CHAPTER 42 #2
Tin’nen growled. “These have neither wings nor brains, but not all drakes are so. The Corruption bleeds and breeds as it devours. Over the centuries, it has mutated the creatures of the Dream Realm into beings of nightmares. Look to the west.”
I followed his mental gaze, drawing me off to the right of where we hovered.
It was a clash of blackness and flame. The fire creatures oozed between forms as they fought, rendering great beaks and horns and gnashing teeth to tear apart the darkness.
Deadly maws, gleaming black, responded with equal force.
I recognized drakes and dragori, but there were other creatures, too.
Smaller four-legged reptilian things launched themselves onto the fire and were consumed by the dozens.
A great roar shook the ground, and a creature emerged from the blackness and pounded its feet, stomping beings of fire and darkness alike.
It had a pair of great wings spread out across the sky, and despite its features being so similar, it was not a dragon.
Even from afar, I could sense that it did not hold the intelligence or magic of one such as Tin’nen or Vaya’la.
“The doors keep them in our realm, but the magic is leaking. If the barriers are ruptured, there will be nothing stopping them from passing through.”
We flew to the east, high above the terrible army emerging by the hundred from the Darkness.
Thousands upon thousands of the black abominations gathered, all moving eastward.
On the other side of the line of battle, fire creatures of all shapes and sizes came together, some merging with others to create grotesque multi-headed beasts while others shifted between forms with each flicker.
They emerged from pools of magma dotting the land and followed flaming lines toward the raging battle.
From above, they might have been fiery ants marching in dozens of lines against a swarming nest.
Our flight pivoted back to the west, beyond the fire creatures and magma lakes.
Relief flooded me to be away from so much death and horror.
We continued over the very glass island where our bodies stood and beyond until we reached the farthest edge of this land.
The sentry plunged toward the ground, and I shrieked a warning, but the tiny creature swerved, wings tucking in.
It darted through a hole, barely wide enough for it to squeeze through, that opened into a tunnel and then a cavern.
There, in the center of this secret place, burned a doorway.
It stood on its own, raging fiercely despite consuming nothing to feed its flames.
Every inch of the door burst and popped.
The crackling echoed through the quiet chamber, overwhelming me.
Far away on the glass island, my hands flew to my ears but did nothing to block out the sound.
At its center, a plane of fire and magma swirled in a state of constant eruption—both a warning and a dare for anyone who might enter.
“This is my charge. If this or the other doors are breached, nothing will stop the onslaught of Darkness from overtaking your world. I have found my champion to guard this door, but you must find the others.”
“What others?”
“You know the song. It lives within you. From Flame and Ice and Blood and Bone… Each door will take one of its own…”
I gasped as knowledge filled me. My mind began to tremble, trying to hold on before it all slipped away.
The creature we inhabited screeched, breaking my concentration.
As it fled the cavern, I glimpsed a form lying in a heap on the other side of the doorway.
I knew him instantly. Even if I had not seen those telltale black curls, I could never mistake him. I knew him as well as I knew myself.
A rage unlike anything filled every inch of my being, and I screamed into Tin’nen and Vaya’la and the winged creature’s minds.
I was flung backward, and when I opened my eyes, I was sprawled across the glass island with Vaya’la standing over me.
Her back was to me, and an ire to match my own was leveled at Tin’nen.
“You took my brother!” I screamed, and I pushed myself off the glass. I flung my arms forward, and great spikes flew from my hands. They hit Tin’nen square in his armored chest and bounced harmlessly to the floor. I screamed again and reached for my power.
“Peace, Small One.” Vaya’la had turned to me, eyes soft with understanding. “The Dragon chooses their Bound. This is the way of things. He is worthy of this binding.”
My tears sprang forth. I wanted to fight this, to reverse it, to force anyone else to be chosen, but how could I disagree? I knew his merit more than anyone, and with it, how much he meant to me. I choked down my sob and wiped my eyes dry. Then, I turned to Tin’nen and said, “So be it.”
He nodded and turned to Vaya’la. “Send your Bound away. There is much yet for us to discuss.”
Vaya’la, to my horror, agreed.
I gripped her arm. “Don’t.” I pulled her toward me, and vines crept from my hands and wound around her arm. “Don’t abandon me,” I breathed.
