SpringFire

by Terie Garrison

  “Of course. As soon as Halla assures me you are strong enough, you shall go to her.”

  “I feel strong enough now.”

  He patted my hand. “I’m sure it will be soon, only a matter of a few days. But you see how the master healer rules her roost here, and not even I can gainsay her.” His eyes twinkled. “Regain your strength as quickly as you can. We will talk more soon.”

  When he left the room, the air itself seemed to change, as if the power that surrounded him were a separate presence that went with him. The light no longer shone quite as brightly, and the edges of things didn’t have quite as sharp a focus. I wondered what it would be like to have so much power yet be able to act as if you were completely unaware of it.

  After lunch, Breyard came by again. He wore green leggings and a bright blue tunic belted with a red sash. He laughed when I put up a hand as if to protect my eyes.

  “I know, I know,” he said. “But you get used to the colors after awhile.”

  “I doubt it. But what’s the fabric, anyway? I’ve never seen such strange stuff before.”

  “They call it thillin. It has the interesting property of keeping you cool during the heat of the day and warm when it cools off at night.”

  “But why does it have to be so bright?”

  Breyard shrugged. “Why do we wear such dull clothes back home?”

  “Maybe because the dyes are so expensive?”

  “Piddling details. Anyway, Halla says you can go out for a bit, so I’ve come to take you for a walk. Delaron is a place such as you have never seen before!”

  He bent down and pulled some things from under the bed. I wondered if there was a treasure chest down there or something. “Change into these. I’ll wait for you here.”

  This time when I got out of bed, I looked and saw a shelf underneath on which were the robe and slippers from earlier and several more pieces of bed linen. I carried the clothes to the private cubicle that was generally used for other things. There was a knee-length purple skirt and a cream-colored tunic with a blue-green sash. I felt like a troubadour getting ready to go out on stage when I looked down at myself. Well, if everyone dressed like this, perhaps I wouldn’t stand out.

  Breyard had sandals for me, and when I’d put them on, he led me outside.

  The blast of heat hit me like a boulder. I couldn’t ever remember it being so hot, not even on the hottest Summer day. The sky was pure blue now with none of the high clouds I’d seen earlier.

  “We’ll take it slow,” Breyard said. “I know you’re not used to this.”

  “You mean you can get used to this?”

  He chuckled. “Just like you get used to the cold in Winter. But you’ll have the last laugh when we get back to the mountains and everyone else is freezing. C’mon. Let me show you around a little.”

  We walked—slowly—along a path of pink gravel that led from the front door of the single-story building that housed the infirmary and through the rock garden I’d seen earlier. The road turned out to be a long, thin strip of some hard, white material. Across it, shiny white sand went to the water’s edge. Small waves from the dragons’ play in the deeper water lapped against the shore. I stood on the road watching the red dragons. Would I ever get used to seeing so many of them?

  And so much water! In the middle of the desert! One of my favorite childhood stories was about a family of mice who lived at a desert waterhole and had adventures involving other animals who stopped there for water—snakes, hawks, jackals, and even an especially funny wildcat. Most of the story, of course, involved the mice avoiding getting eaten. But I’d never imagined a lake such as this one.

  “We’ll stop by the shore on the way back,” Breyard said. “I want you to see the market first.”

  I went with him, the oppressive heat making me want more than ever to dip my toes into the cool-looking water.

  Soon we came to a row of houses. Made of a yellowish clay, they were only one story tall and each one seemed to spread out forever. Wide windows were open to catch any breeze that might waft by, while shades made of reeds covered the windows where the sun shone. A man came out of one house to roll up the shades along the east side of the house now that the sun had passed its zenith.

  “See the towers?” Breyard pointed to the nearest roof. I saw that each house had a square tower, about one-story high, with arches open on all sides so you could see right through. Several wood poles crisscrossed the arches. “Those cool off the house.”

  “You’re joking,” I said, giving him a suspicious look. He loved pulling my leg.

  “No, really. Really,” he insisted at my continuing doubt. “They capture the breeze and direct it inside. Those wood poles—you can hang wet clothes on them to help even more. Of course, it won’t get hot enough for that until Summer, they tell me.”

  I still wasn’t convinced. Pulling practical jokes was one of Breyard’s favorite pastimes, and I hated falling for them.

  We turned down another path between two of the houses. By this time, my face was coated with sweat. I wiped it with the ends of the sash. How could anyone stand living in heat like this? I was just about to ask Breyard to take me back when a jumble of color assaulted my eyes. A moment later, I caught the odor of spiced meat cooking.

  Back home in Barrowfield, I’d gone to market every week with Mama. And while in Penwick trying to rescue Breyard, I’d been at the capital’s market. But even that one—crowded and colorful and bustling with activity—paled in comparison to this one.

  Down the first aisle, bolt after bolt of thillin in every color and shade imaginable dazzled my eyes. People, all dressed in more bright clothes, haggled over prices at the tops of their voices, a disconcerting difference from the discreet way bargains were struck back home.

  But I soon wearied. Breyard wanted to show me more, but I insisted. I felt shaky and weak, and all the noise rattled my nerves. We turned around and retraced our steps.

