Page 49

You Can Teach Me

“ A nd what do you know about sun elves, Jelethia?” I ask. “Nothing, I’d bet. So maybe you should keep quiet.”

“I kn?—”

“Ladies, stop fighting!” Fax grins. “I have the perfect word for you, Iszaelda. You can use it against Jelethia. See, it’s?—”

“No!” Acranta throws up her hands, waving them wildly among the leaves, only to get tangled in the foliage. “Don’t listen to him. Here, I’ll teach you something harmless. ‘Ve ge’ means ‘grow.’ Say it to a plant, and it’ll stretch taller. Pretty useful, right?”

“I’ve heard of cooler things.”

“Oh! But if you throw it at… at a… at a?—”

I roll my eyes. “Spit it out, for fire’s sake!”

Fax bursts into laughter.

Acranta furrows her brow, drumming her fingers against my shoulder in a soft, rhythmic beat.

“What thing?”

“You’ve forgotten, haven’t you?”

“Forgotten what?”

“Well then.” Fax places a hand on my knee. “Say ‘Ire peh pew’ to Jelethia.”

Jelethia crouches slightly, eyes narrowing. “You wouldn’t dare, would you?”

“Oh, no, what are you doing?” Acranta exclaims. “Are you teaching her Arzakean? Do you even know that?—”

I lock eyes with Jelethia. “Ire peh pew.”

“You have to mean it, see?” Fax urges. “And you need to get the pronunciation just right. It’s tricky at first. Try again.”

“I like your enthusiasm,” Jelethia says. “But you’re forgetting one thing. She’s a sun elf. The Sunsprinter here isn’t made for dark magic. It won’t work.”

“How am I supposed to mean it when I don’t know what it does?” I ask Fax.

“It makes the person you cast it on mute for a while,” Salahfar explains. “That’s not exactly the kindest thing to do to someone.”

“Live a little, for Maevux’s sake.” Fax grins, leaning over Jelethia just far enough to shove Salahfar’s shoulder. “Here’s another one, ‘Del ieh geo.’ Don’t cast it on Jelethia this time. But, of course, that’s entirely up to you.”

Jelethia snorts. “Try that on me, and I’ll strangle you, pale elf.”

“Excuse me?” I snap. “Watch your?—”

“Just guess how useful this one is,” Fax interrupts smoothly. “It blows things up. Try aiming at a branch or something.”

“Did you have to teach her that?” Acranta huffs, hands on her hips. “Here, Zel, let me teach you something harmless. ‘Ve ge,’ it means?—”

“Grow.”

Acranta’s eyes widen. “How did you know?”

I exchange a look with Fax.

“Fine, just ignore me then.” Acranta huffs.

“What do I care? Hi, I’m Zel, and I don’t answer people’s questions because I’m incredibly cool, right?

And I don’t respond to silly questions.” She pulls an exaggerated grimace, twisting her mouth downward and tilting her head, pretending to comb through long, imaginary hair.

Her voice drops, overly dramatic and deep.

“Hello, my name’s Zel, but don’t you dare call me anything other than ‘scourging’ Iszaelda of the Grand City in the East. I never smile.

I’m very serious and tough, and I want to kill people because I’m just?—”

I shove her. “Is that supposed to be me?”

“Ow!” She rubs her shoulder, shooting me a smoldering glare.

“Oh, I love this!” Fax bursts into laughter, collapsing onto the ground. “Keep going, Acranta! Do more?—”

“Quiet,” Salahfar hisses.

“Do Jelethia next!” Fax grins. “Come on, can’t you?—”

“I said quiet!”

“Bel’Akra,” Jelethia murmurs, voice low. “Calm down, will you?”

Salahfar turns to us, his algae-green eyes sharp, unwavering. “Not. One. Word.”

Acranta mouths words and gestures wildly with her hands until Salahfar grabs them and presses them to the ground. She stills immediately, lips snapping shut. Caught off guard.

Salahfar leans in, nodding for us to come closer. Soon, our faces are so near our breaths mix in the cool night air. Acranta’s nose brushes my cheek, and Fax’s nose hairs tickle my eyebrow.

