Night of Flame (Steel and Fire Book 5)

by Jordan Rivet

  You’re a duelist, Dara snarled at herself. Be strategic.

  She had an idea. The next time her father shot the Fire at her, she let a little seep into the ground, not letting it drain too far away. She did it again. And again. She relinquished a bit of control with each pass, slowly building up a reserve beneath her feet.

  She allowed her father to see her strain when the power hit her, creating the impression she was about to collapse. He drew more power from the channel, pressing his advantage, not realizing Dara was using his own thirst for victory to mask her strategy. She pulsed the Fire back and forth, just like footwork in a duel, slowly closing the distance as she let more Fire flow into the ground.

  Not yet.

  Rafe wasn’t capable of releasing any power at all. It accumulated inside him with each of Dara’s attacks.

  Almost there.

  The flow of molten Fire lit up the clearing as bright as day, glinting on swords, on the scales of the crouching Cindral dragon, on the blade that had suddenly appeared in Siv’s hand.

  Dara faltered as she realized what she was seeing. Siv was about to attack.

  Just wait a little longer!

  But Siv was climbing to his feet, lifting his sword, preparing to throw his life away to help her. No.

  Suddenly, Dara knew what she needed to do to break the balance between her and her father. Before Siv could advance another step, she whipped her Savven blade out of its sheath and hurled all the Fire she could possibly reach into the blade. She called her entire reserve up from the ground, zipping it through her body faster than lightning, faster than thought. She extended the night-black sword and channeled every drop of Fire through the steel and directly at her father’s heart.

  He let out a horrible scream as the power blazed straight through him. It burned in a pure-white beam so hot, so powerful Dara could barely look at it. But she could control it. The Fire streamed from the tip of her blade at her command, boring into her father as he screamed in unimaginable pain. Dara’s blood made the same sound as her father fell to his knees, her power overwhelming him utterly. He couldn’t stand against her. Even with no Watermight, no Air, no other power but the blade in her hand and the Fire in her blood, Dara was stronger.

  Steaming tears coursed down her face as pain tore through her own chest. Why couldn’t he have kept his word? Why couldn’t he have been proud of her without feeling threatened? He knew she could defeat him—and he despised her for it. He had betrayed her at the first opportunity, and now she was forced to deliver the penalty, even though her heart felt as if it were boiling away to nothing. Her father’s stricken face blurred as Dara’s tears flowed.

  “Enough!”

  Out of nowhere, a blade slammed into her Savven. Dara shuddered as the clang echoed up her arm. The blade melted in half as soon as it touched the glowing Savven, but the clash was enough to startle her. The stream of Fire broke. Rafe collapsed forward onto his hands and knees, his whole body shuddering.

  Dara stared at Siv in shock. He had been the one to interrupt her attack.

  “It’s done, Dara.” He spoke so softly even her father wouldn’t be able to hear from where he had crumpled before her. “I will finish it.”

  She met Siv’s eyes, saw the solemn determination in them. And she saw the love, the pain he felt because she was in pain, the desire to spare her from enduring any more.

  “It’s done,” he said again.

  “I know.”

  Dara did not look at her father again. He was incapable of launching another attack. He had betrayed her for the last time. She turned her back and walked over to Surri, who folded her up in the shelter of her wings, leaving the king to dispense justice at last.

  40.

  Justice

  SIV looked down at the man who had killed his father. For a terrible moment, he’d thought Rafe had killed Dara too. Her body went rigid when she finally blasted him with that white-hot lightning bolt. But she didn’t fall. Instead, her face turned slowly to stone. Tear-streaked, heart-wrenching stone. The sight of that much pain on her face was the point of no return for Siv. It had been hard enough to concede to Dara’s wishes a few minutes ago, when Siv said he’d accept her father’s aid. It was impossible now. He had given Rafe a second chance, and the evil cretin used it to betray the woman he loved.

  But Rafe’s final attack had failed. Siv now had a clear path to the revenge he’d wanted for so long. But it wasn’t vengeance on his mind as he looked down at the man shuddering on the ground before him. Siv had relinquished his rage toward Rafe in order to save Vertigon. Now, the only thing Siv felt toward the Lantern Maker was a desire to give him exactly what he deserved.

