Odriel's Heirs Read online

  “And I’ll—”

  “Mama!” Kaia stood and snagged her mother’s wrist, forcing her to meet her eyes. In the moment of stillness, she could hear the mellow song of the ridge robins outside the farmhouse window. “You weren’t surprised to see the Lost.”

  Her mother looked away. “Of course, I was.”

  “But you said, ‘Not this far north already.’” Kaia’s brow furrowed. “You got a letter from Papa.”

  The flint eased from her mother’s eyes, and she sagged into the chair next to Kaia. “Yes.”

  Relief and anger swirled through Kaia. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

  Her mother slapped the table. “Because he asked me not to!” She rubbed her temples, her voice thick with emotion. “And there’s nothing you’d want to hear.”

  “I’m not a child. Of course, I want to hear it!” Kaia nearly shouted.

  “Do you?” Her mother bit back, her voice rising. “You want to hear that the Lost are running rampant on the southern border? That someone else is raising a dead army to try to defeat them? Do you want to hear that Pryor Brigg is dead and Jago is missing? Do you!” Her mother turned away and hid her face in her hands, choking on a suppressed sob.

  Kaia sat down heavily in her chair. Shock wiped her mind blank. The Time Heir dead and his son missing? How was that possible? When she spoke, her voice was soft. “When did you get the letter?”

  Her mother took in a shaky breath. “Only a few days ago.” She wiped at her dry eyes and folded her hands in her lap. “Your father and Klaus are looking for the mortal necromancer, he calls himself Ariston, while the magus, Everard, searches the south for Jago.” She rolled her neck in a slow circle, her voice once again steady, but now coated with acid. “I’d imagine those dead we saw today were the work of Ariston. He doesn’t understand what he’s unleashed. All dark yanaa stems from Nifras. Fighting fire with fire will only build the blaze.”

  Kaia’s heart pounded in her ears. “Does this mean Nifras has returned?”

  Her mother turned to her. “If he had, we’d know it.” She reached out to take her daughter’s hand. “But it seems now like it’s only a matter of time.”

  Kaia squeezed her mother’s calloused palm. “Then I must go to them.”

  Her mother drew her hand away. “This is why your father didn’t want me to tell you.”

  “They need me.” Kaia pounded the table, her fist smoking.

  Her mother stood up. “Absolutely not.”

  Kaia followed her, knocking the chair over in her haste while Gus scrambled to get out of the way. “But I’m the Dragon Heir.”

  Her mother whirled to face her. “Not yet!” her mother thundered, her nose only inches from Kaia’s face. “You’re not ready.”

  Kaia took a step back, struck speechless. Her mother’s red face creased—worry, anger, and sadness, all mixed into an iron will. There would be no changing her mind.

  Her mother took a deep breath and lowered her voice. “You’re going to pack your bag and ready to leave tomorrow for the Dracour camp.” Her mother thrust the bag into her hands. “Do you understand?”

  Kaia nodded with gritted teeth. “Yes, Mama.”

  With that, she turned on her heel and stormed up the stairs to her room, Gus trailing behind her. She opened the door for the ragehound before closing it behind him and leaning against it. Slowly, haltingly, she let herself slide to the floor.

  Gus’ wet nose snuffled against her cheek and she scratched his neck numbly, trying to absorb her mother’s news. A Time Heir dead, another missing, Lost roaming the land, and Nifras’ return imminent—the ancient legends had broken open like old wounds.

  With a wringing twinge of the heart, she thought of the Time Heirs. During the Triennial, she had often sat on Pryor Brigg’s knee as he filled her with stories of the Heirs’ youth on the run from the murderous King Candon. Guardian Brigg had been her father’s best friend, and she had adored his son, Jago. Jago had such a kind face, with beautiful cocoa skin and a deep, resonating voice that always made her blush. He couldn’t be dead. He had to be out there somewhere. With her father. And Klaus. And the Lost.

  She looked out the window at dusk falling over the verdant mountain fields. Not seeing any answers, she drew a small candle-sized flame to her palm, watching it flicker as grief, confusion, and anger swirled and eddied within her. Just the thought of running north burned her with shame. But then again, she had never been south of Arimoke. Could she find her way alone?

