Aryana clicked her tongue against her teeth, showing mock disappointment.
Diovan stepped forward with a grin. “Whatever, errand boy.”
Rayse rolled his eyes. His energy to stand up to Diovan’s insults had left him eons ago. The old Rayse wouldn’t have taken them lying down. This one didn’t care. This version of him allowed the insults, internalizing them. He deserved to hear them, and worse.
Diovan crossed his arms, wearing a smug expression. “Oh, stop scowling. We’ve finally gotten a lead on where your mate might have gone.”
Rayse straightened. “What?”
Aryana smiled and rested her hands on her hips. “We wanted to tell you the news personally, seeing as you’ve been wandering around for sixty years looking for clues.”
Hope blossomed in him, but he didn’t let it spread too far. Salvation had been crushed for him too many times. These sixty years had taught him that life was a living hell, and hope was the enemy. If not for it, he’d be lying at the bottom of some goddess-forsaken cliff, his body long rotted to bone. His mind, however, would be free from the weight of his damned existence.
The minuscule chance of Constance being alive and seeing her again had kept him moving, kept him floating in this endless torment.
“What is it, this lead?” Rayse asked. “Is it… is it reliable?” There had been many empty promises since he’d lost her, each one more disappointing than the last.
“A dragon witch,” Aryana said. “She calls herself Jura. She’s not from around these parts. With one of our tracking spells, we sensed a strange magical aura coming from nearby. We’ve captured the dragon woman. She’s a spunky one. Took down ten witches before we managed to get a dragon stone shackle around her ankle to suppress her magic. Diovan even got his butt beat.”
Diovan narrowed his eyes. “You weren’t supposed to tell him that.”
Aryana swatted Diovan’s comment aside. “Luckily, none of our witches are injured. After much prying, Jura told us she’s from Ayesrial.”
Rayse’s heart pounded in his ears. “Bring me to her.”
They meandered their way through the Grimfire clan. Rayse hated to admit it, but the architecture the Grimfires lived in was far superior to the buildings in Dragon Keep. They didn’t have a mighty castle, but with the help of the water witches, the dragons managed to build houses of opalescent colors, with features of intricate detail. Coupled with the greenery of the lower altitude, the place looked magnificent and warm.
Aryana and Diovan couldn’t seem to walk fast enough. Rayse wanted to spread his wings and fly to where the Ayesrialian woman was, but, of course, he didn’t know where to go. They entered one of the reforged stone buildings in which the Grimfires lived. Greta and Shen waited for him there. They too had joined the Grimfires after the Everstones fell.
Shen still found it difficult to meet Rayse’s gaze. They had failed in holding the Everstones together. That led to the collapse of human civilization in both Yvrdeen and Falron, and everything that Rayse had stood for disintegrated within a short span. He didn’t blame Shen. It was his own weakness and abandonment of his duties that led to the bloodshed. Still, Shen believed he had failed Rayse.
In the center of the living room was a captive woman being tied to a chair. She was dressed in strange, ragged clothes, with fashion he’d never seen before. Her frayed sleeves were lined with strange brown details, untypical of Gaia. Long blond hair cascaded down her ashen face. Like most dragons in human form, there was a level of perfection in her features. But even that perfection failed to mask the weariness she bore. Dragon-stone shackles were around her ankles, preventing her from shifting.
Diovan stepped into the room. “We thought we’d save our questions for when you arrive.”
The captive looked up at Rayse not with fear, but an annoyed, tight-jawed expression.
“You are from Ayesrial?” Rayse said.
There was defiance in her eyes. “Yes, and?”
“We need to know how to get there.”
Jura snorted. “Well, that’s the silliest thing I’ve ever heard. And that’s saying a lot, because of what I’ve seen.”
Rayse rose an eyebrow.
“Nobody wants to get into Ayesrial,” she said, voice lowered. “They want to get out. You outsiders are so lucky. You don’t understand how terrifying that place can be.”
