Daybreak (71 page)

Dorcha flew low to the ground: claws tucked beneath him and a storm of flame brewing between his jaws.

Kael never slowed. He held his shield out beside him as he ran and balled his other hand into a fist. It would do him no good if Dorcha turned away before he had a chance to strike. He had to stay patient just a moment more.

In half a blink, Dorcha loosed his flame. The shield was gone in an instant: it melted from his hand and rolled in warm lines down his wrist. But the rest of his armor was covered in scales. Kael picked up speed. His legs pounded against the earth as he charged for the core of the flame — towards the patch that shone the brightest. He waited until he was certain that Dorcha was within his range.

Then he tore Daybreak from its sheath.

Though he’d drawn it once before, the sword’s power still shocked him. The heat radiating from its edges tested his armor: it slipped between the scales and burned the flesh beneath. But Kael hardly noticed.

He slung Daybreak towards the center of the flame and a white-hot arc of fire spewed from its molten edges. Kael fell onto his back at the noise of Dorcha’s anguished roar — and narrowly avoided getting crushed to death as the dragon soared over his head.

Boulders rolled away and the earth churned aside as Dorcha fell. His great claws dragged ruts into the ground as he tried to stop his body from flipping; his wings scraped all the grass from its top.
 

For a moment, Kael thought the battle was over. He leapt to his feet and had taken a step closer when Dorcha’s head whipped around. There was a long, smooth cut down the middle of his face — one that stretched from the crook of his right eye, across his spiny muzzle, and down to his chin.
 

The wound steamed as hot blood wept from its edges, and the pain must’ve shocked him: the black broke from his eyes. He watched Kael through portals of flaming yellow, now. The blackened slits narrowed upon Daybreak for half a blink before his great body shot into the air.

Kael swore as Dorcha headed west. He would never be able to chase the dragon on foot, and Kyleigh was still somewhere inside Midlan.
 

Ulric must’ve been able to read the murder in his eyes. The archmage hiked up his robes and went sprinting down the stairs the moment Kael turned, rushing for the safety of the courtyard.

The front gates were sealed tightly shut. Footsteps tromped behind them as the soldiers braced themselves against the doors. Metal strips covered the wood from top to bottom, hammered into the planks by fist-sized bolts. A series of iron beams were clamped across the doors’ backs, holding them together tightly. Kael could just make them out through the slight gap between doors.
 

When he stepped closer, the wood groaned. The soldiers pressed their bodies tighter against the gates. They likely watched his shadow move along the crack at the doors’ bottoms, cringed against Daybreak’s blinding light. The gates were far more thick than tall — almost insignificant in size, compared to the wall they sat in. They were designed to foil the ram and make burning through almost impossible.

But most importantly, the gates opened
out
ward instead of in.

This would’ve certainly slowed a battering ram, and it’d likely kept Midlan’s enemies out for ages. But today, it would do them no good.

Kael kicked the gates hard and waited as the soldiers threw themselves against it. Then he drew Daybreak over his head and brought it down between the doors.
 

The iron bolts melted helplessly against the sword’s blinding flame. They
click
ed as they snapped into two — and the instant the bolts were gone, the soldiers’ weight did the rest.
 

They tumbled out the doors in a rush, parting around a sweep of Daybreak’s fire. The soldiers who weren’t hewed flopped onto their bellies beside him. They rolled away, trying desperately to escape his reach.
 

But Kael would not be stopped.

*******

“Dragon!”

Half of the camp woke to the noise of Gwen’s shout — the wildmen’s excited howling woke the rest.

Captain Lysander stumbled from his bedroll, the waves of his hair standing on end. “What in high tide are you all yelling ab —?”

A roar cut over his words. It whipped across the tops of the trees and shook the pebbles at his feet. Lysander had only just regained his footing when Gwen snatched him by the hair.

“Ow! What are you—?”

“Hold
still
, lowlander!” In one swift motion, she pulled herself onto his shoulders and vaulted into the tree behind him — sending Lysander directly onto his face. He’d only just started to pull himself up when Silas came charging after her.

He lay flat as the mountain lion sprang over his head and into the tree. Silas’s powerful claws split the bark as he scrambled after Gwen.

