Dragonbound: Blue Dragon

by Rebecca Shelley

  "You're talking your way around my question without answering me," Kanvar interrupted. "Were you really at Stonefountain? It fell a thousand years ago. I've studied enough history to know that."

  Parmver rubbed his wrinkled face. He did look ancient. "Yes, I was at Stonefountain. King Khalid was a good friend of mine. We grew up together. Learned from the same tutors. He, of course, became King, and I went into the study of plants and their alchemical properties. I split my time between Stonefountain and here. I have a lovely little laboratory in a cavern in the cliffs beneath the castle. In truth, I was not helping youngsters bond at that time. That duty was left to my elders and betters."

  With the blanket across the ointment on Kanvar's chest, his breathing became easier. His mind drifted and he had trouble focusing on Parmver's words. Instead Parmver's memories became his own as if Kanvar had been there all those years before in Parmver's place.

  He stood in a large cavern with walls lined with glowing stones—a rainbow of pastels that flickered with a life of their own and sang. Yes, the rocks sang, a chorus of thousands of voices blended in harmony spinning out a musical refrain so sweet it brought tears to his eyes. There was power in the music, in the stones, and in a huge fountain of water that bubbled up from the rocks at the center of the cavern. The power surged through him, permeating his soul until he glowed and sang with the rocks and flowed with the water out of the cavern, cascading down the side of a mountain with its golden palace.

  Hall after mighty hall rose up around the mountain slopes in splendor, adorned in gold and flashing jewels. The water lit the palace as it fell down and flowed into a great river that passed grand houses, arches, and walkways of silver. The great buildings gave way to streets lined with smaller buildings, accented in copper and brass.

  The river moved on from there to streets of adobe much like Daro, though the further it went the smaller the houses became, soon falling away to huts of stick and mud, crowded among rotting canvas tents. And people, hungry, dirty, lined the streets, hands hanging down, bellies swollen in starvation, and they looked up at the mighty palace with hopeless fear and anger.

  But the river moved on, out through fields of rice and wheat where Great Gold dragons oversaw ragged laborers, working the soil. Great Blue dragons in chains pulling the plows. And Kanvar felt the dragons' anger and the people's desperation. And he heard the thoughts of those who would rebel, but they were whipped into silence.

  Kanvar found himself flying with Parmver's memories on the back of a gold dragon, away from the horrors of the city, far across the water where he could work with his plants and potions in peace. Where he could search for cures to ease sickness and make people's life better. Only to return to Stonefountain again with tinctures and tonics. Most of them taken immediately by the Nagas who lived in the golden palace.

  "Khalid." Parmver faced the Golden King in a private chamber. "Your men have taken almost all of my medicines. I made this batch for those in the city. The coughing sickness has come there. Thousands could die if it goes unchecked. Please, tell them to return my remedies to me. I can stop this sickness before it spreads."

  "Parmver." Khalid's golden crown flashed in the sunlight from the window arch. "There are hundreds of children born a day out there. And so very few born here even in a decade, and half of those have deformities and have to be discarded. We must use your medicines to protect our own. This entire civilization would crumble without us."

  Parmver clenched his fists. He could hardly contain his anger in the presence of the king and had to work hard to keep his thoughts shielded where the king couldn't hear them. "The babies are born deformed because you continue to intermarry only among the Nagas. You must stop this practice. Bring in new blood. And by the fountain, give me back my medicines for the people. You are their king. You should care what happens to them. If you do not treat them justly, they will rebel against you."

  Khalid's face turned red, and he pounded his fist on a golden pillar. "They dare not rebel. They cannot. I know all of their thoughts. We control their very minds if we must. There will be no rebellion. Our powers are too strong."

  "As you say." Parmver kept his mind firmly shielded from his old friend. Friend no more, perhaps. The power of kingship had twisted him into something Parmver no longer recognized. He left the palace and went out into the hopeless city. He had one vial of the tincture left. He may be able to save one person.

