Dragonoak: The Complete History of Kastelir (58 page)

I didn't need to control it. It only had to copy me.

“It worked! Rowan, we really did it,” Katja said, jittery. “I was afraid it was all nonsense. The only proof of it was hidden inside a dusty old tome, and it made a number of foolish claims, stating that necromancers were wont to burn more easily than parchment, and... oh! Now isn't the time to be rambling is it? Come, come.”

I held out my arms and King Jonas' corpse did the same, allowing Katja to put the cloak on it, hood up.

There was a heat in my veins, a connection I hadn't felt in an age, not since I'd brought Peter back. I turned to leave but Katja stopped me, gripping the back of my shirt and causing the corpse to grind to a halt.

“Rowan, your eyes. They're... bright, rather bright,” she said, confused by what she saw. I didn't question her, knowing we had no time to spare. “... the sun isn't keeping anything back today. Just keep your head down and it'll be of no concern.”

The three of us walked straight out of the castle and into Isin. We kept to the less travelled passages within the castle, short-cuts Katja had learnt as a child, and no one stopped us as we crossed one of the servants' bridges.

The morning was a beautiful one, clear, wide sky soaking up the panic roaring within every house, street and open square in the city. King Atthis was right about the people. Those who were still drunk swayed on the spot and gave the soldiers and guards few problems to deal with, but the rest of the citizens were convinced the King and Queen knew something they refused to share with the rest of the city.

Rumours moved quicker than we did, and people declared that a dragon would be upon Isin within mere minutes; some were gathering what things they could, delusional enough to believe they could run beyond a dragon's reach. No one paid us any heed as we moved quickly and quietly towards what had once been Autíra.

I tried to think of dragons, tried to tell myself that Claire could be facing one at that very moment, but couldn't believe it. How could it be true? How could anything else of note be happening in the world when I was forcing a corpse to march through the streets?

Katja's apartment was close to the café she'd taken me to, and her fingers shook as she tried to unlock the door. She missed twice, key scraping against iron and wood, but she managed to do her part and get us out of the city, out of the frightened eye of the masses.

The boots King Jonas had been laid to rest in thumped up the stairs, and the corpse stood in the centre of the living room, coming to a stop with a sense of finality that I couldn't account for. For a wretched moment, I didn't know how I was supposed to separate the two of us – couldn't imagine letting go of such complete control – but I forced myself to picture dry bark being torn from a tree, and King Jonas crumpled to the ground for a second time.

Katja knelt, laying his body out across the floor more slowly than she needed to. Hesitating, almost.

“This is the easy part,” I said for my benefit more than hers, wanting to test my voice. Katja nodded, lips pursed together as she batted away a stray tear that dared to show itself.

I knelt opposite her, hands hovering over King Jonas' chest. I hadn't been lying. It
was
the easy part; so easy that I barely knew how it happened, how it worked. There was nothing mechanical about it, no procedure I had to follow. I didn't focus on one part of the King in particular, didn't force my mind to linger on the wounds that had let death rush into him.

All I did was imagine him being as he ought to, sitting up of his own volition, muscles versed in fluid movements, and so it was.

King Jonas' eyes opened, and it was only the harrowing gasp for breath that tore Katja's gaze from me. She'd watched me the whole time, more eager to see how I did it than witness the results for herself, but I was instantly forgotten. King Jonas lashed out to protect himself from a blade that was no longer there, and Katja threw herself against him, clutching him tight.

“Uncle! Uncle, you're safe!” Katja's voice was thick with tears and I shot to my feet, placing myself out of sight. “It's alright. Please, you're safe.”

“Kouris?” King Jonas asked. The man who'd been stabbed to death in his own castle, the man who's funeral wake I'd attended, placed his hands on Katja's shoulders, easing her back. “You have to be careful, there was a—a boy, with a knife, and...”

“I know, uncle. I know. It's alright, I promise you. You were hurt, but I brought you here. I barely managed to heal you in time, but it's alright. Mother caught the man who did this to you,” Katja said softly, and it was only when I heard her take credit for my work that I truly comprehended what I'd done.

