Table of Contents
Map of the Continent
Map of Trure
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-one
Chapter Thirty-two
Chapter Thirty-three
Chapter Thirty-four
Chapter Thirty-five
Chapter Thirty-six
Chapter Thirty-seven
Chapter Thirty-eight
Chapter Thirty-nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-one
Chapter Forty-two
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Table of Contents
Map of the Continent
Map of Trure
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-one
Chapter Thirty-two
Chapter Thirty-three
Chapter Thirty-four
Chapter Thirty-five
Chapter Thirty-six
Chapter Thirty-seven
Chapter Thirty-eight
Chapter Thirty-nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-one
Chapter Forty-two
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Dance of Steel
Steel and Fire Book 3
Jordan Rivet
Copyright © 2016 by Jordan Rivet
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the author.
Contact the author at [email protected]
For updates and discounts on new releases, join Jordan Rivet’s mailing list.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.
Cover Art by Deranged Doctor Design
Edited by Red Adept Editing
Book Layout & Design ©2013 - BookDesignTemplates.com
Maps by Jordan Rivet
Dance of Steel, Steel and Fire Book 3/ Jordan Rivet – First Edition, September 2016
For my parents.
Thank you for your advice, support, and cheerleading.
I literally could not do this without you.
1.
The Fissure
THE wind howled through the Fissure, tearing at Dara’s hair and blasting ice across her cheeks. Her muscles, already sore from her encounter with the Fire, throbbed with the effort of staying upright. And she was cold! Ever since molten Fire rushed through her body in an intoxicating torrent, she’d found it almost impossible to retain any heat. She only hoped the effect was temporary.
Siv trudged beside her, one hand on his cur-dragon’s arching neck. Ostensibly, he was keeping Rumy from flying around and giving away their position, but Dara noticed he relied a little too much on the creature as he picked his way down the cliffside path. He had lost a lot of blood during the fight in the Great Hall yesterday. He needed time to recover as much as she did.
But time was a luxury they didn’t have.
Snow flurries whirled across their path. Dara listened for any hint of pursuit. The shrieks and sighs filling the air could be the calls of the wind just as easily as the menacing shouts of her father’s men coming after them.
Siv stopped at a bend in the path and eased down onto an outcropping of rock. Rumy rested his head on Siv’s knees, one of the few places on his body that hadn’t been stitched back together recently.
“We have to keep going,” Dara said.
“Give me a minute.” Siv pulled his cloak closer and studied the path behind them. Their footprints marked the way they had come, snaking down the pathway that clung to the side of the Fissure. It was a treacherous journey in the best of circumstances. Most people never traveled in or out of Vertigon in the winter—for good reason.
“Siv.”
“I know. I need a breather. Turns out hiking with stab wounds is even more painful than doing squat lunges.” He attempted a smile, which ended up more like a grimace. The nasty slash across his temple must hurt a lot. The bandage wrapped over the stitches didn’t make his features any less handsome, though. His dark hair was messy, and the early traces of a beard shaded his high cheekbones. His eyes, normally bright with good humor, looked pained and dull as he gazed at the ridge at the top of the Fissure. Dara knew his injuries weren’t the only cause.
“Don’t look back,” she said.
“We shouldn’t just walk away,” Siv said. “It seemed like a good idea last night, but—”
“You saw how powerful he is,” Dara said. “We can’t fight him.”
“I am—I was—the king. It’s my duty to protect Vertigon no matter what.”
“You can barely stand up.”
“You’re not exactly your usual spry self either,” Siv said.
Dara ignored the way her body ached with every shiver, the way she wanted nothing more than to lie down and sleep for a year.
“He knows we’re still alive,” she said.
“I doubt he’ll look for us here yet,” Siv said. “He’ll search the peaks first, and the snow is already covering our tracks.”
“We can’t take any chances.” Dara glanced back at the road climbing King’s Peak, expecting pursuit any minute. “We have to keep moving.”
Siv sighed heavily, his breath fogging the air.
“I know, Dara. I saw what he can do.”
He lurched to his feet and continued gingerly down the winding trail. Dara followed, resisting the urge to sit on the outcropping herself for a moment.
The path was wide enough for two people to walk side by side, but they’d been trudging single file for most of the day, trapped in their thoughts. Dara could st
ill hardly believe what had happened. Once again, she had underestimated her father. She thought he would work from the shadows and send the Rollendars and their swordsmen to do his dirty work. She thought he would stay safe in the Fire Guild or far away on Square Peak behind that impenetrable wall of Fire. She had been wrong.
