The Summer Dragon

  The man muttered something else.

  “What?” said Bellua.

  Rov looked disappointed. “He wants to go home.”

  The man stopped breathing. The blood oozing from his wound trickled to a stop. Silence surrounded us, but my heart pounded in my ears.

  “How did it get into our heads?” I said.

  Bellua turned to me slowly. He was deathly pale, clearly shaken by all he’d witnessed. “What do you mean?”

  “How did it . . . ? Didn’t it . . . ? It was in my head, using my fear like—it didn’t do the same to you?” Panic rose in me as I realized that the thing had attacked only my mind. No one else’s. And I’d said so aloud, to Bellua. Given him a new weapon that he wouldn’t fail to use.

  But he said nothing. He only stared at me with shock. Or fear. Or horror.

  “That decides it,” said Captain Rov. “The caves will be sealed as soon as possible. Magha, I won’t be leaving immediately after all. I can’t leave now. I’m sorry, but I’ll have to draft Tauman as a courier to Avigal with requisition orders.” He went to the other downed militiaman, hefted his limp body over one broad shoulder with one arm. Rov winced, and I saw a Harodhi arrow in the other. “Let’s get these men outside.”

  Father only nodded, then gathered the dead townsman in his arms. Bellua struggled but finally lifted the third. I took Mabir’s arm. We left through the Menog portal, Cheien and Shuja bringing up the rear. No one spoke again until we’d emerged into the full light of day.

  THIRTY-ONE

  WE LEFT THE BODIES of the militiamen on the porch of the cave, in the care of their fellow townsmen, with a promise from Rov that he would return before nightfall. On the flight home, I said nothing, and Father asked no questions. He only crushed me in the protective circle of his arms and cursed once or twice under his breath.

  I hurried to the winter stable as soon as we landed, leaving Jhem to help Father with Shuja’s saddle. I rushed past Cheien as he landed with Rov and Tulo. Darian wasn’t around, and I didn’t look for him. I only wanted to see Keirr, to wrap my arms around her and sob into her neck.

  I thought I’d improved, that the worst of my trauma lay behind me, but my wounds were opened anew. Keirr licked the tears from my face and wriggled happily. Her cheerful purring soon calmed my shakes. When she mowped eagerly for her dinner, I was finally able to dry my eyes.

  She cocked her head at me. “Mowp, Maia. Hwssh.”

  “A sentence! You funny girl!” I caressed her cheek. “Well, that deserves a reward. Fish it is.”

  We crossed the bridge toward the paddock, but as we approached the corner of the storehouse, I heard Bellua’s voice. I pulled up short and restrained Keirr with a silencing hand wrapped around her muzzle.

  Mabir spoke. “Don’t make a false correlation. You don’t know that it has anything more than coincidence to do with Maia.”

  “Then why was it in her head and not yours or mine? What is it about her that puts her at the center of . . .”

  “Of what?” Jhem’s voice.

  Bellua snapped, “I don’t know! Whatever this is. First a manifestation of Korruzon in Summer’s garb, then the business with Horrors, and now . . .” His words trailed off again.

  I kicked myself for saying anything at all about the creature’s presence in my mind, in my mind and no other, sifting through my fears the way a dog paws through garbage. Had it spoken to me, too, using my own inner voice? Or did it simply evoke my fears with language I supplied myself? The memories were muddled, elusive. Was I losing my mind? I felt that word nibbling at the edge of thought again—curse. Its best attack had been an image of my mother. I pushed the thought aside angrily.

  Father’s voice. “You imply that her presence summoned it. That’s unfair.”

  “That’s not what I said, only that once more she is present at a moment of crisis and has contact with things that none of the rest of us have contact with.”

  I’d heard enough. I marched around the corner. “Was that a shadow of Korruzon too? Was it one of the Avar?” My voice cracking.

  Bellua paused for a moment, then spoke with measured cadence. “That was most certainly not a shadow of Korruzon.”

