Dragonoak (55 page)

“I
tried! I tried to help. The pane, did they find you?” Iseul asked.
“I sent them to you, my Queen... sent them to Canth. That's why
you're here, isn't it? But it must've been weeks, only
weeks...”

“That's
right, Iseul,” Kouris said softly, trying to keep him from shaking.
“That's why I'm here. You brought me back. Don't be worrying about
any of that anymore.”

Iseul
seemed to smile and murmured, “Then it isn't too late.” Eyes
blinking open, he pressed his fingertips to Kouris' closed eyes.
“Your eyes grew back, Your Majesty. I was so worried they
wouldn't...”

“Aye,”
Kouris whispered. I met Kidira's gaze and wished I hadn't. “That
they did.”

I looked
at the ground, at anywhere but her. The change in her expression
was so slight that it should've gone unnoticed, but there was a
sudden sting in her eyes that she knew I'd seen. Slowly, Kouris
rose to her feet, lifting Iseul up with her.

“Don't
expect we'll be having long before somebody turns up,” she said,
arm around his waist to keep him steady. “We'd best be getting out
of here.”

Kouris
took slow, steady steps, guiding Iseul out of the building, and
Kidira waited until I was outside to leave, doors closing behind
her. I didn't know how often they sought out Iseul, but I knew the
Felheimish only came when they needed something of him. A dozen
times a year, perhaps. The Felheimish had fewer dragons than ever,
and some part of me doubted that they were going to any lengths to
give them specific targets, anymore.

“The
other necromancer...” Iseul murmured, as though I was nothing but a
distant memory. “Don't let them take her.”

“Never,”
came Kouris' steely reply.

I
watched Iseul stumble on feet he hadn't used in countless years,
wishing there was something I could do for him. Wishing there was
something I could say that would get through to him; it seemed as
though he had no real concept of when or where we were, and
continued to turn to Kouris, breathing out her name and title as
though it was the first time he'd seen her since bringing her back
to life.

The fog
would clear in time. It had to. When it did, Iseul would feel what
I did, would have the comfort of another necromancer, if nothing
else. There'd be so much I could learn from him, so much we could
learn from each other; I wouldn't be the only one lighting up the
dark.

“Queen
Kouris,” Iseul said, one hand on her chest to push himself back.
Kouris held her arms out, ready to catch him, but as unsteady as he
was, Iseul didn't stumble or fall. “I am sorry. So sorry for all of
this. But I...”

And then
he was moving, marching towards the Bloodless Lands. His light had
died down to little more than a gentle thrum, though his eyes
continued to blaze. Kouris stormed after Iseul but seemed reluctant
to grab hold of him and pull him back; he walked as though drawn
into the Bloodless Lands by some greater purpose, and though she
kept her eyes screwed shut, there was only so far she could go
without snarling.

I rushed
in after him, reaching his side just in time to catch hold of
him.

I knelt
down. He was heavier than all the light had led me to believe, and
he looked up at the sky without taking in the darkness, eyes fixed
on the moon. His body trembled, and I realised that the light
pouring out of him wasn't simply a necromancer's way of screaming;
it was energy leaving out of his body, strength that'd been lost
him for years upon years.

“What
was your name?” he asked, eyes closing. “... Aejin?”

I smiled
though he couldn't see it, wrapping my arms around him a little
tighter.

“That's
right,” I said, “Let's get back to Kouris, okay? We'll take you out
of here, Iseul.”

“No, no,
Aejin,” he said, using a finger to beckon me closer. I leant down
and he said, “Don't you hear it?”

“Hear
what?” I asked, gaze slipping from his face when I noticed the
ground around us. The white of the Bloodless Lands was fading
around him, slipping through shades of grey, desperately grasping
for colour.

Iseul
only repeated himself. “Don't you hear it?” he asked, one hand
clasping my shoulder. The ground beneath us turned to dirt, rich
and earthy.

I fixed
my eyes back on his closed ones, drew down a deep breath and
answered him honestly.

