Golden (8 page)

Wes stood in the center with her, watching, waiting.

She could no longer see the individual streams; there was nothing but a tornado of fire swirling around them.

It felt good, like the heart of the drakon. The flame comforted her like an old friend; she rediscovered that part of her soul that she so desperately missed.

She was the drakon.

Its heart of dread.

And now she was an immense, churning, howling ball of flame.

W
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, holding back the heat from the flame. It danced around them, wild and furious, but when he held out his hands it flickered and stilled.
You will not burn us. You will not devour her,
he said to the flame.
I know you. You have burned inside me. I am part of you now.

“Let's do this,” he said to Nat, cocking his head toward the battlefield. “Together.”

Nat nodded and reached her arms out to the sky so that the white flames shot up in the air. Wes sculpted the drakonfire into mighty columns, and Nat sent them hurtling across the battlefield, forcing the soldiers away from the people who were still coming out of the city. She sent the soldiers running back to the portal, back to New Kandy and the gray world where they belonged. Her fire shot up through the clouds, incinerating a column of drones.

Walking in the protective circle of drakonfire, the two of them made their way across the battlefield to rescue the refugees of Apis. The citizens of the once-fair city were fighting back, turning guns into smoke, showering the soldiers with hail made of boulders, setting fire to their vehicles, their tanks, and their drones. Their general had been felled, but there was someone else leading them now.

It was Liannan, holding up a bow and arrow and letting the arrows take flight, Shakes astride behind her, brandishing a stolen automatic rifle. The rest of the crew followed, shooting back at those who aimed at the beautiful golden-haired sylph.

Liannan's silver arrows cut through a line of soldiers. Her people fought well, using magic against bullets, weaving illusions, making the soldiers fire at places where no one stood, making them attack one another or their drones. They filled the sky with illusory smoke, with clouds shaped like a drakon, with swirls of brightly colored mist, confusing tanks and their automatic sighting systems.

But even magic had limits. They could distract the soldiers, fool them sometimes, but when it came to ground combat, they were badly outgunned and outnumbered. Soldiers hacked at the smallmen and showered the sylphs with gunfire.

Vallonis was losing.

Wes focused on holding and controlling Nat's drakonfire. Like lava flows, the fire cut through the battalions, separating them from the sylphs and the city they were abandoning. He marveled at how well they worked together. It was as if they had one power, one strength, that they both wielded.

But it wasn't enough. It would not be enough to forge victory from defeat.

The sylphs were easily mowed down by automatic weaponry. Their feared heartrenders could not stop the tanks from rolling over everything in their path. Whole families fell dead on the grassy plain, and more would join them if the assault continued much longer.

Wes caught Nat's eye.

“I need to burn,” she said, her voice hollow. “Go. Shield them from the fire. Protect them from me.”

Wes did not argue. He knew what had to be done. She didn't have to ask because he already knew. He was holding her back, he knew, limiting her power.

There was no other way out of this battle than to let her burn.

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E
remaining sylphs and their loyal crew. “Retreat! Retreat!” Wes yelled, throwing up a shield around them as they ran away.

Nat stood stock-still as the flames grew taller and wilder around her. The white fire was stronger now—hotter, but she felt no warmth. Instead, a current of electricity ran through her body; she was alive, awake, energetic. Without Wes to hold it back, the ball of flame was now a hurricane of fire, a tower that stretched up and out over the bloody fields and into the drone-filled sky. It leapt up into the clouds, turning them to mist. It billowed still higher, shedding a light as pure as starlight, illuminating the field of battle. A wondrous, fearsome sight. The light shone upon the faces of the soldiers, making their pale faces turn a shade whiter. They looked like ghosts, their mouths gaping, eyes staring in wonder.

Protect them from me,
she had told Wes as the hurricane became an even greater storm, a tempest beyond imagining. She watched as the survivors hurried to Wes's side, as he stood in the middle of the crowd, eyes closed, focusing on his magic. The shield he crafted was invisible, a glass dome like the one that shielded the El Dorado. It sparkled when the flames touched it. He would keep them safe. His power was everything that hers was not. It was safety, protection. It was silent and invisible, quiet like the man who wielded it. His magic could do no harm. For the span of a heartbeat, she wished that was her talent as well, but Nat had a different lot in life.

