Dragonshade

by Aderyn Wood

  “Yana ilt Corva, greetings.” They took a step toward her and spoke perfect mountain speech. “I am Argut and this is Vargu.” Argut seemed younger than Vargu, whose silver hair hung to his waist. “We are of the clan of Sargo-Teg. Our people have waited long for you to grasp your gift.”

  “So, I’m supposed to be a hero?” Yana picked a strand of rabbit meat from her teeth. It had been a long time since she’d eaten and she was ravenous. Argut and Vargu had hunted three rabbits and collected a satchel full of mountain shrooms while Yana had been sleeping. She was growing to like the two little men. It was nice to talk to other people, in her own language and she liked the way they paused to consider her words before answering.

  “I wouldn’t want to use that term, my friend,” Vargu said, his silver hair shining. Yana wondered how old he was, maybe even older than Grama. His wrinkles were deep and prolific. “It is filled with expectation. No,” he shook his head. “But you are important. Our Watcher foresaw your coming. She predicted your birth and the birth of Argath.”

  “Argath?” A shiver danced over Yana’s spine. The name made her shade-self fight to come to the surface.

  Vargu stood. “Come, it’s time you saw with your own eyes.”

  Yana frowned and glanced at her grandmother who nodded for her to follow the mountain-folk.

  They travelled over the rocky surface. Low cloud covered much of the terrain, but now and then Yana caught glimpses of green forests down in the canopy. Up here though, there was nothing but grey rock and steam.

  “These mountains are alive,” Yana said.

  Argut turned and gave her a tight smile. “Yes they are,” before he continued on.

  The higher they moved up the mountain the more the steam came, and a strong odour began to dominate the air. Vargu and Argut paused, and Yana and her grandmother did the same.

  “Are we close?” Grama whispered.

  Yana could see the excitement in her grandmother’s eyes, and something else. Fear?

  A loud screech echoed over the mountains. Yana scanned the distance for the source, but cloud, steam and rock obscured all.

  “That’s it,” Vargu said pointing to the tallest peak to the north. “Vulcan Strom. And there’s Argath.”

  The screech came again, closer, and Vargu gestured for everyone to hide behind a boulder. Yana’s heart pounded in her chest. Whatever was making that noise was huge, and would probably eat them for its breakfast if it could. It didn’t help that both mountain-folk and Grama looked as fearful as Yana felt.

  And then she saw it. A shadow at first. A blur in the mist. It drew closer and the shadow sharpened, the mists danced and two great wings broke through, followed by the creature’s body. Bigger than a camel. Bigger than any animal she’d ever seen, and covered in black scales that shimmered with streaks of blue.

  It flew over them and the wind made Yana want to grip the boulder so that she wouldn’t fall. But a smile wouldn’t leave her face. “A firebeast,” she whispered as she watched the huge creature return to the mist.

  “Yes, Young Yana,” Vargu said, eyes wide. “A dragon. Your dragon. Argath deg Vulcan Strom.”

  Part XXVII

  Azzuri

  Sommer

  Ninth year of King Amar-Sin’s reign

  5,846 years ago…

  Heduanna

  Heduanna gripped Danael tight as the orgasm shook her entire being.

  “Ah, woman.” His breath was fast like her own. “I love you.”

  She smiled and they kissed, tenderly this time. “We really must stop this,” Heduanna whispered. “Once I’m anointed, I cannot break my vows.” She rolled off him and they lay together on Danael’s bed, facing each other.

  “But when you are the high priestess, you can change the rules.”

  Heduanna closed her eyes for a moment, her body now glowing in the warm fatigue that always followed their lovemaking. “You know I can’t do that.” She sat up, got to her feet and retrieved her leather pouch that had dropped to the floor.

  “A man can dream. Must you be anointed?”

  Heduanna sighed. “We’ve talked this through a score of times.”

