“Hurry, boil the bandages, prepare the potions!” one person yelled at the edge of my perception.
They were off to the side and I felt a question from the Wildwoods: was that where I wanted to belong? It knew my potions skills. But I looked away.
“Bring the little ones to the shelter, this way,” said a man to the other side of me, calling to mind a time when the Kragdomen Colony had been under attack by dragons and I had been with the younglings with Nest.
But, no, I told the Wildwoods with my mind. I didn't want to be there. I needed to be there at the front with the rest. I felt a snag, a bit of resistance, but I persisted.
Then the scene before me changed.
I stood at the back of the fight. A clear stretch of meadow separated a healthy strip of woodlands from a gnarled, brittle forest which had been scorched by fire and broken with the traffic of an army.
Various feys and earth drakes lined up at the start of the meadow, along with forest creatures, some which I could name and many I couldn't. Amongst them were unicorns, green men, and gigantic owls and hawks. Just looking at them made me realize that they were all veterans. A great deal even wore armor. I couldn't think I would be of that much value, but there was no denying the calling which had brought me here.
By the time I laid eyes on my father and the battalion, I also saw where Mordon had shifted beside him. The larger and heavier earth drakes disguised Mordon, but I caught the flash of his tail every now and again. Compared to the great vastness of the battlefield and the sheer might of the earth drakes, I was nothing. What was I doing here? But then I felt them across the grass, a think which made the hair stand up on the back of my neck: husks.
Defenders moved uneasily, yet excitedly, shouting back and forth to one another and holding position. The air broke with the rumbles of roaring drakes, then with the hollers of feys. After a minute, their voices receded, and was returned in kind by the screeches of the husks. I realized after a minute that there were more than the monkey-looking ones. Horses and battle creatures joined their ranks, and with a swish of wings and a darting tail, so did a dragon, who landed on a tree and sent it splintering into oblivion.
His arrival and corresponding roar marked the start of the battle. Both lines surged forward at once. I'd fought a shadow-dragon once before, a thing constructed of lost souls and patched together by a spell. This beast was nothing like that. He was the color of forged iron and he had the weight of an earth drake with the shape of a fire drake, and he blew smoke out from between his teeth while he sent the smaller animals ahead.
It became instant confusion. Spells flinging, flames, animals of the forest ripping into one another. Earthquakes shook the ground at the whim of the drakes and the first quake sent me off my feet. The others knew when to expect it, and they smote their opponent while they staggered. Fires burst in the middle of nowhere. I braced myself against a tree. The wind said there were a huge number of husks, far more individuals than we had. What they wanted, I couldn't tell, but they had come to kill and enslave.
I followed their calls and commands, tracing them back and forth through the air ringing with a million distractions, and confirmed the origination of the enemy orders: the dragon who remained with his wings folded. He towered above the battlefield, a dark shape against a crimson sky, the membranes of his wings tattered about the edges. He was no coward, he was biding his time.
Gritting my teeth, I tipped my head back and sought out the drake side of my blood. With less grace than those who had been doing it longer, I began to shift from my human form into the petite wind dragon. It was an arduous, exhausting transformation, but I was determined.
When the change had settled, I sat on the ground, light and thin and dainty. In scale, I was a sparrow to a hawk when compared to my father and the rest of the earth drakes. They snapped up husks and chomped them, squashed great numbers with their claws and tails and even with wings too thick for good flight.
The enemy leader roared, and the husks who remained after the first wave withdrew, many being slaughtered on the retreat. The iron dragon didn't seem to care or mind. He had plenty of others to replace them with, and the Wildwoods battalion had suffered injuries. Several people were already leaving the field.
Before Father could reform the ranks, the dragon ordered another charge. Birds and flying things swooped into action at his call, crossing the field in seconds, while fresh husks raced along behind them. The Wildwoods defenders still scattered across the field, and would be easy to surround. They ducked down and prepared for the inevitable.
“Form teams!” Mordon yelled, flying overhead and ushering the closest ones together in clusters. “Form teams. Stay with one another.”
Even as he called the ranks into order, the husks enclosed the distance and several winged beasts, things similar to yet different from drakes or dragons, dived on him. They had no arms, just wings. Wyvern, the name came on the wind. Mordon caught one between his teeth, but it did not give in easily to his chomp. He had to grab it with his claws and yank its neck around. Its carcass fell to the ground, crushing husks as it went.
“To us, Kragdomen!” bellowed my father.
Mordon tucked his wings and rolled, swooping low to the ground and losing two of his attackers with the maneuver. Another a big drake snatched a wyvern out of the air, but the rest Mordon had to shake with an upswing. Under my claws the earth shifted and split. A deep crack formed and enemies fell into it. I launched into the air to avoid the same fate. With the change in elevation, I saw the rift was to make crossing difficult for the husks. It slowed them down, but wouldn't be enough.
