by Shae Ford
Elena didn’t even feel the tears begin to fall. It was only when she pressed Aerilyn against her that she felt the wetness staining the leather of her mask. She had no idea where those tears had come from — no idea that she actually cared. She couldn’t even remember when she’d started caring. But she supposed, somewhere along the way …
This was her fault. Elena realized it with a second bitter coating of truth. She never should’ve led Aerilyn from the seas. This was entirely, completely, her …
A pair of arms wrapped tentatively around her shoulders, and Elena pulled back so suddenly that she nearly strained her neck. “Aerilyn?”
She blinked as her gaze slid to Elena. “Why did you wake me …?” She frowned. The sleep faded back as her eyes focused upon the trees. “And why are we outside? I could’ve sworn I fell asleep in my room …”
“You did.”
Her eyes went sharp, and her grip tightened. “The Countess! She was here.”
Elena sighed heavily — too relieved to worry over the mess that awaited them in Pinewatch. “Yes, she certainly was.”
*******
“What do you mean, she poisoned me?” Aerilyn gasped as they fought their way through the woods.
It’d been a trying number of minutes. Elena told her what little she knew about the attack, but didn’t have nearly enough answers to suit Aerilyn. She didn’t know what the Countess had planned, or why Gilderick was after her in the first place. They’d always been close allies. She suspected Gilderick was even a bit fond of D’Mere …
Well, as fond as a soulless bag of bones could be of anything.
“But why would she …?” Aerilyn gasped and snatched Elena around the arm. “She’s been doing it for years, hasn’t she? Every time she would come to visit, I would get so sleepy that Papa would have to carry me to bed. I thought it was just the excitement of having the Countess over to visit.”
“Maybe it was,” Elena said, hoping that would be the end of it.
But it wasn’t.
“I wonder how she did it? The servants always handled the tea, and she was nowhere near me tonight.”
“She probably had someone do it for her,” Elena said absently. She bared her teeth against Aerilyn’s indignant squeal.
“That’s it! She had one of her agents sneak into the kitchens and slip it in. Oh, that horrible, awful …”
All at once, Elena’s neck arched back as Aerilyn snatched a large handful of her hair. “What —?”
“Did you ever drug me, Elena?”
“I would nev — ow! I rarely drugged you,” she amended, when Aerilyn twisted her hair.
“Why would she knock me out? Am I really that unbearable?”
Elena thought quickly. “No, it’s just that she and Garron always had a lot to talk about, a lot of merchant talk. And she knew you would be bored with it.”
That wasn’t at all what their meetings had been about. But if Aerilyn never noticed the Countess’s room being left untouched, then she supposed she didn’t need to know anything further.
By the time they returned, Garron’s home was awash in flame. Billows of smoke seeped from its ruins and drifted down into the village, hazing its lanterns and lights.
Elena had been expecting the weeping of an age when they arrived, but Aerilyn was strangely quiet. Her chin jutted out defiantly at the smoldering ruins before she went to Horatio’s side.
The cook sat atop a fallen tree near the forest’s edge. Gathered around him were the maids and menservants, the kitchen help and the stable boys. All eyes were turned upon the fiery remains of their home.
Loss deepened the shadows on their faces.
Aerilyn wrapped her arms as far as she could reach about Horatio and pressed her cheek against his thick shoulder. Elena kept to the shadows and tried to listen from a distance.
“I’m sorry, dear girl. I’m so terribly sorry.”
“It isn’t your fault. I brought this trouble here,” Aerilyn muttered into his shirtsleeve. Her arms tightened, and she bit her lip. “I’ve done things, Horatio. I’ve been a part of all sorts of trouble.”
“Things like toppling the Duke? I’m not as slow as my gait,” Horatio said when she looked up in surprise. “The news of Reginald’s fall reached the forest only days after your letter. I had a feeling your new friends might’ve been behind it. I told Garron from the beginning that I didn’t think they’d come from the Earl. They’re far too strange a pair not to be trouble.”
