Sea Dragon Heir

by Constantine, Storm

  SHORTLY BEFORE BREAKFAST, Pharinet came to Varencienne’s chambers. “Your mother kept us up very late last night,” she said, and Varencienne sensed at once that Tatrini had already spoken to the Palindrake women about her plans. “You seem to get on quite well with her,” Varencienne replied. Pharinet frowned. “Yes, but … What is it, Ren? You look distracted. What’s wrong?” Varencienne yawned. “Nothing. I slept badly. So what do you think of my mother now?” Pharinet pulled a grimacing face. “Strangely enough, she surprised me. She appears to talk sense.” “In what respect?” “You don’t have to skirt the issue. We discussed the visit to Old Caradore.” “And what are your thoughts on the matter?” Pharinet shrugged. “Her arguments were persuasive.” Varencienne laughed coldly. “By Foy, this doesn’t sound like you. I can’t believe you’d ally yourself so quickly with her.” Pharinet fixed her with a burning stare. “You know, more than anyone, how much I want Val to be what he was, more than what he was. If Tatrini can help accomplish it, she has my full support.” “You trust her, then?” “Don’t you? I know she’s talked to you about it.” “I think trust is a priceless commodity. However, I am not wholly against her ideas. It is whether we will retain control that bothers me. Also, although she speaks of Valraven being king in Caradore, she will still need him in Magrast. The two situations are not particularly compatible. That leads me to wonder whether we’re being given the whole truth.” Ideas were taking on clearer shape in Varencienne’s mind. “After all, my mother wants to attempt something that failed before, with tragic consequences. We have to be aware of that.” “But you are not Ellony. Tatrini is not Bayard.” “True, but are they the components that caused the failure before? We don’t really know, do we. It might have been Valraven himself, or even you. It might be the nature of the Dragon Daughters.” Pharinet sighed through her nose impatiently. “I can see the sense of your arguments, but Ren, I really want to try this thing. It’s very important to me. I’ve waited a long time.” She flung up her arms. “What else do we have? The Sisterhood? They are ineffective. We need something more and may not be offered this chance again.” Varencienne snorted. “I doubt that. It is very important to Tatrini as well. She won’t give up without a fight. She needs us. Therefore, we have time to make measured decisions and to take precautions.” Pharinet nodded. “You’re right, I suppose.” She paused. “Have you spoken to Valraven?” “So my mother informed you of that proposal, did she?” “Of course. We cannot lead him to the rite in ignorance, as we did before. Did you speak to him?” “Yes.” Varencienne gave Pharinet a brief description of the conversation she’d had with her husband the previous night. Pharinet looked wistful by the end of it. “He has never spoken to me of that time, never. I had no idea what he thought and felt about it.” “He wants help,” Varencienne said, “and may take risks to get it, but he is also afraid. I understand his fears and respect them. He may well be right. We have no way of knowing what will happen when we perform the ritual. We may end up with a monster on our hands, a Dragon Daughter incarnate.? “I don’t think that will happen,” Pharinet said, “not if you’re involved. You’re no simpering weakling. You’re strong, and very aware.” “Don’t pin all your hopes on me. I’m a novice at this.” Pharinet put her hands upon Varencienne’s shoulders. “I have no doubts about you. I am sure this is your destiny.” Uncomfortable, Varencienne pulled away. “What about Everna? I can’t imagine she was so easily swayed by my mother’s talk.” “She was very much for the idea, actually.” “That amazes me. Why?” “Everna has a secret hope, I think. She hopes Thomist might be restored to her.” “That is a dangerous hope, because it won’t happen.” “We don’t know that.” “We do,” Varencienne said quietly. “Pharry, if we perform the ritual, and we are successful, we won’t see dragons rising from the waves. We won’t see dead people walking from the ocean. The effect will be subtle, something that occurs within us. You know that. You’re not stuffed with delusions like the Sisterhood. Just who does my mother think should take part in the rite?” “You, me, Everna, Val and herself.” Varencienne frowned. “That’s not enough. We need more of a male presence. “Merlan?” Pharinet suggested archly. “Why not?” Varencienne demanded. “He has knowledge of magic.” “He is not a Palindrake.” “Neither is Tatrini. My Palindrake blood is also somewhat thin.” “Your mother was emphatic that she should select the participants for the ritual.” “I can deal with her.” Pharinet waved a languid hand at her. “Oh, do what you think is right. All I ask is that you take your part.” After Pharinet had gone, Varencienne felt swamped with depression. Talking about the ritual and expressing hopes was all very well, but the reality was a great unknown. What would Foy