Chapter 20
Vorik had made a mistake. He shouldn’t have captured Syla and brought her here.
Yes, those had been his orders; bloody daggers, he’d even suggested—no, requested—them, but that had been out of desperation to save her life.
He hadn’t thought it through, hadn’t realized what a betrayal it would seem to him.
What a betrayal it was. Escorting her into the depths of the cave had made him feel like a villain.
Maybe this would help his people, but at what cost? His heart? His soul?
Wasn’t there another way? One that wouldn’t have the stormers and the gardeners killing each other over those islands for the rest of his life? And beyond? It wasn’t what the gods had wanted when they’d placed humanity on the protected islands. And this… this betrayal of Syla wasn’t what he wanted.
At his side, she stood straight, her usually expressive face masked, her eyes grim behind her spectacles.
Vorik watched bleakly as Jhiton reached for her medical kit.
Her hand tightened reflexively around the strap, as if she would fight him for it, but she must have determined that she wouldn’t win that battle because she let go.
She did flex her fingers and eye Jhiton as he took the kit to the healer.
Thinking about how she’d once used the power of her touch to kill?
Since they’d landed, Vorik had been watching for signs that she would try that. Normally, he would trust that Jhiton could take care of himself against any foe, but he didn’t know how fast Syla could work her magic to kill. He wasn’t even positive that touch was required.
Healer Yavaron delved into the kit and pulled out a long, slender cylinder with a small reservoir and a needle.
The thing looked ominous. Vorik hadn’t seen such a device before, but, as Yavaron poured some of her concoction into the reservoir, he got the gist of what it would do, deliver the drug directly into Syla’s bloodstream.
“That’s not sterile,” Syla said. “You can’t just stick it in someone’s vein.”
In her vein.
“Your magic will keep you from becoming infected,” Yavaron said with certainty.
Syla looked like she would object further but didn’t. Maybe she knew the statement to be true.
“Hold her,” Jhiton said.
Vorik hesitated. The word betrayal floated through his mind again.
Especially when Syla looked at him, her mask slipping to reveal fear and concern in her beautiful gray eyes.
Less for herself, he knew, and more for her people.
She feared letting their secrets slip, the secrets that kept them safe on their islands.
“Hold her,” Jhiton repeated, “or I will.”
The words seemed to promise that his grip would be anything but gentle. Yet Vorik still hesitated, keenly feeling the difference between passively watching something dreadful happen and being an active participant.
No, he amended. There wasn’t a difference. Either way, he was guilty.
It was the speculative gleam that entered Syla’s eyes that propelled Vorik to step closer. If Jhiton were the one to grip Syla, she would try to kill him.
In these circumstances, Vorik wasn’t confident that she wouldn’t kill him. Or at least attack him.
Regardless, he stepped behind Syla and gripped her arms to keep her from fighting the application of the needle.
She clenched her jaw, her back going rigid, her muscles tense.
She glanced at Vorik and closed her eyes, as if struggling with an internal debate.
He had no trouble guessing what it was and braced to use his own magic to defend himself if need be.
As Healer Yavaron stepped closer, Vorik sensed Syla’s power coiling within her. The moon-mark on the back of her hand glowed silver. Would she lash out at Yavaron?
Though Yavaron wasn’t bonded with a dragon and didn’t have any magic, she must have seen the silver glow and sensed the danger. Stopping a few feet from Syla, she looked at Jhiton, a question in her eyes.
Jhiton lifted a hand toward Syla, and Vorik tensed. He didn’t think his brother would strike Syla, but he readied himself to defend her if need be.
Jhiton paused, his head tilting as he looked toward the cave entrance.
Four dragons allied with the Freeborn Faction are flying along the coast, Agrevlari spoke into Vorik’s mind.
Ozlemar must have been giving a similar warning to Jhiton.
How far away? Vorik asked. Do they seem to know where our camp is?
They are yet dozens of miles away.
It doesn’t take dragons long to cover such a distance.
Of course not. Dragons are magnificent.
Concerned with Syla’s fate, Vorik didn’t offer a typical snarky reply. Instead, he watched Jhiton to see how he would react.
His eyes narrowed, and he looked at Syla. “Did you speak to the Freeborn Faction dragons and tell them where you are? How far away can you communicate with their kind?”
Syla glared at him without answering.
Ozlemar has ordered us to fly down the coast to intercept the dragons and keep them from finding the new camp, Agrevlari said. We are four to their four. We can keep them from encroaching.
