Golden (15 page)

T
HE
SPEAKING
STO
NE
TURNED
HOT
WHEN
he held it.
Where are you?
Wes sent.
Send coordinates.

New Dead City,
Shakes replied.
You guys out of the Red?

Yeah.

You got the drak?

Not exactly.

Huh?

Wes, what is going on?
Liannan's voice cut through like crystal.
Where are you? Where's Nat? Is everything all right?

But before he could respond, the ground rumbled under his feet.
Godfreezeit. Hold on.
He put the speaking stone away and ran back to the conservatory, cursing himself for being as stubborn as Nat. He wasn't too proud to admit when he was wrong. He would happily eat his words if only it meant nothing had happened to Nat in the few minutes he had left her side. What had possessed him to leave her?

He skidded to a stop when he reached the glass chamber. The Great Conservatory of Apis was collapsing, its glass dome breaking, sending fatally sharp shards falling to the floor. One was headed right toward Nat, who was looking up at the ceiling, paralyzed.

“Nat! Above you!” he warned.

She didn't move, and so he made a flying leap and tackled her to the floor, rolling her to the side before it could hit her. The glass crashed a hairsbreadth away from where they lay.

“We need to get out of here,” he said, breathing heavily from the effort and trying not to crush her body with his. “But I'm not sure I remember the way back to the surface.”

“I don't think we have to take that route,” she said, still pinned under him as she pointed to the glass dome above them.

A shadow passed across the glass, a great black beast, its wings stretched like two dark sails. Mainas.

“You called it back,” he said, reluctantly disentangling his body from hers.

“Yes, but it's fighting me,” she said, taking his hand this time when he offered it to help her stand. Neither of them mentioned the earlier spat or that Wes had returned. It seemed trivial once the enemy had appeared. “Where's Eliza? She doesn't seem to be riding it.”

“Maybe Mainas got rid of her when you called it,” he said hopefully, although he knew that was a pipe dream, as sweet as one of those violet cigarettes Shakes preferred.

“Maybe,” said Nat, unsure.

Drakon Mainas's dark silhouette passed across the glass once more, its shadow growing larger. This time, it struck the glass with enough force to rattle the entire conservatory. A terrible wrenching sound shot throughout the chamber. Its talons broke through the dome, sending more sheets of glass tumbling toward them. A mighty
crash
echoed through the conservatory. The drakon came again, its shadow visible through the cracks in the dome. It descended, turning in a great circle before laying its talons into the dome, rending the great curving iron beams that supported the glass, twisting them like twigs and tossing them aside. Above them, the ceiling collapsed in a shower of broken glass, metal, and stone.

Nat called to her drakon. She screamed its name as Wes grabbed her and raised his shield, so that the debris bounced harmlessly around them. The sound was maddening. Everywhere around them the glass was shattering upon the stones, but none of it touched them, not even the smallest piece.

“Thanks,” she whispered, her head tucked under his chin.

“I shouldn't have left,” he murmured, holding her close. “I won't ever again.”

“I'm sorry, too,” she whispered, so softly that he wondered if he had dreamed it.

There came a screech like a banshee's, and they looked up to see the black drakon hovering above them, blocking out the blue sky, circling.

Nat pulled away to scream at the monster. “Drakon Mainas!” she cried out again, but the monster gave no care.

The creature breathed fire so hot it melted steel and glass. Only Wes's power kept the flames at bay, keeping them safe. Arches collapsed and columns buckled. The ground tilted and threatened to give way. They rocked on their feet, holding close to each other for balance. It seemed as if the whole conservatory would be gone in a minute, and maybe all of Apis would be gone, too. The creature seemed bent on destroying everything it could lay its claws into.

The drakon burst through the remains of the dome. It roared and set the walls of the conservatory on fire. Everything crumbled into ash; the walls of the conservatory were collapsing. This was it, the end. They had no more time.

Nat called once more to her drakon. “Mainas!”

