Bershad struggled to get an eye open. Saw the blurry outline of Felgor scurrying around the dock.
“What’s that shit in the queen’s hand? Is that moss?”
“I’m not sure, it’s all blackened and—”
“Yes, that’s Gods Moss,” Hayden said from somewhere.
“Perfect. Looks like there’s still some green bits.” Felgor hunched over the queen, scooping her palm clean with his hand. “Hope this is enough.”
Felgor appeared over Bershad, his face serious.
“Hold on a little longer, I’ve got you.”
Bershad felt the dagger being removed from his chest. Heard the sound of his blood splashing onto the deck. Then the hard pressure of Felgor’s hand over the wound. Warmth flooded into his body—his organs and bones and flesh started knitting back together.
Bershad inhaled a long, full breath.
Felgor’s face broke into a smile.
“Saved your life again, Silas.” He looked up the coast. The sailors were pulling anchor and dropping oars. “I’m feeling like the real hero in this whole mess.”
48
ASHLYN
Almira, Atlas Coast
Ashlyn woke up in the dim hold of a ship. She could feel the motion of the waves rocking back and forth. Her head was pounding. There was a terrible, metallic taste in her mouth. On instinct, she touched her wrist. The thread was still there. Her memory of the battle was foggy, but clearing with each passing second. She’d killed Cedar Wallace, and then how many others? Hundreds? Thousands?
“You’re awake.”
Ashlyn sat up on the cot. Silas was sitting next to it. There was a bandage wrapped around his bare chest, but no blood on it. He held out a ceramic jug.
“Drink this,” he said. “It helps.”
She took a long swallow from the jug. It was full of cold rice wine that washed the foul taste out of her mouth. When she let the jug fall, a tendril of steam rose from her lips. She wondered how long that would last.
“How did you get back to Almira?” she asked, her throat sore.
“That’s a question with a very long answer,” he said. “But you’re safe. Hayden is safe. We’re on a Papyrian warship. Still not sure how Felgor managed that trick, but we’re both in his debt.”
“What about Floodhaven? The other widows? Carlyle and his wardens?”
“We all scattered. Not sure if they made it.” Bershad took the jug from her and drank a long sip of his own.
Ashlyn looked at Bershad’s body. “You were hurt so badly earlier. I saw arrows in your back. A knife in your chest.”
She pointed at the bandage.
“This? It’s just to humor the sailors—they’re already having a hard time with their witch-queen cargo. Figured they could do without a demon dragonslayer, too.” Bershad unwrapped the linen cloth. The flesh beneath was unmarred except for a thin white scar below his heart. He folded the bandage up and put it on the ground next to him. Looked at her.
“When I left you in the spring, we were both carrying secrets. After today, I don’t think either of us can keep them from the world anymore, let alone each other.”
“I think you’re right.”
They stayed in the hold for a long time, telling each other what had happened. So many lives had been lost. Her father. The Grealors. Rowan. Alfonso. Bershad told her about Kira, and what he’d done to the emperor of Balaria. What was done to him in the dungeons below. She told him about the dragon thread and Cedar Wallace and the mess that Almira had become.
“You kept your promise,” Ashlyn said. “You came back. But I can’t keep mine. The Dainwood is no longer mine to give. I’m sorry, Silas.”
Bershad hesitated before responding. “I’ve spent fourteen years punishing myself for the past. Aimless and angry and lost. But you gave me a way out of that. I know my place now. It’s not in the Dainwood. It’s next to you. No matter where you go. No matter what happens.”
Ashlyn didn’t know what to say. She paused. Thought of Linkon Pommol sitting in the King’s Tower. She clenched her fist so hard that her nails dug into her palm. “I don’t deserve your loyalty anymore.”
Bershad looked like he was about to say something, but stopped. He looked up at the ceiling, suddenly alarmed.
“Silas? Are you all right?”
Before Bershad could respond, the hatch to the deck opened and a smiling face appeared. It was the Balarian thief Ashlyn had sent across the sea with Bershad. She remembered him because he had the smallest teeth she’d ever seen.
