The Summer Dragon

  The broodmothers watched Aru and Keirr while I descended the stair from the storehouse to the ice vault to gather their dinners. I didn’t want to leave them alone—or to be alone—any longer than was necessary.

  In days long beyond counting, my ancestors built an aerie between the crags atop this spire of stone. Over centuries, the compound expanded to cover the pinnacle, including the broodhouse, the tack house, and all the other buildings. Eventually a new paddock floor built of stone enclosed it all, like a roof over the original aeries. A section of the ancient paddock was walled off as an ice vault to store food for dragons and humans alike. All the buildings on the aerie had trapdoors that led to the ice vaults.

  Six ancient dragon-sized doors on the north face of the pinnacle, three on the outside and three within, contained the original broodhouse platform between them. Relic of a time long gone. The space was filled with straw to deaden the air and hold in the cool temperatures. I don’t think we had ever opened those doors. Father talked about walling them up.

  Thin light filtering down the stair from the storehouse glistened on ice and damp stone. Echoes were sharp, but died quickly; the air seemed dank and lifeless. I hurried to my task.

  Similar to the gantry platform, we used a basket-hoist powered by the aqueduct to move goods up or down between the ice vault and the storehouse above. I loaded chickens and melons onto it quickly.

  When we were small, Darian and I would take turns riding the hoist when we thought we could get away with it, while one of us stayed behind to operate the water valve. If you did it right, the basket would shoot up and hit the stops above, and the rider would fly into the air. It made a racket, and we would laugh until our sides hurt—well worth the scolding we’d get when Father caught us. I couldn’t help but smile at the memories. Then my throat tightened. Please, Darian, get well.

  By midsummer, the ice in the vault became glassy and thin and wet, but the air still turned my breath to steam. Hopefully Fren would be well enough come winter to replenish the stores. I saw him in my mind’s eye, smiling a greeting, winter sun bright on his cartload of ice, sawn from the frozen high mountain lakes. He would ask me, How is your shadow doing?

  My heart began to pound, and I shook my head, but the nightmare images flooded in, churning like a whirlpool: Fren slumped in a pool of his own blood, clutching at a gash he could not hold closed. Darian crying out in pain, an arrow in his leg. Poppa dragon’s last shuddering breath. Bottomless fatigue, cries and screams and pain and fear, and behind it all a cold inferno of green flame contained in the corpse of a dragon, with a dead rider glaring balefully at me from its back, stalking me despite wounds that would have killed a normal man.

  At times it seemed like nothing that happened before our journey through the caves was real, that I’d been born into that howling darkness with a full set of false memories. I’d bolt upright in my bed, streaming sweat, unsure where I was, and realize that it was merely a nightmare. Then I would touch Keirr, picture the Summer Dragon in my head, and come out the other side. For a time.

  Mabir said it was a kind of madness that follows a harrowing experience. Father agreed. They said it would lessen with time, that I should concentrate on my qit.

  But right now I stood alone in the ice vaults, the ancient catacomb where dead flesh lay preserved, where sound and smell and time were suspended, and the shadows seemed to whisper my fears.

  Why was Bellua so threatened by me?

  I imagined him looming over Darian’s sick bed, his needles in his hand, tap-tap-tapping into my brother’s leg with his Temple Science. What was he doing, really?

  “Maia? Are you okay?” Jhem stood at the mid-point of the stair, the carcass of a white-faced deer across her shoulders.

  I didn’t remember picking up the burlap-wrapped packet of meat in my hands. I hadn’t heard Audax’s wings or the scrape of his talons on the stone ceiling, though I heard it now. Several dragons.

  “You look like you’ve seen a ghost, Maia. Are you okay?” She laid the deer on a shelf.

  I took a deep breath. “I’m okay,” relieved that my voice sounded strong. She came forward as if to embrace me, but I held the packet of meat up between us. She clasped my shoulders instead.

  “Jhem, I have to talk to you about something.”

  “Talking is good. It will help—”

  “No, no. I mean Darian. We have to get Darian and Aru together and make Mabir—”

  “Where’s the basket? Hello?” Tauman tramped down the stair. “We’ve got meat up here that needs to be on ice.” He spotted Jhem and me, took the packet out of my hands, and set it on the basket hoist. Then he yanked the lever to open the valve and set the small waterwheel spinning. The basket started to rise. “Let’s go! Work to do! Your baby and her mate are up there waiting.” He started toward the stair again but stopped and took a second look at Jhem and me. He frowned. “What?”

