Noonshade

by James Barclay

  “Not quite like you,” said Sha-Kaan. There was the nodding of heads and feelings of humour arose in his mind.

  “Why don't you answer the human's questions, Sha?” said Dun-Kaan. “It will be a good test of your knowledge.”

  “Yes, Dun-Kaan, it will be my honour.” Sha-Kaan swept his head low, extending his neck before snapping it back to the formal stretched “s” shape, head angled down to look directly at Septern more than a dozen feet below him.

  “We flatter ourselves that we are complex beings trapped in ungainly bodies that only fulfil their potential in flight. There are many among us who crave the freedom of hands that could carve and build, and a size and flexibility that allows travel everywhere,” began Sha-Kaan.

  “But the trade-off with size is the loss of power,” said Septern.

  “And we would no longer be dragons,” agreed Sha-Kaan. “So the craving is limited to those moments when we watch the Vestare at work on the structures we would love to build ourselves.

  “But there is much more to us than size, strength and language. We feel the press of dimensions, we can travel them without the aid of magic such as yours and we need the energies they provide us to survive and develop.”

  “So you don't need me.”

  “Ah but we do.” Sha-Kaan moved closer, relaxing his torso and leaning forward, his shadow covering Septern. “Because to leave our dimension without the knowledge of where we will finish is a risk none but the foolish and desperate would take.”

  “But you've seen other humans,” said Septern. “So you must have been to Balaia.”

  “We receive visions. All dragons do. I have seen the sights of countless dimensions, including yours, when the alignment has been right and they have passed through the sphere of my psyche. But for all we see, we cannot travel to these places to establish links unless we are shown the way or manage to arrive with luck after a blind flight.” Sha-Kaan settled on to his stomach, folding his front legs in front of his chest, scales glittering gold as they caught the reflection off the river. Septern moved back to accommodate him. “We want you to show us the way to your dimension.”

  Septern scoffed. “I'm sure you do,” he said. “But if you don't mind, I think I'll pass on the sort of help you offered the Avians. I like my land and at least some of the people in it.”

  “Stubborn human,” hissed Ara-Kaan.

  “I beg your pardon?” snapped Septern. “Give me one good reason why I should invite you and your fire to my dimension.”

  Sha-Kaan closed his eyes and drew breath slowly, amazed that this human was being allowed to speak with such disrespect to the Ancients. Though the fact was that from his perspective, he had some valid points.

  “Because another Brood will eventually find the path to your dimension, and your destruction and not protection may be their desire,” he said evenly.

  “Why?”

  “A Brood can only melde with one dimension,” said Dun-Kaan as if to a slow child. “Any Brood finding a second, unprotected dimension, and believe me we all look, will destroy its critical fabrics to stop it falling into enemy hands. If your dimension and the Brood Kaan melde, we can protect you by shielding your location from all other Broods.”

  “And you just expect me to believe that you don't already have a…um…melde-dimension of your own?” Septern raised his eyebrows.

  “We don't quite follow.”

  “How do I know you aren't waiting for my help just to destroy Balaia?”

  Dragons couldn't smile like humans but the space in and among the quartet filled with the feelings that would lead humans to both smile and laugh. Indeed, Septern was caught up in the emotional outflow and couldn't suppress a physical reaction.

  “What? What is it?”

  “Let me assure you, Septern of Balaia,” said Ara-Kaan, “that had you been a representative of an enemy melde-dimension, your mind would have been closed to us, marking you as such; and your charred ashes would be blowing thinly around the dust of Keol while we plundered your dimension through the gateways you built.”

  “I can see why you would find that funny,” said Septern, stone-faced. “All right; assume I accept what you say. How do you protect us and, more importantly, what do you expect in return?”

  “An intelligent question and one that might interest you as a student of dimensional theory,” said Sha-Kaan. “Every dimension, and every living thing of that dimension, has a signature that marks them. We can divine the signature by melding minds with you.”

  Septern nodded for Sha-Kaan to continue. “Once the signature is learned by the Brood, the psyche of the Kaan can shield the location of your dimension from enemy Broods. When we are stronger with the flow of energy from your dimension, we can stop other Broods receiving visions from Balaia.”

