by Jordan Rivet
38.
Encampment
THE fight was over by the time Dara and Surri returned to the mouth of the Fissure. Midnight was long past, but dawn was still hours away. Many true dragons passed them on their way back to the peaks, but Surri evaded their notice in the darkness. Dara couldn’t afford to waste her Watermight fighting them one by one. She’d have to preserve the power Latch had saved until it counted the most.
They returned to the landing site by the river, but they were too late to help. The true dragons had crushed the motley force Siv brought from the south. Smoke hung thick over the water, and an angry glow rose from the fires burning along the canyon. Fallen men and Cindral dragons formed indistinct lumps in the darkness.
Dara dismounted and examined the bodies one by one, using touches of the Fire she’d absorbed from Selivia’s dragon to light her way. She found Detsin, his body halfway submerged in the river. Gidon slumped against the still form of a Cindral dragon, recognizable only by his fine animal-skin mantle. A pair of Soolen Waterworkers had died defending another fallen Cindral dragon, and other Soolen soldiers had died defending them. Dara wasn’t sure how many there had been initially, but there looked to be more casualties among the dragons than the men. The true dragons must have seen their Cindral cousins as the greatest threat, giving the men more time to escape.
Surri whimpered mournfully over her fallen comrades, but Dara didn’t let their deaths touch her yet. She was so brimful of power that she had to focus on different sensations. She put every last drop of emotional energy into keeping the two powers inside her from combusting while she searched the landing site for the bodies that mattered most to her. She feared each time she turned over a blackened corpse that it would belong to someone she loved. But there was no sign of Siv, Vine, or Berg among the fallen. Maybe all wasn’t lost yet.
Then she stumbled over a long, lanky form beside another dragon corpse. She thought it was a Cindral dragon at first, but its wings were bare of feathers, and its scaled body was larger than the others. At least one true dragon had been slain. The man who killed it had shoved a thick spear directly through the roof of the creature’s mouth and been drenched in Fire in the process. The burns were too extensive for her to recognize his face, but she knew that lanky shape. Tann Ridon.
Dara crouched on the ground beside Rid’s body, struggling to contain the emotions and powers tearing through her. Rid had saved her life back in Fork Town. He had been utterly devoted to Vine, but he was Dara’s friend too. All he’d wanted was a bit of adventure beyond the farm where he worked. She touched his smoldering boot, honoring his sacrifice. There was no sign of Vine on the battlefield, but Dara chose to think Rid had slain the dragon to protect her. Dara vowed to finish the job for the sake of all their friends.
After she’d searched in vain for her remaining loved ones, Dara climbed back onto Surri’s back. They stayed low to the trees as they returned to the Vertigonian army, swerving around still-burning patches that might reveal them to any true dragons in the area. She knew approximately where the camp should be, but she couldn’t see it, even though the fiery glow helped hold back the darkness. Where are they?
A faint ripple passed over Dara’s skin as they crossed the Fissure Road. It was gone as soon as she noticed it.
After that, hints of metal and movement revealed that the army was just where she left them. The camp looked surprisingly untouched, despite the slaughter that had occurred to the east. Dara connected this fact to that rippling sensation when she spotted the ring of Truren captives meditating in a clearing.
No one should ever underestimate the Air. “Land in that clearing, please, Surri. You can rest soon.”
Surri stretched out her wings and glided down to land beside the circle of Air Sensors. The Vertigonian guards jumped back as the huge black dragon thumped down in their midst. Dara slid off her back, searching for familiar faces among the nearby soldiers—for one face in particular. She spun a ball of Fire out of her skin to illuminate her surroundings better and to let the soldiers see it was she.
The Vertigonians gazed at her with the same reverence they’d shown since she joined them. No one looked surprised that she had survived. She wasn’t sure they’d feel the same admiration if they saw the bodies by the river. So many people she couldn’t save. Dara felt raw with grief and weariness. She wished she could rest, with no one looking at her as though she were a hero or a god. The magical substances raging in her body were all that kept her upright.
