Nachal started screaming inside of her mind. Run! Run!
Knowing that there was no other answer, she covered her face with her arms and hands and ran, jumping through the crackling wall of flames directly in front of her. Her clothes scorched and burned, sticking to her legs and arms painfully, melding to her seared skin. She whimpered breathlessly and kept running for the clearing that was just ahead.
When she reached the clearing she was blinded for a moment, and then her eyes cleared and she stared at the chaos surrounding her. The plain in front of her was surrounded on all sides by fire; a circular ring of molten heat that would incinerate anyone who attempted to flee.
Men were fighting everywhere. Bodies littered the ground. The stench and tumult of noise out there was overpowering, but she couldn’t remain where she was. The forest behind her was like a huge wall of living fire, and it was almost upon her again. She had maybe a minute before it reached her.
Nachal stilled, clamping down on his fear for her, as she closed her eyes and stilled her tumbling thoughts, searching. Suddenly, it was like a door opened up. Sound and feeling and sight were a wall that slammed into her. Into them. The chaos was overpowering. Like searching for the breath and warmth of one person amidst the cold, dying screams of thousands.
And then something shifted. She tilted her head up to the sky, still with her eyes closed, and listened to the sound of a deep and constant thrumming.
Fear, cold and absolute, shot through Nachal at the sound. She might not know what the sound was, but he did. He shouted it into her mind: Obsidian!
Her eyes flew open. Through the smoke and the bodies, a hazy line of sight opened. Her eyes grew sharper as she focused, and she saw a rider sitting atop a pale grey stallion, calling to the archers to the rear of him. The thrumming descended. A hush spread. The rider looked up and horror swept across his face. It was the look of someone who knew that he was about to die.
“Valdys!” Auri’s gurgled scream was choked off with a sob as she started to shake. The flames were licking at her back now, scorching her.
Instantly, Nachal felt the change. Auri stared ahead, tears streaming down her burned and sooty face, and accepted the fact that she would die there. That no matter how fast she ran she would be too late. And no matter how hard she fought she would lose. Serenity enveloped her for a brief moment. She thought of her father, of Liran, of him . . . and then she started running because, even if it was hopeless, she was still going to try.
He didn’t pause to think. He just knew—with absolute certainty—that she would die without him. There was a barrier between their minds, a separate and distinct barrier that allowed him to retain his autonomy within her body.
He ripped it down, submerging himself within her—and they became one.
A heartbeat later. . .
We drew air, and then choked on the ash that swirled around us, invading our lungs. Tears obscured our vision until we reached up with a sooty fist and knuckled them away. Faster we flew; faster than anything else around us. The horror of the battlefield seemed far away. Our whole focus was entirely consumed by one man, and the dragon that was almost upon him. The time passing couldn’t be counted in minutes, only in frenzied heartbeats.
We tried to shout his name, “Valdys!” but it came out as another gurgled scream. All of the smoke had stolen our voice. We pumped our legs harder, dodging the arrows that zinged past us and the soldiers—both the living and the dead.
In the end, we were too late.
Obsidian pounced. His sharp talons cut through Valdys’s middle, ripping his chest open. Then he shot straight up with him, into the smoke-clogged atmosphere, and dropped him. He fell to the ground with a sickening thud, directly at our feet.
We dropped to our knees beside him. An anguished keening broke from our lips before we could choke out his name. With our whole body quivering like a broken arrow, we batted his fumbling hands away and submerged our hands into his abdomen and chest, trying in vain to staunch the gaping holes that Obsidian’s claws had made. We couldn’t. His blood gushed all around our fingers with a mind and will of its own, hot and thick, and soaking into the dirt around the man we loved. “Valdys,” we cried brokenly.
All of the sounds of the battlefield faded, churning within the sluggish, crazed haze of our mind. Until, finally, the only sound that we could hear was the sound of our ragged breathing. In . . . out . . . in . . . out. The cusp of eternity seemed wide and unbroken in this one moment of time. We accepted the gift. It was all that we had.
