Chapter 7 Maxim, King of Ember #2
But if I want to reach her and claim her, I have to go through these fucking vampyrs first.
I can’t squander these priceless moments of liberation that the Oracle’s scream has given me.
Launching myself into the air as the female serpent soars down to me, I land lightly on her back, holding on to only one of her horns to reduce the danger to her if my fire should suddenly return.
A violent shiver passes through her body as she anticipates her death at my hands. As she curves sharply upward, her body snaking through the air, I catch sight of her face, the fear in her widened eyes.
Only moments ago, as I ran along the ground ahead of her, I paid quiet homage to her bravery.
Her sudden, rapid blinking tells me she’s shocked she isn’t already on fire.
Then she focuses ahead, eyes narrowed, speed increasing.
Soaring upward, she hurtles toward the top of the Ember Tower, where my cousin Kaiba fights. He stands with four other fae, three of them Ember Fae and one, unexpectedly, an Iron Fae.
The stone tower is smeared with blood, ash, and enough gore that other fae have clearly fallen prey to the vampyrs, but Kaiba stands his ground, and now there’s a lull in the attacking creatures.
The serpent approaches at breakneck speed, but I time my jump so I drop to the tower top right beside Kaiba.
The female serpent carves a sharp turn in the air, lifting above the path of Kaiba’s crimson fire and soaring back into battle.
My cousin’s eyes meet mine while his flames continue to wash across the space in front of me, keeping the vampyrs at bay.
His clothing is burned in places, torn in others, his hood and mask completely ripped off. But he carries the horn at his waist that will communicate my orders to our warriors across the battle.
“Cousin!” His fire continues to blaze, but it’s clear to me that his energy is nearly expended. I can tell by the slight sputter in his flames, and the gaps in the continuity of the stream of fire.
He’s powerful. One of the strongest Ember Fae, but he’s been fighting for too long.
“Retreat!” I roar at him. “Get everyone back. Everyone. Even the Iron Fae. I’ll deal with the vampyrs.”
He doesn’t question me. Doesn’t hesitate. My people may fear me, and for good reason, but Kaiba has always trusted me.
He doesn’t waste breath on further acknowledgements. Dousing his fire, his arms visibly shaking, he lifts the horn to his lips and blows.
The command to retreat booms out around me. A series of short, sharp blasts signaling our warriors to fall back.
Kaiba’s serpent answers the call, soaring toward the tower top.
The Iron Fae fighting on the other side of the tower top doesn’t stop fighting. He won’t understand the signal and, even if he sees our retreat, he can’t follow it, for the vampyrs keep coming at him.
No doubt, without power over fire, the Iron Fae are their preferred targets. It’s not lost on me that the vampyrs were part of the Iron Fae’s curse.
As my people fall back, I run toward the lone Iron Fae as he cuts through a vampyr, creating a brief gap in the onslaught. If I thought I could control my fire well enough, I’d use it now to target the next stream of vampyrs, but I can’t risk it.
The Iron Fae jolts at my approach and backpedals away from me. Then his eyes widen as he seems to finally register what I’m shouting as I run toward him.
“Jump onto that small serpent,” I roar, gesturing to the female who soars along beside Kaiba’s beast. “Jump! Jump now!”
The Iron Fae’s face is pale. I register a scar across his clean-shaven chin, unusual for a highborn, but more than that, in that brief moment, I’m astonished at how young he looks.
Fuck, he can’t be more than seventeen, but he held his own next to an Ember General. This young Iron Fae, his sword covered in black ooze, his arms shaking, and his face smudged with soot and blood.
His eagle must be dead, but he should be adept at leaping onto a flying creature, so he should be able to safely make the jump.
He hesitates, his shoulders hunched and forehead puckered, but only for a moment. He must be weighing up death by vampyr—or, if he realizes who I am, death by fire—against the reality of becoming a prisoner in my kingdom. If he’s aware of my father’s misdeeds, he’ll have cause for concern.
But I’m not my father. For one, I look my enemies in the eye when I end them.
Just as I could end this fae right now.
He chooses life, running the short distance to the edge of the tower and leaping out into space, landing neatly moments later on the small serpent’s back.
Kaiba jumps from the tower top at the same time, leaping from the far side onto his serpent’s back. Once seated, he continues to sound the horn, calling our warriors away from the fight.
Within moments, all of our warriors soar past me on their golden serpents.
I’m struck by the brief but solemn nods they cast in my direction, the easing tension in their bodies. My people are respectful toward me but rarely relieved to see me.
I lean toward the darkness, half-expecting to see Iron Fae flying after my warriors, but it seems…
There are none left.
Only riderless birds remain, all of them fleeing to the east, careening wildly toward their home.
I turn my focus to the vampyrs, who are regrouping ahead of me. It appears the only reason they haven’t swarmed already is because of the carnage on the ground between here and the Iron Tower across the border.
Mounds of vampyrs have gathered around fallen fae and eagles, gorging on their blood.
