Dragonfire: Freedom in Flames (Secrets of the Makai Book 3)

by Toni Kerr

  The dividing wall vanished, along with all the evidence. His wings were no longer impaled by anything.

  “Very well, then,” announced Donovan. “Let’s eat and discuss the plan.”

  Tristan frowned. No critique on how he should or shouldn’t have swung a bat? He stretched his back as he walked toward a new table, covered with the original food, and noticed his right arm must have done most of the work. In fact, now that he thought about it, he hadn’t use his left arm at all.

  He glanced up at the falcon, who’d retreated to the farthest branch possible, mostly hidden.

  Behind the table, a huge map of the world was dotted with color-coded pins and numbers. Tristan breathed with his mouth gaping open and sat in the chair Landon pulled out for him. “Is that how many gems there are?”

  “One hundred forty-two,” said Donovan. “The green pins are actual locations. Yellows are possible locations, strung together if they refer to the same stone. Orange means they were moved at some point, some more than others, and they are strung with red to the new location.”

  “Do we know what they are?”

  “Some. Each location has a number, and all the information we could gather for each number is recorded in that book.” Donovan nodded toward a large leather-bound book on a small side table. “You requested all information to be in a written format, in case you wake up one day and find yourself alone, well past the computer era.”

  “Thanks.” The idea brought tightness to his chest. He could never do this alone. Not in a million years. “Do you think that will happen?”

  “No. But any computer format might be obsolete in twenty years, so it’s not a bad idea.”

  Even if he released all the races within one year, one every two or three days, he would need to document exactly what races they were, where they were going to establish themselves, and what sort of conditions and abilities they had. And then, keep it all up-to-date as populations grew? His heart raced. “I can’t do this. I would mess everything up.”

  “We’re not dead yet, you know,” said Victor, handing him a plate of sliced meat and steamed vegetables. Alvi smacked his arm and scowled. “What? I’m just sayin’ he’s not alone.”

  “Right.” Tristan took a quick, deep breath. “I’m sorry. One day at a time.”

  He’d been starving a moment ago, now it was all he could do to put food in his mouth and chew.

  “This is your inner squad of guards,” said Donovan, motioning to the fifteen or so men and women standing around the table.

  Tristan glanced at the line of people. There were only a few he couldn’t name, but he did recognize most of them. “Why aren’t you all eating?” There was enough food piled on the table to feed a small army.

  “They’ve eaten. I just wanted you to see these people again before we arrive at the Forest of Darkness.”

  Tristan swallowed the bite of un-chewed meat and stood from his chair to face the people. What they must think for his careless loss of control, breaking dishes to blow off steam.

  “I’m sorry.” He looked at each person carefully, determined to make sure he never forgot who should never be harmed. They stiffened as he walked toward them. “Really,” he added. “Thank you. Um. This is awkward.” Embarrassing was more like it. “You know I—I’m...I would like it if you don’t mind....” He glanced at Donovan for help, but the man merely cocked an eyebrow.

  “I don’t want to mess this up,” Tristan said. “Or accidentally step on you—you should know I can’t always see what’s under me if I—”

  “They know,” said Donovan.

  Their scents mingled together, and what he really wanted was individual smells to focus on. “Please,” he said, letting his eyes shift. “Please step forward one at a time.”

  They glanced at Donovan for reassurance. Landon stepped forward, probably to ease everyone else in the room.

  “You already know what I’d say,” Tristan whispered. He’d know Landon’s scent in a heartbeat, but circled him anyway, so the others could see what he intended to do to each person. “Thanks for everything.”

  Landon nodded and stepped back in line.

  Victor stepped up next, looking stiffer than usual with his shoulders back and eyes forward. Tristan laughed. “You always smell like food to me—barbeque sauce, onion, and garlic.”

  “Is that a problem?” The creases between Victor’s brows deepened. “I—”

  “No, it’s not a problem,” Tristan said, grinning. It probably wasn’t a smart time to make food and feeding jokes. He made a show of circling Victor, pausing for a moment behind him to take a deep breath, then continued around to the front. “You are an amazing musician, and your music does help me. Thank you.”

