Naga
“So, Kelt,” Ariel asks Yvan as we trudge through the woods en route to Yvan’s dragon, “is there any chance that your dragon will eat the Black Witch here?”
I see the corner of Yvan’s lip twitch up, but he keeps his eyes on the path ahead. “I suppose it’s possible,” he replies.
“Or perhaps it will envelop her in a ball of flames,” Ariel muses gleefully.
I scowl at her as I trip clumsily over a tangle of roots. She knows full well how much I hate it when she calls me “Black Witch.” But I’m worn down from arguing with her. It’s impossible to reason with Ariel, and telling her I hate something just prompts her to do it more.
My brothers, the Lupines, Andras and Wynter silently accompany us. Unlike me, none of them trips over anything. They are all so annoyingly stealthy.
“Ariel likes to bait me,” I complain darkly to Yvan, whose lip curls up a fraction more.
Diana was the one to convince Ariel and Wynter to accompany us, since they can talk to dragons with their minds. Aislinn has volunteered to watch over Marina.
Although Ariel views Diana as something of a barbarian, never quite trusting the Lupine not to snack on her feathered friends, there’s something direct about Diana’s manner that is often able to pierce the fog of rancid darkness Ariel seems perpetually enveloped in and tormented by. So, in the end, Ariel’s curiosity won out, and she agreed to come, her decision bolstered by the fact that Wynter is joining us, as well.
“I’ll be able to speak with the dragon,” Ariel gloats at me, “and I’ll be able to direct her as to which of your limbs she should tear off first. But you won’t know what I’m telling her. It will have to be a surprise.”
“Well, then, why don’t you just practice your silent communication skills starting now?” I wearily reply.
Ariel smiles wickedly and flashes her long, stained teeth at me. “Perhaps I’d feel friendlier toward the Black Witch,” she says to Yvan slyly, “if she hadn’t kept me up all night.”
A sickening panic shoots through me and halts my steps. Ariel slows then stops, as well, the rest of our party following suit as they regard the two of us with wary curiosity.
“Ariel, please,” I plead as I become uncomfortably flushed.
“She talks in her sleep,” Ariel explains to Yvan, her smile widening. “It was especially annoying last night.”
I feel exposed and raw, ready to burst into tears at any moment.
“Ariel.” Diana takes a menacing step toward her. “Enough.”
“We should be on our way,” Rafe breaks in. “There’s only so much daylight left.”
I nod at him stiffly, feeling bolted to the ground.
Ariel glances around slowly, taking her time, savoring my misery. “Don’t worry, Black Witch,” she finally says. “I won’t tell Yvan what kind of dreams you have about him.”
Yvan’s eyebrows fly up, and he glances at me in surprise before looking uncomfortably away. Diana emits a low growl, her lip curling up.
Ariel hisses at Diana in turn and crouches into a defensive posture until Diana relents and lets Rafe lead her away, almost everyone following.
Wynter pauses, her expression of sympathy the only thing able to get me moving again.
I follow them in a daze of shame and fight back the urge to burst into tears.
So Yvan knows I’ve dreamed of him. So what? People can’t control their dreams.
* * *
My painful humiliation dissolves when we reach Yvan’s dragon.
The dragon lies on her side, eyes closed, in a large pool of blood, her spectacular onyx hide covered, just covered, with gashes and lash marks. One of her wings and a hind leg are bent at odd, unnatural angles.
My hand flies reflexively over my mouth, my breath cinching tight, overcome by such sadistic cruelty.
“Oh, no,” Yvan gasps as he lurches toward the cage, dropping to his knees before it and grasping at the bars. Looking stricken, Wynter goes to Yvan, her wings wrapped tight around her small frame.
“Whoever did this needs to die,” Diana snarls, low and menacing, her eyes lit up with wild fury. Fury that’s reflected in both Jarod’s and Andras’s expressions.
Ariel is frozen, a look of shock on her pallid face. Unexpectedly, she bursts forth with a jolt of violent outrage and hurls herself at the cage, her eyes wild. “Get her out!” Ariel cries. “Get her out of that cage!” She crumples to the ground, her face ravaged, her fists clutching at the steel bars.
Trystan moves forward to speak to Ariel, cool and collected, as he holds up the white wand. “That’s what we’re going to try and do,” he tells her gently. “But we won’t be able to do it if you alert every soldier within ten leagues of our presence.”
Ariel clings to the cage, her breathing ragged, her look of rage lessening to one of pure devastation.
Yvan’s arm is stretched through the bars, his hand on the dragon’s bloodied back. “She’s still alive,” he says, his voice uncharacteristically shaken.
The dragon opens her green eye halfway and looks right at Yvan, an ocean of misery in her gaze.
Tears sting at my eyes.
