A Kiss of Flame & Fury, page 18
But no sooner had the words left my lips than a familiar roar of challenge echoed through the air, rattling the small diamond-shaped window panes in their lead frames.
“Dragons!” Mingled excitement and hope seized me. I leaped to my feet and raced over to the closest window to look out.
Did King Menelaus send envoys to the island? Am I going home?
I couldn’t fucking wait to resume my true shape and ride the winds once again!
I unlatched the window, threw open the hinged pane, and leaned out.
A pair of unfamiliar Wind-Walkers circled the castle, their huge, feathered wings casting giant shadows over the road leading down to the sea. Faint shrieks of terror rose in a discordant cacophony from somewhere behind me.
My windows all looked out toward the ocean rather than into the castle, but I could image all those pitiful earthworms—students, servants, and guards alike—scattering like leaves before these envoys.
As the Wind-Walker pair flew by my window, I strove to identify them by their blue-and-gold plumage with green crests and tail-feathers.
Thanks to my Clutch Mother’s role as King Menelaus’ vizier, I was familiar with every Dragon aerie in the Kingdom of Kappadokia. And I was pretty damned sure I’d never seen these two Wind-Walkers before.
“Who the fuck are those guys?” I muttered, puzzled. “And what the fuck are they doing here?”
“Don’t you recognize them?” Tama asked, joining me at the window.
“Maybe they’re from Khemet in the Southern Continent?” I shook my head. “By Primal Fire, I hope that idiot castellan and his conniving sister haven’t started that war Friend Ilhan was warning us about!”
“We should find Jacinthe,” Tama said. “Isn’t she in the Hall of Learning right now?”
It was true. She spent nearly every morning there, learning how to be a mage.
Which meant she was out there right now with the earthworms, away from the shelter of the infirmary’s stone walls.
No sooner had he spoken, when Jacinthe’s terror surged through our bond.
“Fuck!” My chest tightened at the sensation. I whirled away from the window, worry consuming me like fire.
Though I couldn’t care less about most of the other inhabitants of this fucking castle, the thought of these two strange Wind-Walkers attacking her by accident ignited protective rage within me. The ancient laws of my kind bound me to protect my aerie members at all costs.
I bolted for the door, Tama close behind.
The shouts and cries grew louder as we sprinted down the stairs. We emerged from the gatehouse to find the rank stench of fear and panic wafting through the air.
Around us, the guards flung spears and shot crossbows to little effect, their projectiles either bouncing off armored plumage or missing their targets altogether.
Clearly, Dominus Victor Augustus the Eighth hadn’t sent his finest marksmen to serve on this forsaken island.
“Where the hell are the mages?” Guard Rikkard yelled. “Why aren’t they driving those murder-birds away?”
I saw one Wind-Walker spit a strange green substance instead of Dragon-fire, and my feeling of wrongness intensified. These Wind-Walkers were like none I’d ever encountered before.
Damn it, and here I am, trapped in this fucking puny human shape!
In my true form, I’d drive those strangers off in a blaze of righteous fury, then hunt each of them down and singe their tail-feathers before tearing out their throats.
Instead, I ran like hell for the buildings where Friend Jacinthe was most likely to be. Tama easily kept pace with me. I saw him bend and snatch up first a fallen spear, then an abandoned sword, all without breaking stride.
Not a bad idea, I thought.
The castle’s main courtyard was littered with weapons, mostly spent crossbow bolts, but I spotted another spear among the clutter. I grabbed it. If my Fire magic failed to get the strange Wind-Walkers’ attention, then maybe a sting from a human weapon would.
Throngs of panicked humans ran or cowered everywhere I looked, searching desperately for a glimpse of fiery hair and sun-kissed skin.
Some of the older crows had mustered their courage and were battling the strange Wind-Walkers with magic. Some called up gusts of wind, while others used their powers to aid the guards’ missiles. Cobblestones, furniture, and many other objects hurled themselves at the Wind-Walkers, driving them back from the beleaguered academy.
Undeterred, the invaders returned time and time again, swooping in to maim and kill with their wicked, curved talons.
Many of the castle’s defenders had burned clothing and skin, but instead of the brimstone of true Dragon fire, the acrid scents of acid and foul chemicals pervaded the air.
That was… not right.
Where the fuck is Friend Jacinthe?
My heart thundered in my chest, fury and terror twisting my guts into an aching knot. If those Wind-Walkers harm so much as a hair on her head…
“There she is!” Tama pointed.
Jacinthe stood sheltered under the eaves of the infirmary building. From her gestures, she was directing a group of black-robed crows and guards as they carried the injured to safety.
Relief flooded my veins, chased swiftly by rage at those who’d dared threaten what was mine. I longed to unleash a blast of flame to sear their hides and boil the flesh from their bones.
“Boreas! Tama!” Jacinthe had spotted us. She pointed up at the castle’s walls. “Help them! Please!”
