Dragonsbane (Book 3) (16 page)

Kyleigh stopped with one fist still tangled in Gwen’s hair. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

The wildwoman shrugged — which must’ve been a difficult feat, judging by the way Kyleigh had her neck twisted. “He died fighting. It’s what he always wanted.”

“Who …?”

“Berwyn.”

That word had no meaning to Kael, but both women broke into wide grins. Kyleigh let go of Gwen’s hair and the wildwoman took her axe away. For a moment, they seemed almost on the edge of laughter.

What in Kingdom’s name was going on? First they were trying to rip each other’s throats out, and now they were suddenly all grins. If Kael had been confused before, he was absolutely baffled now.

Kyleigh nodded to the stripe-haired boy. “You’ve certainly grown into your boots, Griffith. Are you doing all right?”

“Well enough,” he said with a nod. Then he grinned. “Better, now.”

“My brother’s learning the way of the warrior. In time, I expect he’ll outstrip me,” Gwen said with a smirk. Then she stood and pulled Kyleigh up by the front of her jerkin. “You’re coming back with me, pest. We’ve got a lot to talk about.”

“What about the letter?” Baird chirped. “I’ve carried it all this way. It seems a shame not to have it opened.”

“Griffith will read it. I’ve got my hands full,” Gwen said, with a long look at Kyleigh.

At her nod, the boy stepped up and took the scroll. He fumbled one-handed with the wax seal for several moments, rustling so loudly that Kael found it difficult to concentrate on not passing out. “Oh, for mercy’s sake — give it here.”

“Really? You don’t mind?”

“Well, until the world stops spinning, I doubt I’ll be good for much else,” Kael grumbled as he took the letter.

He broke the seal and rolled it open. It was difficult to read with the black spots dancing across his vision. He could only pick out one or two words at a time: “
Before you … stands …”

And that was as far as he got. No matter how hard he stared at the next word, no matter how fast the world spun or how badly he wanted it to change, the word was still there. It was stamped straight onto the parchment — pressed down by a firm hand.

As his silence dragged on, Gwen scoffed. “Can’t you read, lowlander?” She jerked her chin at Griffith. “Finish it.”

Kael laid back and tried not to be sick as Griffith read the letter’s one, simple sentence: “
Before you stands Kael the Wright — see to it that he’s awakened
. It’s signed by someone named
Setheran
.”

Baird gasped loudly.
“Well, now — isn’t this a surprise?” But instead of putting the two very obvious things together, the beggar-bard thrust a finger at the trees to Kael’s right and exclaimed: “There’re
two
Kaels wandering the Kingdom. Ha! Before I met you, I hadn’t met a single one. Now I know two!”

Griffith gave him a strange look before he turned back to Gwen. “What does that mean, sister?”

“It means the pest has been at her mischief again,” she said with a glare.

Kyleigh did a rather convincing job of looking surprised. “I swear I had nothing to do with that.”

Kael didn’t believe her.

And it was obvious that Gwen didn’t believe her, either. She twisted her fingers in Kyleigh’s hair and tugged back, forcing her to look at the trees. “That pretty little face doesn’t work on me,
pest
. Let’s head back to the village, Griff — and bring the blind one along for questioning.”

Griffith hesitated. He held the crumpled letter tightly in his good hand and stared unrelentingly at Kael. “But shouldn’t we bring him with us? If he’s really a Wright —”

“If he was really a Wright, he’d be on his feet with a hand around my throat by now. Instead, he’s laying on the ground, sniveling like an infant.”

“I’m not sniveling!”

“Get up, Kael.”

Kyleigh was glaring at him. A curious red burned across her face — not quite scarlet enough to be pure anger. There was something else mixed with it … a muted pink that took the edge from the red and made it bleed further across her cheeks. He’d seen this look before: sometimes on Roland’s face, but mostly on Amos’s. It was the sort of red that took the fire from his veins and made his courage slink back.

Kyleigh was disappointed in him.

“Get up,” she said again. “You’ve survived a great deal worse. Pull the arrow out, seal it shut, and let’s get moving.”

She had no idea what she was asking. “It hurts —”

“It
hurts
?” Gwen jerked her chin at Griffith. “My brother nearly had his arm chewed off by a monster so wicked, it would likely make
you
soil your breeches. He’s been running down the mountains for days with one arm hanging on by its sinew, and you’re whining about a scrape. Either you’ve lived too softly,” her eyes narrowed, “or you’re even weaker than I thought.”

That seemed to settle it. Kyleigh made no attempt to defend him. If anything, the shame spread further down her neck. After a moment, Griffith stuffed the letter inside the filthy rucksack and slung it over his shoulder. Then he pulled Baird forward with his good arm.

“Kael isn’t coming?”

“No.”

