Unleash the Storm (Steel & Stone Book 5) Page 14

  “Do any of them offer any clues about what the dragon wanted with Ash?”

  “It sounds to me,” Raum rumbled, “like this dragon intended to make Ash his dragonet.”

  Piper inhaled sharply. Dragonets gained magic and certain abilities—like the power to change forms—when they bonded with a draconian, and the draconians gained influence and limited control over the dragonet. Ash had gained magic and abilities from the great dragon, and the dragon wanted to control him …

  Her hands clenched. “Why though? What does the dragon get out of it?”

  “Does it matter?” Seiya snapped, most of her attention on Ash’s wing in her lap. “We won’t get any answers from analyzing the bit of information we have. We already know what’s most important: that the dragon almost killed Ash. It wants to control him. It’s dangerous to him.”

  “It may be dangerous to all of us,” Raum said. “I don’t like what that Eliada woman said about him.”

  A chill ran up Piper’s back. We must end his life now for the safety of all. What did that mean? What did Eliada know about the great dragon? She slid her hand down to Ash’s arm, gripping it tightly.

  “Who cares what that hag said?” Seiya growled. “They tried to execute him.”

  “But we don’t know why,” Raum reminded her. “They seemed to think their reasons—”

  “They tried to execute him. No matter how they try to justify it, we can’t trust anything they say. We shouldn’t have anything to do with them.”

  “You don’t make that choice for all of us,” Raum replied with a hint of a growl. “Ash chose the limits of his loyalty years ago.”

  Seiya looked up from Ash’s wing for the first time, her eyes slicing Raum like black knives.

  “It’s long past time you dropped your petty grudge against him,” she said, her words vibrating with controlled fury. “You turned your back on your own family when Talia died. Ash didn’t betray anyone when he tried to escape with me. No one holds it against him but you.”

  Raum stared at her stonily as a heavy, awkward quiet filled the tent.

  “Seiya, this isn’t the time,” Mahala said. Her soft voice didn’t so much break the silence as whisk it away.

  Seiya scowled and returned her focus to Ash’s wing. Piper’s gaze flashed between her and Raum. Raum had pushed Ash hard over the last few weeks, claiming necessity, but maybe there had been an element of penance behind it.

  “Judging from Piper’s rendition, I am not certain these draconians bear us ill intent,” Mahala continued. “However, their determination to kill Ash makes them enemies of us all. We will not stand aside and let them slay one of our own. Will they kill us too if we try to protect him?”

  “We must retreat.” Raum sounded tired, as though resigning himself to the inevitable. “If Piper is correct, the draconians will come for Ash. We will retreat to a safe location farther from their territory, then attempt to make contact.”

  “Contact for what? So we can all be friends?” Seiya’s eyes slashed from Raum to Piper. “If you hadn’t taken the executioner’s blade for him, he would be dead. I will not forgive them.”

  “Neither will I,” Piper said.

  “Your choice,” Raum said with finality. “I will not condemn our only kin without any attempt to find peace between us. However, the safety of the children is most important. We will break down camp as soon as Ash and Piper are healed and travel back to a previous campsite.”

  Raum stood, his head stooped under the canvas ceiling. He gave Piper and Seiya a cold look.

  “There is one more reason to seek contact with these draconians. We need to know what they know of the great dragon … and what it means for Ash.”

  He pushed the tent flap aside and strode out, calling for Kiev and Sivan—probably intending to do a quick fly around the valley to check for the pursuing draconians.

  Even though she hadn’t seen them giving chase, Piper was certain that Eliada would come after them. She couldn’t get the woman’s eyes out of her head, the cold but regretful stare. If the gods are merciful, he will die. Ash hadn’t died; he was alive and regaining his strength. What did it mean that he had survived the fever?

  * * *

  As she tied the tent canvas into a bundle, she tried not to look as dejected as she felt. The draconian women moved silently about the camp, speaking only to coordinate their packing efforts. The weight of disappointment was like a bitter tang in the air.

