Vane

by Teshelle Combs

  Ava rubbed her temples again. “God, help me. Do you have any money?”

  Pendulus stole a glance at her. “Money? Do I need to cook it first?”

  Ava didn’t know what to say. “Money…is something humans exchange to get what they need. I can trade money for meat in that shop over there.” She pointed across the street. “And Cale needs some clothes—”

  But before she could finish, Pendulus marched through oncoming traffic and into the butcher shop. Much too loudly, he addressed the cashier. “I’ll give you my cape, but you must give me your meat and your clothes.”

  The cashier paled a little at the strange, gray, black-eyed man. But he didn’t run screaming. It was as if his brain forced itself to rationalize what he saw into something a bit more normal. “Your…your what?”

  Pendulus unpinned his cape and flurried it before he dropped it on the counter. “It is a good cape. I stitched it myself. It keeps me warm when I enter the void on my dragon. But I will exchange it for meat and for clothes.”

  Ava gawked as he walked out of the shop with an arm filled with wrapped meat and a spare uniform from the back closet.

  He presented them to Ava. “There phoenix, the money worked nicely.”

  Ava took the items, still confused, and began walking back the way she’d come. “I can’t believe that worked.”

  Pendulus followed her a little too closely. “But I must ask, why is it that you need to trade for these things?”

  “What do you mean?” Ava asked.

  “You’re a phoenix. You can have these things whenever you want.”

  “Pendulus,” Ava took a deep breath, “what do you mean?”

  “I don’t know.” He shrugged, still staring downward. “Meel says a phoenix has the will to do things like that.”

  “Oh…he must mean in ownworld.”

  Pendulus peeked into his satchel, his wide set eyes crossing for a moment. “Meel doesn’t know what that is.”

  “It’s the place I go when I….” It didn’t seem right to say.

  “Oh, when you die? Before you’re reborn?”

  Ava stopped moving to think about that, the cool meat relieving the burn of the golden glow on her arms. Reborn. It sounded right. She didn’t want it to be, but every time, it sounded right.

  “What else does Meel think?”

  Pendulus pursed his lips and looked up at the sky rather than directly at Ava. “He says he doesn’t like you very much.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Well, I don’t like you either, Meel.”

  They walked much too far, since they were without the money to catch a cab. But Ava wasn’t about to have Pendulus try to figure that one out. And she’d stay away from the void that black dragons used to get around for as long as she could.

  “Ava.” Someone hissed from the bushes alongside the dirt country road. “Ava!”

  She squinted at the shrubbery. “Cale?”

  “Come here.”

  From the gaps between the leaves she could make out one of Cale’s eyes. She walked over to the bushes and peered in. “Cale, did you follow me?”

  “Of course I followed you. But you seemed okay.” He frowned at the no-ir rider. “Who’s that?”

  Ava looked over her shoulder at the rider holding a large hunk of meat wrapped in brown paper, staring at the sky, and listening to their conversation. “That’s the no-ir that dragged us to the court, remember?”

  Cale’s stomach turned over. “Of course I remember, Ava. What I meant was what are you doing strolling down the road with him, making small talk?”

  Ava braced herself for her dragon’s reaction. “He’s come to take me back to the grey court.”

  Cale wanted to yell at her, but he held it in. “Ava, you’ve got to learn how to maintain some kind of grudge. Especially for people who try to kill you. A sense of self-preservation.”

  She shrugged. “He’s not trying to kill me right now.”

  “I rather like her,” Pendulus interjected, eyes to the pavement. “Meel, however, is not a fan.”

  “Shut up, Meel,” Ava said to the beady eyes peeking out of the satchel. She took the clothes out of her backpack and handed them to Cale. “Get dressed. Pendulus found you food.”

  Cale snatched the clothes with a snarl, still eyeing Ava through the bushes, then disappeared for a moment. He came out of the bushes dressed in a butcher shop uniform, the collared blue shirt and khaki pants fitting him too tight.

  Ava tried to swallow her chuckle, but Cale still noticed. He stretched out his arms and the bulge of his muscles forced the seams of the shirt to strain. “You think this is funny?”

