The Hearts of Dragons

by Josh VanBrakle

  The Lodian took two steps back and raised his palms before him.

  Iren stepped between them. “Well, let’s get out of here before anyone realizes these three are missing,” he said. “Hana, are their horses outside?” When she nodded, he continued, “Then come on. We have a long road to Tropos, and the sun’s already setting.”

  The trio left the barn without another word. As they mounted their stolen horses, Iren couldn’t help but notice that his companions’ faces were different from before the battle. A grim look replaced Hana’s exuberant smile, and Balear’s infatuated eyes had changed into ones filled with worry.

  Iren sympathized with Balear. Granted, Hana’s fighting abilities would help them cross the dangerous landscape that Lodia had become. Even so, as they rode, Iren wondered what they’d found in this strange Maantec woman.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Minawë’s Resolve

  Rondel charged through the twilight of Ziorsecth Forest’s understory. The news she’d received was bad. She’d gone to the Kodaman capital of Yuushingaral, but the Kodamas had said that neither Iren nor Minawë had visited for six months. At last report, Minawë was still at the Heart of Ziorsecth.

  That by itself was distressing enough. More disturbing was the rumor about Iren. Scouts had spotted him heading east toward Lodia—alone.

  The old Maantec arrived at the Heart of Ziorsecth. Minawë knelt amid the graves, wearing the green silk dress that marked her status as the Kodaman queen. It looked big on Minawë, or perhaps more accurately, Minawë looked small in it.

  Rondel took a few tentative steps. Minawë didn’t look like she wanted to be disturbed, yet Rondel knew she had to speak with her.

  A twig ended Rondel’s preparations. Not paying attention to where she walked, the old Maantec stepped on it, and it snapped beneath her boot.

  Minawë turned. Rondel inhaled sharply at the sight of the Kodama’s tear-filled emerald eyes.

  “Rondel?” Minawë called.

  Rondel did her best to create her false grin. “You look surprised, Minawë. Is it so shocking that I would pay you a visit?”

  “I thought you’d gone to wander Raa. I didn’t expect to see you again. I don’t think Iren did ei—” she broke off.

  The Kodama’s agonized expression told Rondel everything she needed to know. “So it’s true,” she said. Her smile faded. “Iren left.”

  Minawë nodded. “Several days ago.”

  Rondel cursed. She needed to find Iren before Hana did! “Where did he go?” she demanded. “Why would he leave?”

  The way Minawë reacted made Rondel regret how she’d spoken. The Kodaman queen put a hand on her forehead. “It’s because of me,” she moaned. “He left because of me.”

  “That’s silly,” Rondel said, uncertain how to take Minawë’s outpouring of emotion. “Iren cares for you. He wouldn’t abandon you like that.”

  The look that Minawë shot Rondel made the old Maantec again wish she’d kept her mouth shut. Rondel raised her unbroken right palm in a placating gesture. “All right, all right. Tell me what happened.”

  Minawë recounted Iren’s departure. When she finished, Rondel sighed and put a hand on Minawë’s shoulder in a vain effort to comfort her. “I feared this would happen,” the old woman admitted. “When I left six months ago, I wanted to believe Iren could be happy living here with you. Deep down, though, I knew it wouldn’t be enough for him.”

  “He said it was like being crippled,” Minawë said. “He couldn’t live in a world of magic when he couldn’t use it, so he went searching for a way to heal himself.”

  “That’s why he went to Lodia?” Rondel asked. “That makes no sense. There’s nothing in Lodia that can help him.”

  “He wanted to visit his parents’ farm. He thought he might find something there.”

  Rondel stiffened. Iren wouldn’t find anything there but grief.

  Minawë shifted back to the pair of wooden grave markers before her. She grasped the one bearing the name “Aletas” with both hands. “Mother,” she whimpered, “why did you leave me alone?”

  A sad nostalgia filled Rondel. Six months ago, she had stood behind this same woman, who had knelt before these same graves. It was as though nothing had happened, as though no time had passed.

  But time had passed. Rondel glanced past Minawë to the crater where the Heart of Ziorsecth had once towered. Its replacement had grown a lot in half a year, even though much of that time had been during the winter. The seedling drew strength from all the stems of Ziorsecth, so it far outpaced an ordinary tree.

