The mist thickens. Even at our height on the battlements, it claws at my legs. Cold moisture gathers on my cheeks and my armor. I inhale, waiting.
The fog swirls, and soon I lose sight of the men at the end of the battlement. In moments, the cloud is so thick I can only see Pippa. She soon disappears as well. I know they are here next to me, but my eyes trick me into thinking I am alone.
Something brushes against my neck, and I whip around with the sword held out in front of me. There’s nothing.
From below, the horses chorus together in an ear-piercing scream. It’s an unnatural sound, a sound no animal should make. The kind of sound that will forever haunt my nights. Then, again, it goes still.
My hands shake, but I hold my sword steady.
Then, cutting through the unnatural silence, Rigel yells my name. His voice sounds agitated as if he’s called several times already. He can’t be far, the courtyard at most, but I hesitate. Why would he return?
I shake my head, making up my mind. I don’t care why; if he needs me, I must go.
Blind in the void of white, I make my way to the stairway. I can only see one step at a time, but I rush down them.
“Seirsha!” he yells again, and then he mutters a vulgar curse. “Where are you?”
I freeze. I’ve never heard Rigel speak like that, and his tone is wrong.
Moments later, a dark form materializes through the mist. I stumble back when it’s not Rigel, but Argus, that meets me.
“Hello, Seirsha.” He eyes my sword. “What do you think you’re going to do with that?”
“How did you get past our men?”
“I walked.” He grins and gestures to the endless white. “For some reason they can’t see me.”
“What do you want with me?”
“I’ve come for you. King Bowen won’t begin until you’re secured.”
I extend the weapon, dearly wishing I knew what to do with it. “I’ll die first.”
He narrows his eyes. “That was my first choice as well.”
The knight rushes me. Gritting my teeth, I swing the blade. With humiliating ease, he catches my wrist, and the sword clatters to the ground. He strikes me, his knuckles connecting with my skull. The mist swirls to black, and I fall.
***
Even before I fully wake, I sense a headache. When I open my eyes, pain bursts through me. I groan, clench my eyes shut again, and raise my hands to my head. Finally, I peel my eyes open.
I’m alone. The white mist swirls, and, still, there is no sound. I pull myself to my feet but only move two steps before I bump into an invisible barrier. I step back, startled, and then turn the other way. After four more steps, I reach another wall. A scream threatens to escape my throat, but I choke it back. I dart to the third side and then the last.
I’m closed in.
I can barely catch my breath. The invisible walls press in on me, stealing my air. Cowering in my tiny cage of black magic, I sink to the ground.
No. I will not wallow.
I take a slow breath and stand. There must be a way out. I stare at the blank spot where the wall must be, imagining it shattering. I stretch my hand out and take a cautious step forward. It’s magic. Perhaps if I truly believe it’s gone—if I will it to be gone—it will be.
I growl when my hand bumps against the boundary.
While thinking, I bite the inside of my cheek. Can I climb it? I extend my hands, feeling for the wall. It’s smooth like glass.
As I’m contemplating my next move, the mist shifts above me. It parts for just a moment, giving me a view of the stormy gray sky above. Immediately, the mist heals itself, and the sky is gone. As I stare, marveling at the white expanse, the mist parts again, this time revealing the dark underbellies of several dragons. Before the mist can close in again, more dragons fly through, slicing through the cloud with their wings.
As if alive, the cloud attempts to merge again. But there are more dragons. And more.
The mist breaks, and with it, the silence is broken. I gasp, horrified. The sounds of battle surround me. On all sides of my cage, there’s fighting. One of our knights is so close; I could touch him if I weren't trapped by this wall. He startles when the clouds begin to clear, and then his eyes go wide when he sees me. One of Father’s men takes advantage of the knight’s bewilderment and strikes him down.
“No!” I scream, not that it will do any good.
I look around, frantic. Relentless, the dragons attack the mist, holding it back with the draft from their wings. In what might be as little as fifteen minutes or as long as several hours, the vapors disappear into the air.
