Tears of War (35 page)

With a curse, Kellinar grabbed his shoulder. Flaming dragon-blasted idiots. In his mind he reached for Shryden.
“Stop. Whoever it is, you can’t kill them. We are trying to help Kalila not make an enemy of Markene.”

“I’m not going to kill him,”
came the return sending.
“I’m going to rip his arms off.”

“Not right now you’re not. You can rip them off later.”

He twisted in the saddle, looking over his shoulder at Kalila. “Are you alright?”

“Less than a hand widths difference and that would have been my temple.” Her voice sounded shaky.

“Undo the safety straps.”

She didn’t argue with the tone of his voice and he felt her scrambling to get the straps unbuckled. As soon as she was loose, Kellinar twisted around as far as he could and yanked her in front of him, using his body to shield her from any more arrows.

Through the bond he sensed Taela’s anger flare and he hoped she wouldn’t suddenly show up. An angry bondmate wouldn’t help the situation. He felt a thud against the saddle and looked back. The shaft of an arrow stuck up from the seat behind him. Another pinged harmlessly off Shryden’s scales.

Kellinar made a quick weave of air to carry his voice. “Enough!” His voice echoed across the courtyard, bouncing off the stone of the tall inner curtain wall. “My patience is wearing thin. I have restrained my dragon but I swear by the Fates if one more arrow flies I will give him permission to eat the lot of you.”

A heavy silence fell over the castle. Leaving the weave in place so all would hear, he said, “I have urgent business with Toren, King of Markene. My passenger is Princess Kalila, I believe her brother would appreciate it if you didn’t fill her full of arrows.”

Kellinar’s eyes swept the courtyard until they settled on the man nearest the keep doors. “You.” He pointed at the man. “You will go find your king, now.”

A tingle ran through him and the hair stood up on the back of his neck. Acting on instinct, he wrapped his arms around the woman in front of him, leaned forward, and flattened them both against the front of the saddle. Sharp pain tore across his back as another arrow flew past and pinged off Shryden’s neck.

Burn it all! He sat up, reached out for the air currents and asked them to find the fire-brained fool who kept shooting arrows. In seconds he had the information and lashed out with his power. Using weaves of air, Kellinar yanked the screaming man from the window of the guard tower behind them. He separated the weave again and wrenched the bow from the man’s hands and tossed it over the wall. After wrapping the man securely in another weave of air so he couldn’t move, Kellinar hurled him down on the stones. The guard hit with a grunt, his head knocked against the ground and he passed out.

“Anyone else need a trip through the air?” he asked, glaring back at the towers. Several men threw their weapons down and backed away.

“That won’t be necessary.”

Kellinar turned around to face the man with sandy hair down to his collar standing in the doorway to the keep. He dropped the weave for his voice and asked Kalila, “Who is that?”

She pushed herself up and peered around Shryden’s neck with. “My brother ,Toren.”

Toren walked a short way into the courtyard, his hazel eyes wary. “I was told you have my sister?”

Kalila slid down from the saddle. Kellinar made short work of his safety straps, praying to the Fates no one decided to stick an arrow in her. He leaped from the saddle and stood behind her, keeping an eye on the guards around the walls. Shryden lifted and stretched his wings out, creating a shield between them and the guard towers.

Toren took a couple of steps forward. “Kalila?”

With a small sob she ran forward and threw herself in her brother’s arms. Toren stroked her hair. “It’s alright, you’re home now.” He glared over her shoulder at Kellinar. “What did you do to her?”

“I did nothing. You can thank your twisted, older half-sister for what Kalila has been through,” Kellinar said with disgust.

Toren’s brow wrinkled. “Sadira? She disappeared months before Kalila, Larna, and Drisa. What does she have to do with it?” He pulled Kalila away and looked into her face, his eyes traveling over her scars. “Where are Larna and Drisa?”

“Gone. Sadira has them, but their minds have fled her torment and they are empty shells.” Kalila’s voice broke. “I tried to get them to come with me when I escaped, but they wouldn’t move. They wouldn’t even look at me.”

