Clarika
Each passing second is devastating. I've been shot; I've been stabbed; I've been hollowed out. This is a thousand times worse.
We're flying through the night like hissing arrows, racing toward safety. With a silent curse, I blame the blood mage, blame the dragon riders and their ignorance in mage magic, blame the raiders, my parents, even myself.
I should have known better, I tell myself. I should have checked the runes when we were first alone. I shouldn't have trusted that the mage knew his runes.
Panting, I glance at Easton who rides with the air mage slumped against his chest. Anger blossoms within me. If Adam weren't unconscious, he could make us go faster.
Holland leads the dragons through the sky, the full moon shining like a beacon, casting the massive clouds in dark shadows. I don't know where we're going or what the plan is beyond getting out of raider territory and somewhere to save Norah. It's agonizing being so useless. To be taught everything about my faction and their ways, and still be at someone's else's mercy -- a dragon rider's mercy. To watch them try and save Norah while I sat back and twiddled my thumbs like a pathetic child.
I wasn't trained to be a mindless foot soldier. I give orders, not take them.
But watching Norah lying on the ground, her skin drained of warmth and barely breathing...
The dragon riders knew what to do when I didn't. And, despite everything I've learned -- to expect those you meet to hurt you and lie and manipulate to gain your favor, some part of me is certain that Holland cares for Norah.
Thankfully, the invisible dragon is just as worried as me and trails close to Holland, enough that I can watch the silver one. He hunches over Norah, shielding her from the gusts of freezing winds while simultaneously trying to keep her on his dragon's back.
Heart hammering, I lean forward, patting for wherever the dragon's neck maybe. Her scales are hot and rough beneath me. "Get them to land," I say, not caring how loud my voice is. I never even spared the thought of falling or the height we fly at. "We need to land."
She hisses, wiggling in what I understand as a sharp fuck off.
I grit my teeth, unafraid of hissing back. "I know how to save her. Get us to the ground. Now."
A growl -- and threat.
Then a huff from the green dragon, his dark eyes fixing me with a glare. I don't waver and stare back, cold and unyielding. Another moment and the moon is gone, hidden behind thick, dark clouds. I cling to Rima's saddle, stomach spinning and fluttering with the sudden, sharp descent. Every thought of the tournament surfaces. I force myself to breathe, to think of Celest at my side when I woke in a cold sweat.
The thoughts do little comfort. I squeeze my eyes shut, clenching the saddle harder when the cloaked mage behind me chuckles. I'm going to murder you, I want to yell, but can't find the willpower to do it.
Pressure slams me back, my nails digging into the fine leather saddles like a cat burying its claws. I stifle a yelp, opening my eyes as Rima lands before the other dragons. My hands tremble, numb and stiff, as I unfasten myself from the harness, moving to the safety of solid ground. I blame the trembling on the cold, not my nerves, and move to solid ground.
My knees buck, hitting dirt. I dig my nails into the soil, shaking off the relief and shoot to standing on shaky legs while the other dragons land.
Our new addition hops off Rima, who stays out of sight, and brushes off imaginary dust from his cloak. He draws his hood over black hair, and adjusts a solid cloth mask that covers everything below his eyes.
"What is it?" Holland demands, spreading one arm at me.
I take a fistful of the mage's black cloak and yank him to me. He twists out of my grasp with a scowl in his steel eyes. "Can you remove runes from a body?" I question, forcing my voice to sound level and firm.
He scoffs. "Don't insult my abilities."
"Then do it," I hiss, glaring. "Without killing her."
Holland glowers, but a flicker of fear flashes over him. "Wait, what? She can die from this?" He gestures to Norah cradled in his arms. "This is your sister's life on the line. You're good with this?"
Rima hisses quietly, but not softly. Her scolding hot breath pushes to my back as if to remind me she can snap my neck at any moment.
I don't waste the thought and say to Holland, "If I wasn't, I wouldn't let him go near her."
