CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 11
The wild forest was not as inviting in the daylight as she had imagined. Branches drooping with rotten bark and slime tangled with brilliant flowers and bright leaves. Death and life, a struggle before her eyes. Twice she spotted what she had thought was a vine slither off into the shadows after they passed. Unease struck her both times. How many snakes had she run beneath when she escaped into the trees?
Some of them must have been venomous as well, for when the warriors came close to them they sliced the head from the body eagerly.
Of course, she couldn’t be sure. Regulated to the single carriage in the procession, she was left alone with only her thoughts for company.
She frowned down at her fingers, laced on the brown simple travel skirts. The one outfit she had insisted on during the shopping excursion. Practical, despite being warned that human women rarely were.
She unlaced her hands and then folded them again. She did not like being shuttered away, but it was not only Dynarys who insisted this time. When she had voiced her protest, every Dragon Lord within earshot glared her direction. The Shifters had simply closed in around her, physically crowding her into the carriage.
But there was no way she was going to learn anything in there.
She was grouchy from the late night, and the havoc the banquet played with her emotions, leaving her sleepless and aching for something she had no business aching for. That, and feeling the weight of her task, caused her to glower at Dynarys when he opened the door. The carriage still moved, jostling over roots and rocks, the chosen trail hardly a road at all. She had wondered about that earlier, the path's seeming disuse and lack of maintenance. Now, Dynarys slid inside and sat opposite her.
She squelched the urge to slide to his feet as she had been taught, and it did not improve her disposition.
“Tell me about Celcath,” she demanded.
Dynarys blinked at her, his bafflement pulling a string of guilt from within. Great Six help her, but she wanted to please the man.
“Good morning to you as well,” he looked down to a bundle of cheese-cloth folded between his large hands. “Breakfast?”
He held out a skinned mango and a chunk of cheese. A little abashed, she accepted.
“I need to know, Dynarys. So far, I know nothing of your culture.”
Dynarys sighed, and leaned back against the cushions. She ignored the way his biceps rippled each time he moved and focused on his words.
“The Onyx Aerie is, in many ways, the same as the Amber. Our ‘culture,’ as you put it, stems around survival. Dragons are tough and fierce fighters; you will never have a better protector,” he raised a speculative eye, “or a more passionate lover. The dragon in us intensifies all of our primal urges. Some Lords have a great deal of control over their beast, others not so much.”
He paused and leaned forward. “Celcath is a man in control. I have heard that passion never so much as touches him. But do not let that fool you into complacency. His dragon is beneath the surface, and they dislike such restraint. Should you invoke the beast, I have no doubt he would kill without a thought.”
“Great,” she muttered, taking a bite of mango. She swiped at the juice that tried to escape down her chin. How was she going to seduce a man with no passion?
“Once you enter Celcath’s chambers, you will locate the safe and allow me entrance from the inside.”
“Wait. How am I going to do that? If I have been invited in, Celcath will likely be there too. It is not like he’s going to allow me to just open the door for you.”
“Then you will have to endeavor to get him to leave,” Dynarys shrugged.
Did he realize what he was asking of her?
“What is this orb you are after anyway?”
Dynarys’s eyes hardened, his lips pinched into a tight line. “That is not your concern. You have one task.”
A task that would be made easier if she knew what she was after. What if she found the safe and Dynarys wasn’t available? How would she even know if she had the right item?
Dynarys folded his hands across his stomach and watched her, but he said nothing.
The carriage jostled and then stopped. A sharp order followed.
Dynarys straightened, nothing left of his relaxed expression. He reached up and pulled the curtains closed.
“Stay inside,” he ordered, and then slid out the door.
“They are in the trees,” someone called.
“Get the torches on this carriage lit,” Dynarys commanded from outside the door. Then a great wing-beat followed and silence descended in the air.
Alarm tapped at her spine and she shifted in her seat, pulling back the curtain just enough to peek through.
A flash of fur caught her gaze, then was gone. Illaise? She hadn’t seen the Shifter since the evening before, but she was supposed to be part of the delegation. The image of the woman as a wolf did not temper her nerves.
But then there was nothing.
The wide leaves and crowded branches made certain no direct sunlight reached the forest floor. Yet, the day was still bright with it and she saw no reason for such commotion.
The ground around the carriage was extra bright. Gayriel bent her neck and looked up through the glass, risking a slightly wider curtain opening. Torches lined the roof, placed at regular intervals. They glowed forcefully with unnatural brilliance. Like a beacon.
