by M. M. Perry
Anya remained relatively safe, if isolated, sheltering with the Ambassador. The star dragon never left her alone, and none of the dragon sanctuary’s numerous deadly predators would dare approach so many dragons—not even the mountain bears who were rumored to hunt the smaller dragons. Even Anya’s own people would be hesitant to approach such a large gathering. Dragons were small group creatures. Never, in the recorded history of Anya’s people, had they gathered in such great numbers. Knowing how dangerous even a typical dragon could be, her people would know better than to approach an atypical gathering of dragons.
Despite knowing this, it certainly sounded to Anya as if someone was approaching, and she couldn’t imagine it would be anyone but her fellow ukrotiteli ognya. She steeled herself for the confrontation she was sure would occur. She knew her people would not be happy with what she had done. The existence of the dragons was now common knowledge, and the part she played in making that happen was a transgression of her people’s most serious duty—to keep the dragons hidden and protected from the rest of the world. If they had come to demand Anya submit to the prescribed punishment for this most serious of transgressions—her death—she was afraid of how the Ambassador would react. She certainly didn’t want the Ambassador to kill any of them on her behalf.
Anya got up and moved to the edge of the shelf to see for herself what the commotion was. To her chagrin, she discovered a large procession of people from Dyim approaching, which explained the noise. A central core of elders, followed closely by villagers laden with baggage, was flanked by rows of elite guardians—her people’s most proficient warriors. They were adorned in their thickest, deadliest armor, the edges of which all tapered into fearsome points. The gear the villagers were shouldering included two strange woven baskets, as well as two large cages that both contained teetons. Anya had only a moment to puzzle about that when her eyes were drawn to the leader of the group. The procession was led by the most senior elder from Dyim, a position Anya’s mother had held before her death some years before. Anya knew the man well.
“Mikhail,” Anya greeted him.
The elder sighed and threw his hands up. If he was at all afraid of the huge gathering of dragons, he did not show it. His confidence, however, was not shared by the rest of the group he travelled with. They all glanced around nervously at the dragons.
“Somehow, I am not surprised to find you at the center of all of this,” Mikhail said, speaking in Dyim’s native tongue. He motioned to his followers. The guards spread out to flank him, while the villagers began unburdening themselves of the loads they carried, placing them behind Mikhail, central to the small gathering of humans.
“Why are you here?” Anya asked. She had no intentions of belaboring the point.
“I should ask you the same. Most of us thought you would be far away by now, spurning your duty and hiding from justice,” he said, gesturing with his long elegant fingers.
Anya did not respond. The less than subtle threat was meant solely to save face, lacking any credibility. Regardless of the size or competence of Mikhail’s armed entourage, it was nothing compared to the powerful dragons amassed behind Anya, and they both knew it. Anya assessed the situation; the formal attire of Mikhail and his guard, coupled with his honest surprise at finding her there, could only mean one thing—her people had been summoned here for some reason by the Ambassador. She wasn’t sure how the great dragon had done it, but she was sure it could be the only reason why this group had marched through the dangers of the sanctuary and into the center of this massive flight of dragons. Mikhail, Anya knew, would never consent to risk his own safety on such a dangerous task if it could be at all avoided. His personal attendance could only mean he was the one that had received the summons.
Again Mikhail sighed, though Anya could not be sure why. She wondered if he was upset his ham-fisted attempt at intimidation hadn’t worked on her, but she was too tired and worried about more momentous things to fret about how impertinent the elders found her. If the Ambassador summoned Mikhail, then he must be needed for some chore. Anya had ceased worrying about protocol and propriety around the time she learned that the gods were on track to destroy the world. She was pretty certain everyone involved could overlook that she was failing to be a congenial host.
“We have been asked to come here,” Mikhail interrupted her musings, addressing the Ambassador. “It came in a dream to me. I knew we would be safe, despite the dangers of the journey, and that the dragons needed us. I’m sure it has to do with this mischief of yours,” he looked from the Ambassador to Anya, “which I can assure you, will not be forgotten…”
Mikhail was cut short by a snort from the Ambassador.
“We will be leaving soon,” the Ambassador said. “There is a duty we have been putting off for too long. Now we must attend to it. Once all have departed who will be joining in this duty, behind will remain six fully grown and twenty-seven too small to endure the physical requirements of our journey. These will be relocating to the area directly behind your village. It is safer there for them. You will continue to protect them until we return.”
Anya wasn’t sure what shocked her people more, the fact that a dragon had spoken, the fact that the words it spoke were in common – her people often boasted that their own language was that of the dragons— or the fact that the dragons were leaving. Whichever it was, her people stood dumbfounded, mouths agape at the occurrence. Then, without any further warning, the dragons began to lift off. The leaves on trees around them, up to several hundred feet away, slapped together so violently in the shifting winds it sounded like soft applause.
“But where are you going?” Mikhail asked after watching the ascent for several moments in slack-jawed silence.
