by Ben Wolf
Faylen grabbed ahold of Aeron, yanked him close, and kissed him.
Garrick’s eyebrows rose. At least they made up their minds.
Had Faylen’s kiss been an attack instead, it might’ve killed Aeron. As it was, her kiss still took Aeron’s breath away and nearly melted his legs into liquid.
Never had he wanted to kiss anyone more than he’d wanted to kiss Faylen, and now it was happening. But just as he started to try to return the kiss, to really lean into it and give it all he had, Faylen pulled back.
“I’m sorry.” She stepped away from him. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
“It’s fine,” Aeron said quickly. “Really, I—”
“No. I wouldn’t want someone to just force himself upon me. I shouldn’t have—”
“You weren’t forcing anything,” Aeron interjected. “I wanted it as much as you did.”
“Gods, this is awkward.” Faylen glanced around them, and Aeron, too, met the eyes of the other Blood Mercs.
It was awkward. Really awkward.
Aeron gulped down his embarrassment. “Faylen, I—”
“We all need to leave,” she cut in. “We’ve lingered here long enough. Too long.”
Aeron found Kent’s eyes for an instant, and Kent gave him a small nod.
What the nod meant, Aeron didn’t know for sure, but he took it to mean that he needed to act now, or he might never have the chance to do so again.
Aeron reached for Faylen, but before he could get ahold of her, she broke into a full run into the courtyard. He wanted to call after her, but he couldn’t risk shouting with Commander Brove and his men asleep in the fortress behind them.
Aeron glanced at Kent again, and this time he got only a small shrug. Then Kent, Garrick, and Mehta all made for the doorway as well. Now Aeron was the one lingering behind.
What was happening? Emotion swirled in his chest, and the wyvern wings fluttering in his stomach turned into throwing knives. He ached with regret, but what could he have done differently?
They had no time. He had to save Kallie, and Faylen was going her own way. Had he missed his chance forever?
Maybe not… if he could catch up to her in time.
Aeron ran after them, clanking along in his armor, each noisy step a new risk, but he persisted. His running pace slowed to a slog as he encountered the dark, snow-covered courtyard, lit only by the solitary torch in Kent’s hand. Aeron started digging into the top of his breastplate for the Wafer whistle.
Whoever had brought him into the jail hadn’t taken it from him. Perhaps they didn’t know what it was, or perhaps they hadn’t found it. Either way, he intended to use it as soon as he got clear of the courtyard. He could sense Wafer flying nearby.
At the far end of the courtyard, the remains of an archway stood adjacent to a pair of ruined walls. Ahead of Aeron, Faylen rushed through it, followed closely by Mehta, Kent, and Garrick.
The wing beats thundered overhead, and a reptilian shape dropped out of the sky before Faylen. It was Nilla, her wyvern, orange in color with purple stripes.
Aeron’s heart rate increased along with his running speed.
Was Faylen trying to run from him? From the connection they’d shared? Or was she truly just concerned about getting caught by Commander Brove and the others?
Aeron’s paced slowed as Faylen climbed atop Nilla’s back in a swift, smooth motion. He’d missed his chance, and the sourness in his gut confirmed his defeat.
“Get moving,” Faylen said to them from atop Nilla. “Obaris is due north of here. If you head east through the Thornback Mountains, you might catch up to Kallie and the others in time to save her.”
“We’re not going after her,” Aeron said between breaths. By now, his heart ached worse than his back ever had. “We have a different plan to save her. We’re gonna stick to it.”
“Do whatever you want. I’m heading south.”
“To Muroth?” Kent asked.
“Yes,” Faylen replied. “And perhaps to Inoth beyond that. I have family in southeastern Inoth. I’m going to bide my time there with Nilla and wait until Commander Brove’s ire has cooled before I move around the continent too much.”
“He won’t go after you,” Aeron said. “He wants me.”
And frankly, Aeron hoped he’d follow. Now, with awareness of Commander Brove’s proximity and the Blood Mercs on his side, Aeron wanted nothing more than another face-to-face encounter with him. Then they could settle this once and for all.
