Inkmistress

by Audrey Coulthurst

  She staggered to her feet and met my frightened stare, but her eyes no longer looked quite like those I recognized as Ina’s. They were darker. Colder.

  “It hurts,” she said, her voice small. “No one told me how much it would hurt.”

  I didn’t know if she meant the ritual itself or everything that had led her to this point. Perhaps both. In my Sight she glowed with the intensity of an open flame. I touched her arm, and even through the fabric of her cloak I could feel the heat of her skin. If there had ever been any doubt before about the permanent presence of the dragon within her, that touch dispelled it. She burned with the dragon’s magic, an amount of power and presence that a body her size should not have been able to contain. I withdrew my hand, trying not to let the shock register on my face. I had never heard of anyone taking a dragon as a manifest.

  “Did I hurt you?” Her lip quivered.

  I shook my head as tears stung my eyes. What had I done?

  “I don’t . . . I don’t feel well.” She staggered to a stone bench and sat down for a moment before retching into the ashes of the burned house behind it.

  “Recovering from your first manifestation takes time,” I said, collecting myself. She needed me. I placed a hand softly on her back. “It will be a while before you’re comfortable in your new skin.” I tried to find more words of reassurance, but my worries silenced me. If it was difficult to recover from manifesting as a deer or a rabbit or a mouse, how much worse would it be to recover from the dragon? They outlived humans by hundreds of years. Who knew how it would affect Ina to constantly carry that with her, especially without the protection of the gods?

  “I don’t have time, but I do have what I need,” she said. Her voice carried a detached confidence that unsettled me.

  “You should rest. Why don’t you come back to my cave? There are tinctures I can make to help ease the pain. And something for that cut, too.” My voice came out pleading.

  Something savage flashed in her eyes.

  “I don’t want to ease the pain. Pain is my reminder that those who killed my people must pay.” The cruelty in her voice terrified me. I clutched fistfuls of my cloak to keep my hands from shaking.

  “But it could take days, weeks even, before your manifest settles—especially without a god to guide you through this!” A note of panic crept into my voice.

  “It doesn’t matter if it settles, as long as those bastards die. This form has given me everything I could possibly need to destroy them.” She rubbed her thumb and forefinger together and a spark popped from between them.

  My eyes widened.

  She tried it again, and this time a flame sputtered at the end of her finger and then died.

  “Seems I’ve acquired more than a manifest,” she said with wonder.

  I was speechless. I had never heard of anything like this. Performing the blood rite and bonding with the dragon had given her the kind of access to magic that only a demigod or a monarch should have. I didn’t know if it was the creature or the ritual. Mortals were meant to be able to draw on enough magic to take a manifest, but not to wield it like kings. How would she learn to use it without the guidance of a god?

  What had I done?

  “I promised I would take care of the village. Avenging their deaths is all I can still do for the people I love.” She paused. “Loved. The people I loved.”

  She let go of her human form, her limbs elongating back into those of the dragon.

  “Stop! Please don’t do this!” I said, my voice cracking. While the rite hadn’t killed her, overextending herself so shortly after taking her manifest might. She couldn’t possibly be thinking clearly after all that had happened today. If she managed to kill the bandits, how would she feel later with all that blood on her hands? This wasn’t the Ina I knew.

  “There are other ways to seek justice. More death isn’t the answer. It never is. This isn’t you, Ina. The girl I love is passionate, and gentle, and kind. Please—” I begged.

  Her transformation faltered, and she slipped back into fully human form. It would take time for her manifest to settle and for her to be able to change shape as easily as breathing. For most mortals it took at least a few moons. With no guidance from a god, it would certainly take longer.

  “I can do anything now, and I won’t let you stop me.” She gritted her teeth, and finally her clothes reshaped into scales as she fully transfigured.

  “No!” I ran after her as she launched into the sky, my heart beating a staccato rhythm.

  She flew away without looking back, a moonlit silhouette against the smoke and stars.

