The Summer Dragon

by Todd Lockwood

  I nodded, fighting back a sudden rush of tears.

  “Good girl. We’ll figure something out. This isn’t over, not as long as you’re still here. But first we have a banquet to host, and then one final task to perform.” He left the broodhouse, and Tauman followed.

  In the paddock, somebody small and boisterous caromed off one of the dragon-doors with enough force to rattle it. Happy growls ensued.

  Jhem and I rolled the cliffside doors shut. They wouldn’t be opened again for months.

  TEN

  I MADE MY WAY to the manor house unnoticed, bathed quickly, and changed into my best silks and leathers. I started for the door but stopped in the shadow of the hall where I might observe unseen.

  Kaisi’s family came every Brood Day to help with the preparations and cooking. They had set a long table with dinnerware and flowers in the main yard, between the manor and the winter stable. The deer from yesterday’s hunt would be the featured course, one dish among many.

  I was late. The first course of seasonal greens was being removed. Rov was just sitting down. I could tell by the expressions at the table that news of Cuuloda had been the first order of business. There was Dren, the head of the fisher’s guild, with his sun-scarred neck and scraggly beard. Beyond him were several of the local farmers and their wives, weeping or with faces buried in their hands. Bek the smith sat with his gigantic arms crossed, chin down. Carpenters and leatherworkers whose names I couldn’t recall shook their heads in disbelief.

  Father stood at the head of the table, dressed in his finest black and purple, to match Shuja’s hide. My place was four seats to his left, after Tauman, Jhem, and Darian. There was an empty seat to his right, where Mother would have been seated. My last memories of her surged at the sight of her empty chair. What would she have said in this morning’s inquiry? Would she have fought for me?

  That train of thought summoned ghosts too near to my grief. I pushed it down. I composed my brave face.

  The next seat was reserved for Mabir, as the spiritual leader of Riat. To his right sat the most honored guest—Rov, the leader of the acquisition. Bellua sat to Rov’s right, with Marit and Janno beyond. The rest of the table was peopled with locals and their families. I noted with distaste that this arrangement would have put me opposite Bellua. I took a step backward into deeper shadow.

  Father raised his hands until the table was quiet. “Not all the news is dire. As some of you already know, an amazing thing has happened. Perhaps it’s a good omen not only for Gurvaan, but also for Riat. I hope it will balance the bad news that Captain Rov brought us. My tongue is ill-equipped for this, so I turn to the good dhalla Mabir.”

  Murmurs chased down the length of the table as Mabir lifted his ancient frame to a standing position. “Friends! Shhh! Shhh! Attend!

  “These are indeed auspicious times for Riat and for all of Gurvaan. Something has occurred which even I find hard to believe, except that I’ve seen the evidence with my own eyes. The young son of the broodmaster has been part of an amazing occurrence, the like of which is related only in song and scripture.”

  Mabir had already written me out of the instant legend. But why? To protect me? To quiet the story of my evil omen? In fear of the Ministry?

  “Only once in many generations will the Most High visit the faithful. But yesterday, on an outing in the forest—indeed, while visiting the ancient temple of Cinvat—young Darian ad Magha saw Getig, the Summer Dragon, whose sign I observed with my own eyes this very morning in the ruins!”

  Mabir had used the term “Most High,” which could refer to Korruzon alone or to an entire older pantheon, carefully neither refuting nor confirming Bellua’s view. But the merihem’s face grew darker as the table erupted with questions. He jumped to his feet. “Good people! Please! We’ll answer what questions we can. But this is what we know: Clothed in the colors and scents of summer, adorned as the Summer Dragon, the Most High and Benevolent Korruzon visited your valley. The sighting was brief but undeniable. The young master returned home immediately with the report, and today we have confirmed the truth of it from evidence in the temple ruins. There was no direct communication, but the appearance alone is a message to all of Gurvaan.”

