Dalton bit his lip, his chest heaving with anger and anguish. His home, his belongings, everything he had worked so hard for steadily burned to the ground. Though they were many miles away, he could nearly see every detail as if he were there. His hands balled into fists, his knuckles turned white and his eyes burned. The heat that rose to his face was almost akin to the heat of the blazing fire.
“Suluj źu sukuneruź ubaes.” He forced himself to turn his face away from the scene. After all that he had done for the humans—taught them how to fight, improved their weapons, taken care of their children generation after generation—this was how they repaid him. Bitterness grew within him, but before it could settle in, an empty ache took its place. How many of his homes would he be cast out of? After taking Stephania to the Dragon Palace, where would he go?
“Come on, Stephania. We don’t need to see this.”
Her eyes were glazed, unseeing as they stayed fixed on the flames that consumed their home with an unquenchable rage. “How could they?” Her hands clenched into fists. Hot tears spilled down her cheeks.
Dalton held out his hand, offering to help her to her feet.
She snapped her head around, her eyes blazing.
“That is all your fault!” She jumped to her feet, snarling at him and shoving his hand away. “You’re the one who forced me to stay in New-Fars. You always knew how much they hated me, and all the abuse I had to deal with. You might have tried to protect me, but why couldn’t we have just moved? Why did we have to stay in this infernal place? You had it great here, but there was never anything for me here but hate. You’re so selfish! Now look what’s happened. Everything is gone. Everything!” She hugged herself. “Now I have nothing. I have no home. I don’t know whom to trust. I don’t know what to do. I just, I just—” She sobbed and cried out, shaking her head.
He bit his lip against his tears. Oh, how he had wanted to move, but a thousand reasons told him not to. All were reasons she couldn’t understand. Not now, anyway. How could he make her see? Everything he had done was for her. He’d only wanted to make her happy, to keep her safe, to make her feel loved. Did she not know that it was his home as well that had been turned to ash? Why did he have to be at the center of her pain? Why did it have to be him who had to raise her? He had failed Drox. He had failed Andromeda. He had failed Stephania. He could offer her nothing now except his love—a love she didn’t trust.
He couldn’t hold back the tears. His heart stuttered weakly. He held his hand out to her, pleading for her forgiveness, for her understanding. “Stephania, please. I wanted to move, but we couldn’t. Please try to understand.”
She shook her head and stepped back. He stepped after her, wanted to hold her, to brush away her tears. “Please, Stephania. I’ve lost everything too. You’re not alone. We have each other. We’ll figure something out. Together. We just—”
“No!” She shoved his hand away from her and stumbled backwards, tripping over the rocks. A rock split open the skin of her palm. She stared blankly down at the blood. Her fingers closed over the cut and tightened into a fist, a rage and confusion building around her. The tears flowed fast down her cheeks. “Just—just—” She furiously brushed her tears away as she stumbled to her horse. “Just leave me alone!” She mounted Braken, though blinded by tears, and spurred him into a gallop, her sobs echoing hollowly through the still, silent forest.
Chapter 29
The Abandoned Mountain Fortress
Dragon Palace, Duvarharia
Where are you?” an agitated, ragged man shouted into the early rays of the morning sky. His voice carried over the empty land beneath him as he stood on a sleek metal and granite patio that was suspended over the side of a looming mountain.
His hand tore through his long black hair as he ground his teeth. A blast of golden magic tore through the room behind him, sending a vase smashing into a wall. He cursed and cringed after hearing the glass shatter. Seconds later, gold magic twined around the shattered glass, mended it, and set it back on the table.
A deep sigh dragged down his shoulders. “Where are you?” he whispered softly into the wind, his hands gripping the railing, his broad, muscular shoulders tense.
His flashing golden eyes slowly shut and the images flashed before his eyes again.
A red-haired baby. A mother and father. Thaddeus. The child screaming. Blinding light. A mark flashing in front of him. Consuming him, burning him, judging him.
