by Jordan Rivet
Siv and his followers charged through the streets of Pendark, racing toward the city boundaries. The morning sun blazed overhead, and sweat mixed with the stray drops of Watermight coating their bodies. People leapt out of their way, barely having time to fling up their hands against the flying mud before the company passed.
Captain Lian led the way, avoiding the water as much as possible. They still had to cross a few bridges to reach the Boundary District, and every time, Siv imagined the water rising up to swallow them whole. He wouldn’t put it past Khrillin to find a way to head them off. The Waterlord was full of surprises.
Siv wished they had left Pendark sooner. He should have known the blasted city wouldn’t release them without a fight. They had been waiting for his sister Selivia to arrive so they could load up her true dragon with Watermight to use against Dara’s father. So much for that plan.
At least Vine had made it out. She rode amidst the soldiers, clad in green riding clothes and looking every inch the noble lady. She was the only one who could communicate with his sister using the Air. They’d have to warn Selivia to meet them somewhere else with her fiery friend.
Speaking of fiery friends, Siv fell back for the tenth time to make sure Dara was still on horseback. She wasn’t an elegant rider by any stretch, though she had improved since their long-ago trip through Trure. Vex rode close at her side, occasionally reaching out to steady her. She didn’t seem aware of him, but Siv was relieved to see the man keeping his word.
Captain Lian shouted that they were almost out of the city. Siv urged his stallion back to the front of the pack. The men looked scared and wet but uninjured. A flicker of silver was the only evidence of the watery carnage far behind them. They were lucky to have avoided Khrillin’s non-magic fighters so far—some of whom were skilled pen fighters—but they couldn’t assume they were out of danger yet.
The streets and canals of the Boundary District were oddly empty. People watched them from the porches of stilt houses and the decks of barges, letting them go by unimpeded. Siv wondered if their safe passage had to do with the animosity between Khrillin and Brendle, the Waterworker who ruled these parts. Khrillin hadn’t won himself any friends by killing Wyla and taking control of yet another large Watermight vent. Assassinating the king wouldn’t make him any more popular. Khrillin had an uneasy reign ahead of him. Siv hoped he choked on all the power he’d seized.
They passed the boundary proper, and the stilt houses and taverns fell behind them. Soon Pendark was nothing more than a glittering expanse of silver channels and multicolored flags.
It didn’t look as though they were being pursued, so they slowed as the land sloped upward to the shaded reaches of the Darkwood. Men and horses alike were wheezing and sweating. Everyone looked as though they couldn’t quite believe what had just happened.
“We’ll need to rest the horses soon, Sire,” Captain Lian said.
“Let’s hide in the Darkwood for now,” Siv said.
“And then what?”
Siv glanced at the man. Lian was only a few years older than him. His wild hair and heaving chest made him look slightly deranged.
“I won’t know until we get in touch with my sister.”
“She’s the one you were waiting for? I hear you communicate with the Air magic. My . . . my king used to meditate with the Air.” Captain Lian’s lip trembled, and for a moment, Siv was afraid he’d burst into tears again. Fortunately, he shook his head and focused his attention on Siv once more. “Can we ride for Vertigon, and tell her to meet us on the way?”
“She was supposed to collect something in Pendark,” Siv said. “I’ll fill you in after we find a place for the men to rest. I don’t intend to hide anything from you after what you risked to join this expedition.”
“I appreciate that, Sire,” Lian said.
Siv glanced around at the Pendarkan soldiers and lowered his voice. “Are all your men trustworthy?”
“Well, they won’t be happy about leaving Pendark to that gutterfeeder,” Lian said, “but my king assigned us to your campaign. That should be enough for them.”
“Good. Please don’t hesitate to tell me if there are any problems.”
“I will be straight with you,” Lian said. “It’s what my king wanted.”
Siv bowed his head, hoping the young captain wouldn’t become emotional again. It was risky to rely on men who may not have a strong enough reason to be loyal to him, but he had no choice.
