Golden (9 page)

THE RED AND THE BLACK

Red, the color of desire

Black, the color of despair

—“RED AND BLACK,”
LES MIS
ÉRABLES

F
AIX
. F
AROUK
. R
OARK
.

Nat stood at the edge of the circle, watching as Shakes and Wes gently lowered the smallman's coffin into the ground. They were gathered in the graveyard in Liannan's village a few days after the battle. Brendon laid the first rose upon Roark's grave, his eyes red and dry, the depths of his sadness beyond mere tears and sobbing. Nat understood. She, too, was numb, crippled, spent.

The peaceful vista of Liannan's homestead brought little comfort, even though they had spent a restful few days convalescing in the serene village nestled at the foot of the White Mountains. In the shadow of the tall cliffs, slender houses sheltered beneath spindly white trees. Their branches cast spotted shadows on the sun-drenched dwellings, and at sunset the village glowed with a radiant purple light. Everything was alive here and everything held magic. Even the leaves seemed to have a mind of their own; they would swirl in great whirlwinds, drifting through the air as if they were putting on a show, entertaining any who watched. Lavender carpeted the earth, releasing a scent so sweet it made eyes water, and the purple blossoms unfurled whenever Nat approached, welcoming her into their presence. The houses themselves were plain in construction, but made from a pale wood that had the appearance of ivory, white as chalk and hard as steel.

While Nat was consoled by the fact that there were some places of Vallonis that survived the RSA invasion, it was hard to discount the devastation the battle had wrought.

In the far distance, Apis lay in ruins. Three of her friends were dead, along with Liannan's father, the many sylphs and smallmen of Vallonis, the countless lives she took on the field when she burned the RSA army. They were just soldiers following orders. Many of them younger than she was. They had died screaming, melting into the flame.

You will bring death to everyone around you.

The fire within her had finally died, but she still remembered how close she had been to hurting Wes. She had held the flame in her hand, ready to reduce him to ashes.

You will destroy him.

What was she doing? What was she protecting? What was her purpose? Once, she had believed she was a warrior, a guardian. The one who was promised, foretold. But she was beginning to worry that the Queen knew better, that Nat was a danger rather than a savior to the people around her.

Wes joined her side to hear Liannan's blessing. He had dark circles under his eyes, dirt on his hands, and the grief he felt lay heavy on his shoulders, but when he saw her, his smile was as sweet as the late summer wind that blew over the cornflowers.

I will not destroy him. He will be safe from me, always.
It was a promise to herself that she swore she would die keeping.

After the burial, Nat sought Liannan's attention. She had tried to find time to speak to her friend privately before, but it had been difficult as the sylph had many responsibilities that fell on her shoulders now that her father was dead and the Queen had disappeared. Nat found her in her father's library, perusing his books.

Like everything in the village, every shelf and wall in the library was made of the same white wood from the nearby forest, polished to a grain so fine it looked as if it glowed from within. While plain in design and furnishings, it was a place of great beauty in its perfect and natural simplicity. The books it contained were not bound in leather or any animal hide; instead the manuscripts were deckle-edged and held together with flaxen thread. The text was inked in a careful and flowing script, the pages made from a buttery yellow paper.

When Liannan saw Nat, she put down the volume she was holding. “I'm sorry, I know you've been trying to find me.”

Nat closed the door behind her and nodded. “And you have been avoiding me.”

“I didn't want to address it until you were healed,” Liannan said. “I didn't want you running off before you were ready.”

“I guessed as much. You and Wes, conspiring against me,” Nat joked weakly. It felt like blasphemy to laugh on such a hard day, when they had just buried their friend. Kind and dear Roark, who always had a smile and an unexpected treat in his pockets, who would share the last of his rations with anyone who needed it, who had given his life so that others could live.

But mourning was a luxury she could not afford at the moment. She held the grief at bay and cleared her throat. “You hinted that Mainas is not the only drakon in the world.”

“Yes.”

“But it can't be. They're all dead, all but mine. Faix said as much.”

Liannan nodded slowly and pulled the white robe around her delicate shoulders as she leaned against the marble-topped table. “There is only one drakon in
this
world. But the drakon you seek is not
in
this world. There is another. The one that belonged to Faix.”

Nat tried to recall what Faix had told her about his drakon. He'd said it was gone from this world. She'd thought he meant it was dead. “So if it's not dead, where is it?” she asked.

“In the Great Conservatory of Apis, there is a door that leads to the Red Lands, the remains of all that was once Atlantis and Avalon. And those ruins are guarded by a drakon. Faix's drakon. When the ice came, and the corruption, it is said that Faix sent it there for its own safety. The door is shut with his mark.” She let her words settle while Nat absorbed the information. “Only the drakonrydder can open the door. If you want a drakon, you can bring it back here to fight for your own.”

“And how do I convince it to follow me?”

“You are the last drakonrydder of Vallonis, the one who was promised,” said Liannan. “You will prove yourself true.”

Nat brooded over that complication. She would have to bond with a new drakon, one that had been alone for over a century. Who knew what state the creature was in, whether it was even still sane?

“I don't envy your task,” said Liannan sadly, leaning back in her father's chair.

The two friends were quiet for a long moment. Nat looked at the row of shelves, marveling at the wealth of wisdom contained in one small library. She broke the silence, wanting to unburden herself a little on her friend. “If I succeed, do you know what will be asked of me, when I cast the Archimedes spell?” she asked, walking toward the window so that Liannan would not see the fear in her face.

