Golden Page 9

  Confident in his power, that he would keep them safe from her, Nat called up the biggest fireball she could create. The field became a churning ocean of fire, a roiling sea of death. Its white tongue danced over and consumed every surface, turning the field and everything and everyone on it into dust. The fire sparked the connection between her and Mainas once more. In the fire, she was one with her drakon, and so she let it rage as long as she could, until every last bit of her power was spent. She was a wound, a gash, and now her life was bleeding out. She’d given it all to the flame.

  Just like that, it was over. There was nothing left. Everything was ash.

  Nat dropped to her knees.

  14

  WHEN THE FIRE RETREATED, WES LET down his shield, falling to the ground, dizzy and sick from the effort. The heat had been immense, a great weight he had pushed back against, holding the firestorm at bay. His heart was pounding painfully in his chest. Just like the death races back in New Vegas, it brought that same rush of adrenaline.

  He had seen and felt and stood in the center of the fierce and terrible heart of the drakon, the angry thing that burned within Nat. I understand her now, the weight she carries, the danger. He had tested his strength against hers and had survived.

  Barely. But he had survived nonetheless.

  Wes turned to his crew. “Everyone all right?” he asked, looking to Liannan, Shakes, the smallmen and what was left of the sylphs of Apis. They were rubbing the red from their eyes, trying to recover from the heat and the flame. All that remained of Wes’s luminous shield was a circle of green grass, a relic of the once-beautiful field. The grass and flowers were trampled in places and dotted with blood.

  His own throat was dry as sandpaper, his eyes blurry from tears, working to overcompensate against the heat, but he had no thought to his own health or safety. He scanned the burnt field for Nat, calling her name over and over until his voice was hoarse.

  He’d caught glimpses of her during the firestorm, her slender figure outlined by fire. He thought he’d found her gaze when the dome faltered, but he’d lost track of her in the final deluge. The world had gone white for a moment—he’d seen only light.

  When it faded there was nothing left of the army, its soldiers, drones, or tanks. There was nothing left of anything. Nat had burned it all.

  “Nat!” he called, stumbling through the ashy field, trying not to knock into the still-smoking heaps of metal, the hills of molten steel and rubber that had once been tanks or drones. Smoke was everywhere, spouting from holes in the ground and the edges of the forest. The flames had left nothing untouched. The flat field was now marred by pits, craters the size of cars dotting the landscape. He might as well have been standing on the moon. The land was so blasted and barren, he almost forgot that this had once been paradise, that just moments before there had been grass here and trees.

  “Wes!”

  He heard his name. It shot through the smoke, mixing with the sound of crackling embers, the soft echoes of his footfalls on the ash.

  “Nat!” he called through the mist. The stench of burnt metal made him cough. There was movement among the ruins, something trembling in the distance. He nearly fell into a pit, almost stepped on glowing embers.

  He found her in the middle of the dust and ash. She was crouched like a child, her knees to her chin, her arms wrapped around herself, hugging her tight. Her hair and her armor were as black as the field around her, and when he said her name gently, she did not respond.

  “Nat.” He crouched next to her, and when he put a hand on her shoulder he almost pulled it away—it was hot to the touch, like an open flame. But he kept his hand where it was. “Nat, you did it. You stopped them,” he said.

  Finally she looked up to meet his eyes and the pain in hers made his stomach turn.

  “What did I stop?” she whispered, not seeing him, motioning to the burnt field, the dark sky, the smoking ruins of Apis.

  He knew what she meant; he’d grown up hearing tales of the mythical Blue, the land without ice, a place of warmth and beauty. Now it just looked like the rest of the world: ruined; toxic; a smoky, charred wasteland. The apocalypse had come to Vallonis. Everything around them was black, destroyed, burnt.

  “What kind of victory is this? What did we win?” she asked, her eyes dark hollows in her pale face.

