It was exhausting, but the danger lent Kaia strength. With the air choked with death, Kaia became hyperaware of the life humming within her. She was fighting not only for her survival but for the survival of Okarria. As Kaia rushed across the dark field, the snow swirled, and the unending waves of dead crashed into her fiery shield again and again, like a surreal nightmare she might awake from at any moment, with Layf calling her for breakfast.
As she sent another fiery pulse through the swarming corpses, Idriel reared up before her, a typhoon of yanaa and fury. He had abandoned his dragon body and glowed green as he shape-shifted from one form to another. First a lion, then an eagle, a wolf, now a griffin. Again and again, he morphed as he exchanged blows with some unknown enemy, his hate too consuming or his pride too great to consider retreat. Idriel viciously clawed and snapped at the air, his yellow eyes darting from side to side.
If there’s a match for a Shadow Heir with a blessed sword, this is it.
And if that challenge wasn’t enough for Klaus, Idriel’s Lost clustered around their master, trying to seek out the invisible foe. Now, Kaia understood Everard’s words. With scores of enemies surrounding his target, Klaus had no room to move. Without space, they would find him soon. It was up to her to draw them away. It was the duty of the Dragon Heir. She smiled to herself. Time to burn bright.
Pushing back her creeping fatigue, she built the heat within her, turning away from Idriel. She glanced briefly at their struggling army, now thousands of bodies away from her. Whatever battle plan Everard had designed, it had evaporated like the snow. The Lost had broken through their thin lines, and now every man, beast, and Dracour faced a desperate fight for survival. Kaia’s heart swelled on their behalf as she thought of those brave warriors walking into a battle with no hope of returning.
Just like the first Heirs.
But like the Heirs, these people, too, deserved to return to their families. As she watched through her swirling flame, a dozen more fell, and the fire in Kaia boiled and screamed.
I don’t care what Everard says. I can protect them. They can survive.
With an earsplitting blast, Kaia erupted like an avenging volcano, flames shooting into the dark sky in a monstrous column of fire that lit the faces of all those warring in the snow-spotted desert. Then, it fell back to earth in a flood of magma that washed over the aberrations in an all-consuming tidal wave.
A thousand unholy voices wailed in one despairing scream as Kaia fell to her knees in exhaustion. She looked back towards Idriel to see that her spectacle had indeed gotten his attention. The glowing griffin shrieked as its minions abandoned their spirit guide to race towards the Dragon Heir—the real threat. Or so they thought. In Idriel’s moment of distraction, a silent shadow darted behind him and thrust his blade through the demon's chest. Kaia’s heart soared.
Then, something familiar caught her attention from the corner of her eye.
A cornflower luminescence billowed only paces from where the great Idriel writhed in his death throes. Another spirit guide? Panic clutched Kaia’s throat. She craned her neck to spy the new source of yanaa, releasing another globe of flame to cut through the mobbing Lost.
She had seen this azure aura before. But where?
Then it hit her.
Jago.
No, her brain wasn’t working correctly. Jago? Jago was here? As she considered it, Kaia’s heart leapt. No wonder Klaus had been able to survive Idriel’s onslaught. Jago was healing him! And he could heal her, too. He could restore her yanaa, she could wipe out the rest of the Lost army, and then everyone would be able to go home.
With a glowing grin and renewed hope, Kaia rushed towards him. He was clearly silhouetted within a sphere of glowing blue light, and she grinned as she blazed through the last few bodies standing between them. With nearly unbearable anticipation, she stepped into his light….
…and her heart nearly stopped beating. The smile died on her face, and all hope shriveled. This was not the dark-skinned, handsome youth of her childhood. Jago—or what used to be Jago—swayed before her with one arm missing, skin torn, bones poking through fingers and elbows, and a bloody, gaping hole instead of a stomach.
The Lost wore Jago’s tattered body like an ill-fitting costume with a mask-like grin on his face. The rotting miasma of death overpowered Kaia, and she collapsed in the sand, gagging uncontrollably. She gasped as the horror dawned on her. Jago was healing Idriel, fueling his transformations, filling him with unnatural stamina. She heard a squawking from behind her and looked to see the griffin, whole and unharmed once again, rise into the air, searching for prey.