  Ava hiccupped in an attempt to stop.

  “First, you molest me in the woods. Next, you bring this monster back, and then you dress me in baby clothes. And now, after all that, you’re laughing at me.”

  She gave into it, resting her hands on her knees and letting it come out. She couldn’t remember the last time she laughed, the last time she wasn’t thinking about dying or how she’d feed her best friend.

  Cale pointed a finger at her. “Okay. You’re going to pay for this. I, unlike you, hold grudges very well. You’d better watch yourself.”

  He walked up to Pendulus and snatched the meat from his hands. “And you can get the hell out of here.”

  Pendulus hummed in his throat, his now empty arms hovering awkwardly. “I cannot. I’m to take the phoenix.”

  Cale, for all his joking, got serious; his eyes—cold and hard—turned to golden slivers. “You’re going to take a dragonblade to the throat if you so much as mention my rider again.”

  Ava shuddered at the threat. Even as Cale chowed down on the meat, she could sense the hostility. Since when is Cale so bold before the no-ir? She frowned at the black rider. “Pendulus, maybe you can buy us some time? Stall? Give us a day or two to sort things out.”

  Pendulus shook his bald, squared head. “Shiloh and Rane may not have a day or two left, phoenix.”

  Cale had his mouth filled with meat, blood dripping down his chin. The food hitting his belly mellowed him a bit.. “And we’re supposed to care about either of you because…?”

  Pendulus stared for a moment, then walked over to the side of the road and sat down, his legs crossed. He put his satchel beside him, and Meel wiggled in protest. “Let me tell you a story. And if you refuse to help me by the end of it, I will do what you have asked and try to stall the Accuser.”

  Pendulus motioned for Ava and Cale to sit. Ava took her place among the pine needles and pulled a relunctant Cale down beside her.

  “I don’t want to—” Cale started. But Ava scooted closer and rested a casual arm on his leg. To him, it felt like ice water on a hot day. Cale stopped talking.

  Pendulus gave a commanding eye to Meel’s bag. “You hush as well. You have done nothing but complain all day.”

  Then, the rider angled his body to his audience, his gaze fixed on the ground. Something about it all seemed solemn, as if a gravity was settling everything around them, as if even the insects and plants were listening.

  “Every no-ir is born as a pair—a dragon and his rider. They are born in an embrace, sharing one core just as they will share one life. When one no-ir pair dies—if they have served well—their carcasses become home to new life. There is no family, no nest, no parenting. Only you and your dragon.

  “The day Meel and I were born, we were not strong. We could not run and jump like the other dragons and riders. The caretakers believed we were destined for nothing, that we were meant to die. And so they set us aside, left us to the cold…expecting that we would starve.”

  He stopped to clear his throat. It seemed even Meel was quiet as he remembered. “But there was another. A young rider like me. Born stronger than most. He and his dragonling made their own choice. They found us and took us with them, in secret, to the inside.

  “For the first ten years of life, a rider is forced to live apart from his dragon. It is what the grey book mandates, to stre
tch the bonds between the two. But Rane and Shiloh knew that the two of us would not survive the separation. And so he kept us together, and brought Meel food when no one was looking.

  “When we were old enough and Meel and I were no longer ill, Shiloh, who was already becoming a great leader among us, used his influence to make sure my name was added to the no-ir roster.” Pendulus made eye contact, the wells of his dark endless. “Grey law says that no-ir purity comes from a life of solitude and sacrifice. We have no family, no relations, no entertainment, no frivolity. Riders do not sleep. We do not eat or smile or laugh. We are born as a pair, but we are born alone. And to this day, I cannot say why Shiloh chose to make me his…his brother.” Pendulus met Cale’s eyes. “What would you do, to save your brother?”

  Cale only growled. But he knew the answer. He would do whatever he could.

  “Perhaps the phoenix could use some her influence to save him?” Pendulus asked.

  “Perhaps the phoenix could try,” Ava said.

  “Only if I come, too.” Cale had finished the meat already, and though he was too tense to relax, he felt a bit better. “Ava and I go together. Would you leave Meel behind?”

