by Kyle West
Naomi’s eyes widened. “She said no such thing. I suppose, if you’re Elekai, you might have reason to believe so. You and she are so alike that the question never crossed my mind. I never would have thought...” She shook her head. “But no...your mother has never told me anything to indicate that you might not be hers. You could see it in the way she looks at you, Shanti. You are her daughter, whether or not you are of her blood.”
“That’s why I have to save her,” I said. “Both she and my father.”
“Your parents are likely in the dungeons at the very bottom of the Bastion,” Naomi said. “I don’t know how you plan to get down there...I don’t know if you even have a plan. But watch yourself, Shanti. You could very well not even make it past the gates from the way they are searching for you.” She sighed. “Just when I see your face again, you have to go. All the same...it’s good to know you are alive.”
“What of Shara? Has she truly been so distant?”
“She is still training with the legions. As I said, she no longer writes, and she hasn’t visited once. Whether she’s in the city, or hundreds of miles away, I don’t know. It’s...not like her. I worry day and night, and I have gone to inquire, but I am always turned away. There’s nothing more I can do.” She looked at me, hopefully. “For some reason, I just feel she might be in the city. If you happen to see her, might you bring me word?”
“Of course,” I said.
“I’m not asking that you must do it,” Naomi said, grabbing my hands and cradling them in hers. “I ask only that you keep yourself safe.”
“We will, to the best of our abilities,” I said.
“You must go now, Shanti. Think on what I’ve told you. It’s not too late to turn back. But if you must go to the Bastion...then I suppose you must.”
I nodded. “My path is set before me. I have no regrets, and I do not fear death. I have trained and prepared, such as I could. I hope not to bare steel, but I will do anything for my parents.”
“They are lucky to have you, Shanti. Please...by all the gods...be careful. I can’t say that enough.”
“There is another thing, if you wouldn’t mind. We were forced to leave in a hurry, and I hoped you had something for us to wear. These are the cloaks given to us by the Seekers, and the Hunters might recognize them.”
Naomi’s eyes lit, as if remembering something. “Of course. I actually saved much of your parents’ clothing before the looters could have their way.” She sighed. “They are in a pile, a reminder of what used to be. I don’t believe the Hunters would stop you based on what your parents wore. You and your mother are of a size, and your father’s clothing will suit Isaru well enough. Wait here...I don’t want to wake the children.”
We remained seated as Naomi went into the apartment’s back. Not long after, she reappeared carrying a bundle of clothes.
“These cloaks should do nicely; dark, not so new as to attract attention...”
I rubbed my fingers along the soft cotton of my mother’s cloak. Seeing it pained me greatly; it was as if they were dead, and I were sorting through the pieces they had left behind.
“They will serve us well,” I said. “Thank you, Naomi.”
I dressed in a dark gray cloak over the robes I already wore, and Isaru put one on that was verdant green, faded with time. It was strange to see him in my father’s cloak, but in a way, it suited him.
There was a moment of silence. We had already lingered here too long, and all of us knew it.
Isaru placed a hand on my arm. “We must go.” Then, he turned to Naomi. “Naomi...thank you so much for your help. As an Elekai, we are taught to fear all things Colonian. You have shown me that some of you are good. Shanti has told me the same, but you have made it clear to me that it’s true.”
“I do this for Shanti,” Naomi said. “I believe in the tenets of the Annaran Faith. I am a good Annaran, faithful to the Tome and the Church. It’s true that these last two months have cast a lot of doubt on my beliefs, but I follow Annara alone. I believe she has sanctioned the rule of the Covenant, but so long as I listen to Annara’s voice, I believe I am doing the right thing.” She nodded, as if to confirm everything she was saying. “I don’t believe Annara would want your parents to come to harm, Shanti. I just...can’t believe it. It is clear the Covenant can sometimes be misguided. I would never say that in public, but they take things too far.”
Isaru nodded, but said nothing more. I could see he wasn’t completely satisfied with that answer, but he wasn’t going to make a point of it.
