Threat Page 12

  She strolled down the street, smiling and nodding at those that greeted her, but when a high-pitched scream ripped into the air, Aldora paused and inspected her surroundings. The villagers she had passed were looking around with the same puzzled face, fear making the whites of their eyes more visible to Aldora in the morning light. Dumping her posters and pasting supplies on the ground, Aldora drew the Dagger of Protection and squeezed the silver grip so hard that the jets and diamonds dug into her skin. Another scream rumbled into the air — a man yelling at somebody to run. By Giften’s soil. Aldora jerked forwards, listening as the cry was picked up by others, panicked shouts rippling through the air and bouncing off buildings. Village Circle, decided Aldora. If I go there I’ll be able to figure out where they are. It didn’t take her long to reach the mouth of an alleyway that led into the clearing. Aldora took in every movement, every scream, every panicked face. She clenched her teeth and her grip on the Dagger tightened so hard that the warm kiss of blood eased between her fingers from the gems cutting her skin. No. She stepped into Village Circle. I won’t let this happen.

  Chapter Eleven

  Raneth

  The touch of grass against his neck made the Bayre heir grumbled deep in his throat before he swallowed the foul taste of his puke. His eyes refused to open and his body felt heavier than it ever had before. Feeling his heart beating in his chest, Raneth felt as it squeezed, skipping a beat and hurrying to catch up. He sucked in a mouthful of air, feeling the crisp cold of a morning’s nip poking at the back of his throat and making it burn. Giften’s soil. He coughed but nothing came up as he rolled onto his side, his face brushed by the grass.

  “Raneth.” The royal official forced his reluctant eyes to open and clenched them shut again. Blinking was like rubbing his eyes across sandpaper. He heard somebody’s knees click as they squatted by him and a calloused hand gently touched his shoulder, irritating his skin under his top. “Raneth, open your eyes.”

  That’s Dad. Raneth forced his eyelids apart and squinted as the sun jabbed at his eyes. Looking down at him, a frown in place, his father was at his side, his blue eyes watching him closely. “Dad.” Raneth’s voice cracked, making his father’s frown deepen.

  “Here.” Dragon Bayre slipped a hand under Raneth’s arm and to his back, helping him to sit up. He then offered an army-regulation water bottle to his son. “Drink this. It’ll help,” he said.

  Taking the bottle, Raneth mentally swore at the weakened way his hand grasped it, barely able to squeeze the soft bottle. The cool water slipped against his dry tongue and the Bayre gulped down enough of the water that his father eased it away from his lips. Raneth remembered to breath.

  “What in Giften’s soil happened to you last night?” Dragon settled to sit on his backside, his legs tucked up close to his chest. The Master Bayre swept his gaze around them with practised ease, checking they were safe.

  Raneth did likewise, noticing carriage tracks past his father that petered out, giving him almost no clear trail to follow. Raneth swallowed, grateful the taste of vomit no longer coated his mouth and throat, but still winced at the burning sensation from the back of his throat. “I screwed up, Dad.”

  The Master Bayre stood up, his scarred hand checking the sword at his waist as he did. He was an inch or two shorter than his son, with matching blue eyes that watched Raneth closely. The resemblances continued, with Raneth and his father both having black hair, but although both had it short, Dragon’s hair grew in tightly wound coils, that quivered the moment a soft breeze blew. “What do you mean? How have you screwed up?” asked Dragon. He tapped at the Bayre Talisman at his collarbones. Just as Raneth’s had taken on the gift-form of his father’s dragon-self, Dragon Bayre’s had taken the form of his blood-gifted parent; a curling basilisk biting its own tail, and its eye was a diamond. The magic in the diamond made it look slightly red as Raneth looked at it, warning him that his father was being given the impression that his son’s danger still hadn’t completely passed. “I checked you over,” said Dragon. “New bruises and three puncture scars on your side that are fresh as feathers,” continued Dragon before he rose his eyebrows, waiting. “Well?”

  “You didn’t see?” asked Raneth.

  “No. Whatever happened to you was over by the time I reached you.” His father clasped his Bayre Talisman in his forefinger and thumb, toying with it just as Raneth sometimes did his own. “So?”

  “I found a sorceress. I had a really bad MIR attack. As bad as that first one when I was a kid.” Raneth rubbed at his eyes, trying to lessen the gritty feel of each blink but the feeling remained. Must have had them open while I was unconscious. He clenched them open and shut, open and shut, trying to help his eyes moisten themselves.

