A Burning in the Bones (Waxways #3)

Chapter 42 Ren Monroe

42 REN MONROE

A sort of organized chaos claimed the entire campus.

Makeshift classes were held in the freshman lecture hall for all the children who hadn’t learned their foundational spellwork yet. Avid Shiverian taught most of those sessions, which made sense: her mother had invented the standard curriculum. Naturally, the process was a bit rushed. Some of the children would burst into tears when they couldn’t get certain spells to work. There were a few, however, who rose to the challenge. Pressure carved them into more. One was the girl she thought looked like a younger version of Timmons. Ren couldn’t resist drawing closer to her during the practice part of the lesson. She failed to cast the spell, but then gritted her teeth and dug her feet into the proper stance, attempting the magic again. On her fourth attempt, the girl succeeded in casting a very small but real shield in the air. The girl cast around then, as any child might, eager to see who’d witnessed her success. Eventually, her gaze landed on Ren.

“Did you see that?” the girl asked breathlessly. “It worked.”

Ren nodded in approval. “It did. What’s your name?”

The girl straightened her shoulders. “Winnie Fletcher.”

“Keep practicing, Winnie Fletcher. You’re off to an excellent start.”

That was all it took for the girl to settle back into her stance and eagerly attempt the spell again. A deep and terrible feeling punched into Ren’s stomach as she watched. She had to leave the room to keep herself from crying. This wasn’t like her. Not at all. While the children practiced, Ren worked hard to avoid Theo. His crew had spent every waking hour securing the equipment they needed to safely enter a dragon burial chamber. She was angry over his decision. And it made her seethe even more whenever she thought about how rational his choice was. Exactly the kind of decision she would have made. The only difference was… that she loved him? Profoundly? Irrevocably?

Gods, how pathetic.

Thankfully, there was plenty to do to keep her mind preoccupied. The first large-scale problem the group was facing was how to get everyone to Meredream. The wyverns had seemed like an obvious answer until Nevelyn Tin’Vori pointed out that repeated flights to the same location would draw the wrong sort of attention. The Makers had been smart enough to steal Kathor from them. They were certainly smart enough to follow a trail, and flying wyverns overhead in the same direction over and over would be more than leaving breadcrumbs. It would be like baking full loaves and setting them out while they were still warm. Someone also pointed out that the wyvern riders were not definitely on their side. None of them still possessed magic. Their loyalty was very dependent on the money they’d been offered. So, what if they decided to turn on the wizards? It would be all too easy for them to remember the route for the next bidder.

The next option was the waxways. It was a small risk for some of the children, who were so fledgling in their magic, to port that far. This wasn’t a simple jump from the lower city to the Heights. Any child could travel a short distance. The level of focus required to travel with a standard-sized candle was significantly greater. And that was yet another problem.

“This is the whole supply? It’s a school for magic. Shouldn’t they have magical candles?”

She was staring down at a box of candle nubs. Every drawer and closet had been searched. In total, they’d collected just three of the stock candles. Everything else in the box was leftovers. Ellison Proctor, who had become the group’s unofficial accountant, offered Ren a shrug.

“Balmerick students had the portal room,” he said. “Or they could walk to the supply station in the courtyard near the front of campus. You went to school here. You know how it goes. Most of them just used the enchanted carriages.”

Which no one knew how to safely drive. None of the immune were professional carriage drivers. It was a very nuanced magic. One that often was passed down through generations—father to son or mother to daughter. Avid promised she would read up on the subject, but then they’d have to find an actual carriage in the lower city and get up to the Heights without drawing attention.

Ren decided to order their search for way candles to span outward. Once more, her scouts came back empty-handed. A few of the abandoned houses were explored with candles in mind this time instead of food, but none were found. Next, they attempted to knock on the doors of the houses that were still occupied. Almost no one would open their doors. Ren understood their caution. Wards worked almost like passwords. They were sealed safely inside as long as they didn’t grant access to anyone. It was fair to not completely trust a pack of people who’d randomly started roaming the gilded streets you called home.

In total, five people opened their doors. All of them had gotten sick and were living off a healthy supply of stored goods. Some were carefully rationing each day. Speaking with them, Ren couldn’t help thinking about the fact that they were stuck here. The waxways were not an option for any of them. They would need a wyvern or a carriage—or a long rope.

One problem at a time.

Ren noted that sympathies were in their favor in the Heights. Most of these people—magicless or not—had been wealthy merchants. Scions of the great houses. Their success was distinctly tied to whether or not the great houses survived all of this. Some even went as far as whispering that they didn’t believe the viceroy’s claims. Their kindness was welcome, but it didn’t solve the actual problem: no one had extra candles.

After failing to resupply in the Heights, Ren returned to headquarters and suggested sending down a search party to the lower city. Ellison Proctor volunteered to go. He’d been keeping fastidious notes of all their supplies, and suggested that he keep an eye out for the candles and a few other items they needed to refill. He also claimed to be nondescript enough to blend in with a crowd, whereas a pack of wizards might draw unwanted attention. She thought that was a stretch—given he was one of the better-looking people in the city—but after seeing him with his hood pulled up, she agreed a more discreet route would be best. Not to mention they didn’t want to waste more candles than strictly necessary. When he ported away, the room fell to silence. Avid Shiverian was reading a book that Ren assumed would have detailed spellwork about flying carriages. Able Ockley appeared to be meditating. She leaned back into the comfort of her chair and began her own version of a meditation.

Ellison’s return woke her up. He’d managed to secure just two candles.

