A Burning in the Bones (Waxways #3)

Chapter 40 Ren Monroe

40 REN MONROE

Balmerick.

Ren crossed the quad and the rest of their party trailed her like ghosts walking through the morning fog. The entire escort group was with them. Nevelyn and her small pack of children as well. One of them was the girl who looked like Timmons. The relief that Ren had felt in seeing her safe and whole had been palpable. Even now, she felt a protectiveness over the girl. As if she’d been given one more chance to protect the innocent people she’d failed to protect so far. Their first step in keeping them safe had been to teach them how to actually travel the waxways. The technique was gloriously simple, but it did require focusing one’s mind entirely on some distant place. Eventually, they’d all managed the task, though Ren had been forced to promise the last boy that he’d be given candy if he successfully teleported.

Now they planned to reunite with the other wizards who’d survived the events of Beacon House. There was much to discuss. Ahead, she saw the main dormitory buildings hunched like great stone birds in the still-thick fog. A figure waited on the front steps of the main building. When they drew close enough to see who’d been given guard duty, Ren’s eyes swung sharply over to Avid Shiverian. The girl offered a grim little smile.

“As you know, House Shiverian tends to be more cautious than the other houses. We might not have divulged the entire truth to the viceroy during that first meeting….”

Able Ockley came down the steps to greet them. During their private meeting, Avid had led the rest of the houses to believe that Ockley and the rest of the ruling generation of their house had succumbed to the plague. But here he was, the city’s most gifted dueler, looking whole and healthy. Almost as if he were flaunting that fact, Ockley raised his wand.

A casual flick of his wrist sent the fog scattering. Ren watched the bottom half of the nearest dormitory emerge. The windows were full of faces. Eyes peering out from nearly every room. Of course. Why didn’t I think of this? The students would have been right in the middle of a semester when the plague arrived. Some would have gone home, but not all of them.

“How many?” she asked. “How many still have magic?”

“There are twenty-three immune,” Ockley answered. “We have them bunked on the second floor. They didn’t answer the viceroy’s summons because, unlike you lot, they thought it might be a trap. You know how children are. Big imaginations. Think everything is a spy novel.”

Avid snorted at that. “This time they were right.”

“Combined with the survivors from Beacon House,” Ockley went on, “we’re up to sixty-three in total. The future of magic is on this campus. We also have several wyvern riders at our disposal. They’re in the campus aerie—awaiting our orders. I did offer them a massive sum of money to stay. So, it would be lovely if some of the houses with deeper pockets were willing to absorb that particular cost.”

Avid smiled at him. “If the entire economy does not collapse, I promise that House Shiverian will foot the bill. You have my word.”

Theo murmured a confirmation. Ren could feel her heart soaring in her chest. Until this moment, it had felt as if they were losing. Now they had purpose, direction, power. The surviving wizards were all gathered in one place for an impromptu summit. All they had to do was figure out how to stop a dead dragon from destroying them.

“Why don’t you all come inside?” Ockley offered warmly. “We’ll get a few fires going. Cups of tea all around. I suspect that we have quite a few decisions to make.”

Momentum carried their group up the front steps and into one of her favorite common rooms on campus. The western wall was one long run of fireplaces. Each one had a scattering of mismatched but elegant furniture circling in front of it. During the school year, students would study or congregate in these spaces. While she’d spent most of her time in the library, she did occasionally sit in front of these fires. Nearly always with Timmons. Her eyes flicked briefly over to the little girl who bore a resemblance to her old friend.

I will not fail you a second time.

At the very center of the long hall was an old war table. Circular and large enough to fit roughly thirty seats around it. She knew the table had been donated by House Brood. The small emblems of their house were carved around the edges of the table in tight, delicate loops. At the heart of the table, a map of Kathor. Ren knew it was enchanted so that no matter where you sat, it always appeared as if the map were facing your direction.

Once, Theo’s grandfather had drawn up plans at this table to defeat the northern farming tribes. It was also the table where he’d go on to sign the accords with the Graylantians. She suspected today’s conversation would carry a different tone. This was not a matter of power or rule. No, the question of the day for them would be survival. What was their place in Kathor now?

Ren took her seat as word of their arrival spread. Theo sat beside her and the Tin’Voris claimed seats to his right. Gemma Graylantian, Avid Shiverian, and Ellison Proctor were all present—but she noticed they were the only symbols of power. The people who claimed places to their right and left weren’t scions at all. Instead, wizards like Mercy Whitaker and the pioneer she’d met at Beacon House filled in the gaps. It had taken a tragedy to make them the equals they should have always been.

