Eon - 01 Eon

by Alison Goodman

  He curled his arm around my shoulders and lifted me up into a sitting position. I felt his hand smooth back my hair then rest at the nape of my neck. The arena swirled and rocked, filling my gut with roiling sickness. I deepened my breathing until it settled, although my vision separated now and again into blurred doubles. It looked as though there were two Barets fighting two Rannes in the centre. I squinted, trying to bring the doubles back to one image.

  Baret was doing well. Not surprising — Ranne was using the forms in the ascendance sequence we had all learned. Soon Baret would be a Dragoneye apprentice. And I would be a runaway.

  I moved out of my master's hold, but he kept a hand on my arm.

  'Go slow, Eon. You still have a little time before the final bow'

  The applause for Baret's performance was laced with shouts of abuse for Ranne. I closed my eyes, gingerly touching my swollen temple. As though from a far distance, I heard the herald call Dillon and Jin-pa. My injury seemed to be shallow, but I slowly traced my Hua through the seventh centre of power. The damage was like a kink in my energy line, but the flow was not broken. Not dangerous. I opened my eyes, the arena separating into two. I blinked them back together.

  And then I saw the dragons.

  Crouched on the top of their mirrors, staring down at Dillon and Jin-pa fighting on the sand.

  The beasts had no solid form or colour — just a disturbance in the air that spoke of shape and weight and line. Only their eyes seemed to have substance: a concentration of darkness as though holes had been ripped in the fabric of the world. The crowd was oblivious to their presence. Even the Dragoneyes stared through them. Why couldn't they see their own dragons?

  An eruption of cheers and calls announced the end of the sequence. I let the noise and heat wash over me as Dillon bowed to

  the mirror. The Rat Dragon ducked his shimmering head to study him. For a moment, Dillon seemed to stiffen as he rose from the deep courtesy — was he aware of the huge eyes only an arm's-length away? I watched him as he returned to the line, but he just seemed exhausted.

  The next candidate was called. I closed my eyes, seeking relief from the relentless glare. The noise of the crowd dropped into a distant murmur as a velvety ease settled over the pain.

  A hand shook me back into the aching light. The arena burst around me into full volume.

  'Eon. Stay awake,' my master said. 'The last candidate is up. It's almost time for the final bow'

  I squinted against all the colour and noise, scanning the arena. The dragons were gone. At least from my sight. My master pulled me up by my arm.

  'Get back in line. I must return to my seat.'

  It took me the whole of the final candidate's sequence to make my way across the short length of sand to iny position, each step making me lurch with dizziness. I dropped to my knees behind Quon just as the herald ran out and formed their octagon. The sound of their gongs cut through the crowd's rumbling excitement. The herald waited until an expectant quiet had gathered like the calm that comes before a monsoon.

  'The twelve have shown their skill and stamina,' they chanted. 'Now is the time to see the Rat Dragon. To see the new Dragoneye apprentice.'

  The crowd's exuberant screams sent pain stabbing into my ears. This was the only time a layman could ever see one of the great beasts; a glimpse in the ascendant mirror as the dragon crossed the sand to make his choice, and then the glorious moments of union when the new apprentice laid his hands on the pearl and the dragon took solid form.

  The gong cut off the exultation.

  'Witness the final bow! Witness the rise of one boy to the glorious honour of communion with the Rat Dragon!'

  The gong was lost in thunderous applause and stamping. The herald ran to the side and formed a line against the wall, waiting to give their final announcement. The name of the apprentice.

  Lord Ido emerged from the rampway. As he walked towards the Rat Dragon mirror, the Imperial trumpets and drummers played a climbing fanfare. The elderly official who had spoken to my master stepped up in front of us.

  'Stand,' he said. 'Form your line, one to twelve, for the final bow'

  I dug the tips of my swords into the sand to pull myself upright. It was an unforgivable breach, but I didn't care. Every limb dragged with heaviness, and my head pounded in counterpoint with the drums. Even so, as I crossed my swords in salute and followed Quon across the sand, a reserve of excited energy made me straighten and step out. Maybe I still had a chance. We lined up in front of the Rat Dragon mirror and in the bright glass I saw the other candidates — faces blanched with fear but heads held up, shoulders back, every one of them pushing through their exhaustion.

