Spine of the Dragon

by Kevin J. Anderson

  When Magda struck the godling, it smashed her backward, knocking her from the horse. Somehow, she released the reins and tumbled free, rolling to her feet on the grass. The entity moved forward, rampaging toward other Hethrren.

  Klovus counted at least thirty raiders slaughtered in the first few minutes. Planting her thick legs in a warrior stance on the open ground, Magda let out a howl that was some kind of summons. She brandished her wooden club. As another rider galloped past her, she grabbed his gloved hand and swung herself up behind him on his horse. She whistled and let out a defiant shriek.

  The Hethrren kept fighting, but Klovus knew these barbarians couldn’t possibly stand against the godling. Magda let out another howl, and the riders closed around her, galloping off in retreat.

  From the walls, the Tamburdin defenders laughed and jeered. They launched volleys of arrows after the Hethrren as they rushed back to the forested hills. Three more raiders died with arrows in their backs.

  The godling paused, hovering over the smashed remains of horses and Hethrren, then it swelled further. The thing made a buzzing, terrifying sound, like a thousand angry hornets, before it surged off to pursue the riders toward the hills.

  Klovus sensed his control slipping and felt suddenly anxious. “If the godling gets far enough away to break free, it might never return. We can’t let it loose!”

  Neré nodded. “We have to call it back. I need your help.”

  She had not been wrong to summon him. Klovus seized Neré’s hand. “We better be quick. Use all our power.”

  They concentrated and tugged on the invisible leash, pulling at the wild godling. It struggled in frustration, a ball of fangs, claws, and spines, not wanting to be controlled, not wanting to be tamed, but Klovus ordered it, as did Neré.

  “We join our commands,” he said, gritting his teeth, and pushed out to the godling. “You will obey!”

  The priestlords kept concentrating until finally the entity—much diminished now after expending so much power—swirled, tumbled back, and withdrew to the open stockade gates. By now the people in the streets had backed away, clearing a path for it to return to its home temple. The creature growled, buzzed, and purred as it returned to its anchor … but it was not meek, not cowed. It was, however, satisfied. The godling’s hunger was sated, and it seemed pleased with itself, just as Klovus, Neré, and the people of Tamburdin were pleased with their protector.

  Klovus didn’t relax, though, until he and Neré had sealed the godling behind the spelldoor.

  His heart swelled with the victory, but soon anger seized him, the result of frustration that had been building for years. “Another example of our worth to Ishara,” he muttered, “and Empra Iluris wants to weaken the godlings! She refuses to let the priestlords build greater temples. She fears our strength. But that very strength is what safeguards Ishara.”

  “The godlings are our protectors,” Neré agreed.

  Klovus contemplated how he would make his report, how he would coax Iluris, how he would argue, maybe even beg. “There might come a time when we need all the strength of our godlings to defeat any enemy. In the end it may fall to us, and only us.”

  67

  THE mysterious wreth ruins delighted Shadri. Every day was like a gift day where she unwrapped special prizes, greeting each answer as a treasure to cherish for the rest of her life. Each answer brought a hundred more questions, though. Exactly the way she liked it.

  But finding the wreth man—a real wreth who had lived in ancient times!—offered the potential for wonderful discoveries, and the mysterious Brava woman was also intriguing.

  After rummaging in her pack and shifting supplies, Shadri removed another notebook, one that still had a few more blank pages. “So many things to know, and you both can help me.” Shadri sat on the grass near the two, leaned against her large pack, and cracked her knuckles. That was how her father had always got ready before he guided heavy logs into the winding blade of the sawmill. Her work now would be asking questions and digging out answers.

  After marking a note in the journal, Shadri raised her heavy eyebrows to Elliel. “I expect you’ve had lots of adventures. Bravas are very interesting. Do you know many of them?” Without letting Elliel answer, she rattled on, “I heard the story of a paladin who rescued a trapper’s family during a forest fire, drove them out in time to safety, then ran back into the burning woods to rescue another family. The Brava got them out, but nobody saw him escape the raging fire. Later, in the tavern when the grieving people were toasting his memory, the Brava entered, covered in soot but very much alive.”

