Dragonsbane

by Shae Ford

  By that point, Baird had begun to complain loudly about all of the noise — and warned that if he didn’t have some peace, he’d be forced to do something drastic. So rather than have to find out what that might be, Kael had hung the broken door back into place and jogged straight for the forge.

  He didn’t know what Gwen planned to do with him … but he knew there was safety in numbers. “She thinks I forced them into it,” Kael muttered as he paced. “She said I entranced them with my Wright visions.”

  Kyleigh raised her brows. “Well, did you?”

  “Of course not. I only wanted to see how Titus beat them. Then the things they showed me were so … horrible. They were so badly broken. I could feel they’d given up, and they had no reason to!” He pinched the arch of his nose, trying to hold his frustration back. “I just — I wanted them to see what I could see. I wanted them to know what they’re capable of.”

  “Frustrating, isn’t it?” Kyleigh muttered.

  He didn’t think that was entirely fair. “I never would’ve known what I was had it not been for the wildmen. It was like trying to look at a map through a pinhole! And I don’t think — oh, give that here.”

  He grabbed the axe and shaft she’d been trying to fit and pushed them together. The metal swirled into the wood as he twisted it, sealing them tighter than any blacksmith could’ve possibly done. When he was finished, he held the axe aloft. It looked exactly like Gwen’s axe, except it had two heads — and it was made of steel.

  “The end of an era,” Kyleigh said with a sigh. “The wildmen will have to learn to be something other than dragonslayers.”

  Kael had doubted before. But after seeing the warriors’ confusion for himself, he was starting to believe. “It’s really true then, isn’t it? They’ve done nothing but chase monsters through the mountains for centuries on end.”

  She nodded. “One of the old Kings sent their ancestors into the Valley long ago. He swore that if they could drive the monsters out, they could keep the land for themselves. That’s why they call their leaders Thanes.”

  Kael supposed it made sense. “But they never finished their task, did they?”

  Kyleigh shook her head. “The dragonslayers chased the monsters straight up the Unforgivable Mountains and to the very top, where they planned to shove them off into the northern seas. But the monsters put up a desperate fight — and as the battle raged on, the eternal winter slowly warped them both. The monsters became the wynns, and the dragonslayers became wildmen.

  “Gwen’s people have wasted ages fighting an ancient battle,” Kyleigh said with a sigh. “The wynns lure them out of their castle, and the wildmen chase the wynns to the cliffs above the northern seas. Back and forth they’ve gone for generations, neither side ever gaining much ground over the other. The wynns won’t leave and the wildmen won’t give in. Their children grow up knowing that they’ll likely die at each others’ hands.”

  Kael groaned as he sank to the ground. “How am I ever going to convince her to go to war? How do you convince somebody with mules for forefathers?” An idea came to him suddenly. “Am I allowed to caddoc Gwen?”

  “Oh, Kael — you don’t want to do that. Not if she’s really sworn to salt your heart and eat it.”

  He was certain she’d only been joking about that … well, he was half-certain. Still, he didn’t see another way around it. “If I beat her in front of all the wildmen, she’ll have to listen to me. She’s probably going to attack me anyways, so I might as well get her first.”

  Kyleigh gave him a serious look. “Speaking as somebody who’s had many fond battles with Gwen over the years, let me offer you a warning: there is an end to her goodwill. She’s spitting mad right now, and if you push her any closer to the brink, she’ll kill you.”

  Kael didn’t understand. “I thought the two of you were just friends who sort of hated each other. Has she really tried to kill you?”

  Kyleigh was silent for a long moment. “Do you remember the day you found me in the woods and my head was all bashed in?”

  His gut twisted into a knot. “Don’t tell me …”

  “I never saw it coming,” she said with a sigh. “One moment I was soaring over the battlefield, leading the wynns into her flank. And the next,” she slapped her hands together, “Gwen had knocked me out of the sky. She jumped from one of the castle towers and clubbed me over the head with that blasted great axe of hers. Then she rode me into the ground.

