I sit back on my heels, breath shaking. Roiven needs Aria if he’s going to live. And unless Savasaeirn’s already summoned Aria’s dragon, I’m going to have to figure this out myself. Could Hafgúa take me to find them? But I don’t know which way to go, where to look, or if the others are even still alive. And I need to be there with him, if Roiven fades away.
Not that I’m going to let him do that.
When Lusern fell. And Roiven was hoping he’d find survivors. What did he say? That Nor couldn’t farspeak with witches they hadn’t met. Well, they’ve met me. I have no idea how farspeaking works, but if Nor can speak across distances surely the farspeaker can hear across them, too.
“Nor?” I call, taking Roiven’s still hand in my own. There’s no answer. Mentally I grab Hafgúa’s power and fling it out across the sea. “Nor?Please?” Nothing. I pull harder on Hafgúa and shriek.
…who is that?The blonde witch’s voice whispers into my mind, muffled and strange, not at all like how I hear Hafgúa’s voice or how I heard Roiven’s. My muscles go weak with relief.
“Cai. Roiven’s hurt badly. We need Aria.”
There’s a silence long enough that I think they’re gone. I bend over Roiven and press my forehead to his broad shoulder. My chest aches.
Stay there,Nor whispers.We’re coming.
“Stupid not to learn any spells,” I mumble to Roiven’s unconscious body. “I could have asked how to heal you. Gods be damned, you bastard, you weren’t supposed to die like this.” If he goes out skewered on anybody’s sword, it’ll be mine. Because if I don’t kill him, he’s going to live to be however many hundreds of years a witch can live to, and then some.
He’s mine. I refuse to accept this. I press my hand to his clammy neck and feel for a pulse. It beats sluggishly. Every second feels like a lifetime. I don’t know how long we lay there like that.
Savasaeirn raises her head up and calls, the sound low and rumbling but not unfriendly. A moment later a pearl-white dragon that I’ve never seen before emerges from the gray of the sky, headed towards us. I rise to my shaking feet, heart pounding.
The huge white dragon lands. Aria quickly scales down the ancient’s leg. Nor waits, then begins climbing down behind her.
“Roiven?” Aria screams as she reaches the ground.
“Badly hurt,” I call back. She races towards us. The whitedragon folds his wings and reaches his muzzle down to Savasaeirn’s. She grunts in response.
Aria takes my space beside Roiven. I watch, my heart in my throat, as her hands press against her brother’s chest.
It’s going to be alright. It has to be.
“Did Imili fall?” Nor asks quietly as they approach.
“Yes,” I say quietly, not taking my eyes off Roiven. “And her dragon. Are the others…?”
It’s hard to care with Roiven this hurt, but I still want to know.
“The Hellions split up. Roiven and Imili followed a set while the others evacuated Aveinor. We’ve almost gotten everyone, but the Hellions are closing in.” Their voice sounds distant, like they’re paying attention to more than one conversation at once.
In the distance, a blinding column of blue light explodes. A sickening cloud billows overhead. My stomach drops out of my body.
Aveinor is gone. They’ve destroyed it just like they destroyed Lusern. Moments later, the whole sea shudders. The ocean rocks away, then surges up in twenty-foot waves. Savasaeirn bellows and yanks Roiven up off the ground, out of Aria’s hands, as the water swells over the rock.
Nor’s eyes squeeze shut.
“Hevrin?” I whisper.
“Safe. Most of our people are safe,” Nor whispers.
“Unless the Hellions find where they’re hiding,” Aria says softly.
“How far are the ships?” I ask.
“An hours’ flight,” Nor responds.
Aria’s hands are still pressed to Roiven’s chest. I crouch down beside him and press my fingers to his throat. His pulse is coming more steadily.
“Will he be alright?” I whisper.
