His abdomen clenched, squeezing his stomach. Vomit, hot and acrid, exploded up his throat and spewed out over the rug. Again and again, his body purged itself. He endured it on hands and knees, weak and trembling.
Why was he reliving this?
Rising to his knees, he said, “I survived once. I can do it again. I will do it!”
The dream shattered, exploded into shards of light that spun, rotated, and reformed into somewhere else.
Sandaled feet made quiet sounds on the polished stone floors of the hallway. He looked down. They seemed small, his feet, and why was he in a manis uniform?
He passed paintings on the walls and people hurrying off on their errands. The sound of footsteps nearly in time with his came from the right. Another boy walked with him. Mahkah. They were close to the same age. Being fifteen made him uneasy, for some reason, but the worry quickly faded.
They continued down the passage on the way to the cafeteria.
“A bunch of us are going to eat in the village tonight,” Mahkah said. “Want to go with us? We need a respite from the boring cafeteria food, so we’re going into Pashi. Iye is going to be there, and everyone knows he’s sweet on you.”
Takatin sighed. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but I’m going to pass.”
They walked in silence for a few minutes, and Takatin thought the discussion over.
“It’s been over a year,” Mahkah said. “You need to let it go.”
“Actually, it’s been one year, two months, and four days. And I will let him go—” Takatin’s raised voice had drawn the attention of a pesan girl walking past. He took a breath and continued in a more normal tone. “Honestly, I don’t know that I can let him go.”
“He’s dead, Takatin. Gone. Killed by that dragon. Learn from it and move on.”
Takatin had been trying, but it was not easy. Things had just started to not remind him of Hania.
“Sihn is going to be there, too, you know. She also likes you. Don’t tell her I told you, though. She’ll break my arm if she finds out I did.”
Takatin nodded. “I think she actually would break your arm.”
“Oh, I know she would, so keep your yapper shut.”
A faint pulse of magic came from farther down the hallway.
“Yrdra’s ice-cold tits, what was that?” Mahkah jogged ahead.
They were at the edge of the residential area, nowhere near the training grounds. Who would need to use sorcery here?
Takatin rushed to catch up and then kept pace. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. People walked along the open hallway, minding their own business. No one seemed suspicious at all.
Nearing the next intersection, they slowed, stopped, and Mahkah peeked around the corner. His hand shot behind him and signed: danger.
Takatin drew his dagger and prepared himself. A few passersby slowed, wondering what the two manisi were doing.
Quiet voices came from around the corner.
“Did you think we spoke in jest?”
“Please, I don’t have the money yet. You know we don’t earn much. I just need more time.”
“Time? We gave you time. Now it’s run out.”
Mahkah slowly drew his own dagger and turned to Takatin. His hand moved quickly and clearly: Boy in danger. Man and woman threatening. They are manisi.
Takatin’s eyes widened. Manisi threatening a boy? Why?
“If you don’t have the money, you’ll have to pay us another way.”
More pulses of magic washed over Takatin. What in hells was happening?
“What are you—stop! Unbind me! No!”
Mahkah counted down on his fingers: 3 . . . 2 . . . 1 . . . 0.
They rushed around the corner.
“This hallways is closed.” A female manis stood in front of an alcove several feet down the hall. “Investigation in progress. Take another route.” Her gaze flicked to people behind Takatin, then down to the daggers in their hands.
Muffled sounds came from the recess.
“What are you doing, Manis?” Mahkah glared at her. “Let the boy go.”
Her eyes narrowed. “He’s . . . Laminae. We are questioning him. You may leave.”
Takatin swapped his dagger to his left hand and slid toward her. He feinted a slashing attack, which she moved to block, but instead, he struck at her solar plexus with the heel of his right hand, hard. He put all his strength into it, along with his forward motion. The impact made a satisfying thump.
Her eyes bugged and breath shot out of her. Dropping to her knees, she gasped for air.
Mahkah had slid as well, but to the alcove. “Bastard!”
