And began to weep.
“Oh, my little girl,” he sobbed. “What have they done to you?”
Swallowing past a lump in my throat, I moved quickly to his side and took his hand. “Papa!” I exclaimed, hoping I sounded brighter than I felt. “No one has done anything to me. See?” I smiled.
“No, no,” he said. “I know. I saw.”
“Saw what, dear Papa?”
Mama ran her hands through his disheveled hair. “Shh, love. We’re all here, and we’re all safe.”
“Safe?” he shouted, making me jump. “No one is safe from the power.” His voice lowered to a whisper. “It’s everywhere. Rings of it. Piles of it. It must be broken. But it can’t be broken.” Then, in a plaintive wail, “It’s the end of everything.”
I stared as tears welled in my eyes. What had happened? What had brought him to this? I felt weak and powerless, as if my bones had turned into powder.
Papa clutched at my hand. “They made you into a dragonmaster. My own flesh and blood—”
“No, Papa!” I said, a thread of relief passing through my thoughts. Of this, at least, I could assure him. “No, they didn’t. See, I’m here now, safe and sound. Just me.”
“They buried me in the wall, you know. But they wouldn’t let me die. They made me watch. I saw.” He pushed my hand away, as if it were some filthy thing. “Leave me! I won’t let you sit there and mock me.”
I sat stunned. Breyard moved close to me and put a comforting hand on my shoulder.
Mama took Papa’s face in her hands and forced him to look at her. “No, Tegar. You don’t mean that. You know you don’t.”
He began to shake. “The circle must be broken. Here and now. The circle must be broken, the circle must be broken.” He kept repeating it over and over, the words resounding in my head like a hammer pounding on steel.
And then an idea struck to me. I rose to my feet. Mama looked up.
“No, sweetie. Don’t go. You know he doesn’t mean what he says.”
I hated seeing the pain in her eyes, but I’d understood what Papa’s nonsense was trying to convey. Something needed to be done, and the sooner it was, the sooner he might recover.
“I have to go, Mama. Trust me.”
Breyard gave me a questioning look and followed me out. With one last look at Papa, who wept in Mama’s teary embrace, I closed the door.
“Donavah, you can’t take his words to heart. You know he’s raving.”
“Maybe not as much as it seems. Just let me do this.”
“Do what ?” Breyard asked.
I put a hand on his chest. “You stay here and help Mama with him. I know what to do.”
“And that is?”
“Just trust me. And stay here.”
With that, I ran back to Yallick’s room, hoping to find Traz there.
“Are you sure?” Traz asked when I told him my plan. We were in a secluded spot in the garden, where I’d practically dragged him.
“No.” I sighed and shook my head. “But don’t you think it’s worth a try?”
He grinned. “If nothing else, it’ll be fun. Let’s go.”
An hour later, we stood together in the arena in the top row, looking down on the fighting pit. Although it was empty of everyone but Traz and me, I could almost hear the echoes of many voices. Standing absolutely still, I could sense the resonance of power as it swirled around and through the very stone.
“Can you feel it?” I whispered.
“I can.”
“The source is here, and we must break it.”
Traz and I turned to each other and gazed into one another’s eyes. He nodded, and I smiled.
“Together, your power and mine. We can do this thing.”
He grinned, and laughter poured from his eyes. Then he held out his staff. I took one end and he took the other, and we started running.
Soon our steps fell into rhythm. The resonance of power grew stronger with each step I took, as if the stone itself partook in our actions. Our strides grew longer and longer, each one taking us a little more airborne.
The sky above was clear, and the sun’s power doubled our own.
When we reached our starting point for the second time, we turned as one and went down the steps, taking them four, then five, then seven at a time. At the bottom, I let go of the staff and stood in place, arms stretched wide, while Traz carried on around the walkway. He leapt and twirled, spinning and tumbling, until he reached the point directly opposite me.
He held the staff high over his head and spun in place. Multicolored strands of power streamed to him, gathering on the staff like thread onto a spool. Then, with a flourish, Traz sent the ball of power soaring across the arena, straight at me. I caught it.
The crackling energy in my hands and indeed all around made my hair stand on end, and I laughed at the ticklishness of it. I held the swirling ball until Traz moved to another point on the edge of the pit and threw me another one, then moved on. The two coalesced into one, pulsing to the beat of my heart and growing brighter in intensity.
Each ball of power left a thin trail arcing over the pit. The first one was pink, the next one green and so on as Traz sent more and more. Before long, the pit was covered by a shimmering fan.
