by Shae Ford
They tumbled out the doors in a rush, parting around a sweep of Daybreak’s fire. The soldiers who weren’t hewed flopped onto their bellies beside him. They rolled away, trying desperately to escape his reach.
But Kael would not be stopped.
*******
“Dragon!”
Half of the camp woke to the noise of Gwen’s shout — the wildmen’s excited howling woke the rest.
Captain Lysander stumbled from his bedroll, the waves of his hair standing on end. “What in high tide are you all yelling ab —?”
A roar cut over his words. It whipped across the tops of the trees and shook the pebbles at his feet. Lysander had only just regained his footing when Gwen snatched him by the hair.
“Ow! What are you—?”
“Hold still, lowlander!” In one swift motion, she pulled herself onto his shoulders and vaulted into the tree behind him — sending Lysander directly onto his face. He’d only just started to pull himself up when Silas came charging after her.
He lay flat as the mountain lion sprang over his head and into the tree. Silas’s powerful claws split the bark as he scrambled after Gwen.
The wildmen raced to the edge of camp, all of their painted faces turned north. The warriors dropped their heavy rucksacks on the ground and the craftsmen began digging through them. They drew out handfuls of rounded orbs, marbles made of dragonsbane. The craftsmen molded sharp points into the orbs until they resembled the spiked head of a mace. Then they tossed them back to the warriors.
“Get ready!” Gwen called. She was perched high atop the tree, her golden axe lifted over her head. When a second roar shook the earth, she laughed. “He sees me — he’s turning this way.”
“No, my Thane!” Silas pawed anxiously at her boots. “Come down, his fires will harm you!”
“He won’t get the chance to breathe. Are you ready, warriors?”
They howled, waving the spiked orbs.
“At my signal!”
“No, please —”
“Now!”
Gwen slung her axe downward and the warriors let loose a volley of orbs. Another roar shook the air and a moment later, an enormous shadow darkened the trees.
“Move!” Lysander cried. He waved his sword about him wildly, and the camp scattered in every direction. Still, the dragon’s shadow covered them.
The wildmen’s volleys didn’t slow the dragon down. In fact, his wings picked up speed. Soon his monstrous body hung over the camp. Golden spikes peppered his blackened scales, thickest at his face and chest. His eyes burned and a storm of yellow flame brewed behind his teeth.
“Stop throwing things at him, you clodders! Can’t you see you’re only making it worse?” Brend bellowed.
He was sprawled out atop a pile of giants — all of whom appeared to be struggling to hold Declan down. The general’s eyes were black with madness; he dug into the ground with his boots and a thrust of his thick legs lurched the pile forward.
Brend swore as he fought through the tangle of their limbs. He grabbed one of Declan’s arms and wrapped a thick coil of rope around it. “I’m sorry, but I warned you. I can’t have you running off — no! Get back here, wee mites!”
“Mots!” Nadine shouted. She led her warriors in behind the wildmen. They crouched and raised their spears in a protective wall as the dragon came closer.
Brend swore again. He finished tying Declan and rolled his hobbled body towards a waiting line of giants. “Take him somewhere safe,” he barked. Then he turned his glare upon the mots. “The rest of you grab an armful of those wee little terrors and get running!”
The dragon came closer. He spread his wings and began a slow, taunting descent towards the trees. There was no mercy in the shining black pits of his eyes. The collar around his throat put off a blistering light — but it was nothing compared to the fire waiting upon his tongue.
Pirates, fishermen, and mercenaries went sprinting as the ferocity of its heat touched the woods. Sweat poured down Thelred’s face and Shamus’s bushy sideburns hung flat. They grabbed Lysander around his arm and began dragging him away.
“Where’s Aerilyn? I don’t see her!”
“I’m sure she’s fine, Captain,” Thelred said.