The wildmen raced to the edge of camp, all of their painted faces turned north. The warriors dropped their heavy rucksacks on the ground and the craftsmen began digging through them. They drew out handfuls of rounded orbs, marbles made of dragonsbane. The craftsmen molded sharp points into the orbs until they resembled the spiked head of a mace. Then they tossed them back to the warriors.

“Get ready!” Gwen called. She was perched high atop the tree, her golden axe lifted over her head. When a second roar shook the earth, she laughed. “He sees me — he’s turning this way.”

“No, my Thane!” Silas pawed anxiously at her boots. “Come down, his fires will harm you!”

“He won’t get the chance to breathe. Are you ready, warriors?”

They howled, waving the spiked orbs.

“At my signal!”

“No, please —”

“
Now
!”

Gwen slung her axe downward and the warriors let loose a volley of orbs. Another roar shook the air and a moment later, an enormous shadow darkened the trees.

“Move!” Lysander cried. He waved his sword about him wildly, and the camp scattered in every direction. Still, the dragon’s shadow covered them.

The wildmen’s volleys didn’t slow the dragon down. In fact, his wings picked up speed. Soon his monstrous body hung over the camp. Golden spikes peppered his blackened scales, thickest at his face and chest. His eyes burned and a storm of yellow flame brewed behind his teeth.

“Stop throwing things at him, you clodders! Can’t you see you’re only making it worse?” Brend bellowed.
 

He was sprawled out atop a pile of giants — all of whom appeared to be struggling to hold Declan down. The general’s eyes were black with madness; he dug into the ground with his boots and a thrust of his thick legs lurched the pile forward.
 

Brend swore as he fought through the tangle of their limbs. He grabbed one of Declan’s arms and wrapped a thick coil of rope around it. “I’m sorry, but I warned you. I can’t have you running off — no! Get back here, wee mites!”

“
Mots
!” Nadine shouted. She led her warriors in behind the wildmen. They crouched and raised their spears in a protective wall as the dragon came closer.

Brend swore again. He finished tying Declan and rolled his hobbled body towards a waiting line of giants. “Take him somewhere safe,” he barked. Then he turned his glare upon the mots. “The rest of you grab an armful of those wee little terrors and get
running
!”

The dragon came closer. He spread his wings and began a slow, taunting descent towards the trees. There was no mercy in the shining black pits of his eyes. The collar around his throat put off a blistering light — but it was nothing compared to the fire waiting upon his tongue.

Pirates, fishermen, and mercenaries went sprinting as the ferocity of its heat touched the woods. Sweat poured down Thelred’s face and Shamus’s bushy sideburns hung flat. They grabbed Lysander around his arm and began dragging him away.

“Where’s Aerilyn? I don’t see her!”

“I’m sure she’s fine, Captain,” Thelred said.

“Aye,” Shamus grunted. “She probably had the good sense to —”

A thunder of hooves cut over his words and a dapple-gray blur spun them around. Aerilyn spurred Braver to the front of the wildmen’s line, screaming into the trees as she went: “I thought you were going to
handle
the dragon!”

“We are!” Gwen hollered back.

“Oh really? Then why is there a great,” she nocked an arrow, “bloody,” aimed its point high, “ball of flame about to —? Ah!”

She squealed and shut her eyes as the arrow flew from its string. An explosion sounded overhead. The dragon roared as the arrow burst against his chest — leaving a raw, bleeding burn just above his heart. He sucked the flames back down his throat and spun away from Aerilyn’s next shot in a panic.
 

A hail of branches rained down upon them as the dragon’s wings slapped across the trees. Silas came tumbling from his perch, twisting into a man the moment his paws touched the ground. His glowing eyes went stark upon the ravaged top of the tree.

Gwen was gone.

“You will get yourself killed, you foolish human!” he roared.

Shamus gaped up at the shattered branches. “Is she not already dead?”

“No, she jumped onto his wing,” Lydia called. She was nearly doubled over, her face red with laughter. “Oh, Fate — that dragon’s going to get the beating of his life!”