“We had better leave,” I said. “Thank you, Naomi. If Shara comes back, let her know that I miss her, and think of her often. Both of you have my love.”
We stood, and Naomi’s eyes watered once again. When we reached the door, she embraced me tightly. I felt tears returning to my own eyes.
When we parted, Isaru opened the door, checking outside before stepping onto the road. I followed him out. Naomi held up a hand in farewell before shutting the door.
We walked through the brisk night, donning our hoods. I hid my bow under my cloak, though on second glance, anyone would be able to see the shape of it beneath the folds. The darkness was our greatest cloak, and if all went well, it would carry us all the way to the Red Bastion.
But first, we had to find the dragonling.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
IT WAS ONLY WHEN WE arrived at Silver Bridge that I began to feel a leaden weight in my stomach. We passed lone walkers whose cloaks were drawn tight, all of whom were walking quickly on whatever business they were about. A few glances were cast our way, and I couldn’t say whether they saw our weapons or not. If they did, they didn’t seem to care. It wasn’t against the law for a citizen to bear arms, if those arms were properly registered, though our obvious youth might make us suspect. So much of life, and whether or not people questioned you, depended on how you carried yourself. I sought Silence, focusing on making my steps purposeful. I tried to become exactly what Naomi had told me, walking over the stones of Silver Bridge as if I owned them.
Even wrapped in Silence, I couldn’t help but feel a bit sick as we passed the threshold of the Sunrise Gate. In times of peace, the gates were open, even at night, so Isaru and I were free to pass though. Torches ensconced on the red stone cast a fiery light, and a pair of guards stood on either end of the gatehouse, giving us hard stares.
We had walked past them a few steps when one of them hailed us.
“Halt.”
We both stopped, slowly turning to face the guards.
“Lower your hoods,” he said. “Have you not heard the proclamation?”
Isaru and I looked at each other.
“By order of the Grand Pontifex, all faces and heads must remain uncovered in the city at night. We are searching for a wanted fugitive — a certain Shanti Roshar, who escaped the Pontifex’s justice several fortnights past. She is young, with brown hair and dark eyes.” The man frowned. “You practically match the description.”
I did my best not to swallow, and I fought to keep myself calm.
“Maybe so,” I said. “But I assure you, I am not she. If you look closely, you’ll see my eyes aren’t dark.”
I said it on a whim, remembering all I’d heard about an Elekai’s eyes lightening once they had manifested. I hadn’t checked my eyes lately, and the process was supposed to take years, so I wasn’t holding out much hope. I resisted the urge to move my hand to the hidden hilt of my blade.
The guard granted. “Humph. Let’s have a look, then.”
I stepped into the light, and the guard who had spoken looked me over. It was hard to stay in control, given how roughly the Peacemakers had treated me when I was placed under arrest.
“Her eyes aren’t brown. They’re green, though it could just be the light.”
“I suppose that’s true enough,” the other guard said. “Well, you’re free to go. Forgive us for the intrusion. Try to get where you’re going quickly. You both seem like out of towners. There
are some good inns in the Plaza of Sands, but if you haven’t the coin, you can try closer toward the Waterfront. Not in the Waterfront, mind you, but on your way there. The streets aren’t safe at night...Colonia, it seems, can’t spare the money to even pay the Peacemakers right.”
The other guard grunted his agreement.
“Thank you,” I said. “You’re very kind.”
“Annara be with you.”
I returned to Isaru, and we made our way down the street into the darkness. Once out of earshot, Isaru spoke.
“I thought it was going to come to blows.” Isaru shook his head. “That was some quick thinking.”
“I honestly didn’t know it would work,” I said.
Despite the fact we had gotten off free, I wondered if my eyes were truly green. For as long as I could remember, they were brown with only a hint of green — at least according to anyone who took a good look. Apparently, they had changed over the last couple of months. Even if it had gotten me out of a dire situation, it was still a bit unsettling.
