Storm the Earth Page 2

  Still, I would not give him the satisfaction of seeing me cower.

  “Come to kill me?” I said.

  “You’ve been a thorn in my side for too long,” he said, his gaze cold. “The little prince of Ruzi. The rest of your family was so easy to dispose of, but you’ve managed to elude me for years. So you can imagine my surprise when I learned that you’d gone to Lumina. Were you trying to get yourself captured?”

  When I didn’t answer, he continued. “I should kill you, but I find myself curious. I know you’ve been running around my empire with the Dragons—such a grandiose name for such a pitiful band of traitors. So now that you’re finally enjoying my hospitality, it’s time you and I had a chat about your… friends.”

  The emperor nodded to the guards, who unlocked the bars and entered the cell. Two of them grabbed me by the arms, pinning me between them as the emperor came to stand over me.

  “What makes you think I’ll tell you anything?” I spat.

  Rafael grinned, his teeth glinting in the dim light. “You may be the shadow prince of Ruzi, but within these walls you are nothing.”

  He raised his hand, beckoning to someone behind him in the hall. I hadn’t noticed her before—a woman wearing healer’s robes.

  Oh no.

  “I’ll make this easy for you,” Rafael said. “If you lie to me, I will break your fingers, one by one. After that, we’ll start cutting them off. If you tell the truth, you get to keep them. Do we have an understanding?”

  What an enticing offer. I managed to shrug under the weight of the guards’ hands on my shoulders. “Seems like I don’t have much of a choice.”

  The healer handed an open vial to the emperor, who passed it to the third guard. I smelled the metallic slick of Brika’s kiss, the truth serum used for interrogation back at the dragon fortress. My pulse quickened. I had practiced counteracting the serum, but that had been droplets in water, not an entire vial of it.

  The guard pinched my nostrils shut with one gloved hand and pressed the vial against my lips with the other. I considered resisting, but to what end? They would break my fingers and drug me anyway. Resigned, I opened my mouth and drank. The viscous liquid slid slowly down my throat, and I shuddered as I swallowed, my vision starting to swim.

  My head lolled back, and I sank to my knees. With my eyes closed, the world sounded like I was listening to it from underwater. The healer’s voice drifted by, out of focus.

  Fingers snapped in front of my face. “Open your eyes.”

  I slowly complied. The light was glaring at first, but it dimmed as I blinked. They were still here, around me. I could feel the guards’ hands holding me down. My fingers were tingling, my breath echoing in my head.

  “Vesper. Who is the girl who traveled with you to Lumina?”

  Maren. So easy to let the name slip, but something held me back—fear. Why did the emperor care more about Maren than about the Dragons? How much did he know? If he was asking her name, perhaps he wasn’t aware of the kit, or Maren’s abilities. I had to keep her safe.

  “No one,” I said, the words muffled to my ears. “Picked her up on the road in Eronne.” I ground out the lie, every word so heavy, it required extraordinary effort to push past my lips.

  The emperor snorted and looked to one of the guards. There was a snapping sound and my hand was on fire—I cried out, my vision blurring as I fell forward. The guards pulled me back upright.

  I didn’t want to look but couldn’t stop my head from turning. My finger was still attached, but it was bent back at an unnatural angle. Tera’s bones, the guard had broken my finger. I swallowed hard, trying to focus. “Is that all?” I taunted, hoping to sound braver than I felt.

  Rafael just laughed. “Don’t test me again, Vesper. Now tell me, what’s the girl’s name?”

  I breathed out slowly, pretended to weigh the punishment in my head. Sweat beaded on my forehead as I opened my mouth, preparing to lie. “Senna,” I said, managing not to choke on the name.

  “What do you know of her?”

  Sweat was dripping into my eyes now, trickling down my chest, despite the damp, cold air of the cell. “Barely anything.” My heart was beating faster, faster, faster—how much longer could I withstand the serum?

