Kanvar swallowed hard. The picture was that of his mother, her face glowing in the moonlight as she stood at the bow of a ship. The wind whipped her hair back from her shoulders and ruffled the petals of a lily she had tucked behind her ear. She wore a startlingly-bright purple robe that accented her figure. Kanvar had never seen his mother like that. "She's beautiful," he whispered in awe.
"Yes." Amar crossed the room and touched her cheek as if she really stood there in person. "This is how she looked when I first set eyes on her. She stole my heart. In all my five hundred years I've never loved a woman like I love her. Rajahansa did not approve. He said nothing good would come of it. Marrying Kumar Raza's daughter could only end in heartache."
Amar dropped his hand and faced Kanvar. "He was only partially right. It did break my heart. And from what I hear, hers as well. But—" He strode across the room and gripped Kanvar's arm—"some good did come of it. I have you and Devaj. I'd break my heart ten times over again if it meant I could have more of such treasures."
Kanvar's mind spun with questions as he tried to take in all the implications of his father's words. "You really loved her? You're five hundred years old? But Devaj is gone, taken. We have to get him back before they kill him. They mean to torture him." Kanvar's words spilled out in a mixed jumble.
"Steady there." Amar opened a cabinet in the bookshelf and pulled out a metal basin of water and a cloth. He brought them over and set them on a table next to the bed then returned to the cabinet for a flask of viscous liquid. "Devaj is probably all right for the moment. I can't feel him, so he must be unconscious. We've sent an emissary to bargain for his return."
"Will they free him?"
"I believe they will." Amar unstrapped the crossbow from Kanvar's back. "Abhavasimha is much more reasonable than Dharanidhar. You've done us all a great service in getting that old snake out of power."
Kanvar recoiled in anger and then wondered why he should care at all if Amar hated Dharanidhar. From somewhere close by Dharanidhar's antagonism for the gold dragons seeped into Kanvar's mind. Dharanidhar has followed us here, Kanvar thought.
Amar frowned, and the steel wall around Kanvar's mind clamped down tighter.
Kanvar moaned as he plunged once again into solitude.
"Take your armor off so I can treat that leg." Amar looked the crossbow over, glaring at it in disapproval before setting it down on the table. "I've seen better weapons."
Kanvar bristled. "I worked hard for that crossbow. It took me years to earn enough money. Not that you would understand, living here in your golden palace."
Kanvar felt a wave of anger flash through his father's mind followed by deep regret. "I'm sorry, Kanvar. But that part of your life is over. Let it go. You've a far better life ahead of you now."
Kanvar unstrapped his belt and handed the golden sword over to his father. Then he pulled off his dragonhide breaches and the leggings beneath. The villagers had wrapped the wound in his thigh with a leafy poultice.
Amar used a knife to cut the poultice free and reveal the wound. White puss oozed up between the severed flaps of skin. Amar grimaced. "Went for a swim in the river, I hear. Enough slime in there to infect any wound. Well, I can't close it up like that. We'll have to clean it first. But don't worry. It won't hurt. Lie back and relax while I heat this water."
Kanvar shrugged out of his leather harness and dragonhide jacket and clenched his fists. No way would cleaning that wound be painless.
Amar retrieved a strange metal contraption and a small wooden box from the cupboard. The metal thing looked like the bulbous body of a spider with four claw-like legs sticking out at the bottom and four arms spread horizontally on top. Amar opened the wooden box and pulled out a stick with some kind of red compound dipped and dried on at the top. He scratched the top of the stick against the table, and a lick of flame flared to life. Then he turned a knob on the side of the contraption, releasing a hissing sound and the smell of oil. He touched the burning stick to the top of the contraption and a circle of blue flame shot up around the belly of the thing.
Kanvar gasped. He'd never seen a fire lit so easily and so controlled.
Amar blew out the flame on the stick and set the metal basin of water onto the arms above the circle of fire. "The water will be warm in just a moment. You really should lie back."
Kanvar shook his head. "H-how did you do that?"
Amar stared down at the burning metal spider as if it were a common object. "Far too much was lost to the world when Stonefountain fell. This is only a stove. Nothing more. And the starter's been broken on it. I really should get it fixed so I don't have to use matches."
