by Aderyn Wood
The dragonshade still flowing in her veins made everything more vivid, and the colours of the night weren’t so dull as they would have been in Heduanna’s normal state. She watched as the figure turned a corner ahead, down an alley, then she skipped over the street as fast as she could in the lamplight and stuck her head around the corner to peer down the alley. The stranger headed toward the river streets, his steps were lengthening, quickening too. He must be drawing closer to his target.
Heduanna pursed her lips. The river district was where the disease had first taken hold. Many people had died here, and many more were still sick. The evacuations had already begun, and most houses now stood empty, devoid of the healthy and the sick both. She was wary of contracting the disease herself, but she couldn’t give up her chase, and Phadite would protect her. She had to know who the stranger was, and what he was doing.
It wasn’t long before her pursuit came to an end. The figure paused outside a beer house. It was the very beer house where Qisht had sent Smite to meet with Iltanar.
The stranger knocked thrice on the door and turned to scan the immediate area. Heduanna shrunk back behind some large barrels by the river. The door opened and the stranger entered, then the door closed firmly behind.
Heduanna frowned. The beer house was closed, with most of the population gone, there’d be no more custom in Azzuri. No light came from the high window cutouts, and the flame above the painted words had been extinguished. She skipped over to the door. She pressed her ear to the wood and held her breath, but no sound came from within, or without. The river streets remained as deathly quiet as the streets around the palace and bazaar.
She could go around the back, but what if the cloaked stranger exited while she was snooping?
Suddenly, muted voices came from within. Heduanna clamped her mouth shut to avoid a gasp and sprinted to the corner of the building where she retracted once more into the shadows.
Her heart pounded in her ears, but the crack and groan of the heavy door opening rang clear.
“May Phadite travel with you,” came a gruff voice. Then the door shut and footsteps came toward her.
Heduanna bent her knees and crouched as low as possible in the shadows of the alley.
The cloaked stranger walked past without turning and Heduanna filled her lungs with a breath of air.
She stood and followed, but the clunk of the door opening again made her freeze. Slowly she turned to see a man, likely the beer house keeper, lug a sack of refuse to the gutter where he upended the sack’s contents.
He turned and his eyes fell on Heduanna who’s figure was unmistakeable in the light of the corner lamp.
Heduanna’s decision was quicker than desert lightning and she was on the man as he opened his mouth to scream at the contact. She had her hand on his shoulder and her gaze on his eyes and fed her essence to ensorcel him. “Shut your mouth.”
The man’s eyes deadened immediately. His shoulders relaxed and he closed his mouth.
“Very good,” Heduanna said. “Who was that person you met with just now?” She was conscious of the stranger moving away from them. She must hurry if she was to catch him.
“Smite.”
Heduanna’s blood fired. “Smite? Are you certain?” Was Smite still spying while Qisht was imprisoned?
The house-keeper nodded dumbly.
“Who is Smite? What is his real name?”
A slight frown creased the man’s brow. “Don’t know.”
Heduanna gripped his shoulder in frustration and shook. “Tell. Me. His. Name.”
Again he frowned, dumbly. “Don’t know. Don’t know her name.”
Heduanna’s mouth fell open. “What did you say?”
“Don’t know her name. We call her Smite.”
“Her?” Heduanna shook her head. Smite was a woman. “Who does she work for? Answer me, who does Smite take your messages for.”
“The prince.”
Heduanna’s blood was on fire now. “Which prince?”
“The heir-prince. Prince Hadanash.”
No! A million images shattered at once in Heduanna’s mind. From the visions she remembered Hadanash by her father’s side, giving him the gift of knot beads. Now the truth flared in her mind. Her brother had tried to kill the king.
She wanted to scream. To fill her lungs and let loose a blood-curdling howl. But she breathed deeply and gazed once more into the house-keeper’s eyes. “Where was Smite going? Why did you wish her safe travels?”
“She’s leaving, with the heir-prince tonight. She came to me to collect some belongings she’d stowed in my beer house.”
