Holding her breath, she listened.
Arc called out, his words unintelligible and twisted with pain or terror or both. His voice lifted again. “Go, Vahly!”
Sweat poured down Vahly’s neck.
Mattin must have figured out Arc was no longer spelled. He would have Canopus kill him.
She had to keep going.
But this was Arc. Never before had Vahly considered a mate, but with Arcturus …
A sob caught in her throat. She squeezed her hands into fists and her nails dug into her own flesh. Her feet began to run back to Arc, but she pulled herself to a stop, tears rolling off her chin and down her neck. This is what it meant to be Touched. To save everyone, she had to sacrifice. She had already lost so much.
But she had to lose him too, to give up her chance at love and a family of her own. A shudder shook her hard.
To be a queen, she had to fight on.
The night swallowed her up as a rise in the ground brought her past the place where Mattin had broken the bowl. Pulse knocking furiously in her throat, she hurried forward. A root tripped her and she landed on her palms. Rocks bit into her skin. Jumping up, she finally saw the stones that stood guard over the Blackwater.
She never should have gone on without the Lapis. This was a mistake. A horrible string of deadly errors.
Amona? she called inside her head, trying to use the Bond with her mother. Mother? I lied. I am sorry. I need you. I am in the Forest of Illumahrah. If you don’t come quickly, this may be the last you hear from me. I love you.
No answer came. The breeze turned cold and goosebumps ran over Vahly’s arms.
“Nix?” Vahly’s voice spilled into the night. “Nix, things didn’t go as planned. As usual.” Her throat seized up as she forced herself to keep going.
But there was no answer.
Slowing, she approached the spring. As she crunched over the rocks and across soft, damp ground, her heart eased into a peaceful rhythm despite all of the day’s horrors. The air was holy, perfumed with jasmine, clean water, and a scent that reminded her of beeswax candles.
The tall stones, fashioned with rude tools and chipped at their edges, cast shadows over the spring. Leafy vines and moss in varying shades clung to the pool of sparkling Blackwater.
Arc had told her this spring was the origin of all creation.
Stay alive, she thought. For me, Arc.
The depths of the spring were still as glass, and flecks of sapphire, ruby, and amethyst refracted the starlight, drawing Vahly closer. A shiver danced over her shoulders, then down to her fingertips.
She kneeled and breathed in the power of the place. Eyes closing, she felt its effect immediately. Her muscles relaxed and her stomach tightened, not with fear, but with excitement.
She’d hoped there would be something near the spring that she could use to ladle the Blackwater out, but there was only a scattering of pebbles and a fair amount of large, flat rocks. Perhaps she could use one of the leaves from the vines to draw the Blackwater from its bed.
Leaning over the spring, she plucked the largest leaf she could find and bent it to create a dipped space in the middle. The Blackwater slipped over the leaf’s edge in fingers of glittering black that reminded Vahly of Arc’s eyes. She trembled, half expecting the leaf to burst into flames and take her along for the ride. But the Blackwater remained in the leaf, shaking slightly from Vahly’s nervous grip. She lifted the leaf, then tipped the contents to pour the liquid into her cupped left palm.
As the Blackwater left the leaf’s surface, it shimmered into nothing. Not a drop made it to her hand. Ice filled Vahly’s stomach.
There was a sound to her back, on the trail leading away from the feasting grounds.
She froze, leaf still lifted, and listened.
Only the night insects and a gentle breeze greeted her ears. Where was Nix?
Turning toward the spring again, she set the leaf near her knee. She just had to do it. To plunge her hands into the Blackwater and pray the Source blessed her instead of wiping her off the face of the world.
The guard stones watched her, silent. What had they seen here over the eons? The creation of this isle, Sugarrabota, and all of its dragons, elves, humans, and simplebeasts too. From this very spot, the entire world had spilled into being.
Vahly wished Nix were here. She wished Arc were here.
The names of the ones she loved flickered through her mind.
“Amona. Helena the healer. Nix. Dramour. Kemen. Ibai. Arcturus. Baww.” She whispered their names like a chant as she reached her fingers toward the shimmering surface of the Blackwater.
