Chapter 26
Chapter Twenty-Six
VAROK
"Go back," I command, tail lashing with renewed frustration. "We find another way."
We retreat to the last junction, taking the left fork this time.
The new passage curves sharply upward, forcing us to climb rather than glide.
The bond tugs more insistently with each body length gained, Leira's presence growing clearer, more defined through our connection.
Now I sense not just her existence but fragments of emotion—exhaustion, fear, determination.
"She is close," I murmur, more to myself than my warriors. "Very close."
The tunnel opens into a chamber with three branching corridors. I pause, testing the bond, letting it guide me. The pull draws me toward the rightmost passage.
We have traveled perhaps fifty lengths when I catch her exotic scent. Human sweat and fear, mingled with dust and blood. Not just her scent, but Zara's as well, that distinctive sweetness that marks all younglings.
"Here," I hiss, surging forward with renewed purpose.
The tunnel bends sharply right then opens into a small side chamber. And there they are.
For a single, perfect moment, time stops.
Nirik lies slumped against the wall, scales slick with fresh blood. Leira kneels at his right, tearing strips from her already tattered tunic to hand to Zara, coiled opposite, her tiny clawed hands pressing the material against his scales to stanch the flow of blood.
At our entrance, Leira springs to her feet, a perfect sphere of flame materializing in her palm, casting fierce shadows across her dust-streaked face. Her eyes, though ringed with exhaustion, blaze with the unmistakable promise of violence should we threaten those under her protection.
Recognition hits her. Relief crashes across her face, followed instantly by something deeper, more complex.
Three undulations close the distance between us, and she meets me halfway, throwing herself against my chest with such force that we nearly topple backward.
My arms encircle her, crushing her to me with a desperation I cannot temper. Her body trembles against mine, her face buried in the curve of my throat. Through our bond, emotions flood across the divide. Her relief, her lingering fear, her bone-deep exhaustion.
"I thought—" she begins, voice cracking.
"I know," I cut in, clawed fingers threading through her tangled hair. "I am sorry. I should have told you everything. About the OathCoil, about the danger. I thought I was protecting you, but instead—"
"No, I shouldn't have run," she interrupts overtop of me, pulling back just enough to meet my gaze. Her eyes shimmer with unshed tears that catch the light of my flame. "I should have let you explain. If I'd stayed—"
I press my forehead against hers. "It does not matter now," I murmur. "You are safe. That is all that matters."
For a breath, we exist in our own world, everything else falling away. Then reality reasserts itself as Zara's small voice breaks through.
"Ry'Varok," she calls, her voice thin with exhaustion. "Nirik needs help."
I release Leira reluctantly, turning toward the young seer and the wounded guard. Zara’s small face tight with worry. I cross to them, sinking down to assess the wound.
"Sovereign," Nirik manages, attempting to straighten despite the pain evident in his grimace.
"Be still," I command gently. "Gorlin, tend to his wound."
My most skilled field medic moves forward immediately, coiling beside Nirik to examine the deep gash in his side. He retrieves bandages and salves from a pouch at his waist, working with swift efficiency to clean and bind the injury.
Zara glides forward, her small form launching into my arms with surprising force.
I catch her instinctively, cradling her against my chest as she wraps her tail around my forearm in the familiar gesture she's done since she was barely more than a hatchling.
As I hold her close, she pulls back just enough to fix me with those violet eyes.
A gaze that has always seen too much. "The traitors are Naryth's worms," she whispers, her voice trembling despite her attempt at bravery.
"They have been hiding among us all along.”
"What?" The word escapes me on a growl.
Leira presses close to my side, her warmth a balm against the cold dread her words evoke. "Lurok told us. He was imprisoned with us. They are not TrueCoil. They are a secret faction that served directly under Naryth. They have been feeding information to Thorne for months, maybe even years."
"We must warn Malikor that Jarik is one of the traitors," Nirik says through gritted teeth as Gorlin applies pressure to his wound. "And Miria and Zaethir too. They work for Thorne.”
Fury ignites fresh beneath my scales at the mention of Zaethir. A Talon I personally assigned to protect Leira. The betrayal cuts deep, stoking my rage to dangerous levels.
"Lurok told us this tunnel leads to the Ashlands," Leira continues, her hand coming to rest on my arm, either seeking comfort or offering it, perhaps both.
"He followed Jarik in the great hall after the explosion and saw Thorne and an army of my father's soldiers amassing on the eastern border, but that’s been over a month ago. "
"I know about Thorne and the army. Where is Lurok now?" I ask, glancing around as if expecting the massive warrior to materialize from the shadows.
Leira's expression falls, grief shadowing her features. "He sacrificed himself. Collapsed a tunnel to give us a chance to escape." Her voice drops to a whisper. "He saved us, Varok. He was never one of them."
A pang of regret lances through me. I had been so certain Lurok was behind the bombing, had directed my suspicion entirely in the wrong direction while the true traitors moved freely among us.
Gorlin finishes binding Nirik's wound, helping him to a coiled position. "The wound is deep but clean," he reports. "He has lost blood, but with proper care, he will recover."
I nod, already calculating our next move. We cannot linger here, not with Thorne's worms potentially in pursuit.
I gesture for Kessith to approach. "Your serpentglass tablet.
" He obeys instantly, sliding the obsidian device into my waiting palm.
The surface ripples beneath my touch, dark as midnight but alive with potential.