  As Rondel looked at the Heart, she caught a glimmer of something green next to it. She activated Lightning Sight. The moment it began, Rondel could pierce the distance without difficulty. She took a step back and ended her spell.

  “Is that the Chloryoblaka down there?” she asked.

  The queen craned her head around to look at Rondel. “Yes, why do you ask?”

  “That isn’t a secure place to leave your Ryokaiten.”

  Minawë shrugged. “No one knows it’s here. Besides, we stopped Amroth. Mother didn’t want that power, and I want to respect her wishes. Since Ziorsecth is no longer under threat, I left the bow there to help the Heart recover.”

  Rondel tried to clench her fists. Her broken hand sent pain through her as punishment for the attempt. Doing her best to keep calm, she asked, “Then do I have it right that you never touched the bow? You aren’t the Forest Dragon Knight?”

  “That’s correct.”

  Rondel’s eyes flared. “Do you think Amroth was Ziorsecth’s only threat?” she shouted. “Do you have any clue why I came to see you and Iren today?” She pulled back her cloak to reveal her broken left hand. It was pressed against her chest in a crude sling she had fashioned after entering Ziorsecth.

  Minawë gasped. “How? What happened to you?”

  “Not what,” Rondel said, “who. The Stone Dragon Knight did this to me. She took the Burning Ruby and nearly killed me in the process. Worse still, well . . .”

  She used her good hand to draw the Liryometa from its sheath. When the rondel’s broken edge came free, all the color vanished from Minawë’s face. “That’s why you came here,” she breathed. “You wanted Iren’s help against the Stone Dragon Knight.”

  Rondel shook her head. “I did want to find Iren, but not to get his help. Without magic he wouldn’t stand a chance against this foe. I needed another Dragon Knight, one with magic better suited to fighting against rock than my lightning abilities are.”

  She gestured with her chin to the crater. “I wanted the Forest Dragon Knight. I wanted you.”

  At that final word, Minawë trembled. Still on her knees, she collapsed forward. Her fists clutched at the dirt. “I . . .” she began, but she didn’t seem able to say more.

  “Minawë,” Rondel meant to say the name gently, but it came out harsher than she expected, “when the Stone Dragon Knight thought I was going to die, she told me she was looking for Iren. I don’t know why, but I’m sure she wishes him harm. I can’t protect him alone. We need to find him before she does.”

  The queen shook her head. “I can’t,” she said. “Mother tried to use the Chloryoblaka. Father did too. Look what happened to them! I can’t. I’m not strong enough. I’m all alone. Oh, Mother, why did you leave me alone? I can’t be the Forest Dragon Knight. I can’t be the Queen of the Kodamas. I can’t do anything!”

  Rondel vibrated with rage. “What are you saying?” she yelled. “How can you just kneel there paralyzed? You aren’t the Minawë I remember. What happened to your strong will? What happened to the woman who risked her life to help her people? Will you now hide in this forest and ignore your friend when his life is in danger?”

  In a single lithe motion, Minawë swung around and rose to her feet. As she did, she punched Rondel across the face. The old woman sprawled in the dirt.

  “What makes you think you know anything about it?” Minawë cried. “You have no right to speak to
me that way!”

  “You deny it so quickly,” Rondel said as she wiped a trail of blood from her lip. “That proves I’m right. You may not think you’re ready to face it, but you know what you have to do.”

  “You . . .” Minawë tensed her body. “Get out of Ziorsecth!” she screamed. “As Queen of the Kodamas, I command it. I never want to see your face again!” She ran away.

  But escaping Rondel wasn’t that easy. The old woman pushed to her feet with her good hand, then used magic to accelerate herself. She got in front of Minawë in a flash.

  The queen was running so hard and had her eyes so tightly shut that she collided with Rondel at full speed. Unlike with Minawë’s punch, though, this time Rondel didn’t budge. Instead it was Minawë who fell. She landed hard on her back.

  Rondel cast Lightning Sight and stared down at Minawë. “When I came here,” the old woman said, “I felt as if time had stopped. Now I know why. You did let time stop. You let it stop seven months ago when Aletas died. Let it start again! You’ve been asleep for half a year, dreaming so you wouldn’t have to confront the real world. Well, now you must confront it. Minawë, before it’s too late, you need to wake up!”

