by Thomas Locke
“I know of this one.” Bryna sighed a third time. “Very well. Let us begin.”
The desert merchant was not at all pleased when they invaded his slumber. He hovered there before them and demanded, “Is this a dream?”
Dally did not know how to respond. Bryna said, “In a way, yes.”
“In a way.” His expression was sour. “Are you real?”
“Yes.”
“I mean, beyond this partial dawn.”
“I know what you mean,” Bryna said. “The answer is the same.”
“You are Ashanta.”
“I am.”
“And yet you speak with me in the tongue of the human realm.”
“Taught to me by Joelle.”
“Ah. Joelle. She is gone, yes?”
“Her ashes now rest beside our offering stone.”
Jaffar gave that the pause it deserved. Then he addressed Dally. “You are human.”
“I am.”
“Allied to the Ashanta.”
Bryna replied, “She is. And hopefully my friend as well.”
“So you have brought this human friend to me and interrupted my few hours of rest in the process.”
“Actually, Dally brought me.”
“What kind of name is that? And what is a human doing taking an Ashanta anywhere?”
Dally replied, “Hyam is dying.”
The merchant’s grumpy mood deepened. “I feared as much. So it is not as the Elves claim, that he is merely weakened by his loss.”
“It is more than that,” Dally replied. “Much more.”
“What does he suffer from, then?”
“That is why we came,” Bryna replied.
Dally said, “We are hoping the dragon can tell us. And for that we need your help.”
The dragon was nothing like what Dally had expected. Right from the very first words he uttered in that staccato drumbeat of a language, he astonished her. “I was afraid you would not come.”
They met in a world of ice and rock. The sun was neither up nor set. The light was ethereal, the wind so fierce it shrieked in a thousand voices, turning every rock and icy crevice into a disharmonious pipe.
The three of them had traveled an impossible distance. They arrived in the endless twilight and stood there, overwhelmed by the brutal landscape.
Then a beast whirled down from the light-streaked clouds. Its wings held a diamond pattern designed to use the bleak world as a frame for its severe beauty. The dragon’s wingspan seemed as big as Dally’s village. He landed, gripped a rock with yellow talons, and uttered a single note. With that the wind was silenced, the world captivated by his presence.
This, Dally thought, was true magic.
The dragon’s speech was a series of great booming drumbeats. Dally thought if she had been there in true form, she would have been shattered by the power in each word.
Jaffar translated, “The king of his kind welcomes you to the land of ice and storm.”
Dally asked, “You have been expecting me?”
When Jaffar translated, the dragon responded by folding his wings and settling down upon his talons. “I called and called. You heard me. At long last. I can only hope there is still time.”
“To save Hyam,” Dally finished.
“No, child of the valley. To save your kind.”
Despite the grim tidings, Dally found it immensely comforting to know she had not been played like a puppet. “Am I human?”
“Hyam asked me the same question of himself. And he asked the mages. Then the Elves. And the Ashanta. Who am I? Over and over and over he asked. What benefit does the question grant him now?”
“The words of Mistress Edlyn leave me thinking the answer plays a role in my quest.”
“Ah. That is different.” The dragon extended his neck and leaned closer still, until all Dally could see was one gold-green eye. She wanted to ask if he was truly so big, where an eye was wider than she was tall. But for that instant she was held fast, the dragon’s force capable of snuffing out her breath, her will, her thoughts, her life, if he had that desire. Then the instant passed and he leaned back, the pressure eased. “You are human. But there is a trace of something . . . The Mistress who awakens in you this desire to know your true quest, tell her she has great insight.” He shifted around so that he could study her with his other eye. “You suffer from the same ailment as Hyam.”
“What is it?”
“A magic I have never seen before, and cannot even name. Which is a mystery inside a mystery. My knowledge of magic is almost as vast as my years, and I am very old indeed.”
“Every time I approach the Elven realm, I am assaulted by images.”
The dragon gave a ponderous nod. “These are part of your quest and crucial to the victory of your kind.”
