Alliance (23 page)

Jaken’s answering smile was easy, making his eyes crinkle. “We’ll save you a seat, not sure about the food, though. You know what the rest of them are like.”

“Yeah, that’s true. I better hurry up.” Nykin grinned before turning round and walking to the tunnel leading to the caves. “See you later,” he called over his shoulder, offering them a wave as he went.

“Fimor? Can you come down now?”

“Yes, of course. I will be there shortly.”

The first few caves were occupied. Nykin caught a glimpse of Eldin and Vashek in the first one, and he hoped that meant Vashek was now fully healed. He didn’t linger, though, not wanting to intrude. Nykin walked past several empty caves until he came to the one where he’d left his harness.

He crouched down to inspect it, smoothing his hands over the soft leather and brushing off a few specks of dust. The harness had been given to him soon after he bonded with Fimor. Not all riders were given new harnesses, but Fimor’s old one had been worn and in need of repair. He’d been a few years without a rider, and a couple of the fastenings had perished.

He felt Fimor’s arrival before his dragon even entered the cave, the mark on his wrist rippling with magic. Nykin stood quickly and stepped out of the way. Fimor settled onto the ground and laid his head down on the rough stones. He didn’t normally do that, and Nykin immediately stepped toward him, worry curling deep in his belly.
“Is something wrong?”
He dropped to his knees again and laid his hand on the side of Fimor’s neck.

Nykin reached out with his mind. Fimor usually let his feelings flow freely through their bond, but for some reason they now felt muted, as though Fimor was actively suppressing them.
“Fimor?”

Fimor let out a deep sigh and must have made some conscious decision to let Nykin in, because an almost overwhelming tide of emotion swept over him. Nykin fell forward under the onslaught, quickly shifting his body to lean against Fimor’s side. It took him a moment to sort through the feelings, but the overriding one was exhaustion. Fimor was tired. Tired like he’d been after Nykin had been almost killed by Hatak. But that made no sense. He hadn’t been hurt like that again, so why was Fimor so drained of energy?
“Fimor?”
He tried again when Fimor still hadn’t answered.

Finally he felt Fimor’s tail curl around his legs, and the exhausted feelings began to ebb, replaced by growing contentment.
“Keeping the lair shielded from the witch is somewhat… taxing
.
Even more so with the injuries sustained by those dragons in the attack. It’s not usually so bad, but with so many needing to concentrate on healing, the drain on the rest of us was much greater.”

He felt instantly guilty. He knew from past experience how close contact with their rider could ease a dragon’s discomfort, and couldn’t shake the notion that he’d let Fimor down.
“Why didn’t you tell me it was this bad? I would have come
—
”

“Because you had more important things to deal with. I am already better with you here, and the others are almost recovered from their injuries now. It will not be that bad from now on. We are all just a little out of practice. It’s been a long while since we had to use our magic this way.”

Nykin turned to look Fimor in the eye, but his dragon resolutely faced away and didn’t show any signs of moving.
“But it’ll happen again if some of you get injured?”
Nykin wasn’t stupid or naive enough to think they would escape a second attack without anyone being hurt.

“Yes.”

“Promise me you’ll send for me if it gets too bad?”

“It’s not that simple, Nykin. I can’t just leave the others to shield the lair while I come down to see my rider. We will all be in need of the contact.”

Nykin huffed in frustration. He hadn’t given much thought to how the dragons’ magic worked, but it made sense, he guessed. If the witch became exhausted after using her magic, then it stood to reason that other magical creatures would be similarly affected. He hadn’t seen the elves react like that, though.

“Well, at least don’t keep it from me next time.”

“As you wish, Nykin.”

They sat in companionable silence for a long while, and Nykin let his eyes drop closed, the constant rise and fall of Fimor’s chest lulling him into a light sleep. He was dreaming of tall trees and white horses when he felt a nudge on his thigh.

“Nykin. You need to wake up.”

Nykin grunted, his eyes blinking open as he grudgingly came to.
“Do I have to?”
He felt the rumble of Fimor’s laughter, jolting him slightly, and pushed himself up to his feet.

“I’m afraid so. I need to get back up the mountain. There are others who need time with their riders.”

“Yes, of course. Sorry I fell asleep.”

“Don’t apologize. We both needed the contact, but I need to return to the others now, and you need to eat.”

Nykin’s stomach grumbled, as if on cue, and he rubbed it absently. Hopefully there’d still be some food left.

He bid Fimor good-bye and watched him leap into the darkening sky, then left the caves for the storeroom and hopefully food.

N
YKIN
SPENT
the next few hours in the storeroom with his friends and some of the other riders. He wouldn’t describe the atmosphere as relaxed, but as the time went by with no sign of the witch attacking, the air of nervous excitement dwindled to a low hum of anticipation. They knew the attack was coming at some point, but the immediate buzz had worn off.

Nykin ate his fill, washed it down with spiced fruit tea, and then rested on one of the benches at the back of the room. Selene and Jaken played some sort of guessing game to pass the time, but he couldn’t muster up enough enthusiasm to join in.

“I hope you’re going to be a bit livelier when it’s time to fight.” Selene prodded him with the end of her boot, laughing when he swatted at her foot and missed. “You heard what Eldin said, we’re all going out, and we need to destroy every last catapult and cause as much damage as we can.”

She poked him again, but this time he caught hold of her foot and pinched the back of her calf. His fingers slipped on her leathers, but he managed to dig into the muscles, making her shriek. “Don’t worry about me.” He used her leg to pull himself upright, ignoring the glare she shot his way. “I’ll be ready.”

