Draekora

by Lynette Noni

  “Last night was interesting,” she offered, directing their conversation away from the danger zone of the Claiming ritual. “You have a lot of… friends. I didn’t realise there were so many other people willing to rebel against the king’s consideration for mortals.”

  A wondering light glistened in Aven’s eyes. “Willing to rebel?”

  Alex looked at him strangely. “Uh, yeah. Isn’t that what you’re all doing?”

  “You’re saying we’re rebels?”

  “Aven, what…” She trailed off as the translation washed over her and she realised just how ridiculous this moment was in the paradigm of time.

  “I like that,” Aven mused in the common tongue, not waiting for her to finish her question. “Rebels. We are the Garseth.”

  Alex wasn’t sure whether to laugh incredulously or punch herself in the face. Who would have thought it was she who originally gave Aven the name for his followers? She might as well have offered to have her teeth pulled out one by one, so acute was the horror of what she’d just done.

  “But, yes,” Aven continued, “essentially that is what we are. Ignoring your brief, unpleasant run-in with Skraegon—”

  Unpleasant run-in? Alex scoffed to herself, remembering the brute lunging for her. And that was after he’d suggested Aven take the throne for himself. ‘Unpleasant’ didn’t quite cover how she would describe their encounter.

  “—I’m glad you were able to see last night what we stand for; that our cause is just and valid. Can you disagree with that?”

  “I can,” Alex said instantly. Aven’s fervour dimmed and his expression morphed into disappointment, so she explained, “There’s a saying amongst mortals: ‘Don’t bite the hand that feeds you.’” She paused to let that sink in and then continued, “If you were to place a wolf cub in the care of a herd of sheep, that cub would grow up loving the sheep, not seeing them as its next meal. And if another wolf was to come along and threaten the cub’s adopted family, can you blame that cub for doing whatever it could to protect its sheep? To protect its family?”

  Aven’s face softened again. “We’re your family now, Aeylia.”

  Unwilling to let his declaration sway her, Alex responded, “That’s what the new wolf would likely say to the cub, too.”

  They looked into each other’s eyes for a long while, but soon Aven’s lips moved up into a reluctant smile.

  “Such loyalty,” he said, sounding awed. “Yet they’ll never know how fortunate they are to have a cub like you protecting them.”

  “I still have to manage that feat,” Alex said. Sensing it was time to let go of the heavy metaphor that meant more to her than Aven could yet know, she poked him lightly in the ribs and finished, “And that’s something I have a feeling you and your merry bunch of Rebels will be making increasingly difficult for me.”

  With a chuckle, all Aven said was, “It will certainly be interesting to see if the wolf or the cub end up winning the battle for the sheep.”

  Like an icy droplet of water, a shiver ran down her spine at the strikingly valid analogy.

  Aven pushed off the table, standing to his full height as he looked down at Alex, his expression thoughtful.

  “You know, all this talk of wolves and sheep, it does beg the question,” he said, reaching out to trace his fingers across the cover of the book Alex had slammed shut upon his arrival.

  Following his actions closely with her eyes, she asked, “And what question is that?”

  “What if the sheep spent so much time with their cub that they started to think they’d rather be wolves themselves?” Aven asked, his tone pensive. “What if the real wolves had to find a way to control the sheep, to make sure they didn’t try to become something more than they were? A sheep can never be a wolf, no matter how much it might wish to be.” He gazed thoughtfully down at the closed book. “What if the wolves discovered a way to keep the sheep in line, if they found a way to…” He trailed off, his brow furrowed in thought.

  “Aven,” Alex breathed, her heart heavy with dread. “Are we—Are we still talking about animals?”

  Just as quietly he returned, “You know we were never talking about animals, Aeylia.” A fire lit in his eyes as he continued looking at the book, his expression calculating. “I have to admit,” he said in a voice so hushed Alex had to lean in to catch it, “if it wasn’t forbidden, I’d be curious as to the effect the Menada dae Loransa would have on a mortal. I don’t believe it’s ever been tested.”

