Dragonsbane (Book 3) (25 page)

“And I just happened to be the first one to come along?” Kael said. He was angry, but he wasn’t sure why. Something strange rumbled inside his chest as he growled: “Stop lying to me, Baird. There’s no way any of that’s possible. There’s no way Setheran could have known —”

“He stole her future!” Baird cried.

“Who’s future?”

“He
stole
it!”

All of Kael’s anger burned at his front. He felt it spread across the top of his chest and arms, as if he was using it to guard against the thing that squirmed behind it — the thing that said it
could
be possible.

There was only one way he could ever know for sure: “Show me the letter.”

“I don’t have it.”

“I saw Griffith put it in your bag.”

“Gah!
Fine
.” Baird reached inside his tunic and slapped the crumpled parchment upon the table. “But you mustn’t tell a soul.”

Kael tore the letter open. His eyes scanned across the words. He read the simple message over and over again:
Before you stands Kael the Wright — see to it that he’s awakened
.

There was something familiar about the lines of the letters. The way they’d been printed on the page was careful and sure, more simple than beautiful … and they were eerily familiar.

Kael’s hand shook as he reached across the table for the
Atlas.
He turned it around and read them side-by-side. His eyes went back and forth between the letter and the
Atlas
, studying the lay of the words and the angles at which they’d been drawn. It only took him a moment to realize why the words had looked so familiar:

They’d been written by the same hand.

Kael felt as if he’d just taken one of Griffith’s fists to his chin. He rocked back on his heels, swaying under the force of his shock. He didn’t know if anything Baird had told him was true — but there was one thing he knew for certain.

And it made everything else seem small.

“Where are you going, young man?”

He heard Baird calling after him, but Kael didn’t stop. He shoved through the hospital doors and out into a thick curtain of rain. Icy drops thudded onto the top of his head as he ran, washing down his back and shoulders. It mixed with the chill in his skin and made his joints seize up, but Kael ran doggedly for the forge.

A bright yellow light glowed beneath its door. When he shoved it open, a wave of heat knocked him backwards.

“Kael!”

He heard the lid slam shut over the trough of fire and the heat mercifully abated. Kyleigh’s hands grasped his shoulders, but he knocked them away. “Why did you lie to me?”

As the glare from the yellow light faded, he saw her face. Her gaze was steady, her arms hung at her side. Their eyes locked and he watched the passing of the flames behind the green, not daring to look away.

“I didn’t lie to you,” she said finally.

“You told me that Setheran’s child was dead.”

“No, I said that Fate took him away. I never said he was dead.”

He wanted to fall through the floor. He wanted to yell. He wanted to punch the wall as hard as he could. But Kyleigh’s gaze kept him steady. “Why didn’t you just … tell me?”

She frowned. “It was too dangerous, at first. You were wide-eyed and fresh off the mountains. I didn’t want to burden — fine. I was being selfish,” she said when she saw the angry words forming on his lips. “It wasn’t that I didn’t trust you, or didn’t think you were ready. I just … I wanted to protect you.”

“Because that was your task?”

“Because it’s my purpose.”

He didn’t understand the sudden change in her eyes, how the flames could calm and yet lose none of their light. It was a look that made heat pool inside his middle. When he could bear the fires no longer, he looked away — seeking the cool relief of the floor.

She gripped his shoulder. “And I suppose that, if I’m being completely honest, I didn’t want Seth to change you. I wanted you to find your own way.”

“Well I haven’t, have I? Not really.” He could feel the anger coming back, dulling the pressure of her hand. “It was Setheran’s chant that got me through the tempest. Those
were
his words, weren’t they?” He bit his lip when she nodded. “Setheran was in my head when I fought Gilderick. Baird swears that he wrote that blasted letter — and I
know
he wrote the
Atlas
.

“He’s been helping me all along. If it hadn’t been for him, I would’ve died a thousand times over. And
you …” He paused, thinking. “You’re only here because he sent you.”

She grabbed him under the chin. “I resent that. He might’ve been the greatest warrior of our age, but that doesn’t mean I let him order me about.”

“Oh? Then why were you searching for me?”

A shadow crossed her eyes. “I don’t remember — well, I don’t,” she snapped when he snorted. “The last thing I remember is attacking Crevan. The rest is all bits and pieces …”

She released him and turned her glare on the wall. “The harder I try, the further my memories get. I don’t remember who sent me, but I knew that I’d been sent. Sometimes I got off on other errands,” she admitted, smirking. “The wildmen chased me down the mountains, and the Sovereign Five chased me back up. But every once in a while, I remembered that I was searching for someone — someone very important.

“When you said your name,” she snapped her fingers, “I knew who you were. All of my memories of you came rushing back, clear as glass —”

“Your memories of me? You mean we’d met before?” His mouth went dry when she nodded. “That’s not possible. I would’ve remembered.”

