Rayse returned his attention to his men.
He inhaled, then shouted, “Men, take twenty! I’ll be back soon. Remember, the group who loses doesn’t get to eat. Let that be motivation for fighting better next time. Aulrick, come here.”
The young lad got to his feet, wearing a tired look, then strode to Rayse with a hunch in his back. He had a few cuts and bruises across his face, which weren’t too deep. They’d heal in a few minutes.
“You’re as old as Emilia?” Rayse asked.
“I’m eleven, sir,” Aulrick replied.
Rayse hadn’t paid much mind to him at first, but now that he looked closely, he could see the boyishness of Aulrick, despite the lad’s height. “You’re too young for our company.”
“I can hold a sword.”
“Children shouldn’t be warring.”
“Pardon me, sir, but we Ayesrialians are born into war. It’ll be a disadvantage to me if I can’t fight. I want to be able to defend the people here. They’re my brothers and sisters.”
Rayse evaluated the boy’s posture and expression for a moment. Aulrick’s grip on the hilt of his sword was so tight that Rayse could see white in his knuckles. “Very well,” Rayse said. “But if it becomes too difficult for you, don’t hesitate to let me know.”
Aulrick saluted. “Thank you, sir.”
“Your group lost. Are you hungry?”
“I’d prefer to be treated the same way.”
Rayse couldn’t help but be impressed. Many of the Everstone dragons didn’t have the same level of dedication. “Good. That’s what I like to hear. Go join your brothers.”
Aulrick gave him another enthusiastic salute before leaving.
The remaining formations parted into a cacophony of conversations. They broke into small groups of soldiers and walked toward the women, who had a refreshments and water arranged. Catrina did pretty well with the supplies, considering their tight situation. Few of her people went hungry.
After determining that the men were settling in well, Rayse made his way to Catrina’s study. She stayed there half the time. He didn’t have to go, but he wanted to report on how his new subjects were doing. He was no longer the highest in command, and he thought he ought to do so to maintain order. He didn’t want any politics that might destabilize things playing out between him and Catrina.
Also, the report was an excuse to see her.
Before he reached her, a commotion sparked en route. A burly man was beating another male. Rayse recognized that fellow. That man could shift into a dragon, albeit the small, doglike variety. His victim was a human, thus considerably weaker.
Why was that lad picking on someone so helpless?
“Oi,” Rayse said. “Knock it off.”
The assailant wouldn’t back off. The human wailed as his nose was smashed into the ground repeatedly. His ears were bleeding, and spots of black and blue bloomed on his skin.
“Knock it off!” Rayse grabbed the shoulders of the little dragon male and tossed him aside. He wondered why this man wasn’t in the group of warriors he was training. He’d figured most of them would join, but he didn’t force them to if they weren’t keen.
“Fuck off,” the man said, wiping the spit that flew out of his mouth. He stood up, looking for a fight. And then his gaze met Rayse’s. “Uh…”
Rayse narrowed his eyes and tensed, ready to react should the man try anything funny.
The asshole shrank back, but wouldn’t wipe the look of challenge from his face. “I’ve got beef with you now.”
“Sure,” Rayse said. “I’m ready to settle it anytime you want.”
“I won’t forget this.”
“Me neither.”
The tiny dragon kicked himself to his feet and scurried off as if he were late for something.
Rayse returned his attention to the human.
“Thank you,” the human said, still cowering, as if Rayse would bite.
“Why was he beating you like that?”
“I…” The man rubbed his forearm and stared at the ground. “I dropped his drink, um, sir.”
Rayse frowned. “That’s hardly reason for a punishment so severe.” The human’s face was hardly recognizable.
“Reason enough for a human.”
“Explain.”
“You’re not from around here, right, sir?”
Rayse nodded.
“It works differently in Ayesrial, or maybe not so different. I’m not sure how it is in the outside. Humans have always been weaker than dragons, and dragons have always liked to throw their weight around. Castes are rather common in Ayesrial. First there’s the Favored. People like the drakin, amongst others, who have received the blessing of the Mother, are given the best treatment. They’ve got the nice lodgings and all that. Best food. And the rest of us just try to get by. But, you see, it can never be equal between dragons and humans. The humans always get it the worst.” The man rubbed the back of his neck. “The witches are fine, though. The dragons tried to whip them up at first, but they shot right back with them crazy powers. Dragons haven’t tried anything ever since a few of them lost their tails.” The man fiddled with his fingers and continued to stare down. Somehow, he seemed unconvinced that Rayse wasn’t going to rip his head off.
“The human females get it even worse than worst,” the man continued. “I mean, Catrina doesn’t allow the mishram here. Usually they get the most beatings, but I guess we’re second best.”
“And she allows it?”
“It’s just the way things work. Sir.”
“I suppose this place isn’t as familial as Emilia put it,” Rayse said.
“There’s always the runt of the litter.”
“I’ll speak to Catrina about it.”
“Not sure if that’ll do much.”
Rayse couldn’t believe that Catrina would allow such barbarism to occur beneath her nose. Then again, she’d been harvesting the souls of her sickest patients. He added this to the list of things he needed to discuss with her.