Then a hand touched her waist, and she spun around to find Siv himself looking down at her. He was covered in ash, which highlighted his many scars. He had acquired a few extra scratches on his face, but otherwise, he was uninjured. Dara drank in the sight of him, more precious than any magic. They had only been apart for a few short weeks, but it felt as if so much had changed. She was still struggling with a torrent of emotions, but it was easier to control the flood now that she knew Siv had survived the true dragon attack.
“Are you all right?” he said softly. He seemed wary, as if he wasn’t sure whether she would bolt—or burn him to a crisp.
Dara nodded, hardly able to speak, and reached up to touch his face. He caught her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing her as gently as if she were made of gossamer. She felt as if her heart were a single, beating coal.
He released her all too quickly, perhaps aware of their audience.
“What happened out there?”
“I saw Selivia on King’s Peak,” Dara said. “Latch is with her. I got the Watermight from him.”
She turned away from Siv reluctantly and walked up to Surri’s head. The Watermight wouldn’t keep in her body the same way it would in the Cindral dragons’. She cupped her hands beneath Surri’s mouth and let the silver-white substance ooze out for her to drink. It was always painful when Dara forced Watermight through her skin, especially when she had to control Fire simultaneously, and she was trembling by the time it was done. She let the Fire roar unchecked as soon as she got rid of the last drops of Watermight.
“Is that going to be enough?” Siv asked, watching her work. He still seemed strangely cautious around her, as if an invisible barrier separated them.
“I don’t know,” Dara said. “Did any other Cindral dragons make it?”
“We have two here. I don’t think they have much Watermight left. They used their reserves to defend themselves against those Fire-spitting bastards.”
“Can’t blame them,” Dara said, though her heart sank. After all that effort to bring Watermight here, they had precious little of it to use. “We’ll probably only get one shot at the true dragons, so we have to plan carefully.” She nodded at the Sensors gathered nearby. “They’re hiding us?”
Siv nodded. “They say it’s repayment for you sparing their lives . . . after capturing all five hundred of them singlehandedly.”
Ah. She understood now why he was wary. He must have heard the full story of what happened the day she faced her father. She gave him a strained grin. “I’m glad that move worked then.”
“Um, Dara, we have a situation here,” Siv said quietly. “These men all seem to think you’re their leader and commander and maybe deity. Supposedly, what you did even impressed the Lantern Maker enough to make him toe the line.” Siv’s voice remained calm, almost flat, giving away nothing of his thoughts.
“You make it sound like a bad thing,” Dara said.
“I don’t know if they’re interested in Amintelle rule anymore,” Siv said. “Not when they have the Ruminors.”
Dara looked up at him sharply. Her sphere of Fire was still their main source of light. Surri had adjusted her wings, giving them a bit of privacy in the midst of all the soldiers and prisoners, but Dara still lowered her voice.
“Only one Ruminor is in charge here. That hasn’t changed.”
“You let your father wander off.”
“I sent him on an essential errand.”
“You trust him enough for that?”
“No, I don’t,” Dara said. “He’s under control. Last time I checked, you trusted me, though.”
Siv’s face softened. “You’re right,” he said. “I do. In fact, I trust you enough to lead Vertigon yourself.”
“That isn’t what I want,” Dara said, surprised and touched by the statement. “At least, not without you by my side. Unless you’re rethinking our engagement?”
“No, ma’am.” Siv took a step closer, and the familiar smell of him hit her through the stench of smoke and blood, making her knees tremble. “But I understand how easy it is to get used to power. It’s bad enough when that power is just a crown and a castle. I can’t imagine what it’s like when power literally runs in your blood. I’ll do whatever I can to help you manage it.”
The Fire Dara had taken from the true dragon still raged within her, but she felt a different sort of warmth as she looked up into his face. Siv understood. He understood, and he was willing to give her whatever support she required. Resisting the pull of power would always be a battle, but she thought she could handle it—as long as they were together.
