Wings of Frost

by J. D. Monroe

  “Thank you for your generosity,” he said, trying to conceal his surprise. “If there’s nothing further, I’ll leave you to your business.”

  “Very well,” she said. “You are dismissed.”

  Her sharp gaze was unwavering. He bowed deep and clamped his lips together to contain the scowl that threatened to reveal his anger. A black, charred ring surrounded the spot where he’d stood, ringed in sparkling ice crystals. A good reminder to both of them.

  When he left the throne room, he checked his phone to find a new text message from Sohan, directing him to meet at the side entrance where they’d driven in early that morning. Skyward Rest was built to resemble the lavish dragon palaces of Ascavar, while incorporating modern conveniences like cars and wireless internet. A narrow access road looped around the large compound, with an underground parking garage under the west wing of the palace.

  Massive frosted glass windows cast the foyer in warm light. Sohan was already there, sitting on a plush chair near the glass wall and fiddling with his phone. He smirked as Velati approached and perched on the edge of the chair. “Did you mind your manners with the queen?”

  “Mostly.”

  “Ah, that’s too bad,” Sohan said. “I wish you could have seen her face when I told her I was calling you.”

  “She made it sound like she wanted me here.”

  Sohan snorted derisively. “I let her think it was her idea.” Leaning heavily on his cane, he rose from his chair. “She’s a little too concerned with appearances, but at least she’s not getting in the way.” His spine popped in a noisy staccato burst. “Rosak told me about your chat with the prisoner. Not productive?”

  “His assessment is inaccurate,” Velati replied. “I was feeling her out, and I have an idea.”

  “You want to turn her.”

  “Of course I do,” he said. “It’s worth a try. He can wait a few more days to get rough.”

  “Rosak sent your request down to Erevan,” Sohan said. “The boy’s got a team in the city following every lead we get. Want to take a ride and see what they’ve got?”

  Situated among a dozen indistinguishable office buildings, the two-story Skywatch headquarters was humble compared to the soaring heights and lavish décor of the palace. Asheville and the dragon community here had become a destination for many Wanderers, young dragons who took a journey into the human world to decide where their future lay. Strict rules governed the Wandering, and the Skywatch helped the newcomers assimilate, providing both assistance and reprimands as necessary.

  The biting smell of coffee and greasy pizza greeted him inside the office building. A dozen Skywatch agents bustled through a crowded bullpen on the ground floor. Conversations in English and Kadirai mingled to create a pleasant noise.

  “Erevan’s team is upstairs,” Sohan said. As he walked through the bullpen, several of the Skywatch agents stopped to watch him pass, like they’d spotted a celebrity. He nodded to a few of them, then proceeded through the room toward a side hallway. The older man didn’t hesitate as they approached a staircase, though he let out a quiet sigh. Velati didn’t dare suggest the elevator. His friend had been proud and obstinate long before his near-fatal encounter with the Raspolin.

  Nearly a hundred years ago, Velati had been faced with an impossible decision. Along with their old friend Kaldirah Bladewhisper, he and Sohan had tracked down a small cell of the Raspolin in South America. They’d eluded capture for years after the war, but the Arik’tazhan had more than earned their name: The Unresting.

  This time, the three of them were too cocky, relying on surprise and brute force instead of doing thorough reconnaissance. They didn’t know the cell still had a functioning Elegy. Velati had been scouting farther away and wasn’t affected when it sounded, but Sohan and Kaldirah were within its range. With no hybrid riders to protect them, the Black Fortress and the Silent Tempest fell from the sky and crashed to the unforgiving earth.

  And there was the choice.

  Miles away, he’d heard the residual echo of the Elegy and the distant roars of his compatriots. Following her agonized cries, he found Kaldirah first. Her broken body and ruined face still haunted his nightmares. Her limbs were twisted and broken as her body tried to transform itself, healing and breaking over and over while she struggled to breathe. Trapped in a cycle of fear and pain, she fought him as he carried her away.