want? If she could be given the strength to rise, would she come in joy or resentment? Perhaps a lot of that depended on the state of mind of those who performed the ritual. And that was something that failed to inspire confidence in Varencienne?s heart. The Palindrakes would not be able to focus their thoughts dispassionately, and surely that would be an essential requirement if the ritual was to succeed. Everna wanted a dead man to walk from the sea back into her arms; Valraven was full of fear and uncertainty; Pharinet was fired by unrequited love, shame and guilt. These were dangerous ingredients. Varencienne realized she would feel happier if it was just herself, her mother, Merlan and Valraven who performed the rite. That way there would be fewer hidden factors and rogue emotions. Tatrini, however, when Varencienne spoke to her later, was very much against the idea. “The Palindrake women must be part of this. They are the dragon priestesses.” “They are unstable. We have to protect ourselves. Also, I’m still half certain that Foy wants only to be left in peace. What you propose may be wrong.” “Varencienne,” said the empress. “An elemental force does not have feelings. It just is. Whatever emotions might churn through Palindrake hearts, it matters not what kind they are. The dragons need our energy to revive. Emotion is energy, whatever type it is. Foy will rise in strength, have no fear. She will claim back what is hers.” “You speak with confidence,” Varencienne said, “but it does not wholly convince me.” Tatrini laughed. “Believe me, I have performed a hundred rituals more perilous than this. I never put myself at unnecessary risk.” “What of Merlan Leckery? Do you agree to him participating?” She nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, I suppose so. I can see the sense of including him, because in a way, this will mirror certain aspects of the last ritual. It would have been better to have Bayard present, but of course that would have caused problems.” For a moment, Varencienne considered mentioning something to her mother about Bayard, then decided against it. Tatrini must not know her daughter had doubts about him. Varencienne moved closer to her mother. “If we do this thing, you must promise to take every precaution.” “If?” Tatrini said, leaning away fastidiously. “There is no if, my dear, only a when. And of course, I shall invoke the strongest possible protection.” Varencienne shuddered. She realized then her mother wasn’t afraid at all.

  7

  HOME

  ON THIS ROAD, VARENCIENNE thought, as the stone ribbon to Old Caradore unfurled before her, Ilcretia had ridden towards the castle as a new bride. Her wedding to the Palindrake heir would recently have taken place in the domain of her parents. Varencienne was sure that Ilcretia had first come to Caradore in the same season that now spread its pageant over the land. Her path too would have been strewn with forest gold. Caradore had been a land unconquered then. The sight of the old castle’s towers and turrets through the ancient trees would have inspired wonder and excitement, with no hint of fear and sinister secrets. The company crossed the old bridge to the mossy road that surrounded the castle. Everna and the empress travelled in the imperial carriage, flanked by guards, while Varencienne and the others rode their horses ahead of them. Varencienne felt strangely pulled between two times, that of Ilcretia’s first homecoming and Valraven’s return to his ancestral domain. She wondered, briefly, if Ilcretia had once felt the same wrench. Perhaps, as she’d crossed this bridge, a taint of sorrow to come had brushed he
r skin like an unseasonal breeze, full of frost. She would have shuddered, felt momentarily afraid, then pushed it from her mind. Varencienne, violated by knowledge, could not push anything from her mind. Her companions were silent, each cocooned in their own thoughts, although she could hear the whisper of words coming from behind the veiled window of the carriage. The ritual would take place at the hour of sunset, rather than that of dawn, as Bayard had tried before. Tatrini had explained that dusk was the time when traditionally the ancient Palindrakes had communed with the denizens of the sea. However, this meant that there would be a few hours to spend in each other’s company as they waited for sunfall—a few hours of tension and awkwardness. Guards erected a pavilion within the walls of the castle, where later the ladies would sleep. The empress, dressed in a dark-green gown, sat with Everna drinking tea which one of the guards had prepared for them. The wind made a wing of the empress’s high collar and pinched strands of hair from Everna’s careful coif. Merlan and Valraven had gone off with Pharinet to look at the keep. Varencienne, shunning company, decided to find a path down to the beach. She found the atmosphere bizarre. It was almost as if they were all enjoying a simple day trip out together, yet in just a few hours, all their lives could