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CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

“I think you need some sleep.” Master shakes his head. “Tell them the truth? Didn’t we decide we wanted to avoid having you locked up for experiments?”

“Not the whole truth,” I explain. “Part of it. Or rather, we don’t tell them… we pretend we want it to happen.”

“He needs sleep,” Master says to Jaimin. “Is there something you can do for him?”

“Just listen to my idea,” I insist, even as Jaimin lifts a hand toward me. “We go back and have the ceremony, pretend everything is normal.” The word catches in my throat. There’s nothing normal about a pyre ceremony for Tia. I force myself to continue. “Then, when the riders start preparing to leave, Leicht tells them that he doesn’t want to go. That he needs to see this mission through. They can’t force him to go back.” Wait… “Can they?”

“No.”

“That doesn’t solve the problem of one of them wanting to stay,” Jaimin begins, and I lift a finger in a wait gesture.

“Then one of us will raise the issue of communication—before they can. They tell us Leicht says he wants to stay. We say okay, if he wants to, sure, a dragon could be useful, but oh, wait… without Tia, we won’t be able to talk to him.”

I pause for any interruptions, but they seem to be past that stage now and just wait for me to finish.

“That’s when the stone will join the conversation. It will imply that it can solve that issue, we’ll ask it to, and then I’ll announce I can hear Leicht in my head.”

My master and my… Jaimin exchange doubting looks.

“That still brings us back to you being a mage who bonded a dragon,” Jaimin says gently. “They won’t let that go so easily.”

I shake my head. “No, they don’t need to know about the bond. It’s just about communication. When Leicht has something to say, I’ll ‘hear’ it. We can write it off as an extension of my telepathy and suggest it’s temporary for the mission.”

Master strokes his chin. “There are a lot of ways that could fall apart, but I don’t think we have a better idea,” he concedes. “Of course, it all depends on the stone’s cooperation. It may need to outright lie if one of them asks the wrong question—can it even do that?”

My shoulders sag. “I don’t know.”

They wait, and reluctantly, I fish the stone from the bag around my neck. I don’t want to talk to it, either, but today seems to be a day of things I don’t want, and I can’t let Tia down.

That doesn’t stop me from passing the chunk of rock to Master, though. He can have this chat.

His lips tighten, and I know he wants to scold me, but instead he looks at the stone in his hand. “Did you follow all that?” he asks it.

~Yes~

“Are you willing to assist with this plan? Can you lie if we need you to?”

~Yes~

Fleetingly, I wonder if the stone has lied to us already. We’re taking a lot of things on faith. What if it’s been blurring the truth all along?

In response to my thoughts, my mind fills with a series of dizzying images and concepts. They whiz past too quickly for me to grasp them individually, but the overall picture is clear: this mission is paramount, and the stone will do whatever is necessary to see it completed and the world safe.

The feeling of being a pawn is humbling and not one I particularly like.

“Just out of curiosity,” Jaimin begins, unaware of the revelation I’ve just been privy to, “is this something you could actually do if Leicht and Talon weren’t bonded? Allow a temporary communication channel between them?”

~Yes~

Jaimin’s brows draw together, and he seems about to ask something else but then changes his mind. “Do you think this plan will work?”

~Yes~

There’s an edge of determination this time, and we all understand that it will work because the stone will make it work.

Gods help us all.

“That’s what we’ll do, then,” Master says. “The riders might still want to stay, just to ensure everything goes well, but I’ll take care of that.” He hesitates. “Talon, are you certain you feel up to continuing? If you wanted to take a few days to?—”

“We don’t have time for that.” I might not be happy with the stone right now, but I won’t abandon this task. “Every day we delay is another day our enemies get ahead. We need to talk about the archers now.” I turn to Jaimin. “They were the same as the other man I killed, you said.”

He spreads his hands. “No injuries at all that could have caused death. One had minor arthritis in his dominant arm—he was probably going to have to retire soon. But otherwise, they were unhurt. Their brains were completely intact. They were just… dead.”

Master sighs. “Do you remember doing anything ?” he asks me, and I shake my head.

“I wanted to get to Tia. She was falling,” I remind him, “and I wanted to catch her. They were shooting, and I was so furious that one stupid arrow that wasn’t even aimed at her, not truly, managed to kill her…. I know something happened. I felt my magic… surge, and then the arrows stopped. But I didn’t think anything or decide anything.”