  “You’re lying,” he said. “You two were spotted together outside of Deletev. I know all about the girl Maren—how she arrived at the dragon fortress and how she left.”

  No. The pain in my hand intensified, and my ears started ringing. If he knew that, he must know where she came from. Ilvera wasn’t safe—did Maren know?

  I swallowed down the bile coming up in my throat. “I don’t understand. Why are you asking me questions to which you know the answers?”

  Rafael brushed the question aside. “Was she working with you from the beginning?”

  He knew I had lied already, so what answer would be safest?

  “She was my partner.” The words flowed without hesitation—technically, it wasn’t a lie. We had indeed been partners… after escaping the dragon fortress. And if he thought that Maren had only been my accomplice, then perhaps he wouldn’t look further into what she had undertaken by herself.

  Maren. Her hands on my skin. The fierceness of her expression as she faced down the Talons. The tenderness she had shown when she spoke about Kaia. The way she laughed when she gave herself permission to.

  Rafael loomed over me. “Is she an Aurat?”

  “No. I don’t think so,” I said.

  “Then who told you about the dragon?”

  My eyebrows furrowed in unfeigned confusion. “What dragon?”

  He couldn’t be asking about the kit. The source of the dragon egg was obvious.

  Another lance of fire—another broken finger. I shouted in pain. Rafael grabbed my face in one hand and forced my head up. “Look at me,” he snapped. “How did you know about the dragon?”

  “I don’t know what dragon you’re talking about,” I said wearily.

  It was the unvarnished truth, and the words came so easily that he must have believed me. He stepped back and nodded to the guards. They dropped me to the floor, and I hissed in pain as I fell forward onto my injured hand.

  The emperor crouched before me and yanked me up by my shirt so that I could see nothing but his face, twisted with rage. “You are only as valuable to me as the information you provide. If you expect to stay alive, you’ll cooperate the next time we meet.”

  Then he was gone. Two guards followed in his wake—the third remained standing above me. The healer knelt by my side. “This will hurt. Here—bite down.” She handed me a leather strap.

  I wanted to joke but couldn’t catch my breath. Instead I put the strap between my teeth and bit as she took my injured hand and did something that sent white pain searing across my brain—

  * * *

  The healer was the only other person left in the cell when I came to my senses again. She had set my fingers and splinted them against the others while I was insensible. She must have done something else, too—given me medicine, or performed an incantation—because the pain had lessened somewhat, though I expected it would soon return in full force. Now she was occupied with packing away her supplies.

  “What dragon is he talking about?” I asked, my voice sounding hoarse. I pushed myself into a seated position with some difficulty.

  She barely looked at me. “Try to get some rest.”

  “But—”

  “Take care of those fingers,” she said firmly, cutting me off. “You’ll need your strength.”

  How ridiculous, that she was advising me on best healing practices here, in the emperor’s dungeon. I laughed mirthlessly as she left the cell, then leaned back against the wall, reviewing the interrogation in my mind. Something had happened with a dragon, or to a dragon—that much was clear. And there had been a strange, desperate undertone to his questions. Fear, I realized. The Flame of the West was afraid.

  I smiled. Perhaps there was something to hope for after all.

  CHAPTER THREE Maren

  The sky is crowded with dragons, more than I have ever seen or dreamed, but they fly with their heads low, the scent of mirth wood oil rich in the air. Naava and I fly among them, and when she roars, her flames flare out toward the horizon. We dart between the cracks of open sky, and at every turn Naava nudges the dragons around her, singing to them too softly for me to make out the melody.

  At first the dragons brush off her attentions with ease. But even after my arms begin to tire and the wind bites at the corners of my eyes, Naava stays her course. The sun sets, awash in orange and deep pink. And one by one, the dragons lift their heads and begin to sing.

