Tempest (14 page)

The desert. The Ardus. It was an empty place—neglected, lonely—but the sands spoke to me, spoke to a vacant heart. The heat was suffocating, but I sweated away the tears. I marched, my head held high, my hand occasionally clutching my chest when the pain was too much. For two days, we walked. For two days, I let myself feel the pain, let it eat away at me because I knew if I didn’t it would destroy me.

At night, I fell to the sand on my knees, and I stared at the sky. The stars in the desert were brighter than they were anywhere else because there were no clouds in the Ardus. It was either pure blue and hot, or pitch black and warm. No shade during the day, no light at night.

The second night we stopped, Cadeyrn passed by me. He paused, but I didn’t look up at him. I thought about his wife, about Reenah’s words about his suffering.

“Does it get better?” I asked him.

I could hear the tip of Prince Cadeyrn’s sword digging into the sand, and I wondered if he was doing that strange thing I’d seen him do once, running his hands along the blade as if it brought him comfort. It made me miss the forest, made me miss the trees. I wanted their comfort now.

“You were lovers then?” Cadeyrn asked me.

I stiffened, my cheeks going red as I stared at the sand.

I heard Cadeyrn step forward. “There’s no shame in it,” he murmured. There was no censure in his tone, although he was silent for a moment. I didn’t look up. “And no,” he said finally, slowly, “it doesn’t get better.”

I listened as he walked away, leaving me to my grief.

Chapter 16

In the end, I think it was the grief that made me do it.

Three days after Kye died, I started watching the sky, my eyes narrowed on the wyvers that flew there. It didn’t take long for me to figure out there was a pattern to their flight. They soared when the sun was at its highest as if they enjoyed the heat, but lowered as night drew near. They dove occasionally before rising, sometimes carrying some unlucky beast from the desert. At dusk, they disappeared completely. Sometimes a stray wyer flew through the night sky, but mostly they stayed to the ground.

For two days, I watched them, my eyes squinted until I suffered from awful headaches from the sun. And yet, I persisted, my heart growing colder and colder, voices running through my head.

It was likely no accident. King Raemon wanted Kye dead. He uses sorcerers to control the wyvers.

Voices. So many voices.

They are all talking about you, about the girl who tried to heal a wyver sting but failed. And yet, your own body rejected the poison.

Voices. Wyvers and voices.

It was the fifth day after Kye’s death that I snapped. It was late in the day, the sun lowering in the sky. We had crossed the dunes and moved into a part of the desert that was as much sandstone and cacti as it was sand. The wyvers had begun circling lower and lower until only one still hovered in the sky, his gaze on our group. The horse-sized, serpentine creature had bat-like wings stretched wide, his grey underbelly visible. His two legs were down, the eagle-like talons on the end spread, as if he was ready to grasp prey. His barbed tail weaved behind him.

I stared at the tail, at the barbed end. It was remarkably small for a creature his size, and I thought about Kye.

It was likely no accident.

I hung back from the rest of the group, my eyes narrowed.

King Raemon wanted Kye dead.

My hand went to the bow on my back, and I brought it forward carefully, pulling an arrow slowly from my quiver.

He uses sorcerers to control the wyvers.

I licked the arrow before stringing it, my gaze never leaving the monster above me.

They are all talking about you, about the girl who tried to heal a wyver sting but failed. And yet, your own body rejected the poison.

The
swoosh
that filled the air when I let go of the arrow was loud, and I heard Maeve scream as the wyver above us roared. My arrow was dead on. I hadn’t aimed to kill.

I ran, climbing a nearby sandstone rock before stringing another arrow, my eyes on the sky. The wyver was circling me now, nasty looking greenish blood dripping from a wound in his armpit.

“What the bloody hell are you doing?” I heard Cadeyrn shout before he ordered his men back.

“Stone!” Lochlen called.

I stiffened.

“Not Stone,” I replied.

The wyver was lowering, and I could hear the prince ordering his guards to push his people even further back, but I had sought the sandstone for a reason. I had no intention of getting anyone hurt. Only myself if it came down to it.

I could see the wyver’s eyes now. They were red with black, elongated pupils. His mouth was open, revealing sharp teeth dripping with thick saliva.

I smiled at him, my arrow pulled back.

“I’m a scribe!” I yelled.

I’d studied books all of my life. I had a lot of knowledge stored in my head, a million stories about wyvers and dragons and other creatures. Each book was different, but they all talked about one wyver weakness.

I let go of the bow string. “A scribe with the powers of a mage!” I hollered, my heart beating fast as the arrow pierced the end of the wyver’s barbed appendage.

He screamed, curling in on himself to grab his tail as he crashed onto the hard-packed sand below the rock where I stood.

