The Ancients had chosen to meet Septern on the banks of the River Tere, allowing those with the need to rest in its calming flow. In addition to Sha-Kaan, invited as the one who found Septern, three Ancients met the human. Ara-, Dun- and Los-Kaan. All had been in the last flights of their long lives, scales fading from gold to a dull brown, wings drying making flying a painful and difficult process.
Septern had walked into the middle of them, craning his neck to see their faces, his eyes trailing over their massive bodies, down to the tails which twitched impatiently. Ara-Kaan had opened his mouth to speak but Septern had spoken first, chilling the proud thought in Sha-Kaan’s mind. Ara had been an ill-tempered dragon at best and the current Great Kaan felt the shudder of ages through him as he remembered what followed . . .
‘—I’m not happy about this,’ said Septern. ‘I arrive in good faith, after winning the trust of the Avians to let me build a rip in their land and they are rewarded by wanton destruction by your . . . your minions or whatever you call them. It was their fatal misfortune that my incomplete knowledge of the workings of dimensional magics in their land led to it being far larger than I had intended. Then, as if that’s not—’
‘Silence!’ thundered Ara-Kaan. ‘Skies fall but you humans do not know when to hold your feeble tongues.’ The sound of Ara’s voice cracked across the valley, once again dumping Septern from his feet. He looked straight into Ara’s eyes, defiant.
‘I understand that I’m important or I would already be dead,’ he said.
‘Then you understand very little.’ Ara’s long neck snaked out, his old head, eye ridges blistered, dim blue eyes losing their lustre, coming to rest directly in front of Septern’s. ‘We already have the means to travel to your dimension, which you presented to us. There will be other humans we can talk to.’
‘Then burn me and find out how wrong you are,’ said Septern, getting back on his feet.
Ara cocked his head.
‘No!’ shouted Sha-Kaan. ‘Great Kaan, don’t.’ Ara-Kaan paused, one eye swivelling to fix on Sha-Kaan.
‘Hear him,’ said the young dragon. ‘He has mastered controlled dimensional linking. He deserves some respect.’
‘He is human,’ said Ara dismissively.
‘And here, where he shouldn’t be,’ said Dun, speaking for the first time. ‘Hear him.’ Ara relaxed his neck.
‘Speak, human,’ he said.
‘Thank you,’ said Septern tersely. ‘Please allow me to introduce myself. I am Septern, nominally a mage of the College city of Dordover in Balaia. However, I do not feel allegiance to any one College, having been blessed with an understanding of multiple disciplines.’
‘Excellent,’ said Los-Kaan, his tail absently sweeping water over his back as he sat half in, half out of the River Tere. ‘And so does this mean that more than one of these multiple disciplines has an understanding of dimensional magics, as you would call them?’
Septern looked hard at Los-Kaan, presumably weighing up the meaning behind the question. He shrugged.
‘Yes, in theory, all four Colleges have the knowledge to develop dimensional magics. It is a subject that crosses the ethical boundaries quite freely. However, it is the individual mage who has the responsibility to forward research and precious few work in this field. Dimensional theory is new and so is mistrusted.’
‘But not by you,’ said Ara gruffly.
‘Of course not,’ said Septern, smiling. ‘I originated it.’
‘Really,’ said Ara. He stretched his huge jaws, displaying his rank of yellowed fangs. ‘Tell me why we are so wrong about your gateways.’
‘Because when I went through the rip to witness your attempted genocide, I made some adjustments to the rip magic. Now, the starting point of your travel is crucial and since the rips to the Avian dimension and Balaia are linked, you have to start in Balaia to travel back there. So the rips are useless to you, aren’t they?’ Septern’s smile became patronising, an expression Sha-Kaan had seen among the Vestare.
‘By the Skies, if I wasn’t sure you were speaking the truth, I would burn the flesh from your crumbling bones,’ spat Ara.
‘That’s your answer to everything, is it? Set light to the offender and hope they learn their lesson? It’s no wonder you’re fighting your Skar and destroying your own lands.’
‘Meaning?’ demanded Dun-Kaan. The Ancient’s tongue flicked out of his age-paled face, moistening the lids of his eyes.
