Embrace the Fire Page 16

  “Look,” he whispered.

  As he pressed his hand across the cuts, not only did the heat weld the scales together, but multi-colored hues lit up the mirrored hide, radiating outward from Ayden's touches. Luasa raised her head, her eyes already regaining the fire they'd lost in the battle. Slowly, she curled her neck around until she was snout to nose with Ayden.

  Awe choked Kinna's voice. “Ayden, she wants psuche.”

  Ayden's mouth went bone-dry, and he had trouble unsealing his lips. He touched the she-Dragon's snout as he blew out, and her breath wisped around his. Every color of the rainbow refracted around the entire company, and Ayden knew Luasa's thoughts.

  She loved him.

  * * *

  Soreness ripped through Ayden's shoulder as he saddled the horse for Lincoln. Chennuh and Luasa waited on the clifftops for them, and Kinna talked the Pixie deaf. “Linc, I really wish you'd just come with one of us. I don't want to get separated. You'll be riding through the forest with a thick tree-cover, and even Chennuh's sharp eyes can't pierce that. Are you sure you have to ride the horse?”

  “I'm too heavy to ride that ridiculous Dragon,” Lincoln said as he swung himself into the horse's saddle.

  Chennuh snorted loudly.

  “I'd weigh him down, and then where would we be?”

  “Just be careful, Linc.”

  “I always am, m'lady.”

  “Get going, Linc,” Ayden interrupted. “We'll still have you beat by a day if you don't start moving now.”

  Lincoln urged the horse up the valley, disappearing along the smooth clifftops. Ayden led Kinna toward the cliffs and the Dragons.

  “I'm so glad you've found psuche with Luasa,” Kinna murmured as she rubbed Chennuh's scales.

  “It doesn't bother you?” Ayden tossed the remainder of the breakfast fish to the Dragons, watching as both lunged for the meat.

  “Why would it bother me?” Kinna's wide green gaze met his.

  “You want so badly the freedoms for these creatures that have been denied them so long. I know you've said psuche isn't the same, but I wondered if you held any reservations.”

  Kinna shook her head. “When Chennuh and I achieved psuche, I realized how different that is from the slavery instituted by Sebastian. There's no possibility of cruelty in psuche. To hurt Chennuh is to hurt myself.”

  Ayden nodded as he glanced at Luasa, gleaming in the morning sun. She ate with divided attention, her gaze never leaving him. “I'm beginning to understand.” He approached Kinna and spanned her waist with his palms, sliding her easily onto Chennuh's back, and then climbing up close behind her.

  “Ayden, what are you doing? I thought you were going to ride Luasa.”

  “Next time,” Ayden grunted, sliding his arms around Kinna's waist. “This may be my last opportunity to ride Chennuh.”

  “Riding Chennuh won't vary much from riding Luasa. What's the difference?”

  It was a question Ayden didn't answer. He closed his eyes as the Dragons lurched into the air, breathing in the scent of Kinna's hair. This was, after all, likely the last time he would ever see her.

  Chapter Eleven

  Cedric

  Cedric kicked his sodden feet free of pebbles, cursing his lack of boots. It had taken him less than a hundred lengths from West Ashwynd's shoreline to realize that if his boots remained on his feet, he would drown. With some difficulty, he'd removed them in the water, and after trying to clutch them with one hand and swim with the other, Ashleen had switched directions, snatched the boots from his hand, and tossed them to land with a splash twenty lengths away.

  “I'll make you new ones,” she'd muttered as Cedric had stared aghast at the spot where they'd disappeared. “You'll drown yourself if you keep that up.”

  Now she stood on the rocky shore of Lismaria, wringing out her black hair, and an amused smile played on her lips as she watched him dust the pebbles from his foot. Cedric forced himself to put his foot back on the rocks and walk without flinching to the forest that over-arched the white Lismarian beaches. Above the treetops, high, rugged peaks pierced the skyline. A distant smudge on the western horizon marked the shore of West Ashwynd.

  Cedric felt a pang. West Ashwynd was all he'd ever known. Now he'd arrived on a new shore in a new country, a prisoner of a woman he'd once loved.

  Lianna emerged from the trees. “My uncle's men are not far away,” she announced. “They will take you to ClarenVale.”