“Aye,” Shamus grunted. “She probably had the good sense to —”
A thunder of hooves cut over his words and a dapple-gray blur spun them around. Aerilyn spurred Braver to the front of the wildmen’s line, screaming into the trees as she went: “I thought you were going to handle the dragon!”
“We are!” Gwen hollered back.
“Oh really? Then why is there a great,” she nocked an arrow, “bloody,” aimed its point high, “ball of flame about to —? Ah!”
She squealed and shut her eyes as the arrow flew from its string. An explosion sounded overhead. The dragon roared as the arrow burst against his chest — leaving a raw, bleeding burn just above his heart. He sucked the flames back down his throat and spun away from Aerilyn’s next shot in a panic.
A hail of branches rained down upon them as the dragon’s wings slapped across the trees. Silas came tumbling from his perch, twisting into a man the moment his paws touched the ground. His glowing eyes went stark upon the ravaged top of the tree.
Gwen was gone.
“You will get yourself killed, you foolish human!” he roared.
Shamus gaped up at the shattered branches. “Is she not already dead?”
“No, she jumped onto his wing,” Lydia called. She was nearly doubled over, her face red with laughter. “Oh, Fate — that dragon’s going to get the beating of his life!”
“I’m sorry, but what about this is funny, exactly?” Aerilyn snapped. A red line singed her cheeks and she kept a tight grip on Braver — who didn’t look particularly thrilled about having been led so close to a dragon. “You’re lucky he startles easily. Otherwise we’d all be in ashes!”
Silas didn’t appear at all concerned about becoming ashes. He sprinted to the edge of the woods, following the dragon’s path. “He’s taken her across the walls, into the King’s den. Move, wild ones!” He waved his arms around him madly. “Get yourselves to the gates, peel the doors aside. Your Warchief needs you!”
They followed him with whistles and howls.
“I suppose we’d better make sure they don’t do anything ridiculous,” Aerilyn muttered, pursing her lips after them. She turned and arched a brow at Lysander, who seemed frozen to the ground. “What?”
He stared at her a moment longer before he blinked and shook his head. “That was … you were …” He didn’t seem able to get the words out.
Red crossed her face again — though this time, it was from an entirely different sort of burn. “Close your mouth, Captain. We’ve got work to do.”
He stared after her as she galloped away, and it was Thelred who finally had to call the pirates to order:
“To the gates! On your feet, dogs.”
“Giants,” Brend barked with a wave of his scythe. “Ready yourselves. We’ve got some battling to do.”
They fell in behind the pirates, adding their thudding steps to the march.
The mots tried to go along, but Brend stepped into their path. “No, a skirmish like this is no place for such wee things —”
“You cannot turn us away now,” Nadine said vehemently. Even standing on her toes, she hardly came to Brend’s waist. But there was fire in her eyes as she spoke: “This fight belongs to us as much as it does to you. We have traveled just as far. We have given just as much. We want to do our part!”
Brend shook his head at the collective thud of their spears. “You’ll be doing your part — while we’re off chopping heads, you’ll be here making sure no harm comes to our general. He’ll be helpless without you,” Brend added, squashing Nadine’s protest with a look.
Though her mouth stayed shut, her eyes burned after him. She crossed her arms as the others went towards the wall — and the moment they were gone, she called the mots together.
<
br /> “We cannot stay here while our companions fight. Go.” She waved a handful of warriors towards Declan, who lay hobbled upon a bedroll. “Use your spears. Untie his knots.”
While they worked, she dug through the one of the pirates’ rucksacks and drew out a bottle of bright green grog.
“Find more of these,” she said to the others. “They will be in the packs with salt crusted upon their fronts.”
Once they’d gone, Nadine crept over to Declan. He was tied like an animal: his wrists and ankles were bound together so that he could do little more than rock impatiently when she approached. The black had begun to leave his eyes. He stared unblinkingly at the castle until Nadine touched his face.
