The boy loved hearing the tales of the dragons working in tandem with the higher powers, often behind the scenes. Some of Chrysafi’s own actions had ensured the events of the present day would come to pass. A nudge here, a suggestion there, whatever it took to protect the honor bound descendants of the houses bound to Xigara. Tander wondered if it was possible to know how often Chyrsafi and his kin had risked their lives to shield the innocent against a faceless enemy bent on destruction.
Tander found it impossible to try and grasp the vast workings of prophecy. That he was playing a part in seeing it come to pass was still inconceivable.
The thought also chilled him to the bone.
What if he messed up and did something wrong? What place did a boy have in the plans and schemes of the higher powers? But then again, if Onúl had to count on someone like Tander to advance His will, then He wasn’t as all-powerful as they taught in the temples.
“We’ll arrive at my aerie soon, manling,” Chrysafi’s voice shook Tander out of his thoughtful meandering. “We’ll rest there for the night and let you warm up before taking wing across the Sea of Ice.”
The boy shivered again when he thought about the impending crossing: two non-stop days over the freezing ocean. Though it was only autumn, they were so far north it felt more like the middle of winter in comparison to the climate of home. The coast below was green, proving the weather was temperate enough, but surely it would all turn brown soon.
To make matters worse, Chrysafi flew higher and faster than Sidero.
“You said we’ll be switching to a different riding harness?” Tander asked.
“Yes, we will,” Chrysafi answered.
“Well, I hope it’s fur-lined or something. I’m freezing back here, and I’m wearing every stitch of clothing from my pack.”
The dragon’s body quaked with laughter. “Yes, manling,” he chuckled, “it is fur-lined. The Northmen who serve in my aerie are adept at surviving the cold. I imagine we’ll be able to find a fur coat for you, and some blankets as well.”
“Good,” said Tander. “My chattering teeth will appreciate it.”
Chrysafi’s body quaked again as he banked into a slight turn and dropped lower in the sky. He took them east, away from the waning sun. Tander began to make out the continent’s northern peninsula reaching out like a talon into the ocean. Chrysafi’s aerie lay on the extreme southern tip of the peninsula, south of the village of Bastoil. Tander doubted there was a more remote place on Awia.
“Chrysafi,” Tander said, “why do the dragons live so apart from one another? Wouldn’t you rather live with your mates?”
“There are many ways to answer,” the dragon began. “We’re not like you warm bloods who feel the need to congregate. You thrive in your villages and cities. We cold bloods are reclusive by nature, finding long stretches of solitude preferable.”
“What about Sidero and his hollow full of thousands,” Tander asked, “or even your mate, Asimi, living among the elves and dwarves of Nesos?”
“Our actions as a family have much to do with our responsibilities as defenders of the light. You must understand, when we went to war against our evil kindred, it shattered all hopes for familial reconciliation. We left our home in the boughs of the Worldtree and spread out across Awia to serve as guardians and agents for good.
“It became my lot to watch over the East while Sidero watches the West. It is for this reason I made my home here at the edge of the continent. Sidero’s proximity to your family, compounded with his gregarious nature, caused him to take the steps he’s taken to form a community.
“As for Asimi, her lot is to watch over Nesos. She rarely leaves the island. Even so, you remember her aerie is high in the mountains, as far away from the bustle of the village below as is possible. She tends to stay apart from her neighbors as much as the rest of us.”
“It sounds like a lonely existence to me,” Tander said. “I can’t imagine being separated from…” Tander’s voice broke, “from those I love.”
Chrysafi heard the boy’s pain and paused before answering. He knew only time would heal Tander’s pain, but humans had so little time available.
“My kind is ancient,” the dragon said, “ and our lifespans are virtually limitless, even in comparison with the elves. There are also few of us, sixteen altogether, so even before our family’s sundering our lives were unique.
“We tend to take the long view. A few months or even years of separation from one’s mate is fleeting when your lifetime is measured in eons. Our passions, like our blood, tend to run cold.”
