Night of Flame (Steel and Fire Book 5)

by Jordan Rivet

  LET’S DO IT.

  At once, Dara drew in the Watermight she’d used as a shield to protect Surri from the fiery attacks. She forced the power into her own body, using up every last drop. The ice coated her bones, her organs, her brain. Air whispered over her face, soothing, accepting, giving permission for what she was about to do. She was going to combine all three magical substances. Once. Only once would Dara be permitted to Wield such power. That was okay with her.

  Surri swooped toward the biggest true dragon still in the air, a nasty creature with huge fangs and scales the color of rotten apples. The Cindral dragon dove at her opponent, completely unprotected from the Fire building in its throat. Dara held on, squeezing her friend tight.

  The blast of true dragon Fire hit them. Dara could feel Surri’s scream through her scales, feel the agony as she hurled herself into the furnace. Dara drew the Fire into her veins, her heart constricting at the pain she felt through the dragon’s scales. But Surri’s sheer determination filled Dara up, giving her solace in a way nothing else ever had. Dara had sought control through passion, through love, through the touch of Siv’s hand, even through anger and desperation. But now the final thrust came not from her, but from this fierce creature hurling down her life to save thousands.

  Silver-white tears filled Dara’s eyes as she drew in the Fire scorching Surri’s scales, her eyes, her wings. Fire blazed in her battered flesh, so much that golden droplets oozed from her skin like sweat. Keeping her face pressed to Surri’s neck, Dara bent the Fire to her will, braided it with the Watermight her friends had carried for her and the Air her allies had offered her. The three powers twirled together like lovers, danced in her body like duelists, clung to each other like the fiercest hug. Then Dara lifted her head, and the wave of power burst forth.

  The boom was deafening. The power spun outward, far stronger than anything she’d ever produced before, and formed a spiral around her and the dragon, flickering gold, silver, white, bronze, green, blue, black. It moved like a physical thing, this pure manifestation of power. At Dara’s command, the spiral roiled through the Fissure and began swallowing up the dragons.

  The power captured each true dragon it hit as if it were hardest diamond. Some were caught mid-blast, and their Fire added to the riot of color and light. The tornado of power gathered up the true dragons, skimming deftly above the groaning treetops, flying with a force beyond all reason.

  Dara directed that force, that absolute power. But she knew it was borrowed power, gifted power, lent to her to end the violence that had nearly destroyed the continent. There was no coming back from this. Dara accepted the gift, pushing every ounce of strength and resolve she possessed into the effort, giving up every last shred of herself if only it meant the people she loved would be saved.

  The true dragons tumbled away from the army scattered between the mountain and the plain as the power threw them back up the Fissure. The torrent showed no sign of letting up as it dragged the creatures through the canyon and higher into the air. Then, just before it reached the bridges in the distance, the spiral of power curled upward and contracted, folding the dragons into a furious, tangled knot.

  The knot hung suspended for a single eye blink. Then Dara gave one more push, and the solid binding of power carried the dragons away. She relinquished control as they disappeared from her sight, knowing the power would carry the dragons far into the Burnt Mountains before releasing them from the tangle. The surviving dragons wouldn’t dare to threaten Vertigon again.

  As the power left Dara at last, she was vaguely aware of the ground rushing toward her. She still had a tight hold around Surri’s neck, but they were falling, falling. She looked up to see the first hints of dawn peeking out over Vertigon. Then the ground rose up to meet them.

  42.

  Dawn

  SORA watched the spiral of glittering power from the shelter of a cave with Kel, Vine, Lima, and Berg. She couldn’t wield the magical substances, but she felt the pure, concussive force as the true dragons were carried away. It was as if the mountain itself had closed a fist around the marauding creatures and hurled them back where they came from. She couldn’t feel happy, not after the true dragons had killed so many of her people. All she felt was awe.

