Wings of Flame (The Dragons of Ascavar Book 5)

by JD Monroe

  “Any sign of Ayla?” Sohaila asked.

  Velati shook his head sadly, dashing her hopes. “I suspect Sidran took her wherever he went.”

  Her chest tightened at the thought. She was rejoicing over Kaldir coming back safe, while Ayla was still his prisoner. “Could he have gone north to Ironhold?” Sohaila asked.

  “Possibly,” Velati said. “We’ll wait this out until the afternoon. Half of us were injured, though I have to give you praise that it wasn’t far worse,” he said. “I’ve sent scouts to watch the city and to make sure we weren’t followed back here.” He smiled at her, though the expression didn’t make it to his eyes. “You should rest. I hope we won’t have further need of you, but I don’t want to be caught unaware.”

  “I will.” His eyebrows lifted, like he’d been expecting an argument. “Once you were all back, I sent Citra to rest. We’ll trade out so someone’s awake if you need us.”

  “Well done,” he said. He glanced at Kaldir. “Dawnblaze, see that the sister finds somewhere comfortable and private to rest.”

  Kaldir’s lips pulled into a faint smile as he rose and walked across the room. “Yes, sir.”

  She met him halfway, and noticed that Velati had pointedly turned his back to talk to Marlena. Kaldir bent to kiss her lips. It was just a gentle graze, but more than enough to ignite the fluttering warmth in her chest. “I’m glad you’re safe,” she said.

  “And I am glad to see you,” he said. His large hand rested on her back, thumb tracing idly over her spine. “I’m sorry we didn’t find Ayla yet.”

  “We will,” she said quietly. They had to. She took his hand, lacing her fingers into his. Almost by instinct, she let her power drift into him to find the aches and pains he hadn’t revealed. Sure enough, there was a gnarled tangle of energy in his right leg, clustered in his hip and knee.

  “Stop that,” he said mildly.

  “No,” she replied, squeezing his hand. “You should let me help.”

  “And you should listen when I say I’m fine,” he said gently. “Save your strength.”

  “He’s inside!” a woman said. “General Dawnblaze?”

  An unfamiliar female voice shouted, “Kaldir! Kaldir Dawnblaze!”

  His amber eyes narrowed as he pulled away from her, running toward the source of the shouts. She followed him into the main hall, where a young woman in sleek black clothing careened down the hall with two of the Scalebreakers chasing after her. Her dark eyes widened as she saw Kaldir, and she ran up to him. “Kaldir!”

  The small woman grabbed his arms. Behind her, the Scalebreakers drew weapons. He frowned, but he clearly recognized her. “Zahila? What are you doing here?”

  “We…it’s Ironhold,” she stammered. “They took it right out from under us. You have to come home.”

  “Zahila?” he asked incredulously. Was it the adrenaline addling his brain? The Edra woman was ashen, her pale brow streaked with sweat. She should have been home in Ironhold with the royal family. Instead, she was here, dressed in sleek black clothing that evoked her crow form. “What are you doing here?”

  Her eyes welled up, but she wrinkled her nose and set her jaw, sucking in a sharp breath. “We…it’s Ironhold. They took it right from under us. You have to come home,” she said. “Tarim sent me to find you in Farath, but they were attacked, too.”

  Behind her, Marad and Rhiza approached with weapons drawn. He raised his hand. “Stand down. I know her,” Kaldir said. “What do you mean?”

  Velati stepped up. “Farath is under attack? By whom?”

  “White dragons,” Zahila said. “The Firestorm said it was the Chosen.” She shook her head, breathing hard as she fumbled at a belt under her cloak.

  “Wait, the Firestorm? I thought you said Ironhold,” Kaldir said. His mind was spinning, filled with the grim vision of white dragons circling over his home.

  “It is. They both are. Everything’s fucked,” Zahila blurted. “I just want to go back home, but I need you to come with me.”

  “Who are you?” Marlena asked gently.

  “This is one of the princess’s maids,” Kaldir said. He gently took Zahila’s shoulders. “Take a deep breath. Tell us everything.” He raised his head at another set of footsteps. Lotheraos Skyborne hurried through the hall, tying a loose cloth around his waist. Sweat plastered his bronze hair to his face.

