Dragon Tide Omnibus 2) Read online

  Atura warmed her hands by the fire, glancing over at where Jeriath was slowly crawling across the Bridge. Soon, he’d be impossible to see from the camp. I knew he’d reached that point when she stopped looking in our direction, whispering something to a guard at the fire instead and then disappearing into her tent.

  I drew in a long breath and then began to crawl forward. It was long, slow work to crawl with a staff in my hand and without being noticed by the Bubbler guards or Jeriath. He hadn’t made it far before he’d collapsed in a heap of cloth, which meant that if I wanted to get to him, then I needed to do all the work.

  Maybe he’d died. Maybe I would be too late.

  I tried not to think about that. And I tried not to think about the steady thrum of so many sleeping Manticores snoring.

  The guards changed, new ones arriving and the old taking a turn sleeping. In the commotion of their change, I hurried the last few paces to where Jeriath was slumped on the stone bridge. I turned him over, trying to see his face in the faint light from the faraway fires.

  “Jeriath?” I whispered, but there was no response. I listened for a breath. Nothing. I put my hand close to his mouth. Was that a flicker of breath? Maybe.

  I couldn’t lift him. He would be too heavy. And I couldn’t stay here. What else could I do?

  Carefully, I grabbed his arms in my hands, trying to hold the Dragon Staff and his arm in one of my hands, as I awkwardly, slowly, dragged him across the ground.

  Someone was going to hear me.

  My belly roiled with fire and anxiety at the thought.

  And when they heard me, they were going to rush here and kill me – and him, too, if he wasn’t already dead.

  The burning in my belly helped me adjust my hold to drag him more easily. It worried me that the stone was giving me help. It felt like stealing from the dead.

  It felt like hours later when I finally reached the safety of our cave. It probably was hours. Exhausted, sweating, and cranky, I deposited my captive on the ground and felt across the floor of the cave. If I could find Olfijum, then I could find his saddle and the water Heron had collected and stored in his saddlebags. Maybe I could revive Jeriath.

  I hadn’t even made it that far when Jeriath sighed. I froze. He spoke so faintly that I had to scramble back to his side to hear his faint words.

  “Whoever you are, are you an enemy of the woman Atura?”

  “I am,” I said quietly. “I’m Seleska. Do you remember me?”

  “Will you cover my face for me?”

  I snorted. “I thought that you kept it covered because of your vows to the dragons. And from what I just heard, you don’t take those very seriously anymore.”

  His voice was barely above a whisper. “I was wrong. Misguided.”

  “Yeah, I can see that.”

  “I grew weary of service. I forgot the alternative.”

  “Alternative?”

  “Betrayal.”

  “Wasn’t there some other way?” I asked. “Some middle ground between service and betrayal?”

  It was his turn to snort, though it had no force. “You show your youth. It is always either service or betrayal. You serve what you love, or you betray it for another love.”

  “And you chose to betray.”

  “I loved the wrong thing. And there is no way to fix it. Except ...”

  His words faded off at the exact moment that he had my full attention. My heart was racing. Did he know some way to fix the mess he’d made when he let the Manticores into the Lands of Haz’drazen?

  “Except what?”

  “Closer. I fade.”

  I leaned in close so that his lips were almost touching my ears. It made my belly squirm.

  “There’s a map. In my belt pouch,” he said, his words so faint even with my ear this close to his lips. “Take it. And a note. Get the keys first and there may still be hope. But promise.”

  “Promise what?” There was no answer. I cursed. “Promise what?”

  He coughed and I grimaced as his cough sprayed across my ear, but if I hadn’t been that close, I would have missed the last words.

  “Protect my people. And remember, not all that shines is truly silver.”

  “Okay.” I waited for more. But there was no more. And this time when I put my hand up to his mouth, I didn’t feel a breath.

  With a sigh, I reached around his head, found the cover dangling there, and used it to cover his face again.