Toren put his arm around her and turned toward the keep. He glanced back over his shoulder at Kellinar. “I would like to speak with you, if you don’t mind.” He paused and looked around the courtyard before raising his voice, “I swear as the King of Markene, this…dragon…will be safe within these walls. At this point, an attack on the dragon or its rider is an attack against me.” His green eyes came back to Kellinar. “Will you step inside with me?”

Kellinar shrugged, ignoring the pain in his arm and back. Sure why not, who cared if he bled all over their castle. “Works for me. I need to speak with you anyway about a matter of great importance.”

Toren paused. “What is of greater importance than the return of my sister?”

Kellinar offered a half smile. “I think you can probably guess, but I also think it’s a conversation you are going to want to have in private.” Just what he wanted, a bloody shirt, an angry bondmate in his head, and an afternoon spent talking to a fire-brained noble.

He followed them through the halls until they reached a large study. Toren led his sister to a chair and then sat in the one next to her. With a sigh Kellinar settled in a chair across from them. Kalila seemed to have regained her composure. He leaned back and propped his ankle on his knee. Maybe it would be better if Taela showed up; she had more finesse with these types of things. Or even Serena, his back burned like fire and a healer would be nice right about now. The man used Fire magic, Kirynn should be here.

No, scratch that. She would probably have killed every guard in the courtyard and considered the problem solved. With another sigh, he realized this was on his shoulders, Fates be damned.

Toren looked as if he was uncertain how to address him. Kellinar cleared his throat. “I’m Di’shan Kellinar, rider of the Blue dragon Shryden, a senior member of the Tower of Wind and Water, and a Guardian of Galdrilene.”

Toren shook his head. “I have no idea what most of that means. Where is this tower you speak of?”

Kellinar smiled. “Galdrilene.”

Toren’s eyes widened. “Galdrilene is dead, wiped away in the last battle of the War of Fire.”

Kalila laid her hand on her brother’s. “He speaks the truth, brother. I have been there the last few weeks.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “I thought you said Sadira did this to you.”

She nodded. “She did.” Her hand went to the wide, pink scars marring the side of her face. “I traveled for nearly a year after escaping Sadira to reach Galdrilene.”

“Why, sister?” Toren’s brow furrowed. “Why didn’t you come home?”

“I didn’t come home because I couldn’t.” She took a deep breath and seemed to brace herself. “I had to learn to control my magic first.”

Toren paled and yanked his hand away from hers. “Your…” he swallowed. “Your magic?”

Kellinar dropped his foot to the floor and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Yes, magic. Just like you can use.”

Toren turned to him, his face paling further. If he lost any more blood from his face, he was going to pass out. He shook his head in denial.

Kellinar chuckled. “Don’t try to play games with me. I can sense the magic in you. You can use Fire magic. But you have something Kalila doesn’t have. You have a hum in your head that you sometimes pick up feelings from.”

Toren gaped at him, his eyes wide. “How…?”

“How do I know?” Kellinar leaned back and propped his ankle on his knee again. “Because a couple of years ago, I heard the same thing.”

“What does it mean? Is my magic driving me crazy?” Toren gripped the arms of his chair as if waiting for a verdict. “I would have turned myself in for execution, but there is no one else to rule Markene. If I were put to death it would leave Haden as the successor to the throne. I can’t let that happen.”

“You are not going crazy. You’re being called to a future you cannot yet comprehend. You are being offered a gift.” Fates be damned, he was starting to sound like Emallya.

“A gift? What are you talking about?” Toren gripped the chair tighter.

“I’m talking about a red version of the dragon in your courtyard.” Kellinar shifted, trying to ease the pain in his back. The wound on his arm burned too, but the slice in his back must be deeper. They were going to have a fine time trying to get the blood out of the chair.

Toren’s hands finally let loose their death grip and he slumped back. “A dragon?”

Kellinar rolled his eyes. Could the man say anything that didn’t come out as a question? Had he sounded like this much of a fire-brain when Emallya first told him? “The hum in your mind is a young dragon, still in its egg. It will only hatch for its destined rider. The hum is the draclet calling to you.”