  I collapsed to the ground, sobs and shivers racking my body. I couldn’t believe she’d left me so easily. I had never been more alone, and I had only myself to blame. One wish, one hope, one sentence in blood had killed everyone I was supposed to watch over.

  Because of me, Ina had become a monster.

  CHAPTER 7

  I STAGGERED THROUGH THE VILLAGE, HALF BLIND with grief and fear, trying to climb out from beneath the weight of my guilt. Something tripped me on the path back toward the mountain. A closer look revealed it to be the remains of a small person. Probably a child. Tears burned down my cheeks. Half of me wanted to lie down on the ground and die with those I should have kept safe.

  Only one thing kept me moving—I had to stop Ina while the newness of her manifest would still slow her down. Once she was at full strength, she’d be nearly unstoppable. If I caught up with her, I could make tinctures to soothe her grief and the pain of her manifestation before she did something she’d regret. That was one thing I could do with confidence. None of this would have happened if I hadn’t selfishly decided to try to determine her fate.

  I had to stop her before anyone else died because of me.

  I raced up the trail back to my cave and packed my satchel with my silver knife, some food, the journal of potions and enchantments Miriel had passed to me, and as many herb sachets as I could carry. I tried not to think about what it meant to venture away from my mountain for the first time, or what cities might be like, or what might await me in parts of the kingdom I’d never expected to see. If I dwelled on those things too long, I wouldn’t be able to make myself go.

  By the time I worked my way back down, the trail had already grown perilously slick. The town, dark and lifeless, still smelled of cinders and burned flesh. No one would be here to greet me when I returned. My throat tightened and my eyes stung. All I had ever wanted was for people to care about me, and to one day join the community here. My chance for that was gone.

  Icy wind whipped through the valley as I followed the trade road, and it sounded like my father’s voice saying, Don’t go, don’t go. But I had to. Peaks loomed on either side, blotting out the stars. If I didn’t catch up to Ina by moonset, it would be impossible to see a thing in the inky darkness.

  I increased my pace as if I could outrun my grief. If I told Ina that I had written this into being, she wouldn’t dirty her hands with the blood of the bandits. She’d know it was my fault. She might hate me for what I’d done, but at least she wouldn’t have to live with the kind of guilt I did.

  The deep ruts left by the bandits’ heavily burdened wagons were easy to track. I followed them doggedly, knowing they couldn’t have gone far before camping for the night. Where I found the bandits, I would find Ina. She had to have taken her human form at some point; she would want to conserve her strength if she planned on attacking them as a dragon. I just hoped I could catch up with her before she did.

  As I rounded the far side of the mountain, a row of torches finally glowed in the distance. I could barely make out the camp except to see that the bandits had settled in a blind canyon surrounded by high cliffs. It would be easy to defend from any attackers coming from the road. Unfortunately, it was also the perfect trap in which to be cornered by a dragon.

  I reached for the magic around me, extending my Sight. I didn’t call out to Ina lest the bandits had sentries around their camp. My
Sight revealed a bright, silvery presence glimmering in the woods, luminous with magic, moving through the trees like a ghost.

  It had to be Ina.

  I ran toward her. Before I caught up, she emerged from the trees, already taking the shape of the dragon.

  “Ina!” I shouted, throwing caution away.

  Again, her transformation was slow and uncertain, but the determined way she moved made it clear that it didn’t matter to her if she died doing this.

  The first scream came as the sky lit up with dragon fire.

  “No!” I was too late. I hastily sketched my father’s symbol in the air for protection and guidance.

  Ina moved through the air beautiful as the moonlight and deadly as the wrath of a god. Flame burst from her jaws as she ignited wagons like kindling. Animals tore free of their tethers and people poured out of tents to scatter in every direction, but the canyon had them trapped. Trees crackled with flame, showering sparks over the bandits’ camp. The few who had escaped the blaze raced for the road, but Ina picked them off from above as though it was a game.

