Band of Breakers

by Alisha Klapheke

  A thundering echoed down the tunnel.

  Astraea’s heart skipped, her gaze tearing across their path, looking for the source. “What is it? Grystark, swim ahead!”

  His eyes shuttered, then he plunged onward.

  The warriors behind Astraea slowed. She spun and raised her voice, the sound trumpeting through the water with her sea kynd magic.

  “Fear not! We own this day! Faster now! Faster!”

  Mouths drawn and white knuckles on spear shafts, the advance units poured past Astraea to follow Grystark.

  Then a rock ledge the size of Astraea’s throne room broke from the tunnel’s wall and collapsed on the warriors. The dusty stone trapped a dozen or more, and the sea folk behind Astraea shrieked.

  Hissing, Astraea drew back from the billowing particles of broken rock, then swam onward, her temples pounding. “Don’t be cowards! Keep on!”

  Screams rippled through the eddies created by the fallen ledge.

  As Astraea slipped through the cloudy water, over the fallen debris, a warrior reached a hand out for help. She kicked past. That fighter was already dead. There was no saving one crushed by such a fall.

  Grystark swam out of the gloom, warriors zipping past him and heading onward. “My queen,” he shouted, his voice tight as they swam forward again, “We must retreat. We’ve lost half a unit already.”

  Astraea’s blood sizzled, and she struck out at Grystark with her spear. He reacted quickly, raising his own weapon, then rage swallowed Astraea whole. She shouted a spell that burned her throat with its intent, the warbling words meant to kill.

  The spell shot Grystark, and his limbs froze in the water.

  Astraea let the others swim past, her gaze locked on her work. He deserved this and more. Traitor. Doubter. Unfaithful.

  As Grystark’s eyes grew hazy and fluttered closed, she nuzzled into his neck. “Your wife will die this night. Slowly. Surely. And her blood is on your hands.”

  Blood singing with victory, she shoved him away into the depths.

  Astraea and the rest of the army exploded from the end of the tunnel into a sea painted in shades of sunrise. Headed away from the Lapis shoreline, they rushed toward Illumahrah, through a gusting southward current, speaking spells to fight the water’s undertow. As ordered, the units encircled the peninsula that housed the ancient land forest.

  Venu hurried to Astraea’s side. “My queen! General Grystark is missing. I have taken control of his brigades.”

  “Then move ahead with the first strike.”

  The warriors Ryton had trained to multiply salt water gathered at the tip of the peninsula. The sounds of their spellwork crashed through the azure and pink world, a churning, smashing noise that was music to Astraea’s ears. They weren’t as good as she was at the new magic, but they weren’t bad. She grinned as the water built and rose above their heads. A great wave gathered, then Venu’s folk jabbed their spears at the new salt water.

  The storm of spelled liquid thundered at the peninsula.

  Astraea dashed to the rough surface, breached, and called water to carry her closer. She didn’t want to miss a moment.

  Sliding two tympanic leaves over her gills, she rode her own small wave to the very edge of the shoreline. Venu and many others joined her.

  The giant wave curled at its tip, frothing like a rabid beast before raging inland to rip castle-sized trees at the root and wash verdant greenery and black earth from its home.

  “Are they all still asleep?” Astraea gripped her spear in both hands, face stretched with a vengeful smile. “I hope they show up to fight. I’d love to see what they can do.”

  But there was no sound from the elves. No outcry or shout for a defense. Salt water gushed over possibly half of the peninsula from what Astraea could see. Trees shook in the seething mass of water, their roots bobbing to the surface.

  Astraea faced Venu. “Call for another great wave. I don’t think we’ve reached the more populated areas.”

  Venu dove like a bolt of lightning, and before Astraea knew it, another enormous wave roiled into being. She applauded the power of the creation as the watery form steepled high. The wave punched into the Forest of Illumahrah, deep and far beyond the reach of the first strike.

  Shouts reverberated across the water. Golden light erupted from the sparkling waves, and a wind born of air magic tossed Astraea’s hair. An army of elves floated above a third great wave that Astraea’s clever warriors had assertively called up.