Andras goes over to where Yvan kneels and surveys the scene. “Her wing is broken,” he observes with barely concealed outrage. “So is her leg, and she’s lost a great deal of blood. Perhaps the Empath can tell us if there is any hope.” He glances pointedly at Wynter, who takes a deep breath before kneeling down and reaching toward the cage.
The dragon’s gaze shifts to Wynter as she places her pale hand on the dragon’s gleaming, scaled hide and closes her eyes tightly, her expression pained. “She wants me to know her name is Naga. And that she wants to move, but she can’t. She is in too much pain.” Wynter’s voice is a choked whisper, her thin mouth trembling. “Her thoughts are full of despair. All she ever wanted...” Wynter momentarily breaks off, tears trickling down her cheeks. “All she ever wanted was to fly free. To feel the wind on her wings. But...there’s no fighting them. An image fills her mind. Yvan. Her good friend. Her only friend. She wants him and his people to flee before these Gardnerian monsters find them. Yvan thinks he can save her, but he can’t. Even though he is a...” Wynter gasps, her eyes flying open with shocked realization, her head swiveling around to face Yvan.
Yvan blanches, and he stands up and backs away from Wynter. “Wynter, please.”
“Yvan,” she breathes as she shakes her head in disbelief. “It can’t be. How can it be so?”
“I beg of you,” he pleads.
Wynter bows her head as if attempting to collect herself. She closes her eyes tightly for a moment, then opens them and regards Yvan calmly. “Give me your hand,” she directs as she holds out one of her own, the other on the dragon.
“Wynter, I...”
“You do not need to fear this with me,” she says firmly, her hand still outstretched.
Yvan looks positively stricken. But then he surrenders and gives his hand to her. Wynter closes her eyes as she reads both Yvan’s thoughts and those of the dragon, her brow periodically tensing, her head nodding as if engaged in some private, hidden conversation. Finally, she opens her eyes, Yvan’s hand still in hers. “Empaths are the keepers of secrets,” she tells him.
I glance around in confusion. Jarod’s and Diana’s expressions are stern and unreadable, and Andras’s fist is tight on his ax handle. Trystan and Ariel are looking at Yvan with wary concern.
“I don’t mean to interrupt you,” Rafe tells Wynter, stepping forward, “but if there’s something we need to know about Yvan, I think you should tell us. If there’s some danger...”
“He is no danger to any of us,” Wynter states with calm certainty. “He can be trusted completely.”
Rafe looks hard at her and at Yvan, eyes narrowed, before relenting. “All right,” he says to Wynter, “what can you tell us about the odds of getting Naga out alive?”
Wynter concentrates once more on the dragon.
“Naga,” Yvan asks the dragon, anguish breaking through, “who did this to you?”
The dragon’s gaze tightens with pain. “A soldier,” Wynter translates for the dragon. “Their Dragon Master.” She winces sharply. “Mage Damion Bane.”
“Ancient One,” I fume, disgusted. “Of course it would be one of the Banes.”
“We’re going to get you out of here,” Yvan tells the dragon, his lip curling with white-hot resolve. “We’ll find a way.”
“There is no way,” Wynter translates. “He’s going to come back. He’s going to torture me until I break...or die.”
“We’ll stop him,” Rafe says.
“Then they will send another,” Wynter continues. “There is no stopping them.”
“No,” Trystan remarks as he runs his hands up and down the bars, studying them. “We’re going to find a way to break this cage and get you out.”
“Then you must find it soon, Gardnerian,” Wynter translates, the dragon’s eyes full of dark urgency. “Very soon.”
* * *
We don’t see much of Trystan over the next few days. He’s careful to keep to his regular schedule, as we all are, all of us overstretched with exhausting work assignments and exam time looming. Even so, Trystan takes the time to disappear into the woods every evening to practice spells on the arrowhead with the white wand.
Ariel takes to pacing the room, her raven keeping a close eye on her from its perch on her bed. She’s angry, morose and more on edge than usual. We all are. The Selkie seems to sense this. Like the raven, she watches us closely with worried eyes, curling up with Diana at night, her greatest comfort.
And Yvan seems troubled and distant, his private focus as intense on me as ever, but fully at odds with how he’s holding himself back from me. He stays by the Keltic and Urisk kitchen workers, careful to pick tasks that don’t send him into close proximity with me. And he avoids the small opportunities for conversation that he was starting to take advantage of, even though I can sense our intensifying pull toward each other from clear across the room.
It’s upsetting and confusing, but I try to stuff the hurt down and focus on studying and remaining above suspicion.
I fall to brooding over what will happen if Marina is found, over whether or not Yvan’s dragon can possibly survive and what it is that Wynter now knows about Yvan. There are so many strange things about him, like his speed and strength in dealing with Damion when rescuing the Urisk girl. How he seems to be able to communicate with the dragon just by staring at her. How he appears to sense my thoughts. The unnatural heat of his skin.
What secret is he hiding?