  The table buzzed with amazement, but I stood in rekindled fury. My part in the day’s events had been painted out entirely. No direct communication? Getig’s eyes still pierced me to the core, even in memory. The event was scarcely one day old, but already it sounded like fiction.

  The throbbing anger in my skull drowned out Bellua’s voice. I clung to the wall as one of Kaisi’s sisters hurried in with an empty tray. “You’re late, miss, you’d best . . .” Her words followed her out of hearing into the kitchen. Duty demanded that I go to my seat at the table, but what I really wanted to do was throw Bellua off the cliff. I was trapped between duty to my family and duty to my Temple, between fury and fear. I couldn’t move.

  Bellua’s voice made itself heard again, preparing the villagers for my departure before he dragged me to Avigal, to twist my words before the Council or Korruzon Himself. And after that, what?

  I wouldn’t go.

  Kaisi’s sister dodged me as I turned into the house, barely lifting a tray laden with meat out of my way. “Miss Maia! Where are you . . . ?”

  I turned down a hall, into my sleeping chamber and grabbed a knapsack off the wall.

  From outside came cheers and then a rumble like thunder as the villagers thumped the table with their fists. Applause. Mabir, or maybe Bellua, had just announced that Darian would receive a qit of his own. My cheeks grew hot, but I went to the window to peek out. I could see almost everyone.

  It seemed as if the gathered neighbors and friends were looking for something hopeful and encouraging to grab hold of in the wake of Rov’s awful news. Everyone was standing, and Darian’s cheeks were visibly red even from here. It was surreal.

  Mabir raised his arms until the ovation died down. “My friends, people of Riat, Broodmaster Magha and family, honored guests. Let us say a prayer of thanks.”

  All heads bowed as Mabir closed his eyes.

  “Most High, we receive Your message with faith in Your benevolence, praise for Your wisdom, and fear of Your strength. Your mighty wings shield us. Your talons, like spears, defend us. Your eyes, like firebolts, regard us with love and grace. You are the Original Flame that flickers in our hearts. We are Your servants in this wicked world, and so we accept Your commandments with humility. Your ways are a mystery, not for us to question. From beyond the infinite You come, and from You come all things. So as You have commanded, let it be done.”

  The assembled voices repeated, “Let it be done.”

  I shook my head, my lips twisted. Who had so commanded? This was a sham, the first endorsement of a lie.

  “A toast!” Tauman raised his goblet high. “To Korruzon and the Emperor, to country and village, to the aeries, and to Darian!”

  I could take no more. I turned with my knapsack to start packing. Some things would be essential—extra clothes, food—which meant a raid on the kitchens at some point. A knife. I would want a crossbow from the armory in the front hall, too. I would have to wait until darkness.

  And then what? I sat on my bed with a jacket stuffed halfway into the sack. I had no idea what I would do or where I would go. Not yet. I had only a memory of the Summer Dragon’s fathomless gaze.

  What I really needed was a plan. As the cheers and laughter continued outside, I sat with my head in my hands, thinking.

  ELEVEN

  DARIAN KNOCKED ON the door and pushed his head in.

  “What?” I said, pushing my knapsack under the bed with a foot.

  “Can I come in?”

  I shrugged and waved him in.

  He went to the window and looked out, his hands seeking his pockets, then each other, then his pockets again. He seemed unable to decide which emotion to feel, eyebr
ows and lips contending in mismatched confusion. “The banquet is over,” he offered at last.

  “Good.”

  “Aru is sleeping, so I slipped out for a minute. Aru is what I named—”

  “I heard.”

  His face settled in an unhappy frown. “Are you all right? Are you going to be all right?”

  I sat on the edge of the bed and studied my boots. “What do you care?”

  “Maia, I’m as stunned as you are. I don’t want you to go. I didn’t know Bellua was going to be so . . . be such a . . . it all just happened so—”

  “You promised me that I wouldn’t take the blame alone. You promised! But you left me hanging in that inquisition this morning. And the only thing I did was find a dead dragon. I didn’t kill it; I only found it. But all the reward goes to you. All the blame goes to me! It’s Mother’s fall all over again, and you don’t care!” I stood and shoved him—hard—and he stumbled back.