  There was a distant crash, then a low groan of pain. Sohan wasn’t far. He could carry them both, and even flew closer to try to find his brother. He could hear Sohan’s voice praying for deliverance from the Skymother. But the awful echo of the Elegy rang out once more, threatening to doom Velati to the same fate. If he lost control, all three of them would have been lost.

  In that awful moment, he made a decision that would haunt him for nearly a hundred years. Fighting with all his willpower to resist the Elegy’s droning madness, he cradled Kaldirah tight and flew as hard as he could in the opposite direction. He’d left her in a small village, begging them to keep her alive while he returned for Sohan. But when he made it back, the only trace of his friend was a dark patch of ground where blood stained the decaying leaf cover and deep grooves that had to be drag marks. The Elegy’s slow, rhythmic ringing formed a wall of sound he couldn’t breach. He’d circled for hours, unable to get closer.

  Two days later, he returned with a team of hybrids who were unaffected by the Elegy. They infiltrated the small safehouse to disable the Elegy, clearing the way for the Cold Death to rain icy vengeance down on the Raspolin. But it was too late for Sohan. The wounds on his battered, broken body were too numerous to count, overlapping in a patchwork of agony. The Raspolin had taken out the frustration of their defeat on him. The scent of blood magic indicated that they’d abused him to the point of death, then healed his wounds so they could start over. Velati still sometimes wondered if it wouldn’t have been more merciful to let him perish.

  But Sohan was his most trusted confidante, his brother by circumstance if not by blood, and so he had swallowed his anguish and carried the man to safety. Sohan had long told him not to blame himself, but it was impossible not to. “All three of us lived, didn’t we? Could have been just you still standing,” he’d said, smiling a wolfish grin despite the deep cuts that marked his face, still misshapen with a broken jaw. “Besides, you got her out. That’s worth all of this.” He was never sure if Sohan meant it, or if he was offering absolution so Velati could sleep at night.

  It didn’t matter. He’d never escaped the haunting thought that if they’d planned better, if he’d considered the possibility that they had the Elegy, if he’d flown faster, it would have turned out differently. His two dearest friends were forever scarred, both unable to transform, while he was healthy. It wasn’t right.

  Sohan was quiet, but Velati heard the tiny hitch in his breath as they got to the top of the stairs. Whether it was from his initial fall or the handiwork of his captors, Sohan’s spine and legs had been broken and healed improperly. Even with the best Marashti healers working on him, they’d only been able to get him walking again. His dragon was long gone, and he suffered chronic pain, though he hid it well.

  The upper level of the Skywatch office was pleasantly warm with the afternoon sun pouring in through huge plate glass windows. The open floor was divided into cubicles with chest-high partitions, each occupied by an agent working. The right-hand wall featured a massive array of maps, printouts, and pictures. He recognized the two agents standing there as Erevan and Natalie, the pair who had assisted them in infiltrating the New York facility.

  Sohan called out in greeting. “Afternoon, kids,” he said in English.

  Both of them turned at once. Erevan nodded politely, while Natalie approached. Velati’s pulse quickened as the woman got close enough to touch Sohan. Without being prompted, he leaned down slightly and gave her a one-armed hug. She rose on her toes to kiss his cheek, prompting a smile.

  Dear Skymother. He had never seen the old man so affectionate wit
h anyone except Kaldirah. They really were facing the end of their world.

  The hybrid woman gestured with a half-eaten slice of pizza in her hand. “There’s more if you guys are hungry,” she said, pointing toward a table strewn with boxes and paper plates.

  “It’s cold,” Erevan said as he turned. “Microwave is downstairs if you need it.”

  “It tastes better this way,” she said.

  “I agree,” Velati said. He was more than happy to help himself to a slice.

  Natalie set her pizza on a paper towel then wiped her hands clean before handing Velati three colored folders. Each was neatly labeled in a precise, feminine handwriting. “Two of the prisoners woke up on the plane and gave me their names, so I started pulling everything I could find when we got Rosak’s call earlier. The others are still drugged or with the healers, so we’re trying to stay out of their way. Devi Mara is going to call us as soon as they start waking up.”