  Pendulus frowned at the little bag. “If I could.”

  From the flap of the satchel, a small black paw reached out and scraped a chunk from his rider’s leg. He smacked at the bag and tied the flap closed.

  “Fine,” Pendulus said. “I will take the punishment for breaking orders if it comes to that. Shiloh did the same for me. But you must try your hardest for him.”

  Cale scoffed. “Seems like we’re doing a lot for this guy. First—”

  Ava elbowed him and shook her head.

  “He doesn’t know?” Cale asked.

  “I don’t know what?” Pendulus didn’t know whether to look at them or not. “What don’t I know?”

  “We were looking for some leather boots for him. He came to visit.” Ava spun out the lie so quickly it shocked even her.

  Pendulus nodded his understanding. “He is a fan of red dragon leather. I don’t know why though. We make it so much better.”

  “We scorch it, I think,” Cale said, wondering how even he’d been sucked into Ava’s lie.

  “Even so, he should not have come to see you without assignment. It is against grey law for the no-ir to keep company with other races.” Pendulus nodded to Ava. “You, of course, are excluded, phoenix.”

  Pendulus unstrapped the satchel and took Meel out, almost losing a finger in the process. “You need to fly us through the void, you giant rat,” he said.

  Meel snarled as he changed from a crotchety little thing to ten times the size of his rider, his black hide duller than Rane’s, his back hunched. Pendulus jumped onto the saddle, taking the reins in his hands.

  With Cale and Ava clutching to the beast, Meel spread wide wings and stirred the wind up beneath them. Cale barely had time to savor his last breath of air before the void opened up. They were swallowed whole, shifting through dark to the place dragons went to die.

  Seven

  Troll

  Torture.

  Cale was sure of it. His eyes were closed, as if he had been asleep. They had placed something heavy on his chest—so heavy that he could not move—and they were dripping water into his mouth and nose. They would smother him. It was only a matter of time.

  The smell of mold and stale meat. He opened his eyes to find two large mud-green ones staring back at him, only a fraction of an inch away. The eyes widened when they saw him awake, and the creature—for that was the only way to describe him—moved away.

  “Oh, you are with us once more, Master Red Dragon,” the thing said. “I once spent a considerable number of years shadowing the elven healers in New Zealand. I knew my training would pay off some day.”

  The creature was short in stature and nearly as round as a pumpkin, his trousers pulled high on his fat waist and his shaggy black hair straggling down to his eyes and bulbous nose. His skin carried a hint of green. His considerably large behind was planted on Cale’s chest, his short legs dangling off Cale’s sides. “You’re welcome.”

  Cale couldn’t inhale. Not with the thing sitting on him. “Get off me,” he heaved, the words hissing out.

  The creature frowned. “You hate me. Even though I helped you, you hate me.”

  “I…can’t breathe….”

  “Oh,” and he rolled to his side, lost his balance, and tumbled off the bed.

  A bed? Cale expected, after he lost consciousness in the void, that he would awaken to the sky dungeon that had held him the first time he’d gone to the grey court. But he was in a bed. A comfortable one. With black silk sheets and pillows. Cale moved his arms. He wasn’t tied down, wasn’t handcuffed. He was just lying there, unharmed.

  “Where am I?”

  “Why, you were quite undone after your journey here. I was told you do not handle the perils of the void very gracefully. And then I was told to have you rest in my master’s personal chambers.” The creature said the word ‘personal’ as if he was sharing a delectable secret. “It is quite an honor to be laid here, I might add. I am not even permitted to touch these sheets. My master says I am too clumsy. And too dirty. And too smelly. And too stupid.”

  Cale rubbed the back of his head and sat up, still reeling a bit. The room was ornate. Columns white of marble and draperies of fine cloths were nothing compared to the number of crystal mirrors. There was one for every angle, each set in a frame of pearls, so that no matter which way Cale moved, he could catch his reflection. In those mirrors he could see the puffs of white that left his mouth and nose with every exhalation. It was freezing, the cold tightening his skin. The sky courts were always cold. And the higher they went, especially to the dungeons on the very top of the structure, the colder it became.