His grey eyes opened, pain filled but lucid. “Auri, run!” he choked.
“We cannot run,” we sobbed. We couldn’t leave him to die alone.
“You must,” he grunted. His back arched as a racking cough bubbled up out of his ripped chest, blood oozing down the side of his mouth. We stared at the single line in horror.
He gripped our shirt with surprising strength, and pulled us until we were only inches from his face. “I . . . love you, Auri,” he rasped. He coughed and choked up more blood. Our tears dripped onto his face, mingling with his own. The light slowly dimmed from his eyes as we watched in anguish.
“No,” we moaned in a broken whisper. “Don’t leave us.”
He drew us still closer until we could hear the thready, gasping breaths that came from his lips. “Krellys . . . is in league . . . with the rebel . . . dragons,” he gasped. Then his eyes widened slowly as though he were seeing something just beyond our vision. His grip slackened, freeing us, and his loosed fist fell to the earth. A soft sigh escaped his lips. “Love . . . daughter . . .”
Chapter Twenty-Six- Dragon’s Blood
We stared down at him, unable to move, or breathe or think, and then the sounds of the battle raging all around us finally intruded, and we forced ourself to let him go. We had to force our bloodied hands to let go as we drew them from within his chest. We wrapped them around his shoulders, and put our cheek to his.
“Goodbye,” we whispered into his ear then we kissed his forehead and closed his eyes.
Our whole body shook as we knelt there, staring at him. We felt suddenly lost. Bereft of purpose. Adrift on an endless sea. We had failed, and Valdys was gone forever. We wouldn’t see his grey eyes light up again. We wouldn’t hear his voice or see his smile. He was gone.
A screech punctured the air high above us, ripping through the night sky, and we slowly looked up.
Obsidian.
He had killed Valdys.
He was going to kill us as well.
And, if we didn’t stop him, he would draw Cerralys out the same way that he had drawn Valdys out and kill him too.
Suddenly, it was too much. We didn’t care so much about ourself in that moment, but we wouldn’t let him kill another father. Not while we still had life and breath within us.
We gritted our teeth and picked up Valdys’s fallen sword. “Obsidian!” we shouted. “Come and get us!” He bellowed another screech as he found our position amidst the smoke and then he tightened his inky black wings against his body and dived.
We welcomed him with a grim smile, standing with the blade ready. We waited, counting the pulses of our beating heart. One . . . two . . . three. . . On four he was upon us. We brought the sword down, slashing it across his outstretched talons, and then we dived, rolling away at the last possible moment.
He screamed, scorching the air with a stream of fire from behind his jaws. We rolled again to the side and felt the skin of our back burn and blister as the fire streamed above us. He turned, holding himself aloft with the steady thrum of his wings, and lashed out with his tail. It connected with our right arm with a sickening snap.
We moaned in pain, clutching it to our chest. Our sword clanged to the ground, useless. His talons finally found their mark as they raked down our scorched back, leaving deep, burning-red rivulets of blood. We screamed shrilly, and went down on one knee, gasping from the pain.
He circled us, as a shark does before moving in for the kil
l. His great wings fanned the smoke with every downward slice, making it swirl around us like a twisting cyclone of soot and ash. We stared up at him, holding our broken arm to our chest, and watched as death circled closer.
Through the red haze of pain, we remembered Cerralys. We remembered why we were doing this. For the king. For our father. We picked up the sword, gripping it tightly in our left hand, and stumbled down the lip of the ledge and into the battle that was still being waged all around us.
Archers let loose dozens of arrows into the night sky. Obsidian screamed. We looked up, searching for him, and then dove to the ground as he grazed the skin of our flayed back and neck with his razor-sharp talons. We had to live. We could not leave Cerralys alone. Hot tears ran down our face as we grimly tried to rise, but the pain was too much. We fell to the earth, staring up at the dark sky as men fell to the ground all around us.
