by C. Greenwood
It was the sand, I realized, watching the pale grains in my palm flare up in a white-hot flame. The fire turned into a curl of smoke, and then the smoke became a fog, growing and swirling into a large cloud until it enveloped me in its milky mist. I could no longer see the surrounding ocean or the black rocks I crouched upon. I blinked and rubbed my eyes, but the vapor remained.
Blind to the world, I had only my hearing to rely on. The roar of the sea died down to a gentler lapping sound. The strong gale was replaced with a softer wind. From somewhere came the creak of wooden timbers and the flapping noise of canvas sails flaring in the breeze. Only a moment ago I had been cold and shivering. Now suddenly I looked down to find my clothing dry.
A voice came to me out of the mist. “I’m taking the helm. Act as lookout and let me know what’s ahead.”
I started at the unexpected sound of Basil’s voice. It was impossible! How had he survived the wreck of the ship? And why were his words familiar?
“Basil!” I cried, jumping to my feet. “Are you alive?”
I spun around, trying to find him.
Gradually the mist thinned enough that I could see him standing only a few feet away. His long coat flapped in the wind, and strangely, his three-cornered hat was on his head once more.
“Of course I’m alive,” he said, frowning in confusion at my outburst. “But neither of us will be around much longer if we run up against those rocks ahead. I can’t see a thing in this fog. Keep a sharp lookout.”
I whirled around, taking in the towering, miraculously unbroken mast and sails looming overhead. Beneath my feet was the solid deck of the ship—the same ship that I had seen break to pieces. Now it was amazingly whole again.
“I don’t understand,” I muttered to myself. “This is impossible.”
I looked down at my hand, only to find the bloody cut had disappeared from my palm. The minute glass, no longer broken, dangled once again from its string around my wrist.
Realization dawned. Somehow I had flashed back in time. Maybe it was the minute glass. Maybe it was something to do with the magic in my hand reacting to the minute glass, despite my nathamite shackle. I didn’t know. All I understood was that I had been transported back several minutes to a time shortly before the wreck, a time when we were just sailing into the fog.
I became vaguely aware of the wind picking up and of a distant crashing sound, like waves dashing upon rocks. Our boat began to toss about as the water grew rougher.
“Basil,” I said with sudden urgency. “Don’t try to sail through these shoals. We won’t make it. There’s a graveyard of ships ahead and, beyond that, a black mountain that will smash us to bits.”
Basil stared at me incredulously. “What are you talking about? How can you know any of that?”
“Just trust me,” I said. I had to shout now to be heard above the wail of the increasing wind. “Turn us around immediately!”
When he didn’t react quickly enough, I rushed to the helm and reached past him to pull the wheel around. Our vessel veered sharply, turning against the wind. I only hoped it wasn’t too late.
I heard a rough scraping sound as we rubbed against a rock jutting above the surface. The side of the ship moaned painfully. Luckily it was a light scrape and we made it past without getting hung up on the rock.
Basil’s obvious confusion was replaced by alarm, and he rushed to the ship’s edge. This time he was the lookout, calling back to me when he spied more obstacles in the water. Gripping the wheel so tightly my knuckles whitened, I steered us back out the way we had come, dodging shoals that sprang up out of the rolling mist. My heart didn’t stop racing until the sound of crashing waves began to fade in the distance. The gale lessened, and the fog gradually lifted.
I saw glittering dots of light ahead, sparkling stars in a gloriously clear night sky. A crescent moon hung low over the water, its pale glow reflected on a sea suddenly grown calm.
A sigh of relief whooshed from my lungs. We had made it. I didn’t understand how. It seemed impossible that something as tiny as the minute glass could possess the power to turn back time and give us a second chance to escape Zoltar’s mountain. But I could see no other explanation for it. I looked at the brass-and-crystal relic dangling from my wrist with new respect. When I had taken it from the Depository of Knowledge back in Corthium, I had thought it a simple ornament, a relic valuable only for its age. Now I had my first inkling of what its true value for my ancestors might have been.