  Danael remained silent but she could feel his frustration brewing by the way he didn’t move. She poured some water in the bone cup and put the last fragment of dragonshade into it. Heudanna had tried shaving a slice from the stone, the way she’d seen Zamug and Rayna do it, but her table dagger slid away without leaving a mark. In her frustration she scraped harder and caused a spark. She had to throw the stone away when it erupted in flame. Thankfully, she had the sense to throw water over the sizzling mess. The flames died, eventually, but left her with three scorched pieces. She’d already used two, and this was her final piece.

  The cup made of bone she scrounged from the storerooms behind the kitchens where hundreds of odd items were stored. It seemed to heat the dragonshade as it should.

  “You’re taking that stuff again?”

  Heduanna detected hostility in Danael’s tone. “Yes, I need to access the goddess, and the black stone helps me without making me sick like the fits do. You take issue with it?”

  He frowned as he glanced her way. “Only that you seem to be developing a need for it. Can you not go without it for one night? We can lie together, like husband and wife.”

  She lifted her chin. “But we are not husband and wife, nor will we ever be, and now that we have imprisoned the traitor I must commune with the goddess to find our path forward.” She reached out and held Danael’s chin. Her heart aching with the knowledge of his desire, that they should marry and live as a normal couple in his world or her own, it mattered not to him. All he cared for was her. But she was more than a mere woman. She was a princess, and hand of the goddess, she couldn’t take pleasure in such comforting dreams of fancy.

  “Sargan doesn’t seem convinced that Qisht is your traitor.”

  Heduanna sniffed as she held the bone pot over the flame of a lantern. The bitterness of the dragonshade filled her nostrils and her pulse quickened with the anticipation of the rush to come. “Sargan is blinded by his mislaid affection for the traitor.”

  “He seems rather adamant that Qisht didn’t poison your father. He says Qisht gave him proof too.”

  Heduanna frowned. “What proof?”

  “Something about your father’s beads.”

  “Knot beads?”

  “Yes. Qisht believes it was impossible to poison your father through the food as he always tasted it first. The only thing that ever touched the king’s lips without Qisht’s check were his knot beads.”

  “But…” Heduanna’s eyes widened and she brought a hand to her mouth. “No.”

  “What is it?”

  She shook her head. “No. It cannot be!” She paced, nearly knocking the bone pot off the stand.

  “Heduanna? What is it?”

  She shook her head and took the pot off the lantern. It burned and she nearly dropped it but just managed to placed it on the table. Her visions kept appearing in her mind now, a part of them suddenly clear, a part she’d brushed over in the past, not realising the significance until now. She picked up the pot, it was still hot but she swallowed the bitter water in one gulp and dropped the pot with a clatter on the floor. She scrunched her face tight as the heat travelled down her throat and into her stomach and within a handful of heartbeats the rush of it fired her blood.

  “Heduanna?” Danael’s voice was alarmed, nearly panicked.

  She lay on the bed and clutched his hand. “I will tell you everything. Come, lay beside me. First, I must visit the goddess.” She hushed when Danael spoke again. Soon sleep took him, and she focused her mind to bring on the visions she needed to see.

  When her eyes opened, the visions crept away. But she drew ever closer to knowing her purpose. And Hadanash… Yes. She sat up with a sigh, careful not to wake Danael who slumbered peacefully beside her.

  She stood and dressed and picked up her small number of things scattered on the tab
le and the bone cup from the floor, as well as the now empty square of cloth that had held the last of the dragonshade she’d stolen from Rayna. She pursed her lips and thrust the items into her satchel.

  Her control over her gift had grown stronger, and she’d been able to force her mind to conjure Hadanash’s presence in the visions. He was there, on the galley and the flames erupted around them. But rather than protecting their father, it was Hadanash’s hand that held the blade, hovering too close to their father-king’s neck.