  The first sun had already disappeared behind Periskios and the second would soon be eclipsed too, but its light was enough to illuminate the clearing. Their little camp looked sad and empty as they piled their gear beside the cold coals of the fire. Two wood structures waited for completion in the shadow of the cliff beside the waterfall. Who knew when they would be able to come back and finish them?

  Raum, Kiev, and Sivan were scouting, checking for any signs of Eliada and her warriors—or the dragon. Ash was still inside the last remaining tent, resting from the strain of his healing. Zwi was with him, sleeping off her even more intensive healing.

  Mahala had done all she could. When Ash had woken after his healing, she’d placed Zwi in his arms and, with a trembling voice and tears standing in her eyes, told him what Piper had feared since discovering the injured dragonet.

  Zwi would probably never fly again.

  Piper would never forget the way Ash had pulled his dragonet close and buried his face in her mane, his shoulders bowed with inexpressible grief. Then Zwi had begun to keen, her tiny voice rising in fear and denial that required no words. Mahala had taken Piper’s arm and guided her from the tent, leaving the pair alone in their shared pain. Piper had retreated to the edge of the camp for some privacy for her own tears, but Lyre had found her and held her while she cried from the pain and guilt. She shouldn’t have made Zwi help fight the dragon. She should have done something different, something else, something more.

  She swallowed hard before the grief could overwhelm her again. The eclipse would begin soon and Raum wanted to be ready to leave as soon as there was enough darkness to hide their movements. She picked up the canvas bundle she’d just rolled. Her muscles felt weak and quivery, and her entire body ached with exhaustion, but at least she was healed now. After doing everything she could for Zwi, Mahala had healed Piper’s burns and completed Ash’s rough healing of the wounds on her arms. The scars were ugly and the skin taut and uncomfortable, but she didn’t think there was any permanent damage to her motor skills.

  As she walked over to the pile of gear and deposited her bundle, Ash’s voice murmured quietly inside the tent, deep tones rumbling too softly for her to make out any words. Lyre’s lighter tenor answered, just as quietly. She paused, squashing a prickle of hurt at them excluding her from their conversation, whatever it was about.

  Ash said something, and Lyre’s voice rose to an audible level. “But Ash—”

  He cut himself off, but not before Piper heard the hoarse catch in his voice, as though their conversation was causing him physical pain. Her heart hammered with sudden nerves. Ash replied to Lyre, words too low for her ears.

  “This is your fault.”

  The bitter declaration yanked Piper’s attention away from the tent. Jezel stood in front of her, holding several tent poles in one hand.

  “This is your fault,” Jezel repeated, her words low but vicious. “You dragged Ash to that city, you made the other draconians hate us, and now we have to leave, and it’s your fault.”

  Piper’s throat closed. She swallowed hard but still couldn’t speak. She agreed. How could she deny it?

  “Shut up, Jezel.” Raisa appeared beside Piper, glowering furiously. “Just shut up. You don’t know anything. All you’ve done is whine and complain since we left Asphodel.”

  “All she’s done is make things worse,” Jezel spat. “She’s just a pathetic haemon who wishes she was a daemon, and she’s so weak she ruins everything for everyone else.”

  “Piper does everything she can t
o help. You don’t do anything for anyone. You’re just as selfish as Yaron was.”

  Jezel gasped, paling. With a malevolent glare, she pivoted on one foot and marched off. As Raisa folded her arms, watching her half-sister go, the tent opened and Lyre walked out, his expression as bleak as Piper had ever seen it. He walked away without even glancing at her.

  She blinked, pulling her attention from the incubus back to Raisa. “Um. Thank you. Who’s Yaron?”

  “My father,” Raisa replied, very matter-of-fact. “He’s the dad of Coby’s baby too. He wasn’t like Ash and Raum; Samael made him go bad. He attacked Jezel once, and Raum almost killed him. He died right after Coby got pregnant.”

  She hesitated before asking. “How did he die?”

  “Poison. It looked like a Ra poison so Samael figured it was an assassination, but I’ve heard the others say the timing wasn’t quite right.” She shrugged.

  “You … You’re not upset about his death?”

  “No. Like I said, he went bad. He used to hit me for no reason. He just liked to hurt people.”

