A mysterious past, an unrequited love, and a desperate need to find himself, fifteen-year-old Kalyn has enough to occupy him without being on the verge of a massive societal upheaval. Join Kalyn and his friends as they explore what it means to come...
As if uncertain what has happened, the audience goes at first shock still and then breaks into chaos. Arrows rain down on the platform with a series of whistling thunks, and the crew scatters for cover. Those without any vested interest, scramble to safety, but Dager remains standing against the onslaught. His eyes are on the empty place where Mab once stood. The rope dangles limply, singed at the point of contact. As if unaware of the lethal hailstorm cascading down around him, Dager walks unhurriedly toward the pit. What he sees there causes him to lurch backward, an effort that, combined with the full weight of Mab's fury, causes him to land hard against the pedestal.
The square empties, and, in this remains of this exodus, I realize I am trapped. We are trapped, I remember, as Köv shouts for attention, for help, from those passing. No one spares us a second glance.
Some yards from us, Mab is still engulfed. Flames lick across the stage, curling ever closer to where we are imprisoned. Smoke burns my lungs, and I hack the foul stuff from my lungs. I dive beneath it, to breath the clear air at the bottom of my cell, before that, too, is gone.
I can see the fiery image of Mab, struggling with her father. I call out to her, but the sound is weak. I focus on breathing, until even that becomes impossible. Spots bloom before my eyes, and I fear that this is the last I will see: a miserable, clouded cell. I blink against the burning and succumb with a smile, knowing that Mab will live.
"Move," someone says. My head is floating and foggy. I can no longer tell where I am—all around me is dense, impenetrable grey—but I do my best to accommodate. There is a metallic crunch, and the gate, condemning me to certain death, crashes to the ground. I hear another collision and feel myself being moved.
Tears stream from my stinging eyes. My throat and lungs feel pierced from within by a thousand pinpricks. I cough and blink until the world comes into focus again. Unbelievably, Teak stands before me.
"I put that knife to good use after all," he tells me, indicating the freed dragon. He smirks as he tosses it, fumbles, and drops the weapon blade-first, into the ground. "Maybe you'd best hold on to it from now on though." I get to my feet as Köv heaves on all fours.
"Ohna did what she could," Teak tells me. The disruption in his scales where the spears found his flesh have started to heal. "Never worked on a dragon before apparently..." I reach the muzzle and tug on it with displeasure.
"Right... That. I'm sorry. We couldn't get it off with such short notice."
"Then... the fire?"
"No idea, but we should get out of here." Teak drags Köv to his feet, and the four of us hobble to safety.
Terrified villagers mill at the edge of town, gazing into the smoke for any sign of the victor. I hear whispered wagers, which I largely ignore. My eyes remain trained on the spot. When Agan and Ohna arrive, I pay them only the barest of attention.
"She's still in there."
"Who? Mab?"
I nod, and Ohna's expression settles into one of concern. Agan immediately sets to whittling at Dart's muzzle with the sharpened tip of an arrow. The sound of fraying leather provides a steady undercurrent to my thoughts. The arrow snaps, and she trades it for a knife.
"Wart could save her, couldn't he?" I ask of my compatriots, who offer uncertain expressions. Of the little I know about dragons, his odds in there are as unfamiliar as mine. Anyway, he makes no move to leave my side, and any connection we shared is fading.
"She seemed to be doing pretty fine on her own," Köv admits, and I have to agree, overtaken by worry though I am.
Just when I think I will mad with it, I hear a noise. A gagging. A gasping. A distinctly masculine sound. Fearing the worst, we ready our weapons. If Dager has emerged, Mab must still be in there somewhere. I hear beams crackle and crash, and swallow my rising panic. What emerges from obscurity, however, is not one, but two.
Dager leans bodily on his daughter, who, in spite of the ash, appears utterly unharmed. Her flame has been doused, but it's effects remain. Twin splotches of red burn bright on her brazen cheeks. She lays him down (none to gently, I note), and we stand over the once towering man with a sense of bemused triumph.
"What do we do with him?" Teak is the first to say.
"Throw him back on the fire," Köv suggests helpfully.
Agan shoots an arrow within an inch of his head, solidifying her opinions on the matter. Our opinions aside, Mab knows precisely what to do. She shoos the cluster to allow him room to breathe.
"He has to stand trial. A real trial." The man curled on the ground, shielding his body from the assaults that will never come—not from us—hardly seems fit to stand, let alone stand trial, but she is insistent. "He made a mockery of our democracy. We can never have that again. We must give him a trial. This decision is no one's to make alone. Not even ours."
When it occurs to me just how many people will want their justice exacted, I have to agree. We owe it to these people. We owe it to Balai.
"Help me get him back to the house." Köv and I take an arm, and, realizing that he has slipped into unconsciousness while we debated, Teak and Agan take a leg. We shoulder him to the road, where we are intercepted by a pack of snarling wolves. Grif limps forward to stand between us.
"Put him down," commands the eldest.
"We are taking him home," Mab returns.
"His abuse of power ends now. We have suffered indignities at this man's hands for far too long. He will die tonight... along with anyone who defends him."
"How cowardly!" Köv begins. "I notice not of you defied him back there... but you would kill him now, when he can't defend himself?"
"Cowardly or not, it is what must be done."
"What must be done," he mocks. "When did you ever care about that? If you had done that from the start, none of this ever would have happened. Amazing how you're only willing when it's easy. A knife in the back of a sleeping man."
"It was not our place. We follow the command of the Elder."
"The Elder. The Elder you let die? That Elder? That is the problem with you. As long as you are enforcing someone else's orders, you have no obligations to use your own conscience. This man starved our village. He drove out your brothers. He stole our way of life... and you let him. You helped him. You are not innocent. You are as damned as he is. All you have done is commit atrocities under the guise of duty. If duty is your only concern, then you are as guilty as the man you serve."
"And, with Dager gone, who will your new Elder be?" Agan advises. "Perhaps you should consider that now. ...Before you make any enemies."
The wolves do not submit, but they do let us pass.
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