Effrax gestured for them to get in character, and he and Fletcher wrapped the ropes around the girls’ wrists. As the four of them approached the inn, a thickset guard lumbered out of the entryway to meet them. Small eyes glared from beneath his heavy brows, and his face looked as if it had been poorly hewn from granite. Keriya had never seen a troll—she’d only read about them—but she decided this would be exactly what they looked like.
“We’re bringing the commander-general’s prisoners to be kept with the dragon,” Effrax said officiously. The troll curled his lips, revealing gaps in his teeth, and nodded. Keriya hid a smile—Effrax had just ascertained that Thorion was hidden somewhere inside.
They made to enter, but the troll shifted his bulk to bar their way.
“Password,” he grunted.
For the first time, Effrax faltered. The troll noticed, and he did not look pleased.
Roxanne tore herself from Effrax’s grip and wielded a patch of dirt and pebbles from the street into the troll’s face. He bellowed and clawed at his eyes, staggering backward.
“This is what we wanted to avoid,” Effrax grumbled as she tossed away her ropes and stormed inside. “I haven’t gotten my magic back, and you barely have a grasp on yours.”
“I’m well enough to fight these trogs,” she said, shooting him a glare as if daring him to contradict her.
Four more Imperials sat in the common room, empty tankards littering their table. Roxanne gestured to a potted plant in the corner, a browning shrub that had been neglected for too long. At the touch of her magic it turned vibrant and sprang to life, growing outward to restrain the men.
The guards rallied and drunkenly began to counter-wield. Keriya dodged an errant water spell and bumped into the troll. His face, covered in angry welts, was scrunched in fury. He reached for her with hairy hands and she ran. She heard him knocking aside furniture in his pursuit, but he didn’t wield against her. Perhaps trolls weren’t able to use magic?
Maybe I’m part troll, she thought as she scrambled beneath a table for cover. Fletcher was hiding there. Keriya grabbed the legs of a bar stool and hurled it at the troll with all her might. The troll tripped, his limbs flailing comically, and toppled to the ground.
“Go!” she said, flapping her hands at Fletcher. They crawled out on the far side of the table and stood in time to see the last remaining guard hurl a throwing knife at Roxanne.
It struck her in the abdomen. She dropped her spells instantly, and the potted plant, which had been strangling another one of the gray-robed men, grew still. Red seeped across the front of her green dress, flowering from the entry wound. The knife-thrower drew his sword and grabbed her.
“She dies if any of you move,” he spat, pressing the edge of the blade against her throat.
Effrax slowly raised his hands, as if surrendering. He twitched his fingers and small fires burst to life around the guard’s wrists. It was a weak spell, likely the only one he could manage, but the man cried out and dropped both the sword and Roxanne.
She fell, and Effrax darted forward. In one fluid movement he caught Roxanne, pulled the knife from her side, and turned it on its owner. He rammed it into the guard’s abdomen. The man crumpled around the steel hilt.
Keriya didn’t have time to be appalled by the violence, for burly arms were encircling her. The troll had caught up to her. He squeezed, slowly crushing the air from her lungs.
Effrax shot a thin, unsteady stream of fire at him—he was gaining strength as the evasdrin wore off, but his flames splashed against an invisible barrier. The troll could wield, and had created an air shield.
Keriya choked and kicked against the tree-trunk torso. She reflected, for what seemed like the millionth time, that if she had magic of her own, she could do anything. Escape from trolls. Save Thorion. Kill whoever stood in her way, up to and including Necrovar himself.
There was a strange ringing in her ears and her vision dimmed. Just before darkness claimed her, something blindingly bright passed over her head, singeing her hair. An acrid scent burned her nostrils. The troll’s arms loosened and he collapsed. Keriya fell with him, gasping. His face was charred and steaming, seared to the bone. He was dead, though by what sort of dreadful magic, she didn’t know.