  The woman on the ground cried. Rondel felt a stab of pity. She continued more gently, “Do you know why Aletas took up the Chloryoblaka, even though she didn’t want to?”

  Minawë nodded. “To protect Ziorsecth and the Kodamas.”

  “No, they were a bonus. The real reason,” Rondel pointed at Minawë, “was to protect you, the person she cared about most. She knew she might die in that battle. She fought anyway, because she wanted you to live.”

  Minawë clutched at her heart.

  “So the only question now,” Rondel pressed on, “is how best to honor her sacrifice.”

  For a long time Minawë didn’t move. She didn’t speak. Her eyes grew so distant that Rondel was certain the woman was reliving those last terrible moments of the Battle of Ziorsecth.

  At length Minawë stood and returned to the burial ground. She knelt at Aletas’s grave, then stepped past it and into the crater. When she reached the Chloryoblaka, she hesitated only a second before she grasped the bow.

  The ground shuddered. A barrage of vines, each thicker than Rondel’s forearm, burst from the soil. With incredible speed one wrapped itself around each of Minawë’s arms and legs. The four vines lifted her into the air in a spread-eagle position. She screamed. The vines were wrenching away from her body.

  Seeing that Minawë was about to be drawn and quartered, Rondel drew her broken dagger and slashed at the nearest vine. Her efforts were futile. The edge by the hilt wasn’t nearly as sharp as the one at the tip had been.

  Then Rondel felt a pressure against her legs. Two vines had ensnared her and rooted her to the ground. A third wrapped itself around Rondel’s unbroken hand. The plants didn’t tug on her, but whenever she tried to move, they resisted with such strength that it was clear they could rip her apart.

  Restrained and helpless, Rondel watched as the vines raised Minawë higher. “Fight it!” Rondel called. She hoped her shout would reach Minawë over the queen’s screams. “This is Dendryl’s test.”

  Rondel’s vision grayed as fear brought her to the brink of passing out. The price of failing a dragon’s test was death.

  “Don’t give up, Minawë! I believe—” Rondel’s words were cut off as a new vine wrapped itself over her mouth.

  Minawë’s screaming stopped. She spoke, but the voice, while female, was not Minawë’s. “Is this it?” it mocked. “Is this all the resolve you have?”

  Minawë screamed again, this time in her own voice. The other speaker, whom Rondel guessed was Dendryl, the Forest Dragon, cut in, “Are you so afraid of death? My knight commands life and death. Can a spirit as feeble as yours be trusted with such power? You must not fear! To become my Dragon Knight, you must be willing to die. So tell me: will you die to become the Forest Dragon Knight?”

  Rondel cursed through the vine sealing her mouth. She knew the game Dendryl was playing. The Forest Dragon could see Minawë’s memories. It knew exactly how to hurt her.

  “No answer?” Dendryl asked. “I expected more of you. Your father Otunë was willing to die as the Forest Dragon Knight. Aletas was too. I thought you would have their strength, but you’re nothing but a remnant, a failure.”

  The vines tugged on Minawë’s limbs again. This time she didn’t scream. Her head hung limply. It was over.

  Then Rondel heard a voice, low and quiet, yet firm.

  “Dendryl,” Minawë said, “I’m not willing to die to become your Dragon Knight.”

  “Because you’re weak!”

  “No. I’m not willing to die, because I can’t let myself die. I have you and Rondel to thank for reminding me of that. You were right when you said Mother and Father were willing to die, but you don’t understand the reason. They did it so I would survive. Do you understand? I have to live, because they died for me!”

  The vines tugged on Minawë again, but she resisted. With a roar she pulled in her arms and legs, straining against the plants. Finally the tension was too great. The vines snapped.

  Minawë landed hard, but she climbed to her feet. Her face contorted into a smile, and Dendryl spoke one last time, “You answered correctly. As I said, the Forest Dragon Knight commands life and death. Only those who can hold life sacred deserve to be my knight. I yield to you.”

  The vines retracted into the earth. Rondel raced to where Minawë stood.

  “You did it,” the old Maantec said.

