Dawn of the Dragons (Exiled Dragons Book 10)

by Sarah J. Stone

  The other dead bird beside him suddenly moved. It inflated, as if it was never crushed, and slowly rose.

  It was confused, looking around. The rest of the flock surrounded it, chirping like mad.

  Devon watched, his mouth hanging upon. Maybe Sienna had healed the bird that was just barely dead. There was no other explanation for this, except that it had returned from the dead and done so without her direct touch.

  She buried her face in Devon's chest, trembling. He couldn't properly form words as he tried to make sense of what happened.

  Suddenly, Desmond was beside them, crouching down. “Sienna, I told you not to do that.”

  “Sir!” Devon jumped a few feet in the air. He wasn't sure whether to pull his arms away from Sienna or not, blushing and avoiding Desmond's eyes.

  Luckily, the older Maestro didn't seem to be there to scold. “Little one,” he said as he touched her shoulder, and she went toward him, still trembling. “Oh, dear.”

  “She just…” Devon said, stuttering. “The bird. The other bird. Dead. So dead.”

  Desmond let out a long breath, making sure Sienna stayed upright. He only needed to glance at the flowers to know what happened. The withered apples from Eliza's deathbed on a concrete floor remained in his memory, his jaw equally agape at the time. Since then, they had stopped Sienna from fighting death at every opportunity. She had been so weak after bringing Eliza back all those years ago that they were worried another attempt would kill her. A bird was different from a person, of course, but it was still a risk.

  “Are you supposed to do that?” Desmond asked her, and she shook her head meekly. She didn't seem to be able to speak, her jaw clenched. “Why not, hmm? Is this why not?”

  She nodded, and he sighed.

  “Well,” he said at last, “at least you remember how bad it is. Are you all right, Devon?”

  “Yes,” Devon answered, leaning back to sit on the grass. He was torn between being confused and concerned. “Yes, I…how?”

  “Sienna is very powerful,” Desmond answered. “But that much power has compromises.”

  “I understand the one bird,” Devon said. “But how did you do the other one?”

  She pulled her head from Desmond's chest, pale as a ghost. Despite how she was feeling, she still managed to look confused.

  “One,” she said, pointing to the spot where she had resurrected the poor creature.

  “Yes, that one,” Devon answered. “But there was another one over here, remember? It wasn't even a bird anymore, and yet it just got up and walked away.”

  “No,” she said, confused as her head turned toward the spot. “Oh. There was one there.”

  “Well, no wonder you feel so sick, if you resurrected two,” Desmond answered.

  “She didn't even touch it,” Devon said. “It was osmosis.”

  “Well, two birds will probably bring you a worm in the morning.” Desmond smiled at her. “But you can't do that, Sienna. Not now. One day, we will learn how to control your powers without making you sick. But until then, you have to take care of your gift. If you lose yourself, you won't be able to help anywhere. Do you understand?”

  She blinked, looking away, and he switched methods.

  ‘There will be no one to bring you back, little one, if you push too hard.’

  Their bond always hit her harder than words, and she looked up, seeming to understand. Her noticed the dampness of her forehead and wondered if she was running a fever again. Regardless, he knew they were in for a tough few days. She would be wrecked from this encounter, and it wasn't the best timing.

  He very rarely got angry, and he wasn't about to discipline Devon, especially when he was trying to keep Sienna's vitals at the front of his mind. But he needed to get the message across, and he wasn't sure Laura was going to do so.

  “Devon, have you done your medic's training yet?” Desmond asked. Devon's eyes widened, and he shook his head.

  “No, sir. The basics, yes, but I'm not on track to be a medic.”

  “I know you have experience,” Desmond said quietly, “but you are not training for the medical field at all?”

  “No,” Devon answered. “My Maestro is a diplomat. So, if I get there, that's probably what I'll be.”

  “Ah,” Desmond said. “So, you have no supplies and no training if she were to seize, if she were to crack her head, if she were to stop breathing?”