  “I managed to escape, of course. I still don’t think she realizes just how badly I was wounded. I don’t think she ever meant to kill me. Part of me likes to think that she regrets it …” Kyleigh smiled hard. “But the other part isn’t entirely sure.”

  Mercy’s sake. He’d always wondered how Kyleigh had gotten wounded. He’d imagined a dozen different ways it might’ve happened — but none had involved a wildwoman leaping from a castle.

  “The Gwen you know might be sagging a bit at the breeches. But if you prod her, you’ll regret it. Look …” Kyleigh tugged hard on the end of her pony’s tail, and the blaze of her eyes went dark. “I know what to do with Gwen.”

  “Really? What?”

  She shook her head. Her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes as she said: “Don’t worry about it, whisperer. Just leave it to me.”

  *******

  Nothing he said could convince Kyleigh to tell him what she had planned. So when evening fell, he followed her rather grumpily to dinner.

  “Hmm, quail stew. Ah!” Baird spat the broth back into his bowl and waved a hand over his tongue. “Oh, it’s hot!”

  “Well, what’d you expect? It’s been bubbling in a cauldron for hours,” Kael said impatiently. Then he turned back to Kyleigh. “Are you going to fight her?”

  “No, I’m not going to fight her.”

  “You are though, aren’t you? You’re just going to say it was mischief, or something.”

  An amused half smile bent her lips, but she didn’t reply.

  Kael knew he wasn’t going to get it out of her, no matter how he tried. So he busied himself by glancing around the room for trouble. “Where’s Griffith?”

  “He said he had chills,” Baird mumbled from around a mouthful of stew. Sweat beaded furiously over his bandages as he forced it down his knobby throat. “Gah! Oh, that’s hot! Young Griffith said he had the shivers, so I put him in one of the cots.”

  Kael sighed. Gwen was probably going to blame him for that, as well.

  Kyleigh tapped him on the shoulder, interrupting his thoughts. “I just realized that I never thanked you for the gifts.”

  “And you’ll never have to,” he said firmly.

  “But I want to. Thank you for the bed, and the trousers.”

  He glanced down absently. “They seem to fit well.”

  “They do. Remarkably so. Which makes what I’m about to do all the more difficult.”

  Kael didn’t have a chance to reply — he didn’t even have a moment to fully grasp her words. All at once, a familiar icy-wet slap to the face blurred his vision. He wiped the moisture from his eyes and saw the empty cup in Kyleigh’s hand. He saw it, but his mind struggled to grasp it.

  The empty cup was in Kyleigh’s hand.

  Kyleigh’s.

  The wildmen shoved him off the bench and into the middle of the room. Had it not been for their urging, he didn’t think he could have made it there himself. Black clouds filled his chest. Their fumes made his head light while the rest of his limbs sagged as if they belonged to a giant.

  He didn’t hear what Kyleigh said to Gwen. He didn’t know what joke she made that had the wildmen laughing while Gwen’s face burned red. When Kyleigh turned around, the sound of her bare feet scraping the floor was the only sound he heard; hers were the only eyes he saw. And he could think of only one word to say:

  “No.”

  She raised her fists. “Hand-to-hand combat, and no shortcuts — you can’t put me to sleep.” She smiled hard. “We fight until one of us is knocked out.”


  “Kyleigh, no. I’m not —”

  Her fist collided with his jaw. Every thread of her impossible strength, every cord of iron-bending muscle charged hot behind her blow. His head snapped back, but he stayed on his feet.

  He felt the familiar looseness in his limbs as the warrior edge of his mind tried to take over. His eyes wanted to search her stance for weakness, but he forced them to stay still. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

  More blows came, but he hardly felt them. He tried to understand the confusion of being struck so hard by someone he loved. He tried to separate the sudden fury in Kyleigh’s eyes from the warmth he was certain was still there.

  And while his mind struggled to make sense of what was happening, his warrior edge protected him. It grew stronger and more insistent with every blow. He fought to hold onto his reason, but it was becoming more difficult to push the numbness back.