Breath warmed her cheek and she turned. Thorion was there. His eyes were wide and his pupils were dilated. His lips were fixed in a snarl. She noted, with a lurch of her stomach, that he was missing the smallest talon of his left paw and his scales were caked with purple blood.
“You saved me,” she whispered shakily.
“You came to save me. Now we are balanced.”
Comforted by the drackling’s crisp straightforwardness, she flung her arms around his neck. The feel of his scales against her cheek helped soothe the tide of horror rising within her.
“I found my lightmagic,” he told her. “I wielded for the first time. For you.”
The strangely tender moment was ruined by the renewed sounds of battle. Effrax was faring poorly on the other side of the room, fighting yet another guard.
Thorion puffed himself up and opened his mouth. From between his fangs there issued a savage, white-hot flash. When the afterglow faded from Keriya’s eyes, she saw that the enemy wielder lay in a sizzling heap on the floor.
“Holy Shivnath,” Fletcher whispered. He was trembling, gaping at Thorion.
Effrax let out a low whistle. “Lightmagic. I never imagined it would be so powerful.” He put a hand over his heart. “I’m in your debt, Thorion.”
Thorion, who couldn’t understand the Allentrian words, paid Effrax no mind. He retracted his left wing and pressed his sturdy shoulder against Keriya, giving her something to lean on as she stood.
“Thank you,” she told him. “From all of us.” Switching to Allentrian, she looked around at her friends and asked, “Is everyone alright?”
Her gaze lingered on Roxanne. She’d pressed her palm against the injury to stop the flow of blood, but a thin trickle oozed between her fingers.
“I’ve had worse,” the tall girl said grimly.
Keriya’s brows shot up. “When?” she asked dubiously, eyeing the seeping dark stain.
Roxanne ignored the question. “It’s not deep. I just lost a lot of blood when the knife hit.”
“That’s because you were wielding,” said Effrax. He hefted her up, supporting her with one arm, and made for the exit. “Wielding increases your heart rate. Now, I suggest we get out of here before more guards come.”
“Wait,” said Fletcher. “We need to warn the villagers about the darksalm. Who knows what Tanthflame will do with it?”
Roxanne groaned.
“You’re not coming,” Effrax told her. “You need to rest.”
“Yeah, I’ll go have a nice lie-down,” she snapped. “Not like there are Imperials all over the place who’d be happy to kill me.” She broke away from him and started again for the door.
“Wait.” This time it was Keriya who spoke. “Think what would happen if the darksalm touches Thorion. We’d be putting the whole world at risk. We need to leave, to get him to safety.”
Roxanne snorted. “That’s some great hero talk right there.”
Keriya’s face grew hot, but she let the taunt slide. “It’s too dangerous for him. He can’t stay here.”
“Send him away,” Effrax told her. “We’ll warn the Galantrians, but the sooner he leaves, the better.”
Yes, that was the obvious answer, wasn’t it? Then why did it seem so hard to do?
Keriya took a deep breath and knelt before the little dragon.
“Thorion, we’re in a lot of trouble and you’re not safe. I need you to fly away as quickly as possible, as far as you can go.”
His nostrils flared with rapid breaths. His brow ridges formed a worried arc, making his wide amethyst eyes seem twice their size. His unwavering gaze w
as fixed on her, his dark pupils thinning to slender crescents.
“There’s nothing to be afraid of,” she whispered, cupping his face in her hands and running her thumbs over his scales in what she hoped was a soothing fashion. “Just . . . just fly. If you leave, you won’t have to worry.”
“I will have to worry,” he said slowly. Confusion stirred within her, though whether it was his or her own, she couldn’t tell.
Shaking her head to clear it, she scooped Thorion into her arms and carried him outside. The others followed in silence. Keriya could feel their watchful gazes as she threw her ward into the air. He took to the skies, beating his wings to gain altitude.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
“The Waters of Chardon may be dangerous, but that is not sufficient reason to stay ashore.”