“I can’t count on that,” Faylen said. “And I don’t care what you do. Just don’t follow me. I don’t plan on leaving any trail as to where I’ve gone.”
“We won’t,” Garrick said. “We’re hunting bigger prey.”
“Good.” Faylen’s eyes locked onto Aeron’s in the flickering light of the torch.
The wind had calmed to virtually nothing, and snow fell around them in small flurries, so he could see her clearly. Part of him yearned to go with her, to try to find out what their future could be if he followed her instead. But doing so would condemn Kallie to death, and he refused to let that happen.
Aeron’s words failed him once again as he stared at Faylen, so he said, “Goodbye, Faylen. I hope we meet again.”
Faylen gave him a slow, sullen nod, then Nilla burst upward in an eruption of snow. They veered southward and disappeared into the inky black night.
Aeron sighed as sadness, loss, and regret racked him on the inside. He should’ve said something else, should’ve told her everything. Now, long after the last bit of warmth from her kiss had faded from his lips, he was as lost as he’d ever been.
“Aeron.” Kent’s gentle voice drew Aeron out of his malaise. “We must go.”
Aeron nodded. Then he put the Wafer whistle to his mouth and blew.
It was nearly dawn when the pull of the ice-forged dagger in Kent’s hand shifted ever so slightly. The Blood Mercs had fled the fortress hours earlier, and they hadn’t even stopped for a moment to breathe. Now they might finally have a reason to.
As the first rays of sunlight crept over the horizon, the dagger in Kent’s hand drew him to the east. It didn’t quite amount to a physical pull; rather he sensed it through his magic seeping into the dagger.
Kent had to carefully regulate his magic flow. The dagger pleaded with him, constantly trying to draw more out of him. He dared not give in for fear of what might happen.
It could end up draining him too quickly, or the dagger might unleash an icy power that would prove fatal to him, the other Blood Mercs, or both. It wasn’t worth the risk to find out—not until they knew more about god-forged weapons. For now, he had to contain his magic.
So when the dagger altered the flow of Kent’s magic, he recognized it immediately. He called to the others, “Something is happening.”
Garrick and Mehta, who were following Kent’s lead, caught up to him in a hurry. Garrick asked, “What?”
“The dagger. I feel some sort of pull.” Kent nodded toward the east. “That way.”
“Should we have Aeron scout ahead?” Garrick suggested.
“I would rather he stayed behind to ensure we are not being followed,” Kent replied. “If we are forced to flee or to turn and fight a squad of wyvern knights, I would prefer some reaction time beforehand.”
“Makes sense.” Garrick nodded. “Sun’s coming up. We’ll be easier to track now, too. We gotta find this place quick.”
“The sensation is just as Mehta’s Grandfather described. Something is calling to this dagger. I do not know what else it could be.”
“As long as whatever’s doing the calling doesn’t try to kill us, I’ll be happy.” Garrick motioned Kent forward. “Let’s go. We can’t waste time.”
Two hours passed, with the dagger’s pull growing ever stronger and clearer. It led them back into the mountains, and they hiked northeast, blazing their own trails through the snow-coated pines.
By the end of the third hour, as the winter sun sagged low in the
sky, Kent found he had to focus more and more to restrict the flow of his magic. They were getting close—very close.
A furious screech from behind and above jolted their steps, and they turned back for a look. Aeron and Wafer dropped out of the sky, gliding down toward them with abandon.
Before they even had a chance to land, Aeron shouted, “They found us! They’re coming!”
Given how close they were to the temple—if, in fact, that’s where the dagger was leading them—Garrick’s suggestion to send Aeron to scout ahead now made sense. Even if they couldn’t find an entrance, finding suitable cover or a more fortified position was essential.
Once Aeron landed, Kent shouted instructions, and Aeron and Wafer immediately took to the sky again. Then Kent turned his attention to Mehta and Garrick.
“We need to run,” Kent said, “more north than east at this point. Based on how the dagger is pulling, we must be close to the temple. Perhaps we can make it.”
