The Dragon's Throne

by Emily L K

  Rowan watched the entire occurrence in silence. His eyes were wide and his skin pale. This was the first time he‘d seen one of the dragon attacks in progress; before he‘d only seen the aftermath.

  Cori felt ill with the pain and the muscles in her abdomen clenched with the effort to keep from crying out. Rowan’s hand, still on her shoulder, was the only thing that stopped her folding over the wound again. It didn’t seem to get any worse after the skin split, though blood continued to ooze from the lines with a steady consistency. Cori watched it through hooded lids. Exhaustion threatened to overwhelm her, and she thought she might faint.

  Finally Rowan moved. He let go of her and got up. The sound of the storm intensified as he opened the door and left the hut. She let herself fall forward so that her forehead rested on her bent knees. The blood oozing from her new wounds was hot and sticky on her side.

  It was several minutes before he returned and Cori tipped her head slightly to look at him. He had his shirt off and it was bunched in his hands, wet from the rain. As he drew closer she could make out the beads of perspiration on his forehead. It wasn’t hot this far north, even with the fire burning. She wondered if he’d gone outside to be sick.

  “Lay down,” he instructed. She thought about it then decided against it; it hurt too much. He had to help her. All her muscles seized against the motion as he unfolded her, limb by limb, and helped her stretch out on her uninjured side with her back to him. She gritted her teeth against making any noise as the claw marks pulled but she couldn’t stop the tears that fell down her face, dripping off her nose and onto the mattress.

  Rowan pushed her shirt up to her breasts and anchored it under her arm so it wouldn’t fall down again. His fingers walked over her skin, blessedly cool around the heat of the cuts.

  “It doesn’t seem so bad,” he murmured, leaning closer. “At least from the outside, anyway.” He lifted his shirt and gently wiped the blood away. He was right, Cori thought numbly, it’s not so bad from the outside. But her insides still felt as though they were ripping apart.

  She lay as still as possible with her eyes closed as he cleaned her skin. She thought dryly on the fact that only earlier that evening she had wanted his hands on her like this. Now his shirt was off and hers practically was as well, but she was too lethargic to begin to contemplate the irony of it all. Eventually Rowan went back outside with the now bloody shirt. He returned quickly this time; the shirt cleaned and wrung out. He folded it and lay it over the scratches. It was nice and cool.

  Now that the initial tearing within her had subsided, the pain became a throbbing ache. Cori took a few deep breaths to calm her racing heart. She felt the mattress sink as Rowan sat at the edge of the bed. He leaned over her, planting his hand before her stomach to prop himself up. She opened her eyes a crack to look at him.

  “You can lift your barriers,” he offered. “There’s nothing out there.”

  She hadn’t even realised they were up. She took a moment to work out how to raise them again; they were so tightly snapped shut, but she managed and Rowan’s mind joined hers in reassurance. She started to cry.

  “I’m scared,” she whispered through her tears. They were hot on her face and Rowan wiped one away with his free hand. In the low light of the fire she could tell he was upset.

  “I wish I could fix this,” he said lightly. His expression was grim and his eyes angry, but it was an internal battle, not one directed at her.

  “Me too,” she said. She let her eyes drop from his face and she stared at the wall directly in front of her. He smoothed the hair from her face and tucked it behind her ear.

  “Try to rest. I’ll keep watch.”

  Cori snorted then winced at the movement it caused. “Do you really think I’ll sleep after this?” But already her eyelids were drooping.

  IT WAS JUST PAST DAWN when she woke again. The rain had stopped, and the sun was out. So was the fire.

  Cori shivered and lifted the still wet shirt from her side. The claw marks beneath were white from being damp and only the three crimson lines that traced unerringly across her side betrayed where the skin had broken. She poked a finger at her hip. Not much pain on the outside, but deep within her - in the muscle - a constant ache was present.

  She groaned a little as she sat up. Rowan had slumped over and was asleep beside her, his legs still hanging off the edge of the bed. She watched him for a moment, the rise and fall of his bare chest and the slackness of his face, then she eased herself over him and off the bed.

