The Wings of Dragons: Book One of the Dragoon Saga (20 page)

Iren blinked twice. “What?”

“
During the Kodama-Maantec
War, your ancestors tried to conquer Raa. They considered everyone
else beneath them, and they didn’t care what anyone thought. You’re
different, though it took me a while to notice it. When you killed
Zuberi, you looked just like the Maantecs from the war: arrogant
and destructive. I hated you for it.”

“
Why did you bring me
along, then?” he replied, a touch of resentment in his voice. “That
fight knocked me out. You could easily have dumped me in Akaku
somewhere and taken off on your own.”

“
True, but as you saw when
we left Akaku, I can’t travel outside the forest on my
own.”

Iren remembered how suddenly Minawë had
passed out. “What happened to you that night?”

She grimaced. “Do you know why Iren Saito’s
curse kills Kodamas who leave Ziorsecth? It mutated our bodies. I
mentioned back in Akaku that our bodies have a semipermeable
membrane that allows us to absorb magic. Saito’s curse made
Kodamas’ membranes fully permeable, meaning magic can both enter
and leave.”

“
What does that have to do
with losing consciousness when we left Akaku?”

“
Every species draws
environmental magic from a different source. Maantecs pull from the
air. Kodamas draw from other living things, plants in particular.
In Akaku, surrounded by ancient spruces, my rate of magic coming in
nearly equaled my rate of loss, but Lodia’s open fields only have
grasses. My body couldn’t absorb enough magic, so it made me pass
out in a desperate attempt to save energy. It happened when I first
left Ziorsecth too. That’s how the Quodivar captured me, and that’s
also why I needed your help. Akaku and Ziorsecth don’t share a
border. Even if I could have evaded the Yokai and ridden all the
way to Akaku’s western edge, I still would have faced a stretch of
plains. I hated you, but you were my best hope for getting back to
Ziorsecth alive.”

Iren pouted. “I’m glad I’m so useful,” he
said, “even though I’m a moron.”

Minawë winced. “Sorry about that. I
misjudged you in Akaku. Now I see you differently. You care what
others think of you. That’s not a common Maantec trait.”

He crossed his arms. “I don’t care. What
does it matter if they all hate me? What difference does it make if
I live alone the rest of my life? As long as I get my revenge,
that’s what I care about. If Zuberi didn’t murder my parents, then
I’ll find the true culprit and kill him. It’s what I’m meant to
do.”

“
You’re lying. At least, if
the story you told me about your past just now is true. Granted,
you sought revenge. But you also agreed to bring me to Ziorsecth,
and you did that before you saw Zuberi. If he hadn’t appeared, you
might never have gotten your chance to face him. You willingly gave
up on revenge to get me to Ziorsecth. Even after I acted rudely,
you still aided me. You said that I could have abandoned you in the
woods if I’d wanted to. Well, you could have done the same to me
when I lost consciousness outside Akaku. You could have left me and
gone hunting for your parents’ murderer. No one ever would have
known. Instead, you rode all the way here, keeping me safe. You
also fought to protect Dirio, Veliaf, and all of Lodia from the
Quodivar. When Balear nearly died in the Yokai’s ambush, you risked
your life to save him. If you truly only care about your revenge,
why did you do all those things?”

Iren stared intently at a thoroughly
uninteresting fern. Minawë reached out and took his chin in her
hands, forcing him to look in her deep green eyes. She held him
there a moment before speaking, her voice soft yet full of
conviction, “You believe you’re an avenger, but I can tell you’re
nothing of the sort. Your heart doesn’t seek vengeance; it seeks to
protect others and fights only when it has no other choice.”

Iren felt wetness on his cheeks. At first he
blamed the rain, but no, he was crying. “I’ve been such a child,”
he whispered. Then, biting his lip, he said, “Minawë, thank
you.”

The Kodama smiled, and then to Iren’s
amazement, she leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. He raised his
hand to his face, touching the spot with disbelief.

“
Of course,” she replied.
“Let’s get some sleep. You can take the dry spot under the rock; I
don’t mind the rain. Then tomorrow, we’ll set out for
Zior—”

She never finished what she was going to
say, because at that moment, she passed out and fell headfirst into
the mud. Iren cried out and bent over, pulling her up. He saw her
hair. He hadn’t noticed it while they were talking, but nearly a
quarter of it had turned bone white. More disconcerting, shallow
wrinkles crisscrossed the young woman’s face. Already she looked
fifteen years older than when they’d first spoken in Akaku.