"And if I do," the man says, eyes lit with amusement. "I'll just bring her back."
Holland frowns, matching the princeling's face. "Bring her back?"
A surge of anger and frustration digs into my heart. Sharply, I wave a hand at them. "Necromancer humor," I finish, shoving the dark mage forward. "Just fix her."
He whirls, cloak billowing behind him. He shoots daggers at me. "Shove me again and I'll let popsicle here freeze over." The necromancer doesn't give me a chance to speak and spins, stalking over to Norah like a black storm.
Easton keeps close to Holland, the air mage in his arms. His expression falls grim as the mage approaches. Wordlessly, they let him take Norah's face. Only because the dragon riders are smart enough to know my loyalties are to my sister, not to any of them.
Time stretches as he turns Norah's face, running a finger over the runes. Terror claws up my spine, leaving icy, open wounds. He can kill her. The words repeat, bouncing off the walls in my head. Sharp and brutal like jagged glass.
The necromancer holds no loyalties to anyone. He has no ties to us -- any connections.
I pray to any god who might exist that he only kills the runes.
Then, I beg.
Black veins spread from the mage's hands, spider webbing across my sister's skin, attacking the runes. She doesn't react and if I were childish enough, I could pretend she was sleeping. But her lips are too blue, her skin too pale. Hovering, I try to detect her breaths but only Holland's chest moves.
Then the mage steps away and moves to Adam without a word. I almost collapse but then Holland's climbing up his dragons' side and studies the snow-peaked mountains. They're wide, laying over the other to form a valley stretching for miles either way with the ocean laying beyond.
Adam gasps, breathing violently.
I scramble up Rima's side with the necromancer following suit. We take off after Galeur, racing for the peaks. It doesn't take long to figure out where Holland's leading us. A large cave mouth opened into darkness, near the base of the mountains. Galeur lands on the ledge and disappears into the darkness while his rider stays behind with Norah.
Rima lands next, curling around my sister before anyone can climb off. Holland works double-time, leaning my sister against the dragon's hot scales and removes her armor. She's clothed, wearing a tight long-sleeved shirt and leggings to keep her armor from catching on bare skin. He chucks the armor toward me, never bothering with a glance.
I should have brought Celest. When I had told her that I was leaving, she begged to come. She had brought up every logical point on why I should bring her. It was a valid argument and if it had been anyone else, I would have agreed. But she's a healer, not a fighter. She would have been a distraction to me in a fight. Instead of worrying about the enemy, I'd be left wondering if she were lying somewhere bleeding.
Now I wish I had brought her, if only because her ability would heal the runes damage to Norah. Though, her gentle touch would be a comfort as well.
"Easton!" Holland barks and the two-faced princeling comes running with Adam in his arms. I give a quick glance behind him, to the necromancer prowling into the cave when Galeur comes racing back out. He melts into it. Not from manipulating the darkness, but from a skill developed from a life moving from shadow to shadow.
"Get a fire started," Holland says. Easton gives a confirmation, lays Adam down and then leaps off the ledge with his dragon. To collect wood, I realize. They don't have fire mages to create heat and I've seen a dragon's fire destroy everything it touches.
Before I can react, Holland is running into the cave with Norah, two dragons at his side and leaving me to haul Adam in after them. The tunnel's short, opening into a cave big enough for the dragons to move around freely and without restraint.
I don't waste the energy looking for the necromancer and hop over Rima's tail. She glances at me, her large head settled beside my sister and Holland. Her mouth is open slightly, breathing in slow, deep rhythms that push out hot, blistering air. The white of her wing drapes over us like a dome, preventing the air from escaping and forming a hot bubble.
I lay the air mage on the ground, and move to my sister while Holland tears apart the pouches sewn into the saddle. Books and knives and maps lay scattered on the ground while he tells me to get Norah out of her clothes.