  “It doesn’t matter. You stopped the army. We survived,” said Wes. “You saved everyone.”

  “I saved Vallonis only to destroy it.” She hung her head in her arms, and her shoulders shook in a silent cry.

  “They will rebuild and recover, when you cast the spell, when you make the world anew,” he said, wanting to comfort her.

  His hand burned from where he had touched her, and Nat did not reply; her eyes were glazed and her mouth slack. Wes began to worry. Had the fire burned her out from the inside?

  “Nat, come on,” he said gently. “Stand up.”

  She closed her eyes and exhaled. “Mainas has returned to me,” she said softly. “I can see with the drakonsight again. When I called up the flame, I got it back.”

  Wes leaned closer, knowing this was important, knowing he had to help her reclaim the bond. “What did you see?”

  “A ruined city, covered in ice, near the water.” She squinted and her forehead crumpled in the effort.

  “What else? Any landmarks? Any clue as to where they are?” he pressed. “Keep trying.”

  “Hard to remember . . . but I think . . . I think I saw a fallen statue on the water. An enormous one.” She shook her head. “Of a woman holding a torch.”

  “Liberty,” said Wes. “Eliza must be in New Dead City.” What was once called New York, now lost to the ice, covered in darkness and eternal winter.

  Nat’s eyes remained closed. “There are jeeps, tanks, tracking them across the mainland, but they are days away yet.”

  Suddenly, her eyes flew open. “I need to find them!” she said, almost panicked. “While I still have the drakonsight!” She trembled, exhausted and fragile from the effort as well as the aftereffects of the battle.

  Wes caught her as she stumbled, pulled held her toward him, let her fall against him, shaking and scared. “Mainas needs you to rest,” he said. “And heal. We all do. There is time yet—Avo is hampered by the ocean and the refuse, and there are a million ways to hide in New Dead City; it will take some time to find them even with the drones.”

  “I don’t need to rest,” she said. “I need to find them. I need to get my drakon back!”

  “You can’t win against her in your state,” he argued. “If you go now, you will only put yourself in more danger.” He saw the blood brimming in the corners of her eyes, the way her hands shook like leaves in the wind, the way her eyes did not focus, did not see him.

  Nat pulled away, seized with panic. “No! You can’t stop me! I won’t let you! Let me go!” Her eyes were crazed, wild with raw animal fear. “GET AWAY FROM ME!”

  “What are you doing? Nat!” He reached for her, and she screamed.

  “Don’t! Don’t touch me!” she shrieked. “GET AWAY!” She scrabbled away from him, kicking up dust in his face as she stood up. She was a sight to behold, her bright eyes glittering in her ash-covered face.

  Wes followed her, keeping his voice calm. He knew it was the drakonblood speaking, the monster inside her that spoke to him this way. This wasn’t Nat. His Nat.

  “Nat—it’s me,” he said, pleading.

  “Don’t take another step closer!” Her voice was low and threatening.

  Unafraid, he stepped forward. Another step. “I’m not stopping you from going after them. I just want you to rest until you’re whole and healed.”

  The fire in her eyes flickered and she held up her hand against him, a fireball dancing in front of the palm on her hand. “One more step and I will burn you to the ground,” she whispered.

 
And for a moment he did fear her, but he took another step closer. “It’s me. Ryan,” he said, using the name no one used but his family and Nat, for Nat was his family now. He opened his arms wide as he looked deep into her eyes, addressing the raging fire within. “You’re not going to hurt me, Nat. I’m not afraid of you.”

  The fire trembled in her palm, flickering and bright. She raised her hand, ready to scorch him as she had the armies of invaders.

  Wes braced himself for the blast, unwilling to leave her side. But the fire never came. He opened his eyes to see Nat falling to her knees, sobbing.

  “Yes,” she cried. “Ryan, it’s you.”

  He took her in his arms again, held her close. She was still warm, but no longer burning.

  “I was going to hurt you,” she said.