  Minawë stood there, still smiling, but she didn’t respond. She teetered as though she were drunk. Then she fell sideways. She landed on the dirt and sent up a cloud of dust.

  “Minawë!” Rondel shouted. She leaned down and felt for a pulse. It was there, albeit faint. Bruises covered Minawë’s arms and legs.

  The sight of those wounds broke Rondel. “Minawë,” she murmured, “I’m sorry.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  Tit-for-Tat

  Three days after escaping Orcsthia, Balear Platarch sat with Iren and Hana on the edge of a thicket. He poked their campfire with a stick. He hadn’t wanted a fire; it attracted attention. With the brisk spring night, though, they’d needed to risk it.

  Balear threw his stick into the flames. He’d never imagined crossing Lodia would be like this. Three days, and three attacks. Travel wasn’t this dangerous even when the Quodivar were at their height. Lodia was falling apart, and so far, he’d managed to do nothing about it.

  Things would have been different if his father had been here. Dad would have known what to do. At the least, raiders would have thought twice about attacking them. Mom always said all Dad ever needed to do was brandish his sword and enemies would flee.

  But Dad was dead, at the bottom of the ocean. Now Balear’s only hope for peace lay with Iren.

  Across from Balear, the Maantec stared into the fire as though lost in it. He’d been asking Balear questions about Tropos ever since they’d left the farm outside Orcsthia. The man was obsessed with the village and what he might find there.

  Of all the places for Iren to want to go. What did he think he would learn there, anyway? His parents were dead, just like Dad.

  “It won’t be enough firewood,” Hana said, interrupting Balear’s thoughts with her confident tone that left no room for argument. “Unless we want to freeze tonight, I’d better get more.” She rose from the fire ring and headed into the thicket.

  Balear watched Hana leave. He couldn’t figure her out. She’d rescued them in Orcsthia, but then she’d murdered those soldiers for no other reason than spite. It had been wrong. Their deaths hadn’t been necessary. Too many Lodians were already dying these days.

  He had to know more about her. Otherwise, she was too dangerous to have with them. Balear stood. “Will you be all right by yourself for a while?” he asked Iren. “Hana might need help carrying all that wood.”

  Iren looked up, his eyes unfocused.
“What?” he asked. “Oh, sure.” He went back to staring at the flames.

  Balear sighed, hoping Iren wouldn’t get killed while he was gone. He headed into the thicket. It took him a few minutes, but he caught up to Hana. She had already gathered a decent amount of wood, but she was piling it in one location to make it easier to bring back.

  “I’m not a little girl, you know,” Hana said when Balear reached her. “I don’t need an escort.”

  “All the same,” Balear replied, “it sets my mind at ease to know that someone is protecting you.”

  Hana laughed. “I recall protecting you more often than the other way around.”

  The former general reddened. “Yes, well, this way at least I know I’ll be safe.”

  “If you want to protect someone,” Hana said with a frown, “you should have stayed with Iren. That man doesn’t know which end is up.”

  Balear was taken aback. “Are you serious? Iren’s the reason I’m alive today. He defended Ziorsecth from Lodia’s army, and he defeated Feng singlehandedly.”

  “By becoming the Dragoon,” Hana pointed out, “and as a consequence, he can’t use magic. Without that, he’s more useless on the battlefield than you are. That’s saying something since he’s a Maantec and you’re a human.”

  “He’s faster than I am. He’s stronger too.”

  “Those things don’t matter. At least, they don’t matter much. Skill matters. You’ve trained in swordsmanship for years. Iren clearly hasn’t. Did horses raise him or something?”

  Balear scowled. “You shouldn’t mock him. He probably wishes horses raised him. At least then something would have cared for him. He had to live alone his entire childhood. It was only last year that he found a home in Ziorsecth.” Balear paused and shook his head. “I’m still shocked that he would leave that behind to return to a country where he has so many bad memories.”

  Hana added the armload of firewood she was carrying to her pile. She dusted off her hands and said, “I suppose I can’t fault a human for not understanding, since you don’t have magic. Iren is the Holy Dragon Knight. Any Maantec would recognize that sword of his. Not only that, he became the Dragoon, the first person ever to do so. He knows what he could do with that power. He could end this war in a stroke. What town would stand against one that had a Dragon Knight?”