69. Threads Ever Winding
Chapter 69
Threads Ever Winding
20 th Day of the Blood Moon
Cuinviel, formerly Catagan – Winter, Year 3081 After Doom
Salara awoke to a hand over her mouth and gleaming blue eyes staring back at her. Cold steel pressed into her neck. She reached for the Spark but felt nothing, her heart racing at the realisation that a ward surrounded her. Vyrmír roared in the back of her mind, and so too could she hear the dragon’s roar echo in the distance as he lifted himself from the cave he’d claimed as his eyrie and ripped through the sky towards the city.
“Even think about moving, and I will open your throat, Draleid.” The woman’s voice was firm and level, and she pressed the blade harder against Salara’s throat to emphasise her point.
“How did you?—”
“I’m asking the questions. You were looking after a friend of ours, and now we’d like her back. Where is the key to her collar?”
“What are you talking… Boud.”
“Speed it along, Tamzin. The dragon won’t be long getting here.” Boud’s voice sounded from somewhere within the chamber, but Salara couldn’t lift her head to see where.
“And how’s that thing going to get in here?” The woman’s stare never broke from Salara’s as she spoke, her lip curling to reveal long, sharp fangs. “That’s the problem with these beasts. Sometimes size isn’t everything. Isn’t that right, Kerith?”
A low grumble sounded to the left of Salara’s head. A large shape slowly emerged from the darkness at the edge of her vision. It was some kind of animal, though like nothing she’d ever seen. It had the face of a lioness or a frostkat, but larger still, with a flat nose and arched brow, two enormous fangs protruding from its upper jaw. Pale moonlight that shone through the window glistened against obsidian-like scales that armoured its chest and neck, smaller shards studded into its face.
“Now that you and Kerith have been introduced… Where is the key to the collar?”
“What collar?”
Salara grunted as Tamzin pressed the blade harder, drawing blood. Another roar sounded in the skies outside, and Vyrmír’s fury flowed through her like a raging river.
“Please, time is not something worth wasting,” a third voice whispered, deep and considered. A shape moved from the shadows on Salara’s left – a man. A pale, sharp face formed in the darkness over Salara. The man reached out a hand, his fingernail slicing through the flesh and forming a dark claw, which he pressed to her cheek. “Answer our questions, and there will be no pain. You are required on this path, but not all of your limbs are.” It was this man who warded her. Everything about the language of his body spoke of power and control. He turned his head. “Boud?”
The druid stepped from the shadows and rested a hand atop Salara’s. The woman seemed taller now, her shoulders broader. “Despite your ignorance, I do like you, Draleid. And I would prefer if we didn’t have to cut pieces from you, despite your threats to do so to me.” She knelt beside the bed so that her eyes were level with Salara’s. “You see, your character is not measured by what you do when you’re fighting for your freedom, or your lost home, or your honour, or whatever cause you choose. Your character is measured by what you do when you have the power. And right now, that power is mine. You can refuse to tell us where the key is, but the end result will not be one you wish for. We will find it. I know it’s not far, and Kerith has a good nose. But I’m afraid you will be missing things you’re fond of. Which, I say again, is not something I want to do but am willing to do.”
Once Boud had spoken, the man dragged his claw along Salara’s cheek, the skin parting as though opened by a diamond blade. She grunted and clenched her jaw but refused to give him the satisfaction of her pain.
Vyrmír roared again in response. He was not far. If she delayed them, the dragon would come crashing through the side of the keep. But there was also no telling how many others might die if that were to come to pass – herself included. There were hundreds who chambered in the tower, and hundreds more below. Boud’s life was not worth theirs.
“It’s in the chest at the back of the room, hidden beneath clothes.” Vandrien had given the key to Salara for safekeeping two weeks ago. Clearly, Boud had discovered as much. Either the woman would escape that night or she would die in the trying. Whichever happened, she would no longer be of use to the Evalien. And so Salara chose the path of least resistance.
“Well,” Tamzin said, not removing the blade from Salara’s throat. “That was a lot easier than I thought it would be. Una.”
The sound of shuffling feet came from the back of the room as a fourth person moved to find the chest.
“I would suggest you take it and go quickly before Vyrmír tears open that wall behind you. Though I’m not sure how you’re getting out now that his roar has woken the keep.” Shouts already echoed from the yard below, and footsteps and clanging steel reverberated in the stone corridors. The Evalien of Numillíon knew a dragon’s warning.
“We’ll be just fine.” Tamzin’s lips spread into a wide grin.
A loud clang rang out. The sound of Boud’s collar hitting the stone floor.
A moment later, Boud leaned over Salara, her head beside Tamzin’s. She looked over Salara’s face and down at the steel pressed to her throat. She sighed. “It would be so easy… but no. Threats aside, you did not mistreat me. And so I will do unto you as you did unto me. It’s funny to think this entire time you saw me as a tool… when it was you being used. Ironic. Think on that. The world is not always as we see it.”
With that, Boud was gone and Tamzin pulled the blade from Salara’s neck and leapt backwards off the bed. Within a heartbeat, Salara was on her feet, a knife slipped from its place beneath her pillow.
But before her, a white light illuminated what she could only describe as a tear in the world, like a spear had torn through a breastplate. On the other side of the tear was dense woodland, flames flickering in the distance.
Tamzin and the other woman – Una – had already stepped through to the woodland on the other side. But Boud and the man still stood in the room, only a pace from the gateway.
She let out a gasp as the ward around her vanished, the Spark suddenly within reach, calling to her. The man stared back, his head tilted to the side, watching.
One whip of Air and Boud would have been strapped to the ground. A prisoner once more. And if she moved fast enough, she could ward the man and drive the knife through his heart. But something in that thought gave Salara pause. Who was she if she trapped this woman in chains and placed a collar around her neck once more, just as the Lorians had done to the Onarakina?
“Good choice,” the man said, nodding. “There are many paths ahead, Salara Ithan. You have your part to play. But your fate is not yet decided. It is in your own hands. What do you want to be? A hero or a monster?”
Salara could hear the beating of Vyrmír’s wings, feel the rushing blood in his veins.
Boud glanced at her and gave a soft nod before stepping through the gateway, but the man came a step closer. The coldness of his stare crept under her skin. “In two days, look to the Firnin Mountains. The path you wish to walk lies there. Vengeance and opportunity.”
His gaze lingered for another moment, then he stepped through the gateway and it collapsed behind him, the white light evaporating into thin air.
Salara dropped the knife and reached out to Vyrmír, who was now careening towards the tower. I’m all right, my light. I’m all right.
The roar that left the dragon’s jaws shook the stone, and his fury burned through Salara. He was not as understanding as she was. Images of Vyrmír ripping Boud in half flashed from the dragon’s mind to Salara’s.
I’m safe. That is what matters.
The dragon twisted and tore upwards, scanning the city and the lands beyond for any sign of the intruders.
A moment later, three guards burst into the room, torches and swords in their hands.
“Draleid! Are you hurt?” Captain Undrír stormed across the floor and snatched the knife from where Salara had dropped it, then took a blanket and draped it over her naked shoulders.
“We heard Vyrmír’s roar. Something felt wrong.” Undrír looked about the room for any signs of struggle or an intruder, his mouth scrunching in confusion when he saw none.
“The druid is gone. Taken by more of her kind. Bring me to Vandrien.”