Chapter Eleven
Mikhyal stared at the plate of pastries Tristin had ordered delivered to their suite for breakfast. Ordinarily, he might well have eaten several, but this morning, his appetite was gone. Shaine and Garrik had both been gone for two nights now, and there had been no word from either of them.
Shaine and Vorri could both Jump and be back at the castle immediately if something went wrong, so why had neither of them returned? Something terrible must have happened to them, and he feared whatever it was, Garrik and Bradin may well have shared their fate.
How was the Northern Alliance to continue on if Garrik was gone? His disappearance, along with Jaire’s, left Altan’s throne empty, with no heir to take it. Closest to the throne would be Tristin, and Mikhyal couldn’t imagine Tristin ruling a kingdom, especially during wartime. His gentle husband would never be able to make the kinds of decisions that would be demanded of him.
“You need to eat something, Mikhyal,” Tristin said from across the table. “You barely touched your dinner last night.”
“I’m not hungry,” Mikhyal muttered.
Tristin rose and came around the table to stand behind him. “Perhaps not, but if you’re going to continue to support Ilya, you’re going to need your strength.” Warm hands came down on Mikhyal’s shoulders and began to knead the taut muscles beneath his tunic.
“Mmm… that’s even better than breakfast.” Mikhyal dropped his head forward and let out a little groan. “If you do that long enough, I’ll fall asleep.”
“That might not be a bad thing,” Tristin said tartly. “I don’t think you slept a wink last night.”
“You’d only know that if you didn’t, either,” Mikhyal pointed out. “What if… what if Garrik and Jaire and the others don’t come back, Tristin?”
There was a long silence before Tristin said softly, “I’d, ah, I’d really rather not think about that, if you don’t mind.”
“Believe me, I’d rather not, too, but they’ve been gone two nights now. Why haven’t we heard anything?”
Tristin’s hands stopped moving and he leaned forward to press a kiss to Mikhyal’s cheek. “You must take your own counsel. You told the others they must be patient and give Shaine and Vorri time to do what they’ve set out to do. You must trust Shaine to do what he thinks best.”
Mikhyal sighed. “I do trust him, Tristin. I just… he’s still recovering from a terrible ordeal. I can’t stand the thought of him out there all alone and in trouble.”
“He’s not alone,” Tristin reminded him. “And having to deal with trouble without anyone stepping in to help him might just be the making of him.”
Mikhyal twisted around to meet his husband’s dark eyes. “You think I’ve been coddling him too much?”
“I didn’t say that, but I do think it’s time Shaine was allowed to stand — or fall — on his own two feet. Hovering in the background and swooping in the minute things get difficult for him might make you feel better, but it isn’t helping him at all.”
“I…” Mikhyal stared down at the floor as the truth of Tristin’s words rang through his mind. “I have been doing that, haven’t I?”
“A bit,” Tristin confirmed.
“But Shaine’s never said—”
“Would he?” Tristin cut him off. “He worships you, Mikhyal. I don’t believe he’d say a word, even if he did resent your interference. He knows it comes from love rather than a desire to control. And perhaps he even likes having that safety net there. Hard as it may be for you to stay out of his affairs, it might be better if he didn’t come to depend on you quite so much.”
“You’re right,” Mikhyal said, resolving to think more about the impact his words and actions might have on his brother. Assuming Shaine returned from his latest adventure.
The clock struck half past eight, and Mikhyal rose from his seat.
“Another meeting?” Tristin asked.
“Ai. I imagine I’ll be in the library for most of the day.”
“Are you sure you won’t have a quick bite?”
Mikhyal shook his head. It didn’t matter how tempting Melli’s pastries were, anything he put in his mouth now would taste like ash.
He entered the library only a few steps behind Ilya, whose shadowed, red-rimmed eyes spoke of a sleepless, anxiety-filled night. Ord and Drannik were already there. The moment Ilya walked in, Ord confronted him.
“Any news?” Ord demanded.
“No,” Ilya said mildly. “I’ve just spoken with Captain Jorin. All was quiet through the night.”
“Edrun and I had words over breakfast this morning,” Ord said. “And we are in agreement that we’ve waited long enough. It’s time we sent the dragons in to retrieve them.”
“That’s a drastic move,” Drannik said. “We need to give them time—”
“Time to what?” Ord demanded, his bushy, greying eyebrows drawing together in a scowl. “Shaine can Jump, and so can that wolf friend of his. Why haven’t they popped back here to give us some kind of report?”