“But each time I feel another part of my life is torn away.”
“This should not be. Weakened, yes. But not splintered.” He studied her anew, then said, “Ask the Elven rulers to share with you my tears. Hyam should be given the same.”
Jaffar traded staccato words, then said, “I have informed the king that Hyam has not taken any sustenance for days. The dragon says he must be forced to consume the tears. They should grant him and us more time.”
The dragon spoke again to Dally. “This journey you are making and our exchange will most likely impact you the same way. You may find it difficult to drink my gift. Nonetheless, you must.”
“I will do as you say,” Dally promised.
Bryna spoke for the first time. “This magic that has assaulted Hyam and my new friend. Is it Milantian?”
“Most certainly.” The dragon’s massive head shifted position. “I greet you, young Seer of the silent folk. And I thank you for your assistance.”
“I have heard of your kind for years, since I began my training,” Bryna replied. “My teacher spent her entire life yearning to meet you.”
“And now you have fulfilled her wish,” the beast replied. “You must make your leaders aware that others among your kind suffer from Hyam’s affliction. It forms much of the opposition you face in aiding your treaty allies. Tell them the dragon king says that their hour of need is yours as well.”
“I will do as you say, Majesty.”
The dragon’s gaze swiveled back. “What is your name?”
“Dally.”
“From Dahlrin, no doubt. The past speaks to us through your name. Most interesting. Wait here.” With that, the dragon stretched out his wings and disappeared.
She found it remarkable that such a massive beast as that could vanish and reappear without making a sound. He settled back upon his perch, tucked in the sail-like wings, and boomed the longest message of all. “You must traverse the Elven path once more. In this passage you will discover the next portion of your quest. Doing so will tax you to your very limit. Why you must be brought to the verge of your last breath, I cannot say. But it is so.”
“If you do not know the task I must perform, why did you seek contact?”
“Because of the urgency, young Dahlrin. And the partial answer.” He lifted his head and roared out his next message, a drumbeat that caused the neighboring hills to throw off their burden of ice and snow. “The Ancients spoke of a day of unity. It is upon us. Here. In this hour of direst need, you shall witness the realization of a promise forged in the time before time. The enemy seeks to divide you. But you must fight this.”
“Unity,” Dally repeated.
“Victory shall only be found through forging bonds stronger than the enemy’s fury. Refuse to allow fears and old scars to keep you apart. And when this challenge is complete and the enemy vanquished, I invite you to return, Lady Dahlrin. I will welcome you. We will talk. And perhaps you will discover the mystery behind your name.”
The dragon rose to full height. He blasted the sky with a stream of fire, then caused the earth to shudder as he beat the air with his diamond-patterned wings. He rose into the sky, his power defiant of the wind that once ag
ain shrieked about them. Despite the storm, still Dally heard the final drumbeat resonate through her being. A word that Jaffar did not translate because there was no need.
Unity.
The dragon blew flames a final time, and was gone.
35
When Dally returned, she rose to a seated position and stared up at the night sky. The air held a summertime cool. The moon had set, which meant it was very late. Somewhere in the distance a bird of prey screeched like a wounded child. Otherwise all was still. Dally knew she must go, but for a long moment she could not remember why. Just the same, she forced herself to her feet. The first person she saw was Bryna, standing on the boundary stones’ other side. Waiting.
Connell hurried over. “Are you all right?”
“Fine,” she replied. She smiled a welcome and said, “I need you to send for Ainya. Tell her I need the dragon’s tears.”
“I’m sorry, what—”
“This is important,” Bryna said. “Pay attention.”
“Tell her that Hyam must be forced to take a portion as well.” When he started to turn away, she said, “Wait. Ask Edlyn and Meda and Shona to join us.”
“Dally, it’s the middle of the night.”
“Shona said the next time I received an image, I was to alert her immediately.”
When Connell had departed, Bryna said, “That was very smart.”
“I must seek out what the images might show of our next step,” Dally said. “Connell would never let me do what is now required.”
