Of Steel and Scale (The Drakkon Kin Trilogy #1)

Chapter 9.2

Huh . I rose and, holding fast to the last spine, slid past it until I reached the gap. I tied one end of the rope to the girth, looped it around the final spine, then tied on the other end. After slicing away the excess rope, I slipped back and tested out the rig. The base of her spine was shaped rather like a courser’s withers, but longer, which meant I was pressed against it more than her neck. Which in many ways made gripping easier, simply because my legs weren’t as wide apart as they would have been had I been on the main part of her neck. I strapped the stirrups onto the rope, lashing them together so they didn’t go sliding too far apart, then added a couple of D-rings to tie the climber’s harness and the backpacks on to. With that all done, I clambered down her leg again.

“How’s that all feel?”

Barely feel. Ready now?

I nodded. “Just got to climb into the harness and get the packs up there.”

Hurry. Wind calls.

The climbing harness was one of the older styles—V-shaped front and back, with wide, comfortable shoulder straps that narrowed down to the waist belt they were attached to. The leg loops hung from this, and at the front was a thick double D-ring designed to lock the rope into place if there was a fall. There were also a couple of extra loops on the side of the belt to attach other gear.

I climbed into it, adjusted the legs a little, then grabbed the packs and climbed back up to Kaia’s neck. Once seated, I attached myself to one D-ring and two of the packs to the others. The third—the one containing supplies for me and the additional webbing and bone straps—I squashed between my body and her spine before clipping it onto my harness. One of the few problems of bareback riding was an unexpected stop sending you crashing forward and, well, let’s just say that hitting the withers with any sort of force was a painful experience for a man or a woman. That was just as likely to be true with a drakkon’s spine.

I took a deep breath and released it slowly. It did nothing to ease the sudden spike in my heart rate. I was looking forward to this... had been dreaming of a moment like this all my life, even if I’d never thought it would happen. But now it was and, well, the reality was damn scary.

I not let fall, came Kaia’s thought. We go?

Let’s.

Excitement pulsed through her thoughts. Excitement, and a deep desire to rend and tear. She wanted revenge. Needed revenge. It was the only reason she was doing any of this.

She moved with surprising grace and speed toward the exit tunnel, her body rolling from side to side. I gripped her spine and flowed with the movement, even though it was very different to that of a courser. The skies were dark, the clouds heavy and barely lit by the rising light of dawn, and the air that whipped around us was sharp with the scent of an oncoming storm, making me glad I’d decided to wear my thick waterproof leathers as well as a couple of layers of silk undergarments.

We reached the landing ledge. Kaia paused and raised her head, her nostrils flaring as she drew in the wind. Where we go?

I imagined the map in my mind, plotting out a course that would have us heading south, following the mountain range rather than cutting more directly across the ocean from Esan. It was far longer, but likely to be safer if we were at all wrong about the riders’ ability to fly during the day.

Easy , she said.

I hoped she was right.

Hoped my theory that coming in from an unexpected direction would counter the possibility of whatever sentinels the gilded ones had out spotting us.

Kaia rose on her haunches. I gripped the rope, holding on tight with my thighs as she spread her wings wide and bellowed. It was long and loud, and echoed across the still peaks—the battle cry of a drakkon going to war. Then, without warning, she launched off the ledge.

Not up. Down.

Straight down the mountainside.

I clenched my teeth against the scream that tore up my throat as I was thrown back sharply by the sheer force of the wind, and tightened my grip on the front spine, using the pits on its weathered surface to wedge my fingers into and hold on. My heart felt like it was lodged in my throat, the wind tore at my cheeks and my plait, and the foothills loomed way too fast for comfort. The desire to close my eyes and pray was almost all consuming, but the need not to miss any little moment of this once-in-a-lifetime event was stronger still.

Just as it seemed we were about to crash, Kaia flicked her outstretched wings and soared upward with enough force to tear my fingers from her spine pits. The harness rope snapped tight, preventing me from sliding between her wings.

You still on. Harness work came Kaia’s thought.

And if it hadn’t? I asked wryly.

You dead or in claws .