  I expected him to shout at me or return the shove, but he only stood, wiping his hands on his jerkin as if he might brush my anger off. “That’s unfair, Maia.”

  “I took all the blame then, too.”

  “I told you, you don’t remember it right, you—”

  “She scolded me. She said, ‘Maia, I’m disappointed in you. Get your feet on the ground, girl, and start pulling your weight. Don’t be a burden.’ And when I tried to apologize, she interrupted me and said, ‘A dragon handler with her head in the clouds is cursed.’”

  “That’s an old Dragonry saying. I’ve heard Father say it. It doesn’t mean any—”

  “It was the last thing she ever said to me.”

  Darian shifted uncomfortably. “She didn’t mean it. She was just angry. She scolded me too, just so you know. She told me, ‘Maia is your little sister, and I need you to help keep her in line.’ And that was the last thing she ever said to me.”

  “And now Bellua practically says the same thing.”

  “What?”

  “You heard him. He said that giving me a dragon would be inviting a curse into Riat. Because I tripped on your lantern. And found a dead dragon in the forest.”

  His shoulders slumped, then shrugged.

  I dropped onto the bed and buried my face in my hands. I’d raised the specter of Mother’s death again. “Please leave me alone.”

  He touched my shoulder, but I slapped his hand away.

  “You’re right,” he said. “I was supposed to look out for you, but I didn’t. I got caught up in my own excitement, and I let you down. I’m sorry, Maia. I really am.” For once he sounded sincere, and a glance at him confirmed it. His eyes were red like they were when he tried to hide unmanly tears. But I wasn’t ready to give up my anger. I needed it still. “Will you go?”

  Instead, he sat next to me. “You know what I think?” He stared at the floor. “I think the Summer Dragon came for you. Not for us and not for me, but for you. That’s what I think.” Then he stood and headed toward the door but paused and said over his shoulder, “Father wants me to tell you that it’s time to deliver the qits, and yes he wants you there, with your ‘brave face’ on.”

  He left quietly.

  The first of the Ministry cages clanked into the grapples on the gantry platform as I entered the paddock. The qits were milling happily, though I could see that they were weary from a long, napless day. They were excited to be out so late in the evening, with no comprehension of the reason the nurse dragons corralled them all in the gantry end of the paddock.

  Our parent dragons were absent, secluded in the winter stables with Darian and his qit, where Mabir would be giving the new bondmates the first ring in their bond marks. Villagers surrounded the gantry, watching, giddy with drink and anticipation.

  I looked for the little brown-and-buff, but couldn’t find her. One of the nurse dragons ushered babies into the cage with deft, patient applications of wing and forefoot. It was Bellua’s dragon. He was there. How appropriate. He saw me, held my gaze for a long moment, then turned back to his nurse at work.

  My fury was gone. I didn’t want to think about him anymore. Jhem spotted me and came to stand silently at my side.

  The first cage was filled, and the door clanged shut. The little female wasn’t among them. Father and Tauman manned the winch. They released the lock on the brake, and the cage started to descend. The gathered villagers cheered. Partway down the cliff face I heard the excited yips and mews of play turn to bleats of fear. I’d witnessed this part of Brood Day many times. It was the saddest, most emotional part of the day. But it had never been so personal before.

  It hit me abruptly—they were going off to war. They would be turned into killing machines, for the Empire. For Korruzon. I’d always known that, but this time it felt different, and I shivered.

  After a few minutes, the next empty cage rose to the top of the cable. The metallic clank of the closing locks echoed in my ears. It was happening too fast. Nurse dragons performed their careful shepherding act again, and another load of babies was directed into the cage. There were eight qits, mine not among them. That left eight babies in the paddock.