  She swooped down and cracked open a man’s head with her jaws like a walnut. His blood painted the dirty snow. Another she picked up in her talons and dropped from high above the treetops, his body crumpling into an unnatural shape on the road. She threw a woman against a tree, and a short, broken branch low on the trunk skewered her through the stomach. Some tried to escape by taking their manifests, but Ina caught them with ease. She shook a manifested goat the way a dog might snap the neck of a squirrel and snatched up a goose as though he were no more than a fly.

  They all died screaming.

  Eventually the chaos ceased, and Ina glided down to the road and folded her wings. She tipped her silvery nose to the wind, smelling for anyone she might have missed. Tree branches still crackled with flames and whispered to the wind, but now they spoke only of death.

  I stood frozen with horror. How much of Ina was still the girl I loved, and how much was the creature she’d taken as her manifest?

  I had done this. I was responsible.

  I crept through the woods with my heart in my throat until I got close enough to see the rise and fall of Ina’s sides heaving. Though the dragon’s gaze was keen as ever, she hung her head in exhaustion, her white scales streaked with blood. My chest constricted. In spite of all those Ina had killed, it still wounded me to see her hurting.

  Assured that none of the bandits remained alive, she folded in on herself until she was once more a girl, and then set about the practical business of raiding the less damaged bodies for useful things. The dragon must have changed her. This ruthless, efficient person was not the same one I loved. Fires cast deep, flickering shadows all across the road, the heat of them palpable even from a distance. With the bloody corpses all around, it was exactly like what I imagined one of the Six Hells must be like.

  “Ina!” I said, barely able to find my voice.

  Her head snapped up. “Don’t come any closer.” In the flickering light of the burning trees, her eyes deepened to sapphire as she fixed me with the cold stare of the dragon.

  “Please listen. It’s my fault this happened. My power—” I started.

  “You’d take the blame for the sky being blue and the tendency of snow to come in the winter if you thought that it might make someone feel better about it,” she said. Her expression finally softened a tiny bit. “This wasn’t your fault.”

  “But it is,” I said. “I have to explain—”

  She doubled over, breathing heavily, then retched into the slush along the side of the road. To my horror, the vomit glistened red in the firelight as it melted through the snow. She must have swallowed enough blood to make her sick.

  “Are you all right?” I stepped closer, hesitantly, clutching the strap of my satchel to keep my hands from trembling.

  “I don’t know.” She spat another mouthful of blood and bile, then rolled her shoulders as if trying to become comfortable in her body again. “When I was the dragon, I felt invincible.”

  “But you’re not,” I said. The cut on her cheek still wept tears of blood. She must have torn it back open during the attack.

  She shrugged. “What difference does it make? At least this form has given me what I need to see my family and my village avenged. It’s all I have left to live for.”

  She’d already done that. What came next? Didn’t I matter to her, too?

  “I’m still here,” I said, softly, already knowing it wouldn’t be enough. I blinked away tears and ran my fingers over the ribbon on the bracelet she’d given me. “Doesn’t that mean anything?”

  “Of course.” She looked away. “But everything is different now. I was supposed to take care of my village. I was going to build our town into a community so big the king couldn’t ignore us. Now I’ll never be Amalska’s elder. I’ll never be able to live in these mountains again, because all I see is empty space where my people were.” Her voice held steady, but her eyes glistened.

  I swallowed hard. “We could start over. Find a new place. Maybe the north? You always wanted to see Corovja. . . .” I needed to calm her and know her plans before I told her the truth.

  An unsettling smile crept across her lips, and I swore I could see the dragon in her eyes again. “Yes. I do think I will go to Corovja. I thought killing these people who destroyed our village would satisfy me, but the only reason they succeeded was because the boar king refused to send us support or help.” Her voice grew more savage. “A king who doesn’t take responsibility for the people of his kingdom is no king of mine. He is the one at the root of this, and he will pay.”

  I stared at her, aghast. The boar king’s guards would surely kill her before she got anywhere near him. I racked my mind for an argument that might dissuade her.