I looked up. One of the strange Wind-Walkers was coming in for a landing on the parapet. Below, a knot of armored men frantically pushed and pulled on ropes to maneuver a ballista into place on the wall-walk. It was their only hope of fending off the winged intruders.
Tama close on my heels, I raced to a nearby tower, and sprinted up the winding stairs that led to the wall-walk.
When we emerged from the tower, I saw the guards had abandoned the ballista and fled to the shelter of the next tower. One of the Wind-Walkers now cornered Master-at-Arms Guisbald. He sat on the walkway behind the ballista. His back was braced against the parapet, and he held his unsheathed sword in a defensive position. His right leg was twisted and bleeding.
“Fucking stop that!” I yelled in my native language.
The Wind-Walker’s enormous head swung towards me. Its eyes were pitch black rather than the usual golden shade.
Instead of replying, it opened its jaws and roared primal defiance at me, revealing rows of long fangs, then reared back on its haunches, ready to strike with teeth and taloned forelegs.
I peered at its right leg. No aerie mark? Stranger and stranger.
Then the wind brought me its scent. And it was utterly wrong.
This was no true Wind-Walker. It stank of acid and human magic.
Tama darted forward, his spear a blur of steel and wood as he hurled it at the beast threatening Guisbald. I called up my Dragon-fire and sent it to wreathe the spearhead. The false Wind-Walker shrieked in pain, writhing away from the searing heat boring into its neck.
Before it could recover, Tama was upon it, his borrowed sword flashing.
The beast’s head tumbled to the pavement. A strange green ichor sprayed from the severed neck. Then both the head and body collapsed and melted rapidly away, leaving behind only clear jelly that stank of magic.
A magical construct. Fuck. Some human mage had created these false Wind-Walkers and sent them to attack the castle.
A fast-moving shadow alerted me to the second false Wind-Walker as it swooped at us. I hurled a fireball at it. As it wheeled away, I hurled my spear, once more adding Dragon-fire to its tip.
Even in this reduced shape, I was far stronger than any true human. The blazing spearhead pierced the dense plumage under its left wing and embedded itself deeply into the thing’s side.
It roared and spat green vapor at me. Liquid sizzled against my clothing, eating holes in the fabric. I was fireproof, even in human shape. Even so, the acid stung my tough hide like a swarm of Kynódontes hornets, those fierce insects whose stingers could penetrate even a Wind-Walker’s skin.
The spear’s long shaft blocked its next wingbeat. It tumbled through the sky, plunging towards the castle wall. Tama shouted something in the eerie whistling language of the Sea-People and leaped high.
His arms blurred as he swung his blade down. He beheaded the thing with one stroke and screamed in triumph.
Panting, I looked to Tama, relief flooding through me as the second false Wind-Walker dissolved into jelly. We were victorious.
If those had been real Wind-Walkers, things would have gone differently. The attackers wouldn’t have been nearly as easy to dispatch.
“You fought well, my friend,” I acknowledged, clapping him on the shoulder.
“Likewise,” Tama replied, returning the gesture. For a moment, we stood there, basking in our triumph.
“Master Guisbald,” I said, turning to the human soldier. “Can you walk?”
He shook his head. “That damned thing broke my leg when it flew at me,” he gasped. His face was gray with pain beneath his tan.
“We will carry you down to the Place of Healing,” Tama told him.
Friend Ilhan was right, dammit, I thought grimly. Someone—and I’m betting it’s those assholes Lord Roderigo and Lady Erzabetta—are trying to frame Wind-Walkers for this attack!
Tama and I carried Master Guisbald back down to the courtyard. While Tama and I had been disposing of the false Wind-Walkers, Ilhan and Alondra had joined Jacinthe in triaging the wounded.
The three of them moved among the crows and guards thronging the infirmary courtyard, instantly healing minor wounds with magic.
Ilhan had apparently been fighting the beasts before he returned to the role of mage-healer. His new sword hung at his side in open defiance of the academy’s rules. Acid burns had eaten away much of his right sleeve. Beneath the tattered fabric, his arm was covered with patches of newly healed pink skin.
As we approached, Jacinthe was healing a guard’s blistered cheek. Her hands were shaking as she held them against the man’s face.
“Friend Jacinthe,” I called.
She turned, saw Guisbald sagging in our hold, and ran to us.
After giving the wounded Master-at-Arms a quick examination, she asked us to carry him up to the infirmary ward, where Mage-Healer Armand and Gwydion were tending the seriously injured.
“Mage Armand is going to have to heal that leg,” she said. “I haven’t learned bone-setting spells yet. Stretchers are over there.” She pointed to a nearby wall.
“Those Dragons were magical constructs,” I told her when Tama and I returned to the courtyard a few minutes later.
“I guessed as much.” Jacinthe’s expression grew haunted. “Just before those things attacked the castle, someone killed Mage-Instructor Quinson while he was trying to tell me who was behind the attacks.”
“Did you see who did it?” I demanded.