She shuddered at the image of her father standing triumphant in the middle of the Great Hall, the surviving Castle Guards held by shackles of Fire, a cage of molten Fire and metal closing in on Siv. Worse was the look of shock and betrayal on her father’s face when she revealed she could Work the Fire. He would never forgive her for keeping it from him—not that she could ever face him again after what he’d done. With each step, Dara became more certain she could never return to Vertigon.
The wind shifted, whipping Dara’s braid across her face like a slap. Rumy picked up his head and sniffed, then he shuffled his dark wings and whacked Siv’s thigh with his tail.
“What’s wrong, boy?” Siv said.
The creature gave an agitated whine and snorted smoke from his nostrils.
“Someone’s coming,” Dara said.
“He could have just smelled a burrlin—”
“We need to get off the path.”
Dara grabbed Siv’s hand and tugged him toward the side of the slope. The road switched back and continued far beneath them. If they could get down the rocky slope, it would cut time off their descent. They’d risk being exposed down on the lower part of the road, though.
“Tracks, Dara,” Siv said as he eased over the edge beside her.
“If we go fast enough—”
“It won’t matter. Neither one of us could outrun a pullturtle right now.”
Despite his words, Siv kept pace with Dara as she slid down the slope on her backside. The rocks beneath the snowdrifts scraped her legs, and a clump of snow found its way inside her gloves as she scooted down the mountain. Fear clutched at her. They were going to be caught. They were going to be taken back to her father. She still had her Savven blade, and Vine had given Siv a rapier before they left her greathouse that morning, but it wouldn’t be enough.
Dara looked back. The swirling snow obscured her view. Their pursuers could be right on top of them. She fought to control her racing heartbeat. They had to find somewhere to hide. The wind-blasted slope was bare of trees and didn’t offer much cover.
“Wait,” Siv said. “I have an idea. Rumy, come here.” Siv reached out to his cur-dragon, who had been scooting down the incline alongside them. The creature put his nose in Siv’s hand and sniffed at his glove. Siv stroked his scaly head and spoke to him in a low voice.
“I need you to go up and wipe out our tracks, Rumy,” he said. “Blast a few false trails along the path. And find whoever’s chasing us. Got it?”
Rumy huffed and snapped his jaws.
“Uhh, are you sure he understands all that?” Dara said.
Rumy fixed her with an affronted stare and ruffled his wings. Then he scrambled back up to the path, swinging his tail back and forth as he went. As soon as he reached the top, he let out a jet of fire and began melting the snow along the path to disguise their tracks.
“Now you’ve offended him,” Siv said. “Quick, let’s find cover. He’ll only be able to distract them for so long.”
Siv scrambled sideways along the slope, checking rocky outcroppings for cover. He moved erratically, so the patterns he left in the snow looked more like they belonged to a strange creature than a fleeing king. Dara did her best to imitate him. It was wearying work, and her bones ached as she descended.
“Do cur-dragons understand everything we say?” Dara asked to distract herself from the pain.
“Not quite,” Siv said. “They’re very intelligent, though. Smarter than povvercats and most thunderbirds. They can acquire a limited understanding of language. I think Rumy’s smarter than most.”
A roaring sound above them indicated Rumy was still blasting the snow with his fire. Wisps of smoke drifted out over the Fissure. They were still nearly two days from the bottom of the steep canyon through Vertigon Mountain that divided Square Peak from King’s and the Village. If someone was already following them, they’d never make it all the way down the mountainside.
Dara’s breath came in gasps. At least thirty feet separated them from the lower stretch of the road. The icy gale felt like a physical force holding them atop the mountain.
Then they heard the unmistakable sound of a man’s voice. A different voice answered him a second later.
“Someone’s definitely up there,” Dara said.
“This is as good a place as any.” Siv stopped at a dip in the rocky slope. Calling it a cave would be a stretch, but the lip of snow-covered stone might shield them from sight.
“Maybe we should keep moving,” Dara said urgently. A hint of flame flickered on the road they had left behind. Rumy was taking his false trail duty very seriously.
“We’ll never outrun them, Dara,” Siv said. “I’m about to drop, and even though you won’t admit it, so are you. We have to hide.”