  It was then that fear took complete hold of Alex, “That would be—You can’t—It’s not—” She couldn’t finish a single sentence, so acute was her distress at the idea that she might have been the catalyst for the future Aven’s decision to start actively using the forbidden blood-bonding ritual.

  Sensing her anguish, Aven hastily laughed off his words. “Of course, no Meyarin would ever be immoral enough to attempt such an act. The stealing of one’s will…” He shook his head. “I can’t imagine anything worse. But it’s a curious thing to hypothesise the potential influence on mortals, even if we’ll never know the answer.” He resolutely pushed the book away. “Now, Aeylia, it seems I’ve been entirely distracted from the reason I originally came to find you.”

  Feeling cold all over, Alex managed to pull herself together to ask, “And what reason is that?”

  “The best reason there is,” he returned. “Food.”

  “Food?”

  “I’m starving,” he explained. “I’m meeting Niyx at De Talen and between you and me, I’d much prefer your added company.” He winked at her and she forced herself to dredge up a smile, despite the ice still flooding her veins.

  “I’m not sure…” she said, looking at the books laid on the table and hoping they would provide an excuse to avoid spending time with him. What she really needed was to get her thoughts in line and come to grips with just how badly she might be responsible for future Aven’s deplorable actions.

  “I won’t take no for an answer,” he said, his dark mood all but gone in the face of his renewed cheerfulness. “You look like you’re in desperate need of a break.”

  Alex didn’t doubt it. In fact, she felt so lightheaded that she wondered if she just might pass out.

  “I—”

  “And I’ll make you a deal,” Aven interrupted, cutting off her next attempt at a refusal. He picked up another heavy book from the pile, one of the ancient history texts she’d collected. “I’m guessing you pulled this out for a reason?”

  She hesitantly nodded, unsure what he was getting at.

  “Well, here’s something you don’t know about me.” He leaned down to whisper, as if it were a secret, “I’m obsessed with history. I’ve read every book in this library on the subject. So I’ll tell you what; if you come out to lunch with us for a little while, take a break from all this research, then I’ll come back with you afterwards and answer any questions you have. That’ll save you poring through book after book to find whatever you’re looking for. Sound good?”

  Judging by his expression, there was no way Aven was going to accept an excuse. He actually wanted to spend time with her, as mental as that was. So she might as well take advantage of his offer.

  “I suppose I could have a short break,” Alex said, shoving aside all thoughts of forbidden rituals as she stood to her feet. “But I’ll warn you, I expect some quality answers when we get back here.”

  “You have my word,” Aven said, his voice lowering to finish, “I’ll be all yours.”

  Twenty-Five

  Hours later, Alex was back in the library on her own again. True to Aven’s word, after a casual and admittedly fun lunch with both him and Niyx, the prince had returned Alex to the palace and spent the afternoon answering her questions. For the most part, she had been curious to finally learn something about the reference she’d heard only in passing—Tia Auras.

  Unfortunately, despite Aven’s vast knowledge of history, he wasn’t able to help her much because there was very little he kn
ew himself regarding the world from which his people had originated.

  Alex had found that difficult to believe at first, certain the Meyarins would have a long account of how they had arrived in Medora—and why. But Aven’s frustration was clear when he admitted to wishing he knew more. Apparently all records dating back to when his race was banished from Tia Auras were shared by word of mouth only and held as closely guarded secrets known only to the most ancient of Meyarins.

  Both fascinated and disappointed, Alex still managed to learn at least a few things from Aven. Like how the Meyarins referenced the ‘stars’ and ‘light’ as verbal exclamations because, while they didn’t hold to a higher religious belief per se, they acknowledged the supreme power of light and its ability to break through darkness. Even after Aven’s explanation, Alex wasn’t entirely sure if he’d been speaking figuratively or not.