His eyes snapped open, and he jumped back from the railing, stumbling into his room. Crying out in pain, he pulled his shirt off, his hand flying to his shoulder. Curses hissed from his mouth as he desperately tried to sooth the burning pain on his skin. He turned in front of his large mirror. The mark shone mockingly. He couldn’t bear to look at it. With a wave of his hand and a flourish of magic, the mirror became clouded.
As he paced his room, the mark on his back burning brightly and painfully, his eyes landed on a picture that rested on his table next to a vase of dead flowers. It was a Qumokuhe—an image made from magic. A handsome but tired and solemn man stared almost humorously ahead as his wife gently scolded their young redheaded daughter, who was carelessly waving a knife at them. It was Drox, Andromeda, and Stephania.
Stephania’s flashing red eyes mischievously stared at the pacing man through the image, and the marking only burned more intensely.
Unbridled rage flooded through him. Storming over to the picture, he stared at it for a few minutes, his anger slowly evaporating as he looked once more at the few things he still had left from his deceased family. Tears glistened in his eyes, and his fingers slowly trailed across the still image.
Violently, he threw the picture face down onto the table so their eyes would no longer look upon him, and he banished the tears from his eyes.
Clenching his fists tightly, he stormed back out onto his patio and stared into the distance toward the human land, his breath heavy, his heart even heavier.
“By the gods of Ventronovia, wherever you are, I will find you.”
Chapter 30
Common Road to Cavos Desert
Present Day
The suns were bright. They were warm, oh so warm! The grass was soft beneath her feet. She stooped low, picked a purple wildflower and twirled it between her thumb and forefinger. It smelled like spring, like budding joy. She smiled and tucked it behind her ear.
A figure stood in front of her. It waved.
A grin spread across her face. Her feet dug into the soft grass and dirt as she ran, her hair streaming out behind her. The suns kissed her cheeks, and the wind hugged her gently.
“Uncle Dalton!” she yelled, as she jumped into his arms.
He caught her and swung her around. “Stephania, my child. You act as if you’ve forgotten what spring was like!”
A blush spread over her cheeks, and she played with a lock of her curly hair. “I did, I think. I forgot how warm it was.”
He smiled tenderly. “It’s wonderful, isn’t it?”
She nodded, and he set her down.
“Now, shall we go home?” He held his hand out to her. She reached for it, but she could never grab it. He faded away from her, and the air became silent. The flowers were replaced by snow and the leaves by cold dead branches. The birds stopped singing, and it was cold, so, so cold.
Her eyes opened. It was dark. The ground was hard under her. A rock cut into her side. She shivered violently. The fire had died down to just coals.
A tear ran down her cheek.
Home. What is home?
She rolled over onto her side, wincing as another rock dug into her arm. The moon was just barely visible through the tops of the trees.
Will it snow? She drew the furs tighter around herself, but she couldn’t rid herself of the impending chill.
How long had they been traveling? Four months or five?
It was winter now. It seemed like a lifetime since she had felt the warm suns shining on her back as she sat under a leafy green tree.
Instead, the crunch of leaves under their feet on the long road had turned to the snapping of frozen dirt and fallen branches. The wind was sharp, cutting deep through furs and clothes. The days were short, making their progress slow.
She stared at the dying coals. How long had it been since she had sat in front of a roaring fireplace, its warmth filling her whole being instead of this wretched, stabbing cold? How long had it been since she had drank more than water heated over the fire or eaten more than wild foliage and game? How long had it been since she had slept in a real bed and felt its feathery bliss under her instead of rocks? How long had it been since she had called one place home?
She tried to swallow the lump in her throat. Sleep would not come. She sat up shivering. It mattered not the number of blankets or furs she pulled over herself, try as she might, she couldn’t banish the cold.
A frown dragged down the corners of her lips. What would the winter be like so far up north in Duvarharia? Would it be worse than this? She wasn’t sure if she would like that, though it would be nice to see more snow.
She dragged herself to her feet. Sparks flew up into the sky as she prodded the burnt logs with a stick, stirring up the coals. The crackling of new wood filled the air as she laid on a few more logs.
