Soul of Smoke (15 page)

Chapter Fifteen

Ap Brychan

Blackness rolled back from the world. Cadoc blinked damp grit from his eyes, groaning as he registered the pain of his injuries one by one. The Quetzal had not been careful with him.

Below him, the ground was stony and bitterly cold. His hands were bound in front of him with a rope of twisted metal wires. Finely wrought chains wound through his fingers and wrapped over his palms. He’d never worn chains like this before, but the metal was common enough. It was used in everything from keeping boxes, which hid magical trinkets, to lining the cells in the lower levels of Eryri, where Rhys and the Council sent their most dangerous enemies. It blocked magic.

He wouldn’t be able to use his fire.

“Cadoc ap Brychan.” A blond man towered between Cadoc and a rope ladder that led through a narrow hole in the ceiling. No older than Ashem, he exuded an aura of power that made the air heavy as syrup.

“Owain.” Cadoc pulled his legs under him and struggled to his feet, shoving tangled, dark hair out of his eyes. Owain wasn’t short, but he still had to tilt his head up to meet Cadoc’s gaze. Owain’s irises were white, ringed with dark gray; even before losing his fire and becoming the white dragon, he’d had those bizarre eyes. “Get it over with.”

Owain’s only reaction was to give him a half-smile, unnervingly like Rhys’s, but cold. Someone snorted, and Cadoc realized two people stood off to the side. One was Demba, a tall, ebony-skinned Bida with a vicious reputation. The other was a woman with golden-brown skin and a largish nose.

“You are stupid, Cadoc ap Brychan o’r Draig.”

Cadoc recognized the voice of the Quetzal who had captured him. Her lip curled. “I find it hard to believe you’re one of the King’s vee.”

“He’s strong, Izel,” Owain said, his gaze never leaving Cadoc. “In fact, he’s perfect. You couldn’t have done better.”

Izel snorted, glaring with proud, black eyes. “Is he?” She took a knife with an obsidian blade from the belt slung low on her hips. She stopped in front of Cadoc, glaring, and then slashed the blade over his collarbone.

Cadoc flinched, but didn’t make a sound. The slice burned, but it was no more than a cut. Worse would come.

He refused to break eye contact as Izel raised the knife and placed the point of the blade on the left side of his chest. Leisurely, inch after excruciating inch, she dragged it diagonally across his chest. He didn’t move, didn’t step back. His shirt parted, blood dripping hot down his skin. Cadoc bit his tongue, his breathing ragged. When she stopped, the tip was over an inch inside his flesh.

“That was for Ranvir. He was a glorious warrior.”

Cadoc quirked an eyebrow. “Gloriously dead.”

Smiling, Izel ran a finger through his blood and brought her finger to her mouth.

She licked it. Cold nausea rolled through Cadoc’s stomach.

Izel stepped close, as close as a lover, and raised the knife to slice a long cut down his left cheek. Ignoring the burning line of pain, Cadoc turned his palm up. The chains stopped him from summoning fire, but they still grew hot.

He wrapped his fingers around Izel’s arm. She yelped and tried to pull away. When he didn’t let go, the yelp turned into a scream. Cadoc bared his teeth in a grin. “Apparently I’m not the only stupid one here.”

Everyone in the room disappeared. No sound, no warning. They were there, and then they were not. Cadoc gasped and let go of Izel’s arm before he realized her arm still felt very real in his hand.

Owain, Demba and Izel winked back into existence. Cadoc blinked. Izel backhanded him across the face, and he fell to his knees, her many rings leaving scores down his right cheek.

An old man with a round face and huge, dark eyes emerged from the shadows behind the others, his arms pinioned by two of Kavar’s vee. Owain and Demba wrestled Cadoc to his feet and slipped a hook into the rope around his wrists. They hauled on a chain strung through another hook sunk into the ceiling, yanking his wrists above his head. Cadoc’s heels left the ground; he could barely settle weight on his toes. The metal rope bit into his wrists, and it became hard to breathe.