“But what about the other Kael?” Baird gasped when Griffith didn’t answer. “Is
neither
of them coming?”

Gwen kicked him in the rump with the flat of her boot. “Move, or I’ll snap your legs. Let’s go, pest.” She grabbed Kyleigh around the shoulders and pulled her against her chest, so that the axe’s blade rested under her chin. “Take one last look at your little sniveling fr — omft!”

There was a sickening
crack
as Kyleigh slung her head into the middle of Gwen’s face — and a
thud
as the butt of the golden axe slammed down onto the top of Kyleigh’s skull.

The black spots fled Kael’s vision as he watched her body crumple to the ground. Numbness surged through his limbs. He didn’t remember getting up, he didn’t remember charging. The next thing he knew, he was swinging for Gwen’s face.

He more heard than felt the blow that landed across his jaw, as if he was merely watching from a distance. He tried to swing again, but his arm wouldn’t move. Needles stung him as Gwen bent his hand backwards. His wrist creaked like a bow drawn too far. It stretched until he could fight it no longer, and he fell to his knees.

Gwen held his wrist taut, a fraction from breaking. Blood fell in torrents from her broken nose, staining the paint on her chin. Her eyes stayed glued to his face as the numbness faded and the pain gripped him once more.

Kael wanted to scream — he wanted to open his mouth and let the agony out. But that was precisely what Gwen wanted, too. So instead, he ground his teeth and choked it back.

“I hope Fate’s fingers move swiftly across your last thread. But in case they don’t …” Her boot heel came down hard on his wounded leg. “May the mountains take you.”

Blackness crashed over him like a wave. Kael felt as if he was lying on his back in the sand with the surf rushing in. A pain so thick he could actually see it washed over his mouth and eyes — choking him, trying to pull him out to sea. But he dug his nails into the sand. He held his breath. And after a moment, the blackness receded.

When he opened his eyes, he saw Gwen striding away — Kyleigh’s unconscious form slung across her shoulders. She carried her as if she weighed nothing; her boots clomped loudly as she disappeared into the woods.

Kael forced himself up with a grunt. His hands shook as he broke the feathered tail away and pulled the arrow’s shaft from his leg. His next breath rattled against his lungs. A few breaths more, and he was ready to go to work. He put his hands on either side of the wound and focused.

If Gwen had wanted to leave him for dead, then she shouldn’t have taken Kyleigh.

Chapter 15

The Man of Wolves

Kyleigh knew better than to open her eyes. She reached to the top of her head and felt gently for the source of the throbbing. A lump the size of a robin’s egg had risen along her scalp, but at least the skin wasn’t broken.

She’d certainly had worse.

Rough wooden slats dug into her back. The air around her was musty and close. It reeked of pine and something else — something familiar … and obnoxious. When she finally cracked an eye, her vision was gray. Wherever Gwen had her locked up was pitch dark. She scanned the room and stopped at a lumpy figure crouched nearby.

The odor of ash and soot wafted off its shadowy skin, but beneath all that was a scent that made her bare her teeth. “Silas, you stupid c —”

“Shhh!”

Her head swam horribly as she jerked out of his grasp. “If I’d wanted you to come along, I would’ve brought you.”

“I will be
brought
nowhere, dragoness,” Silas purred. “I go where I wish. It’s lucky for you that I chose to trouble myself with following your trail. Had I not been so generous with my time, your humans would be dead.”

Kyleigh said nothing. She remembered what Kael had told her — about how Silas had led them away from the fires of their camp just before Blackbeak and the hounds could discover it. She’d hoped that he’d been mistaken, that he only
thought
he’d seen Silas. But now there was no mistaking it, and Kyleigh knew she was in very serious trouble: she owed him.

Silas crouched over her. “Now that I’ve helped you … you’re going to help me.”

“What makes you think I … I …?” The reek of ash tickled her nose. She sneezed — and very nearly lost consciousness.

“Gently, dragoness,” he crooned as he pushed down upon her shoulders. “It’s regrettable, but if I’m going to have any chance to save my mountains, I’m afraid I need you alive.”

“What do you think we’ve hiked up here to do, you stupid cat?” she muttered, cinching her eyes closed to keep the room from spinning.

When she opened them, Silas’s face was hardly an inch from hers. “You
will
save the mountains — of that, I’m certain. That’s not what I’m asking.” The tip of his finger bumped down the little ridges in her throat, and the haughty glow of his eyes grew sharp. “As I’ve been so kind to
your
humans … you will be kind to mine.”

Kyleigh’s head throbbed so horribly that she wasn’t certain she’d heard him. “Come again? You mean to tell me that
Silas
— the great King of all beasts and hater of men — has … humans?”

