Spine of the Dragon

by Kevin J. Anderson

  Lasis moved with a shuffling gait, barely able to bend, not feeling his feet or his exposed skin. He felt weak, swiftly losing energy, but he was a Brava, bonded to King Kollanan, and he was relentless. He needed to make it back to Fellstaff, to report what he had seen, tell the king and queen what the frostwreths were doing.

  And to tell them that their grandson Birch was still alive.

  The thought gave him new strength inside. Yes, he must survive at all costs. He lurched forward, trying to focus through frozen eyes. He tripped and fell to his knees, then crawled in a straight line toward the nearest drone hovel.

  He didn’t make it. Lasis collapsed and sprawled face-first in the gritty snow. He found he could no longer block the sensation of cold. Ice crystals bit into his damaged skin. He inhaled a mouthful of snow, but didn’t even have the energy to cough.

  Hands grasped him, fingers wrapped around his cold skin. He heard humming words, chittering voices. More small hands dragged him along, leaving a trough in the snow. They were taking him somewhere, but before he learned the answer, Lasis dropped into a sleep that was again close to death.

  * * *

  He awoke to a miracle of warmth, though he heard wind whistling through chinks in the walls. A low fire of oily-smelling crystals burned in a small pit in the ground, adding light and heat to the stuffy room. The skin of some animal with mangy fur had been draped over his naked body like a blanket.

  He smelled something rotten burbling in the heat and saw one of the drones pull a small ceramic pot from the glowing heat crystals, perhaps a pot salvaged from a home in Lake Bakal.

  Lasis worked to sit up. He was inside one of the drone huts, and they were keeping him here, hiding him. He didn’t know whether the creatures had independent thought, if this was a sign of their rebellion against the frostwreths. Why else would the drones save him? Was it just instinctive?

  The drone looked at him but said nothing, merely blinked its flat eyes and extended the pot. It opened a toothless mouth, pointed a finger to it as if Lasis didn’t understand how to eat. Weakly, the Brava man took the pot and a flattened stick, which he used to serve himself.

  The smell of the concoction nauseated him. What sort of flesh had been cooked in it? But he needed to survive, so he forced himself to eat several mouthfuls, knowing it was nourishment of some sort. He chewed slowly, so his body wouldn’t reject the food.

  “Water,” he said, and his voice was a rasping croak. He mimicked the gesture of drinking.

  The drone stared at him, showing no comprehension, no excitement, no welcome, but it turned and retrieved a bowl of water, probably from melted snow. Lasis drank a few cautious sips and set the bowl aside with trembling hands.

  He fell asleep again, letting his body absorb that small amount of food and water. When he awoke, he felt a thousand times stronger, though his fingers and feet were numb. Now at least he had some confidence that he would live.

  More drones came into the hovel, gathering around to stare at him. They muttered among themselves in their own language, but they didn’t try to speak to him. As he watched them more closely, he did see a flicker of intelligence in their eyes. They weren’t as mindless and mechanical as they let on.

  He recalled that the frostwreth queen had instructed the drones to care for Birch. The words drifted back to him, splintered and indistinct. He remembered the exchange between Onn and Chief Warrior Rokk, that she was sending the captive boy back to the new fortress at Lake Bakal. Lasis scrambled through his memories. Had she done so? Yes, that was what he had heard. Birch might be there, if he was still alive, if the drones had tended him as they were tending him now.

  He again vowed that he would survive so he could tell the king what he knew, but he could not cross the frozen wastes without the help of these creatures. So he gambled.

  “I fought the frostwreths. I tried to kill them,” he said. “They are my enemy. You saw what Queen Onn did to me.” He touched the wound on his throat. From his pallet, he tried to interpret the light in their eyes, the expressions on their crudely formed faces. He knew they understood his words, because they followed commands the frostwreths gave them. “If you hate the wreths too, then help me.”

  The drones chittered, and some looked away, clearly agitated.