We had entered the Plaza of Sands, a large plaza with a sandstone obelisk rising in the center, commemorating Colonia’s victory during the First Novan War about a hundred years ago. Various shops and inns of red stone crowded the square, most being three or four stories. Most of the masonry had been carved intricately; it was one of the nicer areas of town, and the stone road on the left side of the square winded up and away toward the hill on which the Red Bastion brooded, dark in the night. Several Peacemakers bearing torches walked across the Plaza, but it was otherwise empty. A horse and cart stood in front of one of the ends, tied to a post. The baying of dogs suddenly sounded in the night, setting off a chain reaction all the way to the Waterfront.
“What now?” I asked.
“We make inquiries. And we start with that inn.”
He pointed to the well-lit building with yellow light spilling into the square. Inside I could hear the sound of laughter and the jangle of a guitar playing folk music...an old mining song called “Scrappers’ Way,” a tune that was known by every soul that could claim to be Colonian. No one really knew the origin of the song — in fact, it had multiple names, but usually “scrap” or “scrapper” was a part of it. Remembering my dreams of Anna and the references to scrapping, I knew it had to be an old song indeed, born in the early days of Colonia.
Isaru was walking toward the inn, but I stopped short, seeing something that confused me about the obelisk. There seemed to be something sticking out of it, a formless lump that didn’t make any sense. I saw, after a moment, that it was not connected with the obelisk itself, but almost floating alongside it. Four poles rose into the air, and this thing hung from the middle. I couldn’t have said why, but I had a horrible feeling about the whole thing.
Isaru was looking now, too, and without a word, we went over to see. I wanted to say it was a body hanging, but as I neared, it was clear that it was far too large to be a body.
Whatever it was, it was dark, which made it hard to see in the light. Even so, the light of the nearby inn seemed to glimmer off it. Other features were unmasked as we stepped closer — there was a long torso, curved spikes, a hanging, angular head, all facing downward and hanging by the tail from a beam above.
“No...” Isaru said.
Several spears had been driven though the dragonling’s underbelly, and her form was stained with food and refuse. It was a tragedy beyond words, and I could hardly understand how such barbarism could possess human beings.
A tarp of sorts had been spread beneath her, a tarp that was obviously spread to collect the dried, violet blood.
I fell on my knees, feeling a grief choke me such as I had never known. We could only have been a day or two late. The reason that Jorla could no longer feel the presence of the dragonling now hung before us.
I couldn’t bear to watch, so I turned my face away. Isaru stared at the dragon, at first shocked. But slowly and surely, his face contorted into one of rage.
“Isaru...”
He reached for his blade, and in a flash, he held it out in front of him. “Whoever did this must pay.”
“Who goes there?”
A Peacemaker hailed us from afar, but Isaru did not turn, nor did he bother to sheathe his sword.
“Vengeance,” he said.
“Isaru, no! Please, put the sword away...there’s no need to fight.”
“Listen to the girl. Drop the sword.”
“Isaru,” I whispered. “The Prophecy!”
He ground his teeth, and in a flash, the blade was sheathed. When he spoke, his voice was low and dangerous. “Did you do this?”
The Peacemaker frowned. “Sir...it is a demon dragon. The Pontifex ordered its death, seeing that it was too much trouble to keep alive.”
Isaru scowled. “You people really are ignorant. Can you not see that she was a child?”
“Yes,” the guard said, coldly. “But it’s like a snake; best to chop off the head before it can grow the teeth to hurt you.”
“You compare this thinking, sentient being to a snake?”
“Isaru...they don’t know...please. Let’s just leave and tell Jorla.”
Isaru scoffed. “Tell Jorla? When we tell her, she will rage. She will kill everyone in sight...perhaps even us. She’ll become blind to reason. You never want to be around when a dragon rages.”
And at that moment, a high screech sounded from above, deafeningly loud. I covered my ears, just in time to see Jorla’s claws extend. The guard screamed as they pierced armor and flesh, pinning him to the stones below. She grappled the guard, flying upward before banking sharply and letting him go. He flew through air screaming, and crashed into a stone building.
