Not a storm. One of Tiago’s inventions? A flying contraption?
Vestrix was too busy spinning through the air, doing her best to glide back to the ground and away from the gusts of wind. She ended up corkscrewing into a tall, green bush rising high next to a warm yellow-painted wall of an expensive looking manse. Four miles or so from Turndour keep. Which was no longer under her watchful eye.
Blast it. I’ll have to flap my way back up to that altitude.
Transforming into the raven was the easy bit. Flapping and flying through the air was what made her sweat. Even in the three hundred years since she first took the raven form, Vestrix was nowhere near as talented in the air as a two-year-old sparrow.
She rose from the bush, groomed the feathers on her wings back into their proper positions with her beak, to make her form streamlined. It was then that she saw the source of the gusts.
An enormous green dragon. Far above the city, appearing small enough for Vestrix to pinch between two fingers. Yet she knew—they all knew—the true size of the beast. It had not landed in Lodum since the last Fae War, banned from entering the capital under penalty of death. The dragon had not even been seen in fifty years, by anyone, above Lodum or out in the Wilder, beyond the walls.
And it was Gorgax, eldest of the green dragons. Of that, Vestrix was sure. As when humans and fae grow old and their only growing parts are their ears and nose, growing larger until death, so too do dragon tails never stop growing.
Although no one—not even the Rangers—could be sure, it was generally known that Gorgax had the longest tail of them all. It trailed behind him through the sky, twice as long as his thin, bony, serpentine body.
Right now there are millions of fae with one question on their mind. Where is he going?
For there was one reason and one reason alone that could make Gorgax take his ancient, battered wings to flight: Lord Korka was in need of transport.
You finally leave your castle in the Wilder and enter Lodum.
Vestrix hurriedly flapped her wings and jumped off the bush, back into the open air. Pulling herself upwards, as high as she could go, to look on the city as a whole. With Lord Korka on the move, there was no telling what other events had been put into motion.
Then her eyes tracked back to the flare, hanging above Turndour Keep.
I’m such a fool!
The time for discretion was over. The raven that was Vestrix tripled in size. She added magical strength to the tendons in her wings. One flap and she was soaring through the sky. An arrow directed for the hole in the side of the Turndour tower.
The fighting stopped on the wall. All of the combatants lowered their weapons. An unspoken truce hung in the air as Augustus, the recovered guardsmen, and the mercenaries tilted back their heads and looked to the sky.
Is that a dragon?
It was the first time that Mona had seen one. High in the air, the beast hardly posed a threat. Mona felt nothing, regarding Gorgax as if he was a drawing in a history book.
She had fought demons, made friends with fae, and now worked alongside vampires. Those creatures were old news. Known to every gifted, and familiar to anyone who had studied at an Academy.
Dragons were in an entirely different category. The chance of seeing a dragon—let alone being noticed by one—was so small that the Masters did not bother with the details. One could read encyclopedia entries about dragons, and firsthand accounts of the few times they had dealt with humans. That was all the information that had been available to Mona, and she never had reason to go looking for more. Yes, in her rational mind she knew that dragons were real. But knowing is not believing. They may as well have remained a fairy tale.
And now she was looking at a real dragon. The absurdly long tail snaking out from behind it—a black line with a pointed tip, curving this way and that in the wind. The wide wings, with every beat briefly covering the sun and sending half of Lodum into shadow.
“No…” Augustus murmured. “It can’t be.” He backed away from the tiger shifter mercenary, who also turned away to watch what unfolded above.
Cold sweat ran down Augustus’s forehead and the side of his chubby cheeks. His eyes showed a deep, sudden fear.
Now that made Mona nervous. She looked at the dragon in a new light. She sat on the wall, eyes aching, still focused on holding herself back from throwing up again.
Augustus whirled on Mona, forgetting entirely about the battle. “Did you tell anyone about the woman with red hair?”
“What? No.”
Why would I? She was just another fae mercenary.
“Have you been talking to anyone telepathically?”