Shouldering her compound bow, she stamped her feet, blowing onto her chilled fingers. It would be morning soon. Trying to sleep would be fruitless now. She didn’t want to stay and wait for Dalton to wake up though. Buttoning her coat up, she stepped quietly around his bundled, sleeping figure, pausing to look down at him.
His beard had grown out, his hair as well. He was looking thinner than he had back in New-Fars. It had been a long time since she had seen those thin lips smile. She knew he had taken the burning of their home very hard, but she didn’t know how to comfort him. She felt like a wall had been thrown up between them, and she felt just as much locked out of it as she felt locked in.
Thoughts that she had worked so hard to suppress in the last few months suddenly assaulted her. Why? Why did this all have to happen? Why does this have to be so hard, so confusing? She hated her destiny, magic, Artigal, and Dalton; she hated everything. And yet, she was so alone. Without Dalton, she had nothing. Nothing at all. She was trapped, caged, with nowhere to run, nowhere to hide from this nightmare that consumed her. She had to get away. She had to breathe. But she also had nowhere to go.
Shoving away the unwelcome tears, she patted the two horses and slipped into the woods, letting the darkness and the branches hug her like she so desperately wanted someone to.
§
“I did not.” Stephania gritted her teeth and forced herself to look away from Dalton.
“Yes, you did, Stephania. This is the fourth time you’ve disobeyed me now.” He shook his head in exasperation. “Curse the Lavoisier stubbornness,” he muttered none too quietly under his breath.
She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “I didn’t run off, though. I just went for a walk! I need my own space sometimes.”
“I know that, child, but it doesn’t matter. I can’t have you just recklessly running through the woods by yourself. You have no idea how dangerous it is.”
“I didn’t go very far.” Her voice was barely audible through the wind.
His lips drew into a thin line, and his grip on Austin’s reins tightened. “I don’t care, Stephania. All it takes is one time for you to be just far enough away from me and Thaddeus has his chance.”
“And how are you protecting me now?” Her eyes flashed dangerously. What good could he possibly do against someone as powerful as Thaddeus?
“I put protective barriers around our camp, which scramble our magic traces. It makes it more difficult for enemies to pinpoint our exact locations.”
Her eyebrows furrowed. “Oh. I didn’t know that. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because, once again, that knowledge increases your magic trace.” He ran his fingers through his shaggy hair. “Gods of all, will you ever learn?” he muttered under his breath. His shoulders sagged, and he suddenly looked more tired than she remembered him looking.
“So then just keep covering it up. That’s what you’ve been doing, isn’t it?”
“Yes, in a way. Could you please stop using magic, though? It’s a bit harder to cover up than you realize.”
She looked around herself, her eyes widening. As they walked, she had been subconsciously levitating the twigs around them. Braken spooked at a particularly large branch and jumped. She yelped, grabbing onto his black mane, and the sticks all fell to the ground. Her heart pounded in her chest and an uneasy feeling settled in her. It wasn’t the first time this had happened. Often, when she was upset, she channeled magic without realizing it. It unnerved her and made her question how much control she really had over her own power. She always felt like she was standing at the edge of a chasm and one step could send her falling into the darkness of the unknown.
“Sorry.” She looked back at Dalton.
He was slumped over his gelding. The light had gone out of his eyes, and his hands were quivering.
“Uncle Dalton!” Her heart pounded in her chest, and she urged Braken forward until she drew even with Austin. She shook Dalton’s shoulders, her heart pounding against her ribs.
He sat up, gasping for air.
“Are you okay?” Braken danced nervously under her, feeling her emotions.
Dalton groaned and clutched his chest. Silent tears streamed down his face. “I—I think so.”
She wasn’t convinced. “What happened?” Her eyes darted around to the trees, looking for the red eyes of evil. Their swaying, bare branches offered no answers or ominous motives.
A fake smile spread across his face, and he brushed her hand off his arm. His voice failed to stay steady. “I think it was just taking too much of my energy to cover your magic. You’re much more powerful than I.” He chuckled sourly.