When the last survivor was safe beneath the shield, she let out the rest of her flame. She opened up her every pore, unleashing all the power within her. She half expected the soldiers to run, to flee back through the portal, but the men would not stand down. They faced her flame with rocket fire, an endless barrage of bullets. Gunshots tore through the great inferno, but none reached Nat. The flames consumed all of it. The heat melted their ammunition, crumpled their tanks. It scorched the earth itself, turning trees into glowing toothpicks, burning down the trunks, incinerating the roots, leaving only holes in the earth. Her fire twisted through the armies of the RSA, leaving heaps of molten metal, clouds of smoke.

Only Wes stood against the flame. His power kept the people of Apis safe as the fire rippled across the battlefield. The transparent shield glowed yellow and orange reflecting the flames. Nat caught glimpses of the people huddled together inside. As the next wave hit the dome, it sparkled again, turning gold. But the next blast tore the shield and a cascade of flame poured into the dome. Screams echoed against the roar, her tempest.

No!
she cried, dampening the fire until the hurricane of flame subsided as Wes worked to close the hole.

That was when the bullet struck her, as the soldiers took advantage of her moment of weakness. The bullet tore through the flesh of her upper arm. The flames rose once more around her, as a second bullet whizzed past her ear, and something exploded nearby. The sound was deafening.

I need to finish this.
Nat drew the flames around her, letting their heat build, stoking the great fire, the ever-expanding storm. While her fire built up again, the army changed tactics. They gave up fighting Nat and trained all of their guns of the people of Vallonis. Every bit of their firepower was aimed at Wes's shield. The shield had turned from gold to brown to black, and the dome was flexing, like a bubble about to pop.

The people within crowded together, their eyes on the flames and collapsing dome. Wes strained as he held the shield. Peering through the flames, Nat caught his gaze. The grim set of his mouth told her she had to do it, to give it every last bit that she had. He would hold the line. He would not let the shield collapse; nothing would come through. His strength matched her own.

Confident in his power, that he would keep them safe from her, Nat called up the biggest fireball she could create. The field became a churning ocean of fire, a roiling sea of death. Its white tongue danced over and consumed every surface, turning the field and everything and everyone on it into dust. The fire sparked the connection between her and Mainas once more. In the fire, she was one with her drakon, and so she let it rage as long as she could, until every last bit of her power was spent. She was a wound, a gash, and now her life was bleeding out. She'd given it all to the flame.

Just like that, it was over. There was nothing left. Everything was ash.

Nat dropped to her knees.

W
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down his shield, falling to the ground, dizzy and sick from the effort. The heat had been immense, a great weight he had pushed back against, holding the firestorm at bay. His heart was pounding painfully in his chest. Just like the death races back in New Vegas, it brought that same rush of adrenaline.

He had seen and felt and stood in the center of the fierce and terrible heart of the drakon, the angry thing that burned within Nat.
I understand her now, the weight she carries, the danger.
He had tested his strength against hers and had survived.

Barely. But he had survived nonetheless.

Wes turned to his crew. “Everyone all right?” he asked, looking to Liannan, Shakes, the smallmen and what was left of the sylphs of Apis. They were rubbing the red from their eyes, trying to recover from the heat and the flame. All that remained of Wes's luminous shield was a circle of green grass, a relic of the once-beautiful field. The grass and flowers were trampled in places and dotted with blood.

His own throat was dry as sandpaper, his eyes blurry from tears, working to overcompensate against the heat, but he had no thought to his own health or safety. He scanned the burnt field for Nat, calling her name over and over until his voice was hoarse.

He'd caught glimpses of her during the firestorm, her slender figure outlined by fire. He thought he'd found her gaze when the dome faltered, but he'd lost track of her in the final deluge. The world had gone white for a moment—he'd seen only light.