  * * *

  I started awake, my heart racing. There was only one day until midsummer, one day to break into Lumina, to save Kaia—

  No. No, that had already happened. We had escaped. We were… not safe, not really. But we’d left the Talons in complete disarray, and we’d slept peacefully well into the night. The forest was painted in cool shades of blue and gray, and Kaia lay still with her head against my shoulder. The dragon kit nestled against my other side. Naava must have moved while we slept—now she lay curled around us, her mountainous body a shelter from the elements.

  I eased my arm out from under Kaia’s head and got carefully to my feet. The air was cold outside of Naava’s reach, and I rubbed my hands together to warm them. Next to me the dragon kit stirred, then sat up and yawned. Her eyes glowed faintly in the darkness.

  “Go back to sleep,” I whispered, but it was of no use. She jumped into my arms before settling herself on my shoulder, tail twining behind my neck for balance.

  “Well, if you insist.” I couldn’t help but smile as the kit nuzzled her snout against my cheek.

  My entire bod
y protested as I moved. The trauma of the last few days had seeped beneath my skin, and it felt as though my very bones were rebelling. I stretched my arms, feeling the strain of the muscles where I had held on to Naava for dear life during our encounter with the Talons. The skin on my left arm pulled and stung—I’d forgotten about the cut I’d sustained from the Prophet’s attack. The wound was shallow and had already scabbed over, but I knew that if I shifted in particular ways, it would reopen. But I still felt the need to move.

  The dragon kit and I ventured into the trees. The silence here was weighty, and I had a feeling that the forest was full of its own stories, if only I knew how to listen. It reminded me a little of Vir’s Passage, and I could only hope there were no vengeful spirits here.

  Something rustled in the underbrush, and I pressed myself against one of the trees, reaching for my knife. The kit’s claws dug into my shoulders, and then she leaped, gliding clumsily down to the ground and darting off in pursuit of whatever was out there.

  “Wait!” I called hoarsely, but it was too late. The kit was gone.

  I shuffled forward in the dark, but it was impossible to move quickly without snapping twigs or disturbing branches, and I didn’t want to advertise my position to anyone who might be out there. I stopped. The dragon kit had good instincts. She wouldn’t have gone off to get caught in a trap… would she?

  Either way, the forest had gone quiet again. I closed my eyes, listening. After a few moments, I caught the sound of another rustle, something small, coming closer…

  The kit pranced out of the underbrush, the limp body of a mouse dangling from her mouth. I let out a sigh of relief and scratched the top of her head and she settled down to eat.

  That was one problem solved, at least. As long as the dragon could hunt, we would only need to worry about how to feed ourselves.

  As if on cue, my own empty stomach rumbled. I sheathed my knife. The thought of food led unavoidably to the question of what we should do next.

  “What are we going to do?” I wondered aloud. We had gotten away this time, but Naava was injured and Sev was still missing. We would make a sorry army storming the emperor’s palace in this state.

  Having finished eating, the kit chirped and darted in a circle around my legs. I sighed. “Well, I’m glad to see that one of us has retained a streak of optimism.” I picked her up, and she cuddled against my chest. “Will you speak to me?” Perhaps that was a selfish hope. It was possible that Naava spoke to humans only because she’d been forced to for so long.

  “Maren?”

  I jumped, almost dropping the kit as I whirled around to see Kaia step out of the shadows. “Tera’s bones, you frightened me!” I said.

  “I frightened you? I woke up and you were gone! I thought you’d been taken, or—”

  She cut her sentence short, hugging her arms across her stomach. My heart cracked. Had she truly thought I would leave her?

  I put the dragon kit down and went to her, wrapping her in my arms. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think you would wake up. I just needed to think.”

  She muttered something that I didn’t quite hear and pulled me closer. “Don’t leave like that. I was so worried.”

  “I won’t.” An intense wave of relief washed through me, and I leaned into her embrace. “I was so afraid I would never see you again,” I said softly.

  Her arms tightened around me. “It’s all right. We’re together now.”

  Our escape from Lumina had been so panicked—and the confrontation with the Talons terrifying—but those things were behind us now, and the forest around us was calm, and the longer we stood together the more my body remembered that it was more than a vessel for exhaustion.