  She left the hut quietly and stood on the porch. She inhaled the cold morning air then let it go as a puff of mist. The rain from the night before had frozen to a frosty crust on the ground and residue droplets fell from the edge of the roof to splash against the porch railing.

  A glint of gold caught her eye, and she saw Rowan’s sword leaning by the door, pommel flashing brilliantly. Her fingers found the cold metal of the dragon’s head. She wished she knew how to use it. She was fed up with her incompetence and inability to fight. What was she even supposed to do in this upcoming war?

  She tightened her hand around the pommel and pulled the sword from its sheath. It slid free with a rasp and she carried it off the porch and onto the grass in front of the hut; the frost crunching beneath her feet.

  Sunny whinnied in greeting but didn’t come over. Cori lifted the blade with her left hand, admiring the sunlight flashing off the steel, then she swung it. It wobbled through the air without the impressive swish that usually accompanied a sword swing and the tip fell to the ground.

  “Hold it with both hands.”

  Cori whipped about, wincing at the tug at her side. Rowan was leaning on the porch railing, an amused smile on his face. He’d put a fresh shirt on and had pushed the sleeves up to his elbows despite the cold.

  Heat flushed under her skin at having been caught looking ridiculous and Rowan’s smile widened. He pushed off the railing and cleared the stairs in a single leap.

  “Here,” he said when he reached her. He turned her to face away from him then reached around her with both arms. One hand came to rest on her left one and the other guided her right hand up to the hilt.

  “It’s not a greatsword,” he explained and his breath tickled the back of her neck. She shivered involuntarily, but he continued without seeming to notice. “But because you’re slight, you’ll need to use two hands to counter its weight. Now, widen your stance,” his foot came between hers and shuffled them apart, “and bend your elbows. You don’t want to hyper-extend unless you have to. How’s that?”

  He kept hold of her while she took a few experimental swings but all she could think about was the hammering of her heart and whether he could feel it where their bodies met.

  “You’d be more suited to a short sword,” he said finally, lifting his hands from hers and placing them on her shoulders, “but we’ll make a master swordswoman of you yet.” And then he kissed her; a light brush of his lips on the top of her head that made her freeze. He let her go, and she whirled to face him but he was already walking away towards the hut.

  Follow him, she told herself, follow him!

  But her body refused to move.

  SUNNY TRUDGED AGAINST the wind and rain with his head low. Cori had her fingers wrapped around the reins, more so because they were now frozen there than for any need to steer the horse. She couldn’t see more than a foot in front of Sunny’s head anyway.

  The combination of freezing rain on her face and Rowan’s heat behind her made her body spasm strangely. The muscles under her injury screamed and one of the claw marks had reopened. She’d long ago stopped trying to wipe it and now the blood seeped through her shirt, a red smear on green.

  Rowan had both his arms around her, one across her stomach and the other across her shoulders and chest as if the gesture alone would protect her from the rain. His head was bowed and his forehead touched her shoulder.

  The wind suddenly changed, creating a momentary whirlwind around them then
it pushed them from behind. Rowan shuddered a little as the freezing water hit his back and sat up straighter, dropping his arms to his side.

  They had been riding this way for what seemed like hours. The storm whirled around them, pushing at them from the front then back, and occasionally from the side. They took turns protecting each other at each wind change, an unspoken agreement that was now the only way to pass the time in the storm without losing their nerve.

  “What’s that?” Cori blinked water from her eyes and peered through the storm. Rowan didn’t say anything - perhaps he didn’t hear her in the wind - but she thought she saw a shadow rising through the torrential rain ahead of them. The shadow loomed larger and larger until it took on the individual form of trees.

  “What is that?” Cori said again, though she wasn’t referring to the forest this time. There was a whispering in the air; excited, curious. And then it was in her head. She readied her barriers but didn’t throw them up straight away. These were the voices that had kept her company as a child and she wondered why they‘d come back now.