“Something’s happening up top that you two’ll want to see,” he said.
Bershad helped Ashlyn get above deck. It took her a moment to get her bearings—the Papyrian warship was moving north along the coast of Almira. Hayden and three other widows were on the deck. Their armor and hair were still covered in blood, but their faces had been washed clean. Ashlyn looked behind her and could just barely make out the silhouette of Castle Malgrave. There was a heavy plume of black smoke rising from the west where the battle had taken place.
“You’re looking the wrong way, Queen,” Felgor said, turning her around and pointing east, over the sea.
The sky was filled with thousands of dragons. Ghost Moths. Blackjacks. Needle-Throated Verduns. So many of them that they cast a long shadow across the waves of the Soul Sea. Their bodies flickered and swooped across the sky. Their screeching calls filled Ashlyn’s ears.
“There won’t be any Balarians waiting for them in Tanglemire,” Bershad said, staring at the sky. “We saved them, Ashlyn. You and me. Forget about deserving loyalty, Ashe. I love you. Always have.”
Ashlyn watched the dragons, feeling tears well up behind her eyes. When Ashlyn spoke again, she did it very slowly. “There is at least half of my promise that I can keep. Lord Silas Bershad, I hereby lift your banishment and absolve you of your crimes. You are a dragonslayer no longer.”
Bershad took her hand and squeezed.
“If you want revenge for what happened today, I’ll help you kill everyone who was involved. If you want to sail away from this realm, we can turn this ship toward the mouth of the Soul Sea and never look back. You can go anywhere you want, Ashlyn, but I am coming with you.”
Ashlyn kissed him. Pressed her body against his. She knew the dragon thread wasn’t just a weapon that could turn armies to cinders—it was part of a larger world that had been hidden from her until now. She had to learn more about the power she’d unlocked in herself and unleashed on the world. There was only one place she’d be safe to do that.
“Papyria,” she whispered. “Let’s go to Papyria.”
49
VERA
Balaria, Bay of Broken Clocks
Vera waited for Osyrus Ward to arrive. Thumbed the hilt of Bershad’s sword and looked at Kira. Osyrus had given her the blade after she’d agreed to stay as Kira’s protector. A show of good faith, he’d called it.
“You’re doing it again,” Kira said.
“Doing what, Princess?”
“Empress now, remember?”
“Sorry. Doing what, Empress?”
“Scowling at me.”
Vera looked out at the Bay of Broken Clocks—full of choppy waves and jagged rocks. For some reason, Kira had insisted they venture beyond the city and visit this remote cove today. There was something she wanted Vera to see, but she refused to say what it was.
“I am sorry, Empress.”
Kira gave a small nod. She was wearing a crown made from dragon bones that Ganon had placed on her head during the coronation and wedding ceremony. It was a Balarian custom for the bride to wear it constantly for a full moon’s turn to better the chances of a quick pregnancy. Besides Bershad’s dagger, it was the only preserved dragon bone that Vera had ever seen.
“I don’t see why you’re so upset. I’m alive, I’m empress of Balaria, and you can protect me again. Aren’t those the things you wanted?”
She had wanted to return Kira to Almira where she’d be safe, bu
t she’d failed. Now Vera didn’t know what to do.
“Are you still bitter about me ringing that bell?” Kira pressed.
Vera didn’t say anything.
“I already explained that. Those soldiers were going to arrest Bershad whether I rang the stupid thing or not. This way, I’ve built favor and trust with the Balarians, which we’ll need. And anyway, Bershad escaped. Everything turned out fine.”
Before Vera could object to Kira’s logic, Osyrus arrived with his greasy hair and long green leather jacket.
“Empress Domitian.” Osyrus approached and bowed. Vera repositioned herself so it would be easier to slit his throat if necessary. “Will our new emperor be joining us today?”
“No,” Kira said. “He is preparing for tonight’s gala.”
“Wasn’t the gala yesterday?”
“There is another one tonight. But don’t worry, your work is far more interesting to me than parties.”
