CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN（Untitled）Branikk

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

Branikk

A huge shadow dashes across the ground of the clearing, and a deep voice calls from overhead, "Turn off your machine or I will break it! You cannot keep me from my son."

"Sheevora!" Ashley leaps to her feet and runs over to the carnival ride. She taps at the control panel, and the great spinning top of it begins to slow, the straps and chains falling from horizontal to hang straight down by the time it comes to a halt.

"Mother!" Drake stands on top of the hill, bobbing his head, his crest raised.

"Move, child, so that I may land."

He leaps forward, snapping his wings out for a split second to turn his fall into a glide. Then he refolds them before they can hit anyone else in the clearing, landing on the soft moss with a thump.

Deep wing beats sound overhead and an artificial wind whips everyone's hair as Sheevora lands on top of the hill. She's five times his size, a magnificent green dragon, who radiates magical power.

I've never spoken to her before, but that doesn't matter. I stride out from under the trees, my bride cradled in my arms. "Please, great Sheevora. You must take us to Moon Blade Village."

"I must ?" she booms, right as Drake glares at me and says, "She's the ‘Magnificent,' not the ‘Great.' That title belongs to a lesser dragon."

"Sheevora the Magnificent." I bow my head. "Forgive my words. Worry added to my haste. My bride suffers under the deathsleep, and we still don't know enough about how the sluagh's new formula affects humans. I merely hoped that after the service she did your son, you might return one in kind."

"You always were the cheeky one," Dravarr mutters, stepping up beside me. "I would have asked for this boon had you a moment's patience."

Yet I have no more patience to spare. Everyone else wants to set the rest of the world to rights, and I wish them well. But all my effort turns to only one goal. Grace.

Instead of answering me, the dragon looks at Drake. "Does he speak true? Has the human witch done you a service?"

"The witch created the machine that drove away the soul stealers while I was helpless due to deathsleep."

"Then, yes." Her huge amber eye lands on me, the vertical pupil widening. "You have first claim. Come. I will take you."

"We need help disposing of the sluagh," Dravarr says, pointing to the cloud over Aurora.

"And more deathsleep antidote," Ashley says.

Riselda steps forward. "And to discuss the cu sith joining your alliance."

"I will address all of this when I return," Sheevora says.

Dravarr looks as if he wants to argue, but settles for scowling at me.

Rune simply says, "Go. As fae, our people are safe enough in the deathsleep. If it is broken today or tomorrow matters little, as long as it is broken soon."

I nod to him and stride for the path up the side of the hill, only slowing when I pass by Aurora. "I'm sorry. I know we need to destroy all the birds to free you of the burden, but…" I lift Grace.

"Go. Take care of her." Aurora bats my shoulder with her horn, and her voice regains its grumpy tone as she says, "Besides which, the sooner you do, the sooner the dragon will return and aid me."

"Thank you, my friend."

"Branikk, wait!" Ashley runs up to me and tucks a long-sleeved linen shirt into my hand. "Put this around Grace. It can be cold up there."

"Thank you."

Then I sprint up the hill and climb the front leg Sheevora cocks for me. Her green scales are surprisingly warm and smooth, and I settle into a natural dip right above where her neck meets her shoulders. I tug the spare shirt over Grace's head and clasp her to me, my thighs clenching to hold my seat.

This will be fine. It's just like riding a unicorn.

The dragon's muscles bunch below me, and she springs into the air with a pulse of magic and a snap of her wide wings.

The ground falls away in a dizzying rush that makes my stomach drop.

By the goddess, this is nothing like riding a unicorn.

By the level of the sun in the sky, it must only be an hour or so later that we reach Moon Blade Village.

It feels as if a millennium has passed. Thank the goddess that Ashley gave me the shirt for Grace. It wasn't cold high in the air—it was freezing. I tucked my bride's hands between us and kept her face pressed into the warmth of my chest. Doing so froze the hand I had to keep on the back of her head, but I would experience the hardship a million times to save her even the slightest discomfort.

Even now that we drop to lower altitudes, the air rushes past so quickly it steals the breath from my nose.

Sheevora tips to one side to circle, and my thighs ache as I hold my seat. Thank god orcs are built strong. Dragons clearly need saddles.

The village that's been my home for six-and-twenty years looks so different from above. Rings of heart trees appear in the middle of the pine and birch forest, themselves circling the open space of the village green. The other large clearing around the standing stone waits on the far side of the village.

"Land on the green!" I shout, the wind tearing the words from my mouth.

Yet the dragon seems to hear. Her long neck curves, and she studies me with one huge eye. "Are you certain? It will destroy the small structure in the center."

