“I heard you scream,” Rysaran said. He glanced at the chasm behind her.
“You should stay away from it,” she replied. “It’s safer for you.”
Rysaran pressed a hand against his head. “I’m more me when I am closer to it,” he murmured. “Over the years, it took...parts of me. I can’t explain how. It’s made us both weaker, I think.” He took a step forward, stumbling in the effort. Sume rushed forward to grab him.
“Thank you,” he whispered as she set him down. He looked at her. “You’re...coherent, are you not?”
“I think I am,” she said. “There was a moment there where it did that thing it does—and then I was just worrying about keeping myself from falling.”
“That’s because of me,” he said with a soft smile. “It sees me and suddenly I am all it can see. I remember more when I am near it. Even as I am drawing back what remains of me from it, it is trying to get the rest.”
“You’re fighting it right now as we speak?”
Rysaran nodded, a small drop of blood appearing from under his nose. He noticed it, wiped it away, and stared at his hand. “Its obsession is...astonishing.”
“Is this what you meant when you said it’s weaker, now?”
“Not weaker. Weaker only because it wants more than it has.” Rysaran gestured at the chasm. “I trapped it there way back when I realized I couldn’t control it, right after Shirrokaru. Months ago now, I think.”
“Three years.”
The smile faded from his face. “So long. I was afraid it was at least a year.” He looked up, meeting her eyes. “Did many people die?”
“Let’s not talk about that. They’re rebuilding—that’s all you need to know.”
“You are too kind, Sume. But I think I know the answer. I think I’ve heard them, down there.” He pointed with a crooked finger. “I led it here. It broke the bridge and fell and it couldn’t get out. I thought I would let it get weaker first, let it get hungry and then maybe I could try again.”
“Rysaran…” she started, before realizing there was no point. It might be a wretched face she was staring at now, but she recognized the same, stubborn fire in his eyes.
“I did that. I waited. It tried to break me. For a while, I thought I was winning.” He wiped his nose again. “When I felt its presence grow so weak that I knew I could try to tame it again, I went out to get ropes and chains, maybe a saddle. Some of the abandoned towers here have equipment caches. I took too long. When I came back…” He took a deep breath. “When I came back, I learned that children from the village had passed by, which I should’ve figured would have happened eventually, because didn’t my sister and I used to play in these same ruins? There were six or eight. It lured them straight into its jaws. The...sustenance...” His face tightened, speaking the words. “...made it a lot stronger, and it faced me with renewed vigour. I had to start all over again.”
“Rysaran,” she repeated softly. “You should know by now that this is no ordinary dragon we speak of.”
“I know that,” he said. “It is a strong one. Perhaps a deity? An old god?”
“It is an abomination.”
“Call it what you like, Sume. If I have it, there will be peace in these lands again.” He pressed his hand on her knee. “Forgive my manners. I didn’t even tell you how glad I am to see you again.”
“I’ve been looking for you. They all think you’re dead. Your absence is causing more strife than you know. Your sister is claiming the throne for her own, while Ryabei is trying to make his own claim. The Ikessars are divided. You need to return and set things right.”
For a moment, Sume thought this would’ve been enough to snap him to his senses. But Rysaran’s eyes continued to stare into the void, as if he didn’t hear her at all. “I can’t leave,” he murmured. There was blood leaking out of his ears. “I have to break it. A little more time, and...no, no,” he mumbled, his voice even softer now. “...you cannot have that. That is not yours to take, you silly thing.”
Sume pulled his arm up around her shoulder. He didn’t protest. She gave Arn an angry look before dragging Rysaran back to the mouth of the cave. There, the bleeding stopped, the blankness returned to his eyes, and he sang a children’s song about frangipani blossoms.
“How does he do that?” Arn’s voice creaked as he appeared beside her. “He has no connection to the agan. I do, but facing that thing is like a blow to my head.” He mumbled the last part, as if he was ashamed to admit it.