  I felt only a little better when we’d left the crowded marketplace behind.

  “Can we stop and rest a minute?” I asked.

  Breyard looked at me anxiously. “You do look done in. Can you make it to the lake shore? It’s just a little farther. I bet getting your feet wet will help.”

  That sounded appealing, so I nodded and kept moving.

  When we got to the beach, I found the loose, white sand hard to walk in. It took much more effort to walk across than I would’ve expected, and the hot sand almost burned my feet when they sank into it as I walked.

  At the water’s edge, we took off our sandals and waded in. I stopped when the water was up to my knees, holding up my skirt to keep it from getting wet.

  “Don’t worry about your clothes,” Breyard said, continuing walking after I stopped. “They’ll dry in no time.”

  The water was warmer than I expected, but it still felt refreshing. I let the skirt fall and took a few more steps, then bent over to splash water on my face and head. Breyard dived under the surface and came up again far from where he’d started. I was now in up to my hips, and that was as far as I planned to go.

  There weren’t any more dragons out on the lake, and I wondered where they’d all gone. Hunting, perhaps? No, not in the hottest part of the afternoon. More likely sleeping, which, frankly, I was looking forward to doing myself.

  Breyard disappeared underwater again, and I decided to go sit in the sand to wait for him to finish his swim. I’d taken no more than a step or two when something grabbed my legs and pulled them out from under me. With a scream, I fell backward into the water, and it closed over my head. My mouth and nose filled with water. At first I couldn’t regain my footing, but the water wasn’t very deep and it didn’t take me long to right myself. I stood up, coughing and spluttering, to find Breyard standing there laughing.

  When I could speak again, I shout
ed, “What was that for?”

  “Aw, c’mon, Donavah, you’re not still scared of the water, are you?”

  Him knocking me over had been annoying and a little frightening. Laughing at me was infuriating. My being tired didn’t help.

  “Just shut up!” I exclaimed, brushing my hair back and wiping water from my face. “I’m going back.” I started to turn, but he caught my hands in his.

  “No, no. You’re not getting away that easily. Come a little deeper.”

  “No, Breyard!” Real fear displaced my anger. “No! I don’t want to!”

  He pulled me a few steps despite all my attempts to resist him. The water was up to my waist now. I knew you could drown in four inches of water.

  “No!” I screamed, struggling to get my hands free. “Let me go! Let me go!” Tears streamed down my face as I pulled with all my might.

  “All right,” he said, keeping hold of me but no longer pulling me toward the deeper water. “Donavah, I was only teasing.”

  “Let go! Let go!” In a dead panic now, I kept fighting him. Water splashed everywhere as I flailed around.

  Breyard took a step closer to me and picked me up. Afraid he was going to take me to even deeper water, I tried to push myself out of his arms, but he was too strong for me. A moment later I realized he was carrying me back to shore.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, setting my feet back on dry land.

  I pushed him away from me. “You know I’m afraid of the water,” I said between racking sobs.

  “I know, and I said I was sorry. Calm down.”

  “Don’t you dare tell me to calm down,” I shouted. “You don’t know what I’ve … what it’s like to … ”

  “All right, all right. Look, here are your sandals. Put them on, and I’ll take you back to the infirmary.”

  I brushed my angry tears away and put my sandals on, then headed back without saying a word. Breyard hurried to catch up, but I ignored him.

  He was right about the clothes. Despite the fact that it took only a few minutes to get back to the infirmary, they were practically dry. I went in, snatched my nightshift from my bed, and went into the cubicle to change back into it.

  I stayed in there much longer than necessary, first getting my emotions under control and then hoping Breyard would give up waiting for me and leave.

  Now that fear had loosened its grip on me, I felt stupid for how I’d acted. Nothing like that had ever happened before. Breyard had been teasing me all my life. Why would I so completely lose control of myself this time? My rational mind knew that Breyard would never let me drown, so what had set me off this time?

  When I finally went back to my bed, Breyard was gone. But Jinna was there, a worried expression on her face.

  “I’m all right,” I grumbled in response to her unasked question. “I just want to take a nap now.”

  She nodded. “Would you like something to drink?”

  “Actually, yes, please. I would.”

  I bunched the blanket up at the foot of the bed and climbed in under the sheet. Jinna came back a moment later with a glass of water and a pitcher, which she set on the table.

  “If you need any more—”

  “Yes, I know, ring the bell.” Then, after a short pause, “I’m sorry. I’m just tired.”

  She nodded. “I’ll check on you later.”

  Surprisingly, I fell straight to sleep.

  The time differential between Hedra and Stychs is a tricky and deceptive thing, and more than one dragon has succumbed to its wiles.

  It is no great thing for the mighty red dragons to go back and forth between the worlds. A single jump or even a return trip presents no difficulties.

  No, the danger lies in miscalculating the passage of time when making multiple trips.

  Let us make a concrete example and say that you remain in the other world for ten years. Upon returning home, you will be ten years older, but only an instant will have passed. A disconcerting thing for your loved ones, no? Yet benign for all that.