  I inhaled and set my jaw. “I have a plan.”

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  THE VILLAGE OF RIAT nestled in slumber below the cliffs as we glided silently down to the Temple. I rode with Jhem on Coluver, Keirr swaddled in the knapsack in my lap. Tauman had Aru strapped into the saddle pack on Athys, with only the little dragon’s head sticking out. We took the broodmothers because they were calmer than the sires, less likely to tussle with each other or make awkward noises. We needed to get in and quickly out again with as little fuss as possible.

  The Temple filled the top of a low shelf, outthrust from the cliff north of the Roaring. Though commanding a position of authority above the roofs of the village, it was accessible by an easy, winding path. Its ornate columns and curved roof were all but invisible in the half-light of dusk, but through stained glass windows, lights within sparkled out like will-o’-the-wisps in the darkness. The attached aerie hadn’t housed dragons since the death of Mabir’s mount, but would know dragons once again when Mabir’s acolyte, Tulo, was old enough to bond with one. The two wings of the building embraced a large courtyard where we landed with little more than a rush of air and the gentle scrape of talons on stone.

  “Quickly now,” I said, sliding down from the saddle with Keirr in her pack in front of me. I landed with a grunt—she had gained a lot of weight since our ordeal in the caves less than a week ago.

  Tauman handed Aru down to Jhem and me, then hopped down to join us. I’d been worried that he would disapprove of my plan or think it childish. But he’d only nodded as I explained the situation and recounted my conversation with Mabir. Darian and Aru needed to have their bond marks finished, I argued, and Darian was his brother, too. He wanted him whole and healthy and both qits successfully integrated into the aeries.

  At first, he insisted that Father be made aware of our plan, but Jhem and I disagreed with him. “Father will want to be direct about it, and then Rov will get involved and Bellua will find some way to make me the villain,” I said. “Then we’ll be locked in another long debate about signs and portents.”

  “We need someone to keep Bellua and Rov occupied while we get Darian,” said Tauman. “But you’re right. Forgiveness will be easier to get than permission. So instead, we wait until the next time Father takes them to the caves. They’ve been going almost every day. That should give us two hours or more.”

  The opportunity came that very evening. And so we found ourselves smuggling the aerie’s two new qits into the Temple, with a two-hour window. I hoped it would be enough time.

  The double doors of the Temple resounded with the drawing of the latch, then the left-hand door swung open. The scent of incense spilled out, and the acolyte Tulo emerged with a lantern, his dark hair in disarray, as if he’d been roused from his bed. Mabir appeared behind him, eyes wide.

  “I thought I heard wings. Dear sweet girl! What are you doing here—And Jhem, and Tauman!” When Aru moaned unhappily in Tauman’s grasp and the old dhalla saw Keirr too, his face changed, harden
ed. “I see. I understand.”

  “You have to finish Darian’s bond marks,” I said.

  “Of course,” he nodded. “I half expected you might try something like this, young scoundrel. Come in then. Come in. Tulo—see to their mounts. Water and feed them but don’t unsaddle them. Stay with them until we are done inside.”

  Tulo headed into the darkness with his lantern, and Mabir turned to enter the Temple. Tauman passed Aru to Jhem. “Can you handle this?”

  “Of course I can.” Jhem seemed hurt by his question, though I didn’t get why.

  Tauman considered for a moment, then nodded. “I’ll stay here and keep an eye out.”

  “Thank you.” Jhem kissed him quickly, then she and I followed Mabir inside as fast as our squirming burdens would allow.

  The dhalla led us by the light of ensconced candles through the great, circular nave of the Temple, large enough to accommodate his tinnen—his congregation—plus several adult dragons. We followed him past the raised dais in the center from which he delivered his sermons. Past wooden columns carved in the semblance of dragons, framing the now dark stained glass windows. To the arched doors of the inner chambers—Mabir’s offices and sleeping quarters, and the rooms that served as a hospital for the sick and injured. Taking a candle down from its niche beside the doors, he waved us inside.