“I don’t know what this could be,” he admits. “I’ve been haunting the archives, trying to find any mention of it, of anything that might help. There’s truly no cause of death?” he checks again with Jaimin, who shakes his head.

“If I’d had the chance to examine them before their deaths, I might be able to give more insight… but I’ve never seen a corpse I couldn’t pinpoint a cause of death for. Not someone so newly dead, anyway. There was no physical trauma whatsoever that could have caused death.”

“Am I a danger to my companions?” I ask bluntly. “I haven’t consciously chosen to do this either time—what if it happens again?”

They exchange glances. “There’s not enough evidence to rule that out,” Master admits.

~No~

“Or there is, but we just don’t know what it is,” he continues, looking at the stone in surprise. “Perhaps you could enlighten us?”

~No~

Of course not. “That’s not helpful,” I tell it.

“Maybe it is,” Jaimin muses thoughtfully. “Both times, you were under intense stress, essentially fighting for your life. Let’s assume your magic reacted to protect you, even though we don’t know how.”

“Magic doesn’t do that,” I protest, then glance at Master. “Right?”

“To the best of modern knowledge, it does not.”

Jaimin grimaces. “It also doesn’t kill without leaving a mark, so let’s assume for the sake of argument that Talon’s special and his magic wants to protect him.”

I preen slightly. I have always considered myself to be an improvement on my colleagues.

Master rolls his eyes. “If we must.”

“ But ,” Jaimin continues before I can protest, “both times, his magic left others unharmed. On the first occasion, not only me and Tia but also the other attackers who weren’t directly threatening him. And this time, it only took down the archers—not the priests who were, without question, also a threat to us.” He pauses to let that sink in. “I don’t think this is an uncontrolled, nondirectional weapon. I think Talon’s magic is acting to protect him by killing only those who are the immediate threat, and only when he’s unable to otherwise protect himself.”

I barely have time to process that before the stone’s response echoes through me.

~Yes~

“So I’m not a danger to my friends?” I double-check.

~No~

“Can you tell us anything more about this?”

~Yes/No~

In other words, it can , but it won’t. “Fine.” I look at Master. “What do you think?”

He shrugs helplessly. “I think we don’t have many options here. There’s no precedent that I can find for your magic to act this way. There’s no record that I can find of people dying without reason. There’s no record that I ever found to explain the bond between you and Tia. But the fact remains that no good would come of any of this being revealed to others. You need to find the champion so this threat can be neutralized. I’ll keep looking for information, any information that might help us. And nothing that has been said here will ever be repeated to anyone else.”

“I will not betray Talon,” Jaimin swears. “I still don’t know what my purpose here is, but it seems clear that it’s tied to him. I’ll take his secrets to my grave.”

I swallow hard. The past two days have made oaths like that seem a lot more real than they ever did before. I can only hope it won’t come to that—I’ve lost Tia already. I can’t lose him too.

When we return to camp, it’s to find Coryn still patting Arimen gently and talking to him in soft tones. If I hadn’t seen him kill with my own eyes, I’d never believe this was the same man. I try not to resent the fact that he’s being so sweet to Arimen and I still haven’t gotten my hug.

I really want that hug.

Dragging my attention away from them, I turn toward Hearne and Kanesha. They’re approaching at a rapid pace, troubled frowns on their faces.

“Apologies for disturbing you with this,” Hearne begins, and I suspect Leicht may have preempted our plan to wait until after the pyre ceremony. “Leicht tells us he wants to continue with you on your journey.”

“You couldn’t have waited? We had a plan!” I snarl mentally.

“Dragons are not subject to the plans of humans such as you.”

I’m certain he just insulted me personally as well as all of humanity, but whatever. I’ll manage. It’s not like his disdain for me is anything new.

“He does?” I inject surprise into my voice. “Why? I thought it was a tradition for dragons to return to the valley after… In these situations.”

Hearne pulls a face. “Tradition is a strong word for it. They prefer to mourn with their own, yes, but in this case, Leicht has expressed the wish to continue Tia’s mission. He’s, uh, quite insistent upon it. He sees it as a debt he owes her memory.”