She placed her weary arms on her knees. “I don’t know,” she said. “Perhaps it is his mind’s strength that does it.”
Arn snorted. “A mad prince’s mind has strength?”
“You know nothing about him.” She looked at the prince. He had started to rock back and forth again. “It draws on your weakness, doesn’t it? Your anger and your regrets, your fears and desires. Guilt. But Rysaran lacks avarice.”
“He wants that dragon for power,” Arn pointed out.
“But not that way,” she said. “In the years I’ve known him, I’ve never known him to hold greed or envy. I’m convinced that all the love in his heart leaves room for little else.”
Arn laughed. “That’s what you call strength? That poor fool’s naivete? I haven’t heard such nonsense in a long time.”
“Call it nonsense, if you want,” she murmured. “You were the one cowering in the corner after five minutes in its presence.”
Arn’s face flickered, but he didn’t reply. His silence allowed Sume to press her head against her arms and close her eyes. She could hear her heart beating in a rhythm that matched the clawing inside her skull, as if a rat was curled up in there, begging to get out. She realized that perhaps the only reason she was still able to think so clearly was because the creature had exhausted itself on both Rysaran and Rosha, whose dreams it tried to invade in the months following its escape from Oren-yaro.
Oh my love, she thought, picturing the little girl in her mind as she was the last time she saw her. If the creature succeeds in conquering Rysaran, would it begin to follow Rosha again? She didn’t know; she knew little beyond that she would give anything to learn that her daughter was safe at last.
The uncertainty of their whole situation was more than she knew how to handle. It was, she thought, what drove her back into Enosh’s arms that night. She needed to have a better handle on her emotions. Foolishness was...unbecoming for one her age.
Still, it was confusing how foolishness could taste so sweet. Sitting on the edge of Enosh’s bed, she became distinctly aware of two things: one, that she was going through with this, and two, that she was going to over-think this in the morning.
He got up and drifted around the room, pushing the wooden louvred windows shut before walking to the table to light the candles. “No,” she found herself saying, before he could strike a match.
Enosh looked at her, a question in his eyes. When she didn’t answer, he dropped his head to nod once and walked back to her. He took his time, too, which was exactly how she remembered him. A part of him always seemed to relish in the power he held, in knowing that he was wanted. Thinking about it irritated her more than she expected.
But she had loved him when she was young, and the memory of that—for her—was difficult to erase. Her response to his scent and his movements...the way his lips grazed her ear...was surprising. It was like performing a dance she thought she had long forgotten, only to find out that she still knew the steps. She traced her finger across the slight ridge along his smooth chest, allowing him to gently push her against the bed.
His hands opened her robe. She froze for a moment, wondering whether he would comment—she had gained some weight in the years since she had given birth to his daughter—but he simply eased the fabric apart along her shoulders before he nuzzled her skin.
“Don’t,” she murmured.
He cracked a smile. “You’ve at least gone and told me two things I shouldn’t do, and we haven’t even started yet.”
&n
bsp; “Do you ever stop talking?” she asked.
“I think you know me well enough to know that I don’t.” He peeled the rest of her robe from her skin and threw it aside.
Sume drew a blanket over them as his hands made their way down and wrapped her arms around his neck. She kissed him again, and again, the memory of his taste in her mouth made her want to pull away and tell him how much it hurt to understand that love was not like in the stories. Would he understand? Would he at least try to?
She placed her hand on his cheek and the ragged scar on his left eye, the one that ran from one corner and a fingernail’s length down his cheek. He entered her, and she thought about how unfair it was that she would change so much while he was still the same. It was not just that she was aware of how firm his body was compared to her scars; he still looked at her the same way he did, all those years ago, which was impossible if it was true. Enosh was a charmer, a fabricator, a man whose skills in the agan largely revolved around enchanting people to do what he wanted them to.
So why, then, are you with him?
A moment after he found his release, he pulled her into his arms, wordlessly drawing her head against his chest. She stiffened for a moment before allowing herself to close her eyes.