“No,” said Mona. She looked away from Augustus’s eyes. She didn’t like seeing him frantic, unsure of himself.
The dragon passed directly overhead. Black specks briefly appeared around its body, like sparks jumping out of a fire. They disappeared for a moment, then Mona spotted the dots below the dragon. The gap rapidly widened, and she realized two things: that the specks were actually quite large, and that they were falling all over Lodum.
The specks spread out evenly so as to hit as much of the surface of Lodum at the same time. Whatever the specks were, they did not appear to have wings. As they came closer, their forms became more visually distinct. They looked like giant rocks. The damage to Lodum would be catastrophic.
“We are leaving,” said Augustus, hoarsely. The mercenary forces were already on the retreat. Mona watched them run down the steps from the wall to the courtyard, across the drawbridge, through the hedgerow, out the gate and into the city. The whole lot of them, about fifteen armed men and women. Sprinting.
Then she heard more footsteps. Fae in the courtyard. Disgusting creatures, holding up thin, ghostly pale arms to cover their faces from the sun. Moving in a lurching jog for the exit.
These must be the prisoners! The mercenaries freed them.
Mona gathered the magic in her like someone rapidly rolling up a loose ball of string. It came together just enough for her to drop over the side of the wall and levitate to the ground. She gritted her teeth against the sickness burning in her body and planted her feet.
These prisoners are not escaping!
Above, Augustus could hardly believe it. His father’s enchantment over the girl was far stronger than he had thought. Mona was a zealot, willing to risk her life to keep the prisoners behind bars. If she had any qualms about their appearance, the way they had been treated, she did not show it.
Lord Yonafrew Hyde had made an ardent follower out of the human girl. The perfect puppet. Once Mona made the transformation, she would be the Hyde family’s most powerful weapon.
Which was why Augustus had to get her out of her, before the war started. Take her back to the safety of the Hyde estate, and perhaps beyond. There was no telling the depths of Lord Korka’s plans. The renegade had been waiting a very long time for this moment. He was finally attacking Lodum. Which was unfortunate, because it was happening before Augustus’s own schemes had come to fruition.
He had run out of time. Played the game to patiently. Now, all he could do was react as Lord Korka exerted his will across Faerie. And hope that the Hyde family’s bargain with the great warlock remained intact.
Before his eyes, Mona summoned a sheet of hoarfrost beneath the prisoner’s feet. They slipped and fell before reaching the drawbridge.
“Guardsmen!” Mona called. “Come down here at once. Restrain the prisoners and return them to the tower.”
She sounds so much like my father. The two had been spending much time together, strengthening their ‘bond.’ For all Augustus knew, it was his father speaking through the girl’s mouth. But no, Yonafrew would be too busy for such a small errand.
One of the prisoners did not fall. She was a Wilder fae, with tall pointed ears and a mat of tangled, dirty hair that fell past her hips. She ran over the ice in her bare feet without slowing or slipping.
“Halt!” Mona called. Her left hand crackled wi
th raw magic.
The Wilder was not deterred. She ran straight for the exit. Mona didn’t budge. A bad feeling swelled in Augustus’s chest.
I never should have let her come!
He jumped from the wall. The guardsmen were rushing toward Mona from across the courtyard.
All were too late.
As Augustus watched, the running Wilder raised one finger and gestured a quick series of shapes in the air in front of her. A thin blue crescent flew out from her chest. Mona leapt aside.
Her reaction was too slow. The crescent sliced through her arm, cutting it off at the shoulder. It hit the dusty ground. Mona wailed, blood spurting from the massive wound. She fell against the wall, inside the stone archway.
The Wilder woman ignored her and ran on, across the drawbridge and into the streets of Lodum.
Augustus and the guards arrived on the ground in time to see the woman’s long hair swinging back and forth as the rounded around the corner of the hedges, and out of sight.
He had used up his rift-summoning charm back at the Academy, when he and Mona had escaped the archive. It would be years before the Hyde’s could have another one crafted for him.