What good did it do to announce her location so obviously?
Something slammed against the roof.
She flinched back, dropping the curtain, and pressed herself against the cushions.
Footsteps thudded. Whoever...or whatever, it was wandered from side to side on the roof. She fidgeted, uncertain, and then leaned back toward the window. Raising trembling fingers, she pulled the fabric back.
In the torchlight, flickering against the forest floor, the silhouette of a person crouched.
At first she assumed the figure was a protector, perhaps even Dynarys. It was impossible to tell with a shadow for a guide.
The light faltered and dimmed, and the shadow slunk along the ground.
Footsteps echoed, before the light dimmed again.
Whoever it was, was putting out the torches.
Suddenly, the extra lights felt very safe...and they were disappearing. She narrowed her eyes at the form, hardly distinguishable now.
The last torch blinked out and she listened, for a moment, to silence. The footsteps were gone. Peering through the curtains, she tried to see the top of the carriage. Her heart skipped and thudded. Where was everyone?
She scooted to the other side, cracking the door open a tiny amount. Nothing but trees and forest floor. Leaning out farther she ascertained that the roof figure was gone. Unnatural silence filled the forest, like everything held its breath. The wolves that pulled the carriage were gone. Everyone was gone.
A fluttering of light caught her attention. Something shifted behind the trees, deeper in the forest.
She hesitated, debating. Dynarys had told her to stay in the carriage. But he had also ordered the torches lit. If he knew someone was going to put them out, he might not have felt it was so safe.
There was also the matter of who was dousing the torches. The Archon had mentioned a traitor, and Gayriel had a feeling the figure on the roof, the flicker in the forest, was that betrayer. Since that figure wasn’t expecting her to follow, she could have an advantage.
Did she care who it was? Was it her concern?
She decided that it was, and she did care. If there was a snake in the delegation she wanted to know now, before she had to rely on trust. She stepped down, taking her time.
Nothing happened. No one was on the roof, either. She studied the empty forest and, firming her resolution, stepped into the trees.
Despite the sun glowing above the canopy, the forest floor was damp, as if it had just rained. Soggy leaves and loose dirt softened her steps.
Careful of the twisted logs—and thorns jutting out from the vines upon them, she edged to the spot where the figure had disappeared. She was not an expert tracker, but the deep indent in the mud was easy enough to read. She followed the trail, practicing her visualization. The last thing she needed was her target smelling her emotions.
She was calm. She was in her bunk, dreaming.
She was confused.
Everything was so silent. Where had they gone?
The call sounded like an emergency, or an attack. So why wasn’t there the sound of battle? Such things required organization, didn’t they? Who was giving orders?
She was just beyond the rough path that the carriage traveled along when she lost the tracks.
Well, she didn’t exactly lose them, they ended. Clear and deep one step, and absent the next.
She crouched at the termination, pressing against a wide trunk. There she waited, quite hidden by underbrush. If her suspicions were correct, there was a dragon lurking nearby. A Dragon Lord changing to beast made sense if he flew as he changed. She had no idea if that were possible, but no other explanations crossed her mind.
A branch snapped, ominous in the forest's silence. She shrank in closer to her spot. The noise had originated from her left, not in front of her as she had expected. The tree blocked her, however, and though she couldn’t see what was there, she knew she was hidden.
Another sound. Footsteps maybe, and a deep sniffing.
A flash of dread settled against her lower back.
Just a dream. She reminded her climbing emotions, she was truly safe in her bunk at the choosing house. She didn’t dare close her eyes, but she visualized herself laying there until she convinced her senses of the deception.
The unholy screech nearly undid the work. It was unlike anything she had ever heard from beast or man, and it echoed from the trail, where the carriage sat.
She resisted the urge to stand up and look that direction, remembering that something else was nearby.
The carriage groaned and creaked, and then snapped.
Her eyes widened as a broken beam of wood, complete with the dragon shaped curtain holder, flew past the tree. Other pieces slammed into the branches before tumbling to the ground. The carriage was no more.
What in the Six Realms caused that?
The screech repeated. A definite frustrated noise.
Dragons filled the air, appearing suddenly. Circling and diving down toward the sound. Wolves joined them, slipping through the bush along the way. What was once still now echoed with confused chaos.
The dragons were agile creatures, with smooth scaled skin and wings that they tucked neatly between trunks and branches as they dove. The wolves danced around spaces that held nothing that she could see. Everything was done in silence. Even the snarls of the wolves were soundless; their mouths opened and teeth bared, but nothing came out.