All my power spluttered inside my chest, washing out of my body and taking more than it ought to; I gripped the wall, sure that I'd never be able to support my bones, much less my thoughts. I'd let Claire down. I'd brought back a King, a good man, and though I could see how much it meant to Katja and knew it would mean even more to Kastelir, I'd broken my promise.

I'd put Claire at risk in putting myself at risk, practising necromancy to its fullest when I knew that Queen Kidira would never hesitate to have a pyre stoked.

Katja didn't need me there anymore. I slipped from the apartment as quietly as I could, hoping that her sobbing would distract from the door clicking closed. Despite what I'd done, I charged straight back to the castle. The panic outside was infectious, and in my haste, I began to mistake the shadows of every bird and banner for those of dragons.

Claire's key rested heavily against my chest, and it wasn't until I reached the bridge that it occurred to me I'd never tried to get into the castle on my own before. I had no proof that I'd ever set foot in there, and the guards were doing all they could to keep walls of Isiners back. I ducked through the sea of bodies and thudded against the guards' crossed spears, but Ocari was stood halfway across the bridge, directing servants this way and that, escorting out the ones who insisted on being with their families.

“Ocari! Tell them to let me through, please,” I called out, and a nod from them was all it took for the guards to grab me by my collar and pull me through the gap beneath their spears. “Thank you, thank you so much!”

I charged around the castle, to the bridge I'd last seen Claire on, and all for nothing. No one awaited me, and I grabbed the arm of a passing servant, asking if the Commander and the others were back. He shook his head and the next two guards gave me the same answer.

Once I stopped, I didn't know what to do with myself. I crouched down by the wall of the castle, out of the way of those crossing the bridge, forehead bumping against my knees. I forced my thoughts to scream over the memories flooding into my mind, reminding me of what I'd done, and how real it had been. I dug my nails into the back of my hand and still I didn't wake.

Hours slipped away, and I desperately tried to claw them back. The more time that passed, the more space there was for me to convince myself that the worst had happened. I bit the inside of my mouth, telling myself that I'd pay any price for what I'd done, so long as Claire, Kouris and Akela were returned safely to me.

And even as fear and disgust twisted within my gut, scolding me for daring to
think
about going through with what I'd done, some part of me wanted to smile. It was fear doing it, it had to be.

The power I'd wielded was thrumming through me, urging me to try something else. Something more. I hadn't known I could control the dead until a matter of hours ago, hadn't believed the tales of necromancers raising armies of pane and dragons alike during the war, and couldn't imagine what else had been kept from me. It was too much. There was too much raging inside of me and I wanted to tear the power out, like poison from a wound.

“Northwood!”

The word echoed in my head, weighing nothing, meaning nothing. I had become a thing, a creature defined by its powers, by death, and—Northwood. Northwood. That was me. That was Akela's voice.

I looked up and the glare of the sun made my vision flash. Akela stumbled as she stepped towards me but didn't fall, She stood straight, blocking out the sun, and I saw the burns lining her jaw, dipping down towards her neck. Blood gushed from her split lip and her face was bruised, but her armour had done all she'd asked of it.

“Claire,” I said weakly, nails scraping across the ground. Surely Claire had been leading the attack, surely she'd taken the brunt of it all. “Claire and Kouris... where are they?”

Akela took another step forward, tried to kneel, but gave up when her armour clattered in the process.

“I am telling you not to worry, Northwood. Kouris, she is behind—she is bringing Ightham,” Akela said, blood staining her teeth as she tried to smile. “Perhaps... perhaps you are wanting to look away. It is not looking pleasant, this is true, but we have healers. And your phoenix, she is rising again, yes?”

A swarm of guards dragged Akela inside, two of them helping her stand, and I shook with such force as I waited for Kouris to appear that I didn't know how the castle still stood.

My powers became me. It no longer mattered if that's all I was, because it meant I could help Claire. I could save her from whatever wounds she'd suffered, whatever agony she was in.