  I felt heavy – like I should be sad but didn’t know how to be. His guilt weighed heavily on me, tangling in my sense of loss so that I wasn’t sure if I felt like crying because I’d seen him die or because heard him confess his betrayals.

  He wasn’t right, was he? About service and betrayal? And if he was, what had I betrayed and what was I serving?

  Chapter Seven

  “Seleska?” I heard Heron’s whisper at the same time as I felt his hand feeling for me in the dark. I hadn’t joined them in the pile inside the cave. I’d stayed out by Jeriath’s body.

  “Are you crying, Seleska?” the horror in his voice was made gentle as he drew me into his strong arms, pulling me into his chest. He leaned his cheek down on the top of my head. I leaned into the embrace. I was crying. I didn’t know when I’d started or how long I’d been crying for, but my eyes felt swollen and dry as if I’d cried out every tear I had.

  It wasn’t that I was sad for Jeriath, but all the death – all the people lost for what felt like no reason at all – weighed on me. Their loss made me feel small and weak and insignificant. There was no way that I could make all these deaths matter. There was no way that I could heal all the scars they’d ripped into the world with their violent deaths. I felt like I was holding the tatters of those lives in my hands, trying to keep a hold on them while a strong wind blew.

  “Don’t cry, little honey, don’t cry.” His voice was tender in the darkness and his smell was of home. And that made it so much worse. I missed my parents so much. They would have so many thoughts about what I should do and where I should go. I missed my island home. The sun! The ability to see! The ocean! This world on the land felt so hollow compared to it.

  Through my tears, I told Heron what had happened.

  “Are they still here?” he asked, letting go of me for long enough to peek out past the cave entrance.

  I joined him. I’d been hearing the quiet sounds of them rising and packing for a while now, but with no one threatening our camp, I hadn’t gone to look.

  “Seleska!” Heron sounded strangled. “I think they’re going to use that spire with their magic!”

  “What makes you think that?”

  “Come look!”

  I scrambled over to where he was, looking out of the entrance at what I anticipated would be the dull glow of their fires. Instead, bright purple light filled the cavern completely.

  I gasped.

  “Do you really think it can transport people over far distances?” he asked.

  At the center of it, Atura stood at the spire, bright white lightning dancing from her fingers and sparking from the tips of her hair as she depressed one of the runes. A ring of glyphs shining in thin air formed around her and her camp.

  “Wherever she is going is where we need to be,” I said, choking it out as fast as I could. “Wake the dragons!”

  I scrambled over to Jeriath, ripping his belt pouch from his belt in my hurry. He told me to take the map. It wasn’t stealing when he willed it to me. I tied the pouch to my belt beside my own belt pouch and ran toward the dragons.

  Nasataa leapt up into my arms, knocking me flat on my bottom. I gasped, but I hugged him tight. I felt the same way. There was so much danger and so many chances of losing each other at every turn that I just wanted to love him while I could.

  “Come on, little buddy,” I said, gripping the Dragon Staff and using it to pull myself back on my feet. “We need to get out of here.”

  He tumbled off me just as a hand yanked me up onto Olfijum’s back. Olf
ijum seemed like a new dragon as he shook himself like a dog as he ran out of the cave.

  He’d launched into the air the second his body cleared the cave, Nasataa tucked in right beside him a little behind his wing. I gritted my teeth, held onto my staff and hoped we’d get there before whatever magic Atura was working was done.

  I was just sure – so sure – that whatever she was doing was going to make that spire work. And if it was like the portals – and it had to be! – then any minute now they’d all be disappearing through the door or portal or whatever it was and if we weren’t there in time, we’d miss our chance to follow.

  Maybe it was crazy to fly straight toward an enemy that outnumbered you and was bent on your destruction. Okay, it definitely was.

  But what other choice was there?

  In the distance, the light was growing brighter as the Manticores and Bubblers all crowded around the spire, trying to get as close as they could to the center of it.