“No,” I
said.

“No,” he
echoed, smiling. “Neither do I.”

Iseul's
body reflected that insignificant scrap of the Bloodless Lands
around us. The solid white of his glow retreated, skin grey then
brown, fading to gold, desperate to remember how it had once been.
I tightened my arms around him, saying his name, louder and louder
each time, as though it was something he could stop, and found that
he felt less solid, less real. Each time I tightened my grasp there
was less and less of him; he'd drawn the light so deep down inside
of him that it had replaced his bones, his muscles, all that I
could cling to.

“No, no, Iseul, stop,” I murmured, clinging to him, clinging
to
nothing
. I
didn't know him beyond what he'd done from Kouris, but I
knew
him in the same way
that I'd known Kondo-Kana's song, in the same way that I knew which
parts of my body were no longer mine.

I could
learn from him. Could understand him. If he'd only stay, if he'd
only—

My arms
were clinging to nothing. Tendrils of light slipped between my
fingers and the white ground I knelt upon yielded to the pressure
of my knees. There was warmth there, green grass for me to tear at.
I didn't understand what was happening. I didn't
understand.

I rose
to my feet, storming towards Kouris and Kidira. They were looking
without looking, and I marched straight past Kouris, putting myself
between Kidira and the mountains, leaving her with no choice but to
look at me.

“What was that? What the
fuck
was that?” I practically screeched, hands thrown
out at my sides. “You bring me here without telling me why, and
then—
this
? You
make me come here to... why did you even need me? Did you just want
to make me watch him die? Is that even what happened?”

Kidira
stared at me evenly, and said, quite plainly, “I didn't know how
the necromancer would react. I thought your presence would be
necessary. Evidently, I was wrong.”

I stomped a foot against the ground, turning it white. That
wasn't an answer. That wasn't
anything.
Eyes stinging, I reached
out and pushed the heel of my palm against Kidira's shoulder.
“What's happening!” I demanded. Kidira rolled her shoulder back but
didn't stumble for all I'd done to shove her.

Without
anything betraying her expression, she said, “I couldn't tell you,
Rowan, but I would've thought you'd understand better than most.”
She paused, straightening out the leathers around her shoulder.
“Wouldn't you sooner let go of your own life than defend
yourself?”

She said
it as though it was an insult. As though I should've been ashamed
for not taking a handful of lives when there were other options
available to me. I stepped forward, went to grab her shoulder, but
I'd wasted the only chance she was willing to ever give me. Kidira
pulled back her fist and with a burst of pain around my eye-socket,
I found myself on the ground.

I
covered my eye with one hand, seething. Kidira stood over me, so
still that it was as if she'd convinced herself that she'd knocked
me down with nothing but a stare.

“It
wasn't the first time,” I hissed as Kouris rushed over, kneeling at
my side.

“Excuse
me?” Kidira asked.

“Yrval,
not now,” Kouris warned, holding out a hand.

The throb around my eye pumped some sense back into me. I
sneered up at Kidira, breath rushing between my teeth, but I said
nothing. Kouris was right; it wasn't the time, and I didn't want
Kidira
knowing,
didn't want her looking at me and thinking that it explained
everything I did wrong, everything I was, in her eyes.

“...
Canth was rough,” I eventually managed, hearing Kouris let out a
sigh of relief.

Kidira
glanced between us both, deciding that whatever it was could wait.
In nothing close to a peace-offering she held out her hand and I
took it, stepping close to her once I was on my feet; our eyes met
and I turned as sharply as I could, heading back to Oak.

Kouris and Kidira matched my pace, though neither of them
quite caught up. I stormed ahead, torn between returning to Oak and
losing myself in the Bloodless Lands where none could follow. I
could hide in those cities for as long as I needed to, could hide
there
forever
, if
that was how long it took me to understand what had happened. I
couldn't count it as a victory; we'd broken Iseul free, but he'd
become nothing more than light. Who was to say they didn't have
someone to replace him? Who was to say it wouldn't cause them to
hunt down another necromancer and put them in the same
chains?