He swore. Sleep would have to wait.
Nightraid was doing most of the work anyway, and he’d at least
gotten a few hours’ break.

“
Ready, Nightraid?” he
asked the horse, loading Minawë into the saddle and then climbing
up himself. “Ride with the speed of dragons!”

They tore through the woods, branches
slicing into Iren’s skin. He couldn’t care less. Unless Nightraid
absolutely needed a break, Iren wouldn’t stop until they reached
the border. He knew that saving Minawë’s life would take everything
he had left.

Iren raced across the empty plains of
western Lodia, the wet earth sending clumps of mud careening from
under Nightraid’s hooves. The weather from yesterday had not let
up. As the dull gray of the afternoon darkened into night, Iren
still couldn’t see his destination. He hoped he’d nearly reached
the forest, but in these conditions, it could be miles as easily as
yards. He probably wouldn’t see it until he smacked into a tree at
full gallop.

Glancing at Minawë, Iren’s concern grew.
More than three quarters of her hair had turned white, and she
looked over sixty years old. The pace of her aging had quickened,
and she hadn’t woken once since leaving the glade the previous
afternoon.

“
Nightraid!” he shouted. “I
swear to you, if you make it to Ziorsecth in time, no one will ever
force you to do anything again. You can live a free life; you’ll
have earned a fine retirement.” He wished he knew Kodaman so that
the horse could understand him. The stallion deserved something for
his trouble.

Just then, over the wind, Iren heard an odd
whistling behind him. He craned his head in time to see an arrow
pierce the veil of evening and strike Nightraid in his right hind
leg. Neighing in terror, the wounded horse lost control and
stumbled. A second arrow screamed across the plain and struck the
stallion once more, this time in the side, barely missing Iren’s
calf. In his panic, Nightraid’s legs twisted among themselves, and
he crashed to the ground. Reacting quickly, Iren gripped Minawë
with both arms. Pushing off with his legs, he flung himself away
from the horse to avoid getting pinned under Nightraid’s bulk.

He hit the muddy plain at a jarring speed.
The moment he landed, searing pain shot through his left arm as his
wrist snapped. The shock forced him to release Minawë, sending her
rolling along the ground.

Stumbling to his feet, Iren clenched his
teeth, striving against a wave of nausea. After the frantic pace of
the last few days, though, he found himself unable to cope. Limply,
he fell to his knees. He longed for the Muryozaki’s healing power,
but his father’s katana was gone forever.

As he knelt there, the sound of hooves
reached him. Seconds later, a form emerged through the downpour. A
mighty charger, nearly an equal to Nightraid, rode proudly forward.
Pushing his long, soaked hair out of his face, Iren realized the
horse bore a familiar person clutching a bow.

“
Balear!” Iren cried. “What
are you doing here, and why on Raa are you shooting at me? You
could have killed us!”

Balear stared coldly at him as he
dismounted. Walking up to Iren, he barked, “It took longer than I
wanted, but I finally found you. I had to stop you from leaving the
country by any means necessary. Iren, come with me. You’re wanted
for questioning.”

This had to be a joke. “Wanted?”

The young soldier’s expression didn’t
lighten. “Rondel betrayed us all. She gave away weaknesses in
Haldessa Castle and convinced the Quodivar and Yokai to attack.
Captain Angustion says you have information about her, so I need to
take you to him.”

Iren tried to get to his feet, but he could
barely move at all. “You’re insane!” he cried. “What proof do you
have?”

Balear reached into his leather jacket,
pulling out a piece of parchment. Handing it to Iren, he said,
“Here’s your proof. Rondel sent this just before we left on our
mission.”

Iren quickly read the letter, his fingers
trembling. He couldn’t believe the words. True, Rondel acted
spiteful and annoying, and yes, she brutally slaughtered those
Quodivar in Veliaf. Even so, she didn’t seem like someone who would
betray a city to thugs and monsters.

Then Minawë’s words about Rondel came back
to him. She absolutely could betray a city. She’d already done
that, and more, to the Maantecs a thousand years ago.

“
So let’s go,” Balear said.
“I’m bringing you back to Haldessa.”

