The Mother gestured. The mishram slammed Constance’s cell shut, sliding rusted metal together.
“Fetch the couple,” the Dragon Mother said.
Constance waited for the numbing feeling to come. She wanted to be able to not care about what was happening, as she usually did.
The cries of the helpless woman were shrill. It made Constance nauseated. The begging of the woman’s mate wasn’t any better. The dragon male had a lot of fight in him, but it was the drakin who were dragging him out, and his cuffed hands had no strength to resist them.
Maybe it was because Constance had talked to them, or perhaps her reminder of Rayse made her start to care. She didn’t want to watch these two die.
“We’ve been good Ayesrialians. Please don’t take her,” the male squeaked. His confident exterior was stripped away in the panic. “Don’t take her, please, take me. Take… take me instead.” He bowed to the Dragon Mother deeply, until his forehead touched the ground.
They couple was looking at each other with forlorn looks. What tragic souls.
The Mother was going to harvest their essences, as she often did. She would possess the male with her spell, force him to kill the girl, and then harvest the magnified strength of a broken bond and two ripped-apart souls.
Constance needed to stop this.
She could.
Kill me… Kill me… Kill me…
Her answer was right next to her.
“Please!”
As the raving prisoner shouted, Constance whispered, “Es rea misreagou, kisla misreagou.” She tore the life away from her neighbor, the woman who couldn’t stop begging for her life to be taken away. A piercing scream battled its way into Constance’s mind. She wasn’t sure if the woman herself was screaming, or the sound had formed in her head. The magic rushed into her. She held her breath. The blackness of it was intrusive. It cut into her soul, tainting it. She could feel tears rolling down her cheeks as she fought against the unbearable sensation of being shredded from the inside.
“What in—” the Mother said.
Before giving the Mother time to react, Constance reached out a hand. “Surgitia furmia,” she said, using the same spell the goddess had used to kill Eduard. The power sang in her blood, eager to be used.
The Dragon Mother was caught unawares. If I kill her now… But the spell was too weak to defeat a god, despite its cost, and it fogged over the goddess as if it were nothing but morning mist. It did, however, distract the deity.
“What on Gaia…” the Dragon Mother muttered. Around her, drakin released pained cries. Constance wasn’t sure if the spell affected the mishram, but if it did, they didn’t make a sound.
She used the remainder of her magic to unlock her cell. She’d unknowingly done the same for a few fellow prisoners. The power gushed out of her like a waterfall, and she didn’t have the skill to control where it went.
“Run!” she told the couple.
They scurried to their feet. The biting sensation on Constance’s burned leg was little compared to the nausea of the black magic driving through her. She gritted her teeth and stumbled forward. She wouldn’t get far at this rate.
An arm wrapped around her waist and lifted her. She recognized the stranger. “Jaerhel?”
“Maybe you should have done this when the Mother wasn’t around,” he said.
“Thank you,” she said, as he carried her.
“Don’t thank me yet. I’m not sure if we’re going to make it out of this.”
She felt the power seeping out of her at an alarming rate. She had to use the magic up quickly and get out, or they’d lose their chance. “Jersdes vas ilas.”
A fog, not unlike the surgitia furmia, cloaked them. This spell served a different purpose—it was an illusory one to distract their pursuers. Those who looked in their direction would see nothing but empty space. It’d slow down the Dragon Mother, but likely not for long.
“You ought to know a good spell for us to leave quickly,” Jaerhel said. “It’s black magic. The power is practically invincible. It’s the Mother’s power.”
“I do.”
“Well?”
“I’m thinking.”
“Think faster.”
A group of captives trailed behind them. They knew she was their best bet, as slim as their chances were. They followed like confused birds behind a hen. They shouldn’t have put so much trust in her. She didn’t know where she was doing either.
“Figured it out yet?” Jaerhel asked.
It was on the tip of her tongue. The urgency of their haste made the spell harder to recall. If only she’d paid more attention to the transportation enchantments. The healing ones were in her head, clear as day, but she’d skimmed over the rest.
“Aila sores,” she muttered, channeling the woman’s soul. Nothing.
“We’re still here,” Jaerhel said.
“I can see that. I thought that might have been it…”
“Try something else.”
The cloaking spell disappeared. Constance and the prisoners held their breaths.
“She’s coming for us,” a female in their small group said.
Constance bumped into a woman. She stumbled backward. When she looked, she nearly jumped out of her skin. She found herself face to face with… Nanili? “Nanili, what are you doing here?”
“The goddess commands that you stay.”
Jaerhel reached out and snapped her ex-servant’s neck. The creature collapsed to the ground.
Constance bent down, but was halted by him. “Nanili! I knew her! Why would you—”
“Don’t you know? The goddess uses mishram as spies. She knows for sure that we’re here now. Please remember that spell.”
A whooshing noise came from behind. Constance spun her head around, seeing the Mother creep out from a black, glowing gateway.
That image triggered Constance’s memory. She’d seen it in one of her spell books. “Aila sorin!” The last of her magic seeped from her, bringing a scream along with it. It opened a portal. It was much smaller than the Mother’s, but it’d have to do.