Liannan nodded. “All of Vallonis knows. Magic demands sacrifice, as do all acts of creation. And the birthing of the new world will require the greatest sacrifice of all. This is the way of our people, of magic itself.”

Sacrifice.
Nat stood at the window, looking to where Brendon was still standing by Roark's grave. “Is there no other way?”

“No,” said Liannan sadly.

Nat understood the tenets of sacrifice. She had risked her life every day for Vallonis and had not once asked for a single favor in return. She'd had no thought for gratitude or comfort. She'd been a good soldier. The only reward she needed was to be left alone at the end of it all, to be free to have a peaceful life with Wes somewhere.

But the sacrifice demanded of the spell meant there would be no peace, no future for them. It meant death. The loss of everyone she loved. She would be alone at the end of the story, at the end of her journey.

“There is no hope then. No hope at all?” she asked, with a catch in her throat.

Liannan's voice was kind. “Nat, my friend, there is always hope.”

A knock on the library door interrupted their conversation.

“There you are,” Wes said, his handsome face appearing in the doorway, looking relieved to have found her. For the past few days, he had hardly left her side, reading to her while she rested, watching over her while she slept. When the fever turned, she had woken up in a sweat and found him draped over a chair next to her, enduring the uncomfortable position so they would not be parted.

For the past few days they had read books together, taken long walks through the mountain trails, their hands entwined. Now she nodded but did not smile at him, or go to his side as she usually did.

Nat avoided his eyes, as Nineveh's words echoed in her ear once more. Her new dark mantra.
You will bring death to everyone around you, death to all whom you love. You will destroy him.
Somehow, she had to make sure that didn't happen.

She had to save them all from sharing her fate. Especially Wes. But how? Then she realized the answer was so simple.

She would push him away, as far away from her as possible, to keep him alive. It was the only way to make certain that he would not be destroyed, that he would not share her fate, her sacrifice.

It was the only way to ensure his survival. Her determination renewed her energy, and when Wes came to stand next to her, she flinched from his touch, from the arm he circled around her waist.

He shot her a curious look. “What's going on?”

Nat hesitated, but Liannan answered and seemed to decide for her. “I told Nat where to find another drakon.”

“Where?” He raised his eyebrows. That was Wes, always straight to the point, asking no unnecessary questions about how Liannan came upon this surprising news.

Liannan explained the intricacies of breaching the hidden universe. She handed Wes a parchment. “This is a map of Apis. You will need to sort through the rubble to find the place where the conservatory once stood. There you will find what you seek.”

Wes pocketed the map. “We'll leave as soon as it's safe to,” he said to Nat.

“You don't have to come with me,” she said.

“I don't have to, I want to.” It was clear there was no arguing him out of it, and while Nat worried this would only make things harder later on, she was glad to have a little more time with him yet.

“And once we're in, how do we get out? Through the same door?” asked Wes sharply, already strategizing their journey.

Liannan shook her head.

“Of course not, nothing's ever that simple, is it?” He folded his arms across his chest, his piercing eyes trained on Nat, and she knew he was still wondering why she had rebuffed him earlier.

She remained rooted at the spot, determined to keep her distance. She turned her attention back to Liannan.

“It is said that once the red drakon leaves the Red Lands, the hidden universe will collapse, and you will be returned to the conservatory of Apis. Fail to remove him, and you will remain forever in the Red Lands.”

“Got it,” said Wes. “Tame the beast and get the hell out, or stay and rot.”

Liannan removed a stone from a jar on one of the shelves and handed it to Wes. It was pure white, almost translucent.

“What's this?” he asked, as it gleamed in his palm.

“A speaking stone. It will grant you a bit of sylph power, the ability to communicate to us in your thoughts. We will use it to advise each other of our location once you are out of the red.”

“Got it. Magic cell phone.” He winked and shoved it into his coat.

Nat had to smile at that.

“So if that's all, I was going to check on the rest of the team,” he said.

“There is something else,” said Liannan. “They say the ruined world is dangerous, that it is haunted by the dead. Be wary.”

“No problem.” Wes shrugged. “I'm sure we've taken on worse.”

“Nevertheless a warrior needs a weapon,” said Liannan, reaching for a black sword that hung on the wall.

“I'd prefer a rifle if you've got one,” he said.

Liannan ignored his comment as she offered it to Nat, and Wes looked abashed. But Liannan did not seem to notice. “It was my father's. It is made of drakonbone. He believed in the protector of Vallonis, in the Resurrection of the Flame, in the spell that would make the world anew. Use it well,” she said, handing Nat the weapon.

Nat bowed as she took the sword, and caught Wes's eye. He was like a little boy, sometimes, wanting to play with the new toy. She felt a rush of affection for him, accompanied by another wave of sadness.
He deserves more than I can give him.

“Can I?” he asked.

“Be my guest.”

She studied his face, his hands as he grasped the sword hilt, loving even the way his fingers crooked over the blade.

While Wes admired the blade, Nat turned to the window again, looking out in the distance, at the smoldering ruins of Apis. She had once pictured herself returning to the city as a hero, a valiant protector, welcomed within its gates. She had pictured a grand triumph, a celebration of her victory over the drone fleet. Now she would return as a thief, picking through the rubble to plunder the last traces of the city's magic.

“While you claim the red drakon, we will take those who can still fight and look for Eliza in New Dead City. If the RSA does not stop her from getting to the Gray Tower, we will,” Liannan told them. “Shakes and Brendon already know and have agreed to accompany me.”