Burn

by Keri Arthur

  What happen? Kiva said.

  Esan is uncertain of our presence. Kaiden goes to talk to them.

  Easier to burn, she grumbled. Smoke puffed out of her nostrils, though it was little more than show. If she'd intended to burn, she wouldn't have given such a warning.

  You burn and we might not be able to free other drakkons.

  She sighed. Heavily. You no fun.

  I laughed and reached up to scratch her ridge. A delighted rumble rose before she could stop it. Mareritt no touch like this.

  Mareritt are bastards.

  Bastards? Oma said. What that?

  I hesitated. In this case, it's another word for evil.

  You no bastard, Kiva said. Must scratch more.

  My lips twitched. I will.

  Two men had moved out from the main force and were now striding toward Kaiden. My gaze went to the tanks stationed in front of the pass; all five guns were aimed our way rather than Kaiden's. It would only take one of those itchy fingers, and we could be in trouble.

  No, Oma said. Can lift.

  I glanced up at her. I'm too heavy for you to lift very far.

  More lift, stronger get.

  It was certainly possible—especially if my guess was right and Oma was still growing.

  Am, she said. Emri gone, but I here.

  I smiled despite the thick knot of pain. Thanks, Oma.

  Up ahead, the two men approaching Kaiden had stopped. He did the same and the conversation began. I wished I could hear what was being said—given their animated gestures, it would have been interesting.

  Eventually, the two men moved back to the tanks. Kaiden turned and walked back.

  “Is something wrong?” I asked, concerned.

  “The captain refuses to give you and the drakkons entry until it’s cleared by the base commander.”

  “Who is your father,” I guessed, seeing the annoyance in his expression.

  He nodded and scrubbed a hand across his bearded chin. “It's a ridiculous, and somewhat petty, delay.”

  I hesitated and then touched his arm. “Given the situation, it’s also understandable.”

  He snorted. “He undoubtedly believes my head has been turned by a pretty face—that I'm thinking with my loins rather than my brains.”

  “I look like a Mareritt—I doubt he thinks that unless you've shown a past preference for half-breeds.”

  “Half- or quarter-breeds have never been my thing, but a pretty face? Totally different.”

  My lips twitched. “If you’re trying to get into my bed, it’ll take more than a compliment or two.”

  “I’ve already been in your bed. It’s your body I’m after.”

  “This body has very exacting standards when it comes to lovers.”

  “And we both know I’m well up to those standards.”

  “You were certainly well up for something the few times we’ve shared a bed. I’m surprised you haven’t had to take matters into your own hands.”

  He laughed. “I just might have to if a certain woman doesn’t acquiesce to the heat that burns between us.”

  “Then if I were you, I’d be preparing to fly solo.”

  “That is disappointing news.” He glanced back to the pass, and his amusement faded. An open-top people mover drove toward us. Two men and three women stood inside—the latter bearing guns.

  Today's equivalent of kin, perhaps?

  Kaiden turned to face them; his arms were clasped behind his back and his face was a mask of indifference. But the link between us was alive, and it told a very different story.

  The mover stopped several yards ahead of us. The drakkons raised their wings and fanned lightly. It was a warning of unease, of caution, and the guards in the mover braced and raised their rifles.

  “Don't,” Kaiden said, voice flat. “You make any attempt to shoot these drakkons, and they will respond.”

  “What the hell is going on here, Kaiden?”

  The man who spoke was broad shouldered and well-built, with steel-gray hair cut close to his head and a lined face that spoke of deep grief. Kaiden's father—and a man who'd lost far more than one son.

  “You're well aware what is going on, Commander.” Kaiden's voice was clipped. “You've no doubt received Lindale's report by now.”

  “Which did mention the possibility that this could be nothing more than a well-developed Mareritt plot—”

  “Lindale didn't believe that, and you well know it, Commander.”

