Legacy of the Curse

by Deborah Grace White

  Jocelyn turned to the two remaining dragons, swallowing nervously. They were both watching her unblinkingly.

  “I am Raqisa,” said the female dragon in a friendly way. She leaned down and once again inhaled deeply. “I have never met a human before. You are most fascinating, Jocelyn.”

  Jocelyn hesitated, unsure how to respond to this declaration. Should she say thank you again?

  “How did you come to be part of Elddreki’s quest?” Raqisa pushed on.

  “He rendered my father a service, before I was born,” Jocelyn answered. “My father promised to assist Elddreki in return, and I joined his quest in order to fulfill that promise.”

  Both dragons nodded, apparently accepting the explanation as normal.

  “And how did you come to carry the power of change?” Raqisa asked.

  Jocelyn hesitated. “That’s harder to answer,” she said. “I don’t know. I was born with it, but I have always known it wasn’t natural. I thought the power was confusion until Elddreki identified it as change.” She shrugged. “Elddreki thinks I was born with it because both of my parents entered the Dragon Realm in their youth, and Elddreki even used his magic to heal my mother of a near-fatal injury.”

  “How interesting,” said Raqisa. “So it is rare then for humans to enter the other Dragon Realm, the one in which Vasilisa is situated?”

  “Very rare,” Jocelyn confirmed. “When my parents, and their friend, entered it about twenty years ago, it was the first time anyone had done so in centuries.”

  “I wonder then what the impact will be of you entering our Dragon Realm,” said Raqisa thoughtfully. Jocelyn cringed. The last thing she needed was for her power to increase.

  She was saved the necessity of responding, because Raqisa seemed as inquisitive as Elddreki, and she wasted no time in asking more questions.

  “How did you find us?”

  “We visited a place in Valoria’s west,” Jocelyn answered, glancing out across the water. How long would it take Elddreki to retrieve Kincaid? Would they pass through the barrier safely? “It’s near the Kyonan mountains, where Vasilisa is, and the locals call it Dragoncave. Elddreki suspected the dragons who left Vasilisa all those centuries ago might have passed through there, and he was right. We sensed their lingering magic, and we found dragon runes pointing to the sea. So we followed the legends here.”

  “You can sense dragon magic?” the older dragon asked suspiciously.

  Jocelyn nodded. “That’s not because of my power though, or not just because of it. Even Kincaid—our other companion—can sense it a little. We both have mountain blood in us.” She looked at the dragons appraisingly. “If you’re both younger than Elddreki, I suppose you weren’t born yet when the dragons left the mountains.”

  “That’s right,” said Raqisa brightly. “We were both born here.” She cocked her head to the side. “How did you know we were younger? Our size or our color?”

  “Color?” repeated Jocelyn, confused. “Your color changes when you get older?”

  “It darkens,” Raqisa explained. “We all start bright, but we get darker as we age. Our elders are so dark they’re almost black.”

  A sudden rushing sound drew everyone’s attention, and Jocelyn looked eagerly toward the sea. The familiar shape of Elddreki looked strange and lopsided, burdened as he was with the human form dangling below him. A moment later they alighted, and Jocelyn drew an unconscious breath of relief.

  Kincaid looked extremely windswept, his eyes slightly wider than usual, and Jocelyn remembered it was the first time he had been carried by the dragon. But he didn’t miss a beat, stumbling toward her the moment his feet touched the ground and putting out a hand to touch her shoulder, as if reassuring himself that she was in one piece.

  “I’m all right,” she said quietly. “You?”

  He nodded, his gaze flicking to the two unfamiliar dragons who were silently watching this exchange.

  “Greetings,” Kincaid said, his voice impressively even. “I am Kincaid.”

  “Welcome, Kincaid,” said Raqisa, her eyes flicking between the two humans curiously. “I am Raqisa. Now you are all present, I think we should take you further in, and bring this matter before our elders.”

  “Raqisa,” said the other dragon warningly.

  Raqisa flicked her tail impatiently. A chunk of rock the size of Jocelyn’s torso broke off at the impact, crashing down the cliff face into the ocean far below.

