Dragonsbane (Book 3) (11 page)

“Aye, Captain,” he mumbled. Once Lysander had disappeared, Thelred turned his glare on Aerilyn. “I suppose I have you to thank for this.”

He plopped down on the bench with a grunt. While he fumbled with the laces on his wooden leg, she leaned casually against the piano. “I should be thanking
you
, actually.”

Thelred’s fingers froze to the laces, and his head rose slowly. “What do you mean?”

She shrugged. “It’s simple, really. We’re all worried sick about Kyleigh and Kael, Lysander’s completely miserable — and as long as he’s here, he’ll go on treating me like I’m some frail thing that might crumble to bits at any moment,” she added with a frown. “An adventure will give him something to do … and while he’s away, you and I can run the merchanting business.”

“You’re going to help me?” When she nodded, he rolled his eyes. “You’re daft if you think I’m taking you anywhere.”

“Oh, you’ll take me. I have every confidence you will. Because if you leave me here alone with Uncle Martin and all these nosy maids,” she dragged her hand across the piano’s keys in an ominous climb, “I’ll pull every single string out of your ridiculous instrument. One at a time.”

He glared at her.

She smiled sweetly.

“Fine.”

“Wonderful! Oh, I’m so happy you’ve agreed. And it’s probably best if Lysander knows nothing about this,” she added with a hard smile. “Just in case.”

She dragged her hand down the piano’s keys as she left, tinkling one obnoxious strand of notes at the end. Thelred glared at the doorway long after she’d gone.

In the end, he threw up his hands and stomped out behind her, muttering curses as he went.

Chapter 10

Fate’s Forsaken

The further north they went, the more spread out the trees became. Slowly, the undergrowth thinned and the oaks grew slimmer. Rocks covered much of the ground and large pines began to take root between them. But though the forest had shrunk back, Baird’s prattling never ceased.

“I fell asleep so quickly I don’t even remember closing my eyes! There’s no peace quite like a long night’s rest.”

The beggar-bard had reattached himself to Kael’s pack — and he talked from sunup till sundown. His words ran in such a constant stream that if he ever stopped to take a breath, the sudden quiet would jolt Kael from his thoughts.

“It’s strange, but I always know I’m asleep because things suddenly get brighter. I see colors and shapes, the smiling faces of long-lost friends. Ah, I hope death isn’t nearly as dark as life!”

Kael figured if he couldn’t be left alone to think, he might as well join in. “What happened to your friends?”

“The Whispering War claimed most of them, though a few died after. They reached the ends of their yarn all too soon. Fate’s crafted a story for each of us, you know.” He tapped a knobby finger to the side of his head. “She labors with patience at her loom, weaving every moment of our lives into a brilliant tale. Our tapestries go on until she reaches the end of our yarn; some of our lives wind up rather frayed at their hems. It pains me to say that most of my friends’ stories ended all too soon. What is it about war that kills the young?”

“It probably has something to do with the swords,” Kael said.

“Or the arrows — or all that bothersome fighting in close spaces,” Kyleigh added with a smirk.

Baird didn’t seem to notice their teasing. “No, no it happens
before
all that. Why do the young answer the battle horns? Why are they so quick to draw their swords? If you ask me, war is in their hearts long before the lines are drawn. It’s a lust that need only be awakened.”  

“Did you fight in the War?” Kael said after a moment.

There was a rustling noise as Baird’s shaggy head slung to the side. “No, I was never much of a fighter …
love
was always my poison of choice.”

Kael was immediately sorry he’d asked.

Kyleigh grinned. “Is that why Fate struck you blind, then? Did you spoil one too many noblemen’s daughters?”

“
Kyleigh
!”

But Baird just laughed. “No. There might’ve been one or two noblewomen along the way, but my true love was always in telling of tales.
Stories take on a life of their own, don’t they? They’re creatures carried gently by word and voice, but never quite bound. Long after the last line falls hushed, I can still hear the clang of swords and the cries of my heroes — proof that they travel even beyond the tongue. Yes, stories speak to us like none among the living can.”

“I suppose,” Kael said. Though he tried to act indifferent, he couldn’t quite manage it. Those were the words he’d always felt inside his heart.

*******

Nothing Kael said could convince Kyleigh to join the shapechangers’ war. Anytime he asked, she would glower and say that he’d only regret it. She said she was doing what was best. She insisted he ought to trust her. So he had no choice but to follow her to the road.