In the background, I heard Basil whooping with joy at our escape from the shoals. If he only knew how close it really was, how terrible—if brief—our doom had been. But I didn’t explain events to him. I couldn’t. Even as my elation at being alive drained away, I was overcome by a terrible dizziness. The weakness made it impossible to stay on my feet. My legs collapsed beneath me, and I fell heavily to the deck.
“Isaura! What’s wrong?” asked Basil. “Are you all right?”
As waves of blackness rose up to claim me, the last thing I saw was my cousin running across the deck toward me.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
I wasn’t surprised this time when I found myself in the dreamworld. I was growing used to this place of crumbling marble columns and glowing life threads. I was even growing used to the eternal night, the stars always glittering in the distance and the golden moon hanging above.
This time I wanted to be here—and I knew exactly what mind I wanted to touch. Unhesitatingly, I crossed the floor tiles that were overgrown with weeds and wildflowers. I approached a familiar knot of threads. This tangle flickered weakly, its life glow all but gone out. Selecting a thread I knew, I was briefly surprised to find it still glimmered. I had expected it to be dark by now. With a sense of dread at what I might find, I touched the thread.
* * *
Instantly I was transported to a dark shore. I trudged through clinging wet sand licked by foamy waves that lapped in from the sea. I could see all around me in every direction, the moonlight offering a view of the entire surrounding isle. It was a small piece of land. Had I the strength, I could easily have walked from one side to another in a couple of hours. But my energy, or what remained of it, was better spent in a more useful way.
I dragged loose tree branches and palm fronds behind me, their limbs and leaves cutting rough trails in the sand. There were many trees on this little isle. In fact, it seemed to have nothing else but trees, sand, and the occasional rocks. It was easy to see why it was uninhabited. It had nothing to offer in the way of natural resources. No animals for hunting. No edible plants. Not even any freshwater. I knew that last would be my biggest problem tomorrow when the sun rose. But for now it was shelter that occupied my thoughts.
I was exhausted, my green hair sticking to my sweaty neck, despite the cool evening breeze and the continued dampness of my clothes. Had it been only a few hours ago that I had landed on this desolate shore? Farther down the beach, looking like a broken heap of driftwood just above the waterline, I could see the raft that had carried me here. Pain stabbed through me at the sight of it. My husband should be here with me. Instead, he had been washed overboard and I alone had escaped the hungry ocean, only to be stranded in this hopeless place.
I reached my destination and dropped my load on the ground. I had already collected a sizable pile of branches and palm fronds in this spot. Here, with a pile of rocks forming a wall at my back, I would lean the branches together and try to construct more walls and a roof, something to keep me out of the weather. A rumble of thunder in the distance reminded me why this was necessary. And yet, looking at the beginnings of my pathetic little shelter, I was overcome by despair. What good would it do me to keep out of the coming storm, when I had nothing to eat, no way to build a fire, and no hope of rescue?
I fought the rising sense of hopelessness. Placing a hand on my bulging belly, I tried to summon my courage. I carried what was possibly the last child of our kind in the world, the hope for the future of my people. No matter how impo
ssible it seemed, I had to find a way to survive. For both of us.
Another peal of thunder broke into my thoughts. Only it was closer this time. In fact, it wasn’t thunder at all, I realized. It was a low growl coming from behind a nearby stand of scrubby bushes. I had thought I was alone on this island, had seen no other living creatures here. But I had been wrong. I couldn’t see what made the sound, but indistinct glimpses of bright fur summoned to mind the great orange-striped wildcats we used to have back in the jungles of Corthium. The beasts were man-eaters.
Fear grabbed me by the throat. Only a moment ago the fact that there were no animals around had seemed a bad thing. Now that threatening rumble from behind the bushes told me I had been mistaken.
* * *
I felt a dizzying sensation of movement. One moment I was in the consciousness of the pregnant dragonkind woman. The next, something shifted and I had the disorienting feeling of being pulled out of her mind and pushed into someone else’s.