  She was also surprised to learn that the Library—Soraya de lah Torra—was built by the Tia Aurans. Or perhaps, like the Meyarins, it was originally from Tia Auras. Aven was a tad sketchy on which version was true, again claiming his otherworldly history to be limited. But either way, the Library of Legend was also known by a second name in the lyrical language of the Tia Aurans: Tu’eh L’randae ess Relana. Aven translated it to mean ‘The Cascade of Light’, but thanks to Xiraxus, who apparently spoke fluent Tia Auran, Alex internally corrected the name to actually mean, ‘The Fountain of Life’. Regardless of which was more accurate, neither made sense to Alex since the Library wasn’t a flowing source of water, light or life. Even the Tia Aurans’ first name for it—‘The Light of the Worlds’—didn’t fit. But hey, who was she to judge? So long as the Library continued being a library and didn’t suddenly up and transform into a river, she was okay calling it whatever they wanted.

  The last thing Aven was able to provide any information on was A’enara. Again, his knowledge was annoyingly limited, telling her much the same as Roka; that the blade was wrought by the Tia Aurans and known by many different titles. He also theorised that when it disappeared from sight, it most likely vanished into the abrassa, biding its time until it was called back from the Void. What he couldn’t tell her was how that actually worked, or why it was bound to her to begin with. Nor was he able to explain how it could change size at will.

  As for its new fiery development, Aven presumed, like Roka, that it was linked to her vaeliana with Xiraxus. When he asked to hold A’enara to see if he was right, Alex nearly broke out in hives, but she couldn’t exactly say, ‘No way, José!’ and run madly out of the room. So she cautiously passed the pommel over to him by the tips of her fingers, careful not to let the flames burn him. The moment he held it in his hands, the fire disappeared… but A’enara didn’t. Nervous for a number of reasons, Alex made up some joking speech about him stealing candy from a baby and laughingly asked for her ‘pretty sword’ back. He just grinned at her and did as she requested, causing her to twitch with relief the moment the blade was back in her possession and released once again into the Void.

  She still had many questions about A’enara and the Tia Aurans, but she would just have to hope that the future might hold more answers for her. Perhaps if Kaiden had already found out something about the weapon, she could trace the information back to the creators of A’enara and why they banished the Meyarins.

  It was a long shot, but there were clearly no more answers for her in the past, none easily open to her, anyway. She could, of course, seek out an ancient Meyarin who remembered Tia Auras, but she feared drawing too much attention to herself and thought it best to discourage further unwanted scrutiny.

  Regardless of her decision to stop researching the otherworlders, after following Aven to dinner where they had a quiet meal alone with Astophe and Niida, Alex retreated to the library again, deciding that it couldn’t hurt to take advantage of all that knowledge while she could. Aven offered an apology, saying he had to be elsewhere—and she knew by his meaningful glance he was off to meet with more Garseth.

  Alex was deep in the middle of reading about the past recorded instances of known draekon bondings—none of which had occurred in over a thousand years, none enacted with anyone other than an immortal and none of whom were still alive today—when, just as she was turning the page, a hand came down on her shoulder.

  Letting out a girlish squeal of fright, Alex reacted on instinct and flew back from her chair, hissing in pain when her fingers slid along the edge of the page as she jumped to her feet.

  “Sorry, Aeylia,” Roka said, laughing as he held his hands up in apology. “I didn’t realise you were so out of it.”

  “Jeez, Roka!” Alex said, her adrenaline spiked. “Make some noise next time!”

  She shook her stinging hand through the air and, noticing her reaction, he asked, “Are you all right?”

  “It’s just a paper cut,” she replied, distracted by trying to convince her nerves to settle again from her fright. “It sounds lame, but they hurt worse than stab wounds sometimes.”

  “I truly didn’t mean to scare you,” Roka said, full of contrition. “Let me see the damage.”

  “Really, I’m just being a wuss,” she said, turning her finger around. “See? It’s barely a scratch. Just stings like hell.”

  It was a mark of just how much she wasn’t thinking that even when Roka’s body locked, she still didn’t realise the catastrophic enormity of what she had just done.

  Before she could offer up more reassurance to the suddenly stricken-looking Meyarin, his hand flashed out to grip her wrist, holding her arm in place.

  “Roka, what—” She trailed off when his eyes moved from her finger up to her face and she read the emotions there: Confusion. Fear. Anger.