I look away, and I’m not even acting. A debt owed to her memory. My entire life will be that. I’ll never live up to the standard she set, but I’ll spend all my days trying. “I… suppose. If that’s what he wants, I can’t exactly stop him.”

“Wait,” Jaimin interjects, right on cue. “That could present some difficulties—certainly frustrations. We won’t be able to communicate with Leicht, nor he with us.” He shakes his head. “I don’t see how it would be—Oh. Would the riders be willing to send another dragon and rider? To… translate, for want of a better word.”

Hearne opens his mouth to reply, already nodding, but the stone steps in to play its part.

~No~

From the corner of my eye, I see Arimen’s head snap around. I guess the stone wasn’t selective about its audience.

I pull it from the pouch around my neck. “No?”

~No~

“I don’t see any other solution,” Kanesha says, and bites her lip. It’s clear they don’t want to have to tell Leicht he must return home, and from what he said, they can’t. “It’s not as though there’s another way for him to speak with you all.”

I barely stifle my smile. She’s given the stone the perfect opening.

~Yes~

Hearne’s brows draw together in confusion. “There… is?”

~Yes~

“Is that something you can assist with?” Master asks.

~Yes~

Kanesha’s mouth drops open. “You can make it so they can talk to Leicht?”

~Yes/No~

She rubs her forehead. “I’d forgotten how frustrating this is. Can you make it so one of them can communicate with him?”

I am the master of plans. They’re practically doing it all for us.

~Yes~

“A bond?” Hearne shakes his head. “I don’t think?—”

~No~

“Not a bond,” Master muses thoughtfully. “Just a… communication channel? Somewhat like telepathy?”

~Yes~

Hearne looks at me. “I’m guessing it means you, then. That would be the obvious choice.”

~Yes~

He sighs. “I suppose we should see what Leicht thinks of this idea.” His eyes unfocus slightly, a sign that he’s speaking with his dragon, and a moment later, Leicht’s growl vibrates through the camp. It’s somehow… approving.

“Humans are not the only species that speaks,” he snipes.

“Stop reading my thoughts.” So fucking rude.

“He reluctantly agrees, if it will assist the cause,” Hearne reports. “Talon?”

I frown. “I don’t like the idea,” I admit truthfully. “Say something to me in five seconds.” “But I do agree that Tia would have wanted this mission completed by any means necessary, and I… I won’t deny her wishes. I?—”

“You are not half the warrior your sister was.”

I gasp. Sure, it’s true, but still… “Words hurt, you overgrown lizard.”

“What is it?” Jaimin asks, moving toward me with his hand outstretched.

“I heard him. In my head.”

“Are you certain?” Hearne asks, and I give him a withering look.

“I’m a telepath, Rider Master. I’m familiar with the feeling of someone speaking to me in that manner.”

“Do you sense his presence?” Kanesha asks intently. “As though you know exactly where he is without even looking?”

Yes. “No. Wait, let me see if I can speak back to him.” “Tell them I did.”

Leicht’s roar of offense rings through the air, and a second later, Hearne winces.

“They really don’t like being compared to lizards,” he murmurs to me. “Can you feel how annoyed he is right now?”

I shake my head. “No, nothing like that. Speaking to him was exactly the same as when I speak telepathically to my master or anyone—I had to reach out to him.” It’s a good thing I’ve never been squeamish about lying.

They exchange glances. “I can’t say I like it all that much,” Hearne admits. “But desperate times call for desperate measures.” He looks to the stone. “Can you reverse this? When the mission is done, can this be undone?”

~Yes~

A sudden shiver snakes down my spine. Can the stone reverse the bond between me and Leicht? Why didn’t we ask it about the bond? We were so focused on hiding the fact that it existed that we didn’t even think of that.

Why did the bond transfer to me?

The stone doesn’t reply, and the sense of foreboding increases. I didn’t want this bond. Never asked for it. Don’t particularly like having it. But it’s part of me now, and the thought that the stone may be able to sever it is disturbing.

“Tomorrow’s problems are for tomorrow,” Leicht informs me. “You have other priorities now. Don’t fail us all.” His tone strongly implies that he expects me to do exactly that.