Suddenly, all the fighting stopped, and everyone looked up at the sound of a roar that slammed into our chest, ripping our breath away in fear. He began his descent again, his great wings shadowing the flames.
Time seemed to stop.
He dove.
We couldn’t move. And, even if we could, we wouldn’t be fast enough. He plucked us effortlessly from the blood-soaked ground, crushing our ribs with his powerful claws.
My beloved niece, he rasped to our mind, filling it with glacier coldness. I tire of this. His talons dug into our skin, puncturing through the thin membrane to the vital organs within our body.
We screamed silently. There was no breath in our body for voice. A bone dagger was shoved in our belt. We pulled it out, gazed at it with a prayer on our lips, gripped it with every last bit of strength we had, and drove it deeply into Obsidian’s foreleg. We drove it in until our hands were covered with his blood as well. Blue dragon blood. It mingled with the red blood already caked on our hands from our father.
The claws spasmed around us. At first they went deeper into our body and then they spasmed again, releasing us. He screamed in rage as we plummeted to the earth. We never felt the landing.
When the black haze of unconsciousness left us, we moaned in agony. Fire ate at our lungs and our body, burning it with an inferno of exquisite torment. Our left hand clawed at the earth as we tried not to scream. We didn’t know how long we laid there—it could have been hours—before our sight started to blur, and the pain racking our body began to diminish and fall away.
The fighting seemed to grow more distant. We could hear Obsidian screeching, searching for us through the bodies and the smoke. One fallen figure among thousands.
A hoarse voice shouted, “Fire!” and we smiled grimly as a flood of arrows were loosed into the sky. Valdys’s men still fought. There was still hope that they would bring Obsidian down.
We started to drift. . . The din grew even more distant, more surreal. A hush seemed to whisper across the plain. Our eyes closed, too heavy to hold open any more.
Suddenly, cool, clear air breathed down on us from above. Gentle claws picked us up, clasping around our damaged frame with the utmost softness. We struggled to open our heavy eyes. Finally managing a small slit, we looked up at him.
Cerralys.
His white, massive, pearlescent form filled our vision. His mighty wings arched far to our left and right, beating swiftly and powerfully. An enraged shout echoed from behind us and he flew even faster, bursting through the sky like the prelude to the dawn.
“You came,” we whispered. Utter peace enveloped us. Cerralys had come. Had he brought the light that we saw behind our closed eyelids?
“I’m sorry,” he choked. “So sorry.” His face spasmed in pain. His eyes were beams of light, piercing us with his sorrow.
“It’s alright,” we whispered. Don’t cry, we wanted to say. Don’t mourn. We lifted our impossibly heavy hand, and placed it against his heart. It beat fast against our skin, blossoming warmth within us. The steady beat of it was a sound more soothing than any other sound in the world. Cerralys would live. We had failed one father, but we hadn’t failed the other.
“Sorry,” we whispered. His heart beat faster, sloshing through his veins and body so loudly that it seemed as though it was about to pound out of his chest. We opened our eyes to slits again to make sure that he understood. Sorry for the pain that you feel. Sorry we couldn’t be here with you. Sorry for leaving you too. We wanted to say it aloud, but couldn’t find the strength.
It didn’t matter that we couldn’t say it; we saw that he understood. Large, pearly tears blurred his eyes, running quickly down his face. His wings beat faster, and we watched them dimly in amazement. They were as fast as a hummingbird’s; so fast that they were only a blur of sound and movement.
A wonderful warm light was enfolding us, drawing us in. We were surprised. We always thought that death would be cold, dark, but it was neither of these things. Any lingering pain faded away. Our limbs and vitals felt as though they were pulsing with brilliant, golden warmth. We smiled as we finally let go, and the gleaming darkness claimed us.
Cerralys landed in the courtyard, transforming the minute his clawed feet hit the dirt into his elven form. Liran was the only one standing there waiting for him. When he saw how badly Auri was damaged, he looked at her with something much deeper and much more palpable than anguish. Nature shuddered as he staggered, reaching for her. Cerralys held a hand up, blocking him.