He’d already suffered his worst fear—losing Constance. How bad could it get? “Can you take us there?”
“I’m not taking anybody there. I can’t go back to that place. Do you have any idea how difficult it was to get out?”
“What’s your price?”
She cocked her head. “Price?”
“Everyone, and everything, has a price. It depends on how expensive it is.”
Disbelieving laughter came from Jura’s lips. “How about killing the Dragon Mother, then?” Jura sat with a confident posture and glared at them with challenge in her eyes. She wasn’t afraid of them, despite being shackled by dragon stone. From Rayse’s experience, only someone who’d gone through experiences equivalent to molten metal could be forged this strongly. How terrible was Ayesrial, exactly?
Rayse cracked the joints of his knuckles. “I have a counteroffer. Give me a way to get there, and I’ll refrain from snapping all your limbs.”
“I’ve had worse,” she said. “Why do you want to go to the worst place imaginable, anyway?”
He saw no harm in telling the truth. “The Dragon Mother took my mate away from me.”
She sighed. “I don’t like you, but I’d rather leave this place with all my limbs. I can’t take you to Ayesrial—I’d rather die than go back there. But there’s a fairly simple, albeit life-threatening way. It’s just much harder to get out than to enter that damned city.”
“And how do you get in?” he asked.
“A spell. Cast by black magic.”
Aryana chimed in, “We don’t use black magic.”
Jura puffed out her cheeks, then let out a long breath. “Neither do I. Thankfully, it’s easier to wield than to harvest. I was kindly gifted it by Catrina. She gave me some in case I needed to ward myself from the souls in the gateway, or fight any pursuing drakin. Thankfully, none of them came for me.” She looked at Aryana. “You’ve taken my soul beads. One of them contains enough black magic to cast the entrance spell. I don’t see a use for that vile substance, and I have no intention of letting myself go through the wretched feeling of using black magic anytime soon. You can have it if you’ll just let me go and get on with my life. Does anybody here have the courage to use that power?”
“I’ve touched it before,” Aryana said. “I can do it again.”
Shock at that admission filled Rayse. He glanced at Aryana, frowning. She would risk herself for his mate? Someone she’d never met before?
“Are you sure about this?” Diovan said.
Aryana shrugged. “I’ll survive.”
“We don’t know how it’ll affect you.”
“I’ve touched it once. I’m still in one piece.” She looked at Rayse. “You’ve been trying to find a way into Ayesrial for the longest time. It’s the least I can do to help.”
“Thank you,” Rayse said.
Diovan’s eyes widened. He abruptly paced forward, until his face lingered in front of Aryana’s. “What do you mean, least? That’s a fuck-ton to risk!”
Aryana patted Diovan’s cheek. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll be fine.”
“You can’t say that for sure.”
Jura shifted in her seat. “Now, if you may, please untie me so I may go?”
Rayse shook his head. “The spell?”
“I need some promise that you’ll let me go first. Release my shackles and the ropes on my hands.”
“How about you get to keep your fingers? Is that a good enough promise?”
“No.”
He dragged his dagger out of its sheath and pointed it at her. “I’m not bluffing.”
“I’m not afrai
d.”
Rayse strode forward. He untied one of her hands from the chair and placed it on the table next to them. “Which finger do you want gone first?”
“Your pick.” She wasn’t even flinching.
He slammed the dagger between her digits. The wooden table croaked in response. The weapon jutted out from between Jura’s fingers. That always seemed to do the trick.
She didn’t blink. “Are you done? Will you let me go now?”
“What happened in Ayesrial?” he asked.
“Things you don’t want to hear about.”
To him, this woman was a prize, a catch unlike any other, because she could bring him answers about Constance. He didn’t want to lose this opportunity.
But he hadn’t lost all confidence in himself. He could take Jura down if she tried to escape.
Hesitantly, he nodded toward Shen, and Shen proceeded to release the Ayesrialian.
