Young Writers Society

It took Fyn the better part of the afternoon to start learning this new set of burrows. He guessed this must have been where his order lived before they moved to Mt. Onyx to live by Selach’s fire. That was their rightful home — before the Treatise, humans had selfishly stood in their way. Many of the marks the past drakes had made were worn away, or different enough from what Fyn was used to so as to be unintelligible. Other tunnels were collapsed or dangerously unstable. He did a complete circuit of the outer tunnels before he moved inward, where he knew the humans were hiding — with Cassia.

All told, he could sense the sun was close to setting when he first crept near the tunnels they occupied. They had lit them, wedging torches in between loose rocks or setting lamps on ledges. It made the tunnels ugly, with strange shapes and flickering movement that left Fyn jumpy. He didn’t go into any of the lit tunnels, but followed parallel past where the humans had ventured, trying to feel out how large of an area they had claimed and how many strong they were.He didn’t think they were all the same people as at Haven — the scents were different.

He was creeping close to a northern passage, deep underground, when he heard voices coming up the tunnel. He froze and pressed himself deeper into the shadows to listen.

“…soon, now that we have the angel brat. I expect you to be among the first to grasp the power, of course. You will guide the others. We will have only days, maybe weeks, before they search us out.”

The skin prickled along Fyn’s back. It was Iona. He withdrew deeper into the tunnel, thanking Selach that humans couldn’t smell worth dust.

Another voice spoke. “And then what? We are spies and smugglers, not warriors.”

That was Sasha. Speaking to Iona in the tone of a deferential servant.

All at once, a great many things fell into place. How Sasha had wound up in Timberglut, apparently free and working underground, after vanishing from Mt. Onyx when she was a child. Why she had gone to the effort to rescue him and Cassia and then follow them across the Basin to this godsforsaken land, all under the pretense of working for them.

Gods, he’d been stupid to trust her. Of course she had her own allegiances. Humans did not stick their necks out for godformed, not even when they might get paid.

“You are not warriors yet,” Iona was saying. “Once you and all the other Seekers have their rightful power, you will stand at the head of my beautiful army, daughter. With our gods behind us, we march from Lhening to Promise to Mt. Onyx and overthrow their false gods and liberate our people. We teach them their power and with every mile grow our army.”

“Forgive me, Mother,” Sasha said, and Fyn thought he could hear a trace of the familiar bite to her voice. “But you’ve spent two years practicing Change’s magic. Your army will have days, maybe weeks. And that’s if they’re willing to fight. Many people in Lhening are free and don’t want anything more. Move too fast and they’ll slaughter us, if they don’t already for freeing the gods!”

The footsteps stopped, just a short distance from Fyn. A powerful slap echoed down the tunnel and reverberated through the earth. Fyn felt Sasha fall to the ground and crawl backwards.

“Have the gods spoken to you?” Iona hissed. “Does Change counsel you as well? Or do you listen to mischievous Luck, perhaps, or that cursed Endurance? I was chosen by Duality and given power through Change to execute the united will of our gods. Your insolence leaves me doubting you have the devotion to become a conduit at all. Perhaps you doubt me because you yourself are no braver than the rats in Lhening and Promise who quake in their cracks, content with stealing crumbs when the godformed are asleep.”

“No, Mother,” Sasha said through gritted teeth. Fyn could just see her now, silhouetted against a lantern, her jaw set. “I’ve only traveled and spied and heard things for ten years. I will fight.”

To Fyn’s surprise, Iona reached down and helped her up, then pulled Sasha — apparently her daughter — into an embrace. Her next words were almost too quiet for Fyn to catch.

“That is the daughter I never got to raise,” Iona said, pressing Sasha’s head to her shoulder. “Never forget that they took you from me. I had sent you away so you could grow up smart and strong — so you could grow up at all. You’ve proved your cleverness by luring the angel to me, though you failed to kill the drake. Marching with me at the head of our army will be your chance to show me just how strong you’ve become.”

“Of course, Mother,” Sasha said. Her spine was stiff and her voice subservient again.

Iona patted her on the back of her head, running her fingers through her braids. “Send for me when it is ready,” she said, and she left Sasha standing there stick-straight and continued her way down the tunnel into the heart of the Seekers’ camp.

Fyn let out a breath and unpeeled himself from the tunnel wall. There was no cliff for Iona to toss him off this time, but still the memory of her magic slamming into his body and tossing him aside like pumice prickled under his skin and made his blood run cold.

