Page 67

Brynla

I am the wolf , I think to myself.

I keeping running at the dragon, my blades raised, but when the dragon notices me, it merely swipes at me, knocking me to the ground with its forefoot.

I roll and roll and for a moment I think perhaps I should just let it end me like it just ended Andor.

But something inside me makes me get to my feet.

And I use my rage to fuel me.

I scream, a battle cry, a warrior’s creed, and run at the dragon again. It still has Andor’s broken, bloody body in its mouth, seeming to pay me no attention. Perhaps I’m not of interest when it already has its meal.

The dragon shouldn’t underestimate me.

I’m still screaming as I throw myself at its neck, using the arrows that are stuck there to help me climb up it until I’m situated right above its head.

It drops Andor in a heap and starts shaking itself back and forth but I hold on, inching forward until I’m in the right position. Then, with a final, terrible scream, a scream for all the people I’ve lost, a scream that feels like an exorcism, I plunge the ash-glass swords into the dragon’s skull.

The dragon roars and immediately slumps to the ground, throwing me.

I land a few feet away, my side taking the brunt of the fall, cracking something in one of my pouches, and my ankle twists painfully.

I yelp and try to sit up, grinding my teeth through the pain as I watch the beast carefully.

It doesn’t move, its yellow eyes unseeing, no breath to be had.

Lemi’s whimper brings my attention over to my dog, the only thing I have left in this world.

Lemi is lying beside Andor’s lifeless body and whining. He touches his arm with his paw and then sits back, eyes never leaving him. He does it again and again, followed by a bark, hoping in vain that Andor will get up.

But Andor won’t. He said the ability to heal never worked on himself, and besides, I’m unsure anyone could be brought back from this.

If he couldn’t save his mother from a terminal illness, he couldn’t save himself from his body being lacerated by dragon teeth.

Every part of his torso has been punctured, and the blood pooling out from around him won’t stop flowing.

And yet I find myself crawling toward him, my ankle useless.

I pull myself along the pebbles until I’m climbing through his blood. I manage to sit beside his body and pull it up into my lap. His head tilts back and I cradle it, pressing my fingers against his face.

“Hey,” I whisper to him, tears falling from my eyes and splattering on his cheek and nose. “Hey, you can come back now. You can wake up now. You can try, can’t you? Please? For me?” I brush my tears off his face. “Do it for your lavender girl?”

But Andor’s eyes are like the dragon’s. They see nothing. They stare at the sky above, empty golden pools that once were the window of the most beautiful soul I knew. If I keep staring at his face, though, maybe I can pretend a little longer.

“Hey,” I say again, running my fingertips over his lips, slick with blood. “What if I tell you that I love you? Will that make you come back?” I swallow thickly; it’s getting harder to speak. My jaw aches from trembling. “Would you have said it back? Would you forgive me for not saying it earlier?”

I sniff, cradling him harder, holding his head in my arms like a baby.

I put my head up and stare at the sky, wanting to see what he could see.

“I wanted to,” I go on. “There were many times I wanted to but I felt stupid. Like it would ring false if I said it and you wouldn’t believe me, and, fuck, it would have killed me if you didn’t believe me, if you didn’t take my heart when I gave it to you, but I’ve never been more honest in my life.

I might be a thief, but I am not a liar.

And I love you, Andor Kolbeck, and that’s the fucking truth, no matter how ridiculous it might sound. ”

My chin quivers as I feel the grief bubble up. I’m already filled to the brim with it; I don’t know where it’s supposed to go.

“One person shouldn’t have to take so much,” I whisper, my chin dipping down, eyes pinched shut as the tears stream down my cheeks. I scream, I whimper, I cry. I keep holding on to him because I know that the moment I let go is the moment I let go of him.

And I never want to let go of him.

Lemi whines beside me, licking the back of my head, then leaning against me as if he knows that I’ll collapse at any minute.

And my loyal friend stays there as the air grows cool and the sky grows dark, blending into twilight.

In another world we would be back on the boat already.

Instead I’m here. And I belong here on this forsaken land.

More than I do on a ship, more than I do at Stormglen, more than I do in the Dark City.

The Midlands, a realm of fire and beasts, is where I should lay my head.

This is where I should stay.

This is where I should die.

Why didn’t we take suen from the egg of immortality before we came here, just in case?

I kiss the top of Andor’s head. “I’m not going anywhere,” I whisper. “My love.”

Suddenly Lemi growls.