  The fanfare suddenly stopped, leaving an eerie silence.

  Lord Ido turned to face the mirror. He stood with his legs apart, as though standing against a wind, and raised his arms. In the reflection, I saw his eyes slide along our row and for a shocking moment our gazes locked. His eyes were silvered with Hua, the raw energy stealing his expression. I looked away from his blank face, fear surging through me.

  'One is worthy,' he called to the mirror, his voice a curious mix of entreaty and command.

  'Show us who will serve you.'

  It was as though the whole audience sat forwards and held their breath, every gaze focused on the bright glass.

  Light shivered in the air above the carved gold rat. Slowly, a large claw slid into the reflection, pale blue scales glowing above five opal talons. The Rat Dragon was descending from his perch, his translucent body only solid and visible in the mirror as he passed by it. A reflection without an original. It was the first time I'd ever seen one of the dragons in full physical form. My own gasp was echoed around the arena. A powerfully muscled foreleg came into view, the scales darkening into ocean blue as the underside of a broad chest and shoulder followed in the glass. Next, a beard, the white hair thick and tapered like a horse's tail. And for a fleeting moment, beneath the coarse strands, I saw the dragon's pearl — his source of wisdom and power — tucked under his chin and shining with blue iridescence. Then it was hidden by his flared muzzle, the delicate scales and fine horse nostrils accentuating the size of the fang that curved from his upper lip.

  The dragon turned to stare across the sand at the Emperor, one large dark eye visible in the mirror, his broad brow crowned by two curled horns. I heard nervous murmuring from the crowd as both of his forelegs reached the sand, his sinuous body stretched full length in the reflection. Then it coiled like a snake and dropped behind him, the invisible weight sending up a cloud of sand and dust that fell back over his body, giving us a shimmering outline of him. He shook his head, dislodging more sand, then turned and looked at himself in the glass, the endless depth of his eyes giving him an expression of sadness. Two pale blue membranes extended out from each shoulder and rippled in the sunlight like watered silk, then folded back against his body. The heavy head swung around to face us again, the mirror showing the solid line of his spine and the thick fall of white mane. Although his eyes were no longer reflected, I knew he was studying us, choosing his apprentice.

  The sand in front of the mirror stirred as the dragon stepped forwards. Beside me, Quon braced himself, his breath quickening. Lanell whispered a hurried prayer. I tried to swallow but I was so parched it caught in my throat like dry bread. The swish of a giant snake track appeared in the sand as the dragon moved closer, the graceful sway of his tail mesmerising in the

  mirror. Inside me, something was beginning to build like slow bubbles breaking the surface of near boiled water. Was it the dragon's power? I looked down the line of candidates. Some had broken rank and stepped back; Baret was edging away, but Dillon held his place. The heavy indents of the dragon's claws were visible in the sand as he approached. In the mirror, his head was moving back and forth like a dog sniffing the air. He turned to Baret.

  Energy was thrumming through my body. I narrowed my eyes, groping for my mind-sight; perhaps if I showed him my power, he would come. Th
e dull thud in my head built into unbearable pressure. The dragon shimmered into being for me and I felt him dragging energy from my body His head jerked around, a thick blue tongue licking out, tasting the power. He paced a few steps, then backtracked as if undecided. I gritted my teeth, trying to hold him in my sight, but the drain was too great. The dragon disappeared from my view, the sudden wrench of the connection making me sway.

  The crowd's excitement finally found voice, cutting through the loud drums and trumpets in shrill calls. I looked up at the mirror. Had it been enough? The dragon lifted a claw and raked at the air, then with a few flicks of his tail he was upon me. In the reflection, his huge face bent down to mine, but I couldn't see him, only feel his hot breath on my cheek. It smelled of vanilla and orange. Was he choosing me? I tried to merge into my mind-sight again but my head was too full of pain and pounding power. Sand sprayed into an arc, whipping me across the face. Quon covered his eyes, crouching as the unseen bulk of the beast passed between us.

  I felt the heavy tail brush my leg, a sliding touch of hard muscle. I looked wildly from the shifting sand to the reflection of the dragon as he reared up behind me, the heat of his body pressing against mine. Was I chosen? I saw Lord Ido start towards me. His eyes were no longer wide and blank; they were narrowed in fury. I Ic must have seen me call the beast.