She smiled. “You were only a few days old.”

He took a step back. “You knew me when I was an infant?”

“Of course I did. Who do you think carried Setheran into the Valley so that he could meet you? I wouldn’t have done that for just anybody, by the way. We dragons don’t take well to being saddled and flown about. We’re very proud creatures.”

She laughed as he sank to the ground, but he didn’t think it was funny. Not in the least bit. He leaned against the wall and stared out the open door, watching as the rain pounded the earth. He hardly felt it when Kyleigh slid down beside him.

For a long moment, they sat in silence. Kael just stared — stared, and tried to wrap his head around it. 

“You were adorable, by the way.”

He groaned. “Kyleigh, please.”

“What? You were. But you wouldn’t sleep. I suppose you must’ve been excited about coming into the world.”

“Probably. Let’s just leave it at that.”

“So I stole you away —”

“I really don’t want to hear this.”

“— and we played for hours, just you and I.”

The sudden softness in her voice made him look. She was smiling, her head tilted back against the wall. Her eyes brightened as she watched a distant memory.

“We sat by the fire and I told you stories — mostly about how frustratingly stubborn your father was. Little did I know,” she added with a raised brow. “You were far too young to speak, of course. But your eyes were open. Most infants have this sort of glassy shine over their eyes. Bloodfang used to call it the
reckless flame of new life
. But the light in your eyes was different.

“Your stare went deep. You were so focused … I remember thinking how serious you looked. When I sang to you, it was like you already knew the words. You understood the story before I’d even finished singing.” Her eyes snapped back suddenly and she cleared her throat. “I suppose it was just the Wright in you.”

She got to her feet, then — leaving Kael feeling something he’d never felt before.

Heat spread from his chest to his fingertips, but didn’t quite burn. That space in his middle held the warmth like hearthstones. It pushed all of his worries aside and pinned them back. They’d keep swirling in a corner of his mind, building as they wove themselves into questions. But for now, he would enjoy the sudden lightness of his heart …

The sudden, unexpected, completely impossible lightness.

“I’ll see you at dinner.”

“Are you certain there’s nothing else you’d like to ask me?”

He thought she might’ve sounded a bit surprised. “No, I think I’ve got the answer I wanted.” And with that, he stepped out the door.

The rain that struck him as he walked back to the hospital wasn’t nearly as icy it’d been as before. It warmed as it rolled down his skin, fed by the heat that spread from the center of his chest. He imagined that each drop would burn hotly by the time it struck the ground.

And as the rain soaked into the earth, it’d carry enough fire in its crystal innards to melt the layer of frost beneath the mountains’ skin.

Chapter 23

Poisoned Darts

Days passed while the pirates and the giants traveled on. They walked along the rough ground beside the road, marching against the exodus of the Valley.

Most of the ragged line hardly seemed to notice the army passing by: they kept their chins anchored to the ground, only lifting them to see how much further they had to go. Their eyes squinched at their bottoms as they took in the Pass. Some looked worried, others afraid. But most were empty.

Jonathan tried to gather information from the people they passed. But no matter how he asked it, the Valley folk all said the same thing: Grognaut the Bandit Lord was to blame.

“He attacked us in the dead of night. The bandits set fire to our homes while we slept. When we managed to escape the flames … they were waiting for us.”

“One of them got my finger — chewed it right off. And look how the nub’s festering, will you? I’ve kept herbs on it for three days and it’s still turning black as dusk.”

“Terror is all it is. It’s all the bandits ever want. Thieving is just an excuse to spill blood. And now that they’ve got the Earl’s protection, they can spill as much as they please —”

“What was that, mate? You say the Earl’s been protecting them?” Jonathan interrupted.

The man he’d been talking to was a shopkeeper from Crow’s Cross. His eyes dulled at Jonathan’s question. “Yeah, I suppose that’s what you’d call it. He gave them weapons and armor, let them have the run of the land. Grognaut’s even settled into the Earl’s old castle — word is that Titus has got himself perched at the top of the mountains. Fate only knows why.”

He kept walking, and Jonathan bounded to catch up. “But what about the King? Hasn’t he sent his army crashing through here, yet?”

“The King? Huh. No one’s heard from the King since last autumn,” he said with a snort. “The Cleft fills with snow during the winter. But usually his blasted patrols are back to taxing us by spring. Now here it is, summer, and I’ve not seen so much as a glint of gold on the horizon. Either His Majesty doesn’t care about what’s happening here, or he’s got a hand in it. Us free folk can do nothing but walk on and hope things are better on the other side.”

It was nearly nightfall before Jonathan caught up with the rest of his party. They’d passed the tail end of the line of Valley folk and were only half a mile from the ashen land beyond.