  “Now, this is interesting. Let us see what they do with this.” She whispered a spell, her lips brushing the cold coral of her spear.

  “Jagged, breaking,

  Pulling, tugging,

  Take them deep.”

  Her spells were not worded as prettily as Ryton’s, but they were far stronger because of her Touched mark and the forceful capacity of the magic boiling in her veins.

  A lone female elf with a swirling crown of light and dark leapt from one floating tree to another. Astraea couldn’t see her clearly from this distance, but it was obvious this was the Queen of the Elves. Her sunlight-colored tresses flared around her face and her hands held storms of night and day.

  The Elven Queen threw her magic at Astraea.

  Wind tore the tympanic leaves from Astraea’s gills and left her gasping. Blood racing, she dove into the water only to be tangled in a false night, the darkness swamping her senses entirely. She set her jaw, then swam directly toward the surface. That creature would not be the end of her. How dare the elf even attempt it?

  Tearing out of the water and leaping high, Astraea eyed the elf. Some of the elven folk grasped for branches or logs that rolled and jostled in the tumult, while others were aloft like the Elven Queen, leaping from one pile of floating debris to another with impressive jumps. A male with bulging eyes shouted to the Elven Queen as he went down, and the Elven Queen risked a whipping lash of whitewater—a wave that could drag her under—to snag his arm and pull him to safety beside her.

  Two of Astraea’s warriors rose from the waves and aimed spinning columns of water at a group of magic-wielding elves. Light flashed around the elves, their gusts whirling the water away from their perch on a flat of wood. But the columns of water, their sound almost deafening, would end them.

  The Elven Queen spread her arms wide, and a net of gold and inky darkness linked her hands. Making a sweeping motion, she appeared to fly through the air. She thrust herself between the spinning columns of water to protect the others. The columns blasted her, and she disappeared into crashing water.

  “Gone so soon?” Astraea whispered, enjoying the show.

  All around the area, elves battled her warriors with light orbs and unspooling purple magic, but her side was definitely winning. Elf after elf plunged beneath the water to be devoured by great creatures of the deep or to drown in the crush of spelled eddies.

  Wind roared, and suddenly, the Elven Queen lifted from the water, her golden hair dark from the sea and her magic blazing. Moving like an orchestra’s conductor, she forced the wind at the spinning columns, and the water evaporated into the sky in bright droplets. Then she faced Astraea.

  “Queen Astraea, why must you destroy the balance of the world?” the Elven Queen said in the language of the sea, her accent wispy and haunting.

  Astraea spat the bitter taste of raw air from her mouth and uttered a spell to help her shout back to the Elven Queen. “You give aid to those who would destroy my kynd. Speak not to me about balance! There has been no balance since the birth of the Lapis clan. I seek to set the world to rights, blanketed in ocean water and peaceful for those who deserve such a life. Now, die, and leave me to my quest.”

  Pointing her scarlet coral spear at the Elven Queen and raising a sheen of water over herself like a bridal veil, Astraea shouted a spell that would leave no trace of this upstart.

  “Take her, Sea,

  Rip her, Ocean,

  Flay and salt her until there’s no more to see.”

  Perc
hed on a floating and gnarled branch, ragged leaves surrounding her like dead fish, the Elven Queen spun, hair flying, and threw a flashing orb at Venu. He disappeared beneath the waves, but the orb gave chase and Astraea could just barely see his body jerk in pain as the light exploded over his face, surely blinding him.

  Astraea’s spell hit the foaming water eddying around the Elven Queen. The sea heaved. A sound like one thousand crashing waves rushed across the peninsula, then the water grabbed the Elven Queen and dragged her under.

  A frenzy of sharks, called by Astraea’s spell work, flew through the waves toward the Elven Queen.

  Astraea’s heart whirled inside her chest, her eyes bright.

  The Elven Queen’s hand broke the roiling surface as wine-dark blood billowed around her body. The sharks slithered out to sea. Pieces of torn flesh and lengths of the Elven Queen’s hair floated on the glistening waves.

  And another of Astraea’s enemies, another being who might try to suppress her, to beat her down, was gone. Just like that. The Sea Queen had suffered not a cut nor a bruise.