  The palace corridors were dark and largely silent. At this hour no one was around. She walked quickly to the terrace and then descended the steps, looking out on Azzuri as she did so. There was movement on the river as old galleys and fishing boats continued with the evacuations. But otherwise the city was still. And eerily quiet. It was the flux. People were sick, dying. Uncle Thedor estimated that over four thousand had already died, and another four thousand were sick. Alarmingly, few who caught the affliction recovered. And the soldiers from their few remaining leal cities were also beginning to suffer. She quashed a rush of doubt that began to spark deep inside and focused her mind back on her task. Those beads.

  Accessing her father’s suite was easy. The guards knew her well, and the dragonshade was firing her blood. All she had to do was ask them to let her through and they did. In his room, the king slept soundly, and so too did Belanum. She took a moment to step toward the young priest. He now wore two feathers in his headband, and even though he slept with his head on an angle on the settee, his feathers remained straight and proper. “You’re a traitor too, aren’t you?” she whispered.

  She turned and approached her father. His colour had returned and his breathing was more regular. She took a deep breath. He would survive, thanks to Rayna. Her gaze went to his hands that rested on the linen bedding. They were no longer blue, but they held no knot beads. She turned her attention to the bedside table and her shoulders relaxed a notch.

  They sat by the lantern, a recent gift from Hadanash, her visions had shown her. The red and gold stood out in stark contrast to the black of the wood. They appeared like a wasp, or a dangerous spider. Something that should never be touched. Heduanna scooped them up in a cloth then left swiftly.

  Out in the dark alley, the house looked exactly the same, only the covering that had protected the garden from frost during the Reaping was gone and young fruit dangled from the branches. Heduanna opened the door that creaked loudly.

  “You’ve come, then,” a voice said in in the gloom. “Let us have our talk, you and I. The shadows approach to darken the sky.”

  Heduanna found the witch. Her wrinkles were deep and her eyes glistened in the low light of the sconces. She stood before the spot where the black orb had been. Heduanna scanned the space around the witch, but there was no sign of it.

  “It is hidden.” The witch seemed to shrug. “Out of sight of thee.”

  “I’ve no time for your riddles, witch. Give me the dragonshade.”

  The hag opened her wrinkled maw and cackled a mirthful harrowing sound. “I am slave to no one but me. Take your airs back to your palace of pleasure and greed, there’ll be no demands made here.”

  Heduanna narrowed her eyes, but relaxed her grimace. “You know what comes?”

  “Indeed.”

  “And my part in it?”

  The hag tilted her head. “A part of a part.”

  Heduanna lifted her chin. “As do I. It’s why I need it. The dragonshade. If we’re to stop the shadows that come, I must have it.”

  The hag raised an eyebrow as though considering Heduanna’s words, and Heduanna suddenly realised the truth of the witch’s situation. She had no care as to whether Azzuri remained under her father’s rule, or that of Urul’s.

  “Can’t you see what will happen if Urul takes all Zraemia? We’ll all be enslaved. We will lose our freedom.”

  The hag cackled once more. “You think you are free! No soul is free. Ha!”

  Heduanna grimaced. “If you have one grain of goodness in you, you will give me that dragonshade.”

  The witch’s smile faded as she straightened her crooked back, and stepped toward Heduanna. The lines of her wrinkles grew thicker, darker. Her eyes seemed entirely black with no white or light at all. When she spoke, her voice was unnaturally augmented, as though it were made of more than one voice. “Good or evil, cannot you see, such forces are nothing but fantasy.” The witch stepped in a circle around Heduanna as she spoke, her words a chant. “In every heart therein lies a world from which light and shade must both unfurl. A web of beauty, but still a trap, no mind may untangle that base fact. Such is the reason, in all duress, no mind is free, my dear Princess.”

  The witch had finished her circling and now stood squarely in front of Heduanna. For once, she wore a neutral expression on her face, and her eyes appeared normal again.

  Heduanna lowered her chin. “So no one is free. No one apart from you, witch. Is that what your riddles mean?”

  She only stared.

  “I’ve no time for your entertainments. Are you going to help me or not?”

  The witch’s gaze turned darker once more. “My help is a double-edged blade, has your godhead shown you that?”