I slowly raise my head, prepared for the end to come soon. You can’t hang out by a dead deathdrage for long before you attract attention.

From the narrow cave to the side, something lurks, glowing green eyes in the dark.

Lemi’s growl deepens and he steps away from me, the hair on his back raised, focused on the cave.

“Lemi,” I manage to say. Whatever happens, I’ll have to make sure he’s not hurt. I’ll give my life for him with ease. “Lemi, stay back.”

The green eyes blink.

And then a dragon steps forward.

About twenty feet tall, half the size of a deathdrage.

Metallic blue.

Two heads with long, fine snouts.

“Oh my gods,” I whisper, nearly choking on the words.

It’s the slangedrage, the one that lays the eggs of immortality.

It walks toward us, an even gait, tail swinging back and forth.

Lemi barks wildly, putting himself between me and the dragon.

“Lemi, please!” I scream at him. “Lemi, stop! Go back, go back, let me be!”

But Lemi doesn’t listen. He runs at the dragon and I know I’m about to lose my best friend.

The dragon keeps walking.

Completely ignores him.

It keeps coming straight for me.

Closer and closer until I can smell its hot breath, sulfur and the sea.

Both heads peer down at me.

“Go,” I whisper. “Please.”

The dragon lowers one head and grasps Andor’s legs in them.

Oh no, please no.

“Stop,” I say. “Let him be.”

But the other head comes for me now, about to bite my own head off.

I close my eyes, refusing to let go of Andor’s body.

Teeth pinch at my arm, grazing the skin without breaking it.

And suddenly a weight is lifted.

I open my eyes to see Andor’s upper body in the dragon’s mouth, the other half held by the other set of teeth.

I stare in awe, unsure what to do, what’s happening.

Then the dragon carefully turns around, keeping its heads together so that Andor’s body remains intact.

It turns, its tail whipping alongside me, and starts slowly walking back to the cave.

“Stop!” I yell. I try to get to my feet but my ankle gives out and I go tumbling into the scree. I start picking up the pebbles and pelting them at the dragon, each one bouncing off its blue hide, and still the dragon doesn’t stop.

Meanwhile Lemi is trotting after it, barking as he goes.

“Lemi!” I scream but no to avail.

I try to get to my feet again, wincing as I have to put all my weight on the other leg.

I start shuffling forward at an angle, grunting in pain as I try my best to hurry after Lemi and the dragon.

Now the dragon has already reached the cave and has gone inside, and Lemi runs in after it, disappearing into the shadows.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I swear, moving faster now, ignoring the sharp stabbing pain that wants to bring me to my knees. My body is releasing some sort of chemical to keep me going and I let it run through my body, until the pain doesn’t seem to matter anymore.

I limp into the cave, yelling and pleading for Lemi to come back.

Then I come to a stop.

And can’t believe my eyes. Lemi is standing right in front of me, staring at the dragon, which lowers Andor’s body to the ground, gently, as if with reverence.

Right in front of a bubbling pool of lava.

“No,” I whisper. “This can’t be.”

But the lava pool, with its small channel that runs off it, is exactly the same as the one in my vision, the molten fire causing a faint glow that illuminates the cave.

I stare at the middle of the pool, daring it to come true, to be real.

And yet even when it starts to move, like waves in an ocean, I still can’t believe it, not until the top of a head emerges.

Then a full head.

A woman’s head.

Her hair, her shoulders, her arms, her breasts. Torso, hips, thighs, calves.

All of it made from swirling magma, shades of red and orange and blinding yellow, flowing in some places, like her stomach and down the middle of her thighs, hardened into cooled lava in others, like her breasts, hips, hands. Her face is like rock, most of her features obscured.

Lemi stops barking.

Instead he sits down and starts wagging his tail.

I’m too shocked to think, too confused to even be scared anymore.

“Who are you?” I whisper.

And why do I know you? I think.

Why do I know you?

“Brynla,” the woman says.

And her voice turns me inside out.

Brings me to my knees.

I collapse to the ground, hand at my heart, afraid that if I let go it will burst from my chest.

“No,” I whisper. “It can’t be you.”

Her face contorts for a second, the hardened rock crumbling away to reveal the flowing lava underneath, magma rising and falling to create a face.

High cheekbones, low-set brow, a doll’s nose.

And if her eyes had any color other than red and orange, they would be a bright blue.

The same as the dragon. The same eyes I never inherited because I got my father’s brown ones.