Izel stood behind them, grinning, blood dripping from the blade in her hand. She yanked on the slash in Cadoc’s shirt, tearing it the rest of the way off.

Owain frowned at Cadoc. “You know how this works, ap Brychan. You’re fast. You’re a skilled fighter. I’d rather have you on my side than waste you.”

“Go burn your wings. Ah, that’s right. You can’t.”

Owain folded his arms, genuine displeasure crossing his face. “It’s a shame Aderyn inherits the mantle when Rhys dies. I don’t relish the thought of killing her. But you could save hundreds, Cadoc. Tell me where to find my cousins. If I kill them now, the war will end.”

Cadoc glared. Despite the way Izel’s slashes burned and the cut across his chest throbbed to the skies, the rest of him was without pain. He tried to capture the feeling. “I’d be killing hundreds of thousands.”

Owain shrugged. “Millions. Billions, I hope, though we’ll probably keep a few. You don’t count the life of every ant you smash when you land.”

“Humans are not ants.”

Owain raised an eyebrow. “They’re useful gene-donors and child-incubators, but they’ve barely been around long enough to see their first monuments go to dust. Their legacy is nothing. If we die, the earth loses a million times more history.”

“Then why don’t you let your Quetzal draw her claw across your throat? Your death would save hundreds.” Cadoc bared his teeth in a humorless grin. “You have to turn it on, don’t you? That feeling of power you ooze like a boil.”

As if speaking had called it forth, the air around Cadoc seemed to thicken and grow heavy once more, and he struggled for breath. “It comes when it’s summoned,” Owain said, his voice dry.

Shoulders burning, Cadoc tried to stand taller, put more weight on his feet. “Rhys doesn’t have to summon it, you know. Anyone who stands near him can recognize the true king. Power rolls off him like rain. You’re nothing but a puddle.”

Owain turned to Izel as if Cadoc hadn’t spoken. “Tell me when he’s broken.” He ascended the ladder and hoisted himself gracefully through the opening and out of sight.

Izel smiled and prodded the old man. Based on his umber skin and curly salt-and-pepper hair, he was one of the Wonambi, the light-bending, illusion-casting clan from Australia.

Cadoc blinked. The old man wasn’t as old as he had first appeared. And he wasn’t a stranger. “Uwan? You...you were dead.” Cadoc’s old teacher was still robust, even if his body had gone mostly to fat.

Uwan refused to look at Cadoc, staring at the floor as Izel pressed the tip of her obsidian blade into his throat and blood trickled red against his dark skin. “Begin.”

Uwan shook his head. The movement dragged the blade over his neck, and the trickle turned into a stream. Izel sliced a shallow groove just under his right eye. “Begin, or lose your eye.”

Cadoc jerked against his chains. “Oi! I thought I was here so you could stick knives in me. Let him alone.”

Izel’s eyes held all the compassion of a dead fish. “Patience.”

Her knife flashed toward Uwan’s face, and he cried out as part of his ear went flying. He put a hand to the side of his head, blood dripping between his fingers.

The cold nausea returned, bringing fear with it. Cadoc inhaled, willing his breathing to steady, calling to mind Rhys’s face, then Ashem’s and the rest of them. He saw Uwan’s years of suffering in his shaking, sparsely-fingered hands, in his skin, crisscrossed with white scars, in the strained, aged face. He spoke through gritted teeth. “Do it, Uwan.”

Izel went very still, her knife half-raised. For the first time, Uwan met Cadoc’s eyes.

“Do it,” Cadoc repeated. “I’m clever enough to know what’s real.”

Uwan shook his head, but this time it was more pity than denial. In a gravelly voice as familiar to Cadoc as childhood, Uwan said, “Stay strong, boy.”

Cadoc blinked. Instead of Izel, he was looking at a tall, slender man whose face he only knew from records. For a moment, his heart stopped. “Dad?”