  “Help me,” Lasis said. “All I need are food and garments. I will leave at night. The wreths won’t know what you did.” The drones seemed fearful and uncertain. He pressed, “You’ve already taken the risk. You saved me. You’re hiding me. Now if you let me go, you can be safe again.”

  After mumbling in some kind of secret consultation, they came forward to surround his crude bed. The drones reached out with their small hands and touched him gently, as if to reassure themselves that he was real.

  * * *

  Clad in a motley of skins, furs, and scraps of cloth, and with a tattered blanket to wrap around himself, Lasis left. The auroras shone bright in the black sky, adding eerie light to the snowfields in front of him.

  Before letting him go, the reverent drones had fussed over him, cobbling together the clothes, giving him food. They had also presented him with an object they seemed to revere, a small disk sawed from an antler with little holes drilled through the middle for thread. A button from a human garment. It was a simple object, oddly normal in this extraordinary place, and he guessed they must have taken it from the body of some human victim, perhaps at Lake Bakal. The drones seemed to consider it a symbol, a talisman, and he accepted it, thanking them and tucking it carefully among his furs. They huddled at the doorways of their low hovels, and watched him set off into the night.

  Across the rocky, ice-glazed terrain, he saw a road the wreths had made leading south, presumably to their fortress at Lake Bakal. From there, Lasis would be able to find his way back to Norterra and King Kollanan.

  At the swiftest pace he could manage, still drawing on his reserves of energy despite days of recovery, Lasis headed home.

  64

  THE Dragonspine Mountains fell behind Elliel and Thon as they moved on. Each sunrise was suffused with blood, the sky reddened from the ash and smoke. After Scrabbleton, they were both heartsick but more determined than ever to find answers for the strange wreth man. Did the eruption of Mount Vada mean that Ossus was actually awakening, or just stirring in his restless sleep?

  Together, they left the foothills of the Dragonspine range, and traveled the caravan roads across a windy and empty landscape, heading north and west. Each night on the trail they bedded down with their blankets set close together on the hard ground—not close enough to share warmth, but enough to share companionship.

  Though Thon remained silent and introspective, Elliel talked about her new life, her real life since the break point. She couldn’t create another legacy with a clean slate, because the slate could never be completely clean, no matter how many good things she had done in the two years since awakening. Still, she was young enough that maybe it was best to focus on her new legacy and never read that damning letter again. Utho had certainly been cold to her in Scrabbleton, offering no hope for forgiveness.

  She could not erase her past, but she could create her future. She could move forward and help Thon solve his mystery.

  As if sensing her thoughts, he reached out tentatively, touched her shoulder. “Thank you.” He touched her cheek, lightly ran his fingers over her cinnamon hair.

  Thon’s presence was a lodestone tugging at the needle of her heart. In ancient history, wreths had often taken humans as lovers, dominating them with their magic, seducing them against their will. But those wreths were not as kind and sensitive as Thon was. Had he always been like this? Since his memory had been erased, she knew only Thon’s new heart, not his past. What terrible thing had he done that left him sealed in a quartz-lined prison deep within a mountain? It just didn’t seem to be in his character.

  But Elliel didn’t believe herself capable of the crime she herself had committed, either. Weren’t they different people now? Elli
el understood full well the curse of empty memories.

  Two days later, as they walked through the late afternoon, Thon spotted the ruins of a wreth city in the distance, crumbling towers and ethereal arches, vertical walls made of curves instead of angles. He stared, intrigued. “Where are we? Do you know the name of that place?”

  Elliel looked into the slanted orange light of the setting sun. “Wreth ruins. Humans generally avoid them.”

  His long, dark hair blew in the breeze. “I want to go there.”

  She forced a smile. “Of course you do, and I will protect you.” They left the path and made their way across the tall grasses toward the ruins as the sun set.