“Listen carefully,” Salahfar whispers, so low I must strain to hear. “I want you to stand up. Slowly. Very slowly. Be ready to run back the way we came. I’ll tell you when. Stay calm. No matter what. That’s all I ask.”

Everyone nods and rises. Slowly. Carefully.

I’ve been so caught up in the conversation that I’ve forgotten about the unicorns. Then I hear Fax gasp before I see it.

Acranta grips my wrist, and Jelethia steps on my foot.

I lean left, peering past Jelethia and Salahfar. And I freeze.

It feels like my heart skips a beat. Or doubles. Stops. Like ice is creeping through my veins.

Three unicorns are gone. Pollur, Fala, and the foal, Njáll.

Only two remain. Eír and Glóni.

But they’re… halved.

Halved.

As if something cleaved them straight down the middle. From above.

Their horns, heads, necks, the entire upper half of their bodies… Gone.

What remains is submerged in the shallows, drowning in a pool of their dark, wine-red blood.

I clamp a hand over my mouth to keep from screaming. To keep from retching. That’s when I realize I can no longer feel them.

Their minds are gone. Snuffed out. Dead. But something else is here.

Something vast. Something terrible. Something waiting.

A blockade.

“It’s here, Salahfar!” I hiss. “We have to go. Now!”

“How do you know?”

“I just do!”

“Then run!”

We burst through the undergrowth, branches and thorns whipping against our faces. We duck, leap, shove, and sprint forward, hurtling into the pitch-black jungle. The night is alive with shadows, shifting, lurking.

Bats flit toward the canopy, wings slicing through the dark.

Ants, insects, and spiders scatter around us. They sense it, too.

“Do you think…” Acranta gasps. “Do you think…” She pants. “It’s… a dragon?”

“No, it’s a badger.” I roll my eyes, gripping the fallen log as I clamber over it, one branch at a time, before dropping down the other side.

“Oh, but how… how did we not hear… when it happened?”

“Focus on running,” Salahfar snaps.

Fax laughs, full of life, spinning once before dashing ahead. “We’re running from a dragon. How amazing is that? Absolutely thrilling!”

“Not to be that person,” Jelethia mutters, her high ponytail of tight braids swishing behind her, occasionally brushing against me and smacking me in the head. “But I’m never going on an adventure with you guys again, am I?”

I rush past her, feet pounding in sync with my racing heart.

I draw on everything Netharu’el taught me. Faster. Faster. Faster.

I won’t be slowed down by the others. They’re too reckless. Too careless. My mouth is dry. My chest tightens.

The night wraps around me, urging me forward while the moon guides and feeds me. Light, strength, energy. It watches from the gaps in the canopy, appearing and disappearing, appearing and disappearing.

I hit a path, flat and easy to run on. The branches keep their distance.

The jungle is silent. Only the sound of my footsteps echoes in the void. No birds. No rustling. No wind.

After a while, I force myself to slow down. To turn. To stop.

My pulse pounds. My body burns hot, slick with sweat.

Everyone’s gone. Come on! Where are you? I glance behind me.

The path twists straight toward the Academy. Two stories’ time, and I’ll be there. Then I look ahead, the way I came. Empty. Silent.

Not a single creature in sight. For once, nature is still.

“Acranta!”

Nothing.

I should go to the Academy. Save myself. I can’t be responsible for a bunch of star elves. They’re better trained, stronger, and more capable in a fight with a dragon. They know Arzakean. I don’t.

But you can speak to animals. They can’t.

And what does that matter? I can’t speak to dragons. I’ve tried.

You can try again.

I start running toward the Academy. The ground is solid beneath my feet. But my feet, they drag. They don’t want to go.

Saxx!

I turn. Exhale sharply. And run. Faster than ever. Arms pumping. Feet pounding, pounding, beating against the earth.

I soar. I fly. I chase.

The rainforest lashes at me, claws at me, whips against my skin.