“I know your giants are only trying to protect you … but I also know that you do not wish to lie here while the others fight. Once the gates are opened, they will be lost to their battle. We will be able to slip inside unseen. But if you wish to come with us, then you must drink,” she said, placing the bottle against his lips. “The mots cannot stop you, if you go mad again.”
Declan wrinkled his nose at the scent wafting from the bottle. But in the end, he sighed. “Yeh, all right. Just tip it up quick, will you? I swear this stuff curdles on my tongue.”
CHAPTER 51
Heartbreak
Midlan was proving more difficult to navigate than Elena had ever thought possible. Its dark, twisting halls wove together in a labyrinth of stone. They crossed paths with other chambers in the most unexpected places; many of the hallways ended without warning. There were so few windows that it might be several minutes before Elena had a chance to check their bearings.
And by then, all she knew for certain was that they were going around in circles.
“How much further? My feet went numb an hour ago,” Jonathan moaned from behind her.
Elena wasn’t sure. They were crouched in the shadow of a doorway, waiting for a line of soldiers to move down the hall. There was a window set into the wall around the next corner. It’d begun to glow with a pale, grayish light.
Dawn was coming. They’d soon run out of shadows — and Jake would run out of time.
Elena twisted to glare at Argon. “You ought to know your way around the castle. You’ve lived here long enough.”
His frail body slumped between Jonathan and Eveningwing, and his deep stare had grown heavy with exhaustion. Still, he managed to smirk through his beard at her question. “I know my way, child. But until I know your way, I’m afraid I won’t be much help. I’ll provide directions the moment you know where you’re going.”
That was precisely the problem: Elena had no idea where she was going. They’d checked the mages’ chambers, but found them empty. The libraries and the spell rooms were vacant as well. All of the obvious places had turned up cold. Now there was no guessing where Jake might be.
But Elena refused to give up. She waited until the soldiers finally wandered down the hall before she waved the others forward.
“Ah, let’s rest here for a moment more,” Argon pleaded, his stare roving to the window. “Yes, just a moment more.”
“I’m all for that,” Jonathan agreed.
Eveningwing resumed his crouch with a shrug.
Elena was about a moment from killing them all. “No, we haven’t got time to take another rest. The wildmen are going to come bursting in here before too much longer, and if they find Jake …”
She stopped the moment the window started to rattle. A deep gust of wind nearly shook it off its pane — but it was actually the wall that took the brunt of the damage.
Elena threw an arm over her head when a chunk of the wall exploded, showering them with bits of stone and dust. The heaviest pieces slammed against the chamber door beside them, along with something that wasn’t a part of the castle, at all.
A figure dragged itself up from the rubble. There were bits of stone lodged in the wild, red crop of her hair, and a thick layer of grit all but covered the painted swirls across her face. Gwen swore profusely as she pulled herself up from the ruins. Her legs wobbled for only a moment before she steadied — and her eyes sharpened.
When she thrust the golden axe at them, Elena saw that its twin edges hissed with a thin layer of steaming blood. “Which way to the nearest tower?” she growled.
Argon pointed over his thin shoulder to the hallway behind them. “You’ll find a set of stairs to your right. Take them all the way to the top.”
Gwen replied with something that was halfway between a snarl and a grunt before she shoved past them and went sprinting down the hall.
Jonathan gaped after her. “What —?”
“Dragon!” she barked.
Eveningwing fidgeted excitedly. “Will the wild ones bring him down? I wonder —”
“There’s no time to wonder,” Elena said hoarsely. If Gwen was already here, the others wouldn’t be far behind. She started to pick her way over the ruins when the chamber door beside her swung open.
A guard nearly ran her over. His eyes widened through the slits in his gold-tinged helmet as they scraped across her black and crimson armor. A hoard of other guards packed in behind him, heads craning for the source of all the noise.
Elena swore when the lead guard raised his spear. She snatched the weapon and shoved back hard, using it to knock him off his feet. He stumbled into his companions and once they were off-balance, the weight of their armor did the rest: they collapsed in a flailing pile upon the floor.