  “Sweet, meddling Avar,” he said quietly as I passed, but his eyes didn’t scold. He looked uncertain but not scared as he had the last time I’d seen him. “You are a catalyst after all, aren’t you, girl? You vanquish any doubts I had that the Summer Dragon came for you. Change follows you.” He sighed. “But this feels right to me. I’ve cowered from Bellua too long and made too many compromises. And besides, you are my brood, and Riat, not Bellua or the distant Temple in Avigal or the seminary of the Maktaa.” He cupped my cheek with one dry, comforting hand as I passed.

  The air changed in the inmost chamber. I’d never been in this room before. It felt colder, smelled of sickness and sour decay, dried blood and ointments. Soft moaning came from the far wall, and I struggled in the dimness to see the source. Blocking the candlelight with my hand, I saw beds lining the outer walls, separated occasionally by wooden panels carved with dragon motifs. Mabir hobbled toward the source of the sound and waved me to follow. “Bring the qits. Hurry!”

  Now I made out shapes like tables and chairs. We came to a bed where a figure lay unmoving. It was Fren, I realized. “He sleeps now,” Mabir said quietly as we passed, “but he has been awake off and on. We spoke two days ago. He had a good day, though he struggles still.”

  We passed several empty beds before we came to Darian. He moaned hoarsely as we approached.

  Mabir pulled up a chair and table, and unrolled his graving tools from their leather pouch. “Bring Keirr, Maia.” I carried my qit into to the circle of candlelight and exposed her neck. Mabir nodded. “This will be the simplest mark to finish, so we’ll do it first—the final ring of script tying Keirr to Aru and he to her.” I held her and hummed the calming tune as the old dhalla gently but steadily tapped the words of bonding into her skin. She never squirmed once, even when the runes were applied directly over bone. Finally Mabir wiped her neck with an astringent cloth and said, “Done. Good job. Be proud of your little lady.” He smiled briefly, then signaled for Jhem to bring Aru.

  Jhem pulled up another chair and sat with Aru in her lap. Darian stirred and blinked against the candlelight, his hair matted and pressed to the side of his head.

  “Aru!” he said weakly but happily. Aru honked a greeting. Darian held out a hand and Aru licked it, his tail lashing back and forth. A lump rose in my throat. It was the first time he’d been conscious since our ordeal, but somehow Aru’s presence stirred him awake. Now I knew we were doing the right thing.

  “Roll over on your side, boy,” said Mabir, arranging his inks and needles on the bedside table. “We’re going to finish your bond mark now.” Darian did as he was told but seemed only vaguely aware, his movements cumbersome and awkward as he collapsed into his bed like a sleepwalker.

  Mabir warned us back with a glance. “Give us room. You may sing with us, but don’t crowd. Aru will be fine right here. He wants this mark finished, he’ll be no trouble.” Jhem set Aru down and backed away to sit on another bed. Little Aru laid his forepaws on Darian’s bed, as close as he could get without crawling in beside him, and laid his head on the mattress. Soon the tap-tap-tapping of Mabir’s tools began. Aru’s anxious whimpers settled into gentle keening that harmonized with Mabir’s chant.

  I found a chair and sat down, relieved to have Keirr’s weight off my shoulders and in my lap instead. The rhythmic tapping and singing had a calming effect on me. I could almost feel tension releasing from the room. The gloom receded somehow, as if the flames in the candles had gained confidence. Keirr sat very still, watching Mabir with intent curiosity. Little Aru’s head lay on the bed beside his bondmate, eyes closed in bliss.

  Before I realized that any time had passed at all, Mabir called to me, “Your turn.” My eyes must have been closed because the candlelight dazzled them.

  “What?”

  “This was your idea,” he said. “I haven’t stopped thinking about it. I know how to do it now. On Aru, I’ve hidden the runes atop other runes, angling in to deep, clean flesh. Eventually the marks will emerge, but for now they’ll be hidden in plain sight. It is insurance against disaster, and Bellua be damned. But now is when we must do it, while the blood runs free.”

  Jhem came to me with shock in her eyes. “What are you up to now?”

  I passed Keirr to her, still swaddled in the knapsack. “It’s something Mabir and I talked about before. I didn’t think he would to do it. I didn’t expect it, I just wanted Darian and Aru’s marks finished.”

  “Enough talking. Come,” Mabir said.

