Leena's Story - The Complete Novellas (A Dance of Dragons Book 4)

by Kaitlyn Davis

  A flash passed over his eyes—pain or joy she couldn't tell. But before she could say another word, Rhen was gone. The sky brightened with the bubbling flames left in his wake.

  Alone, Leena rubbed her dragon's icy scales and thought, fly.

  The ground disappeared quickly, and the higher they soared, the more thoughts of Rhen were replaced with thoughts of home. A shiver raced down her spine but not from the cold. Panic tightened her muscles, coiled in her stomach. The last memory Leena had of Da'astiku was turning her back on it. Deep in the depths of the Dueling Sea, she had just run away and narrowly escaped her father's soldiers. And as she gazed through the shimmering waters, watching men dive down in search of her, Leena had remained still. She let them think their princess had drowned. She had said goodbye to her life. To her family. To her friends. She had vowed never to return unless it was to face her father and destroy him.

  Was she ready for this?

  Leena swallowed, blinking away the memory. The mere thought of her father sent terror to her heart, stealing her strength, bringing the weak princess she thought she had outgrown back to life. Focusing on Tempest's scales and the strength buzzing beneath them, evident in each graceful pump of her wings, Leena tried to gather her own. In that instant, her eyes caught sight of her arms and the new tattoos painted there.

  The fear drained away.

  Gone were the marks of a princess. Leena had almost forgotten that Jinji had erased them away, replacing them with the tattoos of a rider—a dragon soaring over crashing waves.

  She wasn't the girl she once was.

  She was so much more.

  And she was ready.

  "Let's go," Leena whispered. Tempest listened.

  Together they dove straight down, disappearing beneath the White Stone Sea with barely a splash, racing toward Ourthuro.

  TWO

  When the waters warmed, Leena knew she had entered the Dueling Sea. Eager to see her home, she broke through the surface, keeping her eyes trained on the horizon. In the bright morning sun, it didn't take very long to spot a gold band glittering in the distance.

  Ourthuro.

  Her homeland had been nicknamed the Golden Isles because of the metal ores seeped in its soils. They caught the light now, making the islands sparkle. Leena had only seen them from this angle once before—as she sailed away. But racing toward them left her with a different feeling entirely. Apprehension and nerves made her pulse dance wildly. Yet there was another sensation deep in her heart—excitement. No matter how corrupt, Ourthuro was her home. She'd missed it. And watching those islands flicker in the distance, Leena was only reminded of everything she thought she might never see again and of everything she wanted to save.

  As she flew closer, Leena noticed something else—something that brought her brows together in tight confusion. A fleet of ships sat idle in the port, forming a ring around the entrance to the city. But they weren't ships she recognized, and there was not a single sign of movement on board.

  Leena kept her eyes glued on the wooden structures as she approached, worried for a moment that she'd been too late—that the phantoms had already been there, had already killed everyone. But as she neared, a hopeful smile spread across her lips instead. The ships were filled with motionless, lifeless bodies—empty shells the shadow's phantoms would get sucked into. Those figures were the first line of defense against the ghostly invaders—the only way to keep them from the city and its living inhabitants for as long as possible. Which meant Rhen had been right. The spirit hadn't abandoned them. She was helping them, just as Jinji would have.

  Without prompting, Leena's gaze shifted up.

  Over the towering ship masts.

  Higher.

  Over the muddled gray iron houses at the base of the city.

  Higher.

  Until dazzling in its brilliance, nearly as bright as the sun, the golden palace sitting at the top of Da'astiku caught her eye. That was her destination—the place where she had to convince her father that the phantoms were an enemy to take seriously and that she was the only one powerful enough to stop them. The place where Rhen couldn't help her. The place where the spirit couldn't help her. The place where the riders couldn't help her. The place she had to confront all on her own.

  Leena swallowed.

  Her throat was already dry.

  But there was no turning back.