  “Rafe Ruminor,” Siv said quietly. “You stand accused of the murder of King Sevren Amintelle, the Third Good King of Vertigon, and of King Atrin of Trure, who was a prisoner of war. Furthermore, you stand accused of conspiring to assassinate me with the help of House Rollendar. You also murdered Lord Von Rollendar.” Siv didn’t much care about Von, but Vex had proved a worthy ally since joining his service, and Siv intended to do right by him too. “In short, you are accused of committing high treason of the worst kind, as well as numerous crimes against the continent during your ill-fated invasion of the Lands Below. Do you have anything to say in your defense?”

  Rafe raised his head. He didn’t seem aware of his surroundings. He stared at Siv’s knees with glassy eyes.

  “The evidence of your guilt is clear,” Siv said. “This is your last opportunity to plead for mercy, if you wish.”

  Rafe’s eyes focused on Siv’s face at last. A shadow of his old pride lingered there, but it was soon snuffed out by a tide of terror.

  “It’s gone.”

  “What?”

  “Gone,” Rafe whispered. “I can sense the Fire in the stones, but it will not come to me. It’s as if I never had a Spark.”

  Siv didn’t know what to say to that. Maybe he should be grateful. He had thought Rafe was utterly defeated, but the bastard had still been trying to summon one last bit of Fire, probably to burn Siv’s eyeballs from his skull. These Ruminors were nothing if not tenacious.

  “You are not going to ask to be spared then?”

  Rafe’s lip curled. He didn’t answer, but his back straightened as he awaited Siv’s verdict. Rafe Ruminor would never beg.

  It didn’t matter. Siv wasn’t here for apologies or pleading. He was here for justice. And he wanted it done.

  “Then, Rafe Ruminor, as the King of Vertigon in exile, I sentence you to death for your crimes.”

  And he swung his sword to cut off the Lantern Maker’s head.

  Two thuds, the fall of the body and the head, echoed through absolute silence. The men of Vertigon watched, expressionless, from the cover of the trees. No one raised an objection to the execution of their former leader. They simply waited.

  Siv turned in a slow circle, every eye following his movements. The crown of Dara’s golden head was visible behind the feathered wings of her dragon. Her face had been turned away at the final moment. Siv wanted to go to her, but he couldn’t do that with her father’s blood dripping from his blade, however just the death sentence had been. He was relieved he could spare her from doing the deed herself. And if Rafe had truly been stripped of his Fire abilities, the execution may well have been a mercy.

  No, Siv couldn’t go to Dara yet. It was time to address the men the Lantern Maker had stolen from him. These men had marched away from their homes with hopes of glory in their hearts, only to have their wives, children, mothers, and friends attacked in their absence and their charismatic leader defeated. Right now, they needed a king. They needed someone who would look past what had happened and lead them toward the future. He would be that leader, if they’d have him. And now it was time to declare it once and for all.

  King Sivarrion Amintelle straightened his back, preparing to deliver a speech for the ages. It would be a speech these men told their grandchildren about, a speech other kings could only
dream of delivering, a speech future princes would study in their history books. He opened his mouth—and a piercing scream split the quiet.

  One of the Air Sensors jolted to her feet, staring wildly around the tension-filled clearing.

  “The true dragons are coming! They have found us!”

  Shock reverberated through the army for a heartbeat. The Ruminors’ final battle must have drawn the creatures’ attention despite the Air protections. How could it not?

  “You heard her!” Siv shouted. “It’s time to burning fight!” Abandoning his plans for an inspiring oration, Siv brandished the hilt of his broken sword and lifted his voice. “To arms, men! Let’s take back our mountain from these blazing lizards! Rally for Vertigon!”

  A cheer rose, thundering through the gathered men. They stamped their feet, filling the clearing with a clamor louder than any pen-fighting audience, than any dueling spectators.

  “For Vertigon! For Vertigon!”

  “We fight for King Siv and the mountain!”