  “Never, you would never do that,” he replied, willing it to be true, even if the memory of fear and doubt was so clear.

  “What happened?” she asked, looking around at the blackened field as if for the first time, at the piles of ash that were all that remained of the battle that had raged on the plain.

  “We won,” he said. “They’re gone. Your drakonfire closed the portal to our world as well.” They looked up to the sky, which was whole and no longer torn.

  “Mainas . . . ,” she whispered. “I felt him. I saw them.”

  “We will find your drakon and get it back from Eliza,” he said. “I made a vow to you and yours. Mainas is part of you. You will be whole.”

  She nodded, and the tears fell freely now as she surveyed the devastated landscape. He knew she was crying because Apis was destroyed and Vallonis burnt, but she was also mourning the lives she had taken, every soul a mark on hers.

  “I am a monster,” she whispered.

  He shook his head. “No. I don’t believe that and neither should you.”

  “I will doom everyone around me,” she said, in a voice so low that he strained to hear it. “I will bring death to all I love. The Queen told me I would.”

  “Nat, Nat, Nat,” he said, running his hands up and down her arms, as if he were trying to calm her down or put out the fire, even though she was no longer burning. But what he was feeling was too hard to put into words, so he just held her close, saying her name over and over again, letting her lean against him, so that she fit under his chin, her heart against his. Holding her so tightly as if his love could anchor her to the ground, could hold the drakonfire at bay. His strength had shielded the survivors against her fire, but he had not been able to shield her from herself.

  • • •

  It felt as if they had been holding on to each other for hours when Liannan came up to them. Wes released Nat gently. She nodded to let him know she was okay. They turned to their friend. The sylph’s silver armor was streaked with blood, grease, and dust. Her face was grave. “We need you,” she said to them. “We’re getting everyone to follow us to Alfarhome, to my village.”

  “I need to go to New Dead City. Mainas is there,” said Nat. “My drakonsight returned, and I must follow while I can.”

  “Yes, but first you must rest,” said Wes. “Let the fire left within you burn out. You need to get your bearings back before we can go anywhere.”

  Liannan nodded. “Nat, Wes is right. We all need rest, especially you. And you can’t fight Eliza without a drakon of your own.”

  “Then I won’t stand a chance, as Mainas was the last,” said Nat.

  “The last of his time,” said Liannan.

  Nat was startled by her words. “What are you saying?”

  But before the sylph could explain, Brendon found them. “Liannan,” he said, his voice panicked and high. “Come. It’s Roark.”

  PART THE SECOND

  THE RED AND THE BLACK

  Red, the color of desire

  Black, the color of despair

  —“RED AND BLACK,” LES MISÉRABLES

  15

  FAIX. FAROUK. ROARK.

  Nat stood at the edge of the circle, watching as Shakes and Wes gently lowered the smallman’s coffin into the ground. They were gathered in the graveyard in Liannan’s village a few days after the battle. Brendon laid the first rose upon Roark’s grave, his eyes red and dry, the depths of his sadness beyond mere tears and sobbing. Nat understood. She, too, was numb, crippled, spent.

  The peaceful vista of Liannan’s homestead brought little comfort, even though they had spent a restful few days convalescing in the serene village nestled at the foot of the White Mountains. In the shadow of the tall cliffs, slender houses sheltered beneath spindly white trees. Their branches cast spotted shadows on the sun-drenched dwellings, and at sunset the village glowed with a radiant purple light. Everything was alive here and everything held magic. Even the leaves seemed to have a mind of their own; they would swirl in great whirlwinds, drifting through the air as if they were putting on a show, entertaining any who watched. Lavender carpeted the earth, releasing a scent so sweet it made eyes water, and the purple blossoms unfurled whenever Nat approached, welcoming her into their presence. The houses themselves were plain in construction, but made from a pale wood that had the appearance of ivory, white as chalk and hard as steel.