I scrambled down the side of the stone closest to the wyver, ignoring Cadeyrn as he pulled his sword and moved in behind me. Lochlen was with him, trying his best to rip the supplies from his back. A
crash
was the only indication he’d succeeded before he took to the air, his golden body circling above my head.

“What are you doing, Drastona?” Lochlen asked.

I ignored him, approaching the wyver, another arrow strung.

“She’s lost it,” Maeve gasped. “She’s gone mad.”

The wyver’s eyes followed me as I moved in on him. He writhed; his butchered, barbed tail swinging my way. I sidestepped it as Maeve screamed.

“Keep her quiet!” Cadeyrn ordered.

I paid no attention, my eyes locked with the wyver’s.

“Tell me, wyver, can you speak?” I asked him.

“Drastona—” Lochlen began.

“Can you speak?” I yelled at the wyver, cutting Lochlen off as I glared at the creature.

The wyver’s eyes followed me, but he said nothing. I let my arrow fly, watching as it struck a soft portion of his underbelly.

He screamed. It was an ungodly sound, a shrill sound that burned my ears, and I strung another arrow, pointing it at his mouth. He quieted, his eyes on my bow.

“Who are you?” he growled.

I went still.

“So you
do
speak,” I said. “Then tell me, does King Raemon control you?”

The creature froze, his eyes wild as his gaze swung from me, to Cadeyrn, and finally to Lochlen above him.

“You smell strange, human,” he responded. “Very strange, indeed.”

Lochlen flew down to the sandstone rock I’d vacated moments before, his body perched on the edge. It was a low rock, and his head hovered over me and the wyver.

“They are dim creatures, Drastona. We won’t get answers from him.”

I didn’t agree with him.

“Does Raemon control you?” I asked the wyver.

The creature sniffed. “You smell like one of us,” he said, his voice full of surprise. “Like a wyver.”

“Like your poison,” I sneered. “Is that it? Is that what I smell like?”

The creature sat up, his blood flowing over the ground.

“It is not possible,” he said. “No one survives our poison.”

I smiled.
“Someone
did.”

The wyver froze, his red eyes staring hard at my weapon. I was suddenly more a risk to him than I had been before.

“You dare attack me here? In the desert?” the wyver asked.

My smile grew, and I climbed toward him. His tail swung at me, but I didn’t flinch. I’d destroyed the end of it, and I wasn’t afraid of his poison.

“You dared attack us. Why are we not allowed the same luxury? I’d kill you all if I could.”

The coldness in my tone got the wyver’s attention more than anything else I’d said. There was no remorse in my voice, nothing to suggest I cared if he lived.

His head came down, stopping a few inches away from my face. His breath didn’t smell like sulfur as Lochlen’s often did. The wyvers didn’t breathe fire. With their poison, they didn’t need to.

“Who controls you?” I asked.

The creature laughed, the sound harsh. “We control ourselves.”

I lowered my arrow, my eyes on his. “You lie! Who controls you?”

The wyver’s red gaze studied me. “You really survived our poison?” he asked.

I lifted my bow again, the arrow pulled tight. The wyver ducked his head.

“Answer me, beast!” I yelled.

The creature’s black pupils were dilated when he finally looked back at me.

“I was going to kill you during the storm, when the tent lifted. I’d been ordered to. But, in the end, the boy got in the way,” the wyver growled.

My blood began to boil, my cheeks heating, the tears threatening to escape.

“King Raemon?” I asked.

The wyver didn’t answer me, but I saw what I wanted to know in his gaze.

“You are all connected, aren’t you?” I asked. “All of you.”

The wyver stared. “We share thoughts often,” was all he said. “I ask again, who are you?”

I smiled, the grin feral.

“I am the Phoenix. And, in the end, when people talk about my story, you won’t be a part of it.”

The wyver had grown weak from blood loss, his tail having housed a major blood artery, and I took advantage of his weakness.

“You share this thought, and you tell the other wyvers to give Raemon a message for me. Tell him I’m coming for him. Tell him I’m going to destroy him. And, most importantly of all, tell him I’m not afraid to die.”

I lifted my bow, my arrow pulled back, and I let go.

I turned away even as the wyver’s piercing scream filled the air, my eyes meeting Cadeyrn’s.

“They could attack us all because of you,” he said coldly.

I was standing toe to toe with Cadeyrn now, and I peered up at his chin.

“They won’t attack now. Not now. No, Raemon will want that pleasure for himself, and I’ll be ready.”

With that, I walked past him, my gaze meeting Daegan and Maeve’s. Daegan’s eyes glowed, a new respect in them I’d never seen before. I’d proven myself a warrior, proven I was willing to lead them now, even if it meant dying myself.

I stared down at my wrists, at the tattoos that marred my skin. Kye and I had been the only two to bear both marks. They were a curse and a blessing. They reminded me of Kye, reminded me of our love, but they also reminded me of what I was, what I could be if I tried.