Chapter 19
For the rest of the flight to Froha, the second of the world’s two major continents and a place Syla had never been, she glared between General Jhiton’s shoulder blades. If he hadn’t shown up…
Actually, Syla wasn’t sure what would have happened if he hadn’t shown up.
When she’d tried to talk Vorik into taking her home—and offered sex if he did—she hadn’t believed he would do so.
All she’d wanted was to act as she thought he would expect her to.
If she hadn’t tried to talk her way out of her fate, he might have realized the truth, that she hadn’t fought being kidnapped as much as she could have.
She’d been planning for this possibility and was delighted that she had, so far, managed to retain her medical kit.
One of Jhiton’s people would doubtless think to search it—or take it from her—but at least it would be in the camp, and she might find a way to reach it when she needed it.
Though she’d almost dropped it when Vorik had slid his talented fingers under the hem of her dress and left her gasping.
Her cheeks flared with heat and embarrassment, and she hated that the general had probably witnessed at least some of her writhing.
Yes, that was the precise word, and she rubbed her face at the memory.
The general probably thought her an idiot, not the magnificent and fearless queen that Vorik had described.
Syla told herself that she wanted Jhiton to underestimate her. It would be best if all the stormers in their camp did. If they believed her crafty and dangerous, they would watch her closely and never give her an opportunity to escape with the shielder components.
She sat up with interest when a lush green coastline came into view above vertical white cliffs that faced the sea, rising hundreds of feet, save for gaps where it looked like the gods had smashed their great fists down to break them away.
From maps, Syla knew the terrain was varied and stretched inland for more than a thousand miles, with all manner of interesting geological features.
One day, if she survived the war, she would ask Wreylith to take her on a trip to see the world.
Unease sank into her gut at the thought of the red dragon.
Oh, Wreylith would doubtless be fine on Bogberry Island by herself—she’d probably only waited five seconds after realizing she couldn’t fly after Syla to start hunting berry-loving bears.
But Syla had thought her dragon ally could play a role in her escape with the shielder components.
More, she’d counted on it. If Syla managed to steal the components and sneak out of the stormer camp, how would she cross the sea by herself to return to the Kingdom?
She didn’t see any signs of civilization along the cliffs ahead—certainly nothing like a dock with a whaling ship and a friendly captain willing to help.
She looked skyward, away from storm clouds gathering on the northern horizon, and toward the position where the moon would rise, then sent a silent prayer to the moon god.
If there’s any way you can send Chieftess Atilya or another Freeborn Faction rider a vision about where I am and how I could use a ride back to the Kingdom, I would appreciate it.
She didn’t expect an answer or any kind of acknowledgment—aside from a couple of times when it had seemed like she might have received a little divine assistance, she hadn’t seen much to suggest that the gods remained present in the world.
But lightning flashed to the north, bright against the darkening clouds.
It was probably a coincidence, and she vowed to exhaust all possible ways to escape on her own, but she chose to see it as a hopeful omen.
Still flying ahead on the black dragon, Jhiton looked back at her. Had he seen the lightning? Storms were common over the sea, so he couldn’t think much of it, unless he had the ability to read minds and had somehow heard her prayer.
When his gaze lingered, Syla lifted her hand to give him a rude gesture.
Vorik snorted. Jhiton’s expression didn’t change. After a moment, he turned forward and pointed, directing the small wing of dragons to descend toward one of the gaps in the white cliffs.
Maybe Syla shouldn’t have, but she leaned back into Vorik, wanting to draw whatever support he would offer before they arrived and she had to deal with Jhiton one-on-one for the first time.
Vorik was the last one she should have sought support from, but…
he always gave it. It might have been her imagination earlier, but he’d seemed on the verge of doing what she’d asked, taking her somewhere else besides his camp.
Not hesitating, Vorik wrapped his arms around her.
“I’ll keep anyone from hurting you,” he said quietly.
Jhiton was the main person Syla worried about, and she wondered if Vorik would step between her and his brother if she were in danger.
In the shielder chamber, in the heat of battle, he’d done just that.
But, if there had been more time then, if Kingdom troops hadn’t been on the way, would he have truly faced off against his brother?