"You talk as if you were there at the time." Kanvar kept his eyes locked on his father so he didn't have to look down at his festering leg, or smell the putrid stench that wafted up from it.
"No. But my father was. He was very young when the blue dragons led the revolt and murdered my grandfather. But he remembered enough to tell me many tales of what used to be. And some of those who escaped the bloodshed were able to carry a few valuable objects away with them. Books of knowledge that we've used to rebuild some of the wonders that were so common then." He took a deep breath. "The water's near boiling. Kanvar, lie down. Don't make me force you, please."
Kanvar lay back and wrapped his hands tight in the soft blanket that covered the bed.
"You worry too much." Amar leaned over him and rubbed a soothing hand across his forehead. "Don't fret now, and don't try to fight me."
His father's mind slipped into his own like oil into water. Kanvar stiffened and tried to push the oil back to the surface.
Kanvar, trust me. The oil slipped out of Kanvar's grip and thrust itself deep into Kanvar's mind, close to the very center of his being. It twisted, and Kanvar's right leg went numb as if suddenly severed from his body.
Kanvar cried out in fright and tried to sit up. But his father grabbed control of Kanvar's body like he had on the cliffs and froze Kanvar in place. Sorry. Didn't want to have to do that. But I can't have you thrashing around. Just relax. It won't take that long to clean and heal this wound. I'll free your body as soon as I'm done.
So powerful, Kanvar thought. No wonder the humans feared the Nagas. He half wished he had a singing stone that would keep his father from being able to use his powers to enter Kanvar's mind. "What did you do with Grandfather Raza?" His father must have used his powers to get rid of Raza somehow.
"He's just fine." Amar wet the rag in the hot water and set about cleaning Kanvar's wound. Kanvar could neither see the wound nor feel his father working with it. But he could smell the infection and the blood. His stomach churned.
His father continued talking about Grandfather Raza. "He's started a new life with the Tuniit tribe in the Great North. Even remarried last I heard. It's done his old heart some good. He needed someone after Mani's mother died."
"But he didn't go there of his own free will, did he?" Kanvar had now experienced first hand how easily his father could manipulate someone else's mind.
"Raza's departure was necessary. He found out some things about me. Started asking questions." Amar set aside the cloth and bowl of hot water, now tinted red with Kanvar's blood. He opened the flask of liquid and poured some into his cupped hand. "Dragon saliva. Your leg will be fine now. Good as new. Though you'll have a lovely scar to show off to your children and grandchildren." Carefully he smoothed the liquid down the length of the cut.
"But it hurt mother so badly when he disappeared," Kanvar protested. "How could you do that to her?" Another even more revolting thought struck him and he had to ask. "Did my mother even really love you, or did you just force her to believe she did?"
Amar wiped his hands on the cloth and recapped the flask of dragon saliva, turning away as he did, so that Kanvar couldn't see his face. "I loved your mother. I told you that."
"That's not what I asked." Kanvar felt helpless anger as he lay unable to move beneath his father's power.
"I did not forc
e your mother to do anything," Amar snapped. "I courted her the same as any other man would have. I courted her, and I won her heart. No mind control involved." He returned the flask to the cupboard and slammed it shut.
"But now she's rejected you, you might as well let Grandfather Raza come home. Go and give him his memories back. It was cruel to send him away, wrong to meddle with his mind." Kanvar battled with his father's mind to get control of his own body back.
"Stop it." Amar strode over to the bed, touched Kanvar's forehead, releasing him and returning feeling to his leg.
Kanvar sat up. His leg ached, but the skin was already starting to knit together. He glared at his father.
Amar returned his glare, eyes flashing, light shimmering from the gold band on his brow. "If I give Raza his memories back, he'll go home. Mani will tell him what I am, and he'll come hunting me. He'll never rest until one or both of us are killed. Do you want that Kanvar? Do you want to see the two of us kill each other?"
Chapter Eight
Of course Kanvar didn't want either his father or grandfather dead, but he clamped his mouth shut and said nothing. His sweat-soaked body ached from the fever. His heart throbbed as if beating had become a hideous chore. Though he forced himself to breathe, his lungs burned like he was drowning. At least the sharp pain in his leg was gone.
