Chapter 21
Stesha
I’m dreaming that the world has ended, a painful, dragonless nightmare that never ceases.
I’m lost in a timeless white void, unable to move or think or breathe.
All the while I’m pierced by a terrible sense of dread that I’ve lost something important.
Turned my back on it and let it slip through my fingers.
I open my eyes, and white light pierces my skull. I fling an arm up before my face as cold wind slices through my body. Nilak. Where’s Nilak? I sense around me with my mind, and relief washes over me as I sense her nearby, though her mind feels as sluggish and confused as my own.
As my eyes clear, I see that I’ve awoken in the Bodan Mountains, but awoken from what, and why, I don’t know.
There were wildflowers around my boots just a moment ago, and now there’s snow.
The light spring cloak I’m wearing is not enough to shield me from the piercing wind.
I’m vaguely aware of others around me, familiar faces of the soldiers of the dragon army, as I stumble toward Nilak.
I grasp her head in my arms and hold her, taking shuddering breaths.
“Prince Emmeric confounded us somehow, and he escaped.” Godric sounds uncertain, but I think he’s right. Emmeric was here, moving among us as I passed out, like he was searching for someone.
“Confounded all of us and our dragons? How?” Sundra answers.
Godric hesitates. “I don’t know. A spell?”
“Crafty, murderous bastard,” she spits.
“But for how long were we confounded? Something doesn’t feel right.” I hear Godric’s feet shifting on the snow as if he’s turning on the spot.
I straighten up and take a better look at our surroundings. “There were wildflowers in bloom when we flew into the Bodan Mountains. Now there is snow.”
Godric and Sundra look around. There are shadows beneath their eyes, as if they’ve had a long, tiring night.
Sundra’s expression is horrified. “You mean we’ve been here for months?”
“It could have been mere days,” Godric says quickly. “I’m sure it was. You know how quickly storms can blow through these mountains.”
I don’t agree, but I hold my tongue. The snow and ice around us are not fresh. The air smells to me as though the seasons have changed.
Which means that Zenevieve has been unprotected for months while Emmeric does gods know what in Maledin.
I put my hand on my dragon. Zen and Minta. Could you sense them while we were trapped?
Nilak’s response is that she hasn’t sensed dragon or rider anywhere close to us since we saw them fly away from the dragongrounds.
Everyone mills around for a long time in confusion. The whole dragon army has no clue as to what’s happened to us, but eventually, one voice pierces everyone’s bewilderment. Zabriel is giving orders. He wants the wingrunners to scout the area.
I peer over my shoulder at the prince, clenching and unclenching my fists. Any moment now, he’ll turn around and instruct the dragonriders, and I’ll have no choice but to obey.
I swiftly climb Nilak’s flank and throw my leg over the saddle.
Go.
Nilak spreads her wings and takes to the skies.
I hear Zabriel curse and shout my name, and then he orders the remaining dragonriders to stay where they are, but I am already gone.
Nilak races down the mountainside while I scan the landscape. It is indeed winter. Snow blankets everything, including landmarks that should be obvious. A towering oak that should stand out in a particular field. A snaking road that has vanished. A cluster of cottages by a bend in the river.
Far up ahead, I see marching soldiers wearing somber black and white, not the red and gold of Maledinni soldiers.
My lip curls in disgust. Parasites. There are no dragons in the skies.
No wingrunners either. If many months have passed, and Maledin has been left unprotected, I imagine one of our neighbors will have taken advantage of our absence and will need to be driven out.
Best not to alert them prematurely to the fact that the dragon army has awoken, but I am curious who has dared trespass on our land.
I put Nilak down in a clearing and approach the soldiers on foot, alternating between running and walking, my lungs burning and my legs protesting after so long asleep.
The wind blows in my direction as I come upon the soldiers.
They have a dull, uninteresting scent. Humans.
A race who are clever with strategy and sometimes with magic, but they fear flight and fire.
They are outnumbered in Maledin, but apparently they have dared to rise in our absence. I don’t recognize their livery.
I approach them, keeping my sword sheathed. When they see me, armed and dressed for battle, they all grip the hilts of their weapons. I hold up my hands to show that they are empty.
“Peace. I am a lost soldier,” I tell them.
One of them seems to be in charge, and he narrows his eyes at me. “Your name, rank, and loyalty, soldier.”
“Fuck, he’s huge,” mutters one of them.