After another day of battling their way through the thicket, they tumbled out of the undergrowth and onto a wide dirt path. At least following the road meant that there was a little space between the trees: sunlight fell through unfettered, warming them against the forest’s gloom.

Kael was buried very deeply in the
Atlas
when he suddenly ran smack into the unrelenting wall of Kyleigh’s shoulders. Before he could ask her why on earth she’d stopped, she shoved him back with her elbow.

“Get off the road.”

“But we’ve only just got —”

“Screams!” Baird cried, cupping a knobby hand against his ear. “A song of pain and fright!”

Kael slung his bow from across his chest. “Is it the hounds?”

“Dozens of different voices, some great and some small. They roar and bark and yip and yelp, each one crying:
Help me
!” Baird tugged hard on his pack. “We must turn away! We must be gone!”

“Are you mad? If someone’s in trouble, we ought to help,” Kael said.

Kyleigh was too busy cursing under her breath to hear him. She grabbed Baird by the wrist and pulled hard, dragging them both towards the brush. “That meddling old wolf … I’ll kill him!”

“What do you …?” Kael’s words trailed away as he caught a faint echo in the distance.

It was the sound of wailing — the anguished screams of men and women, the cries of animals in pain. Though the forest tried to strangle them, Kael could still hear the terror in their pleas.

“No, get into the bushes,” Kyleigh said when he took a step forward. “They’re coming to us.”

He followed her reluctantly into the trees and crouched, waiting. Baird curled upon the ground behind them and cradled the filthy rucksack against his chest. He covered his ears, groaning softly. But at least he stayed quiet.

As they waited, the screams began to grow louder. Soon Kael had to grip his bow tightly to keep from charging out. The wails of the hounds had chilled his blood — he’d heard the evil in their bays. But these screams were different. Instead of chilling, his blood burned against them. He felt the anger rising up long before he saw the cart.

It rolled slowly down the road, flanked on either side by a company of soldiers. The cart’s wheels clattered as it bounced along the path. Its bed squeaked piteously. But even the rattling of its axle couldn’t quite drown out the cries of its passengers.

Men and women filled the cart’s bed to either end. He could tell by their flaming red hair that they must’ve come from the Unforgivable Mountains. They wore rough spun clothes instead of armor, and he realized with a jolt that they must’ve been common folk — villagers Titus had captured during his march.

His blood began to bubble dangerously when he saw how they’d been thrown into the cart. The villagers had been stuffed inside metal cages and stacked on top of each other like cargo. Their fingers curled through the wiring. They pounded the bars with their fists. Every few moments, their human wails would become the cries of animals — they would convulse in the middle of their pleas and their skin would erupt in feathers or fur.

Kael realized that must’ve been how the armor had gotten melded to the hounds’ skin: they’d been twisted back and forth so many times until the iron had finally become a part of them.

A horde of Earl Titus’s soldiers guarded the cart. They kept a steady march, their helmeted heads turning to search the trees. One soldier jabbed the butt of his spear in amongst the cages. He laughed when he heard a yelp.

Kyleigh hissed in warning, but it was too late. The molten bubbles inside Kael’s chest burst with spouts of flame and carried their fury straight to the top of his head. He could do nothing to stop himself. Anger roared in the tips of his fingers as he stepped out from the bushes. His eyes locked onto the soldier …

And he sent an arrow straight through his laughing mouth.

Kyleigh said something that was far from ladylike as she drew up her
hood, but Kael wasn’t listening. His eyes were already on the next target.

Soldiers fell helplessly to his arrows. Rage numbed him and his limbs moved in a deadly pattern. His eyes went from patches of flesh to the gaps between plates of armor, leading his hands in a charge.

Kyleigh ran out from behind him and threw herself into the fray. She cut the horses free and they thundered madly from her scent, eyes rolling back in terror. When the cart’s driver made the very serious mistake of trying to fend her off, she ripped him from his seat — and directly onto the point of her sword.

Kyleigh leapt to the top of the cart. She dodged the soldiers’ spears with ease, spinning and ducking out of their path. A few tried to climb up the cart’s side only to find Harbinger waiting for them. The sword’s curved white blade bit through their necks,
singing sweetly as the soldiers’ heads rolled down their backs.

