Heir of the Dragon

by Anna Logan

  “Lea!” Rikky appeared, spraying her with snow when his celith skidded to a halt. He jumped down, kneeling beside her. “Your leg...I think it’s broken.”

  The dragon roared again. Her heart was racing, keeping her eyes wide and her blood flowing with fear. Terindi cried out for help.

  Rolling to face it, Talea lifted her hands...she couldn’t quite see, her vision was blurry...the glow came to her hands, and a beam of electricity struck the dragon’s shoulder. It stayed there, but she couldn’t feel the drain from her core—she only felt it in her arms.

  That meant she was about to run out.

  Rikky added his own beam. With a howl, the dragon staggered...writhing...her vision dimmed. She felt the tremors through the ground when the massive creature fell. And she felt the tremors continue. Cavalry. Rikky was tugging at her arm, trying to lift her up. Until she blindly pointed the direction they’d just come.

  He swore. And she heard it in his voice—desperation.

  She regained her eyesight enough to see the flash of light from his hands. It was enough to topple the first dozen celiths at the lead of the unit, and it was enough to make Rikky fall to his knees. Even he had his limits. The Kaydorians had dismounted, they were running toward them...their boots beat more tremors through the ground. She propped herself onto her elbow, gathering energy she couldn’t feel into her other hand. It hit. A few more celiths fell, a few riders. There were still dozens left. Rikky was up. His sword was in one hand, a small rod of electricity in the other.

  They attacked, and he fought.

  Skyve was limping, almost crawling his way to them, feebly throwing spheres at the cavalry as he came.

  Talea struggled to get her good leg underneath her, in time to swing her sword at a Kaydorian that got past Rikky. It clanged against his armor, the swing too weak to do damage. Her leg gave out. She fell just before he would have taken her head. A quick thrust put her blade into his abdomen.

  Rikky was still fighting. He was winning. Days without food, hardly any sleep, the cold, dehydration, prior injuries...it didn’t matter. It had always been that way. He was the Soldier, and no enemy stood a chance.

  Only one opponent left, and he was flagging. Talea looked to the cavalry that still remained, wondering why they weren’t advancing. Then she saw the tips of at least twenty arrows, all aimed at her, and aimed at Rikky. Her heart lurched. Cold, haunting dread washed over her. “Rikky!”

  He looked up. He saw it. He turned, stumbling over bodies and tree branches, running to her...and he arrived in time to shield her as the bowstrings snapped.

  The sound of arrows hitting the snow and dirt, hitting wood, and hitting flesh.

  Then he fell.

  She felt the tremor of his body hitting the ground.

  The pain in her leg didn’t matter. She dragged it behind her to get to him. Her own voice was ringing in her ears—hoarse, weak, sobbing his name. She grabbed his shoulders and pushed, rolling him onto his back. The arrow shafts were cracked against the ground and hidden beneath him. The only evidence was the blood trickling from his mouth...and the awe in his eyes. He stared at her. Like he couldn’t believe it. She barely recognized him in that look.

  “Lea?” It was all he choked out, before the blood gurgled in his throat and he convulsed, back arching, eyes rolling upward.

  She pulled his arm to her chest and hugged it, her lips to his knuckles, as his face blurred before her. The sob snagged and she couldn’t breathe. It escaped in heaving gasps, her whole body shaking violently. She wiped her eyes...she had to see him...she had to see...but the tears kept coming. They filled her throat and her nose and again she gasped for breath. “Rikky...Rikky!”

  Barely, she could see him. Mostly, she could feel him. He was still convulsing...weakly. Slower. Then not at all, and suddenly he was still. His eyes were gone, fixed on the sky, and gone. There was nothing in them anymore.

  She fell forward, burying her face against his neck. He was gone.

  “Talea.” A hand grabbed her arm, trying to pull her away. Without even thinking, she pushed it back. Zoper stumbled a little. There were tear streaks through the blood and dirt on his face, and pain etched in his usually cheerful face as he looked at her. “We have to go. He’s gone.”

  He was gone. Yhkon was gone...Wylan was gone...Rikky was gone.

  “Please.” He took her hand. “Please, Talea! Come on! We have to go.”

  She didn’t budge, looking behind him. Terindi was slumped on his celith, either dead or unconscious. Skyve was on the ground a few feet away, awake, watching her, but limp. All the strength sapped from his body. She looked the other way. The Kaydorians were slowly gathering themselves—their celiths had collapsed. It must have taken everything Skyve had left.

  “Talea, we have to—”

  “No.” She wiped the tears away again, even if they just came back. “Take them. You go.”

  He’s gone.

  Zoper recoiled. “No, you can’t...come on, you can’t stay, he’s gone Talea, he’s—”

  “No!” Her voice cracked. Her shoulders were shaking again, her throat constricted...she had to tell him. Had to make him understand. “You get them out of here. Get them to Yhkon. Please, Zoper. Please!”

  There were fresh tears on his face. He backed up a step. “I promise.” It was all he whispered, before he turned away. He lifted Skyve onto Ember, climbed onto his own celith behind Terindi, and they rode away.

  They were gone. She was alone, and it was over. The Kaydorians had regrouped enough to start a chaotic charge. Behind them, foot soldiers, running to catch up and join the battle.