They spent the evening setting up camp and gathering wood for the rest of the journey. For, as Morris put it: “Most things have only got one burn in them.”

Once their camp was made, Jonathan told his companions everything he’d learned. “So it’s true, then. Bandits really
have
taken over the Valley,” Lysander murmured.

“And Titus had a hand in it,” Declan added with a furious grunt. His eyes began to go dark. “I knew it. I knew he’d have something to do with all this! There’s not a tear shed in the Kingdom that wasn’t Titus’s doing. I’ll put such a dent in his head —”

“Take a deep breath now, General,” one of the giants said as Declan’s eyes turned darker. “You’ll have your chance to dent him. There’s no need to go getting upset —”

“No need? No
need
?” Declan roared. “There’s every need! I’ll waste no more time — I’ll have him throttled before dawn!”

The pirates scattered in all directions as the giants fell upon Declan. He roared and twisted beneath them, trying to throw them off. But they held on tightly.

“Somebody give him a shock! Wake him up!” one of the giants cried.

“Stand clear!” A small jolt of lightning sparked from Jake’s fingers and struck Declan in the chest.

The wad of giants convulsed as the jolt jumped between them, arcing along the path of their connected limbs. Their bodies stiffened as they rolled helplessly off of Declan — finally collapsing in separate, twitching balls.

“Not an
actual
shock, you clodded mage! That’ll only make him angrier.”

“Oh. You meant something more along the lines of a surprise?”

Declan got to his feet, eyes black as ever — and Jake moved quickly.

He flexed his hand and a blast of icy air struck Declan in the face. Frost crusted over his hair and brows. He staggered backwards, and the darkness quickly faded. His stony eyes roved from the pirates — who stood in ranks with their swords half-lifted from their sheaths — to where the clump of giants lay sprawled and twitching upon the ground.

“We’re all right, General. Just a wee bit of a shock,” they assured him.

His thick shoulders sagged. “I’m going to have a walk around camp,” he mumbled. Then he slumped away.

“Keep that spell handy, lad,” Morris said as he ducked out from behind a nearby tree.

Jake nodded.

Lysander thrust the Lass back into its sheath. He began to pace, a finger propped on his scruffy chin. “This Grognaut fellow has taken over the castle in the Cleft, you say?”

Jonathan nodded. “That’s what I’ve heard. Which might put a bit of a kink in our rope, if it turns out to be true.”

Morris snorted. “A
kink
? Try a knot the size of a dragon’s belly. And there’ll be no sating it, Captain,” he warned. “Bandits don’t bargain.”

After a moment, Lysander sighed. “I suppose you’re probably right. There’s nothing for it, then —”

“We’ve come too far to turn back.” Jake’s eyes were sharp behind his spectacles. “Don’t even say it.”

Lysander raised his brows. “I wasn’t going to.”

“Oh. Well, then what —?”

“Save your breath, lad. He’s already got something brewing,” Morris said as he watched Lysander pace. “What’re your orders, Captain?”

“We’re not going to go around Grognaut, and we’re certainly not going to treat with him. There’s only one way to deal with a barnacle,” he said, holding up a finger. “We’re going to dig him out.”

Jake’s spectacles slid down his nose as his brows shot up. “Dig him out? How do you plan to dig out a castle?”

“That’s just a figure of speech, lad. He means we’re going to pop him off his throne and stick a knife through his belly so he don’t grow back.”

“Sounds like a plan to me,” Jonathan said with a grin.

While the rest of the party talked bandits and war, Declan took a slow walk around the edge of camp. The orb glowed in a ring to the outskirts, and Declan traced it carefully — half in the light, and half in the darkness.

A young tree sat by itself a few paces from the shadows. Its canopy was just large enough to shelter a single man. Eveningwing roosted in the branches near its top. A slight breeze moved the limbs gently, bobbing him up and down.

Nadine sat beneath the tree. She had her knees drawn up to her chest and her head buried in her arms. Her shoulders shook gently.

“Are you all right there, wee mot?”

She wiped impatiently at her eyes as Declan stepped in beside her. “I am fine.”

“Those don’t look like happy tears.”

“They are nothing.”

“Well that’s a mightily odd thing. You don’t strike me as the sort of woman who’d cry over nothing. And I’m never wrong about my strikings,” he added when she looked up.

“Why must you always plague me with your words? You will walk for days and never say anything to the pirate captain, or to the strange man you still call
fiddler
even though he plays so horribly. Why is it always me you bother? Is it because I am small?”

He shook his head. “I would never plague anybody over being small.”

“Then what is it?”

“I suppose it’s because of your voice.”

“My voice?”

