Prologue
Farren didn’t breathe as the final notes from his lute faded, leaving only the crackling percussion of the campfire. No applause came from the clan tonight, no acknowledgment of the words and melody he had woven tirelessly for the past three days. They knew what he had done and whose wrath it would incur.
His eyes met his chief’s. Throughout the song, Karn’s expression had betrayed all his emotions. First the bitter sadness that had lingered since his last battle. Since Alísa had been stolen again before his eyes.
Next came shock, the kind Farren himself would have felt if, upon entering his tent, he found that someone had used his lute and then left it lying on the ground outside its case.
Then anger, walking the line between indignation and outrage. Karn’s face turned the color of his copper hair and his clenched fists pressed against his kilt’s red and brown plaid. A younger man might cower, but Farren had earned too many gray hairs at Karn’s side to fear him anymore. Only Karn’s own clan, people to whom the secret of the Dragon Singers had already been revealed, had heard this song. Farren had revealed nothing new, but by presenting the tales in song he declared his intentions to bring such secrets into the light for many, many others.
Karn stood and spoke in a quiet growl. “Leave us.”
Threat of dragon-fire could not have made the clan move more quickly.
Hanah stayed at Karn’s side, sadness lingering in her silvery-blue eyes. The Lady of the clan stood tall with her auburn hair falling in loose waves over her shoulders, unbraided since the day she learned her daughter’s fate. Her quiet way of mourning for her stolen daughter while remaining strong before the clan. Farren’s heart ached at the thought of Alísa caught in the talons of the dragons, falling subject to evil’s will.
Maker, save her.
Only one other person dared to stay in the chief’s presence. Karn’s apprentice, Alísa’s intended, and Farren’s co-conspirator, Kallar sat unmoving as the stone mountains surrounding this valley. Farren knew better. He had seen the fire in the young man’s heart, and he silently prayed Kallar’s fervor would help and not hinder as they convinced Karn of their plan.
“What was that?” Karn’s voice was hot water just before boiling.
“That is Alísa’s only chance.”
Karn’s arm sliced through the air as he stalked toward Farren. “Don’t you dare claim you know how to save her—as though sharing these stories will do anything more than paint a target on her back!”
Farren kept his voice low and calm. “Ignorance and fear are the first steps toward hatred. By—”
“And what of Allara’s first clan, when they were brought out of the dark? They tried to kill her! The only way to save Alísa is for us to find her. Spreading the secrets of the chiefs will only accomplish mass panic.”
“How do you intend to find her first?” Farren spread his hands, i
ndicating the surrounding mountains. “Will you search every mountain in a month? Storm every cave? Would even a year be enough time?”
“Don’t presume to know what I can and cannot do—”
“Karn.” Hanah, ever the reasonable one, placed a hand on the chief’s arm. “My love, Farren’s counsel has never led you astray. Let him speak.”
Karn’s chest heaved with every breath. One. Two. Three.
“Go on.”
Farren nodded to chief and lady. “I do not wish to cause you pain, but I’ve lived among slayers long enough to understand the evil Alísa faces. How much time does she have? You need every person in Arran to be our eyes if we are to find her.”
Karn shook his head, defeat in his voice. “Generations of chiefs have kept the secret of the Dragon Singers. I cannot go against their wisdom.”
“Yes. You can.” Kallar accused as he stood. His ice-blue eyes gleamed in the firelight, and his half-long, half-shorn hair
proclaimed the warrior he never ceased to be. “You just won’t. I knew you wouldn’t, which is why I went to Farren first.”
Karn’s eyes widened. “You? You’re behind this treachery?”
“If contradicting the ‘wisdom’ of men long dead is treachery—yes. What wisdom is there in keeping people in the dark?”
“To protect the innocent and keep order. There are others whose empathy is broken, who feel dragon emotions against their wills, yet are not Singers. If everyone knew dragon empathy was a warning sign, these innocent slayers would be in danger, as would the children of Allara and any other Singer who might fight for our side in the future. Would you risk so many for one?” Karn’s voice barely whispered past his throat. “Even one so dearly loved?”
“Yes.”
“Then I have taught you nothing! A chief cannot risk so much, even for their child. I—”
Karn’s broad shoulders shuddered as emotion cut off his words. He bowed his head and covered his face with a hand, sitting back down on the log. Hanah went with him, taking his hand as the great chief wept.
Maker above. In all their years together, Farren had never seen Karn weep. Not even when Alísa was first stolen, nor when he came down the mountain after failing to save her. Even Kallar seemed stunned.
“Generations—” Karn breathed out, his voice slow and halting. “Generations of chiefs have decided how best to protect those under their care. Who am I to say otherwise? My heart yearns to do what you say, as though it is the rightest thing in the world. But the heart so easily deceives. Among so many who say it must be one way, how could I possibly be the one who is right?”
Hanah’s arm slid from Karn’s back as she faced him. “Fear, too, deceives. Perhaps it deceived all the chiefs who decided Bria’s fate and which secrets they would keep.”