  Victor nodded and stepped back, waving Alvi forward.

  “You guys engaged?” Tristan whispered.

  Alvi smiled and waggled her eyebrows. “Better not make him jealous.”

  Tristan glanced at Victor for a split second. “What’s he going to do, glare at me?”

  “Oh, I’m sure he could think of worse things,” she teased.

  “So long as he doesn’t mess with the food,” Tristan joked in return, circling Alvi cautiously. Victor’s scent was all over her, and he briefly wondered if he’d paid any attention to Philip’s scent, and how much of it was on Dorian. He bristled at the thought and stood face to face again with Alvi. She did a little curtsy and moved to step back.

  “Wait.” He put a hand on her arm and stepped closer than he’d been before. “I worry about you the most,” he said, as quietly as possible.

  “You just haven’t seen me in action.” She sounded both flirtatious and angry.

  “I don’t want to see you in action, is the thing.” He took advantage of their nearness and breathed in more of her personal scent—one less contaminated by Victor’s.

  “You think I should be at home raising babies?”

  “No, but—”

  “But what? Stop being so sexist and get over it.”

  Tristan stepped back. “I’ll try.”

  She gave him a crooked smile with a wink and returned to Victor’s side.

  Talak stepped forward, unreadable behind the mask of tribal tattoos. The man reminded him so much of Molajah, his chest tightened and remnants of grief pooled in his eyes. He blinked away the moisture before anyone might notice, and lifted his chin to gaze up at the giant warrior.

  “You’re doing a good thing,” said Talak.

  Tristan held back the ‘how do you know’ question and felt his throat wobble. “I hope so.” Tristan circled the man, breathing in.

  “We have a saying in my tribe.” Talak put a hand on Tristan’s good shoulder and stepped closer. He smelled like earth and crisp water—it would be difficult to smell him at all in the wilderness. “Do not chain yourself with doubt, for it is heavy and keeps you from finding your way.”

  Tristan put a hand on the man’s arm. So much like Molajah—he felt torn between apologizing and saying he’d do his best not to disappoint. “Thank you. I’ll have to remember that.”

  It went much the same for each person; a little bit of fear, but mostly supportive. Madam Galina, the doctor, wished he’d wait a few days. Alpheus and Eleonora’s scents mingled as much as Victor and Alvi’s, but he didn’t say anything.

  “They’re expecting us,” Donovan said. “I’d like you to eat a bit more, get cleaned up, and meet us up top.”

  Tristan swallowed the lump in his throat. “The falcon should come with us.”

  “If you can catch him. He’s quick and alert, and I didn’t wish to cause him any more stress or harm.”

  A wire cage appeared on the table. The bird eyed them all warily.

  “You should wear a sleeve,” suggested Landon.

  Before he could picture what sort of sleeve would work best, a stiff leather snapped into place around his forearm. He held it out and stared up at the bird. What if he wasn’t any sort of alpha in the real world?

  I know you
probably don’t want to, but I need you to come with us. Please trust me—you won’t be harmed.

  The bird dropped into a glide and landed on Tristan’s outstretched arm.

  “There, that wasn’t so bad.”

  Its golden eyes were wide with panic, definitely lacking Jacques’ intelligence. Landon opened the cage and Tristan slipped the bird in. It beat its wings against the bars and tried to sidestep up Tristan’s arm to get out.

  “It will be okay. We’ll free you if it’s safe.”

  Victor produced a thick, black blanket and draped it over the frame of the cage. The bird lost traction on the leather cuff and calmed when it found the sturdy perch. Tristan clasped the door shut.

  “If someone else could carry him, I’d appreciate it.”

  “I will,” said Victor. The others left the marble room in a quiet single-file line. “How did you do that?”

  “I just asked.” He sat back down in his chair and poked at a slab of steak. There was no point in keeping the bird captive, he’d have to release it and say goodbye. Again.

