Page 8 of Crown of Betrayal and Blood (Dragons of Tirene #3)

Chapter Eight

The ride across the river is eerily silent. Agnar and Blair have their hands on their sword hilts, as if waiting for an attack. Leesa fingers the bowstring over her shoulder, but she doesn’t draw it.

In the surrounding waters, shadows slink and shift, resembling large fish. Except no fish I’ve ever seen is shaped like that. They swell and shrink, moving side to side as if swimming.

For a moment, I can’t help but worry that the drachen lurk below us. That the terrifying creatures are able to breathe underwater and have somehow led us on this mad quest.

In that case, weapons won’t help.

My fingers itch to let loose a fire corona—a solid loop of fire—over our heads. Though that might draw unnecessary attention.

But the figures never rise from the churning water. The silent threat never materializes into a strike. Somewhere downstream, a colossal splash echoes. The ripples brush against the hull of our boat, but nothing other than the water itself and empty riverbanks are visible.

Considering we now know the magic in the area can alter what we can see, that’s not very reassuring.

And yet, despite every single aspect of this trip being bizarre, threatening, and confusing, I’m not afraid. Confused and wary, yes. But that’s all. Somehow, though I can’t explain why, I know we’ll be all right.

That, or I’ve just gone batshit crazy.

I swallow down my urge to giggle. The last thing I need is to come across as hysterical. Around me, my companions stand, watching every angle as our propulsion-free boat gets closer to the far bank.

The vessel meets the ground as smoothly as it left the dock.

Relief sweeps through me as my boots finally sink into the soft mud. But that relief is short-lived, chased away by a fresh surge of anxiety. The fog’s thinning except in the closest areas where thick mist snakes between the trees, rendering all but the path directly ahead of us invisible.

When I step forward, the mist splits.

A gigantic iron gate looms before us. Its size is otherworldly and its purpose inscrutable as both doors hang open, the tops hidden in mist. It’s a shame Kaida wasn’t able to cross over with us. He would easily be able to pass through the gates, even with us fanned out on either side.

No moss covers this piece of architecture. No rust stains the enormous hinges that stand nearly as tall as I do. Statues of large obsidian cats flank the gate, their predatory forms poised and regal. Spotting the same sculptures on this side of the river relaxes my muscles.

Which makes no sense. It’s not like statues can save me.

Blair and Bastian move up to join me. In the fading sunlight, Bastian inspects the gleaming metal of the hinges. Agnar and Leesa are still lingering near the boat, eyeing everything with suspicion. Now I’m even more disturbed by my lack of disturbance.

Nothing here makes any sense, yet I’m walking through it as if…

I’m walking with the confidence I would have in a dream. As if nothing here can hurt me. Which is going to get me killed if I keep this up. Wake up and focus, Lark.

We pass through the gate, the air almost vibrating with ancient magic. The living mist crawls along the ground. Gray tendrils coil around my ankles as if to trip me, and I shiver.

Before us, the ruins of a once-great city splay out like the bones of a fallen giant. Towers lean precariously and walls crumble as nature reclaims what humans have abandoned. If humans ever lived here. The buildings, at least, are the right size. Some could be shops. Others even have signs hanging on metal bars above closed and rotted doors.

Weeds have taken over what might once have been a cobbled town square, or a market if this town is as large as I think. I’m not familiar with large cities and don’t really understand the layout of this one.

Considering how close we are to the gates, I expected guard towers, or at least some sort of structure where the guards of the city could take shelter. But there’s nothing between the walls of the city and the first rows of buildings except an expanse of grass wide enough for Ryu, the largest Tirenese dragon, to fit comfortably.

Maybe they let livestock graze here? Or there was something here before that was made of wood, which crumbled and disappeared while the walls and buildings still stand.

Even more confusing, a once magnificent castle sprouts from the center of this place, standing defiant against the relentless march of decay. Its spires pierce the sky, broken yet proud.

Despite their decayed state, they reach higher than even the ones at the palace in Yorla.

“Can you believe this was once alive with people?” My voice is just above a whisper, the ancient majesty of this place seeming to demand silence.

Out of instinct, we traverse the area quietly, sticking close together. None of us are sure what to make of this. Leesa’s acting like she’s about to bolt at any moment. Where did my courageous sister go? Does the drachen’s fear still linger in her mind?

“Hard to imagine anyone ever called this home. If this mist is natural, I’m sure they wouldn’t.” Blair makes a swatting motion with his hand, sending a magical gust of wind through the fog. “It’s thick enough that you could get lost just trying to cross the road.”

I gulp as the puff of air hits the unmoving mist.

Agnar’s eyes widen, and he backs away. “Now that we’ve taken the boat across, let’s see if it’s possible to survey the city from the air. The sun is setting fast, so let’s be quick. Bastian, stay with Leesa. Lark, Blair, you’re with me.” He spreads his wings and jumps before landing in a heap, his wings crumpled.

Too curious to learn about this Lost City than pay attention to what’s happening with Agnar, I leap into the air, beating my wings and pushing the earth away.

When gravity refuses to relinquish control, I promptly stumble and cup my wings and attempt to propel myself backward.

Nothing happens.

Apprehension knits Blair’s eyebrows together. “What the hells?”

Agnar beats his wings without success, grunting from the effort. “Something is stopping us from gaining altitude.”

“How is that possible?” Bastian makes his own attempt to fly while Leesa gapes at us all, confusion and fear twisting her features. “This shouldn’t be possible.” He plucks a stone from the ground and throws it into the air. It rises and falls just as I would expect. “So nothing is heavier than it should be. But we can’t fly?”