  When we were close enough that I could see Atura’s face, someone yelled pointing in our direction. Her mouth opened, fury shadowing it in harsh lines. She was yelling now, too, as the glyphs began to speed up, swirling around her people like a wheel.

  Olfijum dove, little Nasataa diving even faster, his claws outstretched like a hawk.

  We plunged down toward them, straight at Atura.

  I wanted to scream, too, mostly in fear but partly with the excitement of it all. I felt Heron’s arm clamp around my waist as if bracing for impact and then everything went black.

  Chapter Eight

  A flash of light blinded me. I was falling. And then the screaming started again, but this didn’t sound like fear, it sounded like fury.

  “On your knees! On your knees before the Dominar!” a harsh voice barked.

  I blinked, trying desperately to clear my clouded vision as Olfijum sank lower.

  “No one move!” Another harsh voice.

  “Not a dragon flinches or we’ll burn you all to cinders!”

  Where had the spire taken us?

  It was dark here, too, but there were torches in every hand lighting a platform about the same size as the one we’d left. A platform with a glowing purple spire at the center of it standing right next to a slit-eyed Purple Dragon whose lip curled up when he looked at me.

  He reminded me of someone. But was it Taoslil who he looked just a little bit like, or Kyrowat who seemed to share his self-assured arrogance? With a pang of sadness, I decided it was Kyrowat.

  I slid off Olfijum’s back to kneel beside Nasataa, staff still in hand. I didn’t know this Dominar and I didn’t know these harsh-voiced guards. But if any of them threatened Nasataa, I would fight them all to my dying breath.

  “It’s okay, little guy,” I murmured, trying to keep him still as he tried to squirm forward. “Just relax.”

  The yelling guards ringed us, so that Nasataa was pressed against one of the Bubblers – or at least I thought it was one of the Bubblers. The Bubbler’s eyes flashed wickedly, and he carried a rod, but his clothing and hair looked more like Hubric’s had than anything else and his mask was gone. Had Atura put her masking magic over him as well as the Manticores?

  They looked like massive Red dragons and they stood regally still as if to prove that they were friends and not enemies – something our own dragons seemed incapable of doing. As I fought against Nasataa’s enthusiasm, Heron was fighting Olfijum who danced and flamed wildly. His eyes rolled nervously at the “Red Dragons” nearby. No wonder. They wanted us dead and this deception didn’t change that at all.

  I glanced back at the imposing figure on the back of that arrogant Purple dragon. She wore a crown with a mask that hid her face, though her bright metal armor was shaped for a female figure. Long dark hair flowed from behind the mask, small braids woven into it and purple scarves were tied around her neck and legs.

  Around her, Silver dragons with riders in similar metal armor carrying halberds snapped and stomped. They were clearly her guard. It was their leader who continued to shout at us as we fought to control our dragons.

  “Explain yourselves!” he roared. His dragon – unlike the others – was also purple and he hissed at Nasataa.

  Atura was standing before I could open my mouth, already giving a smooth practiced bow, already smiling a warm greeting, her cultured words flowing like a true princess’ should. She was all charm and beauty. She made me want to spit. All that pretty shell covered a dirty, ugly inside.

  Interesting.

  The thought rang in my mind, but I couldn’t tell which dragon was speaking to me. There were so many – not just the ones surrounding the Dominar, but more on the bridges all around us. It looked like we’d interrupted something important.

  Refugees. The Ileriocs flee the Lands of Haz’drazen bearing news that our allies – the dragons – fight for their lives.

  They did. Hopefully, they could survive this. I felt a pang at the thought of Taoslil trying to rally his people to fight. He’d been so kind to me. He didn’t deserve to die.

  I’ve never found him to be kind.

  He knew the other dragon? Well, that was good news! But he was wrong. Taoslil had been incredibly kind and warm-hearted.

  Ha! Unlikely.

  My eyes narrowed. Maybe I shouldn’t trust this dragon if he didn’t think highly of Taoslil. Taoslil was a prince of dragons! And Kyrowat hadn’t spewed insults about him and of all dragons, you’d think that cranky Kyrowat would be the one to insult someone. I felt an ache at the memory of him.

