“I’d like you to give me that sword.”
Keriya’s her hand strayed to her hip—the belt was still buckled around her waist. The ancient sword was with her, resting in its scabbard.
“Why?” she wanted to know. “What does it mean to you, and to Necrovar?”
“That is not your concern,” Shivnath replied, in a tone that suggested she thought Keriya ought to have known better than to ask.
“I think it is my concern. If you want me to travel thousands of leagues to bring it to you, I think I have a right to some answers. To just one.”
Shivnath’s beautiful, terrifying face grew dark. Her pupils thinned to needles and Keriya feared she’d crossed a line.
“Keriya, you don’t want to be involved in this war. It is much larger and much more dangerous than you know. I want that sword. You don’t deserve to hold it.”
“You’re wrong,” Keriya countered, bristling at Shivnath’s cruel choice of words. “The bogspectre gave it to me. He told me to keep it safe!”
“Like you kept Thorion safe?”
That stung like a hard slap in the face. Keriya bit her lip and fought the tears that burned her throat. She raised her chin, struggling to keep her composure.
“I tell you again,” the dragon began, “you don’t want to be involved in—”
“I didn’t want to be part of this war, you made me part of it,” Keriya interrupted. Her voice cracked, but she didn’t care. It didn’t matter if Shivnath saw how weak she was—she had to say her piece.
“I didn’t choose to start this, but I’m choosing to finish it. I will keep fighting. I will keep Thorion safe, and I’ll keep the sword safe, too. You’re not getting it. It’s the only defense I’ve ever had against magic wielders.”
Shivnath tilted her head. Now her face was as blank and unmoving as a stone. In a way, that was more unsettling than her anger had been.
“Are you defying me? I, the god who wove a magic more powerful than you can comprehend into your soul? I, who was the first to believe in you, who gave you the tools you needed to become the person you are today?”
Guilt stabbed at Keriya, but she held fast. “Yes. You may have given me magic, but I got here on my own. Until you give me some answers, I am done with you.”
Her heart thudded painfully and her stomach twisted. Shivnath was the patron saint of Aeria, and Keriya had looked up to her for as long as she could remember. More than that, she felt connected to the dragon god. She didn’t want to be done with Shivnath.
But it was clear that Shivnath wasn’t going to make any concessions. She studied Keriya as a snake might study an unsuspecting mouse.
“Your quest has made you wiser,” the dragon observed.
Keriya blinked, her lips parting slowly. That wasn’t the sort of response she’d been expecting. In fact, it was the first time Shivnath had paid her a compliment.
“Uh . . . thanks.”
Shivnath dipped her snout in the barest of nods.
Keriya faced the god in silence, her fingers nibbling at the frayed ends of her sleeves. She had no idea what to say next. They had reached an impasse.
“So,” she managed, “if I’m not dead, how do I get back to Selaras?”
After a suspiciously long pause, Shivnath deigned to answer. “I imagine all you would have to do is step through the Rift.”
She extended one of her leathery wings, indicating something to the right. Keriya looked and saw a band of cloudy light suspended in the black mist, carving through it like a jagged scar. Bright, sparkling fibers ran along its edges, miniature lightning bolts in a tiny cosmos.
She drifted closer to the Rift, mesmerized by its strange beauty. This was it: the tear in the magicthreads that separated the Etherworld from the mortal realm. She reached for it and the fibers twisted toward her, sensing her approach.
“You should hurry. You’ve already spent too long here; your life-threads have assimilated to this world,” Shivnath said behind her.
Keriya nodded absently. She pursed her lips and turned to face the dragon one final time.
“It was nice to see you again, Shivnath.” The sentiment was an offering of peace, an attempt to part ways on good terms. Keriya stared up at Shivnath, who stared back down at her. Her cheeks warmed as she added, “Usually that’s a cue to tell someone it was good to see them, too.”
After a moment of consideration, Shivnath nodded. “It was nice to see you, Keriya.”
“I guess this is goodbye.”
“I wouldn’t count on it.”
A small smile stole across Keriya’s lips. Steeling herself, she thrust her hand into the flickering filaments of the Rift. It didn’t hurt, as she’d thought it would. A gentle tingling infused her flesh. Wisps of light wrapped around her hand and she felt a tug.
A floating, weightless sensation spread across her body as she entered the brightness. She was slipping into a place between dreams and reality, between consciousness and unconsciousness, between life and death. The light faded and she fell, tumbling through eternity.
The mindvoice stopped her mad spiral. She felt warm breath on her cheek and dewy grass beneath her fingers. Her head was throbbing. With a groan, she opened her eyes.
The wind had died, the fires had vanished, and the world had relaxed into its normal state. Keriya blinked to clear her blurry vision and took stock of her surroundings. All that was left of Necrovar was a crater where he had stood. A chunk of the cliff had crumbled into the jungle below. The remainder of the clearing was a charred mess.
Her heart lurched, hardly daring to believe it.
It was over. She had won.
She couldn’t revel in her triumph, because a bloodless wound ached in her chest, a wound that no healer could soothe. Her power had vanished, leaving her hollow once more.