More chairs were pulled in from other corners of the room until the great war table was surrounded by a proper crowd. Able Ockley had a pair of students run up and down the stairs to make one final announcement. A few more students were lured from their beds. Once they were seated, Ockley signaled for silence.

“I am eager to hear an update from the lower city,” he said. “We learned a little from the other survivors of Beacon House—but I’m sure there’s more to the story.”

Ren stood. They’d discussed an order on their way to Balmerick. Avid had offered to close everything out. Mercy, initially, had wanted no part of speaking publicly in front of everyone—but Ren had insisted. Having her expertise mattered. Clarity would be important. For now, it was Ren’s job to paint the wider portrait. She cleared her throat and began.

“Last night, there was an encounter at Beacon House. After determining that the viceroy was working with the Makers, we engaged in a duel with him. It became clear that he had arranged for the former Brightsword paladins to attack all of the wizards who’d gathered at Beacon House. He claimed they were only there to arrest us, but after interrogating the viceroy, I’m pretty confident that their eventual goal was to eliminate as many of us as possible. They want to remove magic from the world. That was the goal of the plague. That was the goal of last night’s ambush. The viceroy escaped from the main estate. We pursued….”

She had taken speech classes at Balmerick. There had been lessons on tone and storytelling and elocution, but she’d never been asked to summarize something so terrible. The speeches had focused on historical events. Magical theory. Not a tragedy she’d just lived through. Even so, she quietly described the viceroy’s capture, the discovery of the chain spell, and their attempts to break that spell. Finally, she shared the gruesome detail of the immolation they’d witnessed. Any playfulness left in the room vanished then. Able Ockley looked particularly disturbed by this turn in the story, and Ren suspected that it was because it was detailing magic that even he didn’t know how to perform. Mercy Whitaker took over the next part in the story.

“Right… so… our current suspicion is that the person who originated this attack is actually a dead dragon. The unconfirmed name we have for the creature is Arakyl. And we know that most dragons connect to emotions. Specifically, the emotions of people who pass by or through their burial chambers. That’s, well, the research says that’s how they ‘awaken’ in most cases. Researchers believe they are specifically attracted to deep emotions. Anger, excitement, fear. The worst historical incidents with the burial chambers all have direct connections to a person like that encountering the corpse. Most historical cases have the dragon interacting very briefly with the subject. A lot of those instances are fatal. What’s happening now would appear to be the largest-scale interaction between a dragon and humanity. Our assumption is that the viceroy is the subject responsible for waking Arakyl. Luckily, we were able to use hellhounds to track the disease back to its source. On the map, the location is… here.”

She cast a quick spell. They all watched a trail appear on the map in front of them. It led from the city gates and out to the west. The same coordinates that had been marked on the map back at Safe Harbor. “We have the coordinates for the dragon’s burial ground and little else. We do not know when the dragon first manipulated the viceroy. We have no idea if he visited the site himself or if the chain spell reached him through other means. We’re also uncertain what kind of obstacles we’ll face if we engage with the dragon. Is the area defended by the Makers? Or will we be able to walk right up to the corpse without issue? We can’t know until we get a team out there.”

There were glances being exchanged around the room. Ren knew this part wouldn’t be easy. She’d never had to convince a room of people that a dead dragon was fomenting an attack on a city that had stood for hundreds of years. It was her job to fill in the gaps.

“Tracing the disease wasn’t the only piece of supporting evidence,” Ren added. “Mercy, why don’t you share a few of the other details we’ve discussed.”

“Details,” Mercy repeated, before nodding. “Right. Well, we know the disease was spread by corpses that were placed in water treatment facilities. All of these bodies had specific wounds. Open sternums, cuts along the upper arms and legs. The coroner who first inspected the bodies noted that each wound was far too wide to be made by a normal blade, but he also noted that the wounds were flawless. Executed with the kind of precision you’d see from a surgeon. Given what we know, I now believe these wounds were made using a dragon talon. It’s the only proper explanation for the width of each laceration. Also, the bodies we found perfectly mimicked dragon corpses. The disease was spread from the wounds of the deceased. Gas leaked out from the bodies. It was almost identical to the process that’s used for creating the breath.”

There was still doubt circulating. Ren knew it didn’t feel conclusive, but they’d turned over all the evidence before coming to the Heights. Ren thought their guess was logical. It was just up to them to communicate that to the rest of them. She gestured for Mercy to go on.

“Right. Another piece of evidence is who is immune. I haven’t had the opportunity to speak with all of the Balmerick students here today, but I’d guess all of you possess a variant magic?”

The question echoed through the crowd. There were whispers, but no one called out to correct her guess. Ren had loved this particular piece of the puzzle and had been so impressed with how quickly Mercy had put together the theory.