be changed irrevocably. It didn’t seem possible. As she descended an overgrown path, she heard a movement behind her. Turning, she saw the silhouette of one of the guards standing at the clifftop. “I will be fine, go away,” she said. The man took a step back, although she knew he’d continue to watch. Did the empress know of dangers she hadn’t mentioned to her companions? The beach was of fine white sand, with a swathe of black shingle near the water’s edge. The tide was out. Immense rocks gowned with thick dark weed rose from shallow moats of trapped sea water. Gulls squabbled on the guano-smeared summits. Behind her, the pleated cliffs were pored with caves. The surroundings were physically similar to the coastal landscape at new Caradore, but the ambience here was very different. Edges were blurred somehow, and a sense of antiquity hung heavily in the air. The trees that leaned over the clifftops were huge and ancient, their salt-twisted limbs like those of tortured spirits. Mature wild shrubs threw swags of flowers down the rocky face, and descending creepers created billowing green curtains, thrusting out tendrils of leaves. Varencienne was swamped with a feeling of nostalgia for events that had never occurred. History lived on in this place. She was sure that if she let her mind drift, she would hear voices from those times, and figures would flicker across her vision. Varencienne sat down on a low rock and hugged her knees, resting her cheek upon them. She closed her eyes, listening to the soporific hiss and crash of the far waves. It would be easy to fall asleep here. She sensed rather than heard footsteps on the sand behind her, and for a while did not raise her head. Whose ghostly feet approached her? Would they show themselves to her? “Varencienne.” The sound of her name, uttered by an unmistakably human voice, shattered the moment. “Mother!” She sat up straight. “I thought you were a ghost.” The empress picked her way carefully across the shifting sand to the rock and there sat down beside her daughter. “I am not surprised. The spirit of the place is very strong here. It drugs you like an opiate.” Varencienne felt uncomfortable with this close proximity, unsure of her mother’s motives for seeking her out. She doubted it was a simple desire for her company. “Is everything ready for tonight?” “All that needs to be ready is the hearts and minds of those who will participate. That is really beyond my control.” She clasped her hands neatly in her lap. “We must trust in fate.” Varencienne rubbed her arms. “I feel nervous.” “To be expected.” The empress did not extend a hand to comfort, or even turn her eyes to her daughter. “I have come here to teach you. There are things you should know before tonight.” “What things?” “Some of what was in Ilcretia’s book. It was mainly a storybook, you know. But the stories are rooted in history. They concern the ancient contract between the Palindrakes and the Ustredi.” “What kind of contract?” Tatrini sighed, narrowing her eyes. “A potent one. Cassilin Malagash was very much afraid of the ancient sea people. The dragon heir could command them, you see. That link had to be severed, otherwise Magravandias could never control Caradore. Cassilin would have had another Cos on his hands. In the night, the Ustredi would come, and wreak their vengeance against the invaders. He could not risk such a thing happening. When Valraven’s ancestor uttered his vow to Madragore, thus banishing the sea dragons, he also closed the portal whereby the Ustredi could commune with the land. The contract was broken.” “I have not heard the Sisterhood mention any of this.” Tatrini made a scornful sound. “I am not surprised. They do not know it. Ilcretia made sure the knowledge was never passed on. If anyone cursed this place, it was she. She didn’t want anyone coming back here, poking around. At least, not until the time was right.” “I have thought about Ilcretia along those lines,” Varencienne said. “But what exactly was the contract the Palindrakes had with the sea people? I presume it was of a spiritual nature.” Tatrini gave her daughter a considering look. “You are something of a skeptic, aren’t you. Never doubt that the Ustredi are real. They exist in their own realm as we do in ours. As humans, we should not presume to know all the secrets of the world.” Varencienne laughed in incredulity. “You’re telling me the city I saw in my visions is a real place? How is that possible?” “The city you saw does not exist at new Caradore.” The empress pointed out towards the east. “It lies that way, in the murk of a deep crevasse. It is called Pelagra, which is how the Palindrakes got their name. It was originally Peladrake, which means sea dragon. The family was a priesthood to the dragons. There are tunnels beneath the castle that lead down to sunken lagoons. In such places were the rites of the contract observed.” “How did such a situation come about?” Varencienne asked carefully. She could not believe her mother placed any