“I checked four different markets,” he reported. “None of the normal way candle vendors are there. It’s like the supply ran out. Which makes sense, I suppose. The factory isn’t one of those passive-magic places. The candles have to be handmade. I’d guess it shut down after the plague, and it’s not like people are clamoring for more way candles. No one down there can even use them. Still, it’s strange the original supply vanished….”

His words caught Nevelyn Tin’Vori’s attention. Ren must have been sleeping when she’d returned. Her old friend had volunteered with the children all morning. A surprising choice. Nevelyn didn’t strike her as the motherly sort. Really, she seemed more of the “get those children away from my garden” kind of lady. It was one of the rare instances where Ren didn’t mind being proven wrong. “Wait,” she said. “You’re looking for candles?”

Ellison nodded. “I just searched the lower city markets for them. We don’t have enough to cover travel for the entire group. Not even close. We could always port to a location outside the city gates. Walk the rest of the way…”

“Shit. That’s what they were doing.”

Ellison and Ren both looked at her.

“What who was doing?” Ren prodded.

“I saw the Makers distributing food in the market—but there was one day where one of their members traded crates of food for candles. Hundreds of them. I didn’t piece together that they were way candles. I mean, why would they buy them? They don’t use magic.”

“A defensive move,” Ockley offered. His eyes were still closed as if he were meditating. “The waxways are a tactical advantage for us. If it ever came to open warfare, our ability to port around the city would have left them vulnerable. It’s clever. Hamstringing us before the race even starts.”

Very clever.

Ren was tired of being outmaneuvered by Arakyl—if that’s who was truly behind the attack. There were rumors that the dragons existed outside time. Some philosophers believed that was the explanation for how they could still interact with the world, even though they were all dead. It certainly felt as if Arakyl had glanced into the future and planned out every possible detail. And that thought made her stomach turn even more.

What if he knows Theo is coming? What if he planned for that, too?

Avid Shiverian had been half reading and half listening. The girl pushed to her feet, dog-eared the page she was on, and set the book on the table.

“Give me three of those candles,” Avid requested. “I know what to do.”

Ellison Proctor slid the box in her direction. All of them watched as she lit one of the candles with a quick wave of her hand. The flame danced back and forth. Ren shook her head.

“Come on. There’s no way you figured out how to drive a flying carriage that fast….”

Avid winked at her. “I’ll be back soon.”

Before Ren could ask anything else, she snuffed out the flame and vanished with an echoing whisper. Ockley leaned back into his chair with an exaggerated sigh.

“You know, they’re all that way. Geniuses, but do they ever stop for a few seconds and just tell you what the hell they’ve figured out? Do they pause long enough to just explain it? No. Never. Not one time. It’s always, ‘Able, be a dear and come clean up this mess.’ ‘Able, would you mind fighting this warlord for us.’?” He let out another sigh. “Guess I’ll get to enjoy another few decades of that. Just lovely. All right. I’m going to get a drink.”

Ren almost pointed out that it was a dry campus, but she suspected if anyone knew where to find a secret stash of liquor at Balmerick—it would be Ockley. He aimed straight for the kitchens and the doors closed behind him with a resounding thump. She was about to lean back and sleep some more when she felt a pull across her bond. Theo was asking for her. It was more than that. A true need. As if his entire body was aching to see her. She smirked to herself, thinking it was a different sort of need, but then she realized what it really meant. His group was ready to depart.

The campus aerie hardly lived up to its name. It was located on the highest hillside, near the very north end of campus. A rising cylinder with great openings for the wyverns to fly in and out of whenever they’d operated in the Heights. The entrance wasn’t even a door. Just a gap where the stones had been scuffed with hundreds of claw marks over the years. Ren could see their party through that opening. Theo appeared. He eagerly trotted back down the hill to meet her before she could reach the entryway.

“What? Didn’t want the rest of them to hear me shouting at you?” she asked. “Or maybe you were embarrassed by the idea of—”

He ended her sentence with a kiss. Their bond pulsed and it was that same hungry feeling from before. As if she could not taste enough of his lips or feel enough of his hands on her skin. She kissed him back and that brief sand in the grains of time seemed to tumble slower than the rest. For a moment, only they existed. There wasn’t a dead dragon to fight. There was not a spell that needed to be unraveled. No wars to fight or people to rescue. Just them.

All magic ceases, though. Even the best spells end.

Ren kissed him one more time and then Theo pulled away. His side of the bond thrummed with confidence. An assurance of purpose. He knew he was doing the right thing—which meant she knew she was doing the right thing. He started marching back up the hill. The rest of the crew had started loading onto the wyverns. Theo glanced back, about to call out to her.

“I know,” she said, cutting him off. “I love you too.”

He grinned wildly before vanishing inside the aerie. She could not bear to watch for a moment longer. Her heart might actually burst in her chest. It was easier to retreat. She’d almost made it back to the main building when she heard them. Great wings pounding the air in a slow but steady rhythm. All three creatures soared upward. Ren felt Theo’s breathless adrenaline and even thought she heard a few of the riders whooping with the sudden freedom of flight. She’d initially been worried that their bond would take years to repair. That Dr. Horn’s attempted severance would reduce it to something small or feeble. It was clear, though, that the setback had been temporary. She knew the magic coursing between them had never been so full, so rich, so deep.

But it didn’t take long for Theo’s adrenaline to fade. It was replaced by a slow-forming dread. A twin emotion had been stirring in her own thoughts. The person she loved most was heading for a dragon’s burial chamber. One that had proven powerful enough to launch an attack on the greatest magical city to ever exist. She found herself hoping they would circle back for some reason. One of the wyverns would be sick or a storm would appear on the horizon. Anything.

Instead, they winged on.