“Interesting, isn’t it?” Mercy continued. “Enhancers, image-bearers, bond-mates, manipulators… every person I interviewed at Beacon House possesses an atypical manifestation of magic. What you do is not just simple spellwork. You have some unique ability or connection. My hypothesis is that the plague didn’t impact any of you because the dragon was unaware your kind of magic exists. Variants have become more common in recent years. They weren’t really understood when dragons still roamed the land. I believe the disease targeted the most fundamental version of magic. Which is why everyone else had their magic burned away—but all of you maintained possession of yours. The disease couldn’t destroy what it didn’t recognize as magic.”

The first reaction was shock, but that bled quickly into acceptance. Ren guessed there would be several people who were unaware they possessed any unique magical quality. Especially amongst the younger wizards. Still, no one raised their hand to deny the claim. If anything, they were probably tracing back through their life or their schooling, considering the odd moments where their magic had behaved in a slightly different way than everyone else. Ren realized for the first time that she’d never bothered to ask Mercy what her unique ability was. She made a mental note to do that later. She’d been too focused on how irritating it was that her own personal answer for dodging the plague was Theo Brood. It was not that she’d outwitted the disease, but rather that she’d fallen in love with a boy and they’d warded each other by accident. Did the solution have to be so annoyingly romantic? As a gradual buzz seized the room, Mercy glanced over at Ren. They’d agreed that she should present the concluding details.

“The last piece of evidence is the manipulation spell we encountered. It is the most complex magic I’ve ever witnessed. A chain spell that moves from person to person without any active guidance from its creator. Not to mention the entity who cast it has been occupying the manipulated. Not just a whisper or a suggestion. We’re talking about literal mind control. The ability to jump in and out of other beings. We spoke with Gemma Graylantian. One of our generation’s most talented manipulators. She told us there wasn’t a living person who possessed magic like that.”

Ockley cleared his throat. “I’ll confirm that. What you’re describing isn’t possible.”

“Not for a person,” Ren agreed. “But for a dragon? You all know the stories. I’m sure some of you went on field trips to burial chambers when you were younger. The first thing they tell you is to guard your thoughts. They make you wear protective gear and have you cover your body head to toe because even dead, a dragon is dangerous. We have historical evidence that they can manipulate their visitors. Sometimes, the consequences are small. Like the story of the man who tried to walk back through the city gates naked. At his trial, they figured out that a dragon had manipulated him. Thought it would be funny.”

The old story drew out smiles around the room. It was a famous tale. Likely apocryphal, but it served Ren’s purposes now. “But there have been other reports of people who were commanded to leap off buildings. Ordered to perform dark tasks at the creature’s bidding. I feel like we can all agree that dragons are some of the most powerful creatures to ever exist.”

One of the students who’d arrived late raised her hand. “I don’t remember stories about dragons attacking entire cities. Every anecdote we have points to them manipulating people at a small scale. What you’re suggesting feels like a massive departure….”

A quick glance showed that Theo was smirking. Ren thought she knew why.

Gods, did I sound like that when I was a student?

Ren smiled at the girl. “Trust me, I know how absurd this sounds. I’ve been trying to process all of it myself. All we really know for sure is that we have a hellhound who has traced the disease to a specific location.” She pointed to the map. “We also know that we’re dealing with someone with powers beyond the abilities of any wizard currently alive. The only other possibility is that there’s a person out there channeling the magic of a dragon—and I can’t think of anyone who could maintain that sort of power with that sort of control. It’s not impossible, but for now, we believe that it’s wisest to pursue the most likely conclusion. We could definitely sit here and debate whether or not a dead dragon is capable of something like this—or we can go ahead and send a team to investigate what’s happening.”

Able Ockley appeared convinced. “Let’s accept your premise. A dragon is behind all of this. What’s your solution? It’s not like we can kill the thing. It’s already dead.”

The solution didn’t belong to Ren. She nodded everyone’s attention back to Mercy Whitaker. “We need to send a team to the burial chamber,” the doctor explained. “Manipulation threads are impossible to break at the point where they make contact with the victim. It’s like trying to cut through steel. It’s far easier to attack them at their point of origin. I was trained to perform severance procedures on people. I can’t imagine the process would be that different with a dragon. If an escort team can get me close enough to the corpse, I can cast spells that visually display the magical connections between the dragon and the manipulated.”

Ren’s mind stuttered briefly to a halt. Severance procedures . When they’d discussed the matter earlier, she hadn’t pieced together what Mercy meant. Her eyes swung over to Theo. He was already looking at her. An instinctual panic trickled across their bond. Mercy was describing the exact kind of procedure that Dr. Horn had attempted. She’d never considered the idea that Horn had worked at Safe Harbor. Were the two of them connected somehow? It was yet another idea she’d have to follow up on. Mercy was still speaking.