  “Hen Goeden,” Rowan said, his teeth chattering. She wondered if that was supposed to answer both her questions.

  The icy wind pushed them closer and closer to the looming woods. There were no saplings, no clusters of young trees that usually marked the beginning of a forest. Instead, they were riding across a plain and the next moment they were standing under the great boughs of ancient trees.

  The rain and wind abruptly stopped the moment they were beneath the canopy. The storm continued to rage across the plain but it was strangely calm at the edge of the forest, the branches above so thick that the water couldn’t splash through.

  Rowan placed his hands on the reins and Cori’s fingers took a moment to unfurl from their tight grip. She immediately tucked them into her armpits for warmth. The road they were on continued on into the forest but Rowan guided Sunny aside at the tree line and followed it west for a way. Finally he stopped and looked up at a tree with a wide-spread canopy.

  “This one seems friendly,” he said and dismounted.

  “Friendly?” Cori slid to the ground, stumbling a few steps on her numb limbs.

  “Yes, friendly,” Rowan repeated. “Shall we meet it?”

  “You’re mad,” Cori told him. He threw her a wolfish grin.

  “Perhaps, but you’ve always known that.”

  Cori made a non-committal sound and moved towards the tree. Rowan followed her, but he was the first to place his palms on the trunk. The voices in Cori’s head chattered excitedly, and she frowned.

  “Can you hear that?” She asked, albeit hesitantly. She didn’t want this to be another talent of hers that Rowan had no explanation for. “The voices, I mean?”

  “Of course,” he said, looking up into the boughs of the tree as if that justified his answer.

  “Have you always been able to hear them?”

  “Only when I’m near the forest.” He surveyed her suspiciously. “Why? Have you heard them before?”

  “Until I started dreaming of the dragons,” she said at length, “I heard them almost all the time.”

  “What did they say?”

  “Nothing.” She felt awkward talking about it - another thing that made her abnormal. “It was like listening to a conversation in another room. You could hear it happening but you didn’t know what they were saying.”

  Rowan looked thoughtful. His hands were still on the tree and he jerked his head towards it, indicating that Cori should come closer. “Put your hands on the tree,” he instructed, so she did.

  Human!

  Cori jumped. The voice was dragon-like, but it had the excited bubble of a child with a lolly, or a hound greeting its master. Unlike Daiyu and the green dragon though, this voice was neither male nor female.

  Human?

  Say hello. Rowan’s deep voice.

  Hello, Cori directed at the tree nervously. It sent a feeling of happiness and acceptance towards her and she couldn’t help the smile that curled her lips. She could still hear the clamour of voices in her mind but it was as if this one had stepped to the fore to speak on behalf of the many.

  Little One, Rowan asked deferentially, May we rest beneath your boughs and wait out the storm?

  Yes, Gold Eyes, The tree returned with an air of authority, a contrast to the childish nature it exuded only moments before. Rest easy, nothing will harm you tonight.

  Rowan thanked the tree and lowered his hands. Cori did the same.

  “What was that?” She asked in awe.

  “That,” he smiled knowingly, “was a dragon soul.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Cori didn‘t react immediately. She moved to get their pack from beside Sunny and brought it over to the tree. Some of their spare clothes had gotten wet in the driving rain but they were better than the sopping ones they were wearing. She collected hers to her chest.

  “Don’t look,” She warned and Rowan’s gaze was quickly averted. Just to be sure, she moved around the other side of the great trunk to where she hoped she was out of sight.

  She changed quickly into the woollen cardigan and grey leggings that the staff in the Bandar Utara keep provided. She inspected the wound on her side. It was wasn’t bleeding much, but it was hot and inflamed. Well, there was nothing she could do about that out here.