I couldn’t help but laugh. I guess diving headfirst off a cliff had certainly been one way to test the harness. Perhaps next time you could warn me.

Next time you expect.

I would. She continued to rise, and the mountains fell away, leaving us flying through the chilly, open space between the peaks and the thickly layered clouds. Though the sweep of her wings was slow and steady, we moved with surprising speed. The air was a whip that tore at clothes, hair, and skin, and the creeping chill across my cheeks forced me to pull up the neck of an undershirt to cover them, then tug down the coat’s hood in an effort to avoid frostbite. I could use my inner flame, of course, but I was wary of doing so simply because we had no idea what might lie in wait for us on Jakarra.

The sun rose, but the day got gloomier. By the time we neared the end of our continent, it had started to rain. I kept my head down and finally raised the inner fires enough to battle the chill beginning to creep through me. Far below us, the sea was a sheer expanse of blue that just seemed to go on forever. I’d seen enough maps—and been on enough boats—to understand how vast our oceans were, but somehow they seemed even more expansive when viewed from on high.

As the day stretched on and the strength of the wind increased, Kaia dipped and soared, playing on the currents while allowing me to become more comfortable with her movements. My grin might be hidden by my undergarments, but it was so damn fierce my cheeks were aching with its force.

By the time the sun dipped toward the haze of late afternoon, the distant shadows of ragged peaks became visible through the silvery curtain of rain.

Jakarra.

Black, forbidding, and possibly forever broken.

I shivered and shoved the thought away. While there was life, there was hope, and I refused to accept the possibility that the gilded riders had erased Jakarra as thoroughly as they had Eastmead. The Jakarrans might be fishermen at heart, but they were also fiercely skilled bowmen. If anyone could survive the onslaught of the gilded ones, it would be my mother’s people.

Let’s check the old aerie first , I said, and make sure it’s safe for you to shelter in.

No want shelter. Attack.

We can’t attack until we know what we’re facing.

Should fly over. See.

I hesitated. Only if you keep high.

You no see.

You can tell me what you see. But let’s check the aerie first.

She grumbled softly but nevertheless dipped her wings and did a slow curving turn toward the southern end of the U-shaped range dominating the western end of the island. These mountains might be a smaller echo of the Black Glass Mountain range, but they were just as fierce and bleak, especially in the driving rain.

Kaia swooped over a peak, then banked and flew along the ragged, shadow-filled, barren-looking leeward side. As we neared the junction of what was the range’s trunk and arm, a gaping maw became visible through the gloom. The old aerie. This one had no landing stone jutting out from the entrance, though ragged shafts of stone suggested it had once been there.

We should go in and check it’s safe, I said.

If find foe, you flame? I eat?

I thought humans were too gristly?

Are. She banked and swooped toward the entrance. Birds look fat and crunchy.

That will be the metal wings.

Belly not covered. Looks tender.

Are you hungry or something? Food seems to be on your mind.

Am good. Have hunted.

But like Gria, you’ll never say no to a meal.

She rumbled in response. I suspected it was amusement. As the huge mouth of the cavern drew closer, Kaia tucked her wings close to her body and swooped on. The wind and the rain dropped away as the darkness fell around us. She shifted her flight position, moving her rear legs forward, and gently landed. I wiped the rain from my face then raised a hand and created a small ball of flame, sending it tumbling into the darkness ahead. Between us and the entrance into the main breeding ground lay a surprising amount of rubble, and none of it appeared to have come from the walls.

I scanned the roofline and spotted jagged teeth of rock—rock that looked more like the floor’s redder earth than the black of the walls. I frowned and, as my ball spun into the main cavern, flicked my fingers wider to increase its intensity.

The light played across the black stone walls and highlighted the layers of bleached, broken, and heavily chewed bones scattered all about.

These weren’t ordinary bones, however.

They were the remains of all those who had once called this place home.

Drakkons.

This place death, Kaia said.

It was, and not just because of the bones. There was only one way in and out of this cavern, and that was probably the reason so many drakkons had been killed here. Drakkons had teeth and claws, but neither were any good against a foe capable of commanding earth and quickly cutting off the only exit.

No like , she added.

