Heart of Flames, page 28
Terror flared up inside Veronyka. Alexiya had said she didn’t know Pheronia or Avalkyra, but that didn’t mean she hadn’t seen their faces. And that their faces didn’t look even a tiny bit like Veronyka’s face.
“So, will you help us?” Veronyka blurted before Alexiya could spot another family connection.
“How?” Alexiya said, forgetting her intense scrutiny and dismissing Veronyka’s words with a shrug. “The three of us are no army. Even your ‘army’ up at the Eyrie is no army. So what can we possibly do?”
“Protect the people,” Veronyka said simply. “There’s…”
She trailed off. A waft of smoke had reached her nostrils, and it wasn’t the smell of burning wick and oil coming from Alexiya’s lanterns.
It was the smell of wood. Green, living wood—the kind that gave off dense, choking smoke.
“What—” Tristan began, but then Alexiya was on her feet. She marched into one of the back rooms, which had a hatch that opened onto the roof. She was outside before Veronyka even fully entered the room, leaving moonlight spilling in from the opening and illuminating a short ladder. She and Tristan hastened to follow.
The roof above was conical, and Alexiya climbed to the summit before turning her gaze south. Veronyka followed her, and on the far side of the roof, Xephyra and the other phoenixes lifted their heads.
The landscape was dotted with distant, flickering pulses of light—fires, burning in the Silverwood. Veronyka thought of their earlier discussion about firebirds in the Land of Trees, and her heart clenched.
“What is it?” she found herself asking, though she already knew. One fire might be an accident—a lantern knocked over or a cook fire gotten out of control—but five, six… seven of them?
“It’s an attack,” Tristan said, stunned. “But who are they attacking? I thought no one lived here anymore.”
“There are some small communities living at the edge of the Foothills,” Alexiya said, her voice strange and distant. “They trade north and south of the border, mostly to places that don’t see a lot of travelers.”
“But why the fires? Do they mean to set the entire Silverwood ablaze?” Tristan demanded. “What’s the point?”
“To make it look like Phoenix Riders did it,” Veronyka said, casting a look at Alexiya to see her response.
She didn’t argue.
“We need to get there,” Veronyka said, tugging Tristan’s arm. “Now.”
She thought of the rest of Tristan’s patrol—close, but not close enough to get there in time. Only minutes had passed, and already the fires were brighter, the scent of smoke almost stifling, even in the open air.
“Will you help us?” Veronyka asked Alexiya, as Tristan shuffled down the other side of the roof to mount Rex. He lifted the horn strapped to his saddle and blew—but they both knew his patrol was out of range. They were on their own.
Alexiya was rigid at the roof’s apex. She looked down when Veronyka spoke but made no answer.
“They used to say one Phoenix Rider was worth fifty soldiers,” Veronyka said as Tristan called her name and Xephyra shook out her wings, ready for a fight. “Let’s prove it.”
Shine now, little fire, the day is cold.
Shine now, little fire, the night is dark.
Shine now, little fire, in time you’ll grow.
Shine now, little fire, and before long,
you’ll be a little fire no more.
—Pyraean nursery rhyme
If I’d had the strength to confront Avalkyra,
I could have stopped a war. But instead I shielded my eyes,
unable to face my sister, my rival—my brightest sun—
until it was too late.
- CHAPTER 24 - TRISTAN
DESPITE A FLICKER OF something in her eye, Alexiya didn’t move at Veronyka’s words. Didn’t speak or react.
“Come on,” Tristan called to Veronyka, fighting his own sinking disappointment. His mind was going a mile a minute—were these Rolan’s soldiers too, or did he have other allies supporting his warmongering?—but he pushed his worries aside and focused. Flying was difficult for phoenixes in such tight quarters, with dense foliage and crisscrossing branches obscuring their wingbeats and their sight lines. Not to mention that phoenixes ignited during battle, and to do so here could have devastating consequences.
Of course, the fires already burned. That old fear reared up inside, rising in his chest and pressing onto his lungs.