  The sea enveloped Astraea, and she joined her army to celebrate the beginning of the end.

  Next, she would take down every last Lapis dragon on the island.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Vahly had to put a hand to the wall to steady herself. “Arc! The egg. It’s hatching.”

  Bow slung across his body, he raked the vines away and rushed inside, eyes wide. With a whisper and flurry of gestures, he formed a light orb and held it over the egg.

  The shell snapped. Another crack appeared, an uneven line between a cluster of dark speckles.

  Vahly felt like a youngling at Frostlight, unable to stand the suspense and breathless with anticipation about a forthcoming gift. Arc took her fingers in his.

  A wet wing struggled from the crack, steely feathers plastered against pale flesh.

  The invisible link between Vahly and the creature emerging from the egg pulled taut. Vahly gasped, chest tightening and blood rushing in her ears. She gripped Arc’s hand, but neither spoke. It was as if this moment required the quiet reverence of a holy sacrament. The cave’s walls seemed to lean in to observe, their solid presence a comfort.

  Jerky movements inside the egg rolled it to its side. A beak the dusky blue of the roses that grew at the northernmost end of Lapis territory poked through the spotted shell. With a rocking motion, the creature managed to free one damp, fuzzed—and rather meaty—paw. Claws extended from the little toes, then retracted.

  Vahly’s gaze darted from beak to paw to wing, desperate to get a full image of the gryphon.

  Arc’s lips parted, and he whispered something in elvish.

  “He is going to be big.” A mother’s pride beat inside Vahly heart. “When dragon younglings are born with large talons—”

  There was a loud snap, and the egg broke fully into halves.

  The gryphon uncurled from the pieces to stand on four slightly shaky lion paws. Wings spread wide, the little thing only had peach fuzz where fur and feathers would later sprout. Viridescent eyes locked onto Vahly.

  The gryphon let out a plaintive screech.

  Vahly’s blood drummed, earth magic keening through her, begging her to go to him.

  Raw with chaotic emotions, she knelt beside the gryphon. She was confused at why she felt so connected to a creature that wasn’t human or dragon or anything she’d ever encountered. Then the incredible devotion and the full knowledge she would protect this small being from anything and everything—and sacrifice everyone and anyone to do it—shocked her to the core. The awe swelling inside her soul bewildered her.

  Magic shimmered off the gryphon like it did from Arc, an intoxicating presence that drew one in. But where Arc’s presence struck a hot attraction in Vahly, the gryphon’s magic made Vahly feel like she had well and truly become a mother.

  “I knew you’d hatch, my little friend. I am here, and I am yours.” Vahly took a piece of dried meat from Arc’s outstretched hand—the Horse Lord knew his way around simplebeasts—and she fed the gryphon, who nibbled sweetly from her trembling palm. His beak clicked across her skin, never injuring, just quick and clean.

  When the gryphon finished the tidbit, it hopped closer and looked up into Vahly’s face, its beak brushing her nose. It screeched again, and she jumped, a laugh escaping her.

  “We need to hunt for you, don’t we?” Vahly touched the gryphon’s fuzzy, rose-gray head. He was soft and very warm. She turned to Arc. “Nix is going to love him.”

  “She would have to. She loves you, and this is your familiar.”

  “How exactly is this all happening?”

  Arc looked toward the cave’s opening, toward the sea. “I think if we hadn’t been attacked, we would have found the answers in Bihotzetik. I know very little.”

  The gryphon crawled into Vahly’s lap, shut its huge eyes, and began breathing, deep and slow. It had fallen asleep. Vahly shook her head, unbelieving at its immediate trust.

  “He should’ve chosen you, Horse Lord.” She remembered how the horses at Illumahrah nickered at Arc. “You know about dealing with animals.”

  “You don’t deal with them. You befriend them. You respect them. But I don’t have to tell you that. You’re already acting as though you know exactly what such a relationship entails.”

  Vahly waved his comments away, feeling shy about the whole thing. “He is adorable.”

  “Quite.” Arc winked, and Vahly was fairly certain her heart couldn’t handle any more happiness.

