Unleash the Storm (Steel & Stone Book 5) Page 12

  “We’ve heard rumors,” Hedya said coldly, “but no, we don’t know, because any of our loved ones who fall into Hades hands are never seen again.”

  Her grip on her borrowed pike tightened as she glared at Hedya. She realized her legs were shaking and her burns were throbbing mercilessly. At some point, she wasn’t sure when, she’d slipped out of the shaded mindset. She leaned her borrowed pike on the ground and hoped they couldn’t see how much she was shaking with fatigue.

  Unfortunately, not much slipped past Hedya. She leaned toward Eyal and murmured something. He walked off, leaving Hedya alone with Piper.

  “Sit down before you fall down,” the woman said. “How long have you been here?”

  After a short hesitation, Piper sank down to sit in front of Ash. Propping the pike against the half-wall, she half-heartedly wiped at some of the blood streaking her arm from ruptured blisters. If Hedya planned to attack her, she wouldn’t be much more useful standing than sitting anyway.

  “I’m not sure how long,” she answered. “We arrived at twilight and we were attacked during the night.”

  Hedya dropped into a crouch—still ready to defend, but no longer towering over Piper. Her eyes moved past Piper to Ash. Piper glanced at him as well. He hadn’t moved, his chest still rising and falling with short, rapid breaths. Zwi crouched beside him, panting with pain and nerves.

  Beyond the cave entrance, the fog was still heavy and impenetrable. Thick darkness lay over the land. How long until Tiran returned with this Eliada person? What would happen then? The draconians didn’t seem to hold any animosity toward Ash, but she didn’t like Hedya’s reaction to hearing that Ash had come from Hades.

  Eyal strode back into the cave, a compact leather bag over one shoulder. On the other, he carried Ash and Piper’s pack, haphazardly stuffed with the gear and weapons they’d left in the draconian dwelling up the mountain. He set it down outside the stall—out of her reach—then swung his pack off his shoulder and pulled it open to dig inside. He extracted a tiny jar with a cork in the top and handed it to Hedya.

  She held it out to Piper. “Burn ointment. You should apply some to your skin.”

  Piper blinked, surprised. She took the jar but didn’t open it. “What do you plan to do with us?”

  “That is for Eliada to decide,” Hedya said. “But for now, we will make sure neither of you die.”

  She rose and came into the stall. Piper tensed, clutching the jar.

  “I will check him for injuries,” Hedya said, shooting her an annoyed look. “Do you object?”

  “Oh … no, that would be good.”

  She scuttled to one side of the stall so Hedya could approach him. Her heartbeat quickened; she desperately wanted to know what was wrong with Ash. Hedya had had many opportunities to hurt or kill both of them, so Piper was willing to give the woman the benefit of the doubt that she would only check his injuries and wouldn’t do anything malicious. Zwi growled softly but backed up a little too.

  Hedya knelt by Ash’s shoulder and looked him over, then lightly touched the back of his neck with her fingertips. Her eyes darkened and lost focus.

  “Broken wing,” she said. “Cracked ribs on the same side, and some internal bruising. Consistent with injuries caused by an impact or fall.”

  “But no head trauma?” Eyal asked with a frown. “Why is he unconscious then?”

  “I’m not sure … He’s running a high fever.” Hedya’s eyes focused on Piper. “Was he ill before you were attacked?”

  “He was fine before,” she answered earnestly. “He had a bad chest injury a few weeks ago—uh, I mean, about seven cycles ago, but it was healed …”

  Hedya looked back down at Ash and her gaze went distant again. “Yes, there is an old injury but his lungs seem fine. Why then …” Her brows furrowed. “I sense something … something strange with his magic.”

  “His magic?” Eyal repeated blankly.

  “Yes,” Hedya said, pressing her hand more firmly against Ash’s neck. “It’s almost like—”

  Power exploded out of Ash. The blast of black fire flung Piper and Hedya away from him, throwing them onto their backs. The ebony flames burst with blue light as they vanished, gone as quickly as they’d appeared.

  A quiet grunt of pain came from Ash. He moved for the first time since the attack, pulling one arm up near his face and bracing his forearm on the floor as he tried to push himself up.