  “I’m not suggesting we take the humans into the heart of the realm, obviously. Just the outer circle. They can wait for Elddreki there.” She smiled at Elddreki. “He will wish to meet with our elders, I am sure.”

  “I would be honored to do so,” said Elddreki gravely.

  “Then let us be off.” Raqisa lunged with the paradoxical swiftness of dragonkind, seizing Jocelyn by the shoulders before she knew what was happening. Her breath left her in a rush, and she was conscious of a startled cry from Kincaid. But her attention was fully captured by the sight below her, as Raqisa bore her upward, scaling the rocky mountainside within seconds.

  When they reached the top, Jocelyn let out an involuntary gasp. From the outside the island had looked like a mountain of barren rock, but once they reached the summit, a whole new landscape was revealed. The rocky slope she had seen formed only the outer ring, within which a green and pleasant haven was found. Jocelyn could see an inner circle, deeper toward the center of the mountain. She saw with fascination that the ring of rock encasing this inner circle seemed to be covered with crystals, the pale cylinders sprouting from the slope at frequent intervals, glinting in the sunlight. But Raqisa descended rapidly before she could get more than a glimpse.

  Jocelyn found her feet hitting soft grass this time, and a moment later Elddreki landed beside her, bearing the other human. Kincaid was at her side within moments of being released, his face tight and annoyed.

  “I wish everyone would stop doing that,” he muttered. “The next dragon to whisk you away without warning is going to get an earful from me.”

  Jocelyn just chuckled, her gaze on Raqisa. She might be smaller than Elddreki, but her talons were just as long and her teeth looked just as sharp. It was hard to imagine Kincaid giving her an earful, somehow. Raqisa had been speaking with the other dragon, but she swung her mighty head around suddenly, as if aware of Jocelyn’s gaze.

  “You take Elddreki,” she said, her words addressed to the dragon but her eyes on the humans. “I will stay with these two. I am eager to investigate the maiden, to learn more of her strange power.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  At the dragon’s words, Kincaid drew even closer to Jocelyn, in an apparently unconscious gesture of protection.

  “It’s all right,” she said, speaking softly as Elddreki and the other dragon took off. “I don’t think she means us any harm.”

  Kincaid met Jocelyn’s eyes silently, his expression slightly troubled. Then he moved suddenly, and she was startled to feel his hand in hers again, their fingers intertwined once more. She made no attempt to disentangle herself. Clearly he had been serious about not wanting to be separated again, and she found she didn’t mind.

  “You are a pair?” Raqisa asked curiously, her snakelike eyes flicking to their joined hands and back to their faces.

  “A pair?” asked Kincaid warily.

  “Humans pair together as dragons do, I believe?” Raqisa said. “Mortal and mortal together?”

  “Oh,” said Kincaid, looking like he was trying to avoid meeting Jocelyn’s eye. “No, we’re merely…friends.”

  Raqisa looked between them, the smile that stretched her reptilian mouth somehow making her eyes glitter.

  “Has your dragon companion not told you that our kind has a way of knowing when humans are not being truthful?”

  Jocelyn felt her face heating, and tried to withdraw her hand, but Kincaid held fast. He was still not looking at her, but a quick glance showed his expression to be unyielding.

  “I will not
press you,” said Raqisa indulgently. “It is no concern of mine.” She turned her penetrating gaze on Jocelyn. “Your magic is of much more interest to me.”

  Jocelyn fidgeted for a moment, staring into Raqisa’s orbs as if hypnotized. Then all of a sudden the absurdity of it hit her, and she had to hold back a chuckle. Here she was, against all the odds having found a second Dragon Realm, and apparently the most fascinating creature within it was her.

  “I’m curious about you, too,” she said. “Are you immortal, like Elddreki?”

  Raqisa shook her head, her expression impossible to read. “I am not. I chose differently from your dragon companion.”

  “So have you paired?” Jocelyn pressed curiously. “Do you have dragonlings?”

  “Not yet,” said Raqisa.

  She sounded relaxed, in no hurry, like she had no doubt she would. Jocelyn wondered whether Elddreki would have chosen differently if he had been born into a colony with lots of potential mortal dragons to pair with.

