“They must have heard I killed Bravurn. Either it’s an agent placed here in LastRock, or someone who came here to intercept me.” Scorio glanced into the darkness around them, his darkvision turning everything into contours of gray. “I’d bet they sent an assassin. But who knows?”
“Then you shouldn’t be sleeping alone,” said Lianshi. “It might just be luck they killed Krantar first. Come stay with Juniper and me. We’ll be safer in numbers.”
“Thank you. First I’m going to collect Xandera. I don’t want her alone anymore. Then we’ll collect my books and—”
Scorio shucked his pack, shoved it into Lianshi’s arms, and took off at a run.
“Scorio!” Lianshi raced after him, but couldn’t keep up.
His window and doorway were lit by the leaping light of a small fire. Slowing, Scorio looked all around. He’d been stupid enough already, but refused to compound his mistakes by running into an ambush. Extending his senses, he rose into his dragon form. It was his first time doing so since fighting the Blood Ox, but he took savage satisfaction from the fell power that suffused his body. Nearly filling the narrow street, he ambled forward, wings furled down the length of his massive back, and sighted along the rooftops and down the side streets.
Nothing.
One glance through his window told him everything he needed to know: the cart was ablaze, the ledgers and hempen sack burning brightly, cinders floating up into the air.
Backing up, he reared onto his rear legs. Whomever had killed Krantar had come here next, and had to be in the immediate vicinity. But where?
Scorio leaped up into the night air, beating his wings powerfully, tail lashing. These first few moments were always his most ungainly; he looked around as he fought for height, Shroud summoned, but no assault came.
Rising above the rooftops, everything lit a dull crimson by the Telurian Band’s near-setting sun, he searched for some sign of his prey.
SHOW YOURSELF! he commanded, blasting the area with his aura of command. It was a desperate attempt, but to his surprise a shadow detached from a dark wall atop a building close by.
Ruddy light gleamed on her skull-like visage, her thick hair hanging in twin ropes from her temples, her body emaciated and wrapped in strips of white linen. She held a curved blade in each fist, and was made bulky by her massive pauldrons.
Himiko the Shadow Petal.
Fury coruscated in Scorio’s heart, and instinctively he unleashed a torrent of flame in her direction, filling the air with a plume of his dragon fire.
The Shadow Petal leaped away, breaking free from his compulsion, and dropped out of sight into an alley.
Scorio coursed forward, powering fluidly through the air, cutting off his flames as he flew over the alley and searched its cluttered depths.
There was no sign of Himiko.
SHOW YOURSELF! he tried again, but this time to no avail.
Furious, actively thinking of her, he flew overhead and then returned. Had she gone into a building? Furious, he simply filled the alley with flame, filling the air with his roaring fire so that the rocks blackened and the desiccated detritus of the city’s previous occupation blazed brightly and then ashed.
No sign of her.
Should he go fetch help? Circle?
Again he threw forth his command, and again it failed to provoke her into stepping into sight. Scorio flew in a wide circle, probing at the ground with his darkvision, but the place was a warren of shattered buildings.
Furious, wanting to rend something apart, he landed atop the building on which she’d initially been hidden and lowered his long head into the alley, peering to and fro, his Shroud at the ready, but still he saw no sign of her.
Uneasy, he flew back up, knowing how craftily she could steal up on him. One blow through his neck with her mana blade would incapacitate him, dragon formed or not, so he gained some height, ready to snap or deflect her should she appear midair beside him.
But she never did reveal herself.
Lianshi arrived a few moments later, only to stare in wonder and horror as Scorio landed atop a nearby building to glower at her.
Oh.
That was right.
She’d never seen him in this form before.
Still furious, he shifted down into his scaled form. “It was the Shadow Petal. She’s burned our ledgers and was waiting for me. Idiot that I am, I nearly ran right into her trap.”
Lianshi was hugging his heavy pack to her chest. “The books? They’re all gone?”
Scorio swept the environs with his darkvision, but again saw nothing. “I kept Bravurn’s journal in my pack. But his business ledgers and scrolls are gone.”
“Damn it.” An expression of horror swept across her face. “It was because I summoned you. I played right into her hands.”
Had she? Scorio stared intently down at Lianshi. Had she been tricked as well, or had she been complicit?
Scorio banished the thought. He trusted Lianshi. But should he make her swear a Heart Oath? But no, doing so would ruin their friendship, would tell her he didn’t trust her on a most base and profound level. But still, was that the right thing to do, regardless?
Don’t trust her, the Nightmare Lady whispered in his ear. They’re all traitors.
Don’t make my mistake, he’d written. You can’t do this by yourself.
“Don’t blame yourself,” Scorio called down. “How did you find out?”
“Moira’s got a connection to Juniper. She woke her up, and told her to tell me to fetch you.”
Was it Moira, then? Was she part of this?
Scorio whipped around in a circle, but there was still no sign of Himiko.
After searching the night for a few fruitless moments longer, he leaped down to land beside Lianshi, his powerful scaled form taking the drop with ease. “What’s done is done.”
“But the books—Krantar. Without them…?”
“We still learned some things, and I kept the most precious treasures in my pack. And our search isn’t over. I doubt Himiko knows about Xandera. But regardless. We need to get to her just in case.”
Lianshi’s eyes widened. “Right!”
“I’ll see you there!” And Scorio leaped into the air, his wings bursting forth. He flew as swiftly as he could, beating his wings with urgent strength, LastRock passing by beneath him. The huge ruined mound drew close, and then he dove down to land beside the gap that Xandera had chosen as her means of entry.
There was no sign of the Shadow Petal.
Shrinking into his human form, Scorio wormed his way into the ruins. Xandera had taken to her task with diligent focus; she’d not let up her assault on the fallen rocks since their arrival. Crawling forward, he called out to her: “Xandera?”
There was no response.
“No,” he cursed. “No, no, no.” Had Himiko gotten to her first? Slain Xandera, then taken out Krantar, leaving Scorio for last? It would be neat, so awfully clean, but how would she have known about Xandera’s location, he’d not even told Moira -
He reached the central chamber, that near-collapsed room, and scrambled to the edge of the natural well that the blazeborn had melted into the ground. Peered down into its depths, and saw for the first time only darkness. Each and every time he’d been greeted before by the burning glow of Xandera’s bright machinations, the fumes of rock turning molten, the incandescent signs of her power.
Now?
Darkness.
“Xandera!”
His voice echoed down.
Nothing.
He twisted about, convinced that the Shadow Petal was about to emerge from the shadows.
Stillness.
Scorio rested his brow on the dusty ground. His thoughts roiled. How had things been ruined so quickly? Fury and grief coursed through him. Moira. Had she -
“Scorio!”
Relief flared in Scorio’s chest, caused his heart to leap. Moving to the well’s rim once more, he peered down and saw Xandera’s burning face looking up at him from far below.