credence in the old stories. “I will tell you the legend. Long ago, twin Ustredi, a brother and sister, desired knowledge of the other realms of the world. They hungered to explore the dry land and the sky domain above it. They craved to have dominion over the firepits and their denizens. In the book, they are remembered as Mera and Merin, but I think the true form of their names would be incomprehensible to us. They went to the court of Foy and told her that she too, as a mighty elemental queen, should not be confined to the depths of the ocean. In those days, Foy was a serpent and her daughters were tusked fishes. Foy agreed to give the twins a pearl of her power, so that they might be able to survive in elements alien to their own. In return, they would secure for her new territory. Once the peoples of the land turned to her in worship, she would be able to rise from her domain. “Many of the Ustredi bewailed the twins’ plan. They anticipated disastrous results, but they were wrong. Mera and Merin swam to the surface, and as they rose towards the air, they took on a new form. Legs grew from their tails, like the legs of developing frogs or newts. By the time they reached the shore, their tails dropped off completely. Their gills closed up and they took their first painful gulps of air. You can be sure it burned their throats like fire. At first, they could only lie upon the beach, unable to move their weak new limbs, gasping for breath. And so it was that a local girl came upon them. She called for the men of her family who were hunting crabs nearby, and between them, they carried the twins back to their village. The people of the village knew that these were sea people, because their legs were so weak and small, like the legs of babies. I should imagine it was a gruesome sight. Their eyes were very round, like fishes? eyes, and their fingers were webbed. They found it difficult to move in air, because it did not support their bodies in the manner to which they were accustomed. And they could not speak, they could only sing. The people recognized it as the song that fishermen sometimes heard in the night, when their boats were calmed upon the ocean. Despite living close to the sea, the villagers were worshippers of earth, whose gods were basilisks or earth dragons. Basilisks are green creatures, who can look like thorny bushes. They are small and quick. The people regularly petitioned them to bargain with the sea dragons, so
that fishermen?s ships might pass unharmed across the ocean?s surface. Humans did not attempt to commune with the sea creatures themselves. “At first, the villagers were afraid of the twins, thinking some terrifying sea beast would come to claim them and perhaps wreak havoc, but as time passed, nothing like that occurred. Mera and Merin’s limbs grew strong and true. They learned to speak like humans do, and their faces lost some of their fishy cast. They spoke of the realm beneath the sea, and the Ustredi who lived there. They told of Foy, who was far stronger than the shy basilisks. ‘Worship Foy,’ they said, ‘and the riches of the sea will be yours.’ Their words and their eyes were persuasive. The people smelled magic on them, and yearned for the promised rewards. So they built shrines to the sea dragons and worshipped there. Foy gained dominion upon the land. She could now walk upon it if she wished. The twins created for themselves a home on the clifftops some distance from the village. They each took a lover from the local community and married them. They had children whose blood, we can be sure, was saltier than most. “Years passed. The twins remembered their promise to Foy and went travelling. They ventured high into the northern mountains, where the eyries of the sky people were hidden. These were the worshippers of air, and their deities were the cockatrices, winged creatures as befitting their element. Mera and Merin were now very beautiful to behold, and magic shone from them. They brought Foy to the sky people, and had them build temples beneath the crashing veils of waterfalls and beside mountain lakes. Foy?s dominion expanded. She could fly now, if she wished. “Mera and Merin travelled south into the land that is now Magravandias, and here they met resistance. The fire worshippers there wanted none of Foy. Their fire-drakes were strong and immanent in the land. It is common knowledge that fire and water each possesses the capability to destroy the other. They cannot exist side by side together, and this caused a war. “As people fought on land, Foy rose from the sea, and her form was changed. No longer a serpent, she had aspects of earth and sky. She had wings to fly and feet to walk the land. Terrified of her magnificence and ferocity, the shy basilisks and airy cockatrices fled this earthly plane, and it was left to Foy and her daughters to take on the fire-drakes. Neither side could win, because neither fire nor water can be totally banished from the world, but Foy expelled the fire-drakes from