  As Tempest drifted over the lower levels of the city, shouts began to fill the streets. Shouts of wonder and terror that followed Leena as she made her way to the highest plateau of Da'astiku, the royal level, her former home. And to her surprise, as she crested the top of the ridge, a hundred of her father's guards were already waiting for her. A golden sea of chain mail stood utterly still before the palace steps watching the dragon approach, an immovable wall blocking the path to her father.

  Leena landed softly.

  In one swift motion, each guard raised his curved blade. The daylight caught every deadly edge, reflecting bright beams into Leena's eyes, blinding her for a moment. She remained still, aware that in the shadows more men hid with arrows cocked in their bows, aiming for her head should she take one step in the wrong direction.

  But Leena wasn't the one who was afraid.

  They were.

  Their panic sizzled in the hot air.

  So instead of blowing any icy pathway straight through the guards, a demonstration of her power, Leena took a different route—an easier one and a kinder one. Bringing a coy smile to her lips, Leena filled her gaze with humor and eyed the men around her. Though she hadn't used the ploy in weeks, it was as easy as breathing to slip back into the role of a flirtatious princess and to ease their panic with the sparkle in her eye.

  "Come now," she called gently. "Is this how you welcome your princess home?"

  A ripple passed through the guards. They relaxed. They recognized her. Leena searched for a face in the crowd—for Tam. But each olive-toned face was unfamiliar, not the friend she had left behind without so much as a goodbye.

  "Princess Leenaka?" A guard stepped forward.

  It took a moment, but she remembered him as the last man assigned to her personal protection, the one who had replaced Tam. In fact, he was the one who had carried Tam from her rooms after the shadow had possessed her friend, forcing him to attack her. Leena stared at the guard intently, memorizing each curve of his face. This man had helped her on that day so long ago. He had left her door open—he had allowed her to walk away. And today, when the fighting was over, maybe he would help her again—maybe he would lead her to Tam.

  But for now, Leena watched in silence as he opened his mouth again. She couldn't help but notice the slightest bit of relief in his voice. "We thought you had died."

  "Me?" she asked in mock surprise. "I merely took a swim."

  "A very long swim," he added, tone light.

  Leena giggled girlishly. "As you can see, water has long been my friend." Then she brushed a palm gently across Tempest's icy back, making her scales ripple in delight. A hundred eyes shifted to focus on the dragon's snout and the frosty breath blowing through her nostrils. Then they followed the path of sharp crystals jetting down her neck, over her liquid scales, all the way to the tips of her silvery blue wings. "She won't harm you," Leena said. "Not unless you mean to do me harm."

  And this time, Leena didn’t hide the threat from her voice.

  All attention shifted back to her.

  She remained cool and calm, unaffected by their wariness.

  "There is an enemy traveling toward our shores, and I need to see my father." Leena paused for effect, and then sharpened her voice, making it just as deadly as the golden blades before her. "One way or another."

  "Princess—" the same guard began, tone conflicted.

  "Do you see the foreign ships in our harbor?" Leena interrupted, one last attempt at talking her way through them before she forced her way through instead.

  A few guards nodded cautiously. Yet only the one dared to spea
k. "They appeared at the break of dawn, coming into existence in the blink of an eye. That is why the king stationed us out here, to keep watch for more magic. To sound the alarm at the first sign of more trickery."

  Leena shook her head. "Those ships are not what must be watched and guarded against. An army of ghosts, of phantoms, is closing in. There is no way to stop them. No way to harm them. Those ships were sent by a friend, and they are our best protection. I am here to keep you safe, but I fear even I am not strong enough to shield you should the phantoms make it onto our shores. And I must speak with the king before the enemy arrives. He must listen to me. You must listen to me. Or we are all doomed."

  "The king does not wish to be disturbed," the guard answered. But his voice was solemn, edged with bitterness and not with loyalty. And when he met her gaze, there was cold rage in his eyes.

  Leena softened her voice, trying to understand. "Where is he?"

  The guard swallowed, clenching his jaw, trying to speak through his silence.