“But how is that possible? You know more than me.”
He shook his head and clenched his eyes shut so as to dismiss the pain. His words were barely audible. “Yes, but I’ve lost a part of myself.” Through his tears, he looked down at his hand and her gaze followed his. His brown markings were faded. They weren’t as bright and clear as Stephania remembered them to be.
Is his magic fading? A new dread settled into her stomach. Is that even possible? Her eyes widened with realization. She remembered him saying something about the change riders undertook after bonding with a dragon. With the combination of the two souls, one would never be the same; they would never again be able to fully exist without the other. With dragons came greater magic. If one were to lose their dragon, one might lose their magic too. “Your dragon. You’ve lost your dragon. Of course”
He laughed quietly. “Yes. And in her place I have an empty chasm, a hollow pit of darkness where a piece of my soul once was. The more magic I use, the bigger it grows.” His hand balled into a fist. He had never before talked about his dragon, and she had never pressed the subject. It had seemed a subject too dark to mention. Now she knew why.
Her heart ached with guilt as if it had been stabbed. She had willfully disobeyed him, using magic whenever she pleased, giving no thought to the possible consequences. He hadn’t been telling her to use less magic out of spite or because he wanted to micromanage her; he had told her because he was losing the ability to protect her and even use magic in general. A blush burned her cheeks, and she gripped the reins tighter in her hands. How could she be so selfish?
“Don’t worry about me, child. I’m the wizened, age-old storyteller. I can take care of myself.” He smiled broadly, winking at her, but it did little to ease her fears.
She returned the gesture weakly, avoiding his gaze. How could she not worry about him?
“So, do you want to know more about magic traces?”
She snapped to attention, taken back by the shock. “What? But I thought—” she huffed. Had he not spent hours lecturing her about the dangers of learnin
g more magic? “I thought it was dangerous.”
He shrugged and a strange look of defeat flashed through his eyes. “It is, but it’s about time you knew. It won’t change too much anyway. If I can barely keep up with small spells, there’s not much I can do about it anymore.” He appeared nonchalant, but she could see the fear in his eyes. Even more powerful, she could perceive the sense of failure about him.
She balked. She’d waited so long to know more. She’d even gotten into so many fights with Dalton, trying to make him tell her. Now, however, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to know. Is it worth it? What price will we have to pay?
“Why now?” The air carried her voice away, and she wondered if he had heard.
The silence stretched on. A branch laden with frost snapped, the sound echoing darkly through the woods.
“We’re close to Trans-Falls.”
All thoughts left her mind. We’re close to Trans-Falls. A knot tied itself in her stomach. Trans-Falls. With the Centaurs, and Artigal, and … my family. My family. Oh, gods.
“Artigal can keep you safe there. He’ll be able to teach you and shield you.” Jealousy laced his voice. “He promised to give you back your memories. Once he does, you will gain knowledge and experience in just a few months that I could never teach you. With that knowledge, you will grow powerful enough to protect yourself. All the puzzle pieces will have fallen into place. It will be complete.” His voice grew even quieter. “You will be complete.”
The saddle was suddenly uncomfortable, and she shifted her weight. “Are you sure?”
The warming sound of laughter rang through the forest but its brightness did not travel far. “Yes, my child. I am sure. I have not much left to give you, especially since I cannot protect you, but I can give you my own knowledge.”
She bit her lip.
“Okay, Uncle Dalton. Then teach me what you know.”
He smiled sadly and cleared his throat. “As you know, when you were first learning about magic, you were unable to concentrate the power. Magic was being released chaotically, and you couldn’t channel it enough to make a very simple spell like levitating a leaf. This is what happens to all young children, and is why, for good reason, you don’t see children making spells at such a young age. Usually, an adult Duvarharian’s magic presence is enough to subdue a child’s magic. That is one reason why your parents wanted me to raise you. The Centaurs have no way of subduing your magic tendencies in the way I can.”
Child of the Dragon Prophecy Page 29