Augustus was not skilled in the arts of healing. Neither were any of the guards. He did not have time to do anything but scorch the open wound with a small flame spell, burning the flesh, and closing it shut.
Mona had been unconscious since Augustus landed next to her. He held her to his chest and jumped into the saddle of his horse. They were facing each other, and she slumped onto him as the horse reared and shot out of the gate. Mona’s cheek rested against Augustus’s shoulder. Her weight was uneven, but Augustus held the reigns on either side of her, his arms like railings keeping her from falling off.
The streets were chaos. Whatever Lord Korka had dropped over Lodum was almost upon them. People ran over the cobbles in disarray, trying to get home, out the city, or some place to take shelter. Others closed their shutters and locked their doors, keeping a wary eye out from a window on the top floor.
Augustus willed his steed to go faster, not caring who he trampled on his way back to the Hyde estate. He needed Mona to live—long enough for Vestrix to acquire the seed from the Academy.
26
Suri ran through the third floor of the dungeon, letting the acid drop from her finger onto the locks of all the cell doors.
She found the prisoners on the lower levels in worsening condition. The remaining guards of the keep—nothing more than thugs and torturers—had already been taken care of by the Black Gauntlet mercenaries, who were long gone.
Two prisoners were unable to lift themselves to their feet. They sat on their straw bedding, trying and failing to use the wall and pull themselves up. Watching with envy as the other prisoners limped their way to freedom.
My tears won’t do them any good. I have to do what I can, and quickly. Save my feelings for later.
Suri steeled her heart and entered one of the cells. The smell was putrid, horrible. Yet not as bad as when she had first entered the dungeon. Her nose had desensitized.
All of my senses are numb, and my emotions too. They have to be, to get through this thing.
“Take my hand,” said Suri, gently. She held it out for the prisoner to grasp. The long-bearded man, looking like a prisoner of decades, reached up with a shaking arm and clasped it. He was as weak as a child. Suri hauled him to his feet.
The man’s eyes went wide. A rattling gasp escaped his lips. His eyes were blurry, looking past Suri as if not seeing her at all. She quieted, and stepped out of the way, allowing him to shuffle forward and take hold of the the bars of his cell door. He continued on down the corridor by using the wall as a handhold. Moving slowly, as if deep on an ocean floor, and breathing heavily.
The effort might kill him.
Suri kept a watchful eye and went to the next prisoner who remained behind. This one had a healthier experience. Rail-thin, but a bit of pink still showing on her skin. Her issue was different than the old man’s. It was her mind that had taken the heaviest toll. While the old man had briefly made eye contact with Suri, and heard what she had said, this woman appeared not to know that Suri was crouched right by her side.
“Hi,” said Suri, taking her time. The last thing she wanted to do was spook the poor woman. “You’re free now. Can you walk?”
Nothing. No response. The woman was no longer chained to the floor, yet she did not move. Without warning she started to scream. Startled, Suri backed away. The woman’s eyes flashed to her, and she ran at Suri with her arms outstretched. Long nails held up to scratch at Suri’s face and eyes.
Suri got her arms up in time to block the crazed attack. She probably thinks that I’m one of her torturers. Even a small shove could send the woman sprawling, and break bones. So Suri ignored the screaming and weathered the flailing arms. She walked out of the cell, leading the woman like a matador. A few steps into the corridor, the woman stopped and looked around. She glared at Suri then took off for the stairs, walking as fast as she could. Glancing suspiciously at Suri one last time over her shoulder, to make sure she wasn’t being followed.
Suri sighed. How many more levels are there? Soon she would not have the time to rescue any more prisoners. Not if she wanted to leave with the rest of the mercenaries. And that was an utmost necessity, unless Suri wanted to end up like the poor souls she had just rescued.
All it would take is a pair of strong arms throwing me inside, slapping enchanted manacled on my wrists, and slamming shut the door.
