Dragonoak: Gall and Wormwood, page 57
I froze but Kidira didn’t hesitate. She pushed the bedroom door open and marched into the main chamber, hand reaching to free her spear in preparation of whatever sick joke this was.
Kondo-Kana! my mind yelled. I was already letting myself drink up that warmth when I followed Kidira and saw that it wasn’t her.
Donning a torn, bloodied shirt, Akela sat on my sofa with a cup of tea between her hands, talking to Halla.
It hadn’t been a mere rumour.
Halla was there, blind eyes glinting for what she’d just done.
Too much cascaded within me to make sense of, but Kidira didn’t care why Halla was there or how. She marched over to Akela with the sort of strength that would’ve seen death bow to her, placed her hands on her cheeks, and kissed her before Akela had the chance to get on her feet.
Kidira pressed her forehead to Akela’s and the good cheer Akela had forced onto her face and into her voice was gone. Her jaw shook and her fingers dug in at Kidira’s sides. Halla may have raised her from the dead but it was Kidira who made Akela realise she was alive again.
“Kidira, I—” she began. “Their swords, they are taking them and—”
“Shh,” Kidira murmured. “I know. You do not have to explain it to me.”
Akela’s lips curled into something trembling. She had brushed off so much in her life, for her own sake and others, but there was no dismissing this. I felt it in the air between us. I had never seen someone raised by any hand other than my own, and it was as though a shadow was draped across me, letting me know that the light had been there. That death had been banished in the very same way I would’ve chosen to act.
Akela’s shoulders slumped. She collapsed onto the sofa and buried her face in Kidira’s shoulder on the way down. Kidira barely had to lean down to wrap her arms around her. She ran her fingers through Akela’s loose, bloody hair and whispered, “You do not know the lengths we would have gone to today, Akela. The lengths I would have gone to. I would have no longer recognised myself and I would’ve done it for you. Happily. Proudly.”
Akela said nothing. She inhaled deeply and Varn shuffled on the spot next to me.
Reaching out, Halla took my hand.
I couldn’t piece it together. Halla was there, in Felheim, where I’d wanted her to be for so many months. She was in my chambers, sitting on my sofa.
“Rowan,” she said. “Rowan, I found you.”
I couldn’t listen to her. Not even after all the dreams she’d wandered through, all the guilt I’d waded through, when she turned away from me. When she went back into the arms of the Agadians.
Akela mattered. In that moment, only Akela mattered.
I waited for Kidira to let go of her, which took no short amount of time. That didn’t matter, either: suddenly we had all the time in the world. I shook Halla’s hand free of mine, drifted to the sofa and wrapped my arms around Akela. Holding on tightly, I pressed my cheek against hers and found that she was so warm, so gentle, in spite of her scars.
“I love you so much. I’m sorry,” I mumbled, clinging to her as though she was already ash and only my arms could keep her together. “I’m sorry I didn’t protect you.”
“You are not needing to say that,” Akela said, hands splayed across my back. They were still shaking. “Things, they are happening. That is not always being under your control. And protecting people, that is my job. I am failing in this, and so I am—”
“You didn’t fail!” I said, clinging to her shoulders and meeting her gaze.
I didn’t realise I was crying until she tilted her head to the left, eyes narrowing in concern. I blinked hard, expecting it to banish the tears, and rocked forward to kiss her forehead.
“You let us think that you’re indestructible, when really… really you’re risking so much every time you jump into a fight.”
Akela closed her eyes, humming. I held her tight, feeling her heart start to beat steadily. Varn cleared her throat to get her attention and Akela blinked her eyes open to the sight of her tapping the hilts of her twin dragon-bone swords.
She didn’t need to say anything. Akela nodded in gratitude and Kidira said, “She would take on an army for you. Quite literally. Do not think her affections merely physical.”