Hollow forever, she thought, remembering Shivnath’s warning.
The loss might have consumed her had Thorion not been there to pull her away from the brink of despair. “You did it,” he whispered.
It took Keriya a dazed moment to process the fact that he had spoken Allentrian. Was that possible? Or had she hit her head harder than she’d thought?
“I’m learning your language,” he added, sensing her confusion.
She pressed her face against the scales of his shoulder so he couldn’t see the tears brimming at the corners of her eyes.
“Thank you for coming back for me,” she said.
An odd hacking sound interrupted them, and they turned as one. The bogspectre hovered at the edge of the smoking crater, its dark form visible against the brightening eastern sky. Keriya’s memory of the fight was hazy, the details slipping away like sand through a sieve, but she recalled the bogspectre had said something to Necrovar. And Necrovar had been afraid . . . hadn’t he?
She opened her mouth to thank the bogspectre for its help. What came out instead was, “Who are you?”
The bogspectre scrutinized her with its one eye. A tremor wracked its airborne body. “Soulstar . . . Keriya Soulstar . . . watch over my sword.”
Before Keriya could reply, it disappeared with a swirl of its gelatinous tail.
“I will,” she promised the dawn.
Another sound issued from the trees. Keriya craned her neck around and saw Max running toward her. Roxanne followed him, half-carrying Effrax. The Fironian had his arm slung over her shoulder and was limping along as fast as he could go. And behind them . . .
Max dropped to his knees when he reached Keriya, asking what had happened, checking her eyes, feeling her forehead, but she ignored him. She ignored everyone except for the hallucination that looked remarkably like Fletcher Earengale.
“I didn’t think I’d ever see you again,” she said faintly.
“I didn’t think you cared,” he admitted, crou
ching beside her. “Look, Keriya—”
Keriya didn’t wait for him to finish. She leaned forward and threw her arms around his neck.
“You are an idiot,” she said, thumping him on the back with her fist. “But so am I. I’d never have gotten this far without you. You stuck with me from the beginning, all the way back in Aeria. You were there when everyone else hated me. And I never thanked you.”
“Well,” he said, awkwardly returning her embrace, “what else is a brother good for?”
“Not much,” she laughed. There was so much she wanted to know—how had he found her? What had happened while they’d been apart?—but she couldn’t find the words. She wished she could tell Fletcher how much he meant to her, but Fletcher seemed to know.
“It’s okay,” he assured her.
Keriya shook her head, causing it to throb anew. “It’s not. I should have trusted you.”
“Well, I should have believed in you.” In a lower voice, he added, “Why don’t we agree to forgive each other?”
A smile spread across her face. She felt a thrum of contentment rumble in Thorion’s chest.
“I’d like that,” she told Fletcher.
“Keriya, you’re bleeding.” Max removed his hand from her head to show her that his fingers were stained dark red. “Can you see straight? Are you dizzy?”
“I’m fine.”
“You sure?” Roxanne asked skeptically, staring around the decimated clearing. “What in the world happened here?”
“It was Necrovar,” said Keriya. “We killed him.”
Her announcement was met with silence. Fletcher’s mouth fell open. Roxanne and Effrax exchanged incredulous glances. Keriya noticed that the Fironian was drenched in sweat. His left pant leg was torn and bloodstained, revealing a grisly wound beneath.
“That’s . . . impossible,” said Max.
“It’s true,” Thorion confirmed in Allentrian, with only a hint of an accent. Fletcher beamed proudly at the drackling—that was new. He’d been terrified of Thorion before they’d parted ways.
Everyone began clamoring for explanations, but Keriya wasn’t in the mood for further conversation. Now that Max had mentioned it, she was feeling dizzy. She was also parched, starving, and exhausted.
Max noticed her eyelids drooping. “Enough questions,” he announced. “We need to get Seba, and then we need to get everyone to a proper healer.”
He put one arm around Keriya’s shoulders and snaked the other beneath her knees, lifting her and carrying her from the battleground.
The sun broke over the treetops. Keriya smiled as the soft light touched her. Lying in Max’s arms, she couldn’t help but feel safe. Safe and happy. Perhaps the happiest she’d ever been. Their ragtag team had been reunited and she had saved Thorion.
More than that, she had saved the world. She’d made her own choices and stayed loyal to Shivnath, regardless of whether or not Shivnath had deserved it.
That just might make me a hero, she thought.
In her last waking moments, she tried to recall what it had been like to wield, but it was like trying to catch a cloud in her hands.
And as she slipped into the comfort of a dreamless slumber, so the memory of magic slipped away, too.
EPILOGUE
Twelfth Age, Year 607
A dragon soared through the haze, its wings carving sharp trails through the clouds shrouding the canyon. It landed on a steep path before a woman and a man.
As soon as it touched down, the dragon collapsed, writhing in torment. Its screams rent the air as it thrashed. The woman tried to help, but the man held her back.
The two humans exchanged heated words. The woman sank to her knees, sobbing. The man knelt before her and placed his hands on her shoulders.
“My feelings for you were never a lie. You saved the best part of me.” He gently kissed her lips, lips which twisted into a snarl.