"I'm certain." I will rebuild a million well houses, if it gets my bride the care she needs faster.

Sheevora swoops over the green once, her large shadow darkening the moss-covered ground. "Make way below!"

In the middle of the day, most people are working, so only a few people are on the green. They call out and point to the sky. Then as Sheevora gets closer, they dart into the doors of the nearest heart tree.

The dragon lands right in the center, her wings almost touching the pub on one side and the tanner on the other. The well house gives a loud crunch that I ignore.

"Thank you, Sheevora the Magnificent!" I gather my moon bound closer to me and slide down the dragon's shoulder to drop to her foreleg and then to the ground.

"Good day to you, orc. May your bride be well." A gust of wind propels me forward as her huge wings snap down.

"Gerna!" I yell.

Doors fly open, my clan mates pouring out onto the green from all the businesses around it, calling my name.

I remain focused as I run toward the apothecary, yelling as I go, "Gerna!"

She hurries around the trunk of the heart tree her apothecary is in, pulling her gardening gloves from her fingers, a basket of cut herbs dangling from one elbow. "Branikk! What?"

"It's my bride. The sluagh dosed her with the new deathsleep just like they did Taylor."

My friend quickly pushes open the door and waves me inside. The main room has a wooden counter with shelves behind it overflowing with glass bottles and crockery pots filled with every herb known. Some are dried, some in alcohol, some in oil, all labeled in Gerna's precise handwriting.

A couple of beds line one wall, covered in clean, white sheets, laundered by the magic of the cleaning stone. We don't have a full healer in the village, but my friend is one of the finest herbalists in all the clans and can handle most things. And she's the only person in Alarria who's ever brought a human out of the new deathsleep coma.

Gerna hurries over to the shelves, pulling out various jars with the ease of long familiarity. Gone is my friend, who likes to spend an evening with a pint or two down at the pub. In her place is a woman competent in her abilities, her green face serious. "How long has she been unconscious?"

I lay Grace on the bed and sink into the chair beside it. "Since this morning."

"How much of the deathsleep did she breathe in?"

"I don't know." I brush the hair from Grace's face. "I jumped into the cloud and pulled her out right away. She smiled at me for a split second before she passed out."

"That's good. It might not have been a full dose." Gerna studies my face. "But you exposed yourself to deathsleep, so what happened to you?"

"I passed out right after, but Ashley and Dravarr used one of your antidotes on me." My voice gets louder, even though I don't mean to shout at Gerna. "I'm fine. It's my bride who's not!"

She strides toward the door, opens it, and yells at the first youngling she sees, "Go get Krivoth." Then she returns to her herbs.

"Krivoth. Why? Did he do something special for Taylor that helped her recover from deathsleep?" I half rise from the chair. "Is there something I can do?"

"No, he's going to help me with something."

She adds several things to a mortar and grinds them with a pestle. When done, she tips the resultant powder into a small brazier, pours water over it, and lights the fire. Magic tingles through the air as Gerna holds her hands over the bubbling mixture and uses her plant magic to make it do… something.

My magic is a cousin to hers, but while I manipulate the shape and use of wood, she works on a much tinier level, dealing with compounds too small for me to detect.

She strains the hot extract into a glass, adds another two liquids to it, and stirs, applying more magic until the whole thing glows a light purple.

By the time Krivoth bursts through the door, she's done and walking toward me, carrying the herbal remedy.

"Gerna, how can I help?" Then my best friend notices me. "Branikk! You're back! And you've got your moon bound bride!"

His sister points to me. "Get him out of here."

"What? No!" I grip Grace's hand.

"Branikk, I swear, I love you like a brother. But if you don't let me work, I can't help your bride."

When I don't move— can't move—Gerna grips my shoulder and forces me to meet her eyes. "Do you trust me?"

"With my life."

"Good." She tips her head toward Grace. "So trust me with hers."

"Come on." Krivoth's hands grab me, hauling me bodily from the chair. I resist, and we grapple, evenly matched in strength. I'm tired from fighting all morning and struggling to hold Grace throughout the flight. But I'm also desperate.

Finally, he wheels me around to face him, using an armlock. "Did you forget that I'm supposed to be the grumpy one?"

"It's deathsleep, Krivoth," I pant, all the fight going out of me. "Just like with Taylor."

He sucks in a sharp breath, his eyes going haunted. He went through the same with his bride, having to ride for days carrying her unconscious body before he could get her to Gerna. Krivoth releases his hold on my arm to pull me into a hug. "It'll be okay."

I crane my neck, looking back at Grace, hoping he's right.

Because I can't picture life without her.