Bryna watched her struggle to walk. “Are you sure you are up to this task?”
Because of what they had just experienced together, Dally told her the truth. “I dread it more than anything. And I’m terrified of what might happen. But you heard the dragon same as I.”
In response, Bryna stepped across the boundary. “Let me help.”
The two women slowly crossed the headland. The rocky pasture made for hard going, and Dally leaned heavily upon Bryna’s frame. The Ashanta smelled faintly of some burned spice. “Do you use incense in your duties?”
“That is for later, yes?” Supporting Dally’s weight caused Bryna to puff slightly. “You will come and see my home, and I will explain all such details.”
“Will your elders allow it?”
“Of course, once we are successful.”
“Unity,” Dally repeated, finding great comfort in the word. Enough to fight down the terror at the sight of the Elven guards up ahead. She detected the first tendrils of power then, reaching out, ready to envelop and capture and consume another part of herself. “After it happens, you need to pull me back here. Away from the portal.”
“I will do as you say.” They took another step, then one more, and Dally jerked hard as the new images invaded her and blasted away the night.
The last thing Dally heard was Bryna’s plea. “Don’t die.”
36
Dally lay on her pallet in a state that was neither asleep nor fully awake. There was a sweetness to her languor, as pleasant as the fragrance of a poisonous bloom. She was so very tempted to remain as she was, trapped inside the deadly fatigue. She was hungry to hold on to this toxic ease. Free from the pains she had known. Free from the loss of family and home. Free from the loneliness. Free from fear.
Free.
The whisper of invitation filled her with a siren’s lament. Why bother with all that mess any longer? The cravings of life were meaningless and only led to more sorrow. She could stay here and do nothing. Accept that defeat was inevitable. It loomed there, directly ahead of her, as soon as she rejoined with the outside world. Enough with her futile efforts and all the pain such strivings had caused her. Life held no benefit. No reward. Nothing that justified the misery she had known, and would know again if she bothered to return.
Enough.
Yet there in the lure of surrender, Dally sensed a fire of rebellion.
The longer she focused upon this heart’s light, the clearer Dally saw beyond her trapped state. For the first time she glimpsed a realization all her own, a purpose large enough to justify the hard life she had known. Here was an objective so gigantic, it made her years of lonely toil not just bearable but necessary.
She had never given up. Wept, yes. Ached and sobbed and experienced hardship, most certainly.
All for this moment.
So she might have the strength of will to defy the lure that had captured Hyam and sown dissension among the Ashanta. So that she might find the determination to move forward and take the next step.
Dally opened her eyes.
Connell’s relief was so great he almost sobbed the words. “You’re back.”
Dally realized then that Connell held her hand. She looked around and saw Edlyn and Ainya and Shona and Bryna and Meda, all standing by her pallet and watching her with worried eyes. She realized the still air resonated with Connell’s pleas for her to return to them.
Dally took a breath of secret triumph and said, “Help me up.”
The dragon’s tear was the vilest concoction Dally had ever been forced to swallow. They were not tears at all, Ainya explained, but the dragon’s lifeblood. Hyam had collected it as it flowed from one massive gold-green eye. But the blood had coagulated since Hyam had sought to save Joelle’s life. The smell rising from the vessel was rank, like putrid flesh. When Dally carved out a dark red morsel, it quivered on her spoon.
The noxious mess tasted worse than it smelled. Dally gagged, forced herself to swallow, and gagged again.
Connell was ready with a mug of tepid tea laced with honey. “I would say it serves you right, after sending me away like that.”
Dally drained the mug, then sat there breathing hard, willing the liquid to stay down.
Connell observed, “You look better.”
She nodded, not trusting herself to open her mouth just yet. Even so, she felt better already. A renewed energy surged through her body, warming her bones.
Connell said, “Your color is returning. And the fire to your eyes.”
Dally looked at him. “I had no choice but to send you away. You would never have let me do what needed doing.”
He looked like he wanted to protest, but conceded, “You’re probably right.”