She shuddered at the quick simplicity of it. At how easy it would be to inflict such massive cruelty. Suri was a bleeding heart, but she wasn’t stupid. She had done what she could. It was time to regroup with the others, before they pulled too far ahead. There was no telling what waited in the lowest reaches of the dungeon. And I don’t plan to find out on my own.
She started for the stone-cut stairs leading down. The barred door, like all the others, rested flat on the floor where the gorilla shifter had dropped it. Where the heck is Raja? That bum is supposed to be looking out for me.
The stairs were wider than previous ones. Large, rusty iron rings hung from both walls at even intervals, all the way down the curving stairs. At about the midpoint, Suri found an old skeleton chained to a pair of the rings. Teeth marks showed on its leg bones.
I should not linger.
Just as the thought entered her mind, a chorus of screams echoed down from the higher levels. They held the hoarse, rattling quality of the prisoners that she helped escape.
Escape, or run to their deaths?
Something was attacking them. Suri was torn between continuing her descent, or going back the way she came to defend the prisoners. She clenched her jaw, the circuits of her mind jammed in gridlock. Paralyzing any other thought.
The screams stopped. Shouts followed. Guttural, loud and bestial.
They are already dead.
Rage filled Suri’s chest. She ran down the stairs as fast as she could, and took up a slow chant that would culminate in a blazing death magic spell.
“Come on,” she muttered. “Try to catch me and see what happens.”
The fourth floor was an open room with thick, wooden torture racks and two round, grimy grates. All was black and sticky with old blood. Darkest of all were the streaks leading from the torture instruments to the grates.
Suri glanced once at the prisoners chained high on the walls, then averted her gaze. She purged their faces from her mind. Not once, even on nights laying awake in bed, did she think back on the Hyde dungeon’s fourth floor. To do so would drive her mad, and corrupt her spirit with unjustified guilt.
The steps of her pursuers could be heard above, armored boots clinking loudly against the hard stone. To free the prisoners would mean death for them all.
Raja appeared up from the next set of stairs. He saw Suri, then looked to the ceiling. Following the noise of the running, armored feet. His expression told Suri that he was only
now aware of the oncoming enemies.
He waved her toward him. As if Suri wasn’t already running across the ground as fast as she could without slipping. The dim light, coming from glow stones set in the ceiling, lent shadows to the wide open room. The prisoners moaned, coughed and groaned. Suri told herself she did not hear them, blocking their voices, the butcher shop smell, the blood sucking at her shoes. Everything banished but Raja’s stern face.
He grabbed Suri and pulled her to him when she came close. “I looked for you everywhere,” he said. He looked at the chamber behind Suri. “Don’t leave me again.”
Suri did not like the his possessive tone, but she had to agree. For the time being, it would be wise to stick together. I’ll deal with his attitude later. It’s past time for us to talk.
“Is there another exit?” Suri asked, going with Raja deeper into the dungeon. The stone steps were older, more weathered. Rounded at the edge from centuries of use. The glow stones on the walls showed the same age. Every fifth one was broken, completely dark. Others flickered, while most gave off half the amount of light they were supposed to. She was getting flashbacks of the catacombs underneath the Merchant District. I don’t think Amber will be able to help us get out of this place, though.
“Walyan says there is,” said Raja. “The councillor is secured. They are looking for the way out right now.”
“We don’t have much time.”
“No,” Raja agreed. “We will have to fight.”
They walked through a broken gate. Raja put an arm out, stopping Suri from walking off the edge of a ramp and into a pit of darkness.
She stood on a ramp that ran around the outside of a man-made cavern. It was the end of the dungeon. They had gone all the way through and—No, there are cells here too.
No glow stones. Instead two, straight lines of crushed amethyst running around the outside of the cavern, enchanted to glimmer with purple light. Down and down the lines went, following the ramp at eye-height. Showing the dizzying height from where Suri peered over the side of the ramp as much as she dared, to see where the purple light ended. The light faded out into darkness at the bottom of the pit. But is that because the amethyst ends there, or because I cannot see any farther?
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