The gates swung open and there was no missing Kouris. She didn't run across the bridge, for I doubted she could, and even at a distance, I could feel the pain peeling off Claire. Kouris held her in her arms, and that clear, dark mist hovered all around them. It was different from the time Claire had been cut open; the buzz wasn't louder, wasn't angrier. It was settled, as though there was no turning back from this.

Beneath my hands, the stone cracked white, spreading from my palm.

No shadows covered it, and slowly, I pushed myself to my feet.

I could help her. I could banish all this.

Kouris didn't stop as she passed, but I saw enough. Claire was unconscious, and long since, too. Her helm was still on, but only because it
couldn't
be removed; every inch of skin was burnt, charred flesh bound to the dragon-bone, and every ounce of the agony Claire had been in echoed through me.

“Yrval, don't be looking,” Kouris said quietly, shifting Claire in her arms so that her shoulder blocked my view. “There are healers. We've got healers for this kind of thing.”

I stood there, useless, watching Kouris head into the castle, knowing that whatever good I accomplished would only ever be mistaken for a twisted façade of malevolence.

I found Kouris, or Kouris found me.

I wandered the corridors, head full of what I'd seen, and Kouris placed her hands upon my shoulders, stopping me from drifting forever. I barely registered her touch. She turned me on the spot and crouched down low, eyes meeting mine, and all at once, the fear of what could've happened rushed into me. It hard to believe the reality around me wasn't about to shatter.

“I was worried,” I mumbled, crashing into her chest. She put her arms around me, rising up to a fraction of her full height, and I clung on as though I could stop her from ever leaving again. “I was so worried about you, Kouris.”

“Aye, yrval. I'm sorry we all had to be running off like that,” she said, and I buried my face in the orange cloth draped across her chest. The stench of smoke clung to it, and Kouris hadn't been to the healers yet. An ache rattled within her bones and I drew it out, gulping it down like a drowning person clawing their way towards the land. Kouris tensed, then pressed her lips to the top of my head. “... no need to be worrying yourself. I'm a lot more fireproof than you lot.”

Gripping the front of her armour, I leant back and looked up at her, wanting nothing more than to tell her the truth. I'd made a mistake. I was scared and it'd made me foolish, and we needed to leave because of it. I'd no idea how long Katja would be able to convince King Jonas to remain confined to her apartment, if she intended to leave him there at all. She hadn't known I'd planned to leave, and so didn't know that I'd been delayed; any moment now, King Jonas could walk through the gates, completely beyond my control.

But I couldn't say any of that to Kouris. My tongue turned to lead, immoveable, until I searched for another truth.

“... I love you, you know,” I mumbled, and Kouris' ears drooped, pressed flat to the sides of her neck.

Bowing down, she kissed my forehead, tusks brushing against my skin.

“Same to you, yrval,” she said softly, and I clung to her again. “It's okay, it's okay. We all made it back in one piece, didn't we?”

I shook my head, teeth grinding together. They'd barely been gone for hours, yet I'd managed to undo all the work I'd put into escaping my old life.

“I want to go. We
need
to go. We need to leave Kastelir, so that we can really fix this...” I wheezed pathetically.

“What you need is to go see your dragon-slayer,” Kouris said, easing me back. “Come on. Let's get you to her chamber.”

I let myself be led when I should never have come back to the castle. I should've headed out of Isin and made camp, waiting for them to join me in the morning. Yet there I was, standing in front of Claire's door, arms stuck by my sides. Kouris hesitated, pushed the door open and steered me inside.

“She'll be back in a bit. They had to, ah...” Kouris said, rubbing her chin. “You'll be seeing her soon enough.”

There was a bag on the sofa, fully-packed. We'd been hours short of freedom, and I wondered when I'd started thinking of the castle as a cage. I could've left at any moment and no one would've noticed; but for Kouris, being there trapped her in the past, and Claire was bound by her own guilt. She never would've forgiven herself, had she not been there to face the dragon, but that was nothing compared to what she had been put through today.

“Kouris. The dragon, it's...” I said, gripping her wrist as she turned to leave.

“Aye, all taken care of. They're dragging it back to Isin—they'll be picking at its bones, no doubt,” Kouris said, “Get yourself something to drink, alright? Looks like you're in need of it.”