Heduanna frowned. “The heir-prince is leaving Azzuri tonight? Why? How?”
“He is taking the Azzuri army with him. They’re at the docks. The galleys have been leaving since sundown.”
“No!” Heduanna shoved the man with such force he fell on the cobblestones and she fled after Smite. The night was still dark, but over the river she noted a lightness. A reflection of grey that now coloured the eastern sky just a touch. She ran, forcing her essence to her legs and wishing she could pause to take some of the dragonshade so that she may be quicker yet, but there was no time for that. And so she ran until her breath rasped in her throat, and finally she saw the cloaked figure in front of her. Smite.
She kept her pace but her steps were uncareful and her breaths came loud and fast. At the corner, Smite must have heard her for she paused her step and turned. And in that moment in the low light of the city lamp, Heduanna caught sight of the plait that rested over Smite’s shoulder, unconcealed by the cowl.
The discovery caused such shock Heduanna stopped running. “Kisha?”
Kisha turned and fled.
Heduanna followed in pursuit. Kisha’s cowl came undone now and her dark plait swayed behind her. She dropped a bundle of some sort and then the cloak came next, dumped on the dark street. Heduanna was gaining but not quickly enough. Another corner and they were past the palace gates. Heduanna shouted at the guard but they were slow in catching on and Kisha flew straight past them.
“Kisha, wait!” Heduanna yelled. But her old friend only ran faster.
Ahead the docks were glossy with the river water. And the galleys, so many of the new ones that had not long arrived from Praeta were already a long way upriver. Someone yelled out, and Heduanna stopped running for a moment. It was Kisha’s voice. She yelled as she ran. She was yelling to the closest galley.
It was manned and there was much movement onboard as soldiers readied the oars.
Kisha yelled again and Heduanna caught the words this time. “Hadanash! Push off!”
Heduanna glanced back at the galley and the familiar strut of her brother as he came into view. He stopped and she knew he’d seen her. Heduanna started running again and her brother yelled out to his lover. “Kisha! RUN!”
The men were throwing the mooring ropes off and pushing the galley’s nose out. Kisha ran to the stern. Heduanna was close, but one of the soldiers had his arms around Kisha’s waist and pulled her onboard. And then an pole pushed off and the boat was an arm’s length away from the dock. Then two arm’s lengths. By the time Heduanna pulled up at the very edge of the river, the boat was well out of reach.
She looked up to see the two faces of Kisha and Hadanash glaring back at her. “Only your goddess will save you now, sweet sister. Best get your whip.”
Heduanna stayed for a while, watching the galleys disappear with her father’s army. There were less than twenty galleys left. And they bobbed silently in the river. The sky had lightened, another dawn was about to break. Soon, what little soldiers remained, along with the guards, priests, merchants and all Azzuri, would know that the king was still in his sickbed, his son turned traitor, and they had no army left to defend them.
Heduanna looked to the purplish sky. “How are we to win this, Phadite?”
But the goddess was with her, and she knew they had to try, no matter the odds. More was at stake than just Azzuri and Ur
ul. Other forces drove them together. Forces that she’d spotted in her visions and would be reckoned with in Gedjon-Brak alone.
She turned and headed to the barracks. Once there she made her way to the dungeons and was surprised to find them still guarded. Hadanash hadn’t taken all the Azzurian men of arms with him. “Just most of them,” she whispered.
Qisht looked even worse when she saw him. The blood had dried on his face. He stank of shit and piss. He didn’t even bother looking up when the torch lit up his cell.
“Take him to the palace. To the king’s suite at once,” she told the guard.
Qisht looked up then. His eyes were dazed but recognition resided there too. “You know,” he croaked.
Heduanna nodded. “Yes. Hadanash is the traitor.”
Part XXVIII
The Dragonshade Mountains
Season of the Harvest
The time of Watcher Sagu
5,846 years ago…
Yana
When you’re afraid, focus on the breath. Everything else must peel away. Grama had told her that and Yana kept replaying the words over and over in her mind. Soon she might even try to follow the advice.