  “You know you’re not supposed to go near any sorcerers. Nobody but Cally. She’s the only one known in Giften to be old enough for her magic not to affect your allergy,” snapped Dragon, shaking his head roughly. “What were you thinking? Your MIR can kill you.”

  Raneth watched his father as he started to pace. The Master Bayre kept his hand on his sword, periodically squeezing the grip before he spun on the spot, years of army drills making him spin on one foot. “I didn’t know, Dad. I didn’t know. I was just trying to save Cray.”

  “Cray?” Dragon rose his eyes to the sky. “Now what’s he done?”

  Clearly he’s not in a good mood. Raneth watched his father’s sharp movements as Dragon poked at the remains of a fire, reigniting it. Raneth shuffled closer to it and held his hands close to it, feeling the cold in his fingers lifting from the bones. But then I wouldn’t be in a good mood if I’d been warned by the talismans that he was in danger and I’d spent the night flying, especially when his dragon-self can’t see well in the dark. “It’s my fault. I was escorting him to the Common Kingdoms Alliance Conference. We were ambushed and Cray was taken.” Raneth forced his body to stand but his knees felt weak under him. He wobbled even as his father reached out and rested a strong hand against his side, steadying him. “Thanks. It’s the same woman from the attack on Aldora’s village. The one with the tattoo. Thane knew her.”

  “Thane.” Dragon snarled the Master Frey’s name. “He been sniffing around you?”

  “He…” Raneth warily viewed his father. Dragon Bayre would never hurt him but when it came to the Frey, his father happily used Lords’ Law Act to further the Bayre family’s war to survive against the Frey’s hunting of them. Like every Master Bayre before Dragon, Raneth’s father was tasked with two jobs; protecting his heir even if it killed him, and finding and destroying the Frey Mansion and all with a Frey bloodclaim.

  “What? What did he do?” Dragon nodded at Raneth’s left side. “Those stab wounds?”

  “Crossbow bolts, and no. He hasn’t hurt me. He.” Raneth sucked in a breath. “He helped me find the sorceress’ trail. She has Cray.”

  “He helped?” Dragon shook his head. “No. No way did he help just because he could. What did he barter? What did he demand from you? Me? Your death? Mine? A future favour?”

  “No. Nothing.”

  “Nothing? Raneth, he’s a Master Frey. He killed your mother and your grandparents. He was even there when your great grandfather was killed. There’s no way he didn’t get something out of it.”

  “Dad.” Raneth’s head was pounding. “He wanted to protect the Bayre-Frey Feud. He doesn’t want us becoming active royals again.”

  With a huff, Dragon stamped on the fire, killing it to keep himself from fidgeting further. “Figures. Then he still gets to kill us.”

  If you don’t manage to kill him first. Raneth nodded. “The sorceress did something to me. Dad, what do you know about bloodhexes?”

  Dragon stared at Raneth, stilling.

  “Dad?” Raneth frowned at his father. “What is it?”

  “It’s a curse.” He gestured at Raneth. “And with your MIR, it should have killed you. What exactly did that tattooed monster say?”

  Thinking back to the previous ni
ght, Raneth thought of the moment when Reinette Osric held the back of his head and frowned, dragging the memory into focus. “She bloodhexed me from Cray.”

  Dragon tutted. “Giften’s blasted soil. A bloodhex forces you to become ill the closer you are to your target — Cray — even without MIR. Add the MIR on top of that…” Dragon shook his head. “It’s not something you should even try. You can’t rescue him. Not anymore. You mustn’t risk your life.”

  Raneth stared up at his father. I can’t just give up, can I? Not with my Three Ks Oath, and Cray’s more to me than just my king.

  “But—”

  Dragon gave his son a warning glare.

  Raneth looked around again, his gaze sweeping towards the ground. He spotted uprooted grass and streaks of mud nearby, writing a suggestion on the ground of the moment he had tackled one of the men holding Cray.

  “I formed before the sunrise — I’ve been canvassing for potential areas where the Frey Mansion could be,” stated Dragon.

  That’s a waste of time. It probably hides itself like the Bayre Mansion does.

  “So I’ll form into my dragon-self and I’m taking you to get looked over by Quinn,” continued Dragon.

  The royal doctor? That puts me too far away from Cray. Raneth frowned.

  “Don’t even bother arguing with me, Ran,” warned Dragon. “I’m not in the mood to play who knows best.” In a softer tone, he added, “especially as your father does.”