“Liran!” The elf’s eyes drifted slowly up, as though looking up from the deepest, darkest depths imaginable. “I think I can still save her.”
“How?” Liran’s voice was pure pain.
“Dragon’s blood.”
The elf’s golden-amber eyes flashed brighter for an instant, and then he looked at Auri, squeezed his eyes shut against the blood dripping from her wounds, and spoke through stiff, pale lips. “What can I do?”
“Meet me in Nachal’s room with hot water and clean rags,” Cerralys commanded in a clipped voice. He left Liran at a run, and flew with Auri up the stairs. At Nachal’s door, he jerked down on the lever with the tips of his fingers, and kicked it open. It slammed against the wall behind it with a crash.
Dhurmic’s head jerked around to stare at him and then at Auri. He paled noticeably. “Move him,” Cerralys ordered the dwarf in a tightly controlled voice.
Dhurmic moved quickly, adjusting Nachal so that he was on the right side of the bed only. Cerralys laid Auri gently down on the white linen sheets at Nachal’s side. Her blood stained them immediately.
He forced his eyes away from his daughter to his son. Nachal’s skin was slightly grey, and his breathing was shallow and slow. He was fading. Time was slipping. Slipping. He clenched his eyes shut for a minute, took a deep, even breath, and then turned to Dhurmic who stood looking at him as though he could solve the ills of the world.
“Can ye heal them?”
“I’m going to try,” he said grimly, handing Dhurmic a dagger. “I need you to hold this in the fire.”
Dhurmic nodded. He took the dagger and walked quickly to the fire blazing in the hearth. Cerralys turned back to Auri and held her hand. “Don’t leave me,” he whispered brokenly. “Please, Auri. Fight. Fight!”
The door opened with another bang as Liran strode in with a bucket of steaming hot water and some clean cloths. Dhurmic held out the blade with a pair of hearth tongs. Cerralys took it with his bare hands. It burned, but he hardly noticed. What was the pain of his hand compared with the pain drilling into his soul?
He set the bucket of water directly beneath him, held his arm over the bucket so none of his blood would be lost or wasted, brought the blade down, and sliced through his skin in one long, clean stroke. The blue blood welled immediately to the surface, and then began dripping down his arm and into the water. He did it again, and again, and again. When veins closed—and they did quickly—he was forced to open new ones. The pain of it was far away. Meaningless.
After what seemed like an eternity, the dilution of blood to water was finally right. Pur
e blood was too potent at this stage, and might cause Auri’s body to go into shock. He stuck the knife into the water and swirled it quickly around; it sizzled as the blood was licked clean from it. Before the water had even stopped swirling, he dipped one of the clean cloths into it.
His heart beat out a staccato, thumping rhythm inside of his chest as he squeezed the rag and poured the diluted mixture of blood and water into Auri’s wounds—Too late, too late, too late. His chest started to burn, and he fought back the release of the sickening acid that was trying to claw its way up his throat. Too late, Cerralys. Too late to save them. He ignored the macabre voice and dipped the cloth again and again into the blue steaming water.
The bleeding stopped immediately. He had to flip her over onto her side so that he could get to her back. Hands held her steady so that he could work. He couldn’t take his eyes from his daughter to see whose hands they were. It didn’t matter.
After a few minutes of this, he judged that her body should be able to handle the undiluted dragon’s blood. He picked up the blade again and sliced his fingers until the blood dripped down. Then he bathed the worst wounds—those to her vital organs—with the undiluted substance.
His hands flew over her body, working feverishly over the damaged areas: her punctured chest, abdomen and back. Her broken arm he set last. It was the least of his worries.
Was it his imagination or did their combined breathing seem stronger? Did Nachal’s skin look less grey?
More cloth was shoved into his hands and he started the whole process over again. His hands knew the rhythm and worked without conscious thought.