The ambassador gently extended one forelimb towards Anya as he began to spread his wings. She stepped onto it, tossing an arched eyebrow in Mikhail’s direction as she did so. He stared at her in disbelief.
Before the Ambassador could answer, a shadow fell across Mikhail’s group as a dragon swooped down out of the sun towards the group, causing them to step away from the gear they had settled behind Mikhail. The dragon glided gracefully just overhead, effortlessly slipping claws into the woven baskets as he overflew them. Anya now understood the strange design. This requirement must have been included in the message the Ambassador sent Mikhail—designs for a device that would allow the dragons to carry gear with them. She wondered how such a thing worked, sending basket schematics to an elder and him just understanding that he had to make it, and how to do so. She wondered if it relied on the same language that the dragons used to communicate with each other, and for a moment she felt a pang of jealousy. The Ambassador never spoke to her in that manner. He used his words with Anya. Shame followed close on the heels of jealousy, and she could feel her face flush. The fate of the world was on the line, she admonished herself silently, and now was not the time to worry who was the Ambassador’s favorite. If they hadn’t been in such a rush and she was on better terms with Mikhail, and not, perhaps, headed to her own execution in that scenario, she certainly would have discussed it with him.
“Where we go,” the Ambassador said in his deep voice, “is none of your concern. Do as I ask, human, and you shall be rewarded for your loyalty and friendship.”
With those parting words, the dragons remaining in the clearing all lifted into the sky. Mikhail watched in disbelief as all but a smattering of dragons left, violent winds swirling around them with the parting. He turned to his guardians unable to speak for a moment. He blinked a few times before moving without a word back toward his village to make preparations. He’d never received a direct request from a dragon before. He took solace in the fact that he was tasked with watching the young, a job he instantly allocated the highest importance and most prestige in his own head. It was the only thing keeping his jealousy at bay as his mind replayed the image of Anya stepping into the curled claw of the dragon over and over again.
Anya sat a little apart from
the star dragons that themselves had chosen to settle separately from the rest of the flight, basking in the steamy warmth of a nearby hot spring, one of many that dotted landscape. It was warm in the valley the star dragons had chosen to rest in, which Anya had first spied as they soared far above, the lush green gash in the mountain range a thin line of contrast against the rocky, snow-dusted range that surrounded it. The star dragons had pulled away from their kin, as the others descended on the snowy peaks, to land there. Anya was uncomfortable with the idea that they had landed so far away from the others for her sake. When she glanced up into the mountain tops she could make out the dark shapes of all the other dragons teeming along the mountains, of which there were surely more than a hundred. The awe of the ride here, flying at such incredible speed, surrounded by so many dragons in flight, was unmatched by anything she had experienced in her life, and was rivaled only by her imagination of the greater horde that must be soon to follow. Since the Ambassador said only the young and a few mature dragons would stay behind, she anticipated that the rest of the dragons that lived in the sanctuary, at least as many as in this flight, and likely far more, would catch up to them at some point further along when they were needed.
Anya recognized the mountain range they had chosen to overnight in as the Razorbacks, based only on the direction they had been traveling, and what little knowledge of geography beyond her own home she had picked up over the years. She didn’t know much beyond the range’s name, or the area around them, as she had never ventured further than Gull’s Port, Dyim and the valley where the dragons normally lived.
Anya pushed a stray dark braid into the scarf that held her hair back from her face and decided to remove her cold weather clothing. Once she had packed it away, she went to the water’s edge. She dipped a hand in. The water was surprisingly warm. Too hot, she thought, to climb into even if she wanted to completely undress and try, which she didn’t. There was something off-putting and embarrassing to her with the idea of being naked where the Ambassador could see her. She began scooping water out to scrub face with, and then began working on the rest of her exposed skin. Anya suspected the whole valley existed because of hot springs like this one. The frigid conditions outside the sheltered valley seemed far less hospitable. She hadn’t seen a hint of plant or animal life anywhere on the Razorbacks as they soared over them though, she had to admit to herself, they had been flying far above them, hurtling along at a breathtaking speed, and she spent most of the trip studiously not looking down to avoid the sense of vertigo that threatened to claim her whenever she did. Once she felt she was as clean as she was likely to get, she stood and surveyed the area. She noticed what looked like a temple not too far off. She was considering heading off to inspect it—there was something undefinably alluring about it.
“Do not go there,” the Ambassador said, seemingly reading her mind. Anya jumped at the sudden interruption to her quite reverie. His voice was deep enough to rumble the ground beneath Anya’s feet. She hadn’t realized he was so close. For such a massive creature, he could move alarmingly quietly when he wanted to.
“Is it dangerous?” Anya asked.
“The god calling itself Oshia is there,” the Ambassador said.
Anya glanced down toward the end of the valley where the temple sat. She put her hands on her hips and looked up at the Ambassador, puzzled.
“Why don’t you destroy him now, then? Is he not the leader of those who actively fight against you?”
The Ambassador snorted and a puff of steam escaped his nostrils. The aroma of white-hot metal filled the air around Anya. The smell reminded Anya of a special alloy that was sometimes burned during celebrations because of the bright light it created.