Pretend, she told herself. Pretend that all is as it should be, and you are back where you were. But did she really want that again? Or was it now only comfort she wanted, now that she was too old for dreaming?
Sume awakened to the sound of the griffon’s panicked screams. Her first instinct was to reach for the dagger in her belt. She saw Arn scrabbling for his sword at the same time.
“You sent for them behind my back!” Arn hissed, swinging his sword towards her. By luck or on purpose, he missed, catching only part of her robe. He kicked at the ground towards her before he rushed towards the two figures in the distance. The griffon barrelled through the sky after him.
The scent of fire and ash exploded in the air. Sume saw Sapphire flinging a ball of flame towards the griffon. It struck the creature on the wing, singeing flesh and fur. Just as quickly, Arn was on her, his sword clashing against the barrier she’d conjured.
Enosh appeared beside Arn, striking him with his own sword. Arn appeared too distraught to defend himself. Enosh’s blade struck his arm.
He pushed back, swinging. The griffon returned in a loop and grabbed his shoulders, taking him to the sky while he protested. Sapphire released another flaming ball, but it missed. The griffon hissed a warning at her before it disappeared in the air.
“Sometimes I think Yn Garr sets him on us as a joke,” Enosh said as the dust settled. He grinned at Sume. The expression softened his gaunt face; he had lost a lot of weight since she had seen him. “Good morning, princess of merchants. You look like you’ve been up all night kissing frogs.”
Sume remembered yesterday’s events and wiped the dried mud off her chin. “What happened to you?” she asked.
“Don’t worry about it,” he said, sheathing his sword. “Your message said that you’ve found Naijwa’s beast. Well done. What did I tell you, Sapphire?”
“What, exactly, did you tell me?” Sapphire drawled. “We haven’t even confirmed it yet.”
“Arn wouldn’t be here otherwise,” Enosh pointed out. He took a few steps forward, dragging one foot as he did. “You’ll have to forgive her, my dear—she’s just being a sourpuss because she had to make a portal to get us through here.”
“She can do that?”
“Evidently.”
“Without ever having been here before?”
“Old cat’s a bag full of tricks, isn’t she?”
“It was only possible,” Sapphire snapped, “because of the massive streams of agan running through these mountains. I told you this. Nothing I say ever gets through that thick skull of yours.”
“I seem to recall being told that Jin-Sayeng is all dried up when it comes to agan streams.”
“You’ve got to stop being so smug about things every educated mage is aware of.” She glanced at Sume. “Because you people kill would-be mages, many of the little connections that they would’ve naturally made through the rift disappeared. The less agan streams in Jin-Sayeng, the less dragons—who connect themselves to these to allow themselves to grow big and breath fire—appeared. These parts are where you used to capture the most dragons, ergo, it is the last place where natural streams still occur. I used this to transport us from Sutan, where we have only just arrived when your message reached us. Only very powerful mages could do this without the help of these streams.”
“You know, when she talks, I can hear this most peaceful buzzing in my ears,” Enosh said. “Do you hear it, too?”
Sume smiled. Sapphire scowled at them both before leading the way back to the cave. Rysaran looked up as they walked in. “That’s the Jin-Sayeng king, isn’t it?”
“She was right all along,” Enosh grinned. He snapped his fingers in front of Rysaran’s face. “This one’s too far gone. He’s riddled with holes from the inside. It’s interesting to see all the different reactions people get when it begins its intrusions. I’ve seen a man break apart almost instantly.” The thought seemed to amuse him more than anything. “I’m curious, though. You said he was with the creature when we first lost track of it. Why would he return?”
“What do you mean? He’s been with it the past three years.”
The amusement disappeared from Enosh’s face. He looked at Rysaran again. “That doesn’t sound right. I didn’t know the Jin-Sayeng king was connected to the agan.”
