Dragonwatch

by Jaye McKenna

  “It’s all right, Shaine. I believe you,” Mikhyal said, heart breaking a little as his brother trembled in his arms.

  Tristin’s eyes were dark with pain as he rested a gentle hand on Shaine’s trembling shoulder. “Another victim of the Wytch Council.”

  “One of the last, at least in the north,” said another voice, and Mikhyal’s gaze moved past Tristin to settle upon Prince Jaire. “The Northern Alliance will no longer tolerate such atrocities.”

  “Prince Jaire,” Mikhyal said.

  “Prince Mikhyal,” Jaire said, giving him a nod. “Tristin, since Shaine is free of Anxin’s influence, I’m going to the palace to speak with Drannik.”

  “I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Tristin said. “We have no way of knowing if it’s safe. What if Anxin’s men have taken the palace?”

  “They tried,” Mikhyal said, “but Dirit stopped them. He killed all the men Anxin had waiting for us at the palace. Whether there were more stationed outside of Dirit’s range, I don’t know.”

  “If you killed the twelve he had here, then that’s all of them,” Shaine said quietly. “Anxin was furious that you managed to get rid of the entire force he had at the palace. He thought it would be so easy.”

  “It might have been if you hadn’t taken the Wytch Sword from the vaults,” Mikhyal said, smiling at the little dragon sitting beside him.

  “Yes, poor Wytch Master,” Dirit said, settling himself on the bedding next to Mikhyal’s head. “Engineered his own downfall, he did. I find it rather ironic that if he’d just left the sword in the vaults, his plan might well have succeeded.”

  “The Northern Alliance owes you a debt we can never repay, Dirit,” Mikhyal said.

  “All part of my sacred duty,” Dirit said, preening. “Now that you are revived to my satisfaction, I shall be outside, patrolling the grounds and protecting my bond-mate.” The little dragon vanished with a snap of his jaws.

  “You see, Tristin?” Jaire said. “The palace is safe. There’s no reason why I shouldn’t—”

  “You’re about to have company!” Dirit chirped as he reappeared, this time perched on Jaire’s shoulder.

  A moment later, there was a loud knock on the door. Jaire flung it open. “Ilya!”

  Altan’s Wytch Master stood in the doorway, stark naked and dripping wet. “I’ve found him!” Ilya called to someone outside. “Found them both. Or perhaps I should say, found them all.” A loud draconic snort came from outside, and then a large, orange-gold dragon appeared behind Ilya, nudging the Wytch Master into the shelter with its snout so it could get its head through the door to have a look at the shelter’s inhabitants.

  “I’m fine, Garrik,” Jaire said, stroking the big dragon’s snout. “You don’t have to always come looking for me, you know.”

  “We were worried,” Ilya said. “I was able to track you through the mythe. I would have come alone, but of course, Garrik wouldn’t allow it. What happened?” His gaze settled on Mikhyal and Shaine. “No, that can wait. You have wounded men here. Let me see to them first.” He leaned out the door and called, “You might as well shift, Kian. You, too, Garrik. It looks as if we’ll be spending the night here, at least. Kian, bring the saddlebags in with you, if you would. I’ll want some dry clothing.”

  Jaire found Ilya a cloak, and the Wytch Master settled beside Mikhyal and Shaine.

  “Check Shaine first, if you wouldn’t mind,” Mikhyal murmured to the Wytch Master.

  While Ilya examined Shaine with his healer’s sight, Jaire and Tristin told their tale. Dirit took up his spot next to Mikhyal so he could listen and make comments and corrections. When Jaire and Tristin had finished, Mikhyal filled in his own account of what had occurred when he and Drannik arrived at the palace, and how he had been captured.

  Shaine squirmed when Mikhyal told them how he’d been shot down and collared. “Anxin knew about your alliance because of me,” Shaine whispered. “He made me spy on your meetings in Altan, before I attacked Father. I didn’t want to, Mik, you must believe me! I tried to stop, but he was too strong. And when I arrived back here, I tried not to tell him anything, but he just… he pulled it all out of my head.”

  “It wasn’t your fault, Shaine,” Mikhyal said quietly.