What she wanted to say was, no one had ever said there was a fire in her gaze before. Certainly not a handsome young mage in a tailored uniform. Who gazed at her with such concern. “Thank you, Connell.”
He had the most splendid smile. “For getting out of the way, you mean.”
Edlyn was unable to hold back her impatience any longer. “Did you see what needs doing?”
“Yes, Mistress. I did.” Reluctantly she tugged her gaze away and faced the women. “You’re not going to like it.”
37
They emerged from the Elven portal to a red and brooding dawn. The air was perfectly still. A ground mist billowed high enough to veil the sunrise in an uncommon gloom. The Elven gateway faced a forest road that was hardly more than a well-used trail. Beyond the road stretched a broad meadow turned palest yellow by the mist. The surrounding trees appeared as spectral wraiths.
Dally walked forward on tingling legs. She could still feel the force from three doses of the dragon’s gift growing in her limbs, though thankfully the taste had vanished and her breakfast rested comfortably in her stomach. Dally thought the breathless quality suited her, as if the day was aghast at what they were about to attempt.
“That should be far enough.” Ainya spoke a quiet word, and the fire emanating from her jeweled forehead vanished along with the crown. When Dally was released from the green veil, Ainya asked, “Are you all right?”
“Yes, thank you, Majesty.”
Shona walked alongside the Elven queen. They were followed from the portal by Alembord and Connell and Edlyn, then the four dogs. Alembord and Connell were dressed in the rumpled uniforms of house servants. After that came an open wagon, followed by four young mages equipped with wands. These were led by Myron. The w
izards were dressed as house guards, and their saddles bore the emblem of a distant hill fief. Four more soldiers, also garbed as house militia, followed behind them, leading nine riderless mounts. The Elven queen’s aide blanketed all the horses with a spell. When they were well clear of the portal and Vaytan extinguished his magic shield, the horses snorted and tossed their manes.
Two of the troopers slipped ahead. One returned to report, “The road is clear. But not for long. We can hear wagons in the distance.”
“Let’s be off,” Alembord said, and clambered aboard the wagon.
Ainya said, “Your plan is both simple and brilliant, young lady.”
“She has the makings of a good leader,” Edlyn said. The Mistress of the Three Valleys Long Hall was dressed as a matronly servant, in a pale grey dress with white trim, and a matching starched cap that flared her hair out like aging wings. “And a better strategist.”
Dally had no idea how to respond. These good people were placing not just their hopes but their very futures in her hands. She was overwhelmed by all the possible fractures to her plans. She whispered, “I’m so afraid.”
To Dally’s astonishment, Shona said, “It is a sign of your maturing strength that you do not allow this fear to halt your actions.” The young queen embraced her. “I do not have the gift of far-seeing. But I am confident nonetheless that you have pointed out the right path.”
“Thank you, my lady.”
When Shona released her, Ainya took her place. The Elven queen leaned forward and kissed Dally’s cheek. “Farewell, dear one. Come back to us intact. You are too precious to lose, no matter how vital the quest.”
The portal was well placed. Dally’s company traveled several hundred paces along the well-used track. The wagon bounced and rattled as it slipped in and out of deep ruts. As they entered a deeply shadowed glade, Alembord hissed, “Form up. Tighter now.”
The mages who had been granted wands were by far the most gifted of Shona’s force. But for most of them, the two battles against the forest beasts had been their only real taste of conflict. They eyed the approaching woodlands with tight and fearful expressions, hands hovering near their sheathed wands. Connell drove the wagon while Alembord gripped a pike, serving as their lady’s last line of defense. Edlyn was perched upon a padded seat that jutted from the wagon’s rear corner. A quilted pallet covered half of the wagon bed, and Dally was laid out in regal comfort. Beside her were stacked an assortment of fancy boxes and chests, borrowed from Shona’s belongings. Two of Alembord’s soldiers rode ahead, two more at their rear. It was the maximum number any nobleman might reasonably send as guardians of a family member, even in such times as these.