When it faded there was nothing left of the army, its soldiers, drones, or tanks. There was nothing left of anything. Nat had burned it all.

“Nat!” he called, stumbling through the ashy field, trying not to knock into the still-smoking heaps of metal, the hills of molten steel and rubber that had once been tanks or drones. Smoke was everywhere, spouting from holes in the ground and the edges of the forest. The flames had left nothing untouched. The flat field was now marred by pits, craters the size of cars dotting the landscape. He might as well have been standing on the moon. The land was so blasted and barren, he almost forgot that this had once been paradise, that just moments before there had been grass here and trees.

“Wes!”

He heard his name. It shot through the smoke, mixing with the sound of crackling embers, the soft echoes of his footfalls on the ash.

“Nat!” he called through the mist. The stench of burnt metal made him cough. There was movement among the ruins, something trembling in the distance. He nearly fell into a pit, almost stepped on glowing embers.

He found her in the middle of the dust and ash. She was crouched like a child, her knees to her chin, her arms wrapped around herself, hugging her tight. Her hair and her armor were as black as the field around her, and when he said her name gently, she did not respond.

“Nat.” He crouched next to her, and when he put a hand on her shoulder he almost pulled it away—it was hot to the touch, like an open flame. But he kept his hand where it was. “Nat, you did it. You stopped them,” he said.

Finally she looked up to meet his eyes and the pain in hers made his stomach turn.

“What did I stop?” she whispered, not seeing him, motioning to the burnt field, the dark sky, the smoking ruins of Apis.

He knew what she meant; he'd grown up hearing tales of the mythical Blue, the land without ice, a place of warmth and beauty. Now it just looked like the rest of the world: ruined; toxic; a smoky, charred wasteland. The apocalypse had come to Vallonis. Everything around them was black, destroyed, burnt.

“What kind of victory is this? What did we win?” she asked, her eyes dark hollows in her pale face.

“It doesn't matter. You stopped the army. We survived,” said Wes. “You saved everyone.”

“I saved Vallonis only to destroy it.” She hung her head in her arms, and her shoulders shook in a silent cry.

“They will rebuild and recover, when you cast the spell, when you make the world anew,” he said, wanting to comfort her.

His hand burned from where he had touched her, and Nat did not reply; her eyes were glazed and her mouth slack. Wes began to worry. Had the fire burned her out from the inside?

“Nat, come on,” he said gently. “Stand up.”

She closed her eyes and exhaled. “Mainas has returned to me,” she said softly. “I can see with the drakonsight again. When I called up the flame, I got it back.”

Wes leaned closer, knowing this was important, knowing he had to help her reclaim the bond. “What did you see?”

“A ruined city, covered in ice, near the water.” She squinted and her forehead crumpled in the effort.

“What else? Any landmarks? Any clue as to where they are?” he pressed. “Keep trying.”

“Hard to remember . . . but I think . . . I think I saw a fallen statue on the water. An enormous one.” She shook her head. “Of a woman holding a torch.”

“Liberty,” said Wes. “Eliza must be in New Dead City.” What was once called New York, now lost to the ice, covered in darkness and eternal winter.

Nat's eyes remained closed. “There are jeeps, tanks, tracking them across the mainland, but they are days away yet.”

Suddenly, her eyes flew open. “I need to find them!” she said, almost panicked. “While I still have the drakonsight!” She trembled, exhausted and fragile from the effort as well as the aftereffects of the battle.

Wes caught her as she stumbled, pulled held her toward him, let her fall against him, shaking and scared. “Mainas needs you to rest,” he said. “And heal. We all do. There is time yet—Avo is hampered by the ocean and the refuse, and there are a million ways to hide in New Dead City; it will take some time to find them even with the drones.”

“I don't need to rest,” she said. “I need to find them. I need to get my drakon back!”

“You can't win against her in your state,” he argued. “If you go now, you will only put yourself in more danger.” He saw the blood brimming in the corners of her eyes, the way her hands shook like leaves in the wind, the way her eyes did not focus, did not see him.