  “He sent that Drachan soldier out to shoot you down. Said you wouldn’t be expecting a man you couldn’t sense. He was to take you alive for the Council Inquisitors. Anxin knew you’d been made an offer to be transformed, and he guessed you’d do it. I’m so sorry. I’ve betrayed you and Father. And Rhiva.” Shaine ducked his head, silent sobs shaking his body.

  Mikhyal shot a helpless look at Ilya. “What can we do?”

  “I can dose him with anzaria and send him to sleep,” Ilya said quietly. “He is both traumatized and suffering from mythe-shock.”

  “Do it,” Mikhyal said with a nod.

  “I shall be dosing you, too, Your Highness. You are suffering from the after-effects of both the collar and the poison they used to bring you down.”

  Ilya gave each of the brothers a dose of anzaria, and once Shaine was curled comfortably at his brother’s side, the Wytch Master touched his brow and sent him into a deep, healing sleep.

  “Will he be all right?” Mikhyal asked, stroking Shaine’s flame-bright hair.

  “It will be a few days before he recovers from the mythe-shock,” Ilya said gravely.

  “Ai, I know that, but… I mean afterward. Will I ever have my brother back the way he was before the accident?”

  “That, I cannot say for certain.”

  “But Anxin is gone,” Mikhyal protested. “He no longer controls Shaine… is that not right?”

  “Anxin wasn’t controlling him in the sense you mean,” Ilya said quietly. “If that was the case, Shaine would have broken free of him the moment the blood-chain cut off Anxin’s access to the mythe. No, what Anxin did to your brother was far more cruel and insidious. He imposed a pattern on him, burning it into his very mythe-shadow, and then tying it to his own so it was continuously reinforced. The pattern set the bounds of Shaine’s behavior, and it sounds like your brother was fighting all along to break free. Unfortunately, as long as Anxin lived, that was not possible.”

  Mikhyal’s chest tightened painfully as understanding began to dawn. “That’s why I saw glimpses, every now and then. It was as if he was trying to speak to me, only something always stopped him.”

  “The pattern,” Ilya said. “He could only break free of it for the briefest moments, and even that would have taken a tremendous effort on his part.”

  “But… why wouldn’t the blood-chain break the connection?”

  “For the same reason Dirit was able to lead Jaire and Tristin to you even though you wore the blood-chain — because the connection between them went far deeper than the blood-chain could reach. Deep enough that only Anxin’s death could break it.”

  Mikhyal shuddered and blinked back tears, furious at the way Shaine had been violated. How horrible it must have been for him, to be forced to make his own brother hate him, and to be powerless to stop it. “How do I help him?”

  “You must be patient with him.” Ilya’s voice was gentle and reassuring. “He will need time to come to terms not only with what has been done to him, but what he was forced to do under Anxin’s influence. He will likely blame himself for not being strong enough. The burden of guilt he carries is already crippling. I will do what I can to reassure him that it was not his fault, but he will need to hear it more than once. And from more than just me.”

  “He will hear it from me every hour of every day, if that is what it takes,” Mikhyal vowed. “I will do everything I can to help him.”

  “That is as much as anyone can ask, Mikhyal.” Ilya gave his shoulder a squeeze and said, “Sleep now. Shaine won’t wake until you are both safely home at the palace.”

  The anzaria was beginning to make him drowsy. Mikhyal listened to the rain on the roof and the murmur of voices as the other dragon shifters determined what must
be done next. After very little discussion, it was decided that once the storm passed, they would depart for the palace, with Garrik and Kian transporting Mikhyal and Shaine on dragonback.

  “Do you hear that, Shaine?” Mikhyal murmured. “You’ll be riding on a dragon.”

  But Shaine was deeply asleep, and didn’t stir.

  Mikhyal tightened his arms around his brother. “It’ll be all right,” he whispered. “Now that I’ve got you back, I will make it all right. I swear it.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Mikhyal listened in silence to Tristin and Jaire’s account of the events at the shelter. The anzaria Ilya had given him had sent him into a deep sleep, and he’d only woken when Ilya had roused him for the flight back to the palace that morning. Upon their arrival, they’d been given breakfast and then ushered into Drannik’s study.