Takatin turned to the cubbyhole. The boy, a crusan, lay face-down on the bench, sobbing quietly. His hands lay palms-to-the-floor, but struggle as he might, he couldn’t seem to move them or his legs. Pants and smallclothes were pulled down to his ankles, leaving his backside exposed. The other Manis stood over him, his own pants down, staring at them.
“You piece of filth!” Takatin slid toward him, dagger out. He might have killed the man had the dagger been in his right hand. As it was, clothing deflected the blade’s path.
A pulse of magic came from Mahkah and the man flew back, slamming into the alcove wall. The blow made the manis grunt and also seemed to knock him out. His body was pinioned to the wall, head and arms hanging slackly.
Swapping the dagger to his right hand, Takatin walked over to him.
“Takatin, stop!”
He didn’t want to. How dare this trash, this garbage, this shitbag, force himself on another!
“Help the crusan while I bind the manisi.”
Hands and legs now free, the boy had collapsed onto the floor and curled into a ball, eyes shut tightly.
With one last glance at the manis on the wall, Takatin sheathed his dagger and moved to help. He sat on the bench and looked down at the terrified boy. “They’re not going to hurt you anymore, I promise.”
More people began to arrive, drawn, perhaps, by the sound of fighting.
Takatin removed his uniform tunic and used it to cover the crusan’s nakedness.
The boy flinched, and his eyes opened.
“You can, ah, straighten your clothing now.”
The boy’s eyes widened. He couldn’t see the people in the hallway behind him, but he could probably hear them. Looking away from Takatin, down at the floor, he slowly pulled his clothes back on.
Afterward, he pushed the tunic along the floor toward Takatin. “Thank you,” he whispered. He sat up, then, knees to chest, arms wrapped tightly around his legs.
More manisi arrived a few minutes later. They spoke with Mahkah and Takatin and with people in the hallway. Three led the two manisi away, now also bound with leather straps around their wrists. Two led the crusan away to the infirmary.
Takatin, still seated on the bench, stared blindly into the hall. “I cannot stand that sort of person.”
Mahkah, seated as well, turned to him. “Hmm?”
“Just because they have a little power, they use it to take advantage of those weaker than them. It pisses me off.”
“Well, they won’t have any power soon. They’ll be purged, for sure, sent on their way after their sentence is up. You know, I’ve never even seen the gaol cells. I wonder what they’re like.”
Takatin hoped they were cramped, dark, and altogether uncomfortable. Those bastards deserved that and worse.
“We should probably head to lunch before we miss it.”
Takatin wasn’t particularly hungry anymore, but he nodded. “Aye.”
He stood and walked back into the hallway. Turning to Mahkah, he said, “About dinner, maybe I—”
Pain exploded in his chest. He grunted and stumbled to a wall for support.
“Takatin?”
Something filled his throat and mouth, tasting metallic. He coughed, but there was nothing there, his airways were clear.
“Is something wrong?” Mahkah stepped closer.
What was happening? Takatin l
ooked down at his chest, expecting to see a ruin, but he looked fine. He was fine.
Takatin’s eyes widened. “Wematin,” he whispered.
“Your brother? Did you want me to—”
Another burst of pain made him gasp, and he slid to the floor.
“Takatin!” Mahkah knelt over him. “Did she land a blow on you?”
“No. My twin. He’s . . . dying.”
“What?”
“I can . . . I can feel him dying. It’s been years since I could feel—No! Wematin! Don’t leave me!” His twin’s life-flame shrank, sputtered, and winked out.
Everything was darkness.
“No.” Takatin’s quiet whisper broke the silence.
“NO!”
There was a sound, felt more than heard, and the darkness exploded.
Aeron, we must back away! He . . . is taking control.
Anaya? What?
Beams of light shone crazily from an enormous hole, torn in the emptiness. A rocky outcrop was just visible within.
Come, we must try to leave.
Aeron sensed Anaya to his left and willed himself to move toward her.
A terrifying scream came from the light and some kind of creature appeared on the precipice.