  “I’m not going to hit you.” The words felt strange on his lips. Perhaps it had something to do with the wet warmth that trickled down his chin. “I’ll stand here all night if I have to.”

  The fire in her eyes swelled as she circled him. “Then I’ll beat you again tomorrow night,” she whispered. “And the night after that. And while you stand there with your arms crossed, Titus will rule the mountains. This is what Gwen wants — it’s the only way to convince her that you’re strong. You’ve got to defeat the one beast in the mountains she never could.” Her fist slammed into his nose. “You’ve got to beat me.”

  Hot blood rushed down his face like a cleansing fire, driving out his confusion. The blaze in Kyleigh’s eyes assured him: she was strong, she was ready. She could shoulder his blows. If this was what had to be done, then he would do it. He would break his heart once more if it meant some greater good might rise from the pieces.

  With that thought, the warrior in him took over completely — its roar rattled the insides of his ears. The black clouds gave way to its fury and a cool wind filled his lungs. The earth dissolved beneath his feet until the only thing left was Kyleigh.

  Then Kael struck back.

  He clipped her chin, but she darted away. He ducked beneath her next swing and tried to kick her feet out from under her, but she leapt. He had to roll to miss the fall of her heel — a blow that splintered the wood where his head had been only moments before.

  Her movements were all there — they were branded into his memory from the hours he’d spent fighting her aboard Anchorgloam. Each tilt of her chin and dart of her eyes had meaning. He read them and reacted quickly. The patterns of her steps were the words of a familiar song: he knew which line came next. He followed the verses patiently and tried to leap ahead.

  But she was ready for him.

  Her elbow came down into his palm. He twisted, but she was gone — popped out of his grasp and already circling at his back. A blow aimed for his head was only a feint. He realized this when he heard the thud of her fist striking his middle. It wouldn’t happen again. He stored that verse alongside a hundred others and waited for the next.

  Slowly, he became aware of the drumbeats that’d joined their song. The pounding of the wildmen’s fists upon the table boomed beneath the noise of their fight. It thrummed in the silence between blows; it drowned out the grunts and desperate shuffling of their feet.

  Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom.

  Fists crashed against flesh. Elbows pounded into ribs.

  Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom.

  She whirled to the right, but he was already there. He swung an arm for her face, but she knocked it aside. The kick she aimed for his ribs stuck against his palm. Her heel lashed out as he flipped her, clipping his jaw.

  Boom. Boom. Boom.

  Sweat lathered her face and neck. Her chest rose with heavy breaths. He circled, hungry and waiting — his head fogged with the thrill of the fight. She lunged.

  Boom. Boom.

  Her feet moved in a familiar pattern. He was two steps ahead. When he cut her off, she swung for his face.

  He read the tilt of her chin, followed the line cast by the corners of her eyes and knew instantly what was coming next. The blow aimed for his head was a feint — her other fist would come crashing into his middle at any second. She would expect him to block it, to step back or dodge. But instead, he would bring his fist overhead.

  He saw himself standing high above her, the power of the earth quickening his blow. His fist cut downward — the tail of a star trailing a white-hot line across the sky. The fire in her eyes dimmed as her fist struck his middle … the flames sputtered back into the green when she saw that star screaming towards her face …

  Boom.

  Either complete silence or a noise beyond reckoning had enveloped the Hall — Kael wasn’t sure. He saw the wildmen’s mouths open; saw the fire in their eyes and the trembling of the tables as their fists came down. But for some reason, he couldn’t hear them.

  The numbness left his limbs as he struggled out of his trance. The fog drained from his ears and the pure, deafening noise rushed in. Wildmen leapt from their benches, chanting his name. They formed a wall of bodies, howling and leaping over one another. Even some of the downmountain folk joined in.

  Slowly, the noise faded and the wall of bodies drifted apart. Gwen stepped out from between them, fists clenched at her sides. By the time she came to Kael, the Hall had fallen deathly silent.