Good, Vorik replied. Thank you.
“Or is it Wreylith that you can communicate with from afar?” Jhiton asked Syla. “That would make more sense.” His gaze shifted to Vorik. “You said there’s a krendala?”
“Yes,” Vorik said.
“Did you take it from her? I trust you searched her thoroughly while you were riding together.” Jhiton’s eyebrow twitched.
“A gentleman doesn’t touch a lady’s… krendala.”
Jhiton gave him a baleful look, then turned back to Syla and opened his mouth but must have realized she wouldn’t answer his questions voluntarily. He flicked a finger toward the healer.
After glancing uneasily at the glowing mark again, Yavaron told him, “Push up her sleeve, and hold her arm still.”
Vorik could have shifted his grip to do that, but Jhiton glanced at him and reached for Syla himself.
“Careful,” Vorik said to remind his brother of her power, though he was sure Jhiton hadn’t forgotten Devron’s report.
The withering look Syla gave Vorik when she glanced back made the word betrayal come to his mind again. But he had to protect his brother as surely as he wanted to protect her.
Jhiton pushed up the sleeve of Syla’s dress, then held her by the wrist and elbow, turning her arm so that a vein would be accessible.
Syla didn’t move, but Vorik sensed her summoning her power. He squeezed her arms and whispered, “Don’t,” but he couldn’t bring himself to tighten his grip enough that it would be painful. Not even for Jhiton.
It didn’t matter. Jhiton had power of his own and created a shield around himself that blocked the tendrils of magic that Syla tried to send into him.
As Yavaron lifted the needle to Syla’s arm, Jhiton held Syla’s gaze.
She summoned more power as she glanced at the needle, a surprising amount of power.
From the outside, it was hard for Vorik to sense exactly what was happening, but she seemed to draw from the dragon tattoo as well as her birthmark, the different types of magic mingling inside of her. Then she created a spear of energy that she thrust toward Jhiton.
His eyes widened in surprise at her power, but he didn’t release her arm.
Though his jaw tightened from the effort, he managed to fend off her attack.
Then he must have countered it, sending his magic into her, because she rocked back slightly, fear flashing in her eyes.
She recovered, hardening her defenses, and masked her features, not letting him see her concern.
His eyes closed to slits, but he didn’t seem to push his attack further, merely keeping his own defenses up.
When the sharp tip of the needle touched her skin, Syla tried to pull away physically and threw more magic at Jhiton.
Vorik’s heart ached, and he wanted to release her, to let her run away, but with his entire tribe camped between here and the exit to the cave, there was nowhere for her to go.
Someone who didn’t care for her would tackle her and hurt her.
If she could even escape Jhiton. His grip hadn’t shifted, and he deflected her second spear of power.
No, Jhiton wouldn’t let go. Even if Vorik did.
Syla snarled, straining from her effort, but she couldn’t keep the needle from sliding into her vein. Yavaron emptied the reservoir into her, then skittered back.
Jhiton released Syla’s arm and also stepped away. With nobody else touching her, Syla shifted her attention—her power—to Vorik. To strike?
Again, he braced himself, though a trickle of doubt crept into him. He was strong, but did he have as much power as his brother? Agrevlari was a strong dragon, but he wasn’t Ozlemar’s match. Maybe…
Though she seemed on the verge of attacking him, Syla didn’t.
She slumped, the magic within her growing still.
She swallowed, and looking over her shoulder from behind, Vorik could see tears glisten within her eyes.
It was not, he was certain, from the pain of the needle, and he closed his own eyes, regret filling his heart.
He’d made a mistake. He shouldn’t have helped with this.
He should simply have walked away from this war, from his brother and his people.
Going into exile would have been better than this, than betraying someone who kept helping him—who always refrained from hurting him—even though they’d been destined from the beginning to be enemies.
“How long will it be before the drug takes effect?” Jhiton asked Yavaron.
He had no regrets. This was exactly what he wanted.
“It might have been up to an hour if she’d ingested the liquid,” Yavaron said, “but this will be faster. It might take only a few minutes before it acts upon her and lessens her inhibitions about answering questions.”
Jhiton nodded and looked at Vorik. Agrevlari told you about the Freeborn dragons?
Vorik didn’t want to answer his brother, didn’t even want to look at him, but this was about the safety of their people. Yes.