He dropped his gaze from his father's angry eyes to stare at the rapidly healing wound on his leg. No wonder it was so hard to kill a Great dragon. They could heal themselves so fast.
But all things couldn't be healed with the lick of a tongue. Kanvar had adored his Grandfather Raza and been torn up inside when he went away never to return. Even though Kanvar now understood why, it didn't make him miss his grandfather any less. He licked his lips and wrapped his right arm across his chest, gripping his stumpy left one, which had started to ache again. Kanvar tried not to think about that. He didn't like the wall his father had put around his mind, and he was glad to have a little of Dharanidhar's presence slip through. He sensed the Great Blue dragon curled up in a cavern somewhere at the base of the cliffs.
A breeze, heavy with moist air, swirled through the room, rattling the scrolls in their canisters. Except for the wind, the room was silent. Kanvar had gotten used to the constant throb of noise from the jungle. Even in the colony behind its rock walls, the screech of the birds and chatter of the monkeys could be heard night and day. But this high up the cliff, up higher than the vegetation and animals, everything stilled to silence.
His father continued to stand angrily over him. Kanvar refused to look up or speak. Chills took him again, and he started shivering. He hated it. He must look so pathetic to his father. Too weak. Too empty and alone. Dying. He could feel it now with every feeble beat of his heart. His chest itched and burned. He tried scratching it, but that only made the itch worse.
His father let out a hiss, tore Kanvar's shirt off and pushed him back down against the bed. "You can't have a rash so soon." A look of alarm crossed his father's face as he examined Kanvar.
Kanvar scratched his chest, and scaly white skin came away under his fingernails.
"Don't do that," His father said. Parmver! he yelled with his mind.
Kanvar winced at the loud yell.
"Sorry," his father said. "I've never seen anything like this. It's even spreading onto your arms. Moving so fast. We haven't much time. But Raj . . . never mind. I need to go help him. There has to be someone."
His father retrieved a tin of green ointment from the cupboard. It smelled like rain in the jungle mixed with decaying wood. Before he could dip his fingers into the ointment an ancient man hurried into the room. His long gray hair was braided on either side of his head. His skin was gray like the villagers but wrinkled and old, his shoulders stooped. He walked with a cane, but moved quickly for all that.
"Thank the fountain," his father said, shoving the ointment into the old man's hands. "Kanvar, this is Parmver. He's been helping young Nagas through the bonding process since before Stonefountain fell. I have to go." He started for the door, but Parmver grabbed his arm.
"How long has the boy had this rash? Why didn't you call me sooner?"
"I called you as soon as I saw it. As far as I know, he's only had it for a few minutes. He just started scratching." Amar pulled away and hurried out of the room.
Parmver's eyes widened in surprise. He carried the tin of ointment over to the bed, sat down beside Kanvar, dipped his knobby wrinkled hand into the ointment, and reached toward Kanvar's chest. "This will burn at first, but it should help."
Kanvar bit his lip and concentrated on breathing. It seemed so hard now, he wondered how he'd done it all of his life.
The old man spread the ointment in a circle on the center of Kanvar's chest.
Kanvar gasped. It burned hot and then stabbed him with cold.
Parmver scooped some more and expanded the circle, working outward bit-by-bit until he'd covered Kanvar's whole torso and started on his arms. The flashes of hot and cold turned Kanvar's shivers into convulsions.
"Steady there," Parmver pressed a gnarled hand against Kanvar's chest, holding him in place until the convulsions stopped.
Kanvar sucked in a ragged breath. "I don't want to die. I will not die."
"That's the spirit." Parmver went back to spreading another layer of ointment across Kanvar's chest and arms. It didn't burn quite as badly the second time. "You've exchanged blood with some dragon already, haven't you?" Parmver said, his voice soft and steady.
Kanvar nodded. "I was holding my father's sword when Dharanidhar grabbed me. It cut both of us while he flew. I could feel him, hurt and angry. I could hear his voice until my father cut me off from him." Kanvar shuddered. "It felt like dying, losing track of his mind like that."