  “I know the dangers of the dragonshade, and I will overcome them.”

  “Do you know the dangers for you, princess?”

  Heduanna frowned.

  “Thought not.” The witch lifted her chin. “I will help, but such aid is never free. You will pay dearly.” Her eyes were so dark, so cold that Heduanna shivered. Her teeth chattered as she nodded.

  The witch brought forth her hand with a flourish and upon her palm sat the black orb. Heduanna’s heart lurched. Her blood warmed and thickened and she no longer felt cold. She reached for it and held the beautiful stone in her hands, almost caressing it as though it were the most precious thing in the world.

  “Already it seeks its payment,” the witch said.

  Heduanna ignored her and placed the orb in a silk cloth before putting it, reluctantly, out of sight in her satchel. “I need the implements too. A blade of bone.”

  The witch gave a subtle nod and raised both hands before Heduanna. One held a bone dagger, as long as the witch’s finger. The other hand held a small bone pot.

  Heduanna took them and examined them with wonder. The bone was blue, almost black and had been polished to a shine. “What is it?” she whispered.

  “Dragonbone, of course.” The witch’s face remained neutral. No trickery or mirth danced on her lips or in those dark eyes.

  “Dragon,” Heduanna whispered, and the image from her vision filled her mind. The impossibly large wings. The screech of beasts.

  “There’s something else you want?” The witch interrupted Heduanna’s thoughts and she remembered her other question.

  “Yes. The night I met you, during the Reaping, there was a man who came to see you before me. You said he sought poison.”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you give it to him?”

  “Naturally.”

  Heduanna bristled. “What if he wanted to kill a man.”

  “He didn’t.”

  Heduanna narrowed her eyes. “What did he want the poison for then, if not to kill a man?”

  The witch smirked. “You’ve not paid heed to the creed they teach at the temple, have you, Princess?”

  “Just tell me–”

  “He asked for a special bane. A poison to kill a poison.”

  “A cure?”

  “Indeed.”

  Heduanna’s heart raced as she considered this new unfurling reality and what it would mean if Qisht was indeed innocent. She opened her satchel and withdrew the knot beads. “Are these poisoned?”

  The witch gave her another smirk but took the beads from Heduanna’s hand and stepped to the light of a sconce where she inspected the beads, bringing them close and sniffing with her nose. Finally she put them on the bench and retrieved a phial of potion. She placed a stretch of linen
under the beads and dabbed a single drop from the phial on the bead. It streaked along the round knot and a blotch fell on the linen the colour of blood. “The truth in your heart cannot be assuaged, herein lies poison of a deathly grade.”

  Heduanna swallowed. “What type of poison?”

  “Venom, slow-working, but most deadly, and evil too. The viper is one found in Urul.”

  In the Azzurian streets, the night was still dark, still silent. Heduanna strode with haste. The rustle of rats and the odd cat in stealthy pursuit were the only beings she spotted, until she reached the castle gates when a figure, cloaked and cowled approached the guards.

  Heduanna stepped back into the shadows to watch.

  A scant few words were exchanged before the guards let the person through, and in another heartbeat, the cloaked stranger, had disappeared into the gloom of the main street.

  Perhaps it was one of Qisht’s operatives. She could learn for herself, once and for all whether Qisht was traitor or not. Heduanna held her breath and ran after the man. She stuck to the shadows as much as possible, though the city lamps on every street corner glowed brightly, and she was forced to cross through their light, after the stranger. She kept on her toes, and her silence remained true.

  The stranger wore a cloak of the finest blue linen. Dark blue, to blend with the shadows perhaps. She’d owned such cloaks before. Whoever he was, he was no slave, nor peasant. He must be one of her royal cousins, but who?

  Another street corner and another lamp. Heduanna paused in the shadows of a statue to appraise the stranger as he stalked over the street. He was short. Perhaps one of the younger cousins? Not yet a soldier? What was he doing on the streets at night?