“They are, indeed.” Aerilyn’s slight smile faded quickly into a frown. “Well, no matter what we’ve done, it doesn’t mean much to us now. Midlan is marching on the council and the seas haven’t got the army to stop it. The whole Kingdom is falling apart.” She sighed into his arm. “Papa was always telling me to bargain only with the coin I carried. I should’ve listened to him.”
Horatio said nothing in reply. The mercenaries and village men were returning from the woods. Their chests rose and fell heavily from their sprint. Their hair was matted with sweat, and their nightclothes stained with blood.
They slowed as they reached the burning house. Their faces were taut and angry. One of the mercenaries and a burly man Elena recognized as the village blacksmith walked far behind the others, obviously deep in talk.
Elena tried to listen over the crackling of the house:
“… I don’t know. I’ve not seen anything like it before, I swear,” the mercenary said. “Sure, there were rumors of folk disappearing in the southern woods. But there’s always rumors. You learn not to listen.”
The blacksmith carried a thick sword. He turned it over, frowning at the dark wet that covered its blade. “Did you see their eyes?”
“Like corpses,” the mercenary said with a nod. “They kept running, too. No matter how much of them we lopped off — if they had the legs to move, they did.”
“And if they didn’t, they crawled.” The blacksmith’s chin dragged up to the burning house. “Desert men, plains folk … our own people.”
“Do you think it’s some sort of plague?”
“Could be. Maybe the barbarians bit them.”
While they went on about all the things it could’ve been, Horatio and Aerilyn were silent. The cook’s eyes reflected the flames like mirrors — each tendril recast perfectly in the dark of his gaze. Aerilyn’s seemed to take the fires in.
She seemed able to feel their heat from a distance.
“Perhaps you have more coin to bargain with than you realize,” Horatio murmured as the men headed towards them.
Aerilyn frowned at his smile. “What do you mean?”
“The seas might find an ally, yet.” His shoulders slumped and he made a great show of sighing as the men drew even with him. “I’m sorry, boys — but I’m afraid that’s it. The fire’s just taken out the last of my supplies and destroyed my tavern. I have nothing left to cook with.”
“You could rebuild it,” Foster called as he limped his way up the road. Judging by how his scant patch of hair stood on end, he must’ve just rolled out of bed. “We’ve paid you enough coin to build that thing twice over.”
“It’s all burned up.”
“Coin doesn’t burn.”
“Well, it’s melted, then. The copper’s run into the silver, and the gold’s run into that. We’d probably have to scrape out every grain of wood just to get half of it back. And I’m far too old to bother with all that. No,” Horatio sighed again, “it’s hardly worth the trouble. I’d rather just shutter the whole thing and live off of what I have left.”
“What if we got your coin back?” a mercenary called. He turned to his companions. “One of the fellows I cut down had the Countess’s mark on his chest. I’ll bet a month’s wages she had something to do with all this.”
“Nothing goes wrong in the forest that the Countess hasn’t had a hand in. She probably couldn’t stand to have all of her merchants setting up shop over here,” a villager added.
The rumbling grew to a heated growl among the
men. Elena had begun to wonder if they were about to take off when Foster stepped in.
“I know what you’re all thinking,” he said, casting a severe look around them, “and it’ll never work. The Countess won’t listen to reason.”
A mercenary towards the back of the crowd raised his sword. “We’re not going to reason with her — we’re going to get our tavern back!”
Cheers filled the air. Weapons rose high.
Horatio thumped a meaty fist against his chest and thundered: “Recompense! We’ll be paid back one way or another.”
“To Lakeshore!” a villager cried.
“No — wait!” The crowd fell silent and all eyes turned to Aerilyn. “Ah, it’s just … I have it on very good authority that Countess D’Mere is heading for the seas.”
There was a moment’s pause. Then:
“To the seas!”
The crowd made its way towards the village, Foster calling gleefully in its wake: “Don’t forget to refill your quivers on your way out, lads. Foster’s has the finest quality arrows in the realm!”