She shook her head. “He wore a punishment collar for crimes he committed before coming here. It began glowing and inflicting pain on him as soon as he began speaking.” She shuddered. “He was in agony. It was a horrible way to go.”
“The guilty parties wished to silence him,” Tama said.
“It would seem so,” Jacinthe said. She blew out a breath. “But we’ll have to talk about that later. Right now, could the two of you help transport those patients who can’t walk?”
“Of course,” I said as Tama inclined his head. “Anything to assist you.”
As we set to work, I couldn’t help but marvel at Jacinthe’s transformation.
The headstrong kitchen servant who had once been helpless to defend her friends from bullying mages had blossomed into a formidable force in her own right. I approved. I had chosen well when I adopted her into my aerie.
“Stay away from my students, Dragon!” someone shouted.
I glanced up and saw the sour-faced assistant chatelaine walking across the courtyard towards me, flanked by two nervous guards. “What the fuck are you talking about, Lady Margitts?”
“I know you’re behind this!” Wide-eyed, she pointed at me with a shaking finger. “You invited your Dragon friends to attack this castle!”
As I stared at her in disbelief, she ordered, “Guards! Arrest Prince Boreas!”
Chapter 18
Jacinthe
“What the fuck did you just say?” Boreas’ golden eyes glowed with temper.
“Wait a moment, Lady Margitts,” I interjected, stepping between her and the angry Dragon. “Boreas isn’t to blame here. In fact, he and Lord Tama were the ones who stopped those fake Dragons from hurting more people. He’s been doing everything he can to help.”
“Indeed,” Tama added, his dark eyes flashing fiercely. “Friend Boreas showed great courage in this time of crisis. It was our combined efforts that thwarted the magical constructs’ attack.”
“Fake Dragons? Magical constructs?” Lady Margitts stared at us. “How dare you spin these ridiculous fantasies! Do you think I’m stupid?”
“But they were magical constructs, Lady Margitts!” Karminn de Monopia chimed in. “We all saw them dissolve into protoplasm after Prince Boreas and Lord Tama fought the things.”
I saw others nodding in agreement. Lady Margitts’ mouth thinned.
“Prince Boreas saved Master Guisbald from being eaten!” said a castle guard.
Lady Margitts’ face grew red as she listened to witness after witness paint a picture of Boreas and Tama’s heroism and teamwork. It was clear she hadn’t expected this show of support for the castle’s most feared imperial hostages.
Petty as it was, I couldn’t help a surge of satisfaction at seeing her cornered.
“Where are Lord Roderigo and Lady Erzabetta in this crisis?” I asked, twisting the knife in her wounded pride. “Mage Quinson lies dead, and dozens of servants, students, and guards are injured. Shouldn’t the castellan and chatelaine be here to deal with the aftermath of this crisis?”
Murmurs of agreement rippled through the crowd. “Yeah, where are they?” someone called.
“Hiding from those fake Dragons?” someone else asked sarcastically.
Snickers rose from the wounded and our helpers.
Lady Margitts’ sour expression twisted into one of barely concealed rage. “My lady Erzabetta suddenly took ill after the midday meal, and Lord Roderigo refuses to leave her side. I suspect she’s been poisoned.”
People looked at each other. No one seemed convinced by this explanation.
I certainly wasn’t. Lady Erzabetta and Lord Roderigo were both mages, graduates of the flagship Imperial Academy for the Magical Arts in Neapolis Capitola. I thought about the effort required to create and control not just one large magical construct, but two. Simultaneously.
Then again, if my suspicions proved true, one or both of them had also worked the powerful spell to create the horde of monkey-demon constructs that nearly killed Gwydion and me on my first visit to the apothecary garden.
And if our chatelaine and castellan were the mages responsible, then they were probably both drained and sick with fatigue in the aftermath of the working.
Lady Margitts continued, “Rest assured, Lord Roderigo has every faith in my ability to handle things here.” Her smug tone set my nerves on edge.
Before I could respond, Ilhan stepped forward, blue eyes blazing. “Convenient timing for our leaders to disappear, Aunt Amella. If their negligence in policing the academy’s mages led to this attack, they should answer for it.”
More murmurs of agreement rose from the crowd. I hid a smile, grateful for Ilhan’s support.
Lady Margitts looked flustered. “You overstep yourself, nephew,” she snapped.
But the damage was done. Protests rose from the onlookers, growing in volume to shouts.
“Enough!” Lady Margitts finally snapped, silencing the crowd.
Her eyes flickered briefly over the faces of those who had spoken before finally settling on me.
“Once again, I find you at the center of trouble, Junior Apprentice Jacinthe,” she began.
Boreas growled. Tama stared at her unblinkingly and lifted his sword.
“But it seems your quick thinking in aiding the wounded and calming the panicked is… commendable,” Lady Margitts finished hastily.
I met her frosty gaze, my heart pounding. “Thank you, Lady Margitts,” I replied, my voice steady despite my racing thoughts.