Nat pulled away, seized with panic. “No! You can't stop me! I won't let you! Let me go!” Her eyes were crazed, wild with raw animal fear. “GET AWAY FROM ME!”

“What are you doing? Nat!” He reached for her, and she screamed.

“Don't! Don't touch me!” she shrieked. “GET AWAY!” She scrabbled away from him, kicking up dust in his face as she stood up. She was a sight to behold, her bright eyes glittering in her ash-covered face.

Wes followed her, keeping his voice calm. He knew it was the drakonblood speaking, the monster inside her that spoke to him this way. This wasn't Nat. His Nat.

“Nat—it's me,” he said, pleading.

“Don't take another step closer!” Her voice was low and threatening.

Unafraid, he stepped forward. Another step. “I'm not stopping you from going after them. I just want you to rest until you're whole and healed.”

The fire in her eyes flickered and she held up her hand against him, a fireball dancing in front of the palm on her hand. “One more step and I will burn you to the ground,” she whispered.

And for a moment he did fear her, but he took another step closer. “It's me. Ryan,” he said, using the name no one used but his family and Nat, for Nat was his family now. He opened his arms wide as he looked deep into her eyes, addressing the raging fire within. “You're not going to hurt me, Nat. I'm not afraid of you.”

The fire trembled in her palm, flickering and bright. She raised her hand, ready to scorch him as she had the armies of invaders.

Wes braced himself for the blast, unwilling to leave her side. But the fire never came. He opened his eyes to see Nat falling to her knees, sobbing.

“Yes,” she cried. “Ryan, it's you.”

He took her in his arms again, held her close. She was still warm, but no longer burning.

“I was going to hurt you,” she said.

“Never, you would never do that,” he replied, willing it to be true, even if the memory of fear and doubt was so clear.

“What happened?” she asked, looking around at the blackened field as if for the first time, at the piles of ash that were all that remained of the battle that had raged on the plain.

“We won,” he said. “They're gone. Your drakonfire closed the portal to our world as well.” They looked up to the sky, which was whole and no longer torn.

“Mainas . . . ,” she whispered. “I felt him. I saw them.”

“We will find your drakon and get it back from Eliza,” he said. “I made a vow to you and yours. Mainas is part of you. You will be whole.”

She nodded, and the tears fell freely now as she surveyed the devastated landscape. He knew she was crying because Apis was destroyed and Vallonis burnt, but she was also mourning the lives she had taken, every soul a mark on hers.

“I am a monster,” she whispered.

He shook his head. “No. I don't believe that and neither should you.”

“I will doom everyone around me,” she said, in a voice so low that he strained to hear it. “I will bring death to all I love. The Queen told me I would.”

“Nat, Nat, Nat,” he said, running his hands up and down her arms, as if he were trying to calm her down or put out the fire, even though she was no longer burning. But what he was feeling was too hard to put into words, so he just held her close, saying her name over and over again, letting her lean against him, so that she fit under his chin, her heart against his. Holding her so tightly as if his love could anchor her to the ground, could hold the drakonfire at bay. His strength had shielded the survivors against her fire, but he had not been able to shield her from herself.

• • •

It felt as if they had been holding on to each other for hours when Liannan came up to them. Wes released Nat gently. She nodded to let him know she was okay. They turned to their friend. The sylph's silver armor was streaked with blood, grease, and dust. Her face was grave. “We need you,” she said to them. “We're getting everyone to follow us to Alfarhome, to my village.”

“I need to go to New Dead City. Mainas is there,” said Nat. “My drakonsight returned, and I must follow while I can.”

“Yes, but first you must rest,” said Wes. “Let the fire left within you burn out. You need to get your bearings back before we can go anywhere.”

Liannan nodded. “Nat, Wes is right. We all need rest, especially you. And you can't fight Eliza without a drakon of your own.”

“Then I won't stand a chance, as Mainas was the last,” said Nat.

“The last of his time,” said Liannan.

Nat was startled by her words. “What are you saying?”

But before the sylph could explain, Brendon found them. “Liannan,” he said, his voice panicked and high. “Come. It's Roark.”