  Dara spun around, still enclosed in the Cindral dragon’s protective wings. Her eyes met Siv’s, and there was Fire in them once more.

  “I can fight them,” she said. “But I’ll need all the Air the Sensors have.”

  “Whatever you need,” Siv said. He held her gaze for a second. There were no coherent messages in the exchange, no deep and meaningful words. Only love.

  He turned back to the soldiers, who were sharpening their blades and counting their arrows. “You hear that, men? We’re about to lose the Air shelter that has been hiding us from view. The dragons are coming, and we’re going to fight them for as long as it takes while my lady here does the rest.”

  “We are ready, Sire.”

  “King Siv and the mountain!”

  “Long live King Siv!”

  “I certainly hope so. Follow my lead. We’re going to show these dragons what it means to fan the flames of Vertigon.”

  Cheers thundered through the assembly as everyone leapt into action. Siv issued rapid instructions to the officers while Dara conferred with the Air Sensors. He caught snatches of what she was saying, including Vine’s name. Apparently, Lady Silltine had come through for them again. Dara only had a little power left, and she’d have to throw it at all the dragons at once. Siv intended to put up such a fight that every dragon within a hundred miles would fly straight to her.

  The Sensors stepped back to form a ring around Dara and the Cindral dragon. Dara laid her hand on the creature’s dark hide, and the dragon rustled her wings enthusiastically, apparently pleased with the strategy Dara was communicating to her. Then she opened her mouth and began passing the precious Watermight back to Dara. Siv dispatched a man to fetch the other two Cindral dragons for their last few drops as well.

  He continued to shout orders, organizing small companies of men to disperse into the forest in all directions. Excitement and trepidation buzzed through him, mixed with determination. He was about to lead his men into a battle they may not win. It would be the most difficult Dance of Steel he had ever entered, and the prize was Vertigon itself.

  He turned back to find the Sensors sitting cross-legged around Dara. They stared at her intently, apparently transmitting the Air they had collected to her. Dara’s hair whipped back from her face as she accepted their assistance, one hand on her dragon and the other on her sword. Her face looked pale, but she wore a serene expression, as if all her worries had been muted and she floated in a state of utter calm. She was the most beautiful woman Siv had ever seen.

  She was also deathly tired. She made to climb onto the dragon’s back, moving jerkily as if fighting through a strong current. Siv was at her side in an instant. He didn’t even notice pushing past the ring of Sensors.

  “Easy there.” He touched her cheek, wincing at the exhaustion in her face. “I’ve got you.”

  “I know,” Dara said. “One more bout.”

  Siv wished he could stop her from climbing onto that dragon. She’d just been through the hardest moments of her life, and she had to fight a little longer. But he knew better than to ask if she could handle it. If anyone could, it was Dara Ruminor.

  So he kissed her forehead, smelling the smoke and metal in her hair, and gave her a boost onto the Cindral dragon’s back. The fierce creature snapped her jaws at him, and he stepped out of the way.

  Dara held his eyes for a moment more. She opened her mouth to speak but seemed to find it too difficult. Her jaw set, determination in every line of her body. Then she touched the dragon’s back, and the great beast launched into the night sky. Within seconds, they had disappeared.

  “Right then.” Siv turned to the Sensors. “You give her all the support she needs.”

  He hurried to join the last party remaining in the clearing: General Pavorran, Captain Lian, Hirram, even damn Telvin Jale. They awaited his final instructions, perhaps knowing that all their efforts would be for naught if Dara failed.

  “It’s time,” Siv said. “Let’s take those monsters down.”

  41.

  Last Stand

  DARA and Surri rose into the air, calls of “Vertigon!” and “Long live King Siv!” rising with them. Dara was so far beyond exhausted that it hardly seemed to matter anymore. She had been pushed past her breaking point, but she was still alive—at least for a while yet.

  The Watermight was the only thing giving her the strength to cling to Surri’s back. She’d endured far more Fire than a body should be able to stand during the encounter with her father. But it was done. His weight was gone from her soul now. She folded away the memory of his final moments. She’d allow herself to feel sad later.