Caradore, and they did not return for many thousands of years. “The twins created the tribe of Palindrake, who are the intermediaries between the people of the land and the sea. Over the centuries, their humble home expanded into a mighty domain. Beneath it, secret caves and tunnels were constructed, and here, once a year, the Ustredi would rise from their city and visit their hybrid relatives. It is said that strange marriages took place. Sons and daughters of the earth would be given to the Ustredi, who had a great fascination for human kind. They also liked to eat the animals of the land, and these too were given to them. In return, the sea people would bring to the land dwellers riches from the depths. These riches took many forms: not just the treasures from sunken ships, but marine life that could be used as medicines and visionary philters. They brought baskets of pearls and living coral and green gems. Foy ruled over all, and it was a time of plenty. Her cold breath kept the fire-drakes of the south at bay. This situation persisted for several thousand years, but then the fire-drakes created for themselves a god on earth. Cassilin Malagash, the Lord of Fire, came to Caradore and took the Dragon Heir for himself. The contract was broken, and Foy was banished back to the depths of the ocean.” After Tatrini had finished, Varencienne was silent for a while. Eventually, she said, “It is a wonderful legend, but surely only that. Don’t you think the old stories are really disguises for truth? Perhaps seafaring people interacted with the original inhabitants of Caradore, but I do not think they were merfolk.” Tatrini nodded. “I understand your view, and it is healthy. We should not believe in anything too readily, but neither should we dismiss it out of hand.? “Tonight, perhaps we shall see,” said Varencienne. “I hope so. I also hope you understand why the sea dragons must return. We should have command over both water and fire.” “What about air and earth?” Varencienne asked. “Foy embodies those elements also.” “The legends say she banished the cockatrices and the basilisks. Surely, that’s as bad as the fire-drakes banishing her?” “I think the other elemental creatures were never properly developed by those who conceived their forms. Foy is perfect. There is no need for anything else.” “Even so …” “Accept what is,” said the empress. She slapped her palms against her thighs. “Now, I think we should return to the others and begin to prepare ourselves.” The Palindrakes hoped to turn back time—not that of several centuries, but simply nine years. Standing with them on the beach, Varencienne realized that for her new family, this wasn’t really about tradition, or even about the land itself, it was about personal needs, shame and grief. Their desire for this ritual to make everything right pulsed out of them as a palpable force. Varencienne herself felt very little inside. Now that the moment was upon her, she did not feel afraid, yet neither could she believe something life changing was about to happen. Valraven still didn’t know his heritage. Would this knowledge be given to him in trance? At the end of the day, the group gathered in a semicircle on the beach, where the water crept slowly towards them. Varencienne was extremely conscious of Merlan’s near presence. Even though they had met secretly over the past couple of days, they had barely exchanged a glance all the way to Old Caradore. She wished they could have had a few moments to talk before the ritual. Tatrini was in control, organizing everyone, instructing them how to breathe deeply and conjure the required physical and mental state. Everna and Pharinet exuded tension like smoke, while Valraven was a motionless and emotionless statue beside them. Varencienne found herself thinking of Bayard, of he and Valraven together. She couldn’t imagine it. People had secret lives. They were never really themselves. Sunset had bloodied the world, and a vast untidy flock of sea birds wheeled against the darkening sky, crying mournfully. “That is the siren song,” murmured Tatrini. She stood in the center of the group. “Varencienne, that is the song you must sing. Listen to them. Call forth the Dragon Daughters.” Varencienne opened her mouth and expelled a croak. It was an ugly, rasping sound, the greedy carrion-eater’s demand for food. The sound of it struck her as absurdly comical. Was this the way to conduct a rite of such importance? Smothering laughter, she uttered squawks and squeals, imagining herself like the birds above; selfish and mindless, driven by the simple instinct to survive. Around her, the Palindrakes shifted uncomfortably, although she was aware of Tatrini and Merlan being as still as stone. The cries coming from her mouth were changing. As she listened to the gulls, it was possible to perceive a strange melody within their raucous calls. Sounds she could not before have imagined began to emerge from her throat. The atmosphere around them all was transforming. The song came