The water cooled her fingertips. It wrapped around her palms. Cloaked her wrists and forearms.
There was no pain. No dissolving. Only the beat of her heart echoing the lapping of the Blackwater against its borders. Her mind stilled, cleared.
Breathing in the perfumed and holy air, she cradled the Blackwater, lowered her face, then poured the Source of all creation over her brow, cheeks, mouth, and chin. The cool liquid smoothed its way down the column of her throat and seeped into her clothing, wetting her collarbones and dampening the loose strands of her hair.
A rush of pure joy suffused Vahly.
She opened her eyes. The Blackwater disappeared from her arms and hands. Touching her face, she realized her cheeks and chin were clean too. Had her body absorbed the Blackwater?
A strange sound washed through the night.
A quiet, but pervasive thudding.
Vahly put a hand to her chest. It sounded like a heartbeat, but it wasn’t her own. She moved, readying to stand, and placed a hand on the ground.
The drumming intensified.
She slammed down both open palms, her own pulse rate climbing.
The thudding remained constant, vibrating into her hands, and suddenly she knew.
This was the earth’s heartbeat.
A tear escaped her eye and ran down one cheek. She could feel the earth’s life under her hands. The Blackwater had not killed her. It had changed her.
Standing, head spinning, she listened to the world for the first time.
The slow scrape of leaves growing. Creatures digging through the dirt beneath her feet. Trees reaching thick boughs toward the blue hint of dawn.
She could hear the earth and everything in it.
Now, what could she do with this ability? Did she have any chance of fighting Mattin and Canopus and saving everyone from whatever dark magic they possessed?
Another scream ripped through the early morning. There was shouting and suddenly a crowd of elves rushed at Vahly.
Nix crashed out of the forest into the clearing beyond the spring. “I’m going to shift!” she shouted before calling up her fire.
Mattin appeared over the rise, the last of the night painting his face a pearly gray. He held out one hand, cloaked in purple shadows. The darkness stretched above the heads of all, and inside its swirling depths, Arc thrashed, two flashing knives drawn, but useless in the murky magic.
He lived.
Walking beside him, Canopus also held a captive in a hovering cloud. Cassiopeia.
Behind them, the rest of the elves wore faces of fear and rage. A wall of twisting darkness held them so they could not strike out at Mattin or Canopus who were outside the barrier.
Haldus, along with several others, shot arrows that bounced off the spellwork boundary. Then Rigel, Pegasi’s mourning father, and Haldus, Arc’s sturdy friend, both drew throwing knives. The blades flew, but connected with the barrier and fell to the leaf-strewn ground. General Regulus’s face reddened as he tried his own air magic against the wall, light and shadow peeling away from his scarred hands and shaking Mattin’s barrier.
Vahly’s hands trembled violently as she drew her sword and stood her ground. Nix rose onto her hind legs beside Vahly, dragonfire rumbling and ready in her throat.
“Mattin!” Vahly’s voice was strong despite the fear lancing through her heart. “Why do you fight
us? We are all on the same side against the sea. Why wouldn’t you want me to gain what power I can to help you and your kynd survive? It makes no sense. Have you spelled your own mind with this dark magic you’ve wrought?”
Mattin thrust a tendril of the shadow holding Arc to Canopus who grabbed the tether. Canopus thrust the haze to the ground. Arc fell, his head banging sharply against the earth. Vahly felt it in her own neck and temples.
Rigel pounded fists on the magicked barrier, his gaze on Arc’s limp form.
King Mattin sneered. “Listen to the human with her arrogance. Your kynd always believe they are the answer to everything. We elves were the first kynd, the purest kynd. Our blood flows with Blackwater. Well, you were easy enough to fool. The lot of you. I have diluted the Blackwater your kynd used in their power ritual for generations. I was tired of your presumptuous behavior, your lording about as if you were the first instead of us.”
What was he admitting? He had weakened the earlier Earth Queens by twisting the ritual? “Is this about the bowl?
