Kaleet did not back away. Their eyes met. “I am asking, Damusaun.”
The dragons in the circle repeated in rumbling voices, “We are asking.”
Then, in a softer voice Hanna barely heard, Kaleet said, “Think of the egg you carry, of the queen to come.”
Hanna gripped Thriss a little tighter. An egg. Another queen. She’d sensed it in her dreamwalk as they’d plummeted down, though she’d not been able to put it into words. Three lives falling. The third, she knew now, was the tiny future queen.
She passed her eyes over the Damusaun and thought she detected a telltale rounding at the base of her belly. The Damusaun flashed her a look and covered her abdomen with her tail. “We leave tonight,” she said. “The meers may ride with us if they dare.”
“I’ll go!” Miles said eagerly. He stepped up next to Hanna.
Hanna leaned close to whisper in his ear, “Let the others fight with the dragons, Miles. I need you in Oth.”
“I’m needed here,” he whispered.
She would have answered back, but Taunier was up and speaking. “I, too, will go,” he said. “Though I am not a meer.”
“Come forward.”
Hanna tensed as Taunier rounded the fire.
The Damusaun lowered her head to his level. “You are not a meer, but you are the Fire Herd. Before you came, we could only stand sentinel at the edge of the wood. Now with your help we can make a fire wall to bar the Cutters from the Waytrees. Do you think you can contain our wall and see that the azures do not catch fire?”
Taunier held out his cupped hands. “How can I herd a great wall, Damusaun?”
“The Kanameer has dreamed it. You will ride a dragon.”
Hanna remembered the danger Taunier had faced in her dream. She wanted to grab his broad shoulders and convince him to come with her to Oth. But she knew it would only infuriate him. Though she could not see his face, she could tell by his stance that Taunier stood resolute, even proud.
“Now let the meers reveal their signs,” said the Damusaun. Eason and Kanoae stood and held their hands out to the fire. Blazing blue Othic symbols appeared on their left palms; the meer sign was first worn by the Mishtar, the man most honored by the dragons. The she-dragon looked pleased. Her head began to sway.
Hanna had seen palm signs before, and she still remembered the one on the Falconer’s palm. Each meer bore a distinct symbol. Seeing them, she felt a kind of awe, not at their power, but at their lit beauty.
“Miles,” said the Dragon Queen, “where is your sign?”
Miles stiffened. “I am an apprentice, Damusaun.” The queen huffed gray smoke and clicked her talons against the stony floor.
Hanna wrapped her hand about his arm and whispered, “It doesn’t matter.”
“It does,” Miles hissed under his breath. “I would have been blue-palmed in a few months’ time if I’d stayed on at school.”
“You don’t have to join the raid,” argued Hanna. “I need you to go with me. You promised to help me find Tymm.”
“You won’t be able to bring him back if the Waytrees are down. It’s Tymm I’m thinking of.”
“Who is this Tymm?” The Damusaun extended her long neck.
Hanna started. She’d not meant for their whispered debate to be overheard. “He’s our little brother, Damusaun.”
“He was Wind-taken after the Waytrees fell,” Miles added. “Many children were stolen that way, and we’re sure they were blown east.”
The queen flicked out her tongue. “I saw these children.”
They all spoke at once—Hanna, Miles, Taunier, the meers—their questions tripping over one another.
“Where did you see them?”
“How long ago?”
“When?”
The queen shook her head irritably. She was used to being addressed singly and with respect. When they all fell silent, she said, “A few dragons from our company patrolled Noor to see where the ancient forests were falling, as we knew they would when our azures were cut. Land to land they saw children taken up by the wind. Weeks ago, we saw the children blowing over our Waytrees here. I winged after them to see if our Kanameer and Fire Herd had come, for we knew our pilgrims would arrive on the wind. When I reached the azure grove, they were gone.”
“Gone?” Hanna choked on the word.
“What do you mean, gone?” asked Miles.
“They were taken into Oth,” the Dragon Queen said.
The passage, thought Hanna. It is here! “Did you follow the children into Oth? Can you show us the Waytree passage?” She was asking too many questions at once, but she couldn’t help it.
