Dragon Empress

Chapter 32

“Hang on!” she screamed, heedless of who might hear. She twirled Aurelas and drove its hilt into a c***k. Again and again Keriya struck the ice, but her efforts made no dent in the thick sheet. She stood and drove Aurelas point-first into the largest fissure. Throwing her weight into it, she heaved against the blade. More cracks emerged beneath her feet.

She jumped—perhaps not the wisest choice, since she couldn’t swim and she no longer had access to her watermagic. To any magic.

“Almost there,” she panted as the ghost shape flashed below. She jumped once more—

And the ice broke. A small sheet flipped beneath Keriya and she slid into the freezing liquid. Icy fire entombed her legs. It wasn’t as bad as the watermagic ordeal she’d suffered in the Broken Vale, but in Selaran terms of pain, it was pretty bad.

“Help,” she gasped uselessly, clawing at the broken ice. Aurelas, stuck in one of the nearby cracks, glinted a salvation. Keriya wrapped her hand around the blade. It sliced her skin as she slid deeper into Lake Sanara. Warmth puddled in her screaming palm, but she held fast.

Her legs churned in the water and collided with something solid. The solid thing pushed against her, and slowly, inch by inch, she emerged from the lake. With a mighty heave, she pulled herself free of the ice chunks.

She shimmied away from the breakage on her stomach, dragging Aurelas with her. A trail of blood gleamed in her wake. She twisted around to see what had saved her.

Again, for a moment, nothing. The night was still. Even the wind had died.

Then the broken panes exploded upwards, sending razor-sharp shards in every direction. Keriya curled to protect herself. There was another resounding c***k—and then, in response, a monstrous, guttural roar.

Peeking through her arms, Keriya saw a sparkling white shape, drenched and bedraggled, emerge from the lake. It dug curved talons into the unbroken ice, hauling itself away from the open wound in the crystalline surface.

“Valerion,” she breathed.

The dragon twitched. She hadn’t spoken loudly, but he raised his head and looked at her. His left eye shone through the night. His empty right socket was a dark crater in his otherwise perfect face.

His brow ridges drew together, and for a moment Keriya feared he’d lost his memories. That had happened before, over the long ages he’d lived.

Then his snarling visage softened. His scaly lips turned up in a smile.

“Keriya.”

Dawn broke over the lake, scattering light across the snowy hills of the Aerian valley. Keriya and Valerion retreated into the cover of the Felwood. She used her borrowed flint rocks to make a fire; he managed to snag a young wolfcat. They shared the meager meal as they tried, somewhat unsuccessfully on Keriya’s part, to dry off.

“How much do you remember?” she asked, cradling her wounded hand in her lap.

“Everything. The lake sharpened things over time.” A snarl wrinkled the diamond scales of his snout. Keriya examined his visage, comparing it to Shivnath’s. She saw the resemblance, now that she knew to look for it. The broad, rounded skull, the sorrowful curve of the eyes, the particular set of the ears that suggested haughtiness, as if both creatures innately knew their power.

“I remember the moment Ashétyn ripped me apart.” A sheen of panic came into his eye. “Why are you here? The war—”

“The war is on pause,” Keriya interrupted. “I used valemagic to re-imprison Necrovar.”

Shadows danced in Valerion’s right socket as he smiled, tired and broken. “You are a better hero than I ever was.”

“I’m not. I nearly destroyed the world when I wielded against him. I went to the Broken Vale so I could learn to control my power, use it to end the war once and for all.”

Her throat constricted, and she fell silent. Valerion let her sit until she was ready to speak, until the tide of pain had subsided.

“I failed the test I was given, and I was punished. The guardian of Pure Valemagic put a block on my soul. Now I can’t wield anything.”

There was no judgement or scorn from Valerion, as she’d feared there might be. Nor was there shock or horror, as she’d expected. When she met his lopsided gaze, she saw the thing she hated most: pity.

“We are more alike than ever, it seems,” he murmured.

Perhaps not pity; perhaps Valerion, of all creatures, could offer empathy.

The fire spat and spluttered between them. He had dug through deep winter layers to find dead leaves that were reasonably dry, but they emitted horrible, acrid plumes of smoke.

“I regained consciousness . . . I don’t know how long ago,” he said at last. “The lake’s enchantment reconstituted me, but when I regained my sense of self, I was underwater. I swam to the surface and found it frozen and blocked.”

“Sanara freezes in late autumn. You might have been in there for weeks. Maybe a month. How did you survive?”

“I cannot die,” he reminded her bitterly. “I drowned and was healed, again and again, countless times. Every time I lost strength.”

She placed a trembling hand on the cold scales of his shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

He leaned into the touch. Lowering his head to his crossed forepaws, he stared into the flames.

“I’m tired of living,” he whispered.

“You’re tired of living in pain,” she corrected him gently.

“It comes to the same thing, for me.”

“It doesn’t have to. I can fix it. I will fix it, one day.”

Valerion rumbled a dark laugh. “After ten ages, I’ve learned my lesson. Death is not an enemy to fight or fear, Keriya. It is not something you need to fix.”

“What about unfair and unjust deaths?” she demanded. She thought of the dead child in the Galantrian Village, of Necrovar unraveling mortals on a battlefield, of Thorion standing empty in the Broken Vale.