  “Lotheraos?” Velati said incredulously.

  “Hello, darling,” Lotheraos replied. He gently touched Zahila’s shoulder. “You shouldn’t run off like that.”

  Zahila shot him an imperious glare, eyes drifting down to his hand as if to warn him it would be removed. She shrugged it off. “I had a message to deliver,” she said haughtily. “I smelled him and you were going too slowly.”

  “Forgive me for being tired after carrying you here, princess,” Lotheraos said archly. She scowled at him. “Perhaps you can carry me next time.”

  “Come to the kitchen and sit,” Sohaila interjected. “All of you.” Commanding as a general, she beckoned and led them into the small kitchen on the other side of the fort. After filling a kettle with water, she offered it to Kaldir. “Would you?”

  He put his palm on the bottom of the kettle, producing a flame that quickly heated the pot. When the pot whistled, she poured Zahila a cup of tea. The Edra woman took it, but simply clutched it in her hands without drinking.

  “Start from the beginning,” Velati said, arms folded across his chest. “Who are you?”

  “Zahila al-Nahrasi,” she said, eyes unflinching. “Loyal servant to Princess Ohrena al-Katiri, Jewel of Firlanyn.” Her eyes cut to Kaldir. “And princess of the Ironflight.”

  “You’re Edra,” Velati said.

  “Congratulations for noticing,” she said flatly. His eyebrow arched. “About a week ago, Ironhold came under attack. We never saw it coming.”

  “Was it the Chosen?” Kaldir asked numbly. “Was the queen—”

  “She lives,” Zahila said. “As do her daughters.”

  “And the prince?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “I don’t know. Ohrena’s fine, if you can be bothered to care.”

  He felt like she’d stabbed him in the chest, but he set his jaw. “Tell us what happened.”

  “I was trying, tallei-Kaldir, until you interrupted me,” she snapped. “In the middle of the night, we heard the strangest sound. It was like a bell coming from underground. It made me feel ill, but the entire palace fell apart all at once. Ohrena and Inrada were fine, but everyone else was shifting, like they couldn’t control themselves.”

  “The Elegy,” Marlena said.

  Zahila shrugged. “I don’t know what it was. Ohrena sent me to look, so I flew outside to see what was going on. There was a white dragon flying over the city, bigger than anything I’ve ever seen. And it was dropping these silver things that burst open on the stone. This awful green fog filled the streets. It smelled horrible and burned my throat, so I flew up high where the air was still clear,” she said. “People were unconscious in the streets, barely breathing. Then I heard a ruckus from the palace, and so I went back. Soldiers in red invaded the palace.” She bowed her head. “They cornered the girls. Queen Tarim couldn’t fight back once the soldiers had them.”

  He inhaled sharply. “But she lives?”

  “They’re still in the palace. They told Tarim if she did anything to challenge them, they’d kill the girls. She gave the order to surrender. Now the people of Ironhold are in chains.” She put a hand to her throat. “The Chosen brought collars that keep the dragons from shifting. They’re helpless.”

  “What of the prince? And Zersekh?”

  She swallowed. “Zersekh is in a cell below the palace,” she said. “I have not seen the prince. They…they hurt him when he tried to get to the twins.”

  Boiling rage filled his chest. Zayir was not the foppish prince he pretended to be, preferring to let outsiders underestimate him. Though he was a skilled fighter, he was brash, particularly when hi
s loved ones were in jeopardy. He might have gotten himself killed to protect his family.

  “Was it Sidran?” Velati asked.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “The one who sits on Tarim’s throne calls himself Adron. He breathes poison and—”

  “Shak-ersath,” Sohaila swore, slamming her hand on the table. In the echoing silence, her eyes went wide. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “How did you get away?”

  Zahila looked at her sadly. “I’m a bird,” she said. “Not good for fighting. Good for bringing messages. I lingered for a day, hiding where I couldn’t be seen.” She scowled. “I even rolled myself through unspeakable filth so no one could smell me flying through the palace.”

  “Clever girl,” Velati said appreciatively.

  The corner of her mouth lifted ever so slightly. “When I finally managed to see the queen, she told me to get to Farath and get Kaldir to help. It’s a long flight for a bird.” She threw up her hands. “I finally made it, and you weren’t there. I met a very rude woman who looks like you, though,” she said, raising an eyebrow. “I suppose it runs in the family.”