A low growling sound filled the cave, coming not only from the queen but from every dragon’s throat. Hanna tried not to panic. What had she said to offend them?
“We could not follow them, Kanameer,” the Damusaun said briskly.
“But Oth is your home, isn’t it?” blurted out Miles.
“We were banished from Oth long ago, manling.”
Hanna looked down at the sandy floor. Banished? She’d not seen any dragons in Oth last year, but she’d only explored a single island in the west. The Otherworld had as many lands as Noor. She’d assumed the dragons lived in the sunny eastern lands of Oth.
She toed a pebble with her boot, thinking. If the dragons couldn’t cross over, how could they guard the way between worlds, or help her find Tymm? She shot a quick glance at Miles, Taunier, and the meers. They, too, looked stunned.
“Sit now,” snapped the queen. “All of you.” Her voice was brittle. She was giving them an order.
TWENTY-THREE
THE LAW OF THE OLD MAGIC
I have seen the dragons burn their dead and save a single wing bone to bury back in Twarn-Majas when they return home.
—THE MISHTAR, DRAGON’S WAY, vol. 3
Hanna settled by the fire next to Taunier. What now?
Thriss curled up in her lap but did not purr.
The Dragon Queen peered at each of the five companions in turn. Her yellow eyes landed last on Hanna.
“A Dreamwalker may step into the future,” she said, “but I see your powers are limited, Kanameer. You do not see behind you far enough to step back into the past.”
One of the hatchlings snickered, and the queen held up her tail in warning.
Blushing, Hanna ran her finger down Thriss’s scaly back. She did not look at Taunier, though he was close enough for her to feel the warmth coming off his skin.
“Still,” said the queen, “I would not expect any manlings to know our trouble. The Mishtar was true to his word. He pledged to keep our banishment from Oth secret, to pass on the guarded knowledge only from High Meer to High Meer. But all secrets pass away in time.”
Who had the power to banish the dragons, Hanna wondered.
“Do you know why we dragons guard the Waytrees?”
Miles said, “The deep-rooted trees house deya spirits, and they bridge the way between the worlds.”
“Rightly said, pilgrim.”
Hanna noticed her brother’s chest swell with pride. She could have given the same answer, but she was still feeling the sting of the Damusaun’s comment about her limited powers.
“Watching over Waytrees runs in our blood,” said the queen, “since the first age when dragons guarded the greatest tree of all, the World Tree, Kwen-Arnun.”
At the mention of the World Tree, all the dragons sent green fire toward the ceiling. The fire combined into a single burning tree. The tree seemed alive, its branches laden with silver fruit so ripe Hanna felt as if she could smell its sweet, rich nectar, so real she wanted to pluck and taste it.
Hanna knew the dragons had guarded the World Tree from the beginning of time. But the burning tree here in the cave was like a prayer, and more than any words it showed the love the dragons had for their Kwen-Arnun.
Slowly, the tree burned out. Smoke swirled about, clouding the high ceiling.
The Damusaun said, “When the great quake split t
he World Tree in the second age and drove a rent through NoorOth, tearing the worlds in two, we winged to Kwen-Arnun’s children here in Noor. We knew the World Tree’s offspring would have the power to hold the two worlds together if they were left alone to grow strong. When the manlings came to fell the Waytrees for timber, we did not let the worlds split apart. We fought with talons, teeth, and fire. Many manlings died.”
Hanna had studied the dragon wars; every child in Noor knew their history. But she’d not learned the reason for the war, or why the dragons fought, only that they’d been fierce enemies of man until the treaties were signed. The books were likely different at the meers’ school, and she was sure she would have learned the truth if she’d read all the pages in the Falconer’s book, for he, at least, was never one to lie. Hanna was still thinking about this when she realized the Damusaun was speaking to her.
“You have been to Oth, Kanameer. You must know the law of the Old Magic.”