But right now, fear gripped her with a giant fist as she clung to rock and watched the dragon on the nearby ledge.
Up here in the tallest mountain peak of Vulcan Strom, an ice wind slapped at her, and grasped at her cloak. She clung to the frozen rock in desperation, refusing to allow her gaze to turn downward. Down was not an option. There lay the deep gorge and nothing but hard rock and ice. There lay death.
The dragon roared again and more mountain rock crumbled. A plume of flame spewed from the firebeast’s maw and even from this distance the heat warmed Yana’s skin. The dragon’s teeth were large, sharp blades, and the beast bared them at her. Her breath came in quick rasps, and her heart raced. She swallowed and thought of Grama’s words again.
She closed her eyes and breathed, focusing solely on the air passing though her nose, to her lungs, and out again. Her heart slowed. Her stomach calmed. Now she was ready to try again.
Accessing her shade-self was easy. Her grama had explained it to Yana, and she’d puzzled over it for half a moment before realising she’d been doing it all her life. And when Grama had taught her how to connect with the essence of others, she knew that too. She’d been communing with animals since she could remember.
“Yes, child,” Grama had said. “And that is a blessing, but now there is something you must learn.”
Yana never felt the cold, but she’d shivered then for she knew what her grama was about to say.
“You must learn how to bind.”
And here Yana was, trying again to rule the beast she shared a bond with. The dragon. Born the very day, the very moment she was. She had to do what Grama had done with Rhast, and join herself to him.
She’d tried a handful of times, and with every attempt the dragon rejected her.
Argut began to have his doubts, suggesting it was too late for them to be trained. “Both girl and dragon are too old now,” he’d said. But Vargu had refused to accept that. And Yana sensed the desperation in him. “You must bind, Yana ilt Corva. If you do not, the world will fall to the Ravnak.”
Yana still wasn’t sure what he meant by the Ravnak, but Grama said it meant, in simple terms, that the Halkans in the west would dominate Drakia, and the enemy Urul king would take control of all Zraemia.
“And I’m the one who must stop it?” Yana asked.
“You and the others. You all have your part to play, lass, and this is your part. You must bind with the dragon.”
And here she was. Eyes closed. Breathing slow. In. Out. And her essence was awoken. Her sight shifted, as it always did when she reached this level of meditation. The world appeared to her in shadowy colours now. The rock of the mountains pulsed a simmering blue. It had a special essence all its own and overtime it gave birth to the rock known as dragonshade. A powerful substance that could help one like her grama perform magics.
A flicker of doubt flared deep inside Yana’s mind and the shadows whirled, until Yana controlled her breathing once more.
The dragon roared and took flight toward her. Yana remained calm. This is what Argath did whenever Yana entered this state, knowing the binding would come next. She waited for the dragon to come closer, and closer still. Then she lurched in her shade-self and merged with the dragon in the Otherworld. The beast’s screech rang in her ears and vibrated her very vision. But she held on. Her body was on fire. Every grain, every vapor within her was afire. And still she held on. The beast shook its wings and bellowed fire. Yana focused still and something snapped together. Like two threads in a weave of wool, they sat side-by-side, as one new beast. Yana’s physical self was drawn over and the dragon transformed into a new beast with two minds. There was a moment of pure agonizing pain, and then it was gone. Yana was the dragon.
When Yana came to it was nighttime, and for the first time in her living memory she felt cold. Every limb shook and her fingers and toes were numb. A blurred face appeared above her and she blinked. Vargu looked down, his silver hair dangled above her. “Hello, Yana. You did well.”
Her vision was still fuzzy, but she could see his owl-like pupils were even wider. Somewhere close, a fire was burning and she longed to move near it. “My arms. My legs.” It was hard to talk. Her tongue felt like a boulder in her mouth. “Can’t move,” she managed. “Cold.”