  “There’s still time to think about this, to seek justice some other way. Even if you challenged him for the crown according to tradition, you’d need a god to stand behind you. A geas like he has with the spirit god.”

  “Who said anything about challenging him traditionally? I don’t have to wait for the first snow of next autumn. I could fly there right now and kill him before he wakes.” The savage glee in her expression made me shudder involuntarily. She said it like it would be the easiest thing in the world, like it wouldn’t take her days, if not weeks, to fly that far with her manifest so new.

  As if an act of treason meant nothing.

  As if taking life no longer carried any guilt.

  As if the spirit god, ruler of emotions and the intangible, would let her touch the king even if she made it past his guards.

  “He’d destroy you before you got within striking distance. Don’t you remember how his last challenger died? The spirit god turned her mind against her body until she bled to death devouring the flesh from her own bones!” My voice rose to a fever pitch of desperation. My panic felt like a creature that was no longer under my control, writhing and twisting inside me, desperate to escape, impossible to soothe.

  Ina hissed in frustration, more dragon than girl. She knew I was right. “Then I’ll find another way to ensure he dies.” Before I could argue any further, she was already struggling to take dragon form again, anger giving her another wave of strength to draw on.

  “But I love you.” I choked out the words. It was the only true thing I had left to cling to. The wind whipped over the lifeless road and a sob tore loose from my throat as my words were lost amidst the flapping of her wings as she took to the sky.

  CHAPTER 8

  AFTER MY PRAYERS FOR THE DEAD WERE ALL SPOKEN, I forced myself to put one foot in front of the other, waiting to wake up from the nightmare. Eventually the smoke of the burning trees dissipated into a whisper on the breeze and dawn curled her pale fingertips over the horizon. I continued on for days, gathering what food I could from the forest, but taking very little in the way of rest. Every time I stopped somewhere for more than a few hours of restless sleep, I began to feel as though the ghosts I’d left
behind were dragging their icy nails down my back.

  All I could think of were the lives lost—babies I’d helped bring into the world now dead before their time, entire families charred to ashes, familiar faces reduced to cinders. In no way could I have ever failed my duties—or Miriel—more than I had by contributing to the destruction of the entire village. Stopping Ina was the only purpose I had left. She was all I had left of home, and I couldn’t let her die trying to kill a monarch who wasn’t to blame. Confessing the truth was all I could do.

  Worst of all—even though I’d seen her kill without mercy, I still ached to feel her lips on mine again.

  Traffic increased once the mountain road joined the main thoroughfare north just beyond the foothills, but I didn’t dare try to beg a ride. The thought of interacting with strange people filled me with anxiety. I didn’t know how to talk to them, or how long it might take them to figure out I didn’t have a manifest. Would they shun me as they did other mortals without manifests, or might they suspect I was something more? I couldn’t risk it. I envied riders their horses and humans their manifests, and without hesitation would have traded the power of my blood to take the shape of a deer or a common sparrow, anything that would have given me an option other than slogging along the road on foot. I kept the hood of my cloak up, fearful of what people might see when they looked at me. Did they see a witch? A demigod? Or only a girl, weak, hungry, and lost?

  After the effort of killing the bandits and taking a new manifest, I assumed Ina would have to stop in the city of Valenko to rest and gather her strength, but not once did I see any sign of her—no white wings overhead, no shed scales or scorch marks anywhere alongside the road. Ina was far too clever to make herself obvious. My heart grew heavier each day that passed. So did the weight of all the death for which I was responsible. Even if I caught up to Ina and confessed the truth to stop her from doing any more damage, it still wouldn’t make amends for the lives already lost.

  Every evening I left the road and found a secluded place to say my prayers at sundown: a copse of spindly pine trees that shivered and swayed in the wind; a nook near a waterfall that surged with muddy snowmelt, so loud it drowned my words; an abandoned farmhouse, the remains of the stone structure covered in climbing vines.