We must warn the others immediately. If Jarik truly serves Thorne, Malikor's life hangs by a thread, and every moment we delay puts another loyal warrior at risk.
The serpentglass reveals its network of glowing veins beneath my touch.
I trace one finger along the main artery that runs through its center, watching as the light follows my movement, branching outward in luminous tributaries.
"Connect to Prithas Sareth," I command, pressing my claw to the nexus point where all lines converge.
The tablet's surface liquefies, swirling like dark water disturbed by unseen currents.
For several heartbeats, nothing happens, just the endless churning of obsidian depths.
Then the glass stabilizes, and Sareth's face materializes within the frame, his scales contracted with tension, eyes sharp with concern.
Sareth's face brightens with recognition.
"Sovereign," he says, the word carrying unmistakable relief.
"I was about to contact you. Traven and his wraiths have returned with the crates of arc launchers and the gloomroot-tipped arrows.
And the search inside the palace has located Jeslyn's remains in one of the storage chambers, but the others—”
"Call them off," I interrupt, hearing Leira gasp from behind me. "We have found her. We have found them both."
His massive shoulders slump slightly with visible relief before his warrior's composure reasserts itself. "Praise the Ancestors. Are they harmed?"
"Exhausted but largely uninjured. Nirik requires medical attention." I angle the tablet slightly so he can glimpse Leira and Zara behind me. "But we have uncovered something far worse than we imagined. The traitors are definitely not TrueCoil."
Sareth's pupils contract to narrow slits. "The other faction?”
"The conspiracy runs deeper than we knew.
Those who took Leira and Zara are Naryth's worms. His personal network of spies that he maintained separate from the Talons.
It is no wonder they never revealed themselves to me.
" The words taste bitter on my tongue. The betrayal of trusted warriors is one thing; the corruption of the Serpent Crown's own agents is another magnitude of treachery entirely.
"They have been working with Thorne, feeding him information, possibly for years. "
Sareth's scales ripple with tension as his pupils contract to slits.
"The Serpent Crown's own eyes," he breathes, "feeding Naryth only what they wanted him to see.
They could have been filtering intelligence for years, keeping him ignorant of Thorne's true movements while appearing to serve loyally.”
"Zaethir and Miria are confirmed conspirators," I continue. "But there is worse. Jarik is among them."
Sareth's scales bristle along his spine, a warrior's instinctive response to threat. "Jarik is with Malikor.”
"And Malikor's life is in immediate danger.
" My tail lashes against the stone floor, scraping scales raw against rock.
"Jarik will either attempt to assassinate him or lead him into an ambush.
We must warn him immediately. Send two of your fastest Talons to his location," I command. "Take Jarik into custody.”
Sareth nods sharply. "It will be done.”
Sareth pivots away, issuing rapid commands to his warriors before returning his attention to me, obsidian scales glinting like wet stone in the tunnel's meager light.
“And, Sareth," I say, my voice dropping to that dangerous register that makes even my most battle-hardened warriors flinch, "Thorne himself may not have crossed our border, but his poison has. Flowing through the veins of my own people.”
I glance at Leira, her shoulders squared despite the shadows beneath her eyes, at Zara leaning against my side but still watching the tunnels with alert wariness. Nirik meets my gaze with determination, even as fresh crimson blooms through his bandages.
"Meet me with your Talons at the eastern base of the mountain," I decide. "Where the old training grounds meet the edge of the Ashlands. Bring healers for Nirik, and a secure transport for Leira and Zara back the Temple and under Eira’s watchful eye."
He inclines his head. "What of the rest of the conspirators? We have detained several russet-scaled females but found no evidence of TrueCoil markings among them."
"Release them," I command. "They are not our enemy. Focus a team of Talons on identifying any who might be connected to Naryth's network. Question all who had close access to him, especially in his final years."
"And Severa?" Sareth asks, the name causing my scales to tighten against my body. My personal den keeper, the female who has attended my household since I was barely more than a hatchling myself.
"Keep her under observation, but discretely," I say after a moment's hesitation. "If she is innocent, I would not have her dignity compromised. If guilty..." Heat ripples beneath my scales at the thought. "If guilty, I will deal with her myself."
"Understood." Sareth's gaze shifts slightly, looking beyond me to the tunnel walls. "Those passages have been sealed for generations.”
“Reopened by our enemy from within,” I hiss.
“What of Lurok?”
“Innocent,” I say. “I will send a team to try and break through the tunnel collapse he caused to give Leira Zara, and Nirik a chance to escape. Maybe he survived.”
"Lurok?" Sareth's surprise is evident in the flare of his nostrils. "I thought—"
"As did I," I admit, regret a momentary weight in my chest. "I was wrong. He gave his life to ensure their escape. Had I trusted him sooner perhaps..." The thought trails off, useless now. "We will speak of it when we meet. Go now."
The serpentglass ripples as the connection terminates, returning to its dormant state. I pass the tablet back to Kessith, my mind already racing ahead to the challenges that await us above.
I nod once, decision made. "Balken, you will carry Nirik. The rest of you, form a protective formation around Leira and Zara. We head for the surface."
Balken moves forward to lift Nirik, arranging the wounded guard carefully across his powerful shoulders. The others form up around us, weapons drawn, senses alert. Their discipline steadies me, a reminder that not all loyalty has been corrupted, not all trust betrayed.
I lead my small party forward, into the twisting tunnels that will eventually bring us to the surface. To the broken land our ancestors once called home.