  Suddenly she understood.

  "He's locked himself away, hasn't he?" she asked softly.

  He nodded.

  Iron fury hardened her muscles.

  Her father had abandoned them. He had locked himself safely out of harm's way at the first sign of danger. He was hiding, probably lounging on pillows, feasting on the food he hoarded, waiting for word that the battle was won. He was doing what he always did—allowing others to do the fighting for him.

  Coward! She ached to scream the word, to shout it as loud as she could in the mere hope that it would find her father's ears. Coward!

  Instead, she inhaled slowly, regaining control over herself. Now was not the time for vengeance. Now was not the time to confront her father and make him pay for his abuses. Now, more than ever, the people of Ourthuro needed her. And Leena would never abandon them.

  "Listen to me," she shouted, blanketing the guards with the sound of her voice. They needed a leader. She could be that leader. "Forget anything and everything my father has told you, and listen to me now. There is an evil unlike any you have ever dreamed, and it is coming for us. A black mist will soon wash against our shores—an army of ghosts that carry death in their touch."

  At those words, an uneasy ambiance settled over the men as they began to shift their weight, forgetting their training. Leena pressed forward, loudening her voice, hardening it to force them to listen.

  "We cannot stop this enemy. We cannot defeat them. But we don't have to. All we must do is delay. Soon, the man who commands these phantoms will be dead. Soon, he and they will be banished from the world. But until that time comes, everyone in this city is vulnerable, and we have a duty to do whatever we can to help."

  Some of their lips drew thin.

  Some of them nodded.

  Some gripped their swords a little tighter.

  But all watched her, listened to her, hanging on her every word.

  Leena shifted her tone, removing the steel from her words, letting hope fuel her instead. "I know I am just a woman in your eyes. I know that in this kingdom I am no more than a princess. But I also know that if you do not listen to me, none of us will survive. So though it challenges everything our culture has taught you to accept as truth, you must follow me now. You must see beyond what I am, and believe in who I am. A dragon rider, yes. But more importantly, a child of Ourthuro who wants to protect her home. Our home. Our people."

  No one spoke.

  There was no cheer. But no protest either.

  Leena breathed heavily, lightheaded after finally being able to voice out loud words she had dreamed of a thousand times. Follow her. Follow a princess. Follow a woman. And defy a king.

  Would they?

  Glancing around, their expressions were inscrutable.

  But Leena had faith.

  And then a gasp broke the quiet. The sound was soft, but it rang horrendously loud in Leena's ears because she knew exactly what it meant. Slowly, more shock filled the air. More terror.

  She didn’t have to turn, but she did.

  The ebony mist had arrived.

  Tempest rumbled, wings aching to stretch and fly, aching to fight. But Leena rubbed the dragon's smooth neck, calming her as she watched the smoky enemy approach, knowing the time hadn't quite come yet.

  Just as in Brython, just as in Roninhythe, the phantoms advanced unhurriedly. Wispy tendrils seeped through the surface of the sea, rolling toward Da'astiku like fog brought forth on a stormy tide, stretching for the city's shores. The approach was made all the more terrifying because of its slowness. The ghosts knew they were unstoppable, that they had all the time in the world. And every man could do nothing but stare in dreadful awe as that fact washed over him.

  The mere sight of the phantoms paralyzed the guards of Ourthuro.

  Paralyzed the entire city.

  Everyone except Leena.

  Her mind raced and her eyes darted from plateau to plateau. Her father, the coward, was in hiding. He must have known what was coming. It was clear that Jinji's message of the mist had reached him. And he had chosen to station his guards before the palace, caring little for the rest of the populace in the lower levels. He had left them to fend for themselves against an evil he couldn't even comprehend. But Leena was done letting selfishness define the lives of the Ourthuri.

