Truth of Embers

by Caitlyn McFarland

  They came across half a dozen bodies, Rhys’s heart contracting at the sight of each one. Dead. Despite his best efforts, he could not save them all.

  In the trap near the center of the island, they found three of Owain’s dragons sound asleep, gassed with Naga venom. Evan pulled the dragons from the trap and laid them carefully in the sling-like pouch that hung below his belly.

  Aside from Owain’s people, they found no survivors.

  “It isn’t right.” Evan’s gray eyes flashed. “They killed our people. Now we’re taking them alive and safe into the heart of Eryri. Rhys, this is not a good idea.”

  Rhys flicked his wings. “You and I have probably killed more of Owain’s people than any of these have killed of ours.”

  Evan snorted and turned away.

  “Rhys!” Cadoc’s call was faint, which meant he was probably on the far side of the island. “Look out! Demba—”

  His voice cut off.

  “Go!” Kai shouted.

  Despite his cargo, Evan was already spreading his wings. They leaped into the air, adrenaline and rage flooding Rhys’s body in a tsunami of fire. Demba had taken Griffith from them—he would not take Cadoc or Morwenna.

  Owain’s dragons rose from the forest where they’d been waiting in ambush, half a dozen in all. Rhys felt a vicious pleasure at the sight of the bronze dragon. He’d wanted a chance to fight Demba since the Bida had killed Griffith.

  He opened his mouth to scorch the hide off the Bida’s bones, but the memory of Ffion’s words made him snap his jaw shut.

  “Vengeance is not what Griffith would have wanted. More than any of us, I think, he wanted peace. When you win, that will be your hardest job. You’ll have to heal us. You and Kai... You must unite us.”

  With a growl, Rhys pulled an orb of Naga venom from the holder he’d strung on the harness. He threw it—not as easy for dragon arms as it was for human arms—and hit Demba between the eyes. The enormous dragon crashed to the earth. Around him, Rhys the others were doing the same. Sedating, not killing.

  Rhys landed and grasped Demba with one claw, resisting, second by second, the urge to rip the man in two. Evan put two more prisoners in his sling. Morwenna carried the others. Rhys took to the air again, leading them to Eryri.

  If he could capture Demba and not kill him, perhaps there was hope to unite the people, after all.

  For the rest of the day, Rhys stayed closer to the battle than Ashem would’ve liked. It still wasn’t close enough for Rhys. As the sun rolled across the sky and the battle contracted to a small area of the north island, they had less and less to do. Even Kai was fidgeting by the time the sun set.

  Despite all the fighting, Owain hadn’t shown himself. His absence was ominous.

  Rhys tried not to think about it as he returned to his rooms in Eryri that evening, the fighting having died down for the night. The battle lines had been firmly drawn far from the mountain—it would be safe enough to sleep for a few hours. Outside, vees of dragons traded off sentry duty. His plans were working. His people were winning.

  But it didn’t feel that way. Not as long as the white dragon went free.

  * * *

  Seren collapsed onto a wooden chair off to one side of the makeshift infirmary, rubbing her temples. Not entirely recovered from losing the Sight, she’d had to pace herself, using magic on only the direst injuries. Even then, only enough to bring them from the brink of death. It hurt her heart to leave people in pain, but Citlali had had to do the same.

  In the back of her mind, Cadoc hummed to himself as he checked traps and tried to steer Rhys away from the worst of the fighting.

  “All right?” he asked.

  She smiled, leaning into his strength. “I’ll survive.”

  There were just too many of them. It was barely midmorning on the second day of the battle, and she was ready to sleep for a week.

  She looked across the rows of cots that held the injured. Deeper into the cavern, near the lake, a mass of sleeping dragons was laid out on the floor. Some of them had begun to stir. She contacted Ashem through the communicator he’d given her, and he said he would send more guards.

  The battle was dragging on longer than any of them had intended. There were only so many Naga in Eryri, and they could only produce so much of their sleep-inducing venom. There wasn’t much more left in the festival chamber to give the dragons.

