enough. No one liked to travel by sea—they’d experienced the reasons enough for themselves while trying to reach the Seer’s island—but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t try if their hands were forced.
Warsgra kneeled beside Orergon first and shook his shoulder. “Wake up. You need to wake up now.”
The Moerian groaned and began to shift. His long black hair obscured his face, and as he sat up, Orergon pushed it away with his hand. “What happened? Where are we?”
“Anthoinia. Where we are meant to be.”
Alarm crossed his features. “Dela?”
Warsgra pressed his lips together and shook his head. “I don’t know what happened.”
“She fell.”
“Aye, but I don’t know what happened after that.”
“You think she might be dead?”
He didn’t want to contemplate it. “Then all of this will be for nothing.”
He moved to Vehel. The Elvish prince was lying on his side. Warsgra shook his shoulder, and when Vehel didn’t respond, he had to hold back the urge to kick him like the boy had done with him. If Vehel’s magic hadn’t worked, he might have had time to reach out and snatch Dela back from the cliff’s edge. Of course, he was to blame as well. If he’d just timed the bringing down of his axe differently, Dela might be here with them.
“Come on, Vehel.” He shook him more aggressively.
The Elvish prince bolted upright and looked around, his silvery-blue eyes wide with shock.
“Dela!”
“She’s not here.” He bit his lower lip. “I’m not sure where she is.”
Vehel looked around. “Where are we?”
�
��Where we’re meant to be—Anthoinia. But Dela’s not here.”
Vehel covered his face with his hand, and Warsgra heard the pain in his voice. “You think she’s dead?”
“No. I won’t believe it.”
“I thought I saw something,” Orergon said. “Right before the explosion happened. There was movement through the air.”
“Aye,” Warsgra snapped. “Dela falling.”
But he shook his head. “No, something far larger. It was flying.”
Warsgra frowned. “The dragon? You think the dragon was there?”
He nodded. “Possibly. I’m sure it wasn’t a hallucination.”
“Like the Seer’s home, you mean?”
Orergon’s teeth bit into his lower lip. “You think that whole place was a hallucination?”
Vehel clambered to his feet and looked around. “Not all of it, but most of it was created by magic. It wasn’t real.”
“Where do you think the Seer is now?” Warsgra asked. “Do you think she’s still alive?”
“I’m not sure it’s possible to kill her,” Orergon said, “and I’m not sure she was ever alive to begin with.”
It was a strange thought, but it rang true.
Warsgra suddenly realized his axe was missing. He’d had it in his hand when he’d brought it down on Vehel’s ball of light. By the Gods. It had to be around here somewhere. They’d each found their weapons again when they’d been transported to the north, so he hoped they’d find them again now.
The alley was narrow, and there weren’t many places it could have gone. Knowing his luck, it had ended up through the roof of one of the neighboring homes. Hopefully, it hadn’t gone all the way through or someone might have had a nasty shock while lying in bed.
“What’s wrong?” Orergon asked.
“I’ve lost my damned axe.”
The other two helped look, scuffing their feet along the piles of trash that lay stacked up against the walls, and checking the gullies that carried dirty water alone each side of the alley, but there weren’t many places it could be. The lack of daylight didn’t help the search.
“Sorry, War,” Vehel said as he turned to face him, “but I think it’s gone.”
War. That was what Dela had called him when they’d made love. Emotion swelled inside him at the memory. They couldn’t have lost her. They just couldn’t. They had to cling onto the hope that what Orergon thought he saw was real.
He felt naked without his axe. His hands were big and strong, and he wouldn’t hesitate in snapping another man’s neck if he had to, but that axe had been like a talisman to him. Dela gone. His axe gone. What next?
Orergon stood straighter. “I think if Dela manages to make her way here, she’ll go to her parents first. She talked all the time about how much she wished she had a way of letting them know she was still alive. She won’t come to the city without reaching out to them.”
Warsgra nodded. “I thought the same thing. There was a boy here when I woke. I asked him if he knew where Dela’s family lived, but he didn’t know.”
Vehel frowned. “So word might be getting around that there are foreigners in the city.”
“I threatened him not to say anything.”
“Good, but you know what a boy with a secret is like. Chances are it’ll be off his tongue within minutes.”
Orergon nodded down the alleyway. “Let’s get moving, then. We should try to cover some distance before the sun comes up and the city starts to wake.”
They each glanced up at the sky. It had been pitch black when they’d woken, but already the black had lightened to a deep, cobalt blue. Sunrise wouldn’t be far away, and as soon as the sun made an appearance above the horizon, the inhabitants of Anthoinia would begin their day, too.
“We can’t just wander around like this,” Warsgra pointed out. “The City Guard will be on us within minutes.”
Vehel pressed his lips together. “We’ll keep our eyes open for something we can disguise ourselves in.”
Keeping their heads down, they started down the alleyway. They reached the end and turned right, though none of them knew where they were going. Each street looked the same as the last, and they wound down one and then the other, with no heed for direction. They turned down another identical alley to find washing lines strung across it.