A dragon, deep green and mottled with black, fell from where he had been clutching a tree. He landed in a wolf circle with a sickening crunch.
He tore at the space, raking massive claws and sharp teeth. They came away bloody, proving something real was there.
A slash opened as if by magic over the dragon’s hind leg. Blood filled the gap and ran over the scales to the ground. Still, the dragon did not cry out, his landing the only thing Gayriel had heard.
Whatever the invisible foe was, it must hunt by sound.
Three more dragons dropped to where wolves circled, deftly avoiding the wreckage of the carriage, including a black beast she easily recognized.
A wolf yelped in pain from where the green and black dragon fought. Instantly, it lifted into the air, twisting and turning. Fur and other parts flew away from the body. In seconds, nothing remained of the creature.
No. Not a creature. He was a man, she reminded herself. Her stomach lurched and she looked away. What type of enemy was invisible and could skin a man in seconds?
Silver fur and hard gray eyes invaded her vision.
Startled at Illaise’s silent approach—or had she been there all along?—Gayriel tried to stand.
Illaise's lips curled back and the fur along her hackles rose.
Taking the hint, Gayriel shrunk back against her tree. Illaise’s hackles flattened slightly, but she didn’t lose her wolfy sneer.
She did step over Gayriel until the fur of her belly tickled the top of her head.
It impaired her view, so she pushed the fur to the side. Dynarys had swooped to where a wolf lay over the scattered remains of the other. He stood in front of them, sharply angled face snarling at the air before him.
The other dragon stood on the opposite side of the empty space. They were at an impasse.
A gray and tawny wolf dodged in, snapping at the air as he passed. Immediately, Dynarys and the striped dragon attacked. They hit something solid, and a black substance sprayed across the ground. Dark splatters like shadows landed on leaves and dirt.
Above her, Illaise tensed, but the attack shifted the feel of the trail. Most of the dragons landed carelessly and the wolves lowered their hackles, sniffing the ground and air.
“What are you doing out here?” Illaise snarled.
Gayriel blinked up at the naked woman. Somehow, the loss of her clothes and weapons did not detract from her intimidating air. When she didn’t answer, the woman shook her head.
“Fool of a human,” she cursed, grasping Gayriel's arm and drawing her up and out of hiding.
Gayriel pulled back, but Illaise's grip was steel.
In her distraction, the dragons had returned to Lords, too. Many of the wolves gathered around the space where their pack mate had died. A man lay there, sobbing on the bloodied ground.
“See what you’ve caused?” Illaise growled low in her throat.
Dynarys paced the clearing with quick agitated steps. He ran a hand through his dark locks. The other Dragon Lord, too; the brown haired man with tattoos all along his torso frowned at the scene.
“The cause of our troubles,” Illaise announced, shoving Gayriel forward toward them.
The look Dynarys gave her was one of both great relief and frustrated anger. His amber gaze flitted over her body, a quick assessment of injury.
“She did not cause this. The Quatori attacked while she was as hidden as well as we could manage,” he told his mother.
“The Quatori attacked because her human stench poisons the forest. And now Holthus is dead. It is our way that she should pay for such a crime.”
Gayriel narrowed her eyes at the announcement. Pay because some creature she had never heard of attacked the delegation?
The Shifters around Illaise stiffened. Most stepped back, a show of disagreement. But a few stayed.
Unease wiggled between the shock and fear in her. More than one person there wanted her dead.
Dynarys stalked toward his mother and the discontents that stood with her.
“Gayriel is a delegate, she is not here of her own violation. She cannot be responsible for Holthus.”
A few of the men standing with Illaise growled low in their throats. They did not step forward, or meet Dynarys's eyes.
“However,” he continued. “I am responsible for the lady, so if you need compensation I offer myself in her place.”
Illaise paled with Dynarys's words, and for the first time, she appeared out of place, and unsure.
“It is a perfectly acceptable trade,” he urged, spearing his attention onto those still standing with Illaise. “Now do you see why the old ways are sometimes antiquated? Instead of one dead man we would have two, and where would that get us?”
“One less warrior,” the tattooed Lord spoke up. “And do not forget that Firestriker kept the Quatori from Thame while he mourned in the middle of battle.”
Gayriel had sat still until that point, shoved into the center of a debate that seemed to have very little to do with her. But she happened to agree. Taking one life because another had been lost would be wasteful. Especially if that life was hers.
