by K. A. Linde
“Here you are,” she said, masking her disappointment.
She held the door open wider, and Fordham entered with his head held high. Kerrigan debated slamming the door in his face and leaving him to sit alone in silence. She didn’t want to be alone with him. It’d be easier to stand outside and wait, like she had for the tribunal. But she was also curious.
Curious about Fordham. If she knew more about him, then perhaps she could figure out how they were connected and why she’d had a vision of him.
With a resigned sigh, she followed him into the room and closed the door behind her.
His eyes flicked to her, and his nostrils flared. “Do I need to be watched?”
She shrugged. “I’m just doing what I was told.”
“And you were told to escort me, not wait with me.”
Kerrigan ignored him and flopped into a chair by the door. “I’m not going to have Helly mad at me because I didn’t do what I was supposed to do.”
Fordham just glared at her. “Are you always this insufferable?”
“Pretty much.”
He looked like he wanted to argue with her. So, she just smirked up at him and waited for it to come. But he seemed to shake himself out of whatever rage had been forming behind his eyes and turned his back on her.
Damn. He really had decided she was no threat.
He spent an insurmountable amount of time pacing the small quarters. So much so that she actually had to close her eyes to stop from getting dizzy. She felt herself drifting again. She hadn’t slept enough last night. Not restful sleep at least. It never was restful after a vision. As if it had sapped all of her powers straight out of her body and left her with a sense of unease… and impending doom.
She jerked awake at the scratch of a quill against parchment. She blinked a few times to adjust to her surroundings and found Fordham seated before the desk. His handwriting was long and elegant. The sound of the quill a lullaby.
“What are you writing?” she asked, straightening so she wouldn’t pass out again.
“I thought you’d fallen asleep finally.”
“Did you make me go to sleep?” she asked, momentarily terrified.
What sort of abilities did a prince from the House of Shadows have?
His smirked at her suggestion. “And how would I accomplish that?”
“I don’t know. Some sort of spell.”
He arched an eyebrow.
“You’re from the House of Shadows,” she said as if that were obvious. “You used dark magic to enter the tournament.”
“Did I?” he asked with that same insufferable smirk.
“Black smoke,” she reminded him. “I don’t even know how the council approved you.”
Fordham arched an eyebrow and then said, “Half-Fae simple-mindedness,” before returning to his paper.
She clenched her hands into fists. She knew he was goading her and still she couldn’t back down. “We’re not like that, you know?”
“And you’re a half-Fae,” he said with malice in his voice. His quill screeched against the paper, ripping it. His eyes found hers, swirling with darkness. “Do you know what we do with half-breeds where I’m from?”
She gulped but met his stare. “I’ve heard stories.”
“I assure you, it’s worse than your imagination has been fed.”
Kerrigan glared but sank back into her chair again. This conversation was going nowhere.
“Do they always take this long?” Fordham asked what felt like hours later.
“Oh, so now, you want my counsel?”
He scowled at her and returned to the paper. He’d discarded a handful of them already.
She sighed. “I don’t know how long it normally takes. There are a lot of potential competitors this year. More than the last time there was a tournament. With five dragons up for grabs, there are better odds of joining the Society. Last time, there were only three, and… well, you know.”
He arched an eyebrow in question.
“You… do know, right?”
He said nothing. Either he was playing coy or he actually didn’t know what had been happening in Kinkadia the last five years.
“Only one Society member attained a dragon and moved forward into the year of training. The Society is eager to have a larger entering class.”
“Your perspective is enlightening,” he said with a note of sarcasm.
Ah, so he had known. She glared right back at him.
A knock sounded on the door disrupting their stand-off. Kerrigan jumped to her feet and wrenched it open. A Society member dressed in their long black robes stood before them—Mistress Cressida.
“Fordham Ollivier, you have been called for testing.”
Fordham was already on his feet. Fire danced at his hands as he obliterated whatever he had been writing. He left the last embers to burn and strode toward the woman.
“Wait here for the outcome,” Cressida said to Kerrigan. “If he is dismissed, you will escort him out.”
Kerrigan nodded and then sat back down. Her knee jiggled anxiously as she waited for the outcome. She couldn’t stand it any longer. She stood from her seat and paced over to the table. Most of the pages had been burned to a crisp. Only a thin layer of black ash remained behind. But there was one page where the flames had gone out too soon, curling the edges of the paper. He must have released his magic before it could complete his work.
Only a few lines were visible. And she furrowed her brow in confusion as she read them once, twice, three times through.
Red rivulets run down his spine.
Her tears gouge canyons into her cheeks.
Black eyes watch, unceasing.
Unceasing.
Kerrigan shuddered at the imagery. Was this… poetry? Did the princeling write dark, vivid poetry?
It felt wrong somehow to read this. She hadn’t known what he’d been doing, but she certainly hadn’t imagined him to be an artist. Could someone from the House of Shadows find art in their darkness?
It made her feel a little sick.