easier now, echoing out over the waves. The sea birds dipped and lifted to its rhythm like musical notes upon the sky of dusk. Tatrini took one of Valraven’s hands in hers, and also one of Varencienne’s. She stepped towards the encroaching tide, taking them with her. “Dragon Queen, Dragon Daughters, come forth from the cold darkness,” she called. “The siren song of the sea wife calls unto you. Come now to the Dragon Heir, who is your avatar on earth. We await your presence.” Varencienne continued to sing, and now her voice seemed small upon the night. The sea birds were silent, wheeling around her, the only sound the whir of their wings. The ocean appeared sullen, heaving towards the land. Strange lights pulsed within it, some distance from the shore. Varencienne’s voice faltered. “Sing on,” murmured the empress, gripping Varencienne’s hand tightly. “They come.” They come, thought Varencienne. Yet isn’t one of them here already in Valraven? What are we drawing to us? Where is the protection my mother spoke of? Varencienne suddenly felt vulnerable and was overwhelmed by an urge to flee. She pulled against her mother’s grip, but the empress would not let go. “Do not give in to fear,” she said. “It is an animal instinct. Rise above it.” A silvery green smoke hovered above
the waves. Within it, Varencienne could perceive indistinct shapes. “Can you see that?” she cried. “Can you all see it?” She glanced around at the others. “There is a mist,” said Pharinet, narrowing her eyes. “Something,” Everna agreed in a strangely slurred voice. Merlan said nothing, although his eyes looked wild. Varencienne glanced at Valraven. “I see two shapes,” she said. He smiled at her. In the twilight, his skin looked greenish. Varencienne shuddered. The smile was not Valraven’s smile. She was in him. “Who are you?” Varencienne murmured. “Summon them!” ordered the empress, apparently oblivious of what was taking place beside her. “Who are you?” Varencienne cried. The answer echoed in her mind. Missssk. She thought she saw Valraven lick his lips with a thin, forked tongue. The Dragon Daughter had risen within him. Her presence hung around his body like a second skin. Varencienne swallowed painfully, for her throat was utterly dry. “Come forth,” she said slowly. “Come forth, Misk, and join your sisters.” Valraven hissed. No. This is my skin. “It is the skin of the Dragon Heir,” Varencienne said. “You must leave it. Behold, your sisters are waiting.” With her free hand, Varencienne gestured at the sea. Two sinuous female forms now undulated within the sparkling green smoke. They preened themselves with clawed hands. They writhed and sighed, wrapped in shifting cloaks of green hair. Their eyes were serpents’ eyes. Beyond them, Varencienne could see dark shapes bobbing upon the waves. Sleek backs broke the surface of the water. Seals or Ustredi? “Come forth,” Varencienne said again. “Misk, take us to the ancient realm. The contract will be revived and your mother will rise again. But you must come forth.” Again, a hiss. The Dragon Heir must be restrained. If he speaks the old words of power, the land will fall to flame. Such is the will of the fire lord. “No,” Varencienne said. “That will not happen. I am a daughter of fire. I am Cassilin’s daughter. I am here to remake his word.” She could see a misty face superimposed over Valraven’s features. Misk had resided for nine years in a human body. She would not relinquish it willingly. Between Varencienne and Valraven, the empress was now silent, although encouraging her daughter with her eyes. You know what to do. Go with your instincts. “Misk, come into me,” said Varencienne. “Experience a woman’s heart, a woman’s body. Isn’t that more what you desire?” “Yes,” breathed Tatrini. A sly expression flickered across Valraven’s features. Then a leaping force almost knocked Varencienne from her feet. The impact forced the breath from her body. She could not breathe. An alien, smothering presence was inside her, too active, too forceful. “Misk!” she cried. Valraven looked dazed. He stared at her in horror. This is what Ellony felt, Varencienne thought. I have to go into the waves. I can’t resist it. I have to go. She pulled away from her mother’s hold and began to run the short distance to the lip of the incoming tide. She heard voices cry out her name behind her in fear and despair. She laughed. She did not care. Her sisters were there, beckoning to her, eager to embrace her once more. I bring you flesh, dear ones. Sweet human flesh. We have been waiting, beloved. The water swirled around Varencienne’s ankles, snatching at her skirts. No one could stop her. No one. Then she felt hands upon her arms, pulling her back. She snarled and wriggled. No human could restrain her. She was too powerful for their feeble strength to match hers. “Leave her! I command you!” Valraven’s shout was close to her ear. A jolt passed through her body. Misk was listening; she could not disobey. The Dragon Heir’s function was to command the denizens of