Kidira, Varn and I found our way to the sofa, comfortably crowding it. We sat there in mute disbelief, unable to shake the image of Akela’s body being dragged to the pyre even when she sat next to us, living, breathing. The corpse had not been her; everything that was Akela had been drained from it and I was in awe of the power that could make a lifeless, mangled thing into Akela.
I took Halla’s hand. She squeezed tightly, reassuringly. I should’ve been thanking her, but I couldn’t think. Were there guards outside the door? There must’ve been. But they hadn’t heard us. They hadn’t heard us, or…
No, no. I would’ve felt their bodies, had Halla forced them out of her way.
“Halla, how are you here? Why did you come? Why did they let you leave Soldato?”
She didn’t understand the question.
“I came for you,” she said. “What happened before, I… I felt bad. About leaving you, like that. So I wanted to apologise. And Kouris, she told me that you’d be here, if I wanted to come. She said all I had to do was tell Tirok that I was coming and he’d let me.”
“Kouris?” I blurted out, already aware of what she meant.
Katja. Katja had got to her. Katja had twisted her will against her by flooding her with nausea and I knew that she had ensured Halla did more than ask to be let along.
“Halla. Listen to me. Promise that you’ll listen,” I said, taking hold of her shoulders. “No matter what, never do what Kat—Kouris tells you to. She isn’t your friend. She isn’t my friend. She only wants to use you. She wants to steal your powers.”
Halla tensed under my touch. Her shoulders rose to her ears and what I felt from her, for her, made me think that I could say whatever I wanted; that because warmth resonated between us no matter what we did, my words would not cut her to the bone.
“Why did you go back to Agados? How could you do that?”
Her hands went slack in mine.
“Did you want to?” I continued. “Do you want them to keep treating you like they do? Why else would you go back there, when you know what they’re like, when you knew what they’d—”
“Rowan,” Akela interrupted me softly. “This is Agados we are speaking of. They are getting in your head. They are making you think thoughts that are not your own. What you are believing is what they are wanting you to believe. For most people, there is no escaping that. I am being lucky. I am being lucky and still, it is being twelve years and I am doubting myself. If Agados is telling me that my heart, it is not in my chest, then some days I am waking up and my blood, I am hearing it pound in my ears, and my pulse, I am feeling it under my skin, and still I am thinking: what if it is not being there? What if they are right?”
I wanted to tell her she was wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. I’d told Halla the truth. I’d taken her away from that. I’d let her see another side of life and I’d—
I’d been with her for days. Hours. And I still expected to wash away all the abuse she’d been put through.
And why? Why didn’t I, of all people, understand that? Because after everything, there were days when I wanted to crawl back to Katja; because there were nights when the world was so oppressive, so full, that I wanted to trust her to fix it all; because I wanted her to remember how often and intensely she had once thought of me. I wanted her back, back. I wanted to be useful. I wanted to be used, and—
And so did Halla.
I was ashamed of what I’d been through, ashamed of what it had made me, and so could not bring myself to stomach Halla’s trauma. It was cruel. I was cruel.
All I’d ever wanted was to be kind. I didn’t want to become the wolf.
I put my arms around her.
I held her close, held her tight.
“Thank you for saving Akela,” I whispered.
Be kind, I reminded myself.
But to do that, I had to be kind to myself, first.
Forget Katja. Forget Agados. Halla, Akela and I were together and we were alive. We could break free from our chains, literal and otherwise.
I let go of Halla and she rested loosely at my side.
“What now?” Varn asked.
I repeated the question.
“Now we return to Claire. We make our way to the banquet hall where our forces are gathered, assess our numbers and begin to fight back,” Kidira said.
I wanted to say that she was Queen Kidira once more, and not the woman who had raged against the mere thought of having to mourn Akela for a minute longer than she already had, but in truth, there was no dividing the two. No defining one without the other. She was both a leader hardened by war and loss and the woman who loved Akela, no matter how she held herself or framed her words.
“Halla,” I said softly. I never wanted her to hear an accusation or spite in my voice again. “Do you want to come with us?”