  Piper pulled in a slow breath. “Do you know who Talia was?”

  “Raum’s first daughter.”

  “Oh,” Piper whispered, remembering Coby telling her about Raum’s slide into an emotionless, obedient zombie after Samael killed his first child to punish him.

  The sun flared brightly and then the light across the valley dimmed as the second sun slid behind Periskios. As Piper looked up at the massive planet, a dark flash dropped from the sky. Kiev plunged toward the camp in a fast dive, flaring his wings at the last moment. He hit the ground and staggered.

  “Raum!” he yelled, whirling around. “Is Raum back?”

  Piper, Mahala, and Lyre all ran for him.

  “He’s not back,” Mahala said. “He went to scout the far end of the valley. What’s wrong?”

  Kiev’s gaze shot toward the darkening sky. “They’re here.”

  Lyre swore. He spun around and jumped toward the tent. Ash stood in the opening, holding Zwi in one arm.

  “Get inside.” Lyre roughly pushed him back in and tugged the flap closed. “And stay there! You need to stay out of sight.”

  Ash growled something she couldn’t quite make out, but she wasn’t paying attention. Her eyes scoured the sky in search of wings. The women grabbed the children, herding everyone to the center of the camp. Seiya planted herself in front of Ivria and the two smallest girls. Kiev drew his swords, afraid but determined to protect his family.

  They shimmered out of nothingness as they dropped their cloaking spells. Nine draconian warriors with weapons drawn and ready landed in the clearing, wings spread wide. Eliada landed last, just behind the armed warriors.

  Enduring a wave of terror, Piper reached behind Kiev and drew one of the daggers sheathed on Seiya’s thigh. Why hadn’t she donned her own weapons? She planted her feet in a defensive stance, meeting Eliada’s eyes from across the clearing. She, Lyre, Kiev, and Seiya were the only ones with enough skill to fight, making four of them against nine experienced warriors.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Mahala draw a sword, handling the blade with an ease that spoke of long familiarity. Okay, five against nine.

  Even as she inspected the enemy, assessing and calculating, part of her attention was on the tent behind her. Ash needed to stay inside. His skill could easily turn the odds in their favor, but the draconians would no doubt concentrate all their attacks on him until they killed him.

  Eliada’s eyes moved across the group, lingering on the children before she stepped forward.

  “We do not come to harm you,” she began.

  “You’ve come to kill Ash,” Piper retorted, fury lighting inside her at the woman’s lie.

  Eliada sliced a hand through the air. “You do not understand. You are all—we are all in great danger as long as he is allowed to live.”

  Cold whispered through her. “What are you talking about?”

  “He should not have survived the seal. It should have killed him, but since it did not, the kindest thing you can do now is end it for him.”

  “You try to disguise murder as mercy!” Seiya yelled. “We won’t let you kill him!”

  “The dragon will come for him!” Eliada’s voice rose, urgency breaking through her composure. “He must die before the dragon claims him!”

  Before anyone could respond, Raum dove out of the sky, landing in front of his family. Wings arched over his back, massive sword in his hand, his black eyes cut across Eliada and the warriors. He rose, feet set in a fighting stance, sword at the ready. He exuded danger and deadly power, an unspoken challenge vibrating in the air. He was almost—almost—as terrifying as Ash in full, lethal predator mode.

  Eliada directed her attention to Raum, recognizing him as the leader of their group and the greatest threat to her mission. With Raum ready to fight, their odds weren’t quite as bad. She forced herself to focus on the enemy, her head spinning with resolve, anxiety, and the exhaustion she hadn’t shook since losing so much blood.

  Eliada opened her mouth but the panicked cry of a dragonet broke the silence before she could speak.

  Piper spun as Zwi let out another frightened cry from within the tent. Forgetting everything else, Piper darted past the others and rushed into the tent. Ash knelt on a blanket inside, bent forward until his forehead almost touched his knees, his arms clenched around his head like a vice. Zwi crouched beside him, chittering fearfully.

  Dropping down beside him, Piper grabbed his arm. Heat radiated from his skin, a fever almost as bad as when she’d first found him unconscious on the rocky shore of the lake.