  Gus placed a huge paw on her knee with a huff. He sat on his haunches, tall and proud, beside her. Not alone.

  Resolve hardened her heart and steadied her hand. She had to go.

  She rose from the floor and packed her bag, just like her mother had instructed. She cast off the torn dress, giving it one last wistful glance before replacing it with her usual shirt and breeches, buckled her father’s hand-me-down sword to her waist, and drew her bag closed.

  The soft knock on the door almost made her jump out of her skin. The hinges creaked as Layf slipped in the room. Her little brother took in the sword strapped to her waist and her bulging pack. His doubtful eyes met Kaia’s, and she could see the indecision weighing on him. “You’re going south, aren’t you?”

  “You heard the fight?”

  He nodded soberly. “I brought you something.” He stepped forward, holding out a folded square of paper.

  The thick parchment crackled when she opened it. “A map of Okarria.” She spread it out on the bed and brought a small flame to her fist. Light danced across the weathered page as she bent over it. She tapped a small dot circled in the north midlands, squinting at the scrawl next to it. “What’s this?”

  Layf leaned over beside her. “Butterdelf—it’s where Papa’s letter came from.”

  Kaia straightened in surprise. “But how did you—”

  “I was in town with Mama when the harehawks flew in.” Layf chewed his lip. “When I saw how close it was on the map, I thought Papa was going to come home and surprise us.”

  Kaia tapped her chin; that’s why he had brought it up at the festival. A knot of anxiety loosened itself in her chest. They were closer than she thought. At least now she had a direction, a trail to follow.

  Layf ran a finger from Arimoke southwest across the mountains. “If you take the Glim Pass, you can make it in five days.”

  Kaia drew in a deep breath. “I’ll push hard. Papa will probably already have moved on by the time I get there.” She let the flame fade from her fingers and folded the map. “I don’t want to fall too far behind.” She turned to her brother; his face full of shadows in the darkening room.

  “I already saddled Thornbite for you.” His voice wobbled.

  Kaia’s heart squeezed in her chest, and she reached out to wrap him in a hug. “Thank you, Layf,” She rested a cheek on his soft hair—her little brother, her best friend. “Tell Mama and the others I’ll miss them.”

  Layf, nodded, pulling away. He smiled through moist eyes. “But you have to bring me back something good for my birthday.”

  Kaia laughed. “Deal.” She hefted her bag on her shoulder and clicked her tongue for Gus to follow. Turning away, she offered the old Dracour parting. “Till our horns lock again, brother.”

  “Odriel protect you,” he whispered.

  With that, Kaia slipped down the stairs and out the back door, where she found their gray mule, Thornbite, waiting for her in the gathering dusk. “Thank Odriel for Layf,” she said under her breath as she tied her bag to the saddle.

  “So, you are going.”

  Kaia turned to find Bram leaning against the corner of the house, his face unreadable. Her stomach flopped as guilty butterflies scrabbled within. She looked back to the worn saddle. “To keep the dead from our doorstep, I must ride out to meet them.” Kaia winced at the tremor in her voice.

  She swung into the saddle, not meeting her brother’s stony stare. “You could come, too,” she offered, trying to appease him. Then, considerin
g it, she warmed to the idea. “We could fight together, like we did today.” It’d be nice to have someone watch her back, even if he was moody.

  Bram looked out to the darkening forest stretching below their home. “There could be more on the mountain.” He turned back to her; his face shadowed. “Someone will have to protect the family.”

  Kaia shifted. She hadn’t thought of that. Her family would be safe with the Dracour tribe, but anything could happen on the day’s journey over the ridge. The thought of the Lost slinking after Layf and Eleni in the darkness sent a chill through her. Then again, staying would put her another two days behind her father and Klaus.

  A soul-releasing sigh eased out of her brother as he let his forehead fall onto Thornbite’s neck. “I have to stay. You have to go.” He straightened, and his hands moved to tighten the straps on her saddlebags. “I’ve always known this is how it would be.” A humorless laugh escaped him. “But I still hate it.” He stilled, his eyes staring into nothing. “Don’t do anything stupid. Mother would fry me for letting you go.”

  Kaia smiled, feeling a surge of affection for her twin. “Thank you, Bram.”