But it wasn’t my own body I returned to. Instead, I entered a different host. Suddenly I was pushing through the murky shadows of an overgrown swampland. Wild birds screeched overhead, frightened by our passage, as I led my band of armed men through the swampy territory.
We were tired already after our long trek inland from the beach. Our weapons had been bloodied by an encounter with the natives living in the huts along the skull-shaped cove. Having dealt with them, nothing would now stop us from capturing what we sought.
The marshes, with their low-hanging tree branches and puddles of foul-smelling water, were suffocatingly humid. I would have drawn back the golden veil covering the stubbled lower half of my face, except that it gave me some protection against the little biting, buzzing insects that filled the air. Although we had been searching half the night and my men were exhausted, I wouldn’t allow a stop for rest.
After days of pursuing the dragon, we were getting nearer. I could feel it. At first we had lost time by sailing to the wrong island. But we had quickly discovered our mistake and found a likelier place for the dragon’s landing.
Of course none of the locals we had met here had seen the beast, a fact that became obvious during our questioning. If any of them had known its whereabouts, they would have saved themselves a great deal of pain by giving it up. Instead, we were forced to push through the marshes and search out the creature ourselves. But something told me we were getting closer.
A shout from up ahead caught my attention. A scout was calling and waving for me to join him. I ran to his side to see what had him so excited. He pointed to the muddy ground. In the darkness with only our lanterns for light, it was just possible to make out the shape of a massive footprint. It was not the imprint of any ordinary animal I had ever seen. Only a beast of great size could have made a mark so wide and deep.
Excitement leaped within me as I realized we had found exactly what we needed: dragon tracks. The great creature was within our grasp.
The dragon’s trail disappeared into the trees, and we quickly set about following it. I was no longer weary as I pushed my way through tall bushes and brushed aside curtains of wispy moss drooping down from the trees above. The nearness of victory was invigorating. My father would be pleased when at last I had captured the dragon and brought him back to my homeland. Such a beast, not seen in many centuries, would make a mighty weapon of war. Its power would aid us in conquering many nations.
We came upon it suddenly. Rounding a bend in the trees, we beheld a fierce beast, a creature the like of which I had encountered only in legends. It was a monstrous animal armored in glittering scales, its wings tipped with spikes of bone. Similar spikes ran down its tail. Atop its head were sharp, spiraled horns, while its feet possessed curled claws like a great eagle’s talons. Broad wings protruded from between its shoulder blades. There was no sign of the smoky or fiery breath that was said to belong to such beasts. But that would probably appear only when it was angry.
The fearsome creature didn’t see us yet. Its attention was fixed on a young boy of perhaps twelve or thirteen years. I recognized by his looks and clothing that he was a local child, probably from a near village like the one we had destroyed earlier.
At first it was hard to tell what the boy was doing. He had taken off his shirt and kept running back and forth between the dragon and the nearby stream. He would dip the cloth in the stream, then hurry over to the dragon, where he would swipe the wet rag over the beast’s scales. Amazingly, the dragon tolerated this strange form of bathing or massage and even appeared to enjoy it. There was a careful gentleness to the boy’s movements. He never touched the dragon with his bare hands or clambered over its scaly body to better reach the high parts. I had the sense that he was cautious of the beast, as if testing its boundaries. Clearly he did not know it well.
I hoped the dragon’s manner of submitting to the child’s ministrations didn’t indicate a gentle temperament. It was no use to us as a tamed, non-ferocious animal. But then, at least that might make it easier to capture. And it could be trained to violence later.
I had seen enough. I motioned my followers, who had been hiding among the greenery, to ready their equipment. We had brought ropes and nets and arrows tipped with enough poison to make a creature of this size sleep for days. But first we had to find out whether our weapons would pierce through the dragon’s thick scales.
At my silent nod, my best fighter armed only with a poison-tipped spear, leaped from the bushes and charged the dragon. The beast hardly had time to whirl in surprise at the sudden motion, before my warrior stopped short of the creature and hurled his lance. It flew through the air to strike the side of the monster. But the sharp tip never penetrated. The dragon’s sturdy scales deflected the weapon, and it clattered uselessly to the ground.