He expected Sasha to follow her mother and apparent mistress, or else go back the way she had come, but she did not move. Fyn could not make out much more than her posture and the set of her chin. She was shaking, but he could not tell whether it was in fury or in fear.

He crept closer, swelling to fill the last shadows of the cleft hiding him. An inch more and he would be in the light.

He had moved an inch too far.Sasha spun around and stared directly into the narrow tunnel, flicking daggers into her hands in a single smooth motion. He must have made some noise, or maybe his eyes had flashed in the dark.

“Who’s there?” she said. Her braids fell tangled across her face and her eyes were red and angry.

Fyn’s heart skipped a beat. Sariah’s eyes…

His paws moved on some deep instinct far from his conscious mind. He took a step forward, fully into the tunnel’s light. “Saria — Sasha, it’s me.”

She pulled her hand back and flung a dagger at him. It was impossible to miss – Fyn nearly filled the tunnel.

Fyn focused and shrank into his human form, the dagger streaking past him just in time. He took a step forward with his hands raised. “Woah, woah, wait, I only wanted to—”

But before he could figure out exactly what he wanted to do, Sasha already had another dagger in her hand and aimed to throw. Fyn had to drop to the floor to avoid this one.

That was a mistake. Sasha sprang, lithe as a cat, rolling Fyn over and pinning him halfway up the wall with a strength that belied her size. Her elbow dug into his stomach and the point of a third dagger pricked his throat.

“Give me one reason not to do it, drake,” Sasha hissed.

Fyn struggled, whipping his head from side to side. A deep, familiar anger was building within him, raging outward from his mote. He fought back the fire. If he erupted into flame now, he would burn Sasha and she would die. His breath came in ragged gasps.

Sasha pressed the point of the dagger deeper. “Think faster.”

He saw something in the set of her jaw. Something pained and familiar and pleading, like an outstretched hand to a mage crouching in a narrow crack in the wall of a faraway gorge. A second offer when there should only have been one.

“Because you aren’t Iona,” Fyn choked out.

Sasha deflated, as if she had been doused in cold water. She drew back, letting Fyn slide to the ground. He staggered forward, coughing, but managed to stay on his feet.

“Why did you come back?” Sasha demanded. She still had her daggers up, ready to strike. “You’re going to get yourself killed.”

“You took Cassia,” Fyn said.

Sasha gave a wild laugh. “Like you care about her! Like you care about anything except sucking up to Zhiron and your horrible god! You know, when I left Mt. Onyx, I still believed you could be different. Now I’ve seen that all you drakes grow up the same. You drink the same blind cruelty. Well, you won’t find her, or what you’re really after — the Treatise.”

She took a step backwards, edging back into the well-lit tunnel. “I’d like to see you try to beat it out of me, if that’s what you’re here for.”

“It’s not,” Fyn said, and at last his purpose settled in his heart. The disquiet that had filled him since the moment he heard her voice eased. “I’m here to tell you... I’m sorry.”

The word fell strange from his lips. “Sorry,” was an insolent word, an empty word to soothe the ire of the broodfathers. He had never spoken it with so much meaning, not even to Cassia, but he did not know any other word to use.

The knives lowered. “Sorry?” Sasha said, with a voice so taut it could slice skin.

“For — everything. For what they did to you because of me,” Fyn stumbled over the words. “I shouldn’t have helped you in the first place. I shouldn’t have kept looking for you to play. When they found out, they beat me, and later I believed they were right to do it. I should have realized that if they beat me, the punishment for you was death. Maybe I wouldn’t have believed they were right for so long.”

A small incline of Sasha’s head was all Fyn needed for the confirmation. Death would have been her sentence, had these Seekers not spirited her away.

“I can’t change what they did to you. And yes, I have to get the Treatise. It’s what I was sent here for. But they also ordered me to kill Cassia. And I’m… not going to do it.”

He half-expected the tunnel to collapse on his head for speaking it at last: the secret heresy he carried in his heart. But his mote lay cold and empty, and the tunnel still and silent.

“I didn’t know enough to save you. But I have to save Cassia. If I don’t save her, Zhiron will come and get the Treatise and kill her himself. Without her…”

His words failed. “I don’t care if it defies Selach. I don’t care.”

Sasha stared at him, her daggers hovering at waist height, twitching as if she was itching to throw. She opened her fists and let them clatter to the floor, sinking down into a crouch with them. She put her head in her hands, her braids swinging forward.