Aeron tried to make sense of the thing. It had the naked torso of a woman. Her hands, her arms, her breasts, everything about her was beautiful, but her face was twisted with hatred. Two ragged dragon wings rose from her back. Instead of legs, some kind of bug body began at her waist.
Insect legs twitching, she leapt down from the ragged hole in the darkness toward a building that was suddenly below. It was Bataan-Mok. Her breasts bounced when she landed on the stone structure, and her hands and legs scrabbled for purchase. She raised her head and shrieked again.
Alandra’s merciful heart, what is that?
I do not know, but we must leave, now.
The bug woman raised herself up and drove a large stinger into the building again and again, a terrifying look of ecstasy on her face. Stone exploded each time she struck.
“Bataan-Mok!” Takatin appeared from the light and jumped to the ground. “I can cure you!”
As Anaya removed them from the dream, the last thing Aeron saw was Takatin the man, not the boy. His arms were raised, sadness was etched across his features, and tears streamed down his face.
Chapter 21
Leday, Secundy 17, 1875.
Morning
Willem walked in the dragon doors to Ikan’s den. Polandra was saddling the large dragon.
She turned to him and her brows drew together. “Here to see us off?”
“No. We’re going with you.”
“I—”
A deep whine came from behind. Balam stood in the dragon door staring at the raven-haired girl.
Willem turned back to Polandra. “We need to know they’re okay.”
Her gaze, now on Balam, softened. She let out a breath. “Yeah.” Looking back at Willem, she said, “But by the gods, you both have to stay calm, you hear?”
He hitched the satchel up on his shoulder. “I know.”
“I need a few more minutes, and I’ll be ready. We’ll meet you in the yard.”
Willem nodded. He walked outside, back toward their stable. Balam followed, and when Willem sat on a bench just outside it to wait, he sat on his haunches nearby.
Willem set his satchel down. I’m sure they’re fine.
Balam let out a bark. I hope so, too.
Willem stared ahead at nothing.
Hope. It was the only thing that held him together right now. Aside from Balam, that is. Willem was trying to be strong for the beautiful dragon, and he was pretty sure the lovable beast was being strong for him.
It had been a rough night for both of them. The only way he’d been able to finally fall asleep was with an idea he got from Aeron. He’d rolled over onto Aeron’s pillow and breathed in. It was stupid, ridiculous, and wonderfully true: Aeron’s scent made him feel better. Willem had clutched the pillow, curled around it, and fallen asleep at some point soon after.
“Where are you at?”
Willem’s entire body twitched. “What?”
Liara’s brows rose up. “Oh boy, were you ever somewhere else.”
He felt his cheeks warming. “I—my mind was just wandering.”
Liara sat next to him and leaned back against the wall. Her voice was quiet. “I’m sure he’s fine.”
Willem swallowed. His throat was tight. “Yeah.” He nodded. “Yeah.”
By the time Polandra walked Ikan out, the rest of Willem’s friends were there. Sharrah was on the other side of Liara, on the bench. Cheddar stood next to her, while Fillion and Gregor and Jessip and Renata stood nearby. They had all walked over silently. No one said anything. No one questioned his having riding gear on. They were just there, with him.
Standing, he looked around at them all before mounting up.
Guildmaster Millinith entered the courtyard.
She glanced at Willem and Balam before turning to Polandra. “Remember to be careful. Don’t do anything rash. Talk to them, see what their situation is, and come back to us.”
Polandra nodded. She also glanced at Willem. “Yes, ma’am.”
As the Guildmaster headed for the investigation office, a pulse of magic drew his attention. Polandra stared up at the forming portal.
Let’s go see how they’re doing.
Balam took them through the portal after Ikan and Polandra, and they emerged above the caves.
Stars twinkled in the predawn sky. Even this early, it was about an hour before sunrise, the temperature difference was obvious on the exposed parts of Willem’s face. It wasn’t warm, exactly, just not as cool as at the Caer.