  While Nat was consoled by the fact that there were some places of Vallonis that survived the RSA invasion, it was hard to discount the devastation the battle had wrought.

  In the far distance, Apis lay in ruins. Three of her friends were dead, along with Liannan’s father, the many sylphs and smallmen of Vallonis, the countless lives she took on the field when she burned the RSA army. They were just soldiers following orders. Many of them younger than she was. They had died screaming, melting into the flame.

  You will bring death to everyone around you.

  The fire within her had finally died, but she still remembered how close she had been to hurting Wes. She had held the flame in her hand, ready to reduce him to ashes.

  You will destroy him.

  What was she doing? What was she protecting? What was her purpose? Once, she had believed she was a warrior, a guardian. The one who was promised, foretold. But she was beginning to worry that the Queen knew better, that Nat was a danger rather than a savior to the people around her.

  Wes joined her side to hear Liannan’s blessing. He had dark circles under his eyes, dirt on his hands, and the grief he felt lay heavy on his shoulders, but when he saw her, his smile was as sweet as the late summer wind that blew over the cornflowers.

  I will not destroy him. He will be safe from me, always. It was a promise to herself that she swore she would die keeping.

  After the burial, Nat sought Liannan’s attention. She had tried to find time to speak to her friend privately before, but it had been difficult as the sylph had many responsibilities that fell on her shoulders now that her father was dead and the Queen had disappeared. Nat found her in her father’s library, perusing his books.

  Like everything in the village, every shelf and wall in the library was made of the same white wood from the nearby forest, polished to a grain so fine it looked as if it glowed from within. While plain in design and furnishings, it was a place of great beauty in its perfect and natural simplicity. The books it contained were not bound in leather or any animal hide; instead the manuscripts were deckle-edged and held together with flaxen thread. The text was inked in a careful and flowing script, the pages made from a buttery yellow paper.

  When Liannan saw Nat, she put down the volume she was holding. “I’m sorry, I know you’ve been trying to find me.”

  Nat closed the door behind her and nodded. “And you have been avoiding me.”

  “I didn’t want to address it until you were healed,” Liannan said. “I didn’t want you running off before you were ready.”

  “I guessed as much. You and Wes, conspiring against me,” Nat joked weakly. It felt like blasphemy to laugh on such a hard day, when they had just
buried their friend. Kind and dear Roark, who always had a smile and an unexpected treat in his pockets, who would share the last of his rations with anyone who needed it, who had given his life so that others could live.

  But mourning was a luxury she could not afford at the moment. She held the grief at bay and cleared her throat. “You hinted that Mainas is not the only drakon in the world.”

  “Yes.”

  “But it can’t be. They’re all dead, all but mine. Faix said as much.”

  Liannan nodded slowly and pulled the white robe around her delicate shoulders as she leaned against the marble-topped table. “There is only one drakon in this world. But the drakon you seek is not in this world. There is another. The one that belonged to Faix.”

  Nat tried to recall what Faix had told her about his drakon. He’d said it was gone from this world. She’d thought he meant it was dead. “So if it’s not dead, where is it?” she asked.

  “In the Great Conservatory of Apis, there is a door that leads to the Red Lands, the remains of all that was once Atlantis and Avalon. And those ruins are guarded by a drakon. Faix’s drakon. When the ice came, and the corruption, it is said that Faix sent it there for its own safety. The door is shut with his mark.” She let her words settle while Nat absorbed the information. “Only the drakonrydder can open the door. If you want a drakon, you can bring it back here to fight for your own.”

  “And how do I convince it to follow me?”

  “You are the last drakonrydder of Vallonis, the one who was promised,” said Liannan. “You will prove yourself true.”

  Nat brooded over that complication. She would have to bond with a new drakon, one that had been alone for over a century. Who knew what state the creature was in, whether it was even still sane?

  “I don’t envy your task,” said Liannan sadly, leaning back in her father’s chair.