Chapter 17 Maxim
Chapter Seventeen
Maxim
Heat shimmers around my legs as I sprint across the barren ground south of the bloodlands.
Debris crunches beneath my feet.
Bones. Rocks. It doesn’t fucking matter, and I don’t stop to find out.
Far behind me, a scorching wall of heat burns brightly where my power exploded, rivers of lava creating a barrier both on the ground and radiating up through the air, too hot for vampyrs to pass through. For now.
I’ve been running for what feels like hours but could be shorter. It’s too damn hard to tell in the darkness. But the stream of bloodthirsty creatures from the north has halted.
I perceive the vampyrs congregating around the mountains I’m headed toward.
Mountains that are vague outlines in the dark.
My eyes are accustomed to overly bright sunlight, trained to take in as little light as possible. Now, I’m certain my pupils must be fully dilated, and still, I struggle to make out the detail of what lies ahead.
The gleaming amber thread that drew me north is long gone, an agonizing reminder that the Oracle remains out of my reach.
A fading goal as the minutes stretch.
If I were willing to jeopardize my serpent’s safety, I would have called him to me before now. His speed would have carried me to the mountains already.
But I draw lines where I can.
If Stellen is as determined as I am to control the Oracle, he won’t let her die.
In the meantime, the fire behind me has bought my army time to mobilize. Kaiba is smart. It’s why I put him in charge. I’m certain he’ll form defensive lines at intervals along the channel of darkness, ensuring that if one line fails, the next is ready to fight.
Likely, he’ll also set up garrisons outside the edge of the darkness, readying warriors and serpents to dart in and attack from the sides, burning vampyrs before flying back out to the safety of sunlight again.
He won’t risk losing more warriors than he already has.
Whatever he chooses, I may not be there to see it.
A fact that nearly drives me to a stop.
I am the Ember King, and the deeper into the bloodlands I run, the more it feels like I’m abandoning my people.
I remind myself: my fire is a danger to them.
Far better for my flames to burn where vampyrs are and where Ember Fae are not.
As I run onward, the dark channel narrows.
A bottleneck!
My hope flares at the sight of it.
At a guess, the channel here is only one hundred paces wide. Far enough to allow a stream of vampyrs through, but narrow enough to be more easily defensible.
Damn, but Kaiba won’t know the bottleneck is here unless he risks sending serpents this far north to investigate.
A twofold risk, not only because of the vampyrs, but because this part of the channel is technically within Iron Kingdom territory.
Not that the darkness is swarming with Iron Fae, but their towers will be nearby.
A distance I check as I run.
In the east, artificial starlight glitters brightly, clearly highlighting the heavily guarded Iron Towers situated safely outside the new darkness.
Because of the way the bloodlands are—or until now, were—situated in the northwest of the Iron Kingdom, a wide strip of uninhabited land extends from the bloodlands’ southern edge to the border of my land.
Whatever water sources may have once existed here have dried up.
When Antony became king, he relinquished control over this corner of his kingdom.
He maintained Iron Towers along the natural border—the same ones that are now burning far behind me—but also built Iron Towers southward of the bloodlands’ eastern corner.
The two Iron Towers nearest on my right are dangerously close to the dark channel’s edge, the intense activity in the air above them an indication of how agitated the Iron Fae have become.
Eagles soar back and forth, the birds remaining steadfastly within starlight while the tips of their wings come close to skimming the darkness.
I increase my pace, prepared in case the Iron Fae spot me.
I’m momentarily thrown when they don’t react to my presence, even when my path takes me within fifty paces of the first of the nearby towers.
But of course. I’m reminded of how opaque the bloodlands are when viewed from the outside.
Three days ago, when I flew along the bloodlands’ southern edge on my serpent, I couldn’t see into this cursed place. Its dark pall makes it impossible to discern shapes or even movement.
A swarm of vampyrs could have been flying alongside me, thirsting for my blood, and I wouldn’t have known.
If I let my fire rage, it could be bright enough to make me visible from the outside, but I guess I’ll find out if that happens.
Just as I return my focus to the mountains ahead of me, a glimmer of light splashes across the air on my right.
My focus snaps back to the Iron Towers, sweeping to the second tower situated farther along than the first.
I brace for the strike of the golden energy that will wrench me into the Oracle’s presence…
Or was it a trick of the light?