  “You tap the energy of my dimension?” Sha-Kaan could see that Septern, despite his suspicion and position, was becoming interested.

  “Yes,” said the young dragon. “Interdimensional space is random energy and it has no direction. We feel it, all dragons do, but the chaos can only sustain our minds. A living dimension is the coalescing of energy into coherent form. To find a melde-dimension is the dream of every Brood, because it can be used to improve the minds of the host Brood, making them stronger, better breeders, more plentiful and longer lived.

  “Yours, with its magic, understanding of theory, however basic, and sheer life energy, is particularly prized.”

  Septern thought for a long time, his brow creased, his hands wringing together. Sha-Kaan found the sight captivating. The Vestare, though valuable, did not have the mental capacity of the human and he found this mage fascinating, touching the periphery of his active mind and finding a pulsing power there.

  Septern looked up at Sha-Kaan. “This signature. Once you have that, is the melde complete?”

  “It is the principal step but it does not make the melde functional,” replied Sha-Kaan. “Put most simply, the signature gives us the light by which to navigate to and from this dimension, assuming the alignment remains constant. Your dimension calls you too but your mind cannot hear its song.”

  Septern nodded. “That makes sense,” he said. “But I have other ways of divining the location of dimensions or why am I here?”

  “Indeed,” said Ara-Kaan, bringing his head in close once again. “We will be very interested to find out your methods.”

  Septern smiled. “Another time. So tell me, how do I help you form the melde?”

  Sha-Kaan breathed out through his nostrils, the twin streams of air playing over Septern's face. “There is nothing simpler,” he said. “Know that I am about to enter your deepest mind and don't fight me. That way leads to pain and your mind is too valuable to damage.”

  “I'll do my best.” Septern sat on a grass-covered stone. “Wait one moment.” He closed his eyes. “My mind is open. Just like before spell preparation. It's as good as you're going to get.”

  “Excellent,” said Sha-Kaan. “I won't harm you so long as you don't resist.”

  “Whenever you're ready.”

  Mirth again. “It is done,” said Sha-Kaan. “Your mind is remarkable. There is a great deal we can learn from each other.”

  “Now what?” asked Septern, a doubtful look on his face.

  “Now we can travel to your dimension. Now we can do with you exactly as we choose.” Ara-Kaan's tone was edged with cold and Sha-Kaan knew a moment of fear before realising it was the Ancient's way of playing a joke. Septern's face had gone sheet white but the Great Kaan brought his colour back. “Fortunately for you, Sha-Kaan told you the whole truth. What we need from you is more people with minds open like yours. Sha-Kaan will show you another way home and instruct you in exactly what we require.”

  And the meeting was over then and there. The Ancients moved away without another word and Sha-Kaan was left with Septern, the first Dragonene of Balaia.

  “Come,” he said. “Let me show you how our dimensions will melde.”

  S
ha-Kaan's attendant ran into the dome of Wingspread, disturbing his memory.

  “My Great Kaan, I am ever your servant.”

  Sha-Kaan raised his head a little from the damp ground. The Vestare in front of him was tall for his kind, perhaps five Balaian feet and, though now in late middle age, still retained the sturdy, muscular frame that typified his race. His hair, the colour of dried Flamegrass, pale and flecked yellow, was cropped above his large and receptive ears, reaching to the nape of his neck and close to his eyebrows. His eyes, the dominant feature, large, round and deepest blue, took in the reduced light of the dome with no lessening of clarity. The braided beard, a mark of his rank as Attendant to the Great Kaan, hung down to his chest.

  Connecting minds, there was no need to speak.

  “Your summons had an edge of urgency, Sha-Kaan.”

  “Humans will be coming here, Jatha, through the Septern gateway. They must not be lost to us. Their signature is our melde; we need their aid.”

  Jatha swallowed hard, the sweat on his forehead not purely due to the heat in the dome.

  “When will they come?”

