Page 40 of Court of Secrets and Flames (Dragons of Tirene #2)

Chapter Forty

Soldiers clad in leather armor with formfitting scale mail chest pieces and steel helmets swarm into the king’s chamber like a rogue wave.

They aren’t covered in blood, nor as confused or terrified as the others. They’ve drawn their swords, but those aren’t bloodied either. The man in front wastes no time rushing to Sterling, asking for orders. That voice…belongs to Agnar. I don’t know the others. With their full armor on and helmets snugged tight, it’s impossible to recognize them.

Regardless, they are scattered forces desperate for a leader.

And not paying a bit of attention to me.

Both Sterling and Jasper start barking out instructions, and I stare out the open door. Somewhere out there, amid the screams that continue at a quickening pace, are my mother and sister. Leesa told me she’s in the northwest wing. The king’s chambers are in the east wing.

Just thinking of how far I’d have to travel to reach them has my nerves on edge. My breath speeds up.

“Let’s go.” The king’s sudden command spins me around. “Knox, I’m entrusting Lark to you. Keep her safe.”

It isn’t me he wants to protect. Not truly. It’s my blood and my dragoncaller abilities.

Sterling lifts his chin in a grim nod, then moves to the front of the line. “You have your orders. Move!”

Two guards flank me, but thankfully, they don’t grab me and half drag me like they did upon my arrival in Tirene.

Ahead, Sterling pauses at the door, checking both ways before signaling for the rest of us to follow him outside.

As we leave the chamber, I automatically check for my weapons. My bow and quiver are strapped across my back, my short sword sheathed at my side.

Heads on a swivel, we travel down the halls in groups of six or eight.

Sterling and I are together, along with five soldiers. Jasper and Agnar helm another group of a half dozen or so men, and Bastian and leads the rest. Echoes of far-off shrieks of pain and calls for help bounce around us, climbing in number and intensity.

Inside me, fear raises its head like a viper, but I shove it back down. There’s no time for that.

We head for the first doorway into the courtyard, brightly illuminated by the lanterns on either side of the opening. As usual, the reinforced doors hang open. The cool night air wafts into the palace to chase away the heat of the day.

Sterling pauses, checking for attackers before letting us proceed.

Rounding the corner reveals the palace courtyard. Gloom stretches the twenty paces between lit garden torches, with only the wan moonlight to reveal bodies sprawled out on the lawns.

Servants, nobles, soldiers, and even pajama clad children lie face down in the grass.

The sight grips my heart in a cruel vice and causes my muscles to liquify with dread.

Every face is hidden in the thick carpet of greenery, as if they died, then fell.

Do I know any of them? Where is all the blood?

Uniforms, clothes, nightgowns, and caps are splattered with crimson. But there’s no sign of it on the manicured lawns leading to the gardens.

Sterling’s group lurches forward, and I stay close as they inspect bodies, shake their heads. and move on.

My stomach churns as I again think about my mother and sister. Are they out here among the chaos?

Reeling around, I spot Jasper. The soldiers in his group have their swords drawn and have formed a protective ring around him.

My group moves onto the moonlit paths. We’re surrounded by shadows shaped by the decorative topiary.

Overhead, windows and doors fling open with snaps and cracks, spilling more light onto the impromptu mass grave.

Above the slaughter, nobles and commoners alike unfurl wings of sapphire and emerald on their balconies before ascending into the safety of the sky in an exodus reminiscent of the dragons’ flight.

What started with the dragons now plagues all of Tirene. If the dragons hadn’t fled, would this have happened to them? Is this what happened to the juvenile?

I tighten my grip on my sword. Focus. Stay vigilant. Stay alive.

The very air reeks of malice. Whatever hunts us, it is here. Now. A threat unlike any we’ve known before.

Nyc, goddess of night and darkness, come to our aid.

“By the gods.” The soldier beside me points at a maid’s body.

It’s sliding out of the palace on its own.

Her arms and legs trail behind her, bumping over the cobblestones. The corpse only stops its trek once it hits the shadowed grass.

My skin prickles with an unnatural chill. I whirl around, searching, every sense insisting that death waits there, but I find only empty air.

One of Sterling’s soldiers lunges, sword swinging through a shadow that oozes along the ground like spilled ink.

The soldier’s futile strike meets nothing but dirt. In a whiplike motion, a shadow snaps up and devours the front of his throat without letting go. As it retreats back into the ground, it drags the body along too.

Face first, the soldier lands in the grass, blood pouring from his neck.

He’s dead.

Horror takes root in my chest as the shadow slips along the ground, encircling the deceased soldier. As fast as it began flowing, the crimson river stops. The blood is just…not there.

Gone.

Bile rises in my throat as realization dawns. The blood hasn’t stopped flowing. It’s disappearing into the…darkness.

I turn to the maid. No pools of blood surround her body, but streaks of scarlet mar the pathway pavers.

Air freezes in my lungs.