  She wasn’t angry. There was only the slightest pink tinge behind her paint. There was an edge in her eyes that he thought might’ve been trouble, but he realized it was more excitement than anything. When she spoke, her voice was calm — and loud enough for all the wildmen to hear:

  “You’ve managed to do something I never could, not in a lifetime of trying — and you’ve done it without a weapon. She’s too proud a creature to have let you win.” She looked down at the ground between them, and her smirk was tempered slightly by her surprise. “I honestly never thought she’d face you. But now that she has, I suppose I’ll have to keep my word. The wildmen will follow you to the summit, Kael the Wright.”

  The Hall erupted again, but Kael wasn’t listening.

  All at once, he remembered what he’d done. He looked down and saw Kyleigh’s unconscious form crumpled beneath him. Her brows and lips were smooth. He might’ve thought she was only sleeping … had it not been for the angry red lump that swelled over her jaw.

  “Kyleigh!”

  The wildmen swarmed in before he could reach her. Their laughter stung his ears. Their celebration made him sick. They wrapped their hands around him and tried to pull him away. They tried to separate him from Kyleigh.

  It was a mistake.

  “Move!” Kael roared. The word rang sharply at its end and the wildmen stumbled away, shoved back by the force of his command.

  The Hall fell silent as he picked Kyleigh up from the ground. The heat of his anger made her light. He held her with her head resting against his chest.

  “Open the doors.”

  It wasn’t whispercraft, but the wildmen still leapt to obey.

  Mutters filled the Hall as he left, but Kael didn’t care. The village passed in a blur. He kicked the forge doors in and slammed them shut behind him. He laid Kyleigh out on the bed and gently touched her jaw.

  Her hand shot up.

  “No, stop that. I’m going to heal you.”

  Her eyes burned defiantly.

  “Do you want me to put you to sleep?”

  The blaze died down.

  “I didn’t think so.” He moved her hand aside and placed his fingers at her jaw. “Hold still.”

  He didn’t want to hurt her any more than he already had, so he tried to make her numb. He concentrated on the muddled feeling just before sleep and watched her eyes fall hooded. When her glare had softened a bit, he went to work.

  Her jaw was badly bruised. He massaged the swollen skin carefully, easing the traumatized flesh beneath it. The red retreated and the lump shrank down under his fingertips. When he was done with her jaw, he
found other bruises: there were lumps on her forearms, ribs and shins. He bit his lip hard when he found a red mark on the side of her face — a mark he could match perfectly with the flat of his hand.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered when he was finished. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Don’t be. You were lovely.”

  He thought that was an odd thing to say. When he looked up, he could tell by the silliness of her grin that she was still numb — lost on the shores of sleep. He realized that she probably wouldn’t remember anything when she woke … and he saw his chance.

  “Why did you blow the roof off the Hall the first time I fought Griffith?”

  Her hand came up, clumsily brushing his lips. “I’m fond of you, Kael. I don’t want to see you hurt.”

  Lightness flooded him in such a rush that he feared his heart might actually float from his chest. He twined his fingers in hers and whispered: “Sleep. It’s time to sleep.”

  He watched her eyes close and held her hand long after she’d drifted off. Then he pulled the fur covers up to her chin and slipped outside — pausing to fix the shattered door on his way.

  His broken nose throbbed horribly. Blood dried to his teeth and chin. But he didn’t care. The moon could’ve tumbled straight from the sky and he probably wouldn’t have noticed. His head was miles high and away, lost somewhere above the clouds.

  After what she’d said to him in the forge that day, after the way her voice had softened as she spoke of the first time they’d met — he’d suspected. But now he knew for sure.

  He pushed through the hospital door, past the lumpy cot that was probably Griffith, and sprinted back to the office. By the time he stopped in the doorway, he was grinning so widely that his busted lip had split anew.

  Baird’s head lifted from the Atlas. “Ah, I hear the eager steps of a man with happy news. Come on, then — out with it.”

  The words burst from between Kael’s grin before he could stop them: “She’s fond of me.”

  Baird slapped a hand upon the desk. “Good for you! Who’s the lucky girl?”

  Kael was too warm to be frustrated, too light to care. “Goodnight, Baird,” he said as he turned away.