They rode into the Darkwood at high noon, and Siv finally saw how the forest earned its name. The last time he traveled through here had been in the depths of winter, when the sun shone through bare, skeletal trees. Now, dense summer foliage stretched all the way across the road, creating a thick canopy that choked out the sunlight. The darkwood trees had become grim sentries carrying garish, top-heavy umbrellas. The shade did little to alleviate the oppressive heat. Sweat poured down Siv’s face, ensuring that his clothes remained damp, and his saddle continued to chafe. He removed his coat, undid half the ties on his shirt, and still felt as if he were wrapped in a hot, soggy blanket.
Fortunately, Lian’s newly appointed second-in-command, Detsin, knew a clearing off the main road where they could camp undetected. They all had to dismount and lead their horses over fallen logs and hidden drops to reach it. A small stream ran along the edge of the clearing. The horses overcame their temporary aversion to water to splash into it and drink their fill. The men were just as tired and hot, but after splashing water on their own faces, they made camp with practiced efficiency. Siv helped cut brush and drag logs, chatting with the men about pen fighting as they worked.
Dara didn’t join them. After unsaddling her horse, she slid down to sit with her back against a log, bare feet spread out in front of her. The attack must have nearly destroyed her if she was willing to sit still while others worked. She looked as if she’d run from the Fissure up to Square Peak in a single day. Siv hoped she would be all right after some food and a good night’s sleep. They were all counting on her.
Dara hadn’t broken through Khrillin’s barrier as quickly as Siv expected. He couldn’t help worrying that she might not be as skilled as he’d thought. What if she couldn’t stop the Lantern Maker’s reign of Fire? The last they heard, the Lantern Maker had been making steady progress toward Soole with his Fire Weapons, burning up the resistance along the way. They had to intercept him before he threw yet another land into turmoil.
When they finished setting up camp, Siv finally paused to rinse his sweaty shirt in the stream.
Vine skipped over to join him. “You make quite the impression, Your Highness,” she said, seeming as unperturbed as ever despite their rough morning. “The men have noticed.”
Siv blanched when he realized she was looking at his bare chest.
“Uh, thank you, Lady Vine.” He cleared his throat. “I’m glad you appreciate my physique, but maybe you shouldn’t—”
Vine gave a tinkling laugh. “I meant your scars. Pendarkans love a good scar map. And these men responded to your leadership when it counted.”
“I was just trying to get everyone out of there.” Siv pulled his damp shirt over his head and looked around at Lian’s men. Those who weren’t patrolling the perimeter had settled down to rest in what little sunshine they could find. He caught Detsin’s eye, and the man gave him a respectful nod. Maybe Vine had a point.
The lady herself knelt down to wash her hands in the babbling stream. “I suspect you got a few steps closer to winning the men over by helping them set up camp too.”
“Uh, right.” Warmth rose in Siv’s cheeks. “I forgot kings don’t normally do that.”
“Your late father would have.”
Now Siv really did blush. “Thank you.” He splashed out of the stream and dropped down beside Vine. He nodded toward Dara, who was still sitting in the same spot, looking vaguely nauseous. “How’s our girl doing?”
“She needs rest,” Vine said, “but she’ll pull through. I hope you u
nderstand the magnitude of what she faced back there. I don’t believe any other Worker would have been able to break through Khrillin’s wall.”
Siv grinned. “He must have been surprised.”
“I daresay he was,” Vine said. “He will be very disappointed not to have Dara for himself—especially on top of Latch’s secret.”
“Better not say too much about Latch’s secret.” Siv lowered his voice, even though the babbling stream covered their words. “Khrillin obviously had people in the King’s Tower. It’s possible one of them ended up in our company.”
“Don’t you think he already knows? He asked for Latch specifically.”
Siv had been mulling over this question, but he didn’t think Khrillin could have found out about the true dragons if he was still trying so hard to get his hands on Latch. Otherwise, he would be marching toward the nearest dragon lair. “Kres told him about Latch knowing the secret to transporting Watermight. I don’t think he knows the actual substance of it.”
