Then Riza’s memory flooded him. She’d given him the very gift of her breath. It had all happened so quickly, so quietly, it still felt like a dream. Kallon was alive and flying, and Riza was dead. Thick tears filled his eyes, but had nowhere to fall.
Why? Why had she done such a foolish thing? Didn’t she realize he would have died a thousand times over to keep her safe? Her life was the one worth saving, not his. He didn’t care if he did die up here, suffocated by the sky that was supposed to give him answers. If he had to return to a world without Riza’s smile, he’d rather not go back, anyway.
His head suddenly lightened. He couldn’t feel his curled legs. His entire body felt numb with cold. This was his last chance to release, to let himself drop to where he could blink his eyes and let his lungs fill with sweet air.
No. He would not turn back. He’d come for a reason. So he met the sky with his one, opened eye and glared. He couldn’t lift a wing tip to push an inch more, couldn’t stretch out his neck to reach a fraction further. So he leeched the last of his strength into an angry, determined glower. And for one moment longer, he stayed.
A voice swept through his mind like a summer wind, warming his face and opening his eyes. He must not have responded, because the words came a second time, with more volume. “Kallon Redheart, why have you come?”
Kallon tried to find the owner of the voice, but he couldn’t see through the shimmering cloud of white-gold that surrounded him. He floated without flying. Without falling. “Am I dead? Am I dreaming?” he asked.
“You are neither. Are these the questions you came to ask me?”
Kallon tried to turn, but the bright cloud offered no resistance to push against. He poked out a claw and it disappeared into the churning mist. “Where am I?”
“You know where you are.”
“Through the boundary? I made it?”
“You seem surprised,” answered the voice.
“I thought I was going to die.”
“And yet you came anyway. There was a moment you could have turned away to save yourself.”
But he hadn’t. He had managed to break through the boundary. Just as Orman said he could. He still wasn’t sure he wasn’t dreaming.
“You are not dreaming, Kallon Redheart. For a dragon determined to know the truth, you are stubbornly resistant to it.”
“I’m resistant to believe, because it brings disappointment.”
“There are worse things in life than disappointment. I ask you again why you have come.”
Kallon was finally orienting himself to the strange, floating feeling in this bubble of brightness, and speaking to a disembodied voice from somewhere he couldn’t see. “I wish to know the whereabouts of the Circlet of Aspira.”
“The circlet has been destroyed.”
No! “How? Can it be restored?”
“It cannot. The same dark desires that have skewed the magic of Leland Province have drained the bloodstone in the circlet.”
Kallon crumpled into a ball of frustration. “There must be a way! I have come so far!”
Silence.
Kallon uncurled. “Are you there?”
“I am.”
He drew in a deep breath. “Are you the one I met at my parents’ graves?”
“I am.”
“Are you the one that was there the day my father died?”
“I am.”
“And were you there when Riza spoke the words of my father, and died in my place?”
“Yes.”
Kallon’s tears welled again. “But why? Why would you let them do such a thing? Why Riza? She was so young, and gentle, and generous!”
“You are young, and gentle, and have learned to be generous.”
“But I don’t deserve to live. She does! I should have died!”
“Riza did not think so. She made her decision.”
“But you allowed it! You could have stopped it!” Kallon shook his fist. “She didn’t know what she was doing!”
Silence.
Kallon withdrew his fist, but his anger remained balled and hard in his chest. “It’s not right.”
“Your destiny must be fulfilled.”
Kallon reared back. “I don’t want my destiny! I’m not a leader like my father! And even if I were, I wouldn’t want to lead in a world where I was only there because someone else died for me!”
A pause. Kallon felt a shift in the cloud, and when the voice returned, it came closer to his ear. “You have a far greater destiny, Kallon, than to simply lead as your father did.”
“What?” He tried to peer through the curtain of mist that boiled around him without being hot, and glowed like the sun without blinding him.
There was another shift in the cloud, and the voice spoke into his other ear. “This force that holds you without letting you fall is a power called upon by humans and dragons, most often in the time of need.”