  As the last dragons disappeared, captured in that whirling torrent, a new light emerged in the sky. It was different from the simmering glow rising from the patches of wildfire. It was clean, pure, radiant. Faint purple painted the horizon at first, but as Sora and the others watched, it slowly turned to a deep rose, mixed in with the purest of Amintelle blue.

  Kel slipped his arm around her as dawn broke once more over Vertigon.

  Siv watched the final moment of the battle on his knees. He and his men had fought their way through the woods, confronting the dragons wherever Dara flung them down. The monsters were as vicious on the ground as they had been in the air, but thanks to Dara, they were not invincible. Silver blood coated his sword, and he had a long burn down his arm. It actually made some of his other scars less visible, so he figured it was a win. Most of his beard had been singed right off his face when he slew his last dragon, and he wasn’t sure he’d ever hear out of his right ear again, but he had suffered less than some.

  Then the blast of power forced him to his knees, and—in the worst moment of his life—he watched Dara fall from the sky.

  The instant Siv could move, he leapt up and charged through the forest. His men followed, raising their cheers to Vertigon and to his long life. He barely heard them—and not just because of his damaged ear. All that mattered was reaching the place where Dara had fallen. The dragons may be gone, but he didn’t know yet if this was a day for celebration.

  Dawn light began to filter through the trees, sharpening the shadows and hinting at the day to come. Siv ran as if a cord of Fire around his chest were pulling him forward. Others ran with him, but he paid them no heed. The ache of his injuries faded into the background, and he blinked through the smoke clouding his vision.

  He found her in a clearing not far from the river. A little cabin occupied one corner, with a metal doorknob glinting in the early-morning light. Siv knew this place. He and Dara had taken shelter here after falling into the wintry Oakwind River. It had been a place of sanctuary for them, a place where’d he once hoped that they could make it through together.

  But hope threatened to sputter out as he reached Dara, who sprawled on the ground beside the fallen Cindral dragon. She looked as though she was sleeping, but the smell of charred flesh filled the clearing.

  No. Don’t let her be dead. Siv dropped to his knees at Dara’s side, afraid to touch her lest it confirm the worst. A singed wing tip rested across her legs. The Cindral dragon’s eyes were open and cloudy, its neck at an awkward angle. He looked at the poor creature, honoring it in death, delaying the moment when he might have to see that same cloudy look in Dara’s eyes.

  At last, he pulled his gaze from the fallen dragon and made himself look at the woman he loved. Her eyes were closed, and her hair had come loose from its braid. The golden waves glowed as the first fingers of dawn touched them. Dara’s face, pooled in gold, was peaceful. The tension and pain she had endured for the past year was gone.

  Siv touched her face and winced. It was cold. Icy, even. Please. He brushed a tendril of hair away from her forehead, forgetting to breathe entirely. Please.

  He felt a whisper of a breeze on his neck, as if the Air were trying to console him, to make him see the truth indicated by her icy skin. He brushed it off. Others were coming into the clearing, their boots crunching on blackened leaves in the silence. They waited respectfully as he looked down into the peaceful, still face of the woman he would love long after he breathed his last.

  And then Dara opened her eyes.

  Siv froze as Dara blinked up at him. There was a softness to her gaze that he’d only seen in the rarest and most precious moments. He touched her face reverently and felt warmth returning to it. He traced the contour of her c
heek, afraid to scare away the precious life that still beat within her.

  Then a smile curved across her lips. “Sheesh, are we going to kiss or not?”

  Siv gathered her up and buried his face in her neck, not caring that she’d feel the tears spilling from his eyes. He shuddered as he felt her grow warm in his arms, felt the hand laid gently on the back of his neck.

  “Dara,” he said hoarsely. “You’re alive.”

  Then he found her lips at last and kissed her as thoroughly as he could possibly manage under the circumstances.

  After a while, he remembered they had an audience. He got to his feet, lifting Dara up in his arms. He turned to the soldiers who had gathered around them, still covered in blood and ash from the battle. They were waiting for guidance, waiting to be told what to do now that the true dragons and the Lantern Maker were gone. It was time to assume his place once and for all.