When nothing happens, I’m forced to consider it might have been a mere reflection of starlight off an iron blade.
A moment later, a new eagle appears, racing toward the tower. Not a sight that would normally give me pause, but the eagle is larger than most, and its saddle is a gleaming, ivory color.
I’m not completely familiar with every intricacy of the Starlit Court, but only the lords in Galla Vividari’s court ride eagles with ivory saddles. Those lords also wear white clothing. Always.
Yet this eagle’s rider does not.
His posture is rigid, his red hair making it clear he’s highborn, since lowborn all have dull, black hair, but the cut of this man’s leather armor ranks him no higher than a captain in the Iron Army.
Again, I may not know everything about the Starlit Court, but one thing is well known: Galla Vividari’s lords are vicious. They would never willingly part with their prized eagles.
Quickly assessing the threat from the vampyrs and judging that the threat of my fire will keep them at bay for now, I veer sharply to my right.
Slowing my pace, I approach the dark channel’s edge cautiously, scanning the riders in the sky, as well as the Iron Fae guarding the tower top, watching in case I’m spotted.
The approaching rider gives a shout, gesturing to one of the eagle riders, who immediately breaks formation. When the captain—assuming I’m correct about his rank—gestures to the ground, both riders descend, landing on a spot in the tower’s shadow.
A perilous space to stop so near to the bloodlands’ darkness, but the captain lands his eagle there, and it means I can see both riders clearly.
Even if they can’t see me.
I crouch low to the ground and remain very still as the two men dismount, only ten paces from each other.
“Evron,” the newcomer says, his voice low as he meets the other man halfway.
The man named Evron is visibly younger with dark-blond hair, and also clearly highborn.
But it’s the blood splatter across the older man’s armor that draws my attention, sticky, dark splashes that Evron clearly doesn’t miss.
“Captain, what happened?” he asks, confirming my guess of the newcomer’s rank. “Where’s your eagle?”
“Dead,” the captain replies, dragging the back of his hand across his forehead.
“How?”
The tension around the older man’s eyes increases. “Antony, King of Iron, has gone missing.”
The younger man jolts. “Our king is missing?”
“He was last seen flying into the bloodlands. He was chasing after the Oracle. She escaped him and fled into the darkness.”
When I saw Thyra within the magic of the thread that connects us, Stellen had her. It was clear from the snowstorm around them that they were in the Frost Kingdom. Now I have some clues as to how Antony lost her.
The younger man lurches toward his eagle. “We need to find the king.”
The captain claps his hand on Evron’s shoulder, halting him.
“Listen to me carefully. The king’s brother Prince Hadrian is making a claim for the throne.
He has placed Galla Vividari under guard and declared she is no longer mistress of the Starlit Court.
He has also imprisoned his brother Prince Victor. ”
The younger man pales. “What about Princess Cassia? Is she safe?”
“She disappeared earlier today. Nobody knows where she went.”
He peers at Evron, but the younger man shakes his head.
“She didn’t fly this way.”
The captain gives a heavy exhale. “I was hoping you might have seen her.”
He scans their surroundings, focusing on the eagles in the air for a moment before he continues. “There’s more. Prince Hadrian controls iron dust.”
The younger soldier’s response mirrors my disbelief. “That’s impossible. No Iron Fae has ever controlled iron dust. The consequences would be—”
Horrific.
Worse than my fire.
“I’ve seen it,” the captain interrupts, wrenching up his sleeve, exposing his forearm.
Twin iron burns sear across his skin, parallel to each other but one shorter than the other. Each scar is thick and ropey.
I narrow my eyes at them, unsettled by their appearance.
The younger soldier is frozen for a moment before his jaw clenches. “We have to find the king. We’re sworn to protect Antony. Once he returns, order will be restored.”
The captain’s grip on Evron’s shoulder visibly tightens. “Are you willing to risk your life for that cause?”
Evron gives a firm nod, a determined light growing in his brown eyes. “Without hesitation.”
“Well,” the older man says, “that’s a fucking shame.”
An iron blade glints in the starlight.
With a single, swift swipe, the captain slices open Evron’s throat, then shoves him into the darkness.
I jump back as the young man lands on the ground beside me, his upper body falling into the bloodlands while his legs remain outside of it.