I beat at the walls with my fists, but it’s to no avail. The dragons have destroyed the mist, but the magic that holds me is intact. I look to the sky, refusing to take in the fighting around me.
“Adrinel!” I scream her name, hoping with her sharp hearing she’ll respond. “Adrinel!”
A dizzying number of dragons fly overhead. Now that the sky is clear, their fire rains down. Relief floods me when the sapphire dragon emerges from the swarm.
I expect the invisible barrier to extend over me as well, but Adrinel snatches me in her talons and pulls me free. We fly into the air with such speed that I am sure I will pass out again.
I cry up to her, “Where are you taking me?”
As she looks down to respond, an arrow pierces the fragile membrane of her right wing. She roars in pain, and then another arrow sinks in next to the first.
We fall.
Adrinel twists in mid-air, and her claws clutch me close as she careens to the earth. She extends her left wing, attempting to slow our crash. It helps, if only by a little.
Though Adrinel has shielded me from the worst of it, the impact is jarring. Around us, the fighting has parted. I crawl from the dragon’s belly and rush to her head. “Are you all right?”
She opens an eye and mumbles something unintelligible. She takes a deep breath, and then her eye flutters shut.
“No!” Grief racks me, and I clutch her neck.
Her body shifts under me, and she opens an eye.
“What is wrong with you?” she hisses. “I only fell. I’ll be fine.”
I jerk up and away. “I thought you were dead.”
“You’ll be dead if you don’t run.”
“I can’t leave you—”
There’s a yell behind me. I turn in time to watch Malcolm run one of Father’s men through with his sword. I gasp and push my back against Adrinel’s side.
“Listen to your dragon,” Malcolm grunts as he pulls his sword free.
All I can see is the man lying at my feet. He mouths silent last words, and then he goes still.
Malcolm retrieves the sword from the man’s lifeless hand and shoves it at me. “We almost have them surrounded.” He nods toward the east. “Go that way as fast as you can, and you’ll be out of danger soon.”
I glance at Adrinel.
“Go,” she snarls.
I nod and grip the sword close to my chest. Then I run.
“Seirsha!” Malcolm calls even as another man comes at him. “Don’t look at the fallen.”
My vision blurs for a moment, but I run. I dart around figures on the ground, and though I try to heed Malcolm’s words, I can’t help it. I look. I know so many of the lost, not only from Rigel’s ranks but from my father’s as well. There are so many gone.
I’m nearing where the dragons circle, where they close Father’s army in, when a hand catches my ankle. I fall to the trampled ground and try to slow my crash with my free hand. Spitting out dirt and grass, I rub my mouth against my shoulder. I twist, jerking on my ankle, but my attacker holds firm.
Argus stares back at me with glassy eyes. With his free hand, he clutches a wound in his abdomen. His eyes betray that he will not leave this field alive.
I extend my sword. “Release me.”
“Finish me,” he says through gritted teeth, his eyes barely seeing.
All my courage fails m
e, and my sword falls to my side. “No—”
Suddenly he pulls a dagger from his side and lunges at me, attempting to dig the blade into my leg. Fury and terror rush through me, and I kick him with my free foot. His head snaps back, and I yank free. He rolls over, and a sound escapes his lips that chills me to my core. Then he’s motionless.
Not lingering to see if he still breathes, I pull myself from the ground. My heart sounds in my ears. I’m close. So close. Then an arm catches me. I struggle, kicking as I swing the sword backward.
“Seirsha!”
I gasp when I hear Rigel’s voice next to my ear, and the fight leaves me.
“What are you doing here?” He yells to be heard over the chaos, and he’s furious, livid to find me amidst the fighting.
The battle rages around us. So many are lost; they lie on the ground, their faces veiled with death. It’s surreal, worse than any nightmare I could have dreamed on my own.
Yet, as Rigel holds me, the background fades away. There’s a gash in his arm; his cheek is bloodied and bruised. Sweat streams from his brow, and he’s filthy.
But he’s alive.
“Argus found me in the mist,” I yell back. “Father—”
From next to us, Dryal roars a warning. He leaps in front of a man who’s spotted Rigel. The man falls.