  A ragged and desperate man saw him in the street, came over, and fell to his knees before Parmver. "Mighty one, please help us. My daughter is sick with the cough. I have heard that you have found a cure. Please, save us. I'll give you anything."

  Parmver knelt in the dirt and put a hand on the man's shoulder. "You have nothing of worth to give me." It didn't matter. He would help this man anyway.

  "Oh but I do. I was given this just this morning," the man spluttered. "It's very pretty. Surely it would be worth my daughter's life." He reached into a grubby pocket and pulled out a little iron box. When he opened it, a searing dagger of music stabbed Parmver's mind. Looking past the pain, he saw a glowing blue stone in the box. It had to come from the walls of Stonefountain. And the song, instead of beautifully in tune with the other rocks of the cavern, was piercing in a desperate cry of pain. The stone screamed at being separated from the others of the fountain.

  Parmver reached out and snapped the lid shut. The stone fell silent, trapped in the iron box. "Who gave you this?" Parmver demanded.

  The man's eyes widened in sudden fear. He leapt to his feet and tried to run, but Parmver caught him and pried the box from the man's shaking hands. In its place he gave the man the only vial of medicine he'd been allowed to keep. One dose to protect himself from the sickness. He gave it to the man. "For your daughter," he said. Then he let the man go, and never saw him again.

  Fear pounding in Parmver's chest, he summoned his dragon and flew back to the mountain and deep into its heart where the fountain spewed up. As he stepped into the cavern, he was overcome by a twisted scream of voices. The glorious song had been shattered. The fountain cried in pain. Parmver cast his eyes to the walls and saw jagged claw marks and thousands of empty black sockets where the glowing stones had been torn out by some dragon and carried away. The great song was broken. Almost blinded by the pain of the shattered song, Parmver stumbled away from the fountain and out into the fading light.

  His stomach churned with revulsion as he looked down at the little iron box. And he realized he had not been able to hear his dragon's voice or feel his dragon's mind the whole time he'd been in the cave.

  His dragon, Ceiron, leaned down, keening just above his head.

  Trembling with fear, Parmver opened the box. The stone screamed. His mind lost contact with the dragon standing beside him. "By the fountain," he swore. "Do you know what this means, Ceiron? The people can rise up in rebellion and Khalid will never know it's coming. The stones will hide their thoughts. We will be powerless."

  He closed the box and raced to the Khalid's chambers, but was stopped by the royal guard before he could enter. "His Majesty is through talking with you, Parmver," the guard said. "We have strict orders that you are to leave him alone."

  "But this is important," Parmver protested. "I have to warn him. There is terrible danger. Please." He tried to push past, but the guards grabbed him and dragged him away. In shock he saw that one of the guards carried a small iron box tucked in his sash.

  Khalid, he called, seeking his old friend's mind. But Khalid's mind was locked away from him with heavy shields.

  Parmver stumbled away from the guards, breathing heavily, and raced to a window overlooking the city. He saw shadows moving in the streets, a mob gathering in the falling darkness. He had to do something. Thousands of stones were gone. Spread among the poorest of the people. Given to those who were the most desperate. Put into the hands of the palace guards. The fountain's song was broken and with it the power that created their civilization. "All is lost," he moaned.

/>   Not all, Ceiron said. Perhaps we can save one person. Like the daughter of the man you gave the medicine to. Go get the king's son and meet me back here. Ceiron took flight from the window. And Parmver ran.

  The vague thought that it would be treason to abduct the king's son made little impression on him. He raced to the nursery and snatched the five-year-old child from his bed, ignoring the surprised protest of the nurse who looked after him.

  Ceiron met Parmver back at the window, carrying a squirming wyrmling, the Great Dragon King's newest hatchling. Ceiron's mate hovered beside him. Parvmer leapt up onto Ceiron's neck, and they took flight, swiftly, silently, away from the city. In the darkness behind him, Parmver heard the sudden scream of thousands of tortured stones taken from their iron prisons.