“He is there yet he is not there. Only his eyes are there. We might blind him. For now. But it would not destroy him. To kill a god, you must first catch it,” the Ambassador said. “To catch a god, you must first trick it. This creature Oshia is too wary to be tricked. At the moment.”
Anya nodded, accepting that the ancient dragon was far more versed in the deeper mysteries of godhood than she was. She stood in silence for a while, considering the distant temple, its hated occupant, and the Ambassador’s words. When it became clear the Ambassador had nothing more to say regarding Oshia or his temple, she headed over to the gear Mikhail had brought them and began to investigate it. Included among the gear were the two rather large bird cages, the bright white teeton birds inside them apparently unfazed by the trip here, nor the dragons around them. Despite the breed normally not being particularly vocal birds, choosing only to use their song when mating season came, Anya found their unruffled acceptance of the situation unusual.
“Should I message our friends? Tell them we are here, or that we will be somewhere to meet them soon?”
Anya had no idea if the Ambassador had been keeping Cass abreast of their movements or plans, or even if they could. The dragon’s rarely summoned any of her own people with their silent, far-reaching missives, and she was uncertain it could be done at all with anyone but an ukrotiteli ognya. She only hoped the dragons, when they did finally plan to meet with the warriors, would keep that factor in mind.
“No need. We will go to them when the time is right,” the Ambassador said.
Anya frowned. The dragons had been frustratingly miserly with regards to sharing the details of any plan they might be hatching with her. Anya knew that Cass and Gunnarr must surely be equally frustrated with the lack of information flowing their way. She was feeling increasingly isolated since she had parted company with them and taken up the dragons as her only companions. The Ambassador did not speak to her very often, though they had been careful to keep her safe.
She decided once again to see if she could engage the Ambassador in conversation.
“Where are we going?”
“We are where we plan to be,” the Ambassador said.
“Here?”
“Yes.”
“Why here?”
“It is close to Faylendar, where your companions await us. But more importantly it is safe for us here. Long ago we created this scrape as a place of rest. It is far from the prying eyes of humans.”
Anya eyed the temple she had just been warned away from.
“Only in the temple is it dangerous. He cannot see beyond its walls. The area is imbued with power he cannot understand or control. He never ventures forth for that reason. The temple was never his, he merely occupies it. That temple belongs to an ancient one who was banished by his own kin. For a time, long ago, he lived there and was worshipped by those who thought he had power to give them.”
Anya found herself suddenly curious. This was the most the dragons had spoken in a while.
“What happened to them?”
“The other gods did not like that Bula’s followers believed he gave them power. He, like all gods, gains strength from those who pray to him. The dedicated nature of his followers gave him much. And Bula was one of the first. The old gods choose to forget the first, those gods that were created before any others. They planned to be rid of him. They only struggled with how to go about it. Bula knew of this treachery and disappeared before it could occur. We believe him to be without.”
“Like you, when you were taken from Tanavia? He was able to do that to himself?”
“Any of us can choose to be without. It is sometimes done when the burden of tending to this world becomes too great. All of the first are without. They were not created with as much resilience as we were. They grew weary, then went without.”
The ambassador’s wording was a little confusing to Anya, but she hoped she was following along well enough.
“Bula sounds like the god that grants the power of the enchanters,” Anya said, musing aloud.
“No. That is another. Bula had a child. A daughter. The first of the new gods. But he knew she would be punished for being a child of his. So he hid her from the other gods, and told her to remain hidden. He taught her how to train the humans to use
their innate powers. She still guides them, though in a very subtle manner.”
“Bula didn’t mind being so close to dragons?”
Anya looked back at the temple, nestled in the edge of the scrape, as the Ambassador called it.
“Bula, and the other first gods, were more like us. They did not have the same desires, fears and feelings of your gods. And for that, they did not last. But they also lacked our complete impassivity. They had some needs that set them apart from us. They were unlike us, and too much like you. They had no place. So they left. The ones that were created after them, they fit into this world better. It is why despite their malevolence towards us, we let them survive. They did not desire to go without. They did not grow weary of the world.”
“But now you are ready to destroy them?” Anya asked confused.
“It is always possible to learn something new, even if you are the most knowledgeable being in existence,” the Ambassador said in what Anya could only describe as an annoyed tone. She had touched a nerve somehow. She tried to be more tactful when she continued.
“What did you learn?” she asked as humbly as she could.
“We are caretakers. It is what makes us comfortable. We feel in our correct place when we perform this duty. When we are without, we cannot perform this function. It makes us feel uncomfortable. Your human companion was correct. Being without, it is not ideal for us. We can see now that the gods will never be satisfied sharing their power with us. It is time to try something new.”
“A world without the gods?” she asked.
Long moments passed before Anya realized the Ambassador would say nothing else on the matter.
“Well, what is our next step then?” she changed topics. “I’d like maybe just a little hint.”
“For now we must wait.”