  Ember. He wondered again what purpose Nicholas Erlane had for the Dragon. Cedric was bound to get to ClarenVale where Ember had gone, and if he had to go as a prisoner, he would. He sent a prayer to the Stars for protection for Kinna and bent all his mental energies toward finding Ember. He would worry about escape after that.

  “Where are you and Ashleen going?” Cedric asked.

  “Ashleen will accompany you. She must inform my uncle of Sebastian's movements; I will write them in detail as soon as we meet my uncle's troupe.” She turned to Cedric. “Meanwhile, I must travel into the mountains to meet with the Seer Fey.”

  Cedric's gaze flew to the massive peaks above them. “Why?”

  Her gaze iced over. “Not that it is any of your business, but I go to seek answers concerning the Amulet from the contingent of Seer Fey who would wish freedom from the chains of their past. Further than that, I will not tell you. In the meantime, keep your uneducated stupidity from me.”

  Hurt coursed through Cedric, and he nearly shot an answer back when the sound of several feet stalking through the woods interrupted him. A group of ten or twelve people and creatures arrived on the beach, forming a half circle around the three of them. The leader stepped forward and bowed to Lianna. “My lady, we are at your service.”

  “Good,” she said. “I must make use of some parchment and a quill, and then you will accompany Cedric back to ClarenVale. Ashleen, you will see to it that no harm comes to him, that he does not escape, that my uncle understands that this is Sebastian's famous Dragon-Master, and that I have plans for him.”

  The admission of her power over her uncle had little effect on Cedric. He'd woven together an understanding of her true character after she'd taken him from the army camp. Anger flooded him. He didn't excuse Nicholas Erlane—the Pixie sat on the Lismarian throne and took advantage of his fellow creatures, using his power and control to weaken them. But Lianna played harlot with the power at her fingertips, selling her soul to manipulate others.

  The Pixie finished scratching words on the parchment the leader had given her. She furled it and handed it to Ashleen, her gaze following the servant's hands as Ashleen tucked the parchment into her belt. “See that my uncle gets it, girl, or I will be very angry.”

  When she disappeared into the forest, Cedric felt no regret at all. And when Ashleen touched his arm, he moved forward without protest. “What did she mean by a contingent of Seer Fey?” he asked the dark-haired girl.

  Ashleen held a branch aside for him. “I only know that the Amulet has rifted the Ancients. Where once the Seer Fey upheld the old treaty between Dragons, Man, and Seer Fey, they now war amongst themselves. The majority wish to use the Amulet to regain power for themselves and bring Man and Dragon beneath them while a powerful few hold tenaciously to the treaty.”

  Cedric was stunned. “Why haven't I heard this?”

  “The rumors have only begun swirling down from the Marron Mountains where the Ancients dwell. No one knows of their authenticity; I've told you palace hearsay.” Ashleen glanced at him and stepped closer, so her warm hand brushed against his. Her voice sank to a whisper. “Perhaps you may gain a following and begin to restore peace from the fallout of this disagreement, Cedric.”

  Cedric stopped walking, staring after Ashleen as she moved through the trees toward the troupe of creatures and Dimn.

  * * *

  The leader of the group was a Trolldimn name Rede who had lost a Troll in a recent death match in the Lismarian capital of ClarenVale. Cedric was further amazed when he discovere
d that she was a woman. Her gender wasn't immediately apparent, because her thick curls hid all but one eye, and she possessed such a hard, angular jaw and such big-boned limbs that Cedric never would have guessed.

  “It's different in Lismaria,” Ashleen explained as they tromped through the woods that first day. “Your King refuses to place women in active duty in his armies, unless they are Dimn and with their creature, whereas Nicholas Erlane has no thought for gender when he names his officers of rank.”

  “What does Nicholas Erlane think of his creatures? As a Pixie king, surely he must have more sympathy with them than Sebastian has with his.” Cedric glanced at Ashleen's profile. Her face was a mask; rarely did he see the feelings that surged beneath it.

  “The fact that Nicholas Erlane is a Pixie isn't generally known,” Ashleen answered, kicking aside a fallen branch. “He rules with Lianna's voice in his ear. Neither of them hold sympathy for other creatures; their only interest is in gaining more power for themselves.” Her voice was bitter, and Cedric stopped walking, forcing Ashleen to a stop as well.