‘Ever tried employing this?’ Septern pointed to his mouth. ‘You sound bright enough; why don’t you talk?’
‘Ah,’ said Los-Kaan. ‘There speaks one who knows nothing of our history. The time for talking has long since passed. Conquest is the only way to secure peace now.’
‘Gods falling, you sound like a Wesman,’ said Septern.
‘A who?’ asked Los-Kaan.
Septern shook his head. ‘The race in Balaia who are threatening my lands and people. But never mind that. What is it you want?’ His tone was suddenly impatient. ‘And why do you sound like you’ve met humans like me before?’
‘Not quite like you,’ said Sha-Kaan. There was the nodding of heads and feelings of humour arose in his mind.
‘Why don’t you answer the human’s questions, Sha?’ said Dun-Kaan. ‘It will be a good test of your knowledge.’
‘Yes, Dun-Kaan, it will be my honour.’ Sha-Kaan swept his head low, extending his neck before snapping it back to the formal stretched ‘s’ shape, head angled down to look directly at Septern more than a dozen feet below him.
‘We flatter ourselves that we are complex beings trapped in ungainly bodies that only fulfil their potential in flight. There are many among us who crave the freedom of hands that could carve and build, and a size and flexibility that allows travel everywhere,’ began Sha-Kaan.
‘But the trade-off with size is the loss of power,’ said Septern.
‘And we would no longer be dragons,’ agreed Sha-Kaan. ‘So the craving is limited to those moments when we watch the Vestare at work on the structures we would love to build ourselves.
‘But there is much more to us than size, strength and language. We feel the press of dimensions, we can travel them without the aid of magic such as yours and we need the energies they provide us to survive and develop.’
‘So you don’t need me.’
‘Ah but we do.’ Sha-Kaan moved closer, relaxing his torso and leaning forward, his shadow covering Septern. ‘Because to leave our dimension without the knowledge of where we will finish is a risk none but the foolish and desperate would take.’
‘But you’ve seen other humans,’ said Septern. ‘So you must have been to Balaia.’
‘We receive visions. All dragons do. I have seen the sights of countless dimensions, including yours, when the alignment has been right and they have passed through the sphere of my psyche. But for all we see, we cannot travel to these places to establish links unless we are shown the way or manage to arrive with luck after a blind flight.’ Sha-Kaan settled on to his stomach, folding his front legs in front of his chest, scales glittering gold as they caught the reflection off the river. Septern moved back to accommodate him. ‘We want you to show us the way to your dimension.’
Septern scoffed. ‘I’m sure you do,’ he said. ‘But if you don’t mind, I think I’ll pass on the sort of help you offered the Avians. I like my land and at least some of the people in it.’
‘Stubborn human,’ hissed Ara-Kaan.
‘I beg your pardon?’ snapped Septern. ‘Give me one good reason why I should invite you and your fire to my dimension.’
Sha-Kaan closed his eyes and drew breath slowly, amazed that this human was being allowed to speak with such disrespect to the Ancients. Though the fact was that from his perspective, he had some valid points.
‘Because another Brood will eventually find the path to your dimension, and your destruction and not protection may be their desire,’ he said evenly.
‘Why?’
‘A Bro
od can only melde with one dimension,’ said Dun-Kaan as if to a slow child. ‘Any Brood finding a second, unprotected dimension, and believe me we all look, will destroy its critical fabrics to stop it falling into enemy hands. If your dimension and the Brood Kaan melde, we can protect you by shielding your location from all other Broods.’
‘And you just expect me to believe that you don’t already have a . . . um . . . melde-dimension of your own?’ Septern raised his eyebrows.
‘We don’t quite follow.’
‘How do I know you aren’t waiting for my help just to destroy Balaia?’
Dragons couldn’t smile like humans but the space in and among the quartet filled with the feelings that would lead humans to both smile and laugh. Indeed, Septern was caught up in the emotional outflow and couldn’t suppress a physical reaction.
‘What? What is it?’