  “Careful, Zahila,” he said mildly.

  “I told her what happened, and she said they would send help to Ironhold. She told me to rest while she figured out how to divide her forces without leaving Farath unprotected.”

  “And not twelve hours after you arrived with bad news, Farath was under attack. Perhaps you’re cursed, little bird,” Lotheraos said.

  “This is not the time for jokes,” Velati said sharply.

  Lotheraos’s smile faded. “No, it’s not. Sunset rolled in, and with it, there must have been a dozen of those white dragons. Monstrous, smelled like death. They blotted out the sun. I was ready to fight, but Viraszel saw them flying into the city and told me to get out with a message for you,” he said, pointing to Velati. “She said to bring the Ironflight.”

  “Did they even fight back?” Velati asked.

  “They tried,” Lotheraos said. “The Broodguard in the citadel reacted fast, managed to take down two of the white dragons alone. But the others converged on them immediately. Dozens of good soldiers, dead in an instant. Some of the Scalebreakers went up, and they were ready for that, too. They shot the riders off their backs instantly.” He shook his head. “Anattar Plaza is just a crater now. After seeing that, Viraszel didn’t send the others in. She was afraid of sending the whole army to their deaths. I offered to bring her with us, but she said she had to stay and make a plan.”

  “How did this happen?” Kaldir breathed. “Right under our noses.”

  “They’ve been planting seeds,” Marlena said. She shook her head. “They’ve been saying it all along. They could have been sneaking the Aesdar into Farath for months.” She gestured to Zahila. “They could have been installing the Elegy under your city, too. Just waiting until the right time.”

  “Rinata’s people searched,” Velati said, shaking his head. “They didn’t find anything.”

  “It’s a big city for a couple dozen Edra to search,” Lotheraos said grimly.

  Kaldir was ready to burst from his skin. He could be calm when it was his own flesh under the knife, when he was the only one at risk. But the thought of his loved ones in danger would drive him mad. “We have to go to Ironhold.”

  “We have to help Farath,” Velati said.

  “Not with a dozen of the Aesdar sitting on it,” Marlena said. She shook her head sadly and turned to Velati. “I know you don’t want to consider this, but maybe it’s time to discuss—”

  “Absolutely not,” he interrupted. She scowled at him. “Why was Viraszel so insistent that we bring the Ironflight?”

  Zahila looked at Kaldir and shrugged. He folded his arms over his chest. “Because the Iron Blade are the greatest fighting force in all of Ascavar,” he said proudly.

  Lotheraos scowled. “Spoken like one of the flame-chosen. Arrogance must be in your blood.”

  Kaldir raised an eyebrow. “It is the truth.”

  “It is the truth,” Sohaila said. “Since Queen Isira’s rule, every dragon in Mardahl serves the Iron Blade for a time. And in a time of war, every one of them is prepared to fight for their people.”

  “Queen Tarim Moltenheart has a standing army with over a thousand regulars and several thousand more capable fighters in reserve. If she unsheathes the Iron Blade, their wings will blot out the sky,” Kaldir said. “And until I joined this fight at the Firestorm’s command, I led them.”

  Velati’s eyes narrowed. “Do you know the city well enough to get us in undetected?”

  “I know every inch of that city,” Kaldir said. He glanced at Lotheraos, who was rifling through a crate of food. “If you’re as stealthy as you say, then we can go into the tunnels, and I can bring us up just inside the palace.”

  The warrior froze with a jar of dried fruit in one hand. “Boy, I could sneak up on your mother and grab her ass before she knew I was there,” he said. The wiggle of his eyebrows said it wasn’t just an expression. He unscrewed the jar, gave it a sniff, then took one of the dried chunks out and ate it.

  “You certainly have your priorities in order,” Velati said archly. “Can I get you some wine? Perhaps some fresh-baked bread?”

  “I just flew nonstop from Farath like my asshole was on fire,” Lotheraos said. “Back off.” But his lips curled into a smile.

  “Velati, we should discuss this,” Marlena said. He shot her a look that could have frozen Kaldir solid. The marks on her exposed arms glowed angry red as Velati spoke to her in a language Kaldir didn’t understand.