“All death is unfair, some way or another, but I have suffered for ten ages. Now I just want peace.”

“Fletcher and Danisan always say the irony of peace is that we must keep fighting for it. So don’t get too tired of living, alright?” Her voice broke. She would not beg Valerion to stay with her if he didn’t want to, but the thought of losing him was too much to bear.

“Just . . . don’t give up. Please.”

“Fletcher is right,” said Valerion, his scaly lips twitching. “And so are you. Again, a human proves herself wiser than I.”

A block of ice formed around Keriya’s heart. It was long past time to reveal the secrets of her ancestry. She’d avoided talking about Shivnath, but she could put it off no more.

“I’m not human.”

“You are not,” Valerion agreed. “Last night, I regained consciousness and felt the urge to try escaping. I’m willing to bet your presence had something to do with that.”

Could that be why Shivnath had returned her to Aeria? Was this the god’s convoluted attempt at assistance, pulling strings and finding loopholes? Maybe now that Keriya and Valerion had reunited, Shivnath would remove the magical block.

Keriya reached inside herself again.

She remained empty.

Shaking her head, she stood. “We have to go home. Do you have enough strength to fly over the mountains?”

“I have suffered worse flights. But surely you can get us home faster.”

“No magic,” she said dully.

“Not even telepathy?”

She paused, considering the question. When her source had been blocked before, she’d still managed telepathic communication—first with Thorion, then with Viran. Thorion was an easy explanation. Their bond had facilitated their communication.

Shivnath confirmed that I’ve bonded with Viran, too.

It made sense, in a way. At first, communication with him had been laborious and draining. Over time, it had grown easier—thanks to the strengthening of their bond, she presumed.

“I can try it.” Closing her eyes, Keriya concentrated as hard as she had once done in Jidaeln.

Nothing happened, and she screwed up her face in a scowl of defeat. There was no Belbreeze here to admonish her for the ugly expression.

Keriya?! You’re back!

She gasped, her eyes flying open. She’d know that voice anywhere, and she knew she hadn’t imagined it.

“Viran!” The word escaped as a sob. Eternities had passed since she’d heard him last, eternities spent in torment.

Keriya, I need you. We’re at war.

She blinked. Frowned. Her body went numb.

Keriya, can you hear me? Where are you?

We need you at the Cinder Isle ports. We’re under attack on multiple fronts, but we’re undermanned there.

No. No, this couldn’t be happening. She wanted to scream and cry, but screaming would solve nothing, and tears had never done her any good.

A horrible, roaring silence filled her mind when Viran did not immediately respond.

“What’s happening?” Valerion prompted. He’d risen to his feet, gazing avidly at her.

“I don’t know. Viran said Allentria’s under attack, and now he’s not saying anything.”

She forced the thought out, begging the universe to bring it to him. Seconds of silence stretched into minutes, and Keriya despaired. Valerion paced in agitation, gouging furrows in the snow.

A flash lit the sky, filtering through the pine branches. A second sun had emerged in the southeast. Harsh shadows raced across the snow, fleeing its brightness. Keriya grinned.

“Come on!” she cried to Valerion.

They crashed through dead brush to the lake shore. Keriya spied Khyvette at once—she was impossible to miss. Her scales gleamed in the reflected light of the snow, half a league away. The green dragon had arrived on the shore where their group of friends had once stood, hoping to reconstitute Valerion from the single scale Keriya had salvaged.

“Climb on,” said Valerion. He extended a forepaw, crouching in invitation.

Everything was wrong with the world, but here was one tiny thing that was right. Keriya scrambled up the leg and settled into a wonderfully familiar crouch between his wing joints. She looped one arm around the base of his neck as he launched from the ground.

Across the ice, Khyvette also launched. The two parties met over the middle of Lake Sanara.

“What happened to you?” Keriya and Fletcher asked at the same time. His question was more deserved than hers—she’d known the Allentrians were at war, but she was appalled to see dark purple blood coating Khyvette’s flanks.

“No time to explain,” Valerion and Khyvette replied in unison.

Dragons to the rescue. Their levelheadedness forced Keriya to focus.

“I can’t wield,” she said, locking gazes with Khyvette. The former Eminarch, once as stoic as a stone, had become too expressive for her own good. Emotions flickered in her eyes—not shock, but something closer to resignation.

Khyvette must have known the truth of Shivnath’s identity all along. Had she also known Keriya’s quest was a lost cause?

“Will you be able to transport four?” asked Valerion, tipping his snout toward the green’s wounded flank.

“I am not yet spent,” she said, though fatigue was heavy in her voice.

“We have to go now,” said Fletcher. “Roxanne needs help.”

Khyvette’s nostrils flared, and blinding brightness engulfed them. Keriya’s heart expanded, embracing the feel of teleportation, then contracted as she was squeezed back into reality.

They’d arrived over a blood-soaked battlefield. To the west, the mainland city of Port Cinder burned. Below, a circle of corpses sprawled across the grassy plain. In the center of the bodies crouched a horribly familiar figure.

“Shädar,” Keriya breathed, tightening her hold on Valerion. A reedy Moorfainian stood next to the demon.

The old thrill of battle—the liquid heat in her veins, the potential energy bunched in her muscles—was muted by fear. She couldn’t wield, Khyvette was injured, and Sethildras was far away.