I didn’t either. I might not have seeress abilities, but there were ghosts in this place, and they whispered of pain, confusion, and the agony of a slow, starving death.

Tears stung my eyes, but I blinked them away. There was nothing I could do about the past, but I sure as hell could change the future to ensure nothing like this ever happened again.

I drew in a deeper breath, then said, You can’t stay here. It’s too dangerous. You’ll have to find a roost on the windward side of the mountain. At least there you’ll be able to see anyone approach and have time to escape.

Another rumble. Escape wasn’t exactly in her plans. Not if she thought she had any chance of bringing one of the bastards down.

We go?

Yes.

She turned and lumbered back to the entrance. At its edge, she hunkered down and then launched skyward, her wings pumping hard as she fought to gain height against the wind and the rain. The various landmarks far below us were all but indistinguishable, though I heard the roar of the Crystal River Falls—even above the fury of the storm—as we swept through the middle of the island. The only landmark that was truly visible was the brooding darkness of the blackwood forests that clung to the sides of the steep ravine sweeping from the toes of the Helvede Range to the first of the crevices that half ringed Illistin.

I couldn’t see Illistin itself.

Couldn’t see the port beyond it.

I closed my eyes, hoping it was nothing more than the rain and the fog, but deep in my heart I knew the truth. Illistin had been destroyed just as thoroughly as Eastmead had.

But why?

What in Vahree’s name did such destruction gain them?

Even the Mareritt didn’t go to such extremes, and they were a warrior race with an unshakeable belief in their own superiority.

Can you see anything, Kaia?

Death . She paused. Gilded ones here.

What? Where?

Deepen link. See.

I closed my eyes and reached deeper, strengthening the connection between us without going as deep or as full as I had before. When I opened my eyes, my vision was a weird mix of hers and mine. It was a somewhat nauseating sensation, so I quickly closed them again and just concentrated on what she was seeing. On the ground far below, there were two lines of metal tents—twelve in all—sitting atop the ridge just outside the main town. They were widely spaced, and each one had a gilded bird tethered outside of it. They were all hooded, and there didn’t appear to be any sort of sentries standing about. Perhaps they didn’t need them. Perhaps the senses of the birds were sharp enough to alert their riders of any approach.

That thought had barely crossed my mind when one of the birds looked up and squawked.

Rise , I urged Kaia.

With a quick flick of her wings, she did so, and the ground receded, the bird becoming little more than a golden glimmer in the gloom of the day. It was unlikely the riders would be able to see us, but we had no idea if the bird who’d spotted us was one of those with a band, and whether or not it allowed the bird to communicate with its rider in the same manner as Kaia and I were.

The glimmers remained on the ground. I hoped that meant we were right, and they couldn’ t fly during the day.

I broke our deeper connection, and we swung around, flying back toward the larger arm of the Helvede Range. There was no evidence the gilded riders had set up camp in the forests hugging the feet of the range, and no winged sentries further up. Which didn’t mean they weren’t there. If they were capable of magic strong enough to destroy a port, then they were certainly capable of creating earth shelters that looked no different to the mountainside around them.

We followed the long arm, rising higher as the mountainside did, discovering peaks still littered with snow. No wonder it was utterly freezing. I ramped up the inner fires a bit more and made a mental note to include gloves next time— if there was a next time. We soared over the final ragged mountaintop and then swept down the other side. My grin appeared again, even if the speed at which we were dropping was scary. I directed her to the ledge Mom had pointed out, and while the wind had certainly swept away most of the snow, thick drifts survived in the shadows.

Kaia banked, landing with surprising grace. I unclipped from the spine rope, grabbed the three packs, and then slithered down her thoughtfully extended leg.

Where entrance? she said.

I waved a hand toward the peak. “About an hour up that way.”

You no reach by dark.

“No. And probably won’t return until after sunrise tomorrow.”

I hunt over water, then roost night.

I raised my eyebrows. “You eat fish?”

What fish?

I sent her an image.

Water beasts sweet but not big.

Then you’re not hunting the right ones. Long fins can be as big as a male drakkon.

I look. She lowered her head for a ridge scratch and rumbled happily when I complied. I go. Call when need.

