44. Last requests
44
LAST REQUESTS
Normally, Varriguhl would’ve been in his house at that time of night, but a rampant alert was in progress. Anahrod didn’t think he would shelter in place at his house, so she led the group to the closest underground shelter.
Still, she hadn’t expected to find him with his students. Since the rampant alert had happened at night, the teenagers should’ve sheltered at their various assigned quarters. Instead, at least half the normal class had gathered in Varriguhl’s preferred underground shelter. Not just students, either; caretakers and guardians had also gathered in the room. All of them were watching Varriguhl’s silver mirror, even though there wasn’t much to see. The gale-force winds and rain blocked most details.
“What are they doing here?” Anahrod asked without prelude as she stepped inside. She wasn’t wearing her veil, but it’s not like she was trying to pretend anymore.
Varriguhl didn’t tell her to be quiet or take a seat. He also didn’t ask where Gwydinion was. He raised an eyebrow at the group she’d brought with her—Sicaryon, Ris, Naeron, and Claw—but made no further comment.
He frowned at her question. “They’ve been here since the alert first went out,” Varriguhl said. “They feel safer here.”
She grimaced. That… made sense. The hardest part about hiding in the shelters was not knowing. Not knowing what was going on, where the dragon was, where the danger was. At least being in the same shelter as Varriguhl allowed them that benefit.
It’s not like any of these people would be sleeping, anyway.
“I heard the notice go out,” Varriguhl told her. “Be on the lookout for Anahrod Amnead, an accurate description, kill on sight, and oh, by the way, she can control dragons.” He made it sound like an expected poor result on an academic test: disappointing but not a surprise.
“Not control,” Anahrod corrected as the teacher wheeled over toward a desk pushed against a wall. “Possess.”
Varriguhl’s chair lurched to a halt.
“Possess? Truly?” Varriguhl sounded like he wasn’t sure whether to be incredulous or hopeful.
“I just found out myself,” Anahrod admitted. “But I can understand why Neveranimas didn’t want to admit she ‘allowed’ a human to possess her body, so ‘control’ is scary enough to be a motivation.”
“Eannis help me,” the dragonrider murmured.
Kimat rushed over to them. “Where’s Gwydinion?”
Anahrod shook her head. “With any luck, a long way away from here.”
“I should hope so,” Varriguhl said, “because Neveranimas is well past the point of discretion. If you’ve scared her this badly, she won’t be content with pruning a branch from your family when she can uproot the entire tree.”
Anahrod’s throat dried. He was right. Neveranimas would go after every blood relative she had. She might not even bother to distinguish between maternal, paternal, and adoptive lines.
The Amnead family was a large one in Crystalspire. She didn’t know how large Aiden e’Doreyl’s family was, but… an impatient, angry dragon might well say to hell with it, and order the entire city razed, just to be sure.
A dragon roar shook the underground room.
There was a second of pause, a moment of consideration. Humans who had grown up around dragons all their lives stopped dead.
“That was nearby,” Varriguhl said.
“Too close,” Anahrod agreed. “That’s inside the school grounds.”
“Who would dare?” Varriguhl waved a hand, changing the view on the scrying glass. Images flew by, as though they were seeing through a bird’s eyes. The mirror settled, focused on the draconic form digging up decades’ worth of meticulous landscaping.
It was Neveranimas.
“She’s tunneling in this direction,” Varriguhl whispered. It still sounded like an accusation, which it was. How could Neveranimas possibly know where to find them?
Neveranimas wasn’t a dragon of earthly affinity—those were rare. Her progress was slower as a result, but she’d still reach them… eventually.
“How can you tell?” Claw asked.
“This is my school. I can tell.” Varriguhl waved a hand again, returning the mirror to its original view. He cast a concerned gaze at his students, clearly wanting to avoid any panic.
“Class!” Varriguhl called out. “There’s an issue that I find I must deal with personally, so I must step away for a few minutes. I will leave Damreala in charge while I’m gone.” He gave the group a stern look. “If I hear any of you have behaved inappropriately, you will regret it.” He rolled his chair toward the door.
He gave Anahrod an imperious stare. “Coming?”
Anahrod, Ris, Sicaryon, Claw, and Naeron followed him. Belatedly, Anahrod noticed Kimat was also trailing behind them.
“Either Neveranimas has finally decided to come after me,” Varriguhl explained in remarkably dry tones, “or she’s pursuing one of you. Regardless, our priority must be to swiftly distance ourselves from the children.” He stopped the chair for a moment and looked over his shoulder. “Kimat, don’t think I didn’t notice you. Go back to the shelter.”
“Make me,” she snapped, and instead of retreating moved up to his chair and began pushing him forward.