~ Galantrian Folk Saying
Princess Sebaris Ishira Wavewould roamed the Galantrian Village. The drooping cowl of a nondescript cloak hid her distinctive fish-gill nose. She’d been doing this for most of her life, walking amongst the commoners. Her father had forbidden her from leaving the palace unescorted, but Seba preferred to mingle with the crowd on her terms.
She crossed an arched bridge that spanned one of the waterways in town, enjoying the sounds of the evening. She nodded to a passing nobleman, brushing her short, cobalt-blue hair from her eyes. How she longed to remove her hood and show her populace who she was. She didn’t need them to bow and grovel, though there was no harm in that. She just wanted to learn from them as a ruler, not an onlooker.
A heavy hand fell on her shoulder without warning. She reached under her cloak for the blue-gold dagger concealed in her silk belt sash and clutched at her hood, which had almost slipped off. Her nose, which marked her as a member of House Ishira, would give her identity away in a heartbeat.
“Care for a drink, miss?” said the man who’d apprehended her. His breath was rancid and Seba closed her slitted nostrils in disgust. She tugged herself from his grasp and fled. Best to avoid confrontation instead of starting a fight.
It wasn’t proper for a princess to know the arts of fighting, but Seba had taken it upon herself to learn. At age ten, she had started sneaking out of the palace to practice in the Village, and had sought training in the Water Tower.
The Tower monitored the flow of the East Outlet River through the floodgates and was privately guarded by a family of warriors. Seba had learned from Isi, an old master of martial arts. He had passed away three years ago, and still she mourned him. She had never been his star pupil, but she had always been his favorite.
Lost in her memories, Seba strolled down a side street to examine necklaces on display in front of a seedy shop. The merchant claimed they were made with genuine sapphire stones, but Seba knew better. She left the stand, sniffing disdainfully.
Someone touched her shoulder again. She went for her dagger, but her assailant grabbed her wrist. She tried to angle him into a wall and stamp on his toes. He evaded her slippered foot and used her movement against her, causing her to stumble so they slid into an alley.
A pang of panic shot through Seba and she and opened her mouth to scream. A gloved hand covered her face to muffle the cry. Thinking fast, she bit his fingers.
“Gods curse it, Seba!” a familiar voice hissed. She blinked and turned, wrenching herself from her captor’s grasp.
“Maxton?” she exclaimed, planting her fists on her hips and narrowing her angular blue eyes. “What in Zumarra’s name do you think you’re doing?”
“Protecting you. I figured you might need it, especially after that fool almost revealed your identity.”
“I can protect myself, thank you very much.”
“You certainly can,” he agreed, removing his glove to reveal a set of teeth marks on his palm. “But can you protect yourself from your father?”
“Excuse me? Are you threatening to tell on me?”
“I’m not threatening you, I’m warning you. Commander-General Tanthflame has just arrived in the palace. You’ll be called to sit in as heir to the Coral Throne at any moment.”
Seba swayed on the spot as the fight flowed out of her. She hadn’t heard about this visit, otherwise she’d never have left!
“You need to return before they find you missing,” Max continued, motioning for her to pull her hood up.
Seba nodded and followed Max at something close to a run. Over the bridge, up Main Street, toward the square where the ice orb ferried people to and from the palace.
A group of intoxicated peasants had caused a holdup near the shuttle square. Seba glared at the hooligans as she passed, then froze.
“Max, stop!” She changed course and pushed through the crowd. She recognized one of the troublemakers—it was Effrax Nameless. She didn’t know him like she knew Max, but he was always in attendance at state functions alongside Prince Zivan.
“Effrax? Why are you here? Where’s . . .” Seba paused as her gaze fell on the peasants beside him. They were filthy and bloodied. One girl, who had white hair and a pallid complexion, looked like a walking ghost.
“The Village is in danger,” Nameless told her without prelude.
“Come now,” scoffed one of the crowd members. “Stop with this nonsense!”
Seba hunched her shoulders and tugged her hood lower. It was Yosiro Lakeward, a city official who was always barging into the palace to bother her father about trivial matters.