I stepped back, out of the way. She hunkered down, then launched into the air, her wings pumping, sending whirlwinds of air scurrying around me. Once she was gone, I squatted against a rock to shield from the actual wind, then tugged the scribe pen from my pack and sent my parents a report.

Half cleared partial access from port came the response. Will send clippers tomorrow to west side of island.

Clippers were the only ships we had capable of getting here within the limit of daylight. No evidence of sentries on this side , I sent back. Seas clear of foreign ships between here and Eastmead.

Good. Stay wary. Report when able.

Will do. Out.

I tucked the scribe pen and tablet away, took a long drink of water and a quick pee, then tugged out a slab of journey bread, munching on it as I scanned the area. It struck me as odd that there were no seabirds here. This part of the island was as harsh and as barren as the Black Glass Mountains, but birdlife thrived across its jagged sea cliffs. There was no reason that shouldn’t be happening here.

Unless, of course, the gilded birds had frightened them all away.

By the time I’d finished the bread, the faint blush of dusk was staining the undersides of the clouds. I needed to hurry before night hit and using any sort of light became impossible thanks to the risk of it attracting the attention of the riders. I brushed the crumbs from my fingers, then shoved my arms through the smaller pack’s arm loops and strapped it on my front. If nothing else, it would provide a little extra coverage if I slipped and fell on my face. Once I’d clipped the other two packs onto the harness—one each side—I threw a fire sphere into the air.

With its warm light chasing away the worst of the evening gloom already descending on the mountaintop, I began the long, tedious climb upward. The rain had made an already treacherous path more so, and I slipped, landing heavily on my knees, more than once. I was well used to “clambering all over mountainsides,” as Mom had put it, but this was a whole new level of dangerousness.

Doing so in utter darkness for the last third only increased the danger and the terror.

By the time I reached the southern entrance into the deeper caverns, I was dripping with sweat and more than a little achy. I was also as tired as hell, but some of that was definitely my own fault. I should have slept last night rather than playing around with my husband.

I did not, in any way, regret playing around with my husband.

I rested my head against one side of the key-like entrance and briefly closed my eyes, half wondering what he was doing. Probably preparing for our eventual trip home, though a few of the things he’d said last night had me thinking he was no more looking forward to it than me. I couldn’t help but wonder if that was due to his acerbic relationship with his father or something else.

There was just so much I didn’t know about the man and his family.

So much I didn’t know about general, day-to-day life in Zephrine. All I knew was that, for me, it would be very different. I wouldn’t be a soldier. I would be the wife of the heir.

What in the wind’s name was I going to do with my days?

I shoved the worry away and dragged the water bottle from the pack, taking a long drink. There wasn’t much left, so I had to conserve it in case it took me longer than expected to reach the main arms into the refuge caverns. After I grabbed another slab of journey bread, I tugged a light tube free and then continued on.

Though these tunnels were far easier to traverse than those above Esan, I was very glad to have Mom’s map to guide me, because the place was a maze. By the time I reached the closest of the three tunnels that led directly into the refuge tunnel, I was shaking with weariness. I stopped short of the entrance and raised the light tube, letting its light caress the stony walls ahead. I couldn’t see any guards, but instinct nevertheless said they were there.

“Jakarran sentry, this is Captain Bryn Silva from the Esan fortress. I’m here to gain information in regard to the island’s position and needs. I need to speak to whomever is in charge as a matter of urgency.”

There was a long moment of silence, then, “Drop your weapons and packs, and raise your hands.”

The voice was male and curt.

“We’re wasting time, soldier?—”

“Do it, or I’ll shoot first and ask questions later.”

I made a low sound in the back of my throat but in truth couldn’t fault the soldier’s caution. I stripped off my packs, sword, and bow, placing them and the light tube on the ground in front of me before stepping back and raising my hands.

After another long stretch of silence, a figure stepped out from what was obviously a sentry post cut into the side wall of the tunnel. I suspected there might be another on the right side.

His sword remained at his side, but his bow was nocked, the arrow aimed straight at my heart.

“Ursek,” the soldier continued. “Grab her things.”