“Gods, you’re a mess. How did you make it this far? I should kill you anyway.”

“But you won’t,” Fyn said, shocked at how confident he was. “Just like I won’t kill Cassia.”

“No, I won’t,” Sasha said quietly.

The silence stretched, drake and human avoiding each other’s gaze.

“So…” Fyn started. “Maybe you can help me instead?”

Sasha scoffed. “There’s a wide gulf between me not killing you and me betraying my people.”

“Just tell me where Cassia is,” Fyn pleaded. “Forget about the Treatise for now.”

“She’s deep,” Sasha said. “You won’t reach her without passing a dozen guards. Not unless you can burrow an entirely new tunnel.”

Fyn shook his head. “No time. I can’t dig that fast.”

Sasha shrugged her shoulders as if to say “tough luck.” She didn’t offer any further information.

“Why did you take her?” Fyn pressed. “What’s Iona going to do with her?”

Sasha gave a deep, abiding sigh. “Can’t you guess?”

“No.” He knew the Seekers wanted to break the Treatise, but he had no idea how that involved Cassia. “But I heard you and Iona talking. You were right. An army of humans won’t win against us, not unless they’re all mages as strong as Iona.”

Sasha gave a bark of laughter. “That’s the point, Fyn. Mages like that used to be common, with the right training. Then you bound our gods and cut off our magic.”

“What do you mean?”

“What did you think the Treatise was? Some sort of pact between godformed to play nice? No. Before the Treatise we worshipped seven gods. You locked them all away and tried to eradicate their memory. Without magic, we’re nothing compared to the godformed. So you could take what you wanted. Now we’re going to take it back.”

Fyn blinked. The humans had seven gods? Because Fyn was a drake, his god was Selach. Easy. How did humans know which one to follow when there were seven of them?

“We’re using Cassia to break the Treatise,” Sasha explained. “It shouldn’t hurt her, not really. She’ll be fine. Once it’s broken, our gods and our magic will return. And after that… we march.”

A flickering candle cast her still face into dark shadow. Fyn’s blood ran cold. An army of mages like Iona marching on Mt. Onyx…

He took a step back, hands up defensively. “Why are you telling me this?”

This was what Zhiron would have called vital information. The sort of thing you kill people to prevent from getting to the enemy.

Sasha rolled her eyes, leaning back against the tunnel wall. “You heard what Iona wants from me. Well, I for one don’t want to die at the head of her army.”

She kept talking, not looking directly at Fyn. “The ritual will take place at dusk tomorrow in the central chamber. You should be able to find it easily enough. There’s an entrance no one uses on the east side. It’s close to where your friend will be.”

She paused. “Maybe you can nip all this in the bud.”

“Thank you,” Fyn said. A warmth spread through his chest. At last, he felt like he had a chance. “If I can just get to Cassia in time, we can.”

Sasha tilted her head. “What are you going to do if you save her? If you get the Treatise?”

Fyn’s courage faltered. “Go home, I guess. Complete my mission.” Prove myself worthy of Selach’s service.

Sasha regarded him, her fingers dancing on the edge of her belt. “Do you want to know why I didn’t kill you?”

“I thought was because — you know,” Fyn said. “We were friends. And Iona wanted you to kill me, and you aren’t the type to do something just because someone wanted you to.”

“No,” Sasha laughed. “But close. It’s because you finally almost understand. They tell us what to do and what to think every waking second of our lives. They never give us a chance to decide for ourselves what matters, but that doesn’t mean it’s not our choice. So what matters, Fyn? What do you want?”

The question crashed into Fyn like a rockslide. He bent his head, but he could feel Sasha’s deep brown eyes boring into him.

He wanted to win Selach’s favor and train under Zhiron. But why?

He wanted to save Cassia. That, at least, he understood. Even the thought of her eager face set a smile tugging at his lips. After that… well, that was after.

But if he saved her, told Zhiron she was dead, and went back to Selachen, he would never see her again.

Sasha’s lips twitched in her usual not-quite-sincere smile. “I didn’t have an answer either, at first. But think about it.”

Sasha pushed off from the wall and turned her back on Fyn, crossing back into the lighted portion of the tunnels. She lingered at the corner.

“Good luck. Oh, and do me a favor when you come barging in tomorrow night breathing fire.”

“Sure.”

Sasha clenched a fist at her side. “Make sure you catch my mother in the blast.”