Page 32 of From the Myths of Kings

Kaja drew closer and leveled her massive head with Saoirse’s eyes, blinking at her expectantly. A puff of hot breath raked through Saoirse’s hair as the beast chuffed. It smelled of sour fish and blood.

How is this possible? At this point, she shouldn’t be surprised at the trove of secrets her ancestors had hoarded, but she was nevertheless astonished. All this time, the infamous dragon had been loyal to her family line. What other secrets were still buried in the past?

“Kaja?” Saoirse began. Did she even understand the common tongue? She’d never spoken to a dragon before. “Kaja, have you been searching for me? Did you come to our aid intentionally?”

The sea dragon cocked her head, yellow eyes glittering as if in understanding. Another gust of warm breath blew against her cheeks and her stomach clenched.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Neia strode over and bid her soldiers to lower their weapons. Kaja snarled when the Terradrin captain drew too close to Saoirse, her lip curling in warning. Neia whistled slowly and raised her arms in submission. “She’s protecting you.”

“She’s a friend,” Saoirse told Kaja. She clapped a hand on Neia’s shoulder and the dragon visibly relaxed.

“This is quite convenient,” Rymir stated, surveying the beast that dwarfed their small merchant ship. A wry smile crept across his face. Kaja’s blue-tinged scales glistened in the rain, plated like chinks of armor across every inch of her body. “We have a sea dragon on our side. If any more of those Hel-forsaken beasts come ravenous for blood, we’ll have protection.”

“We may have come out the other side triumphant this time, but Selussa definitely knows where I am now,” Saoirse lamented. “The sea has tasted my blood. If Selussa wasn’t aware of my location already, she will be soon. More beasts are sure to come after us.”

“Then we’ll thank the stars that Kaja has come to our aid.” Neia turned back toward the small crowd of soldiers gaping at the sea dragon with slack jaws and expressions that skimmed the line between terror and awe. Saoirse’s heart lurched when she noticed there were considerably fewer people present. She prayed most of them were below deck nursing injuries.

“Ready the ship, Captain Barrow,” Neia told Rymir, entrusting her right hand to clean up the carnage. She turned back toward the captain’s quarters, exhausted, dragging a hand through her bloody hair. “I must make some adjustments to the plan. We need to prepare for the worst.” She limped forward to the stern, an air of newfound stress radiating from her.

“Repair the riggings,” Rymir’s voice boomed. “We must make haste to Terradrin. We’ve only two more days at sea.” The shiphands scattered obediently, but their eyes never strayed far from Kaja.

Fortunately, the two masts remained intact with minimal damage to the sails. They were incredibly lucky Selussa’s beast hadn’t ravaged more of their ship, but the lives lost and the rebels brutally injured were a significant blow.

“Once we are on the move again, we’ll honor the dead,” Rymir decreed somberly.

Saoirse was still struggling to comprehend everything that had just happened when Kaja lowered herself back into the ocean, ensconcing herself save for the bright yellow eyes that burned like coals just above the waves. Her long, spiked tail bobbed in and out of the water like a piece of driftwood, flicking back and forth. They’d gained a powerful ally indeed.

Suddenly feeling light-headed, Saoirse caught herself on the railing before her knees gave out.

“You need to take care of that.” Rymir jerked his head toward the gash in Saoirse’s shoulder. The long-sleeved tunic she’d been wearing was shredded, ripped apart to reveal a mangled wound.

Saoirse’s vision spun as she crept toward the hatch, blinded by the onslaught of rain that still refused to let up. Through blurring eyes, she saw the hatch door open as Noora appeared. Her tunic was stained with blood not her own. The archer caught her as she stumbled forward.

“Let’s get you to Hasana.”

Saoirse drifted in and out of consciousness as they staggered down the stairs, her ears still ringing with the spine-chilling shrieks of the beast. She felt a tug of recognition at the back of her mind as she collapsed onto a makeshift cot. Then she realized why the beast seemed so familiar. Its hideous form had been drawn in the stars, one of many mythological constellations she’d glimpsed in the night sky as a child. How many more ancient monsters would awaken in the coming days? Behind closed eyelids, the cosmos unfurled before Saoirse, clusters of stars depicting myths and kings that should’ve remained long dead.

14

ROOK

For several days, their rescue party traveled from island to island, providing aid to hundreds of displaced Merfolk. They’d begun setting up makeshift tents as the number of refugees grew. The medical tents overflowed with injured men, women, and children as Healers worked through the night to save who they could. More stories of the monsters that plagued the seas were told, each encounter somehow more horrifying than the last. The ocean grew darker with each passing day.

It was a brutal affair. Rook had never seen so much blood. If someone were to look upon the encampments from the sky, they might have thought the clusters of tents were filled with injured soldiers returning from battle. Instead, they overflowed with innocent, bewildered common folk haunted by what they’d witnessed in the Maeral Sea and traumatized by the loss of their homes and loved ones.

Sune and Aurelia oversaw the formation of the growing encampments with expert strategy, delegating specific leaders to monitor the sites and appointing various roles to the remaining rebels who’d be stationed on the Isles of Mythos for the next several weeks. They’d agreed that Sune would remain to oversee the rescue efforts once the Rook and Aurelia left to join Saoirse at Raj’s Point. Many of the refugees were too weary to protest the presence of foreigners, but there were a handful that looked upon the rebel volunteers with distrust and even hostility. It would be important for Sune to remain behind and present a familiar face. But despite minor resistance, many of the Merfolk agreed to travel to Tellusun for safe harbor, adapting quickly to the new realities of war.

Rook scarcely slept at all. Every day since they’d arrived, he’d led search parties that scoured the islands from sunrise to well beyond sunset, combing through the swamps by torchlight. The only benefit to the rigorous schedule was that he hadn’t had another strange dream since Bezhad. But while he was grateful for a reprieve from the nightmares, sleep deprivation was hitting him hard.

Now, as Rook returned to the closest refugee encampment with three more injured Merfolk in tow, his head pounded like an anvil being struck in a blacksmith’s forge. Normally he’d be able to endure a little sleep deprivation and strenuous activity, but with the poison slowly seeping through his blood from Selussa’s stab wound, he was growing weaker every day. Joya, the soft-spoken Tellusun Healer with short hair and kind eyes, had taken to repatching his wound daily and supplying him with fresh pain-relieving golden root salve anytime he needed, allowing him to manage most of the pain. He headed toward the direction of Joya’s tent now, sweat clinging to every inch of his skin under the tropical sun. His entire body felt sticky, but he was too tired to care.

“That is Prince Rook,” someone whispered as he strode past.

“?an Aerial captain of Aurandel?”

“?a traitor to his kingdom?”

More whispers followed him through the camp, but he ignored them. As the only Auran volunteer?and the prince of their kingdom’s greatest enemy at that?he’d gotten used to the constant stares and hushed voices that trailed in his wake. Aurelia and Sune made it a point to tell his name to anyone who asked. The more people who saw him in the rebellion’s ranks, the better. By now, the news of his presence with the resistance was surely spreading across the continent like wildfire.

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