She faltered. Her mouth twitched at the corners and she said nothing. I knew she wanted to speak, but her voice had been stolen from her; it belonged to Tirok, belonged to the Agadian King. It didn’t matter what she wanted. Her answer would only echo what she was told to say.
And I didn’t want it to have to come to that.
“You don’t have to come. I won’t be angry,” I said, placing my hands lightly on her shoulders. “But just because you don’t come with us now doesn’t mean you can’t later, okay? Whenever you want to join us, Halla – whenever – you know how to find me. Just, please. Don’t tell anyone that you saw us.”
She nodded firmly. She could do that much.
“It’s okay,” I repeated, making a promise of it. “I’ll be right here when you’re ready.”
CHAPTER XXXII
Akela grabbed one of Claire's shirts on the way out of the room and changed out of her torn, bloodied mess once her boots hit the ground. It absolutely didn't fit her.
We crouched on the cold ground, more or less hidden by a row of hedges, and shared what little plan we had formed with Akela. It felt less like a shaky, flawed thing with Akela there; she nodded along as Kidira and I said what there was to say. Her agreement made me believe it could be done. With her back and the Mansels gone, the rest was as nothing.
“The most important part is being together,” Akela said. “Now that you are finding me, we are not being separated. We are having strength in numbers and we are only adding to this number. Reis and Ightham, we are collecting them, and the rest of the bodies, we are saving them from the fire. Yes?”
Varn nodded in firm agreement, despite understanding a grand total of perhaps three words.
We made our way back around the castle, towards the armoury. I soon discovered that my biggest mistake was in thinking that we were the only changeable pieces in the situation, and that Rylan's soldiers were simply strewn around; that Rylan's plan was in place, and that if it failed, that was it; we'd win. But he could think on the spot, too. He could tear down all his preconceptions of how the siege would go and start again.
Especially with Katja at his side.
It was like walking into a different castle. No corridor was left empty, no chamber left closed and forgotten. Rows of soldiers stood at all possible exits, blocking off the major walkways, and my heart spiked in my throat. They must've found Claire and Reis by now. They may have been locked away, but metal bars could be blown through.
“I know what it is you are thinking,” Akela said, patting my shoulder. “But they are stretching themselves thin, yes? It is better that we are facing three or four, and then four more, and then, you are guessing it, another four, than we are running into fifty at once!”
Akela caught Varn's eye, held out a hand, and without needing to be asked, Varn handed over one of the dragon-bone swords.
Kidira was the only person who gave pause. Even I strode ahead, quick, quiet footsteps falling on thick carpet while Rylan's soldiers had their backs turned. There was something different in the way Akela was fighting. Varn swung her sword, making her way through the corridor with bold strokes, but Akela defaulted to the hilt of her weapon, using it to knock the invaders unconscious. She swung out with her free fist before using the sharpened blade.
But there was only so far we could go before we hit a wall. The four soldiers stationed at the end of the corridor weren't the only ones we had to worry about. The moment Varn rushed ahead to take them down, a dozen more flooded in from the adjoining corridors. Varn swore loudly, Kidira moved faster, and Akela's step faltered. I grabbed her arm, tugged her along, and with a yell, she threw her sword back to Varn.
Varn cut a path for us and a dozen soldiers followed us into an open courtyard, all exits blocked. It was a fraction of the size of the courtyard the bodies were being burnt in and there was no way to weave our way to freedom. Back to back, we gathered in the centre of the courtyard, eyes fluttering between the soldiers as though there'd possibly be a way for us to slip free.
“What now?” I asked, missing my shield, for all the good it would do against tens of swords.
“If only one of us could knock 'em all dead,” Varn grunted.
I held up my hands, watching light jump between my fingertips. I'd only need to take out a handful of them, just enough to charge down the corridor. But what about the end of that corridor, and the next dozen guards we ran into?
“We head away from the armoury,” Kidira murmured. “We won't lead them to Claire.”
