Eona: The Last Dragoneye

islander even alive?

I fought back a rise of panic. Was Kygo alive? Dela? I did not even know if Ido had survived Dillon’s drain of his power. Although he must have — otherwise, the ten bereft dragons would surely have torn me apart.

“I’m not hurt, but every time I move, I sink,” Yuso said. “And there’s nothing to pull myself out with.”

I took another step.

“No, don’t!” The force of his cry drove him farther into the sucking mud.

I tensed, holding my breath as the level settled under his armpits. “All right, I won’t come any closer. But we’ve got to find a way to get you out. The ridge is going to come down”—I glanced up at the steady fall of mud —”on top of you.”

Very slowly, he shifted his head back to look, then gave a low, desperate laugh. “Don’t suppose you could hold it back with some of that power I just saw?”

“It wasn’t mine,” I said, scanning the devastated landscape for something to throw to him. Everything was camouflaged by a thick layer of brown slime. My eyes skipped over the dead horse and soldier, then flicked back. The Ji.

“You mean it was all the boy’s power?” Yuso was talking softly but rapidly, holding back fear with words.

“No, it was the black book,” I said. “It bound us together.”

I felt an echo of the book’s burning power in my mind. Without Kinra, I would not have survived its onslaught. My breath caught; did I still have her plaque? I plunged my hand into the slimy pocket of my gown. The pouch was there, still safe.

Gingerly, I edged across the mud to the dead soldier, testing each oozing foothold. What if he wasn’t quite dead? What if he had become one of the Halbo, a demon spirit of the drowned? I lowered myself into a wary crouch beside the body, but it did not move or clack its teeth.

“So the binding is true, then.” Yuso’s voice abruptly stopped. I spun on my heel, terrified he had gone under, but his head and shoulders were still clear. “What are you doing?” he whispered.

“I’m getting this Ji to pull you out.”

“No, it’s too dangerous. Leave me. There’s time for you to climb to safety.”

I wrapped my hand around the handle and yanked it free from the soldier’s grip. The man’s hand lifted and slapped back down, as if he were blessing me. Shuddering, I whispered a quick call to Shola on his behalf, then carefully retraced my own safe footprints back to Yuso.

The captain was watching me, anguish written in deep creases of mud on his thin face. Hurriedly, I extended the pole across the mire until the handle hovered near him.

“Grab it. Quickly.”

I glanced up at the slopping mud fall behind him. It was flowing into the hole, raising the level.

He caught the wavering wood. “I will be too heavy for you.”

“I am strong,” I assured him, although the same doubt had blown its cold breath on me. He was lean for a Shadow Man— the Sun Drug issued to the eunuch guards usually built more bulk — but he was still tall and well muscled. “Don’t worry,” I added. “I won’t leave you.”

He flinched as a heavy branch fell beside him, splattering his face with more mud. I tested the ground with my toes and found a section that was not too soft. Working my heels into it, I wiped a length of the pole clean.

“Ready?” I asked.

He nodded.

Taking a resolute breath, I hauled on his weight at the end of the long pole, careful to keep the hooked blade away from me. I felt a small shift. I heaved again, and again, inching backward through the stiff mud. Suddenly his other arm swung free, dripping with sludge. He grabbed the pole with both hands.

“Keep going,” he urged.

I dug my heels into the mud again and pulled as he pains- takingly lifted one hand and placed it above the other on the pole. Panting, Yuso smiled across at me. I smiled back — it was working. On his nod, I heaved again as he dragged himself along another hand-length. Every muscle in my arms and back burned with the strain of holding his weight, but his chest was almost out of the hole.

He lifted his hand again, but this time tried to reach too far. His grip slipped. The sudden loss of his weight on the pole yanked me to my knees. I saw him slide backward, groping wildly for purchase. Instinctively, I braced knees and toes in the mud and anchored the Ji. His hand connected and gripped.

“Got it?” I gasped.

“Yes.” He pressed his forehead into the crook of his arm, gulping deep breaths. “How’s that ridge holding?” he finally asked.

“Not that good,” I said. “Ready?”

He lifted his head. “Lady Eona, I cannot—” He stopped, his eyes bleak. “I have a son. His name is Maylon. Find him, tell him—”

“Yuso.” I caught his gaze, holding him steady, although my own doubt pounded through me. “I’m not leaving until you’re out of there.”

With a nod, he clenched his teeth and once again started the laborious hand-by-hand crawl up the pole. I heaved back on his weight over and over, finding a rhythm in between each desperate handhold that gave him precious impetus. Gradually, his chest and waist emerged. When his hips finally breached the sucking mud, I dropped the Ji and slithered toward him on hands and knees. Grabbing his outstretched hands, I pulled him free. In a clumsy mix of sliding, dragging, and crawling, we made our way back to secure ground.

Yuso turned to study the ridge, then gave a soft grunt of relief. “It is still holding, but we should get out of here.” He stood up and tested his right leg. A large tear in the thigh of his mudsoaked trousers was dark with blood.

“Is it bad?” I asked.

He dismissed it with a shake of his head. “I can walk.” He offered me his hand and pulled me upright. My own legs were trembling with the afterwash of effort. And fear.

“Did you see what happened to the emperor?” I asked, as he ushered me forward. “Or any of the others?”

Yuso shook his head.

“What if …?” I couldn’t voice the possibility.

“If His Majesty is dead, then it is all over,” Yuso said flatly. He picked up the Ji. “There is no reason for a resistance.”

“But Sethon can’t be emperor. He will destroy the thousand years of peace.”

“Whatever way it goes, the thousand years of peace are over,” Yuso said.

Using the blade at the end of the pike to test the ground, he limped toward the horse and soldier. I wanted to deny his bleak assessment, but the ache in my chest knew he was right. I followed his footprints across the firmer mud.

“Did you say you have a son, captain?” I asked, trying to focus on something other than our tortuously slow progress through the sludge.

He turned, his eyes narrowed. “It would be better for both of us if you forgot I said that.”

“Why?”

“It is forbidden — on pain of death — for an Imperial Guard to have family ties.” He held my gaze. “Do you understand? No one else must know of my son.”

I nodded. “I swear on my dragon I will not tell anyone. But how did you become a father?”

Yuso turned back to navigating the treacherous ground. “I was not born a eunuch, my lady.” He stopped in front of the dead soldier and peered into the man’s slack face. “I sired my son before I was cut. I was very young.”

A few limped steps took him to the horse. He bent and stroked the animal’s mud-caked neck. “One of our mares, poor girl.” He looked up at the ridge, gauging its stability, then unbuckled the saddlebag and heaved it free. “His mother died when he was born — may she walk in heaven’s glory — so he is my only family.”

“He must be very precious to you.”

“He is now a lieutenant in Sethon’s army.”