These men barely come up to my shoulders. They wear plate armor, while I wear leathers. If they are seasoned soldiers and they attack, I might find this to be a challenging fight. For a moment or two.
“I am Dragonmaster Stesha of the king’s flare, loyal to King Aylard,” I tell them. The men look confused, and I remember that King Aylard is dead by his son’s hand many months ago. “I misspoke. I am loyal to the former Crown Prince Zabriel, the rightful ruler of Maledin.”
I expect them to draw steel, proclaiming that their human king is the rightful king, and attack me, but their faces are blank.
“What’s a dragonmaster?” one of the men finally asks.
I don’t think I’ve ever had to explain my role in my life, even to a human. Everyone knows what a dragonmaster is. “I am caretaker of the king’s flare.”
“What’s a flare?”
“Is he mad?”
“The king’s flare of dragons,” I grind out, rapidly losing my patience.
They burst out laughing. “Don’t be stupid. Dragons aren’t real.”
“He is mad. He’s totally lost it in the mountains.”
By all the stars in the heavens, what the hell is going on?
While they’re still laughing, I silently summon Nilak. A low, growling rumble fills the air, and their laughter dies away as they turn on the spot.
“Is that an avalanche?”
Nilak stalks out from among the trees, a purer white than snow, her blue eyes burning with antipathy. Slowly, she parts her jaws, and flames lick around her teeth.
All the soldiers turn pale, and their mouths drop open. Then they turn and run down the valley, shouting about monsters and demons.
Nilak’s mouth closes in confusion, and her head tilts to one side. I agree with her. I would be disgusted at their cowardice if I wasn’t so confused.
To the south, I can see smoke rising through the trees, though I don’t recall any hamlets in that direction. Nilak and I proceed that way, me walking beside my dragon.
We enter a clearing and see a man in robes, not unlike those the Hratha’len wear, but in a drab brown color.
He’s collecting firewood, and through the trees I glimpse a large structure that’s bigger than a barn, but it does not look like any barn I’ve seen before.
It has a tower that’s flying a black and white flag, and a strange symbol hangs over the entrance.
The man sees us, drops all his firewood, and starts to run. He doesn’t get far as he trips over the snow and goes flying.
I stride forward and stand over him with my hands on my hips. “Calm yourself. I don’t kill unarmed men. What are you?”
“A m-monk, sir,” the man says, cowering away from us.
Never heard of them, but I presume he’s part of a human religious sect. “What is this place?”
“A monastery.”
The building I can see looks old, but that’s impossible. There are no monasteries in Maledin. “What order are you? When was this place built?”
“I am of the Brethren order, and this monastery was built nearly ninety years ago.”
My veins flood with ice. He’s lying to me. There was no building of this size here for ninety years. Keeping my voice steady, I ask, “How many months has the king sat upon the throne?”
“King Alastor has reigned for twenty-three years.”
I feel as though I’ve been punched in the guts. Has the world gone mad? Have I gone mad?
“What is that creature yonder, sir?”
My attention snaps back to the monk. He’s staring in fear at Nilak. “You have all forgotten the dragons in twenty-three years? I expected a religious man to be more learned.”
“A d-dragon? There are no dragons, sir.” He looks around and then says in a lowered voice as though imparting forbidden knowledge, “There have been no dragons in Maledin for five hundred years.”
I want to draw my sword and ram it through this man’s lying throat. “Before King Alastor, King Aylard ruled this land. A Maledinni king.”
“I’m sorry to argue with you, sir, but King Alastor traces his lineage back five hundred years. I have copied the records myself.”
I think I’m going to throw up.
Green light flickers in the corner of my vision. Outside the monastery, men in robes are gathering magic in their hands. There are no wingrunners to pick them off. My dragon is in danger, so I race back across the snow, and we take to the skies.
I fly without thinking for several minutes before the sight of the mountains jolts me out of my stupor, and I return to the others.
Zabriel glares at me as I dismount my dragon among the other riders. “I was about to pronounce you a deserter, Stesha.”
How calm they all look, for they do not know what I do. “It has not been days. It has not been months. We have been under a spell for—”
But Zabriel has already turned his back to me and continues to give orders.
They will all know the truth soon enough. I retreat behind Nilak, and my heart is pierced with agony and grief. I fall to my knees in the snow and bite back a howl of pain.
Zenevieve is lost to me. She died long ago. Alone, afraid, and hating me.