Hearne shrugs. “Then I suppose the matter is settled. Leicht will continue on with you. In a way, this works out well—he’ll be able to report back immediately if he sees anything troubling, rather than having to return to you and land.”

“Er… yes.” That’s what we’ve been doing all along.

“Since that’s been solved…” He hesitates, and I take a deep breath.

“The pyre ceremony. Let’s have it now.” Delaying it isn’t going to make it less painful. And I know, deep in my heart, that this is how Tia would want to be given her final rest.

“It will take us a little while to prepare,” Kanesha says gently. “We need a clear space to prevent the fire from spreading.”

“The road?” Coryn suggests, joining the conversation with a wide-eyed Arimen at his side. “There’s no trees or anything there.”

“It might be too public,” Hearne begins, but I shake my head.

“The road is perfect. That’s where she died, and that’s where we’ll send her to her next life.” It fits perfectly, and I can feel Leicht’s agreement. I’m not sure how long it will take me to get used to this—Tia could always sense my emotions, and I hers, but she wasn’t an active presence in my head the way Leicht is now. No wonder she bonded him so easily—she was used to having me there all the time.

Gods, I wish she was still here. I need her more than ever.

“But what about other travelers? The dragons have already had to scare off some villagers who came nosing around.”

“Other travelers and any villagers who want to watch will do so with respect.” I don’t bother to add a threat to the end of the sentence. I don’t need to. There are three dragons here. Nobody would dare to complain about a short interruption to their journey—and if they do, Leicht will settle them with a glare.

Kanesha looks like she wants to protest, but instead she just nods, and she and Hearne head toward the road. I’ve never attended a pyre ceremony before—they’re usually closed to all except other dragon riders and close friends and family of the deceased. Tia’s told me about them, though, so I know the first step is to ensure there’s enough clear space, then a small pyre of branches is built. It doesn’t have to be big—the fire is coming from the dragons.

Squaring my shoulders, I walk toward the tent where I spent the night. Where Tia’s body lies.

Jaimin catches up to me. “I can do this, if you’d like,” he offers gently, but I shake my head.

“No. This is for me.”

Inside, nothing has changed. It’s up to me to take these next steps and ensure Tia is prepared for her pyre. Blocking out the riot of emotion that fights to break free, I assess what needs to be done.

First, the arrow. Swallowing hard, I place the fingers of one hand on her throat. The skin is cold to my touch, and that makes it easier to pretend it’s not her. With my other hand, I grasp the shaft of the arrow and pull.

It comes free more easily than I expected, and I hate that. I hate this arrow with every fiber of my being, and I snap it in half, then in half again, and when the pieces are too small to easily break, I blast them with magefire.

Not that it makes me feel better. Except for the absence of the arrow from Tia’s throat, nothing has changed. The wound is so small. How could something so visually insignificant have taken down my fearless sister?

It doesn’t matter now. Nothing matters, except protecting her in death the way I couldn’t when she was alive.

She’s wearing her favorite dark blue leathers, and I’m glad of that. She should have them with her when she meets the gods. I hope she tells them exactly how fucked-up their temples are. Her daggers are all in their sheaths still, but the sword she wears across her back is beside the bedroll. I can’t remember why. It’s not like she would have been uncomfortable lying on it.

“Jaimin?” I call quietly. I don’t need to be loud; he’s right outside in case I need him. I know he is. He’s always here for me when I need him.

“Yes?” He joins me.

“She should be wearing her sword.”

Anyone else might call me ridiculous, might say it was a waste of a good weapon, but he merely asks, “Would you like me to hold her or sheathe it?”

Together, we get the sword back into its sheath. I take a deep breath, reach for her, then stop.

“I’m here,” Jaimin says softly. I can feel his eyes on me, but I’m focused on Tia’s face. What would she want me to do if she was here?

Finish the mission. Defeat our enemies. Make the world safe again. Look after Leicht.

Avenge her.

I take her best dagger from the sheath at her hip. The one I had made for her when Leicht bonded her. She cried when I gave it to her, the only time I’d seen her cry since we were children. “Thank you for knowing I didn’t want a fancy ring,” she’d said, referring to the gaudy ruby our father sent her to honor the occasion. “I’m keeping this until I die, and then my children will inherit it.”

That won’t happen now. But if I get the chance, this is the blade I’ll use to avenge her.