A heavy silence descends, filled with soft murmurings.
I turn my hands over, palms up, gripping this moment of freedom, only the second time I’ve experienced liberty from fire in my entire life.
Once again, this experience confirms for me that the Oracle is the key to curing me.
If she breaks the curse that was cast over the original nation, splitting it into three kingdoms and casting us into war, she will break the curse of fire that controls me.
Now, the heat growing in my palms tells me my fire is returning.
For once, it’s a good thing.
I don’t wait for the vampyrs to come to me.
Striding to the northern side of the tower top, I leap from its edge, dropping all the way down to the ground, where I land lightly, knees bent, my feet crunching on soil that is both sandy and rocky now.
At the soft thud of my landing, the nearest vampyrs crane upward, their faces covered in blood, their faces puffy with hydration, eyes gleaming, the yellowed wisps of their hair growing back before my eyes.
With blood comes revival and strength. A return to whatever form they held before they wasted away from starvation.
Now is not the time to wonder who the vampyrs used to be, if they were once fae, or what part of the curse created them and cast them into endless night.
I slip the satchel off my back and tuck it under my arm, under no illusions that the bag or my clothing will remain intact when my power ignites, but I won’t lose hold of the dragon’s hide.
Then I walk toward the vampyrs, my power surging with every step I take.
Flames lick up my arms, my sleeves and cloak catch fire, and shimmering pieces of burning cloth fall about me, caught in the wind feeding my fire.
Lava drips from my fingertips as I gather my power, holding on to it tightly.
Still in control.
Such rare control.
Up ahead, the mounds of vampyrs separate, dark forms rising into the air. Through the darkness, I make out the silhouette of the nearest Iron Tower, glistening with gore.
Behind that…
More darkness.
More writhing creatures who won’t stop coming.
I wait for them to swarm, two swirls like flocks of birds spiraling toward me, more joining them from far away within the dark bloodlands.
I wait another heartbeat.
My smile grows.
Now is the time for fire.
I simply let go.
Fire explodes out from me, a sharp blast that radiates in a rippling wave, ripping through fleshy bodies, tearing through the stone towers, blasting stone apart, filling the air with rocks that turn to lava, a deadly rain.
The world around me turns amber. Bright, fiery light illuminates the sky, and the air fills with simmering heat that radiates out and out and out…
Silencing the distant shrieks.
But now my fire lights up something else.
An impossible thread.
It extends from my heart far into the north, a glistening line of magic that’s all too familiar to me.
This thread formed between me and the Oracle when we first met. Since then, it has connected us during visions for which I have no explanation. But the connection is undeniable.
Whatever peace I felt in the quiet eye of the firestorm I created vanishes in an instant.
Always, this thread has appeared when I could see the Oracle, even if I can’t touch her, usually preceded by a flash of golden energy from the Dragonstone Blade, but…
Where is she?
Why don’t I see her already?
I blink and—
I’m standing in the middle of a snowstorm, an icy wind sending a violent shudder down my spine. Ahead of me, two figures become visible, one a white wolf, the other…
I recognize Stellen, King of Frost, his pale-gray robes billowing in the wind as he slides from the wolf’s back.
He’s holding another form to his chest, cradling the woman who holds my fate in her hands.
The loll of the Oracle’s head makes me stiffen, her right arm swinging free, her body limp. Her eyes are closed, and her lips are blue.
Even from a distance, I can tell she’s barely alive.
The amber thread connecting her heart to mine tugs at me, a faint pull, but I’m already running.
She’s clearly freezing.
She needs my fire!
Stellen’s urgent whisper reaches me across the distance, somehow carried above the wind. “Hold on,” he commands her as he lays her onto the snow while his wolf lowers herself beside them, a shield against the wind. An impossible feat.
I have to reach the Oracle. Warm her. But the thread flickers and fades, and my feet suddenly bog in the ground, the snow melting in my heat, turning to a torrent of water against which I push with all my might.
Across the distance, Stellen’s next whisper amplifies the shudders raging down my spine.
“I have no choice,” he says. “It’s the only way—”
I’m wrenched back to myself, a shout on my lips.
Burning lava flows around my feet, not melting snow, turning to molten amber any remaining debris, stones, bones, even the final scraps of vampyric clothing.
Streams of lava spill through the rubble of the Ember Tower behind me and the Iron Tower ahead of me, consuming the stones it flows across.
Ash floats through the air. Black snowflakes.
I’m naked, my body glowing amber, my clothing burned to nothing.
The only object that remains unharmed is the dragon’s hide under my arm, and, I’m certain, the supplies I folded within it.
My control is gone, my fire swirls within my body, and the Oracle’s unmoving figure haunts me.
She’s my cure. My freedom from fire.
I can’t let her die.
A roar rises to my lips as I begin to run, splashing through lava, chasing the path of a thread I can now only see in my mind.
A thread that draws me into darkness.