“Of course it is, fool. I spelled that bowl to diminish the Blackwater’s effect on your kynd. I all but eliminated its ability to alter the Touched as well as the less magically inclined. I tired of you traipsing through our lands like you owned the world. You made all the rules and used our Blackwater spring as if it stood in your home and not ours. We were first. And all I wanted was peace!” Never had the word been uttered with such malice.
Nix roared. She was ready to roast him, but Vahly needed to understand what was happening. What if he could trap Nix too?
“Didn’t you realize you were aiding the Sea Queen by weakening us?” Vahly asked, her voice raw. “You are to blame for the rising seas. You are the reason no recent Earth Queens have had the ability to shake the earth and change the tides, to drive the waves back.”
Shame washed over his features, but he schooled them into a mask of vanity and rage. Vahly thought perhaps he hadn’t realized what powerful results his actions would have on his own kynd’s future. Only out of desperation, had he made his oath to the Sea Queen. At that point, he had known it was too late to revive the power of the humans.
And the Sea Queen hadn’t known what he did with the bowl and the Blackwater. She had still feared the earth’s power.
But Mattin knew the truth. He had ruined the line of Earth Queens and only a deal with his greatest enemy, the sea, would save his kynd.
“Enough talk.” Mattin raised his hands, bunched his fingers, then released a thousand tendrils of purple shadow.
Chapter Twenty
Today, the Watcher would meet with Queen Astraea and Ryton had been called to attend the report on her visions as she scried in her great bowl of volcanic rock.
Despite the acid rising in his belly at the thought of what the Queen would learn—and how he might very well be strung across the chasm to die for not telling the Queen what he’d heard from the dying Jade during the recent battle—Ryton finished his breakfast of sliced eel and breaker fish that he’d boiled in an earthblood vent outside his back door.
He enjoyed large breakfasts that were more akin to dinners. Hearty helpings, high in protein, with a fair-sized net of fresh sea apples to top it all off. There were days when he had no time to eat after he’d left his home, days of endless strategy meetings, training, or warring. So bolting down what sustenance he had on hand before he left was only sensible.
Ryton’s home was not much more than three spaces and a few tunnels hollowed from the teal green rock. He had built a hammock for sleeping, a few cabinets for storage, and braided a seaweed rug for each room. Windows with proper shell shutters could be opened to allow clean currents to sift through on days when the weather was good—calm waters and comfortable temperatures. The table beside his hammock held a carved image of his brother and sister, back when they were children together. The smiles on their faces, happiness ruined by the dragons, pushed Ryton to train harder and fight with passion. The image was the only sentimental item in the whole house.
Sitting on the edge of Scar Chasm, Ryton’s place did not look welcoming. But he liked it that way. He did not care for visitors. At home, all he wanted was peace and quiet.
Upon leaving, he didn’t bother locking his stone door. Only those folk whose job it was to harvest glow creatures dared the Scar Chasm’s electric eels and lanky sharks. And honestly, if they wanted to steal Ryton’s manuals on battle strategy or his stash of food, they were welcome to it. Blackwater knew they weren’t paid enough for the risks they took so everyone could have light in the darkest reaches.
And if the Queen, displeased that he’d been too much of a coward to risk telling her what he’d heard from that Jade, decided to break down his door and destroy his home, no lock would stop her rage.
The murky waters of the chasm and its bevy of illuminated longfish, nautili, and jellyfish faded as Ryton passed a human shipwreck. The masts had long broken free of the main ship, and they shifted in the pull of the sea like an old giant’s fingers, ready to grab unsuspecting sea folk. Ryton would never stop being amazed by the talent and daring of the long dead humans. Yes, they had been terrible and his sworn enemies, but they had stones. He could not deny it.
As he swam into the populated areas of Tidehame, the pathways straightened. The city planners had brought in white sand to line the pathways and tied glowing nautili along their borders. Most of the sea folk lived in group homes like the one Ryton passed now.