  Raqisa leaned close to Jocelyn, inhaling deeply. She drew back, shaking her head slowly in evident amazement.

  “You are incredible, Jocelyn,” she said. “So many layers. Are all humans this fascinating?”

  “No,” answered Kincaid unexpectedly. “Jocelyn is a rarity.”

  Jocelyn let out a long breath, uncomfortable under the scrutiny. A rarity, was she? Another word for an anomaly. Another word, one could argue, for an abomination.

  “What do you mean by layers?” Kincaid asked, frowning at the dragon.

  “Well,” said Raqisa, still examining Jocelyn, “she has the power of change, as Elddreki said. It is potent, and unmistakable. But there is other magic about her as well.” She tilted her head to the side. “For example, a storytelling gift, subtle in style, but magical in origin.”

  “Yes,” Jocelyn acknowledged, surprised. “My bloodline was gifted by the dragons of Vasilisa, centuries ago.”

  Raqisa nodded. “The gift has not lost its potency.” She smiled at Jocelyn. “And it is more than just storytelling, I think. Humans are not known for their strong memories, are they? But you have something even dragons do not have—ancestral memories.”

  “I do?” Jocelyn blinked.

  “The ability to see into the past, in the right circumstances,” Raqisa explained. “Your connection with the past is strong, much stronger than I would expect in a human of such a short lifespan. The princess you spoke of earlier, for example, who sought our kind across the land, but failed to find us. When you said she passed to her ancestors, the emotion that swirled around you was strong, too strong for someone who died long before you were born. You feel a connection to her.”

  “I suppose I do,” Jocelyn acknowledged slowly. “Our paths are aligned, to an extent. And that’s not even counting the fact that we both came looking for your colony.” Jocelyn sighed.

  “What is the thought behind the sigh, young one?” asked Raqisa, the question reminding Jocelyn of Elddreki.

  Jocelyn gave a rueful smile. “I was just scolding myself. Princess Sarai searched for dragons and didn’t find you. She was probably devastated by her failure all her life. And here I am, having found you with relative ease, and I’m almost wishing I hadn’t.”

  Raqisa flicked her tail, her expression intent. “You wish you hadn’t found us?”

  “Not exactly that,” said Jocelyn hastily. “I just…I’m not sure I’m ready to be done with the quest.” Kincaid’s hand felt warm and firm in hers, and she tried not to think about how it would be when neither he nor Elddreki was part of her daily life. But she thought about it anyway, because she knew exactly how it would be. Lonely.

  “I think I understand what you mean,” said Raqisa calmly. “A quest is a sort of companion, one you may miss.”

  Jocelyn nodded, relieved. “Yes, exactly.” Her voice turned thoughtful. “I wonder if Princess Sarai felt lonely once she gave up on her search. Lonelier than she was already,” she added ruefully.

  “Why don’t you access her memories and see?” asked Raqisa matter-of-factly.

  “I—I can’t,” said Jocelyn, startled. “At least, I don’t think I can. She wasn’t my ancestor, anyway.”

  “But you do have a connection to her,” said Raqisa.

  “And you’ve seen her memories before,” interjected Kincaid.

  “But…I wouldn’t know how,” Jocelyn objected. And I’m not sure I want to share any further in her loneliness, she added silently.

  Perhaps she should have added that last part aloud, because Raqisa was not to be deterred. “Maybe your magic isn’t sufficient on its own,” she said brightly. “I might be able to help.”

  She opened her fearsome mouth wide, and Jocelyn drew back instinctively. But it wasn’t fire that issued from the cavernous opening, it was magic, so potent it was almost tangible. It settled over Jocelyn like a blanket, and she felt her mind growing fuzzy. She turned to Kincaid, alarm in her eyes as she gripped his hand harder, willing it to be an anchor holding her to reality. But even as his eyes met hers, she could feel herself slipping away…

  Sarai felt listless as she wandered the halls, taking no cheer from the afternoon sunshine streaming pleasantly through the castle’s windows. She had known that it was a slim chance she would find anything of use at Dragoncave, so she had no real reason to be disappointed. But she felt rudderless without any more legends of magic to follow up. She had been back for two weeks, and she didn’t know what to hope for now. The future stretched blankly in front of her, full of duty and grief and loneliness.