  “Then what was it? It attacked me, in my mind, like someone else telling me what to think, or feel. It used my own fears to try to frighten me, blind me. It didn’t do the same to you?”

  Bellua shook his head.

  “It didn’t try to get inside your thoughts?”

  “No.”

  Father’s hands braced my shoulders from behind me. “I saw it drop at least two of the Harodhi just by engulfing them. But I didn’t see whether they got up again.”

  If it had touched me like it did those men, would it have won full access to my mind? Is that why they fell screaming? Shuja and Cheien sounded confused when they met it in combat. The thing had entered my mind with precision and purpose, even if that purpose was a mystery. What was it? I didn’t want to call it “the thing” forever. I needed to know what it was.

  “When the last of them fell, it seemed to lose strength,” said Father. “And it faltered when Maia shouted defiance at it. Then our dragons took it apart quickly. The last Harodhi to die claimed no bond with it before he died. He said it drove them.”

  Bellua spoke to Father. “It raises another question—or a familiar question: What was it that Darian and Maia really saw on—”

  “We’ve covered this ground,” said Mabir. “Your warnings are as shapeless now as they were then.”

  “What shape would you like? The shape of that aberration in the cave was ominous enough, don’t you think? ‘For the powers of deceit are ancient, and prosper in the shadow of ignorance.’” He looked at me as he said it, his voice rising. “So says the Rasaal. I should contact the Rasaal for guidance. I should take Maia back to Avigal.”

  Mabir spoke patiently. “Other scriptures offer an explanation for what it might have been: one of the Edimmu or Utukku, the dark manifestations of the Avar.”

  “That was not of the Avar.”

  “‘As day precedes night, so Light recedes, that Darkness may surely follow.’”

  Keirr’s head pressed under my hand. I cupped my fingers under her jaw to keep her silent while I waited to hear Bellua’s answer.

  “Heretical scripture,” he said. “I wondered if your visit to the caverns would awaken the past in your ancient heart. Be wary what you wish for. You do not want such a thing to manifest as real. And be wary what you reveal about your true yearning, old man.”

  My stomach tightened with concern for Mabir, but again he answered calmly. “If answers are needed, then should we not look everywhere? Or should we cling to assumptions and bring about our own demise?”

  “Do not question the teachings of the Rasaal.”

  Mabir nodded slowly. “I question only your assumptions.”

  “And I act only to prevent another calamity in the wake of this girl’s actions—”

  “Why don’t you trust me?” The words were out of my mouth before I’d considered them. “You know I didn’t ask for this. All I ever wanted was what I have right here.” I laid a hand on Keirr’s head.

  He stared at me for several seconds, anger threatening his careful facade. “It’s not you I distrust, Maia. Ultimately, it’s the darkness I fear. It seduces, and it lies. I am familiar with the old religions, and they are too accommodating. Evil pries at their cracks, slithers in through the flaws in their doctrines. For whatever reason, forces have gathered around your innocence, but it’s impossible for me to know what they are. I would hate for you to be exploited.”

  “How can you be so sure that you’re right?”

  “It’s not a question of right or wrong, Maia, but one of awareness and obedience. I have given my life to the Rasaal, and to Korruzon—who’s kept the Empire safe for hundreds of years. The Temple’s streng
th is in its structure, a bulwark against the darkness. We are stronger united, Maia.”

  “Then why do you fight us?”

  “I don’t fight—”

  “You do too. You’ve been horrible to me since the day you arrived. You don’t fool me. You interpret everything so that it fits your doctrine, and you leave no room for discussion.”

  “Because there is no room for discussion. I speak from knowledge. The Rasaal is the absolute true source of—”

  “What if it isn’t? What if you’re wrong?”

  His face hardened. “You’re a child. You don’t have experience enough to challenge—”

  “But Mabir does, and you don’t like it!”

  “I—”

  “We need to know what that thing in the cave was, and you are no help. What was it? What did it do to me? Why haven’t we seen it before? Why are you so much more concerned for the Rasaal than you are for the aeries, or Riat? Or me?”

