by Jada Fisher
She stepped forward, willing herself to call on that power, to make it ripple out in a wave and abolish any of the men who thought their hate gave them an excuse to hurt others. But she never got that far.
Not because she couldn’t or that someone distracted her with an attack, or even that she lost control of her magic. No, it was because one moment, she was striding forward, and the next, something slammed into the ground just in front of her, sending her flying backwards.
She landed against Voirdr, all sharp spikes and hard scales, scrambling to her feet to fight back. Except there was nothing to fight back against, because it was the body of a dragon that had crashed in front of her. It had fallen right out of the sky and collided with the ground at a speed that no one could survive.
“By the spirits,” Crispin whispered, the only one of them able to speak as they all realized what had happened.
It was a green dragon, green oozing across the ground around it. Its sides weren’t moving; there was no sounds of gasping breath. Ukrah didn’t know if it had died in the sky or had passed on impact, but either way, she was certain that the noble creature wasn’t alive in any way, shape or form.
A burdened, rasping wheeze somehow made it to her ears despite the roar of battle, and she moved around the beast. Voirdr pawed at her, trying to keep her still. But for some reason, she needed to see.
She could feel her little guy pacing behind her, making chirping sounds of distress, and she rounded the fallen dragon to see his rider.
Well…part of his rider. Only the man’s upper half was visible under the dragon’s bulk. Ukrah had no idea how he was alive, but it was clear that he wasn’t going to remain that way for long.
She didn’t know the man, but by what she could see of his clothing and armor, he was definitely part of the witch hunters. Had he always been a rogue? Or was he an official dragon rider? Was he a part of the council? She had no way of knowing, she supposed. The only thing she was certain of was that the man was probably in intense pain and there was no saving him.
Not that she would.
“I don’t like this,” Cassinda said, her voice wavering. “Dragon fighting dragon just seems wrong. Worse than humans fighting humans.”
Ukrah wasn’t sure she agreed. She was so tired of everyone hurting of each other, all the violence and destruction. When she looked up, she felt just as much pain as when she looked all around her.
There was another terrible, terrible sound from above, and then another winged figure was falling to the ground at the other end of the gardens. Its impact shook them, not as virulent as the explosion, but carrying a heavy sort of finality to it.
Another dragon dead. And there were sure to be more. As sure as there was a battle overhead.
A sharp sound bubbled up from behind her, sounding like a heartbroken sob, only to increase in volume as she turned until she realized that it was Voirdr.
He was sitting there, huffing as that pitiful sound escaped him, his beautiful eyes staring at the fallen green dragon. She took a step towards him, hand raised to comfort him, but then his mouth dropped fully open and he keened.
Maybe keened wasn’t even the right word. It was a horrible noise, wracking and desperate. It was like the howl of a wolf but wounded. Dripping with sorrow and so, so loud. It rushed over her and then the battlefield like a storm, powerful and unmissable. She felt it right down to her toes and for a moment, she wondered if she was feeling his very pain itself.
But then it was like lightning broke within the sound and suddenly something was rushing out of him.
It stole her breath, making her stagger back. Cassinda and Crispin seemed likewise shocked, the smaller clapping her hands over her ears like she could keep him out that way.
It wasn’t quite painful, but it was almost like…a pressure on them. Something commanding them, compelling them to do what it bade, but she couldn’t understand what it wanted. Her whole mind filled with it, the blood in her veins thrumming from the power.
It lasts only a few breaths at most, and yet it seemed to take nearly a lifetime. And when it finally tapered off, the battle was surprisingly still.
“What… That did something, right?” Cassinda gasped, her face white. “I… I felt something.”
Ukrah opened her mouth, feeling like she had forgotten how to speak, and her voice only came out as a wheeze. She didn’t even know what she would say anyway, as she wasn’t even sure what had happened.
But then another surge came from Voirdr, different from the first, and there were responding whimpers and howls from all around them. And then, just a moment later, mighty roars thundered through the air, reveling in power and strength.
Looking up, she saw half of the dragons rapidly sinking toward the ground or shakily retreating while the other half seemed to be swirling or surging with unchecked energy. For the briefest of moments, she was afraid that the falling one were all dead, but then she realized they were descending much too slowly for that.
“I think…” Crispin came up beside her, his tone hushed. “That your little Voirdr just used his big boy powers to end this entire thing.”
“Voirdr…” she trailed off, realizing what he meant. Voirdr’s secondary ability as the black dragon was to take energy away from some dragons and give it to others. It was part of what was messing with her ability to use her own magic. But there was no way that he could influence an entire battle with over twenty dragons.
…could he?
The dragons above roared again, knowing that the battle was won, and they began to descend as well. It was then that the witch hunters seemed to finally understand that it was over, and thus began a mass exodus.
No. That wasn’t going to do at all.
She shut away all the emotion, all the things she needed to think about and understand, and she focused everything on making sure that not a single man escaped. She was tired of these hunters living to hurt another day. She wanted them to face justice. And she wanted those who had betrayed their trust to learn that there was no forgiveness for that.