“Get her out of here!” Dryal glares at me as if it’s my fault I’m in the fray.
A tawny male dragon swoops to the ground next to us, knocking several men off their feet as he lands. With his wing, he shoves Father’s men aside, tossing them as if they are nothing more than insignificant vermin. Then he says, “Bowen’s men are surrounded.”
Rigel strides to the dragon and nods to the beast’s back. The creature gives him a long, disbelieving look, but then he hunches over, allowing Rigel to climb astride.
“Watch her!” Rigel motions to me as he rises into the air.
Dryal steps to me. “With my life.”
Rigel meets my eyes, pinning me. “Don’t do anything foolish, Seirsha.”
He flies into the air, high above us.
“I love you as well,” I whisper.
I watch in awe as the dragon shoots ball after ball of fire into the sky. Though nearly impossible to see in the dim daylight, the orbs scream as they travel through the air. With no warning, the flames explode with deafening crashes.
I cover my ears and cringe away from the sound. The men around me do the same, and every eye turns to the sky.
The dragon flies lower, and his wings catch the wind so he may hold himself in place.
“You are surrounded,” Rigel calls out. “Surrender.”
The fighting has temporarily ceased, and Father’s men shift, uneasy.
“You are caged in. Should you continue to fight, this will be the day of your death.”
Not far from me, a knight eyes the dragons that continue to circle. Filthy and exhausted, he throws his sword to the ground. The movement sets off a chain reaction. I watch, unable to breathe, as the men around us lay down their weapons.
“Bowen!” Rigel calls to the masses. “You are defeated.”
I wait for Father to answer. Where is he? A cold shiver runs through me like a snake in my belly. Has he died in the fight? Could he already be dead and none have realized?
But no. Not far behind me, Father calls out, making himself known. Dryal turns to the voice, putting himself between me and the ruined king. The action is barely necessary.
Father walks with a limp, and he clutches his ribs. His face is haggard, and he struggles for painful gasps of air. Ignoring Rigel, he sets his eyes on me. “This is your doing.”
He motions about him wildly, his dull, icy eyes on me.
I take a step back, shaking my head.
“Yes!” he screams, half mad. “Wizard!”
The men near him stumble back as the wizard materializes at Father’s side. Unlike what I had pictured in my mind, this man is young, strong. His eyes are as black as his hair. In them, I find an emptiness that terrifies me.
“Yes, Your Majesty?” the wizard says and then smiles. “Though I suppose that’s not accurate anymore, is it?”
Father’s eyes don’t leave mine. “I wish for a final trade.”
A small smile tips the wizard’s lips. “What are you willing to exchange?”
“Seirsha’s life for the power to defeat Rigel’s thousands.”
Dryal grabs my arm, pushing me farther behind him as if that will save me.
The multitudes watch the exchange, many fascinated even as they are repulsed. With a flash of scales in the light, the tawny dragon drops to the ground, and Rigel leaps from the beast. The wizard, sensing Rigel’s intent, holds a hand toward him. Rigel freezes, suspended mid-air. He fights against the enchantment, but it’s no use.
The wizard turns back to Father and shakes his head with mock regret. “She is no longer yours to exchange.”
Father shakes as his anger consumes him. “Another ten years of mine.”
“No!” I pull free from Dryal. “You’ll die!”
The wizard smiles. “Done.”
He waves his hand and darkness envelopes Father—not a mist or a cloud, but a great, gaping void. Unnatural, unearthly screams fill the valley, swirling like banshees. The darkness spreads as if the void is sucking the light into its great, gaping maw.
The earth heaves under us; we stumble and fall. As the ground trembles, Rigel is freed. He crawls to me, yelling my name, and then he throws himself on top of me, attempting to shield me with his body. The darkness churns around us. I can hear nothing over the deafening, soul-chilling shrieks.
Then there is nothing.
Like morning chasing away the night, the darkness slowly lifts. I struggle from under Rigel’s weight. Far from me, men slowly rise from their crouches and cautiously take in the scene. I gasp. Hysteria builds in my chest, threatening to drown me.