  “Soon. I cannot be more specific. Theirs is a difficult path to the far side of the gateway. But you must organise Vestare to meet them now. There can be no risk of them reaching the gate before you. Travel there yourself and take enough with you to defend yourselves on the ground. There will be no cover from the Brood. It would draw too much attention. You must leave when the orb has risen three more times.”

  “Your wish, Great Kaan.” Jatha bowed his head. “I would ask why they are coming?”

  “They are charged with repairing the damage they created in our sky and removing the risk to the Brood.”

  “A difficult task, Great Kaan,” said Jatha.

  “Yes,” said Sha-Kaan slowly. “Yes.”

  “You're troubled. Can they succeed?”

  Sha-Kaan stared at Jatha, his eyes blinking very slowly, his tongue flickering over his lids.

  “I don't know,” said the dragon. “They are humans. They are frail but believe themselves strong. But there is something they have. Resilience. And inventiveness. And they have a magic that can aid us.” Sha-Kaan settled his head back on the ground, reaching for some Flamegrass. “I need to rest. Go now and organise yourself. I will eat as darkness falls.”

  Sha-Kaan let his mind drift again. Septern's reign as the first Dragonene had been short-lived. There had always been something dangerous and uncontrolled about the great human and ultimately it had meant that the Kaan never learned his dimensional location secrets.

  A Vestare had taken Septern to the Melde Hall, a vast underground structure only half lodged in the Kaan's dimension. Sha-Kaan himself had shifted into the hall whose doors, like those of Wingspread, would not accept anything the size of a dragon.

  “Doors big enough to admit a dragon on foot are both unmanageable and unnecessary,” Sha-Kaan had said in reply to Septern's question. “I don't believe I have to describe the effort not only to make them but to operate them.”

  The Melde Hall had been built in hope and expectation of the discovery of a suitable melde-dimension. With the news that the event had finally occurred, celebrations had been delayed while the Hall had teemed with Vestare readying it for ceremony, their shouts echoing into its depths. Several hundred had poured in and even so they barely made an impact on the emptiness. They had polished mosaic and marble, swept dust from statues and stocked the Hall, which could comfortably accommodate two hundred dragons, with Flamegrass.

  Sha-Kaan recalled that he had touched the mind of Septern then, feeling the reactions of the Balaian mage…

  Septern remained suspicious, despite the apparent friendliness of Sha-Kaan in particular. His bravado masked a deep anxiety over what he had blundered into and the price Balaia would have to pay for his agreement with the Brood Kaan.

  The hall he was standing in was the single biggest building he had ever seen, hundreds of feet long, its roof lost in the dark, the braziers lining the walls only emphasising its vastness. He could barely see the opposite arch from the one in which he stood and it was only as his eyes slowly adjusted to the gloom and distance that he realised that the series of eighteen arches, each wide enough to admit the largest dragon, led to yet more space on which he couldn't focus.

  Septern took a few steps into the Melde Hall, heading right around its periphery, taking in the statues of dragons and portrayals of battles, laid out in mosaic, that punctuated the enormous stone openings.

  The arches themselves were wide and tall, each better than thirty-five feet wide by twenty high. The surrounds were carved with leaf and plant motifs, great creepers denoting growth, winding their way to twine, in flower, at each apex. Septern moved to the nearest arch. Looking within, totality and oblivion clashed in his mind. He'd felt the sensation before and it set his heart racing.

  “You are intrigued,” said Sha-Kaan.

  “What is this place?” asked Septern. “The power is almost palpable.”

  “It is our version of your gateway. You are looking at a melde-corridor. Choose one and enter. I will be behind you.”

  “If it's all the same, you can go first. Call it a fear of the unknown.” Septern smiled thinly.

  “Or a mistrust of the Kaan,” said the dragon. “Very well.” Sha-Kaan strode across the Melde Hall, his wings unfurled to balance him, his feet leaving deep imprints in the soft ground, which vibrated sharply with every fall. Septern followed but the Kaan, who showed a surprising turn of speed despite the clumsy-looking half-waddle of his walk, disappeared into a corridor just left of centre as the Balaian mage looked on, shouting: “Hurry, human, the next phase of the Kaan is upon us.”

