Firedragon Rising (6 page)

Her motorbike sped along the neglected road,
bouncing against the cracks. For a moment, the world before her was
so black that she felt like she’d gone blind. Then her gaze caught
a few strands of moonlight passing through the tangled trees
surrounding her. She’d thought her eyes had already adjusted to the
darkness, but compared to the shadows of the wild, the barely lit
streets of the Capital’s outer zone might as well have been the
sun. The edge of her left forefinger brushed the switch on the
handlebar that would turn on the motorbike’s headlights, and she
yearned to flip it.

But only a complete idiot would do that.
Light would draw the monsters right to her. And not just the kind
of monster that prowled the dark searching for prey … but the kind
that believed they owned other people. The Sentinels—the
Triumvirate’s most elite, loyal class of Enchanters—kept watch over
the nation from the sky, as the patrolmen did from the ground.

And they were searching for her.

That meant that at any moment, one could fly
overhead. It was bad enough that she had no way of muffling her
motorbike, though that noise could at least be mistaken for the
growling of monsters from a high altitude. Turning on her lights
would be like painting a neon sign over her head that said “Hi, I’m
the fugitive you’re looking for.”

The moonlight would have to be enough. There
wasn’t much, since the moon wasn’t considerate enough to be full,
but sight wasn’t her only sense. She used her others—from listening
for movement to sniffing for weird smells that could indicate a
monster—to absorb her surroundings and try to see what lay
ahead.

A new kind of tension
crept into her chest as she realized that in her attempts to throw
off the patrolmen, she’d wandered off course. Slowing her motorbike
by a few notches, she thought back to where she’d been in the city
relative to where she
should
have gone. Williams’ map glowed in her mind, and
she mentally charted a new course that would take her to the Way
Station. It wasn’t perfect, but it would have to do.

With the revised image sharp in her head,
she wound her way through the tangle of overgrown roads, ducking
branches and swerving around roots. After a few minutes, a glimpse
at a rusted sign sitting in a patch of moonlight told her she was
back on track. The picture of a shield with the number 95 splashed
across the center in white was unmistakable even in the darkness,
and she exhaled, relieved that her zigzagging hadn’t gotten her
lost after all. She twisted her handlebar, once again accelerating
to max speed. The sooner she could reach the Way Station, the
better.

The Rising was within reach, and with it,
the promise of freedom—not just for herself, but for everyone, Norm
and Enchanter alike. But with the Triumvirate hunting her and
supernaturals lurking in the shadows, it could still slip through
her grasp. A tingly mix of exhilaration and terror coursed through
her as she pressed on. Danger lurked all around her, and it was
only a matter of time before someone—or something—caught up.

A BLAST OF COLD AIR
whipped Aurelia’s ponytail into her face,
blinding her for an instant, and she tossed her head, more
irritated by the stinging against her eyes than the lack of sight.
There was so little light, it barely made a difference, and her
ears absorbed every sound around her, picking out any noise not
caused by the motorbike or the wind. So far, she hadn’t heard
anything more than the rustling of leaves, but that didn’t mean
there wasn’t danger ahead.

Realizing that she was bouncing more than
usual against the rough ground, she brought the vehicle to an
abrupt halt. She’d already made one wrong turn because she hadn’t
been able to feel the difference between an old road—whose pavement
hadn’t been maintained since before the Lord of the Underworld
destroyed everything—and the forest floor beneath her wheels. It
had taken her a good ten minutes to feel her way back onto the road
she’d accidentally veered off, and she couldn’t afford any more
delays.

It was a miracle the Triumvirate hadn’t
caught up to her yet, and she wasn’t counting on her luck to
last.

She jumped off the bike and crouched,
pressing her hand against the ground. To her dismay, all she found
was dirt and roots. No pavement. With a huff, she got back onto the
vehicle and did a one-eighty turn. Her best bet for finding the
road again was to go straight back the way she came—and slowly, so
she wouldn’t miss it and cross over to the wilderness on the other
side.

But although she noted
every little detail as she moved forward, she could hardly make out
more than a few skeletal branches. She tried to recall how long it
had been since she’d
definitely
been on a road, which might give her an idea of
how far off she was. The last indicator she could be certain of was
an overgrown sign, though—one she’d nearly missed, since it had
been built over a hundred years ago and left to rot since the
Triumvirs took power. She’d passed it about a mile back.

A flash of panic flared through her. A whole
mile off—and she hadn’t even been going in a straight line, since
fallen branches and other obstacles had forced her to swerve. Her
sense of direction was good, but far from perfect. What if all that
twisting about had sent her in completely the wrong direction, with
nothing to point her back? How was she supposed to find her way
now?

Is this how Mom felt when
she ran away?
Aurelia couldn’t imagine how
terrifying the journey must have been for her mother, who hadn’t
known where she was going or what lay ahead. At least Aurelia had a
definite destination—if she could find it. But what if she
couldn’t? She was in the middle of nowhere with both the
Triumvirate and supernaturals to worry about. She didn’t have time
to be lost… Especially when the longer she spent out here, the more
likely she was to get caught.

Come on, Firedragon, this
is no time to lose your cool!
She gave her
head a vigorous shake, reminding herself that she was a survivor,
like her mom. And thanks to a lifetime of combat training, she was
better equipped than Bridget Sun could ever have been. If her mom
could make it, then so could she.