“Thank you.” She reached out and entwined her fingers in his, not caring who saw. The army might as well get used to the fact that they were getting the Amintelles and the Ruminors together. “I missed you,” she said softly.
Siv grinned, and for a moment, the weight of what they were facing seemed to lift. Dara’s heart burned hotter than the Fire in her blood when he smiled at her.
“I missed you too,” he said. “Have I told you lately how much I love—?”
Siv froze. So eager to hear those words on his lips, Dara hadn’t noticed the sudden silence descending around them. And the feeling that more Fire than what she held was gathering nearby.
Siv’s eyes were fixed on a point behind Dara’s shoulder. She turned slowly to find her father standing behind her. As soon as she became aware of him, she sensed the vast reservoir of Fire seething from the ground beneath him and into his body. His eyes were like red-hot coals, and he stared at Siv with naked hatred on his face.
Siv hadn’t seen the man who killed his father since last winter. He’d thought about him often, but he had never been able to nail down exactly what it would feel like to face him.
The light from Dara’s Fireball illuminated Rafe Ruminor’s face, but his eyes glowed with inner Fire too. He looked as tall and imposing as ever. His defeat at his daughter’s hand had done nothing to diminish the pride in every inch of his bearing.
Dara positioned herself squarely between them at once. Siv knew she would protect him, but she had been through a lot already today. She must be exhausted from her flight all the way up to the mountain and back, whereas her father looked fresh. And hostile.
Neither Siv nor Rafe moved an inch. Could he draw and throw a knife without hitting Dara? It would probably melt into nothing before it reached Rafe, anyway. Dara might stop the blade herself. Still, Siv wanted to do it anyway. This was the man who had killed his father. Everything else paled in comparison to that razor-sharp fact.
“So you have returned,” Rafe said at last. “I didn’t know you and my daughter had grown quite so close. I can’t say I approve.”
Dara made an incredulous sound in her throat. “We have bigger things to worry about than my suitors.”
Rafe ignored her and raised his voice. “When you ran from the mountain in fear, Amintelle, I thought we’d seen the last of you.”
A faint rumble went through the assembled soldiers.
“We ran because you were trying to kill us,” Dara said.
“Even so, you left your kingdom behind,” Rafe said, still addressing Siv in a loud voice for the benefit of the onlookers. “And now look what has happened to it.”
The rumble grew louder. Siv struggled to master the rage coursing through him. This man had taken so much away from him. But they had more important concerns than vengeance right now. It took a while, but when he finally spoke, his voice was calm and clear.
“The damage to Vertigon began long before the dragons arrived, Ruminor,” Siv said. “You made the mountain vulnerable by destroying the peaceful balance which made Vertigon prosperous. Whether or not my throne is restored, I am here to set things to rights.” And then, though it was the hardest thing he had ever done in his life, he said, “Dara tells me you mean to help us.”
Rafe raised an eyebrow.
“If that is your plan, you’d better start talking,” Siv said. “I am willing to set aside our issues until Vertigon is safe, if you will assist us in fighting the true dragons.”
“And why should I?” Rafe said. “Won’t you order my daughter to kill me afterward?”
Dara stiffened. Siv wished he could say something to soothe her. He wondered if Rafe knew he had never outright ordered Dara to execute him. Was he trying to sow seeds of discord even now, with dragon Fire all but raining down around them? Siv fervently wished he could feed the man to a rabid cullmoran and be done with it.
But he said, “I will spare your life, if that’s what it takes to save Vertigon.” Siv had spent so long wishing for revenge against his father’s murderer, but he had to do the right thing for the mountain. It was what his father would have wanted. “You have my word.”
Rafe opened his mouth to respond, but Dara threw up her hand, silencing them both.
“Everybody be quiet,” she said. “I hear something.”