‘Let me assure you, Septern of Balaia,’ said Ara-Kaan, ‘that had you been a representative of an enemy melde-dimension, your mind would have been closed to us, marking you as such; and your charred ashes would be blowing thinly around the dust of Keol while we plundered your dimension through the gateways you built.’
‘I can see why you would find that funny,’ said Septern, stone-faced. ‘All right; assume I accept what you say. How do you protect us and, more importantly, what do you expect in return?’
‘An intelligent question and one that might interest you as a student of dimensional theory,’ said Sha-Kaan. ‘Every dimension, and every living thing of that dimension, has a signature that marks them. We can divine the signature by melding minds with you.’
Septern nodded for Sha-Kaan to continue. ‘Once the signature is learned by the Brood, the psyche of the Kaan can shield the location of your dimension from enemy Broods. When we are stronger with the flow of energy from your dimension, we can stop other Broods receiving visions from Balaia.’
‘You tap the energy of my dimension?’ Sha-Kaan could see that Septern, despite his suspicion and position, was becoming interested.
‘Yes,’ said the young dragon. ‘Interdimensional space is random energy and it has no direction. We feel it, all dragons do, but the chaos can only sustain our minds. A living dimension is the coalescing of energy into coherent form. To find a melde-dimension is the dream of every Brood, because it can be used to improve the minds of the host Brood, making them stronger, better breeders, more plentiful and longer lived.
‘Yours, with its magic, understanding of theory, however basic, and sheer life energy, is particularly prized.’
Septern thought for a long time, his brow creased, his hands wringing together. Sha-Kaan found the sight captivating. The Vestare, though valuable, did not have the mental capacity of the human and he found this mage fascinating, touching the periphery of his active mind and finding a pulsing power there.
Septern looked up at Sha-Kaan. ‘This signature. Once you have that, is the melde complete?’
‘It is the principal step but it does not make the melde functional,’ replied Sha-Kaan. ‘Put most simply, the signature gives us the light by which to navigate to and from this dimension, assuming the alignment remains constant. Your dimension calls you too but your mind cannot hear its song.’
Septern nodded. ‘That makes sense,’ he said. ‘But I have other ways of divining the location of dimensions or why am I here?’
‘Indeed,’ said Ara-Kaan, bringing his head in close once again. ‘We will be very interested to find out your methods.’
Septern smiled. ‘Another time. So tell me, how do I help you form the melde?’
Sha-Kaan breathed out through his nostrils, the twin streams of air playing over Septern’s face. ‘There is nothing simpler,’ he said. ‘Know that I am about to enter your deepest mind and don’t fight me. That way leads to pain and your mind is too valuable to damage.’
‘I’ll do my best.’ Septern sat on a grass-covered stone. ‘Wait one moment.’ He closed his eyes. ‘My mind is open. Just like before spell preparation. It’s as good as you’re going to get.’
‘Excellent,’ said Sha-Kaan. ‘I won’t harm you so long as you don’t resist.’
‘Whenever you’re ready.’
Mirth again. ‘It is done,’ said Sha-Kaan. ‘Your mind is remarkable. There is a great deal we can learn from each other.’
‘Now what?’ asked Septern, a doubtful look on his face.
‘Now we can travel to your dimension. Now we can do with you exactly as we choose.’ Ara-Kaan’s tone was edged with cold and Sha-Kaan knew a moment of fear before realising it was the Ancient’s way of playing a joke. Septern’s face had gone sheet-white but the Great Kaan brought his colour back. ‘Fortunately for you, Sha-Kaan told you the whole truth. What we need from you is more people with minds open like yours. Sha-Kaan will show you another way home and instruct you in exactly what we require.’
And the meeting was over then and there. The Ancients moved away without another word and Sha-Kaan was left with Septern, the first Dragonene of Balaia.
‘Come,’ he said. ‘Let me show you how our dimensions will melde.’
Sha-Kaan’s attendant ran into the dome of Wingspread, disturbing his memory.
‘My Great Kaan, I am ever your servant.’