“Perhaps the blame should be laid on the one who doused the torches and invited the invisible beasts in,” she advised.
Several amber eyes and one gray set turned to her. Instinctively, she wanted to cower. Drawing attention to herself never ended well, but instead, she met Illaise’s gaze. She was the one who had appeared where she had been tracking the figure from the roof.
“Nonsense,” she scoffed. “I found you well away from the carriage...or where it was, sneaking around in the trees. What is the price for your betrayal delegate? Who pays you?”
“I was sneaking around in the trees following the figure who doused the torches on the carriage,” it was Gayriel's turn to growl. “And I found you.”
A snarl lifted from Illaise's throat and that of a few others around.
“Do you challenge me human?” she barked. “You accuse me of betrayal?”
“Enough,” Dynarys stepped forward. “She accuses no one,” he sent Gayriel a warning look over his shoulder.
She did, though. Couldn’t he see that this woman was abrasive and false?
“Who doused the torches, Lady Delegate? Was this before or after you fled it?” The tattooed Lord stepped forward. Gayriel had a feeling he was trying to lose the tension with his logical questions.
“Before. Footsteps on the roof and then the lights began to go out. I saw a shadow cast in the torchlight before it was done, but not enough that I could identify anyone. That’s why I followed,” she glanced at the remains of the carriage wreckage. “And I’m glad I did. Someone here wants me dead.”
She did not risk a glance at Illaise, but the announcement stirred her. She was not ready to die. Not for some political maneuvering she knew nothing about. If they understood she was a simple slave...how wasted were their efforts.
She frowned toward Illaise, but said no more. The truth was, she wasn’t sure if it had been her on the roof. She could have sworn the figure could fly. The disappearance from the roof and the sudden missing tracks made more sense if the figure had wings. But finding Illaise exactly there was too coincidental to ignore, as well. Perhaps there was more than one member of the delegation she needed to be wary of.
“I see no reason not to believe the Lady’s assertion,” the tattooed Lord spoke. “The torches were dark before the carriage was destroyed. This we know, since the Quatori would not have ventured so near otherwise.”
“But who would be foolish enough to remove them?” a new voice interjected. “Maybe they burned out...”
“All of them, Strale?” The tattooed Lord turned to the blond man, who had made several advances toward Gayriel the night before. The blond shrugged his broad shoulders.
“It is just as likely as any of us purposely inviting the Quatori to attack.”
“Perhaps not,” the tattooed Lord glanced at Illaise and the Shifters around her. “It seems some of us are discontent.”
“Careful, Dragon Lord. It is our kind who died for you, not the other way around. Next time, we might not prevent you from being torn to bits.” Scet spoke then, and Gayriel recalled a tawny-gray wolf making the final leap, marking the invisible foe for Dynarys to finish off.
The man frightened her and made her uncomfortable, but her respect for him increased a little.
“Enough bickering. Scouts from the Onyx Aerie approach. If they sense such tension, the Quatori will be the least of our worries. Celcath will be at our doorstep and we will all be subject to his rule,” Dynarys looked to the sky.
Illaise snorted, but the group parted, as the forms of three dark gray dragons swooped through the trees toward the gathering.
“As for you,” Dynarys muttered in Gayriel's ear, coming toward her as all the others stepped away. “You are the cause of more trouble than a slave should be. Did the choosing house teach you nothing?”
“She accused me and, Dynarys, I really think...”
“She is alpha, she accuses who she wishes. It would be wise not to challenge her, Gayriel. You will not win if she accepts.” He narrowed his eyes, a deep frown tugging at his lips. “Even now you challenge me. I know more of the Dragons and Shifters than you can ever hope to, but you refuse to listen to council. This talk of freedom has gone to your head.”
He shifted closer, until she could smell the rain storm and feel the heat barreling off of his skin.
“Maybe I need to remind you to whom you belong. You haven’t earned your freedom yet, woman,” he leaned close, his breath tickling the side of her face. “I have half a mind to cancel our arrangement and purchase a more biddable slave for the task. I could keep you, you know. Taming you properly would be very satisfying.”
A sliver of a shudder tensed around her shoulders and bumps rose on her skin, but not from any cold breeze.
He was joking, wasn’t he?
But the dark look he sent when he stepped back promised that he wasn’t.
“Behave,” he warned, stepping away from her as the first of the scouts landed and transformed within the clearing.