  Despite the thick cloak he wore over his clothing, Mikhyal was still shivering with cold. Mythe-shock, Ilya had said, and gave Mikhyal permission to attend the meeting only after receiving his assurance that he would rest for the remainder of the day.

  Learning that Lieutenant Takla and his men were all dead had been a blow. While Mikhyal and the others were eating breakfast, Kian had taken Rhu out on dragonback to search for them. They’d returned shortly after to report that they’d found the remains of the camp and the men.

  Guilt gnawed at him. If he hadn’t insisted on scouting ahead, might he have saved them? No. He’d done what he thought best at the time, and he must make an effort to remember that. If he allowed himself to fall into the trap of questioning every decision, he’d lose his edge, and Rhiva needed him sharp and decisive. Shoving away the guilt, he brought his focus back to Jaire’s account of the previous day’s events.

  “… and after Tristin set him on fire, I… I finished him off,” Jaire said quietly from his spot across the table. “He might have hurt Mikhyal and Shaine, but… I couldn’t bear to watch him burn.” He sounded very young and uncertain, and when he’d finished, he bit his lip and stared up at his brother. “You’re right, Garrik. I don’t think I’d make much of a soldier. I haven’t the stomach for killing.”

  Garrik’s arm went around Jaire, and Mikhyal’s heart stuttered painfully in his chest as the brothers’ display of affection reminded him of how he and Shaine used to be.

  “You did well,” Garrik said. “Compassion is not a weakness. It’s one of the things that sets us apart from the Wytch Council.”

  Jaire swallowed hard. “Then… then when Anxin was… was dead…” he trailed off, eyes filling with tears.

  Tristin said softly, “If… if I might continue, the tale, Your Majesty?” At Drannik’s nod, he said, “Once Anxin was dead, Dirit reported that he had dealt with the rest of the Drachan.”

  “You’re certain they were Drachan?” Drannik asked.

  “Dirit said they were,” Tristin said. “He said they, um, had a… a flavor.”

  “Ai, he said the same to me after he dealt with the troops Anxin had brought into the palace,” Mikhyal said, reaching for Tristin’s hand under the table and giving it a squeeze.

  “And so they do,” Dirit said, appearing on the table in front of Mikhyal. “A nasty, musty, oily flavor. I shall have to eat blackberry tarts until the aftertaste has gone. It still lingers, and I fear I shall have dreams most frightful until it abates.” The little dragon gave Mikhyal a meaningful look, and Jaire’s lips twitched into a small, watery smile.

  “Is that creature speaking to you again?” Drannik asked.

  “Ai, he’s just putting in his breakfast order,” Mikhyal said drily.

  “Indeed.” Drannik’s eyebrows lifted slightly. “And what would he like?”

  “Blackberry tarts,” Tristin, Mikhyal, and Jaire said almost at the same time.

  “Well, then. We shall have to see that the kitchen staff are notified,” Drannik said gravely. “Master Dirit shall have his pastries.”

  Dirit materialized long enough to perform an elaborate, sweeping bow to the Wytch King, and then vanished.

  Garrik, who had been mostly silent up until now stirred and said, “Since it appears that Anxin knew of the Northern Alliance and of our ability to create dragon shifters, it might be best to operate under the assumption that the Wytch Council also knows.”

  “Ai,” Drannik said with a sharp nod. “Our advantage lies chiefly in meeting their superior numbers with our dragon army. If Anxin did have the opportunity to pass along what he learned, we might expect them to strike soon, before we have had a chance to transform more men.”

  “I will stop at the palace in Mir and at Castle Irila on my way home and inform Edrun and Ord that they must be vigilant. We may need to meet again, sooner rather than later.”

  Drannik inclined his head. “I will be available at your convenience.”

  “I’ll also have a word with Vayne,” Garrik said. “If we could find him an apprentice or two, we might be able to build our army more quickly.”

  A sharp rap on the door was followed by Ilya’s entrance. “I’m sorry to interrupt, Your Majesty, but Prince Shaine is beginning to stir. He’s been calling for his brother.”

  Mikhyal got to his feet. “I’ll go and see to him. Finish your meeting, Father. I’ve already told you all I can recall. Ilya wishes for me to rest for the remainder of the day, but if we need to discuss strategy, there is no reason I cannot do that from my bed.”