“Now!” Jaerhel grabbed her hand and tugged her through. Tortured cries from traveling through the portal threatened to deafen her. Moments later, she found herself lying on flat ground. Her stomach churned and her head throbbed.
“Close it,” Jaerhel said, wheezing. “We don’t have time, Constance!”
“But the others…” Her mind was spinning from both the travel and the aftereffects of the darkness. A few prisoners had managed to make it through, but too many were being forsaken.
“We’re all going to die if you don’t close it now.”
She wanted to hold the gateway open longer. The portal was stretching away from her. All she had to do was give in and it’d collapse. Still, those pitiful silhouettes she could make out in it… she couldn’t just abandon them. The couple she had tried to save were still amongst them. They’d be harvested for sure.
Jaerhel was shaking her. “Constance, please…”
A figure more regal than the others came into view—the Dragon Mother. Jaerhel was right. If Constance didn’t close the portal now, they’d all be sent back to hell. It took little physical effort, but shutting that exit this early was one of the hardest things she’d ever done.
Jaerhel flopped to a sitting position. “About time.”
It was only the beginning of the terrible things she’d have to do.
8
The dragon padded toward the stack of square mud and clay.
“Do your thing,” Rayse said.
The dragon blew fire over the heap of material, transforming it into bricks. A group of winged men, whom Rayse had arranged together, swooped in and picked up the newly formed bricks, before placing them on the back of a dragon who was wearing a makeshift carrier. The carrier was made out of sticks and branches. There was a nearby wasteland, which had plenty of dead trees for them to chop. It wasn’t necessarily the best kind of wood to use, but they had to
make do.
Another group, both men and women, were crafting bed stands and chairs.
They didn’t have enough good-quality material to make the new mansion pretty, but it would be a perfectly fine place for Catrina to heal.
A small portal opened in the distance. Emilia came in, levitating a large sack of supplies from the city. She let them thump onto the ground, and workers scurried up to gather them. Another portal opened after hers, and more witches came through.
It looked chaotic, but there was structure in this mess.
Catrina strode up to Rayse. “Things are looking up,” she said, smiling. “I hate to admit it, but it’s thanks to you.” She had a gorgeous smile.
He straightened and adjusted the strap of his weapons belt. “It’s strange.”
“What is?”
“Leading again.” His apathy had left him. Was it Catrina’s presence that had done that?
“People look up to you,” she said.
“Because I’m good at acting like I know what I’m doing.”
“Isn’t that what leading is all about?”
“You know what you’re doing.”
“Exactly my point.”
He folded his arms, watching the bustle around him. “Where is Emilia getting her supplies from?”
“I have contacts in the city. Dragons and women we’ve saved before. Some even belonging to the Favored. They help with what they can. It’s not much, but at least people won’t be too hungry. Emilia travels to the farmlands often, too. Those who can donate do so. It’s a lot of logistics and plenty of danger. I’m just grateful that people are willing to help us, despite putting themselves at such huge risks.”
“It’s impressive that you’ve managed to survive for this long.”
“I think the same way, too. Feels like we’re living on borrowed time. We seem like the freest of those in Ayesrial, but we’re not, really. We’re just hiding, constantly in fear. I have safeguards up, but they’re too brittle, and anytime, they can shatter. And then we’ll be back in that terrible place, where everyone feels like just one wrong move would result in death.”
“Hiding isn’t the answer. You could try and change the system.”
She flashed him a look of confusion. “Meaning?”
“Defeat the Dragon Mother.”
She laughed darkly. “I only know one way of doing that.”
“Oh, so you have a plan?” A man gestured a question at Rayse. He nodded back, indicating that the man should proceed.
Catrina sighed. “I won’t survive it.”
“Care to share?”
“No, not really.”
“You’re good with magic,” he said.
“Not like the goddess is. She’s a million years ahead of me.”
“She’s that old?”
Catrina shrugged. “Probably older. I’m not sure. I’m not strong enough to go against her, regardless.”
“You have a team of men here who can start change. Big things always start small. It will snowball once they have enough momentum.” That was how the Everstone dragons began, anyway. He didn’t know if a revolution against a god happened the same way. But being with Catrina gave him hope. Perhaps it was also the way he saw how these people tried to survive, and how Catrina helped them to, despite the odds.
“You’re being far too optimistic.”
“You have that effect on me.” He paused, letting those words linger, then decided against them. “On people, I mean.”
If Catrina had been jarred by his words, she didn’t show it. “Don’t you have a mate to find?”
“It’s been sixty years. I doubt an extra week would make a difference.”
“You weren’t so patient a few days ago.”
“People change.” Even though his feelings shouldn’t be changing. More and more, Constance disappeared from his mind. She had become a thing of the past, and thoughts of Catrina filled the gap his mate had left behind. It wasn’t right. Then again, he was drawn to Catrina because she reminded him of Constance. “I could train the men,” Rayse said, changing the topic. “You would have lost less of them in the drakin assault if they had been better with their maneuvers. A lot of them here call themselves your warriors, but they’re really untrained dragons who know how to throw themselves at assailants. I could make them more effective.”
