First Light (42 page)

I ran to Cristian, pulling him away. Together we hobbled, taking shelter behind the closest tree. A second later it burst into flames.

Once more we stumbled away, the intense heat forcing us to move much faster than we felt able. I turned to look back at the dragon beast.

Beneath its great height, we were little more than dwarves. I didn’t see how we could possibly defeat it. We would have to get higher somehow, high enough to strike its chest or head.

Cristian was in no condition to climb.
I
would have to. My fear thickened as I glanced at the surrounding wall, which continued to rise.

Cristian moaned, and I forced my eyes from the dragon to his shoulder. A large slab of skin and muscle was peeled back, revealing the bone beneath. Blood flowed from the wound, and Cristian’s face had gone white.

“Over here,” I begged, pulling him with me behind the giant stone in the center of the courtyard. He slid to the ground, his breathing fast and shallow.

I pushed the flap of skin back in place, tore the remainder of his sleeve away, and covered his mangled shoulder as best I could. Placing his opposite hand on top of the makeshift bandage, I looked directly into his eyes and spoke firmly.

“Keep your hand there to try and slow the bleeding. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

He nodded but didn’t speak.

“I love you,” I cried, tears blurring my vision as I released his hand and left him. I ran far from the stone, waving at the dragon, trying to get its attention away from Cristian.

“Over here,” I sobbed.

The creature turned, a wicked sort of smile curving its snout. It lumbered closer. I held my ground, waiting— waiting.

Its jaws opened, and I darted forward, dangerously close to its legs, to the other side of the courtyard. I bent to retrieve Cristian’s sword and was halfway up when another blast of fire shot from the dragon’s mouth. I felt like I’d been thrown into a harvest bonfire. The palms of my hands burned, but I kept running, leaving the sword, a lump of melted metal behind. As soon as I was out of the dragon’s immediate reach, I dropped to the ground and rolled, trying to smother the flames that had leapt up across my skirt.

The smell of singed hair—
mine—
filled the air. The beast’s tail whipped around, just missing me.

I got up and ran again, hoping to tire it, wondering if it was possible for the beast to use up all of its fire— something. The whole courtyard seemed to be burning. I glanced toward Cristian’s rock and saw him beating out flames near his leg. Seeing his movement, I took courage.

All is not lost. We can defeat this beast.

I ducked behind a burning tree, then ran toward the dragon, close enough that in directing its fire at me, its own foot was hit.

A horrifying screech filled the air. I covered my ears again and continued running from both the beast and the sound— as awful as Nadamaris’s scream.

I stopped mid-step and turned to face the beast, still absorbed with its awkward efforts to put out the fire engulfing its foot. I dared move closer, looking at it carefully— its features, its scales, its midsection.

A wound, small for such a sizeable creature, gaped from its stomach, a hole between the scales. Yet I knew Cristian had not had time to strike, nor could his sword have reached that far.

I glanced at the beast’s head, covered in thick scales on one side, while the other was practically— bald.

Can it be?

I ran back to the priest’s cottage, to the open door and the bundle of bloodied robes on the stoop. They were empty, their former occupant vanished. Nadamaris was gone, though still very much alive, transformed though black magic, no doubt.
She
was the dragon.

And she was wounded. At least a little. If I could defeat her, there would be no more monstrous creatures waiting to attack us. The kingdom would be free of the curse. Cristian might be saved.

Cristian!

His cry reached my ears, followed by a Nadamaris-like cackle echoing across the space to the open doorway.

I flew more than ran back to the stone that sheltered him. It was shelter no more, for Nadamaris’s immense paw had pushed it aside. Cristian was on his feet, staggering backward, with little space left between him and the wall. Flame shot from the dragon’s mouth, scorching him on either side, eliciting screams of pain. She was playing with him, torturing him before the kill.

Just as Father was tortured.
An image of Papa surrounded by Nadamaris’s henchmen flashed through my mind. They held pokers from the fire in their outstretched hands as they demanded to know where I was. And when he refused to tell them—

“No,” I gasped. “No!” I focused in the present and on Cristian. I glanced toward the heap of twisted metal that was his sword, then swung my gaze around the courtyard, looking for a weapon— a sharp stick, anything with which I could fight.