She snapped her fingers, and a small flame appeared in her hand. She cupped the remaining page. The fire burned it down to ashes. As if it had never been.
“Kerrigan,” Mistress Cressida said.
She whipped around as if she had been doing something wrong. “Yes?”
“Fordham passed through to the tournament. I am going to escort him. He is the last. You can return to the House of Dragons.”
“Of course. Thank you.”
Mistress Cressida nodded at her and then continued down the hallway.
Kerrigan was alone once more.
She stepped out into the empty hallway. The sounds of Cressida’s footsteps echoed faintly. Kerrigan knew that she should return to the Dragon Blessed, as she had been told to do. She was already in enough trouble as it was. She had to clean up after the dragons for a week, and she was assigned to Fordham… who had just been allowed to enter the tournament.
At least, in a week’s time, she would be through her ceremony and be part of a tribe. She would get to watch the rest of the tournament from the safety of the crowd. She wouldn’t get in trouble for not being there to help with preparations. She’d be just a normal member of society once more.
Still, she didn’t go back.
Her eyes flicked to the testing door.
What was behind it? No one knew all the secrets of the tournament. Her curiosity was like a living, breathing thing inside of her. What would happen if she just took one peek? No one would know. It wasn’t like they would ever let her compete anyway. Only full-blooded Fae could enter the tournament unless they had a Society sponsor… and even then, with the way things were now, she couldn’t imagine anyone ever allowing a human or half-Fae in again.
Kerrigan stepped up to the door. She looked left and right to make sure she was truly alone.
Then, she opened it and walked through.
6
The Testing
Kerrigan ste
pped into darkness.
The door swung shut behind her. She lunged for the handle, but it wouldn’t budge. It had locked itself.
Scales, what had she gotten herself into?
There had to be another way out. Just because the competitors all went in and out of one door didn’t mean there wasn’t another way to access it. She’d learned that on dozens of occasions while she snuck through the mountain with Lyam at her side. Always Lyam finding new and more dangerous ways around. Darby and Hadrian coming up in the rear after they scoped ahead. That had been a long time ago. But it didn’t change the circumstances now.
She’d gotten herself into this mess. She could get herself out of it.
She snapped her fingers to conjure another small flame and shrieked. She jumped back, the flame going out.
There was something else in here.
Hello, Kerrigan of the House of Dragons.
Kerrigan shuddered. Her heart thundered in her chest at the voice speaking directly into her mind. A dragon. It was just a dragon.
She released her clenched fists and straightened. “Hello?”
It came out more of a question than anything.
Are you here for testing, child?
“I…”
Was she?
She had just wanted to see what was inside. She wasn’t eligible for testing. The Society had rules for the dragon tournament. One, a competitor must be eighteen years or older. Kerrigan had only just turned seventeen, but still. Two, a competitor must be a member of a tribe. In a week, she would be but not today. Three, a competitor must be sponsored. Yeah, she had a lot of doubts that anyone would want a half-Fae competing for a dragon. Especially considering the unspoken rule—Fae only.
I have not known you to be quiet, Kerrigan Argon.
She trembled at the use of her full name. Very few people knew her father was Kivrin Argon. Her other Dragon Blessed friends, of course. You couldn’t be friends with someone for longer than a decade without revealing your heritage. But outside of them and Helly, it was a closely guarded secret.
“Might I know who you are?” she squeaked.
Suddenly, the room filled with light. All of the bracketed torches ignited at once, and before her stood a great and towering beast. He was easily the size of a house. His shimmering black-and-gray scales muted in the flickering light. His powerful jaw leveled with her face.
It took all her self-control not to scream again.
“Gelryn,” she breathed faintly. “Gelryn the Destroyer.”
Aye, young halfling. I am Gelryn of Roan and Fryldran, dragon bound to Master Mexes of Erewa. May his ashes replenish the Great Mother.
Halfling. Kerrigan tasted the word with disgust. She knew Gelryn didn’t mean anything by it. He was ancient. One of the oldest dragons in existence. Older even, considering his rider had perished and he had survived. She hadn’t heard of any other dragon that had lived through that. One typically meant the fall of the other.
“My apologies, Gelryn,” Kerrigan said evenly, slowing her breathing. “I was startled. I didn’t know what to expect.”
You are here for testing. I have been expecting you.
She jumped. “You have? But I’m not eighteen.”
The rules of man do not govern me.
He puffed his chest up, and heat radiated throughout the room. She saw him stretch up to his great height. She had seen Gelryn before but not like this. Here, she could see him, the slayer of the Great War. The dragon of nightmares who had razed villages and slain other dragons. The dragon of legends.
“Of course not. I just… didn’t expect…” She trailed off again. If he had been expecting her, then she was meant to be here. If she had learned anything from her visions, it was that there was a great force guiding her hand. A fate or destiny that led the world on its path. How else could she see the future? “Yes, I’m here for testing.”
Good. Touch my snout, and we will begin.