They’d managed to thin out a considerable number before the soldiers changed tactics. They clumped behind the cart, putting the caged people between themselves and Kael’s arrows.

It was more of an inconvenience than anything. Kael nocked an arrow and strode in a half-circle, his eyes peeled for the first bit of skin peeking out from behind the cart — and perhaps it was because he was so focused on the soldiers that he didn’t see the monstrous shadow cross over his boots …

Or hear the wind whistling off its great, glossy wings.

The back of his head struck the ground hard. Shock chased the numbness away. He managed to catch a glimpse of the canopy above him before something large blocked his vision.

It was black and stank of rotted meat. He felt a sudden pressure on his shoulders — and with the pressure came pain. Horrible pain. It was so sharp and sudden that Kael cried out. He dropped his bow and twisted to look at the things that dug into his flesh.

They were sharp, scaly talons. A face came down to his — a man’s face, but horribly twisted. His nose stretched into a point, dragging his upper lip out with it. Human teeth hung from the nose’s bottom. They were yellowed and wet with drool. The jaw jutted nearly as far as the nose, forming something that looked like a beak.

No, it
was
a beak. Kael saw the talisman hanging around the monster’s chest and knew immediately who this creature was — who it had to be:

Blackbeak.

Two beady eyes stared down at him. They shone every bit as clearly as glass — he could see the shocked white of his own face reflected in their pupils. A long gray tongue smacked between the pointed nose and jutting jaw as Blackbeak screeched: “Kill you! I’m going to kill you!”

Kael tried to move his arms, but the talons cinched down tighter. They dug against his bones and kept his hands pinned to the ground. His eyes were bleary with pain. He could hardly see by the time Blackbeak’s head snapped down —

“Away! Be gone with you!” Baird cried.

His first blind swing missed fantastically, but the second struck true. Kael heard a
thunk
and gasped as the talons pulled free. Baird swung his rucksack into the crow shaman’s head again, littering the ground with a shower of glossy feathers. Blackbeak screeched and hopped away, holding one of his massive wings up like a shield.

With Baird swinging blindly all around him, Kael saw his chance. He pulled himself to his feet and retrieved his bow. The gashes in his shoulder weren’t as deep as he’d feared. They pierced his skin to bleeding, but hadn’t gone much deeper. He still had the strength to draw his bow.

“Run, young man!” Baird cried, swinging his rucksack in a wild arc. “Run! I’ll hold him back!”

Blackbeak dodged his next swing and jumped, lashing out with both feet. His talons caught Baird in the gut and sent him tumbling backwards.

Kael fired with a cry, but Blackbeak dodged. His feathered head jerked out of the arrow’s path and his beady eyes locked onto Kael. He’d spread his wings and arched his neck for the kill when a roar startled him away.

A black bear lumbered out of the woods, shaking the leaves with its throaty bellow. The bear threw itself on the remaining soldiers. It swatted their bodies aside with its claws and crushed their limbs between its teeth.

A reddish hawk fell from the sky and raked across Blackbeak’s face. It dug in with its talons and tore clumps of his feathers out with its beak.

A wolf’s howl pierced their ears. Blackbeak screeched at the sound and took off. He shot into the sky with a blast of his feathery wings. His talons kicked beneath him as he tried to gain speed. The hawk followed in wide, dipping arcs — ripping out clawfuls of his feathers with every pass.

Kyleigh leapt down from the cart, her eyes on Kael. “Are you all r —?”

“Look out!”

A soldier lunged from behind the cart and swung for her middle — and for half a moment, the world stopped turning. Kael’s horror became disbelief as he watched the soldier’s sword break across her armor: the blade shattered like glass and the hilt jolted from his hand.

Kyleigh hardly glanced at the soldier as she ran him through. “Dragonscales, remember?”
she said, thumping a hand against her chest.

Kael was still trying to force his heart back down his throat. “Well, I didn’t know they would do
that
.”

She raised a brow. “What did you think they did?” Her fingers hovered above his wounds, but she didn’t touch them. “Can you heal this?”

He nodded. “It’s not as deep as it looks.”

They heard a muffled grunt as the bear crushed the final soldier beneath its claws. A scruffy gray wolf had his nose pressed against the ground where Blackbeak had stood. His pointed ears twitched as the hawk returned to circle overhead, crying softly in greeting.