It twisted its neck toward her, then snorted, raking its claws on the shattered floor where it landed.

“Don't!” Wes said, holding her back.

“It won't harm me, it won't,” said Nat. “It is mine.”

The creature bent its neck, bowing low before her, as if daring her to come to its side. It looked as though it might tear her to pieces. It regarded her as if she were a stranger, but Wes knew she was no stranger to it. Eliza had only confused the drakon. She'd woven a web of illusions, and it was Nat's task to break that web. Wes knew about Eliza's power; he knew what Nat was up against and pitied her. This would not be easy.

Wes looked down at Nat, so small in his arms, and knew he had to let her go even though everything in his body and mind screamed he was insane to do so. With his heart in his throat, he released her and watched as Nat slowly picked her way toward her drakon.

For a moment, he thought it would relent, that it would dip its neck and accept its rydder, and Nat would be back where she belonged.

Until he saw, from the corner of his eye, a white fluttering atop the drakon's back. It was a corner of Eliza's white robe. She had burrowed herself deep into its scales but now she appeared, triumphant and crazed.

“Nat! Stop!” he yelled.

Too late.

Eliza tugged on the reins she had fashioned around the drakon's neck, ugly iron chains that had melted into its hide.

“
Burn her!
”

N
AT
LOOKED
STR
AIGHT
INTO
THE
drakon's gaping maw. There was a light at the end of it. Like a dim candle at the base of a deep well, the light flickered on and off. Then it grew brighter and Nat had the sensation of falling, tumbling toward that distant flickering. The dim flame grew brighter till suddenly it was no longer a candle. It was a bright and blistering sun. Drakon Mainas gave a tortured scream, shaking her out of her trance. Wes was yelling, stumbling as he ran to her; he hadn't had time to deflect the creature's attack, no time to send up his shield. She saw the drakonflame coming closer and steeled herself for the blast. The drakon exhaled. White-hot flame engulfed her, leaving her all alone, bathed in fire, trembling at the creature's might. The roar of the flame and the sheer intensity of its light blocked out everything else. For a moment Wes was gone, the drakon was gone. There was nothing but white light, surrounding her on all sides.

If she were anyone else, that light would be the last thing she ever saw. For anyone else, the heat of the drakonflame would mean death, the end. But Nat was no ordinary person—she was the rydder. The heat left no scars on her flesh, no blisters or burns. The white-hot light did not make her blink or cover her eyes, nor did she cover her ears to squelch the roar. She felt no pain, no discomfort of any kind. Like warm water in a bath, the flame caressed her skin, rejuvenating her.

Nat stretched out her arms and let her head fall back. A great gout of flame washed down upon her, and she did not shrink from it. She stood in the middle of the fire, letting the flames lick every part of her, so that it burned inside and out.
Don't worry,
she wanted to tell Wes.
There is nothing to fear.
The fire did not harm her—it restored her.

Each burst of flame made her feel stronger.

She heard a voice echo in her thoughts.
Is that you, Wes?
No. It wasn't Wes, but it was a familiar voice. It was garbled at first, faint, incomprehensible. She tried to ignore it, but it kept coming back, surrounding her like the flames.

Is that you, Mainas?

A powerful roar echoed in her thoughts.

The flame had not simply restored her strength. It had begun to mend the bond between drakon and rydder. Little by little the drakonflame was restoring their connection, slowly stitching their souls back together. The drakon exhaled once more, covering her in flame, and she heard its thoughts, clear as they had once been. Soon, she would be whole again.

When the flame faded, she was not only uninjured, she was glowing with good health. She felt more alive, even stronger than before. The light was pouring from her, radiating from every inch of her body.

The feeling didn't last.

Eliza screamed her rage, pulling on the reins so that Mainas gnashed against the iron hooked around its mouth. With an angry shout, she shot back into the air, the drakon swooping and swerving without warning, attempting to throw her from it back. The drakon had two masters. Though Nat shared a link with her drakon, the creature was still bonded to Eliza.