“The drachen are drinking their blood.” I tighten my grip around my sword’s hilt, willing my heartbeat to steady. Breathe in. Breathe out. “Show yourself.”

A gust of abnormal wind answers, chilling my bones. Raw power surges through the air, and a thousand tiny hairs rise on the back of my neck. Sword high, I spin to face the unseen force.

The shadow bulges outward with an overwhelming strength that rips my sword from my grasp. I stumble backward onto the hard cobblestones. The soldiers around me step forward, ready to confront the enemy.

But the dark is empty once more.

“Lark!” Boots pound the ground, and I spin around as Sterling and his remaining three men rush toward me.

As he pulls me upright, our gazes lock, his brown eyes reflecting the raging horror surrounding us. Instinctively, I search for my dropped sword.

Another scream rings out, and this time, I’m certain I recognize the voice. “Leesa!”

Whipping back around, I see her, not twenty paces away. Her familiar face has gone rigid with fear, her once-sparkling eyes glassy. She steps out of the doorway, her shadow stretching away from her as she passes the sconce.

Except…no. It’s not her shadow. It’s one of the shadow creatures.

A drachen.

A line from the book materializes in my head.

You can’t fight shadows in the dark.

The thought is a sudden and inspiring ethereal voice in my head.

Help me, Nyc.

Forgetting the sword, I raise my hands and call on my magic.

All my pain, anger, and fear pour up my limbs. Within seconds, heat forms and erupts, blasting the air with with a sudden fiery blaze.

In the blink of an eye, the unseen becomes visible.

As trees, tapestries, and hedges ignite with flames, the shadow creature can no longer hide in the dark.

Not when exposed by the light.

The form is a ghastly mockery of dragonkind, with a grotesquely elongated neck that stretches above unfurling wings. The tainted essence drips with malice, adorned with tendrils that slither and dance in the air.

And it wants my sister.

As if mesmerized, she takes a shaking step forward, face pale and distorted with abject fear.

“Leesa!” She doesn’t respond—doesn’t even blink. Dread coils in my gut as I witness the darkness contort, pulsating like a snake swallowing its prey whole. “Leesa, look at me!”

Desperation claws at my chest, the scene before me one of nightmares made manifest. “Let her go!” Streaks of fire shoot from all angles at my command, piercing through the blackness.

The shadow emits a piercing shriek as the blaze engulfs it. Shrill and inhuman, the cry vibrates the very stones beneath our feet.

Then, silence.

The vanishing darkness releases its hold on Leesa.

She gasps, her body sagging before going limp.

Lunging forward, I catch her just before her head strikes the cobbled path. “Can you hear me?” I find no signs of blood or wounds. “Leesa!”

My head jolts up as Bastian drops to his knees beside us.

He checks her pulse, her breathing.

She stirs, eyes blinking as she comes to.

I cradle her head in my lap while Bastian caresses her cheek.

He presses a kiss to her brow. “What happened?”

“I was…cold. So cold. Afraid.” Her eyes remain unfocused, and her breath comes in short, panicked bursts. “That…thing…called to me. I…couldn’t leave. I thought it was…going to kill me.”

I glance at Sterling, but he’s not listening, focused instead on instructing two of the soldiers to kindle a large fire in the center of the courtyard.

“It’s all right.” I stroke Leesa’s hair. “You’re safe now. We won’t let anything happen to you.”

Bastian sandwiches Leesa’s hand between his. “Lark’s flame chased it away. If it comes back, if more attack, we need to be ready.”

Compressing my fear into a tiny ball, I shove it deep inside a mental box and lock the lid. The same way I did when the dragons’ fear almost overwhelmed me.

Then I wrap the entire box in a layer of rage and fire.

This monster tried to slaughter my sister.

Focusing on my fury, I push to my feet. In the brief time I sat with Leesa, Sterling has had a couple of the guards start a ring of fire around our group which seems to be working. For now.

Heading toward Sterling, I stop when I hear his and Jasper’s hushed conversation.

“I can tell you love her, brother, but I must marry her.” Jasper’s voice holds no malice or threat. “It’s more than just the betrothal. I have to legitimize my claim to the throne. Long ago, a Barda usurped the throne from the Aero bloodline amidst chaos wrought by the drachen.”

Anger flares within me, hotter than any fire I could conjure. What the hell is he saying? That the crown belongs to me? And I’ll marry him just to?—

A guard’s agonized cry slices through the turmoil, wrenching my attention from Jasper’s scheming.

“Drag him back!” My warning comes too late.

A drachen rips through the man’s throat before pulling him to the ground. Blood spills forth, swallowed by the same shadow that lured him away.

That almost happened to Leesa. If I hadn’t intervened…

I refuse to let the fear crawling up my spine take hold.

Stay. Focused.

Sterling pushes the king into the middle of the circle, farther into the protection of the flames. Squinting, I try to concentrate on the area outside our fiery shields. The shadows twist and writhe, spilling over each other in their attempt to reach us. The drachen is not a single entity, but a collage of shadows toppling over each other.