“
Why?” Iren shouted, anger
and regret mingling in his voice. “What does it matter now, anyway?
Rondel’s dead.”

Balear was adamant. “Dead or not, the letter
implicates you. We can’t take any chances. Look, don’t make this
hard. No one’s officially charged you. You’re not a criminal. Just
come to Haldessa with me. Answer the captain’s questions, and if
you satisfy him that you aren’t carrying out Rondel’s agenda, he’ll
release you.”

Iren considered for a moment, then shook his
head. “I can’t come with you.”

Balear’s expression flared, and he swung his
bow. He snarled, “If you don’t, it means throwing your life away. I
said you aren’t a criminal, but if you refuse to come, that makes
you guilty of resisting arrest. Worse, I’ll have to assume your
refusal as an admission of aiding Rondel. That would make you
guilty of treason against Lodia. Wanted posters will go up in every
town and village in the country. Everyone will know your face and
name. If anyone sees you, they’ll execute you immediately. You
won’t be able to return to Lodia for the rest of your life.”

Iren hesitated, uncertain what to do. He was
only on this errand because Rondel had pushed him into it. If he
defied Balear, he would be giving up everything he had ever known.
He would be marking himself for death for the sake of a woman he’d
only met a few days ago. It made absolutely no sense for him to
resist.

And yet . . .

He glanced at Minawë, at her helpless form
on the verge of death. Subconsciously, he reached up and touched
the spot where her lips had brushed against him the night before,
the first time anyone had ever kissed him. He made up his mind.

“
I can’t return to Haldessa
with you.”

Balear’s hand reached for his sword. “Then
you side with Rondel?”

“
I don’t know whether
Rondel’s guilty or not, but my choice has nothing to do with her.”
Iren’s expression turned fierce, and he stared directly into
Balear’s eyes as he defiantly roared, “All that matters to me now
is protecting the life of someone precious!”

Balear swore as he dropped his bow and drew
his sword. “As you wish, traitor. Prepare yourself!”

Iren forced himself to his feet, facing
Balear’s blade with only his off hand and the Muryozaki’s sheath.
He should have felt terrified, but instead a serene calm filled
him. His mind couldn’t explain it, but his body knew what to do.
“Balear,” he whispered, “I’m sorry.” He raised his right hand.
Magic flowed into it, smoothly and easily, as though he’d done it a
thousand times. White light engulfed his palm. The energy lanced
out like a spear, striking Balear and knocking him on his back.

Turning to Minawë, Iren hefted her onto
Balear’s charger with his one good arm and began to climb in the
saddle himself. An arrow grazed his cheek. It struck the horse just
above the heart, killing the beast instantly. As the horse toppled,
Minawë fell too. Her head struck the ground and bounced off the
hard earth.

Iren whipped around and saw that Balear had
retrieved his bow. With his last strength before passing out, the
sergeant had attempted to shoot Iren from behind. The arrow might
have missed its intended target, but in killing the horse, the
damage done was just as great.

Rather than despairing, however, Iren’s will
steeled. Minawë needed to get to Ziorsecth. He couldn’t surrender.
With nothing left but a desire not to let down this woman who
genuinely believed in him, Iren hauled the unconscious Kodama onto
his back. He tried drawing on magic to restore some of his stamina,
but he couldn’t feel it at all.

The storm crashed with more intensive
fervor, as though nature itself wanted to keep him from
accomplishing his goal. Nevertheless he marched on a slow,
inexorable trek west.

He didn’t know if he was awake or dreaming.
He wasn’t even certain he was still alive. Minawë’s body pressed
against his, limp and breathless. With her on his back, her face
rested on his shoulder. Even in this state, appearing as old as
Rondel had, she still looked more beautiful than anyone he’d ever
known. Though her eyes were shut, he recalled their emerald hue
like two tiny forests, strong and frail at the same time.

He leaned his head against hers and rubbed
her fine hair, undamaged despite her many ordeals. Its vibrant
green, however, had vanished. All the hair he could see was white.
Her lips, too, had lost their fullness and luster. Only now,
staring at her lifeless visage, did he realize how much, in just a
few days, he’d come to love her. He blamed himself for her
misfortunes. If only he’d ridden faster, he might have saved her.
If they could have stayed in Akaku just a few more hours, perhaps
that would have given her the time she needed.