“We don’t have time to argue,” Anahrod pointed out as they hurried down the tunnel. “My suspicion is that she’s tracking us. Does anyone have anything from the vault with them? Something you picked up? A diamond, a piece of jewelry, anything ? She claimed she could track all of it.”
“What vault?” Varriguhl’s lip curled. “Anahrod, what have you done?”
“I’ll explain later,” Anahrod snapped, fully intending to do no such thing.
Anahrod continued focusing on the others. Claw, she thought. Claw was an excellent candidate for someone who might’ve kept a trackable souvenir.
But it was Sicaryon who pulled a folding box from his coat, held it out with both hands. “I had stashed a box before Jaemeh showed up, so he never stole it.”
She couldn’t even be mad at him. This had been the whole point of the robbery, after all. It hardly counted as trickery when he was just the only person who’d managed to keep his share.
“All right.” She took the box from Sicaryon and immediately regretted it. She’d forgotten how heavy the damn things were. Part of a dragon’s hoard of diamonds. “We’re leaving, now. Headmaster, you said you had an escape plan. We need it. Everyone else will go with you, while I take this into the tunnels and lead—”
The protests were immediate. Kimat pushed Varriguhl ahead a few strides before she realized they had all stopped walking.
“You will do no such thing,” Ris snapped. “Give that to me. Peralon and I will—”
Varriguhl whistled, stopping everyone. “Much as it amuses to hear you debate which of you will nobly sacrifice yourselves, we’ve little time and my ‘escape plan’ is a one-person inscribed lift that leads to a dock platform underneath the storm zone. Parked at that dock is a flyer—also for one person.” He gave Anah rod an irritated scowl. “You never asked what my escape plan was, you silly child. Whatever yours is to be, you’ll need something else if you intend to take more than a single person.”
Sicaryon eyed the headmaster. “You’re not planning to use that flyer yourself?”
Varriguhl tipped back his head and stared imperiously. “I shall not be needing it. I’d planned to have Kimat use it, but if I have your word that you’ll escort her safely from the city, I’d allow another access.”
“No,” Kimat said, “I’m not leaving.”
“You’ll do as you’re told,” the man said crisply.
“Change of plans then,” Sicaryon said, “ I ’ll take the folding box and use his one-person flyer. That should draw that bitch away from everyone else.” He said to Anahrod, “I’ll head to the Deep. If Jaemeh and Gwydinion go there, I’ll find them.”
Anahrod squinted. “Why would Jaemeh and Gwydinion go to the Deep?”
Both Sicaryon’s eyebrows rose, as if he was surprised he had to explain. “You’re going to back to Seven Crests, right? To warn your family?”
Anahrod nodded. She had to.
“If Jaemeh and Gwydinion go there, you’ll find them.” He pointed his chin in Naeron’s direction. “But if I were someone who could control animals, and I were also a precocious, manipulative little brat”—he ignored the choked-off laughter from Ris with great dignity—“then I’d convince my kidnapper that he should take me someplace with a lot of animals. You know, like the Deep.”
Anahrod let out a single, sharp huff of breath, the closest thing to laughter she could manage just then. Yes, outside of convincing Jaemeh to turn himself over to Mayor Aiden e’Doreyl, a retreat to the Deep made sense. Her brother might not be an expert on jungle survival, but he knew more than Jaemeh. He was smart enough to use it to his advantage.
“Do you know how to pilot a flyer?” Claw demanded of Sicaryon.
“How do you think I move back and forth between the Deep and Seven Crests so quickly?” Sicaryon replied, but his gaze was still locked with Anahrod’s.
“Sicaryon, that’s suicide,” Ris said in a wretched tone. “Neveranimas will catch you, and you’ll have no defenses.”
Sicaryon gave her a one-sided smile. “Careful, Ris. People might think you care.”
“You asshole,” she spat. “I’m calling Peralon out of hiding,” she announced. “We’ll distract her so everyone can make a run for it.”
Varriguhl sighed. “Silly children. We don’t have time for this.”
Ris scowled. “Excuse you, I’m almost as old as you!”
“Only chronologically,” the schoolteacher said mildly. “In any event, this is my school. I will deal with this.” He pulled a medallion from his neck and handed it to Sicaryon. “That will allow you to operate the lift. Follow the south hallway until you reach the four-way intersection, take a right, then follow the hallway to the end. It’s the only door.”
Sicaryon took the medallion and then turned to Anahrod.
There was no guarantee he’d draw Neveranimas’s attention. Just the opposite: recovering Ivarion’s diamonds wouldn’t be the violet dragon’s highest priority.
Anahrod set the folding box in his hands. “Don’t die,” she told him.
“So far, so good.” For a second, he looked like he might try to kiss her, but he stepped back, winked in a way that might have been meant for Anahrod, Ris, or both, and sprinted down the hall.