“It’s the aftereffects of the binding, Yana. Shhh. You must rest.” Vargu looked up. “Argut, bring another fur and build up the fire.”
Yana’s eyes closed and she gave in to heavy sleep.
The next time she woke it was morning. She no longer felt the bite of cold and her vision was clear, but her arms were still heavy and her legs wouldn’t move. She looked around. No one was near. “Hello?” she shouted. Her tongue felt back to normal now, too.
Something warm, but hard rested on her stomach. Yana lifted her tunic to inspect the object. It was a black shell-like thing in a triangular shape. It hugged her body as though it was meant to be there. She placed a hand over it, and with an effort she managed to lift it off her skin. The rush of ice-cool on the spot made her shiver.
She brought the object in front of her face for closer inspection, and her mouth opened in wonder. It was a dragon’s scale, black with a streak of blue and a little bigger than the size of her outstretched hand.
A shadow crossed the sky and Yana blinked up into the clouds to see Rhast fly past. She followed the trail of his flight and her eyes fell on the figure of her grandmother approaching. The old woman smiled as she crouched by Yana. “You’re awake.”
“Yes.” Yana lifted the dragonscale. “I found this on my skin.”
Grama inspected it. Her eyes widening before she gave a firm nod. “You’ll get used to it. Could even come in handy. A natural armour, more so than feathers.” She smiled and gave Yana a wink as she flung her feathered cloak in an arc. “How are you feeling?”
Yana frowned. “Better. But my legs, they won’t work. What happened? Did I fall from the sky? Did I break them? Am I going to die?”
Grama laughed. “Nay, child. You didn’t fall. And you didn’t break a thing. You did well. Very well. You broke your dragon. Binding will be much easier next time you’ll see.”
“But, my legs—”
“Are fine. It is a passing paralysis. You’ll experience it for a while after a binding. It will wear off with rest, and nourishment. Speaking of which…” Grama left her for a moment and when she returned she had a steaming bowl of food. “You must be ravenous. Let me help you sit up a bit.”
Yana’s stomach let out a loud rumble and she allowed her grandmother to help her with a couple of satchels and furs stuffed down her back. Yana’s arms were working, though still felt heavy, and she was able to hold the bowl of shroom stew. It was possibly the tastiest meal she’d ever had and she scooped it down quick.
“My legs will work soon?” she aske
d between mouthfuls.
“Aye.”
“And this will happen every time I bind?”
Her grandmother touched Yana’s cheek and wiped some grease off her chin. “For the first few years.”
“Years?” Yana’s eyebrows shot up.
“First century at least.”
“What? Grama, how old are you?”
Grama laughed. “The things is, it might take longer for you. I have a feeling binding with Rhast is much easier than that canotakourous firebeast.”
That evening, Yana was able to sit around the fire and eat another bowl of stew. Her legs were slowly coming back to life and they buzzed ceaselessly which was irritating in the extreme. Sometimes the buzzing tickled, and other times it pained her.
“By morning you should be able to walk once more,” Vargu said, his pupils wide again. “And by the evening you must try binding again.”
Yana frowned. “But I’ll be no good helping with the war if I keep paralysing myself.”
“There’ll be no other attempts.” Vargu gave her a hard level stare. “Tomorrow evening you must bind and go to the warfront.”
Yana’s mouth fell open. “You mean Azzuri?”
He nodded. “There first.”
“First?” Yana looked to her grandmother.
“There’s two warfronts remember, lass.”
Yana swallowed. “The Halkans.”
“Aye.”
Yana thought of her mother and her stomach dropped. “Why don’t I go there first? My homelands should be my priority.”
“Because,” Vargu answered. “The war has come for Azzuri and they need all the help they can get if the Ravnak are to be stopped.”
Yana’s nostrils flared. “But my mother! I don’t care for Azzuri—”
“Yana, that’s not true,” Grama said. “Think of Sargan. Think of Danael.”
Yana nodded. She turned to Vargu. “Who are these Ravnak?”