Page 110 of Fire to the Stars

“This will be a stealth mission only,” Marshal Payen says. “Reconnaissance to see what I’m up against, in case I need to summon reinforcements from other marshals to handle the arrests. My goal is to ensure none of you see combat.”

“How will you do that?” I ask.

“We’ll take advantage of their owl form by searching the area during the full moon.”

Marshal Payen explains her basic idea for the trek. Claire will give directions. A dozen gendarmes will take the vanguard in plain clothes to appear like game hunters in the event they are spotted. Rotating positions should maintain the guise of uncoordinated movement. It worked for Marshal Payen the first time, while she still had the prisoner in custody.

“The problem is time,” Marshal Payen adds, crossing herarms. “It’ll take two days of riding just to reach the spot where we lost the prisoner, and roughly one or two more to finish the search. As much as I’d prefer to keep our journey short, I don’t want to miss anything. We should budget for four days, with the night of the full moon as the last stretch of exploration.”

“Then we can start the journey back down the mountain?” I ask.

“Correct.”

Claire interrupts. “That schedule guarantees we’ll be on the mountain on Ignition Day. If we don’t find a cure, Abel will have to slay me within the vicinity of the cultists. Won’t that guarantee we face combat?”

“Don’t you have enough sleep powder left for one more Ignition?” I ask.

“Barely,” she whispers.

“Then you won’t turn into a dragon while we’re up there,” I assure her. “If worse comes to worst, just use the sleep powder. I’ll carry you back down the mountain, then slay you next month. I promise.”

Lucy flattens her ears and shifts uncomfortably on Claire’s lap. But it doesn’t take my tinderfox to expose just how tense she is. Her fingers make knots of Lucy’s fur, and her eyes gleam with fresh tears. Her fear hits my stomach like a meteorite, now that she’s not bothering to mask it anymore.

I face Lyle. “I’ll need a new crossbow. Bolts too. Just in case.”

“Sure,” he replies, with a sad smile to Claire. “On the house.”

“Make one for every gendarme who joins the trek. And for you,” I address Marshal Payen. “With any luck, moonmetal weapons can kill the owls.”

It’s a presumptive theory; there’s no guarantee owls mirror dragons when it comes to their weaknesses. At the very least, equipping everyone with moonmetal is a way to ease Claire’s mind.

She grips the hem of my coat sleeve. Her lips move almost imperceptibly to shape the phraseThank you.

Marshal Payen rises from her seat. “Rest while you can, and eat properly. Do not speak of this mission within earshot ofanyoneoutside this room,” she commands. “I’m not taking any chances that this plan leaks to the cultists. Our teammustvanish undetected, even by the rest of my gendarmes. I will brief my subordinates on what has transpired after I return. Understood?”

We all nod.

In the days that follow, Lyle sources the moonmetal and forges what we need. He sharpens my sword, my daggers, and Hanna’s shackle. True to his word, he accepts no payment. Marshal Payen restricts me and Claire to the barracks to ensure we’re not seen. She selects her most trusted gendarmes to accompanyus.

Then we start our ascent.

The pit was a disaster zone. The trellis netting caught fire and collapsed onto the dragon, but trapped four of the six trainees as well. Of the two trainees who survived to slay the dragon, one lost an arm. We need to cap the number of participants allowed per target for these final exams. There’s a difference between using chaos as camouflage and sacrificing our allies to get the job done.

—Proctor’s notes regarding the Slayers Guild badge exam for trainee class of 752 AA

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Claire

This high up the mountain forest, my chest struggles to fill with air, as if the world itself is telling me I don’t deserve my next breath. Snowflakes constantly catch in my eyelashes. Icy wind chafes my nose and lips. This snowfall is nothing like the gentle flurries during the Ascension Day parade.

Marshal Payen rides up beside my horse. “Does anything call to you from here?”

The dozen gendarmes Marshal Payen selected to escort us watch me like a silverwolf must watch a fawna.

“There.” I point at the snow-shrouded spike of rock over the trees. “The summit. That’s our destination.”

“You’re positive?”