by Jordan Rivet
“Thank—”
“Not a word,” Sora hissed. “Just run.”
She led the way up Square Peak, following the path Kel had taken to the nearest cavern entrance. Sora was shaking with fear and grief by the time they reached the small, dark tunnel—too small for the dragons to enter.
“In,” she barked at Lima.
“Yes, my queen.” Lima scrambled into the tunnel, ducking low to avoid the rocky overhang above it, which should protect them from view for now.
Sora looked back. King’s Peak was on fire. A hundred patches of flame blazed across the mountainside. Smaller fires simmered on Village Peak, but the humble dwellings there had escaped the worst of the damage. Sora’s kingdom was being drenched in Fire for the second time since her reign began.
At the crown of King’s Peak, the castle itself was ablaze. Sora watched her home burn, flames licking every turret and lighting up the night sky. At the top of the tallest tower perched the bloodred true dragon. He roared as the flames from the castle illuminated his shiny scales and his vast, powerful wings. The other true dragons swooped around him, luxuriating in the flames. The red beast stretched his wings wide above the castle walls and trumpeted his victory to the heavens.
The true dragons had awoken at last. And they had claimed Vertigon for their own.
22.
The Vent
DARA looked down at Mirror Wells from the edge of the forest. Fire hummed beneath her skin, as much as she could gather from Rumy’s flame. She breathed deeply, trying not to get distracted by the two creatures shuffling beside her in the predawn gloom. The battle for Fort Brach was about to begin. Far to the west, Prince Chadrech’s army would be moving into position on the opposite side of the Granite River. Latch and the refugees from Mirror Wells would be riding out of the forest to help them fight. Gidon lurked with armed Cindral men along the woods to protect their border. Siv had already departed on his own mission. As soon as the sun rose above the river, Dara and her companions would make their move.
Last night, she and Siv had given a theatrical rendition of a lovers’ quarrel. It had been strange to yell at each other for the benefit of their allies when she felt so incredibly happy. All she wanted was to throw herself into his arms and celebrate their engagement—secret for now. Instead, she had shouted every criticism she’d ever had of Siv when they first started dueling together to lend authenticity to the argument. Siv had almost laughed when she chastised him for being an arrogant buffoon who wouldn’t know a proper riposte if it hit him between the eyes. But he kept it together, storming and spluttering for all to see.
Siv’s contributions to the fake argument had hit a little closer to home. He’d focused on the evils of her mother and father. He was just trying to convince the onlookers he was serious about defeating the Ruminors, but it stung to have their faults thrown in her face. She knew how bad they were.
The spectacle had ended with her snatching up food and waterskins, calling for Rumy, and stomping into the woods. She wished she and Siv had been able to say a proper goodbye. They didn’t know how long it would be until they saw each other again—or if they would even survive the tasks ahead. Dara held onto the memory of that moment by the waterfall as if it were a shimmering bead of Firegold. It would have to be enough for now.
She’d gone straight to where Belna had shown her the Cindral dragons and spent the entire night attempting to communicate with them by getting as close as she could and concentrating intensely at them. They were not nocturnal, and all she managed to do was annoy the creatures. She’d fallen asleep against a stump with Rumy’s head on her lap, frustration sapping the last of her energy.
She’d dreamed of a Fire Lantern resting atop a cliff, with Air and Watermight howling around it. When she awoke, the black Cindral dragon was watching her.
Dara started up as the dragon continued to stare at her. Its tail lashed back and forth disdainfully, feathers shimmering in the waning moonlight. It breathed heavily, rustling the nearby leaves, and kept its jet-black eyes on Dara. Rumy gave a faint whimper.
“Let’s give this another try,” Dara whispered. “Warn me if she starts to attack or something, Rumy.”
The cur-dragon gave her a flat look.
“You’ll be fine.” Dara patted Rumy on the head and then folded her legs beneath her and closed her eyes.
She tried to meditate, hoping to tap into the Air drifting through the forest to help her. The presence of the huge dragon sitting in the darkness a few feet away made concentration difficult. She kept picturing the wicked claws and sharp teeth. Its breath was a low growl that sent shivers down her spine, and she imagined she could hear the drumbeat of its massive heart.