Once again Tander was faced with the unfathomable age and wisdom of the dragon. How could he truly relate to such a creature?
Silence stretched out between them as the sun began to set. Tander drew his arms tight around himself, trying to stave off the cold. The stars flared to life as darkness washed across the sky. He glanced south to see the constellation known as The Strand burning brightly in the heavens. He leaned back in the harness to watch the celestial display wheel overhead.
Chrysafi’s sudden banking awoke him sometime later. The dragon turned into a tight spiral, racing toward the unseen ground below. The boy leaned forward in the harness, flinging his arms out wide to grab onto the dragon’s scales. He started sweating from the effort of holding himself against Chrysafi’s golden body as the dragon’s airborne gyre tightened.
Dizzy, Tander thought he could see trees covering the peninsula in the gelid moonlight. Chrysafi spiraled down over the tip of the landmass, and the boy worried they were dropping far too fast. Their next turn would take them below the tops of the trees.
They were hurtling to the ground with no clearing in sight.
The dragon tightened his spiral even more as they shot back out over the water, turning them around into a collision course with the solid rock of the peninsula’s white cliff. Tander wanted to scream, but his breath wouldn’t come.
Chrysafi folded his wings tight against his body. A dark maw in the side of the bluff revealed itself in the pale moonlight, and the dragon shot through it into a tunnel carved from the bedrock. Tander held on and gnawed his tongue in terror.
The dragon’s wings suddenly unfurled with a jolt and he started flapping hard. Chrysafi blew a gout of flame that burst against a large stalactite hanging down in the midst of a cavern. He kept blowing until the rock glowed red. White crystals embedded in the stalactite’s surface began to radiate and fill the cavern with light.
“Shards!” Tander cursed as the dragon came to rest on a rocky ledge. “You nearly scared me to death.”
“There was never any danger, manling,” Chrysafi said. “I’ve entered my home this way for thousands of years.”
“A warning would have been nice,” Tander snapped as he tried to pull his white-knuckled hands from the harness. He blew out a breath as his pent up terror drained away.
“I thought you were asleep,” Chrysafi said.
“Who could possibly sleep through that?” Tander muttered to himself.
Tander slung his belongings across his back and struggled to make his way down to the floor. He was stiff and sore from so many hour in the air.
“Don’t forget to unbuckle the harness,” Chrysafi said. “I’m ready to stretch out after so many days of flight.”
Tander moved under the dragon’s belly and deftly unbuckled the harness at three points. He yanked the center stabilizing strap free and stepped back as the dragon shook himself like a dog throwing water off its back. The harness slid down his scaly body to pile up on the rocky floor. Clear of the bindings, Chrysafi swelled larger, expanding from nose to tail by several feet. The boy’s eyes went wide as he watched the already majestic dragon grow even more so.
“I…I thought you were already at full size,” the boy stammered.
“No,” Chrysafi grinned a little sheepishly. “I’ve only been as large as Sidero’s spare harness would allow. Now I can finally breathe.”
The dragon moved to t
he back side of the ledge and pointed his snout toward a doorway in the cavern wall. “You’ll find a stairway through there. Go up to the first landing and choose any of the rooms you wish. They all have beds and basic furniture for those who serve as my attendants, but you should find them empty. No one will arrive from their village until morning.”
“Are you coming up?”
The dragon shook his head. “I’ll remain here and rest. Unlike Sidero, I prefer to stay in my true form. Find your rest, manling, you’ll be glad you did.”
Tander turned and found a stack of torches against the wall. He picked one up and held it toward the dragon. “Can you light this?”
“Hold it over your head,” Chrysafi ordered.
Tander obeyed as the dragon snaked his head over. Chrysafi shaped his mouth as if he might whistle then blew softly. No flame came out of his mouth, but an intense heat filled the air. The torch burst into flames a few seconds later.
“Neat,” Tander smiled.
“Being a dragon offers some benefits,” the dragon chuckled. “Sleep well, manling.”
