First Apprentice

Chapter 16 Part 2

Strings plucked in place of drums, soft and low. My thumbnails morphed into claws. I swiped them across my fingertips, cutting my fingers to the bone. A brief sting before my magic numbed the pain. Magic-infused blood pooled in the cuts.

Flames engulfed the first drop as it fell. A gong sounded in my head. Two more drops. The six remaining Keystone Gates loomed over me, hulking shadows, indistinguishable from one another save for a gap. The Dracon Gate's place, I assumed.

"Are you sure?" Selim's voice resounded like a thunderclap, deep and demanding. "Melantha is not worth the sacrifice."

"She's dying."

"Good. Let me tell you about Melantha. Every dae born into your clan has been bound to the council's wishes save one; two if you make it to your first transformation. She invented the original suppression seals and tied them to herself when she became a gate. Until recently, she drew eighty percent of her magic from those seals - the same seals that steal every female Dracon's magic! They cannot apply them without Melantha's consent! She doesn't deserve your pity."

"A variant of her suppression seal helped you survive your first transformation." I clenched my jaw and forced my voice to remain even. For five-hundred-years, Melantha stripped away our magic. Where Endellion bore the title Dracon Chief and remained the most feared chief in history, the suppression laws turned Dracon females into broodmares. Melantha allowed it. In that moment, I hated her a hundred times more than I ever hated Martha.

I took a deep breath. "She created those seals," I said, "after she lost her mate and three children during a botched transformation. The Dracon haven't lost a single dae during a transformation since."

"They nearly lost Endellion."

"They didn't. The seals served their original purpose, Selim. Granted, she took them to an extreme, but she accomplished her goal."

"And helped the Dracon Council retain their power despite three ferepris. All of whom should have gutted the lot, but couldn't because of her damnable seals."

Interesting. During one of their arguments, when Endellion accused Uncle Manfred of betraying his family and he called her insane, Uncle Manfred said she slipped her leash. Was he being literal? A question for another time.

"Is your vendetta against the Dracon worth millions of lives?" I asked.

"She set Jon on you."

My breath hitched. How was that possible? I never summoned her. Even if she sensed me working with other gates, she had no way to trace me back to Vinetta. "What?"

"Didn't you know?" Selim's tone turned mocking. "The first time you summoned the Ancient Gate our entire subplane lit up with your magic. In that moment, every oversoul, even ones driven insane during the second war, knew an Ancient Dae lived on Vinetta. For nearly ten years, the Ancient Gate and I bound the others to silence.

"As you aged, your aura changed. Your Marstow heritage became less prominent as your Dracon markers increased. We all noticed, but the Ancient Gate forbade any comment on it. I enforced his wishes. Then, a Dracon strike team infiltrated Headquarters. They forced me to appear at my anchor point and attacked.

"The Ancient Gate monitors the situation among the clans via his original anchor point and his guardians. On the first day of the fourth month, he reports to the Ancients Council. Always has, always will. It is not a coincidence that the Dracon attacked me the same day the Ancient Gate reported in." He paused for effect. "The same day you encountered Jon, a false Dracon Lord and Melantha's primary summoner. She arranged the attack and told him where to find you. Saving her isn't worth the price, Alannah."

Rage engulfed me. My hands shook with barely suppressed fury. Had the Dracon Gate stood before me in that moment, I knew I would tear her apart, consequences be damned. First Grandfather's games now hers. Was I never going to be free? Had I merely escaped one controller for another with a third waiting in the wings, eager to pounce the moment I misstepped?

I clenched my hands into fists and forced my emotions back behind a granite wall. Logic, not instinct, I reminded myself. Later, I could dip into the mental box where I stored Jon's memories and compare his version of events with Selim's. My instincts told me Selim spoke the truth as he knew it, but maybe Jon knew a different truth.

Three years after I killed Jon, I still hadn't examined his memories. If I didn't see it when I removed his soul, I didn't know it. My guilt kept me from exploiting the information. Regardless, now wasn't the time.

Author's Note: Yesterday, I saw the read count and all the votes and comments over the last week. Words are not adequate to express how honored I am that out of the millions of stories you could have read, you picked mine. Thank you a million times over! Sending virtual hugs, chocolate, and puppy kisses!