Dragonoak: The Complete History of Kastelir (35 page)

Claire climbed off Calais' back, having no choice but to accept Luxon's challenge. In the distance, Queen Kidira and Akela veered off the path, falling behind. It wouldn't do for the Queen of Kastelir to become involved in an altercation between two Felheimish Knights.

Claire drew her sword, and she drew it as though to fight. Luxon gripped his own blade as though it was an afterthought, something he merely happened to be holding.

“I assure you, Luxon. The King and Queen will not –
cannot
– offer you what they would give me,” Claire said, giving him one last chance. “Go back to Thule. Tell them I was nowhere to be found.”

“After all the trouble I've been to? I've already lost a perfectly good axewoman to this ridiculous pursuit, as well as who knows how many weeks.”

It was decided. Luxon lashed out with his sword, faster than I'd believed he'd be able to, bravado backed up by skill. It was nothing like watching Claire fight off the bandits; she moved with a focus born of knowing exactly what her opponent was capable of.

Luxon lunged and Claire stepped back, to the side, dodging blow after blow, not raising her sword to meet Luxon's. I gripped Charley's reins tightly when he began to panic and looked desperately to Kouris, wanting her to intervene. She kept her eyes on the fight, not intending to step in until she had to.

“You'll have to fight back eventually, Phoenix,” Luxon said.

His dragon-bone armour clattered as he moved, and Claire had no choice but to lift her sword to parry his blow. The steel whined and I understood why she'd gone to such lengths to measure her movements. Luxon's sword made a dent in her own, marring the metal like a tooth knocked from a mouth.

They both grit their teeth, heaving their weapons apart.

“Next time I'll cut it in two,” Luxon declared, swinging again. Blindly, almost. For the fun of it.

Claire blocked the attack, bringing her sword up with force. Dragon-bone sunk into steel and Claire twisted the hilt of her sword, prying Luxon's blade out of his hand. He made a grasp for it but caught the air, and the dragon-bone sword skidded across the dirt, entirely unscathed.

Claire placed one foot atop it, sword still raised, pointed at the line of Luxon's jaw.

She'd won. The tangle of veins gripping my heart loosened and I blinked my eyes dry.

“If I were you, Luxon, I would remain
incredibly
still. Keep in mind, I know how the armour's put together; I know its weak points, and you were too arrogant to wear a helm,” Claire said in a low, controlled voice. There was nothing celebratory in her tone, nothing that suggested this was a victory of any sort. She kicked the dragon-bone sword across the dirt and Kouris knelt, claiming it for her own.

“Not a bad piece,” she mused, testing it in her hand like a dagger.

“Ightham, Ightham,” Luxon said, voice thick and dank. “There's no need for this. What if I say you were right—I came to Kastelir and didn't catch so much as a glimpse of you. Say I heard of someone matching your description heading south, across the Uncharted Sea.”

Luxon had been disarmed, was standing with a sword pointed at his throat, but didn't sound as though he was begging for his life. He took Claire's advice, not moving other than to blink and speak, but gave the impression that he was in a position to be bargaining.

“Rowan—we ought to have rope left,” Claire said.

I jumped off Charley's back and tore through the bags, certain that if Luxon got away now, it would be on me. There was a serviceable amount of rope left, though I doubted we were going to leave him tied to a tree.

I took careful steps forward, hooking the rope over the arm Claire was holding out. Having discerned that we hadn't been bested, Akela and Queen Kidira made their way over to us, and Claire took slow steps towards Luxon, sword edging closer and closer to his throat.

Silently, he admitted defeat. He hadn't considered a pane a challenge and had barely acknowledged me at all, but the two riders approaching him were unknowns, and his only weapon had been wrested from him. Luxon's shoulders slumped, arms inching behind his back, and Claire gripped him by the shoulder, turning him towards her.

“I'll be keeping an eye on him,” Kouris said, strolling around in front of Luxon, “Don't worry.”

Nodding, Claire sheathed her blade. Quickly, she wound the rope around his wrists, tugging on each end to tighten it.

Luxon moved.

He didn't reach for Claire's sword; a single step back from her would've put it out of reach. Instead, he thrust his elbows back, dragon-bone spikes puncturing Claire's leather armour, tearing ruts from her stomach to sternum, digging in deep.