  “An old Zephrine uniform, missing memories, and a mind filled with magic does not a kin make, Kaiden.”

  “But the ability to communicate mind-to-mind with drakkons does, Commander.” I kept my voice polite but firm. “You don't have to believe my story, but you should at least believe the evidence in front of your eyes.”

  His gaze cut to mine. His eyes were the same azure color as Kaiden's but colder. Harder. “What I see is a Mareritt woman standing next to my son in front of two drakkons. It's a sight that'll cause more than one itchy trigger finger within Esan if I allow any of you near her walls.”

  A smile touched my lips, even as annoyance flicked through me. “Those drakkons saved us from the Mareritt, Commander. Trust me when I say their only desire right now is to seek vengeance on those who kept them prisoner for so long. Esan is safe from them unless Esan attacks them.”

  The threat had ice glittering in his eyes. “These drakkons are Mareritt-bred. They are raised to obey—”

  “Why on earth would a city manned by those whose ancestors once rode drakkon believe such a lie?” Incredulousness dominated my voice. “How could you have forgotten so much in a mere two hundred years?”

  The commander's gaze narrowed, and Kaiden touched my arm. A warning as much as a silent plea to keep calm.

  “The Mareritt don't communicate with the drakkons in the same manner as kin did—as she does,” he said. “They control them via the metal bands on their legs. Remove them—as we have with Oma and Kiva—and the Mareritt lose their ability to control.”

  “Bands?” the commander snapped.

  “Leg bands,” I explained. “They're some sort of either electrical or magical device that allows the Mareritt to communicate orders and then enforces those orders with increasing levels of pain if the drakkons do not comply.”

  “If the Mareritt are capable of such treachery,” he said, “how do we know they have not also enforced such things on you?”

  Kaiden shook his head and promptly stripped off. I hesitated and then did the same. Their reaction to the changes in my skin color was brief but nevertheless present. I had no idea whether it meant they were more inclined to believe me or not.

  “As you can see,” Kaiden growled, “no bands, no restraints. Now, can we cut the crap, Commander—”

  “The drakkons,” he cut in harshly. “If you do indeed command them, have them rise.”

  “Oma, Kiva, rise high enough for them to see your legs. Commander, tell your people to keep their guns down. If they fire, they won't have to worry about drakkons. I'll kill them all myself.”

  “Trust me,” Kaiden said, “she has the firepower to do so. She’s kin, so I do mean that literally.”

  The commander raised an eyebrow but nevertheless motioned to his people. The guns lowered.

  We gathered our clothes and then moved forward to give the drakkons room to launch. They crouched in unison and then leapt high, wings fanning hard, sending dirt swirling as they rose skyward.

  “Check their legs, Commander,” I said. “No bands.”

  His gaze remained on the drakkons. He wasn't stupid. He understood the implications of what we'd done. “However monumental this discovery might be, it’s impractical to physically remove the restraints on all—”

  “Agreed,” Kaiden said. “But we don't have to. All we need to do is find a means of disrupting the signal between drakkons and Mareritt.”

  “You have these drakkons’ bands?”

  “Yes.”

  The commander
's gaze flicked to me. “Are you willing to submit to a full mind read?”

  “You won't uncover anything more than Lindale—”

  “If you do not agree,” the commander continued, overriding Kaiden, “neither you nor the drakkon will get near Esan. I'd rather kill you all than risk the city's security.”

  “My entire city is destroyed, everyone I've ever known is little more than dust, and the one chance we had of bringing the graces back is now gone,” I snapped. “Don't preach security to me, Commander. I've literally given everything I have—”

  “Then you, more than anyone, should be able to understand my concern.”

  I studied him for a minute, my hands on my hips and fire dancing across my fingertips. His gaze narrowed once again, but he didn't say anything.

  “I want a guarantee the drakkons won’t be fired on, Commander.”

  “Keep them out of the city and they won't be.”

