left by the time we were aloft, so I pushed us as hard as I thought it was safe, given the Earthren’s obvious newness to flying.
Her weight was next to nothing on my drakáback, so I had to focus on the sensation of her there to make sure she was stable. I didn’t have any sensation in the spine she clung to, but I guessed her legs were pressing into my sides with all her might. I felt terrible that there wasn’t much I could do to make things easier for the poor girl.
Sarah, I reminded myself. She had a name now. I was glad she’d brought up introductions before we took off; otherwise I might have forgotten and would have had to keep thinking of her the whole flight back as the Earthren.
An Earthren, though! I almost wriggled in midair with the force of the excitement I’d been trying to contain this entire time. Avva was not going to believe this. I could hardly believe it.
As hard as it was to contain myself, she was the reason I had to keep my body straight and my wingbeats steady. I reminded myself of her inexperience and lack of equipment every time I got the itch to spin through the air. I wished I’d had the chance to grab a saddle, but as it was, I was glad I’d set off for the wildgate as quickly as I had.
Otherwise, she might not have survived.
The thought of what those torched ahglen had come so close to doing made heat build in my stomach for more reason than one. Using magic that dark and twisted was one thing. Blood taken unwillingly was punishable by death, even if the victim survived the ritual. Sacrificing the life of a sentient being on top of that was monstrousness of an unspeakable degree. But to sacrifice her.…
Had they any idea what they had nearly done? They couldn’t have, but even so, I’d see them hunted and burned to molten heaps for it. I’d have done the service myself, immediately, if I hadn’t needed to remain with the Earth—with Sarah to make sure none of them snuck back to retake her.
In fact, that’s why I’d run her down so rudely, back in the clearing. I hadn’t expected her to bolt like that, and I’d panicked. Losing her in the jungle—where I would have had to pursue her on foot or been inhibited in my drakáform—that close to sunset would have been disastrous. Fates even worse than the one the ahglen had intended for her awaited her there. After all, the ahglen had been monstrous…but stupid. Other monsters might not have been so blind to what they had on their hands should she have put herself in them.
I didn’t let myself linger in those kinds of thoughts. They weren’t conducive to my goal of flying as steadily as possible to Elspeth Hold. Besides, even my alternating fury and excitement couldn’t keep my flameheart from dimming inside of me as the sun sunk beyond the horizon: a chilling reminder that our time was short.
We were fortunate all three of Ykran’s moons were on display tonight to varying degrees, casting their soft radiance over us. The energy they gave wasn’t much, but it was enough to keep us aloft if we were conservative, and we were almost there. I could see the lights of the mountain hold ahead already.
You’ve been rather quiet, Yvera said, interrupting my thoughts. Her inner voice was teasing, but I could tell that underneath, she was still irritated with me for surging ahead of her earlier.
Are you surprised? I answered mildly.
I reminded myself that she had every right to be annoyed, and what was more, she could get me in a lot of trouble for it if she wanted to. I was going to have to be on my best behavior for a while to keep her mouth shut. And she knew it.
I’ve quite a lot to think about, I added.
Yes, but I’d expected you to be doing acrobatics by now.
Blast. She knew me too well. Case in point why I probably shouldn’t have assigned my best friend to be my primary bodyguard, especially since that friend was Yvera. Avva had warned me she’d be trouble, and he was right.
If you hadn’t noticed, I have an inexperienced amá on my back—who doesn’t even have a saddle. You’re the one who insisted I carry her, remember?
Oh, come on, she teased. Let it out, just a little. She can hold on for just one—
No, I said, harder than I meant to. I softened my tone. Yvera, think how you would feel in her position. She must be terrified right now.
She certainly looks tense, Yvera said dryly. So stiff I could use her as a toothpick right now.
Yvera!
Oh, come on, Ben, don’t tell me you’re not getting tired of all this trembling nonsense. The girl is more delicate than a fogblossom. Seriously, how did amá ever stand a chance against us?
For the sake of the cooperation that I would desperately need from Yvera in about ten dek if I didn’t want to be grounded from now until the solstice, I bit back the correction that I would have normally given: We are as amá as we are draká.
Yvera had always overlooked that detail in our history. She stubbornly failed some classes because of it. It made sense, I supposed. She’d always related to her draká side more than her amá one, no matter how dual our natures were.
However, one other thing silenced my normal textbook correction. Until six years ago, I’d fully believed what I’d been taught. The balance, after all, was the key to the Covenants—to our very survival. As the next living vessel of that balance, I had never wanted to contemplate the alternative. But now.…
Now certainty had been replaced with a deep-seated fear.
As well as Yvera knew me, she had no clue how much cause I had to be glad that there was an Earthren on my back right now. One that I was not going to endanger or alienate by indulging in a few youthful spurts of jubilance.