  Cale’s throat was dry as he coaxed his words out. When was the last time I sat down and had a drink of water? And why isn’t Ava beside me? He told himself not to panic. To try and think like Cameron would. A red dragon would run, fight, kill. But a blue dragon like his brother would figure out how to win before he acted.

  Step one. Figure out what’s going on. “Your master?”

  “Yes. Lord Sirce, the Holy Accuser.”

  Cale leapt from the bed as if there was a snake twisted in the sheets. He rubbed his skin as it prickled. “You put me in his bed? Where he sleeps?!”

  The creature pouted. “You should be thankful to my master for being so considerate.”

  “How about you tell me where your ‘master’ took my rider?” He wasn’t too worried yet. If Ava was in trouble, he would have felt it in his core. And information could be more useful to her than him storming out and demanding Sirce hand her over.

  “The foul-mouthed one with the curls?” the creature crossed tubby arms over his chest. “Lord Sirce is taking her to see the windows. Everything will be made clear once she understands them, and then she will find his treasure for him.”

  “Take me there…whoever you are.” Cale didn’t know what to call him. He’d never seen anything like him before, except maybe in storybooks.

  “I have a name, you know.” He harrumphed and looked away, feigning bruised feelings.

  “I apologize.” Cale wasn’t about to lose the assistance of the only person in the grey court who hadn’t wanted to kill him before they’d even met him. “I’m Cale of Anders—” No, I’m not an Anders anymore. “I’m just…Cale. Who are you?”

  The thing grinned and flurried his chunky arms in what should have been a grand bow, but looked more like a green squash tipping over. “I am Gabor the Gorgeous, handmaiden to the Holy Accuser.”

  Cale couldn’t help smirking. “Gorgeous?”

  Gabor glowered. “I take great offense at the snickering. Never do I forget one who snickers.”

  “Again, I apologize, Gabor. Are you a…troll?”

  “A troll?!” Blood shot up to his fleshy cheeks, and he made pudgy fists with his hands. “A troll! I ought to have s
mothered your horrid face with my master’s pillow!”

  Cale held up his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. Are you a leprechaun?”

  And, just as quickly, Gabor blushed, a smile stretching the corners of his big mouth. “Now you charm me, Master Red Dragon. I’m not that gorgeous. But you are getting closer!”

  “Okay….” He got it at last. He remembered seeing a picture in one of Cameron’s old textbooks. “Gabor the Goblin.”

  “Very good!” Gabor clapped his hands together, his grin wide. “You are not completely empty-headed!”

  Cale frowned. “Hey, how about no name-calling?”

  Gabor sighed. “No one ever likes to have any fun. So serious. Everyone is so serious.”

  “No time for fun, Sir Goblin.” He remembered how much they liked titles. “I need to find Ava.”

  “I told you, she’s at the windows.”

  “Can you take me there?”

  He scoffed. “No, I can’t take you there! I said they’re at the windows.”

  Cale rubbed his temples and sat on the edge of the bed, until he remembered who it belonged to, and sprung back up.

  Goblins. He racked his brain for more information. He knew he would have to be very specific, or they’d talk in circles all day. Why does Sirce want a goblin to do his bidding for him? Why not an elf or someone a bit more charming? Less pungent. “Gabor,” Cale said very slowly, choosing his words. “Why can’t I go to the windows?”

  “Because.” Gabor waddled over to the glass he’d been keeping on the nightstand for Cale. “The windows are not for ordinary dragons. Only the greys can go to them, and each grey has his or her own. They sit at them and pour out balance into the world. It is their greatest responsibility and a very grave matter.”

  “But Ava can go?”

  “Master Red Dragon,” he looked at Cale as though he pitied his poor intellect, “Lady Phoenix can do whatever she pleases.”

  Cale took the glass from the Goblin, glad to have something to finally quench his thirst. He frowned into it. The water had already frozen over. “Is it a metaphor, Gabor, or is there actually something they pour out of those windows?”