The Summer Dragon

by Todd Lockwood

  “More than that, Addai is dead, and as far as I’m concerned his decision died with him. I didn’t invite the Juza—that was Bellua’s doing. My petition for the charter remains, but circumstances have changed. My standing has changed. I’ll abide by whatever decision is made. I only want what’s best for the aeries.”

  “You expect to get the charter anyway,” I said.

  He squirmed. Nodded. “I’ll need your expertise.”

  The stunned silence drew out until I couldn’t stand it any longer. “I think yours is a special kind of cowardice.”

  His eyes snapped to mine, but he stayed silent.

  “You were willing to let that monster Addai kill me so you could have the aeries.”

  He squinted. “I followed orders.”

  “Convenient orders. You gave all moral authority to a madman.”

  Rov clenched his fists unconsciously. Opened them and laid his hands flat. “I won’t hold you responsible for his death. I’m honestly relieved that he’s gone.”

  I now saw that all this time—nearly a year now—Rov said and did only what he needed to, in pursuit of his own goals. I should have shot him too, but that had been Addai’s solution for Keirr and me—murder at the height of battle.

  I shook my head. Whatever else was true, with Father missing, the aeries needed the expertise of men like Rov now. It didn’t matter whether I approved.

  “There are two things you need to think about, Captain Rov. First, a shaman summoned the Edimmu, whether he meant to or not. It’s possible another shaman could rouse a monster like it.”

  Rov waited for me to continue.

  “Secondly, the Edimmu likely stripped from Addai many closely held secrets. It did so to me.”

  “And me,” said Fren.

  “Me, too,” said Tauman.

  “It likely did the same to you,” I finished.

  When he realized that all eyes watched for his response, Rov nodded grim assent.

  “We should assume that it knows everything you know,” I said.

  “But the Edimmu is dead.”

  “Is it?”

  “We buried its corpse.”

  I shook my head at him. “We called it ‘Edimmu.’ It called itself ‘us.’”

  Rov’s face grew pale. “What does that mean?”

  “I don’t know. But if another like it appears, how much will it know as it becomes? Will it also be one of ‘them’? What are ‘they’? Do they share thoughts? Memories? Knowledge?”

  And whoever they were, whatever body the Edimmu was of, were they drawn to me or to the aeries? What did my experience with the Summer Dragon say about that? Though Addai’s assertions were wrong, it felt true to me that the Edimmu was connected to me somehow. Why? Would any future spawn or relative be any different?

  Rov stared blindly at his clenched fists.

  I scanned the table. “If Mabir’s warnings were true, this is only the beginning.”

  The brood hatched right on time in the newly repaired broodhouse, four weeks after the festival of Oestara and the dawn of spring.

  Keirr watched, happier than I’d seen her in weeks. She bounced from foot to foot.

  “Qit!” as a window opened in each shell.

  “Smaw,” in wonder, as mewing qits tumbled into the straw to be cleaned and weighed.

  Nine boys and seven girls, all healthy and active. Eight wore the dun and tan markings typical of Athys and Rannu’s broods. Six were white and gray, like Coluver and Audax. Only two carried Shuja’s black or Grus’s copper. I remembered Addai handing me two eggs from Grus’s nest as we prepared to abandon the broodhouse to the Horrors.

  The qits drew Athys and Rannu out of their depression, too. They relaxed. Even Zell took part, her nurse instincts awakened. Her health improved.

  Keirr stayed by the qits for the next eight weeks, played with them when they grew big enough to crawl out of the nests. Shepherded them. We’d not had a yearling in the aeries since Audax and Coluver were young. She was a wonder—curious and engaged as a wilding of her age would be. Like a big sister.

  Darid returned in advance of the reinforcements. He sought me out the moment he landed in the paddock. Jhem had seen him approaching and ran to join us in the storehouse.

  “Where’s Rov?” he asked.

  “On patrol.”

  “Good.” He frowned as he clawed his gloves off and unbuckled his helmet. “Has your da’ returned?”

  I shook my head no, swallowing the pain.

  “I’m sorry for that. I have news for you, Miss Maia. I wish it was good news, but it’s not. There’s a new Prelate in charge of the acquisition. His name is Poritor. Bellua reported to him.” He looked at Jhem and me, the corners of his mouth turned down. “He’s Juza, like Addai was.”