  “Ash!” Piper cried, jumping to his side, heedless of the danger of another magic attack from him.

  She grabbed his shoulder and helped him turn over. He collapsed onto his back, chest heaving. His eyes were open but they stared straight through her, black as midnight. She pressed her hands to his hot cheeks, putting her face in front of his.

  “Ash, can you hear me? Say something, please.”

  For the barest instant, his eyes focused on her and a rasp escaped the back of his throat. Then his eyes rolled back in his head and he went limp.

  “No,” she gasped. “Ash, please wake up. Please!”

  No response. He was gone again, lost to unconsciousness.

  She held his face in her hands, struggling to control her emotions as her heart rent apart in her chest. So close, then gone again. Her hands shook and she reluctantly released him, pressing her fists against her knees.

  “Is he still there, Zwi?” she choked. “Can you still reach him?”

  Zwi whimpered softly and crawled back to his side, burrowing against him in misery. Piper sat there, lost in despair, before remembering she wasn’t alone. She turned around sharply, still kneeling on the floor.

  Hedya stood beside Eyal. They’d both backed out of the stall. Eyal held his pike at the ready and Hedya had drawn her sword. She scrutinized Ash with cold eyes, then looked at Piper.

  “There’s something wrong with him,” Hedya said, her voice flat and icy. “Something dangerous.”

  “I—I don’t know—”

  “Is it a poison in his magic? Is it something that could infect the rest of us?”

  “What? No, it’s not—”

  “Something has infected his magic.” She backed up another step. “Whatever it is, Eliada will decide his fate when she arrives.”

  Piper’s hands clenched so hard her claws cut her palms. Ash wasn’t poisoned. Whatever was wrong with him, the dragon had done it.

  The two draconians retreated, positioning themselves halfway down the aisle between the stalls. Piper’s mouth trembled and she swallowed back tears of desperation. Pulling herself together, she searched the bedding of vines until she found the little jar of ointment. Removing the cork, she inspected the few dollops of white paste inside.

  As the smell of unfamiliar herbs wafted over her, she dipped her fingers in and smeared some over her arm. She suppressed a gasp as the burning ache instantly cooled. Eagerly, she spread more of the cream across her arms and over the worst of the burns on her legs where her pants had burned away. She would have liked to remove her pants to apply it to all her burns, but she wasn’t doing that with the two draconians watching her from a distance.

  When she finished, she set the jar just outside the stall and crawled back to Ash. Wrapping her arms around him, she pressed her cheek against his shoulder.

  “Please wake up, Ash,” she whispered hoarsely. “I don’t know what to do. Please wake up.”

  She lay down beside him, limp with exhaustion. Her emotions had been dragged through hell: desperation, terror, fury, hope, fear, and more desperation. With a deep breath, she let go of her daemon glamour and returned to her human shape. She was so tired. She should rest a little.

  As she tried to relax, a thought wiggled into her brain and refused to budge. In spite of everything else demanding her attention, she couldn’t set it aside to worry about later.

  She’d shaded when she’d fought the draconians. It was the third time she’d shaded since arriving in the Underworld, and all three times she’d shaken off the shading without slipping into that viole
nt bloodlust. She hadn’t attacked anyone she didn’t want to attack, hadn’t raged mindlessly or longed to spill the blood of her enemies. She’d been ruthless and calculating, but not insane. She’d been more like Ash or Lyre when they shaded, rather than a bloodthirsty predator.

  She didn’t get it. Why could she suddenly control her shading better? What had changed? She couldn’t think of what was different now then all the other times she’d shaded, and she didn’t think it was as simple as being in the Underworld.

  With a shaky sigh, she settled more comfortably beside Ash. She wouldn’t find any answers here and now. The pain of her burns was significantly diminished, enough that she could finally relax. Since she was stuck here for the time being, it wouldn’t hurt to close her eyes and gather her strength. Just a few minutes of rest …

  Chapter Eleven

  A sharp dart of pain in her hand jarred her awake.

  Zwi chirped a soft warning, nipping her hand again. Piper bolted upright, reality crashing back in on her. How long had she been asleep? What had she missed?