“I’m sorry, but what about this is funny, exactly?” Aerilyn snapped. A red line singed her cheeks and she kept a tight grip on Braver — who didn’t look particularly thrilled about having been led so close to a dragon. “You’re lucky he startles easily. Otherwise we’d all be in ashes!”

Silas didn’t appear at all concerned about becoming ashes. He sprinted to the edge of the woods, following the dragon’s path. “He’s taken her across the walls, into the King’s den. Move, wild ones!” He waved his arms around him madly. “Get yourselves to the gates, peel the doors aside. Your Warchief needs you!”

They followed him with whistles and howls.

“I suppose we’d better make sure they don’t do anything ridiculous,” Aerilyn muttered, pursing her lips after them. She turned and arched a brow at Lysander, who seemed frozen to the ground. “What?”

He stared at her a moment longer before he blinked and shook his head. “That was … you were …” He didn’t seem able to get the words out.

Red crossed her face again — though this time, it was from an entirely different sort of burn. “Close your mouth, Captain. We’ve got work to do.”

He stared after her as she galloped away, and it was Thelred who finally had to call the pirates to order:

“To the gates! On your feet, dogs.”

“Giants,” Brend barked with a wave of his scythe. “Ready yourselves. We’ve got some battling to do.”

They fell in behind the pirates, adding their thudding steps to the march.
 

The mots tried to go along, but Brend stepped into their path. “No, a skirmish like this is no place for such wee things —”

“You cannot turn us away now,” Nadine said vehemently. Even standing on her toes, she hardly came to Brend’s waist. But there was fire in her eyes as she spoke: “This fight belongs to us as much as it does to you. We have traveled just as far. We have given just as much. We want to do our part!”

Brend shook his head at the collective
thud
of their spears. “You’ll be doing your part — while we’re off chopping heads, you’ll be here making sure no harm comes to our general. He’ll be helpless without you,” Brend added, squashing Nadine’s protest with a look.

Though her mouth stayed shut, her eyes burned after him. She crossed her arms as the others went towards the wall — and the moment they were gone, she called the mots together.

“We cannot stay here while our companions fight. Go.” She waved a handful of warriors towards Declan, who lay hobbled upon a bedroll. “Use your spears. Untie his knots.”

While they worked, she dug through the one of the pirates’ rucksacks and drew out a bottle of bright green grog.
 

“Find more of these,” she said to the others. “They will be in the packs with salt crusted upon their fronts.”

Once they’d gone, Nadine crept over to Declan. He was tied like an animal: his wrists and ankles were bound together so that he could do little more than rock impatiently when she approached. The black had begun to leave his eyes. He stared unblinkingly at the castle until Nadine touched his face.

“I know your giants are only trying to protect you … but I also know that you do not wish to lie here while the others fight. Once the gates are opened, they will be lost to their battle. We will be able to slip inside unseen. But if you wish to come with us, then you must drink,” she said, placing the bottle against his lips. “The mots cannot stop you, if you go mad again.”

Declan wrinkled his nose at the scent wafting from the bottle. But in the end, he sighed. “Yeh, all right. Just tip it up quick, will you? I swear this stuff curdles on my tongue.”

Midlan was proving more difficult to navigate than Elena had ever thought possible. Its dark, twisting halls wove together in a labyrinth of stone. They crossed paths with other chambers in the most unexpected places; many of the hallways ended without warning. There were so few windows that it might be several minutes before Elena had a chance to check their bearings.

And by then, all she knew for certain was that they were going around in circles.

“How much further? My feet went numb an hour ago,” Jonathan moaned from behind her.

Elena wasn’t sure. They were crouched in the shadow of a doorway, waiting for a line of soldiers to move down the hall. There was a window set into the wall around the next corner. It’d begun to glow with a pale, grayish light.

Dawn was coming. They’d soon run out of shadows — and Jake would run out of time.

Elena twisted to glare at Argon. “You ought to know your way around the castle. You’ve lived here long enough.”

His frail body slumped between Jonathan and Eveningwing, and his deep stare had grown heavy with exhaustion. Still, he managed to smirk through his beard at her question. “I know my way, child. But until I know
your
way, I’m afraid I won’t be much help. I’ll provide directions the moment you know where you’re going.”