  He turned and dismissed her with a wave. “Get out of here, ugly. And give my best to the old man when you find him.”

  She nodded. “Stay safe, Brother.” With that, she dug her heels and spurred Thornbite into the growing night, Gus racing ahead, his tail wagging with excitement. They dashed away from the cozy town that had spat on her face and the cheerfully lit home that had hidden her for the last seventeen years. Finally freed into the vast world, the weight of those unseen fetters lifted from her shoulders, and she did not dare look back.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Memories

  The days passed quickly as Kaia pushed Thornbite through the winding Naerami trails. She rode until she threatened to topple out of the saddle, rested on the side of the road, and passed quickly through the foothill villages, pausing only briefly to replenish supplies. Gus’ ears remained on a swivel, his nose ever-twitching for any sign of the Lost. Mercifully, they found no trace of the creatures, and Kaia found the monotony of the journey wearing her instead.

  The road was little traveled, and the still mountain air only seemed to magnify the crowding thoughts that scrabbled at her mind. Guardian Brigg was dead, Jago was missing, the Lost crawled the land, and still, her father hadn’t sent for her. Why? Her father had trained her as a Dragon Heir since before she could remember. He taught her how to draw the flames from within, and read her The Heirs’ Way, the history of the Heirs, until she could recite it by heart.

  Then there were the triennials. Of course, she was the youngest of the Heirs, but she had always given it her all. Her thoughts turned to Jago and Klaus. What did her father see in them that she lacked? She cocked her head as she considered them. She could barely imagine two people more different than her counterparts.

  Jago was the eldest of the three at 28 and the kindest, by far. Kaia had been five when her father allowed her to participate in her first triennial. After weeks of looking forward to the gathering, it had been a crushing blow to discover the adults were too busy for her, and Klaus' teasing had been merciless.

  But Jago had gone out of his way to compliment her on the faint glow she sweated to produce, and he often took her aside to ease the pain of skinned knees, bruised shins, and minor bumps earned in their training exercises.

  Kaia had been in awe of his strange and wondrous gift. A touch of his smoky cornflower aura triggered a maddening itch that stole away the pain and then gifted a surge of yanaa instead. How Kaia had wished she could be the Time Heir just like him. Even from the very beginning, his winks and friendly jokes had made her blush.

  Klaus, on the other hand, had been a different story. Possessing the power of invisibility, Klaus proved a terror even at the precocious age of eight. He pulled the usual pranks—blowing in her ears, pouring salt in her cocoa, and popping out of thin air to scare her—but he also told Kaia that Bram must have been the real Heir, went on about fireflies that could best her, and teased that no one really liked the Dragon Heir. Of course, that last bit was true, but hearing it stung all the same.

  Still, for better or for worse, they were stuck with each other as sparring partners. Their training sessions had been more like games, but they were games that Klaus always won; losses he did not let her forget easily. Luckily, she always had Jago to mend her pride just as well as her scrapes.

  During Kaia's second triennial, Jago arrived with his father as usual, but the blood plague had stolen away Klaus’ parents that winter, leaving their son stony with grief as he trailed behind Everard up the mountain. She remembered little of his ascension ceremony, only that the newly christened Guardian Thane did not cry.

  A pall fell over that summer as Guardian Brigg and her father quietly mourned. Klaus would disappear for days at a time and spoke to her only when forced while training with unforgiving intensity in their drills. Once again, Kaia was embarrassingly grateful to Jago for curing the bruises and sprains Klaus dealt her.

  At eleven, the Dracour clan arrived to teach them weaponry. Some of Klaus' cheek had returned, and he flaunted his prowess with blade, bow, and spear. But Kaia had grown a spirit of her own and worked tirelessly to match him. The compliments from their teachers, Cressida and Lazander, made her swell with pride, even though Klaus' superior strength proved unbeatable.

  Jago merely shook his head. "You’re both strong, but remember you’re on the same side.”

  At fourteen, it was Kaia who changed. Filled with adolescent rage fueled by the injustice of her exile, Bram's jealous resentment, and her father's secretive sheltering, she faced Klaus's taunts with rage. Fire and shadow skills weren’t allowed, so the two Heirs turned to staves or blunted blades wrapped in leather. Their bouts took hours and ranged the cliffs and fields.