“Rhyx,” Mikhyal murmured. “They’re rhyx.”
“Not like any rhyx I’ve ever seen,” Ord said flatly. “And don’t change the subject. With no one to speak for Altan, Rhiva is outnumbered. Irilan and Miraen say we send a wing of dragons to Altivair’s castle at Ravenfell, and demand to know where our people are.”
“I speak for Altan,” Ilya said. “And there will be no dragons sent into Ysdrach. Not yet, at least.”
“Think, Ord,” Mikhyal urged. “If they haven’t been captured, we’d be destroying any chance of success they might have by admitting we’ve been running an operation in Ysdrach.”
“And if they have been captured?” Ord demanded.
“Then I imagine we’ll be hearing from Altivair soon enough,” Drannik said, “with news of their deaths or a demand for ransom.”
Ilya swallowed hard, and there was a long silence while Ord digested that. “And how much time do you propose we give them?” Ord asked.
“At least another day,” Ilya said, pale blue eyes darting from one to the other to gauge their reactions.
“Agreed,” Drannik said quickly.
Mikhyal nodded slowly, hating that his father had agreed to a deadline on their return, but realizing that if Ord was willing to back down a bit, Drannik had to give something in return.
“If we’ve heard nothing by tonight,” Drannik continued, “then we’ll send one of our dragon-shifter soldiers in under cover of darkness to scout the area around Falkrag and determine what’s happened to them. Will that suit you?”
Ord scowled again, but nodded. “It will do,” he said gruffly. “We’ll meet tonight, then?”
“Ai,” Ilya confirmed. “Tonight. Directly after dinner. Now, if you’d have a seat, once Edrun and the others arrive, we have defensive plans to go over. In light of the current situation, I think those need to be finalized sooner rather than later.”
The four of them sat, and it wasn’t long before Edrun and the rest of the advisors and strategists began to file in.
* * *
Snow crunched beneath Shaine’s boots as he, Vorri, and Kavarr cut across the castle grounds to the wide, paved road leading up to Castle Altan’s main gate. Since Kavarr was accompanying them as an ambassador, Shaine decided they’d best make an official entrance, rather than popping into his bedroom in Mikhyal and Tristin’s suite.
It was late enough in the morning that the gates stood open. Shaine recognized one of the guardsmen as Willem, whom Prince Jaire was on good terms with. Willem, in turn, recognized Shaine immediately, and stared curiously at Kavarr when Shaine introduced him as an ambassador who had come to negotiate with the Northern Alliance.
Willem escorted them inside and watched with wide eyes as Kavarr carefully wiped his wet paws on the rug inside the massive entry hall. “I’ve orders from your brother to escort you to him immediately if you should show up, Your Highness.”
“I think we should see Wytch King Garrik first, if you don’t mind, Willem,” Shaine said. “I’m sure Mikhyal will understand.”
Willem winced. “Ai, well, I’ll be taking you to Wytch Master Ilya and the others, anyway. They’ll explain.”
Explain? Shaine frowned, but said to Vorri and Kavarr, “Brace yourselves. If they haven’t found Jaire yet, there’s bound to be shouting.”
The long table in the library was not as crowded as usual. Shaine’s father and brother were there, along with Ord and Edrun. Wytch Master Ilya and Prince Vayne were also present, both of them looking very strained.
Notably missing was Wytch King Garrik.
The moment Willem announced them, Master Ilya was on his feet. “Shaine,” he said grimly. “Where is Jaire?” His pale blue eyes widened as they fixed on Kavarr. “And who is this?”
“Your Majesties,” Shaine said, “may I present Kavarr, brother to Vorri and son to Svirrin, who is the new leader of the rhyx shifters of the valley. Kavarr has come to prepare the way for negotiations with my father. The rhyx shifters were created by Wytch King Lethrian of Rhiva, and their descendants are interested in returning to their homeland. They have also indicated an interest in assisting the Northern Alliance in the war against the Wytch Council.”
Drannik came around the table to greet Kavarr. He bowed low, and Shaine noted that sitting, Kavarr could look him in the eye.
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Prince Kavarr,” Drannik said.
Kavarr snorted. <Tell him the pleasure is mine, and I look forward to speaking with him. Also, make certain he understands I am no prince, but a leader of hunters, >
Beside Kavarr, Vorri stirred. “If I might be permitted to translate?” At Drannik’s nod, Vorri repeated Kavarr’s words.
