Kingdom

by Kyle West

  I rested on a small ledge for half an hour, the first one I’d seen since the hour I started climbing. Peering up, there seemed to be nothing else—just the near vertical wall of mountain rising to the wicked point of Dragonspire. I guessed myself to be about halfway up.

  The ring of dragons was so much closer here. I could hear their calls harmonizing with one another until a song broke out, echoing over the land. The sound was as alien as it was beautiful, full of ululating melodies that would have been impossible for any human to conceive. They sang of sad stories from before their time, from other worlds; stories of death heard from the stars of planets long dead.

  I pushed the singing out of my mind, forcing myself to continue climbing. The singing—or the wailing—continued without abatement. I lost sight of those I’d left behind as the spire drew closer. The dragons flew and flew, never tiring of their song and dance.

  Once I was three-quarters of the way up, the wall had become almost completely vertical. I’d come too far to turn back now. So long as I could find a good grip, going up wasn’t a problem. One false step, however, would see me falling a long, long way.

  I held onto Silence as I made the climb. My concentration was wavering, my mind wearying as much as my body. Silence allowed me to ignore the pain.

  I looked up to see that I was quite close to the dragons—close enough to hear their wings beating against the wind, a continuous cacophony. Their songs by now had ceased, leaving only eerie silence.

  Another few minutes and I would be passing them and within reach of the spire itself.

  But my arms and legs were raw, while fires burned deep within my muscles. The only thing that powered me now was the Xenofold. If I let go now, then likewise, my arms and legs would let go.

  Peering up, I could see the form of a dragon at the very top of the spire, silhouetted against the night sky. It watched me, its bright, glowing eyes like twin stars. It was nearly as big as Askal and had the same appearance.

  Tiamat, I thought, I’m coming.

  There was no response from the leader of the Southern dragons. By now, I was passing the circle. In five more minutes, I’d reach the top.

  As I neared the spire’s point, there was less room to grab onto. The xen was thinning, making it harder to get traction. I slipped a few times . . . and by some miracle, managed to keep my hold on the mountain.

  When I was perhaps fifty feet away from the top, Tiamat let out a mighty roar that shook me to the bones . . . a roar that nearly made me let go of my holds. He pushed off the spire, spreading his wings and gliding down and away from the mountain.

  I turned my head to look. His form slipped in among the other dragons, circling.

  To the top, human, he urged.

  Was he trying to trick me? There was no time to question it. I was almost there.

  It took the last of my strength to advance up the mountain. My arms and legs were shaking. Silence faded in and out of my consciousness, my mental strength was waning.

  The top of the spire couldn’t have been more than twenty feet away. Here, the xen no longer grew. It was only rock, smoothed by ages of rain, snow, and wind. The spire was so thin, however, that I could wrap my arms and legs around it.

  So that was what I did with what little strength I had left. I shimmied the rest of the way up. With a weary, shaking hand, I touched the knife-like point of the spire.

  The dragons below roared. I looked down to see that the circle was ending. The train of dragons headed off into the distance.

  It was then that I heard a flap of wings coming from behind. I turned to see Tiamat, flanked by Quietus and Askal.

  You will have a place at our council, Tiamat said. Do what I have let no human ever do—ride upon my back.

  I was surprised at the invitation, but as good as his word, Tiamat lowered himself, his large, pink wings flapping just below the spire.

  I had no strength left. I fell forward while Tiamat rose. I grabbed hold of his body, forcing my legs down his sides so I could ride. My head felt woozy, but I was secure on his back.

  Tiamat veered away from Dragonspire and headed off in the direction the dragons flew.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  TIAMAT QUICKLY CAUGHT UP TO the trail of dragons flying low across the xenoforest. It was impossible to tell just how many there were, but their numbers rivaled the swarm controlled by Shal. The leading dragons began circling down into a valley surrounded by several tall mountains and were soon lost to view.