  Parmver's memories pulled from Kanvar's mind. Kanvar looked up to see tears in the old man's eyes.

  "Well, I hadn't meant to share that information with you in exactly that fashion, though I suppose it works well enough. Training you to control your powers is most definitely at the top of my list." Parmver pulled out a gold handkerchief and dried his eyes. "So, yes I was at Stonefountain, and if I hadn't rescued your great-grandfather, perhaps no Nagas would have survived at all."

  "But how could you have lived all this time?" Kanvar asked. His heart was still beating fast from the terror of Parmver's memories. He'd known about the singing stones all his life, but hadn't realized it was them that had made the revolution at Stonefountain possible.

  Kanvar could hardly believe how cruel King Khalid had been. No wonder the Varnans would let no king rule over them. Jati leaders were voted on by the members of the jatis, and then one of those leaders was picked to sit on the All Council. The Maranies had gone even further than that. All the citizens voted directly for their senate and minister, which led their country.

  No kings.

  And yet here in Kundiland a king still existed. An heir to the throne of Stonefountain. As powerful a Naga as King Khalid had been. And that man was Kanvar's father.

  Parmver picked up the book he'd brought over from the shelf. "I had intended to let you read this while I went to speak with your father. I guess I'll have to give you a brief overview instead. I am over a thousand years old because my dragon is that old. After you bond with a dragon, you will age at the same rate as him. But my dragon and I are very old. Few live this long. I count it up to the fresh jungle air along with a few medicines and tinctures I administer to myself as needed." He winked at Kanvar. "But how long I have lived is not the issue here. It is seeing that you live a good long life." He pointed to the picture of the boy and the dragon in the book.

  "Their Majesties, your father and Rajahansa, have gone too look for gold dragons that they think will be compatible with you. They will bring those young ones here to meet you during the Choosing Ceremony. You will touch each of their stones, which will allow you to look deep into their minds and hearts. At the same time they will see into yours. You will be drawn to the one that fits you best. After which, we will perform the Bonding Ceremony." Parmver turned the page.

  The picture on the next page showed the Naga King with a golden sword in one hand and giant chalice in the other. The young dragon and Naga stood before him ready to bond.

  Kanvar rubbed a finger across the sword on the page. "Is this—"

  "Yes, that's the king's sword. The one you were carrying, and unfortunately cut both yourself and Dharanidhar with."

  "But how did my father get it?" Kanvar asked. "You didn't bring it from Stonefountain with the baby."

  Parmver chuckled. "No. Khalid would never have let me take the sword. I had to hunt it down after the revolt. That took a bit of doing since it had been cast off in a junk heap as useless. The magic will only let those of the royal bloodline use it. But back to the point. The sword is necessary for the Bonding Ceremony."

  Parmver rubbed his wrinkled face and looked back down at the book. "The bond is forged with blood, as you've already found out. A small cut is made on the wrist of the dragon and the Naga. Their blood collected in the chalice. Then the Naga drinks the mixture of both bloods, followed by the dragon doing the same. It is a simple and beautiful ceremony. When you consume the dragon's blood and he yours, the two of you become mentally and physically bound to each other, your very souls intertwined. And when that happens, you, my young friend, will become very powerful. Even more than you are now."

  Kanvar's stomach twisted at the thought of drinking dragon blood. No wonder Dharanidhar had called him a blood-sucking monster.

  Parmver continued his lecture, ignoring Kanvar's discomfort. "A fully bonded Naga is capable of many things. Not just hearing the dragons speak. The most obvious power is to be able to read the minds of everyone around you—dragons, lesser and greater, as well as other animals and humans. This is a wondrous thing." Parmver paused and stared out the window at the setting sun as if listening with his mind to the thoughts of the frogs calling out to their fellows.

  Kanvar tried to let his mind follow Parmver's down into the jungle, but his father's wall still held him prisoner. He wasn't sure how he'd gone into Parmver's mind at all, except that the old man was so close and his memories so clear and poignant.