Traz rejoined me, and I placed the gleaming ball into his hand. He jabbed the staff into it, and it broke apart into shards that sparked in the air. A wide wave of my arms scattered the bits across the fan, and where they touched the strands, tendrils wound out and around until a web of color and power hung there like a dome.
Traz held out his hand to me and I placed mine in it. “And now,” he said, “we danse.”
Together, we jumped and sailed out onto the web. Wherever my feet touched it, a rainbow shot into the sky and a burst of power shivered through me. There was a strange music, or not exactly what I would call music, but a multi-tonal thrumming that rose and fell in a syncopated beat. It tugged at my heart and drew me in. Before I quite knew what was happening, I’d let go of Traz’s hand and was absorbed in my own danse.
I whirled in an intricate series of steps. Each one suffused my spirit with joy until I overflowed and it spilled out of me, filling the spaces between the strands and tendrils of power. Sometimes I soared from one end of the web to the other, while other times I paused and simply marveled at the beauty of it all.
In one of the pauses, I caught sight of Traz. Or, well, the flashing beam of brilliance that was Traz. It was as if he had turned into a channel for the power of the danse. He swept around and around the arena, each movement precise and flowing.
As I launched myself into motion again, I felt a new vibration and heard a deep voice humming. It enticed me further into the danse. I grew less aware of my body’s movements and more conscious of the power that moved me. It was big and deep and wide, and I couldn’t hope to contain it. Except that it didn’t want to be contained; it wanted to rush through me, using me to accomplish some great task.
And still we dansed on. For hours or days, I couldn’t tell. The power filled and sustained me, giving me strength beyond any I’d felt before and satisfying my thirst and hunger.
A loud cracking sound brought me to a stop. The air shuddered. Another loud crack, and yet another. The earth seemed to shiver, though the web beneath my feet held steady.
Traz bounded over to me and wrapped me in his arms. It felt good to stand there, wrapped in maejic and held close to my best friend’s beating heart.
Something shadowed us, and I glanced up to find Xyla soaring overhead. Traz raised his staff, and she swooped down to us. She stood easily on the magic net, as if it were firm ground beneath her feet. Traz boosted me up, then leapt up behind me.
Xyla rose into the air and circled around. Below us, a net of energy stretched across the arena. The multic
olored strands of power shimmered in the midday sun and hummed in harmony.
Traz raised his staff and threw it into the center of the net, which shattered and exploded into glittering light. Sparks of it filled the air around us, ticking where it touched my skin.
And with a loud crash, the arena crumbled. Another explosion concussed my ears and smothered my soul as pent-up power was released from the stones. Xyla soared on a wave of it, until we were so high that the city seemed little more than a gleaming jewel far below.
I caught my breath. “What was that?” I gasped.
Traz’s arms tightened around me. “Proof that you were right.”
I twisted my head around to look at him. “You think so? Really?”
He smiled and nodded.
Xyla said, “Yes, child, though perhaps I should not call you that any longer. You have broken the power of the dragonmasters and have set everything back in its proper course.”
And as she said these words, Traz kissed me.
I sit in a place of honor at Rycina’s formal coronation. Havden, her newly wed consort, stands behind her, glowing with both love and pride. I believe they will rule well together. More importantly, the dragons do, too.
The mood of the people has changed. A sense of hope and excitement fills the city. Every time a dragon flies overhead, folk watch in delight and awe. Eventually, they will grow accustomed to the sight, but for now it is a novel thing.
Rycina has asked the dragons and mages to help her establish her reign. Her first act was to declare the dragons to be free and to co-opt them into their co-equal place in the power structure. Her second act was to abolish the law against maejic.
My family sits nearby. Mama looks more and more like her old self every day, but there is a glimmer of pain behind her eyes that I doubt will ever disappear. Breyard stands tall and proud, looking less like my practical-joking older brother and more like the leader he has become. And Papa is over the worst of his madness now and grows better every day.
Traz stands next to me, larger than life itself, full of energy and power. His hand touches mine tentatively. I take it, interlocking my fingers with his. I look up at him. And I smile.
About the Author
The first thing I remember writing was a poem celebrating my seventh birthday. I still remember the first line, but nothing can induce me to repeat it. My poetry, with few exceptions, has not improved.
I discovered that writing is something I’m good at when I was in fifth grade, and that’s when I decided I wanted to be a writer when I grew up. In seventh grade, I read The Outsiders by S. E. Hinton, and that’s when I decided I wanted to write for teenagers.
And now, I really do write for teenagers. Only thing is, I haven’t grown up yet. Nor do I intend to.
Please visit my website www.teriegarrison.com.
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