Izel, now wearing the face of Brychan ap Hywll, smiled. Cadoc had been young when his parents died on a mission for the king. Too young to truly remember his father’s face, or know his voice. But he’d spent long enough staring at records that it was a shock nonetheless.

The man who could not be his father smiled. “Well,
bach
,” he said in a voice that resonated in Cadoc’s brain like a long-forgotten song. “Let’s get started, shall we?”

Cadoc recoiled. “Ancients, Uwan.”

Cadoc’s not-father flipped his hand, spinning a long blade end over end before he caught it. “It ends when you tell me what I need to know, son.” The man leaned close. “Where’s your vee?”

Cadoc didn’t speak.

“Come, now. You’ll be helping us. Helping the real king, helping me.”

Voice rough, Cadoc said, “My father never supported Owain or his genocide.”

“You’re wrong, boyo. You were too young to know. This is right. Owain is the true king. Now, tell me where to find your vee.”

Resisting the urge to roll his shoulders, now on fire with pain, Cadoc closed his eyes. Suddenly the knife bit between collarbone and arm, piercing flesh and muscle. His eyes flew open, and he let out a strangled cry.

The man who could not be his father had a sympathetic look on his face. “No going away, son. You stay here with me and tell me where to find those liars who pretend to be your friends.”

Cadoc didn’t speak, didn’t move, only looked into the man’s amethyst eyes. The knife went into his other shoulder, and Cadoc bit his lip hard to muffle a scream. Cold sweat beaded on his brow and dripped into his eyes.

“Tell me where they are!” the man shrieked, yanking out the knife. Cadoc sagged, would’ve gone to his knees if the chains hadn’t been holding him up. His breathing had gone shallow, and he felt light-headed and sick.

“Sorry, son.” The man smiled, the expression made more chilling by the blood spattered across his cheek. He raised a hand, smoothing damp hair from Cadoc’s forehead. “It’s important. You know it’s important. Let’s end this war together.”

Cadoc jerked his head back. “You are not my father. You’re just a big-nosed Quetzal who likes to see people bleed. Get sundered.”

The man buried his fist in Cadoc’s gut so deep it took Cadoc long seconds to remember how to breathe. He hung from the chains, twisting to one side and gasping for air.

His father crouched, peering up into Cadoc’s face. “You follow a false king. Admit it, and give Owain what he needs to take back the throne.”

Still gasping, Cadoc shook his head. His father punched him again. Cadoc tried desperately to curl in on himself, but couldn’t.

“Say it! Owain is king!”

Cadoc closed his eyes, trying to breathe. The blade slashed across his right cheek, this time. “Open your eyes and
say it
!”

“I...won’t.” Cadoc spat a red gob that clung to his father’s shirt.

Smile still in place, Brychan drew back his arm and slammed his fist into Cadoc’s face. Cadoc saw stars.

His father shook out his hand and laughed. “Looks like you need more time to think about it. See you in an hour, boyo.” He turned to leave. “And the hour after. And the one after that.”

Chapter Sixteen

Sacrificial Virgin

Rhys knew Kai was on the ledge. The closer he got to the opening, the less he hurt. She’d been there all morning, staring at the sky. At the sight of her, desire curled low in his belly. He was exhausted. Griffith had finally given up sparring around dawn, but Rhys hadn’t slept.

There she was: the source, the solution. Standing in the freezing wind looking for another man.

Rhys ran a hand through his hair, then glanced out at Kai and smoothed it down. It wasn’t possible for him to send thoughts to Cadoc while human, but he formed one and shot it into the void anyway.
Stay safe
,
you wind-for-brains idiot.

Maybe Ashem was right. Do it and be done. Maybe Griffith was right, too, and he could kiss her then send her packing. He wasn’t sure how long he’d be able to hide the new strength heartswearing would bring him from the Council and the dragons living at Eryri, but surely he could manage a few months. She’d have to come to Eryri eventually. He’d need her close, no matter what it did to his standing with the others.