How far did the husk army go? I couldn't sense an end to it. When I sent my wind there and brought it back again, it spoke of hundreds or thousands. Our own number was between fifty and sixty. I swung my head this way and that, feeling overwhelmed. For every husk which went down, it seemed to have no effect on dampening the larger army. Of their leader, I sensed that he already viewed the battle as his victory. The husks attacked automatically and followed his utterances.
“Stay in tight. Don't let them between us.”
The voice thundered through the air, but I didn't know whose it was. All the battalion hewed their way through the remaining husks, panting and heaving. If they knew what sort of an army was coming, they showed no sign of surrendering to them. They would rather die than give up, and die they would.
There wasn't a doubt in my mind as to what to do. The leader had to die first. But how? I started towards Mordon and the earth drakes, but realized that they were needed to fend off the largest of the next wave which attacked. No one and nothing had approached me. That was because, I knew all at once, I had made myself invisible with one of Aunt Linnia's illusions.
With a single minded purposefulness that I had felt once or twice before in my life, I drew up higher and higher. I was far above the field before I made my way across it. Down below, the cluster formation had been broken up with a wedge of husks, one massive body which would see the battalion divided and conquered. Urgently, I angled my wings and started a dive.
Perhaps it was too late even before the idea had occurred. All around me, the husks came so thick that the very ground seemed to be walking and crawling. But my path was set and the wind jostled around me as I picked up speed far faster than any I'd ever had before.
In the seconds between this realization and the time before I hit the enemy leader, I knew what it meant to have time stand still. It was a moment which paused and stretched. Every detail happening so vividly, feeling surreal. Every little flicker of my wingtip took its sweet time, and the husk army below seemed to bob with every footstep. Then I saw the dragon before me.
Majestic and beautiful, this close his scales were burnt umber and the silver of tree bark. Horns sprouted from his head, and more continued in a ridge down his spine, smooth and perfect in the fading evening light. Posed as though a carving for a statue, powerful and potent. His eyes lifted to mine, at the very last se
cond. That was the worst of it.
Intelligence and amusement brimmed in them. It was as if he had seen a pretty lady across a room, not a battle-frenzied warrior in a death swoop. He tilted his head and opened his mouth. It was full of hundreds of narrow, spike-like teeth.
In that last second, I didn't want to kill him. I didn't want to hurt him. The husks and the great army behind him were forgotten. If all fighters were to stare at one another like this, would they be able to continue? I couldn't say for sure. I'd fought monsters before without question, but this…this was something else.
Then I finished the charge, shoved by a burst of wind. The calling in my blood was stronger than any twinge of sympathy. Claws outstretched I bore my teeth and drew nearer the dragon. Across the field, the battle had stopped. Everyone sensed that something important was happening.
The enemy arched his back, rearing up on his hind legs. Massive wings struggled to open in the wind. His mouth gaped open, aiming for my neck. A tuck of my wings spun me in the last possible instant. His chin skidded across my chest and belly. His jaw snapped shut.
Blood coated my tongue. My teeth tore into his throat, his scales ripping away teeth from my jaw. Agony burst from my claws. They'd embedded in his clavicle, breaking it and busting my joints with the hit. But that wasn't all. The dragon hopped and pounded his wings.
I clamped all about him. The big creature couldn't swing his head with my tail spiraled around his neck, and his claws couldn't reach me flat against his abdomen. While I tore into the soft belly beneath his outer scales, he shrieked. The husk army charged to his aid. He tried to fly, but I made the air heavy on his wings.
So he dropped onto the ground. The sheer weight of him squashed me and he wriggled. There was something else in my mouth then, something besides blood. Bile. Gore. I sought it without knowing that's what I was doing, until the second his beating heart crushed between my jaws. It stopped, and his body slumped onto mine. Breathing made impossible by weight and blood.
Then the pressure was gone and raking teeth yanked me upwards. I stumbled to my claws and a ring of drakes surrounded me, a green face staring at me and roaring. A claw took me by the chest and shook me. I let them do it, too stunned to even feel it, too weak to stop it.
When I was cast to the dirt, another earth drake picked me up and draped me over their back. My neck dangled off to the side as they flew into the air and husks flowed beneath us. I blinked, telling myself that the fatigue would go away. Even as I finished the thought, my vision blackened and my mind went blank.
Chapter Twenty-Five
“Why can't you behave?” Mordon asked when I next consciously knew I was awake. They'd put me back in the weeping willow room. At least Mordon was with me, reading a yellowed newspaper with the heading Wildwoods Fish Wrap plastered over the top. My nose flared with the scent of drake's brew, and Mordon gave me his then sat back in his chair.
“This is amazing,” I said, cradling the cup in pale hands.
“Might want to reserve your judgment until after you've had some.”
A slurp, a sputter, and a forced swallow later, I agreed. In no way was it similar to the gravy-like substance Mordon and the colony made. Thick, yes, and salty, but it was an herby-salty, one with a dirt aftertaste. How to go about making this drink, I didn't know, and I didn't want to find out. But even that small sip rendered strength to my limbs and warmed my belly. I forced myself to drink more.