  “I don't understand,” Cedric said. “My father was a good man; Rennis told me.” Hadn't he? The spy's words in the dungeon months ago seemed like a dream now. He'd called Cedric by his father's name; he had lived and died in service to Liam. Surely, his father commanded respect. “My father would have surrounded himself with like-minded people. Nicholas Erlane was his friend and ally.”

  “Aye.” Ashleen shrugged, a twitch that betrayed anger. “He surrounded himself with power-hungry people, just as he was.”

  Cedric stared at her. “What are you saying?”

  “Only that your father possessed two sides of his character, one that he showed to his wife and children and the teeming masses from the balcony of his castle, and one that he showed to those around him.”

  “How do you know? You couldn't have been more than a babe yourself when he was killed.”

  Fury spilled from her black eyes, and wordlessly, she turned her back on him, her knee-high moccasins making little noise on the leaf-strewn forest floor. Cedric followed quietly.

  It wasn't until nightfall when Cedric rested by a fire, surrounded by the troupe, and nursing his blistered, bootless feet that he got a good look at the other members of the troupe.

  A flash of purple hair beneath a hood showed him one of the three Pixies in the group. They huddled together near the edge of light as they whispered songs to each other, the magic of their words shimmering in the dark air. A mournful looking Valkyrie moped at the edge of the clearing where they'd made camp, humming a dirge to herself. Cedric grimaced; a Valkyrie was a depressing creature to be around. When the vengeful angels who reaped the souls of the slain were not immersed in the dark glory of battle, depression smothered the air around them. Understandably, Valkyries kept to themselves. On the far side of the fire, two Sirens ate noisily from tin plates. Rede had given them strict instructions to forego the use of their native tongues while in the company of the others. A Dryad boy slipped inside a tree when he was ready to sleep. The rest were human, or so Cedric thought. He wondered how many were Dimn.

  Next to him, Ashleen meticulously wove leather twine along the seam of a moccasin. She had raided the group's supplies and, while she didn't find any extra boots for him, had discovered leather and twine.

  Cedric watched her smooth, lithe fingers. “I like your hands,” he said with simple honesty. “They're pretty.”

  Ashleen shot a glance at him as she tied off the twine. A small smile edged her lips. “Try this on. I want to make sure it fits before I make the other one.”

  Cedric obediently pulled the boot over his right foot, his sole relaxing into the soft smoothness of the bottom. He wriggled his toes. “It feels nice.”

  “Let me have it back then; I'll cut the leather for the other one.”

  Cedric slid the boot off again and handed it to Ashleen, watching as she bent over her work. “Do you have a family?” he asked.

  Her knife paused mid-cut. “I did, once.”

  Cedric pulled his knees to his chest and hooked his arms around them. “What happened?”

  Ashleen was silent so long, he thought she wasn't going to answer. She finished cutting the leather and wiped a hand over her brow. She raised her gaze to the Stars. “They're up there, you know,” she murmured. “Mother and Father, Jessup—my older brother. My twin Lily, and my baby brother Jonny. I've picked out which ones are which, see?” She poked her knife at the night sky. “That constellation right there, the one to the left of Fearris with his tricorn hat. They're all in a group; they tried to separate us, but in the end, they're all together anyway.” She sighed. “Except me.”

  After a moment, Cedric broke the silence. “I lost my mother when I was seventeen,” he whispered. “She was a Centaur. I have no memory of my real parents.”

  Pity bloomed in Ashleen's eyes. She knew more of his history than he'd thought; their earlier conversation had confirmed it. He wondered how much she knew.

  Ashleen returned her attention to the boot. Her hair hung over her face like a veil, and when she spoke, her voice was clogged with emotion. “My parents were Dragondimn as well, and my father had found a Dragon in these mountains.” She waved a hand toward the dark peaks, velvety black in the moonlight. “It was a Poison-Quill. Those generally have sour dispositions, but this one was a baby, and the sweetest hatchling you'd ever find. He brought the Dragon home.” She stabbed holes in the leather to lace it before continuing.