  “I don’t fear for the Rasaal, but for your home province of Gadia and the empire that nurtures it. And for you.”

  “Then tell me what it was!”

  He stared down at me with eyes like granite, nostrils flared. “I don’t know what it was.”

  “How can you not know?” I could hear my voice rising and hated it, but I couldn’t stop. “What good is your rank and all your learning if you can’t explain what in Korruzon’s name that thing is?”

  He took a deep breath. “History is not an open book. Only some truths are clear to see.”

  “The truth scares you.”

  His face twitched, and I knew I’d touched a nerve. So I pressed it harder. “You only ever see what you’ve been told to see. You’re so afraid it was something that shouldn’t exist, something you shouldn’t believe in, you pretend it was something else.”

  “I don’t speculate. There is danger in assumptions—”

  “Mabir had a name for it, but you didn’t like it. Itimuu or Edukku or something.”

  He took a deep breath and let it out slowly through his nose. “History shows us this much: that the religions of the past were but stepping-stones to the present, many of them deeply flawed. That’s why they were branded as heresies, so that the cancer of their distortions could be cut out of the Temple body. Mabir risks much by entertaining them.” His eyes sparked. “And so will you, if you listen to him.”

  Father stepped between Bellua and me, putting his nose within an inch of Bellua’s. “You might want to reconsider before you think to threaten my children.”

  Bellua held his gaze until footsteps and the padding of a dragon turned our heads. Tauman and Darian approached us on the bridge, with Rannu and Aru right behind.

  “Gentlemen. Lady.” Bellua looked only at Jhem when he said it. Then he turned and sped across the bridge to the manor, where his rooms were. I didn’t watch him go.

  Father’s eyes followed him only for a second or two, then he patted my shoulder.

  Jhem touched my chin. “That was well said, Maia.”

  “Agreed,” said Father.

  Mabir nodded solemn agreement.

  Before I could respond, Tauman joined us. “What’s going on? Rov told me to gear up for a trip. Where are we going?”

  Father set his jaw grimly. “Just you. You’re going to Avigal.”

  Tauman’s eyes widened with surprise. “What? Why?”

  “Something new has come up, and Rov has drafted you as a courier to the capital to deliver requisitions.”

  “I thought he was going to—”

  “I’ll explain while we saddle Rannu. Jhem, have Kaisi put together provisions for a long journey: jerky, hulled oats, dried fruit. She knows what to do. We’ll need coin from the reserves, too. One hundred pieces of silver, ten of gold.”

  “Of course,” said Jhem and shared a look of concern with her husband. She would be responsible for three dragons while Tauman was away on Rannu, and weeks or months separated from her mate and her bonded human might leave Athys nervous or despondent.

  “Be sure to watch Audax,” he said. “Don’t let him get the upper hand. You have to be strong with him.”

  Jhem’s chin dropped, and she winced at the remark. I knew the incident that wounded Fren still weighed on her.

  “I’ll help,” said Father, fixing Tauman with a stern eye.

  “Athys and Grus have practically adopted Keirr,” I said. “I’ll engage Athys as much as I can.”

  She smiled at me. “Thank you.” She started to walk toward the manor but turned and threw her arms around Tauman, burying her face in his shoulder. “This is so sudden.” When she pulled away again to look at him, her eyes brimmed with tears.

  He kissed her forehead and stroked her hair. “I’ll be fine. You’ll see. We can say our farewells later.”

  “Do you trust me?” Her eyes were unsure and questing.

  “What choice do I have?” he said.

  Jhem’s face fell, and she broke into a run before she’d crossed the bridge, passing the Dragonry Captain at mid-span.

  Father leaned close to Tauman. “Tame your tongue, boy. You choose this moment to be her taskmaster? Learn some patience.”

  “Because you’re such a great example of patience?”

  Father squinted. “Your timing leaves—”

  “Gentlemen,” said Mabir, pointing.

  Father glanced over Tauman’s shoulder and sighed. “Save it. Here comes Rov.” Then he got in the last word, pointing at Tauman’s nose. “Make it right with her, boy.”