  “Soldiers of Vertigon,” he said. “I wish to serve as your king, if you’ll have me. I can’t promise to do everything right, but I will try to lead you with the wisdom and goodness of my fathers. And if she’ll have me, I’ll do it with Dara Ruminor at my side. She will be our queen, and she will protect you with as much strength, care, and tenacity as she has protected me.”

  None of the men responded. Siv stood there, feeling suddenly tired. Dara was a powerfully built woman and not easy to hold in his arms after a whole night of fighting. He thought these men who had followed the Lantern Maker for so long would be pleased by this development. Vertigon saved. Ruminors and Amintelles united. Why aren’t they saying anything?

  Then one of the soldiers cleared his throat. “Well, what does the lady say? Will she have you or not?”

  Siv laughed and looked down at Dara, who seemed surprised too, as if her answer ought to be obvious.

  “What do you say?” he asked. “Still want to marry me?”

  “Of course I do.” And she kissed him again as cheers filled the clearing.

  “Long live the Fourth Good King! Long live King Siv and Queen Dara!”

  Queen Soraline Amintelle marched through the trees surrounded by her people. Telvin Jale strode at her right side. He had come to find her as the call spread through the Vertigonian army and echoed up and down the Fissure. King Siv had returned. King Siv and Queen Dara. But there was already a queen in Vertigon, and now she was walking out to meet her brother, leading the people whose loyalty she had won.

  “I’ll fight him for you, if you like,” Kel said from her left.

  “You might have a chance against him right now,” Telvin said. “He is wounded.”

  Kel clicked his tongue. “That’s the least noble thing you’ve ever suggested, Jale.”

  “I bear King Siv no ill will,” said Telvin. “But I serve Queen Sora.”

  “There will be no fighting,” Sora said shortly. “I will handle my brother.”

  As they advanced toward the river, she wasn’t sure what she’d say. She missed her brother very much, but she had also fought hard to save these people while he had been wandering through the Lands Below. Why should he come in and take over now?

  The one thing she knew for certain was that she wouldn’t allow Vertigon to be divided. Her people had been through enough.

  But Telvin Jale wasn’t the only soldier who had slipped away to join her when her brother proclaimed his kingship. Murmurings spread about fighting for Sora’s right to rule the mountain, if that was what it took. She had to come up with a solution fast. She had no doubt Siv would assert his rights as the oldest surviving Amintelle and her father’s direct heir. She had a deep respect for her father’s legacy, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to just give up.

  They reached the Oakwind and spread out along its length. Although her group was comprised mostly of the old, young, and infirm, a fair few fighting men had joined her by now. They all moved to the front, forming an honor guard around their chosen queen.

  On the opposite bank, Siv and the rest of the army waited for her. She recognized many of their faces, men she had won to her side over the past months, men who had shouted her name until they grew hoarse before marching down to conquer the Lands Below for her. As she met their eyes, she saw the same admiration and affection she’d witnessed then. She knew that if she wanted to, she could call them to her side.

  There were unfamiliar faces there too. Soolens, Trurens, Pendarkans, Cindral Folk. Men her brother had rallied from many different nations in his bid to restore peace and make up for what her armies had done. He had succeeded in driving the true dragons from this land. He too would find plenty of supporters among the gathered forces.

  Dara Ruminor stood at Siv’s side, her hand in his. She looked as though she’d been through a lot. Her eyes were riveted to a spot to Sora’s right. Without looking, Sora knew that was where Lima Ruminor stood.

  Sora took a deep breath and looked her brother full in the face.

  Tension shivered through the assembled soldiers as the two monarchs faced each other across the Oakwind. But as Siv and Sora met one another’s eyes, there was none of the animosity she had feared. Instead of concern over whether or not she would surrender his crown, she saw only pride in her brother’s face. He looked at the men she had assembled, the people she had saved, and he was fiercely proud of her.