  Right now, it was as if every inch of her skin had been stripped away. She felt hypersensitive, aware of every gust of wind, every smell, every bead of light. She didn’t have long to wonder at her heightened senses. The shrieks of the true dragons reached her seconds after she left the ground, enraged that someone had used such huge quantities of Fire right under their snouts.

  But Dara had learned the secret to using their own Fire against them.

  She couldn’t do it without help. She wouldn’t rise as her father had, certain he was the greatest Wielder who deserved to triumph. Dara had power, yes, but she had learned important lessons from her mentors, who had showed her the best and the worst of what Wielders could be. Unlike her father, she would never claim the right to rule over them all. Instead, she had turned to the Sensors, who Wielded the gentlest of the magical substances, and she had asked for aid.

  The Air surrounded her now. The substance whispered in an airy voice that sounded exactly like Vine Silltine. It was an unassuming power, but it wanted balance restored in this land. And it was strong.

  As the dragons swarmed toward her, their cries echoing through the Fissure, Dara thanked the Air for consenting to help her. She tightened her Watermight-strengthened arms around Surri’s neck and spread the precious substance around her, protecting her with a second set of icy scales. Their hearts thudded in time as they met the attack head on.

  Two dragons converged on Surri, spouting identical jets of Fire. The Watermight shield deflected the worst of it from Surri’s vulnerable scales. Dara let the dragon Fire blast over her, molten, gold, burning, blazing. Her skin felt as if it were peeling away, but instead of forcing the Fire to obey her, she accepted its heat, allowing it to engulf her until her veins were full of more Fire than blood. Then she relaxed her control still further and invited the Air to help.

  Wind howled around her, half from the power and half from the beat of Surri’s wings as she wheeled across the sky. Dara felt the ethereal substance bend, wrapping gently around the Fire within. She eased some of it back out of her skin. The Air responded to her guidance and enveloped the blazing substance so that a burning ball lit up the Fissure like a sun.

  Then Dara hurled the sun at the nearest true dragon. It hit the creature with incredible force, knocking it straight out of the sky. The Fire alone would have slipped right over
its scales, but the Air had turned it into a blunt object. The other dragons shrieked in surprise, their wings flaring as their comrade fell.

  The true dragons recovered quickly and renewed their attacks, targeting the strange black dragon wheeling and darting across the sky. More Fire gushed from their throats. In Dara’s hands, the substance became a battering ram, a blade, whatever she needed. The Air responded to her, like a living thing, a partner and a friend. It enclosed the Fire, keeping all the power but turning it into an alien thing that was as dangerous to the dragons as a stone falling on top of their heads.

  One by one, Dara struck the dragons from the sky. Down below, the men of Vertigon swarmed over the fallen creatures wherever they found them. They dealt swiftly with any not already dead from Dara’s massive blows.

  The true dragons shrieked in confusion as the Fire and Air battered them. Some attacked the men on the ground instead of confronting her directly. Screams rose from the forest as their jaws and flames found their marks.

  Dara was tiring fast, but it didn’t matter. She wouldn’t stop until every dragon was down.

  A spray of Fire hit her from behind. Surri shrieked as the Watermight shield began to fail at last. Dara sucked in as much of the heat as she could, but Surri’s scales steamed, and her feathers curled up and drifted away. Dara formed the Fire into an axe blade, strengthened and solidified by Air, and sent it spinning toward the dragon that had attacked from behind. The creature cried out as the blade sliced into it as no ordinary Fire could. It too fell.

  Dara wielded her weapons of Fire and Air as fast as she could, but still more true dragons came. The creatures were distressed now, frantic. They grew enraged as their compatriots plummeted to the ground around them. Any soldier unfortunate enough to be spotted was torn limb from limb if he wasn’t burned in his shoes.

  Dara gritted her teeth against the screams rising from the ground. She was running out of energy, and her vision was beginning to waver. Her friends were still dying. The dragons would keep killing them unless she dealt a final, definite blow. She wrapped her arms tighter around Surri, communicating her plan through feelings more than words. She was too exhausted for words.