  To the right of the Melde Hall, another dragon appeared, standing tall before relaxing to the ground. Vestare in attendance, the movement of displaced air blowing loose grass on the ground and the hair on Septern's head. A third dragon shifted into the space directly behind Septern, ruffling his cloak and, with sudden fear of being crushed beneath one of the massive gold creatures, the mage began to run hard.

  As he neared the arch Sha-Kaan had chosen, Septern heard more dragons arrive in the Hall, their audible calls combining gently to fill the space with a soft animalian music, at once welcoming and frightening. A last look revealed a Hall that seemed full of raw power, twisting necks and expectancy. Dragon after dragon shifted into the hall, the press of reptilian majesty taking his breath. He chased Sha-Kaan into the rip.

  So unlike his own magically-assisted dimensional travel with its attendant pain and uncontrollable forward motion, the short—or so it seemed—journey down the corridor was akin to walking in dense, cloying fog.

  Behind him, the Hall and all its sound and light had gone. All around him was the crush of what had to be interdimensional space. He put out his hands but could feel nothing. Below his feet, the outline of a path blew in the surreal light, and enclosing his body, a gentle pressure that sucked in his lungs and constricted his chest. But there was no pain.

  And before he had time to truly register his speed, he stepped out into another great domed hall, this time with tall, iron-bound wooden double doors set in the opposite wall. Sha-Kaan faced him, standing in front of one of dozens of landscape tapestries that hung on the walls. Light from torches, lanterns, ornate carved candle pillars and braziers filled the room with stark moving shadows. In a dozen places around one end of the chamber, fires burned high in grates, producing a sweltering heat. And from beyond the doors, he could hear noises of dragging and shuffling and the fall of multiple footsteps.

  Feelings of calm and humour filled Septern's mind. He looked up at Sha-Kaan.

  “You're going to tell me this is Balaia, right?” he asked.

  “No,” said Sha-Kaan. “This is a construct in interdimensional space. One day, I'll explain to you how it is done but suffice to say it is akin to a pier built into the sea, with its roots anchored firmly on land.”

  Septern looked behind him. There
was no evidence to tell him where he had entered the hall. The wall behind him was blank.

  “You cannot find your way back that way,” said Sha-Kaan. “You need the Kaan signature to reach the Melde Hall.”

  Septern nodded. “I see. And all those arches back there, they all come to places like this?”

  “Yes. Eighteen to serve the Kaan with a melde-dimension. It is the maximum number we can safely shield from our enemies when all are linked to our melde.”

  “All right, I'll accept that,” said Septern, clutching at comprehension. “How far are we from Balaia? If distance means anything here.”

  “It does not and that statement tells me a great deal about your understanding. As an answer, let me say that there is no need for a corridor such as you have just travelled. To enter your domain in your dimension merely requires you to identify your preferred point of entry. Using your signature, I can ensure that happens and beyond that door, we will nominate an entry point in the construct's outer chambers.”

  “That's it?”

  “Yes.”

  Septern found it all so plausible. But there had to be a catch. Something that Sha-Kaan would keep hidden. As the true cost of making a pact with the demon dimension was hidden from the mages who requested it.

  “And then you have all you need?”

  “By no means,” said Sha-Kaan. “Protection of your dimension has a price, but it is small.”

  “Let's hear it.”

  “For you and the other mages of the Dragonene calling, all we demand is that you be available and respond whenever we call you. The weak and the damaged will use these chambers to recover their strength but the corridor must be open and that means the Dragonene must be in attendance.”

  “I'll be a prisoner in my own house,” said Septern. “Waiting on your call. That is unacceptable. No deal.”

  Sha-Kaan pulled his head back sharply.

  “You misunderstand,” he said. “Now I have your signature, if you agree to be my Dragonene, I can touch your mind wherever you are and open the portal, if I have to, anywhere in Balaia. It is you who is the key to the link but the most effective corridor will always be at the root of your power, which I take to be your house.”