Dragonsbane

by Shae Ford

  Griffith sat cross-legged before the hearth. He snapped branches in half with his good hand, breaking them against the floor. There was a fire growing steadily in hearth’s middle. If Silas had managed to escape without getting his tail singed, it would be a very near thing.

  Fingernails dug into the scruff of Kyleigh’s neck. She knew the pressure of that hand all too well — and the pressure of the blade even better. She sat very still as Gwen pushed the axe against the vein in her neck.

  “One chance. You get one chance to convince me not to kill you, pest.”

  “You know you could never kill me, Gwen,” Kyleigh said evenly. “You’d miss me.”

  “I did miss you. That’s the only reason you still draw breath. My aim will be better this time …”

  Gwen’s words trailed into a grimace and the axe fell away. A red flower blossomed across her shoulder. Its petals stretched tentatively from the ragged hole in her tunic, crossing the hardened brown stains around the edges and seeping into new territory beyond.

  Kyleigh leaned back as the tang of blood filled the house. It was a strange smell — sweet and bitter all at once, thickened by pain. “It’s a shame you left Kael in the woods to die. It looks as if you need a healer.”

  “He won’t die. He’ll come charging back in here with an iron up his arse before evening.” Gwen’s voice was thick around her swollen nose, but confident nonetheless.

  Kyleigh wasn’t so sure.

  It was hard to believe that the man who’d just been fretting over an arrow wound was the same one who’d led a ship through the tempest, who’d slain the Witch of Wendelgrimm and sacked the Duke.

  That was one of the most frustrating things about Kael: he would’ve thrown himself on a sword for any one of his friends. He would’ve caused himself no end of pain just to spare them from a little. But for some reason, he wouldn’t fight for himself.

  Though they’d traveled for weeks through the forest and the mountains, he hadn’t even tried to come up with a plan to take on Titus. In fact, she’d begun to fear that he never meant to. She’d begun to worry that his greatest sacrifice was yet to come, that he would trade the ones he’d loved for those he’d come to love — that in order to spare his friends, he would give up on his home.

  Yes, she was certain that was what he’d had planned. And had he been left to his own devices, it likely would have worked. There was just one problem: Kyleigh had a different plan.

  Gwen eased herself onto the ground, pressing the side of her fur gauntlet against her wound. “My father is dead, my people are broken and sick. A few days ago, we were sitting untouched inside our castle,” she said with a hard smile. “Now look at us — forced to deal with the pest. Tell me what you know of the Man of Wolves.”

  Kyleigh wasn’t going to let her off that easily. “Whatever happened to questioning the blind man?”

  “He’s talking to the trees. When we try to ask him something, he tells us not to interrupt.”

  “Then perhaps you should mind your manners.”

  Red burned beneath Gwen’s paint. Even though she clearly would’ve liked to smack Kyleigh across the face, she didn’t. Instead, she placed the golden axe on the ground between them.

  It was an old weapon. A grayish rust crusted over it, nearly covering the dragon carved between its blades. The dragon’s horns curved upwards and its mouth was open. Flame spilled past its tongue, falling in a bolt that ended where the boned shaft began. It was exactly how Kyleigh had remembered it, save for one thing:

  The axe was supposed to have two heads — two blades forged to look like wings that burst unfurled from the dragon’s back. Now there was only one. The second blade had been broken off, leaving a ragged nub behind.

  Though she’d felt the bite of that blade on more than one occasion, Kyleigh couldn’t help but feel sorry to see it broken. She studied the jagged edge and thought she could almost hear the rending blow still trembling inside the metal. “What have you gotten yourself into, Thane-child?”

  “It’s Thane now, actually. At least for a time.” Gwen’s eyes trailed to the hearth. Her voice fell to a whisper. “Griffith is only a child, and this is far too heavy a matter. I wouldn’t burden him with it.”

  But she would burden herself. Those were the words behind her stare, the thought that dulled the edge of her scowl. Kyleigh leaned against the wall. “Tell me what happened.”