  “No, sir,” Devon replied.

  “This is why Sienna is watched over as closely as she is,” Desmond said, pulling her trembling body closer. She was warmer by the second, and he feared where this was headed. “There are no medicines, Devon, like there are for you. There is no cure – no relief for the pain. You are lucky. No one has ever told you that, have they?”

  “No,” Devon admitted.

  “This is not lucky. Never forget that,” Desmond said, as he adjusted his position. He knew she was going to seize; he had seen it enough times. For her sake, he hated that it was going to be in public, on the side of the road, but they had no choice.

  Her body jerked back, and he managed to get her onto her side before the seizure took its effect. He had been through so many of them in the past few years, keeping his mind locked on hers, making sure she wasn't hurt. Devon moved forward, but Desmond put his hand out to stop him. With a bit of sadness, he noted that the boy didn't look scared, just concerned. But then, one who had grown up in the med bay and who had a permanent IV probably was jaded.

  None of these kids should be jaded by these things, Desmond thought, even as he held Sienna in place. Why? Why them?

  “Can I do something?” Devon answered. “Will she be all right?”

  “No,” Desmond answered, although he half felt like he was lying. “Just sit there and wait. You can't do anything.”

  “She should have help,” Devon said. “I mean, I should have seizures, too, but–”

  “But those medications will likely kill her,” Desmond said. “Anything she does not suffer from is because Nathaniel and I have figured out on our own. The rest her body goes through because it's better than medications, which cause her acridid gene to rage harder. You can't begin to imagine how complicated this is.”

  “No,” Devon answered quietly. She was still now, and he reached out to squeeze her hand. “I'm sorry.”

  Desmond sighed. “There is nothing to be sorry about, Devon,” he said. “Perhaps you just had to see this to understand that the life you seem to want to live is not one Sienna can be involved in.”

  Devon felt his stomach sink. “You don't want us to be friends?”

  “I don't want her to be hurt.” Desmond met his eyes, the double meaning thick in his voice. “Is that clear?”

  Devon said nothing to that, sinking back onto his heels.

  This was more complicated than he thought. But it didn't change the way he felt about her or the way he loved her laugh and her smile.

  And it didn't explain how a bird that was nothing but a puddle of organs came back to life, without so much as her touch.

  Chapter 15

  “Hey,” Laura said when she found Devon sitting in his room three hours later. When they were at the Academy, they usually didn't see each other until mealtimes. They were perfectly happy to spend every waking moment together when they were on a quest, but they were equally happy to be apart all day when they needed to be. She was grateful for this type of bond and sense of comfort. She had heard horror stories of one's first Tiro, and also of opposite gender pairings. But Devon had been a blessing from the moment she connected with him – the perfect match.

  She didn't even consider his illness a hardship. It was something that she saw as a challenge for both of them, and the cards the universe had dealt. No matter how many Tiros she had from here on out, she would always see Devon as the perfect one.

  Currently, she was concerned. She had met Nathaniel in the hallway and received an earful from him as they crossed paths. Witches didn't usually get angry, nor did they ra
ise their voices at other Maestros. But Nathaniel had words to say to her about Devon, which raised her anxiety.

  “What did you leave the Academy to do this afternoon?”

  “Get ice cream at the diner downtown,” Devon answered, turning off his tablet. “That's it.”

  “That's it?” Laura raised an eyebrow. “So why did I just get an earful from Nathaniel in the hallway?”

  “He yelled at you?” Devon answered, sitting up properly. “He doesn't have a right to yell at you.”

  She smiled at him. “You let me stand up for you. That's my job. I can take it. But what happened? All I got was reckless, sneaky, and med bay.”

  “Oh, Creator.” Devon shook his head and pointed to the chair in his room. Laura shut his door, taking a seat. “We didn't even get ice cream. Sienna saw a bird get run over, and she tried to save it. She did save it, actually. But that amount of magic made her sick.”