I felt bruised. Taking even a shallow breath hurt. One place in my ribs in particular, below my left breast. Was it broken? I prodded it, winced, and decided it wasn't, but it must have come close. My jaw ached, and I belatedly felt where a front tooth was held in place with some sort of dental plaster.
“Do I look as bad as I think I do?”
“You deserve it if you do.”
I snorted. Should have known better than to expect sympathy. “Why, did anyone die rescuing me?”
“Rossalinda.”
Shock sucked my breath away. I looked at Mordon, expecting him to say that he'd been kidding, that Rossalinda hadn't died. Except she had. A dull ringing echoed in my ears. I tried to get my head around the idea. Danger I had accepted, that I might have died had been of no consequence compared to stopping the inevitable march of the husks. Killing someone had even been a thing I'd known was likely. But I hadn't been ready for this, for someone to give their life for me. Of all people, Rossalinda. Why her?
“I didn't expect anyone to follow after me.”
“You're a daughter of one of the most influential clans in the Wildwoods, and you didn't expect people to protect you?”
“I didn't know that about the Swifts.”
“You should.”
Everything felt distant, the dull scratch of a blanket between my thumb and forefinger, the steady patter of rain falling in puddles outside the hut, the unnatural stillness of a grieving village.
A woman had died to save me.
A woman who hardly even knew me, who had only seen me once.
It was too much to wrap my mind around. The sacrifice was too big. In the long moments when I'd made my decision, I hadn't thought that my actions could lead to a void in the heart of the community. That when I next went for my meal, I'd stare at the very place a woman had once been, a woman who should be here still.
“We were losing.”
“You acted independently of the plan. You should have contacted the group and fallen in, not streaked off to you own heroics. You shouldn't have even been there, you should have been here, not underfoot out there.”
“My place wasn't here.”
“You ruined what we were planning.”
The surface of the brew became choppy in my hands. I bit the inside of my cheek and fought down the emotions ripping me up from within. Rossalinda had died so I could live. It was a fact. I couldn't bring her back.
“I can't undo the past.”
“No,” said Mordon, “but you can act wiser in the future, and you won't do that unless you start behaving responsibly.”
“You couldn't trick the husks, no matter what your plan was. They don't think, they can't think. They are mindless voids, vacant bodies commanded by a general. And he had hundreds and hundreds of them at his call. Unless your plan was to target their leader, you were doomed.”
“You will never know our plan. You were too busy getting yourself killed.”
“There was no time for talking.”
“No time?” Mordon's voice rocked the air with its thunder. “The fight lasted for hours, Fera, and you didn't show your face until it was barreling straight for death. What were you doing in all that time? Do you know how I wished I could have had your help? We all did. We could have used your talents fifty times over. What were you doing, watching us?”
“No, I was here, where you left me.” I thought about it. There had been fewer than sixty battalion members, and the number should have been much, much higher, closer to two hundred instead. I'd thought I'd entered at the start of the fight, but I couldn't have. I felt angry, angry at Mordon, angry at the husks, angry at everything. “Didn't it ever occur to you that maybe I was there only for the final moments of battle? That maybe your combined wishes brought me to the battle? Time is lost in traveling, Mordon, it goes all strange here. I could have been waiting in this room for hours before leaving it. Did you ever think of that, or are you so pigheaded that you think I wanted heroism? Do you think so little of me that I'd stand back and watch as my village faces destruction?”
“That was wrongly spoken. I didn't mean—”
“But you did.” I pushed the brew away with a hiss of disgust. “You sat there waiting for me to wake up, thinking about how right your anger and fears were. Doubts about your possible mate? To think the worst of me during a moment of crises?” I spat the words, shot to my feet, and stomped to the door. Not feeling done with him quite yet, I turned back to Mordon.
“You and the rest of this village can think as you want. I know how it looked, but
you're in the Wildwoods, and I would have thought you'd be wise enough now to know better than to accept appearances at face value.”
“Fera.”
“No! You shut up, you've said what you meant and there's no taking it back. I don't want to hear another word from you.” I started through the door.
“Stop right there,” Mordon shouted. “You can't walk out on an argument. You get back in here—” I hit the road and wanted nothing more than to be gone, just gone, away from this place, away from the village and the woods and the trials and tests and my parents and the whole stupid magical community and this chaos that Death had thrust on me.
But then I remembered what it was like before all of this. And it wasn't a pretty sight, either. I clenched my fist, feeling a dim and distant pain in my chest, warning me not to overdo it. What the devil was this all about? Terror started to eat away at the violent anger from the instant before. I did care what Mordon thought. What he thought mattered the whole world to me, and I was now beginning to agree with his assessment. What would the rest of the village think?
Swift Magic (The Swift Codex Book 2) Page 16