In a perfect arc, with Father at the center, all lie as if asleep. But they don’t sleep. They are dead. Father fell where he stood, his hands gnarled and spotted. His hair is thin, and what remains is as white as fleece.
I gasp a breath, trembling. I push against Rigel’s weight. Dryal, who had thrown himself on top of us both, rolls away. Eyes still open, he stares into the nothing. I babble a string of hysterics and pull at Rigel. He lies face down, still protecting me.
“Wake up.” Hot tears run down my face.
Eyes closed, he doesn’t respond.
“Wake up!” I scream, shaking him.
“You are lucky, Your Highness.”
I turn to find the wizard watching, that sick smile still gracing his face. I shriek at him, my blood frozen even as it boils. “You!”
“Your father only had three more years. If it had been four, you would have died. If he had had ten left, I would be standing in this valley alone, speaking to myself.”
I drag myself to my feet, fueled with fury alone, and lunge at him. I will kill him. The man laughs, raises his hands, and vanishes the same way he came.
My hands slide through the air, and I fall to the ground. With nothing left to live for, I crawl to Rigel and clutch his still form in my hands.
My tears fall on his mail-covered chest as I scream into the sky.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
A quiet knock sounds on the door to the kitchens, but there’s no one to answer it. I’ve sent them all away. Ignoring all but the task in front of me, I continue to knead the dough. The action soothes me in a way nothing else has.
The door opens, and Pippa steps in. “It’s time.”
I murmur an acknowledgment but continue kneading.
Pippa hesitates by the door and then comes to me. She stares at the dough for a moment before she pulls me from it and wraps her arms around me. It’s awkward, and it feels as if she rarely embraces people. I let her comfort me, for her sake more than mine, and then I draw back.
With her voice quiet in the large room, she says, “It’s all right to mourn.”
/>
How long ago was it that I brought her in here with Bea? So much has happened since then. So many people I loved are gone.
We stand together in silence for several moments before I finally find words for my thoughts.
“So many lost their lives,” I say, and then I fight the tight feeling in my chest and meet her gaze. “But it’s Rigel who consumes my thoughts. It’s him who I yearn for.”
She blinks quickly, her eyes wet. “I know.”
“Do you think that’s wrong of me?” I whisper. “Like I don’t care enough about the others?”
Pippa shakes her head, her pretty brow creasing. “I don’t think so.”
I look away. “I’ll be out in a moment.”
She watches at me, ready to argue, but then finally nods. I didn’t expect her to leave without a fight, and the sound of the door closing behind her strikes me as incredibly sad. For a moment, I stare at the dough in my hands. Another memory comes to me, this time of Rigel and me standing at this very spot. I close my eyes to shut it out. A single tear slips from my eye, and I wipe it away with my sleeve.
With careful, slow precision, I finish the dough, stretching it to a perfect circle, and then I place it on the stone to rise. I wipe my hands clean and then step into the hall. The kitchen maids loiter, waiting for me. Their quiet chatter ceases, and their gazes drop to their feet.
It’s all right. I don’t know what to say to them either.
Now that I’m finished, they filter into the room and hurry to prepare the funeral meal.
Malcolm waits for me by the door to the chapel. He nods when he sees me, and the guards open the doors. A hush falls over the crowds, and they stand.
Malcolm escorts me to the front. I stare ahead blankly. Though I don’t want to look at the two caskets in front of me, they’re all I see. Pippa and Archer wait in the front row. Malcolm delivers me to them, and I sit.
I try to listen to the bishop, but the empty spot on my left consumes my attention. The service is simple, just as I requested it to be. Though only two are present, we honor all who were lost that day. I dab a handkerchief to my eyes until the fabric is soaked and my skin is raw.
Pippa nudges me softly. I’m expected to rise—to pay my last respects. Feeling more alone now than I’ve ever felt in my life, I go to Dryal first. A trio of players begins a slow farewell melody. I set my hand on the polished wood casket and close my eyes. He threw himself over his king and queen, giving his life to spare us.
The Eldentimber Series: Books 1 - 3 Page 72