Hanna slid her hand in her pocket and grasped Great-Uncle Enoch’s gift. The bottle was cool in her sweaty hand. She knew that magical folk who broke the law of the Old Magic were exiled from the lit lands of Oth, imprisoned in the shadow lands behind the great wind-wall, or expelled from Oth entirely. It was the law of the Old Magic that prevented the Sylth Queen from killing Great-Uncle Enoch when he’d mistakenly released the Shriker from captivity behind her wind-wall. Instead, she’d punished him by enspelling him in the oak tree. The same law also prevented the Sylth Queen from killing the Shriker, so she’d drawn Miles into Oth to do the deed for her.
Hanna cleared her throat and looked up at the Damusaun. “I know that those who follow the law of the Old Magic are forbidden to kill.”
The smoke rising from the she-dragon’s nostrils drifted toward the entryway, joining the gray rain outside. “So you see the way of it, Kanameer. We broke the law when we went to war. For that, we were banished from Oth.”
Meer Kanoae said, “So you can never go home again?”
Hanna cringed inside. Sometimes Meer Kanoae was too blunt, but the Damusaun didn’t snap at her. Instead, she raised her head a little higher and curled her long, spiked tail about her feet like a gown. “When the dragon wars ended, we signed a treaty with all manlings. They would let us keep our forestlands, and there would be no more bloodshed. The Sylth King of Oth pledged to lift the banishment if we abided by our treaties and kept peace with manlings for seven hundred years.”
“Seven hundred years? But that’s too long!” Hanna blurted out.
The dragons flicked their tails irritably. She clamped her teeth. Who was being too blunt now? Dragons lived far longer than men, and she sensed that many dragons here were very old indeed. Still, the punishment seemed overly harsh.
A cooling green color came to the Damusaun’s eyes, sorrow, but no tears, though it seemed all the deeper for that. Hanna could imagine how she felt. She loved her own home on Enness Isle. Loved Mount Shalem, Shalem Wood, her family’s cottage, the green hills that rolled down to the sea. What if she were banished from Enness?
A hatchling said, “Tell us about Twarn-Majas, Damusaun.”
“Twarn-Majas,” said the queen. “You have never seen it, little Agreeya,” she said tenderly. “I was born there. No land is more beautiful, no ground more richly colored. The mountains there are deep-blue stone. Sky and land look to be brother and sister on a clear day. I still remember the scent of the masayan trees in bloom.”
“I, too, was born there,” said Kaleet.
“As was I,” said another and another.
“Twarn-Majas. Twarn-Majas.” Whispers drifted through the cave like a sigh. And for a moment Hanna saw the mountains rising blue against a pale green dawn, blue above the eastern Othic sea.
The Damusaun said, “This month on the night of Breal’s Moon our banishment will end.”
“Breal’s Moon,” whispered Taunier. “It’s less than a week from now.”
Hanna remembered the eclipse she’d seen through the porthole her first night on the Leena. Breal’s Moon, the first full moon after an eclipse, was the night when it was easiest to cross from Noor to Oth and back.
The queen said, “We will be allowed to cross over that night. That is, if any Waytrees are left by then.”
Hanna started. If all the Waytrees were felled, how could she hope to bring Tymm and the others home? “There must be enough left!” she argued. “There’s still an azure grove higher up the mountain. I saw it when the storm blew us here.”
“Kanameer! Speak with your mind and not just your heart. There is but one grove left, and it’s vanishing under the Cutters’ axes and root poison. We are losing this battle—one we could win with ease if we could kill.”
Miles stood. “We can kill for you, Damusaun.”
The Dragon Queen roared fire. Miles leaped back as the flames nearly singed his feet. “You would kill men for us? Tell me, foolish boy, how that is any different than killing them ourselves?”
Meer Eason stood and cleared his throat, but Miles was already answering, “It’s not, I suppose.” He was visibly shaking.
Hanna stood up beside him. “My brother means no harm, Damusaun.”
“Harm is just what he means.” She snapped her jaws. “If you wish to help us, you must fight our way. Kill a single man, and we will be exiled from our homeland forever.”
Taunier said, “We’ll take a vow. Whatever you want us to do to help you save the trees, we will do.”
Meer Eason and Kanoae joined them in a row facing the dragons.
