Around Leaf, the caldera shook with the rumbling voices of forty dragons speaking at once.
“It's just a rumor, Speaker,” Leaf said, raising his voice to be heard above the cacophony. “But I wanted to warn you. Just … be on your guard.”
Marigold nodded. Beside her, Goldrute watched Leaf steadily. Even after he turned away, he could feel the gaze of her jeweled eyes boring into his back.
He was soon dismissed to allow the council to convene, but Goldrute thundered after him, the weight of her vast form causing the tunnel walls around them to quake. She blocked the passage in front of him, and a growl came from her throat, the air around him glimmering as the magic formed a single golden word. It was a word he recognized, but he could feel it carried more meaning than just his simple name.
“Do you know, Dragonmother? The one thing that can kill a dragon?” His fingers moved clumsily as he spoke. They tripped over the stilted, unpracticed gestures, forming uneven light-strokes.
Goldrute closed her eyes and nodded her massive head.
Leaf exhaled. “I won't let it happen.”
He tried to push past her, but Goldrute stayed him, wrapping her long tail around his shoulders. When she spoke again, her words came clearer, sharpening in his mind, an almost-human voice whispering in his ear.
“Mother?” Marigold's voice echoed in the corridor. Leaf looked up to see her standing just behind him. “The council is waiting for you. What are you—?”
Goldrute glanced at Leaf.
“I will,” he whispered. “But I promise it won't come to that.”
The dragon nodded again and lumbered back toward the caldera, her scales shimmering in the light of the crystal lamps.
Marigold stormed over to Leaf, stomping heavily on her good leg. Her thick, black eyebrows were drawn. “What was all that about?” she demanded.
Leaf laughed, what he hoped was an easy, light sound. “What, you're the only one allowed to speak to Dragonmother? What was the point of teaching me the magic if I'm not allowed to use it?”
“Of course not,” said Marigold. “But you're hiding something from me, I can tell.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Is it the Stalians? You don't believe they can actually kill the dragons, do you?” When he didn't respond, she scoffed. “It's impossible. Dragons are beings of pure magic. They're immortal.”
“Exactly. So there's nothing to worry about.”
“But?” She looked at him pointedly.
“But you are human, Speaker.”
Marigold sighed, pulling the golden headdress off and letting choppy wisps of black hair fall into her eyes. “So you're saying the Stalians will be after me?”
“I'm saying nothing of the kind,” Leaf said. “Listen, there's nothing to worry about. I've notified the other knights. They're forming a guard around the caldera as we speak. And I,” he added with a grin, “will stay here to guard you.”
She scowled. “I don't need a watchdog, Leaf.”
“What about a friend?”
Marigold scrunched her face up grumpily, but her eyebrows unfurrowed, and Leaf could feel her anger dissipating like fog under the morning sun.
“All right,” she said.
Leaf grinned.
* * *
Leaf stood behind a rocky outcrop in the far corner of the courtyard, watching Marigold from a distance. She'd quickly grown irritated with his constant hovering, but as much as she detested it, he couldn't let her out of his sight. He had to protect her, to protect Elvezia. The dragons were his people's only defense. The People's Nation had no military, apart from the handful of knights guarding the Sunglow Caldera, and no government to speak of; they'd traditionally been a land of neutrality and equality, sustaining themselves by providing the world with energy and technology. Stalia Nova's attack on them was unprecedented, and Leaf didn't know what would happen if the dragons fell.
But more than that. Marigold was his best friend, one of his only friends. He was going to keep her safe, or die trying.
Marigold sighed, looking into the clear water of the Speaker's well. “I know you're there, Leaf. You might as well stop skulking in the shadows and come over here.”
His face colored. He thought he'd been well-hidden, but he should have known better. He never could keep anything from Marigold.
She climbed onto the side of the well, her feet dangling over the water. “How long is this going to go on?” she asked when he drew near.
“I … I don't know. As long as it takes, I suppose,” he said.
Before she could reply, a high-pitched cry rang through the open air of the valley. Marigold looked up in alarm. Leaf jumped to his feet, his hand on the hilt of his sword.