  Raneth’s frown deepened, but Dragon was already transforming into his navy-blue dragon-self. He watched his father’s scales burst onto his skin and clothes, which shrank until they were skintight. The scales cracked as they parted from one another, earning their edges.

  Chapter Twelve

  Aldora

  The cobblestones leading to Village Circle were wet, and the substance responsible clung to Aldora’s boots as she loitered at an entrance to the clearing. She eased closer to the edge of the alleyway, turning her back to the bricks as she wrestled to move her feet despite the sticky substance clinging to her feet. Those are the guys from the gate. She glanced at another man standing in Village Circle. And that’s Raneth’s criminal. There was no forgetting that face, not now she had put it all over the village. Hazel eyes, light brown curly hair, egg-shaped face and an unkept beard. She looked at the other men. They must be the sons Raneth warned me about. I should have realised that as soon as I saw them. They look like him!

  Their blood-gift’s substance was everywhere, sticking to the ground and pinning villagers to the walls of the shops circling the small patch of grass in the centre of the clearing. The cafe’s large front windows were smashed and the Rivermud blood-gift’s slime had reached inside, catching the men, women and children in there too, holding them hostage wherever that substance had caught them. Aldora’s chest felt as if it were in a vice as she looked at Jules and his companions. They were smiling and as Aldora watched, the man that had spoken to her at the gates embraced Jules in a tight hug, which only made Jules’ grin grow. The Dagger Bearer glanced at the nearest villager to her — Tomasso. A bag from the general store was by his feet, which were several inches off of the ground, the Rivermud slime gluing him to the baker’s door.

  Alright. Aldora swallowed hard. Be a good Dagger Bearer. Like Dad said. Be more like Raneth. Not some scared useless girl everyone wants to protect. She took a wary step forwards, pulling her feet free of the slime in the alleyway and into the clearing. One of the five men from the gate spotted her, his hand raised palm out towards her. Aldora froze.

  “Look, Dad. That’s the girl.” He turned his attention to Mr Denlay, the village’s librarian, glued in place halfway through Buzzard Cafe’s far left window. Denlay’s arm was free. The man that had spoken flung more of the blood-gift substance at the librarian, trapping his arm.

  No. No. No. Aldora swept her gaze to each of the six men. I’m in over my head. There’s no way… She glanced down at the Dagger of Protection in her hand as a warm touch enveloped it. There was no hand there, even though it felt as if a ghost was gently pressing against her hand with theirs, guiding her to lift the blade towards the Rivermud family. I’m trusting you, Dagger. Aldora lifted the blade and two forks of lightning lit the large yellow gem in the centre of the guard, before they crackled down the split gold blade of the Dagger, but they didn’t strike the Rivermuds. Not yet.

  Jules Rivermud smiled and beckoned Aldora closer. “I know... Girl, I hear you think I’m dangerous.”

  “You are,” dared Aldora, trying to stop her right hand trembling as she continued to point the Dagger of Protection towards the criminal and his sons. She could feel the heat rising in her cheeks, feel the eyes of the villagers on her as she spoke to Raneth’s assigned criminal. How did Raneth never look flustered last year? If I mess this up, everyone here is in even more danger. She watched as one of the sons strolled towards the general store, where one of the teachers was trapped in place against the brick edge of the shop. OK. Think. If I’m scared, I definitely will make a mistake. Be calm...

  She watched Jules tilting his head to the side, watching her carefully. “Well go on then,” he said. “Shoot me with your fancy dagger.”

  Master Redler said to steady your breaths and decide your objective. Aldora inhaled a shaky breath. Get them away from here. Other villagers can save those trapped. The Dagger Bearer exhaled her breath, feeling it judder from her lips like a terrified race horse. She took another steadying breath as she lifted her chin and took a step closer to the Rivermuds.

  “Aldora, run! Get to the palace and get some royal officials!” Aldora flinched at Mrs Moolie’s words, causing two of the Rivermuds to laugh at her. Aldora looked at the Dagger of Protection in her hand. I can do this. I can keep everyone here safe. What is it that royal officials usually say? “By the Three Ks, I order you to stand down and surrender.” Her voice cracked, “You’re all under arrest.”

  “For what?” asked one of the younger Rivermuds, smirking. He looked at Jules. “Isn’t she supposed to tell us on what charges?” Jules nodded.