“If somebody tries to hit you again,” he told the human, “come straight to me.”
“I’m not sure if I’ll get the chance to, sir, but I appreciate the thought.”
Rayse firmly gripped the man’s shoulder, hoping to be encouraging, before continuing his trek to Catrina’s study. Was the situation the same where he came from? He recalled the wars that started after his absence. He hated to think about it. He got sick every time he did.
The humans began the slaughter first—pillaging and raping and killing everything in sight. It was survival of the fittest. Then the dragons saw the chaos and took it as their chance to play. They swooped down and treated the humans like toys, eating some of them, possibly even murdering other dragons’ mates. It looked like hell on earth.
And he’d done nothing about it, all because he didn’t have Constance.
All because his guilt and sorrow crushed him so terribly that he couldn’t bring himself to stop it. He had reveled in the destruction, even.
It hadn’t taken long to regret it. Dead bodies of men, women, and children alike had lain on those battlefields, simply due to him being incapable of stomaching his loss.
When the bloodlust seeped away and remorse set in, he’d allowed himself to sink into numbness. For the longest time, he tried his hardest not to care.
“Come in,” Catrina said, before his knuckles could touch the door. “Alric.”
“Catrina,” he replied. He took a pause to study her beauty. Did she know about the emotions she stirred in him? “The humans don’t get treated very well here, do they?”
“I am aware of that.”
“And you let it happen?”
A dejected expression drew her face down. “It’s not my decision to make.”
“You run this place.”
“Yes, but it’s not like I can overturn the culture in Ayesrial. Dragons rule over humans. If I stop that from happening then a lot of my warriors will leave, and I might not even get the
supplies I need anymore. It’s a—”
“A necessary evil,” he finished for her, his voice hard. “Like your patients.”
She swallowed. “Yes. Are you judging me?”
“No. I’ve done far worse.” Which was why he’d tried to make up for the atrocities he’d allowed to happen, despite how useless his attempts to pull himself out of his apathy had been. It was why Catrina shouldn’t simply step aside from her duties.
Rayse strode forward. “You can’t let this go on. You can at least try to stop the beatings. Be the force of change—”
“Sadly, I’m gathering enough souls for you to leave. Luckily, not people from our camp, but there have been skirmishes and Emilia has brought me some… harvests. You can leave soon.”
“Catrina, I don’t want to. I’m making progress here.”
“You can’t stay.” Was she breathing harder than usual?
“You need my help.”
“No, no I don’t. And aren’t you supposed to be looking for a mate?” And were those beads of sweat on her forehead?
“I thought I’d help rebuild first. We wouldn’t have gotten this holding up so fast if not for my help.” He peered around her new study, and couldn’t help but feel proud of his work.
And part of him didn’t want to find out if Constance wasn’t alive anymore. She wasn’t bonded to him and she was human. Humans had short lifespans, right? Then again, witches could live longer, due to the influence of magic.
Catrina shook her head. “You’ve outstayed your welcome.”
“Catrina, I—”
It came in less than a blink. She let out a strained groan, sounding like a vine was squeezing the life out of her. She fell to the ground, gasping.
“Catrina?” He rushed to her.
“Get away from me,” she growled, swinging her arm out violently.
He inched closer regardless.
“It’s nothing”—she coughed—“personal, Rayse. Just back off. You’re the biggest cause of this right now.”
He stumbled backward. How did she know his name? She’d been calling him Alric all this time, pretending as if she didn’t know. Why?
“She asked you to leave,” Kien said, tugging Rayse aside. He wouldn’t have budged with a pull so weak if not for the shock coursing through him.
She writhed on the ground. He was the biggest cause of this?
“Please…” she wheezed. “Get out.”
He forgot that the return of his drive also made him more open to hurt. Her words scarred him like teeth on flesh. Kien was hovering over her like the protective bastard he was. It pierced Rayse to know that another man could touch her so intimately, while he was the third party.
Kien’s lips curled into a snarl.
Neither of them wanted Rayse here, and supposedly, his absence would make her well. He dipped his head and made his way toward the stairwell, feeling like a scarred animal in need of a good licking of its wounds.
Maybe he ought to leave like Catrina said—his mind was fogging up with emotions he didn’t deserve.
He bumped into Shen on his way down. “My lord,” Shen said, “you have to come with me.”
“What is it?”
“Greta’s here.”
9
Constance watched Jaerhel as she thumbed over her book.
“Be careful out there,” she told him, flipping to the next page.
“I know.” He strapped a sword to his belt. “There are mishram everywhere. I’ll be quick with my scouting. I just think it’ll be safer if we ask for information.”
“Why are you still here? The few who managed to escape left right after we closed that portal. It’s every man for himself in Ayesrial.”
He shrugged. “Don’t know. Guess I’m not like every man.”
“You should leave.”
“I won’t. Who’s going to take care of you once I do?” He slipped on his boots.
“I’ll manage.”
“Sure.” He snorted, then stood up and clomped his boots over the floorboards as he strode away. “Don’t get yourself killed while I’m out. I’ll try to be back in an hour.” He waved nonchalantly and slipped out the door.