Siv listened carefully, but there were no unusual sounds. Whatever Dara heard was being sent directly to her. An Air message then. Vine must have made it after all.
Dara was concentrating very hard on whatever was being said to her, almost quivering with focus. A brief smile crossed her face, as if she’d heard something useful. She flashed Siv a hopeful, determined look as the message came to an end.
That was when the Lantern Maker struck.
39.
Breakthrough
THE attack slammed into Dara so hard it threw her to the ground. At first, she didn’t know what hit her. She’d been listening intently as Vine filled her ears with hope, with a chance to save Vertigon, with one final breakthrough. For a fraction of a second, Dara had been certain everything would be all right.
Then her father blasted her with his vast reservoir of Fire. She landed on her back twenty feet away from Surri, too far to access the Watermight. He must have seen her returning the power to the dragon and waited until she was distracted to unleash the Fire.
The fiery assault went on and on, lighting up the darkest hour of night. He must have succeeded in opening a channel to their camp from the foot of Village Peak. As she lay flat on her back, it was all Dara could do to let the blinding torrent crash through her and sink into the ground. Betrayal and bewilderment coursed through her as strongly as the Fire assailing her senses. She had let down her guard, allowed herself to hope she and her father might Work together. Siv had even offered him respite for the sake of the mountain. But her father’s cooperation had been a ruse. Even with Vertigon on the brink of destruction, he couldn’t accept that he had lost.
Bones creaking painfully, Dara managed to roll onto her side and assess her surroundings. Fire poured from her father in a solid bar of gold. The grass had ignited around her, sending flames flickering across the ground. The soldiers drew back, aware they had no part in this contest. Even Surri kept her distance.
Siv had been blown off his feet when Rafe’s attack began, but he pulled himself to his knees, shielding his eyes against the white-hot light. He showed no sign of retreating. Dara had a sudden vision of when Siv had hurled himself repeatedly at Wyla to give Dara time to break the bond on her arm. It looked as though he was preparing to plunge his body into the fray once more. But the Pendarkan Waterworker was nothing compared to Rafe Ruminor with his blood full of Fire. He would blast Siv into tiny, charred pieces.
Dara had to stop her father before Siv did something stupid and brave, but she couldn’t slow the Fire blazing through her. There was no finesse to the at
tack, no finely Worked spindles of Fire and metal. Her father simply hurled power from the newly opened channel, trying to overwhelm her the way she had overwhelmed his Fireworker cronies, the way the Surge had overwhelmed her sister so many years ago. This was a struggle for absolute dominance, and only one Ruminor could win.
Dara’s fingers curled into fists. Sweat coated her forehead as she forced herself into a sitting position. Very slowly, her limbs feeling as if they were about to crumble, she pulled herself to her feet.
Fury flared in Rafe’s eyes when Dara stood, as wild as cur-dragon fire. He had been coming unhinged for months. The Fire had driven him so far down the road to madness that it was impossible for him to admit defeat. Dara saw now that he had never accepted that she had bested him. He couldn’t comprehend that anyone—even his own daughter—was stronger than him. The lie of his invincibility had burrowed into him, and now he was trying to prove it, damning the consequences to them all.
Dara looked her father’s madness directly in the eyes. And she knew there was only one way to win.
She stopped letting the power drain into the ground and seized every drop of Fire she could reach. It built within her rapidly, filling her with so much molten magic it was a wonder her body didn’t explode. But she held on, fighting for control. She had no time to summon the emotions that made Wielding easier, no time to look to Siv for strength. She had to trust that all her training since that first hot bead of Fire coursed through her would be enough.
She bottled up the Fire her father was trying to drown her in and thrust it back at him, releasing every drop in a single terrible blast.
Rafe caught the power and threw it right back at her. Dara gasped as the power flooded her, then she hurled it at him again. The power surged back and forth between them like water being poured from cup to cup as they tried to overwhelm one another through sheer force.