  “I apologize,” Velati said, turning his back on her. Behind him, Marlena bristled. “Let me think.”

  “We don’t have time to sit and think,” Kaldir said. “It’s a full day’s flight to Ironhold if we push it. From there, it’s another two days back to Farath. What could Sidran do in three days?”

  Velati growled. Then he looked up at Zahila. “Was there an army in Farath? Or just the white dragons?”

  “Not a full army,” she answered. “There were some soldiers in red, just like in Ironhold, but not very many. No more than a hundred.”

  “That’s what they did in Arvelor,” Kaldir said. “He sends a forward company. Meaning he’s on his way.”

  “Then where the fuck are they now?” Velati asked. “We saw them here a week ago.”

  “Does he have access to a Gate?” Marlena asked. “He could be moving through on the other side.”

  He shook his head. “They blew the only one they controlled. The closest one from here is almost to Blackstone. If he wanted another, he’d have to go…” His jaw dropped. “To Ironhold, or near it, at least. But that hardly seems efficient.”

  “Did you look in the woods?” Lotheraos asked.

  Velati frowned at him, nose wrinkled. “The woods?”

  “Wipe that look off your face,” Lotheraos snapped.

  “What look?”

  Lotheraos furrowed his brow. “That ‘Lotheraos, you dumbass,’ look. I know that look.”

  “Interesting. Why do you think you know that look so well?” Velati asked mildly.

  “Fuck you,” Lotheraos said. “The woods. The northwest point of the Iveron is only two days on foot if you head due east from the Cradle. It’d be slower to go through the forest, but unless you were looking for them, you wouldn’t see them.”

  “Oh,” Velati murmured. “Shit.”

  “Like I said, fix your face. You’re welcome,” Lotheraos said. He leaned against the wall, smirking as he continued snacking from the jar of fruit.

  “And he could have sent the Aesdar ahead,” Marlena said. “They hold the city and wait for the army to catch up to completely take over.”

  “So here’s the question,” Kaldir said. “Do we try to take his army or go to Ironhold?”

  “Obviously Ironhold,” Zahila said. “That’s why I came for you.”

  “We could cut off his army,” Lotheraos mused.

  “Do the math,”
Sohaila said. She had poured her own cup of tea, sipping it calmly. “They’ll be slow on foot, especially through the Iveron. Even under good conditions, it would take them at least a week to get from here to Farath, right?”

  “That’s right,” Velati said.

  “And they were here when you scouted before,” Sohaila said.

  “You assume,” Marlena replied. “Those tents could have been empty well before we got here.”

  “Maybe,” Sohaila said. “But even if they were, look at the numbers. There are four dozen of you, with two Marashti and a couple of birds. In Farath, you have a dozen Aesdar and a fighting force that can’t fight without getting obliterated.”

  “You’re not inspiring hope, sister,” Velati said mildly. “Where are you going with this?”

  “If you can get to Ironhold and get the queen to help, then you have the numbers you need. Even if Sidran’s army has already started attacking, we stand a much better chance. If we fly there right now just because it feels right, we’re risking everything.”

  Velati smiled, nodding appreciatively. “Quite reasonable of you, sister,” he said. He glanced out the window. “It’s a full day’s flight to Ironhold. Kaldir, is there somewhere nearby that we can stop?”

  “Firebend,” he said. “It’s about fifteen miles from the city.”

  Velati gestured broadly. “Get everybody rounded up. Anyone who’s still too injured to fly will be carried, and we’ll hope for the best when we get there. We leave in an hour.”

  As they carried the orders through the outpost, the quiet atmosphere erupted in a flurry of activity. Once his few belongings were packed into Azeria’s bag, Kaldir returned to the mess hall, where Sohaila and Citra were rushing to pack their supplies. He stepped into Sohaila’s path. “Can I—”

  “All the jars on that table into that crate,” she ordered, pointing emphatically. She brushed past him, carefully folding linens. As he gathered the jars, she met him at the crate, wedging the folded fabric between the layers of glass. Her eyes drifted up to him. “Is going to Ironhold really the right thing?” Sohaila asked him quietly. “Or do I only think it is because it’s home? I haven’t seen my parents in fifty years, but I can’t stop thinking about them now.”