  She looked at Rikky. The growing, clawing pain in her chest wrenched, making her falter. It felt like it would tear her apart. So she looked away. Closed her eyes. She could barely hear the hoofbeats that ran away, or the footsteps that ran toward her, over the pulsing and buzzing in her ears. Still, she heard the thunder that rolled in the clouds above her. As the pain and cold and weakness all faded from her senses...she still felt the crackle of invisible energy between her fingertips and the air. Narone...someone...take care of them.

  Talea lifted her hands toward the sky, and called the lightning to her. She felt it reach her arms, felt it twist where she aimed it, before she slumped to the ground.

  20

  The Prince’s Ruse

  Y AILA. I need to talk to you, dear.”

  “No! You put Lanissa in prison, how could you? I won’t talk to you until you let her out! You can’t—”

  Kaydor cut her off. “It’s about your brother. I just need to tell you where he is, okay? Come on, little bird.”

  The door slowly opened, to her puckered, pouting face. “Don’t call me that.”

  He smiled patiently. She really was spoiled and it was mostly his fault—but he couldn’t help it. “Alright. I won’t. Can I come in?”

  With a sniff, she turned on her heel and walked into the apartment. He followed, taking a seat beside Jakkit on the sofa, while she sat across from them, glaring. Jak had his usual indifference. “Hey,” was all he said, then returned to the book he was reading.

  “So.” Yaila crossed her arms. “Zoper?”

  She had the airs of any noblewoman, that little girl. “He’s on a mission, and it’s likely he won’t be back any time soon. Now you may hear rumors regarding this mission...just know that it’s a secretive business, so don’t believe anything you hear.”

  Her pink lips set in a firm line. “Does this secretive business involve killing innocent San Quawr?”

  Kaydor had to swallow a frustrated sigh. “They’re not innocent. They’ve killed thousands of Zentyren men, Yaila.” She started to argue, but he stood up. “No, you don’t understand, and it’s time you did. Your Aunt Arineema? She is San Quawr by birth. Her father was a brutal man, and punished her for speaking out against their people’s injustice and arrogance. To escape him she agreed to an arranged marriage with another San Quawr man, only to face the same cruelty and abuse from
him. The first time I saw your aunt, she was covered in bruises, because her own family, her own people, had mistreated her for her entire life.” He took a steadying breath. Yaila’s gaze had grown fearful, and she was cowering into the sofa—he hadn’t realized he’d taken such a threatening posture. “I’m sorry, dear. But you are young and inexperienced with the world. The San Quawr are not the victimized, innocent race you think they are. They are cruel.”

  There were tears in her eyes. “Are you any better?”

  Hot anger simmered through his veins. She was merely a naive child, he couldn’t hold her words against her...but if it hadn’t been for the other people in her life that influenced her, she would never have become so ignorantly insolent.

  Hopefully Lanissa was rotting in that prison cell.

  Kaydor got up and left their apartment, returning to his throne room. Inside, seated on the throne, he balled his fists and closed his eyes. Eventually, Yaila would realize the errors of her thinking. In the meantime, he had more pressing concerns.

  He had only been sitting there a few minutes when the door swung open. The head Asyjgon, Ensynwe, entered without making a sound. He removed the shroud he wore, facing Kaydor with his piercing eyes and wide cheekbones, white face framed by dreadlocks. Sometimes one had to wonder if there was such a thing as a friendly, gentle-looking Asyjgon.

  “Veserron.” Ensynwe’s only form of acknowledgement was a blink. He’d made it clear that no one in Zentyre—including its king—had his or his men’s allegiance, only their temporary support. Kaydor didn’t mind. He respected the man’s dignity and pride. “Your mid-western force just returned. They bring the news that your nephew cost them three of the four prizes.”

  “Three?”

  Another blink. Asyjgon didn’t move their heads if it could be avoided, it seemed. “Yes. One they captured, the leader. One was killed and the other two got away, with—”

  Kaydor couldn’t help his smile. Finally. “What does that matter? We only need one to get the information we need. Besides, we’ll get the rest eventually. When will your men be ready to return to the field?”

  “Two of them have injuries that need more time. The rest of us are ready.”

  “That’s perfect. If we have the girl, perhaps those two can help extract information. I understand that is one of your specialties…?”

  “Yes,” another blink, “they will help you. The rest of us will be leaving tomorrow.”

  Kaydor nodded, relaxing into his seat. “Excellent.”

  “And your army?”

  “I’ll be redirecting much of it to our out-of-region efforts. The rest, for the most part, I think will be best spent fortifying Aydimor. The Tarragon, however, could be of use to you as support, once I reassign authority.”

  Ensynwe’s frown became a bit more sour. “Yes, because your nephew has turned traitor.”

  “He—”

  “Must be dealt with. The other two teenagers were unconscious. Had he not gotten them out, your army would have captured all three.”

  “It’s not a problem.” Kaydor shook his head with a smile. “We only really need one. What’s more important...is that Zoper maintains his ruse.”

  A raised eyebrow. “Ruse? He is infiltrating, under the guise of betrayal?”

  The Dragon’s smile grew. “Yes, and the San Quawr have no idea.”

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Anna Kate is a college student living in South Dakota, constantly on the run between the real world and the one in her head. In the real world, she’s studying for a degree in communications and working in customer service. In her head, she’s always conjuring up stories and characters, and there’s undoubtedly a dragon involved. Her favorite things in reality are books, coffee, and her spoiled corgi. She has loved writing YA through her teen years as much as she’s enjoyed reading it, and hopes to bring a fresh perspective to the genre with the advantage of being one of its members.

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