“No,” she whispered. She looked back into Jago’s black pit eyes. “How could you!” she screamed—not entirely sure if she screamed at Jago or the darkness that corrupted him. She staggered to her feet and sent a gush of fire at the Lost once again clambering to surround her.
Kaia knew what she had to do. As long as Jago’s head was attached to his body, Idriel would be able to endlessly shift, never tiring, never dying. Klaus wouldn’t have a chance. Kaia drew her sword and stepped towards her childhood friend and mentor—the third of their trio, the sweet one, the good one. Her heart screamed in despair, as if it, too, burned alive. She lifted her sword, but as she gazed at Jago, she saw sadness in the pits of his eyes—pain.
She cringed at the sight of it. It’s too late. I can’t save him. She tried to shake off the heartsickness that roiled through her. Why did it have to be Jago?
Then, to Kaia’s horror, the Time Heir opened his misshapen mouth and spoke. “Kai,” he mumbled, his dead lips struggling to form the words. “Take— care—fami—” As the words of resignation escaped him, a single, impossible tear ran down his ravaged cheek.
Kaia’s mouth hung open. Somehow, Jago was still trapped in there, fighting the darkness. And that made it all the worse.
She nodded. “I will.” Then, with the dead once circling her once again, Kaia couldn’t stall anymore. “I’m sorry, Jago,” She swallowed a sob as she stepped forward. “May Odriel guide you.”
A green wash of yanaa flowed over Jago, and his jaws unhinged, unleashing a wrathful screech as Idriel reclaimed his puppet and forced him towards Kaia on shambling legs.
The Dragon Heir raised her sword. “Odriel, bless my blade!” With a mighty stroke, she cleaved through Jago’s neck with a single blow. His head rolled from his shoulders, and his body fell to the side—lifeless and free of Idriel’s grasp—as it was meant to be.
With another anguished yell, Kaia whirled and attacked the mob of Lost around her with wild, erratic bursts of fire. Her fatigue had caught up with her now, and she could no longer control her flames as they burst forth weakly. She fought blindly as maddening, despairing thoughts clawed at her mind, weariness sapping her hope.
She stole a glance at the demon Idriel, the source of all her pain and loss, and she stopped her desperate thrashing. Her mind buzzed with alarm…the Shadow Heir was no longer invisible.
A bleeding and spent Klaus flickered in and out of sight before an enormous green serpent, their epic match now one-sided. Kaia gasped as the dripping fangs of the snake struck impossibly fast at the weary warrior. Klaus managed to deflect the first strike with his blade, and dove to the side to avoid the second. He wasn’t even trying to use his gift anymore.
Klaus’ gaze flicked to meet hers, and in his hazel eyes, exhausted as they were, gleamed life and hope. They weren’t done fighting yet.
White-hot fire blazed in a searing globe around Kaia, and she charged Idriel with her sword raised high. As she ran, she let her encasing flames grow larger and larger until they swirled around her with cyclonic fury. With her free hand, she hurled a fireball at the demon, only to see it swatted away like a fly. Undeterred, Kaia rushed onward, desperate to keep Idriel’s attention. The Shadow Heir could no longer hide; visible, he had no chance of surviving.
Then it came to her. “Klaus, shield your eyes!”
The Shadow Heir threw an arm ove
r his face as a bright flash of fire erupted from Kaia’s hands towards the diamond head of the snake. Once again, Idriel absorbed the blow with little effect, but Kaia had not aimed to harm the demon this time. Kaia sustained the flickering flames as long as she could before allowing them to extinguish. The world once again plunged into shadow, illuminated only by Everard’s dim light half a battlefield away.
Kaia let her arms fall heavily to her sides as she glanced anxiously up at the serpent, spots dotting her vision. Idriel seemed to be affected as well. He whipped his head around, trying to refocus his own narrow eyes.
“NOW!” she yelled.