  “Bravas have a habit of emerging alive from difficult situations,” Elliel said.

  “I think he used his ramer to cut his way through burning trees.” Shadri glanced at the golden band clipped to the Brava’s waist. “Can you show me your ramer? I’ve never seen one in use.” She chuckled. “Well, I’ve never seen one at all, even when it wasn’t in use. How does it work?”

  “It doesn’t.” Elliel frowned. “But it’s my part that doesn’t work.”

  She unclipped the band and reluctantly handed it to Shadri, who inspected the intricate craftsmanship and copied some of the spell designs in her margins. “What is your story? Did you rescue people from a forest fire, or something even more dramatic?”

  Elliel’s expression fell. “My story is not one that I like to tell.”

  Thon interrupted, “Neither of us remembers our past.” He touched the mark on his cheek. “But finding the answers might be important for the future of the world. We need to know about the wreths. We need to know who I am.”

  Shadri flipped pages in her notebook, looked at the words she had written so tightly to save space. “I’m trying to piece together the greater legacy of history. One story leads to another, then another.” Traveling alone and often muttering to herself, Shadri was afraid she would jabber constantly now that she had listeners. “I piece together what I can, but I’m not satisfied with the little pieces.”

  When the water was boiling over the campfire, they all shared tea. The next question spilled out of Shadri’s mouth as soon as it formed in her mind. “Why is it so important now? The wreths have been gone for two thousand years. Do you think that’s how long you were buried? Why did you wake up now? What changed?”

  Thon was intense. “There must be a reason. I believe I have some role to play in whatever is about to happen. We know the wreths are returning and planning war.”

  Elliel interjected, “We’ve seen clear signs that Ossus is stirring beneath the Dragonspine Mountains.”

  “Ah! I know the story. If the wreths kill the dragon, then their god will return, take them to salvation, and remake the world.” Shadri slurped her tea. “Not a good situation for humans, though.” She drew her knees up to her chest, adjusting the patchwork skirts, brushing away a grass stain. “That’s a good reason to want more answers. I can show you some very mysterious places I’ve found here in the city. Maybe you’ll know some answers, because I can’t figure them out. It’s all so interesting. Let’s go look.”

  They left their belongings behind, and Shadri took them through the long-abandoned streets with a brisk step, as if she owned the city now. Her commentary was punctuated with frequent offhand questions, but she often didn’t wait for answers.

  She showed them immense obelisks that had fallen. Towers reached to the sky, the bricks laid in an ascending spiral, wearily straining after so many centuries. Shadri had made notes of the odd curves, corkscrews, and organic shapes. One of the bent walls rippled and twisted, as if a serpent squirmed beneath the blocks. “Did the curves mean something?” she asked Thon. “I’ve seen other wreth ruins where the walls were straight, but the character here seems different.”

  He absorbed details as if trying to catch a fluttering thought from a distant corner of his mind. “It is possible that during the battles, the city itself fought back, lashed out against the enemy. Some wreths can control stone. Maybe they turned their ow
n buildings into weapons?” He listened to the breezes that whistled through holes in open parapets. “Or perhaps the city writhed in agony as it was defeated.” He shook his head. “I do not know.”

  Hurrying along, Shadri took them to the mural display wall with stone figures of opposing wreth warriors. She stepped on the activation platform and showed them the moving tableau, the symbolic slaughter of the great armies. She looked at Thon. “You don’t remember anything about the wars? How they ended, what drove the wreth factions into near extinction?”

  He blinked at her. “No, none of that. I was inside the mountain long before the wars reached that point, I am sure.”

  One section of streets had collapsed, flagstones and building walls sliding down into a pit like a sinkhole inexorably swallowing the city. A deep hole plunged underground, and old vines crawled out from the depths. Trees had sprouted in the cracks of the flagstones, growing tall.