  “This was in the last months of Liam's reign, just before Sebastian's coup. I was four at the time and don't remember much beyond the mental images I've strung together.” She sighed. “We didn't know that the hatchling was a product of Liam's dens in the Capital. I learned years later that King Liam was seeking to solidify a peace deal with Ongalia to the north, and the Dragon hatchling was to be a gift to the Ongalian king. When Liam's Officer knocked on our door, we didn't suspect a thing. As soon as the door opened, his men speared my father through the stomach and made short work of the rest of my family, including Baby Jonny.” Ashleen's black eyes shivered in the firelight. “I escaped out the back door, but they caught me in the forest. The Officer was going to kill me, too, but he couldn't do it.”

  “Couldn't kill you?”

  Ashleen shrugged, her hair sliding forward over her face. She was nearly done with the boot now. “Aye. It might have been pity or something else, but when they brought me to him, I cried out to the Stars and to the spirit of Aarkan the FireBringer. He held his knife at my throat, but after an eternal moment, he put it away and took me to Liam's palace instead.”

  “What did my father do?”

  Ashleen turned on him, her lips twisted with bitterness. “I only remember sobbing on the floor of the throne room. I didn't know how to tell Liam what I'd seen, but my agony was unmistakable—of that I'm sure. I was four, Cedric—motherless, fatherless, my family slain in my sight in a horrific manner that I can never forget. And I can't forgive your father.” She paused, and her mouth moved, but no words came out. She tried again. “He—he turned his back, Cedric. He commanded a Seer Fey to place a tracking spell on me, to force me beneath it, a slave of his household. A palace guard came...” She trailed off, the nearly-finished boot slack in her hands, her gaze lost in memory. “I was carried, kicking and screaming, into another room where a Seer Fey placed a taibe spell on me.” She sighed and returned to her work on the boot. “When Nicholas Erlane overcame your uncle's coup, I was a casualty. I went from slavery in the Andrachen household to slavery beneath Nicholas Erlane. I was forced into the bidding of Lianna, at the command of her every cruel whim, under surveillance wherever I went, until a Seer Fey releases the taibe. They gave me life, but it is a half-life. I've grown up with Lady Lianna, and I live in her shadow.”

  Words fled Cedric. He had no memory of his father, only impressions. He'd thought his father was a good man, a well-loved man, and he didn't want to believe her. Anger that she would malign his
father struggled against his sense of justice. She'd poured out her story to him, and all he wished to do was shout his disbelief to the heavens.

  But even deeper, a seed of fear burrowed into his soul. What if he, Cedric, Dragon-born, became like his father? What if power corrupted him, too?

  Ashleen handed the second boot to him and watched him slide it on. “Thank you.” He laced it carefully and then put on the first boot she'd made. “Did you ever learn to like her? Lianna, I mean? Was she ever kind?”

  Ashleen shrugged, her face inscrutable in the dim firelight. “It's not a matter of like or dislike. I'm her slave, and a slave has no feelings.”

  Cedric's fingers slipped on the last loop as his jaw cramped. He pulled the twine loose and began his tie again. “Surely you don't agree—”

  “Of course, I agree,” Ashleen interrupted sharply, her gaze flying to Rede, the troop leader. Her voice sank to a whisper. “It's treasonous otherwise.”

  Cedric finished his boot and crossed his feet in front of him. “I see.”

  He was about to say something more, but Rede whirled to the fire, her visible eye wide in consternation. “Up, get up!” she roared. “To arms!”

  Chaos reigned as the troupe leaped from their sleeping rolls, frantically grabbing their weapons. Cedric snapped to his feet. The sound of ringing steel pivoted him so quickly, he stepped in the fire. A moment later, he was out of it and facing at least thirty soldiers in full armor. Their swords were unsheathed, their weapons gleaming in the moonlight. On their mantles, Sebastian's crest blazed in red and gold.

  “Take the Dragon-Master,” the leader roared.

  The onslaught began.

  Ashleen wielded two knives, and she stepped in front of him, deftly turning one sword away with one dagger while lunging forward with the other.

  Cedric cursed his lack of weapon, and snatched a log from the fire, its bark coated in glowing embers. Raising it above his head, he brought it down on a soldier who tried to come at Ashleen from the side. The burning wood smashed into the man's head with a spray of ash and sparks, and the soldier crumpled to the ground. Cedric yanked the sword from the man's hand, clashing with another soldier nearby.