  “I don’t remember the classes yet,” snapped Aldora. “But you’re endangering my villagers and I can’t let that stand.”

  “Wow.” Jules Rivermud glanced at his sons before he looked at Aldora. “I feel sorry for your villagers.” He held his hands at shoulder level, mocking her without a smile. “And if we refuse?”

  Aldora swallowed, feeling her stomach tumbling, her mouth dryer than a cat’s tail. “Or I’ll stop you.”

  Jules laughed, turning his face skyward before he strode closer to Aldora, his blood-gift not hindering his steps. Aldora noticed that the Rivermuds’ watery substance slid out from under his lowering feet as he walked, giving him clean access to the ground.

  “Just try it,” growled Aldora. “I’m ready this time.” She loosened her grip on the Dagger of Protection, just enough that it wouldn’t jar her elbow if she struck him with the blade. The two forks of lightning were still curling around the gold blade of the magic artefact, ready to leap. Yet as she looked at the Dagger, the space between the fangs of the two hissing snakes at the ends of the guard gained a spark. Two small fireballs grew in their mouths.

  Jules lunged for her. Aldora dodged and sliced at the air between them. Jules shrieked as his body convulsed, one of the lightning tongues burning into him before it plunged into the slime-like substance near Tomasso and a few of the other villagers. Aldora barely had time to notice the Rivermuds’ blood-gift hardening into a yellow semi-transparent version of itself, as someone murmured something behind her. She glanced over her shoulder. Richard!

  “I’ll get Haethowine! It looks like snot!” He turned and tried to run, his feet caught on the slime. He fell forwards, catching his weight with a hand, slowing down as he propelled his body forwards, away from Aldora.

  A gush of the mucus-like substance raced past Aldora’s face, aiming for Richard, but Aldora swept the Dagger forwards again. This time, one of the snake heads belched its wa
iting fireball into the stream. It crystalised the slime and it clattered to the ground and shattered. Aldora shrieked as Jules’ hands grabbed her throat, yanking her towards him. She swiped the Dagger again and caught his arm. The second fork of lightning struck the criminal, flinging him into Tomasso and sending them both crashing to the ground. “Grab her! We can’t lose her when she’s this close.” Jules pointed at her, looking expectantly at the other five Rivermuds.

  No. You’re not supposed to be that interested in grabbing me. Aldora turned around, her feet slowed by the slime. She cried out as one of the sons’ blood-gift attack struck her in the back of her legs, and the cold slime held her in place as she tried to take another step forwards. No. Not now! She swung the Dagger behind her, twisting at the torso as the youngest-looking Rivermud reached her. He leapt back, snarling, and a thick strand of lightning pummeled into his chest. Cooked flesh smothered Aldora’s nose as the Rivermud fell to the ground dead, a gaping hole in his torso. One of the other Rivermuds screamed, before he rushed Aldora and slapped the Dagger from her hand. It landed in the muck they had spread throughout Village Circle. “No!” One of the others was already picking it up.

  She flinched a second time as the one that had caught her wrapped his arms around her waist. “We’re going to go for a lovely ride now, girly. We stole a carriage just for you so Bayre comes running to us,” he said, his foul breath bouncing off her cheek and making her want to gag. He paused, eyes straying to his fallen brother. “We’ll kill Bayre slowly. It’s what Einar would have done.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Raneth

  He’d lost almost the whole day being on his father’s dragon back. At first the flight had been welcome; Raneth’s mind had felt slow at times, and he had needed to work harder to think straight. The cool day air rubbing past him had cleared his head, and the smarting irritation from being touched and his clothes moving across his skin had faded away, allowing Raneth to feel a little more like himself. They landed outside the royal palace, the heavy thuds of his father’s dragon feet letting the royal official guarding the palace know they’d arrived. Stiff from the flight, Raneth wrapped his arms around his father’s long neck and swung a leg off, sliding down one of his father’s front legs and landing on his feet. Raneth’s knees threatened to buckle but with his hug-like hold on his father’s gift-self’s neck, Raneth didn’t have to worry. He waited for his legs to wake up and then let go, giving his father a slight smile. “I’m good,” said Raneth. The dragon huffed, its velvety navy-blue nose bumping Raneth in the chest, pushing him back a step and towards the palace. Raneth glanced at it, spotting Rikward standing at the open entrance to the palace, just shy of the three steps. He checked on his father, spotting the tell-tale signs of his starting to reform. “I’ll meet you inside, Dad.”