“You have to be certain about this,” Jura said. She stood up from the chair and strode past Rayse before turning back around to face them. She ran her fingers around her wrists, which had been tied down. “Once you enter, there’s a barrier around the whole of Ayesrial that makes it far more expensive to leave. There’s only one witch I know who is able to circumvent that—and Catrina doesn’t hand out escapes easily. She needs time to gather enough magic for her spells, and she only gifts the lucky ones with the opportunity.”
“Why you, then?” Aryana asked.
“I waited long enough. I’ve always wanted to come to Gaia. Even then, after you leave, the Dragon Mother might notice, and she might send a horde of her drakin after you. The black magic which you’re going to use for your portal? That was supposed to be for a last-ditch effort to ward off the drakin, should they find me. In fact, I’m still not a hundred percent sure if they’re going to come after me or not, which is why I’m going to be putting cloaking spells over myself for at least another ten years. You have to be certain that this is what you want.”
And Rayse was certain. Surer of this decision than most things in his life.
“So what’s the spell?” Rayse asked.
“Horano Invitio,” Jura said.
Greta raised a brow. “It’s short.”
“Expensive.”
Rayse looked at Aryana expectantly.
“I’m not opening the portal that quickly,” Aryana said. “Give me some time to gather myself. Managing the dark art is quite the challenge.”
“I’ll need to pack some supplies, too,” Shen said.
Rayse furrowed his brow. “You’re not coming.”
“You might need my help. I’m… indebted to you.”
“You don’t owe me anything.”
“What happened with the clan—”
“Wasn’t your fault.” Rayse ran a hair through his hair. He didn’t bother tying it up these days. “It was due to me leaving and shrugging off my responsibility. I threw you in a situation you didn’t want. Are you sure you want to come to Ayesrial?”
“It’s not a nice place,” Jura added. “And you’ll probably die.”
“You still have a mate, Shen,” Rayse said.
Shen met his gaze with resolve. “I’m not letting you go alone.”
Rayse nodded. Part of him felt relieved. “Best to have at least one person familiar to me there.”
Shen smiled, if only a little.
“Can I have my soul beads back?” Jura asked, lifting a palm.
Aryana pressed her lips into a tight line. “You’re asking for a bit much.” She shared a doubtful look with Rayse. He dipped his head, which signaled Aryana to do as Jura asked.
Jura snatched the beads back. “Thank you. And this one’s the one with the dark magic.” She passed it to Aryana. “Give me back the bead when you’re done. Those things aren’t easy to create.”
Aryana placed the bead next to the string of them she already had.
“I don’t feel good about this,” Diovan said.
“I thought you were a brave dragon,” Aryana replied, and gave her mate a peck on the cheek.
“Not when it comes to you.”
“Because I’m so terrifying?”
Diovan scrunched up his nose. “You know that’s not what I mean.”
Jura gathered her things, which had been placed at a corner of the room. She threw her sling bag around her. “There’s a place around here which has better resonance with Ayesrial. It’ll make the spell easier to cast. I’ll bring you to it.”
All of them were still watching Jura warily. She wasn’t acting like the enemy—at least, not yet.
After Aryana and Diovan had had enough time squabbling over the danger of the matter, and Rayse and Shen collected their supplies, they met in the same room. This time, Aryana’s son, Ferrion, joined his parents. He probably wanted to make sure his mother was all right. The lad was a fully grown dragon male who hadn’t found his mate yet. He had his mother’s dark hair, but his father’s crystal-blue eyes.
Rayse contemplated how if Constance and his unborn daughter had survived, she would be almost the same age as Ferrion.
“Ready?” Jura asked.
He had been ready for the last sixty years.
They walked for about twenty minutes, until they reached a relatively normal-looking area. Greta strode with them, and excitement, more than usual, flickered through her eyes.
The entrance to Ayesrial didn’t look any grander than its surroundings. It was a mossy tree stump. Perhaps the only thing that differentiated it from the rest of the swampy forest was the strange culmination of graying, wilting flowers around it. He wondered if the presence of dark magic caused that. Constance had mentioned that the dark elements of black magic threw nature out of balance, and thus repelled it.