  Seren hoped Owain would show himself soon. Business kept the worst of her fears for Cadoc at bay, but it never left entirely.

  A cry of pain drew her attention. Seren rose on tired feet and headed for the sound. She was nearly there when shouting brought her up short. Instinctively, she waited to feel some kind of premonition. There was nothing.

  Heart in her throat, she turned.

  At first, she couldn’t make sense of what she was seeing. Then it all became horrifyingly clear.

  A dozen young dragons led by Gethin, the son of Councilman Powell, were attacking the guards. They broke through to the prisoners, and Gethin headed straight for the enormous man Seren recognized as Demba. Drawing a vial from his pocket, he opened Demba’s mouth and dumped the sludgy-looking liquid down his throat.

  Demba woke.

  Cadoc sensed her terror. “What is it? What’s happened?”

  For a moment, Seren stood frozen to the spot, unable to answer.

  Around Gethin, his fellows were doing the same—rousing Owain’s soldiers and handing them tiny vials of black liquid. Some stopped to toss back vials of their own.

  Then they attacked in earnest.

  Seren burst into action, waking the wounded who belonged to Rhys. “Run!” She spoke to Cadoc through their bond. “They’ve sprung some kind of trap. Gethin has betrayed us. They’re taking Eryri!”

  Cadoc swore. “Seren, listen to me. Don’t worry about anyone else, just hide. Owain isn’t interested in killing, but he is interested in recapturing you. We’re on our way.”

  Owain’s soldiers were among the cots now. Any of Rhys’s people they caught, they knocked to the ground, reversing their roles of prisoner/guard so fast that Seren’s head spun. She gathered a small crowd of patients, chivvying them along in front of her as she ran.

  Then, a shout. “It’s the Seeress! Grab her! Owain wants her almost as much as he wants the false king!”

  Seren’s stomach dropped. She ran, but a woman grabbed her braid, yanking her painfully to a halt. Seren struggled, but the woman held on. Then she shrieked and let go, and someone shoved her to one side. Citlali appeared, bloodied obsidian knife in one hand. “Let’s go!”

  “There are people here, still,” Seren panted. “In other parts of Eryri. We have to warn them.”

  “Seren, hide!” Cadoc was desperate, but she couldn’t do what he wanted. Not while there were people who needed help.

  Citlali’s expression was unhappy, but she nodded. They and the small group of wounded and guards who had escaped Gethin’s and Demba’s coup ran up the main road that spiraled the open shaft inside the mountain, shouting a warning. All of the dragons who couldn’t fight—the old, the young and the pregnant—had gone to the southern isle before the battle started, thank the Ancients, but there were always those who were too stubborn to leave.

  They gathered more of Rhys’s people as they climbed. They were beginning to stumble over each other. She needed to get them out, and then she would go back for more.

  They made for one of the branching tunnels that led toward a residential section of the mountain, where Seren knew there was a way out.

  Gethin was already there. He stood in the middle of the exit with some of Owain’s soldiers and his father, whom he must have freed from the cells.

  “Lady Seren.” His lip curled. “If you are a lady anymore. Owain would like to see you.”

  “Gethin, what
are you doing?” Powell’s expression was horror-struck. “You cannot be serious.”

  Gethin glowered at his father. “I’m helping to end the war. I’ve never understood why you stayed with Rhys for so long. You want power, Father? Owain will give us power—and he’ll make sure the humans know their place. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

  Powell gaped at his son. “If we go to war with humans, we’ll all die.” His eyes went wide. “It was you. The mead they thought I’d given Rhys. You gave it to him. You poisoned the princess.”

  “Now is not the time, Father.”

  Seren turned on her heel, but too late. Gethin lunged and grabbed her. “Get them. All of them. Owain wants every single one of these dragons taken prisoner. Leave no one to help the false king!”

  Seren smashed her foot down on Gethin’s instep. The cordial had strengthened him and he didn’t react except to shake her so hard she saw double.