But the growing fear in her gut continued to
twist through her, no matter how much she tried to ignore it. Then,
just as it was threatening to explode into panic, her front wheel
bumped up against something, and she stopped to see what it was.
Another tree branch? Or something else?

Jumping off, she ran her
fingers along the ground.
Pavement!
She sprang up, nearly letting out a cheer.
Guess all that freaking out was for
nothing
, she thought, annoyed at
herself.
Wasn’t
that
far off.

But knowing how badly things could have
turned out, she kept her motorbike at half-speed as she continued
on her way. Though she wanted to reach the Way Station as soon as
possible, going slower allowed her to observe more details from her
surroundings—and notice if her wheels fell off the road again.
Though her hand itched to turn the handlebar to max speed again,
she’d already wasted too much time and risked too much danger
because of her impatience.

While moving slower was the smarter thing to
do, she still didn’t like it. Her blood churned with agitation, and
it was all she could do to keep from jittering.

Minutes ticked by. Then, a dirty metal sign
told her that she’d made it to Chesley Road … and was therefore
only ten miles from the Way Station. She decided she could risk a
little more speed now, and was about to twist the handlebar when an
overwhelming sense of unease descended upon her like a shower of
cold rain, soaking though her skin and flooding her every sense
with its chill.

The motorbike ground to an
abrupt halt as her hands automatically gripped the breaks, reacting
to the warning. Though she hated to stop when she was so close to
her destination, she knew better than to ignore the unease.
Something was lurking nearby, and it would approach soon.
She
knew
it.
Maybe it was a slight disturbance in the air, or a faint scent
wafting toward her—she couldn’t put her finger on exactly what had
called her attention. But she’d find out soon enough.

She jumped off the motorbike and threw off
her knapsack, listening for any telltale rustling. With a single,
fluid motion, she pulled her swords out of the sheaths on her belt
and held them up, ready to fight, though she didn’t know who her
enemy would be. The uncertainty made her breaths quicken with
nervousness, especially since she was alone in the dark. At the
same time, fierce determination rushed through her blood. Whatever
was out there, she wouldn’t let it stop her.

Something crunched the ground to her left
and she whipped her head in that direction, but saw only blackness.
That didn’t mean someone—or something—wasn’t lurking, though. Was
it a beast? Or had the Triumvirate caught up to her?

Suddenly a flash of yellow light flooded her
vision, its brilliance so shocking that it nearly blinded her.
Through its glare, she could just make out a human silhouette. An
Enchanter, goldlighting onto the road before her. And a man,
judging by his broad shoulders and barrel chest.

It had to be one of the Sentinels; no one
else would appear in the middle of the wilderness like that. She
didn’t know how they’d found her, but she didn’t have time to think
about it. Knowing she had to attack first, she sprinted toward the
shadowy figure just as the light of his magic faded. Her plan was
to strike his chest with a running sidekick and send him to the
ground, then knock him out with the hilt of her sword. If she could
break his wand before he came to, then he wouldn’t be able to use
his magic—either against her or to call for backup.

But she’d barely made it halfway before a
low, resonant incantation rang through the night and a pool of blue
light surrounded her. Her limbs froze mid-run, one toe striking the
ground before her, the other foot still in the air. She commanded
them to keep going, but no matter what she did, they remained
motionless. Her arms were similarly frozen, with her swords stuck
in her useless, paralyzed fists. Breath still moved in and out of
her lungs, but, with her ribcage unable to expand, even that became
shallow. Labored.

She was caught in a freezer spell, unable to
even blink, and a kind of fear she’d never known before raced
through her as she realized that for the first time she could
remember, she was truly helpless.

Through the spell’s pale glow, she could see
the man who’d cast it approaching. He was tall; he had a good ten
inches over her five-and-a-half feet. Piercing black eyes gleamed
against a powerful, ebony-skinned face. With his knitted black
eyebrows and strong jaw, he looked more intimidating than anyone
she’d ever seen before.

She hated him instantly for robbing her of
her abilities and refusing to face her. Only a coward would hide
behind magic like that, instead of engaging in combat like a real
fighter. Then again, she shouldn’t have expected anything better
from a Triumvirate dirtbag like him. Monsters never fought
fair.

“
Firedragon.” Though his
voice was quiet, it still shook her core.

How does he know who I
am?
she wondered, her heart
pounding.

“
Aurelia.” His tone
softened, as if he thought using her actual name would relax
her.

It didn’t. Her muscles struggled against
their cages of frozen skin and paralyzed bone, but try as she
might, she couldn’t move. Terror churned in her mind. What would he
do to her? Would he leave her like this, to be prey to the
supernaturals?

“
Listen to me,” the man
continued, taking a step toward her. “I know you mean to join the
Rising, but I cannot allow that to happen.”

Typical Triumvirate
crap
, she thought angrily. He would
probably subject her to a horrible lecture about how awesome the
Triumvirate was and how evil those who challenged it had proven to
be through their acts of rebellion. She’d rather die than allow
herself to be brainwashed by their lies again.

“
My name is Tydeus Storm.”
The man stopped about three feet in front of her and pointed a
black wand in her direction. It was etched with angular runes that
glowed dark blue, their light so dim she could barely see
them.

Though she didn’t understand the specifics
of such hoodoo, Connor had told her enough about wands that she
knew that the color of the wood reflected the wielders’ souls.
Golden-brown—like those of all the students, including Connor—was
neutral. Dark blue—like Everett’s—meant the wielder valued power
above all else. Crimson—like Williams’—meant integrity.