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  I’m lost, she thought. Everywhere she looked there were more trees, all of them dark. The sky was hazy, and the only sound she heard was the flapping of the drakon’s wings. The flap-flap of its wings intensified; the creature was near. Nat steeled herself for the fight.

  Where are you? She studied the sky. She wanted a chance to speak to it before it killed her. But what could she do? How could she prove that she was worthy of its time?

  She had been running away, she realized, acting as a victim, and there was nothing drakons despised more than weakness.

  “Here!” she called, stepping out of the trees and raising her hands to the sky. Smoke from the fires swirled around her waist, stretching up to her waving arms, but she was certain the creature would see her. She knew it would acknowledge her challenge.

  She was a rydder.

  Nat called again, “Here! Face me!”

  At first she heard only the echo of her words and the crackle of the flames. Then the clap of the drakon’s wings came again, louder. Without warning, the creature was upon her. It fell from the sky at a frightful pace, descending upon a powerful torrent of air. The rush of wind extinguished the fire and sent sand and rocks tumbling into her face. Even the black clouds of smoke dispersed when the drakon landed.

  Settling to the earth, the creature folded its wings and raised its sinuous neck. Through nictitating membranes, its red eyes shot her a frightful glare. She met its fierce gaze with a fiery stare of her own. A moment earlier the thing had been ready to tear her limb from limb. Now it just regarded her with something like curiosity.

  The red drakon dwarfed Drakon Mainas, its scales a bloody scarlet, its eyes garnets gleaming in the night. Its scales were mottled with streaks of black. They were torn in spots and littered with scabs and cuts, wounds that had only half healed. Even its claws were chipped in spots and cracked. The creature looked as old as the world itself, older perhaps. Ancient.

  “WHO COMES TO DISTURB MY REST?” the drakon rumbled, catching her off guard. “WHO COMES TO THE RED LANDS?”

  “I am Anastasia Dekesthalias, the Resurrection of the Flame. The one who has returned, the one who will light the world anew,” she said, keeping her voice even.

  “So you say. A drakonrydder, are you? I feel the fire within your soul. And yet . . .” The drakon reared up and let its long spiky tail snake around its side, contemplating her words. “Know this. Drakontongue is the language of the ether. Its breath forges worlds, its blood makes mountains. You cannot lie to a drakon and a drakon never lies.”

  “I haven’t lied to you,” said Nat.

  “And yet the stench of lies surrounds you,” he said. “Why have you come to the Red Lands?”

  “For assistance,” said Nat, kneeling in front of the magnificent creature.

  The great red drakon snorted and released two clouds of smoke. “And where is it that you have come from?”

  “I have come from beyond the Blue, across the black oceans and ruined lands.”

  The drakon slithered around the forest, letting its tail wrap around a tree. “What kind of assistance? And why do you think I shall offer it? Who sent you?”

  “Faix Lazaved, Messenger to the Queen of Vallonis.”

  “Faix the Liar?” the drakon roared.

  Nat took a step back, frightened by the creature’s sudden rage.

  “It is too late to punish the drau, but perhaps I can take my revenge on you,” the drakon said in a menacing and smoky whisper.

  “You will not harm me,” she said, her voice commanding even as she trembled before the beast. “Faix did you no ill; he meant you no harm. He only meant to save you from the corruption that had befouled our world.”

  The drakon leaned down, its fangs inches from Nat’s face; she could feel the heat from the furnace inside him. One blast and she would be burned to ashes and dust. “Drakonrydder, are you? Then where is your drakon? You are a liar just as he was a liar!”

  “Faix was no liar,” she said staunchly. “And if you stop roaring and listen to me, I can explain.”

  The drakon swatted its tail and felled the tree. It released a stream of flame and turned to Nat, its red eyes blazing. “FAIX LAZAVED IS A LIAR, HIS QUEEN IS A LIAR, AND YOU ARE NOT WHAT YOU SAY! LEAVE ME BE! RETURN WHENCE YOU CAME!”

