Warriors of Wind and Ash - Page 97

“Beyond strange,” I admit. “And it’s all because of the women we took. I thought we would change them, yet they have changed us, in more ways than we can even understand. The entire course of our future and theirs has been altered.”

Hinarax hums his agreement, deep in his throat.

“And you?” I eye him sidelong. “You and the rogue?”

He tosses his head, glances away. “Our story is unfolding.”

“Fair enough.” I hesitate, then add gruffly, “I wish you joy with him. I think you’re a match.”

“Perhaps we are.” He looks far more serious than usual. “Time will tell.”

I arch my wings and toss my head. “While I take Rahzien to his new home, perhaps you could remain with Meridian and oversee the clan while we help Elekstan drive out their conquerors, as we promised?”

Hinarax’s eyes glow brighter. “If my prince trusts me with such a great task.”

“You’ve been by my side for all of this. I would trust you with anything. Well… perhaps not anything, but most things. Some things… a few things…”

He laughs. “I’ll take it.”

I want to ask him about Varex. My brother’s absence is notable, and it worries me. He wasn’t himself when I left Ouroskelle. But there’s a strange dread in my heart when I start to speak of him, a reluctance to know the truth. If something is wrong with Varex, I’m not sure I can bear to hear it now. I’ll wait until Serylla and I are back on Ouroskelle, until we’ve seen our eggs. Then I can seek out my brother and make sure he’s well.

“What shall we do with the other Vohrainians?” Hinarax asks. “Burn them?”

“Perhaps.” I survey the shivering, bloodied group of soldiers in the courtyard. “Or perhaps carry them over the border and drop them into Vohrain. Not from too high, of course.”

“Fly low and drop them.” Hinarax nods. “Understood.”

I’m glad I didn’t suggest burning the prisoners alive, because an hour later, two Elekstan healers show up, claiming they have orders from the Princess to heal the captives. They are rather reluctant purveyors of her mercy, and they claim they can’t regenerate the hands or arms lost to exploding weapons. But they staunch the wounds and seal the residual limbs with smooth skin.

Shortly afterward, Serylla emerges from the palace wearing the same white dress and silver crown, with two satchels slung around her body. She walks up to me and pats my shoulder, a sign that she wants to climb on my back. Without a word passing between us, I understand that she is done with all of this. She’s weary, she’s emotionally exhausted, and it’s time for me to take her home.

I say a brief farewell to Hinarax and Meridian, with the assurance that I’ll return tomorrow or the next day. With Serylla on my back and Rahzien in my claws, I soar away from the palace. The stormclouds above the Capital are growing darker and heavier, and I want to be gone from here before the winds rise and the rain falls. My first priority is Serylla, and my second is our common enemy. I need to put Rahzien somewhere he can’t do harm, and then I need to take my life-mate to our cave, where she can rest and recover from her ordeal.

We’re nearing the coastline when I spot Ashvelon’s bulk and his serpentine neck in the distance. I swerve in his direction, and within seconds I can make out Thelise, clinging to his back.

They change directions and fly alongside us.

“Are you alright?” Thelise calls to Serylla.

“I will be,” she answers.

“Catch!” Thelise flings a small object through the air. By the shift of Serylla’s body astride my neck, I assume she caught it.

“What’s in this?” she yells back to Thelise.

“I figured you could use a drink. Where are you headed with him?” She points to Rahzien. “Going to drop him in the sea?”

“We can’t,” Serylla replies. “My life is bound to his.”

“Oh fuck.” Thelise cups a hand over her mouth, then says, “We’ll come with you. I need to hear this.”

30

Rahzien’s new prison turns out to be a formerly volcanic island a couple hours’ flight east of Ouroskelle—a place the dragons call the Ashmount. It’s a wasteland of huge spiked rocks, so oddly shaped that I imagine they might once have been the ribs of some titanic, arcane dragon, now heavily cloaked in layers of hardened lava. Dark flowers cluster in hollows, each ashen bloom emitting wisps of pale blue light.

“Ash-roses,” Thelise calls to me as our dragons soar over the barren landscape. “They are a sign that the volcano beneath this island has spent itself, and is at peace. We need not fear it.”

At the center of the island, on a rocky peak, stands an ancient stone fortress. Both dragons land on a lower parapet, a broad ledge rimmed with deteriorating stones, like broken teeth.