“Then quit talking and move.” Garrick shoved past him and lumbered up the mountainside with Mehta right behind him.
Despite holding the dagger, Kent followed them, shouting directional changes as needed. It made more sense for him to bring up the rear. Mehta and Garrick couldn’t do much until the wyvern knights drew in close, but Kent could hurl all manner of magical attacks at them from the ground.
In the distance, multiple dots materialized in the sky. They didn’t have much time.
Kent turned and ran after the others, plowing through snow and navigating rocks and gorges and trees.
Not long after, Aeron and Wafer intercepted them. From the sky, Aeron shouted, “There’s an opening in the rocks a couple miles ahead. Looks like a cave, but it goes down instead of in. Might be a cavern.”
“Good enough!” Garrick shouted. “There are too many of them to fight out in the open. We need to even our odds.”
“We will not make it in time,” Kent said. “Can you and Wafer take us there?”
Aeron shook his head as he and Wafer landed. “Not all at once. Two trips, maybe. You and Mehta on one, Garrick on the other.”
Wafer snorted and glowered at Garrick, who returned the look with a glare of his own.
“I’ll stay,” Garrick said. “I’m the least vulnerable.”
“No,” Kent said. “Mehta and I should stay. I can do more harm to them than you can.”
“Not if they get close, and they will,” Garrick countered.
“We don’t have time to argue.” Aeron and Wafer took off again, and Wafer snatched Garrick by his arms and lifted him into the sky, albeit slowly and with great effort.
“Hey! Put me down!” Garrick squirmed at first, but as they ascended higher, he went still—all except for his mouth. He shouted, “You pricks better not get killed without me!”
Kent turned to Mehta. “I suggest you take cover nearby. You cannot do much with only a pair of knives right now, but you can watch my back. That will help me be confident in what I must do.”
“You might be surprised, but…” Mehta nodded. “I’ll keep you safe.”
“Thank you.”
As Mehta withdrew into some nearby pine trees, Kent considered the ice-forged dagger in his hand. If he flooded it with magic, it would unquestionably do something… but he didn’t know what. Could he control it? Could he bend it to his will?
Or would it bend him instead?
With more than a dozen wyvern knights closing in, he was about to find out. He didn’t have any better options, so he raised the dagger, pointed it at them, and loosed more of his magic into it.
All around him, the snow began to move. Kent fought to control it with his mind, focusing on huge masses of it all at once, clumping it together, and forcing it skyward. The snow lifted off of the ground, the rocks, and the trees to form a tube-shaped mass of densely packed ice, almost serpentine in appearance.
As Kent moved the dagger, the snow serpent moved as well. Then Kent thrust the dagger forward, pushing more magic to flow into it, and the snow serpent launched toward the incoming wyvern knights.
They tried to veer out of the way, but Kent commanded the snow again, and the snow serpent broke apart and battered the whole squad. Several of them dropped from the sky, but it would only slow them down.
The beginning of magic fatigue had already set in. The dagger had amplified his power but at a high cost. Even so, he wondered what more this dagger could enable him to do.
As the wyverns began to recover and regroup into a flying formation, this time more spread out, Kent pointed the dagger at one of them. They were probably less than a mile away now, and he could just barely distinguish between rider and mount.
He pumped magic into the dagger, hoping for a reaction like that of the snow steel sword Garrick had used to carry. The dagger didn’t disappoint.
A blue-white beam burst from the dagger’s tip, easily ten times the diameter of the dagger itself, and it cut through the air toward the wyvern knights. The wyvern knights scattered well ahead of it, but as they did, the beam broke apart and chased after them, curling in the air as if seeking them out on its own.
In his mind’s eye, Kent followed each of them at first, but he couldn’t maintain more than a dozen individual beams. The experience nearly fractured his mind, so he abandoned them all except for one, and he watched it in his mind as it chased the nearest wyvern knight before his eyes.