  Has something happened to Kyrowat?

  I tried to think of how to form the right thought, but my mind was flooded with images of our flight, of him speaking to me at the end, of how he gifted his saddle to Olfijum and sent me to find this Raolcan.

  And Hubric? He sounded worried. Did he know my mentor? You wear his scarf.

  What would he think if he knew that Hubric had seen his own death coming? What would he do if he knew that the girl pouring out honeyed words before this Dominar had sucked out Hubric’s soul and eaten it?

  The Purple dragon under the Dominar flinched and I froze.

  Uh oh. He wasn’t the one listening to my thoughts, was he?

  The very same. Your thoughts are easy to hear. I’m surprised every dragon isn’t listening.

  I sighed mentally. Of course. The one dragon I was supposed to be making a good impression on already thought I was an idiot. Or was I wrong in remembering that Raolcan was the Dominar’s dragon?

  She’s my human.

  Yes, that.

  And you belong to the Little Blue.

  I did. I belonged to him and with him forever.

  And the husky man beside you belongs to the young purple? No, that can’t be right. He’s too young to take a bond.

  It wasn’t a bond. It was mutual help. He believed in our cause – or something.

  Interesting. And you came to find me.

  We came to find the keys so that Nasataa could unlock the Haroc and save the world. But both Taoslil and Hubric had been certain that Raolcan could help us – at least with the key here in the Dominion.

  And that is where it gets even more interesting.

  Atura was still talking in the background, oblivious to our conversation as she spread her sweet words out before the Dominar. She’d already quoted her prophecy – the one about me being saved by a dragon who died so I could live – and then she spoke of how in the Lands of Haz’drazen she had passed the tests so well that her Ilerioc guards had bowed the knee. It was only an attack on the city, she said, that stopped the ceremony to install her as the official guardian of the Chosen One.

  Funny how her lies sounded so much like the truth. That’s what made them so believable. And yet, if she had her way, every person and dragon here would be a rock in her belly, feeding her abilities. It was hard not to scowl at the thought.

  I have to make a decision about you.

  I felt like sighing. It was always a decision. Always a test. Always one m
ore thing to have to do.

  This time, it won’t be you who has to pass my test. It will be the dragon you belong to. Please, be quiet while we talk.

  I held my breath, watching Nasataa as they spoke. But as I watched them, I finally listened again to Atura, gasping as her words hit me like a slap in the face.

  “... which is why we beg that the Dominar execute the imposter and her companions and grant us the knowledge we need to pass the test and gain the key. We call on you by the strictures of the treaty you made with Haz’drazen when you were crowned Dominar.”

  She didn’t really mean that, did she?

  Chapter Nine

  Of course, she means it, Seleska, of course! I scolded myself.

  My gaze sought Heron’s and he shook his head. How could we convince the Dominar not to listen to her? Would this ruler of a nation listen?

  I peered at the mask, but the steel visage gave nothing away. Didn’t she find that thing heavy?

  She does. Heavier than you can realize. That was Raolcan again, though his gaze was glued to Nasataa. Whatever test he had for my baby dragon must be one that involved speaking mind to mind.

  If she found it so heavy, why didn’t she take it off?

  Responsibility is a weight we all bear – some more than others. Her heart is too great to pass it off when she knows she has the strength to bear it. Would you give this little dragon into the arms of another?

  No! And he’d better not ask me to!

  The burden would be gone. You would be free to go and live your life.

  He was my life!

  Even knowing that he will likely get you killed?

  Yes!

  Even knowing you are not strong enough to protect him from every tragedy of this life?

  Even knowing that, I would never give him up. No one could protect him like I could, because no one else loved him like I did.

  Exactly. And the Dominar loves a whole nation.

  That must be very difficult.

  It is.

  So, if she loved this nation so much, why didn’t she just destroy Atura where she stood?