His hands fly to his neck, a futile attempt to stop the flow of blood, his eyes wide, mouth open.
With furtive, upward glances, the captain kicks the younger man’s legs into the darkness, fully concealing his crime.
He spits on the ground where his victim’s blood spilled.
“Long live Hadrian,” he snarls beneath his breath. “True King of Iron.”
In the process of leaning forward, a wooden amulet attached to a leather string around the captain’s neck slips free of his armor.
The amulet is made of wood I recognize, its grain unusually dark with unique whorls circling its surface.
That same wood was used in the hilt of a knife wielded by an assassin who came after me yesterday. I carry that wooden handle with me, wrapped in the dragon’s hide along with my clothing.
Unlike every other substance I’ve ever encountered, this wood doesn’t burn in my fire.
Well, I might be reluctant to use flames right now in case I draw attention to myself, but I’m not afraid to use my strength.
Before the traitorous captain can move away, I launch myself forward.
My right arm snaps out, extending into the starlight.
On the other side of the boundary, the traitor’s eyes fly wide.
He doesn’t have time to shout before I wrap my hand around his neck and pull him into the same darkness into which he so callously cast his comrade.
Dropping my weight, I yank him to his knees and, in the same movement, swing my other fist into the side of his head so hard that his neck snaps.
His life is over instantly.
Allowing the captain’s body to slide to the ground, I bend briefly to the iron scars on his arm, quickly realizing why I found them unsettling.
They’re old. The skin around them is too calm to be new. They might even have been inflicted more than a week ago. A deliberate mark, not a scar rendered in the heat of a recent battle.
I return my focus to the man named Evron.
Blood continues to flow from his neck and bubble between his teeth, although the stream is weaker now. He doesn’t have long.
He tries to wriggle away from me, but it doesn’t do him any good.
I stop where I am, arms splayed. “Your death is certain. I won’t make it more painful for you.”
I can’t help him. Even if I could control my fire to such a precise extent, the wound is too large for me to successfully cauterize.
A fierce furrow forms in the young man’s brow as he attempts to speak. “Burn…Hadrian…”
Well. Now that, I can do.
But my smile fades.
Burn a fae who controls iron dust?
It could be difficult, even for me. The chances of suffering significant iron burns would be high.
What if I inhaled the fucking dust before my flames could ignite?
I have no way of knowing if my fire would incinerate the iron dust before it could burn me.
Wiping my expression clean, I acknowledge Evron’s request with a firm nod. “Your loyalty to your king is honorable.”
I’m certain I’m the last fae this man would wish to spend his dying moments with, but I press my fist to my heart and look him in the eye. “If you were my warrior, I would be proud to have trained you.”
Evron gasps for air, as if he has more to say, but the life finally vanishes from his eyes, and his breathing stops.
I remain where I am for a long moment.
If he had been an Ember Fae, I would incinerate him. An honor to become ash at the hand of the Ember King. Not so for an Iron Fae.
Better to let his people find him.
Not that any of them appear to have noticed he’s missing.
Keeping my eyes on the sky, I nudge his legs back into the light, beyond the edge of the bloodlands.
If his brethren pull his body out, they will see his throat has been cut with an iron blade, not savaged by a vampyr.
I pause only once more, this time beside the traitorous captain’s body.
After breaking the leather strap from around his neck, I unfold the dragon’s hide and push the amulet among the belongings I’m keeping safe within the skin. I don’t know how this wood is resistant to my fire, but I’m not going to leave it behind.
Quickly, I step back from the bodies, keeping the eagles within my sights in case they’ve spotted me, after all.
Still no.
If what the captain said is true, Antony followed Thyra into the bloodlands, which means the Iron King might still be here.
Thyra’s scream reverberates through my memory as clearly as if I were hearing it again right now.
She is still my answer.
Only with her can I control my fire. If I can control my fire, then I can protect my kingdom instead of endangering it.
Only with her do I have a future.
If I encounter Antony along the way, well, he may no longer control Thyra, but he remains a significant threat to me. No matter if his brother makes a play for the Iron Kingdom’s throne.
Fighting to suppress my returning flames, I bend one last time to the betrayed soldier, making him a promise. “I will tell Antony of your loyalty. Right before I kill him.”