The two brothers darted into the crowd. They brandished wooden swords and bellowed recompense at every step.
Horatio took off after them. “Oh no, you don’t! This is mercenary work. The only place you boys are going is straight home to your pap!”
While everybody else trailed away, Aerilyn stayed behind. “Elena,” she said after a moment, “how did a burning pine tree wind up half inside my house?”
“The wind caught it.”
“Elena …”
“All right, I missed.” She pulled the bow off from around her shoulders and handed the quiver back — relieved not to have the itch of magic on her anymore. “I’m sorry I crushed your home.”
Aerilyn held the quiver thoughtfully. “Don’t be. I suspect the noise woke the villagers. It certainly woke the mercenaries.” She smiled slightly. “And now, against all odds, we’re bringing an army to the seas.”
“Is this how all wars start?” Elena wondered, glaring down the hill.
Aerilyn smiled wryly. “Over baked chicken? I doubt it. But at least they’re on our side of things — and they’re fighting for free, I might add. Do you have any idea how much it would cost to hire them all?”
Elena shook her head, glad her mask could hide her smirk. “I suppose you have a point, lady merchant.”
CHAPTER 25
Rua
Kael fell asleep thinking it’d all been a dream — that he’d only imagined they’d been captured and led into a strange land. The dragons’ shadows muddled the things he saw; their hums were the ebb and flow of his dreams.
When the sun rose that morning, a thin mist covered the land. They’d slept at the world’s edge: on a bed of stringy grass and with the northern seas crashing behind them. Kyleigh slept soundly, no doubt still exhausted from the day before …
Something flitted behind Kael’s eyes. It was the shadow of a distant memory, a mere brush of noise and heat. The things inside the darkness swirled all around his mind. When he reached for them, they shoved him back.
Fine. The shadows could keep their secrets. He was certain nothing they might tell him would be worth getting upset over. In fact, he didn’t think he could be upset.
He held Kyleigh for a moment longer, grinning as each heavy breath pressed her against him. There was very little that could’ve drawn him from her side … but the strange land behind the mist was calling, and soon he could hold his curiosity back no longer.
A crest of hills sheltered them from the land beyond. Their sides were so steep that Kael had to pull himself along by fistfuls of grass just to make it to the top. Trees crowned the hills. Their trunks were thick enough that he felt ridiculous standing beside them. A half-dozen giants would’ve likely had a difficult time linking hands around the nearest one.
Though their tops were squat, the reach of their branches was great — so great that several of the trees had grown into their neighbors. Had it not been for their trunks, he didn’t think he would’ve been able to tell one from the next. The ground beneath their shadows was bald from a lack of sun, and damp from a heavy morning dew.
By the time Kael had reached the forest’s edge, the sun had begun to climb.
The mist shrank beneath its warmth. Each tendril weakened under the sun’s gaze and melted into the earth. A jagged outcrop of stone appeared on his left, heavily shadowed by an arch of trees. There was a field of grass just beyond the shadows’ reach: each blade grew tall enough to brush his knees. At his boots, the hill ended just as steeply as it’d begun.
He stood at the edge of a new world — one that not even the Atlas had spoken of. It was a region filled with deep valleys and crowned by sharp, rolling hills. The great mountain in the middle of the island wasn’t the only one: high peaks sprouted from the land as thickly as the trees, their gray flesh draped in curtains of leafy green. They stretched on until the distance blurred them and melded their tops to the sky.
The air was as cold here as it’d been in the Unforgivable Mountains: Kael’s breath came out in white puffs. But unlike the mountains, this land seemed to be at peace with the cold, content with the weather. The thick grass and enormous trees thrived — not in spite of the frost, but because of it.
A breeze swept over him as he thought this. It plummeted down the hill, scraping its wings across each blade and brook in a whistling song. And the fields sang back.