From below, Nat could see the black drakon struggling, its wings flapping oddly, its muscles convulsing.

If Eliza couldn't have the drakon, she would destroy it, Nat saw, terrified for the creature.

Mainas, stop. Mainas, calm,
she tried to send, but she fell backward as if she'd received a blow to the head.

SHE IS NOT YOUR RYDDER!
Eliza sent. The shock of Eliza's strength sent her reeling. The warm glow faded from her skin.

Nat touched her face, felt blood dripping out of her ear, while Wes scanned the skies, alert for another assault.

“The bond—we have to break her bond with Mainas,” Nat told him. “It's the only way.”

“Can you bring them back?” asked Wes. “If you get them close, I can take care of Eliza.”

“Are you sure?”

“Bring them here,” he said. She knew he was remembering the fierceness of the creature he had first encountered on the Pacific. It had nearly torn his ship to shreds, and it had tossed one of his crewmembers into the ocean, but he was not afraid. “Bring her to me. She is my sister. She is my responsibility.”

Nat closed her eyes, focusing on her drakon once more.

The creature crashed through the hole again, plummeting to the floor, landing in a cloud of dust and dirt.

Nat and Wes ran toward it.

The drakon was bleeding from its iron chains, its eyes weeping red tears that matched Nat's own.

Without hesitation, Wes jumped on the drakon's back and pulled his sister down to the ground.

E
LIZA
SCRATCHED
AND
CLAWE
D
AND
kicked and threw herself across the room. The fire within her surprised Wes. Eliza would not give up easily. She wasn't his sister anymore; she was changed. She had taken so many lives and so much power, it had altered Eliza and made her into something terrible. Wes followed her, a terrible feeling building within him. This wouldn't end well.

He knew her tricks, what she would do. But her power surprised him nonetheless. Her life was on the line, so she gave him everything she had. The world went dark and Eliza vanished. In her place, Wes saw his sister as he had last seen her—on the night the Queen stole Eliza. He saw that little girl, looking frightened and alone. She called out to him. “Help me,” she said. “Help me, Wes!”

He shook it off. Though it pained him, he ignored her illusion.
It's not real. She's not a little girl, and whatever innocence she had is gone.
Eliza was gone. He looked again at the little girl, and it did not break his heart. He saw only his sister's cruelty.

“Is this all you have, dear sister?” It was too late for her to play the innocent little girl, for she'd strayed from that path a long time ago.

Something struck him on the jaw and he tumbled backward. While he'd daydreamed, that little girl had attacked him, knocking him on the head with something heavy.
Not bad,
thought Wes. Maybe she hadn't wanted his sympathy. Maybe all she needed was a distraction, something to keep him busy while she slashed his throat, bashed in his brains. Wes glared at the little girl. She giggled a sickly little giggle as the illusion faded.

The baby girl was gone. Eliza stood in her place, her eyes flashing with anger.

I've got to strike before
—

Too late, Eliza disappeared again. Now he saw only Nat, standing before her drakon. He watched in horror as the great black monster tore her limb from limb, rendering her body to pieces, blood splashed upon the stones.

No.

He dispelled the illusion, but she quickly made another.

He was on the battlefield and everyone was there, Shakes and Liannan. They were pinned down by soldiers. They were trapped. In a moment, they'd be done. The soldiers were surrounding them now, executing his friends while Wes watched.

No!
No more illusions. He'd had enough. It was time to end this.

She hit him, lie after lie, but he shattered them all. He could break her illusions, but could he break the weaver who made them? Or was she just too strong? Had she taken too many lives and too much power?

How do I do this?

His magic was strong—he'd fought the Queen and triumphed—but Eliza was something different. Her power was equal to a hundred Queens. But then Wes remembered that magical energy was much like any other energy. The more you used it, the more it faded. When he'd first used his power, the magic had drained him to near death. Eliza was too strong to fight, but maybe he could drain her power.
Can I wear you down?