  Tauman’s eyes held Father’s, but he nodded. When he and Father turned to Rov their faces were composed, the clouds rolled back.

  Rov handed Tauman a scroll case sealed with black wax. “Take this to the Ministry of the Dragonry. I’ve requisitioned Dragonry regulars, plus masons and engineers to seal the caves.” Then he handed over another scroll, tied with black string, affixed to one end of the parchment with his seal. “This note authorizes you to pay for expenses along the way with Dragonry script. Get invoices for travel expenses, and they’ll be paid.”

  Father clapped a hand on Tauman’s shoulder. “I’d save that for a last resort. Use the metal first and keep a ledger. Keep a low profile while you travel; press gangs will look greedily on a lone dragon and rider. That’s bad enough. But men would kill for a letter such as that. Wear your sword and bow, so they know you’re not to be trifled with.”

  “I can do that.” Tauman looked grim.

  “He can’t be gone beyond Menog’s Day,” said Father. “That’s rutting season, so obviously I need Rannu here.”

  “He won’t be delayed. Following what happened in Cuuloda, this will be a priority.”

  Father looked Tauman in the eye, at the same time pulling his ring—his broodmaster’s signet—off his finger. He pressed it into Tauman’s hand. “Wear this. You’ll have a broodmaster’s signet and Rov’s seal as defense.”

  “And mine.” Bellua had returned, also bearing a scroll case but sealed with red string and red wax. He looked at me as he passed, but his expression was unreadable. He placed his scroll case into Tauman’s hands. “I prepared this for the next courier. I didn’t expect it would be you. I’m sorry about that. But take it to the Rasaal. Give it directly to Poritor, in the Ministry of Acquisitions. His name is inscribed on the outside.”

  “What is it?” asked Father.

  “A report, and a request for instructions from the Rasaal, and—depending on their orders—a request that some personal effects might accompany Rov’s requisitions. Nothing more.”

  Mabir nodded slowly. “You could go with Tauman. Why stay?”

  Bellua looked at Father and Tauman, then at Rov. But his gaze stopped on me.

  “How can I leave?” he said. “Someone must represent Korruzon in Riat.”

  THIRTY-TWO

  I STOOD AT THE PA
RAPET and watched Jhem escort Tauman out, my arms wrapped around myself even though the air was warm. Soon they disappeared into the dusty late afternoon sky.

  Darian and I fed our qits, then led them back to the winter stable to bed down for the night. I stroked Keirr’s ear frills while I filled Darian in on what happened in the caves. He listened without comment, lying next to Aru, though his brows were drawn tight and his lips pursed in thought. I realized that at some point he’d fallen asleep. He was still mending, and an ordinary day of work wore him out. Aru and Keirr breathed slowly and deeply.

  I’d been talking to the twilight.

  Father’s whisper startled me. “Grus needs some time in the air tonight. Would you care to join us?”

  I nodded yes.

  Father led Grus from the winter stable across the bridge to the tack house, where he had her saddle readied. Rannu’s saddle berth stood empty, which put a sinking feeling in my stomach. We saddled Grus in silence. Father climbed aboard, then offered me a hand up. We strapped in—me in front, his arms around me.

  Grus leaped eagerly into the deepening sky. The air was cool and sinking, so Grus had to row hard with her wings to gain altitude. Eventually we climbed into the last of the fleeting sunlight and circled.

  Father had taken me on flights like this since I was small. I loved the freedom of the sky, the crispness of the rushing wind, the feel of powerful muscles working beneath me. But melancholy rode with us tonight, not least because Grus keened softly, still mourning her latest stolen brood. She was the most sensitive of our broodmothers and almost surely felt the tension between the humans in her world as well.

  Only the winking of lights in windows indicated where Riat lay, all but invisible in the shadow of the mountains on the plains below. The aeries capped a pinnacle of stone which thrust like a ghostly finger above that darkness. Far to the east, banks of thunderheads flickered aggressively, as on the night following Getig’s appearance. Tauman would be flying through that.