“Apologies,” Drannik said. “Will Hunter Kavarr do?” At Kavarr’s nod, he continued, “I look forward to speaking with you, also, and to meeting your father. Vorri, if you would care to escort your brother to Rhiva’s suite, you may both take your ease there until I’ve finished here.”
“But before you go, we will have some answers from you and Shaine,” Ilya said. “I would have news of Jaire and Garrik, and I’m sure Edrun would like to hear how Prince Bradin fares. Why are they not with you?”
“Yes, where is Jaire?” asked Prince Vayne in a strained voice. “He left with you, did he not?”
Shaine’s stomach lurched. Garrik and Bradin were missing? “Jaire is safe enough,” he said slowly. “He and Brax are with Brax’s mother. But Garrik and Bradin are missing? We… we didn’t see either of them.”
“Willem, send a messenger to Brax’s mother’s house.” Ilya’s face had gone very pale, but his voice was strong and steady. “Tell Jaire and Brax they are ordered to return to Altan immediately.” He turned back to Shaine. “You saw nothing of Garrik or Bradin?”
“They left here the same night you did,” Edrun said.
“They were probably delayed by the storm. It was just starting up when we left.” Shaine turned to Kavarr. “You didn’t see any dragons flying over Falkrag before I set you free, did you?”
<I fear I did not. But if someone is needed to go back and search, my hunters and I would be willing to assist. We owe much to the Northern Alliance.>
Shaine repeated Kavarr’s words to the Wytch Kings.
When he was finished, Ilya said, “Thank you, Kavarr. We will take your offer under consideration once we’ve decided what to do. But before we can do that, we’ll need to hear about what happened. From all of you who were there.” He pinned Shaine with a hard look. “Beginning with you, Prince Shaine.”
Shaine gathered his wits, drew in a shaky breath, and began the tale.
* * *
As Shaine’s story unfolded, Mikhyal’s disquiet grew, and when Shaine related the tale of his capture by Wytch Master Faah, Mikhyal had to grip the arms of his chair tightly to keep himself in his seat. He couldn’t decide if he wanted to hug Shaine or smack some sense into him.
When Shaine paused for breath, Drannik shot Mikhyal a grim, tight smile, suggesting that he, too, was torn.
Shaine continued on, describing how he’d escaped confinement, mainly because Faah hadn’t been aware of his new abilities and hadn’t bothered to drug him beyond the initial dart that had taken him down. Mikhyal guessed Faah’s intention had been to question Shaine about the Northern Alliance’s activities. As such, he wouldn’t want Shaine’s mind clouded by drugs that might obscure the information he was after. Mikhyal could barely suppress the shudder running through him at the thought of how things could have turned out had Shaine remained Faah’s prisoner.
Shaine haltingly described the vengeance taken by Kavarr and his hunters, but when he reached the part about Faah’s bloody fate, he choked and had to stop.
Into the stunned silence that followed, Ilya asked quietly, “When was this, Shaine?”
“Late yesterday afternoon,” Shaine said in a hoarse voice.
Edrun brought a hand to his eyes. “Garrik and Bradin could have been there by then.” He lowered his hand. “Did you see… could they have been among the dead?”
Shaine’s face was deathly pale. “I… I honestly couldn’t say, Your Majesty. I… there wasn’t… there wasn’t enough left of any of them to…”
Ilya made a tiny, choked sound deep in his throat, and Edrun closed his eyes. Mikhyal stared down at the table.
What if they were dead?
With Garrik gone, could Jaire hold Altan and the Northern Alliance together by himself?
Before he could come up with something useful to say, the library door opened to reveal Willem. “Your Majesties, Prince Bradin has returned.”
Willem had barely finished speaking when Bradin pushed past him. He looked exhausted, and hadn’t even taken the time to dress. He strode in wearing nothing but a fur-lined cloak wrapped tightly about himself.
“Your Majesties,” he said, voice cracking with fatigue, “I regret to inform you that Wytch King Garrik has been captured. They’re taking him to Wolfgard.”
Ilya’s face went bone white, and he slumped back in his chair.
“Wolfgard?” Mikhyal frowned as he brought his mental map of Ysdrach to mind. “That’s the fortress guarding White Wolf Pass. Why take him there instead of Altivair’s castle at Ravenfell?”