“We need to get eyes on what’s happening down there,” Tristan said as Veronyka left Alexiya and climbed into Xephyra’s saddle.
“We’ll have to stay above the trees for now,” Veronyka said, “and mirror for best visibility.”
They flew toward the cluster of fires in the distance, Veronyka veering slightly west and Tristan east, hopefully giving them a full picture of what was happening below.
It wasn’t good. Once Tristan mirrored with Rex, his vision grew better in the darkness. There were houses built among the roots of the towering trees at the edge of a clearing. Already some of the homes were burning, the inhabitants dark shadows running this way and that, screaming in fear and crying out for loved ones. The soldiers were easier to follow, most of them carrying torches and burning as they went.
Tristan swooped back around and sought Veronyka across the dark expanse of the sky. Her expression was bleak but determined as they brought their phoenixes together above the fray.
“Most of the villagers are running west,” Veronyka said, pointing back the way she’d come. “I’ll do what I can to steer them north. If we can get them to Alexiya’s village…”
“They can take refuge in the tree houses,” Tristan said. “We’ll have a far easier time protecting them up there. And trunks that thick won’t burn down easily.”
Veronyka nodded. “Once they’re out of reach of the soldiers, we can send for help.”
“I’ll try to cut off pursuit,” Tristan said, wheeling Rex back around. He frowned. It would be ideal if they were a patrol of three—as they should have been if he hadn’t left Anders behind and as they could have been if Alexiya had joined them. Tristan shook the thoughts aside—that didn’t matter now. He and Veronyka would do what they could.
With one final look at each other—a lingering look that they shouldn’t have shared if they were going to break this bond between them—they separated. Even as he dove among the trees, drawing his bow and nocking an arrow, a part of Tristan stayed with Veronyka. It had been this way since the attack on the Eyrie. Tristan always felt her presence, some awareness of her when she walked into a room or stepped up behind him, and he was coming to realize that it might have been the bond between them all this time. That even though he had no shadow magic, some part of him sensed its presence.
And that same part of him hated the idea of letting it go.
Tristan sighted several soldiers and loosed his arrows without lighting them. Rex was growing hot beneath him but was doing his best to keep his flames in check. Tristan felt his fear stirring, the part of him that hated fire—even the potential of it, the scent of it on his bondmate’s feathers. But he fought the feeling back as he had learned to do before, focusing his mind on the mental safe house that Veronyka had help him build. The tremor in his hand ceased, and he drew another arrow.
Now that he’d hit a few soldiers, the others had noticed him—and those who hadn’t, Rex alerted with a fierce, echoing shriek. Tristan wanted to draw as much attention as he could from the fleeing villagers and Veronyka, whom he could still see in the distance, flying low among the trees. Xephyra was emitting a soft glow, meant to act as a beacon for those who tripped and stumbled and struggled to find their way. Once she got the villagers to Alexiya’s village and climbing the ladders, Tristan would join her, and together they could properly defend the entire group. The high ground was always ideal in a fight—especially a Phoenix Rider fight—and the soldiers would have difficulty reaching their targets, even with crossbows, if they were fifty feet above and protected by wooden platforms and thick walls.
While Tristan continued to loose arrows, he had to be cautious. Villagers were mixed in among the soldiers, and he had to hold his shot more than once because there were civilians in the way. Instead he nudged Rex to try diving directly at the soldiers, causing some to scatter and release their grip on the people they’d been terrorizing or dragging along in their wake.
He was just swooping around for another dive when a scream drew his attention to Veronyka and the escaping villagers.
Some soldiers had gotten behind him and were trying to drag the stragglers back, causing one of them to cry out in fear. He flew hard, Rex weaving between the low-hanging branches, and rather than Tristan firing arrows, Rex extended his claws and pulled up two soldiers by his talons before tossing them roughly aside. But even as the attackers at the end of the line scattered, a dozen more appeared out of the darkness, descending on the front of the line and blocking their escape.
They were surrounded.