The woman stood, and there was darkness in her eyes. She lifted a sword over her head. The blade flashed blood-red as it caught light from the river of lava flowing sluggishly far below. She twirled it around and drove it down with all her might, down into the man’s chest.
The splinter of his sternum was audible over the dragon’s anguished roars. Liquid spurted from the injury, staining his clothes black. The woman wrenched the sword free of his flesh and the man fell sideways, dead before he hit the ground.
“NO!”
With a cry, Seba sat bolt upright. She was drenched in a cold sweat.
It didn’t take her long to calm down, because she’d grown used to the sight of Max dying. Ever since she’d had the foresight, that vision had haunted her daydreams and nightmares alike.
Seba blinked and stared around. She was lying on a soft cot, dressed in a plain white shift. Other cots stood in a row beside hers, but she was alone in the long, narrow room. She faced a wall filled with large windows, through which she could see a peaceful bamboo garden dusted with snow.
“Snow?” she breathed, frowning. How long had she been asleep? The last thing she could remember was sneaking through the rainforest, following Max and Keriya Soulstar.
A door banged open to her left and a wrinkled old woman wearing the white robes of a healer bustled in. The crest embroidered on her sleeve marked her as a resident of the city of Irongarde. She took one look at Seba and let out a cry.
“Princess! You’re awake!”
Seba felt like she was still dreaming. How had she gotten here? Where was Max? Her mind was fuzzy, a smog of confusion blurring her thoughts.
“Praise Zumarra you’re safe! I’ll let Captain Rainsword know at once—”
Seba’s thoughts sharpened and a pang of nerves jolted sense into her. Wherever she was, Rainsword had somehow found her.
“No, don’t tell him! Please,” she added in a raspy voice when she saw the healer falter. “I’m not well enough for visitors.”
“But surely, Princess, we can let your father’s servicemen know you’ve recovered from your coma—”
“You must tell no one.” Seba tried to sound commanding, but that was difficult to do when it felt like she hadn’t spoken in weeks. “I don’t want him to know I’m awake. I—I don’t want anyone to see me like this.”
It was a sorry excuse, and she and the healer both knew it. But the woman also knew her place. She clasped her hands and bowed low to Seba, indicating her cooperation.
“You must be thirsty. May my assistants come in? They’ve been looking after you since you were brought here.”
“How long ago was that?” Seba wanted to know.
“Nearly a month, Your Grace. Prince Maxton wouldn’t tell us how you came to be in this condition, so it’s been difficult to treat you, not knowing what—”
“Max? He’s here?” Seba perked up at once. “Is he safe?”
“Of course,” said the healer. “He’s staying in Indrath Olven, but he’s been busy with political meetings. He came to visit you while he was here to see the Dragon Speaker.”
The happiness that had swelled in Seba’s chest burst like a bubble. She gripped her sheets to keep her hands from shaking. “The . . . dragon speaker?” she repeated, fighting to keep her voice calm.
“Yes,” the healer gushed, aglow with admiration. “She’s been staying in the infirmary, resting before she returns to Noryk with Lord Thorion. We’ve been honored to have such a hero bless our halls with her presence!”
“I see,” Seba said faintly. She had missed a great deal while she’d been unconscious. “Thank you for the information. You may send in your assistants, but remember, no one outside of my personal healers may know I’m awake.”
“Yes, princess.” The healer bobbed another bow and scuttled away.
As soon as she left, Seba threw off her covers and slid from the bed. Her legs shook when she put her weight on them. She’
d grown weak after a month of unconsciousness.
She stumbled across the aisle to the nearest window. Her breath fogged the glass as she stared at the garden without seeing it.
How long would the healer protect Seba from Rainsword? She couldn’t return to the palace and face her father’s wrath. She couldn’t be trapped there forever, especially not when Max was still in danger.
The healer’s assistants came in and swarmed around Seba, insisting that she return to bed. They fed her and gave her an assortment of foul-smelling potions. Seba let them fuss over her, all the while plotting her escape. As soon as she was strong enough to stand on her own, she would escape the infirmary.
Keriya Soulstar might have everyone else fooled, but Seba saw her for what she really was. She was no hero—she was a murderer.
And Seba was prepared to kill her before she had the chance to kill Max.
END OF BOOK I
BOOK II AVAILABLE NOW!
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Keriya Soulstar is finally happy. After her epic battle against Necrovar, she’s considered a hero. She’s been reunited with her dragon bondmate, Thorion. In the magical city of Irongarde, she’s daring to think she’s found a place she can call home.
But beyond Irongarde’s sheltered walls, trouble is brewing. Despite Keriya’s recent victories, the four kingdoms of Allentria are gearing up for war. When a surprise attack reveals that Thorion is sick, Keriya’s happy life crumbles apart.
In a race against time, Thorion’s allies split up to seek a cure for the incurable. It seems an impossible task, but the fate of the world depends on their success. As Keriya travels across the empire, she uncovers dangerous secrets about the dragons’ role in the first great war against the Shadow.
And she realizes her battle has only just begun.
GLOSSARY & PRONUNCIATIONS
Dragon Speaker Page 36