  A large porcelain bowl, filled to the brim with slightly steaming water, appeared on the table, along with several thick towels. “I’ll clean your wings if you want,” offered Alvi, “and then we need to find something suitable for you to wear.”

  30

  FOREST OF DARKNESS

  LANDON AND VICTOR opened the wide double doors to the outside. Tristan kept his eyes on the ground, expecting the blinding sunlight, but it was dark—too dark to see past the light of a lantern held by one of the guards.

  Donovan stood at the base of the stairs and nodded approvingly at Alvi’s choice of clothing—a soft tan-colored fabric with long, loose sleeves and buttons down the front. He wasn’t sure how it crossed between his wings in the back, but the long strips of fabric wrapped around to his waist and tied at the side. At least the shirt and the pants were loose and comfortable, and Alvi assured him the fabric would rip easily if he shifted. He kept the staff with him, mostly so he could cling to something.

  “It’s sunny in Russia, at the Forest of Darkness, but well past the heat of the day. Everything is ready.”

  Tristan nodded solemnly, careful to keep his wings from hitting the ground as he descended the stairs. All the doubts and questions and miscellaneous garbage in his mind slipped away. Now, it was a simple matter of following the plan: release the dragon, break the contract. He stopped beside Donovan, and several ghosts and guards stepped in to surround them. “Where’s the falcon?”

  “Alpheus and Eleonora have him. We’re gathering on the border of the area, then we’ll all walk in together.”

  “I was thinking…maybe we should release him when the contract is broken. Just in case he’s in there somewhere.”

  “It might be the most humane thing to do,” offered Donovan. “I’m sure the bird wouldn’t want to be kept as a pet either way.”

  “Right,” Tristan added, a bit more sure of the idea. “You don’t think we’re giving up on him, by setting him free?”

  “The bird doesn’t need assistance anymore,” said Donovan. “And if Jacques is in there, he’ll most likely be freed when the contract is broken.”

  “Most likely?”

  “It’s possible he’s already moved on.”

  Tristan sighed. Maybe that was the sacrifice—using himself as bait to prove Tristan’s worth. “All right.”

  “Ready?”

  There was nothing left to do. He loosened his grip on the staff and closed his eyes with a slight nod. When he opened them again, they were all standing at the edge of a dense grove, on a rarely used animal trail. He spotted the covered cage with Alpheus and Eleonora, and stepped into line with the people who’d begun walking into the grove.

  The trees grew denser as they walked farther in, and the sheer number of ghosts packed between the trunks sucked the breath from his lungs. Was this everyone? Had they all come to witness the breaking of the contract? They stopped their silent conversations as the group of living people passed by, then crowded in to follow. Tristan kept his eyes fixed on the ground, unable to feel the same excitement.

  The trail became a tangle of shiny, chocolate-brown roots. Dark shards resembling clumps of grass stood erect like bouquets of needles, while shrubs looked like delicate sculptures carved from opaque glass. The majority of the trees were still standing, though most of the limbs and leaves had fallen and shattered on the ground. A thick blanket of living ivy crept over the top.

  The overall effect was beautiful in a creepy way, but no light penetrated the thick canopy, and soon they needed lanterns to light the way.

  The people in front stopped walking and faced the center of the petrified clearing. Tristan and everyone behind him filed in around the perimeter. The living people seemed to prefer one side, and the ghosts the other. Landon put a hand on his shoulder, reminding him to breathe.

  Hundreds of misty apparitions were watching them. Him probably. Waiting for Whiromanie to show himself. How long had the dragon been trapped in this dark, empty place?

  The ground began to vibrate and the leaves in the trees tinkled like glass wind chimes. “I remember you,” whispered a voice. Dark shadows from everywhere gathered into the shape of a massive dragon. “You are a pathetic specimen. It is a shame the great dragons have deteriorated so.”