  “You know that healing power is complicated,” Laura said. “That's way we don't teach it until much later.”

  “It wasn't healing power,” Devon answered. “It died. She resurrected it.”

  “Huh,” Laura said. “I thought that was just a rumor.”

  “Guess not,” Devon replied. “I mean, it's amazing. It was stunning to watch, and it comes so natural, like she doesn't even need training.”

  “Except for the med bay part,” Laura pointed out.

  “Except for the med bay part,” Devon admitted with a sigh. “I don't know how she does that. I would die.”

  “You would, in fact, die,” Laura answered. “I find it ironic that Nathaniel gave me a lecture on appropriateness given his attitude toward things.”

  “Do you think I did something wrong?” Devon asked, and her brow furrowed.

  “Of course not,” she said. “You know my feelings on the matter. I think it's a stupid rule, and so long as it doesn't affect your magic, your spare time is your own. Both her Maestros subscribe to that theory, whether they want to admit it or not, so they are hypocrites.”

  He sighed. “He really yelled?”

  “He's on edge.” Laura put her feet up. She was so glad Devon was the age he was now so she could talk to him like an adult.

  “Is she going to be all right?”

  “Odds are as good as always,” she shrugged. But she picked up something in his thoughts then that concerned her. “What is it?”

  “She…” He fought for the words to describe it so that he didn't sound crazy. “She resurrected the one bird, Laura. But there was a second one a few inches off that was complete road kill. And that one just got up and walked away.”

  “She healed two?”

  “She didn't heal two,” he said. “One had literally died, and she brought it back seconds after. Healing, sure, but I'm pretty sure it was dead. But this other one – no amount of healing could bring it back. It didn't even look like a bird anymore. She transferred life force from the flowers, I saw them shrivel. But none of that explains how a puddle of bird guts got up and walked away when she didn't even touch it; didn't even notice it. I'm pretty sure she was in my arms when it did so; she wasn't paying it any sort of attention.”

  “Huh,” Laura said, sitting back. “You realize what you're saying–”

  “Sounds beyond impossible. Beyond crazy,” Devon said. “Resurrection alone is not even possible.”

  “Except for her,” his Maestro said.

  “Sure. Fine, let's assume that. But without touching it? Without directing magic toward it? She was clearly drained. So, even if we assume resurrection is real, you can't do magic on that scale without paying attention.”

  Laura cocked her head. “Well, that doesn't make any sense. And you're sure of what you saw?”

  “Without a doubt,” he replied. “There's something else at play here. I'm telling you.”

  “You don't think she's using unnatural magic?” she put it as delicately as she could.

  “No,” Devon was firm on that. “I would have felt that; I know what it feels like. There was nothing like that. When that bird regrouped, there was almost no magic. Just this weird jolt.”

  “Jolt?” Laura asked.

  “I can't describe it,” he shook his head. He met Laura's eyes. “She really is something, isn't she?”

  Laura smiled. “She is,” she said. “They are smart to have swooped her up. Not as smart as me, though, for getting you.”

  Devon smiled. “Can I see her? Or are her Maestros going to have me arrested?”

  “I wouldn't go tonight,” Laura answered. “They likely won't leave her side. But tomorrow, you might find a quiet moment. Are you all right? No new aches or pains?”

  “I'm fine,” Devon said. “I would tell you if I wasn't.”

  “I know you would,” Laura smiled, getting up. “You're a good kid; you never give me a reason to worry. I'm going to go to the library to see if I can find any information about what you are talking about. I'll ping you if I do. You should get your homework done, though.”

  “Okay.” He was usually easy going, and this was no exception. “Sure, that's fine. I'll call you if I die.”

  “Preferably a few minutes before,” she replied as she left. She tried to smile, but she hated when he said things like that. Devon seemed to take his own mortality with a grain of salt, as if he was invincible. She knew he was not, but she was grateful that when it happened, it would likely be painless, and easy, just as Devon lived.