“I am glad to hear that, Empress.”
“As we left the city to come here, I noticed that the Kor Cog began turning once again,” Kira said. “Are the checkpoints working again as well?”
“Yes, Empress. The disruption was unfortunate, but it is resolved.”
“Good. And thank you for doing this, Osyrus,” Kira said to him. “I know you’re busy, but I am having trouble wiping that scowl off Vera’s face.”
“An empress never needs to thank a lowly engineer such as myself, but I appreciate the sentiment.” Osyrus looked at Vera. His eyes made her skin crawl. “I’d have thought you would be more satisfied, Vera the widow. Things have not turned out so badly.”
“That’s what I said!” Kira piped.
“For example,” Osyrus said, keeping his eyes fixed on Vera, “I can tell you were fond of Silas Bershad. Are you not happy that he escaped after committing his heinous crime?”
Osyrus smiled as he said those last two words. Of all the people in the royal palace, Osyrus Ward seemed the least upset about the death of the emperor and the escape of Silas Bershad. He’d been the one to call the manhunt off after just three days. Even the massive fire in the palace and ensuing lockdown of the city hadn’t seemed to cause the royal engineer much concern. Vera did not trust Osyrus Ward. She planned to watch him very carefully.
“Forgive me,” Vera said. “This is all very new.”
“Enough talk, can we show her now? I know she won’t believe me until she sees it.”
“As you command, Empress.” Osyrus motioned to the water. “Vera, if you’ll turn your attention to that frigate, they will begin shortly.”
There was only one ship in the hidden cove, so it was easy to spot. The frigate was an uncommon design for Balaria’s navy, sitting far lower in the water with a wider deck.
“What am I looking for?” she asked.
“Just wait,” Kira said. “You’ll see.”
It took a few moments, but the water around the frigate began to swell as if some great beast below was trying to devour the ship. But instead of a yawning mouth and a sprout of tentacles from some children’s story, two massive and bloated skins rose from the water. They were suspended by long support beams that stretched out from both sides of the frigate like wings.
The carrack began to rise from the water. Misty sea spray dripped from the black hull. Once it was above the surf, Vera saw that the bottom of the flying ship was dominated by a complicated apparatus built from the remains of dead dragons, but also wreathed with metal piping and copper wires. If the dragon-bone crown was noteworthy, preserving so many tons of great lizard carcass was downright unfathomable.
Wide sails were drawn across the newly arisen wings. They billowed to life as they filled with wind. The smell of burning dragon oil wafted over the water and filled Vera’s nose. The carrack tipped one way, then the other, like an eagle finding its balance after jumping from a pine tree.
“Black skies,” Vera hissed. As the ship continued to rise in the sky, Vera imagined how easily it could soar over even the highest castle walls. Seaside fortresses that would have once required months of blockades and land sieges to conquer would fall in a matter of hours. This ship would change warfare forever.
“The world is made of interesting ingredients,” Osyrus said from behind her. “Rock and wood and living creatures, kept upright by meat and flesh and bone. We make up rules. Make up a vision of the world and the limits of what it can become. It is amazing what you can accomplish if you’re willing to ignore those rules. And strong enough to break them.”
“How many of these do you have?” Vera asked. She had her hand clamped down on Bershad’s sword. Knuckles white.
“Let’s just say that the harvesting of dragon oil is not the only reason the great lizards have become so rare in Balaria. But don’t let my flying armada scare you. I serve at the pleasure of the empress.”
Vera looked at Osyrus for a long time. “Do I look afraid to you?” she asked.
“No, Vera the widow. You do not.”
They all watched the ship for a moment. Eventually, Kira broke the silence.
“Almira was my prison,” she said in a cold tone that Vera didn’t recognize. “Always at my father’s beck and call. Or Ashlyn’s. Go to this feast. Make the small lords laugh. Sit in front of that crowd. Wave. Smile. Wave some more. I hated it.” Kira took a breath. She was practically snarling. “But that is over now, Vera. I’m finally free. With these ships, nobody will ever put me in a cage again. Imagine the places we can go. And how small everyone will look when we look down on them from above.”