Especially now that it was dark, as Yvera well knew. So why was she being so pushy about this?
That did, however, remind me of a few things that we needed to get straight before arriving, and the lights of the hold were getting brighter.
Yvera, I began.
Yeah, yeah, I know, she said. You don’t want me mentioning how you left me in the dust to get to that wildgate opening. You know what that’s going to cost you, don’t you?
You are the best, most amazing, most fearsome, most deadly of all my elites, I said, trying to sound sincere.
Well, she was. I had been justified in making her my rightwing—no one, not even Avva, had questioned my decision. Publicly, that is. Privately, Avva had warned me beforehand that she’d cause me just as much trouble as she was worth, but he still left the final decision up to me.
But being forced to say so out loud in so many words didn’t make me sound like I meant it.
And?
And I would be dead a thousand times over without you.
Only a slight exaggeration.
Aaand?
Yvera, I can’t say I’m sorry for what I did, because that would be a lie, I said with care. She would be dead now if I hadn’t, and even you should have some inkling of what that would have meant.
But you didn’t know she was there, she said hotly. You just felt the gate—
Yvera, we’re almost there, I said, trying to keep anxiousness from my voice. I wasn’t a naughty child trying to avoid a just punishment. I had good reasons—especially now—to not have my freedom curtailed. But the elders who would urge Avva to administer consequences for my recklessness would not—could not—know them.
Fine, I’ll go along for now, she growled. I heard the rumble and caught the whiff of smoke on the wind. But you’re going to hear it from me later.
You can rail into me all you like once we’re alone again, I promised.
Oh, I will.
And…there’s one more thing. I inwardly winced. This part would not go over well either. Yvera was terrible at keeping secrets, and keeping two at once was going to be a challenge she was entirely unmotivated to tackle.
What? she asked suspiciously.
Please, please, for the love of the Flame, can you try to avoid mentioning that the girl is an Earthren?
Oh, she said. Uh. Sure.
Sure? I asked in surprise.
Uh, yeah. Um—if you promise to tell me why.
Now I knew something was up. She seldom cared to know the “why.” Those troublesome details she was happy to leave to me or Kor. She wasn’t unintelligent; she was simply very…focused. The “why” was far less important to her than the “what,” which was her realm of expertise.
She’d made up that requirement on the spot just to make it seem like she wasn’t giving in too easily. Which meant she didn’t care about what I was asking her to do or what I would tell her as payment. I’d still tell her the truth; I just wouldn’t have to tell her much.
I was relieved, but I also wondered: what had she expected me to ask her to do? Clearly there had been something. Something she found distasteful enough that she’d agreed a bit too hastily when asked something else.
Fine, I said, hopefully doing a better job than she had at feigning reluctance.
Alright then, she snipped, recovering her irritation. You know there’s not much point, though, right? They’re going to figure it out the moment she opens her mouth. And you’re going to tell your father, anyway.
I’m going to tell him, I assured her. Just not anyone else. And anyone else who hears her will just assume she’s speaking Vardak or something.
My native tongue, Drona, was the primary language of the Six Realms, but plenty of other dialects and full-fledged languages had developed among the clans since their founding and dispersing to their own worlds. Vardak was infamous for having one of the fewest native speakers and belonged to this Realm besides.
But why? Yvera asked, sounding genuinely intent now. Or maybe she was just turning up the irritation. It was hard to tell with her sometimes.
I sighed at having to explain something like this to her. Kor would have gotten it immediately. Then again, “indiscreet” was how Avva had succinctly described her.
Because there’s no reason to start the mass excitement that her arrival is going to cause—not yet. It’s going to get out, and soon, yes. But we need to handle this carefully.
Whatever, Yvera said, losing patience with the duplicity of the idea, as I’d known she would.
There. Not much truth at all. Barely even scraping the surface. That was also the good thing about Yvera. Kor would be much, much harder to handle.
I inwardly groaned. I was already tired from night flying, and I had so many people to go through before I could get some sleep: the Elspeth elders, who would expect a full report in private and wouldn’t be easy to fool into thinking Yvera had been with me the entire time; possibly a healer if they insisted on getting me checked; then Yvera (unless she lost patience with waiting her turn to chew me out and went to bed); then, if I was lucky, I could push off Kor until the morning (but the longer I did, the longer he’d have to plan his interrogation technique); after that, if I had the energy and she was still awake, I should check on how Sarah was settling in; and last but most important, Avva, who would want my report on this development, no matter the time of night.
There were implications only he and I could know about, and permissions I needed to get from him to go where I needed to go and do what I needed to do to pursue the miracle we’d been given, and I already knew he was not going to be pleased with my plan.
It was going to be a long night.