  By the time we passed the outer ring of mountains, most of the dragons had landed, forming a circle. Tiamat followed Askal, bearing me down to the center. We landed lightly next to Quietus with a flutter of wings. After I dismounted, Tiamat ran forward, flapping his wings as if to take off again—only instead, he gained a bit of distance before turning around to face the assembly of dragons before him.

  And it was a large assembly. Well over a hundred pairs of white eyes stared back—more dragons than I’d ever seen in my life. Something told me that every Elekai dragon that could make it was here.

  It is said in prophecy that the accursed humans would not touch the Spire until the final days, Tiamat said. According to this, I have decided to do the unthinkable. The king and queen in the North have told me she has a special identity. She is Anna, founder of the Seekers, from a time where humans had yet to break faith with dragonkind. Because of our prophecy, and because of who she is, I have decided she may sit with us on council as a witness.

  In the light given off by the xen of the valley, I could tell Tiamat was a dragon unlike any I had ever seen. Though he was male and Askaleen, he shared many features that were more common of the black Radaska dragons. The first was his sheer size—he was larger than his father, Askal, and larger than any of the Radaska dragons. Though his scales glimmered pink in the night, sharp spikes protruded from his back—spikes that were usually absent on male dragons. While his rounded head was like an Askaleen, his jagged ears and long snout were characteristic of the Radaska. His wings spread wide, making him look even larger and more menacing.

  No dragon, not even Quietus or Askal, said a word in response. What Tiamat said seemed to be true—he was in control here, not them.

  I know who you are, Tiamat said. You are Anna, and you have returned, as you prophesied in the First Days. And now, when the North is falling to the Radaskim, you come to us, seeking aid.

  From how every dragon looked at me, I knew that they were hearing this. When I responded, I made sure every dragon was included.

  Yes, I said. We need to join to defend our world.

  Tiamat fluttered his wings in agitation. But you are not Anna as she was. Anna of old was worthy of the same respect as any of our Elders. She was among the oldest of beings in the Earth Xenofold, and yet . . . you and she are not one. Your abilities in comparison to her are weak, and you have not even her memories to guide you in full. Tiamat stared me down with those glowing, white eyes. Tell me, Anna. Why should the Southern dragons follow you?

  Because there is no longer any choice, I said. Whether you like me or not, we’re on the same side. We must work together, as partners. That’s how it was during the Ragnarok War, and that’s how it should be now.

  You presume to speak to me as if you fought in that war, Tiamat said. Your given name is Shanti. You don’t remember everything from your old life. The world Anna fought to defend no longer exists. The damage to the Xenofold is now beyond repair. The Dark One has tainted it from afar, using humanity as his tool. Weak, fallible humanity. You were fooled, and your hubris will be the death of us all.

  You speak as if we are responsible for the sins of our ancestors.

  We dragons are one, a collective self, Tiamat said. The mistake of the one is the mistake of the many. Thus is how it’s always been, thus is how it will always be.

  We don’t work that way, I said.

  The Xenofold cares not, Tiamat said. Humanity’s nature and the Xenofold’s nature have collided. Humanity harness
ed the Xenofold’s power for its own nefarious purposes. The city was built in the Crater, destroying the very thing that powered it—the Sea of Creation. The abominations of Hyperborea keep the Sea from refilling. Knowledge and power came at a hefty price. A price that can never be repaid. A price which all beings under the Xenofold must pay. Weak, shortsighted humanity. Why worry about the decisions of the present when the problems are for a future generation? You forget how we dragons live. The decisions we make for the present must always be paid for by the future.

  Of course, you’re right, I said. But it can’t be stopped if we don’t figure out some way to work together.

  I know already what you will ask, Tiamat said. You wish for me and my brethren to fight the swarm that the Dark One has mustered. You wish that we should die for a humanity who does not deserve it.

  It was scary just how perceptive he was.

  It’s your self-preservation, too, I said. If Rakhim and his swarm destroy us, then the dragons are next.