Jorla!
There was a connection between our minds, and a righteous anger greater than anything I had ever known coursed through my veins. I drew Katan, letting the blade sweep through the air. Isaru looked at me, wide-eyed.
Now, he was the one to speak reason to me. “There is nothing we can do, Shanti. We have to run!”
People spilled into the streets as screams filled the air. I watched Jorla as she came down again.
“Shanti, I mean it! She’ll kill us just as surely!”
Jorla’s glowing, white eyes seemed to bore into mine. I felt that she meant me violence — as if I had something to do with the dragonling’s death. Her claws extended once again, but I merely stood, unable to believe that she would kill me.
“Shanti!”
Isaru dove on top of me, bringing down to the stones. Jorla screeched, and with a thunderous crash, picked up the entire platform from which the dragonling hung. She gave a baleful roar, snapping at the ropes that held the dragonling in place. Once loosed, she caught the dragonling in her claws and gently set her on the stones, after which she let out a mournful cry.
“This place will be a bloodbath soon,” Isaru said. “We need to get to the Bastion!”
“But Jorla...”
“Jorla can fend for herself, I assure you, and I don’t want to be in the way. She is in no longer in a state to help us. We’ll have to find a way into the Bastion on our own.”
I felt stunned at those words. I couldn’t imagine how we were supposed to do this without Jorla, but I could see Isaru was right. Already, Jorla was chasing down another guard, and from the looks of it, they weren’t going to get away. Everyone who had come out to see was now running or rushing to hide in buildings. Jorla moved quickly through the streets on all fours, using her wings to maneuver with surprising speed.
“Come on!” Isaru said.
He pulled me away, and we ran. I sheathed my blade, and by this point, there was no one else in the plaza, though screams still filled the air. Jorla herself let out a bloodthirsty cry; it was if she intended to bring down the entire city by herself.
For all I knew, she could.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
WE ESCAPED THE TERROR OF the plaza and made for the street ascending the hill upon which the Red Bastion
stood. It was the same street I had walked on my journey to Traitors’ Rock, only now, the way was dark, lit only by streetlamps. People milled in the streets, confused and fearful, far enough away from the Plaza of Sands not to know exactly what was going on. They looked at us for some indication as to what was happening, but Isaru and I didn’t slow our pace. All of our physical training was being put to use; we ran up the street, weaving back and forth up the switchbacks that took us up Red Cliff. The buildings became finer, their stonework more intricate and artful. Old cathedrals towered into the sky, and throughout the city, bells tolled their warning. From time to time, Jorla’s screams pierced the night while human cries responded in kind.
A squad of Peacemakers ran by, suited in chain mail and bearing halberds. Above from the Bastion, more dragons’ cries pierced the night as they took to the sky.
“The Dragonguard comes,” Isaru says.
“Jorla...”
At long last, the buildings ended in a final square at the top of the hill, on the other side of which were the towering gatehouse and the Inner Wall that protected the Bastion and the Dome of Annara within. Another line of guards, some on horseback, spilled out of the gate, and Isaru and I moved to the side to avoid being run down. The guards paid us no mind; their focus was completely on the threat in the city below.
Isaru watched them depart, and then looked to the sky, where the trail of dragons descended toward the square.
“She’ll bring down dozens before the dragons can stop her. And many of those dragons might lose their lives. They don’t fight the way a free dragon does; a free dragon fights for her dignity, her life, and her young. They only fight from fear of pain.”
Isaru turned, boldly walking to the Inner Gate. It was wide open to allow additional troops to pass through.
“They’ll be so focused on Jorla that we can just walk right in,” Isaru said.
“Someone will stop us,” I said. “They’d have to.”
“Don’t draw attention to yourself,” Isaru said. “Seek Silence. Wrap yourself in it. We’ll get through this all right, and we have to trust Jorla will as well.”