She looked to Farren and Kallar, her chin lifted with command. “It is rare that wise counsel and brash action walk hand-in-hand.
Surely you do not come simply with a heart’s desire, but with truth and logic to sway the mind of a chief?”
Farren stepped closer to Karn, taking control before Kallar jumped in with blunt words.
“Karn, I believe the chiefs of Bria’s day were wrong. This should never have been a secret. If I had known Dragon Singers existed, I could have told you long ago that Alísa was one.”
Wide eyes turned on Farren, and he nodded. “Alísa’s voice has always been especially moving. Once I even thought I saw an image in my head as she sang. I pushed it away as my overactive imagination rather than recognizing it as a sign. If people like me knew, we could help them at an earlier age. Train them to use or suppress their power so they aren’t left to the mercy of the dragons.”
Karn opened his mouth, and Farren rushed to answer his unspoken protest. “Yes, this knowledge could put them in danger from humankind as well, but that is why the song is so important. The words I’ve woven encourage understanding and support. Not all will listen, but many will.”
“I agree,” Hanah said. “Your tale gave even Bria grace. Though I fail to see how this helps Alísa now.”
Kallar huffed and looked at Farren. “I told you to use the full song.”
Farren inclined his head to chief and lady. “There are indeed two more stanzas. I thought it best that you hear it privately first, rather than cause you sorrow before the clan.”
Farren raised his lute and lifted his voice once more.
I will tell you a tale
Of a final captured soul.
By tooth and claw, by scaled wing,
The dragons bid Alísa sing
To bring about their goal.
I will tell you a tale
But you decide its end.
To bring her home and save her soul
Her father’s clan must play their role,
To Karn your hand extend.
Karn studied the ground as Farren lowered his instrument. As he had suspected, hearing Alísa’s name and plight in song form affected the chief greatly. Now to convince him of the necessity of these stanzas.
“Such words may bring you shame among the clans, but they will make your plea clear. If others heed the song and learn of Alísa’s whereabouts, messengers will be sent to you.”
Karn met Farren’s eyes, determination rising. “Shame does not concern me—only Alísa’s rescue and the good of our world.” He looked to Kallar. “You understand the consequences?”
Kallar nodded firmly, his jaw set. Something passed between chief and apprentice that Farren couldn’t begin to guess, but the steadiness in Kallar’s eyes made him understand how the young man could call his elders to follow him into caves rank with dragons’ breath.
Karn stood and placed a heavy hand on Farren’s shoulder. “You have convinced me. We will stop at every village on the way to Parrin, and you will tell the tales. Parrin is a major trading post—there will be many messengers and bards passing through who will carry the song on their way.” His eyes hardened. “And every slayer chief who objects will answer to me.”
The great chief released Farren’s shoulder and marched back into camp. Hanah watched him go before rising herself, the grace of her movements betraying none of her sorrow. Striding to Farren, she wrapped her arms around him briefly, whispering her thanks.
Then she turned to Kallar. A moment of silent regard passed between them before she grabbed the apprentice and pulled him into a tight embrace. Kallar looked supremely uncomfortable, like he half-expected her to pull a knife from her skirts and stab him in the back. Just as suddenly, Hanah released him and walked after her husband into the cluster of worn leather tents.
Kallar watched her leave, his brow smoothing as though a great burden had been lifted from him. It lasted only a moment before Kallar’s eyes hardened again and settled on Farren.
“The last line of the second stanza still doesn’t rhyme.”
Farren raised an eyebrow. “Do I tell you how to wield your sword?”
Kallar grunted. “I expected more from a professional songweaver.”
“Art is never perfected, young slayer, merely set free.”
Farren aimed for his tent, the chill of evening beginning to settle in his bones. Kallar took long strides to match his pace.
“You also focused only on women,” the slayer said. “I told you, we don’t know that men can’t be Dragon Singers, too.”
Farren inclined his head. “Granted. But so far, the pattern holds true, and something within a man of honor feels especially called to protect the women in his life. We want them moved to action, so that is where I laid my focus.”
“That’s” —Kallar paused, his eyebrows lifting as though impressed— “kind of manipulative.”
Farren tsked and shook a rebuking finger. “I prefer ‘perceptive’. ‘Perspicacious’, even.”
“Whatever.”
“Words have power, Kallar. You would do well to remember that and choose yours more wisely.”
Kallar snorted, angling toward his tent. “Good night, Songweaver.”
Farren chuckled through his own goodbye, wondering at the odd partnership that had grown between them. He glanced up as a sprinkling of stars shimmered through a break in the cloud-cover, and shivered under their gaze.
He had found Alísa bundled up on an evening much like this, pack over her shoulder and determination in her eyes. There had been a sense of peace in his heart about her leaving—a peace he had always associated with the Maker’s will. But now Alísa was left alone in the talons of the enemy. How could he have been so wrong?
But the plan to convince Karn had worked. Now Farren begged the Maker and any Eldra who might listen that the song would bring them word of Alísa before her mind was too turned by the dragons to save—and before slayers came upon her and ended her misery with violence rather than care.
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