“Look, a cloak.” Warsgra gestured to one of the items hanging from the line.
Vehel was clearly the least human out of all of them, so he took it, pulling the hood up to cover his pointed ears and silver hair. Warsgra knew he’d be lucky to find any human clothing to fit him, but he couldn’t wander around with his bare chest and legs.
At any sign of movement, they darted into the nearest doorway or changed direction and waited for it to pass. Eventually, they came across another cloak, left discarded on a chair outside someone’s front door. Warsgra took that one, covering his long hair with it, and hunching down to try and make himself appear smaller. That only left Orergon, who eventually snatched up a hat and used that to cover his head. The disguises were far from perfect, but it helped them not stand out quite as much.
But as the hour crept forward into morning, the streets of Anthoinia came to life around them. Most of the men of a fighting age had been sent to travel through the Southern Pass and fight, but those who were younger or older, or had a profession deemed to be needed in the city, remained, and of course the women and children were still here, too. They went about their morning routines, flapping rugs and bedding out onto the streets, heading to market, and feeding the children. Even with their heads and faces hidden, they looked like a strange group to be walking through the streets, especially when most of the men were gone. It was impossible not to notice how the children stopped and stared as they passed by, and how the women glanced at them and quickly looked away.
“We need to find somewhere to hide,” Vehel hissed. “This is getting us all the wrong attention.”
“You were the one who dumped us in the middle of the city,” Warsgra growled in reply.
Orergon shook his head. “We don’t even know where we’re going.”
“To the castle,” Vehel said. “That’s where Dela will be heading, if she manages to make it here.”
“No,” argued the Moerian. “She’ll try to make it home first. She’ll want to see her parents.”
A group of small children had been playing with a stick and woven ball, and they stopped their game to watch the three of them pass.
Warsgra pulled the hood further over his face, trying to sink into the back of it, so the shadows would disguise his features. He hunkered down a little lower. “I agree. She’ll want to let them know she’s alive. And anyway, it’s not as though we can just storm the castle. We’ll need to sneak in, and right now I don’t think we’re doing a very good job of sneaking.”
Orergon frowned. “But how are we going to find Dela’s home in all of this?”
Warsgra shook his head in dismay. “I have no idea.”
The place was a warren of cobbled streets. Tiny homes were back to back, housing families that appeared to have at least seven or eight children each. The stink of the streets rose off the cobbles, and dirty water ran in a narrow channel on each side. He watched as one of the women came out of her home and emptied a bucket of filth into the water. He hoped the same water wasn’t used for drinking or washing. How could people live like this? It made him homesick for the wide open space of the Southern Trough and the endless expanse of the Great Dividing Range. The air was so clear out there, he felt purged just to inhale it. Did these people know this wasn’t the best way to live? Strangely, he’d always thought the humans had it best, that they’d been the ones with expensive homes and full bellies, but looking around at the skinny, dirty people, he wondered if the Norcs, Elvish, and Moerians were actually the ones who’d had it best all this time.
“This place is like a labyrinth,” Orergon said as they turned into yet another alley that looked identical to all the others they’
d been down. “How are we ever going to find Dela’s home?”
Vehel gave a sigh of exasperation. “Surely someone will know her. Her family name is Stonebridge. She said she worked helping the blacksmith.”
Warsgra lifted his eyebrows. “So we’re just going to ask around? You don’t think that’s going to get us noticed?”
“We’re already getting noticed,” Orergon pointed out, “and if you have any better suggestions, I’m happy to hear them.”
He clamped his lips together. He didn’t. Orergon and Vehel were the smart ones.
They ducked down another alley, still without any definite plan in mind or direction to go. A commotion came from up ahead, and in front of them people darted back into their homes. Mothers scooped up their children under their arms and vanished back inside.
“What’s going on?” Orergon asked, as they slowed their pace, already sensing danger.
Then came the sound of heavy footfalls, moving at a fast pace toward them.
Warsgra frowned, wishing more than anything that he had his axe to brandish. “I think we have company.”
From around the corner ran a troop of City Guards, each armed with swords. Their timed footsteps beat a tattoo on the ground, but they spotted the strange group standing there and drew to a halt.
“By the Gods,” Warsgra swore.
They were outnumbered. Warsgra missed his axe. He couldn’t fight a sword with bare hands.
He glanced to Vehel and Orergon at his side, seeing the same indecision in their faces that he was sure was in his own. Stay and fight, or turn and run? They could run, but where would they go?
Vehel tossed aside the cloak he’d used to cover his head and quickly drew his bow and arrow. He moved with deft skill, releasing two arrows before the men of the City Guard even knew they were under attack. Orergon also threw away the hat he’d been covering his head with and pulled his spear. The tip was sharp and lethal, but the handle was wooden, and would be easily cut in two by a sword if he wasn’t careful.
Chronicles of the Four: The Complete Series Page 37
