Blood Warrior

Why can’t I read your mind?

There had to be a reason. She was lying when she said she couldn’t. Or she couldn’t access his mind when he was conscious. Or, or, or . . .

He’d lived among the Indranan for months, all in anticipation of the previous day. He’d learned about their family pods—how children ran away as soon as their gifts manifested, escaping their twins, severing all ties with their biological families. Refugee Indranan grew up alone, slowly constructing new families, called pods, from genuine strangers. Strangers meant safety. They bonded over a shared need to protect against brothers and sisters intent on collecting the other halves of their fractured gift from the Dragon.

Their ingrained techniques for self-preservation made Tallis’s exile from his family seem insignificant.

Nothing he’d learned could explain what it meant with regard to Kavya.

No, he thought angrily. She is the Sun.

He was hungry and growing more furious with himself by the minute. He was rid of her. He’d walked away when staying with her would’ve meant protecting her, kissing her again. Or worse yet—believing her.

Why can’t I read your mind?

He’d thought her inability to be a quirk of luck, a useful aid in finding her. Now that question was the nucleus of a mystery he couldn’t solve.

Fuck it.

He’d lived as a human in England for long enough to know that was the perfect expression for what he felt. Angered resignation.

The wind kept howling. His nose and ears were frozen. He had a terrible headache, from the cold and the aftereffects of the rage he’d indulged. There were consequences for dropping that deeply into one’s black soul. Returning again was like using slippery vines to climb out of a mud-slicked pit. It always left the slimy feeling of having done something disgusting, as if he’d masturbated in public.

The burden of the Pendray was to live with such power and a disgracefully low opinion of it. Where was the glory in succumbing to one’s gift when it meant tapping into the worst, basest impulses? Where was the contentment of a fight well won if an animal won it on one’s behalf?

Tallis had bit Pashkah like the rabid dog he’d been accused of being. Years of practicing techniques in hand- to-hand combat and in the use of his seaxes—didn’t matter. Just teeth and fury.

He saw her.

Kavya.

No . . .

This was the Sun. She was the woman he’d come to expect in his dreams. This time, she appeared on the back of the Great Dragon without preamble. Normally the Dragon appeared when Tallis most needed convincing, as if the Sun brought their Father into the discussion to ensure cooperation. How could anyone deny her commanding beauty and the unearthly power of their Creator?

Tallis held very still. Somewhere higher up on the plane of his consciousness, he knew he had fallen asleep. He didn’t want to wake. He wanted to know what the Sun had to say for herself, now that he’d left her to her own resources, stripped of authority, with two slices from his seax on her neck.

He’d tasted those slight wounds, letting his tongue offer the apology he’d never voice.

“You did well,” she said, as softly as the magical swish of the Dragon’s wide wings and long tail. “This was how I intended events to proceed.”

She was swathed in the turquoise of the North, when she was usually clad in the same golden silk sari that Kavya had worn. The gold accentuated her warm coloring. By contrast, the vibrant blue made her features appear careworn. She was voluptuous, but not with Kavya’s innocent sexuality. The Sun’s innocence was petulant, like the greed of an insatiable two-year-old. Pleading, then coercing. Coercing, then pleading. He hadn’t been able to resist that potent cocktail.

Now he could.

“I didn’t do anything to please you,” he said. “Your cult is in ruins. You’ll only be welcomed into the most warlike pods in the North. Go take shelter with them and watch the last of your reputation rip in the wind.”

Amber eyes glowed strong and true, as a corona of light large enough to obscure the Dragon gained strength at her back. Soon her features were cast in shadows. Her body was a silhouette behind layers of flowing blue. Tallis could only sense the Dragon’s watchful presence and smell the brimstone smoke of its exhalations.

“It was time,” she said. “You killed a priest to unify your clan. That was how the Pendray could become most powerful and lasting.”

“It worked. I know that. Other selective murders have had the same effect—bringing peace where none had been. But strengthening individual clans has never been your goal. ‘The Chasm isn’t fixed,’ you said. Unify the Dragon Kings.”

“And I will.”

“You will,” he said so forcefully that he sensed his own waking. For a moment, he indulged in the sunshine-warm light emanating from her body. He let her seduce him back to sleep.

“I have work to do, Tallis. The Indranan must be their most powerful and lasting selves, too. That means ending the civil war.”

“Peace and unity. That worked out great tonight.”

The apparition flew closer. Hot breath scorched Tallis’s face. She had never guided the Dragon toward outright intimidation through violence, only ever through awed, calming authority.

“My clan has been cleaving for too long,” she said. “North from South. Siblings from siblings. It’s time to stop. With all the finger-pointing to come, the factions will resume hostilities. Frightened brothers and sisters will have no choice but to arm themselves. It will be . . . survival of the fittest.” Her smile was blindingly beautiful, but unnaturally visible in the shadows cast by the corona. “Those left standing will be few, but powerful enough to rival any of the Five Clans. The strong will ensure that the unification of the Dragon Kings becomes fact.”

Tallis sat up. He ached from lying on the unforgiving ground. He could still see the Sun and her magnificent mount, so he was still sleeping. He’d expected a more subtle form of manipulation, where the worst possibility would be if he gave in. When he gave in. He wanted Kavya too much to refuse what her dream self might offer. This apparition, though, didn’t evoke any sense of lust. She’d never spoken to him with such candor or fervor.

Something about this was wrong. Very wrong.

“How would the strong unify the clans?” he asked, his suspicion undeniable.

“That isn’t for a good soldier to ask. But it was good of you to walk away. Pashkah and I are grateful for your help, dear Tallis.” She reached down to touch his hair, as if petting the fur back from a dog’s eyes.

Wrong. So wrong.

His mind was still kicking. Somewhere. He was thankful for it.

As with dreams, when transitions never made sense, the Dragon had disappeared. The Sun was standing before his kneeling form. Tallis took her hand in his and held her palm flush to his cheek. It was hot. Not at all like Kavya’s delicate assurance. “You mourn them, don’t you? North and South. Those who suffered today.”

The hand didn’t flinch. He would’ve felt the smallest movement, no matter how involuntary. “We did what was necessary. What has been cleaved all these years will be united. Fully blessed.”

“We,” he said slowly. “You and me. You and Pashkah. You and the whole of the Indranan. Or just . . . you?”

The Sun frowned. He’d only seen that expression when she was upset with his reluctance. The corona of light dimmed. Swirls of charcoal and dull pewter invaded the sunny yellow brightness. “You doubt when there is no need. Your tasks are complete. I’ll never see you again, but I’m thankful. And so will be the entirety of the Dragon Kings.”

He tried to grip her fingers, but they slipped away like trying to hold a cloud. “You mourn them.”

The Sun blew him a kiss and smiled, even more childlike now, as if he’d been blessed by a little girl who could never be blamed for anything.

“Why wouldn’t I? Good-bye, Tallis.”