“Good,” Vine said. “We wouldn’t want Khrillin’s ambitions reaching beyond Pendark.”
That’s the truth. It was bad enough when one master magic wielder decided to turn conqueror. Two, if you counted Commander Brach. The sooner they could send all these wielders home, the better.
“How soon can you contact Sel?”
“I shall begin my petition at once.” Vine stood and surveyed their shaded camp. “I’d better climb a tree to make it easier to reach the Air. It may take some time.”
“I’ll be as patient as a morrinvole, my lady.” Siv wrung more water out of his shirt. “Now, I’m going to see if I can find Dara a new pair of boots.” He started to walk off then paused. Vine would be the best person to talk to about what had been bothering him.
“Vine, did Dara seem a little . . . slow on the uptake to you?”
Vine sighed, twisting a dark curl in her fingers. “She is under a lot of pressure,” she said. “Dara does exceedingly well under pressure, but yes, I believe she had difficulty focusing this morning. She hasn’t had enough time to perfect this new skill of hers. Add that to the pressure she already feels over confronting her father, and I think it’s reasonable that she wasn’t as effective today as she might have been.”
“It is reasonable,” Siv said, “but men died today. If she’d made that opening sooner—”
“We are at war,” Vine interrupted, her usual singsong tone growing cold. “We fight to prevent more death and destruction, but I’d caution you not to get in the habit of pinning individual deaths on Dara—or anyone else.”
“Of course not,” Siv said. “I didn’t mean—”
“I guarantee that Dara herself is aware of her failings,” Vine said. “It’s our job to help her overcome them, simple as that.” She looked him up and down, baring her teeth like a protective mother cur-dragon. “You’d better let her get plenty of rest and space to train. Her power is still our best chance of ending this war decisively.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” Siv said. “Now, if you’re done lecturing me, don’t you have some meditating to do?”
Vine huffed and stomped off to join Vex and Rid. Siv shook his head ruefully. He took full credit for the friendship between Dara and Vine. He was the one who suggested they become dueling rivals. Still, he resented the implication that he wasn’t taking good enough care of Dara.
Vex offered his knee to give Vine a boost into a tree to begin her meditations. Hopefully, she’d find enough Air in these parts to make contact with Selivia. Without the supply of Watermight the true dragon was supposed to be able to carry, it wouldn’t matter how much practice Dara got.
Siv asked around until he found a man with a spare pare of riding boots, then he went over to join Dara. She looked up hazily, and his heart constricted at the anguish on her face. Vine was right. No one was harder on Dara when she made mistakes than Dara herself. He dropped the boots on the ground and slid down to put his arms around her. Without a word, she turned to snuggle into his chest, clutching his coat as if it were a bridge line in a storm.
Her body was no longer freezing and burning up with such violence, and that gave Siv a glimmer of hope. He believed she could meet this challenge, even though the slightest doubts had crept in during today’s fight. She had been taken by surprise, but she would push through it. She always did.
A huge yawn cracked his jaws. The hazy summer warmth and the efforts of the day caught up to him at last. Dara shifted against his chest, a soft sigh escaping her lips. Soon they were both fast asleep.
5.
The Rock
DUST curled across the top of the Rock in a great rush of wind, coating the sparse shrubs in golden powder. As the wind intensified, the dust seemed to dance, and the scrawny plants groaned under its force. Selivia leapt to her feet. The true dragon had returned. She swallowed, ignoring the grit on her tongue, and prepared herself for yet another futile attempt to communicate with the giant winged lizard.
The true dragon landed amid the churning dust, his massive form blocking out the burning blue sky, and dropped a bloody carcass onto the plateau. He began chomping away at whatever ill-fated creature he’d managed to snatch up—most likely a sand goat. The dragon’s head was covered in black scales and topped with a crown of spikes. The summer sun shone in his deep cobalt eyes, which glinted like twin jewels. The black scales around his head gradually gave way to emerald green along his back. Paler-green scales covered his belly, though the folds of his great black wings mostly hid these. A long tail stretched around his body like a cat’s, with a heavy knob of scale at the end that could crush a man’s head with a single blow.