“Cassinda, help me make a barrier.”
“A barrier?”
Ukrah nodded. “We can’t let them go. Not a one.”
Cassinda smiled broadly, her eyes flashing again. “Right. Give me your hand.”
Ukrah reached out, Voirdr whining and pressing himself into her legs as their fingers twined together. She wasn’t surprised when Crispin gripped her other hand, squeezing her tightly.
“Alright, Voirdr, let us do this. Let us make sure they don’t get away, ‘cause they might hurt us again.”
Voirdr let out a warble and pressed himself further into her. He was getting so big that soon he was going to knock her over on accident. But she tucked that from her mind and concentrated on making one of her walls. Her shields. Anything to keep the fleeing witch hunters from getting away.
She built it up in her mind, block by block, piece by piece. She could feel the connection with Crispin and with Cassinda burning bright on either side of her, encouraging her to be stronger, to blaze brightly and protect each and every charge they could.
She pushed her energy out and out, further and further. It was like a net, but unforgiving. No one would be able to pass through. Everyone would face justice.
She sank into it, further and further, letting it wind up her legs and slip up her spine. And yet she continued, weaving, pushing, building. Urged on by the thought of all the witches that were taken already, and all the witches that had yet to be saved.
Cassinda and Crispin stayed beside her, rooting her into the spell. She could feel the vibration of Voirdr’s warbles as he…encouraged them? Worried about them? She couldn’t quite tell which without risking her concentration on the shield.
She began to hear thumps, then curses. She felt impacts, deep within her, and she was certain that was hunters slamming into the wall.
Would those on her side be able to pass through it? Witches who were still fleeing? She wasn’t sure. S
he didn’t even know if that was safe. So, she just kept on letting it grow, rippling out in a circle around the still-burning palace.
It took over her mind, the most she had been able to grip it in what felt like months. And she didn’t fight it, didn’t push it to violence. She just stood, and let it use her as its…its vessel.
And it was just like that that she sank into the black.
3
Recovery on Recovery
Ukrah woke with a jolt, not even aware that she had fallen asleep. Confusion lanced through her and she couldn’t remember why she felt so pumped full excitement and dread. Like there was something that she was supposed to be doing, and yet she—
A soft whimper sounded beside her and she craned her head to see that she was in the back of a wagon, Cassinda and Crispin to either side of her, completely unconscious.
But of course even her slight movement was enough for Voirdr to hear, who apparently was pacing at the end of the wagon. He bounded up, flattening his considerable weight onto her front.
“Whoa, whoa, boy. It’s okay. I’m awake. It’s fine. It’s fine.”
“Hey there, little one, let her breathe.”
Ukrah was surprised to hear Elspeth’s voice, and a moment later, Voirdr was clambering clumsily to the ground to greet the woman. Ukrah sat up with about the same amount of grace, looking around blearily.
There was no fire. The sun was just beginning to rise, painting the sky in creamy golds under the receding line of twilight. There were still so many people around, more than during the battle, and none of it made sense.
“What happened?” she murmured, trying to piece things together.
“You took a page out of my book,” Eist said, coming up from behind Elspeth and looking worse for wear. She was covered in soot and had a large scratch across one of her shoulders. Athar wasn’t that far behind. He had what looked like a lightning burn down one of his massive arms, but he was otherwise unscathed.
“Where’s th-the baby?” were the first words out of his mouth, and Ukrah felt a flash of grief.
“She’s safe,” Crispin groaned, also sitting up shakily. “We left her with Mrs. Kaldonner and Helena, safe in that secret passage that I would have liked to have known about maybe a little ahead of time.”
“You shouldn’t be here at all,” Eist cut in. “But I’m glad that you are.” She let out a long breath. “Apparently, your little one there managed to put a halt to the entire battle. Can’t say that I’m not grateful. The barrier was pretty impressive. Dille said you guys put down enough of a foundation for her to finish it off from any who wanted to come in for another round.”
“Where is Dille?” Cassinda asked, her eyes cracking open but not moving to sit up. There was a vulnerability there, one she wasn’t used to hearing. “Is she alright? They didn’t… They didn’t kill her… Did they?”
Elspeth shook her head. “It would take more than that to kill the witch of three eras. She was in the palace for most of the time, preventing the total collapse of it while most of the refugees managed to get into the tunnels.”
“Wait, tunnels?” Crispin asked again.
Eist just continued right over him. “I… Look, I understand the three of you just woke up after expending a whole lot of magical energy, but I want the three of you to know that you saved a lot of lives. We’ve always been prepared for a lot, but never…never for our own kind to betray us outright.”
“So they were dragon riders?” Ukrah asked, her heart twisting. “Not just rogues?”
Elspeth nodded, her mouth a thin line. “There was a number of them, and two of our own council members.”
“And I guarantee you there are others who hold the same beliefs. Told to wait in the wings in case this was a failure. We’re not safe, Elspeth. We underestimated how much the old hate is still here.”
“I don’t know how much of it is hate for witches, and how much is just hate for you, a woman who overturned everything.”