  “I will not!” she cried. “Burn me if you don’t believe I tell the truth!” She closed her eyes and braced for the onslaught. She felt the wind whistle across her arm and knew the drakon had drawn in a great breath. It meant to breathe flame, to surround her in a cloud of smoke and ash. Its talons tensed, its muscles stretched tight as it readied itself to pounce. The creature shivered, but it did not attack. Instead the drakon only screeched and wailed, unable to hurt her, for she was not lying.

  Nat shielded her eyes from the heat of the drakon’s gaze, feeling it boring into her soul and finding her wanting. She opened one eye. “Are you done?”

  The drakon huffed, clearly annoyed but unwilling to give in, almost like a crotchety old man. “You say you are the Resurrection of the Flame, the one who was promised. And yet your soul is a web of confusion and doubt. You will not be able to cast the Archimedes spell with a splintered heart and a weak will,” it rumbled. “You will fail as Faix failed.”

  It was right about her, and the thought left her cold, but still she attempted to argue with the beast. “But his failure was not of his doing. He did not know why the spell did not work.”

  The drakon slithered to rest next to her, folding its legs under its belly. Its voice had lost its anger. “Perhaps. But I do.”

  “You know why the spell did not hold?”

  “Aye.”

  Nat waited for it to explain, sensing that the drakon wanted nothing more than to tell her its story.

  Sure enough, it did.

  “One hundred and eleven years ago, Faix Lazaved sought the Archimedes Palimpsest, to return magic to its rightful place in the world. To create the third age of Avalon: the city of Apis.

  “Every citizen of Vallonis dedicated their life to the task of finding the world-making scroll. When it was found, he brought it to the Queen. Nineveh cast the spell, calling on all the elements of creation and the wilds beyond. For a moment it appeared she had triumphed. But instead, the ice came, and with it, the corruption that turned magic against itself.” The drakon blew smoke across the treetops. “As you are aware, the spell requires a great sacrifice from its caster.”

  Nat nodded. Faix had told her about the Queen’s sacrifice, about how she had given the life of their son to create Apis.

  “NO,” the drakon said, reading her thoughts. “She made no such sacrifice.”

  “That cannot be. I was told—”

  “Lies. They lied to you, Natasha. They lied to their people. They lied to me. They said they had given their son to the spell, but they lied. The sacrifice was not made. The spell did not hold.

  “The world fell into darkness, as the spell that should have saved the world destroyed it. It brought the ice and gave birth to this ruined world, to this starless sky, to the corruption and sickness that destroys the magic folk of Vallonis, and those you call marked. Faix and his Queen are the reason your world is gray.”

  She stared at the drakon.

  The drakon glared back. “Faix and his Queen are the reason I am trapped in this place.”

  “But the sylphs believe Faix put you here, to keep you safe.”

  “Another lie. He caged me here because I knew the truth. Kept me here so that I would not tell others what I knew.” The drakon shrugged, its scales rolling dramatically across its shoulders.

  She thought of Faix and his quiet determination, his solitude and his sadness. How well did she know her friend? What secrets had he been hiding?

  “Although perhaps he did retain hope. He found the last remaining drakonrydder, after all. Perhaps he hoped that somehow
the last drakonrydder would undo the evil she had unleashed upon the world. Are you aware of what is required of you?” the drakon asked. “Are you ready for the test?”

  “Yes,” she said stoutly. “I am ready.” This was not a lie. She was ready to give her life to the spell, ready to sacrifice herself, to light the world anew.

  She would give everything. She would die, so all could live.

  “Ah, but that is not the sacrifice,” the drakon said smugly, rumbling toward her, its red eyes flashing once more.

  Nat stopped.

  Oh.

  Of course.

  She had it all wrong.

  She believed that the spell only required the sacrifice of her life, but now she saw the truth. The Queen had been asked to sacrifice her son.

  To save the world, she would have to sacrifice those she loved.

  You will kill them all.

