by K. A. Linde
“Here.” She offered her hand and adjusted Rita so that she was seated properly.
“This is a horrible idea,” Rita said with a sigh. “Who even thought riding a dragon was a good idea?”
We did, Sarielle told her. Now, hold on. You are about to experience the world.
Then Sarielle took to the skies. Cyrene heard the snap as her hood whipped off her head and then felt the rush of the wind in her hair. She whooped in delight as they climbed ever higher. She lived for this moment. The freedom of flying. Her destiny might be set, but this felt like eternity.
Once Sarielle evened out in the sky, they angled northward with Halcyon following. After they were far enough from Byern to avoid human settlement, they angled west toward the Fallen Desert and began their descent out of the mountains.
“Ah,” Rita said behind her, “we’ve arrived.”
“How can you tell?” Cyrene asked her, staring down at the shapeless scenery.
“Some things you never forget. The arid climate is one of them. There is no water in the air. It leaves a dry, empty space in your mouth.”
Cyrene felt it then. She hadn’t ever been into the Fallen before. It was terrifying that, even at night, it felt like this.
“What should I be looking for?” Cyrene asked.
“Don’t bother. You’ll never see it from up here without training. Leave that to me. Just see if your magic works to look for water sources on the surface. I have no idea if you’ll be able to sense it like a competent water seeker. But it is worth a try.”
So, Cyrene directed her magic down to the ground. And felt…no water. She shuddered. It was disconcerting, to say the least. She couldn’t imagine a place with no water. None at all. She had always taken for granted that the element—her best element—would just be there at her fingertips. But she couldn’t pull water from thin air…not when there was no moisture in the air.
They flew for hours, sparingly drinking the water they had brought with them. Cyrene was glad that she had been able to at least nap when she was stuck in the Doma chamber all day, but the lack of sleep was definitely catching up with her. She kept feeling her eyelids drooping, her head lolling, and then she’d jolt back upright.
She shook her head and tried to think about waking, using her magic to scour the barren ground for a water source.
Cyrene, you should sleep while we are in the skies. Rita can scan the ground with her water signs, and Dean can use his magic atop Halcyon. You have had an ordeal. You need to replenish.
“No, I’m fine.”
But they both knew it was a lie. She would definitely need to sleep if she was to make it through all of this.
Sleep, Sarielle insisted.
Cyrene just sent her magic back down to the ground.
She hadn’t even known that she had fallen asleep until she heard Rita cheer behind her.
Cyrene bolted upright. “I wasn’t asleep.”
Sure, Sarielle said.
“I found a water sign,” Rita said. “Off to the left. Go lower.”
Sarielle did as instructed, never complaining that she hadn’t had any water in this great open expanse. As they got closer to the ground, Cyrene saw an outcrop of tall, spiked cacti.
“The cacti have water?” she guessed.
“Assuredly,” Rita said, “but you can’t drink it; it’s poisonous. Nearly all of it. You can only drink a tiny amount of it and only in dire situations. Otherwise, you will die a rather agonizingly slow death.”
“Cheerful,” Cyrene muttered. “So, that’s not the sign?”
“It is, and it isn’t,” Rita said. “There’s a post next to the largest cactus that glows under the moonlight. Do you see it?”
“Yes. What is it?”
“It was placed there by my people. A marker only visible at night when the water seekers are out as an indicator. Use your magic, see if you can find water.”
So, Cyrene did. And, to her immense relief…it was there. Not at the marker…precisely. It looked like it had been drained recently. But there was some nearby that location as well. Now that she had the thread, she could sense the connection of the water in this area. How it went from one sort of well to another.
“Put us down here, Sarielle. We have water.”
Wonderful. I could use a drink.
Cyrene laughed. “I don’t think we’ll be taking their water. Not if we want them to like us. Water seems to be chief here.”
“It is,” Rita agreed.
Sarielle landed outside the cacti cropping, and Cyrene helped Rita down off her back. Dean appeared a second later, already standing over the spot where the water had been drained.
“You sense it?” Cyrene asked.
He nodded. “It is faint. My strength lies in flame, but it is there.”
Cyrene turned to Rita. “What do we do from here?”
But Rita was already walking away from them, following something that neither Dean nor Cyrene recognized. They were definitely out of their depths here.
They were currently in the basin of a canyon, and the base of one side held what appeared to be shelter. Not exactly caves, but an overhang, possibly for protection if someone was caught out during the day. And Rita was walking straight toward it.
“What is it?” Cyrene whispered.
“They have fled this place.” She pointed at obscured tracks in the sand that were barely visible at this hour of night.
“Perhaps the dragons frightened them.”
“Yes,” Rita agreed. “We should continue without them.”
Sarielle tugged on her bond with Cyrene. We will await you here.
Cyrene nodded and then went with Rita and Dean toward the canyon wall. Still, Cyrene saw nothing and no one. The footprints abruptly ended at the rise of the next dune. Rita continued on, but Cyrene had her doubts.