Idriel whipped his head toward her voice, trying to find her with his blinded yellow eyes. A distant awareness that she should get away from the shapeshifter tickled Kaia’s sluggish mind, but her heavy legs remained rooted in place. She caught a glimpse of movement as a quick shadow darted behind the snake. Kaia looked back up at the serpent, and its cold eyes locked on her at last. It bared its man-sized fangs and reared high above her.
Kaia threw up her hands as Idriel lunged.
Then a bloodcurdling screech escaped its gaping jaws, splitting the air and shaking the ground. Klaus straddled the back of the serpent, stabbing again and again. The snake coiled and writhed under the obsidian steel. Not daring to hope, Kaia watched numbly, but there was no Jago to heal Idriel this time. The horrific keening ceased as the lifeblood gushed out of the torn adder, and its struggle stilled.
Klaus stepped away from the steaming carcass, but Kaia refused to take her eyes off the demon. Idriel, who had been responsible for the deaths of so many, would not escape this time. His hateful topaz eyes locked on hers and to Kaia’s shock, a hissing voice emerged from the snake’s gaping jaws.
“I may be dying,” it choked. “But my children will avenge me.”
In his final act, Idriel whipped its gigantic tail towards Kaia and knocked her flying into the air. She fell heavily on her side in the sand with a sickening crunch. Pain shot through her ribcage and black spotted her vision as she tried to get her bearings.
The blow from Idriel’s tail had knocked her into the middle of the milling ranks of Lost. Still animated by evil and hungry for yanaa, they encircled her. Smelling blood, they closed in.
Kaia instinctively brought flames to her hands, but no more than a lantern’s glow lighted her fingertips. Ignoring the pain that lanced through her ribs, she unsheathed her sword in a sweeping slash that decapitated the closest Lost. Fighting for survival, she whirled and hacked off the eager outstretched arms of two more skeletal warriors pawing at her back, but there were far too many attackers. She looked desperately for help, but she could barely even see the remaining knot of their army hidden among the dead. Fifty paces to her right, Klaus battled towards her. So far, so far away.
At least they still have a chance.
Kaia slashed frantically as the Lost, unaware or uncaring of their leader’s demise, remorselessly pressed forward.
Suddenly, she felt a warmth on her skin that had nothing to do with her gift. She looked to the sky and saw the dark veil lifting. As Kaia’s movements became slower and slower, the sun showed its round beaming face, shining down on all of them in effulgent glory.
At least I got to see the sun one last time. At least my world is safe.
Ignorant of this newfound peace, the howling horde continued its relentless, mindless attack. Fingers, nails, and swords clawed her now, faster than she could beat them away. Overwhelmed by the madness and dizzy with exhaustion, Kaia thought she saw Mogens’ leer among the onslaught. But with another swipe of her blade, the apparition vanished in the tidal wave of dead crashing against her.
Klaus screamed her name as he hacked at the Lost, but he was no closer than before. She gave him the slightest curve of a delirious smile. You’ve always been the strong one.
Swinging clumsily at the demons and all reserves of yanaa drained, she felt a pang of regret that she wouldn’t be able to see all the wonderful things Klaus had spoken of. She wouldn’t even be able to look after Jago’s family like she promised, but she had done her duty as the Dragon Heir, and soon she would be joining her father. She slashed at a hand tearing at her hair. But the weariness had soaked into her bones. She was just so tired….
Then, out of the corner of her eye, Kaia glimpsed a flash. On the hill to the north, a single rider raced down towards them and smashed directly into the throng of Lost. The silver shield crashed into the dead ahead of him as he cut a path through the ranks. A cheer echoed across the plain as the rider rode into their midst.
Her arms too sluggish to defend herself, the dead tore at her flesh in earnest now. As the pain threatened to overcome her, Klaus yelled her name in despair. He slashed through the Lost in a last frantic bid to reach her, but he wasn’t going to make it. She gave him one final smile just as her bright world once more went black.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Promises
Kaia dreamed she floated above the battlefield, as if watching from a bird’s sharp eyes as her body disappeared under a mass of howling Lost.
Klaus howled as the Lost swarmed over her. “KAIA!” he roared, sword cleaving the air with relentless fury, the Lost tumbling before him.