She wasn’t sure why it had approached her now. Belna had said the dragons were agitated. They sensed that things weren’t right in the continent. Maybe this particular dragon wanted to do something about it.
But no matter how hard she meditated, the dragon didn’t move any closer. Gray light was beginning to creep into the sky. Rumy gave a nervous whine beside her. He was right. They didn’t have time for this. Siv and Berg must have left camp hours ago.
Dara got to her feet and met the black dragon’s intense stare with one of her own.
“Well?” she said. “Are you going to sit there watching me, or are you going to help?”
The dragon snorted. Then it tossed its head.
“What does that mean?” Dara said.
The dragon tossed its head again and shuffled sideways a few steps, scraping its thick hide against the tree stump. Dara wondered if this was more of the strange behavior she’d seen from the Cindral dragons before. But the creature crowded closer to the stump and went still, as if waiting for something.
Dara and Rumy exchanged glances.
“Might as well try it.” She approached the large beast warily. The stump had easy footholds, and she climbed quickly to the top, keeping her Savven blade out of the way of her legs.
She crouched on top of the stump, the dragon’s sleek, feathered wings stretching below her like a giant eagle. It turned its head to fix her with a steady gaze. Then it folded its wings forward, making room on its scaly back.
“Right,” Dara said. “If Selivia can do this, so can I.”
She scrambled onto the dragon’s back before she could think better of it. The dragon shifted its weight forward, and Dara clutched desperately at its neck. As she made contact with the scales, she felt the barest glimpse of a connection between her and the creature. It wasn’t a communication link, like the kind Vine and the Air Sensors could create with people far away, and it definitely wasn’t friendship, like Sel and her true dragon shared. It was more like the link Dara felt to her Savven blade: a hint of a spark.
“Okay,” Dara said, trying to remain calm as the dragon’s body lurched beneath her. “Let’s go get some Watermight.”
The three of them had trotted to the edge of the forest above Mirror Wells, arriving with a few minutes to spare before sunrise. The Cindral Folk watching the borders left them alone. Gidon’s people didn’t like the idea of a huge fight on their doorstep, but they weren’t actively hostile toward Siv and his allies. Most of the activity would take place to the west at the fort anyway, not this close to the Watermight vent.
The first rays of sunlight appeared at last, spreading like liquid gold up the river. The Cindral dragon snorted, and Dara gave a little jump. She definitely wasn’t comfortable with the massive creature yet. Rumy stayed a respectful distance from the big female dragon, and he kept shooting Dara slightly disgruntled looks. They were in for an interesting journey.
Dara watched the dawn spread toward Mirror Wells. Khrillin had stationed a large company of soldiers and Waterworkers to guard the vent, but he likely still had a few up at the fort. She hated to leave Latch to fight with Watermight alone, but she still held out hope that Siv’s plan would work. She hoped he wouldn’t get himself killed or captured in the process.
“Focus on your own b
out,” Dara said aloud. “He’ll be okay.” The black dragon gave her a look that could only be described as judgmental, and Dara resolved not to talk to herself anymore in its presence. The dragon’s personality reminded her of Surri, the female dueling coach notorious for being stricter than Berg and mean to boot. Surri’s haughty way of looking down her nose at lesser mortals was quite like this dragon’s demeanor.
No one stirred in the village below. Dara straightened her sword belt and let a few drops of Fire ease out of her skin to coat her palm for a moment. Dawn had come, and she was ready.
Movement flickered in the woods to her right. Good. Her backup had arrived, though Captain Lian and his men didn’t know that was their true function. They believed their job was to harry the guards at the vent and prevent them from sending reinforcements to Khrillin when the Soolens assaulted the fort.
“They’re about to attack,” Dara said to the Cindral dragon—Surri, she had decided to call her. She stepped closer and laid a hand on Surri’s huge scaled chest, trying to communicate while concentrating on the Fire in her blood and the Air that may or may not be moving around them. She imagined compelling the dragon to do what she said just as she directed the magical substances. “We need to fly to the vent, drink up as much Watermight as you can hold, and get out before they realize we’re there. Sound good?”