  Ash lurched to his feet, tearing out of Piper’s grip. He staggered forward a step then dropped back to his knees before Piper could catch him, still clutching his head. He bent forward, wings arching up off his back.

  “No,” he gasped hoarsely. “Stop it.”

  Dread plummeted through her as she realized what was happening. She twisted around. Lyre stood in the tent opening, staring at Ash in shock.

  “It’s the dragon, Lyre! The dragon is nearby!”

  His face went ashen.

  “Ash, fight it.” She grabbed his arm and squeezed hard so he would know she was there. “You can resist him!”

  He groaned, his breathing coming fast and frantic. The swirling designs on his arms that marked the transition from scale to skin glowed blue and the air around him heated until she could smell it burning.

  Lyre grabbed her and threw them both to the ground just outside the tent as blue and black fire exploded out from Ash. The twisting fireball ballooned outward, ripping the tent apart and rushing over Lyre’s hasty shield. The heat pounded at Piper, stealing the air from her lungs.

  The sphere of fire died away, bits of burning canvas still fluttering to the ground. Ash climbed to his feet, arms hanging at his sides, no longer clutching his head. Blue fire ran down his tail and dripped off his wings, pooling on the ground around him. He stood motionless but for the dancing flames, blue light glowing from his markings and from between the scales on his arms, shoulders, and cheekbones. His eyes stared sightlessly ahead, glowing solid azure.

  All the draconians, friend and foe alike, gaped at him, unmoving. The sense of danger in the air was as tangible as the smoke rising from the remains of the tent.

  At the other end of the clearing, wood snapped loudly. Three trees crashed downwards, the trunks breaking clean in two. From behind them, a massive shadow emerged. Faint light sliced across glossy obsidian scales and viciously curved spines arching off broad shoulders and a narrow muzzle. The dragon’s head extended out of the trees, followed by his massive body as he slunk into the open, wings lifting a few feet away from his sides.

  “No,” Piper gasped, the word soundless from terror. She pushed away from Lyre’s protective hold, scrambling to her feet. “Raum! Get everyone into the water, quickly!”

  The dragon’s blue eyes were locked on Ash. They began to glow. The b
uzzing pressure in Piper’s head spiked.

  Ash took a slow step toward the beast.

  “No!” She lunged toward him but Lyre snatched her, pulling her away from those scorching blue flames.

  Ash took another step. In a strange, staggering march, he walked toward the dragon, flames trailing off his wings. With each step closer he took, the dragon’s eyes glowed brighter and blue light emanated from between his scales and down his curved neck and sides.

  “Ash!”

  He didn’t react to her scream. Another slow, zombie-like step toward the dragon. His arms hung at his sides, wings half-furled. He wasn’t fighting—or if he was, the battle was internal, every ounce of his willpower bent toward resisting the dragon’s telepathic hold.

  She threw Lyre’s hands off and ran after him. She barely noticed Raum herding the others toward the waterfall. She barely noticed Lyre running after her. She didn’t notice at all, or care, what Eliada and her warriors were doing. All her attention was on Ash, focused on stopping him.

  Fearfully aware of how close the enormous dragon was, she swung around in front of Ash, pressing her hands to his chest. His impossibly hot skin scorched her palms. She pushed him hard.

  “Ash, stop! Fight him, Ash! Don’t let him win!”

  Ash stared through her, his glowing eyes as distant as the planet above. He didn’t see her. He took another step, forcing her back.

  “Ash!” she cried. She spun, pressing her back against him and digging her heels into the ground as she faced the dragon. “Let him go!”

  The dragon snarled, the terrible sound ripping out of his throat, but he didn’t shift his attention from Ash—didn’t break his focus. He was concentrating on Ash, on controlling him. She lifted her hands, summoning a twisting orb of her magic. If he needed to concentrate to control Ash, then she would distract him. She hurled the spinning orb at the dragon.

  A wall of blue fire leapt into existence in front of the beast. Her pitiful attack hit the flames and burst harmlessly apart. The fiery wall died down, and the dragon took a looming step closer, head swinging lower, eyes on Ash.