Ikan turned and flew toward Bataan-Mok. Balam followed. As they drew nearer to the home of the Corpus Order, Ikan flew them closer to the ground. Sparse plant life whizzed by below, just visible in the wan light. Shrubs, tall cacti, and a few scraggly trees. Then the big dragon led them into a deep ravine. They flew out of sight in the twisty dry riverbed for several miles.
Willem frowned. If he remembered the route map right, they were still miles outside the farthest manis patrol, so why were they hiding in the ravine?
A ravine that was getting shallower. They had to fly closer and closer to the rocky riverbed to keep below ground level, and Willem wondered how safe it was to continue. Just when he was going to ask Balam to say something about it, Ikan backwinged to a landing.
Polandra dismounted. “We can walk from here. We should be close enough for the dragons to speak to each other, soon.”
Willem hopped to the ground. “Why are we hiding in this ravine? We’re miles way from the nearest manis patrol, aren’t we?”
“The Guildmaster said to be careful, so we’re being careful.” She turned and, with Ikan, continued along the dry riverbed. “I don’t want anyone, manis or otherwise, to catch sight of us.”
That made sense, he supposed. But they could have gotten closer faster by just flying straight.
A surge of excitement through the link preceded Balam’s enthusiastic bark. She is well! They are well!
Willem placed his head in his hands, closed his eyes, and clamped his jaws tightly against the rise of emotions.
“Be quiet!”
Ikan and Polandra are not happy with me. As if anyone could hear me from here? At least I did not roar.
When he had control of himself again, Willem opened his eyes and took a deep breath. The stars shining above, holdouts against the light of false dawn, sparkled, shimmered, and blurred. He blinked, felt light touches on his cheeks, and continued to take deep breaths.
Aeron was alive. Anaya was alive. All they needed to do now was figure out how to get them out of that damn place.
“Balam,” Polandra said, “please let Ikan speak to her for a moment uninterrupted.”
Willem placed his hand on his bond-mate’s shoulder. “Let them talk, love. We can talk to them after.”
/> The green dragon chirped and sat on his haunches. Willem leaned against him while they waited. A few minutes passed as Willem let relief replace the worry he’d had since yesterday.
I am very sorry, Willem.
Willem stood. The sending was weak from distance. Anaya? Why are you sorry?
I could not protect Aeron, could not bring him back for us.
Oh, sweetheart, don’t you worry about that. What’s done is done. You are both safe. That is all that matters.
That is what Aeron said.
Well, listen to him, because he’s right.
Willem bit his lip, unsure how to ask the question. Did Ikan tell you that the Order usually takes three days before they, ah, kill a dragon?
He did. Aeron says that he will think of something before that happens, though. He asks if you and Balam can return each night.
Of course we can.
Good. Aeron wants you to. I do too.
“We should get back,” Polandra said. “Let everyone know they’re okay.”
Willem nodded. “Yeah, of course.”
We’re going to go back to the Caer and let everyone know that you’re both okay. We will be back tonight. Please tell Aeron I love him.
He says he loves you, too.
Stay brave, Anaya.
I will.
+ + + + +
Cirtis didn’t wait for the guard to open Takatin’s door, he opened it himself and walked through. The belated announcement gonged from ahead. Moments later, he heard the soft steps of bare feet behind him as the man’s pesan arrived, too late. Cirtis continued down the hallway to the inner rooms.
“Capu Cirtis?” The young girl hurried to catch up. “Can I help you?”
“I’m afraid you cannot. I will speak with the Nesch.”
The pesan tried to move in front of him, but Cirtis sidestepped her each time. With a worried expression, the girl said, “Nesch Takatin has not yet risen for the day.”
In the waiting room, Chu’a had moved to bar the way to the bedroom. Upon seeing Cirtis, however, he inclined his head and moved aside.
Without breaking stride, Cirtis continued to the back room.
“Capu Cirtis, please!”
The girl on his heels, Cirtis entered the bedroom. “Why do we have someone in the cells?”
Takatin, sitting at a small desk, looked up at them. “Good morning.”
A Storm in the Desert: Dragonlinked Chronicles Voume 3 Page 41