They were nearly to the edge of the canyon when the sand erupted around them. Cyrene thrust Rita between herself and Dean. She unsheathed Shadowbreaker and had her magic at the ready. She could feel Dean bristling with lightning at his fingertips. Within minutes, they were easily surrounded. Spears, swords, and bows were held at the ready. No one moved. Everyone waited for the other to attack.
Rita pushed past them. “Stop, please. My name is Ritanya. I am Tyghan. I was sent to Byern thirty years ago, and I have returned to see my granddaughter, Isabylle.”
A woman stepped forward, a sand-colored mask, falling from her face. “Ritanya?” Her voice was thick with emotion.
“Yes,” Rita whispered. “Yes, it is me.”
“It cannot be,” the woman said. Her spear dipped as she approached Rita. “Who were your parents?”
“Eagan and Gretal. My mother was a seamstress. My father a water seeker. My brother was made a water seeker, and I was sent into the city to look for the rise of the seeker.”
A choked sob escaped the woman. She stepped into the moonlight, and her face was visible. A deep scar ran from her eye to her mouth. She was fierce and beautiful. “Ritanya, it is you.”
“Quidera?” Rita gasped.
“It is me,” Quidera said. And then the two women embraced, as it was clear they had not seen each other in thirty years. “You can lower your weapons. She is a friend.”
Rita nodded at Cyrene and Dean as well. Cyrene slowly sheathed her sword and uncertainly stared around. No one else looked particularly excited to be putting their weapons away.
“It is wonderful to see you, Quidera. And to see you as a water seeker.”
“Head water seeker,” she said. “I am leader of his sect.” She gestured to a man. “This is my husband, Hulen.”
A man bowed to her. “I have heard of you, Ritanya. A great sacrifice to go to Byern and leave everything you know behind.”
“I am happy for you,” Rita said. “These are my companions, Cyrene and Dean. We have been searching much of the night for water signs in the hopes of finding water seekers.”
“Were you the ones flying those giant beasts?” a boy no ol
der than Cyrene asked, stepping out of the circle. He seemed to be bursting with interest.
“Jenstad,” Quidera bit out.
“Yes,” Cyrene spoke up. “Those are our dragons. We are sorry to have scared you with them.”
“We weren’t scared,” Jenstad said indignantly.
“Quidera, I must get back to Isabylle. It has been too long since I saw her. She was just a babe then.”
Quidera nodded. “We were nearly finished tonight anyway. We will return to Aleut, and you can come with us.”
“I thank you greatly,” Rita said.
Cyrene looked around suspiciously. Quidera seemed genuine, but the distrust was evident on the rest of the water seekers’ faces. She had no intention of leaving Rita in these conditions.
“Excellent. We will escort you.”
“That will not be necessary,” Quidera said with a fierce possessiveness. “She is one of our own.”
“She is one of my own, too,” Cyrene said just as fiercely. “And I will not leave her until I know that she is safe.”
“Cyrene,” Rita said in warning.
But Cyrene had never taken well to warnings. “Is there a reason that I should not go with you? Do you intend to harm her? Are you not as benevolent as you claim?”
Quidera ground her teeth. “Of course not.”
“We don’t allow foreigners,” Jenstad spat.
“Jen!” Quidera spat.
“I am not a foreigner,” Cyrene said. She turned her palm up, and suddenly, water pooled into her open palm. She drew it straight out of the dry air then from the dry ground and the plants around it. She pulled enough until she had a small swirling pool before her. And all the Tyghans stared at her in awe. “As you can see, I am a water seeker.”
“How?” Jenstad whispered against Quidera’s orders.
Quidera stepped up to Cyrene and held out a water pouch. Cyrene twirled her hand and let it pour easily into the open container.
“You may come with us,” Quidera said evenly, “but you will show us how to do that on the way.”
“Assuredly,” Cyrene said with a grin.
15
The Metal
The truth of the matter was that, aside from Quidera and Jenstad, hardly any of the water seekers had enough Doma magic to do more than sense an already-full well of water. They were as likely to pull water out of the arid air as Cyrene was of willingly giving up her destiny. Neither of those things were happening. And she could sense that clearly.
But, by the time, they neared the city of Aleut, Jenstad was getting the hang of it. Not much, of course. Maybe a drop or two here and there. Probably too much work for what he gathered. It would still be better to go water seeking, but he would be able to draw out more, and that could mean many great things for their people.
Dean was having less luck with Quidera, but Cyrene suspected it was because Jenstad was younger. He was more willing to accept change, accept that there were multiple ways of doing things. Quidera just got frustrated that Dean, who had claimed he had no real affinity for water at all—an insult to their people to be sure—could still pull more water out of their surroundings than her.
“We will continue working on this,” Quidera said with a shake of her head. “How did you come by such skills? You are not in need of this if you are from Byern.”
“I am from Eleysia in fact,” Dean told her.
“Even less need!” Quidera said. She shuddered. “I could not imagine being surrounded by that much water. An island with water through everything.”
Dean frowned. “Unfortunately, the island was destroyed, and my people burned last year. The capital has now been moved up the Sea of Firth to Rasine.”
Quidera looked horrified. “My apologies. I did not know.”
“It was a great tragedy.”