In a heartbeat, Kouris lunged forward. She sunk Luxon's sword into his throat and down, down into his chest, and all I could hear was the pounding of hooves as Akela and Queen Kidira were upon us. Someone spoke – someone shouted – but it a buzz to me, drowned out by the pounding between my temples.

Luxon was dead, dragon-bone armour streaked with torrents of red. The shadow of death was upon him, coiling deep within the pulpy mess of his organs. It was a fine mist that no one else saw, staining the air, letting me know it could be mine; I could draw it deep within my chest if I so desired, and exhale nothing but light.

I could close his throat and making his heart beat again, if I chose to.

It didn't speak to me in a mocking voice; it wasn't cruel or hungry, but thrummed through me like a gentle song I knew without hearing. It was overwhelmed by how much it wanted to yield to me, and I wanted so very much to reach out, to press my hands against Luxon's throat, but, but—

Claire
.

She was doubled over, forehead scraping against the ground as she clung to her bloodied chest with both arms. That shadow of mist wasn't upon her yet, but it had taken notice; blood poured out of her, leaving more room for it to seep in.

I fell to the ground next to her, eyes stinging, burning, too hot and too bright to be filled with tears. Everything slowed down for me. My fingers twitched with long-idle power and I knew I could do this. I knew I could save her. I placed a hand on Claire's shoulder, easing her back, meaning to close the wounds.

Her face was white and damp, blood caught between her teeth, but for all the fear that washed over her, her eyes were harder than I'd ever known them to be.

I held out a hand to heal her and Claire, torn to shreds, unable to find purchase against her chest for all that rushed out of her, pushed me away.

Akela and Kouris did what I couldn't.

I'd been in a trance until Claire knocked me back, seeing layers of life and death press tightly together, in lieu of my surroundings. No one wasted as much time as I did. Kouris pulled off her sash, knelt by Claire's side and pressed it to her chest, and Akela brought over handfuls of bitterwillow. She pushed it into Claire's mouth, forcefully working her jaw when she gurgled on the blood in her throat, and I knew too well that all the bitterwillow in the world wouldn't close her wound.

Calais stomped his hooves against the ground and Kouris took Claire into her arms, gripping her tight as she began to convulse.

“I'll get her back to Isin, yrval,” she said, not sparing me more than half a glance before turning to Akela. “You—get this mess sorted out.”

Kouris set off faster than I'd ever seen her move. I could've leapt on Calais' back, urged him on as fast as he could go, and still never catch up with her.

I shook as Akela stepped over to Luxon's body, frowning at it like a stain on a carpet. She placed a boot on the back of his shoulder and wrenched the dragon-bone blade free from his throat. Kouris hadn't used a jot of restraint. It was stained red from hilt to tip, dripping into the dry dirt.

Akela held the sword away from herself, admiring it grimly.

“One Felheimish Knight will soon be in the process of bleeding to death in my castle, and another is dead on the ground,” Queen Kidira said flatly, brimming with more sympathy for the land beneath her feet than Claire. “... dispose of the body, but take the armour. That would be too easily identified.”

Akela sunk the sword into the grass, but was caught off-guard by how easily the hard ground accepted it and almost toppled over. Queen Kidira tugged on her horse's reins, pacing back and forth, keeping vigil. She ignored Charley and Calais as they worked themselves into a state.

“We should... we have to follow them, Claire, she's—” I rambled, lower jaw trembling.

“You will stay here. What do you think you can do for the Knight that a healer cannot?” Queen Kidira said. “Help Akela. Dispose of whatever's in those bags and pack the armour away.”

What good was I to Akela, when Claire was fixed in my mind's eye, torn to shreds; being carried through the bustle of Isin, life trailing behind her; reaching the healers too late, and what good would they be to her? I knelt down, not to help, but because my legs were light, unwilling to support me. Luxon's armour would wash clean, and none would know what truly happened to him. Not his friends, his family. Not the King and Queen, or those who looked up to the man.

I pressed the pads of my fingers to the edge of the armour, thinking it might stir something deep within me, but I could only stare blankly, swallowing the lump in my throat.

“Northwood—do not be worrying. I am understanding that there is much blood, but Ightham, she is fine.” Akela made a point of catching my eye, offering a smile that wasn't too bright. “Isin, it is not far, and there are many healers, yes?”