  Then, suddenly, Gethin let go and fell to the floor. Rhys stood behind her, eyes shadowed, a bloody dagger in his hand. Gethin stared unseeing at the ceiling, a red stain spreading from beneath him. Rhys bent and wiped the dagger on Gethin’s shirt.

  Seren pressed her hands to her mouth. “Rhys. Did you hear what he said? He sent the poisoned mead. He killed Deryn.”

  When Rhys looked at Seren, the answer was in his eyes.

  Cadoc appeared at Rhys’s side, a bruise forming on his cheek. He pulled Seren close and held her, his entire body shaking, the scent of cedar, lemon oil and sweat filling her nose.

  In his mind, however, Seren sensed pride in what she’d done. “And you thought you wouldn’t make a good soldier.”

  Around them, Evan, Morwenna and Kai were fighting the rest of Gethin’s companions. When they saw their leader fall, however, most of them fled. Either the cordial had worn off, or there hadn’t been enough for all of them to take some. Kai and Citlali began organizing Rhys’s people, leading them out to the ledge.

  “Fly for the southernmost island,” Kai said.

  Seren couldn’t stop staring at Gethin. He had murdered her sister—had tried to murder Rhys. For the first time in her life, she was glad for someone’s death.

  Rhys leveled his now-clean knife at Powell, who was also unable to take his eyes from his son’s body. “Did you know?”

  “No.” Powell’s bulldog face was white as a sheet. He tore his eyes from Gethin and sank to his knees in front of Rhys. “Majesty, I had nothing to do with this. I swear it. If Commander Ashem had ever had time to question me, you would have known days ago.”

  “We’ll know now.” He hauled Powell up by the arm and looked over his shoulder. They couldn’t see anything from where they were, but they could hear the sound of Owain’s soldiers taking prisoners and ransacking homes. “Eryri is lost to us. Kai?”

  “We’ve done what we can here.” She waved the last of the wounded who had escaped the infirmary onto the ledge. Rhys joined her, going outside. He and Powell transformed, and Kai climbed onto Rhys’s back with no harness at all. They took off. Citlali went next. Then she and Cadoc took to the air, as well.

  The group of refuges—so dishearteningly small—headed for the southern island, fighting their way free of a few of Owain’s soldiers to get there.

  Once they were clear, Seren looked back at the mountain that had been her home.

  High on the peak, on the ledge outside Rhys’s rooms, the white dragon watched them fly away.

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Until the Sun Rose

  Kai walked through the too-small camp and counted the dragons who had escaped Owain’s counter-attack, then counted again. Just over a hundred dragons and Wingless. Ashem and his group of Unsworn had come to the island, as well, along with a few other soldiers—but not nearly as many as Kai thought should have.

  The humans who’d been staying on the island before the fighting broke out were living in a cave complex. Not natural, like the one up north where she’d woken after being sundered. But so bare that it felt a little like a cheap motel next to the grandeur of Eryri. Like a motel, the doors to each residence opened to the outside, meaning they couldn’t move around without being seen.

  Unfortunately, the complex had only been built to house about forty people, so they were squishing in everywhere they could. Rhys, Kai, Juli and Ashem were sharing a tiny set of rooms with Kai’s parents and Brendan. The rest of the vee and Seren were in another. Rhys sat with Ashem, not speaking. Kai knew he blamed himself—as did many of the dragons. Bringing Owain to Eryri had been his idea.

  It had come so close to working.

  They’d gone from nearly winning the war to almost certainly losing in the space of a few minutes. Worse, Owain’s soldiers were flying patrols around their island. There was no way out.

  No way to get her family out.

  Kai didn’t blame Rhys. She’d wholeheartedly supported his plan, after all. At the same time, she had no delusions that Owain was sparing the lives of any humans who came under his control.

  Every time she saw one of the dragons circle the island, she grew more desperate. Even if they’d lost the war, she still had to get her family home. Owain could be finished here, soon. Once that happened, it wouldn’t be long until he began attacking the human population.

  At least if she got her parents and Brendan off the island, they’d stand a chance.

  Feeling helpless, she sank down on the sandy ground next to her mother and stared into the fire Rhys had lit in the small fireplace.