  Let us say that three years after your return home, you go back, and this time stay for five years. Beyond the obvious dubiousness of your wisdom in this matter, there are now, as you can see, two of you in the other world. This is an oddity, surely, but not a particular danger, though wiser heads than mine question what would happen if your two selves met up.

  To complete the illustration, let us further say that six years after your first trip, you go back a third time. It is here wherein the danger lies, for there are now three of you in the other world, and this is too many. Only a being of immense strength and power can survive; all others will wither away and die.

  Do not ask me whence comes this knowledge. It is too painful to tell.

  ~from the lecture notes of Tandor

  A disturbance in the passageway outside awoke me. My head felt groggy and dull as I tried to shake off my heavy, dreamless sleep.

  Botellin came into the room with an air of barely controlled urgency. He was dressed in the same clothes he’d worn earlier, but now had his red cloak on.

  “Awake, I see,” he said as he came to a stop at the foot of the bed. “Good. You need to get dressed and come with me immediately.”

  Halla walked up, a large bundle clutched to her chest. “I said she’s not ready.”

  Botellin turned his intense gaze onto the healer. “And I say she is ready enough.” He put a hand on her shoulder. “Do you not trust me?”

  Their eyes dueled a moment longer, then Halla set her bundle, which turned out to be clothes, on my bed. Botellin nodded in satisfaction, then focused back on me, a fire flickering in his dark brown eyes. “Now, please change and get ready to go.” He gestured to the clothes.

  “Go where?” I asked, feeling stupid and slow.

  “To Xyla, of course.”

  I couldn’t move fast enough.

  The clothing I changed into now was heavy and made me sweat, but I didn’t care. I was going to Xyla! And I’d need these warm things up there in the mountains. Not to mention the flight to get there.

  When I got back to my bed, Jinna stood there, dressed in warm clothes and carrying two packs, one of them mine.

  “You’re coming, too?” I asked.

  Her face fell a little. “Is that all right?”

  “Of course it’s all right.” I gave her a smile. “I’m ready,” I said to Botellin. “Let’s go.”

  “We’ll be off then,” he said, then kissed Halla on both cheeks. “Thank you, my dear.”

  He led Jinna and me outside, and I practically had to run to keep up with his long strides.

  The sight that met my eyes when we reached the front door, however, brought me to a sudden halt.

  Twenty dragons or more flew overhead, each with at least one red-robed figure astride. One stood on the sand across the road, and Botellin was almost running toward him.

  Kelben’s voice spoke in my head. “Hurry, child. The matter is urgent.”

  “C’mon!” I exclaimed to Jinna, and taking her hand, I dashed to the dragon.

  Botellin gave us each a hand up, Jinna first and me behind her, then launched himself as he had before. His magic made the air tingle as he sat behind me.

  He held on to Jinna and me as Kelben rose skyward. The lake quickly dwindled into a blue-green jewel in the yellow landscape. Up ahead loomed the mountains.

  Kelben led the way while the other dragons spread out behind in a wedge formation, much like a flock of birds flying south for the Winter.

  My breath caught in my throat. What could be so urgent that Botellin would insist on taking me from the healer’s care? So urgent it required the aid of all these dragons? Was Xyla dying?

  “Her life force is weak,” Kelben said in reply to my musings. “She needs our strength.”


  The ground below began to rise, and the dragons flew higher. The terrain changed from scrubby flatland to terraced fields to sporadic woods, and finally to thick forest.

  I shivered, and Botellin’s arms tightened a little. Warmth spread through me.

  We rose higher and higher. Before long, I saw a slash on the face of the mountainside and could even pick out the winding ribbon of the road: the bends, where Traz had fallen.

  Then we soared over the pass. It wouldn’t be long now.

  “Xyla?” I reached out for her. Surely we were close enough for her to hear. But there was no reply.

  Now that we were on the west side of the mountains, the setting sun cast its glare into our eyes. I looked down, trying to spot our destination.

  Kelben began a sharp descent, and Jinna let out a cry of surprise.

  “Don’t worry,” I shouted, hoping she’d hear me over the wind whistling past our ears. “The dragons never let us fall.” I felt more than heard Botellin’s chuckle.

  Then there it was, the mountainside pocked with many caves. Kelben arrowed for the clearing before the largest.

  We could hardly land soon enough. Kelben homed in on the clearing before the cave. He’d scarcely touched the ground when Botellin launched himself, landing as lightly as if he’d only hopped over a narrow stream. I dismounted rather less gracefully, sliding down Kelben and hitting the ground with a thud that rattled my bones. I ran for the cave, Jinna on my heels.

  Botellin was right: her life vibrations were very weak indeed. The cave was warm from the heat of a large fire. Xyla looked grey. I bit my lower lip. Was she going to die? She couldn’t. I wouldn’t let her. I followed Botellin to her side.

  Soon the other sages entered the cave. Traz ran to Xyla, his staff gripped tightly in his hand.

  Botellin stood near Xyla’s head, which lolled carelessly on the floor. He placed both hands on her neck and closed his eyes in concentration. The look on his face reminded me of Master Larmstro, the healer at Roylinn Academy, analyzing a patient’s condition by tuning in to their vibrations.