The air stirred faintly around her, and she felt something from the dragon. She froze, not sure if she was imagining it or not. The response wasn’t agreement exactly. It was as if Surri was saying she’d humor Dara’s plan for as long as it suited her. That would have to be good enough. She felt as if she were slicing bread with a broadsword: it got the job done, but there was almost certainly a better way.
A low rumble stirred the ground beneath them, and a group of riders burst out of the woods to her right and galloped down the slope toward Mirror Wells. Captain Lian himself led the charge, his dark shock of hair plastered straight back on his head. Dara caught a glimpse of the red-coated Vex Rollendar in their midst. She wouldn’t mind if he fell in this battle, to be honest. He’d try to influence Siv in her absence. He and his brother were still bent on vengeance, and they’d settle for nothing but her father’s death.
FOCUS ON YOUR BOUT.
Dara jumped as the words rattled in her head. Had that come from Surri? She looked into the dragon’s massive eye. Surri stared blankly back at her. Could have been her imagination. She took a deep breath and hauled herself onto the dragon’s back with the help of a nearby boulder. Trying not to pull on the wing feathers, she wrapped her arms tight around Surri’s neck.
She cleared her throat. “Let’s go.”
The Cindral dragon responded at once, heaving herself into the air with incredible force. Dara felt as if she’d left her stomach behind on the ground. The beat of the dragon’s wings knocked her about, and it was all she could do to stay on its back. Every nerve seemed to tingle with fear and anticipation as they flew higher. Rumy rose beside her, squawking nervously. They soared into the air, higher than the massive Cindral Forest canopy. The blaze of the morning sun rippled on the treetops like a green-and-gold sea. Above the canopy, the Cindral trees were covered with vibrant flowers of red, fuchsia, and golden orange. Dara never would have guessed such a riot of color topped the venerable old trees.
She only had a brief moment to admire the beautiful expanse before Surri turned sharply and glided down toward Mirror Wells. The wind buffeted them, and Dara clutched tighter to the creature’s muscular neck, hardly daring to look down.
The gray thatched houses had endured a lot of damage during Dara’s last visit. She could tell exactly where her wave of force had spread, the evidence visible in the trampled grass and ruined walls. From this height, she could see the line where she had stopped the wave and forced it to spin instead of dispersing. The sight gave her hope. If she had controlled it like that once, she could do it again.
What she couldn’t control was the dragon. Surri circled around and around the village, as if carefully assessing exactly where she wanted to land. They didn’t have time for this. Wasn’t she supposed to be able to bend the creature to her will?
“The vent,” Dara called out, trying to focus on compelling her again. “Go to the cave with the vent.”
PATIENCE.
There it was again! Dara definitely hadn’t imagined it that time. The Cindral dragon was speaking to her! Selivia had never mentioned anything like this about her true dragon. It must be possible due to Dara’s ability to wield.
Surri circled the village yet again. Dara prepared to draw the Fire from her blood. It seethed within her, eager to break free. The Fire was the sputtering kind from Rumy, but she’d been holding it long enough that it should serve her well.
Someone shouted far below her. Captain Lian’s men had been spotted. The Pendarkans guarding the town ran out to meet them. This was it. Dara tightened her grip around the dragon’s neck—and not a moment too soon.
Surri dove, streaking for the ground as if she intended to plunge into it like a bird into a pond. Dara’s eyes watered, and her braid flew out behind her. She drew the first streams of Fire out of her skin.
Surri flared her wings wide, and they came to a stop an instant before hitting the ground.
GO.
Dara leapt off the dragon’s back, cords of Fire shooting from her hands to capture the men guarding the mouth of the cave. It was little more than a hole in the riverbank, with a wooden door topped by a stone lintel. Dara’s Fire clutched the door in giant gold fingers and wrenched it away from the opening. A campfire smell drifted from the wooden door as Dara tossed it aside, taking out another guard with the momentum.