“You don’t understand,” said a scrawny-looking peasant boy. “There’s darksalm around here!”
Seba would have dismissed the claim as the ravings of a lunatic, had it not been for her most recent foresight. In her vision, she’d seen a dragon and a terrible darkness—and her father had taken it seriously enough to share the information with the empress herself.
Max pushed past Seba, heading for the peasants. “Darksalm? That’s impossible.” He took the pale girl’s hand to steady her, and Seba eyed him beadily. Why the display of familiarity?
“Not as impossible as you think,” said the taller girl, who held her hands to a wound in her side.
“Max, you have to believe us,” said the pale one. “Tanthflame has all the ingredients.”
A wave of liquid heat crashed through Seba’s veins. Why was this girl on a first-name basis with Maxton Windharte? He had been traveling on “Official Imperial Business” for the past month, and had arrived at the Galantrian palace a week ago—but he couldn’t possibly have been working with these ruffians, could he?
“Tanthflame?” said Lakeward. “As in Gohrbryn Tanthflame? Preposterous! He is Commander-General of the Imperial Guard.”
“He also happens to be a traitor.” Nameless turned to address the crowd, which had grown considerably since Seba had joined it. “We don’t know how he intends to disperse the darksalm, but you aren’t safe. You need to evacuate!”
“Nameless,” said Seba, “you have no power to give orders here.”
“We’re not trying to give orders, we’re trying to save lives,” said the horrid, pasty peasant. Seba gasped and stepped back. The girl had purple eyes.
A fretful noblewoman turned to her husband. “Perhaps we should go?”
“You should,” said Nameless. “Take the Imperial Highway south, toward Noryk.”
Part of Seba resented the fact that a non-royal Fironian was ordering her subjects around. But if he was right about this . . .
“Don’t listen to that prisoner,” said a new voice. “He’s wanted for treason!” A captain of the Imperial Guard, flanked by a platoon of soldiers, entered the square and marched straight for Nameless. The people parted ways for him. Lakeward loudly boasted that he hadn’t believed any of this rubbish.
“What’s he done that has been deemed as treasonous?” Seba demanded in her best prince
ss voice. With her hood up she looked like any random villager, and the guards ignored her.
Effrax drew himself to his full height. “You are impeding a member of the Ember Clan—”
Seba stifled a cry of shock as he was sent reeling from a fierce slap of air across his face.
“You are a member of no Clan, Effrax Nameless,” said the captain. “You are not recognized as royalty by any state in the empire, and you have no sovereignty over us.”
“Leave him alone!” said the tall peasant girl. “We’re working for the empress and we have sealed letters to prove it. You can’t arrest us.”
“Of course we can. For starters, you’re in the presence of a demon,” said the captain, pointing at the girl with the lurid eyes.
“Demon, he says,” gasped an austere gentleman.
“They might be in league with the bogspectre,” someone cried.
“One of them might be the bogspectre!” said someone else.
“None of us are criminals or demons,” the small boy insisted. “We’re telling the truth! Tanthflame is working for Necrovar, and he—”
“Slander,” cried the captain. “Malicious slander against our highest officer! You’re all under arrest. Commander-General Tanthflame is at a state meeting as we speak. There is no way he could be embroiled in criminal activity.”
Seba’s stomach plummeted. She was too late. Her father must have discovered her missing by now. She covered her face with her hands, feeling dizzy and weak.
She didn’t see who struck first. One moment the guards were closing in on the peasants; the next, the stones of the street heaved upwards, sundering the Imperials.
“Hostile wielding in a public space! Arrest them,” the captain shrieked.
Flames sparked around Nameless and he wielded to keep the guardsmen at bay. Max dodged a wayward tongue of fire and he leapt to join the fight. An Imperial Guard advanced on the purple-eyed girl, wielding a white-hot jet of flame to separate her from her companions. She dove behind a waste bin to avoid his attack, then kicked it over to hinder his progress while she turned tail and ran up the street.
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