“Don’t be silly, Small One.” Her hand smoothed down my hair, and she cupped my face in her palm. “Wake up.”
The vines vanished.
“Wake up.”
I opened my eyes.
Sunlight poured in through the window of a room that was not mine. I was stretched out like a bird in flight across the bed, which was large enough to hold me, arms extended, and then some. Eldreth’s bed. A fire crackled in the hearth nearby.
“It’s about time you woke up.” Kahvrah looked at me over a knitting hoop. There were dark circles under her eyes.
“You’ve taken to knitting,” I croaked. My lips hurt. I tried to lick them, but my mouth was just as dry.
“There’s a glass just there beside you.” She nodded to the table on my left. “Drink up.”
The water burned my throat even though I could feel the chill of it through the glass.
I choked and spluttered, took a deep breath, then tried again slowly.
I sipped at the glass until it was gone, then I took a mental tally of my body.
Everything ached from disuse, but there was no other pain. Shouldn’t there have been pain?
The main door to these quarters opened, and a great clatter of wood sounded from the adjacent room.
“Any change?” A voice called out. His voice. The voice I’d been dreaming about for weeks while confined to that horrible room in Cavendaffe.
An embrace, then fire and light erupting from us and setting the tapestries ablaze. Now, I understood the fire. I hoped the house burned to the ground.
“Come and see.” Kahvrah rose to her feet, though her shoulders stooped.
Then, he was there in the doorway. Eldreth. My betrothed. That sour, grumpy, perfect man looking scrumptious with loose hair and his usual black shirt, black pants, and matching leather boots and bracers. It was so him that I wanted to cry. He took a single step into the bedroom.
“You know where to find me if you need me, Wep.” Kahvrah slipped from the room, and a moment later, I heard the main door thump closed.
Eldreth had not moved. He stood unnaturally still, except for his stormy blue eyes, which consumed me. “You’re awake,” he said in a low rumble.
“I’m awake.” My voice was steady now that he was within my sight. Plus, the glass of water helped. “You’ve cleaned up in here.”
He chuckled in that same deep timbre that went straight to my core. “Have you eaten?”
I shook my head. “I only just woke up.”
“I’ll get you something. Tea, soup, maybe some bread.” He turned to go.
I couldn’t let him. I needed him beside me. I had a thousand things to tell him, but my mind was a jumbled mess. Every pounding beat of my heart echoed in the same two-tone rhythm, calling for him. Eldreth. Eldreth. “Eldreth.”
He stopped in the doorway, and when he looked back at me, I could read the tension in his face.
His body was the picture of calculated ease.
He might have looked unconcerned to anyone else, even to me a few months ago, but now I knew him better.
That unrelenting self-control of his was everywhere.
It was in the clench of his jaw, the flex of his arms, and the straightness of his spine.
I reached out to him. Just one hand, extended for him to take.
His breath finally left him. His shoulders dropped as he took long, languid strides around the bed frame to my side.
I drank him in as he gripped my hand in his own and dropped to one knee before me.
A single lock of copper hair fell into his face, and I resisted the urge to brush it away.
He looked up at me with so much pain in his eyes that my second sight flew open on instinct.
His brilliant white light, always outshining any other, exploded through the room, filling every crevice of my vision.
Steady as the beat of my own heart, orange pulses of fear broke through, tainting his beautiful lifelight.
He closed his eyes. “Please, let me bring you something first.” His voice was raw and jagged. “Give yourself time to recover. There will be time enough for Dane and Ell and…all there is to say.”
Streaks of blue between the orange. Was that sorrow? Shame? “Eldreth, what’s happened?”
Grief. “I’ve failed you.” My whole body tensed. Then, he added, “It’s your brother.”
A great gust of breath escaped me. Bale. Bale and Tin’nen. “I know. There’s nothing we can do for him now.”
Eldreth blinked. “You know?”
I nodded. “It’s a long story and one that requires food before telling. How are we here?”
His brow furrowed. “You healed us. Everyone. We sailed home under swift winds blessed by the Great Dragon herself.”
“Vaya’la doesn’t command the winds,” I said absently. My mind was still piecing together what had happened on that beach. “Everyone lived. Truly?”
He did not respond immediately, which told me everything I needed to know.
“Who?” I asked. “My ranng?”
“All recovered. Mine as well. But, Gerta—”