“I know that sword,” one of the soldiers said. “That belongs to Sir Mansel.”
Varn, recognising Mansel and the way the soldier pointed, lifted her blade and grinned. All of the Felheimish within Rylan's ranks understood the implication behind her bared teeth. Their hesitation to go up against a woman capable of slaughtering two Knights and claiming trophies earnt us half a second.
It was all we needed.
An arrow flew down from a high-up balcony, landing squarely in a soldier's throat. Three more followed, each hitting its target to clear a path for us. I looked up in search of our saviour. High above, Atalanta stood with one foot on the bannister, another arrow notched in her bow.
Varn sheathed one of her swords, grabbed my wrist, and tugged me towards the corridor protected only by soldiers writhing on the floor. Everything happened with such swift precision that this couldn’t have been the most stressful situation Atalanta had ever been in. She hung over the balcony, dropped onto the one below, moving lower and lower in quick succession, until she was on the ground with us.
Grabbing two strange round, leather pouches from her pocket, Atalanta winked at me and tossed them behind her. Varn knew better than to look back and Kidira and Akela had no intention of slowing down. The soldiers yelled that we were to be caught at any cost, but before they could charge after us, there was an explosion from within the courtyard.
It wasn't like the horrific blasts that had taken chunks from the castle and left my ears ringing. Damage hadn't been Atalanta's intention; if it had, she would've seen the courtyard in ruins. Instead, it was full of a thick, billowing smoke that didn't originate from any fire.
“Gunpowder and sawdust, plus a little flour from the kitchens,” Atalanta said proudly. “It is marvellous what one can come up with under pressure.”
The soldiers were no longer on our heels but smoke was nothing but a temporary refuge. Atalanta's improvised explosives helped us force our way back to the armoury, obscuring all the walkways around us. We kept sprinting when we reached the narrow steps and skidded to a stop at the iron gates.
If Claire and Reis were worried it was Rylan's soldiers who'd found their way down to the armoury, Varn and Atalanta quickly cleared up any confusion.
“Lanta!” Varn said, grinning from ear-to-ear. She sheathed her second sword, too relieved to see Atalanta to think to show off her new weapons. “Fucking hell! Wondered when you were gonna join us. Gods! Talk about timing. Don't this remind you of—”
“The time we were sent to Ridgeth's capital?” Atalanta said, finishing her sentence.
Varn beamed, rocking on the balls of her feet, and Atalanta pressed a hand to her cheek.
“Took your bloody time, didn't ya,” Reis said as they unlocked the door.
We filtered into the room, breathless, caked in sweat and grime. Torchlight flickered across the fortress of a room, illuminating our faces as we all came to terms with the fact that Akela was alive, Akela included. Reis and Claire worked their way through the muddy, ill-timed relief that her body hadn't been reduced to ashes.
Reis bowed their head, clearing their throat, and Claire closed her eyes for a long moment.
Eventually, she broke the silence by saying, “… Isn't that one of my shirts?”
Akela laughed. The noise surprised her, as though she should not rightly be able to make it.
“Ightham, I am promising you, once this is all over, I am sewing the buttons back on.”
Kidira saw to it that no more time was wasted.
“We're heading to the banquet hall,” she explained. “The remainder of our forces have created a stronghold of sorts there.”
Claire didn't ask if we could trust those making one last stand. She didn't ask what our next move was. She only nodded in mute compliance, as though she could do nothing but go along with things, now.
“I suppose we cannot stay here forever,” Claire said, holding out her arms before we could offer to help her to her feet. “Perhaps Eden will have found her way there.”
Reis grunted. Kidira and I took one of Claire's arms around our shoulders and she stood, gathering herself. Her bad knee buckled with the first step she took. She hissed under her breath, and though Kidira and I tightened our grip on her, the next step almost sent her crashing to the ground.
“Take it off,” she muttered, fingers twisting in the fabric around our shoulders. “Just cut the damn thing off. So what if I am to lose another part? It is only another part, and another, and...”