  Ilya shot him a disapproving look, but Drannik said, “I’ll stop by when we’ve finished here.”

  Mikhyal gave Tristin’s hand another squeeze under the table and whispered, “Come to me in Shaine’s apartment when you’ve finished here. There are things we need to talk about before you return to Altan.”

  Tristin nodded mutely, ears going pink.

  The moment he and Ilya were alone in the hall together, Mikhyal asked, “How is Shaine?”

  “He has yet to awaken fully, Your Highness,” Ilya said. “I see nothing in his mythe-shadow to concern me, but I would like to have Prince Vayne come to Rhiva to examine him, just to be sure all of Anxin’s hooks died with him.”

  “If you can spare him, we would appreciate that,” Mikhyal said.

  Shaine looked very small in the big bed in his apartment. His flame-bright hair was unbound and scattered across his pillow, framing his pale face in a fiery halo. He was murmuring in his sleep, eyes fluttering half open now and again.

  “He’ll be awake before long,” Ilya said. “It might reassure him if yours is the first face he sees.”

  Mikhyal settled himself on the big bed next to his brother, and took hold of his hand, stroking it gently. “Come on, Shaine. Time to wake up.”

  Shaine’s eyes fluttered and opened. He blinked up at Mikhyal, frowning. “Mik?”

  “Who else? Welcome back. I’ve been worried about you.” Tears filled Shaine’s eyes and spilled down onto the pillow. Mikhyal pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and gently wiped Shaine’s face. “I used to wipe your tears away when you were small. Do you remember?”

  “I… I remember.” Shaine’s voice was a hoarse whisper.

  “You used to run after me, always trying to keep up with me, and never quite managing it. I thought you were a bit of a nuisance at the time, but I’d give anything to have my little brother back. He was so quick to smile, and he had the most infectious laugh.”

  Shaine turned his head away. “You don’t want him back,” he whispered. “Haven’t you heard? He’s a traitor and a coward of the worst sort. He tried to murder his king. He ordered his own brother shot down, and he locked a blood-chain around his brother’s neck with his own hands. If he’d been more of a man, he’d have found a way to break free of Anxin instead of allowing him to hurt those he loved.”

  “Do you really believe that?” Mikhyal asked softly. “Shaine, look at me.” He waited patiently for Shaine to turn his head and open his eyes. When he did, Mikhyal locked gazes with him and said, “Anxin used the power of the mythe to bind you to his will. He manipulated you
in ways you had no hope of fighting.”

  “Your brother speaks the truth,” Ilya said from the foot of the bed. “You had no chance against the full might of Anxin’s power. What happened was not your fault. Your brother knows that.”

  Shaine closed his eyes and curled up on his side, back to Mikhyal. Ilya managed to convince him to drink some medicine, and Mikhyal stayed close until Shaine’s deep, even breathing told him his brother was asleep.

  Ilya withdrew slowly, beckoning to Mikhyal, who gave his brother one last, lingering look, heart breaking a little. He’d only just gotten him back. Was he to lose him to despair now, when there was so much to hope for?

  Dirit appeared on the bed and settled himself beside Shaine, curling up on the pillow next to his head. “Go and talk to Ilya,” he said. “I shall watch over Prince Shaine, and I will fetch you if he needs you.”

  “Thank you, Dirit,” Mikhyal murmured, and followed Ilya into the main room of Shaine’s suite. When he’d closed the door quietly behind him, he said softly, “I suppose it was too much to hope that he would be… unchanged. Unaffected.”

  “He’s been through things you cannot even imagine, Your Highness,” Ilya said. “As I told you last night, it will take time and patience.”

  “I wish…” Mikhyal stared down at the floor, guilt at his own ignorance nearly overwhelming him. “I should have known. He was so different after the accident. But the healer said a blow to the head like that… and I asked one of the healers down in the village, and she said the same. I had no idea. All that time, he was trapped in his own body. Watching me, all the while silently begging me to see… and I didn’t. How could I have been so blind?”

  “You had no way of knowing,” Ilya said gently. “Do not blame yourself, Mikhyal. Shaine needs you to be the strong, confident brother he remembers, now more than ever. He needs you to believe in yourself so that he can feel the truth of it when you tell him you believe in him.”