He clamped a hand over her grin and the glow of his eyes grew fierce as he growled: “Yes, though I do not want them. Fate has played a cruel trick on me. I owe their Thane a life debt.”

She grabbed his hand — more out of shock than anything. “
Gwen
?”

His mouth twisted as if he fought against a dagger. “A few seasons ago, I was hunting near the summit when I was set upon by a pack of wolves. Those stupid, slobbering brutes stole my kill out from under my claws — but that wasn’t enough for them. They attacked me,” he growled, the light in his eyes dulling. “Though I could’ve easily crushed three or four on my own, this pack was far too many. They circled me in as the wolves always do, biting and tearing at my flesh. I could not escape them. I thought I was meant to die. Then the Thane charged in.

“I’d never seen such power,” he whispered. His eyes trailed to the wall and as he went on, it was as if he spoke to someone else. “She broke those mongrels with her fists and crushed their heads beneath her heels. She snatched their alpha around his neck and held him out before her. Oh, the fury in her eyes as she crushed his throat … I can still hear the bones crackling …”

Silas wore what was easily the most unsettling grin Kyleigh had ever seen. “Gwen could’ve killed you like she’d killed the wolves, but I’m guessing she spared you, didn’t she?”

He nodded. “She carried me to her great stone den, bound my wounds and brought me food. She even made a bed for me out of the wolves’ skins,” he added, with a flash of that vicious grin. “But in exchange for my life, I’ve been forced to follow her around like a …”

“Pet?” Kyleigh finished. “Well, I’m sorry, cat — but you might as well get used to it. There’s no way you’re getting out of a life debt with Gwen.”

He smirked. “I
will
get out of it. This Earl Titus has given me my chance. These people are like us, dragoness,” his finger traced a line down her jaw, “wild, dangerous. Strong, yes — but a little …”

“Stupid?”

He pinched her chin. “They need your mischief, dragoness. I left the mountains to find you because I’d heard how you tormented the rulers of men. You will repay my kindness by helping the Thane reclaim her den.”

Kyleigh made a point of glaring at him before she let out a heavy sigh: “Fine. I’ll help you.”

The fact of the matter was that she’d already meant to help the wildmen — her own reasons. But as long as Silas thought she was going out of her way to help him, it would free her from a very uncomfortable debt.

“I still don’t understand how your saving the mountains is going to settle things with Gwen,” she said after a moment.

“The Thane’s heart is split into halves — one belongs to her wilds, and the other to her people. Titus has stripped them both away. She will die if she faces him, and die if she flees. So by saving the mountains … I save her life. Methinks there’s too much room inside your scaly head, dragoness.”

“That’s a bit of a stretch, cat.” She held her breath as he leaned over her again. “Why do you smell as if you’ve been rolling around inside a hearth?”

“I came in through the den’s fire shaft.”

“The chimney?”

“Yes.”

“Why wouldn’t you just go through the door …?” Then it struck her. “Gwen found you as a lion, didn’t she? She has no idea what you really are.”

He glared, but didn’t deny it.

“That’s a very bad thing you’ve done, kitten.”

His fingers tightened about her throat. “When she found me, I lacked the strength to change into my human skin.”

“And after?”

His hand loosened.

“I know it’s hard to admit, but seeing as the two of you are going to be together until one of you gives up and dies, you’ve got to tell her.”

“No, I don’t. And if you breathe a word to her, I’ll — I’ll eat the blind one!”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Don’t test me, dragoness,” he growled.

He stared her down, and she stared back. It was a battle of wills: a silent fight that neither was going to lose. Their eyes pushed against each other. They didn’t blink. They never looked away. Voices drifted in from outside, growing closer. They passed by the door without ever knowing of the battle raging within.

Finally, a distinctive pair of steps reached their ears — clomping, purposeful steps. Silas’s eyes shifted ever so slightly. They twitched less than a hair’s breadth towards a crack of light in one of the charred walls.

“I wonder what Gwen will think when she finds you behind a shut door?” Kyleigh said without blinking. “Will she be pleased that her little pet has learned to work the latches?”

His lip curled above his teeth in a silent snarl before he bolted for the hearth. No sooner had his feet disappeared up the chimney than the door burst open.

Sunlight crashed in behind it. The light went through Kyleigh’s eyes and struck the back of her head, starting a wave of pain that began at her scalp and sank down to her teeth. She clenched her eyes shut as a pair of hands grabbed her around the waist.

There weren’t many people in the Kingdom who could make her feel like a helpless child, but Gwen was one of them. She could do nothing more than hang limply as the wildwoman toted her to the wall.

The door closed with a noise that stabbed Kyleigh’s ears. There was a
whoosh
from the hearth and the smell of burning wood filled the room. Soon a much softer light pressed against her eyes. Kyleigh gave herself a few moments to adjust before she opened them.