With the sun rising, he could see the rivers that wept from the mountains and the great lakes shining inside the valleys’ maws. Creatures dotted the fields below — too distant to see clearly, but odd enough to make him wonder.
He began to pace as more of the land’s shadows were melted away, as the light revealed more of its secrets. The moment Kyleigh woke, he wanted to go adventuring. He wanted to see every inch of this land, explore its every crevice …
A rumbling sound cut over his thoughts. The jagged hill on his left was beginning to shake. Rocks crumbled from its sides and its top swayed dangerously towards the valley.
Kael was too startled to run. He backed away slowly, watching as the hill wavered and squirmed.
All at once, a pair of lights flared up inside the shadow — two glowing sets of eyes with blackened slits in their middles. Kael realized with a jolt that this wasn’t a hill at all: it was a dragon. An absolute monster of a beast.
Kael’s hand went to his sword and he gripped it tightly, prepared to plunge it through the middle of those eyes if the dragon attacked.
But it didn’t.
A crackling hum filled the air between them. It wasn’t a voice he knew, but it was … familiar. The hum was broken up in short bursts; the yellow eyes creased in what could’ve only been amusement as they roved to his sword.
The dragon was laughing at him.
Before Kael could think to be insulted, its enormous head snaked from the darkness. The dragon’s scales were a deep crimson. Its horns were short and thick. Spines ran from the tip of its snout across the middle of its head and down the back of its neck, each one growing a bit larger than the next.
The dragon’s eyes were slightly rounded — which made its stare seem more curious than severe. Its serpentine neck twisted, carrying its head all around Kael’s body. Those yellow eyes dragged across him and as it sang, its hum rose in interest.
Kael didn’t know what the dragon wanted, but he was fairly certain it meant him no harm — and he was completely certain that he was tired of its hot breath blasting across his rump.
He supposed there was nothing for it. “Hello?”
The dragon stopped. Its ears twitched and its head cocked to the side.
When Kael tried to reach for its face, it pulled back — so sharply that its horns crashed into the branches above them and sent a mess of twigs and leaves raining down upon Kael’s head. “I’m not going to hurt you, you silly beast! Just hold still.”
The dragon would have none of it. When Kael tried to inch closer, one of its limb
s scraped out of the darkness and shoved him back. Each of its claws came almost to Kael’s knees.
He managed to grab one before slid away and thought, as loudly as he dared: Hello?
The dragon stopped squirming; the hum died in its throat. It stared at him for a moment, the black slits widening upon his face. Then something rumbled deep inside the dragon’s chest. It rose up its throat, trembling louder as it climbed.
Kael had begun to concentrate on his dragonscale armor, fearing a blast of flame, when the dragon’s voice struck his ears:
Hello, human. His voice was decidedly male. The way he rasped and hissed across his words reminded Kael of the crackling of flame. I’ve not spoken to a human before … then again, I’ve never worked up the courage to touch one.
Kael couldn’t help himself. The idea that a dragon might be afraid to touch him made him grin.
The dragon’s eyes narrowed upon his face. Do not bare your teeth at me unless you mean it, human. I don’t wish to flatten your pale, fleshy body into the dust … but I will if you continue to threaten me.
“Oh, so you can giggle at me, but I’m not even allowed to smile at you? Is that how it works?”
You did a silly thing, reaching for so dull and frail a weapon. It doesn’t have the fire to best me — and you may smile, as long as your mouth stays closed. Dragons do not giggle, he added, narrowing his eyes. At most, we chortle.
For a creature who’d never spoken to a human, he certainly knew a lot of their words. When Kael said as much, the dragon sighed — with such force and heat that he had to latch onto his claw just to keep from being swept backwards.
When I was young, my wings carried me across every sea, into the heart of each realm. Humans must be Fate’s favorite creatures — they live nearly everywhere. I’ve always found their words … amusing. They make such interesting sounds. I wished to learn them all. His eyes drifted from Kael and he boomed: I wished to learn them all … them all … them all —