Further away, a silver coated Dorinar galloped across the battlefield in a wide circle on a heaving horse. As he cut through the Lost, they turned their hungry eyes towards this fresh source of yanaa. Without their brutal Master, the shining sphere drew them like bees to honey, and they abandoned her still form, the desperate Shadow Heir, and their tired army. Like a flock of migrating birds, they turned as one and followed the shining beacon into the heart of the Deadlands.
Breaking through the straggling Lost, the Shadow Heir knelt on the ground and pulled her torn body into his lap. Silent tears traced through the blood and grime on his cheeks as he cradled her still form to his chest. “I’m sorry.” He swallowed a sob. “I was supposed to save you this time.”
Klaus looked across the sand, watching as the dead trailed into the desert and the Okarrian army dispatched the remaining strays. “It’s over now, Firefly, but this isn’t right.” He looked at the full, burning sun above them. “I would rather fight beside you in the darkness than live without you in the sun.” His voice trembled as he smoothed her bloodied hair. “Kaia, you can’t go off without me.” His gritty tears splashed on her forehead. "I'm lost without you.”
A sizzling sound drew his eye to her arm. There, a silver armlet glowed red as it burned through her bloody sleeve, and the smell of burned flesh wafted into the air as the whimsical pattern of the metal burned into her skin. With a small crack, the armlet broke in two, revealing the scarred flesh beneath.
The dream faded as a searing pain ripped through Kaia’s arm. Her eyes shot open as she gasped for air and found herself looking straight into Klaus’ tear-stained faced.
Dazed, nauseous, and skin crawling with a maddening itch, she turned her head aside as a bout of coughs racked her body. Still disoriented, she sucked in long breaths of air and tried to get her bearings.
She lay in Klaus’ lap, but the Lost were nowhere to be seen. Across the field, Dalteek trotted towards them from the exhausted army, but her bleary eyes couldn’t focus on the riders.
“Firefly” Klaus squeezed her to him. “You’re alive!”
Her body still screaming with agony, she turned to him with a grimace, her voice hoarse. “Is that why I’m in so much pain?”
“But how?” Klaus scanned her bloodied body. She bled from uncounted gashes, but he couldn’t see any mortal wounds. “You weren’t breathing, I’m sure of it.”
Kaia looked down at the scarred flesh on her arm to where the Dorinar’s broken armlet lay on the ground. “That magus.” She closed her eyes. “Dorn said the silver had ‘mild restorative properties.’”
As the words left her tongue, the Heirs broke into identical, ridiculous smiles. Klaus burst into relieved laughter, and a giggle bubbled out of Kaia before she coul
d contain it. She smothered a groan as the mirth shook her broken body.
Klaus wiped the tears of joy and grief from his face, gathered her gently in his arms and stood up, still cradling her to his chest.
“Tears?” Kaia traced a finger across his grizzled cheek. “I thought the Shadow Heir gave nothing away.”
In answer, Klaus bowed his head and brushed his mouth against hers. “I’ll give anything to you, Firefly.” He murmured, kissing her with smiling lips. “Only for you.”
Just before blackness consumed Kaia once again, she saw a plain brown hawk circling above them.
✽✽✽
The next day, the sun dawned hot and bright on the Deadlands. For the third time that year, Kaia, covered in bandages and splints, stood among the survivors as they gathered to honor the dead. Okarria had paid dearly for the victory. Of the six hundred warriors that had gathered for the battle, only eighty-eight survived: thirty-seven men, eleven Maldibor, thirty-eight Dracours, and two heirs. Though Kaia was aggrieved to find Cressida and Okoni among the dead, she sent a prayer of thanks to Odriel for keeping Bram and Tekoa safe.
Kaia stood with the other survivors gathered in front of the fresh graves, as they named the dead once again. She felt stiff in the casts that covered her from head to toe and woozy from the medicine Fiola had forced down on her. The only thing keeping her upright was Klaus’ arm wrapped firmly around her waist. Kaia absently reached out to stroke Gus' big ears, only to remember for the tenth time that day that his spot at her side was empty. It was a loss she just couldn’t seem to absorb. She fought back against the tears welling in her eyes and tried to focus for a few more minutes.
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