“I managed to capture and question one of the guardsmen they left behind,” Bradin said, looking rather ill. “With Wytch Master Faah dead and the rhyx pack escaped, they wanted to move him to a defensible position as quickly as possible. Wolfgard is the closest fort to Falkrag.” He swayed on his feet, and Vayne rose quickly and went to his side to steady him.
“Aio’s teeth, Bradin,” Vayne scolded. “Sit down before you fall down.” He pulled out the nearest chair and practically pushed Bradin down on it. “Willem, have the kitchen send up some hot soup for His Highness.”
When Bradin was settled, Mikhyal glanced at Ilya, who appeared to be in shock, and said softly, “You’d better tell us what happened, Bradin.”
Bradin sucked in a few shaking breaths, shivering the whole while, and Vayne snapped, “Someone throw another log on the fire. The man is freezing.” He disappeared for a moment into Garrik’s study, and Mikhyal rose and went to stir up the fire. Vayne emerged from the study carrying a warm blanket, which he draped over Bradin’s shoulders. “Now,” he said gently, “tell us what happened. And take your time.”
“Garrik came to me two nights ago,” Bradin began. “Jaire was missing, and he thought he’d gone off with Shaine and Vorri to Falkrag. He needed an empath to come with him, help him find them.” He swallowed hard and looked at his father. “It was a chance to do something useful, something more than playing messenger boy for Ferrin.”
“So you agreed,” Ilya said dully.
“I did. How else was Garrik going to find him? He’s not an empath. I suggested it might be better if he just sent me alone, but you know how Garrik is where Jaire’s concerned.”
“All too well,” Ilya murmured.
“Ai.” Bradin nodded. “He wouldn’t hear of it. The snow was coming down so heavily, we could barely see. I suggested we wait until morning, but Garrik was determined. We flew for perhaps half an hour before the wind became too fierce, and finally forced us down. We took shelter in the forest and waited. It was mid-morning before the wind finally died down enough that we could continue safely.”
“Garrik is insane,” Ilya muttered.
“Ai, I told him that,” Bradin said with a grim smile. “Once we crossed into Ysdrach, we had to keep low and close to the mountains, to avoid being spotted. It was getting late in the afternoon when we finally located the estate. We landed in the foothills to discuss what to do. Garrik wanted to fly down immediately, but I counseled caution. Flying in daylight seemed too dangerous to me. I talked him into waiting until dark. I reminded him of your encounter with Anxin last summer, Mikhyal.”
“I’m surprised it had any effect,” Mikhyal said mildly.
“It didn’t end up making any difference,” Bradin said. “We’d barely landed when I sensed a great storm of anger raging through the mythe like a wildfire. It was coming from the estate. When I told Garrik, he was determined to go down there immediately. I managed to talk him into waiting until the mythe had quieted, so I might get a better read on the place and have a feel for what we might find. It was gone almost as fast as it had started, but… there was nothing left. I could sense no one.” He paused, then said slowly, “Garrik had had enough of waiting. I doubt anyone could have stopped him. He flew down to the estate, and I followed him. There were no sentries on the walls, and I sensed no one alive. Then we spotted the bodies. Men in the uniform of the Council’s Drachan soldiers, torn apart like the folk of our villages after the rhyx had been through. With all the bodies and no sign of anyone coming to retrieve them, we thought…” Bradin trailed off, shaking his head.
Ilya put a hand on Bradin’s shoulder. “It’s all right. Do you need to take a break?”
“No. I need to… I need to tell it so you can decide what to do before…” Bradin was shaking now, sweat beading on his brow. He clutched the blanket tighter about himself and drew in a few more deep breaths before continuing. “We flew over the estate, planning to land inside the gates and see if we could figure out what had happened. They came out of nowhere. I never even sensed them. Soldiers armed with crossbows, pouring out onto the roof of the estate. Garrik was hit. He told me to go. I started to go to him, but he swore at me. I managed to get into the air. They shot me, too, but the dart only pierced my wing. I took enough of the drug to make flight difficult, and by the time I’d made it to the safety of the trees, I was feeling dizzy and I couldn’t shift.