There was nothing for it. These guards would have to be dealt with. “Get back to that chamber we passed — the one with the lion pelts, and the extra bolts on the door. Close the window and stay out of sight. I’ll meet you as soon as I’m finished here.”
Elena didn’t wait for her companions’ reply: she stepped inside and locked the door behind her.
Most of the guards were still struggling to right themselves when she attacked. Elena drove Slight between the gaps in their armor, leaving deep puncture wounds behind. Shadow slid across their throats the moment they arched back in pain. The cuts her blade carved across their flesh ended them quickly … and silenced their screams.
All the while she worked, Elena was careful to keep her body between the guards and the door. Not a one of them slipped past her. Slowly, they fell — until each one lay unmoving in a ring of his own gore.
It was only after the battle cleared from her eyes that Elena realized what she’d done. These guards would never speak a word about what they’d seen — but they wouldn’t have to. The next man who opened the door would see it for himself …
Elena stopped breathing. For a moment, she thought she might’ve heard something. But when a long few seconds passed and the sound didn’t come again, she convinced herself that she’d only imagined it.
“Ahem?”
She spun around and pressed Shadow against the throat of the man behind her — a steward who had somehow, inexplicably, managed to slip his way through a locked door unnoticed.
There was a large gap between his two front teeth, and the black space between them was easily his most interesting feature. The rest of his face was about as memorable as a weathered board.
“Would you kindly remove your blade? There’s no need to chop up the messenger.”
His utter indifference caught her off-guard. Elena moved Shadow away — but kept Slight poised at her hip. “What message?”
“The King wishes me to send reinforcements to the western wall. He wants to make absolutely certain his new battlemage will be protected, once the gates fall. But, as these particular guards appear to be …” he leaned around her to pass an unconcerned look across the pile of corpses staining the chamber floors, “indisposed, I suppose you’ll have to do.”
Elena could hardly believe it — no, she couldn’t believe it. There was no way this odd-looking steward could’ve possibly mistaken her for a Midlan soldier. But she didn’t have the breath to worry. “A new battlemage? Where?” she demanded when the steward nodded.
�
��At the western wall. I’ve already said it.” He sighed at her glare and started what looked like the rather burdensome process of digging through his coat. “I think I may … ah yes, here it is.”
He pulled a neatly folded sheet of parchment from one of his pockets and handed it to her. Elena opened it carefully, and was surprised to find a rather detailed map packed within its edges — a map so detailed that she could count the number of bolts on the door in the lion pelt room.
She found the western wall quickly. It was already marked with an inkblot. “Why would I need to know about the tumblers in the locks?”
The steward’s hand dipped into his pocket once more, returning with a small, silver key. “Why, indeed?” he muttered as he passed it to her. Then he glanced around the room a final time. “Don’t worry — this sort of thing happens in the fortress far more often than you’d think. The King has a frightful temper. I’ll send someone along to mop it up.”
He turned on his heel and strode out the door — disappearing before Elena could even think to be baffled.
*******
Getting through the castle was only the half of it. There was another courtyard between Elena and the door that led to the western wall — and it was absolutely packed with soldiers.
They stood in unflinching lines while their officers paced about them. Their barking commands echoed against the walls, hardly rising above the noise of the storm. Rain lashed against their armor in warm, gusting waves. It spattered upon the courtyard and turned the ground into a murky swamp.
After a few moments of deliberation, Elena had decided to leave her companions behind. She convinced herself that they would be safe in the lion pelt room — and once she found Jake, she would return for them.
Now that she saw the task ahead of her, she knew she’d chosen right.
The great fortress loomed behind her, and the rising sun struck its back — casting a heavy shadow across the courtyard. Elena felt at home inside the darkness. She wove her way between the soldiers’ ranks: drifting along the edges of the flood, sliding around the light of their braziers.