  Yes, you threw us into this, too, Tiamat said. I warned your people many years ago. What is many years for you is just like yesterday for me. Your people called it the Sundering of the Dragons, as if it were our fault. The humans sundered themselves. What was broken is not easily mended.

  It is said, Askal said, that when Anna returned, she would fix what was once broken. But she cannot fix it alone.

  She is not Anna, Tiamat put in. She does not even have her memories. She does not remember what she discovered.

  What I discovered?

  Tiamat stared at me, his eyes glowing in the darkness. Yes. The Xenofold assimilated you in your last days on Earth, as you know. Do you not remember your prophecies, your visions of the future world destroyed by the Radaskim? You saw the city of Hyperborea, you saw its abominations that would destroy the very sea that gave you birth. You returned from the Sea of Creation, a weakling babe, without the memories of your former adult self. You lived most of your life as Shanti, but you are the first human ever born without parents in the true sense. The Xenofold is your mother and the Xenofold is your father. Until you discover this for yourself, we will not fly with you. Until the Xenofold accepts you as its own, we will not fly with you. The Xenofold is dying, Shanti. Your children destroyed it . . . as you knew they would. They ignored your warnings . . . as you knew they would. And yet, you speak to us of an alliance. What is the point of an alliance when there is no strength left?

  Stop, I said. That’s enough. There’s no time for any of this. Even now, Rakhim Shal and his swarm are threatening all the Elekai of the Wild. When they’re done with the humans, who do you think he’ll come after next?

  The dragons, no doubt. We will fight, but humanity is a cancer defacing the Xenofold. Why would we fight to save a disease? You come here seeking a solution. I tell you now, there is no solution. We have been on a path toward destruction for four centuries. Four centuries of wrong cannot be righted in the two years we have left.

  Is it not worth trying, though? I asked. Why lay down and die when we can fight. The Hyperfold might be stoppable. If it can be stopped, the Sea can regrow and the reversions can heal. And if Rakhim’s swarm can be stopped . . . that gives us a chance to unite and stand against the coming invasion.

  A tall order, Tiamat said. But there is another option.

  This was the first I’d heard of this. What?

  We leave Earth to its fate. We seek permission to travel through the Xenomatrix, to be born again on another world. We take our fight there. We fight them there, and we win. We do not sit idly by. We do not allow the Xenofold to weaken. We learn from our mistakes here.

  I was shocked. Was such a thing even possible? Of course, the dragons couldn’t physically go to a different world. But after what I’d seen in the Hyperfold, perhaps it was possible for their personalities and memories to make that journey through the Xenomatrix, the web that bound all worlds.

  You’d leave us to die?

  Just as you left us, Shanti, Tiamat said.

  Not all would go down that path, Quietus said, coming out of her silence. Some of us would fight, Tiamat.

  This is your world too, Tiamat! I said.

  Is it? Tiamat asked. Earth is your cradle; to us, it is a temporary home. Askalon was our home—a home to which we can never return. So, we must move on. If we die here, we die forever. Whatever is left of us in the Xenofold will become what we hate the most. We would become our mortal enemies, the Radaskim. This world is as good as lost.

  You would abandon us? I asked. When we fought so much together?

  It was you who abandoned us, Tiamat said. I was there when the Samalites gave up their journey to the True Hyperborea. Instead of following me, they settled in the crater and defiled it, naming their city after the very place I was trying to show them. There, they committed the abominations that severed them not only from the Xenofold but from dragonkind.

  Let us rejoin what was severed, then! Didn’t Alex, Elekim, do the same? Did he not unite dragonkind, Askaleen and Radaska?

  Elekim was Elekim, Tiamat said. As Earth’s twilight draws near, even his power wanes.

  I was at loss for words. You think it is hopeless, then. Hopeless to the point where you must take your fight to another world. A world where you will likely lose and will have to flee, again and again, from world to world, until you run out of worlds to run to.