“If I’m right, we would be able to begin severing those connections. One by one. You’re right. We can’t kill a dragon that’s already dead. But we could potentially separate the creature from its victims. It won’t fix everything. Some of the people who’ve joined the Makers didn’t need to be manipulated. They wanted this revolution. We believe a small group will continue on no matter what, but there are people around Kathor who’ve been influenced. Those manipulated subjects, upon realizing they’ve been tricked, will push away from their captors. I believe if we cut those threads, we’ll effectively be ‘waking up’ half the city. It’s possible that will be enough for this movement to die out. Hopefully, it’s enough to sway them away from the viceroy’s final charge.”

Ockley snorted at that. “You’re referring to the part where he cast all of us as villains and ordered the city to stand against us? Indeed. It would be a great idea to begin unraveling that thought as quickly as possible. But what you’re describing won’t be easy. One does not simply walk into a dragon’s burial chamber and begin casting revelation charms.”

Mercy nodded. “It’s a risk. Everything from here on out is a risk. That’s why I’m not going alone. I need volunteers. People who are skilled in combat or defensive magic. We don’t have any idea what will be waiting out there for us. Who would go with me?”

This was always going to be the hard part. It was one thing to defend themselves from an attack. Quite another thing to walk voluntarily into the burial chamber of a dead dragon. Ren was completely unsurprised to see Dahvid Tin’Vori raising his hand.

“I’ll go. I can manipulate my summon sword so that it will cut through the threads you’re describing. I assume the faster we work, the lower the risk. I also have a null sword that I recovered from… an opponent of mine. It would be effective against what you’re describing.”

Ren thought it was rather polite of him not to mention that he’d taken the null sword from Thugar Brood’s corpse. At the back of the room, one of the Balmerick students stepped forward. She’d apparently been training to be a reaver for House Winters before the plague came.

“Give me that sword and tell me where to swing,” she said.

A small unit of specialists began to take shape. Ren was feeling confident about all the personnel decisions until a wave of discomfort swept across her bond. Theo caught her eye, frowned an apology, and then raised his hand.

“I have a talent for defensive magic. Wards and shields. I’ll come.”

She barely stopped herself from hissing for Theo to shut the hell up. The conversation bounced to the other side of the table, someone else discussing their merits for the mission, and Ren was afforded the opportunity to have a whispered conversation with Theo.

“What the hell is wrong with you? It’s a dragon’s burial chamber, Theo . Don’t you remember the one we went in last year? It’s not safe. It won’t be safe….”

His voice was quiet but steady. “There aren’t many things that I’m better at than you, Ren, but defensive magic is one of them. You know I have a talent for wards. It’s been the focus of my training for almost a decade. I can help them. Besides, it would be a waste for the two of us to remain in the same location.”

Ren frowned. “What? Why would that be a waste?”

“I can pull you,” he reminded her. “And you can pull me. Splitting up basically means we have access to both locations. I’m sorry, Ren. It’s just sound strategy.”

She bit down on her own tongue. Every part of her wanted to tell him that he could take his clever damn strategies and shove them straight up his ass. She wanted to demand that they stay together. No matter what happened. But what would her counterargument be? Please don’t leave, because if you die, I might as well be dead too. It wasn’t a reasonable thing to say to another person.

“It’s all settled then,” Ockley announced. “We have seven wizards heading west. The next discussion needs to be about where the rest of us will go.”

Ren blinked at that. “What? Why would we leave Balmerick?”

“We don’t have to yet,” Ockley answered. “But this isn’t a long-term solution. The infrastructure of this island relies on the city below. There’s no agriculture. No way to feed ourselves. Even the water supply depends on Kathor. Life in the Heights depends on a good relationship with the lower city—and with the people who run it.”

She hated how logical that was. She’d been so prepared to feel safe here. Balmerick had always felt like a second home. A warm blanket draped over her shoulders. Maybe that feeling had kept her from assessing the realities of what it would look like to carve out an existence here. Not for weeks or months—but for decades. Her eyes cut across to Avid Shiverian. The girl looked as if she’d been waiting for this part of the conversation.

Of course. Shiverians always have a card hidden up one sleeve.

“I’m guessing you have another location in mind?” Ren asked.

Ockley rapped his knuckles on the war table. Magic whispered out from his touch. They all watched the map begin to shift. The view of the coastline slid away. The focus was moving slowly to the north. Slightly inland as well. A small circle appeared in the valley between two mountains.

“This is Meredream,” Ockley announced. “Our future.”