Kallon turned toward the voice. “You mean magic?”
“Your friend, Orman, is correct when he says dragons are formed from the very fabric that fashioned this world. You have a power that exceeds even your own understanding. The same force that forged the mountains, carved the valleys, and set the sun in the clouds is yours to wield, Kallon Redheart.”
“But, how? How do I find this power?”
“It is already inside you.” A golden claw broke through the swirling mist to tap gently against Kallon’s chest. “Here. It was your gift at your birth.” The claw withdrew. “You know what your destiny is, Kallon. You know what you must do.”
He knew. He closed his eyes. “I must believe.”
Kallon couldn’t see the face of the Gold, but he could feel its smile right through the glittering vapor. “Now tell me why you have really come to find me.”
Kallon lifted his chin. “I have come to beg for the life Riza Diantus.”
There was another pause. When the voice spoke again, it was soft. “Would you have come to me any other way?”
Kallon hung his head. He clutched a fist to his heart.
“But do not fear,” said the voice. “She is only sleeping. You have forgotten the linking stone.”
He darted his hand to the stone around his neck. It was pulsating. He could feel her, almost hear her, somehow.
“Riza waits in that place between waking and dreaming, where her soul has often visited in the darkness.”
Kallon tightened his grip on the stone. “How can I reach her? Where do I go?”
“Search your heart, Kallon. The bloodstone aches to restore Leland’s balance. You have the power to change things.”
The cloud of glitter evaporated. Kallon tumbled, tail and wings akimbo, toward the earth. He fell so fast he struggled to breathe. Then his legs came to life, and he could move them. He thrust his wings to the wind and slowed his descent. His tail ruddered, and he righted himself. He was back in control of his body and mind.
Had he imagined it all? Had his struggle with the boundary played tricks with his mind? He searched his heart. It had happened. It had all happened. He believed.
He pivoted. He aimed headfirst for the heart of Mount Gore, stuck out his front claws like daggers, and dove.
Chapter Forty-Six
Kallon plunged toward the earth with a single purpose; to split it open. The arena was carved from Mount Gore, designed to encircle its heart. If bloodstone crystal pumped through this heart, the crystal would be nearest the surface at the arena floor.
It swelled into view below him. He bowed his head to thrust his crown of spikes at his target. Closer the ground came. He strained to move faster.
Voices filtered through the whistling wind in his ears. “Look! Kallon!”
“Is he falling?”
“Move aside! He is heading for the crowd!”
The gathered dragons frantically scattered out of the way. A patch of trampled dirt cleared directly below him. He aimed for this. Then treetops and stone walls and sparkling dragon scales blurred past. He hit.
&nbs
p; A thunderclap burst between his ears and reeled him senseless. After a moment, he realized he was lying on his side on the ground. He moved his head. He shifted to his feet. Nothing was broken.
Not even the ground. There was a massive dent. His horns had scratched away deep ruts, but there was no gaping crack to offer a peek of bloodstone. He staggered, still dizzy, then reeled about to try again.
The look of shock on a nearby Green made him pause. He looked from face to face among the dragons surrounding him. They all stared, mouths agape. Were they so surprised to see him? Had they expected him to be gone longer?
Orman wedged through to stand at the front of the circle. “Kallon?”
“Orman, I need the bloodstone. I can save her. Have the others stand back, I’m going to try again.”
“Kallon Redheart,” said Orman, one hand outstretching. “Have you gone and dipped yourself in sparkles?” Orman’s hand gingerly touched Kallon’s jaw.
“Have I what?” He looked down at his forelegs, and then his chest. His familiar red scales had taken on an unfamiliar glow, as though he’d been draped with a shimmering, golden net. His palms, knuckles, even his claws, radiated with it.
“You made it, didn’t you, my boy?” Orman’s wrinkled face opened wide with a smile.
As their eyes met, Kallon returned the smile. “Yes. I made it. I met him.”