  I looked again for the little brown-and-buff, and found her easily now. She looked unsure. The bounce was gone from her gait, her head and tail low, her wings drawn close. She and the remaining qits had been unnerved by the cries of the others and shrank together into a tight group when the villagers cheered the descent of the second cage. They crawled over one another, crying for their parents, only to be buffeted gently toward the gantry landing by the nurse dragons. I felt a lump rising in my throat and clutched my hands close to my chest.

  The little brown-and-buff ran up to me, looked at me with her big, intelligent eyes. Despite myself, I reached down and cupped her chin in my hands. Her skin was soft and dry.

  “No, Maia.” Jhem’s arms surrounded me from behind, pulling my hands away.

  But it didn’t matter. The little girl of my desires didn’t respond to my touch the way Darian’s baby had. She flinched and dashed off, bleating unhappily. There was fear in her call now as the wing of a nurse dragon blocked my view of her.

  I knew in that moment that she was gone. That she would never be mine. Had never been mine. That all my hopes had been for nothing. A lump filled my throat.

  The qits grew more and more alarmed at the clatter and rattle of the gantry mechanism, as if they understood that it was the sound of their betrayal. The third and final cage locked into the grapples with a loud chank. The nurse dragons performed their tender act of treachery for the last time. I saw my girl stumble into the cage amongst the press of little bodies. Jhem squeezed me tight.

  “I don’t know what to do,” I whispered.

  “I know. I’m so sorry,” said Jhem quietly.

  The last baby was urged into the cage, and the door swung shut. The clatter of its closing educed a chorus of frightened cries.

  I started to shake. Tears brimmed in my eyes as the brake released and the cage descended. The crowd cheered long and loud. I saw a glimpse of her before the cage fell below the level of the platform. The timbre of the babies’ cries rose, as they finally understood that their world was forever changed. They no longer sounded concerned or lost, but terrified. I heard them above the noise of celebration and the clatter of the winch as they made the long descent down the cliff face.

  At last the tears broke through my resolve. Jhem held me tight as sobs convulsed me, my face buried in her shoulder long after their terror had passed beyond hearing.

  TWELVE

  I LAY IN BED, exhausted, but I wasn’t waiting for sleep. I was waiting for the manor to grow quiet.

  My world was such a mess. If the Summer Dragon hadn’t come to us, there would have been no controversy. The Ministry would have taken all the qitlings. Darian and I would have been disappointed, but life would have gone on as normal. Perhaps next year the timing woul
d be better. Perhaps Father would have thought better of me.

  But because Getig had come to us, we got to keep one dragon, and that unbalanced everything. And the simple accidents of tripping on a lantern and finding a dead dragon now gave Bellua reason to steal me from my home.

  Images and feelings chased each other in my head, but of all the debated signs and portents, the little brown-and-buff flinching at my touch seemed like the ugliest omen of them all.

  I kept coming back to Getig’s eyes. Those eyes. They summoned me still. I shook my head angrily to dislodge the thoughts. I needed a plan, somewhere to go that made sense. I ran a hundred different rescue scenarios through my head, in which I stole the brown-and-buff from the train and hid with her in the wilderness, or in another province. But I knew those were fantasies. Even if I could find a way to steal a qit from the ministry train, raising dragons required structure and resources. I would be a fugitive.

  She was lost to me. I wept for her again, convulsing in silent whispers until my neck and sides hurt. Finally a yawn broke my tears. I was exhausted, but I dared not sleep. I wiped my nose and cheeks on my sleeve, then realized that I hadn’t changed out of my good clothes. I wiped my sleeve on my breeches, trying to gather my thoughts.

  Half dreams intruded.

  Mother sat upon Grus, scowling. “A dragon handler with her head in the clouds is cursed.”

  Dragon bones defiled the altar in the ruins. We shouldn’t have left them there. “I didn’t kill it,” my dream self pleaded, “I only found it.”

  Bellua leered across the table at me. “First we must ascertain whether this was the Summer Dragon or some lie that you concocted.”

  “It’s not a lie!”