Kira turned to Vera. Her seething expression melted into a perfect smile.
“This will be fun.”
APPENDIX
THE DRAGONS OF TERRA
(As compiled from the field notes of Silas Bershad and Ashlyn Malgrave)
Needle-Throated Verdun/Draconis grimensis
Green hide, queer orange eyes, medium size. Vicious, quick, but not very smart. They fall for the horn call every time, but be careful not to rile them up too much before making a pass or they’ll make you regret it.
They stick to the foothills of mountain ranges and will generally burrow a lair in an area with good sunning rocks and a consistent source of food. Sheep and goat, especially. Verdun blood heats up faster than average. Attacking after it’s sunned itself for more than an hour is suicide.
Common dragon of eastern Almira.
Coloring: Green-hued scales ranging from deep olive to the light carapace of a praying mantis. Carrot-orange eyes suggest poor vision during the day but excellent night vision for navigating lairs and burrows. The needles on their throat are a defense against rival males.
Average length: 11 strides from nose to tail tip
Average weight of heart: 1½ stone
General notes: Female raises the brood alone and becomes highly territorial during this time. They are opportunistic hunters, but prefer cloven-hooved creatures, which makes them unpopular with shepherds but vital to meadows of the Atlas Coast.
Mountain-Dwelling Red Skull/Draconis rex cranis
Huge and hostile. Will rampage if not killed quickly. Best time to make a pass is an hour before dawn, but start blowing your horn a half hour before that because they’re heavy sleepers. Even when you get them early, they will not make it easy on you. If you have a choice between two writs, take the one that isn’t a Red Skull.
Rare dragon that nests in the Razorback Mountains of the east and the Gorgon Mountains of the west.
Coloring: Scale hues on the body are obsidian black but shift to red hues along the neck that range from crimson to coral. Top of skull is always a deep blood red and devoid of scales.
Average length: 27 strides from nose to tail
Average weight of heart: 6½ stone
General notes: Thickened skull is a product of violent head bashing during mating rituals. Despite their reputation for aggression, Red Skull males are extremely doting fathers who watch over their broods with a dedication that is unrivale
d by any other breed. They nest in the mountains, but typically hunt along the foothills and flatlands. Diet includes moose, elk, and cattle.
Common Thundertail/Draconis tonitrui cauda
Early risers. Very difficult to surprise. You won’t even need the horn—get within half a league of their lair and they’ll come out to greet you. Scales are thin enough to jam a spear through, but it’s hard to get close because of those damn tails. You can tell when they’re going to strike because they’ll twitch the ear on the same side the tail’s coming from. Bring a thick shield, take the blow as a glance shot, then play dead. When it comes to sniff out the kill, you’ll have a clear opening to the brain or the heart. Don’t miss, you only get one chance before that tail comes around again.
A common dragon known for its unique tail.
Coloring: Blue scales ranging from robin’s egg blue to pigeon-wing gray.
Average length: 17 strides from nose to tail
Average weight of heart: 1 stone
General notes: Males typically grow five to seven barbs on their tails during puberty, which can reach up to one stride in length and are razor sharp. Breed occurs in Almira, Ghalamar, and Balaria. Diet varies dramatically depending on their location, but all of them tend to favor medium-sized omnivores that come to drink along riverbanks. I have detailed the damaging effects of the Balarian variety’s extinction in my folio: The Murderous Monkeys of Southern Balaria.
Horned Black/Draconis corniger habitus
Black scales, medium size. Don’t worry about the horn—it looks intimidating but they don’t use it to defend themselves. Very predictable attack pattern. They circle twice and then pounce like cats. As long as you catch it before noon, it’ll be sluggish enough to peg through the eye without much trouble.
Forest-dwelling breed of medium size.
Coloring: Scales are uniformly obsidian black, hence the common name.
Average length: 14 strides from nose to tail
Blood of an Exile Page 45