“For a revolt? It’s not going to happen.”
“It doesn’t have to be for one. What if the drakin show up again? Being better at defending yourselves can’t hurt. Learning to fight better is a good precaution.”
She pressed her lips together. “You’re right,” she said. “I doubt you’re going to be able to teach much in a week or two, however.”
“A week?”
“You’re still leaving, Alric.”
“But I’m being useful here.” He was finally starting to feel like himself again. He couldn’t just go back and throw it all away. He didn’t want to look at that darkness and emptiness again. If he went back to Gaia, he’d have to face the consequences and reminders of what he’d done. It wouldn’t be long before he spiraled back into that dark pit.
Catrina sighed. “And for that, I’m thankful. But you can’t stay.”
“I don’t know why you’re insisting this so much.”
“Good work.” Catrina gave him a patronizing tap on his shoulder before sauntering away. The fabric of her brown dress dusted the wilted grass as she walked.
If Rayse was good at one thing, it was keeping men in line. He could lead. He had done so before, but he’d never thought he would do it again.
The skill came back to him naturally, almost like breathing.
“That’s it,” he said, pacing back and forth through their makeshift training ground. “Keep the momentum going. The swing starts from your abdomen. Keep the focus on your core, and always try to predict what the enemy is doing next. Ilrene, proper form! Straighten your back.”
The sound of their swords clanking together filled the atmosphere. Their feet swept against the ground, throwing up sand into the air. A few women stood by, watching with amused toddlers. They held plates of refreshments. Rayse realized that the food here was terrible. Sometimes, the dragons managed to hunt meat from the vicinity, but it wasn’t enough, and the animals that the Ayesrialians from the outside donated were usually half rotting. It wasn’t anything their dragon stomachs couldn’t handle, but that didn’t mean he enjoyed it.
“Magic makes things easier,” Emilia said, stepping up to him.
He looked down, surprised. Her head didn’t even reach his waist. She’d managed to sneak up on him? Some of his best warriors back in Dragon Keep couldn’t have done that. “Males, especially dragons, aren’t usually as good with it.”
“Pity, isn’t it?”
They stood there in silence, watching the men spar. Rayse interrupted the quiet by barking some additional orders.
“Wind formation!” he shouted. The warriors scampered to do as told, splitting into two groups. “The group who falls first won’t get lunch.” A muttering of groans and complaints chattered toward him, before the dragon men clashed in a battle of metal against metal.
Emilia just stood there, studying the spectacle.
Her presence was starting to unnerve him. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?” Rayse asked.
“I’m taking a break,” she replied. “Then I need to fetch more patients out of here.”
“Some are leaving?”
“They want to go back to their families.”
“And you?”
“Don’t have any.” She shrugged. “Catrina didn’t manage to save my father.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I can’t remember him anyway.”
He spotted her hand twitching. She was watching the fighters intently, with the curiosity of a child, which she was. She acted so maturely that Rayse had almost forgotten she couldn’t be more than ten. “Do you want to learn?” he asked.
Her face paled.
She looked like a thief who had just been found out. “I’ve got magic,” she quickly said.
“What if you run out of souls?”
“Then I can take more.”
“And if there aren’t any nearby?”
“Then I’ll find some nearby.”
He almost cracked a smile at her stubbornness. “It doesn’t work like that.”
“You’re ugly.”
“What?”
“I have magic, so I don’t need to roll in the mud. Fighting is a dragon thing. I’m a witch. Catrina says that I’m the best witch here, with powers rivaling the witches of the old. She’s better than me, of course. I think she’s trying to be modest.”
“Oh, so you’re too proud to lift your fingers?”
“And you’re too ugly.”
He thumbed the hilt of his sword. “I’m just saying, you can learn if you’re interested. It’s good to be flexible.” He tugged the weapon from its sheath and presented it to Emilia. Her eyes lit up.
“I’ll think about it.” She turned away. “I need to get on with work now.”
“Why do these men stay?” he said, fiddling with his sword before sliding it back into its sheath. “You seem to transport all the patients back once they’re healed.”
She spun her head back to look at him. “These men are like me. No families. So this place becomes our family. We grow and hide with the people here. I think we’re the luckier ones. The ones who leave sometimes end up dead shortly after.”
“You’ve been through a lot, for someone so young.”
“Have I? Aulrick there is around the same age as me.” She pointed to one of the “men” already on the ground. Rayse couldn’t tell that the boy was so young. He would have taken him out of the band of warriors had he known. Then again, dragons did age quickly. Emilia tucked a strand of loose hair behind her ear. “He’s been through just as much.”
“Children in Gaia don’t have it as rough.” At least, that used to be the case, until his irresponsibility wrecked the continent.
“I wouldn’t know.”
Emilia walked off, her pigtails swinging behind her. How was one with so small so strong inside?
Fractured Souls (Soul of a Dragon Book 3) Page 7
