A Forge of Valor . Морган Райс

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ mother smiled at her, and Kyra felt her mother slowly letting go, drifting away. Kyra felt a rush of fear as she knew her mother would leave, be gone forever. Kyra tried to hold onto her, but she withdrew her hand and instead placed her palm on Kyra’s stomach. Kyra felt intense heat and love coursing through it, healing her. Slowly, she felt herself being restored.

      “I will not let you die,” her mother replied. “My love for you is stronger than fate.”

      Suddenly, her mother disappeared.

      In her place stood a beautiful boy, staring back at her with glowing grey eyes, long, straight hair, mesmerizing her. She could feel the love in his gaze.

      “I, too, will not let you die, Kyra,” he echoed.

      He leaned in, placed his palm on her stomach, the same place her mother’s had been, and she felt an even more intense heat course through her body. She saw a white light and felt heat gushing through her, and as she felt herself coming back to life she could barely breathe.

      “Who are you?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

      Drowning in the heat and the light, she could not help but close her eyes.

      Who are you? echoed in her mind.

      Kyra opened her eyes slowly, feeling an intense wave of peace, of calm. She looked all about, expecting to still be on the ocean, to see the water, the sky.

      Instead, she heard the ubiquitous chirping of insects. She turned, confused, to find herself in the woods. She was lying in a clearing and she felt intense heat radiating in her stomach, the place where she had been stabbed, and she looked down to see a single hand there. It was a beautiful, pale hand, touching her stomach, as it had in her dream. Lightheaded, she looked up to see those beautiful grey eyes staring down at her, so intense, they seemed to be glowing.

      Kyle.

      He knelt at her side, one hand on her forehead, and as he touched her, Kyra slowly felt her wound being healed, slowly felt herself returning to this world, as if he were willing her back. Had she really visited with her mother? Had it been real? She felt as if she had been meant to die, and yet somehow, her destiny had been changed. It was as if her mother had intervened. And Kyle. Their love had brought her back. That, and, as her mother had said, her own courage.

      Kyra licked her lips, too weak to sit up. She wanted to thank Kyle, but her throat was too parched and the words would not come out.

      “Shh,” he said, seeing her struggle, leaning forward and kissing her forehead.

      “Did I die?” she finally managed to ask.

      After a long silence he answered, his voice soft, yet powerful.

      “You have come back,” he said. “I would not let you go.”

      It was a strange feeling; looking into his eyes, she felt as if she had always known him. She reached out and grabbed his wrist, squeezing it, so grateful. There was so much she wanted to say to him. She wanted to ask him why he would risk his life for her; why he cared so much about her; why he would sacrifice to bring her back. She sensed he had, indeed, made a great sacrifice for her, a sacrifice that would somehow hurt him.

      Most of all, she wanted him to know what she was feeling right now.

      I love you, she wanted to say.

      But the words would not come out. Instead, a wave of exhaustion overcame her, and as her eyes closed, she had no choice but to succumb. She felt herself falling deeper and deeper into sleep, the world racing by her, and she wondered if she were dying again. Had she only been brought back for a moment? Had she come back one last time just to say goodbye to Kyle?

      And as a deep slumber finally overtook her, she could have sworn she heard a few last words before she drifted off for good:

      “I love you, too.”

      CHAPTER FIVE

      The baby dragon flew in agony, each flap of his wings an effort, struggling to stay in the air. He flew, as he had for hours, over the countryside of Escalon, feeling lost and alone in this cruel world he had been born into. There flashed through his mind images of his dying father, lying there, his great eyes closing, being jabbed to death by all those human soldiers. His father, whom he had never had a chance to know, except for that one moment of glorious battle; his father, who had died saving him.

      The baby dragon felt his father’s death as if it were his own, and with each flap of his wings, he felt more burdened by the guilt. If it were not for him, his father might be alive right now.

      The dragon flew, torn with grief and remorse at the idea that he would never have a chance to know his father, to thank him for his selfless act of valor, for saving his life. A part of him no longer wanted to live either.

      Another part, though, burned with rage, was desperate to kill those humans, to avenge his father and destroy the land below him. He did not know where he was, yet he sensed intuitively that he was oceans away from his homeland. Some instinct drove him to go back home; yet he did not know where home was.

      The baby flew aimlessly, so lost in the world, breathing flames on treetops, on whatever he could find. Soon he ran out of fire, and soon after that, he found himself dipping lower and lower, with each flap of the wing. He tried to rise, but he found, in a panic, that he no longer had the strength. He tried to avoid a treetop, but his wings could no longer lift him, and he smashed right into it, smarting from all the old wounds that had not healed.

      In agony, he bounced off it and continued flying, his elevation continually decreasing as he lost strength. He dripped blood, falling like raindrops below. He was weak from hunger, from his wounds, from the thousand jabs of spears he had received. He wanted to fly on, to find a target for destruction, but he felt his eyes closing, too heavy for him now. He felt himself drifting in and out of consciousness.

      The dragon knew he was dying. In a way it was a relief; soon, he would join his father.

      He was awakened by the sound of rustling leaves and cracking branches and as he felt himself smashing through treetops, he finally opened his eyes. His vision was obscured in a world of green. No longer able to control himself, he felt himself tumbling, snapping branches, each snap hurting him more.

      He finally came to an abrupt stop high up in a tree, stuck between branches, too weak to struggle. He hung there, immobile, in too much pain to move, each breath hurting more than the next. He was sure he would die up here, tangled in the trees.

      One of the branches suddenly gave with a loud snap, and the dragon plummeted. He tumbled end over end, snapping more branches, falling a good fifty feet, until finally he hit the ground.

      He lay there, feeling all his ribs cracking, breathing blood. He flapped one wing slowly, but could not do much more.

      As he felt the life force leaving him, it felt unfair, premature. He knew he had a destiny, but he could not understand what it was. It appeared to be short and cruel, born in this world only to witness his father’s death, and then to die himself. Maybe that was what life was: cruel and unfair.

      As he felt his eyes closing for the last time, the dragon found his mind filled with one final thought: Father, wait for me. I will see you soon.

      CHAPTER SIX

      Alec СКАЧАТЬ