Torch held high, Tander trudged up the winding stairs. They led to a circular landing where he found several doorways, all but one covered with a heavy curtain.
The first door he stuck his head into proved to be a small privy, one that he was glad to put to use after so many hours aloft. Then he peeked through the uncovered doorway to find more stairs leading upward, biting air drifting down from above.
The rest of the doorways revealed identical chambers. He picked one, slipped the torch into a wall bracket, and sloughed his pack onto a nearby table. Without bothering to undress, he buried himself under the mound of fur blankets on the bed.
Sleep found him moments later.
48
The Jungle of Da’agah
In the stories, the jungle is always beautiful, exotic—a place anyone with an appreciation for nature would long to explore. After trudging through it for seven and a half days, Tenna was sick of it.
The first day brought wonders—flowers more colorful than anything she’d ever seen, trees so green and vibrant they seemed almost ready to speak, clear rivers full of fish in brilliant display. But as they ventured deeper into the canopy she learned of ever more dangers—snakes that would slip down from the trees to crush their victims to death, spiders whose bites brought agonizing deaths, frogs whose touch might leave you paralyzed for hours, plants with leaves covered in an oil that would make a man itch terribly for days, beds of sand that looked solid but were in reality traps where one could find themselves trapped, slowly sinking into the earth where they would die from lack of breath.
The jungle was a nightmare.
Tenna spent most nights sleepless, sweating from her fear and the humidity. There was never an opportunity to dry off. She stripped down and hung her sweat-drenched clothes in her tent each night, finding them still damp the next morning. She lay sweating atop her bedroll, offering herself up as a feast to scores of gnats and mosquitos. The only relief from their bites was to cover up, making her sweat all the more.
They passed a sizable stream early one morning. When they paused to refill their water supply, Tenna announced her intention to bathe in its waters. Katalas gave rueful laugh and told her no, saying the river was home to a kind of fish capable of flaying a man to the bone in an eye blink.
Why would Onúl create such a place?
She thought she at least finally understood why someone had been crazed enough to build the Shrine in the heart of the jungle. The dangers of traversing the wilderness added several layers of protection to the sanctuary.
Tenna had never felt more relieved than when they finally burst from the thicket onto the grounds of the temple.
“We’re here already?” she asked, shocked. “I can’t believe there were no sentries guarding the borders.”
Katalas laughed. “There are. They’ve been following us for two days.” The elf pointed left and right, and Tenna saw a handful of elven rangers emerge from the rain forest into the clearing, fanning out like an advance scout unit. Tenna blushed as she realized she’d never known the elves had been shadowing them all this time.
A great stone structure towered ahead, rising above the surrounding canopy. The Shrine was an ancient place, a sprawling complex nestled in the junction of two large rivers. Colonnades spiderwebbed across the sanctuary’s grounds, connecting buildings large and small to one another and the main edifice. Marbled walkways were shadowed by vines and ferns covering the galleries.
Tenna saw robed clerics moving to and fro, but none of them gave the troop of dirty adventures who’d materialized out of the jungle a second glance. A few nodded a greeting and moved on, but most did not. None spoke.
Katalas maneuvered them down a wide colonnade, leading them toward the domed central structure of the temple. Lithe monkeys swung beside their path while colorful birds preened in the open spaces. A large pool was filled with scores of large fish, and the croaks of frogs echoed across the clearing.
It was then Tenna realized the swarms of insects that had been dogging their trail were gone. Maybe the throngs of frogs and birds kept the insect population down, but surely there were as many or more bug eaters out in the wilds of the jungle.
Tenna thought to pose the question to Katalas, but then she noticed someone coming to greet them, a tall woman dressed in an iridescent robe. Her hair was long and dark, and her feet were bare. She walked with an easy confidence short of imperiousness, but none of that intrigued Tenna so much as the woman’s most striking attribute.
The woman’s skin was blue.