  By the time they reached the city, a coppery full moon had risen out of the twilight, its usually pale light tainted by the ash in the air. The two of them walked among the soaring towers that stood sentinel over the emptiness. He let out a quiet hum as he tried to call upon lost memories and flickers of residual magic. Moving with childlike wonder, he went to the curved wall of a tower and wrapped his arms around it. He pressed his marked cheek against the stone.

  “What happened here?” he asked aloud, as if expecting the buildings to answer. “Who were your people? What was your history?”

  The skeletal tower was empty in the ruddy moonlight, and the other collapsed buildings held dust-filled chambers overgrown with weeds. Thon turned back to Elliel, his sapphire eyes sparkling. “I recall vague details about cities like this. I remember the towers, the people, the palaces. Wreths were a magnificent race with a legacy that should have lasted until the end of the world.”

  “They tried to cause the end of the world,” Elliel pointed out.

  “I didn’t … at least not that I recall.” He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. “I know some of the details, but it is just information, not experiences, not real memories.”

  Elliel sighed. “I know what you mean.”

  Under the stars, she found an inviting courtyard with soft grasses and weathered statues, sculptures of male and female wreths that had been smoothed by time. With a childlike fascination, Thon touched one of the disfigured statues, ran his long fingers over the pockmarked stone, closed his eyes. “These two were engaged in some kind of sport that involved a ball, levitation magic, and fire.” He seemed surprised by his own memories. “Human athletes participated with the wreths, but they had no magic … and they were often injured or incinerated.”

  Troubled, Elliel took his arm. “Were the wreths just being capricious? Did they enjoy torturing humans?”

  “Like most games,” Thon explained, “it served as combat training. If they couldn’t survive a game, they would not be good foot soldiers on the battlefield.”

  They spread their blankets on the soft grass among the statues. Elliel opened her pack, removing an apple for each of them and some dried meat that Konag Conndur’s soldiers had given them before they left Scrabbleton.

  Thon sat close to her as they ate the meager meal. He seemed curious, troubled. Beside them lay the fallen statue of a bare-chested wreth man whose face had been weathered to an absolute blank. Thon touched the sculpted stone as if he could absorb the truth through his fingertips.

  “Admit it, you’re fascinated,” Elliel said.

  “I am, but I cannot restore my memories. If I could defy whatever put the locking element in place, then I might know, but what if doing so breaks the spell and causes some other damaging consequence? There must have been a reason. What if I negate my own existence? I was meant to learn in a different way.”

  Her heart ached for him as well as for herself. “We’re both hollow inside, filled with mysteries instead of memories.”

  She leaned closer, and he reached out to touch the mark on her cheek. His fingers were warm and tingling. “This does not mean we are empty.” His fingers trailed down her cheek, cupped her chin. “It means we have room to make more memories.”

  She pressed her hand to his, held it against her skin. Her pulse began racing and warmth spread through her.

  “You are very beautiful, Elliel. You must have had many admirers.”

  “I … I don’t remember.”

  He smiled. “Then let me tell you again. You are beautiful.”

  He kissed her, and she responded, reaching out to lace her fingers through his dark hair, pulling him close. Their kiss went deeper, and they reclined in the soft grass, where she had spread their blankets.

  He seemed so calm and gentle, even as his need increased. She breathed faster, inhaling his own breath, and her lips traced his skin, kissing the tattoo on his cheek as he kissed hers. They began discovering each other with far greater care and fascination than they had explored the wreth city.

  Elliel felt uncertain, but she didn’t want to stop. “I can’t even tell you whether this is my first time or not, or whether I know what to do, or if I can please you.”

  He silenced her with another kiss and pressed closer, letting her feel the burning softness of his skin. “I trust your instincts.”

  Whether through memory or intuition, Elliel did indeed know what to do. They held each other, sharing warmth, sharing themselves, stroking passion and contentment on the unwritten story of their bodies like a legacier creating a masterpiece.

  Being with Thon restored a lost memory in her—the memory of being happy. Elliel fell asleep with her hair spread out across his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, pressing his cheek to the top of her head.