  "Sound the bells!" Leena shouted, turning back to the guards. There was a momentary stall. The men looked around warily, eyes going from her to the mist to the palace over their shoulders. But her perch on Tempest's back placed her a head above everyone else, just as a leader should be—not hiding behind closed doors. And from that position, with iron in her voice, the guards listened.

  Without further delay, the bells hanging above the golden bridge connecting the royal level to the city below began to chime. Trickling down, from bridge to bridge, plateau to plateau, music filled the air around them. The bells of Da'astiku were ringing. And for the first time, Leena felt hope and not hate at the sound.

  The people of Ourthuro were listening to her.

  She wouldn't lead them astray.

  "Go to the lower levels of the city, all of you, and bring the people up. I don't care if their tattoos brand them as merchant or noble or even unmarked. Bring every living soul in Da'astiku as high up as you can—as far from the mist as you can. When that is done, position yourselves as a wall protecting your people. And wait for my command to fight."

  With her orders spoken, Leena took off in an explosion of movement, and Tempest roared, jolting even her with the passionate outcry. The guards jumped into action, and though Leena wished she could watch, her eyes had already turned to the base of the city—to the harbor.

  The mist continued its slow approach.

  The sapphire sea was almost entirely covered in translucent ebony.

  They would be at the ships momentarily.

  "Run!" Leena shouted down over the city streets. "Escape to the palace!"

  But fear of her father was even stronger than fear of the mist. The people didn’t listen the way the guards did, they stopped dead, torn between one horror and another, unsure which was more terrifying. Leena didn't have time to convince them. When she reached the port, she landed hard against the docks and let Tempest release an icy roar, blowing frost into the faces of anyone close by.

  That warning they listened to.

  Staring at the dragon, every sailor still on the docks spun on his heels and ran toward the next level of Da'astiku. Leena chased after them, giving anyone still stalling undeniable reason to run as far away as they could. And with the sea behind Leena, the only way to run was up and into the city toward safety. Before long she was alone on the lowest level, and only then did she turn and face the ebony smoke billowing toward her.

  I can do this, Leena thought, pushing any lingering doubts away. I was made to do this. There was no time for fear, no time for hesitation. There was only instinct and hope, and the trust that those two things would save her as the world turned black. />
  The phantoms were here.

  As the fog floated over the ships stationed in a ring around the docks, it began to dissipate. One by one, the souls of the dead sank into the empty bodies the spirit had provided. One by one, the mist was sucked away, replaced with the jerking bodies of the undead. Unaware of anything except the vivacity pulsing down from the city before them, the bodies turned toward Da'astiku, moving as a mass toward Leena's home. The souls of the living called to them, and the phantoms had only one thought on their minds—the uncontrollable need to rejoin the world no matter the cost, to taste the hot thrill of life for themselves. They fell over the sides of the ships, splashing into the sea and sinking out of sight. On and on it went, one after another, a human waterfall cascading into the ocean, until suddenly the world was silent. The phantoms disappeared almost entirely, trapped within bodies that were now at the bottom of the harbor.

  Leena paused.

  Could it have really been that easy?

  The day had turned back into a day like any other.

  The sea was blue. The sky was blue. The world stretched before her, unbelievably empty. The waves rolled in her ears, slapping up against the shores of Da'astiku. The empty ships bobbed peacefully in the port.

  But Leena's skin crawled.

  Her heart beat wildly fast.

  Her fingers trembled.

  And then a hand appeared at the end of the dock.

  Then another. Reaching, pulling. Then a head, slightly blue and bloated, with eyes that were no more than glassy crystals.

  All around, hands jutted from the sea, stretching toward land. Gruesome bodies followed, slinking onto the shore. As living corpses reached to clasp Tempest's icy scales, she pumped her wings, lifting them both into the sky. Leena watched in horror as the dead crawled free from the sea.

  On the horizon, ebony clouds gathered.

  A storm no human could defeat.

  THREE

  It was so much worse than anything Leena had seen before. Worse than the visions Tempest had showed her of the past. Worse than the massacre of Brython. Worse than the battle for Roninhythe.