“It’s taken you so long to find me,” she says, her voice sounding far away, like I’m hearing it from another room, but hers all the same. “I was starting to think maybe you never would.”

“Mama,” I say, my voice cracking. I try to say more but I can’t, because how can I?

How is this my mother? A woman made of lava.

Voldansa , Sae Balek had said. The unworshipped goddess of the Midlands.

“You’re a goddess?” I ask. “How?”

How? What does this mean?

No , I tell myself, closing my eyes and pressing the heel of my hand into my forehead. No, none of this is real. You died, Brynla. You died out there and none of this is real.

“It’s real, my sweet dear,” my mother says. “And I wish more than anything I could hold you and tell you that you’ll be all right. I think then you would know. But I am real, darling, I promise you.”

I shake my head, daring to look at her. “How? The goddesses aren’t real.”

“They are,” she says.

“You’re dead,” I say simply, staring down at the pool. “I’m seeing ghosts.”

“I never died, Bryn,” she says to me, my old nickname jarring to hear. “They sent me away on purpose because they were afraid of what I could do. They had theories about my blood. But that was their biggest mistake.”

“I don’t understand,” I mutter. Everything hurts, including my head but especially my heart.

“You will. But right now, we don’t have a lot of time, do we?” She looks over her shoulder at Andor’s lifeless body. “Not if you want to save him.”

My head snaps up. “What?”

“This man here,” she says. “He is with you, isn’t he?”

“Andor,” I tell her, trying to tamp down the hope in my chest, flaring like a star. “His name is Andor. If you were a goddess you would know that.”

Her lava face smiles. “It doesn’t work like that. But I can still help you, in the way that a goddess can.”

She waves her fingers at the dragon and steps back toward me. I stare at the back of her head for a moment, entranced by the lava, and at the same time, I know this really is her.

The dragon heads pick Andor up again.

“What are you doing?” I call out, panicking. “Leave him alone.”

“I’m saving him,” she says, glancing at me over her shoulder. “That is what you want me to do, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” I cry. “Can you?”

She nods. “But it will come at a cost.”

“I don’t care about the cost,” I tell her truthfully. “Bring him back, please bring him back.”

“You might not care,” she says. “But he might. If I bring him back to life, that means draining the suen from his body. It means he’ll no longer be able to heal anyone.”

“I thought you didn’t know everything,” I say softly, my heart in my throat.

“I am Voldansa,” she says. “Goddess of the dragons. Goddess of the Midlands. I know when suen is in someone’s blood and I know what it does.”

“Andor won’t care if he can’t heal,” I say, even though I’m not sure I should be speaking for him. But at this point, I have no choice.

“It means he can’t heal you,” she says, her face turning grim. “I know your pains, child. I feel them when you do. I feel you in the blood and earth.”

My brain still isn’t able to catch up with what’s happening. My mother is alive and a goddess? She can bring Andor back to life?

“I don’t care about my pain,” I tell her. “I’ll deal with it as I always have. I never expected a miracle anyway.”

“All right,” she says. Then she waves her fingers at the dragon, embers flying from them, and the dragon drops Andor into the lava pool.

I cry out, putting my hands over my eyes, feeling like the rug has been pulled out from under me. As long as I saw his body I somehow believed that maybe he would come back, but now that he’s been dropped into the lava pool, I can’t…I can’t…

I stay on my knees, praying to anyone, praying to her, that this works, that he’ll come back, that I’ll be all right, that I won’t lose him, that I won’t lose myself. I pray and I cry, hoping my words have the power to change things, begging for them to.

Then I hear my mother whisper my name.

I open my eyes to see her standing to the side of me, placing a hot hand made of hardened lava rock on my shoulder. It shouldn’t feel like her but it does.

“Look,” she says.

I follow her gaze to the pool, where ripples have formed in the middle.

One of the dragon’s heads dunks into the ripples, fully submerged, and then comes back out. Its teeth are caught on one of the straps that runs across Andor’s armor.

It pulls Andor out of the lava pool and backs up until Andor is a few feet away. The lava slides right off him, disappearing into puffs of smoke, and there don’t seem to be any wounds on him.

I stare at him for a second, stunned, watching to see if he’s alive.

Then he jerks, coughing, and I yelp, running toward him.

I drop to my knees beside him, grabbing his hand, putting my fingers to his cheek. He’s not hurt at all, he’s not even burned. It’s like he’s been purified, better than he was before.

And he opens his eyes and looks at me. Smiles softly.

“Why are you crying, lavender girl?”