  By the time Gwen’s eyes returned, it was as if they’d traveled a great distance: her stare was hollow and vacant. The unrelenting edge was gone, worn down by the wind. Had those eyes not been set into such a familiar face, Kyleigh might’ve thought she was looking at a stranger.

  “We were beaten.” There was a flash of that edge for a moment, a glint in the pit of her eyes as Gwen snarled. But it faded quickly. “At the start of last winter, just after Thane Evan had perished in battle, my warriors and I went on a hunt. We came across some strange men in the meadows. They summoned fire in their hands, split the mountains’ skin with their words. I’d never seen such power. I remember wanting to get close to them …” Gwen swallowed hard. “We killed them, I suppose. They were in so many little pieces that I don’t think I could’ve counted them all. There was a stench about them — more infuriating than anything I’ve ever felt.”

  “Mages,” Kyleigh said. “What you smelled on them was their magic.”

  Gwen nodded slowly. “Mages. Yes, I’ve heard stories about them. I suppose I just expected them to be more … difficult to kill. So few people ever make it into our lands that I was certain the mages were a sign from Fate,” she went on. “I thought it meant the winter would be harsh, or the wynns planned an attack. But it was worse than I feared: it meant the Man of Wolves was coming.

  “He marched in a few days behind the mages. When we told him to leave our lands, he refused. So my warriors and I stormed from our castle to drive him away. His army carried strange weapons — swords the color of storm clouds, wooden birds with beaks that pierced our skin like ice. They wore shells of stone over their heads and chests.” She thrust a hand at the broken axe. “Our weapons shattered against them. His army was everywhere. They kept moving to our sides instead of meeting us at the front. Soon, everywhere we turned there were enemies at our backs.

  “It was by our strength alone that we managed to escape. I gathered what was left of my warriors and closed the gates behind us. We were beaten, and the Man of Wolves knew it. He smiled at us as his army stripped our dead of their sacred weapons.” Gwen’s fists pounded into her knees. “He stole them!”

  Kyleigh groaned inwardly. Titus had done worse than steal the weapons: he’d melted them down and turned them into collars. But she didn’t have the heart to tell Gwen.

  “Long weeks of silence passed. The Man of Wolves waited near the bottom of the summit. His army camped among the trees. Day after day, Fate’s die landed in their favor. My pet fled the castle,” Gwen added sullenly. “Animals can always sense a coming storm, and so I knew this was yet another sign of our misfortune.”

  “He’s back now — perhaps that means our fortunes will change,” Griffith called hopefully.

  Gwen smiled at him. “I hope so, Griff.” But by the time she turned back to Kyleigh, she was glaring once more. “When the snow’s fury had passed, the Man of Wolves attacked us again. I knew better than to charge him a second time — we would use our castle. His soldiers beat against our gates, but my warriors shored them with their strength. We were prepared to hold them off till summer, if we had to … then we heard the screams.”

  Gwen’s eyes went dark and her voice dropped to a whisper. “Monsters had appeared inside our castle. They were horrible things — beasts and men twisted into one. Somehow, they’d gotten behind us. They tore the defenseless apart with their teeth and claws. Our craftsmen, our children … I’ve never seen such cruelty, not even among the wynns. I begged for their lives, offered my surrender, but the Man of Wolves ignored me. He watched from afar, smiling as his creatures de
voured my people.

  “I had no choice but to abandon the gates. We ran to save the helpless, and the Man of Wolves smashed through. His army crushed our backs, his monsters waited with open jaws. My warriors managed to hold their ground long enough for us to escape through a hidden path. We fled down the mountains with those twisted creatures howling after our trail. A few days ago, we finally lost them. Last night, we arrived at the ruins of this village. And just when I hoped we’d reached the end of our misfortunes,” her brows dropped to a glare, “you turn up.”

  Kyleigh didn’t reply. Gwen’s story raked a raw line across her heart. She hadn’t always gotten along with the wildmen, but they were honorable humans. They cared for their people. They certainly hadn’t deserved what Titus had done to them.

  “I’ve told you what happened to us.” Gwen took her under the chin. “Now you’re going to tell me what you know of the Man of Wolves.”

  “His name is Titus,” Kyleigh said. “He’s one of the King’s rulers.”