  You will bring death to everyone around you, death to all whom you love.

  If you stay with him, you will destroy him.

  Wes.

  He will die because of me. Because he loves me.

  Her lip trembled. Her eyes glazed with tears. This was not what she had signed up for, this was too much, she couldn’t do it, she wouldn’t. She was just an orphan from the gray lands. She was no one. She was nobody.

  The drakon stared back, into her heart, into the darkness inside. “You are not ready to make this sacrifice.”

  “I cannot.”

  “Then the world is doomed,” he pronounced.

  “There is no other way?”

  The drakon did not reply. “The rules of making were bound in the dawn of the world. There is no changing them.”

  Subject unable to love, she remembered the words from her file at MacArthur Med. Subconsciously, she’d known she was supposed to be alone in the world, so that when she reached her destiny, her greatest sacrifice would be her own life. Somehow she had known what she would have to do and had closed herself off from all feeling, because deep down, she knew her life would lead to that Gray Tower. She should never have allowed herself to know him, to love Ryan Wesson; she had only sealed his doom with her own.

  “But do not despair, Anastasia Dekesthalias,” the red drakon said, unexpectedly sympathetic.

  “Why? Is there is hope yet?” she asked.

  The drakon echoed the words Liannan spoke to her earlier. “There is always hope.”

  She stared at the drakon. “You said you were there when Nineveh cast the spell. You are no ordinary drakon, are you?”

  “Observant.”

  “Were you ever Faix’s drakon?”

  The drakon snorted. “If you are asking if I took him as a rydder, yes, briefly. He was young, promising, and Vallonis needed a warrior.”

  “Will you help me on my quest?” she asked, bowing low.

  The drakon sighed. “You will find no war with me, drakonrydder.”

  “But you shall find war with me,” said a voice in the darkness. “For you are misguided as usual. There is no more hope for Avalon. Nor its champion.”

  Nineveh stepped from the shadows, brandishing a sword and removing her hood to show them her face.

  20

  HIDDEN IN THE DARKNESS, A FEW STEPS away from where Nat and the drakon were conversing, Wes saw two things happen at once: The Queen emerged from the forest, golden armor covering her from helmet to shimmering sandals, a halo of white illuminating her brow. She wore a gleaming shield on one arm, and bore a great sword with the other. At the same time the Queen appeared, Nat swiftly turned to the red drakon, the creature bowed, and she leapt upon it, landing in the crook of its shoulders. Before the Queen could raise her weapon, the drakon and its rydder were airborne.

  Its wings made whirlwinds of ash and dust rise into the air. The Queen shaded her eyes. Wes saw an opportunity and took it. He rushed into the clearing, weapon raised, ready to defend Nat. His mind was swimming from everything he’d overheard, and he wasn’t sure what to think of Nat or the drakon or what they had said to each other. What sacrifice? What was the drakon talking about? What did Nat have to do for the spell?

  There was no time to mull things over, as the Queen met his attack with one of her own.

  “You’ve served your purpose,” Nineveh sneered. “Do not try to fight me. It will only hasten your death.”

  She drew back her blade, leaving herself open to his attack. With a cry, Wes hacked at her with his trusty axe, his blade glancing off her golden armor. He drew back his weapon in time to catch her sword. The blade bit into the axe handle, taking a chunk out of the wood. She motioned to withdraw the blade, but the sword had caught on the handle of his axe. She cursed, but for a moment her sword was lodged in the handle. Neither could strike with their weapon, so he put both hands on the axe and used it as a ram. He threw her backward and she stumbled, freeing their weapons. Drawing back his axe, he struck before she could parry. The axe bit into her armor, rending a narrow gash, but the Queen was unharmed. There must be some enchantment that made the armor impenetrable, he thought. No matter. He struck at the exposed flesh of her hand. The blade made contact and the Queen shrieked, losing her sword as she ducked a second attack. Before she could recover, he swung again, bringing his axe up against her throat. She might be a Queen, but she was no warrior. Wes held the blade to her skin.