Eist rolled her eyes. “Idiots. They act as if I had a choice for most of what happened. Not like there were gods and spirits and an inter-realm monsters set on total destruction involved. I don’t even have magic any longer.”
“So, what do we do now?” Ukrah asked, pressing her palm to the top of Voirdr’s head. His cool scales grounded her, making her feel a little more secure. “Were there many witches taken? How many did we lose?”
Neither adult woman answered for several beats, Elspeth chewing at her bottom lip. Ukrah was about to repeat her question when she finally spoke.
“We don’t know, and probably won’t know until we finish all of the cleanup. There are probably some that are…buried.”
“Oh.”
Ukrah laid back, closing her eyes against the bitter sadness that wanted to seep in. They didn’t know how many were saved, and they didn’t know how many were lost. How could she save them if she didn’t know?
“Just rest for now. We’re going to have to do a thorough investigation of the entire council.”
“And find a safe place for the witch refugees and the palace staff. I think, after three attempts to rebuild, it might be cursed.”
“You may have something there.”
The conversation faded around her, her mind sliding away. They had survived the battle, with so few of them even being hurt, and yet it didn’t feel like a win. Because where was going to be safe and who could they trust? She didn’t know, and in some ways, it felt like she was just coming out of the desert again.
Whatever feeling of security they had created was torn away in one month. Entire wings of the academy had been sectioned off to house the witches that had survived the attack, but it put them in a tenuous position as no one was sure if there were more riders or council members who would betray them again.
And as the weeks passed, nothing eased. If anything, it grew worse. There were investigations, interrogations, and trials. There were all sorts of things that Ukrah probably wasn’t supposed to be privy to, but she still overheard from living in the god-woman’s estate.
Dille had moved in, along with several of her acolytes. In fact, the whole manor was packed almost to bursting, with Cassinda, Helena, Ukrah, and Crispin all sharing a bedroom, and Marcellin moved into the smaller room that had been meant for the baby when she was ready to sleep on her own for an entire night. The servants were all back, but so were Ale’a and someone else that Ukrah didn’t know but clearly was on good terms with Athar, and they slept most nights in the sitting room in shifts.
Most lessons were suspended, leaving Ukrah to study on her own, but she didn’t mind. She needed to make up time with Voirdr and also get her head on straight. She couldn’t help but feel like time was passing too quickly, events all stacking up on each other because she wasn’t doing what she was supposed to be doing.
But she didn’t know what she was supposed to be doing at all. She tried meditating, she tried redoing the same rituals that had helped her find Helena, but her dreams led her nowhere. There was just fire, flashes of memories, and twisted apparitions of those she had killed.
She was running out of time, but she had no idea of how much time she had at all or what even was coming, and most days, it left her teeth set on edge.
“Hey, could you help me with this? I’m trying to get the straps right, but I’m pretty sure I have them twisted.”
Ukrah looked up from the scroll she had been studying, trying to understand how to write more complex phrases in the common tongue, to see Marcellin in the doorway, his wooden leg in hand. As far as she knew, it had been enchanted by Dille and several of her proteges, but she didn’t know to what extent. It certainly couldn’t move like a real leg, and didn’t look anything like one, but it was supposed to be better than the peg legs she saw on some.
“Kinda cruel for them to give something with straps to a man with one hand, huh?” he asked wryly, leaning against the frame. “Or does being a witch mean losing a bit of common sense?”
“I think
they’re making you an arm that’s supposed to give you at least some function back,” Ukrah said, standing and crossing over to him. Kneeling, she took his leg for him and lined it up with what was left of his stump, trying not to stare.
But not staring was so difficult, as she was only a few breaths away from the very injury that she had caused. The end of his thigh was wrapped in special fabric that was supposed to be soft and protect the sensitive, regrown skin from chafing against the leather cuff that was made to attach to him, but she knew what the scars looked like under there.
It was a bit strange that he didn’t seem to harbor any ill will toward her when she had taken away half his limbs, and she had been so sure that he would once the shock of his new life wore off and everything set in. But it had been over half a year since she had dragged him out from under those rocks and he hadn’t so much as made a snide comment about it.
He was a better person than her. She was pretty sure she wouldn’t be so forgiving.
“Do you understand it? I swear, after spending so much time in girl’s clothing, you’d think I’d be a bit better at all these straps and fiddly things, but I’m really not.”
Ukrah offered him the slightest smile. “I have a feeling that when you were in your disguise, you didn’t pay much attention to the whole process.”
“True. Mostly I was just scared for my life.” He heaved a sigh as she finished up, pressing his weight down onto the fake limb. “Huh, that feels alright. Thank you.”
“Of course. Anything I can do.”
He grimaced and shifted, still holding onto the doorway. “Don’t do that.”
“Don’t do what?”
“Get all groveling and sniveling. Like you’re guilty of something.”
“But I—”
He held up a hand. “I have a feeling I know what’s going to come out of your mouth and don’t. Just don’t. You saved me and that’s that. I don’t want to get into some blame spiral where you say everything is your fault.”