“Rowan,”
Kidira said, but I didn't turn to her. I continued striding ahead,
but that didn't deter her. “Kouris. You both saw the condition
Iseul was in. I believe he recalled who Kouris was with more
clarity than he knew himself. He was bound, his freedom taken from
him and forced to do unspeakable acts, and yet think of how very
important he must've been to the Felheim. In their plans, his value
was immeasurable. He could've asked for anything in exchange for
what he was doing and I doubt it would've been denied to him; and
yet he was in chains. That was his choice.

“Iseul fought against them. He did not submit after years,
after decades.
He
was brave. None of us ought to forget that, and we must all
learn from it.”

The
light around my eyes became as nothing. I was left with burning
embers, and though neither Kouris nor I said anything, the words
were seared beneath our skin. The rest of the journey was made in
silence. Oak rose to his feet when he saw us approach, bowing his
head once we were close enough for him to discern that something
had gone awry. I leant against his muzzle, ran a hand across one of
his horns and whispered that we'd like to go to
Kyrindval.

CHAPTER XX

I turned away
from the Bloodless Lands, on the way back. I leant against Kouris,
arms wrapped tightly around her, light slowly seeping out of my
system. The sun rose, and there was little to see amongst the
mountains. I knew there were tribes both bigger and smaller than
Kyrindval scattered across the plateaus, but none were built with a
view of the Bloodless Lands.

Whenever
I saw another wall, I tried to imagine the space that had once cut
between the mountains, and the droves of people fleeing from a
light that came at them like a tidal wave. The one time I looked
towards the Bloodless Lands, when our journey was nearing its
close, I saw something beyond the emptiness; a light shone on the
horizon, a spark of gold, slipping out of view as Oak flew
on.

He set
us down behind the wall, close to what Kouris assured us was
another path to Kyrindval.

“You can
come with us,” I said, but he only shook his head, and crawled back
over the wall once we were on our way. He butted his head against
Kouris' chest before leaving, and though Kidira thanked him for his
assistance, he paid her no heed as he trundled off. He'd found his
own place, and that place was in the Bloodless Lands themselves,
for all I knew.

Our
journey up the mountain was as exhausting as the rest of it had
been. We walked for miles before reaching the path itself, and I
was too worn out to succumb to the justified paranoia of
encountering any soldiers. I felt as though I needed to sleep for a
week and didn't doubt my ability to do so. The Bloodless Lands were
behind us, out of view, but I was wandering through the heart of
Myros, doing what I could to map a path to the Phoenix
Fire.

We
reached Kyrindval without any fuss. The tribe spread out before me,
distantly familiar landmarks gently reminding me that it was where
I'd been headed all along. It hadn't changed; the same dragon-bone
arch stood at the entrance, and the tribe extended beyond that, as
lively as it had ever been.

The
first time I came to Kyrindval, I had been naïve; I had expected
the pane to be simple creatures with little material wealth and no
culture to speak of. Now that I had seen so much more of the world
and understood the workings of my own mind better, it wasn't their
complexity that surprised me; it was the peace they continued to
thrive in, no matter how humans changed the world around
them.

“This is
where I'll be leaving you, then,” Kouris said, not bold enough to
step into Kyrindval. Not this time.

“It is,”
Kidira said.

A terse
reply was still a reply, I supposed.

Kidira
and I headed into Kyrindval, and though I matched her pace, I made
sure we weren't walking side-by-side. I looked around, hoping to
find a familiar face, and was met by the smiles of strangers. The
pane would stop what they were doing and incline their head towards
me, or else greet Kidira, relief and curiosity entangled in their
tones. The enormity of the place, the width of the streets and the
sheer size of the buildings, wasn't lost on me, as it had been in
Eaglestone and Praxis. I walked through Kyrindval as though walking
back through time, smaller and younger with every step I
took.