The fires that were burning nearby were growing and spreading too, licking across the dry underbrush and climbing up the trees, the heat a palpable weight at Tristan’s back. The smoke was becoming thick, clawing at his throat and making his eyes water as he tried to think.
He either had to abandon the back of the line and join Veronyka to fight their way forward, or he and Rex had to stay as they were, defending their position but unlikely to get a better one. Tristan did a hasty count—they’d run out of arrows before they killed all these soldiers, and then what? Their phoenixes would have to ignite and make more fire—fire they couldn’t control or hope to rein in once it was let loose inside the dense forest. All would be ash and smoke, and the soldiers wouldn’t be the only casualties.
Tristan nocked another arrow, but when he didn’t release it, the soldiers grew bolder. Two separated from the pack, crossbows raised—and dropped before Tristan could aim his bow.
A battle cry rent the night, and Tristan looked up in surprise.
Alexiya descended from the darkness above, mounted on Ximn. She fired arrows with such rapid-fire precision that Tristan was struck momentarily frozen, watching as she took down half a dozen soldiers before he’d even realized what was happening.
Ximn landed, and Alexiya leapt from her saddle, firing two more arrows before swinging her bow around to knock one soldier to the ground, then pulling a dagger out of her belt to dispatch another.
The rest of the soldiers drew back as Ximn took flight again, swooping and diving around the cluster of villagers, creating a temporary barrier and snapping or clawing at any who drew too close. It was clear she, unlike Rex and Xephyra, was familiar with flying in the tight quarters of the Silverwood.
Alexiya nodded at Tristan, then gave a longer look to Veronyka—an acknowledgment of her alliance, of her choice to fight with them.
“This way,” Alexiya shouted, pitching her voice for the villagers to hear and pointing just beyond the nearest trees. “There’s a bunker in that low hill. Get your people inside and barricade the door.” She turned to Veronyka and Tristan, who had flown over to meet her. “Come, together we’ll—”
“We’re not leaving them alone,” Veronyka said, cutting her off. She glanced around at the villagers, who were coughing and holding one another, clearly frightened and confused and wary of the fires that pressed in on all sides.
Alexiya’s face hardened. “The soldiers—the fires,” she countered, but Veronyka shook her head.
“The people first. You know where the bunker is—you lead them.”
Tristan stared, surprised—and impressed—that Veronyka had the confidence to order around a seasoned war vet like Alexiya. The two stared at each other, and Tristan was struck by the thought of Veronyka in the future, as beautiful as Alexiya, with braided hair trailing down her back, shimmering with twice as many trophies and symbols of excellence as Alexiya had.
And in that vision, she wore a crown.
Alexiya tilted her head a fraction of an inch, and then, to Tristan’s surprise, she smiled.
“I will lead the villagers to safety. Give pursuit, if you can,” Alexiya said, as Ximn came to land next to her. The soldiers had mostly scattered at this point, apparently unwilling to face off against the three Phoenix Riders, not to mention the growing flames. “But focus your attention on the fires. We need to smother the flames.”
She leapt into the saddle, and Ximn took to the sky to hover in front of them.
Smother the flames? Tristan frowned and cast a curious look at Veronyka, who looked equally puzzled.
Alexiya’s lips twisted into a sardonic smile. “Baby Riders,” she muttered, somewhat indulgently. “Trust your bondmates—they’ll know what to do.”
Then she was off, calling out for the villagers to follow her, Ximn glowing faintly to light the way.
Veronyka and Tristan directed their phoenixes away from the villagers, keeping a wary eye out for soldiers who might have tried to circle around, but there were none. The fires burned so bright now that there were few places to hide, and the heat was sweltering.
It took all the strength Tristan possessed to fly into the flames instead of away from them, but he trusted his mental safe house and he trusted Veronyka, flying a few paces in front. It occurred to him that as patrol leader, he should be the one leading the charge. Maybe Veronyka recognized that facing fire like this would be hard for Tristan. Or maybe leadership was her natural state. It was in her blood, after all.