Griffith sat cross-legged before the hearth. He snapped branches in half with his good hand, breaking them against the floor. There was a fire growing steadily in hearth’s middle. If Silas had managed to escape without getting his tail singed, it would be a very near thing.

Fingernails dug into the scruff of Kyleigh’s neck. She knew the pressure of that hand all too well — and the pressure of the blade even better. She sat very still as Gwen pushed the axe against the vein in her neck.

“One chance. You get one chance to convince me not to kill you, pest.”

“You know you could never kill me, Gwen,” Kyleigh said evenly. “You’d miss me.”

“I
did
miss you. That’s the only reason you still draw breath. My aim will be better this time …”

Gwen’s words trailed into a grimace and the axe fell away. A red flower blossomed across her shoulder. Its petals stretched tentatively from the ragged hole in her tunic, crossing the hardened brown stains around the edges and seeping into new territory beyond.

Kyleigh leaned back as the tang of blood filled the house. It was a strange smell — sweet and bitter all at once, thickened by pain. “It’s a shame you left Kael in the woods to die. It looks as if you need a healer.”

“He won’t die. He’ll come charging back in here with an iron up his arse before evening.” Gwen’s voice was thick around her swollen nose, but confident nonetheless.

Kyleigh wasn’t so sure.

It was hard to believe that the man who’d just been fretting over an arrow wound was the same one who’d led a ship through the tempest, who’d slain the Witch of Wendelgrimm and sacked the Duke.

That was one of the most frustrating things about Kael: he would’ve thrown himself on a sword for any one of his friends. He would’ve caused himself no end of pain just to spare them from a little. But for some reason, he wouldn’t fight for himself.

Though they’d traveled for weeks through the forest and the mountains, he hadn’t even tried to come up with a plan to take on Titus. In fact, she’d begun to fear that he never meant to. She’d begun to worry that his greatest sacrifice was yet to come, that he would trade the ones he’d loved for those he’d
come
to love — that in order to spare his friends, he would give up on his home.

Yes, she was certain that was what he’d had planned. And had he been left to his own devices, it likely would have worked. There was just one problem: Kyleigh had a different plan.

Gwen eased herself onto the ground, pressing the side of her fur gauntlet against her wound. “My father is dead, my people are broken and sick. A few days ago, we were sitting untouched inside our castle,” she said with a hard smile. “Now look at us — forced to deal with the
pest
. Tell me what you know of the Man of Wolves.”

Kyleigh wasn’t going to let her off that easily. “Whatever happened to questioning the blind man?”

“He’s talking to the trees. When we try to ask him something, he tells us not to interrupt.”

“Then perhaps you should mind your manners.”

Red burned beneath Gwen’s paint. Even though she clearly would’ve liked to smack Kyleigh across the face, she didn’t. Instead, she placed the golden axe on the ground between them.

It was an old weapon. A grayish rust crusted over it, nearly covering the dragon carved between its blades. The dragon’s horns curved upwards and its mouth was open. Flame spilled past its tongue, falling in a bolt that ended where the boned shaft began. It was exactly how Kyleigh had remembered it, save for one thing:

The axe was supposed to have two heads — two blades forged to look like wings that burst unfurled from the dragon’s back. Now there was only one. The second blade had been broken off, leaving a ragged nub behind.

Though she’d felt the bite of that blade on more than one occasion, Kyleigh couldn’t help but feel sorry to see it broken. She studied the jagged edge and thought she could almost hear the rending blow still trembling inside the metal. “What have you gotten yourself into, Thane-child?”

“It’s Thane now, actually. At least for a time.” Gwen’s eyes trailed to the hearth. Her voice fell to a whisper. “Griffith is only a child, and this is far too heavy a matter. I wouldn’t burden him with it.”

But she would burden herself
. Those were the words behind her stare, the thought that dulled the edge of her scowl. Kyleigh leaned against the wall. “Tell me what happened.”

By the time Gwen’s eyes returned, it was as if they’d traveled a great distance: her stare was hollow and vacant. The unrelenting edge was gone, worn down by the wind. Had those eyes not been set into such a familiar face, Kyleigh might’ve thought she was looking at a stranger.

“We were beaten.” There was a flash of that edge for a moment, a glint in the pit of her eyes as Gwen snarled. But it faded quickly. “At the start of last winter, just after Thane Evan had perished in battle, my warriors and I went on a hunt. We came across some strange men in the meadows. They summoned fire in their hands, split the mountains’ skin with their words. I’d never seen such power. I remember wanting to get close to them …” Gwen swallowed hard. “We killed them, I suppose. They were in so many little pieces that I don’t think I could’ve counted them all. There was a stench about them — more infuriating than anything I’ve ever felt.”