  I snorted and shook my head. “It's a sad state of affairs when the blood of kin treat drakkons so poorly. Your ancestors would be hiding their faces in shame right now.”

  His anger flared. “Don't attempt to lecture me on what my ancestors might or—”

  “I knew them,” I cut in harshly. “I flew with them. I saw their courage and their bravery when faced with unthinkable odds. I see no such courage or bravery here this morning, but rather a man locked behind the walls of fear and loss—”

  “Enough, both of you.” Kaiden's voice was whip firm. “We haven't run the entire length of Mareritten and stirred up a hornet's nest for nothing, Commander. Esan is in grave danger, but it doesn't come from anyone standing in front of you this morning.”

  The commander studied him for several seconds and then nodded once. “Order the drakkons to the aeries, but warn them not to swoop the city. If they're hungry, the old herds of capras still roam the peaks.”

  Capras were agile, longhaired ruminants who could survive in conditions and terrain few other animals could. Esan of old had semidomesticated them to ensure a constant supply of ready meat for drakkon and kin alike. It was nice to know that not everything about the fortress had changed.

  “Thank you, Commander,” I said, more for Kaiden's sake than his father's.

  He nodded and glanced at his son. “Wait here until I’ve given stand-down orders and the entry flag is issued.”

  As the mover returned to the city, I said, voice dry, “Well, that went a whole lot differently than I’d thought.”

  “Yes.” Kaiden shook his head. “Though I really shouldn’t be surprised. Far too many have suffered losses to the drakkons to ever readily welcome them.”

  Only kill because ordered, Oma commented. No choice.

  I know. Kaiden knows. It'll just take others more time.

  Is no time, Kiva commented.

  My gaze shot to her. The two of them were circling lazily on the breeze, their scales shining bright in the golden light spreading across the skies. Why?

  Mareritt kill Esan.

  I blinked. How do you know they plan to do that?

  I hear.

  How?

  Was shot. Returned to aerie. Heard them.

  My heart began to pound a whole lot harder. Zephrine's aeries? They do still exist?

  Yes, Oma said. Most hatched there now. Easier.

  Of that, I had no doubt. Drakkon eggs required certain levels of heat to hatch, and though our section of the Balkain volcanic range had been dormant for centuries, the steam vents remained active. They provided the perfect microclimate for hatching drakkons.

  “I take it,” Kaiden said, his voice dry, “that given your somewhat absent expression, you're in a conversation with the drakkons?”

  I blinked again and quickly told him what Kiva had said. He frowned. “That is not good news.”

  “No.” If only because it meant we had even less time to find a way of blocking the signal to the drakkons. “But the Mareritt still using Zephrine’s aeries is.”

  “Why?

  I gripped his arm, an odd fierceness running through me—a fierceness that was born from a twisted mix of the need for revenge and utter joy. From a realization that not everything I'd known had been lost to the dust of time, and that it was possible for us to get into the White Zone without being seen.

  “Because Zephrine's aeries were also designed as a means of escape should the fortress ever fall—”

  “Yes,” he cut in, “but as I've already said, Kriton's very well guarded these days.”

  “The seaport was never the designated rendezvous point. It was never considered secure enough because it was a port and far too close to the Mareritten border.”

  His frown deepened. “But there're no other cities close enough to be considered a safe option should the evacuation order be given—and if there had been, why wasn't it used?”

  “Perhaps they simply had no time,” I said. “Especially if the air itself became a weapon and froze people on the spot.”

  “So where—”

  The rest of his sentence was cut off by Oma's screech. A heartbeat later, something hit my shoulder and spun me around and then down. Moisture flooded my shirt. Warm moisture. Blood.

  I'd been shot.

  Esan shoot us. Oma’s voice was filled with fury. Shall burn?

  No, I said urgently, fighting the rising tide of pain and looming darkness. Are you hurt?

  No. Burn now?

  No. Rise high and keep out of sight.

  You hurt. Should burn.