  I buried my face in her hair, inhaling the scent of salt and honey and home. My chest warmed, and I felt a familiar ache growing within me.

  “Kaia,” I whispered. She turned her head and sighed against my lips, our bodies pressing together. We kissed, and it was as though no time had passed at all. We were simply Maren and Kaia, as we had always been.

  My heart raced as she stripped off my jacket and pulled my shirt over my head, her movements possessed by a sense of urgency that quickly overtook me, too. I fumbled with her robes—too slow, too slow—she helped with the cords, stepping on the hem and laughing a little as she wriggled free of it. The rest of our clothes dropped to the forest floor, and we followed feverishly quick, her name on my lips, her mouth on my skin, her hands confident. She took me and I let her, let the world wash away from me until all I could think was Kaia, Kaia, Kaia.

  * * *

  The forest began to lighten, and I could hear the dragon kit snoring softly a ways from us. I sighed. For the first time in a very long time, I’d been able to rest without being consumed by thoughts of what was to come. Still, I knew we shouldn’t linger any longer. I traced one finger across Kaia’s arm, then nudged her gently.

  She woke with a cry, looking around frantically. I caught her hand in mine, and she curled toward me, shaking. Her eyes flooded with tears, and my throat tightened. “It’s all right—you’re all right,” I said. “But it’s time to go.”

  She nodded, her shoulders hunched. I held her for a moment longer—then, regretfully, I let her go.

  We brushed ourselves off and dressed. But as Kaia turned to pull the Aurati robe over her head, I caught sight of large, fading bruises on her back that had been invisible in the dark.

  “Kaia—”

  “You’re bleeding,” she interrupted.

  What? I looked down to find that the wound on my arm had reopened, though I barely felt the pain. “The Prophet cut me when we were fighting. It’s nothing, just needs a wash and a bandage. I don’t even feel it. But what did they do to you? How did you get those bruises?”

  I reached for her, but she flinched, turning away and pulling her robe tighter around herself. “It doesn’t matter. It’s done. Don’t we have to go?”

  And just like that, the door that had opened between us in the night slammed shut.

  I wanted to plant my feet and refuse to move until she told me exactly what she had endured while she had been held in Lumina. I wanted to hold her and tell her that nothing like that would ever happen to her again. I wanted to grind the Aurati order to dust beneath my boots.

  But she was right. We couldn’t stay here.

  “All right,” I said. I whistled to the dragon kit, who woke with a happy chirp, and we started back toward the clearing where we had left Naava. Kaia walked in troubled silence, but I was loath to break it—at least not until I knew what I wanted to say, and exactly how to say it. Instead my thoughts turned to our next problem. The road to Gedarin was long, and we needed food and a change of clothing, not to mention a plan of attack. I would have to consult with Naava.

  The great dragon opened one eye as we approached, but she didn’t bother raising her head. Her black scales shimmered in the morning light, and her left wing was partially extended, revealing the severity of her wound. I put a hand to my mouth. The gash was long and deep, and still weeping blood. Seeing it clearly, I was shocked that she had remained aloft as long as she had.

  I walked closer. “Naava—will it heal?”

  In time. Her voice was slow, ponderous. She was even more exhausted than I was. All of my children… none of them are safe. I thought the damage was to my own self only, but they took them all. Chained them. Changed them.

  Her focus was wandering, and the depth of her grief was plain in her words. “I’m so sorry,” I said quietly. “But… we can free them now, can’t we? In your dream last night, you sang—”

  Dragonsong requires strength, more than I have now. If I am to free my children, I must rest. Her wing flexed, then lay still. I cannot heal here. I must return to Ilvera. Her nostrils twitched, and a thin stream of smoke rose into the air.

  “For how long?” I had expected to intercept Sev as he was still being transported. Now he was long gone, and without Naava, there was no way we could snatch him from the emperor’s clutches.

  As long as it takes.