So, I’d been right. There was someone else here. As another man stepped out of the shadows on the left, there was a brief flash of movement on the right. There were at least three people here, and I rather suspected there would be more. It did make more sense to have at least four, if not six, people on duty at each of the tunnels, given the obvious strength of the foe. I wouldn’t even be surprised if there was an earth witch here somewhere—if any had survived the slaughter, that is.

“Tell me, soldier, is Garran Silva still alive?” I asked.

Neither of them replied. The shorter of the two men moved forward to collect my things, hesitating briefly when he saw the bow. “Blackwood bow,” he said. “Jakarran crafted.”

“Could have gotten it from the spoils,” the other man growled.

“It was a gift from my mother, who was a bow master here. As I said, I’m Captain Bryn Silva. Garran is my cousin and my father’s heir. I need to speak to him or whoever is in charge, so could you two please hurry yourselves up. Time is ticking.”

The shorter man cast an uncertain look at his companion, who simply shrugged and said, “We have orders. We will obey them. Now move, Captain, down that way.”

He stepped back and motioned with his head toward the tunnel. I waited until the shorter man had gathered my things and then followed several steps behind him. There were, I noted with a quick look to the right, at least two other people here. Which was good—at least this sentry point would not be left unmanned while these two escorted me down.

The taller man remained a few yards behind me, and while I couldn’t see it, I had no doubt the arrow remained nocked and aimed. I could almost feel the itch of its tip pressing against my spine.

We continued on for another ten minutes, then the air began to warm, and the gentle wash of conversation and living grew louder. We reached a plateau guarded by another two men but were quickly cleared and walked on to a wide platform. A large cavern stretched out before us, high and wide and teeming with people. Illistin might have been destroyed, but a good percentage of her inhabitants appeared to have survived.

Now I just had to find out if Garran and his family had.

The cavern had two distinct sections. The floor below was a city of tents and temporary structures that appeared to be bunkhouses, while the wide platform on which we stood ringed the midpoint of the cavern and had multiple hollowed out caves that appeared to be designated medical, military, and organizational areas.

We walked around to the left, moving quickly past the various caves, curiosity and gazes chasing our steps. I ignored them as best I could, my gaze on the large cavern we were approaching. It was obviously the makeshift war room, as there were a ton of maps strewn across multiple tables, as well as troop placement and topography boards. There were a good dozen people gathered around one of the latter, but I didn’t immediately recognize any of them. I hoped that meant Garran was either resting or at the back of the cave, but I had a bad, bad feeling it did not.

Once we were close enough to the entrance, I was ordered to stop and wait. The first guard went inside while the second continued to watch me closely, though he had at least lowered his bow. I crossed my arms and scanned the area below again. There were kids running around an obviously hastily set up play area, their bright laughter piercing the gloom that curtained the rest of the cave. Most of the folk down there were either side of the spectrum—younger or older. There didn’t seem to be many down there of fighting age. Which probably meant they’d been drafted in as soldiers or as support personnel.

They could also be dead, I supposed, but surely not even the winged riders could—or even would—waste time being that precise with their kills.

“What?” a sharp voice said from the depths of the cave ahead, drawing my attention back. “Show me.”

I didn’t immediately recognize the voice, but the man who followed my guard out of the shadowed interior of the cave was tall, with short, steel-gray hair, reddish skin, and blue eyes.

He also wasn't a stranger, though I hadn’t seen him much over the course of the last five years other than at a few official engagements.

This was Katter Reed—Garran’s uncle—and if he was in control, then Garran, his family, and his parents were either safe on another island or dead.

“Administrator Reed?—”

“There’s no need for formality here, Bryn,” he cut in, his gaze sweeping my length then moving past, obviously looking for the rest of my detachment. Surprise, disappointment, and perhaps even a touch of anger swept through his expression before he got it under control. “You came alone?”

“I did?—”

“Then how in Vahree’s name did you get here? And why alone?”

“I came on drakkon back and?—”

“You what ?” His voice and expression were both incredulous.

Behind him, a soft wave of disbelief filled the air then fell silent again.

I couldn’t say I blamed any of them. I still found it hard to believe myself, and I’d been astride her back. “Long story, but we’ve gained the help of a queen because our foes killed one of her drakklings.”