“Is that all you've got?” he yelled, taunting his sister. Wes already afraid of what she might to do him next. If he goaded her into using all of her strength, she just might do it, and he shuddered to think what would happen when she did.

In answer, she sent a wave of energy that was so strong it knocked him off his feet, but instead of fighting the blow, he let it pass through him, absorbing and nullifying it. Wes couldn't use his magic to hurt others—he could only dissolve magic, so that was how he would fight her. Shock wave after shock wave rolled through him. He felt as if he were standing on the beach, holding his ground as wave after foaming wave washed over him, each one threatening to knock him down and drag him under. But he stood upright and absorbed her every blow. Eliza gave it all she had. After a time, she must have guessed at his strategy and known that he was wearing her down. Each time he absorbed her strength, it angered her and she poured even more power into her next attack. She did not think he would triumph; perhaps that thought did not even occur to her. Over and over she attacked and he defended.

In the end, Eliza lasted longer than Wes thought she would.

He waited until her strength waned and he knew she was vulnerable. Then he reached for the slender thread that bound the creature to his sister. While Eliza was focused on destroying him, he found the bond between her and the drakon. He focused all of his power upon it.

And snapped it.

Eliza fell to the ground, lifeless.

Breaking the bond had doomed Eliza.

Wes had known what would happen when he shattered Eliza's magic. When he'd broken the Queen's spell, he'd knocked her out cold. He guessed something similar would happen to Eliza, but he hadn't thought it would kill her.

Wes knelt beside Eliza.

He remembered Emrys standing above the dead body of Nineveh, as he loomed over the broken form of his twin, conflicting emotions roiling inside—grief, regret, sorrow, anger. Eliza Wesson had brought so much damage to the world, but he found that at the last, the dominant feeling in his heart was one of compassion. She was a broken child of the ice, just like them. In a way, they were all shattered, all broken. Eliza had suffered more than most, but she'd done more harm, too. She had been stolen from her family, raised to think she was special. Her failure was their failure to love her for who she was. She'd never really had a family, a mother. The Queen had wanted to use Eliza. She was a pawn, a tool, a means to an end. And when that end was not achieved, when Eliza failed to enter the tower, it had destroyed her.

What kind of magic was this? What kind of magic demanded that a mother sacrifice her child? What kind of magic twisted its bearer into a monster?

Wes knelt by her side and took his sister into his embrace.

Eliza blinked her eyes at him. “Ryan?” she asked. “Where am I?” Her blue eyes were brown now, like his. This was the sister he'd known for a brief period, before her sixth birthday, before the corruption, before the darkness inside her had taken root and festered. When she was an innocent girl, still.

“You're with me,” he said, brushing back her hair as the color drained from her face.

“I'm cold,” she said.

“I'm sorry,” he said, holding her up. “I'm so sorry, Eliza, I'm so sorry I couldn't protect you.”

She stared at him. “But you did protect me. You took it away,” she whispered.

“What?” he asked, unable to understand in his grief. That she would return to herself at the end was unexpected and searing.

“The dark thing inside me isn't there anymore,” she whispered. Her eyes fluttered and rolled to the back of her head.

“But how?” he asked. When he'd hit her with all his strength, he must have done more than just knock her down. He had destroyed the dark magic within her, the rot that had driven her mad for all these years.

“Thank you,” she said.

“No,” he murmured. He couldn't lose her now, just when he'd gotten her back. She was his sister again, the one he had tried to rescue. She was the girl he had hoped to find at MacArthur Med.

“Eliza, don't go,” he said, pressing his hands to her heart, trying to make it beat again. He breathed air into her lungs, he did what he could, but it was no use. “Don't go,” he said, but she was already gone.

Wes sagged under the dead weight. He closed her eyes with his fingers. The only family he had left was gone from this world.

Then he looked up. Somewhere, Nat was waiting for him, her drakon at her side. What remained of their crew—Shakes, Liannan, Brendon—needed them.

Family was what you made of it.