Selivia still felt a thrill at the sight of the magnificent creature. True dragons were legendary beasts that had been sleeping in the faraway Burnt Mountains for centuries. The Far Plains Air Sensors had awoken this one—as far as she knew—and called him to their lands over a year ago. They had been unable to control the ancient creature and had chained him in a pit in the desert after failing to figure out how to work in harmony.
Selivia wasn’t faring much better. She had broken the dragon’s chains and ridden him away from Sunset City right under the invading Soolens’ noses—or over their heads. He had carried her to the top of the fabled Rock, a flat, sun-drenched world where she was convinced she and the dragon would solidify the bond they’d forged during their dramatic escape. When Vine Silltine urged her through the mysterious Air channels to fly to the seaside city of Pendark, Selivia had assured her that she and the true dragon would be on their way at once. She would save the world on the back of the most beautiful winged creature she’d ever seen!
Unfortunately, the true dragon had other ideas. She still thought the true dragon was terribly pretty, but her efforts to get him to listen to her were a complete and utter disaster.
For starters, he ignored her. She had talked to him for weeks while he lay chained in the pit. He had even responded, moving his head exactly like his smaller cur-dragon cousins and even spewing Fire at her suggestion. She had read an old book about how to commune with true dragons in Sunset City, and she had thought it would be easy. But the dragon had spent the past week ambling along the Rock, napping in the sunshine, and occasionally departing to capture a snack. He paid her no more attention than if she were a zur-wasp.
By now, she was growing desperate—not to mention dehydrated. The others were counting on her to reach them as quickly as possible. She couldn’t bear to tell them she hadn’t even left the Rock yet—though Vine probably suspected the truth. She foraged far and wide for birds’ eggs and the occasional cactus to eat, which barely provided enough water to keep her alive. Meanwhile, the dragon gorged himself on wild sand goats and birds caught midflight. Every time he flew off to hunt, she feared he would never return. She would have to climb down the steep cliffs to escape and perhaps slide right into the clutches of the Soolen army.
She wished she knew what the invaders were doing now. Her Far Plains friends were hiding
in the tunnels beneath the Rock, along with Fenn, her longtime bodyguard. How long could they remain hidden, especially when the Soolens had Watermight Wielders among them?
Vine had explained how Commander Brach’s men brought the silvery power all the way to the Far Plains in the belly of their own true dragons, as if they were great flying camels. Selivia had seen no hint of these mysterious dragons, but she was desperate to find out how the Soolens controlled them. There must be some sort of trick, but inspiration eluded her when it came to her own stubborn charge. How would she ever get him to move his great scaly hide?
A bone-crunching sound indicated that her companion was nearly finished with his meal. She approached cautiously and positioned herself where she could look into his large cobalt eye.
“Good morning!” she called.
The dragon went right on eating.
“That looks delicious,” she said. “I don’t suppose you could share some with me?”
The dragon raised his head and gave a huff that was a little like a laugh.
“You’re right. I probably wouldn’t like it very much. You could cook it for me, though.” Selivia put on a winning smile and took a step closer. “And then maybe we could go for a little trip. I really want to leave this rock, and I bet you do to.”
The true dragon snorted and shuffled its wings.
“It’s those soldiers,” Selivia said. “They might see you flying back and forth. You don’t want them climbing up here, do you?”
The dragon ignored her.
“It’ll be your own fault if you get captured again.” Selivia folded her arms, tapping her foot impatiently. “We’re supposed to be miles from here by now. I have things to do.”
The true dragon uttered an exasperated sigh. Selivia felt like a little girl asking for sweets. She had no idea how long the true dragon had been asleep in the Burnt Mountains. Perhaps the past few days had felt like no time at all to him. At least she was pretty sure he understood her, even if he chose to ignore what she said.
