Page 36 of Wrath of the Dragons
Elowen is capable of doing whatever is necessary to win, but she won’t slaughter innocents. Families visiting soldiers on the front, healers working along the border, those people would stop her from following through. I’ve always thought fate to be a spiteful bitch, but Elowen being the person to share a bond with five dragons is a rare mercy.
“All magic has a signature that other mages can sense. It’s like signing a letter. In rare cases that signature can be hidden but it’s highly unusual. If Thirwen was controlling those beasts, the mage will be able to confirm.”
Still, something is off. If this was an act of war, and our enemies were targeting us knowing we weren’t protected by our army, they’d have made themselves known. They’d either have attacked us directly or run from the forest to escape the dragonfire.
“Your Highness, welcome ho—”
“Were you able to see through the portal?” I ask.
“Yes, sire. The portal is transparent to Asena and me because we conjured it.”
“So you witnessed the attack?” He nods in response. “Were you able to sense any magic when you opened the portal?”
Ophir’s brows furrow. “No, sire. Godly land has felt more volatile since the dragons have been released, but we all believe that’s the cause of the imbalance. Dragons haven’t existed since the gods left us.”
Elowen huffs and looks toward the sky. “So you don’t believe anyone was controlling the netherwraiths?”
“No, Your Highness, but they are known to live in the Sweven and Terrwyn forests. They must’ve followed the scent of blood straight to your kingdom.”
“They don’t travel through the…” She drums her fingers against her lips. “Would it be possible for you to open a portal where the Caleum River curves through the mountains? It doesn’t have to be large, just enough for me to see.”
Ophir nods, closing his eyes and muttering a spell in Ravarian. Sparks and wisps gather around his fingertips, swirling through themlike snakes as he parts the air and creates a portal no larger than the length of my sword. He continues his incantation, and the black and purple fade, revealing a clear picture of a forest.
“Sunlight.” Elowen’s hand latches on to mine. “The mist is gone.”
“You sense no magic with this change to the mist?”
“No, sire. No living person would be able to lift it. The barriers were made by the gods and cannot be undone.”
“Why now?” Elowen mumbles, more to herself than anyone.
“The magic left behind by the gods grows weaker every year,” Ophir answers anyway. “This could be a result of that.”
“You can close it, thank you,” Elowen says, still lost in thought. I nod to the mage, and he bows before turning away and finding Asena amid the rows of people waiting for care. Castle healers have also joined them, and servants distribute bread and water.
“You all right, angel?”
“I don’t like how they speak about the events in our lives as if they’re determined by gods I don’t believe in,” she mutters. “Ailliard swore the mist would never fade, so I suppose I’m glad to have been right, but Sorin was uneasy the whole time we were in godly land. He could barely tolerate landing.”
“They’re fanatics. It could rain and they’ll say it’s because a god is crying or pissing.” The dried blood on her cheeks cracks when she laughs wearily. “But at least it wasn’t an act of war.”
She nods, still not looking fully convinced. “I’m going to write to the queen of Galakin tomorrow and have Asena send it with magic so it arrives instantly. It may not have been done by Thirwen’s or Imirath’s hand, but every day that passes is another pushing us closer to the inevitability.”
Chapter
Eighteen
Elowen
My dragons weave through theapproaching storm clouds, their vibrant scales a stark contrast to the frothy gray domain, but they never go far enough to cross the Imirath border. Despite the impending war, the Vareveth war camp is just as relaxed as it’s always been. Soldiers congregate around firepits while stirring pots of stew, sharpening their weapons, and laughing while trading stories and drinks.
“I received a…concerning report today from a spy,” Saskia says, the wind carrying the scent of her jasmine-scented soap as she loops her arm through mine, which is probably for the best considering how exhausted I am. For the most part, the roads through the war camp are dry, but there are some muddy puddles I’d rather not step in. I spent nearly all night tending to the wounded with Nyrinn while the others oversaw settling my people in their new homes. The images of the attack haunted me as I tried to sleep. Not everyone who made it through the portal survived. The antidote for netherwraith venom doesn’t always work depending on how far gone someone is. No matter how much people begged me as they faded before my eyes, I can’t perform miracles, regardless of how much I wish I could.
“Where are they stationed?”
“Imirath,” she whispers, her dark eyes scanning the area. My stepsslow, and I huddle closer to her. “A border scout reported seeing large cages being transported throughout the kingdom.”
“Cages?” My brows furrow. “How large? What was in them?”