  Velati thumbed through the folders. The last folder was labeled Melissa James/Marlena Nightrunner. The first page inside was a photocopy of Marlena’s driver’s license, and an older picture of her on a University of Colorado student ID. A bright smile lit up her face. Her neck was unmarked by the red tattoos that covered her skin now. “And this one?”

  “Shanira is running a search for both Melissa and Marlena,” Natalie said. “Right now I can tell you she’s from Colorado. She attended UC at Boulder for three semesters, then withdrew in the middle of the year. No social media accounts, which is weird for someone our age.” She chuckled. “I mean, mine and hers. You’re probably like, a hundred and thirty or something.”

  Sohan snorted a laugh. “Try twice that.”

  “Freaking dragons,” Natalie muttered. “I got her mother’s address and phone number from her admission records. Should we send someone out there?”

  He shook his head. “Not yet. But this is great. Thank you.”

  She smiled brightly, her cheeks flushing a little at the compliment. “My pleasure.”

  “Natalie! Devi Mara on the phone for you!” someone shouted.

  “Oh, good,” she said, perking up. She grabbed another piece of pizza and flourished it at him. “I gotta go. Call me if I can do anything for you. Erevan will get you my number.” Leaving him with the files, she bustled across the bullpen to lean over another agent’s shoulder.

  Sohan clapped Erevan on the shoulder. “I know you like being in the field, but you’re doing good work here.”

  “We are,” Erevan corrected, glancing at Natalie. “She’s a force of nature. She sees connections that I don’t.”

  The excited buzz in the office reminded him of the old days, with a dozen of the Arik’tazhan gathered around a table to discuss strategy. He hadn’t realized until walking into this atmosphere how much he’d missed being part of a team like this.

  “And thank you, for sticking around,” Erevan said, offering his hand to Velati. “I uh…I guess it might be a little weird for you after all this time.”

  Velati’s eyes narrowed as he slowly shook Erevan’s hand. “Why is that?”

  “Don’t be shitty,” Sohan said. “Because you and the queen have bad blood.” Erevan’s honey-colored eyes widened. “We’re all adults here, and we know how she is. You got to see it first hand, boy.”

  Erevan looked like he wanted to fall into the floor. “Yes. I shouldn’t have brought it up. I meant no disrespect, kordari.”

  “None taken,” Velati said. “I’m here for whatever you need.”

  “Careful what you volunteer for,” Erevan said. “If Natalie hears you, she’ll take you up on it.” An indulgent smile pulled at his lips as he glanced over his shoulder at the hybrid woman.

  “Tell her to keep her hands to herself. He’ll be helping me train the hybrids,” Sohan said. He nodded to Erevan. “You’re dodging a bullet, boy. Lucky you with your promotion, or you could have your teeth kicked in by the Cold Death.”

  The younger dragon’s lips pulled into a smirk. “I hate to miss it.”

  “You’re welcome to join,” Velati replied. “If you would, keep me in the loop, especially on our prisoner.”

  “You’ll be the first to know,” Erevan promised. “If there’s something out there, we’ll find it. I just hope we can figure this out before anyone else gets hurt.”

  Things could be worse. At least there was a toilet, and no one had hurt her yet. She was ravenous, but some deep breathing helped distract her from her growling stomach. Maybe this was a test, to prove herself worthy of making the final ascension.

  Marlena was no stranger to isolation or patience thanks to the excruciatingly painful process of tattooing her skin with the marks of Vystus. Some of the larger areas like her legs had taken days to complete, and then she was left alone to rest and meditate on the new power. She’d spent many hours with only her own thoughts to keep her company.

  But she was deluding herself if she thought this relative peace would last. They would come back and hurt her for the information they wanted. She needed to get out of here before that happened. Getting the manacles off would be a start. Even getting one off might be enough to unleash her power.