  Footsteps on stone. She looked up as Hedya, Tiran, and Eyal stopped at the opening of the stall. Dread churned in her gut as her brain scrambled to catch up. Her gaze shifted from Hedya’s grim eyes, her face once again half-concealed by the dark wrap, to Tiran’s dark gray stare.

  Tiran was back. He had returned with the draconian who would decide her and Ash’s fates.

  She pushed back from them and pressed against Ash. Without thinking, she shifted into her daemon form. Feeling a little stronger, she got her fear under control and rose to her feet.

  Hedya held out a length of rope. “Cross your hands on your chest.”

  What use was there in fighting? She couldn’t defeat them. She crossed her arms over her chest, hands pressed to her collarbones. Hedya stepped into the stall and wrapped the rope around her wrists, quickly but efficiently binding her arms in place. The rope crisscrossed her back, immobilizing her hands entirely. All she could do was wiggle her fingers.

  With a hand on Piper’s elbow, Hedya led her out of the stall. She grabbed Piper’s pack and slung it over her shoulder before pulling Piper down the aisle. Tiran and Eyal lifted Ash up, sharing his weight between them, and carried him out after Piper. Zwi let out a furious chitter, rushing out after the two males and chomping down on a mouthful of Tiran’s pant leg. He stopped, clearly unwilling to kick an injured dragonet.

  Piper shrugged off Hedya’s hand and crouched down.

  “Come on, Zwi,” she said tiredly.

  With one last furious snarl at the draconians, Zwi limped to Piper and climbed painfully onto her shoulders. Piper stood again. Hedya took her elbow a second time and guided her toward the cave entrance. Craning her neck, Piper was relieved to see Tiran and Eyal minding Ash’s bound wing.

  The vista beyond the cave was still swallowed in darkness but the long night would be ending soon. The clouds and fog had finally dissipated. As they exited the cave, Periskios’s light was bright enough to make her squint. Its illuminated left side was shrinking from a full orb, and when it reached a half circle of light, the suns would return.

  Seven draconians waited for them on the rocky shore, standing in a half-circle. Five men, two women. All wearing wraps over their faces. All with cold, assessing eyes cast in shadows.

  Her knees buckled under the onslaught of Nightmare Effect from seven unfamiliar draconians. Hedya pulled her up, half supporting her as they approached the waiting group. Piper panted for air, struggling to think through the haze of panic while she suppressed the urge to shade. Shading would not be helpful.

  They stopped before the half-circle of men and women. As Hedya dropped her pack on the ground beside them, the new draconians examined Piper’s scales and dairokkan with inscrutable expressions. Eyal and Tiran carefully laid Ash down on his back beside Piper and stepped away. Ash didn’t stir, as deeply unconscious as before. Zwi half slid, half jumped off Piper’s shoulder, yelping when she hit the ground, and climbed onto her master’s chest, baring her fangs at the nearest daemons.

  Of the new draconians, six looked like warriors, dressed in similar clothing and gear to Hedya, Eyal, and Tiran. One of the women, however, carried no weapons at all. She approached Ash and gazed down at him. After a long moment of scrutiny, she spoke.

  “You are correct, Hedya,” she said in a cool, smooth-toned voice. “This is not Jesyr. However, this boy is his spitting image.”

  The waiting draconians tensed as though waiting for an unseen axe to fall.

  “How is that possible?” one of the others asked. “Jesyr died childless.”

  “So we assumed,” the woman replied, still staring at Ash. “Or so we had hoped. We never found his body.”

  The woman moved away from Ash and stopped in front of Piper. Her teal-blue eyes were harder than steel and fine wrinkles webbed out from the corners.

  “Tell me, girl, what you know of this draconian’s lineage.”

  Piper lifted her chin. “All I know is his father was captured by Hades and forced to breed with a draconian woman before he was executed.”

  “And what was his father’s name?” the woman asked.

  “I don’t know. As far as I know, the only name he gave was the one for his son.”

  “And that is?”

  Piper met the old woman’s steely eyes and hoped she wasn’t making a mistake. “Ashtaroth.”

  A ripple went through all the draconians—sharp inhales and soft sounds of disbelief. The old woman studied Piper.