He hesitated, then growled softly and trudged up the rough incline toward Kai. If she went inside, she went inside, but he’d have a few seconds of relative comfort first.

Even with the sunshine, the wind bit deep. He made no secret of his approach, but she jumped and scrambled as far away as the ledge would allow. Her black hair whipped around her face. Her sea-green eyes, red-rimmed from crying, looked more fey than usual. Her borrowed shirt and ever-present gray hoodie skimmed the subtle curves of her body; he couldn’t help but imagine doing the same with his hands.

She stared at him, not afraid or angry, but some uncertain place in between. “What would you do if I jumped off this cliff?”

Rhys gauged the distance between the top of the cliff and the ground. “I would catch you.”

Kai turned her back to him, standing so close to the ledge her toes hung over empty space. He couldn’t decide if she was brave or stupid. Or, perhaps, about to test his claim.

She twisted one of her carabiners, and he watched her fidget in silence, knowing he should speak, not knowing what he could say. “About Cadoc... I lost control.”

She snorted. “Lost control? You don’t have any control to lose. Me, then him. I’ve never been straight-up attacked before. Thanks for that.”

Rhys moved to stand at the edge of the ledge, too, far enough to give her space, close enough to talk. Pine and aspen made a swaying carpet of green and gold below the toes of his boots. “I didn’t attack you.”

Kai hugged herself, not looking at him. “Really? As I recall, you’d have mauled me if not for Deryn. Did you suddenly get hungry?” She tried to laugh, but it sounded flat.

“I attacked Deryn.”

“What?”

Rhys didn’t answer. He kept his eyes down, green and gold blurring as his vision unfocused.
Deryn.
She hadn’t even been angry with him after, only worried.

“You attacked your own sister to get to me, then your best friend for...? That is messed up.”

Anger flared. “I’m at fault, Kai. But Cadoc has some share in the blame for what happened to him. So do you. If you’d
listened
to Ffion, if you’d thought for one second about someone’s needs besides your own, he’d still be here.”

She whirled. “Are you
kidding me
? You were going to kill him!”

The movement had been too fast. One foot slipped, and she teetered on the edge, arms flailing, balance lost.

Faster than thought, he grabbed her wrist and yanked her from the precipice. The movement, like a dance, spun her full against him. The contact of his hand against her skin sent a hot, electric wave through him. The heat and scent of her drifted over him like a breeze from a summer garden, and he inhaled. It was the first time he’d held her like this, full against him. Her body make him as drunk as the strongest alcohol in Eryri.

Ancients.
Stormy, sea-green eyes beneath long, black lashes. Porcelain skin, rose-pink cheeks a few shades lighter than those soft, parted lips. One kiss, and he could be whole...

“Rh-Rhys.” She’d gone stiff in his arms. The terror in her eyes splashed over him like a bucket of ice water.

He released her and stepped back, breathing hard.

Kai swallowed, licking her lips. “Maybe you do have some control.” She let out a weak laugh. “Or maybe you didn’t need a sacrificial virgin today. I guess there’s always tomorrow.”

He should leave, he knew. He should get away from her before his tenuous hold on instinct snapped, but he wasn’t ready to deal with the pain. He seized on her words, looking for anything to distract himself as he sank down with his back against the cold stone of the cave mouth. “We never killed virgins. We sent the ones who didn’t heartswear back to their villages.”

“Excuse me?” Kai blinked at him.

He leaned his head back against the stone. “They were a protection tithe. Some human kingdoms had protection contracts with us. Often one of the terms was that a number of unmarried girls of a certain age be sent to us to see if they could become heartsworn.”

“So if I’d given it up to Mark Belinsky after senior prom this wouldn’t have happened?”