A Dragon Knight appeared in the courtyard. His hand was clamped around the arm of a small boy, perhaps six or seven years old, with flaxen hair and skin as white as snow.
“Speaker,” the knight said, inclining his head toward Marigold, “I found this boy skulking about the tunnels. No one knows where he came from. He says he was looking for you.”
The boy sniffled. Bright tear-trails streamed down his cheeks. “Signora, please help me. This man is hurting me.”
“Of course, little one. Friend Knight, release him! He is just a child.”
“Marigold!” Leaf hissed, clamping a hand on her shoulder. “He's Stalian!”
She shrugged him away, her dark eyes flashing. “He's just a child, Leaf,” she repeated.
The little boy ran to Marigold, flinging his arms around her legs. She winced, and Leaf placed a hand against her back to steady her.
“Signora,” the boy wailed. “Padre and Madre … I cannot find them! We were coming across the mountains, to escape the war, but the”—he stuttered for a moment, struggling to think of the word—“the neve fell off the mountain!”
“Refugees,” the Dragon Knight said. “Must have gotten caught in an avalanche.”
“Then his parents …” Marigold frowned, then bent and took the boy's hand in hers. “Come along, little one. The dragons will take care of you. What's your name?”
“Apple,” the boy said.
“Apple?” Leaf repeated. “That's an Elvezian name. But you are Stalian?”
“It's my new name,” the boy explained. “Madre and Padre said we are Stalian no more.“
“That's fine, Apple,” said Marigold, cutting Leaf off. “You are welcome here in Elvezia. The doors of friendship are open to all.”
The boy's small fingers clasped firmly in one hand and her walking staff in the other, Marigold led them across the courtyard. For a brief moment, Apple glanced over his shoulder at Leaf, and Leaf froze.
The child's dark eyes, black as night, looked so strangely familiar.
* * *
That evening, the dragons gathered in their massive roosting hall, deep in the heart of the mountain. Scores of nests carved from niches in the stone honeycombed the walls, disappearing into pinpricks too high to discern. The huge cavern glowed orange, as if warmed by a bonfire, but Leaf knew this was the glow of the collective dragons' magic.
The boy, Apple, sat beside Leaf at the small, human-sized table situated far below the roosts. Marigold carried over a hot bowl of minestrone and set it in front of him. “To remind you of home,” she said with a smile.
“Home,” Apple repeated in a small voice.
She handed another bowl to Leaf and moved back to the solectric cooking hearth to retrieve some soup for herself. “I know how scary this all must be, Apple,” Marigold said as she walked back to the table. “I was in your shoes once, you know. I also lost my parents to the mountains. The dragons took care of me then, just as we'll take care of you now.”
“Did you also come from Stalia Nova, signora?” asked Apple.
“No. The dragons tell me I was born in a small village in the Elvezian Alpines,” Marigold replied. “I don't remember much about my childhood. I lost my memory in the accident that killed my parents and damaged my leg. That was seven years ago. Probably before you
were born, eh, Apple-blossom?”
Apple smiled at the nickname. “And the dragons made you oratrice?”
She nodded. “Eventually. The dragons had gone for a long time without a voice. Mother says they were waiting for me,” she added with a laugh.
“What happened to their old Speaker?”
Marigold hesitated. Her face got that far-off expression on it again. Leaf watched her carefully. He always wondered where her mind went, when it wandered away like this. At last she said, her voice barely more than a whisper, “She died. Some time ago.”
Apple frowned up at Marigold, his eyebrows furrowed. “But how?”
When Marigold didn't answer, Leaf said, “She married the king of Stalia Nova and spent many years in your homeland, little one. But they say she was poisoned by her daughter, and—”
“No!” Marigold snapped suddenly. “Not her daughter.”
Her voice echoed across the cavern. High above their heads, the dragons in their roosts fell silent, the glimmering colors of their words fading into nothingness. Leaf stared at Marigold in alarm, but she didn't look at him. Instead, she gazed up into the cavern's heights, to where Goldrute's roost was located. The gold-scaled dragon peered down at her in silence.