  “So the boy is most likely the only living offspring of Jesyrtaroth,” she murmured, almost as though she were thinking aloud. “The similarity of features goes beyond the markings of a Taroth. I knew Jesyr well, and this boy could be a double of his younger self.”

  “He is a product of Hades,” one of the warriors said, an older one judging by the gravelly quality of his voice. “Even if he is Jesyr’s only son, he was raised as Samael’s pet. You’ve heard the stories, Eliada. The draconians of Hades are monsters raised and trained to kill.”

  “Ash isn’t a monster,” Piper snapped.

  Eliada raised a hand, quieting the warrior who’d spoken. “Hedya, were you able to determine what ails Ashtaroth?”

  “No,” Hedya said, planting a hand on her hip. “But when I examined him, I found something wrong with his magic.”

  Eliada’s attention snapped from Ash to Hedya. “His magic?”

  “Yes … I don’t know what it was, but as soon as I sensed it, he attacked me with dragon fire that … turned blue.”

  One of the warriors growled something nasty about Ash attacking Hedya, but Eliada didn’t seem to hear him. She was staring at Ash with wide eyes. Her gaze shot toward the mountain where the dragon had smashed one of the balconies, then darted to the shore where the pebbles were scorched black. Finally, her eyes turned to Piper, sweeping over her burns.

  “What attacked you, girl?” the old woman demanded.

  “I don’t remember—”

  “What attacked you?”

  Piper took a half step back from Eliada’s vehemence before Hedya pulled her back into place.

  Eliada turned sharply to Hedya. “Are you sure it was blue dragon fire? Absolutely sure?”

  “I—yes,” Hedya stammered, as confused as Piper. “It was definitely blue.”

  “I saw it too,” Eyal said. “Black fire that turned to blue.”

  The old woman stepped closer to Ash and knelt. She placed a hand on his forehead—had she somehow known he was feverish? Her shoulders slumped.

  “By the cursed luck of the Moirai,” she sighed. “So the beast still hunts.”

  Piper went rigid. The beast? Did she know about the dragon?

  Eliada rose to her feet and gazed down at Ash, a furtive emotion passing through her eyes. Regret? Sadness? She turned and walked back to the waiting warriors before speaking.

  “He must die.”

  At first Piper thought she’d misheard the soft words, then her
blood went cold.

  “What?” one of the other warriors exclaimed. “You want to kill him? You want to end the Taroth bloodline right here, by our own hands? He may well be the last.”

  “He must die.” Eliada turned, peering down at Ash with steely eyes, all signs of regret gone. “He will likely die before sunrise. If the gods are merciful, he will die. But if he doesn’t … We must end his life now for the safety of all.”

  The draconians exchanged startled, uneasy looks.

  “A warrior’s death for the last Taroth. He deserves that much.”

  Eliada gestured to the old warrior. He gave her a long look, then drew the massive sword sheathed over his back. The quiet ring of steel echoed over the lake.

  “No!” Piper yelled, jerking away from Hedya. She stumbled awkwardly with her hands still bound against her chest. “You can’t do this!”

  Hedya grabbed Piper, dragging her away from Ash’s prone form.

  “No!” she screamed, straining against the woman’s hold. “Please! He’s not your enemy!”

  “I hold no malice toward him,” Eliada said without emotion. “It must be done. Your fate we will determine next.”

  Eyal and Tiran took Ash by the arms, pulling him up until he was on his knees, hanging listlessly from their grips. His unbound wing dragged on the ground. Zwi let out a terrible animal shriek and lunged at Eyal, but three more dragonets appeared out of nowhere. The little creatures shoved and jostled Zwi away, blocking her from her master. By killing Ash, the draconians were condemning Zwi to death too.

  “You can’t kill him!” Piper screamed. “What has he done to deserve this?”

  They ignored her. The man with the sword moved toward Ash. Panic surged through Piper, and in a flash, it transformed into vicious fury.

  Snarling like an animal, she lunged out of Hedya’s hold again. Hedya grabbed her by the ropes around her torso and hauled her backward. Two of the six remaining draconian warriors broke out of their line and rushed Piper. One of them took her other arm and the other grabbed her chin, his fingers digging into her cheek as magic rushed from his skin across hers—a sleep spell.