  Tristan resisted flinching when inky vapors snaked around him and forced his chin to rise. He’d been instructed to be strong and dominant, but it wasn’t working very well. He looked up at the creature’s face. “I can only represent myself.”

  The dragon had to tilt his head to the side to see Tristan at all, with his eyes set so far back on his skull. It didn’t make him any less scary, but it was certainly a weakness.

  “Are you so fragile and ill prepared, you cannot come alone to talk privately? Since when should a dragon require an entire militia?”

  The ghosts were getting agitated.

  “You’re right.” Tristan stepped forward. “I am not as prepared as I’d like to be, but I am here and I will do my best.” Despite what you’ve done, he added to himself. Who knew how many dragons Whiromanie had killed indirectly. The thought shot a burst of anger to his gut and he quickly tamped it down, determined not to play into the pecking-order games.

  “And you’ve glamorized yourself with wings since I saw you last. Do you mock us?”

  “They appeared one day and I discovered the joy of flying. To remove them now would be like severing a limb.”

  “Hmmm. I suppose I had to see and hear it for myself before believing such a thing. I was told you would have questions for me.”

  Tristan dropped his gaze. This would be his last chance to get information, but everyone had rallied quite well for him, and what he needed most at this point was experience. The knowledge filled him with calmness. “We’ve been able to figure things out well enough, so I think I’ll be fine.”

  “Ha!” Smoke puffed from the dragon’s flaring nostrils. “I’ve been instructed to answer all of your questions, in trade for this release.”

  “If I break this contract before I release you, will you be free to go with the rest, or will you be bound to the earth forever?”

  “What?” The dragon’s head jerked back. “I—no one knows the answer to that until it happens.”

  “Well- everything I was going to ask just isn’t an issue anymore. There are more important things.”

  “This is an outrage!”

  “Why? All the dragons you killed and the council have been more than helpful, and I have no need to hear how great and powerful you are, and how insignificant I am.” Tristan seethed. He’d thought he’d worked out all his anger, but it felt good to scold the dragon responsible. And what could they do, fire him? “I thought being I could actually hear you, you would be a good source of information. But the only question I have is, why would they want me to save you?” Tristan raised his voice to a shout. “Do you still? This guy orchestrated the deaths of…how many? Non
e of us would be in this position if he hadn’t—”

  “Enough, Tristan!” hissed Donovan.

  Oskar, the ghost who had done most of the work with the world map, stepped forward, catching Tristan’s attention. Andros stood behind him with this hands tucked into the long sleeves of his robe.

  “How can you forgive him for creating a clan of dragon slayers? He betrayed everyone! This makes no sense to me. And no one said I have to break the contract with this diamond. There are plenty of other choices we could have started with.”

  Pink dashed out from Landon’s hair and did a loop to stop herself at Tristan’s ear. “You wanted to ask dragon questions,” she whispered, then dashed back to safety.

  “Like how big will I get? What do I eat? How much weight can I carry? I’ll figure it out on my own.”

  “Those are childish questions,” replied the dragon. “She’s dying, you know.”

  “Who?”

  “Your little pixie-play-toy.”

  “She’s not a toy—” His throat constricted at the thought of losing such a happy, bubbly being.

  “They only live for a few months, six at most.”

  “You’re lying.”

  “Why would I lie about such a thing?”

  Tristan clenched his teeth and glared.

  “Anyway, about those questions.”

  “All right,” Tristan glanced back at Landon, who was already consoling Pink. He’d have to deal with it later. “Why is it that we can hear you and no one else?”

  “I’ve been speaking to humans for centuries, and perhaps because I’m physically tethered to this realm. But I was thinking along the lines of…‘How does a dragon warm a human without burning the body to a crisp? Will a dragon’s children be hatched or born? Will abstract power drive a dragon insane? Can a dragon transport himself, or grasp the concept of magical manipulation? How does one protect the armpits in flight? How does one maintain the correct ratio of blood when shifting back to human? How long is the transition between shifting from a dragon brain to a human brain? How does the designated alpha release the races?’”