  Gwen pushed her away. “You’re lying, pest. The King was the one who charged our ancestors with the task of cleansing the mountains. Why would he attack us?”

  There was no way to explain it. How could she possibly tell Gwen that the Kingdom had forgotten about the wildmen? That their task had fallen into legend? That everything she’d built her life around was only a story to the rest of the realm?

  She couldn’t. It would’ve been far too cruel.

  “The King didn’t order this. Titus is trying to take the mountains for himself.”

  “Traitor,” Griffith hissed.

  He crept from the now-roaring hearth and sat cross-legged beside Gwen, careful not to bump his broken arm. A blue marble rolled between the fingers of his good hand. It was a trinket he always carried with him. If it was out, Kyleigh knew he was concentrating.

  “We’re going to stomp him, aren’t we?” When Gwen didn’t reply, he nudged her gently. “Sister?”

  She took her gaze off the wall long enough to ruffle his stripe of hair. “Sure we are, Griff. And the pest is going to help us. Tell me everything you know about Titus,” she said, turning back to Kyleigh. “How do I fight his army of monsters? How do I break his ice swords? Tell me, and I might let you live.”

  The wildmen had made their homes at the summit for centuries on end. Their only enemies were impervious to every normal sort of weapon — and would’ve made short work of armor. The dragonsbane the wildmen carried was passed down from parent to child. Any knowledge of how to forge from the earth had likely slipped through the cracks between generations long ago.

  Kyleigh’s walk among the humans had been a mere blink of time compared to the long years she’d spent living as a shapechanger. Trying to teach the wildmen what she knew was going to be no small task.

  “Titus’s swords aren’t made of ice — they’re made of steel.”

  “Steel.” Gwen’s lips formed the word tentatively, as if she learned a foreign tongue.

  The marble danced faster between Griffith’s fingers. “Where do we find steel?”

  “I can teach your craftsmen to make it,” Kyleigh offered.

  Gwen narrowed her eyes. “In exchange for your life? No. If I’m going to spare you, then I’ll be requiring more. You’ll teach us how to make the stone shells as well.”

  “Armor,” Kyleigh corrected her. Blazes, this was going to be more difficult than she’d thought. “I’ll teach you everything I know about steel and armor.”

  Gwen nodded. “Good. Now that we’ve got all that settled … there’s the matter of this so-called Wright. I don’t know where you heard of Setheran, but his name’s no good among the wildmen. My father’s told me stories of that troublemaker,” she added with a glare. “He’s the reason the wynns still haunt the mountain’s top. If it weren’t for his meddling, we would’ve cast them into the seas years ago.”

  This was the first Kyleigh had heard of it — of any of it. Setheran had never mentioned anything about the wildmen, let alone the wynns. She didn’t know what he could’ve possibly done to anger them. But she knew one thing for certain:

  “I had absolutely nothing to do with that letter.”

  Chapter 16

  Coming Home

  It was with no small amount of dread that Kael took his first steps into Tinnark.

  The charred houses watched him through hollow eyes. He caught himself waiting to hear the noises of the villagers. He listened for the familiar song of their work. But the path was quiet.

  Painted, fur-clad wildmen gathered in clumps among the ruins. Some had limbs bound in slings, others nursed festering wounds or had bandages wrapped clumsily about their heads. A few watched him from the depths of small wooden litters. All looked as if they’d been half-chewed and spat back out.

  The weight of the wildmen’s stares slowed Kael’s pace considerably. His anger faded back as he met their darkened eyes and saw the exhaustion on their painted faces. These weren’t the fearsome warriors Amos had told him about: they were gaunt and sickly-thin. He couldn’t believe they’d once battled monsters.

  “Where’s Kyleigh?”

  One of the wildmen turned and pointed to a house that was a little less ruined than the others. It was slightly charred, but still intact. The warped door swung open before he could take more than a few steps towards it.

  Griffith came out first. His golden sword was drawn and gripped in his good hand. “Stay back,” he warned.

  Kael froze. It wasn’t the sword that stopped him: it was the look on Griffith’s face. The skin behind his paint was deathly pale. Beads of sweat popped up across his brow.