“What if…” Toren licked his lips. “What if I don’t want any part of this?”

“If you truly reject the call and the offered gift, the draclet will leave you alone. It will still be tied to you though, so when you die, it will die as well.”

“Toren.” Kalila leaned toward him. She started to reach for his hand again, hesitated and laid it on the arm of her chair instead. “Whether you choose to answer the call or not—though how you could give up such a gift I don’t know—you have to get control of your magic. Fire magic is very dangerous in untrained hands. You could do a lot of damage to Markene and those around you. You have to go to Galdrilene if for no other reason than to learn how to use it properly.”

Toren rubbed his hands over his face. “I can’t leave Markene. The only person who can take the throne would be Haden and he would make more of a mess than I have.”

Kellinar shook his head. “No, Haden would have no chance of burning the city to the ground or setting a loved one on fire. And he isn’t the only one who can take the throne.”

Toren’s eyes locked on his. “Who else?”

Kellinar nodded toward Kalila. “Your sister.”

“What?” Toren leaped from his chair and stared at Kellinar like he’d grown an extra head. “A woman can’t rule Markene! It has never been done in the history of the nation.” He shook his head and slowly sat back down. “No, if there is no male heir or something happens to the heir, the next in line for the throne is the highest ranking male noble and that would be Haden.”

“You are the king are you not?” Kellinar did his best to keep his voice level and reveal none of the impatience he felt. “According to your laws and customs, you do have the choice of who your successor is. I know, I’ve studied every nation.”

“Yes, I have that choice, but it says nothing about placing a woman on the throne.” Toren waved the notion away.

Kellinar scowled. “Are you saying your sister is somehow less than you? That she is lacking in brains or ability?”

Toren glanced at Kalila. “No. I’m not saying that at all. It’s just…”

“Just what?” Kalila’s eyes narrowed.

“Look,” Toren said. “I would love to answer this call. It pulls at me and it takes everything I have to resist, but to leave Kalila here on the throne would be like signing her death warrant. She would be set on from all sides.”

Kalila straightened. “I have made arrangements so that I will be protected. I admit the idea of a queen instead of a king will be difficult for Markene to accept, particularly Haden and the other high nobles. They will have to get used to it. I will never allow myself to be pushed around by anyone again. I am not the woman I was raised to be. All of that changed at the hands of Sadira. Markene will get used to me and so will the high nobles.”

Kellinar watched Toren’s eyes and saw the man’s resistance wavering. Toren rubbed his face again and let his hands fall in his lap. “I will have to think about this for a couple of days. This isn’t something that can be decided in a moment.”

“Understandable.” Kellinar nodded. “However, I cannot stay for a couple of days and neither will Kalila. I will take her back to Galdrilene and if you decide to answer the call, I will return her.”

“My sister will stay with me.” Toren’s eyebrows drew down. “She is under my protection.”

“No, she is not.” Kellinar leaned forward, ignoring the bolt of pain that shot down his back. “Kalila is a junior mage at the Tower of Air and Water; she is under the protection of Galdrilene and always will be. As the senior representative of the Tower of Wind and Water as well as a Dragon Rider and Guardian of Galdrilene, at this moment she is under my personal protection. You cannot protect her here.”

Toren seemed stunned but recovered quickly. “You have no say in this.”

Kellinar smiled slightly. “I have every say in this.”

“What in the name of the Fates do you possibly think I can’t protect her from here in my own castle?”

The demanding tone in Toren’s voice irritated Kellinar but he did his best to rein it in. “Sadira, for one. You already failed to protect her from that once, I won’t allow that to happen again. You have no idea what you are up against. Sadira is a Shadow Rider; their black dragons are the dragons from the tales we were all fed with our mother’s milk. She and her fellow Shadow Riders are a living nightmare. If Sadira were to show up here, and she will eventually, Kalila would end up in her hands again. I will not allow that to happen to her. As a junior member of my tower, she is my responsibility and my charge until another senior member arrives to relieve me of that duty.”