“He’s not,” Sapphire said, waving her hand above Rysaran’s head. “He’s as dead to it as she is.”
“That’s unheard of,” Enosh gasped. “Why is he still alive?”
“How would I know?” Sapphire snapped. “Ask him yourself.”
Enosh knelt in front of Rysaran. “That’s remarkable. I’ve never seen anyone withstand its effects like this. A week was considered good, back when we were trying to find recruits to help transport it. But three years?” He glanced at Sume, who was fidgeting.
“I thought maybe that because he had unusually pure intentions, he was able to fend it off better,” Sume said.
Sapphire chortled. “The same man who tricked a rival into stealing the creature from Yn Garr’s clutches so that it wouldn’t hurt his people?”
“He didn’t know what he was doing,” Sume mumbled. “I don’t think he meant for things to unfold the way they did.”
“A simple-minded way of looking at things. People react to agan, including agan-wrought creatures, in different ways because…”
“If I’m an idiot, and she’s an idiot,” Enosh said, “doesn’t that make us both geniuses?”
Sapphire narrowed her eyes. “Just because you’re sleeping with her doesn’t mean you have to listen to her absurd ideas, too.”
Sume’s cheeks flushed. “Hold on,” she said.
“No point denying it,” Enosh replied. “It’s pretty much an accepted fact that I’m sleeping with every agreeable woman in the vicinity.” He winked at Sume, revelling in the thinly veiled barb.
Sapphire seemed unaffected. “Getting back to the topic at hand…”
“Right,” Enosh said. “I was going to say, before we went off-tangent, that I think I know this man.” He placed a hand on Rysaran’s shoulder. “Ing Vahn. You’re Ing Vahn, aren’t you?” Rysaran’s eyes flickered.
“He travelled under that name in his youth,” Sume said. “And his sister did say he’s been to Gorent.”
“Ah, I feared as much,” Enosh murmured. “Vahn? It’s me, Enosh.”
“I knew an Enosh,” Rysaran murmured, stirring long enough to fix them with his unsteady gaze. “He died. Didn’t he?”
“You could speak to him a bit better if you take him closer to the chasm,” Sume said. “But don’t. It hurts him.”
Enosh patted Rysaran’s shoulder. “I’ll take a look first, see what we’re dealing with.” He took a deep breath. “Are you rea
dy, Orsalian?”
She snorted. “Is that a rhetorical question?”
“Is that?” He laughed before heading down the trail to the chasm. Only the laughter told Sume what he must really feel—to the naked eye, he looked like he was simply strolling into a banquet. She and Sapphire exchanged glances before following him.
Enosh held his hand out after a few steps. “Perhaps you shouldn’t go any further than this,” he said.
“Imbecile,” Sapphire retorted. “What makes you think—”
“I was talking about Sume.”
“I’ve been further in before,” Sume said. “I’m still alive.” She didn’t think it was necessary for him to know about almost falling in the last time.
He smiled at her. “I do appreciate the courage, my lady, but the beast is craftier than you think it is. The more you expose yourself to it, the more it figures out a way to get through you. Stay with the prince.”
Sume blinked. “You called him king before.”
“I suddenly remember his preference.” Enosh scratched his chin. “Not truly a king unless he found his dragon. It was the reason he travelled under the guise of a scholar. Explains all of this, really. Well, Sapphire? Let’s not tarry a moment longer.”
“You’re the one delaying this whole thing,” Sapphire grumbled, walking past Sume.
Sume returned to Rysaran and sat next to him. “He knows you,” she murmured, tracing a line on the dust next to him. “Just my luck.” Realizing, a moment later, how girlish she was acting, she erased the line with her palm, leaned back, and closed her eyes. She could hear the rumble of Enosh and Sapphire’s voices in the distance, noting that she could tell which one was Enosh’s by the smooth timbre of it. After realizing that she was starting to listen to his voice too much, she told Rysaran she was going to go out for a moment, and left the cave to do a quick check of their surroundings.
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