  Leila Monahan put her arm around Kai and pulled her close. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

  Kai shook her head. “I haven’t done anything that I deserve to be thanked for.”

  “You did your best. You got us this far.”

  “Yeah, but it’s my fault you’re even here in the first place.”

  Her mother laughed softly. “Oh, honey. If anything, it sounds like it’s either your father’s or my fault that you’re here. You said this...heartswearing...runs in families.” She kissed Kai’s forehead. “We’ll find a way out. At least we know where you are, now. Did you really think you were going to disappear off the face of the Earth?”

  Kai laughed without humor. “I didn’t know what I was going to do.” Tears formed in her eyes. “Mom, I don’t think there’s any hope.”

  Her mom rubbed her shoulder. “There’s always hope, sweetheart. If anyone knows that, I do. Look how long I hoped for you to go back to gymnastics.”

  Kai snorted. “Yeah, and I never did.”

  Mom gave Kai a crooked smile. “I know. Now you’re the dragon-riding queen of a race of mythical creatures. I have to say, you’ve exceeded our expectations.”

  This time, Kai’s laugh was genuine. She studied her mother’s face. Leila Monahan wasn’t old, but she had wrinkles around her eyes and veins that stood out on the backs of her hands. Not old, but aging, like Kai would not. Not for more years than she cared to count.

  She opened her mouth to say something, then closed it again. If they all died tomorrow, it wouldn’t matter. And if they didn’t, there would be time.

  Rhys emerged from the back, appearing in the low doorway of the room. “Kai, I—Can we talk?”

  Kai took one look at his face and stood. Saying goodbye to her mother, she followed him outside, all the way down to the beach. A few of his soldiers patrolled, but they were few and far enough between for talking.

  Kai caught his hand in hers as they walked. He wouldn’t look at her. “Whatever you’re thinking, Rhys, the answer is no.”

  “I’m going to give myself up in exchange for free passage for you and the humans.”

  “Yeah, didn’t you just hear me say no? Because hell, no.”

  He turned to her, his hands cupping her face, and kissed her fiercely. “I’m not asking you. I’m telling you.
I did this. Help isn’t coming, cariad. Tomorrow morning when the sun comes up, I’m turning myself over. I’m going to ask Owain to allow Ashem, Cadoc and the others to fly you and the humans to safety. Then Ashem and the other dragons will get as far away as possible. Take your family and go into hiding. Your species is going to need you. You—and all the Wingless. You’re the only ones strong enough to fight dragons and long-lived enough to make a difference. You are the only beings with magic who can’t be controlled by the mantle.”

  Kai gripped his wrists. “No. Aside from the fact that you turning yourself in is completely off the table as far as possible plans go, no one in the human world is going to believe me. ‘Oh hi, newsman. I’m the queen. We all need to arm the nukes and take cover! The ice dragon is coming!’”

  Maybe Jacobsen Starnes Smith of The Denver Post, hipster reporter and life ruiner, would be interested.

  Rhys’s face was grim. “They’ll believe you when the attacks start.” He swallowed, letting his breath out in a rush. “Please let me do this. We’re already sundered—you won’t feel it.”

  “Won’t feel it?” Kai heard how shrill her voice was, but she seemed to have lost control. “Are you insane? If you die, I will feel it every second of every day for the rest of my life. My ridiculously long life, thanks to you.”

  “Kai—”

  “Rhys. I am not going to agree to this. Not ever. If you want to turn yourself in, I’m going with you. By all means, let’s get Owain to allow my family to go home. But I am not leaving you.”

  She pulled him down and kissed him hard. After a few minutes, they broke apart.

  “Is there anything I can say to make you stay?” he asked.

  Kai snorted.

  Rhys gave her a sad smile and took her hand. Neither of them needed to speak.

  She would be going with him.

  They walked hand in hand to the rooms where her family was staying and lay down on a folded blanket in one corner. Eventually, the rest of her family came in and lay down, as well. Brendan’s snores filled the air.