There are at least a dozen of them.

And they’re gathering around us, just outside the firelight.

The hairs on my arms stand up, and my lips pull back with a snarl. I seethe with anger, my breath so hot it dries my tongue.

Only one thing has ever made me feel this way.

These emotions are not entirely my own.

The dragons…they’re coming.

I peer up at the night sky, which is lit with the silhouettes of descending dragons. They open their jaws, flames rushing toward the drachen hiding in the shadows.

These magnificent beasts are the echo of my wrath…the source of my feelings about protecting my ancestral lands.

For now, there is no king, no throne, no politics. Only the fight for life itself.

And I will lead that fight.

But what lies ahead of me stops my heart from beating.

As the dying fires behind me cast long shadows over the chaos, the drachen close in.

Soldiers and guards scramble to keep the light alive around us, but it flickers weakly against the encroaching darkness, like an unseen force is snuffing it out.

More bodies litter the ground.

Among the fray, Bastian stands over a woozy Leesa, holding off a drachen with fiery blasts. Tendrils of oozing black shadows pulse and writhe. I edge closer, but a strangled choke stops me.

I spin around.

A soldier I don’t recognize stands frozen in fear, his sword quivering in his grasp.

I start to rush toward them when Agnar appears at my right. On the far side of the group, Sterling stands alone as the last soldier falls, his body rigid and his gaze fixed on the dragon-sized drachen hovering before him.

Dread unspools in my gut as he abandons the dwindling flames of protection and prowls closer to the darkness.

The others are too caught up in their own battles for survival to notice the prince facing off with certain doom.

“Sterling! No!”

My heart stutters.

Beside me, Agnar gestures to the nameless soldier. “Go to the prince! I’ll stay here.”

The dragons’ roars of challenge thunder across the heavens, a symphony of fury for their imperiled dragoncaller. This bond with all of them, fresh yet solid, becomes my lifeline as I reach out with my mind, imploring their aid.

But my love is too far away. Dragonfire would kill him slower than the drachen and in more pain.

A scream shatters the moment’s fragile hope.

Before I can react, Jasper sprints toward Sterling with his sword held high.

The king charges out of his ring of guards, slamming his shoulder into his brother and knocking Sterling aside. Jasper slashes through the darkness, his blade sinking into the drachen as if piercing water. His weapon swishes right through the phantomlike creature.

And is utterly ineffective.

Jasper doesn’t stand a chance.

In one swift, brutal motion, the creature strikes. Blood, deep and dark, spurts from Jasper’s throat, painting the ground with royal blood before he’s yanked down.

“Jasper!” Sterling falls to his knees beside his brother.

The king’s selfless act buys me enough time to get closer. I cannot miss from this distance, even while running.

Heat courses through my veins—a searing tide of anger and magic unfurling from the core of my being.

I clench my fists, and with a surge of will, I thrust a lance of fire at the drachen.

The creature vanishes like smoke in a gale.

One minute, there. The next, gone.

With my heart pumping and my boots pounding, I sprint toward Sterling.

Finally, I reach them.

Sterling holds the king, pressing a gentle hand to his brother’s lips. “Stop talking, Jas. You’ll be okay. We’ll get the healer and…”

“Marry…Lark.” Blood bubbles between the king’s lips and the wound in his throat as he uses his last words to give his brother one last order.

The king draws one final labored, gurgling breath. And then he’s gone.

Sterling’s grief-stricken wail pierces the turmoil and claws at my heart. He cradles Jasper’s limp form, his face twisted in agony.

The drachen can’t take another life. I won’t let them.

Not today.

“Dragons, hear me! Burn these shadow creatures from our home!” Along with my words, I channel my resolve into them, projecting my all-consuming desire to protect our home and loved ones.

Their roars boom through the air, a cacophony of fury and power.

Ryu, the largest male, meets my gaze, and an understanding passes between us.

“Everyone, get down, now!” I throw myself over Sterling as Bastian collapses over Leesa. The soldiers and remaining guards follow suit while the dragons draw breath. Agnar tries to cover me, but I push him aside.

I need room to work.

Above us, the dragons unleash their fury in a solid ring. Streams of white-hot flames pour from their maws like rivers of molten rage.

Heat, intense enough to singe the air, washes over me.

With a forceful, willful push, I extend my magic, shaping it into a shield around the fallen forms of my people.

Fire bends at my command, skirting around us. Sulfur and smoke fill the air as everything in the path of the fire succumbs to the blaze.

The drachen waver under the assault, tendrils of darkness evaporating against the bright, relentless heat. It seems impossible, but the creatures born of shadow and malice cannot withstand the dragons’ wrath.

As the last ember fades, I stand amidst the soot and ruin. A shiver slithers down my spine, an echo of the cold void left by the drachen’s presence.

For now…they are gone.

We have won this battle, yet at what price?

To Be Continued…