“But how—” He stopped, obviously remembering what I was, and shook his head. “Strange times indeed. Tell me, why send you rather than ships or aid? What’s happened?”

“Cutters were sent the night we received the first reports of the attack. It was thought their speed and maneuverability would allow them to escape the notice of the winged riders; we were wrong. The harbor was then attacked and blocked by their magic.”

Katter scraped a hand across his worn, bristly features. “This just gets better and better, doesn’t it?”

“Well, there is some good news—I scribed Esan before I came into the tunnel system here and got an update. The earth witches have managed to partially clear the harbor, but the remaining ships can’t be sent out until first light. It appears—at least to date—that their birds are unable to fly during the day.” I paused, my gaze once again searching the shadows and the unfamiliar faces. “Where’s Garran?”

Grief briefly twisted his expression, and my heart clenched.

“Missing, presumed dead, along with all those who defended the town while the rest of us evacuated.”

“And his family? His parents?” I whispered, blinking desperately against the tears that stung my eyes. While it was rare these days for Garran and me to meet outside official engagements or family get-togethers, as kids and teenagers we spent long months together; he in Esan over summer learning the trade of kingship, and me the winter here, learning bow craft from Mom’s teachers and the art of hunting and tracking from Elric, Garran’s dad, who hailed from one of the smaller islands.

“Elric was with his son, and we are unsure as to Glenda’s whereabouts, but we are still in the process of registering everyone who made it up here.”

For Mom’s sake, I really hoped her sister was here somewhere rather than missing or dead. She’d always been closer to Glenda than her other siblings. “And Hanna?”

He smiled. “Here with their son.”

“Their son ?”

“She went into labor on the way up here, but the boy was delivered safely, and she’s okay.” He glanced at my shorter guard. “Ursek, please return the captain’s packs and weapons to her, then you and Oscar head back to your post.”

The short man did so, then stepped back and saluted. As the two men left, I handed the two larger packs to Katter. “Medical supplies—nowhere near enough, I know, but all I could carry.”

“And certainly better than nothing.” He glanced around and motioned to one of the men. “Get these across to medical. Captain, follow me.”

He spun and walked back into the cave, stopping at a table holding the topography map. “We sent scouts out this morning to get some idea where the enemy lines are, but as yet they have not returned. I don’t suppose you saw anything from your drakkon’s back?”

Another buzz of soft incredulousness went through the room, but quickly fell away.

“Their force is gathered here.” I pointed to the area above Illistin. “We saw twelve gilded birds and riders positioned there, but given the destruction of the port and the town, there has to be at least a number of blood witches amongst their number.”

“Why do you believe they are capable of blood magic?” the stony-faced gentleman standing opposite me said. “We saw no evidence of it.”

“Nor did our earth witches until it was entirely too late, and there’s only the one stationed in Jakarra, isn’t there?”

“Aye,” a second, much younger man said. He had brown hair and eyes, and a rather “earthy” air that said he was the witch in question. “But there was no blood magic used here to raise the earth or destroy the pier and the boats. It wasn’t necessary, not for the latter at least. They simply sank the lot with what appeared to be acidic manure bombs.”

“Yeah, we’ve come across those things. Our earth witches are working on a means of strengthening stone and wood against it.” I glanced at Katter again. “Why haven’t you scribed for help? I know the pens don’t work this deep underground, but surely you could have sent a team?—”

“We’ve no pens,” he cut in grimly. “This cavern was designed as a temporary refuge against tropical storms and tsunamis. We have enough essentials—food, water, and medical supplies—to last us a few weeks if necessary, but we never imagined we’d come under physical attack, and never thought to include weapons or scribes in the stores.”

I was guessing they would from now on, when it was all too late. Hindsight was a wonderful thing.

“Then I’ll leave mine once I make my final report.” I glanced down at the map again. “What little remains of Illistin burns. I saw no movement in the town nor any sign of bodies. The paths up here appeared empty, but that does not mean?—”

I stopped as a siren rang out—two short blasts then one long one.

My pulse rate stuttered briefly, then leapt into overdrive.

The cavern was under attack.