Bright purple and black striated rock stretched from the ocean floor to the moon-touched upper reaches of the water. Doors and windows showed families dining, some sleeping already, and one group of younger sea folk playing instruments.
Outside a ground-floor window the length of a full grown bull shark, Ryton slowed to enjoy the music. He was stalling, but would never have admitted that.
A dark-haired female turned the steel handle of a winding wail, her other hand pressing the strings down in varying patterns. A melancholy tune poured from the shell attached to the end of the four-foot instrument.
Beside her, a male with an impressive chin knocked a hammer against a set of brass hardbells, adding percussion to the song. Another male—too young for fighting but not far from it—sang along, his voice carrying with his water magic through the pull of the tide to reach Ryton’s ears.
Pushing away from the song, Ryton kept on, toward Álikos Castle.
He had a job to do, and honestly, he had to be there when the Watcher announced what she saw. If it was nothing, he would need to placate Astraea so she didn’t fall into a rage and slaughter the nearest guard. If the Watcher saw the falling Jade or heard his words about an Earth Queen, Ryton would need to call Grystark and Venu and begin discussing strategy with the Queen. If it didn’t come out that he’d heard such news already…
Inside Astraea’s chambers, the Watcher had already set up shop. And the Queen had called her other two generals, Venu and Grystark, already.
Ryton fought to keep his stomach from emptying right there on the mosaic-shell floor.
Venu nodded in greeting and Grystark smiled, a gesture that was more pain than happiness.
“Get on with it.” The Queen swam back and forth behind the Watcher.
The Watcher’s hunched back moved in a deep breath as she reached her veiny hands over her bowl of volcanic rock to grip the sides. Her cloak of salt tulip leaves slid away from her forearms, showing fins that were surprisingly firm and shining. There was power in her still.
“I must wait for the feel of it, my Queen.” The Watcher’s head lifted and she turned to Ryton, a smile stretching her wrinkled mouth. “High General Ryton.”
He bowed to her even though she had no eyes to see it. Somehow she saw everything in both the physical and metaphysical world. “Honor to you, Watcher,” he said quietly after bowing deeply to the Sea Queen.
Old stories claimed the Watcher clawed her own eyes out when the Sight came on her. She couldn’t stand seeing double when the visions came. R
yton had always wondered if she regretted that hasty action, but of course, he would never ask. That would be horribly rude.
Besides, she most likely knew he was curious about it.
She couldn’t see everything in the great world, but she saw many things and was keenly perceptive when it came to those around her regularly. Last year, she’d told Grystark to remove the growing lump on his thigh fin before it killed him. He did as she instructed and the healers confirmed the fin was eroding with blueeater, the disease that tended to take down sea folk if one lived long enough.
Now, the Watcher leaned over her bowl and peered into its empty depths. She said the shape of it, the hollow of it, helped her to focus.
“I see a storm,” she mumbled, wiping spittle from her mouth.
“Where? Near the Lapis lands? Or in the North?” the Queen asked.
“In the far, far south. Southern hemisphere.”
The Queen waved the information off. “Move on. No one cares about the desolate southern realms.”
“I see three Jade younglings.”
Venu snarled quietly and his hands became fists. The general, second to Grystark and Ryton in rank, traded a look with Ryton that reminded him of how many he’d lost to the battle with the green dragons. Ryton shuttered his own eyes halfway and gave the male a nod of acknowledgement. He too mourned those new recruits, lost too young to the vicious Jades and the dragonfire that bled into the waves themselves. Such abominations dragons were.
“What is so special about these young ones?” Astraea demanded, her sharp teeth flashing like pearls in the light of the nautili along her walls.
“They were born in the far, far North. Not here.”
“What of it?” The Queen raised a hand like she was about to strike the Watcher.
Ryton swam to her and gently took her fingers, then kissed them. “She will tell you, my Queen. She will.”
The Queen glared, but allowed him to keep caressing her hand.
“I see … I see that these three Jade younglings, born in the far northern edges of the island, under the cold sky’s flurry of color, will rise to be the strongest of all.”
Fate of Dragons Page 18