“Yeh, you sound so odd — like you’re stumbling over every word. And then if I can get you mad enough, your face turns red and you start muttering all these silly little things nobody knows the meaning of,” he said, lips twitching in the tiniest of smiles. “I like the way it sounds.”

“You would not like them so much if you knew what they meant,” she said vehemently.

He thumped down beside her, and she jerked the blanket over her feet. “What have you got under there?”

“It is nothing,” she said again.

“Then why’s your face gone all sandy-pale?” His arm shot out and ripped the blanket back.

Blisters covered Nadine’s toes and the sides of her feet. Some were red and swollen. Others had burst. They wept openly between the ragged flaps of her skin.

“Plains mother,” Declan hissed.

“I was going to let them breathe before I cleaned them. Eveningwing has been helping me,” she said, pointing to the canopy above them. “It took us a while to figure out how to untangle and tangle them back. But I believe we —”

“Why didn’t you say something, you great stubborn sandbeater? Every man in this camp knows how to work laces!”

“I did not think — what are you doing?” 

He dumped her rucksack on the ground and pawed through its contents, digging until he came up with a bottle of ointment. “Stubborn, clodded …” His thick fingers fumbled at the cork until she grabbed his hands.

“You are going to break it!”

“I’m going to break
you
! No wonder you were crying. You’ve been marching for days with your wee little toes all red and weeping. Why didn’t you speak up?”

“What good would that have done? Lysander is right — I must learn to walk in them before we reach the icy paths of the mountains. Someday my feet will harden and I will not have this trouble. Now hand me the bottle.”

He let go. His lip curled as he watched her dab thick white ointment onto her blisters. “Doesn’t that sting?”

“You are asking if it hurts?”

“Yeh.”

She shrugged. “It is uncomfortable.”

He snorted. “Be honest, mite. It’s a bit more than that.”

She gave him a hard look. “My flesh will heal. These wounds will close and pass away. But there are marks on my heart that will never heal. Those are the only wounds worth my tears, giant. They are the reason I weep.”

Declan opened his mouth, but a flapping sound interrupted him. Eveningwing bobbed on his branches. His head jerked to the side.

“What —?”

Declan clamped a hand over Nadine’s mouth. His shadowed gaze turned to the edge of camp; his brows creased as he squinted. Slowly, he got to his feet. Eveningwing hopped into the upper branches, head bobbing along the light’s edge.

Nadine took her spear and went to stand next to Declan. “What is —?”

His arm shot out and knocked her to the side just as a barrage of objects flew from the darkness. They looked like tiny arrows: bone shaved into needles with dyed feathers as their fletching. They peppered Declan’s arms and neck, sticking firmly into his skin.

He jolted the camp with a roar.

“Bandits!” Jonathan cried. “Don’t let those darts hit you! They’ve got numbing pois — ah!”

He took a dart in the neck and stumbled backwards. Morris got one in the leg and Lysander got hit twice in the chest before he managed to draw his sword. When the wave of darts ended, the bandits leapt in.

Yellowed bone adorned nearly every inch of them. They wore it around their necks and wrists, wove it tangles throughout their beards. Sharp bone ornaments pierced their ears, noses and lips. Breastplates with wolf heads were strapped over their filthy leather tunics. Steel blades hissed as they flew from their sheaths.

“Make them bleed, boys!” one of the bandits cried. Then he charged straight for Lysander.

Morris hurtled into the bandit’s side, knocking his slight body to the ground. The hapless bandit took several rolls, his bone ornaments clattering with every turn. Finally, he came to a stop near the base of a tree — where another pirate ran him through.

“Form ranks, dogs!” Lysander yelled over the din. He managed to slice one of the bandits in the side before he collapsed, breathing heavily. “I can’t feel my … it’s all …”

“That’s the poison,” Jonathan grunted, stumbling over to him. He swung his sword in drunken arcs, trying to hold the bandits back.

Colored darts peppered the giants’ thick skin. They swung their scythes furiously; the rage of the battle seemed to be holding the poison back. After a few unsuccessful attempts to break their line, the bandits retreated into the shadows.

They slipped to the edge of camp and hung out of the giants’ reach. Without the fight to fuel them, the giants slowed quickly. Even Declan’s rage was no match for the poisoned darts. Slowly, he sank to the ground, collapsing amid the mangled bodies of his foes.

Jake’s magic weakened as the poison took its toll. The spells barely sputtered off his gloves. Soon his fireballs were reduced to little more than wisps of flame. He moaned as he sank to his knees. “What are they doing?”

“Waiting,” Jonathan grunted. “Once we’re all numb, they’ll hack us to bits.”

When the last of the giants had collapsed on all fours, the bandits crept in. “I wonder if the mage’s bones have got any magic in them?” a bandit close to Jake whispered.