Parmver sighed and set the tin on the table beside the bed. "Does your father know your blood mixed with Dharanidhar's blood in the wound?"
"N-n-no." With the second layer of ointment, Kanvar's breathing eased. "He was mad enough when he thought Dharanidhar's blood had simply splashed on me when I stabbed him in the eye. I didn't dare tell him the rest."
Parmver's brow wrinkled in concern. "His good eye?" he asked slowly.
A deep shiver wracked Kanvar for a moment before he could respond. "Yes. He's not very happy with me."
Parmver chuckled. "I imagine not." He pulled the blanket over Kanvar. It was soft and light, but not warm enough to stop Kanvar's shivers. Parmver retrieved another heavier blanket from a chest at the foot of the bed. Kanvar recognized it as one his mother had stitched for his father long ago.
Parmver put the heavy quilt over Kanvar and tucked it around him.
"You'll need more ointment soon, if we're to keep you alive. But rest for a minute now. The fever and rash have come on you quickly because you've done more than just touch dragon blood. You've got a partial bond with the Great blue. One that will be difficult to break, I fear. You'll need to drink lots of water, though your stomach won't tolerate it well."
"Aadi," Parmver called.
A boy about Kanvar's age darted into the room. He had the gray skin and dark hair of a villager.
"Fetch some drinking water please," Parmver told him.
The boy sped away, and Kanvar could hear his running steps echo down the hall.
"I'm not sure I can drink anything." Kanvar's mouth was dry, but his stomach recoiled at the thought of putting anything into it.
"Is your mind still shielded from Dharanidhar's," Parmver asked.
"Mostly." The dark wall his father had built around his mind still terrified him. He pressed at it in a futile attempt to escape.
"Easy there," Parmver said. "It seems your father was a bit heavy handed with that. But then finesse was never his strong point. I'll get him to take the shield down as soon as I teach you how to make one of your own. All right?"
"Please, please hurry," Kanvar said.
"As fast as I can," Parmver reassured him. He crossed the room to the bookshelf and came back wit
h a heavy volume whose leather cover was cracked and brittle with age. The pages themselves had yellowed almost as dark as the leather cover. "I think that shield is accelerating the dragon sickness, but some things can't be learned in a matter of seconds. This might take you a little while."
While Parmver opened the book, Aadi returned carrying a tray with a crystal decanter of water and two glasses. He set the tray on the table and poured out the water.
"Thank you, Aadi," Parmver said without looking up from the book. "Please go find his majesty and tell him I need to speak with him privately before the Choosing Ceremony." Aadi nodded and ran off again.
"Choosing Ceremony?" Kanvar asked as he accepted a glass of water and took a sip. It felt icy cold going down his throat, but Parmver made him drink it all then lie back.
Tucked in the quilt on the soft fluffy bed, Kanvar felt warmer than he had since the fever first took him. "What is the Choosing Ceremony? Where has my father gone? What's going on?"
"That's what I'm trying to teach you, my boy. Just hold on a second longer." Parmver thumbed through a couple more pages and then stopped. "Can you read?"
"Yes, of course," Kanvar said.
Parmver turned the book so Kanvar could see the page he'd opened to. It showed a young gold dragon with its head down level with a boy who rested his hand on the dragonstone in its forehead. There were words below the picture in a thin spidery handwriting, but Kanvar didn't recognize them.
"I know how to read, but those aren't real words at all," Kanvar said.
Parmver turned the book back to himself and frowned at the page. "Has the language changed so much in the last thousand years? I suppose it has."
"You are not a thousand years old?" Kanvar said. "I mean, my father was just exaggerating right? You couldn't have been around before Stonefountain fell?"
Parmver glanced at Kanvar and then laid the book aside. "I don't know how I'm supposed to teach you years worth of history, lore, and skills in such a short time. I should have started instructing you from the time you were very young. Like I have with Aadi. There is the slight chance that he might be a Naga. He has displayed some mental abilities and affinity for the dragons. I've been teaching him since he was six and expect the fever to come upon him soon. But with you . . . there is so much you must learn before you bond and such a short time, I can hardly think where to start."
Dragonbound: Blue Dragon Page 8