  She wondered fleetingly what Germain was doing right now, surprising herself with the thought. It was rare for her to see him between the midday and evening meals, so there was no reason for her to notice his absence today.

  The sounds of sparring reached her through an open window further along the corridor, and she drifted toward it idly. She knew the training yard was right below this wing of the castle, but she had never actually visited it. She stopped at a window set in the wall, just before the corridor turned a corner, running along another side of the courtyard below.

  Men were training down on the ground, some sparring with long wooden poles, some practicing with swords, some fighting with their fists. Shouts and grunts and laughter drifted up to her. It wasn’t as though she had any desire to join the men in their activity, but somehow their camaraderie only increased her loneliness.

  Sarai leaned on the windowsill, trying to get a better look. The men were mostly shirtless, so it was difficult to properly identify their uniforms, but she thought they were members of the royal guard. For several minutes she watched, curious, as two of them battled with the long poles. They were clearly well-matched, the bout going on for longer than the others around them, a few other guards stopping to look on.

  One guard eventually emerged the victor, and Sarai’s eyes wandered over the courtyard, looking for another match to observe. The clang of metal drew her attention to two swordsmen, both shirtless, fighting in one corner of the yard. She realized with a start of surprise that one of them was Germain just a moment before she heard the words.

  “Prince Germain is so handsome, isn’t he?”

  Sarai didn’t immediately recognize the voice, but to one who had grown up in a royal court, the simpering tone of a love-struck noble mooning over her prince was impossible to mistake. She glanced up surreptitiously and saw two young women, both members of her father-in-law’s court, watching the training yard from one of the windows on the other wing of the corridor. They clearly hadn’t seen her, and she breathed a sigh of relief.

  “He’s devastatingly handsome,” the second young woman agreed, with a giggle.

  Sarai returned her gaze to her husband, watching him critically. He was handsome, she realized with a hint of surprise. Tall, dark-haired like her, broad-shouldered. With his shirt off, she—and apparently half the ladies of the court—could see the muscles standing out in his back and in his broad, strong chest as he sparred. The power in
his arms was evident in the way he pressed his opponent, and he was clearly extremely skilled at sword fighting.

  Sarai felt just the tiniest flicker of smugness as she listened to the two young women sigh over the man who was their prince, but her husband. She scolded herself for the petty reaction. Prince Germain wasn’t hers in heart any more than she was his. He had married her for the political benefit it would bring his kingdom to be allied with hers, and she could hardly claim any personal triumph in that.

  She didn’t think less of him for it, of course—it was what a dutiful prince who cared about his kingdom should do. It was just that it said nothing at all of his heart. And that was an accurate summary of Germain, she thought. A strong sense of duty, with not much emotion. Not for the first time, she was glad of it. If he had been a man of strong emotion, he would surely be disappointed with her. She had been emotionless enough about their marriage before her family was murdered. It was hard to imagine now that her heart would ever be open enough to truly love anyone.

  “It’s such a pity he’s shackled to that Kyonan imposter.”

  The words shocked Sarai out of her reverie. She stilled completely, her hands fused to the windowsill. Her eyes were still on her husband, sparring below, but her ears strained without her permission to hear the conversation happening ten feet away.

  “It’s a waste is what it is. The king threw poor Prince Germain away on her.”

  The second speaker clucked her tongue. “It’s not His Majesty’s fault—how could he predict Kyona would fall apart, and the alliance would prove so worthless now that King Cael’s house no longer holds the throne?”

  “He couldn’t, of course,” sighed her companion. “But it’s still such a waste of Prince Germain.” She snickered. “She’s not even that pretty.”

  Sarai felt her face burning, but she didn’t move.

  “Hmph.” The first girl sounded unimpressed. “My brother and his friends seem to think she is. I don’t know what they’re seeing myself.” She sniffed, but a moment later her voice turned smug. “Even my brother says he wouldn’t want to be married to her, though. She’s as cold as the Kyonan mountains. They call her an ice sculpture. A beautiful ice sculpture, but still…It can’t be very pleasant for poor Prince Germain. I’ve certainly never seen him show any warmth toward her.”