  Nathaniel's lecture had caught her off guard, and she replayed it in her head as she walked to the library.

  “How dare your Tiro take mine off and nearly get her killed? How have you raised him for such reckless behavior?”

  She had been confused and then defensive, trying to understand how Nathaniel could go from making love to her to screaming in less than half a day. The presence of the Queen of Jeffro surely had something to do with it – she knew they had a relationship – but his tone seemed uncalled for.

  “I'm sorry?” she had answered in confusion. “My Tiro has never–”

  “You will control him, Laura, before he gets Sienna killed,” Nathaniel had growled. “She doesn't need that in her life. She can barely live her life as it is. She doesn't need another week in the med bay and another memory of what she could do if she was only willing to kill herself.”

  She didn't envy the position Nathaniel and Desmond were in, not in the slightest. But she hoped if she were ever in that position that she would handle it with more grace and dignity. Or, at the very least, less panic and terror than Nathaniel had rained down on her.

  Did he think she didn't understand about fragile Tiros? About worrying whether it was going to be a night's sleep that separated their bond forever, rather than a noble quest? Did he think she had it easy just because Devon usually felt no pain?

  It almost made it worse in her mind, because his death would likely come without warning or without a chance to say goodbye.

  Moreover, how dare Nathaniel scream at her about inappropriate relationships, given what they had gotten into?

  She was seeing red by the time she stormed into the library. It was silent as a tomb, and she felt her footsteps were disturbing the ancient texts that surrounded her. The witches' library was stocked floor to ceiling with more information than any one person could read in one lifetime. Their library was their pride and joy, and often the place older witches ended their career. Only those elderly, wise witches worked the library floor, having access to a wealth of information.

  Today, the librarian was paging through an ancient tome, taking delicate notes. She looked up, but Laura shook her head, indicating that she didn't need help.

  Looking around at the stacks, Laura headed toward the advanced section. Although half the library was digitized in files so large that she wouldn't know where to start, some were still in old tomes.

  She didn't really know where to look when she got there. As good as she was at diplomacy, Laura never considered herself advanced at magic. Her te
sts had marked her in the average section when it came to the complicated tricks they had to do, and she found herself using magic less than her colleagues. To be in the advance section, with spells that were scrawled over three pages, and techniques that took an entire book to explain; she felt so out of her depth.

  She was surprised, though, to find that she wasn't alone.

  A Maestro she had seen around before lingered in the back, running her finger over the tomes, clearly looking for something specific. She was so focused on her task that she nearly ran smack into Laura.

  “Oops,” Christa said, turning to her. “Sorry…Oh, hi!”

  “Hi,” Laura said, extending her hand. “Christa, right? You're a pilot?”

  “I am,” Christa smiled. “And you are the magnificent Devon's Maestro, yes? He excels in the simulations.”

  “He’d better,” Laura said with a smile. “I expect him to start driving me around next year.”

  “He'll be ready,” Christa said. “Sorry I bumped into you, my mind is elsewhere.”

  “What are you looking for?” Laura asked. “Not that I can be much help. I'm not often in this section.”

  “Neither am I,” Christa answered. “I'm looking for books on the theory of resurrection or maybe advanced healing.”

  Laura froze. “Any particular reason?”

  “Uh…” Christa guarded her answer. “Just a theory. You?”

  “Same,” Laura answered. “Exact same.”

  The two women locked eyes, and then Christa sighed.

  “I'm trying to figure out if the Queen of Jeffro is dead. Resurrected, to be exact. Please don't tell anyone. That would be heresy, I think.”

  “Ah,” Laura answered. “The palace explosion and the Ronan reappearance. Of course. It all makes sense. Or, rather, it doesn't.”

  “Exactly,” Christa said. “What's your reasoning?”

  Laura decided she could trust Christa, or at least risk sounding crazy without judgment.

  “My Tiro thinks he saw a resurrection today – one without touch. I'm trying to find an explanation.”