  Parmver cleared his throat. "Yes, a wondrous ability, but also very uncomfortable if you don't know how to block out all those minds from crowding into your own. The first thing a Naga must learn is how to shield his mind, to protect himself from stray thoughts and impulses, to shield himself from others who may try to use their powers to sway him in one way or another. And of course for privacy. Though you and your dragon could share every thought, emotion, and physical sensation, of course you will not want to do that all the time. You need to keep your own personality intact. And there will be things you don't need to share with each other. Some negative emotions, some frivolous thoughts, some intimate moments with loved ones."

  Kanvar shivered. He hadn't thought about mind reading like that.

  "You see, Kanvar, there are layers of thoughts. And so layers of shields. You will want to create a shield around the most center of you while leaving the language layer open to speak freely with the dragons. The concept of a shield is simple. The practical application takes time to perfect. Don't worry if you aren't perfect at it from the start."

  "So you'll teach me to shield my own mind. Then I can be free of this wall my father created." Kanvar rubbed his head as if that would free him from his father's prison.

  "You are very tired and weak. Normally I would suggest we wait until morning, but we don't have that luxury. You must bond and soon."

  Kanvar nodded. His chest started to itch again, and the shivers, which had subsided for a short time, came back.

  "Good," Parmver said. "Now, I need you to let my mind into yours. Don't fight me. Yes, I know it will be uncomfortable. But let me in. Then I can guide your thoughts and show you how to build your shields."

  Kanvar shuddered, remembering the oily feel of his father pushing into his mind. But he lay still as Parmver reached out and put a wrinkled hand on his forehead. Though his father's mind had been dark and forceful, Parmver's mind was not. Kanvar barely felt the feather touch of the old man's consciousness blend into his own.

  Chapter Nine

  By the time Parmver left, Kanvar's mind felt as exhausted as if he'd just dug a latrine big enough for the whole Maran army with only a hand trowel. The mental exercise of shielding different areas of his mind was strenuous work. But he knew he could do it now and had convinced Parmver to speak with his father about dropping the wall that kept Kanvar's mind locked away.

  Alone in the room, Kanvar stretched and crawled out of the bed. He forced himself to limp to the window and back a few times, just to be sure his wounded leg had healed right. It seemed as strong as it had ever been.

  Kanvar flipped through the pages of the ancient book, which Parmver had left on the bedside table. The pictures showed the boy and the dragon bonding and flying. A bit further back there was an illu
stration of the boy holding a small golden ball in the air with his mind, and another of him guiding a herd of lesser dragons out to pasture. More pictures showed the boy taming a wild camdor to be ridden, sending messages with his mind over long distances, using his mind to rearrange paint on a canvas to create a mountain scene, and similarly mold clay and produce other fine arts.

  So many possibilities, Kanvar thought. And all the ones shown in the book so civilized and noble. Though Kanvar looked, he could find no record of the atrocities he'd seen the Nagas perpetrate on the other humans and dragons in Parmver's mind.

  Two things disturbed Kanvar the most about his exchange with Parmver. First, the realization that to bond he would have to drink blood, his own and the dragon's. To live, Kanvar would have to do exactly that. Though Parmver had said it was a beautiful ceremony, Kanvar had his doubts.

  The other, and far more troubling, thought had been skimmed over so quickly in Parmver's memory of the fall of Stonefountain that Kanvar had almost missed it.

  King Khalid's callous words. There are hundreds of children born a day out there. And so very few born here even in a decade, and half of those have deformities and must be discarded.

  Kanvar stared down at his stumpy arm. He wasn't the first cripple then. Not the only one. Half of the children born to the pure Naga lines ended up this way. Half. Devaj had come out perfect. Kanvar the cripple. He shuddered. How many babies had been born like him? How many discarded? That word gave him the shivers.

  Discarded how?

  Killed outright? Left to die?