There was no time to argue. The voice reached them from the road above again, its tone crisp and military. Dara slid into the hollow beside Siv, pressing back against the stone. There were at least three voices up there, though she couldn’t make out what they were saying. Her father had wasted no time in sending a search party after them—and Dara and Siv were outnumbered. In their current condition, they wouldn’t stand a chance in a fight.
Dara prayed the snow was falling fast enough to hide the trail leading to their position. Siv breathed heavily beside her, waiting. Had the group above them stopped? Did that mean they’d found their trail? Dara gathered her strength for one last fight.
Then there was a squawk, and sounds of a commotion echoed over the Fissure.
“Damn cur-dragons!”
“Get away! I don’t have any food for you.”
The men’s voices were more annoyed than angry as Rumy pestered them. Siv grinned at the sound. Dara barely dared to breathe. He might trust the creature, but that didn’t mean they were safe yet. They didn’t know who was up there. What if someone recognized the king’s favorite pet?
“Stop wasting time with that thing,” said the crisp, military voice. “They have a head start. We must keep moving.”
“I’m sorry, sir! He’s grabbing my . . .”
The wind howled, drowning out the voices again. Dara and Siv remained frozen, listening for any hint that the men were still out there. A large rock dug into Dara’s thigh, but she didn’t dare move. Would those men hurt Rumy? Where was he now?
All they could do was wait. Their hiding place offered some shelter, but it wasn’t much warmer than up on the windswept path. Long shadows stretched across the Fissure before them. The snow swirled, not disguising the fact that the sun had started its descent. They only had a few hours before nightfall.
“Think it’s safe?” Dara whispered after a while.
“Let’s wait until dark to keep moving.”
“We can’t travel the Fissure in the dark,” Dara said.
“Can’t you do some sort of Fire thing to light our way?” Siv asked.
“It doesn’t work like that. I have to draw the Fire from somewhere, an access point in the mountain or a Work with enough Fire inside it.” Dara wasn’t sure she could draw on the Fire right now even if some were available to her. The very idea made her quake. Unlike Siv, she wasn’t outwardly injured, but her extreme exhaustion suggested the Fire had done more damage than she thought.
“We should have borrowed a Heatstone from Vine,” Siv said, hunching against the cold.
Dara shifted uncomfortably on the rocks. She reached out tentatively in case there was some trace Fire in the mountainside. The effort made her senses recoil. It was like bumping against something when you were achy from a fever, or trying to eat after scalding your tongue with hot cider. She stopped trying to pull Fire from the stones and resigned herself to shivering.
“I�
��d offer to share body heat,” Siv said, nudging her arm, “but I might rip open at the seams and get blood all over everything.”
“It’s okay,” Dara said, clenching her teeth to keep them from chattering. Why was she so cold?
“Sheesh. You sound like a chattering krellfish,” Siv said with a chuckle. Despite his injuries, he raised his arm, inviting Dara to scoot closer. Slashes scored his ribs and chest, so she leaned her head carefully against his shoulder. His left arm settled around her. His right arm had taken the worst of the damage during the fight. Dara would be surprised if he could lift it at all.
She shifted nearer. Siv’s body was warm against hers. She would never have snuggled up against him like this a few days ago, intimate enough to feel his breath on her cheek. But things were different now in ways she couldn’t fully grasp yet. And she needed his heat. Needed to be close to him, to know that he was still with her. Weariness slipped around her like a blanket. She should be alert to the men hunting them, but with Siv lending her his warmth, she could hardly keep her eyes open.
Murmurs and sighs sounded outside their hollow. Was it the blustery weather, shrieks of pain, blasts of dragon fire, voices? There was no way to tell who was out there. Dara was all too sure she knew who had sent them, though. She fought against the exhaustion. Siv’s arm remained tense beneath her head. They couldn’t let their guards down yet.
Dusk fell slowly. The snow outside thickened, and the temperature dropped as the hours passed. Dara remained snug against Siv, sharing his warmth. The cold in her bones retreated gradually.
They hadn’t heard anyone for a while. The snow should have covered their tracks by now. Still, Rumy did not return. What if something had happened to him? Would the men out there kill him if he got in their way? Siv loved the little guy, and he had endured enough loss for one day.
Dara glanced up at Siv’s face as the last light faded away. He stared at the opening, waiting, ready. He was in no danger of dropping to sleep, even after hours in the hollow. He must believe their position was more precarious than he let on.
“Did you hear that?” he whispered suddenly, his arm tightening around her.
“All I hear is the wind.”
“Wait . . . there it is again!”
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