Sha-Kaan raised his head a little from the damp ground. The Vestare in front of him was tall for his kind, perhaps five Balaian feet and, though now in late middle age, still retained the sturdy, muscular frame that typified his race. His hair, the colour of dried Flamegrass, pale and flecked yellow, was cropped above his large and receptive ears, reaching to the nape of his neck and close to his eyebrows. His eyes, the dominant feature, large, round and deepest blue, took in the reduced light of the dome with no lessening of clarity. The braided beard, a mark of his rank as Attendant to the Great Kaan, hung down to his chest.
Connecting minds, there was no need to speak.
‘Your summons had an edge of urgency, Sha-Kaan.’
‘Humans will be coming here, Jatha, through the Septern gateway. They must not be lost to us. Their signature is our melde; we need their aid.’
Jatha swallowed hard, the sweat on his forehead not purely due to the heat in the dome.
‘When will they come?’
‘Soon. I cannot be more specific. Theirs is a difficult path to the far side of the gateway. But you must organise Vestare to meet them now. There can be no risk of them reaching the gate before you. Travel there yourself and take enough with you to defend yourselves on the ground. There will be no cover from the Brood. It would draw too much attention. You must leave when the orb has risen three more times.’
‘Your wish, Great Kaan.’ Jatha bowed his head. ‘I would ask why they are coming?’
‘They are charged with repairing the damage they created in our sky and removing the risk to the Brood.’
‘A difficult task, Great Kaan,’ said Jatha.
‘Yes,’ said Sha-Kaan slowly. ‘Yes.’
‘You’re troubled. Can they succeed?’
Sha-Kaan stared at Jatha, his eyes blinking very slowly, his tongue flickering over his lids.
‘I don’t know,’ said the dragon. ‘They are humans. They are frail but believe themselves strong. But there is something they have. Resilience. And inventiveness. And they have a magic that can aid us.’ Sha-Kaan settled his head back on the ground, reaching for some Flamegrass. ‘I need to rest. Go now and organise yourself. I will eat as darkness falls.’
Sha-Kaan let his mind drift again. Septern’s reign as the first Dragonene had been short-lived. There had always been something dangerous and uncontrolled about the great human and ultimately it had meant that the Kaan never learned his dimensional location secrets.
A Vestare had taken Septern to the Melde Hall, a vast underground structure only half-lodged in the Kaan’s dimension. Sha-Kaan himself had shifted into the hall whose doors, like those of Wingspread, would not accept anything the size of a dragon.
‘Doors big enough to admit a dragon on fo
ot are both unmanageable and unnecessary,’ Sha-Kaan had said in reply to Septern’s question. ‘I don’t believe I have to describe the effort not only to make them but to operate them.’
The Melde Hall had been built in hope and expectation of the discovery of a suitable melde-dimension. With the news that the event had finally occurred, celebrations had been delayed while the Hall had teemed with Vestare readying it for ceremony, their shouts echoing into its depths. Several hundred had poured in and even so they barely made an impact on the emptiness. They had polished mosaic and marble, swept dust from statues and stocked the Hall, which could comfortably accommodate two hundred dragons, with Flamegrass.
Sha-Kaan recalled that he had touched the mind of Septern then, feeling the reactions of the Balaian mage . . .
Septern remained suspicious, despite the apparent friendliness of Sha-Kaan in particular. His bravado masked a deep anxiety over what he had blundered into and the price Balaia would have to pay for his agreement with the Brood Kaan.
The hall he was standing in was the single biggest building he had ever seen, hundreds of feet long, its roof lost in the dark, the braziers lining the walls only emphasising its vastness. He could barely see the opposite arch from the one in which he stood and it was only as his eyes slowly adjusted to the gloom and distance that he realised that the series of eighteen arches, each wide enough to admit the largest dragon, led to yet more space on which he couldn’t focus.
Septern took a few steps into the Melde Hall, heading right around its periphery, taking in the statues of dragons and portrayals of battles, laid out in mosaic, that punctuated the enormous stone openings.
The arches themselves were wide and tall, each better than thirty-five feet wide by twenty high. The surrounds were carved with leaf and plant motifs, great creepers denoting growth, winding their way to twine, in flower, at each apex. Septern moved to the nearest arch. Looking within, totality and oblivion clashed in his mind. He’d felt the sensation before and it set his heart racing.
The Raven Collection Page 65