  Alex looked back at her hand and gasped loudly as belated understanding washed over her. She violently yanked her arm from his grip and curled her fingers tightly, hiding the miniscule drop of red—so very red—blood from view. But it was too late; the damage had been done.

  “Roka,” she whispered, feeling her face pale. “Roka, please. I can—I can explain.”

  His eyes were wild. “What manner of deceit is this?”

  “Just—Just give me a second and hear me out,” Alex begged.

  Roka started backing away from her, but she followed quickly after him.

  “This is wrong,” he said, his voice low, horrified. “I—You—” He stopped retreating and inhaled a staggered breath. “You’re a Meyarin—I’ve fought you as a Meyarin! You’re bonded to a draekon and you can call forth the Valispath, and yet… your blood… How can this be?”

  “Roka, please,” Alex repeated urgently. “Just listen to what I—”

  His face darkened as his gaze locked on her still tightly fisted hand, betrayal hitting his eyes. “You lied to me. You’ve been lying to all of us. You’re—You’re one of them, aren’t you?”

  “Roka—”

  “Answer me! ”

  At his roar, Alex jumped in fright, her hand automatically opening again, allowing his gaze to narrow in on the small smear of red at the tip of her index finger.

  The fury blazing in his eyes caused Alex to tremble outwardly as prickles of electricity fired along her nerve endings, so acute was her feeling of dread. She didn’t know what to do; she didn’t know how to respond in the face of his wrath, in the face of her deceit. She mouthed his name, unable to call up any sound to form a response, and something in him snapped, sending him stumbling away from her. She reached out a hand to stop him, but it was too late. He activated the Valispath and disappeared without once looking back.

  Shaking fiercely, Alex reacted on instinct. She knew she was too upset to even think about being calm enough to tune into her Meyarin abilities and call up the Valispath, so she did the only thing she could. She bolted.

  Running through the palace, hurtling past startled Meyarins going about their own business, Alex was blind to everything as she sprinted as fast as her legs could carry her.

  Alex! What’s happened?

 
; Her steps faltered as Xiraxus screamed into her mind, his voice filled with concern as he registered her fear. Barely keeping from tripping over her own feet, she continued her mad dash along the hallways and spiral staircases, answering him as she flew through the palace.

  Xira, I was so stupid! she cried. I need to get out of here!

  Where are you?

  Heart pounding and panting heavily from fear, she answered, Nearly back at my room.

  I’m on my way.

  That was all he said. He was coming for her, no questions, no hesitations.

  Almost dizzy from her whirlwind of emotions, Alex tore along the corridors, cursing the enormity of the Meyarin palace and her limited human speed. Without being able to use the Valispath, it was a mission to get anywhere in a rush, but Alex still made it back to her room in record time, throwing the door open and slamming it behind her. She skidded to a halt and stood frozen in place, so terrified that she couldn’t gather a clear thought as to what to do next.

  A massive shadow blocked the glow of the city under the moonlight, followed quickly by a thump as Xiraxus landed precariously on the edge of her balcony, his massive body barely able to maintain a foothold. Seeing him there, with his black scales melting into the night and his anxious eyes shining bright in the darkness, Alex didn’t hesitate. She darted straight for him, taking a running leap to scramble up the side of his body.

  The moment she was secure with her arms gripping tightly at the base of his neck, she screamed, “Go, go, go!”

  He didn’t need any more encouragement to heave his body off the spiralling tower, freefalling until his wings caught a wind current and hoisted them back into the air.

  Only when the radiant city was far below them did Alex start to calm somewhat, the trembles running through her frame easing as the distance between her and Roka increased.

  Show me, Alex, Xiraxus said gently, soaring them ever upwards through the night’s sky.

  Somehow he must have known she was beyond words, so she did as he asked and sent him her memory with Roka, still in disbelief over her carelessness. For ten days she had managed to avoid sparring with him so she could keep him from accidentally spilling her blood—and just like that, it was all over. She couldn’t believe that of all things to have given away her mortality, a miniscule paper cut was to blame.