“Marigold?” Leaf said. “Are you okay?”
She squeezed her eyes shut. “I'm sorry. I'm just tired. Let's eat.”
Her lips drawn in a tight smile, she sat down beside Leaf and plunged her spoon into the bowl.
* * *
Days passed, Apple clinging to Marigold like moss to a tree trunk. The more time he spent with the dragons, the more talkative he became, though he always shied away whenever Leaf or Marigold tried to ask him about his parents or Stalia Nova. They wanted to find out where in Elvezia the family had been planning on going, to determine if Apple might have friends or relatives who would be able to care for him now; but whenever the subject came up, the boy would hunker down and clamp his mouth resolutely shut.
The morning of the fourth day, Leaf awoke to Marigold's walking staff jabbing into his side.
“Come on, wake up and help me,” she hissed. “We have to look for him.”
“Look for who?” Leaf grumbled.
“Apple! He's missing.”
Leaf sat bolt upright. “What? Where could he have gone?”
“I don't know, Leaf, but I'm terribly worried. He's so small, and so new. Come on, get a move on. He may have gone to the upper courtyard, and you know I can't get up there on my own.”
Leaf buckled his belt clumsily, his scabbard swinging back and forth as he moved. “Where's Dragonmother?”
“Out. The Dragon Knights came in the night with news of a Stalian advance on the southern Alpines. They've gone to head off the attack. Good grief, you can sleep through anything, can't you? Some watchdog you are.”
Leaf ignored her jab, hurrying after her down the corridor from the roosting hall to the lower courtyard. Despite her limp, she easily outpaced him; but when they reached the steep staircase to the upper courtyard, Marigold was frustratingly earthbound. The steps had been carved centuries before to allow the oratrice access to the upper level. The Drachenstadt citizens' council had offered to install a Skylyft for Marigold when she became Speaker, but she had stubbornly refused, asserting that there was no need to damage the sanctuary with metal and wires when she could fly with the wings of a dragon.
Now she'd have to settle for riding on the back of a knight. Leaf crouched and Marigold scrambled up, wrapping her arms around his neck while he hooked his elbows under her knees. He was out of breath by the time they reached the top of the stairs, though it was more from Marigold's impatient prodding than from her weight.
On the far side of the clearing, they saw the small blond boy speaking to two figures in cloaks.
“Apple!” Marigold cried, leaping off Leaf's back. She'd left her walking staff in the lower courtyard, but she limped forward nonetheless before Leaf stayed her, placing a hand on the hilt of his sword. “Who is that with you?”
Apple turned to face them. His already pale face was now white as bone, and his expression looked strained. His fingers were clutched around a coarse muslin sack. “Oratrice, Friend Leaf …” he stammered, “i miei genitori …!”
Leaf's jaw dropped involuntarily. One of the cloaked figures stepped forward and pulled back her hood, revealing straw-colored hair like Apple's. Her clothes were torn, her face filthy and bloodstained from a long gash on her forehead that had scabbed over.
“You,” Marigold breathed. “You're Apple's mother?” The look was back, and her knees wobbled slightly. Leaf put his hand to her elbow to steady her.
“Yes, my lady,” the woman replied. Her Stalian accent was much lighter than little Apple's, barely audible. “We”—she coughed, a dry hacking sound—“we became separated in the avalanche. My husband was injured badly, and we thought for sure our son had been lost.” Behind her, the other cloaked figure was staring unblinkingly at Marigold with eyes as dark as Apple's. As dark, Leaf realized, as Marigold's. “But this morning we came across a Dragon Knight in a nearby village, who said he may have been brought here.”
“A Dragon Knight?” Leaf repeated. “Where is he now?”
“Still in the village, I expect.”
“He didn't bring you here himself?” Leaf was dubious.
“Well, you see, my lord …” The woman broke off in a fit of coughs.
Marigold broke away from Leaf's grip and moved forward once more. “Come on. You need some water, and food.”
“That won't be necessary, my lady,” the man spoke at last. At his voice, Marigold pulled up short, as if she'd hit a wall. “The villagers shared some of their food with us this morning. We just came to find our son. We won't trouble you any further.”