Healers, in the city. In the castle, most likely. Had I seen them? Had they seen me?

I gathered up piece after piece of armour, packed it into the bags, and discarded our remaining food. The sooner we were done, the sooner I'd be back in Isin, and if the healers were unable to act, it wouldn't be too late for me. It wasn't a race against time. I could save Claire, no matter how she'd looked at me when there was so much more to fear than necromancy.

With Luxon stripped away of any proof that he'd ever been a Knight, Akela hoisted up his corpse up and slung it over her horse.

“The river Ista is half a mile west,” Queen Kidira said, making an order of a statement. I hooked the bags on Calais' saddle, and though he was still skittish, whinnying out his worry, he let me lead him from Charley's back.

The river Ista started as a trickle in the mountains and was wide and fast flowing by the time it reached Isin, serving as its main water source. The rush of water filled the air, churning over the few rocks that hadn't been worn away, and Luxon's body hit the bank with a sickly thud.

“His face,” Queen Kidira said, staring down at him without going to the effort of sneering. “It's still recognisable.”

With a grim nod, Akela's hand went to the axe at her hip.

“Northwood,” she murmured. “You are wanting to turn away, yes?”

Back to the river, I heard a single, focused crack of her axe, and all I could think was
it's not too late—it's not too late.
Time wasn't of the essence. I was the only one who factored into the equation.

Luxon's body hit the water. Queen Kidira watched, waiting to be certain the water took it, and made for Isin without another word.

The pulse of the city was resistant to three riders, and passing through the gates put us further than ever from the castle. Our horses were caught amidst a sea of bodies, none of them willing to step aside, to clear the way for us. Queen Kidira had no intention of using her status to force her way through, and we zigzagged through the crowd, stepping into gaps the moment they formed.

We passed through the city square, having more luck gathering something akin to space in the open, paved area, but the crowd in the centre was far more volatile than any other in Isin. It hadn't formed by chance, made up of individuals all tending to their own business and idly drifting together; it was a roiling, roaring thing, contained by guards, more exasperated than on edge.

I only caught brief bursts of what they were yelling – “Said there'd be change, but—” “...thirty years already!” “—didn't vote for them, and...” “—an empty throne!” – but the crowd swelled with applause each time someone spoke. Neither Akela nor Queen Kidira acknowledged the turmoil, and the moment we were out of the square, any curiosity or interest in it slipped from my mind. All I could think of was the castle and Claire within it.

The guards wasted no time opening the gates, recognising Queen Kidira where the citizens hadn't bothered to look up and see who was sat astride the horse blocking their path. We thundered across the bridge, leaving our horses with the handful of guards who immediately flocked to attend to Queen Kidira. Akela assumed responsibility for the bags of armour, and I followed them through the arching double-doors held open for us, down the corridor and towards a chamber, not knowing where else to go.

“—and for gods' sake, send out a party to rendezvous with the Queen,” I heard King Atthis snap from outside the room.

“Calm yourself, Atthis,” Queen Kidira said, stepping in. I peered through the doorway, stepping back when the guards came tumbling out, dismissed with a wave of Queen Kidira's hand. “There was only one assailant, and he was dealt with efficiently.”

“
Efficiently
?” King Atthis spat back. Any relief he'd experienced at the sight of Queen Kidira, safe and unscathed, boiled over, back into frustration. “Not minutes ago, I received word that Kouris has brought a Felheimer to our castle, torn to ribbons. Not efficiently enough, I'd wager. I know you insist on travelling inconspicuously, but you need to take more company along than Commander Ayad, for this very reason.”

Queen Kidira sighed wearily, gesturing for Akela to place the bags on one of the chairs. The room was used as a study of some sort, with an arch of bookcases surrounding a desk.

“I am
fine
,” Queen Kidira said, patting him on the side of his arm. “Akela has procured a set of dragon-bone armour, as well as a blade—take a look, and calm yourself. We've much to discuss. Find me once you've settled down.”

Queen Kidira caught Akela's eye on the way out and left without another word. Grumbling to himself, King Atthis fumbled with the straps of the bag, letting out a heavy breath and turning away when blood on bone was the first thing he saw. There was more annoyance than disgust scrawled across his features, and I tugged on Akela's sleeve, wanting – needing – to be out of there.