  Klaus continued to best her, but Kaia could see him sweating. A glimmer of excitement at the challenge replaced the Shadow Heir’s usual bored look while Jago continued to heal her increasingly worsening injuries. "Take it easy before you get hurt." His voice rumbled with concern. "You’re three years younger. You can’t expect so much of yourself."

  But she couldn’t slow down, and the Triennial came to a fever pitch with only two weeks left in the summer. Kaia and Klaus traded hand-to-hand blows for hours near the mountain peak, but Kaia couldn’t seem to gain ground. Close to exhaustion, her control slipped from her fingers. Her body heated, flames flickering through her closed fists. Alarm widened Klaus' eyes, but it only excited her as red filled her vision.

  Distantly she could hear the ragehound pup, Gus, begin to bark, and a remote part of her registered she couldn’t stop herself. The Dragon's Rage, the bane of the Dragon Heirs, had begun to grab hold. But she could see Klaus, himself exhausted, struggling to beat her back. She was so close.

  Then, abruptly, he disappeared. Her rage, which had been simmering just below the surface, erupted. Fire bloomed from her hands and swirled around her. Gus nipped at her legs, oblivious to the danger, but too small to knock her out of her trance.

  A blunt object sang through the air and stole the wind from her lungs, quelling her firestorm. With another unseen blow to the jaw, she staggered backward, stunned, but the flurry of invisible blows continued unchecked. One last powerful kick to the chest sent her soaring into the air. Except the ground didn't come when she expected it. The air whistled by her ears as she continued to fall, the sound of barking faded, and she glimpsed a frantic Klaus reaching for her over the cliff edge far too late—a crunch, and then blackness.

  That episode ended the Triennial for Kaia and Klaus that year. Kaia awoke three days later to see Jago smiling tiredly at her. "I told you to take it easy.” She tried to sit up and realized in a panic that she could not. Her whole body itched furiously. "Hold on there, firecracker," Jago gently pushed her back with a hand on her shoulder. "It's still going to take me another few days to fix you up. Broken bones take a lot out of me, and you
broke forty-seven."

  The events flooded back to Kaia, and hot tears she thought she’d outgrown leaked from her eyes. "I'm so sorry.”

  "Hush now," Jago said. "Everyone's all right. That's why the Dragon Heirs have the ragehounds—to snap you out of your fits." He glanced at the red ball of fur at the foot of her bed. "Gus just isn't quite big enough yet to do his job right.”

  "Klaus must be furious..." Kaia whispered. "And Papa...." Her face fell.

  "Don't worry. Everyone’s just glad that you're all right." Jago squeezed her shoulder. "It gave us all a fright to hear Klaus barreling down the mountain, screaming like a harehawk." He chuckled. "And you certainly tested my skills." Jago pulled the copper side-braid hanging along her cheek, and she couldn't help but return his grin.

  All in all, Kaia needed ten days to fully recover, and she only saw Klaus once more before he departed. While shame filled her, she couldn’t seem to find the words to apologize. Meanwhile, Klaus had donned his unreadable mask once again. Kaia bristled under his gaze.

  "Next time,” Kaia burst out, “I'll be strong enough.”

  His mouth had quirked up into an almost smile. "Me too, Firefly."

  A sharp wind kicked dust in her eyes, dragging Kaia back from the past. She took in the long-necked llamow grazing on the grassy hills fields and the harmonized chorus of a flock of red and indigo childae cutting through the sky on their long, prickly wings. The gusting spring breeze rippled the green hills all around her, and she pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders.

  The Dragon Rage… was that why Papa left her behind? She sighed and shook her head, trying to dislodge the bitter thoughts that poked at her like sharp burrs.

  Sensing her mood, Gus yipped beside her, his tongue lolling out happily. The sun is shining, and we are free! He yipped again. We should be happy.

  Kaia offered her canine friend a weak smile. “I know, Gus.” She sighed again. “This just isn’t how I thought it would be.”

  She had always dreamed of the day she would leave Arimoke, but she had pictured friendly Jago and the difficult Klaus beside her. In her father’s stories, the Dragon, the Shadow and the Time were always together—closer than brothers.