Jaken sighed, deep and frustrated, and Nykin knew just how he felt. He looked around the room, noting the way his fellow riders looked calm on the surface, but if he looked closer, it was easy to spot the tension beginning to build again. Nykin hated sitting around and waiting for something to happen.

He didn’t necessarily look forward to the witch attacking their barrier, as it took them one step closer to something he’d tried hard not to think about. But the attack itself was inevitable, and now he just wanted to get it over with. He wanted to do something to try to put an end to this war.

As it turned out, they didn’t have to wait much longer.

A
FTER
HIS
argument with Nykin, Ryneq left to join the elves in the library. Since they no longer had sufficient time to use the dragon’s blood to create a stronger shield, he wanted to confirm they could use it to attack the witch instead.

Faelon and Avelor had joined Lerran, and all three of them were hunched over one of the books when Ryneq entered. Lerran explained that Glaevahl was busy consulting with Queen Ahlyria, passing on Ryneq’s request that the dragons and their riders be granted access to Alel, should the need arise, and also to consult with some of the elders there.

“We may have found a way to block the witch’s magic, but it involves combining an old elven spell with one of these.” Avelor gestured to the book in front of him. “But we’re uncertain whether such a thing is possible.”

Ryneq stayed for a while longer while Avelor described what they hoped the combined spells would do. He was impressed. If it came to it, and the elves left with his riders, he felt confident they’d be able to force Seran to leave once the remaining six days had passed and the dragon’s blood was ready. He had to hope that Seran would keep him alive that long.

He left them in the library and headed back to the war room, his fight with Nykin playing heavily on his mind. He nodded at the two guards stationed outside before going in. The room looked odd now that everyone had left. Maps still lay spread out on the table, surrounded by empty chairs.

Ryneq walked over and ran his finger along Torsere’s borders. His kingdom had been reduced to an area behind the palace walls, with almost half of his people inside. The villagers south of the palace were still in their homes, joined by those they’d managed to evacuate, and Ryneq prayed they would remain safe. Seran had shown no interest in them so far, but if he managed to take the palace, then that would undoubtedly change.

His gaze landed on the barracks that held Torsere’s navy. The villages in the south were self-sufficient—they grew their own crops and fished—but the barracks relied heavily on supplies from the palace. Ryneq had neglected palace affairs of late, the war with Seran naturally taking precedence over everything. As king, he would usually have regular meetings with those who ran the palace and organized supplies for his army, but he’d left them to their own devices. He trusted his staff to do their duty without needing his input, but he hated not knowing the state of his kingdom. It would be one of the first things he rectified after this mess was resolved. Gods willing.

Once again he found himself drawn to the fireplace, the painting of his family looking down on him. It had been two years since his parents’ deaths, but he still missed them fiercely. His father had been seasoned in battle, gaining invaluable experience that Ryneq didn’t have. Ryneq knew how to fight and how to plan, but he desperately wished his father were here to offer advice. He wasn’t, though, and Ryneq could only trust that the decisions he made were the right ones.

He turned back to the table and studied the map, looking for anything that he might have missed.

“King Ryneq?”

Ryneq looked up to see Lerran standing in the doorway. He’d been so lost in thought, he hadn’t even heard the door open.

“The witch is attacking the barrier again.”

Ryneq stood, pushing his chair back with enough force to almost topple it over. Lerran stepped back out of the way to let him through. “Same place as before?”

“Yes, Your Highness.” Lerran fell into step beside him as Ryneq hurried down the passageways toward the main palace doors. “Glaevahl and Faelon are down there already.”

Night had fallen, and Ryneq could see little beyond the palace walls. Nysad stood atop the wall with the archers, and Ryneq headed for the steps to join him. Lerran followed, and Ryneq was grateful for a connection to those down at the barrier. He needed to know how they were handling the witch’s magic.

“Is it holding?” He glanced at Lerran as they reached Nysad. Nysad turned, acknowledging Ryneq’s presence before facing away again and ordering the archers to fire at will.

“Yes.” Lerran grimaced, though, and Ryneq tensed, preparing for bad news.

“But?” he prompted impatiently when he didn’t get an immediate response.

Lerran met Ryneq’s gaze, a resigned look on his face. “It’s taking all their magic to keep her out.”

“Shouldn’t you be down there helping them?” Ryneq tried to remain calm. He was well aware he didn’t understand elf magic, but surely the more elves down there, the better it would be?

Lerran was quick to shake his head. “I don’t need to be there for them to call on my magic.” He reached inside his shirt and pulled out a silver amulet in the shape of a tree fastened by a black cord around his neck. “We are all connected.”

Ryneq shook his head. The elves never ceased to surprise him with their magical artifacts. But at least he knew they were doing everything they could to protect Torsere, and the fact that he’d doubted them made him feel guilty. “Of course, I should have realized.” He hoped Lerran took it for the apology he meant it to be, and judging by the small smile on Lerran’s face, he did.

They waited in silence, the sounds of arrows being drawn and fired surrounding them. Ryneq hoped his archers found their mark, hoped the witch was too focused on the barrier to have a shield of her own. He didn’t think it possible for her to shield the whole camp, but what did he know about magic?

Lerran straightened next to him, body alert. “She’s stopped and her magic is almost depleted.”

This close up, Ryneq could easily see that Lerran looked more tired than when they’d first climbed up onto the wall. Maybe the witch wasn’t the only one whose magic had run low. He opened his mouth to ask, but then the sky in front of them lit up with multiple bursts of orange flame, illuminating the camp as the fire hit the catapults and took hold. The screams and shouting carried over the space between them as his riders attacked Seran’s camp.