  Some of the tautness went out of Sora’s body. They were family. Both of them knew they had to make their family’s kingdom strong again, no matter who wore the crown.

  Someone had gone to find a boat, and they waited for it to appear, still too far to hear each other’s voices. When the boat arrived at last, it pulled up to Siv’s side first. He and Dara climbed aboard, and the pair of them started across the river alone.

  “I guess he doesn’t think you’re going to challenge him,” Kel muttered beside her.

  “He doesn’t care,” Sora said. “He knows I won’t hurt him.”

  “Still, we’re with you if you change your mind.”

  Sora glanced around and saw the truth in the faces of the men. It was still possible to keep the throne she had so desired. She looked at her brother again. A nasty burn stretched across one side of his face and down his coat. He too had fought hard for Vertigon.

  “Queen Sora,” Siv called as the boat drew nearer. “I understand you have done remarkable work in my absence.”

  “I see you’ve done remarkable work since your return,” she said.

  “That was mostly my future lady wife.” Siv put his arm around Dara, looking as proud as a boy with his first sword, and Sora’s heart melted a little. “The soldiers of Vertigon and our new allies did the rest.”

  Sora didn’t reply. Telvin had told her of the cheer that had gone up among those soldiers. Long live King Siv and Queen Dara. Even those who had followed the Lantern Maker all the way through his madness might be willing to accept Siv’s return if he had a Ruminor bride. Announcing their engagement was a smart move, but she knew deep down that Siv would marry Dara even if it meant they’d be exiled to the other side of the Bell Sea.

  “Queen Sora,” Siv said. “All I want is for Vertigon to be whole again.”

  Her shoulders relaxed, and she smiled at him. “That’s what I want too.” She had wanted to be queen for as long as she could remember. She believed she’d done well at the job, but as her brother climbed out of the boat and walked toward her, she knew she would be willing to give up the title if that was what it took.

  Dara held on to Siv’s arm, looking as though she genuinely needed the support. Sora had never seen anyone look so tired and drained and still be on her feet. Dara held her mother’s gaze still, and Sora suspected neither of them was listening to a word of the conversation.

  Once Siv and Dara reached Sora and her companions, no one seemed to know what to say. They all wanted what was best for Vertigon, but what was the way forward? Who deserved to wear the crown now?

  The silence was becoming awkward, and the soldiers around them shifted anxiously.

  “So,” Siv said
at last. “You are the smart one in the family. What do we do now?”

  Sora opened her mouth, but a warning shout interrupted her. One of the feathered Cindral dragons had appeared through the trees on the opposite riverbank. It soared over the raging river to join them, carrying two passengers.

  “I’m so sorry I’m late!” Vine Silltine called. “I had to fetch someone I knew would be important to this conversation.”

  She slipped off the Cindral dragon’s back as gracefully as if she’d been riding dragons her whole life and helped a tall, willowy woman climb down as well.

  It was Sora’s mother.

  Tirra Amintelle wore trousers, and she had a scarf over her hair. A smile lit her face, as joyous as any Sora had ever seen. She ran to her children and wrapped them up together, and after that, it didn’t really matter what happened next. Her embrace was warm and strong, and she smelled like home. When they finally pulled back, tears streamed down Sora and her mother’s faces, and she was sure Siv’s eyes were damp as well.

  “We thought you’d died in the Stronghold,” he said, voice filled with wonder.

  “Some of the Far Plainsfolk smuggled me out through the tunnels during the Fireworker attack,” Tirra said. “I have been traveling with the Air Sensors in disguise. I ended up among the captives after we tried to attack the Lantern Maker’s force.”

  “We heard the Fireworkers slaughtered all the Truren nobles in the fortress,” Siv said.

  “That is true. My brother Valon deserved it, though. He allowed the Brachs to take the Stronghold in exchange for having his life spared. He learned they had already killed our brothers and sisters and thought to save himself. The same deal didn’t work with Ruminor’s men.”