Kerrigan stepped forward. She had spent much of her life around dragons. She knew their mannerisms and what they found offensive. She didn’t think that she had ever touched a dragon’s snout. With the young ones, it was too dangerous. They were still learning their fire. And with the older ones, they became sensitive to the touch.
Her fingers trembled, assessing the danger to herself. But Gelryn leveled one large eye upon her, and she gently rested her hand on his snout.
Her body convulsed at the first touch. Her eyes slammed shut. And then it felt as if someone had latched on to her ankle and was dragging her deep underwater. She gasped as she tried to get air in, but all she felt was the tug. Water seemed to fill her lungs. She couldn’t breathe. Gods, she couldn’t breathe.
Kerrigan began to struggle, to try to escape whatever was happening to her. She didn’t want this. She needed air.
Release your fight, child.
Kerrigan heard Gelryn’s voice, but it sounded murky. As if he were far above her. He wanted her to drown. To release and give in to this… death. But she’d been hurt too many times to give in to defeat. She would swim. She would kick and flail and reach the surface. This would not be the end.
Kerrigan!
His voice actually sounded… anxious. Had she ever heard a dragon sound anxious? Not when they were as old as Gelryn. The young ones, sometimes. But confidence was their state of being. It made her anxious, just hearing that voice.
He wanted her to release. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t breathe, and she couldn’t stop. She was a fighter. If she gave in… then what?
She didn’t have an answer. Perhaps this was part of the test. She should be able to release, but she couldn’t. She’d fail.
That was fine. She would rather keep the fight within her than give it up for some test. A test she hadn’t even planned to enter. She had just been drawn to the room. Her curiosity getting the better of her, as always. One day, if she made it out of here, she might learn to repress that particular desire.
Release from this. You will surely perish if you do not.
Kerrigan shuddered. Perish. If she didn’t release… she’d die.
But she couldn’t. She looked skyward—or what she assumed was skyward—in this cavern, where she was also somehow underwater. Disoriented, desperate for air, and feverish, she saw a light. Should she swim toward the light? It was a bad metaphor for the end if she did. But there was air up there. Sweet, beautiful air.
It might be the end, but she couldn’t stay down here any longer. She couldn’t survive it.
She made the decision.
She swam up.
Her head crested the invisible barrier. She inhaled deeply. She could finally breathe. There was air in her lungs again. Her head was no longer fuzzy. She felt suddenly weightless. As if she were floating.
She looked down to where the water had been and saw that the divide between above and below was distinct. But she didn’t know where above was. It didn’t feel like death. Though floating in an abyss filled with light wouldn’t be the worst way to go. Except that she still felt like herself.
None of it made sense.
Where was Gelryn?
As if she had conjured him out of thin air, the dragon appeared before her. She gasped in surprise and then amazement. He was Gelryn, and he was not Gelryn. He was an apparition. Just a distinct ghostlike version of himself. Not the impenetrable, solid dragon she knew.
Kerrigan looked down at her hands and jolted. She was just a ghost of herself as well. She couldn’t exactly see through her hands, but it was close. They had a hazy outline to them. She wasn’t solid any longer.
“Where are we?” Kerrigan finally managed to get out. Fear coated her words.
We are on the spiritual plane. He hesitated, as if in incomprehension. You pulled us both through.
“I did?” she asked. “How?”
That I do not know.
“Scales,” she whispered. “What do I do? How do I get us out? Is this normal?”
We will assess how to get out when
it is time to depart. Gelryn paused over her other questions. This has never happened before.
He said it like an admission.
They were silent at that realization. Kerrigan had done something that no one else had ever done before. That Gelryn knew of at least. All because she had been too stubborn to let go? Or was there another reason?
“Why did this happen?”
Truly, Kerrigan of the House of Dragons, I do not know.
She was stunned. “You have never entered the spiritual plane?”
In fact, dragons enter all the time. We are the dominions of the spiritual. The test is to project your essence out onto the spiritual plane so that I might assess your magical prowess.
“And I brought you out with me?”
So it appears.
“Huh. This isn’t part of the test then, is it?”
No. He rumbled in his chest. Fire heating through and then dissipating. You appear to be in control of this plane. You were the one who created it.
“Created it?” Kerrigan asked in confusion.
Whoever summons the spiritual plane commands it. It would take a great magical user to wrench control of someone else’s spiritual work. At present, it seems safer for us both to allow you to control it. This is not how I test my subjects, but it seems prudent to continue—and quickly. The spiritual plane saps your energy. I do not want you to pass out and strand us here.
Kerrigan shivered. “We don’t want that.”
No, we do not. Gelryn stretched to his full ghostlike height. Show me each of the four elements.
“I don’t have anything to show. I mean, I can probably get a flame in here,” she said uneasily.
Magic was a conduit. The elements were its source. It was possible to create something out of nothing, but it was draining. That was why, in fights at the Wastes, all four of the elements were provided for the competitors. A lot of Fae couldn’t even summon them out of nothing. Only the strongest among them.
She supposed this was why there was testing to begin with. To get the strongest among them to compete to be a dragon rider.