The staring mass of dragons collectively gasped. They closed in, pressing in suffocating waves. “Stay back!” Kallon cried. “I need the bloodstone! Everyone stay back!”
“Bloodstone?” said a male dragon. “He said stay back, everyone.”
“Move aside,” said another.
“Get out there and help him, Restas,” said a female.
Slowly the throng retreated. Kallon pressed off to fly. He circled around to dive again, but a Blue met him in the sky.
“Let me have a go,” said Restas Blueeyes.
“And me,” said a Yellow, who swung around to join them.
“Me, too!” A young gray female dipped low beneath them, and then swerved to be first in line.
Kallon’s breath was stolen. “Thank you,” he said.
One by one they dropped, shooting for the earth like glistening arrows. Each landing echoed up, followed by a shout of encouragement from the others. Again came Kallon’s turn, and he reared back, drew in a breath, and released a war cry as he plummeted, head thrown back.
He would fall again and again, as many times as necessary, until the mountain relented and gave up that crystal. He would find that place between waking and dreaming where she roamed alone. He would die again if needed. And again. And again.
He slammed into the weakened patch of ground, claws tearing. This time, the ear-splitting crack came not from inside his head, but from beneath him. The earth caved in, then ripped open in a jagged fissure. Dragons cheered.
The crack was the length of Kallon, but only wide enough for him to push in his paw to his wrist. He couldn’t see anything inside it, but he could feel the bloodstone pulsing as strong as his own heartbeat. “Bring the girl. Quickly.”
“You heard him,” Orman said. As a dragon scrambled to obey, Orman knelt beside Kallon. “You’re hurt. You’re bleeding. Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”
Kallon glanced to his paws, and only then noticed the throb of pain from where a claw had snapped at the base of his digit and was oozing blood. “It’s nothing.” He gripped the wizard’s arm, smearing blood on his sleeve. “She’s not dead, Orman. She’s only sleeping.”
Armitage brought Riza. The man’s face was stoic, but Kallon could see the grief in his eyes.
He reached for Riza. “Let me take her.”
Armitage hesitated, and then offered her out.
Kallon took her into his paws. She weighed little more than a bird, and hung listless and pale. For the first time, he really looked into her face, marred by death, and a ragged jolt of pain sliced his heart. Not death, he reminded himself. She’s only asleep.
“Someone get these chains off her,” he snapped, without meaning to.
A ring with a metal key was passed claw to paw, and worked its way to Armitage’s hands, his own still bound in front of him. Armitage knelt and twisted the key in Riza’s cuffs. When they popped loose, he gently removed them from her wrists, and ran his fingertips over the welts left behind.
Kallon laid her on the ground directly over the split in the earth. His heart surged, suddenly fearful. How could he know he’d found the right crystal? How did he know the crystal would work at all? What if he didn’t believe enough?
He looked around at the expectant faces, watching him intently. Breaths were held. Armitage’s hands were clasped together, his jaw tense, eyes filled with warning. Orman, still kneeling, regarded Kallon with strange sorrow, as though waiting to be disappointed.
Kallon looked down into the face of Riza Diantus. Her eyes were closed to the sun. Her mouth was silenced. Her heart was quietly cold. He clenched the linking stone around his neck, and, sure enough, he felt her there, eyes open and searching, heart racing. He snapped the crystal from around his neck and laid it on her chest. Then he bent his face low to her ear and whispered with all the conviction that had been released in his soul, “Wake up, Riza. You want to fly.”
The linking stone exploded with such white, forceful light, he had to turn his face from the heat. Orman and the others turned away too, from what he could see, squinting through the rays. Beneath his paw, he felt a stirring. His eyes darted back, despite the blinding glow, and just before his eyes were forced shut against the white fire, he saw her eyes. They had opened!
“Riza!” His voice was swallowed by a sudden wind that toppled him back against the ground. He squeezed his eyes open once more to find a vortex of air blasting from the fissure beneath Riza, lifting her, her arms outstretched. “Riza!” he shouted again, now worried she’d be snatched away. He reached for her, but was forced back by the wind.