What if Jhiton had forced the issue and attacked Vorik?
“Any chance your general will leave promptly on another mission, and you’ll be in charge of questioning me?” Syla asked.
“I haven’t had much luck getting information out of you. It’s been the other way around. I’ve babbled more to you than I should have, due to my enrapturement.” He glanced at her chest before smiling at her.
“Your enrapturement with my boobs?”
“With all of you, in truth, but they are especially fine.”
She was on her way to be interrogated in an enemy camp; she shouldn’t have been flattered and pleased by the statement. And yet…
“You’re fine too, Vorik,” she said softly.
“If that were true, I would be helping you escape, not delivering you to my people.”
And he wouldn’t have sunk her weapons platform.
“I agree,” she said.
Vorik sighed, brushed her cheek, and leaned forward as Agrevlari spread his wings to glide in for a landing on a beach tucked into a gap between the cliffs.
Broken branches, driftwood, and pinecones littered the sand, and she guessed the same storm that had hit her islands recently had reached these shores.
A few seals lounging in the area scattered at the dragons’ approach, hurrying to escape into the water.
From the head of the beach, a steep grassy slope stretched inland with an animal trail meandering upward until it drew level with the top of the bluff.
From there, it disappeared into a forest of towering evergreen trees.
Jhiton and his black dragon had already landed, and he’d slid off to examine large footprints in the sand.
Even though the high walls of the cliffs left the beach in shadow, Syla could make out the marks well due to their depth and size.
They hadn’t been left by the seals. Something large and heavy had visited recently, and, as Agrevlari alighted on the beach, she thought of books she’d read on the dangerous creatures that made Froha their home.
When the two blue dragons landed beside Agrevlari, who growled and nipped at one he must have felt was too close, Jhiton beckoned to the pair of riders. He didn’t look at Vorik or Syla, instead pointing his men toward the tracks.
“Not a kraken at least,” Vorik called to the general.
Judging by the baleful look that Jhiton gave him, he wasn’t in the mood for humor. Or was it humor?
“Kraken?” Syla asked quietly.
“Let’s just say that the camp we’re visiting wasn’t our first choice.” Vorik winked, slid off Agrevlari’s back, and offered her a hand down.
She accepted it and landed in the sand, making note of their surroundings in case she had to come back to this spot for… she didn’t know what for. It wasn’t as if anyone would come to pick her up.
Wreylith? She sent the word out to sea, though they’d crossed hundreds of miles, and she doubted she had the power to communicate telepathically that far away.
But wasn’t the krendala supposed to allow riders and dragons to speak from a much greater distance than typical?
She always carried the little red figurine along with her these days.
I remain entrapped on this island, came Wreylith’s reply, her voice very soft but distinct enough to understand.
I’m sure you’re traumatized.
Dragons are born to be free, not caged.
How many bog bears have you joyously hunted down and eaten since I left?
Only two.
The stormers have brought me to the coast of Froha. Will you ask one of the Freeborn Faction dragons if they’ll come and retrieve me? Syla thought wistfully of the cheerful Igliana. She would be delighted if the orange dragon showed up.
One? How many stormer dragons are there?
I’m not sure. At least four.
It will take more than one Freedom Faction dragon to rescue you from so many. And there are probably more than you’ve seen.
Yes, but I intend to rescue myself. I’ll only need to be picked up.
She braced herself for Wreylith to reply that she was a puny human and could never escape a camp guarded by dragons. Or a camp guarded by humans for that matter.
You will suborn the rider who services you sexually? was what Wreylith asked.
Syla’s cheeks heated, though it wasn’t as if anyone would overhear their telepathic conversation. Even if Jhiton had the ability to spy, he was busy checking out the tracks.
He appears most devoted to you, Wreylith added. He may indeed be willing to assist you in escaping.
He’s the one who kidnapped me.
Did you not desire to be kidnapped?
Well… sort of.
You sent me to check on your allies in the large human dwelling when I could have remained close.
I know, and I am hoping to use this opportunity to find the shielder components. I have a medical kit full of drugs that can help me get away from the camp, but I’ll need someone to pick me up and take me back to the Kingdom. Promise however many livestock you need to, please.