My eyes slid to the overturned boulder. It lay on its side, the bottom of the rock exposed, something protruding from it. Praying it was the miracle I needed— a splinter of sharp rock or a pair of garden shears left behind— I ran to the stone, hardly able to believe it when I saw the hilt of a dagger jutting out, a brilliant ruby embedded deep in the metal.

I grasped the handle and tugged, but it did not want to come loose. Another of Cristian’s tormented screams filled the courtyard, and I planted my feet against the boulder and pulled with all my might. The blade emerged, not merely a knife blade, but a wide piece of steel buried deep in the rock.

It came free suddenly, sending me toppling backward, the heavy, sharp sword nearly falling on top of me. I rolled out of the way in time, so that it only caught my hand, the tip brushing against my fingers. I grabbed the hilt and turned toward the dragon.

The dragon held Cristian high in its claw, crushing the life out of him.

I ran toward them, sword raised as high as my trembling arms could hold it. One of my hands felt curiously numb, but I managed enough control to plunge the blade through the dragon’s tail then quickly lift it out again.

I have to reach her heart.

The beast turned on me, letting out another ear-splitting screech. Its claw opened, dropping Cristian a great distance. He hit the stone with a dull-sounding thud, his body sliding to the ground, legs and arms splayed out at odd angles. My heart seized with fear.

Lugging the sword, I ran toward the dragon, dodging between its legs, practically throwing myself at its tail. I thrust my hand through the sword’s hilt, grabbed two fistfuls of scales, and began climbing its back. I worked feverishly and gained height quickly, though the heavy sword made it difficult to keep my balance. With each release of my hand, I felt myself sliding, and during those perilous seconds my back would arch until my flailing hand clasped around the next scale. I tried not to look down, tried to focus on my goal instead of the ground getting farther away. The dragon’s height had seemed great, but like the wall, it seemed to be growing, stretching toward the sky with every breath. I’d never been so high off the ground, and my limbs trembled from both exertion and terror.

The dragon howled fiercely and swung in a circle, trying to throw me off. The ground blurred beneath me, the cobblestones and charred grass rushing by in a terrifying haze. I buried my face in scales and tried to hang on. The dragon continued trying to throw me.

During one dizzying turn, I dared to lift my head and saw Cristian’s lifeless body far below, still sprawled beside the stone.

Is he—
I couldn’t think it. I also couldn’t help him by clinging to the beast and hiding my face in fear.

I let go with one hand and reached higher, climbing faster than before.

When I was nearly to the creature’s shoulders, I stopped and gripped a scale with one hand, while the other tried to raise the sword. But my hand and arm, numb to the elbow, refused to cooperate.

The beast’s head whipped back, knocking me off, sending me tumbling, plummeting toward the hard ground. The sword flew from my hand, and I landed on my back, the breath knocked from me so that I lay stunned and motionless, hurting so badly that it felt as if every bone were broken.

I stared up at the creature towering over me and no longer felt afraid. Death would bring an end to the pain. But I longed to be near Cristian, to at least hold his hand as I died. Tears leaked from my eyes, but I refused to shut them as I lay vulnerable at the beast’s feet.

Instead of killing me, the dragon began to shrink. Its victorious cackle circled around me, piercing my ears. I had no hope that it— she— Nadamaris— was injured enough that she was dying, but perhaps transforming back to herself to better enjoy our final moments. I prayed that Cristian was already dead, that he wouldn’t have to endure any more. I turned my head to look at him and saw him staring back. He blinked once, then twice more rapidly.

Hope exploded in my heart. I tried to sit up but could not, so I rolled away from him, crossing the distance to the sword. I grasped it in my good hand, forced myself to my knees, and pushed the blade into the ground, using it as leverage to help me stand.

Use your gifts.
I heard Merry Anne’s voice in my head.

I would use them. I had. I’d set Nadamaris on fire, outwitted a bewitched forest, and run up a dragon’s back— but it hadn’t been enough to defeat her. I was out of ideas and out of time.