  If Xabier wasn’t hurt, the day would have been one of her best. Maybe Xabier would surprise all and live through the heinous attack. He was strong and young. Helena would be there, and perhaps Cassiopeia would send her healers from Illumaharah over to help out as well now that the peace was somewhat secure between the elves and the Lapis.

  Nix entered the cave, grinning widely in her human-like form. “Well, what do we have here? This does cheer me up.” She had come home empty-handed from hunting, which was unusual for her or any dragon for that matter.

  The gryphon raised its head and sniffed the air. He cocked his eaglet head and narrowed his eyes distrustfully. Nix flared her wings and blew a puff of smoke.

  “Nix,” Vahly chided. “He just hatched. He isn’t being impertinent.”

  Nix raised a scaled eyebrow. “Never too early to put younglings in their place.”

  But as Nix neared Vahly, the gryphon jumped from Vahly’s lap and stood. With a screech of warning, he reared up, pawing the air as his featherless wings flapped.

  Nix grinned. “Settle down, youngling. I won’t harm your queen.” Nix reached forward and plucked the gryphon up in one sapphire-amethyst hand. With a smile, she endured his clawing and the clips of his beak. “Shh.” She ran a finger down his back, then set her other hand on Vahly’s shoulder. “You see, little one? We’re all on the same side.”

  The gryphon blinked at Vahly as if asking if this dragon spoke the truth or if he should do his level best to put up a fight.

  “Nix is our friend, gryphon.” Vahly had to laugh. It was all so ridiculous. She was the worst choice for a mother. She’d teach the creature how to break every rule before the fellow even had his feathers or fur.

  Arc stood with his arms crossed, making his thinking face and tapping his lip with his thumb.

  “What is tumbling around in your head, alchemist?” Vahly poured water into a dip in the rocky ground. The gryphon lapped it up, splashing water everywhere.

  “I wonder if the gryphon will need to see a hierarchy within our small pride here,” Arc said. “Gryphons have prides. They fight for leadership. The arrangement of duties and positions leads to higher birth rates and longer lives. For us, I think it would ease the gryphon’s stress levels. We might need to establish our hierarchy and demonstrate it to him.”

  “I am no gryphon.” Nix’s eyebrow twitched. “You just try to show me you’re the alpha, dear Arcturus, and see how much of that gorgeous hair of yo
urs you get to keep.”

  Arc didn’t add tinder to her spark. He walked up to Vahly and kissed her sweetly on top of her head.

  Her heart tripped over itself. “What was that for, Ar—”

  The gryphon’s low screeching-snarl cut her off. He rushed Arc and dug his front claws into Arc’s boot, then the gryphon latched onto the black leather with his beak and shook his head hard.

  “It’s like he is trying to bite your leg off,” Vahly said, her words tangled by a surprised laugh. The gryphon was defending her. It was endearing and a bit frightening.

  “This is cute now,” Arc said, “but when he is full grown in twenty-four hours, this will be a matter of life or death. He would kill me now if he had the means. He may very well try to maim me if he remembers this incident as he matures.”

  Nix held up a hand. “I have several questions.”

  “You’re not alone.” Vahly put a hand to her forehead. “You said he’ll mature in a day?”

  “That’s what I’ve read. Gryphons are simplebeasts, yes, but they do react to magic unlike many other animals. There is a reason that cathedral showed you a red gryphon, highlighted above all other creatures.”

  “Showed me?”

  “Your magic led you there. You were meant to see that. The cathedrals held earth magic. That is why the floods hadn’t entirely decimated the interior and you could have sat upon a bench as if the disaster had been a gentle thing.”

  “That makes sense. But back to the gryphon. You think we need to do some sort of who-is-the-alpha-here activity with the gryphon to make certain he doesn’t decide to eat your head off tomorrow morning at breakfast because you kissed me?”

  “That is the basic idea, yes.”

  Nix crossed her arms. “I had thought you were different from other elves. But here you are, demanding that you’re the wisest and must be alpha. Such an elf thing to do.”

  “I don’t care to be alpha. You’re welcome to take the role. Vahly, you are the obvious choice, seeing as we both already swore allegiance to you.”