  She returned to the front of the tree as Rowan was pulling on a dry shirt. She lowered her eyes, but not before noticing how thin he was. His muscles were lean and his skin clung to them. She swallowed back a lump of emotion that threatened to bring tears to her eyes. It suddenly dawned on her that they probably wouldn‘t return from this quest. Rowan looked sick. How was he supposed to fight Cadmus and Daiyu like this? She crouched down and busied herself with the pack. The blanket that had been at the front was damp but the other had survived the storm unharmed. She offered the dry blanket to Rowan when he approached her.

  “Don’t be stupid,” he snapped, pushing the blanket back at her and pulling the damp one from her other hand.

  “You can’t sleep under that,” she told him, exasperated.

  “Neither can you, but you feel the cold more than I do so you use that one and I’ll wait for this one to dry.” And to prove his point, he slung the damp blanket over a branch and sat down at the base of the tree, leaning back against the trunk. Cori sighed. There was no point arguing with him so she wrapped the blanket across her shoulders and sat down beside him, brushing sticks and leaves out of the way to make the ground more comfortable.

  She wanted to ask him about his mind. She knew somehow that his wasted appearance was linked to the Hum intoxication he was so close to falling into, and yet she couldn’t get the words out without experiencing an ache of fear in her stomach. She tried a safer topic. “So, tell me about the dragon souls.”

  “The dragons live in the Tundra,” he began. Cori knew the Tundra was north of Resso - north of the forest they now camped beneath - from the maps Rowan had kept in his study. She nestled down to listen and their arms touched. He looked down at her in surprise and his hand twitched, but he didn’t move further. He swallowed and continued. “They prefer the cold, you see, so the only time they come south is to either lay their eggs or die.

  “When a dragon dies it leaves no remains, instead it’s absorbed back into the earth. After several years, trees will grow in the place the dragon died, and the trees contain the dragon souls.

  “As the tree ages, so does the soul. They become wise and powerful but often mad in their isolated state. These trees,” he waved his hand in the direction of the tree line, “are still young, perhaps only a thousand years old. Born when Daiyu and Cadmus destroyed the other dragons.”

  Rowan hesitated, his hand found a leaf from the ground, and he shredded it into tiny pieces. Cori waited patiently, staring out into the whirling storm and once more marvelled at how well the dragon souls sheltered them. At length Rowan spoke again.

  “When the dragons lay eggs, they lay them in H
en Goeden among the dragon souls. When the eggs are ready to hatch, the closest dragon souls attach themselves to the young, becoming one with them. The tree they were harbouring in dies as a normal tree dies and so the cycle continues.”

  Cori studied the branches above her as she absorbed his words. “I thought dragons lived forever like the Dijem do?”

  “Yes, they can, but sometimes they become tired of life, like the Dijem, and they want to give back to the earth that nourished them.”

  It was a very peaceful and holistic approach, Cori thought, completely at odds with the dragons that had plagued her dreams.

  “Do you want something to eat?”

  “Rum,” She responded absently. Rowan looked puzzled.

  “What? I don’t -” He stopped and reached for her mind instead.

  “It’s not for that,” Cori said. She gave him a mental push at the same time as she tucked her cold fingers in between her thighs. “It will keep us warm.”

  “You,” Rowan stressed the word, “have a problem.” Nonetheless, he reached for the pack and rummaged through it to find the flask. He pulled off the cap and handed it to her. She wrapped one hand around it, leaving the other pressed between her legs, and took several gulps. When she lowered the flask, she found Rowan watching her.

  “What?”

  “If I’d known you‘d be so useless in the cold I would have packed warmer clothes.”

  She ignored the jab and took another swig from the flask. Already she could feel the wonderful burn of the alcohol spreading from her lips to her stomach and out to her limbs. She took one final sip and handed the flask back to Rowan. Surprisingly, he drank too - though it was only one sip - before he put it away.

  “Disgusting,” he offered. Cori disagreed. She liked the way rum burned. it had a fire that no other alcohol had. She pulled the blanket tighter around her body and shifted her weight so she could sit comfortably between the roots of the tree. Her wound gave an angry throb, but she stubbornly ignored it.