She's still freezing, we both know that. Without the runes, her frost is no longer killing her, but it's a slow process to warm up. To become immune to the cold again. But I doubt he knows that, he's a dragon rider and knows nothing about magic and runes. Just like I know nothing about being a dragon rider.
Quickly, I remove the numerous sports bras Norah wears until only one remains. With shaking hands, I stuff the clothes under Rima.
Then Easton's yelling at Holland, announcing that he's back.
Holland chucks me a few blankets, telling me to wrap her in Adam's clothes and then the blankets. He leaves, shouting the last of his instructions where his voice is muffled by scale and muscle.
I only leave Norah's undergarments on, preserving her dignity, and wrap her in the air mage's clothes before anyone comes back and sees my sister half-naked. My burst of fear comes with every thought of burying her, of doing all this work to save her and then still having to bury her. It forces me to work faster, to layer her and cover every inch of skin.
Then I freeze, staring at the tiny creature on my other side.
The thing nearly gives me a heart attack.
Squirm sits with a blue tail resting over Norah's hand and blinks up at me. I almost ignore him completely before changing my mind and snatching him up and setting him beneath the blankets, onto Norah's chest where he stops wiggling.
Rima hisses at him when he strokes Norah's chin with his own. Like he's comforting her.
I huff, wanting to hiss at the two when it tucks its head into the blankets.
Holland paces in with the necromancer on his heels and a few extra blankets. "Get with your sister," he says. Reluctantly, I scooch.
"Why is he here?" I question, nodding to the cloaked man.
"I can walk away-"
Holland glares at him, then at me. "Your rune's still on. Let him help you, Crimson."
I grimace, wanting to protest but the two don't give me any chance. Hands go to my throat, fast but slow enough that I see it coming. Every muscle in me goes taut until the mage releases me.
"See," the mage says, already turning on his heels. "I am needed." And then he leaves.
The cold is still deep within my bones like someone's stuck me in the freezer overnight. But I'm thawing and more importantly, so is Norah.
I start to sit back, to absorb the dragon's warmth when Holland extends a blanket. "I assume you know how to keep warm?"
Before being able to school my features, I grimace with something along the lines of disgust and surprise. Hesitantly, I take the stupid thing and wrap it around me. Neither of us say anything.
He leans forward, checking Norah's pulse for the hundredth time. Squirm nudges his hand, head barely poking out of the blankets. He curses, frowning at it before his eyes dart between my sister and Squirm.
"I'll think about it later," he grumbles, shaking his head and standing. If I had the energy, I would come up with a cleaver sneer. I only watch him pick up Adam and start out when something in my gut makes me stop him.
"The runes reversed our abilities," I mutter. He stops, turning. "With them removed, our abilities will take time to set in. A skin healer would be able to reverse the effects immediately, but we don't have one."
Holland stares at me for a moment, frowning and still angry. And like before, I still don't care. But he did save Norah -- is still saving her when I didn't know what to do.
Such helplessness makes me sick.
I shove that aside and look away, hoping he sees the dismissal. He does, or he's done with me and leaves without another word. For a long moment, I stare at where Holland left, then at Rima and finally Norah.
The risk of her death is still too great for me to relax but she's healing. The thought calms me enough to settle against Rima's ribs and rest my head against hers.
Comfort is not something I provide. It's not like Crimsons to do so, but Norah is different. She's not our parents who love me and have given everything that money and fame can buy. But like everything in this world, that love came at a cost. Leading my faction, talks of marriage, spending my entire childhood learning how to be a mage, and enduring nobles and their schemes.
But Norah's never asked for anything in return because she never gets anything in return. Nothing good at least. Only heartbreaks that send her spiraling into irrational situations.
I've tried to make up for it, for beings gone and being on her side when no one else is. To protect her from idiot boys and manipulating factions and spiteful parents even if she doesn't see it. Norah and Celest are the only people I have and I will do anything to protect them because they're family and more than blood.