Smoke curled from the Damusaun’s nostrils. “Will you vow by breath and fire to fight but not to kill?”
They all said, “I vow it.”
The queen sealed the vow by sending her fire to each in turn. The intense heat was startling. Hanna gritted her teeth, waiting for it to be over. When the flame was extinguished, she was grateful for the rain outside that sent a cool, wet wind coursing through the cave.
“We accept your vow,” replied the Damusaun, and she bowed her great head to the small band of humans who had come so far to aid them in their battle.
TWENTY-FOUR
NIGHT BATTLE
Clouds came with rain and snow,
and the people forgot the stars.
—THE BOOK OF EOWEY
Cool droplets pricked Miles’s arms as he left the dragon’s cave and crossed the sand with Taunier and Hanna. Clouds shrouded the moon. The spare light would make it harder for the Cutters to see the dragons flying over their camps. It would also be more difficult to find the trebuchets hidden in the hills.
They headed for the high stone arch to get out of the wet, while they waited for the dragons to assemble on the beach.
Hanna tucked a strand of hair behind her ears. It fell across Thriss’s back like a blanket. “If I find the passage into Oth …” She adjusted her rucksack, and the corner of the Falconer’s book stuck out. Miles covered it to keep it dry. The Falconer’s maps could not pinpoint the Waytree passage here in the east. The mysterious passage from Noor to Oth was never in one place for long but moved, from Waytree to Waytree. It would not be easy to find. Hanna buried the toe of her boot in the sand and seemed to lose the rest of her speech. Taunier, too, was silent.
Miles said, “If you think you can find Tymm, then you have to go, Hanna. As things are now, we haven’t much time.” He leaned against the cliff rock, feeling torn. Part of him wanted to go with her. He’d promised Da he’d find his little brother, but he and Taunier were both needed here. “We’ll fight to keep the Waytrees standing long enough for you to get Tymm and the others out of Oth.”
Hanna wrapped the cloak more tightly about herself, Thriss disappearing under the folds. “When the Damusaun said she’d seen the children blowing over Jarrosh, I thought she’d tell us where in Oth Tymm had gone.”
“She wasn’t holding back from us,” said Taunier. “She just—”
“Couldn’t go after them,” said Miles. He, too, had been sorely disappointed to discover
the queen knew so little about the Wind-taken.
“Still,” said Taunier, “the Damusaun saw them disappear into Oth. We’re closer to finding Tymm now than we’ve ever been.”
Hanna rocked on her feet. “But we’re no closer to understanding why Tymm and the others were taken.”
Just overhead a spider clung to her damp web. The high stone arch was keeping them dry, but it was cold and later would be colder still. Miles took his sister’s hand. “You’ll understand who took them and why when you find them. I’m sure of that. When we were back in western Noor on Othlore Isle, the High Meer told us what he’d seen in the scrying stone. He believed the Wind-taken children were brought here to help the Waytrees.”
“How?” asked Hanna, irritably. “How can they help the Waytrees if they’re in Oth?”
“If we’re fighting to keep the worlds together here, there must be others in Oth who want the same.”
Hanna watched the spider climb her web. “I hope you’re right.”
“You found me last year,” said Miles. “And you will find Tymm. You have to.” These last words came from his belly, from the ache that had been there since he’d seen the empty cot in Tymm’s loft.
He reached up to straighten her windblown hair. She was taller than he remembered, not a child anymore. She’s beautiful, he thought. The idea startled him.
Taunier was gazing at her. It was more than a brotherly look. Miles was taken aback. Hanna and Taunier? His best friend and his sister? He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Or was he just imagining it?
“You be careful in Oth,” Taunier said. He looked down at her, for he was nearly a foot taller than she.
Hanna squared her shoulders, a determined look on her soft face. “I’ll do what I have to.”
Taunier frowned, but Miles understood. Hanna would not promise to keep herself safe. She’d do what must be done to bring their little brother home.
“You’re a good sister,” Miles said, and he caught the faintest smile from her.
Breal trotted down the beach. Behind him, terrows and taberrells exited the cave with Meers Eason and Kanoae.
The Dragons of Noor Page 13