  The dragon suddenly swung around to face the Emperor above the dark mirror. He cocked his head to one side then screamed, the sound like the shriek of a hunting eagle but a hundred times louder. It pushed me down to my knees. I dropped my swords, pressing my hands against my ears, but the scream was in my head, shattering my senses. A surge of energy knocked me sideways. And then the heat at my back was gone. Struggling to lift my head, I watched the whirl of sand move down the line. He was leaving me. The mirror showed him in front of Baret and Dillon. Screaming again, the beast lunged at Dillon, circling him in a gritty tornado, his huge tail catching Baret in the chest, flicking him to the ground. The closest candidates scattered. Quon grabbed the sleeve of my tunic and pulled me backwards. I ripped myself free of his grasp; I had to stay close in case the dragon came back for me.

  For a moment, Dillon's slight figure was hidden in the centre of the churning sand, then the funnel burst upwards like an exploding volcano, falling in a stinging rain on me and the other candidates. Only Dillon was untouched. He stood with his head back, his face a pale O of astonishment. I turned to the mirror. He was staring into the eyes of the dragon, the beast's body curled like a crescent moon over him. The dragon bent closer, his muzzle a finger-length from Dillon's face. The huge head slowly lifted to expose the shimmering pearl hidden under chin and beard. Dillon reached up and placed his hands around the sphere. A pale blue flame surged from it, the connection between beast and boy sparking in a rush of silver Hua that brought the dragon into shimmering solidity With a gasp, the crowd shifted their attention from the mirror to the two glowing figures on the sand. The dragon's colour was lost in t he sheen of energy but Dillon's red tunic stood out like a splash of blood against the huge chest.

  The beast closed his eyes and called, the resonating cry holding a lonely question.

  Dillon threw back his head, the soft round of his child face suddenly lengthening into sharper lines. 'Yes, I hear you,' he yelled as if answering the dragon's call. 'I am Dillon. I hear you.'

  The beast shrieked again, this time in triumph, the climbing descant piercing the crowd's roar.

  I was pushed sideways as Lord Ido brushed past me. 'Get back,' he ordered, jerking his head to the other candidates clustered beside the mirror. 'You're in the way'

  He strode across the sand and stopped in front of the dragon and boy locked in their union. I picked up my swords and backed away although each step felt like I was tearing something in me. Lord Ido bowed low to the dragon. Then, bracing his feet in the sand, he pulled Dillon away from the pearl. Silver power crackled through the boy into the man, snapping the Dragoneye's head back. The beast's howl mingled with Dillon's scream of loss. Then the dragon winked out of sight as Lord Ido caught Dillon's limp body, holding him up to face the audience. I looked back at the mirror. The Rat Dragon was gone.

  Lord Ido motioned to the Imperial herald. They ran over and formed the octagon, their gong drawing the crowd's attention.

  'Witness the choice,' the herald called. 'Witness Dillon, the new Rat Dragoneye apprentice.'

  As one, the crowd came to their feet chanting 'Dillon'.

  He stirred and turned his face towards their exultation, his own joy giving him the strength to stand. His bones were stark, as though he had aged five years. Lord Ido held up Dillon's hand in his own, circling with his new apprentice in victorious acknowledgement.

  In that moment, hate flared through me like a sudden fever, burning everything soft in its path. The swords in my hands stirred with it, answering the fire. And then, just as fast, the hate froze into a vast emptiness that ached through me. I looked across at Quon and Lanell and saw the same dark desolation on their faces.

  We had failed.

  I had failed.

  Quon started to sob, the crowd's cheers drowning the sound.

  A hand gripped my shoulder.

  'Eon, come this way' a voice said close to my ear. Van, his thin face soft with sympathy.

  The rest of the candidates were being ushered around the edge of the arena by officials. I looked back at Dillon. Why was he chosen? The Rat Dragon had come to me first. Why had the beast turned away? Perhaps it had always been true: no dragon would choose a cripple.