It only takes a few songs before I see it. The fire. The thing star elves can’t withstand. It only takes a few songs before I see the massive shape in the sky. And the moment I do, I act instinctively.

“Del ieh geo!”

A blast. A shriek. An ear-splitting roar. Darkness rushes through me.

Expands. Devours. Explodes. I’m thrown backward, my spine slamming against the ground before I roll sideways, face pressed into the dirt.

Mouth full of earth. Something thick and suffocating inside me.

I can’t breathe. Wings beat the air. Wind whirls. The stench of burning flesh. Another roar. Hoarse, retreating.

My temples throb. My throat tightens. My tongue feels dry. Tastes like death. Like darkness. Like evil. Like blood.

My body shakes and trembles. Someone grabs my arm and pulls me.

My ears ring. Everything is black. Black as smoldering charred wood.

“Zel! Zel!”

I’m rolled onto my back and blink as the moonlight floods my vision.

I stare up at three worried faces. And Jelethia’s.

Acranta shakes me, her nails digging into my arm. “Are you okay? How do you feel? Can you hear me? I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have mocked you; I was only teasing; I didn’t mean?—”

“Calm down.” I sit up, pressing a hand to my forehead.

The headache is fading. So is the darkness inside me.

“Iszaelda.”

Salahfar leans in. “What in Bel’Akra’s name was that?”

“What?” I stare blankly at the ground, willing my heart to slow down.

“Your Arzakean.”

“I said it just like Fax, didn’t I? Was it wrong?”

“Wrong?” Salahfar’s gaze sharpens. “No. It was perfect.”

“Is the dragon gone?”

“Sure is, see?” Fax hauls me to my feet, clapping me hard on the back. “Don’t know what in Maevux you did, but it was damn brilliant. Thanks!”

Fire rages. Flames rise high, bright gold against the night. The air crackles and sparks burst outward, scattering like fireflies in the dark.

Acranta is covered in soot. Her face streaked with grime. Her lips tremble. “That was so incredibly, unbelievably terrifying, Zel, the?—”

“Acranta,” Salahfar cuts in, ever composed. “You should know that ‘incredibly, unbelievably terrifying’ isn’t grammatically correct. Ever since the sun cycle of?—”

“Oh, for fire’s sake, give it a rest!” Jelethia snaps. “Can’t you see she’s shaken?”

Acranta pushes on, breathless. “It was here. It was right over us. No one knew what to do. You were gone, and we tried Arzakean, but it barely touched it. It was too strong. We would’ve died if you hadn’t come back.”

I wrap an arm around her. It surprises me—a reflex, protective.

Together, we start walking toward the Academy.

Jelethia catches my eye. “Well, thanks,” she says, casual but grateful. “We wouldn’t have survived without you.”

“A simple ‘thanks’ would’ve done,” Fax teases, grinning before turning to me.

“But I don’t get it. How? Arzakean isn’t that strong. At least, not for us. Is your nature magic powerful?”

“No, I… don’t have any.”

“What?” Jelethia gives me a doubtful look, biting down on the rings in her lower lip. “You’re joking. No ability at all?”

I shake my head.

“And you promise you’re okay now, right?” Acranta leans her head against my shoulder, her steps unsteady.

“I promise.”

“That dragon won’t return anytime soon,” Fax says confidently. “You hit it across the belly. It looked like it hurt. Maybe they’re sensitive there.”

“It didn’t have a rider, did it?”

“Nope. Just a wild dragon.”

Shame. It would’ve been nice if Akares had been injured.

“What kind was it?” I ask.

“Guess.”

“Oh, shut up. I’m not guessing.”

He grins. “A Vasvinennian fullblood. A real big one.”

“Iszaelda.” Salahfar turns to me.

Like Acranta, he’s covered in soot and grime, his green hair dusted with ash. The moonlight is gone, and the darkness turns him into a shadow, except for the glow of his eyes.

“Is there anything I can do to show my appreciation?” he asks. “I mean it. I have to repay you.”

“Actually, there is.”

“Tell me.”

“Anything?” I tilt my head, smiling.

“Anything.”

“Then teach me Arzakean.”