Rhys closed his eyes and took a deep breath. She had no idea of the idiotic emotions an offhand statement like that could spark. The smell of burned fabric wafted into the air, and he looked down to see his jeans were scorched and smoking where he’d rested his hands on his knees. Chagrined, he laced his fingers together.

The image of Morwenna’s lazy smile, of her dark hair feathered across his pillow, flashed through his mind. Ancients, he was the biggest hypocrite under the sun.

Kai smiled. It was small, but she was definitely smiling. “Relax, Spyro. He wasn’t worth it anyway.”

“Spyro?”

“Never mind.”

Rhys cleared his throat. “Even your being with Mark Belinsky wouldn’t have stopped me from heartswearing to you. The virgin part was a human idea, not ours.”

They sat in silence another long moment. Finally, Kai said, “I don’t suppose you’ll go more into detail about your war now that I’m stuck here. What are you fighting over? Land? Some kind of magical crown or something?”

He rubbed at the scorch marks. The conversation had wandered onto dangerous ground. “The mantle.” Before she could ask, he continued, “Which is the power to command every dragon alive.”

She stared at him. “How many dragons are there?”

“More than five thousand, less than ten. A third follow me, a third follow Owain, and a third are neutral. Rogues. Or free dragons, depending on who names them.”

The pink drained from her cheeks. “That many? What happens if the bad guys win?” She paused, as if she’d thought of something. “Are you the bad guys? I mean, you aren’t the ones trying to kill me, obviously, but...”

Rhys shrugged. “I don’t think so.”

Kai shook her head. “It was a stupid question. The bad guys never do. Tell me what happens if your side wins.”

“The mantle will be repaired. Dragons will stay away from humans.”

“Is this mantle a physical thing?”

Rhys looked at his hands. “No.”

“So why does it need to be repaired?”

He shrugged. “We don’t know much about it. The mantle was created at the height of dragonic knowledge and power. We don’t have that kind of magic anymore. This world—your world—you could call it our post-apocalypse.”

She seemed to consider that, but didn’t ask about it. “What happens if the other guys win?”

Rhys traced the scales of his indicium with his gaze, putting his thoughts in order. For Owain to win, both Rhys and Deryn would have to die. At least their sister, Seren, would be safe. For reasons no dragon knew, the fact that she was the Seeress meant that she couldn’t inherit the power of the mantle. “If Owain wins, the mantle will still be repaired, but it will be under his control. He’ll force dragons to go to war with humans. Your species would suffer a massive loss of life. Dragons would become extinct.”

She was silent so long he looked up at her. She was staring at him, her lips parted in shock. “You’re lying.”

Silver flashed in the distance. Ashem’s irritated voice sounded in his mind. “
Get her out of the way.
”

Rhys caught sight of Ffion, surrounded by a ripple in the air that signified use of the veil. Ashem was helping her hide, and Rhys’s focus kept trying to slide away from the distortion.

“We need to move. Ashem and Ffion are back, and they’re coming in.”

She looked out at the sky, which must have appeared empty to her, then glared suspiciously. “You go first.”

Rhys sighed and walked into the warmer air of the cavern, relieved to be finished with their conversation. She was his heartsworn, but he’d never felt less connected to someone in all his life.

* * *

Your species would suffer a massive loss of life.
Dragons would become extinct.
Kai couldn’t get the words out of her head. She stared at Rhys’s back as he stalked away, lithe muscles visible through his shirt as he moved.
I
guess I know who the good guys are.

The still air kicked into a roaring gust, and a graceful silver dragon with mirror-bright scales glided through the entrance. Ffion landed on her back feet about halfway into the cavern, a bundle cradled in her foreclaws.

Ffion’s dragon body was delicacy incarnate. Like the other Elementals, her fine, triangular head was crowned with two tapering white horns. A slender fin ran down the back of her sinuous neck like the dorsal fin of a fish. She spread her wings for balance. They were translucent, fine silver veins visible within, shading to a more opaque, silvery white around her bones.

Beautiful.