  My master had gambled and lost. I looked up into the stands. He was not hard to find — the only figure left sitting in the Heuris seats. Alone and unmoving. Part of me wanted to run now, out of the arena and away from his despair. Away from his fists and lingering touches. I felt for the weight of the hidden coin. It was still there, pulling at the hem. But even if I tried to flee, I would not get far. I could barely push through my exhaustion to stay upright, let alone run.

  I slowly followed Van across the sand to where the other failed candidates waited. They were all silently watching the flurry of activity around Dillon: the herald urging the crowd to louder cheers, two columns of musicians behind them playing a soaring triumphal. Another official pulled me into the straggling line of candidates. Quon lurched into me, his face tear-streaked and white with strain. We moved forwards. Ahead someone stumbled and was manhandled back into place. I heard a clipped command and felt Van move into step beside me, watching.

  'Let me take your swords,' he finally said.

  I had forgotten I was holding them, their weight just part of the terrible fatigue that dragged at me. It was an effort to hold the blades up to him, an even greater effort to release the grips.

  'We're almost there,' Van said.

  'Where?' I licked my lips. Were v/e going for water?

  'You must bow to the Emperor.'

  I looked at him, turning over his words for meaning. Bow. To the Emperor.

  'Then water?'

  He nodded. 'Not long now.'

  We stopped back under the dark mirror where we had first waited. I looked up; the Emperor was watching the celebrations in the centre of the arena, he had no interest in us. A distracted official pushed Hannon forwards, motioning for him to bow. Hannon dropped to his knees, his swords held in a wavering salute. For a moment, I didn't think he was going to make it back up, but he finally pushed himself onto his feet and was ushered to the other side of the mirror. Callan followed, his bow slow but correct. Quon had to be led to the mirror and eased down onto the sand. I saw his bleak face as he was hauled back to his feet; if a person could die of disappointment, Quon would soon be with his ancestors.

  It was my turn. Van handed me my swords.

  'Do you need my help?' he asked.

  I squeezed the grips and felt a sluggish surge of the ancient energy — enough to get me to the mirror. I shook my head and started to pick my way across the churned sand.

  The centre of the
dark glass held the greenish sheen of a black pearl. My master had once worn such a gem, before he sold it for food. But there were no more gems to sell — only crippled bond servants. I stood and stared into the mirror for a moment, gathering the effort needed to drop to my knees. The dense blackness was strangely soothing. I blinked, trying to clear a stab of brightness from my eyes.

  A line of light suddenly flared at the top, burning downwards like a fuse. It split the glass, peeling back the darkness into a blinding radiance that pushed me off my feet. The swords spun out of my hands as I groped at the air. I hit the sand on my back, the impact shuddering through me and locking my breath. Above the mirror, I saw the Emperor's guards lean over with

  their arms shielding their eyes. Had I done something wrong? I finally found air and sucked it in. Behind me, the sounds of the celebration had disintegrated into the clash of faltering instruments and screams.

  Crackling energy sheared across my skin. Red flashed through the mirror, too large to have form. The ground shook as sand flew into the air and showered over the arena. Men were scattering — officials, audience, candidates — stumbling and falling in their panic. The reflection in front of me was filled with a landscape of rippling red and orange. I pushed myself up onto my feet, fighting t hrough a heavy press of power. The brilliant colours rushed past the glass in a river of fire, then suddenly stopped. I finally recognised the shapes: a graceful length of muzzle and the curve of a nostril. Twice the size of the Rat Dragon. Then I saw an eye, as large and round as a cartwheel, staring at me from the glass.

  Another dragon.

  A dragon I had never seen before.

  The image moved again, a dizzying turn of red and yellow that ended in a reflection of two horns arching over a thick mane that shimmered with gold and bronze. The dragon filled the entire reflection, blotting out any sight of the arena. The air thickened with heat and I heard the slide of a huge weight behind me. On cither side of me, deep grooves appeared in the sand. Reaching out blindly, I brushed soft-ridged scales and snatched back my hand. The rich sweetness of cinnamon was on my tongue a moment before I felt hot breath on my hair. I looked at the mirror and saw myself standing between the beast's forelegs, a tiny red figure almost lost against the bright crimson of the deep chest. The broad muzzle was hanging above my head, the fang only a finger-tip away I spun around.