There is still the best, the strongest gift…

I didn’t know what that thought meant or where it had come from. I was burned and broken, with only my desire to save Cristian, my love for him, propelling me forward now.

And though I wished it to be, that wasn’t enough.

My legs felt strange, and I staggered backward, then fell. A heinous screech came from Nadamaris, and I saw that she had returned to herself. The last of her scales shrank into her scalp, and her bulging eyes narrowed down to bloodshot slits. Her talons returned to elongated, sharpened fingernails.

Still deadly.

“Cristian,” I called and found my voice barely above a whisper. I crawled toward him until I reached the stone and leaned against it, breathing heavily. Blood covered Cristian’s face and arms.

Nadamaris drew closer, one of her feet charred and bright red patches of blood covering the middle of her tunic. But she looked far better than Cristian and I together.

I reached for his hand and felt the gentle pressure of his fingers against mine. My other hand still clutched the sword, and with great effort I moved the weapon between us and sat up taller, grateful for the stone’s support behind me.

“And which of you are to use that?” Nadamaris asked. “He is already dead, and it is too late for you. The curse has been fulfilled.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, finding even the task of speaking difficult.

“Look at your finger,” Nadamaris said. “'Tis as I proclaimed. You’ve pricked it on that cursed sword, and death will follow. Did you not pay attention to the tale?”

I glanced at my hand, the one limp at my side. In the light of the rising moon I saw the blood dripping on my palm.

“Oh no,” I whispered. Anguish filled me. “Cristian, I’m sorry.”

Nadamaris came toward us until we were close enough to touch. I stared at her, hoping to keep her attention as long as possible, praying she would not discover that Cristian still lived.

“In spilling your blood, I’ve ended the reign of Canelia’s magic,” she gloated. “There will be no heirs to the kingdom. The fairy gifts will be lost forever.”

“You won’t have them either,” I said, finding little victory in keeping them from her.

“True.” Her blazing eyes met mine. “But there will be no one to stop me.” Her words

chilled my heart as the others had not. I’d failed not only Cristian but all of Canelia and other kingdoms as well.

Her gaze brightened as she read the defeat in mine. “Yes!” she cried, arms raised exultantly, face tilted to the sky. Lightning flashed around us, and thunder echoed her victory. “
No
one
can stop me now."

Cristian’s hand closed over mine on the sword’s hilt. Our eyes met in a second of silent understanding. I pushed off the rock and leaned forward as he rose to his knees, and together we lunged, the tip of the sword pointed upward.

We fell against Nadamaris, thrusting the blade up through her stomach, toward her heart.

She looked down in surprise, her eyes widening in shock and rage. They turned completely red, as if filling with blood, and a shrill hiss pierced the air.

Cristian rolled away from her, pulling me with him but leaving the sword where it had stuck. Her face contorted with pain as she tried to pull it free. It held fast, and bright red blood soaked the front of her tunic. She dropped to her knees. Cristian scooted farther away, dragging me with him. My body felt stiff and numb, but I couldn’t take my eyes from Nadamaris as she fell forward. She landed with her face turned to the side, eyes frozen in place.

The earth seemed to shudder.

My eyes locked with hers as she struggled for breath. Blood gurgled and seeped to the ground beneath her, turning thick and dark. The last of her hair smoked, then blackened and fell as ash on the ground. She took one more breath; her body went rigid, almost as stone.

There was an instant change in the air around us, sweet again with the heady scent of garden flowers. Stars appeared overhead. In the light of the brightening moon, I saw the great stone wall transform back to a hedge. The night sounds of the cricket’s choir returned.

I lay beside Cristian and hardly breathed. It felt as if the dress of armor was again squeezing the life from me, but this time I was too weary to fight it.

“We did it! We defeated Nadamaris together— as foretold.” Cristian raised our clasped hands in the air. For a brief second, I shared his joy. Then my hand fell away, limp and unfeeling.

“Adrielle?” He leaned over me.

I looked at his beautiful face and wished I could stay with him to celebrate our victory. I tried to speak, to tell him one last time how much I loved him. My mouth could not form the words. My eyelids were too heavy to keep open.