the sea. Varencienne could hear Merlan’s voice calling out to her, but it seemed to come from very far away. Valraven was close to her. He was all that existed. “Get out,” he said, in a low voice. “Get out, Misk. I command you.” Varencienne experienced a terrible, wrenching pain throughout her entire body. It felt as if her guts were being torn out of her. She uttered a shuddering cry. Misk streamed out of her, trailing silvery-green smoke. Jia and Thrope rose up as columns of twisting water, drawing her in. Valraven pulled Varencienne back towards the sand. She was retching uncontrollably, vomiting sea water that was filled with tiny crabs and fishes. “Tatrini!” Valraven cried, his voice full of fear. “What is this?” The empress came forward. “It’s all right,” she said. “You did what was right. In your heart, you knew instinctively what to do. It is your function, Valraven.? Varencienne straightened up, wiping her mouth. The spasm had passed. Everna, Pharinet and Merlan crowded round her, uttering words of concern. Tatrini ushered them back. “We have summoned the Daughters,” she said. “Control yourselves. Valraven and Varencienne must complete the process. “Complete it how?” Varencienne asked. She looked to Merlan for support, but he merely shrugged helplessly. He could not help her. He could only observe, for to offer suggestions now would alert the empress to the fact he had more knowledge than she imagined. The empress however, clearly needed no advice. She faced Valraven. “Command the Dragon Daughters to take you both to Foy,” she said. “Not as sacrifices to the sea, but as guests of the underwater realm. They must sing the song to call your souls from your bodies.” The misty shapes still hovered over the waves, as if awaiting Valraven’s orders. He shook his head. “I saw her,” he said. “Her name was Misk. She was in me.” “Yes,” said Tatrini. “She is a daughter of Foy, the Dragon Queen. She is yours to command, Valraven. This is the knowledge that has been kept from you.” Unexpectedly, Pharinet uttered a moan. “Great Foy, our beloved Caradore,” she said, her fingers pressed to her face. “He must never know the truth. It will destroy us.” “Silence!” Tatrini grabbed Pharinet’s arm. “You have awaited this moment for years. Banish the fear.” Pharinet shook her head. “I cannot. The time has come, yet I’m afraid.” “Fear of that ancient vow is in our blood,” Everna said. “Perhaps that is what gives it power,” Merlan suggested. “Her Mightiness is right—you must ignore or banish it. Fear is what keeps you in chains.” “It would be foolish and dangerous for us to ignore it,” Everna said. “Varencienne and Valraven must question the Dragon Daughters. We must be sure of …” “Oh, be quiet!” Tatrini snapped. “We have no time for leisurely interviews. The deed must be done, the link to the past broken. I have more knowledge of this matter than you.? “I hardly think …” Everna began. Varencienne turned away from them all. Valraven was standing at the water’s edge, oblivious of the argument, staring at the place where the eerie mist roiled above the sullen sea. Varencienne went to him. “Do you understand?” she asked. He nodded vaguely. Looking at him, Varencienne could see the boy that Pharinet mourned for. He was not himself, she decided, but then reconsidered. Perhaps the man she had known until now, the one so beloved of the emperor, had really been Misk. It would be easy to try and absolve Valraven for his actions, but that would be too convenient. Behind her, Merlan argued in a cool voice with the women. At that moment, it seemed inconceivable she was close to him. He was just another voice on the outside, while she seemed cocooned in a separate world, with Valraven at her side. She could no longer understand what the others were saying to one another. The sounds they made were merely the petty squabble of sea gulls over carrion on the beach. Valraven pointed towards the hovering mist. “They are diminishing,” he said softly, “fading away.” Varencienne nodded. “Then perhaps we should go with them.” “Will it mean the end for Caradore, Ren?” She shrugged. “I don’t know. I really don’t. But we’re here, and we came with the intention to revive your power. We must do it, or forever torment ourselves with thoughts of what might have been.” Valraven glanced down at her. “I cannot give this power to your mother,” he said. “Of all things that is the one I am most sure about.” Varencienne sighed. “I know. I don’t think she could have it. Ask the Daughters to sing the song, Val. You don’t have to invoke the curse. Just learn what you are.” Valraven stared at her for a moment, then faced the Dragon Daughters. He did not speak aloud. From far away, came the rushing of an approaching storm. A wind whipped up the waves. Valraven took Varencienne’s hand. The song stole into her mind, spun around inside her head as if it was an empty cave. She had a yearning to leave the prison of flesh, and the sensation of bei
ng pulled from her body grew stronger and stronger.