“The rest of you,” Varriguhl said, “follow the hallway. You should find yourselves in familiar territory, considering the service tunnels you’ve been abusing since your arrival. I can’t sneak you out of the city, but I can at least sneak you out of the school. Perhaps you can commandeer a cutter or liner and make an escape that way.”
Anahrod laughed in spite of herself, in spite of the danger. “Did you just advocate piracy ?”
He smiled sadly at her. “You always were a quick one, Miss Amnead.” Just as she was about to turn away, he caught her wrist. “Promise me one thing.”
Anahrod glanced down at her wrist, then at him. “If I can.”
“Promise me, on your word, that you’ll try to wake Ivarion.”
She hated the way her throat closed up, the stinging in her nostrils. “I already told you—”
“That you’ll try, ” he emphasized. “That’s all I can ask. Promise me you’ll make the attempt.” His manner was as it had ever been—elegant, dignified, arrogant—but now desperate.
And resigned.
“You think Neveranimas is going to kill you,” Anahrod said.
“I don’t ‘think’ it,” the headmaster corrected. “She’s been looking for any excuse for the better part of a century. Even if she’s chasing you, she won’t let this opportunity slip by.” He gave her a grim, hard smile. “I do plan to make her fight for it, however. I am the First Rider. That still means something.”
Anahrod had no idea what to say.
“Go,” he said, now irritated. “I’m not your beloved mentor and I’m not doing this to provide you with some object lesson on heroism. I’m doing this because you are the only person who has a chance of stopping that bitch. Run!”
Anahrod did.
Behind her, Varriguhl turned his wheelchair toward the sound of digging.
She hadn’t caught up to the others when the evacuation bells rang. Not the “take shelter” bells, but “get out.” Anahrod hoped people listened. In theory, people had already retreated to the shelters, and Varriguhl had lured Neveranimas away from his students. In theory, the children wouldn’t be anywhere near the dragon.
But not if she kept digging up the tunnels.
A giant noise stopped everyone, so loud they heard it even down in the tunnels. The noise wasn’t as recognizable as a dragon’s roar, but it was still common enough to be identified.
Collapsing buildings.
They ran until they reached a familiar spot, then made the turn that led to the undercity. A few minutes later, Kimat clutched at a pendant, screamed, “No!” and turned around to run back.
Naeron blocked her way.
Claw didn’t say a word. She just scooped the girl up and swung her up over a shoulder.
“No, let me go! He’s in trouble!” Kimat squirmed a free hand toward her belt.
Claw took the knife away before the girl could unsheathe it and handed the weapon to Anahrod.
“I’m sorry,” Ris told Kimat. “I really am.”
“Bitch! Let me go! He needs me…” Kimat gave her pendant one last despairing look, eyes wide with disbelief, and then stopped struggling against Claw. The reason couldn’t have been clearer: she’d stopped fighting because there wasn’t any point.
Anahrod’s throat clenched, rubbed raw and tender by her own feelings. She’d hated that man for so long.
Unjustly, it seemed.
Claw turned back to the others, steadying the girl with an arm around her legs. “So, what now? The docks? We’re really stealing a flyer?” She squinted. “It’s not that I’m against it, mind you. Just there’s only four of us—”
Kimat muttered something and Claw snapped, “No, you don’t count.” She continued, “There’s only four of us and cutter crews are what? A couple dozen? More? If we killed everyone, that would be one thing, but we’d need them alive and we have to sleep sometime.”
Ris sighed. “We may not have a choice.”
“Repair yard,” Naeron suggested.
Ris pursed her lips. “That’s not a bad idea. We might steal a smaller flyer, one that doesn’t have a crew yet.”
“Do any of us know how to fly?” Anahrod asked.
Kimat mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like “I do!”
Sure. Varriguhl would’ve taught her to use his flyer—but there was a wide chasm between the mountaintops of “single-person flyer” and “twelve-person cutter.”
Anahrod paused. The runaway storm of hate that had been lurking at the edge of her consciousness disappeared. It felt very much like a storm spending itself out, leaving behind devastation and wispy, faint clouds.
“Tiendremos just died,” Anahrod said.
Ris shuddered. She had an indecipherable expression on her face, something like pleasure, but also loss, grief, and anger. She closed her eyes, visibly clenching her jaw.
Anahrod took her hand. “Come on,” Anahrod suggested gently. “We’ll see what our options are, and then we’ll worry about how we get it off the ground.” She dug her veil out of a pocket. Neveranimas was circulating her description, after all. “And put Kimat down, Claw. She’s a smart girl. She knows her best chance is sticking with us.”
“Fuck you,” Kimat mumbled as Claw set her back on her feet. “I want my knife back.”
“It’s nice to want things, isn’t it?” Claw said.
“Let’s hurry,” Anahrod told them.