Unarmed now, my warrior could only stand frozen as the dragon snaked its long neck out and snatched him up in its jaws. It didn’t devour the man but tossed him through the air. His limp body sailed through the leafy treetops, and we saw him no more.
Turning on us all, the dragon opened its bloody jaws, revealing rows of daggerlike teeth, and gave an earsplitting roar. At the sound, the very ground trembled beneath our feet. I looked into the beast’s fiery eyes and saw the glint of fury and madness. The creature liked to break and destroy.
Excitement rippled through me. I needn’t have feared that the dragon was docile. Now I saw it would do very well for our purposes.
But first we would have to weaken him. The monster rushed at us now, chasing my men as they scattered before him. Here was still no sign of flames emanating from his throat or nostrils, but he was fierce enough without it. Using his spiked tail, he lashed at a warrior attempting to circle behind him. He flared a wing to impale another man on its bony tip. My fighters and I had prepared for the possibility of dragon fire by coating ourselves with the juices of a rare plant that was said to repel flame. But against the dragon’s weight and strength, we had only our sharp weapons as a defense.
I watched as one of my people was trampled beneath the feet of the enraged beast. If I let this go on much longer, I would lose half my men. I took a bow and arrow from the hands of an archer beside me. Sighting the dragon down the length of the shaft, I aimed the poisoned tip at the beast’s underbelly where his armor would be weakest.
A breath of wind whispered through the clearing, but I adjusted for the breeze before releasing the shaft. The arrow flew straight and struck the monster low in the belly.
The arrow penetrated the thinnest scales, making a shallow wound. The beast screamed, probably more in anger than pain, for the arrow was little more than a splinter to him. He clawed at the injury, easily dislodging the arrow.
We could only wait now and hope the poison would act swiftly—and that it was a sufficient amount. I had never used it on anything as large as a dragon before.
The beast showed no immediate signs of slowing down. Enraged by the prick of the arrow, it charged straight at me. One of my warriors threw himsel
f in the dragon’s way and was quickly sacrificed to buy me more time. Meanwhile, I notched another arrow and maneuvered myself to a more distant position where I had my back to the stream. I aimed for the dragon now plowing through my warriors. But before I could unleash another arrow, something heavy clubbed me on the head from behind.
The blow was too weak to injure me, but the back of my skull smarted from the pain. I whirled and found the child I had forgotten about, the native boy, holding a chunk of wood in his hands. What was the boy doing? Did he think he was protecting the dragon? Towering over the child, I would have been amused by his foolish daring had it not come at such a desperate moment. But I had no time for interruptions now.
I drew my curved sword from where it hung at my hip, planning to dispatch the boy.
But a strange thing happened as the sunlight filtering through the trees flashed across my blade. Everything went still around me. I turned and found the dragon, who had been roaring and rampaging, had suddenly frozen at the sight of my sword. It seemed ridiculous that a creature of such might would be frightened of a mere iron blade. But maybe it wasn’t itself the beast feared for.
Its enormous eyes flickered away from my weapon. I followed its gaze to the boy.
It was the child, I realized, surprised. The dragon didn’t want any harm to come to the boy. It was incredible that a beast so wild should care about one insignificant human.
But it didn’t matter what strange reason lay behind the creature’s attachment. I had seen its weakness, its desire to protect the child. That was enough. I held back from running the boy through with my sword, instead smacking him with the flat of my blade and knocking him into the stream. While he sputtered and thrashed in the water, I returned my attention to the dragon.
It looked different than before. Suddenly its eyes were glazing and it began weaving from side to side. The poison on my arrow was finally doing its work. The dragon attempted to charge at me but only managed to stagger a few steps before crashing to the ground. The echo of its fall reverberated through the clearing. I went over to the still beast and nudged at its great head with my boot. It didn’t respond. Its chest continued to rise and fall, breaths of air whistling out its nostrils, so I knew it was still alive. But with any luck it would not wake for some time.