Silence fell then, and it was a short while later when Quidera finally declared that they had arrived. Except that Cyrene saw no city at all. Or at least, nothing like she would have considered a city. Just a flat expanse of hard-packed earth and a handful of shanty buildings. They were flat-topped and covered in clay.
Cyrene glanced at Dean in confusion. He shrugged his shoulders as well.
Rita touched Cyrene’s shoulder. “You should send the dragons away. They do not want to get stuck in Tygh at the hottest part of day. You can call them back to you when the sun goes down.”
Cyrene was still confused as to how they would be able to escape the hottest part of the day in a few clay-topped homes. But the Tyghans had lived in the desert for thousands of years. Surely, they had a way to make it work that Cyrene was unaware of. She trusted Rita even if she was suspicious of the others.
She stepped up to Sarielle, who did in fact look like she could use some water. “I can share,” Cyrene offered, holding up her water.
No, Cyrene, you need it here in this climate. I can hold much more water than you. I will persevere. I heard the lady say we should find shelter during the day. You trust these desert people enough? Sarielle uncertainly eyed the shanties. I could take you to safety and bring you back.
“There is no other way to gain their trust,” Cyrene said. “Plus, I have something that they want. They won’t harm me. Though they do not want me here.”
One day, you will not have to send me away when you walk into danger. And I will be there to defend you through it.
“I look forward to that day.” She touched Sarielle’s nose and held on through the bond.
She didn’t say good-bye. Just that she would see her soon. Then she retreated back to the Tyghans as Sarielle and Halcyon lifted into the air.
“All right,” Quidera said. “You must give us your word that you will never speak of what you see from here on out.”
Cyrene nodded. “I give you my word.”
“Mine as well,” Dean added.
Quidera looked to her husband and nodded. Hulen opened the door to the first shanty-like structure, which revealed an empty room, save for the stairs that led…down.
“What in the Creator’s name?” she whispered.
“This is how we have survived all this time,” Quidera said.
“Underground?”
Rita nodded next to her. “Yes. Welcome to the great underground city of Aleut.”
Cyrene was astonished. She hadn’t even known it was possible to live like this. Or that anyone would want to. But it made perfect sense that their people would want to live in the coolness of the ground below. And send water seekers to help replenish their supply.
“Come,” Rita said. “Allow me to show you the place that was once my home.”
Cyrene followed the water seekers down the stairs with Dean at her back. They walked down about two dozen steps before coming to a large, open landing that revealed an open shaft. A square contraption stood over the space, held up by a type of pulley system.
Hulen went to work on the mechanism and opened a door that led them into it. Cyrene apprehensively looked at the chute.
“Are you sure this is…safe?” she asked.
“Of course,” Quidera said. “We have been perfecting the lift for many years. This is the latest model. Absolutely safe.”
Cyrene gave Rita an uncertain look and then stepped onto the platform. Dean took the spot next to her. He pressed two fingers against her palm, and she smiled up at him uncertainly.
Hulen stepped in last and attached the rope to another part on the lift, and then they began to lower down the large, empty space. Down, down, down, deep into the earth, they went.
And, as they descended, a sensation filled Cyrene. A soft humming that moved through her chest at first. Then it went from humming to vibrating to full singing that moved through her whole body. An indescribable, unbelievable feeling. She clutched her chest as water came to her eyes. She had felt this once before. Only once before that it had been this intense at least. If not, she would have been much more concerned about what she was feeling.
Dean looked at her in concern. “What is
wrong?”
“Do you not sense it?” she breathed.
Quidera looked to Hulen with a frown. “What do you feel?” she asked Cyrene.
“Singing,” she breathed. “A vibration through to my very bones.”
Jenstad raised an eyebrow. “It is that intense?”
“You feel it?” she asked him, realizing in the soft light of the mine shaft that he had green eyes against his brown skin.
“All water seekers can feel it.”
“Jenstad!” Quidera snapped. “Be quiet.”
Cyrene looked around at the water seekers and realized that none of them would make eye contact with her. That none of them would acknowledge what she already knew.
They had Tendrille metal here. The metal of the gods.
The lift shuddered to a stop before a hole in the shaft. It appeared that it could continue to go down endlessly. Cyrene stepped out of the lift in awe as Hulen took care of the device. She couldn’t believe her eyes. When she had heard underground city, she hadn’t truly imagined a city. She had thought a few rooms, low ceilings, a sense of claustrophobia.
But Aleut was none of those things. It was a magnificent spectacle with towering ceilings and branching streets, just like any above-ground city Cyrene had ever been in. The walls were bedecked with tapestries and glints of gold and jewels. Everything had an exorbitant feeling of wealth. Including the people, bustling around the open streets toward homes and vendors and who knew what else. It was stunning and magnificent in its own unique way.
Before she could take another step, Quidera all but stormed past Cyrene.
Cyrene didn’t understand why she was so upset. All Doma could sense Tendrille. That was what Tavry had told her while flying toward a mountain of Tendrille metal in the heart of Alandria. That the dragons had been cast out of Domara millennia ago, and the place where the metal now resided was where they had landed.