Surri crouched before the cave and let loose a terrible roar. The Cindral dragon had been almost completely silent so far, and the sound made shivers run down Dara’s spine. The meaning of the roar was clear: the opening was far too small. How was Surri going to get close enough to drink up the Watermight?
More guards were running toward them. Surri lashed her huge black tail and snarled, halting their advance through sheer fury. Rumy soared around out of range of their swords, attempting to set the guards’ clothes on fire.
“Hold them off!” Dara shouted to the dragons. “I’ll figure something out.”
She drew her Savven blade and dashed into the cave, sending a glowing blob of Fire before her. A Pendarkan soldier running up the passageway dove out of the way of the Fireball. Dara sliced the tendons in his legs so he couldn’t pursue her and ran past.
Stone steps led down to a stone archway, which opened into a large natural cavern. It was warm and damp inside. Silvery light glowed at its center, illuminating the stalagmites and stalactites around the cave.
A vast pool filled most of the cavern floor. Ripples trembled on its crystal surface from the commotion outside. A deep shadow at the bottom of the pool indicated where the vent opened. The Fire in Dara’s skin hummed in response to the Watermight reservoir.
Shouts echoed down the passageway, followed by a vicious roar. Dara hesitated. She was still best at controlling Watermight when she swallowed it. If she did that with this much Fire in her blood, would she be able to control the power? She knew she had to stop second-guessing herself, but her recent failures haunted her still.
The clatter of footsteps made the decision for her. The soldiers were almost at the end of the passageway. A bolt of silver shot past her ear. A shard of icy Watermight. They had a Worker with them, and she was out of time.
Dara took a deep breath and leapt into the Watermight pool.
23.
Brach Town
SIV rode out of the forest before dawn with Berg Doban at his side. The old dueling coach was still skeptical of Siv’s plan, but he had agreed to try. If anyone could get through to Khrillin, it would be one old friend and the son of another old friend.
Siv didn’t know how many soldiers and pen fighters Khrillin currently had guarding his walls, but he hoped it was most of his force. T
hat way, Dara wouldn’t face too much resistance when she raided the Watermight pool with the stolen Cindral dragon. He tried to put his newly betrothed out of his mind as they galloped along the northern bank of the Granite River. She was the most competent person he had ever met. A few guards wouldn’t stop her, especially with a dragon on her team.
Why do the girls get to ride all the dragons anyway? The Cindral Folk had refused to lend Siv their dragons, but maybe he’d have a chance for one little ride after this was all over. In the meantime, he had promises to keep—and hopefully a war to prevent.
Siv and Berg crested a ridge as the sun rose, getting their first good look at Fort Brach and the large, prosperous town in its shadow. A bridge led across the Granite River to the huge iron-gray fortress. Hundreds of houses and shops—some showing damage from Fire and Watermight—were grouped on either side of the bridge, but almost no people moved in the streets. After being captured twice in a single week, the town looked as though it were holding its breath, awaiting yet another magical storm.
“You are ready?” Berg asked.
“Ready as a furlingbird in mating season,” Siv said.
“This is not the kind of ready I am thinking of,” Berg grunted.
They rode down the slope toward Fort Brach. The lowest ridges of the Linden Mountains rose above it to the north and west. House Brach had held this delicate position on the border between Soole and Trure within sight of Cindral Forest for generations. They had guarded it well, never violating their rightful boundaries until Commander Brach began his campaign with the invasion of Cindral Forest last winter. His actions had cost him his life, and now the fort was in the hands of the Pendarkan Waterlord. Siv felt little sympathy for Commander Brach, but he hoped his son would be a wiser leader. He’d better, if he expected to be worthy of Selivia one day.
Latch had agreed to preserve their alliance despite the final defeat of his father’s army. He needed the link to a foreign royal family in order to reestablish himself in the Soolen court, and Siv needed the tie just as much. As a token of friendship, Latch had given Siv another Brach family secret last night: the fort had a hidden entrance. Siv almost wasn’t mad that Latch had withheld this information until the last moment. Almost. The fellow would learn to be more forthcoming soon enough. Selivia could wheedle secrets out of a mummified bullshell husk.