“What are you doing?” Armitage crawled toward Kallon. He’d been knocked back by the wind, as well. Other dragons were struggling to stay upright. Orman was clutching the young Gray, though Kallon wasn’t sure who was keeping who held to the ground. “What have you done to her now?” Armitage shouted through the wind, his bound hands gripping Kallon’s shoulder.
Before Kallon could answer, the wind turned blood red. It folded in on itself, collapsing like a deflated cloud, and immersed Riza in what seemed a bath of blood. “Get her out of there!” Armitage shouted.
Kallon lunged to grasp her arm. When he made contact, a spark jolted his paw and threw him back into the legs of a nearby dragon, who fell back against another. Armitage rolled helplessly against Kallon’s belly and was plastered there. There was an explosion. Crimson light discharged and blanketed the entire arena. Dragons shouted. Some screamed.
Then all was quiet. The crimson wind drained of color and floated above the treetops. In the sky, it twisted once and evaporated. Low thunder rumbled. Rain clouds gathered. The sky heaved a great sigh, and it rained.
“Rain!” cried a dragon voice.
Whoops and hollers broke out, and along the outside fringes of the crowd, wings flapped in celebration. Dragon feet splashed in growing puddles. “It is raining!”
“No,” moaned Armitage. Kallon turned to find the man kneeling beside a crimson dragon who lay on her side in Riza’s place over the gap in the earth.
Kallon froze. The dragon lifted her head and weakly opened her eyes. Eyes as green as the fir trees. “Riza?” he whispered. She smiled and laid her head against the ground.
He couldn’t move fast enough to her side. Was it really Riza? He knelt and touched his knuckles to her muzzle. A muzzle long and sloped, and covered with scales so soft he had to touch them again. Thorny ridges jutted from the top of her head in a spiral like the vortex of wind, and trailed down her neck and between her shoulder blades. His paw followed the path of rainwater down her spine, then smoothed over the curve of her rump, and the slen
der coil of her ruby tail. “Riza,” he said again, struggling to breathe.
“It was dark there,” she said. Her sultry voice sent a tremble down his spine. “There were voices, and spooky shadows, but I wasn’t afraid.” She reached an elegant paw, watching him. “I was in the dark, but I wasn’t afraid.”
“No,” Armitage said again, and crawled slowly away, his hands and knees splashing mud. “Not this. I’d rather her dead than this.”
“Riza, is it really you? How did…? I did not know this would…” Kallon shook his head. He closed his eyes to clear the rain from them, but was afraid to open them again, for fear the spell would be broken.
“Leland is coming into balance,” said Orman, water dribbling from his beard. “Could have been your wish. Could have been your love. Something vanquished the dark hold over the land. Goodness rains again.”
Kallon opened his eyes. “My wish?” He looked at Riza and was awash again in awe of her form. She’d been a beautiful human, but she was an exquisite dragon. Had he wished it into being?
“The heart makes wishes the head cannot always hear, my boy.” Orman nudged Kallon with his elbow and winked.
Kallon felt his blush rise up from the tips of his toes to splatter across his face. “But it is not my place to decide for her.”
“Kallon,” said Riza, and tugged her paw to draw him close. She gazed up at him and breathed a curl of wispy smoke against his mouth. “Your heart isn’t the only one that makes secret wishes.”
Kallon drew in the sulfur of her breath like perfume.
“Indeed,” said Orman. “Powerful magic. Two identical desires of the purest form. That could do it, I think.”
Kallon heard him, but was sinking into the depths of Riza’s new eyes.
“The others are watching. They’re staring at me,” said Riza. “I’m afraid to move, or to say something. I feel so…big.”
Kallon felt a smile rise up from his throat and burst into a rich laugh. “Don’t worry about speaking to them until you’ve learned their language,” he said. Then he drew her up and held her close against his chest. “Riza. You died for me.”
Redheart (Leland Dragon Series) Page 25