“Things went fuzzy for a bit after that, and when my head finally cleared, it was getting close to dawn. I shifted back to human form to heal, then headed back down to Falkrag to see what was happening, if it might be possible to free Garrik. There was a full complement of sentries standing guard, but I could sense none of them in the mythe. They’d removed the bodies. I managed to catch one of the sentries, but all I could get out of him was that they’d taken Garrik to Wolfgard on horseback, and that they’d left almost immediately after capturing him. If I’d thought there was any chance of catching up to them on the road, I’d have tried, but the whole night had passed, and I guessed it would be too late. It can’t be more than two or three hours’ ride, even accounting for the snow. When I realized I couldn’t do anything for him, I headed straight back here as fast as I could fly. I’m sorry, Ilya.”
Ilya shook his head. “There’s nothing to be sorry for,” he said grimly. “Garrik is not to be reasoned with where Jaire’s concerned. You did all you could, and you brought us information.”
The door opened and a servant appeared carrying a tray containing a mug of hot soup and a chunk of bread. Ilya set the food in front of Bradin and said, “Eat. And then you must rest.”
“Ai, Master Ilya. I’ll do that. But if you’re going after him, I’m coming with you.”
“You’re not going anywhere until you’ve rested,” Ilya said firmly.
While Bradin shoveled in the hot soup, Mikhyal rose and shuffled through the pile of maps they’d been using over the past few days. He set the one showing Altan and Ysdrach in the center of the table. “Here’s Falkrag.” He pointed to a spot in western Ysdrach, near the Dragon’s Spine. “And here’s Wolfgard, directly south of Falkrag, sitting at the bottom of White Wolf Pass. Bradin’s right. Even carrying double on a snowy road, it wouldn’t take more than three hours to make the journey. It’s probably safe to assume he’s at Wolfgard, and has been for a number of hours now.”
Ord cleared his throat. “If they break him, he’ll betray us all.”
“Garrik would never betray us,” Shaine said vehemently.
“Not willingly, no,” Mikhyal said. “But the Council Inquisitors can strip all the secrets from a man’s mind and never give him a chance to defend himself.”
“They’ve already had him for hours,” Edrun said gloomily. “And it will be hours more before we can reach Wolfgard.”
Shaine stirred, then said hesitantly, “It doesn’t have to be hours. I mean, Vorri and Kavarr and I could Jump a team of dragon shifters as far as Falkrag, then they could fly the rest of the way to Wolfgard. It wouldn’t take them long. Then us rhyx shifters could Jump back to Altan and fetch more dragons if we need them.”
Ord’s eyes narrowed. “It’s always possible they haven’t questioned him yet. An important prisoner like Garrik… Altivair would want to be present at the questioning, would he not?”
“I know I would,” Drannik said. “We may yet have time.”
“Who do we send?” Edrun asked.
“I’ll go,” Mikhyal said immediately.
“No,” Ilya protested. “You’re Drannik’s heir. And anyway, we’ll need some of the bigger dragons, the ones who can carry an injured man if necessary. Wyndra, for certain. Brax, if he was here. I wonder how long—”
The door opened and Jaire burst in. “Something’s happened to Garrik! I think he’s gone to Falkrag!” He stopped, eyes widening at the sight of Shaine, Vorri, and the big, black rhyx sitting between them.
Ilya turned cold, pale eyes on the prince. “Where is Brax?”
Jaire jerked a thumb back toward the door. “Waiting in the hallway.” He squared his shoulders and faced the gathered Wytch Kings without flinching. “It’s not his fault. I told him I’d go, with or without him. I take full responsibility.”
“Yes, you do,” Ilya snapped. “You have much to answer for, Prince Jaire, and believe me, you will. But we’ve no time for that now. Your brother went after you and managed to get himself captured. We have a rescue mission to plan.”
Jaire’s already pale face turned chalk white. He pressed his lips together and took a seat beside Ilya. He looked so stricken that Mikhyal almost felt sorry for him.
Almost.
“What did you sense from Garrik, Jaire?” Mikhyal asked. “Anything that can help us?”
“Nothing useful,” Jaire said, pale grey eyes shimmering. “He’s afraid and he’s in pain, but I can’t tell what from.” He squeezed his eyes shut. Tears trickled down his cheeks. “I’m sorry, Ilya. I only wanted to help Vorri save his pack-mates. I didn’t—”
“Didn’t think,” Ord said gruffly.
“None of them thought,” Drannik said. “And there will be repercussions, to be sure. But they acted out of compassion, not malice. Let us save the shouting for later and focus on the rescue mission. The longer we delay, the more chance there is of there being nothing left worth rescuing.”