  Shadri went right up to the edge of the dangerous hole. “I wish I knew what caused this. There must be interesting things down there, untouched, but I don’t think I could climb safely.”

  “It was a well,” Thon answered. “A central well in the city. The wreths dug deep, tapped into water for their needs as the city grew. It also served as a magical wellspring.” He knelt on the edge of the sudden slope, placing his palms on the unsettled flagstones. “They reached a concentrated reservoir of magic, but as the wars worsened, the wreths used up the magic and had to burrow deeper and deeper.”

  Shadri scanned the streets, saw the thoroughfares bent as if caught in a spasm, buildings frozen in midcollapse, sinking down into a voracious well. Now that Thon was here, the sights seemed more tantalizing.

  She looked at trees nearby, gauged the steepness of the slope. “With ropes, we might be able to lower ourselves down there, have a look.” The Brava woman looked muscular enough to fight a dragon with her bare hands. She could certainly hold a rope.

  “That would not be a good idea,” Thon said.

  Shadri conceded. “Not today but someday we should come back and investigate it.” As they retreated, she continued to pepper the man with questions. “Do you remember Kur? That he created and blessed the wreths, but doesn’t pay any attention to humans? Are we really godless, without souls?” She touched her heart. “I don’t feel anything missing there. What does it feel like to have a soul?”

  Thon looked at her with his gem-blue eyes. “How do you know I have one?”

  “I don’t, and I don’t know how you would prove it. Does Kur even know that humans exist? Did the wreths create us after Kur left the world? Does he ever come back and have a look? Does he know the wreths are coming back?”

  Thon said, “I know Kur’s name and I know stories. Are you asking me to explain the actions of a long-departed god?”

  “I don’t know much about gods, except that they created the many stars in the sky and many worlds around them. This was Kur’s first creation. Is he benevolent or aloof?” Shadri asked. “Maybe he’s proud of what his creations did? How do you know Kur is even there at all, and watching?”

  Thon’s expression fell into a frown. “He left long ago, or so the stories say.”

  “Stories,” Shadri said with an impatient sigh. “Too many stories and not enough facts.”

  They made their way back to the camp at nightfall, weary and hungry. As they sat by the fire eating a makeshift meal, Shadri produced the triangular blue crystal she had found on the metal tree. “Do you know what this is, Thon? The letters are preserved, but I can’t read them.”

  He took the crystal, turning it over in his hands. “Wreth mages used such crystals to record history.”

  Unexpectedly, he dug the sharp point into his forearm, cutting his skin. Dark blood welled up like black oil in the firelight. He dipped his fingertips into the blood and smeared a streak across the front of the engraved crystal. When he held it up to the firelight, the dancing flames sparkled, and the light penetrated the blood, which activated the layers of letters pressed between the crystals. Glowing symbols appeared on the ground, projected through the magic, the firelight, and Thon’s blood.

  Shadri laughed in delight. “I wish I knew how to do that.”

  “Someone wrote an extensive chronicle and stored it here. It tells how the city thrived for many centuries, populated by wreths descended from Suth … who was Kur’s first lover.” He looked up, let out a slow sigh. “That was one of the great factions at war. The dwellers here lived a pleasurable life, their city protected by guardian walls until enemy wreth armies came, the descendants of Raan, Kur’s other lover.”

  He traced out the glowing letters that spilled across the ground. “The siege lasted for two centuries, and the city withered and died. In a final fight, the people unleashed magic from the well, the reservoir at the heart of the city.”

  “What happened?” Elliel asked.

  “The city died. This chronicle was written by one of the last survivors, after most others had died and the rest had fled. Some went into spellsleep in the mountains. This must have been near the end of the wars.”

  Shadri wished she had thought to take out her notebook and write down his words as he read them. Maybe someday she would have time to translate the entire chronicle, with Thon’s help. She would ask him to teach her the wreth language. So much to do and learn!

  He returned the crystal to her, and Elliel wiped the blood from his forearm, though the wound had already nearly healed itself. The Brava spoke softly, close to his pale face. “Were you part of that history yourself?”