“She…she’s a tann,” Tenna stammered. None of her friends seemed shocked, but they were seasoned travelers, worldly enough to have seen a water elf before. To Tenna they were little more than legends. She knew they were real, but they never came as far inland as Madhebah. Insular in nature, they shied away from contact with others not their kind.
The blue-skinned woman walked toward them with purpose, wearing a resigned sort of smile on her face, a smile that made Tenna uneasy. Was it a happy smile? A mischievous one? Tenna suspected it might be a little of both.
“Bearers, welcome to the Shrine,” her voice was firm yet soothing. “The High Keeper has expected your coming, and wished me greet you. I’m Y’neth.”
“Aha!” Zalas burst out, “I thought you might be.”
Y’neth raised a single brow. “And you are?”
“Zalas, head of the Doxy in Madhebah, or at least I was. I’m not sure that branch exists any longer, but that’s a concern for another time. I heard of your plight in Ustragion and passed it on to the Keepers here. I hope it was a help.”
“More than you can possibly know,” Y’neth bowed her head. “I’m in your debt, master Zalas.”
Zalas blushed and held up his hands. “There’s no debt. I’m but a servant as well.”
“Regardless, you have my eternal thanks.” Y’neth went on. “The High Keeper bid me to see you are made comfortable. Rooms have been prepared for your rest. She will call for you on the morrow.” Then she paused and looked at Doulos, “All but you, wise one. Karah requests that you attend her now. Quist will lead you.”
She pointed at a copse of trees off to one side. There stood a muscular elf covered in paints, random twigs, and mottled black fur. Weapons bristled from his back, a formidable warrior.
“Ah, of course,” Doulos laughed, and the woodsy elf gave a broad smile in return. The old man shouldered his pack and winked at Tenna. “I’ll join you in the morning for breakfast.”
Tenna heard Duras chuckle, and looked down to see the dwarf grinning at the Quist, his arms crossed. Katalas nodded in respectful acknowledgement.
When the elf named Quist disappeared with the old wizard in tow, Tenna turned and asked, “Am I the only one who doesn’t already know everybody?”
“I don’t know Quist,” Zalas laughed, “but I know his reputation. He’s been the High Keeper’s guardian for centurie
s.”
“Centuries?” Tenna’s eyes bugged out.
“We elves do tend to live a while,” Katalas said.
Y’neth laughed and motioned them to follow.
They entered through a pair of intricately carved doors, finding themselves in a large, square room. Massive columns of dark green marble stood in the room’s corners. Impressive pendentives supported a dome floating high overhead. The arches themselves were gilt in gold and accented with beautiful scrollwork.
At first, Tenna wasn’t sure they’d come inside, for the vegetation was as thick within as without. Birds flittered from tree to tree under the dome, and a pair of monkeys sat grooming one another atop a pillar. She stood gawking until a streak of gray fur bounded out of an adjoining hallway towards their party.
She looked down to see a black and gray-striped kitten entangling itself between Y’neth’s legs, purring as it pawed at her toes. Y’neth picked it up, chiding the kit, “Not now, Mas, we have guests who must come before your not-so-empty belly.”
“How cute,” Tenna reached out to nuzzle the kitten’s head, setting off a louder round of purring.
“Remain here long,” Y’neth said, “and one of these beasts will lay claim to you as well.”
“Sounds nice,” Tenna smiled.
“I’m sure,” Y’neth agreed in a half-hearted tone. “This way, please.”
They moved down the corridor from which the kitten had sprung, going deeper into the Shrine’s endless depths. Tenna soon felt lost in the maze of passageways and wondered if she’d ever learn to find her way out alone. She confessed that fear to Y’neth.
“I’ve only been here a few weeks myself,” Y’neth said, “though I did call this place home once, but many years ago, and even then not for long.” The tann woman paused, and Tenna thought she saw fleeting pain pass across the woman’s face. “Never fear,” she continued, “you can never be truly lost here. Doors are never locked, and you’re welcome to explore anywhere but the inner sanctum. Ask any acolyte or Keeper you see and they will guide your way.”
The Foundlings (The Swords of Xigara) Page 23