Agnar rises, wincing as he shakes out his wings. “I thought we’d surely be able to fly once inside the city, but apparently not.”

“Guess not.” Rotating my shoulders, I tuck my wings away. For a moment, I’m terrified I will never use them again. Yet when I call them forth, they appear just the way they should. “It’s most likely the same magic that kept us from seeing the city when we flew overhead. Whoever built this place clearly wanted to protect it from anything that could fly.”

“So we can’t call for help or fly away.” Agnar glares at the sky as if it’s betrayed him. “How are we supposed to retreat quickly if we can’t use our wings?”

“I spent the majority of my life without flight, and Leesa has never had that option. We survived just fine.” I hold up my hand and call on my magic. Fire ignites in my palm. “We may not be able to fly, but we still have magic. We’re armed. And I can sense Kaida. He’s still waiting.”

“We’re already here.” Blair sighs, twitching his wings to test the air. “And Lark’s right. We don’t need to fly to finish our mission. But I would feel a lot better if we waited until daylight to start exploring the place.” He points to the darkening sky.

“Agreed.” Bastian drops his pack from his shoulders. “It’s been a long, grueling day. We need food and rest.”

“All right. We’ll stay. But not in one of the buildings.” Agnar brushes dirt off his wings, then spirits them away. “They’re too old. They could collapse at any moment. I say we make camp here, where we can keep an eye on the gates and have plenty of visibility.” He gestures to the wide open area between the walls and the buildings on either side of us.

The ground forms a short barrier around us.

Now that I think about it, it looks more like a dry moat than anything else. Or maybe a channel to protect against flooding from the river.

“Right here is as good as anywhere else.” Blair’s gaze sweeps over the silent city. “Bastian, why don’t you and Leesa collect some wood for a fire? The rest of us will set up camp.”

“We don’t need wood.” Again, I call fire to my hands, glad to be of service. “I can heat water pretty fast.”

“Look at my sister, being useful for once.” Leesa grins as she unties and spreads out her bedroll. “That means you’re in charge of cooking.”

“I said I could heat water.” I wiggle my fire at her as the sun finishes settling below the line of trees. “I never said I could cook.”

Working together, we’re able to prepare a passable meal from dried noodles and slivers cut from our dehydrated meat strips. Though the closest I’ve ever come to cooking is brewing tea, this meal is simple. I keep the heat while the others add noodles and meat and stir the concoction.

A little later, with a belly full of warm food and a cup of tea in my hands, I start to doze off. Blair was right when he pointed out that I had never flown long distances with a heavy pack. My muscles are sore, and I’m exhausted.

But as soon as sleep starts to pull at me, I jerk awake. “Does anyone hear anything?”

Leesa swivels her head back and forth. “I don’t hear anything. Do you?”

“No. That’s the problem.” I scan the empty streets and sky above us. “It’s too quiet. There’s not a single frog croaking or insect buzzing. Even birds don’t fly over us.”

Is the eerie silence due to whatever magic keeps us on the ground? Or could there be a more ominous cause…like the drachen? A similar phenomenon occurred with the pikas, moments before they were attacked.

Leesa pulls her bedroll up and wraps it around herself like a cloak. “That’s creepier than anything else that’s happened since we landed.”

“You’ve never had wings that won’t allow you to fly.” Agnar gestures at his useless wings.

“True.” Leesa’s gaze darts from one dark space beyond our camp to the next. No doubt she’s feeling vulnerable without access to eyril, since Aclarian magic is weak without the tincture. “Since I won’t be sleeping any time soon, I’ll take first watch.”

I sit up, setting the cup of tea aside. “You sure?”

She waves me off. “Of course. Get some sleep. Out of all of us, I’ve done the least work today. You all had to fly here, and I got to ride on Kaida. Though, to be fair, my thighs are on fire.”

Not needing to be told twice, but still feeling a little guilty, I put my wings away and tuck myself into my own bedroll. The ground beneath me is as unyielding as the silence that envelops our camp.

Using my pack as a pillow, I lie down and close my eyes. I blink a few times.

Bastian is also curling up in his bedroll.

Agnar and Blair are talking with their heads close together.

Leesa seems to be staring at the shadows as if waiting for them to speak or attack.

She’s on edge.

Regret tugs at me, but I’m so tired I close my eyes again. In rest, time loses meaning until a sound slices through the stillness to jolt me awake.

Groggy, I prop myself on my elbows, squinting at the sky as dawn’s gray light eases the worst of the darkness.

Why did no one wake me for a turn at watch?

Twisting my head, I search for whoever is up, ready to let them know I’ll take over for the rest of the night.

Leesa’s silhouette hovers over one of our companions, her hands cupped around an object that she lifts to her mouth. She lowers it and shakes her head like she’s disagreeing with someone. I strain to listen.

No one else is talking.

Is she just now going to bed? How did she stay up all night? And why? Who is she standing over?

“Leesa?”

She doesn’t respond. Before I can rise, the air vibrates with a low, menacing growl. Heart hammering, I scramble to my feet, instinctively reaching for the short sword at my hip.

We’re not alone.

Massive shapes emerge from the shadows, their fur as dark as the void between stars. Black cave cats, their bodies longer than I am tall, their eyes glinting like polished emeralds, encircle us with silent, lethal grace.

My throat tightens.

Ziva’s flames, this is bad.