  Thon shook his head. “No, these events happened long, long after I was buried beneath the mountains with the dragon.”

  “So why did someone put you there?” Shadri pressed. “Was it a prison, or were you a secret weapon? A last resort?”

  “A secret weapon?” The thought seemed to surprise him. “That is an excellent question.”

  68

  ON the descent out of the rugged mountains, Glik cradled the egg wrapped in padded folds against her chest. She picked her way down the sheer rocks, finding handholds, ledges, and finally a narrow goat trail that headed to the bottom of the gorge. All along, other skas had circled overhead, watching, approving.

  Glik nearly fell many times, but her Utauk luck did not fail her, nor did her visions. She knew instinctively where to go. Finally, with the egg still safe, she reached the river at the bottom of the gorge, where she camped. She removed the rescued egg and marveled at it, relieved to see it intact, alive, full of potential.

  As she dozed by her fire, she felt a sudden surge of excitement, like sparks swirling in the air and in her mind. As if pleased to have a stable spot at last, the splotched leathery shell cracked. Glik crouched, moving the egg closer to the campfire’s warmth, and placed pebbles around it in a perfect circle. She watched the delicate black fissures streak through the shell until the blue snout of a baby ska emerged.

  With cautious awe, she reached forward to touch the hatchling’s head—and knew the ska’s name instantly, instinctively. Ari! Her name was Ari.

  Seeing the efforts to break free of the curved prison, she tried to help the newborn ska, but she felt a scolding bolt in her mind. Ari didn’t want her help; the ska needed to do this herself, and so Glik let her, watching the beautiful reptile bird’s struggles, pushing the shell apart until finally, the fragile and oh-so-perfect creature emerged.

  Glik felt her head spinning, and she saw a vivid vision before her: old Ori resplendent in his scarlet plumage on a dead tree near her campfire, bobbing his head in approval. The older ska spread his red wings and sprang into the air, just as when he had flown away into the sandstorm for the last time. The apparition shimmered, then broke into thousands of sparkling fragments. Glik’s heart felt happy to see her old companion again, but also heavy with the understanding that she would never see the scarlet ska again.

  The girl’s whole world was filled with little Ari emerging from the egg. Sensing that the small blue reptil
e bird would allow her touch, Glik picked up the tiny ska and cradled her in cupped hands, letting the wet plumage dry near the fire’s warmth. The sapphire ska extended her tiny wings and shook out the pale blue feathers. From the first moment that Ari stretched, Glik felt the aches and pains vanish in her own battered muscles. She held the newborn ska, looked into the faceted eyes, just as Ari looked into hers. The heart link was like a chain made of flower petals and iron, soft, beautiful, and incredibly strong.

  Far overhead in the night sky, Glik heard the shrill cries of other skas. They had followed in order to watch, but once she and Ari were linked, the adult birds circled among the stars and flew back to their crags, satisfied.

  Glik drew a circle around her heart, encompassing herself and Ari.

  * * *

  Ari was the most beautiful ska ever, although all Utauks felt that way about their companions. Her scales shimmered like sapphires in the sunlight, and her plumage was long and delicate, as soft as a mother’s kiss and the color of a clean sky. From the moment she first held the hatchling, Glik thought of her as a living jewel.…

  For the next several days, the hatchling rode on her shoulder as she followed the river out of the mountains into more hospitable hills. Ari kept extending her wings, fluttering them, trying to get up the nerve to fly for the first time. Finally, without warning, the tiny ska took wing, flapped above Glik’s head, then came back down to settle on her opposite shoulder.

  Ari seemed inordinately pleased with herself after the brief flight and preened her plumage, but rode on the girl’s shoulder for a while longer, letting her companion do all the work. An hour later Ari flew again, circling higher this time.

  Glik laughed and applauded. “Fly, Ari, fly!” The ska fluttered down, as if intending to alight on her shoulder, but Glik felt Ari change her mind at the last moment. The creature executed a midair roll, stroked with hard beats of her wings, and climbed into the air again.