  Trembling, I dragged my chair to Darian’s bedside and sat. He had slipped into unconsciousness again, a bubble of spit on his lips. Aru still rested one paw on the blanket next to Darian’s head, the little dragon’s every breath punctuated with a sigh.

  Mabir looked at me, then at Jhem. “We will tie Maia to Aru, a shared bond mark. It will lend Aru strength while Darian recovers, and possibly save him from death if Darian should fail. This must be our secret.”

  Jhem and I traded glances, and she nodded apprehensively. “Of course,” she said.

  “And you, Maia, maintain the poultice on your neck as long as you can. When it falls off, wear your hair loose to cover your neck. Don’t let Bellua see it. I can’t use the same trick with your marks as I did with Aru. Human skin isn’t thick enough.”

  I nodded.

  “And don’t say anything to Darian. He needs to grow into these marks. They can’t be clouded with negative emotion. I know your brother, and he won’t like sharing his charge. He’ll adapt better if he’s given time to focus only on his bond with Aru. Eventually I will break the news to him myself.”

  With one more glance between us, Mabir began. I sat with my back to him as I had done only this afternoon. His tapping and singsong filled the silence. This was your idea, I told myself. You cannot wince or cry out. Where earlier I allowed memories to intrude on my courage, I found it strangely easy to evict all sensation. It felt more important, bigger than Keirr and me alone. The stakes were higher, and so I steeled myself more deeply. Now I held in my resolve the life of my brother’s bondling and perhaps of my brother, too. It did feel right. Mabir’s melody entered my soul. I heard Jhem in harmony. I summoned my voice and joined, and soon Keirr and then Aru entered the chorus. The calming tune aided me.

  It felt the same, at first, as it had this afternoon, but before long differences became clear. I knew that Aru was troubled even before he squirmed and keened in confusion. More surprisingly, I sensed Darian’s moan before it escaped his lips. These new marks drew on something broad and unfamiliar compared to the runes of my own
bond mark, and when Aru groaned in harmony with me in a moment of pain, I understood. This was the new language that Mabir had contemplated and applied, the additional circle of runes that bridged Aru’s ties beyond his bondmate, Darian, to me. These were the runes that Bellua might observe and know were foreign to the teachings of the Rasaal, the gravings that might damn Mabir, written into my flesh. Only then did I finally truly feel the dhalla’s fear. I was a conspirator now. Mabir and I were joined in defiance of the Rasaal. This might save Aru and his bond with Darian, but it might condemn us all, and Father, the aeries, and all of Riat with us.

  Mabir’s voice released me. “Done. Relax, young lady. Find a seat away from us, and I’ll finish with the last ring of marks on Aru and Darian.”

  I couldn’t speak. I only nodded in agreement as I rose from my chair. Sweat poured off my body and I shook uncontrollably. I wandered a distance away and slumped into a seat. I tried to understand what had happened, to fit it into a single context that made sense, but I couldn’t. I felt divided, elsewhere. The room spun. My own bond mark hadn’t affected me so. Aru and Darian both sighed with relief as Mabir’s tapping continued. Groaning, I began to raise a hand to my head . . .

  But a vise-like grip caught my arm and held it short. I jumped with surprise, turned, unaware that I’d sat next to Fren’s sickbed. His skin was pallid. Gray fingernails dug into my skin. But his eyes shone wide and bright in the flickering light. Not manic, but full. Full of fear, or hope, or revelation. I froze.

  His voice came in a papery rasp. “The dhalla told me of your adventure, Maia, and I knew. I knew that you were a sign to me.” I tried to pull my arm free, but his grasp held like iron, completely wrong for a man who had suffered wounds such as his. “A sign that Asha has not been displaced, that the world is still true. I will wear my scars with pride, for they helped to send you on your journey.”

  Asha? What did he mean? The man was delirious, certainly. As I tried to wrench my arm free, Fren went into a spasm, back arched, and his eyes rolled back into his head. He whispered as if into a void, “One will lead, one will follow.” Agony pinched his words and a tear escaped his clenched eyelids. “One will rise and one will fall.” A shallow semblance of awareness returned to his face, but he still spoke into the shadows. “There is darkness coming. Getig shows you grace, but it’s elusive. Your scars can hold you back unless your light is strong.”