Aryana plucked the soul bead from her string of them and held it between her thumb and forefinger. She looked apprehensive.
“Thank you for this,” Rayse said to her.
Jura perched by them, wearing a bored expression. This didn’t mean anything to her. She probably wanted to get on with it and go back to hiding from the drakin, whoever or whatever they were, and the Dragon Mother.
Diovan watched Aryana carefully, ready to step in should her dabbling in the dark art go awry. A pang of guilt shot through Rayse—he’d put another dragon’s mate in harm’s way for his own. But the possibilities were too tempting to ignore.
“You don’t have to do this,” Diovan said.
Aryana replied, “Nobody else is going to. The rest of the water witches don’t want to open an entrance to a city of dragons. They still dislike them.”
Which didn’t make sense to Rayse, because they were already so assimilated with the Grimfire clan. The witches were hardheaded and liked to keep their prejudices like that, as long as those prejudices were convenient.
“I could open it,” Greta said.
Aryana pursed her lips. “You’re too old.”
“Less years to waste if I die.”
“It’s safer if I use the black magic. We don’t know if your constitution is strong enough.”
“You’re a frail pumpkin. A witch, but still human. I’m a dragon.”
“An old one, whose face is starting to look like a pumpkin. Actually, you’re more like a prune.”
“I’m not sure if you’re trying to be caring or insulting.”
“I say let Greta cast the spell,” Diovan cut in.
“Don’t be selfish,” Aryana said.
“Hey, I’m only thinking about Greta. She’s probably bored to death from being so old. Let her have some fun. You’re the one being selfish, stealing all the magicking for yourself.”
Aryana rolled her eyes and shoved past her mate. “I’ve actually used the dark art against someone before. I know how it feels.”
“So you should let Greta have her turn.” Diovan smirked and nodded, seemingly pleased by his logic.
Greta scowled. “I’ve touched black magic before. What do you think I am, an amateur? Come on, give me the
beads.”
Diovan nodded. “Yes, Aryana, you’re being rude to Greta by not giving her due respect.”
Aryana flashed him a perplexed glance. “What are you talking about?”
“Can someone open it already?” Rayse said, getting annoyed. He just wanted to see Constance soon.
Jura narrowed her eyes at Rayse. “Why are you in such a hurry to die?”
“You’re not helping,” he said.
Jura straightened. “Actually, I am.”
“You’ve done your part,” Rayse said.
“I’d appreciate a ‘thank you.’” Jura sniffed. “I hope you get eaten by the vengeful souls along the way.”
“Vengeful… souls?” he asked. He could sense the frustration prickling off the woman’s skin.
“The path is made from the essence of murdered souls. The magic wants to corrupt and destroy. And I’m hoping your weak ass gets sucked in by them.”
“Horano invitio,” Aryana chanted, finally getting over the bickering. A choked groan sputtered from her lips as she invoked the spell. Diovan and Ferrion were at her side immediately, supporting her with what little they could do. A burst of magical wind blew from her. A burned smell filled the air, circling around them. Aryana let out a hoarse cry and clutched her belly.
“Stop if it hurts,” Diovan said, worry in his expression.
Aryana didn’t have to make the choice. The spell was over in less than a minute. The water witch stumbled backward and sank into her mate’s arms.
In front of them glowed a blackish portal, swirling with a tempest.
“If you want to back out, now’s the time,” Rayse said to Shen.
Shen tried to hide his grimace. From the portal came tortured cries and ghostly, screeching sounds. The atmosphere pouring out from it was dense. “I’ve wronged you once. This is the least I can do.”
“Like I said before, you’ve never wronged me.”
Shen shook his head. If he wanted to join, what could Rayse do? He felt twinge of remorse that he was relieved about Shen following.
Rayse looked back at his friends. “Thank you for everything, Aryana, Diovan.”
Fractured Souls (Soul of a Dragon Book 3) Page 2