  The manacles were secure, but not tight against her slender wrists. She squeezed her right thumb toward her palm as tight as she could. With gritted teeth, she pulled it against the cuff, gripping the manacle tight with her left hand. The sharp edge cut into her skin, so she paused to switch hands. If one hand was going to be injured, better it was her non-dominant one.

  With a deep breath, she tucked in her left thumb and pulled. Pain lanced through her hand as the metal scraped against skin, then got stuck. She tried again, but the bony joint of her thumb was too big. Great spirit of justice, give me strength, she prayed. Twisting herself into a pretzel, she braced her feet on either edge of the cuff, then pulled with all her strength. Stars flashed in her vision as she tore her hand free, metal scraping into exposed flesh. Her jaws ached from clenching them tight around a groan of pain.

  Finally, she spared a look. Her hand was a bloody mess, but it was free. While the cold lingered in her right arm, the familiar heat of her power reignited in her chest. It was diminished, but it would be enough.

  The door started to slide open. Had they heard her shout?

  “Shit!” she murmured. She lunged across the room, tucking herself into the corner.

  Velati stood in the open doorway with a paper bag in one hand and a wooden stool in the other. He frowned in confusion. Marlena threw a concentrated blast of energy, catching him square in the chest. He hurtled backward into the hall. “Vazredakh!” he swore.

  Marlena darted out of the cell and into a narrow, dark hallway lined in steel doors. Cold wind buffeted her from behind. The stone floor slicked over with ice, glinting in the low light. She struggled not to slide, miraculously maintaining her balance. Ahead of her, a foot-high ridge surged up and caught her foot. With a painful crack, her toes slammed into the ridge, and she pitched headlong onto the icy floor.

  A heavy body landed on her, crushing her to the ice. He seized the back of her neck in an iron grip. Before she could unleash her power again, he threw a sharp punch into her back, right into the still-open wound over her right hip.

  The world blanked out as the shock of it swept over her. Her muscles wouldn’t respond. His voice was strained, almost hoarse. “Don’t try that again.” Ice cold air tightened her scalp in a frightful shiver. His fingers traced her spine. “Next time, I’ll put a blade right here. You’ll never walk again. Understand me?”

  Fear lanced through her. In the brief pause, he pressed one finger between two vertebrae. She gasped. “I understand.”

  He pinned both wrists to the icy floor. “I need the keys down here. And a towel,” he said. “Your hand…what the hell did you do?”

  In the distance, footsteps hurried toward them. It was terribly undignified, lying there flat on her belly with an angry dragon sitting on her back. The ice beneath her had begun to melt, soaking throu
gh her clothes. Fury and despair coursed through her. One perfect opportunity, and she blew it.

  Feet appeared in front of her. Velati lifted her left wrist for the guard to open the manacle and secure it around her wrist again. “Sir, should I inform Rosak?”

  “Inform no one,” Velati said. “We’re fine here.” He got up, releasing the weight from her back, then lifted her up by her arms. He glared down at her. “Is that out of your system?” She lowered her head. The guard who’d fixed the manacle blocked the narrow hallway. Velati simply pointed toward the open cell door. “Go.”

  Despair dug cold fingers into her belly as she shuffled back into the small cell and plopped down on the bench. What was she supposed to do now?

  Velati walked into the cell and closed the door. “I admit, that caught me by surprise,” he said. He sat on the edge of the stone bench, dangerously close to her. He held out one hand. “Let me see your hand.”

  “Why?”

  “That has to hurt.”

  She narrowed her eyes, then offered her injured hand. His touch was cool, as if ice still lingered in his veins. “You did this?”

  “Didn’t work.”

  “I mean, objectively it did,” he said. He raised an eyebrow. “Do you mind?”

  What did it matter? He wasn’t going to fall for it again. They’d open the door at gunpoint next time. “Sure.”

  He wrapped a towel around her mangled hand, then squeezed hard. After the initial sting, his touch sent a pleasantly cold sensation into her hand and up her arm. He was a walking icepack.

  “Does that help?” he asked.