  Kael’s healing instincts took over. “You’re feverish. That arm has probably gotten infected. You ought to let me look at it.”

  Griffith said nothing. If anything, his hand twisted tighter about his sword. Then his eyes traveled down to the ragged tear in Kael’s trousers — to the hole Gwen’s arrow had left behind — and his mouth fell wide open.

  “It’s true,” he gasped.

  “What’s true?” Gwen appeared in the doorway behind him, dragging Kyleigh against her chest. The skin beneath her paint went scarlet when she followed the line of Griffith’s finger to Kael’s leg. “Take one step closer, and I’ll kill her,” she snarled, planting the golden axe against Kyleigh’s middle.

  Kael wasn’t fooled. “No, you won’t. Kyleigh’s planned this whole thing out.”

  “I’ll slice her in two,” Gwen warned.

  Kael ignored her. “I can’t believe you,” he said to Kyleigh. “I really can’t. This is exactly what you did with the pirates. After all we’ve been through, you still think you have to trick me into going along —”

  “I swear I’ll kill her —”

  “Do it, then!” Kael snapped. “Quit threatening and take a swing.”

  He thought that would be the end of it. He thought Gwen would give up her act and start being reasonable. But instead, her bluish-black lips twisted into a smile. “All right —”

  “Stop!” Kyleigh squirmed away from the axe. Her fingernails went white where they dug into Gwen’s arm. “Please, this isn’t a trick — she will kill me.”

  He didn’t understand. He had no idea what was going on between these two. Sure, Gwen had clubbed Kyleigh over the head with her axe — but then again, Kyleigh had broken Gwen’s nose. The fact that neither had killed the other could’ve only meant one thing:

  “I thought you were friends.”

  Gwen snarled in Kyleigh’s ear. “How many times have I got to tell you, pest? We aren’t friends — friends don’t try to bite each other’s arms off.”

  “Oh, please. That was barely a nibble.”

  “It ruined my winter! I had to sit inside all season while the other warriors — you know something? I’m tired of explaining it to you.”

  She raised the axe, and Kael ripped an arrow from his quiver. “Stop it! Look, I haven’t got a clue what this is. But if you hurt her, if you split one hair on her he
ad —”

  “You’ll kill me?”

  “I’ll destroy you,” he growled, when Gwen brought the axe close to Kyleigh’s throat. “You’ll be nothing more than a bloody smear on my boot heel. There’ll be so little left that not even the maggots will bother with you.”

  “Is that so?” The axe’s blade touched Kyleigh’s neck.

  Kael locked his arrow onto Gwen’s eye. “I’m warning you. There won’t be enough mercy to save you if you hurt her — not in this life or the next.”

  Her skin burned scarlet as she snarled: “I’ll take my —”

  “Stop!” Griffith threw his sword upon the ground and held up a hand. “They’re only playing. Please — don’t shoot my sister.”

  “Then tell your sister to get her axe away from my friend,” Kael growled.

  At his nod, Gwen shoved Kyleigh forward. She raised a brow as he lowered his arrow. “Would you have really shot at me?”

  “I’ve shot at you once already. It wouldn’t take much to convince me to do it again.”

  For some reason, this made Gwen smile rather widely.

  “Are you hurt?” Kael said as he pulled Kyleigh towards him. “Is your skull —?”

  “It’s fine,” she muttered, knocking his hand away. Then she waved to Gwen. “Come on, let’s get started.”

  “Wait a moment — get started on what, exactly?” He grabbed her arm before she could turn away. “I’m not letting you anywhere near that madwoman —”

  “Wildwoman,” Gwen cut in.

  Kael honestly didn’t see a difference.

  “The pest has committed crimes against our people,” Griffith said, waving at the wildmen.

  Kael groaned. “What did you do to them?”

  “Nothing they didn’t deserve.”

  “You led the wynns against us!” Gwen said.

  Kyleigh shrugged. “It seemed like the thing to do at the time.”

  Griffith quickly stepped between them. “Once the pest repays her debts, all will be forgiven. But until then, she’ll stay here with us as our prisoner.”