  When they awoke the next morning, Elliel built a fire against the morning chill. They had kept each other warm, wrapped in their blankets, but now in the cool dawn, she wanted to make hot tea. They sat together, smiling and silent, basking in each other’s presence.

  Elliel finally broke the silence. “We have much more to see in the city. Maybe you’ll learn something.”

  “Oh, I can show you the most important parts,” said a young woman’s voice, bright and friendly.

  They both leaped to their feet.

  “That’s my specialty. I’ve been exploring for days. Still, lots of questions, though. So many mysteries.” A plain-looking, slightly plump teenaged girl stepped into the statue yard, wrapped in layers of clothes and skirts and carrying an outrageously large pack high on her shoulders. She had a round face, and straight brown hair parted in the middle. “I thought I saw the smoke of a campfire. I was on the far side of the ruins. So much to see here!” She looked from Elliel to Thon. “I’m Shadri, by the way.”

  Elliel stood wary, but Thon was more open. “What brings you to this old city?”

  “I came to learn, of course,” Shadri said, as if the answer were obvious. “Nobody knows much about wreth history and culture—I certainly don’t! But what better place to see for myself? I’ve taken so many notes that I’ll need a new journal soon.”

  The girl walked over to their campsite, distracted by the weathered statues on the grass. When she looked up, she stopped and stared at Thon. “You … you’re not human, but you’re not a Brava either! You look like the statues here…”

  “I am a wreth,” he said. “I was sleeping inside Mount Vada.”

  Shadri’s eyes sparkled at him. “Then you’re the best discovery in this entire city! I found some artifacts, explored inside the buildings, saw a lot of writing, though I can’t interpret it. There’s the most amazing stone mural of a great battle, and it comes alive if you step in the right place. I’ll show you. In fact, I’ll take you around, unless you already know this place?” Her brows drew together. “Now, if you’re a real wreth, I have a thousand questions for you—and that’s just to start.”

  She shrugged out of her large pack, dropped it on the ground, and rummaged among its contents until she pulled out a tattered notebook. “I’ll have to sort through my notes to find my most important questions. You can help me a lot. Nobody knows as much about wreths as a real wreth, right?”

  Thon looked at her with a sad calmness. “My legacy is a blank book.”

  Shadri frowned for a m
oment, then her chatty nature reasserted herself. “A blank book? Hmmm, intriguing. Obviously, I’ll want to talk with you about that.” She gestured to the crumbling wreth city around them. “We can figure it out together.”

  65

  CONN and his soldiers stayed in Scrabbleton for two days assisting the survivors, but they could only accomplish so much. The main problem was water. When his workers found a diverted stream that sluiced over rocks into a pool, they scooped the water out in pots, poured it through rags to filter out most of the ash, then let it settle enough to drink. But the town could never sustain itself that way. At least for now, Scrabbleton was dead.

  Though heartbroken, the people agreed to abandon their homes. They wept as they left the ruins of their lives, and followed the weary Commonwealth soldiers on a slow procession toward Convera, where the konag promised them help and shelter.

  Distraught and self-absorbed, Prince Mandan said little during the ride back home. The disaster had made a profound impression on him, and his aloof, flippant attitude had changed. Conn hoped his son would remember the plight of these people when he eventually became leader of the Commonwealth.

  Torn with many responsibilities, Conndur turned to Utho, who rode beside him. “I know this, old friend. The dragon is not a myth. After Mount Vada, I am convinced the creature is stirring. This is a threat to the whole world, the entire human race.”

  The Brava turned to him with alarm. “We can’t be certain of that, Sire.”

  “I’m certain of it. We saw the fires and the destruction, we felt the tremors, and we also saw a wreth man with our own eyes. We would be willful fools if we don’t accept the fundamental change to our reality.” He cut off the Brava’s words and leaned forward on his horse. “I am not interested in arguing. I need to be back at the castle where I can start preparing the Commonwealth for this unexpected threat. Ride with me to Convera, you and Mandan, with all possible speed.”