When they drew close to the heart of the nearest fires—the burning houses—Rex slowed down, copying Xephyra, and told Tristan to dismount through the bond.
Rex—what do you mean? Tristan asked, remaining in the saddle just long enough for Rex to try to buck him off impatiently. “Okay, okay,” Tristan muttered, sliding off his phoenix’s back and stumbling to the ground.
Saddle, Rex pressed, and Tristan hurried forward to fumble with the straps, just as Veronyka did beside him. As soon as the leather seat was off his back, Rex took to the air once more.
Tristan and Veronyka stood and watched, dumbfounded, as Rex and Xephyra flew into the burning, blistering flames. Yes, they were phoenixes—they could make fire hotter than this—but that came from their own bodies. This was harder to watch—harder to understand.
When Rex disappeared into the molten blue center of a nearby fire, Tristan took an unconscious step forward—something he never thought he’d be able to do. But to see Rex vanish like that… Tristan’s heart thudded and his breath grew thin.
But as he watched, the fire diminished, its licking flames shrinking, drawing in on themselves, until Tristan could see Rex again. He was in the center of it all, but rather than seeing the fire explode outward from his feathers—as Tristan had seen time and time again—Rex was drawing the fire inward. He was absorbing it, making it a part of himself, and then stifling its power.
Xephyra was doing the same to another smoldering fire, and Tristan and Veronyka shared a look of complete and utter wonder.
“I didn’t know a phoenix could do that,” Veronyka said, her voice oddly hushed—as if they were in the presence of something divine and miraculous.
Maybe they were.
“Neither did I.”
* * *
By the time they’d put out the fires, the sky was lightening to the east. Alexiya stood watch outside the bunker, which apparently was a common element in Arborian tree villages.
“In case of fire,” Alexiya had explained, showing the large, underground cavern built into a hillock, rather spacious and filled with chairs, blankets, and old supplies.
They led the villagers north, through the trees and toward Vayle. Many of them wanted to return to their homes to scavenge for belongings, and some cried about missing pets or even family members. Veronyka’s eyes were wide and pleading, but it was too dangerous to go back. They didn’t know if the soldiers in the trees were alone, or possibly just the vanguard or forward scouts of a larger force. There were too many unknowns.
Still, when they reached the edge of the Silverwood and Latham—currently patrolling the village perimeter—descended, Tristan glanced back over his shoulder. It was light enough now that they could fly safely above the trees and see where the soldiers—and the missing people—had gone.
“I’ll go,” Veronyka said at once, but Alexiya pushed to the front.
“Let me,” she said quietly—but firmly. “I know these parts. Go with your patrol. I will come back as quickly as I can.”
Veronyka wavered, then nodded. Alexiya turned to Tristan next, and all he said was, “Be careful.”
Then she was off.
Tristan faced Latham, who looked pale and furious as he took in Tristan’s smoke-and-ash-covered appearance, but also relieved. Apparently Tristan’s patrol had been minutes from sending out a search for him and Veronyka. They had spotted the distant smoke and suspected that was what was delaying the pair of them on their return.
Latham led the way to the village, darting a curious look at Alexiya, who was flying back south, while Veronyka and Tristan took up the rear.
Despite everything—despite the anger and exhaustion pulling at his muscles—Tristan directed a tired smile at Veronyka. She cocked him a questioning eyebrow, and he nodded at Alexiya’s retreating figure.
“Look who you’ve won to our side,” he said.
Veronyka twisted in her saddle to stare after Alexiya, brow furrowed. “I think she’d have come anyway. She’d have followed the flames.”
“She wasn’t following the flames,” Tristan said. “She was following you.”
He’d done his best to forget everything Veronyka had told him about who she really was. In fact, he was trying not to think about a lot of things lately: that his father was lying to him again or how it had felt to black out and have no memory of falling helpless from his saddle. That wasn’t to mention waking up to learn that he was bonded to Veronyka—oh, and that her full name was Veronyka Ashfire and she was heir to the empire.