  Something has occurred on Earth that has not occurred elsewhere, Askal said. For the first time since the far shores of Askalon, Radaskim and Elekai are united in dragonkind. If dragonkind abandons their home, there is no guarantee this union will be preserved into the next world.

  What do you mean, Father? Tiamat asked.

  The Nameless One would restore the old balance, Askal said. Askaleen will become Elekai. Radaska would become Radaskim. What becomes of you, my child, who has elements of both? A hybrid dragon has not been born in many generations, my son. They are dragons of destiny. Is it your destiny to flee?

  It is my destiny to take the fight to another world, Tiamat said. If we lose here, we lose forever.

  We must make a stand somewhere, Quietus said. You are right. We have lost much here. But we have more here than we have ever had anywhere. If not Earth, then where?

  You speak as if this battle would be final, Tiamat said. We would merely delay them for another four centuries if we win.

  We would know how to defeat them again, Quietus said. What has been done once can be done again.

  We would risk everything, Tiamat said. A final fight to decide all things?

  We must find a way to stop them for good, I said. So we would never have to fight them again.

  I don’t see how such a thing is possible, Tiamat said. Their power extends across a thousand suns. To do such a thing, every one of their worlds must be conquered, each of its Xenominds severed from the Xenomatrix.

  Perhaps the answer lies in the matrix itself, I said. It connects all the worlds, doesn’t it?

  It cannot be entered. To enter it would be to cease to exist in this world; the only way out is to be reborn on another. This is how we dragons could leave. No human can do this.

  Could no human do it, truly? Quietus asked.

  It is a place where even a Xenomind is small, Tiamat said. Elekim himself would not be powerful enough to affect anything. We are but one world among a thousand. If he left this world, of course, it would doom Earth’s Xenofold to destruction and the planet to conquest.

  You mentioned a Dark One, I said. Are you referring to Rakhim Shal?

  Something like amusement emanated from Tiamat’s mind. Rakhim is nothing more than a puppet himself to the Dark One. I have a rare Gift, human . . . a Gift given to only one of every thousand dragons. I am the only one to possess it in this world.

  What Gift is that?

  I am a Darkseer; I can listen to the thoughts of the Radaskim as if they were my own. I hear whispers of darkness from the void. The one I refer to as the Dark One is called Odium, a Xenomind much li
ke Askala, whom Elekim destroyed. Even now, Odium and his vessels travel between the nearest world and ours to unleash destruction. They will be here in less than two years. Odium has been given this planet as his keepsake. They cannot access it through the matrix, for it has been locked. If they desire it, they must take Earth by force. But this does not mean they cannot affect this world from their place in the stars if they find willing traitors. People like your Rakhim Shal.

  We will stop them, I said. With or without your help. For anyone that desires to help us . . . we will have you.

  Until the Hyperfold is destroyed, we have nothing to talk about. The Sea must be restored and the Xenofold hale before the Radaskim come. Without either, this world is doomed. If it cannot be done, then I will save who I can. If any wish to fight a hopeless battle, then I will not stop them. As for myself, I will fight for a world that proves itself more faithful.

  I nodded. So be it, Tiamat. I cannot change the past. No one can. But I will do everything I can to stop the Radaskim. That is the reason for my return. I do not expect to heal a rift that has persisted for two centuries in a single night. I came here in goodwill and friendship, and I hope to back that up with my actions.

  Then go, Tiamat said. But there is one thing you should know.

  What?

  The swarm led by Rakhim, and your friend, Isaru . . . I have seen it in my dreams. They fly east.

  East? East to where?

  I see hills and many green trees. A stone wall and a large city, in the center of which rise great towers. I know not its name.

  It was no doubt one of the Eastern Kingdoms. Nabea might know more. Whatever city that was, we had to get there first to warn them.

  Before I left, though, I had to ask Tiamat one more thing.

  If I can stop the Hyperfold . . . if the Sea starts to regrow . . . will you consider helping us?

  We will consider it, Tiamat said. But even if it is restored tomorrow, it still might be too late.