  No, please. I'll be all right. There were hands on my shoulder and curses filling the air. We need Esan's help, Oma. This is not the action of the city but rather one person bent on revenge.

  I had to believe that. Had to.

  I didn't want to believe a father would betray his son so easily.

  You and Kiva keep to the peaks and out of their way.

  Not happy.

  Please. This is important.

  Dissatisfaction rumbled through her thoughts, but she and Kiva nevertheless flicked their wings and disappeared into skies filled with red and gold.

  Relief surged. I closed my eyes and let the tide of pain sweep me into unconsciousness.

  I woke to a soft but steady beeping. The warm air smelled faintly of antiseptic, and there was a bed rather than ground under my body. My shoulder felt tight, but I could move my fingers, and that at least meant the shot hadn’t caused any lasting damage.

  I opened my eyes. The first thing I saw was Kaiden. He was asleep in an uncomfortable-looking chair, his feet propped on the end of the bed and his arms crossed. He'd obviously showered and shaved in the time I'd been unconscious, though the bristles now lining his jaw suggested at least twenty-four hours had passed since then.

  The room itself was small and held only one bed—mine. A device similar to the Mareritt medical machine that had healed Kaiden's leg lay to my right, although this one had a metal arm that hovered above me; for what purpose, I had no idea. There were a number of lines in my arm that ran back to the machine, and monitors of some kind stuck onto my chest. The metallic beeping matched the rhythm of my heartbeat.

  Happy you awake, came Oma's thought.

  So am I. Where are you and Kiva?

  In aerie. Is night.

  And you haven't been attacked?

  No. Have hunted. Plenty food here.

  No doubt because the capras had been untroubled by drakkon for over two hundred years. I shifted to get a little more comfortable, and the movement woke Kaiden.

  His gaze swept me, and relief stirred, but there were new lines around his eyes that spoke of just how deep his concern had been. It warmed but at the same time scared me. I’d obviously been pretty close to death.

  “Where am I?”

  “In an Esan hospital ward.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “And the shooter?”

  “Dead.”

  I blinked. That certainly wasn’t an answer I’d been expecting. “Did you...?”

  “No. I was beaten to i
t.”

  “Who by?”

  “Kiva.”

  Didn’t order me not to flame, came Kiva’s comment. He shot you. I burn him. Fair.

  It certainly was, but it wouldn’t have endeared either of them to the general population. “And how did your father—and Esan in general—react to that?”

  “Not well.” He grimaced. “And to be honest, even if most are now aware of why they’re here, deep pockets of distrust remain—especially amongst those who are refugees from greater Arleeon.”

  “That’s not something we can change in a hurry.”

  “No.” He lifted his boots off the bed and then rose and reached for the long flask sitting on the nearby table. “The medics have ordered that you drink their concoction the minute you wake.”

  “I gather it’s another one of those muddy herbal things?”

  “The muddy herbal things smelled a whole lot more pleasant.”

  “Fabulous.”

  “They assure me it’ll have you back on your feet in hours.”

  “Probably because I’ll be running to the privy.” I accepted the tumbler of greeny-gray liquid with something close to trepidation, then held my nose and quickly downed the lot. A shudder ran through me. “You’d think after all the centuries of brewing those things they’d have found a way of making them palatable.”

  “I suspect they could if they wanted—they just get a macabre kick out of watching our reactions.” He refilled the tumbler. “My father wants to meet with you ASAP.”

  I gulped the second tumbler down; for some damn reason, it tasted even worse. “Why do you call him Commander in public?”

  “Because when we’re in public, that’s what he is.”

  “Who else has he lost besides your brother?”

  Kaiden’s eyebrows rose. “And just how did you reach that conclusion?”

  “He wears his grief like a cloak. It may not be obvious to any of you, but it certainly is to an outsider.”

  He reached for the chair and dragged it closer. “We lost Mom five years ago.”