Chapter 32

DAELLA

As soon as I reached the edge of Wyndale, despair choked me. I’d fought hard to keep it together when facing Rivelin and his fellow villagers, but now that I’d put some space between us, I couldn’t hold back the tears.

Salted lines streaked down my face as I left the merry village behind for the dark, lonely woods of the Ashborn Forest. I had no idea where I was going, or how long it would take to get there, but I knew I had to keep moving for as long as I could. If the villagers truly believed I’d caused so much damage to their peaceful world, they would hunt me down no matter what I’d said to keep them away. I had a small bag of Vindur sand, but I didn’t know the first thing about magic.

A numbness crept over me as I continued pushing forward down the overgrown path. Thorny branches scraped my bare arms, but I didn’t stop to tend to the cuts. Eventually, I slowed to a walk when my lungs began to ache, and I glanced over my shoulder to search for any sign of pursuers.

The forest looked still and silent. For now.

I tried to think as I continued to press forward. How had it come to this? Why hadn’t I seen the warning signs? But the truth was, I had seen them, and I’d dismissed them. When Rivelin’s tools had appeared on Gregor’s floor, I’d thought it strange. It had seemed so blatant. I’d been foolish to ignore that gut feeling.

Rivelin had planned all of this to win the Midsummer Games, and now he would get away with it because he had the perfect scapegoat: a hated murk from the Grundstoff Empire. And if he was willing to do all that, if he was willing to burn down someone’s house using dragonfire, what else was he capable of?

Heart pounding, I slowed to a stop. The thought hadn’t occurred to me before, but the words lit up in my mind now, impossible to ignore. What if he’d been lying about what he planned to ask of the island? He had a dark, violent past. He said he’d moved on from that, that he’d left it behind. What if he hadn’t?

What if he truly was a Draugr?

My hands clenched. Perhaps I shouldn’t have run.

But what was I to do against a village full of angry elves, demons, dwarves, and humans who believed I was the enemy? They would refuse to listen to me. They would lock me up. Still…there had to be something I could do, and at least I had some time to figure out what. There were seven days before the final ceremony of the Midsummer Games, where Rivelin would no doubt be crowned the winner.

The trees rustled overhead as I continued my dash down the forest path. There was a bite in the air, a chill that hadn’t been there a moment before. Frowning, I picked up my pace. I needed to find shelter for the night, then move north to the village of Milford. I had some coin now, along with the Vindur sand. Perhaps I could buy a weapon before returning to Wyndale to take my stand.

My stand against Rivelin.

That thought hurt more than I wanted to admit. I’d opened up to him in a way I hadn’t with anyone in years, and I’d truly believed he’d done the same with me. There had been something there between us, something I’d yearned for all my life, despite believing I’d never have it.

Despite believing I would never be free, let alone learn to trust someone.

He’d broken down my walls just to stab me in the heart. Rivelin was worse than Isveig had ever been. At least the ice giant did not hide his monstrous nature.

* * *

Iwandered the forest for six full days before I admitted to myself I was lost. I’d tried to follow the path Rivelin and I had taken north toward the mountains, but I’d chosen the wrong fork somewhere in the dark. I was hungry, tired, and soaked in layers of dirt. The ground had been my bed for the crisp, lonely nights.

As I tried to retrace my steps, the wind whipped my hair, bringing with it the scent of storms. Grimacing, I glanced up at the dense canopy just as a steady drizzle cut through the leaves. A few splatters hit my arms, and pain lanced through me. With a silent sob, I pressed my back against the trunk of the nearest tree and searched for something I could use as shelter.

But everywhere I looked, there was nothing but bushes and trees and leaves gusting in the wind. The rain was growing heavier now, slashing against my body like knives. Shuddering, I ran for a fallen log and dove beneath it, but it did little to block the storm.

I crawled as far beneath the log as I could manage and folded myself into a ball. Big droplets of rain slammed on my exposed shoulder and the left side of my back. I shivered and squeezed my eyes tight, praying to Freya. The Goddess of the Elements had never looked kindly on me or my people, and yet I whispered her name as my skin came alive with burning welts.

If I had any hope of survival, I needed the storm to stop soon. It would be raining back in Wyndale, too, and Rivelin would know I’d take shelter. I had no idea how close I was to the village or if he and the others were still looking for me, but they might be. And if they found me now, I would be too weak to fight back.

With those thoughts rolling around in my head, I hissed and started crawling out from beneath the protective log. I needed to keep moving.

The air suddenly warmed, a soothing heat caressing my aching skin. Trembling, I lifted my head to spy a red-scaled dragon bursting through the canopy, her leathery wings beating at the rain-soaked air. My breath caught. It was Aska, come to find me once more. But this time, I had none of Mabel’s treats, and I was on the run from Rivelin. Had he sent her after me?

Aska landed heavily on the soaked forest floor and stalked toward me, her claws churning the dirt. I braced myself for the impact.

The dragon swept a wing over my head. An excruciating moment passed, where I could not bring myself to breathe. And then the wing merely stayed there.

Swallowing, I looked up. The dragon’s wing was blocking the downpour, and the sharp stabs of pain faded slightly, though I was still soaked to the bone. Every single inch of my body hurt, but….the dragon was holding off the worst of it now.

I turned toward her long snout and searched those ember eyes. Slowly, she blinked, as if to confirm my unspoken question. Aska had not swooped into the forest to harm me or take me to Rivelin. She was…protecting me.

“Why?” I whispered.

She blinked again, then settled on her haunches. The wing remained right where it was, and the rain transformed the forest into a haze of mist and soggy leaves. I leaned back against the fallen log, still shaking. The pain was not getting worse, but it was still unrelenting. My hair was a wet clump against my back, and my clothes were waterlogged. I would struggle to improve unless I got dry.

I dropped my head against the log and sighed. Aska remained still, only occasionally shifting her wing, the warmth of her body soothing my pain, just a bit. And as I sat there like that, with my deepest fear protecting me, I couldn’t help but wonder if Mabel had been right in what she’d told Viggo and the others. No one knew where orcs had come from. Or, if they did, they’d never told me.

Could it be because we had a link with dragons somewhere in our past?

As the moments crept on, the rain eventually slowed and then stopped. Aska stood and stretched, and beads of water rolled off the leathery, veined wings edged in tusk-like claws. Patches of her skin were raw and pink, where familiar welts were beginning to form.

I pushed to my feet and carefully approached her. “You’re hurt. The rain gave you welts, like me.” I shook my head. “I don’t understand why you helped me.”

She gazed at me for a long moment with those ember eyes, then flattened her body to the ground. She shifted sideways, as if to expose her back to me. Built into her body was a small seat made from glistening scales. This was nothing folk-made. It was a part of her.

Without another word, I grabbed the small tusk growing from her neck and hauled myself onto her back. Intoxicating heat flooded my senses, the sensation charging through me like a thunderstorm. Suddenly, I felt wild and vicious and free. This was raw magic unlike anything I’d ever felt before. Body trembling, I tried to steady my breathing, but my lungs were as on fire as the rest of me.

The dragon lifted her head and roared.