The Speaker said not a word. Her eyes were glazed over once more.
Leaf stepped forward in concern. “Oratrice …”
“I know you.” Her voice sounded distant, not of her own body.
The hooded man froze in his spot, eyeing Marigold warily.
The fair-haired woman looked back and forth between her husband and the Speaker. “I'm afraid that's impossible, my lady. We have never been to Elvezia before. Please, we mean you no trouble. We merely were looking for our son. We would just like to make this offering to you, as a thank you for caring for him, and we will be on our way.” She nudged the boy. “Go on, Fi—Apple. Give her our gift.”
Apple looked up at his mother. “No,” he said.
The woman's face colored. “Come along, son. There's no need for this.”
“No,” the boy said more loudly. “I won't do it.”
Leaf stepped forward, his grip tight on his sword. “What is this?”
The woman made a noise of exasperation. “Fine.” She ripped the muslin sack from Apple's hands and opened it. Inside was a perfect piece of golden fruit. “My lady, this is for you.”
Marigold's wild eyes focused on the fruit in the woman's outstretched hand. The sun glinted off its smooth skin. For one long moment, everything was still.
Then Marigold screamed, “Murderer!” and launched herself at Apple's mother.
Leaf darted forward, sword drawn. Apple shrieked in terror, the hooded man yelled; but their shouts were drowned out by a deafening roar over their heads. In a flash of bright light, a golden dragon swooped down on the upper courtyard. Dragonmother slammed her body into the man, knocking him flat on his back.
Marigold seemed unaware of their arrival. She was clawing at the woman's face, tearing at her hair with wild fingers. “Get her off me!” the woman cried.
Leaf grabbed Marigold around her waist, but she kicked him away with her strong left leg.
“I remember everything now!” she shouted. “She's a murderer! She killed Madre, she tried to kill me! They both did! ANNERIA!”
Leaf dropped his arms at that name. “Anneria? The queen of Stalia Nova? Marigold, you—”
The woman began to laugh then, wiping a trickle
of blood from her mouth. “Of course. I should have known the Elvezians' precious new priestess could be none other than my superstitious, impossible-to-kill stepdaughter.”
Without warning, Marigold ripped the sword from Leaf's hands, pressing the tip into Anneria's throat. “Superstitious? And do you still not believe in dragons, even when they're all around you?”
Anneria swallowed. A small droplet of blood ran down the sword's blade.
“Marigold,” Leaf whispered.
“Drop the sword,” the man's voice interjected. Leaf whirled to see that he had somehow overpowered Goldrute. An electronic implement was pressed against her chest, and Albero Re held his thumb a mere inch above the detonation button. “Drop it now, or the dragon dies.”
Marigold turned her head, just a fraction. “Mother,” she cried. Her grip on the sword faltered, and Anneria took her chance. Before Leaf could react, Anneria wrested the sword from her hands and plunged it into Marigold's side.
The mountain shook with Goldrute's anguished howl. Rocks skittered down the slopes, crashing into the courtyard with a deafening thud. Apple had been cowering in the shadows, but he raced to Marigold's side now, sobbing, “Signora!”
Leaf lunged forward, his fist connecting hard with Anneria's jaw. The sword fell from her grip, but Leaf didn't move to retrieve it. He was going to kill this witch with his own two hands.
“Do it now!” Anneria screamed as the two struggled against one another. “The Speaker is dead! The dragons can be killed!”
Albero pressed the button.
Nothing happened.
Goldrute reared back, slamming Albero's body against the cliff side.
“Impossible,” Anneria snarled. “Dragons without a Speaker are supposed to be mortal!”
Leaf laughed almost hysterically. Goldrute roared again, her wrathful voice filling the courtyard with blinding light. “What makes you think the dragons are without a Speaker, Queen?” His dark hands moved with a skill he'd never known, adding shimmers of silver and gold to the light of Goldrute's voice. The magic of the dragons flowed through him now, strong and fierce and pure.
Wings of Renewal: A Solarpunk Dragon Anthology Page 33