  She laughed, and when it touched her, the axe turned into fire in his hands. He threw it off as quickly as could, but the fire left burn marks on his hands. The blade tumbled through the air, but before it hit the earth, it turned into steam, evaporating into a cloud of white.

  “I made that blade, as I made everything in Vallonis,” said the Queen, her teeth gritted. “Did you think you could use it against me?”

  “Will you have a child fight your battle?” she yelled to the drakon. “Coward!” Nineveh taunted the creature, her voice cutting through the silence like fang through flesh.

  In answer, the red drakon returned, Nat upon its back, gouts of white-hot flame pouring down upon the land. The heat was so intense Wes had to shield his face; he gathered what magic he had to push back against the drakonfire. He took a step back, but the Queen stood her ground. She locked eyes with Nat and met the flames with a haughty gaze. Like water bouncing off a stone, the fire splashed upon her shield. Her armor made the flames curve around the metal, without ever touching it. As Wes already knew, the suit was enchanted, designed to deflect drakonfire as well as axes.

  The drakon roared its frustration and soared into the sky, its body making a hazy, red silhouette against the stars, blocking out their light before descending once more, gliding toward the forest and the Queen who waited, sword raised. Wes saw Nat hunched low on the drakon’s back, her eyes flashing, her hair whipping in the breeze.

  This time, the drakon did not breathe flame. It hovered, beating its wings. The flapping made trees tumble and boulders spin. Nat sat upright upon the drakon’s back. She faced the Queen without fear or hesitation. Though Wes could not hear the words, he saw her whispering to the drakon, readying their attack. The drakon came closer, its wings flapping in increasingly powerful motions. The air swirled around the Queen. A strong wind became a hurricane of immeasurable strength. The roar alone was deafening. Wes stumbled backward to avoid the winds, but there was nowhere for the Queen to go. The drakon had focused the full force of its mighty wings upon her. A final, powerful gust knocked the Queen to her knees, her armor crunching as it struck the earth.

  She was distracted, perhaps injured. Wes cast about for anything he could use in the fight. He had no other weapon, nothing but his hands.

  Maybe I can distract her, wrestle her to the ground.

  The winds abated and Wes lunged for the Queen, but she was already gone, and had recovered her weapon.

  Nineveh threw herself upward, hurtling toward Nat and the drakon. In a blur of motion, she thrust he
r blade into its glistening red scales. There was nothing he could do, no way to stop her.

  It was all over in an instant.

  The drakon roared in pain, its cries echoing across the dark night.

  Again the Queen plunged her sword into the drakon’s hide, and the creature faltered, sending Nat flying to the ground.

  21

  NAT STRUCK THE EARTH WITH A MIGHTY thump, and something snapped as she hit the forest floor. She felt a broken branch beneath her, but it could have easily been her spine that had shattered. She hurt all over and her head was spinning. It wasn’t the first drakon she had fallen from and she guessed it wouldn’t be the last, but it still hurt. Her ears rang. Above the din, there was a second noise, the sound of metal crunching against dry leaves, footsteps coming closer.

  Where’s my sword?

  Cold steel touched her neck. She looked down and recognized the steely black edge of her blade. Someone else had found her blade.

  Nineveh loomed over her, holding Liannan’s father’s sword. The Red Lands are haunted by the dead, Liannan had warned. Why was the Queen here? Did she know they would come this way? She must have.

  Nat was on her knees. She didn’t know if she could stand. The fall had rattled her senses, made all her muscles go stiff. If she tried to get up and face the Queen, she might fall on her face; so Nat wrapped her fingers around the drakonbone blade and tried to push the sword away, no matter that the edge cut into her skin.

  The Queen scoffed. “You don’t have the strength,” she said. “Relent.”

  Nat shook her head, but when blood dribbled down her hand, she did relent. She was in no shape to fight. I need help. Where’s Wes? Is he all right? Had the Queen hurt him? Nat gritted her teeth angrily.