Ffion set her bundle carefully on the ground. Air swirled around her, kicking up dust into a shrinking vortex. A moment later, the human-looking Ffion stood in front of them. She waved, and then crouched by the bundle.

Before Kai could make out what it was, the wind kicked up again and the deep blackness that was Ashem entered the cave. He must not have been doing his weird dragon veiling thing, because Kai could see him this time.

He was pretty spectacular, she grudgingly admitted. More thickly built than the Elementals, he had a heavier, almost lion-like face with a bony frill a little like a triceratops, but shorter, with half a dozen small black horns sweeping back from its center. Unlike Ffion’s tail, which was whip-like and unadorned except for two wicked-looking spikes at the end, sharp black spines studded the bottom half of Ashem’s.

He set several smaller bundles on the ground, including Kai’s old blue backpack, and changed forms in a burst of darkness like the inverted flash of a camera. Now fully human, he barked something toward her in Welsh. For one bizarre moment, Kai thought he was talking to her. Then she heard Rhys respond from behind, his voice sharp. She jumped a little, and then mentally swore at herself. She needed to keep better track of him.

Kai moved forward to retrieve her pack, but Rhys passed her, jogging to Ffion to lean over the long, wrapped parcel the silver dragon had carried in. He said something that sounded very much like an expletive. Ffion folded her arms, her expression cool, and said something back. Oddly, Rhys glanced at Kai. He looked strangely unsure of himself. “It was your idea, you explain it to her.”

Ffion glared at him. “I seem to be the only one here capable of explanations.” She unfolded her arms and twiddled the end of one long braid between her fingertips before motioning at Kai to approach. Warily, Kai walked toward her.

Ffion glanced at the bundle. “I know it’s been difficult for you, being here without any viable way to contact your family and tell them you’re safe.”

Kai nodded. The thought of her family and friends sent a surprising, stabbing pain through her heart. She hadn’t realized until becoming heartsworn how much her family meant. Now she might never see them or Juli again.

Ffion hesitated for a bare second before she continued. “I thought it might be nice for you to visit with someone you love.”

Kai suddenly felt sick. Without a word, she strode over to the disturbingly human-sized bundle and flipped back the dark blue sheet. It only took a glimpse of mussed platinum hair to know who it was. She pulled the hair away from Juli’s face, her heart somehow rising and sinking at the sight of her friend’s elfin features relaxed in sleep.

Kai knelt, a maelstrom of emotions spiraling through her mind. She barely noticed Rhys had come to stand beside her.

“No.” She whirled on Ffion. “Why did you bring her here? Why would you do this to her? Me, I get. The other dragons would have killed me, but why would you bring Juli?”

Ffion nodded, as if this outburst had been expected. “She found the meadow while Ashem and I were there. She cared enough about you to push through the barrier around the meadow. I thought it might be beneficial for you—both of you—to see each other. You can write some letters for her to take to your family, spend a day or two with her, and then we’ll take her home.”

Kai’s pounding heart slowed a little, and she glanced down at Juli. A day or two was plenty of time to plan and execute an escape. The trek home would be easier with two people.

Kai turned and bumped into something warm and solid.
Rhys.
He put a hand on her shoulder to steady her and his fingers brushed the skin of her neck. A shock jolted through her, hot and electric. Her breathing quickened, and she looked up to find him staring down at her. Gently, she pulled away. “Wake her up,” she commanded Ashem.

The dark man folded his arms across his chest. “Politeness is the sinew that holds the wing together.”

Exasperated, Kai bared her teeth. “That is especially rich, coming from you. What is it, some kind of dragon proverb?”

Ashem only looked at her, as scowly as ever.

“Do it, Ashem,” Rhys said, his voice soft. Not a command, but not a request.

Ashem flicked his leonine gaze to Rhys, then Kai. “Let me make one thing clear. The girl can’t know that we are dragons.”

Kai folded her arms. “Or what?”

Ashem’s face was stony. “Consequences.”