Jaerhel was a handsome fellow, but the sight of him didn’t make her heart constrict and beat like Rayse did. Still, she couldn’t deny that he was an attractive man. He could turn the ladies’ heads just by walking by. He had a full head of blond hair, tall stature, and a confident posture. Granted, she couldn’t see half his face because of the voluminous beard he grew.
She had sensed he was a dragon from her magic. His essence was strong.
“Catrina, dear, could you pass me the numbing concoction?”
She did as her new employer asked. The old man reminded her of Eduard. Not because of his appearance, but his demeanor. They were both soft-spoken and genteel men, both with the same cause.
Wendyll, however, knew magic. Rows upon rows of grimoires lay on shelves in his study, and he’d granted Constance full access to them.
She’d told Wendyll of their situation. She didn’t want anyone to risk their lives on her account without knowing what they’d gotten themselves into. Even then, he agreed to take them in, despite knowing he might lose his head should the drakin find out they were here.
Wendyll exhaled a weary breath. “He’s not going to last for much longer. A day at most. We can only make the pain go away.”
She drew her eyes to the disfigured boy. He was missing a couple of limbs. Garish scars covered nubs where the joints of the boy’s arms should have been. The drakin hadn’t been kind to him or his family. Wendyll told her the boy was the last of his blood due to something his father did.
“What’s that in your hand?” he asked, snatching the book from her. “This is about dark magic.” He adjusted his glasses and squinted.
“I was curious,” she lied. “It’s so foreign to me.”
“You shouldn’t touch it. Most witches don’t survive if they try harvesting it.”
“And what if they do?” She swallowed the lump in her throat.
“Then lucky them. I don’t suppose they’d get away unscathed.”
She didn’t. She could still hear the screams of the madwoman she had harvested in her head. They were worst at night. “No, I guess not.”
“I’ll keep this. You shouldn’t be looking at things like that.”
He set the book aside, away from her reach. She had learned what she required from it, anyway.
He got to his feet and walked to his study, leaving her alone with the dying boy.
She could use the boy’s soul. She’d done it once. She could do it again. His soul would be gone in a few hours anyway. He might even find relief in dying early. She spread her palm out and hovered it over the patient. She shook like a leaf and clenched her jaw tight. She’d already crossed the thin imaginary line of morality. She could easily go over once more…
The door swung open and light hit her, jarring her from the darkness.
“We have to hide,” Jaerhel said. He stormed in, wrapped his hand around hers, and pulled her away.
“What?”
“A mishram spotted me.”
“You were out for less than five minutes.”
He muttered a curse. “Someone probably gave word to her about our presence. She was waiting in a corner, perhaps to verify the rumor.” He growled. “Maybe scouting was a stupid idea. We have to go. Now.” He passed her a cloak and pulled his own over his head.
Wendyll sped out and adjusted his spectacles. “What’s happening?”
“We can’t stay,” Jaerhel said. “The drakin will be here any minute now. Come with us.”
“I’ll be fine.” Wendyll waved them along. “They won’t hurt me. The drakin have been visiting me for years. I’ll distract them. Hide.”
Constance quivered. “We can’t leave you behind.”
“Just keep out of their sight.” Wendyll gave them a reassuring grin. His expression seemed so peaceful, like nothing wrong
was going on in the world.
Her stomach churned. A huge, terrible wave of danger was coming. Her skin tingled with the uneasiness of it all. Her instincts told her that Wendyll should come with them.
Wendyll pushed them to the back entrance. “Go. I can’t leave my patients behind.”
Before Constance could protest, Jaerhel tugged the door shut. The clicking sound of the door closing chilled her bones.
“We shouldn’t leave,” she said.
“Wendyll can handle them. He’s done so for years. Come, let’s find a safe place. We can’t fight the drakin like this. There’s too many of them.”
“I might be able to if I had black magic.”
“You don’t have to go through that again.”
Crashing rang from the clinic. She jolted, then ducked toward a window and peeked through.
The bright sunlight cast the whole clinic in shadows. The figures in the room were faint from her angle. She saw four dragon men walking in, looking like demons.
She couldn’t make out what Wendyll was saying. The drakin towered over him like a mountain. One wrong move, and it felt like the drakin would crush Wendyll as if he were nothing.
“I’m sorry,” she muttered. The dread brimming in her made her want to look away, but she forced herself to continue watching.
Wendyll and the drakin were having a scuffle. The drakin did not look pleased.
“Constance!” Jaerhel said. “Let’s go.”
“I won’t forgive you if you force me to leave,” she said.
She heard Jaerhel’s exasperated sigh.
The tallest of the drakin grabbed Wendyll by his collar. He lifted the poor healer off his feet and spat in his face. Constance’s heart dropped to her stomach.
A glinting knife shone from the shadows.
Time stilled.
The drakin swung the weapon, and Wendyll’s blood splattered onto the ground. She stifled a cry.
Wendyll… His stomach was cut open, and it looked like his guts were spilling out. He slumped to the floor and strained to breathe. Bile rose in her throat.
Jaerhel hooked his hand over her elbow. “That’s it. I don’t care if you hate me forever. We have to go.”
Fractured Souls (Soul of a Dragon Book 3) Page 8