The beam hit the wyvern in its side, freezing it and its rider solid in midair. The image in Kent’s mind snapped away, and he watched as the wyvern and the knight plummeted out of the sky, encased in ice together. When they hit the rocks below, they shattered into hundreds of frozen pieces.
It had been an incredible experience, but it had worn Kent’s magic out. He breathed slow breaths as his body strained to replenish his magic.
He didn’t really know how his magic levels worked; the old tomes he’d read on the subject had never given a firm explanation of the process, but they had certainly emphasized the importance of not straining too much. The results were always catastrophic and oftentimes fatal.
The wyvern knights regrouped again and drew nearer as Aeron and Wafer landed behind Kent and Mehta.
Kent continued to hold the dagger, and it continued pulling at his magic, but he refused to give it any more. Instead, he forced his aching legs to move his body toward Wafer. He took hold of Aeron’s extended arm and pulled himself up—or maybe Aeron pulled him up instead—onto Wafer’s back.
Mehta climbed up behind Kent, then Wafer’s wings pounded the air, and they rose off the ground in a hurry.
Kent glanced back. The wyvern knights had closed to within shouting distance. One good spear throw might very well hit Wafer. And if it was a spear like the one Commander Brove had confiscated from Aeron, it might even take Wafer down.
That was a lot of “ifs,” though. By Kent’s estimation, the odds were infinitesimal at best.
As the Blood Mercs flew over the mountains, the wyvern knights closed in, and Kent’s magic continued to restore. The fatigue lessened, and his focus returned.
Back when he’d first discovered his magic, Kent had tried so hard to hide it, to suppress it. He would’ve given anything to expunge it from his life once and for all.
Now he relied on it as if it were air, and not having enough of it left him empty and drained.
As Wafer descended toward a hole yawning at them from the mountains below, Kent glanced back at the wyverns again. They’d closed to well within spearing distance now, but with Wafer descending, and with the added weight from Mehta and Kent on his back, gravity helped to widen the gap between them.
Jagged stone formations jutted up from the edges of the hole below, wreathed in snow, but even with his wings fully extended, Wafer had plenty of clearance all around to lower them into the cavern.
But that meant the wyvern knights pursuing them had just as much clearance to follow, and they did. As Wafer touched down on the snow-covered cavern floor, the wyvern knights po
ured into the cavern after them. Mehta and Kent quickly dismounted so Aeron and Wafer could get airborne again.
Garrick had taken cover behind some boulders off to one side, but now he ran toward them with those phantom steel weapons in his hands. A visage of primal rage had seized his face as it had before, in the village, when last he’d used the weapons.
Now fully rejuvenated, Kent loosed his magic into the dagger once again. But this time, as he did, the dagger refused to obey him.
Instead, it reacted on its own.
That’s when Kent realized the dagger’s pull had never been stronger. And this time it was pulling straight down.
As the wyvern knights swirled above them, the cavern floor cracked open. Kent stumbled, trying to maintain his balance, and Mehta crouched low to counter all the shaking around them. The floor split all the way from one side to the other, dividing the cavern in two.
Had Kent caused this? Had the dagger somehow made this happen? Or was it something else?
Mehta and Kent were on one side of the fissure, and Garrick was on the other. The rock floor tumbled away, down into the chasm below, disintegrating until the gap had widened to several hundred feet across.
All the while, Kent alternated his focus between Garrick, the wyverns flying overhead, and the ever-widening crevice before them.
Then a wall of ice erupted from within the fissure like a thundering geyser, piercing through the cavern and out the opening at the top. The ice separated several of the wyverns from their comrades, and it separated Mehta and Kent from Aeron, Wafer, and Garrick.
At the top, the ice splayed out and filled the opening to the cavern, blocking any hope of escape, even for the wyverns trapped on Mehta and Kent’s side. Whether or not it had done the same thing on Aeron and Garrick’s side, Kent didn’t know, but it didn’t matter now.
What mattered was surviving whatever came next. And what came at them next were the wyvern knights on their side of the ice wall, led by Commander Brove himself.
Chapter Sixteen