  “What manner of force does he bring?” I asked.

  “One talon of Dragonry—”

  “That’s it?”

  “And two entire wings of Juza.”

  Jhem groaned and sat down on a barrel.

  “More engineers and masons travel with the acquisition train,” Darid added. “More barrage machines too.”

  I sighed, looked at my feet, and nodded.

  “There’s worse news, m’lady. I have here his orders to Captain Rov. May the Avar protect me, but I broke the seal and peeked at them. As soon as he arrives, Poritor expects to arrest you, confiscate your dragon, and take you to Avigal for a hearing of some sort.”

  Jhem and I looked at each other. “Here we go again,” she said.

  “Bellua warned us it would be this way. The entirety of the Rasaal in opposition to us. To me.”

  “I’m sorry, young ma’am, but I knew . . . well, I knew that Cairek would have wanted you to know. I can only delay giving this to Rov for so long, but I’ll give you as much time as I can.”

  “How long before Poritor arrives?”

  “Not more than two weeks, ma’am. He may arrive sooner than that. But I can’t give you more than a day.”

  Darid was young. Why hadn’t I noticed that before? Perhaps twenty-two. Though his eyes were harrowed, though sun and wind had already marked his face, he had a boyish earnestness.

  “Thank you, Darid. I appreciate the warning. Do what you must.” A stone settled in my gut. I knew what I had to do.

  I made my way to the broodhouse. The cliffside doors were opened, and qits bounced with excitement on the precipice. Athys and Rannu, Audax, Zell, and Keirr drew them back deftly from the edge with paws and wingtips, while allowing them enough leeway to see over the lip and feel the altitude. It was an age-old dance. We’d never lost a qit to the fall. It was their way; dragons loved and understood heights.

  Keirr engaged in mock combat with an ornery little male, black like Shuja, with stripes of Grus’s copper. He would be gorgeous one day. One of only two who survived out of their brood. Mews and chirps and high-pitched growls of kittenish threat filled the air. Athys and Zell chattered to each other in low clicks and purrs. The unknowable gossip of dragons.

  Here was my entire life before me, everything I’d ever known—the life cycle of dragons. I missed Father and Shuja, Darian and Aru terribly in that moment, and worry for them burned in my chest.

  This was normally the most joyous time of year, when the aeries overflowed with cheerful, playful, mowping qits. Keirr was so happy. She didn’t understand that we couldn’t stay.

  I wept, at last, for everything taken from me.

  FIFTY-ONE

  TULO PREPARED THREE packages for me, made of paper. They contained herbs and seeds and the ashes of Mabir, Cairek, and Bellua. I kept them, waiting for the right weather to manifest.

  Darid delivered Poritor’s orders to Rov, but the Dragonry Captain chose not to arrest me. “You understand I can’t assist you in any way,” he said, “but I won’t hold you for them either.
”

  It was more than I’d hoped for. I wondered, not for the first time, what drove him. Just when I thought I understood Rov’s motivations, he surprised or infuriated me. It seemed to bounce from altruism to duty to greed and back again. I wished I had the time to figure him out. It wasn’t to be.

  Jhem and I prepared satchels so we’d be able to leave at a moment’s notice—but I couldn’t muster the will to go. We had qits to feed and clean up after, and while Staelan’s men were happy to pitch in, they lacked the native instincts. Tauman would have his hands full managing the workload when we’d left.

  Several more dawns came and went. I spoiled Keirr with extra fish and fatty treats; she’d benefit from built-in reserves. She and I spent every minute we could on the brood platform with Rannu, Athys, and the qits. Keirr chased the babies back from the lip with mock growls and gentle swats. They swarmed around her, bouncing off her feet and battling with her tail.

  Tauman stood by while I said my goodbyes to his broodparents. Athys’s face was striped with pink scars, though only a few minor scabs remained. I stroked her chin. She nuzzled me. “F-ly safe,” she said, struggling with the difficult “L.” “Come back.”

  “I’ll see you again,” I said. “I promise,” though I could promise no such thing. I kissed her on the nose, then turned to Rannu. He sat with his head held high, his chest and shoulders a mass of bright red wounds only now beginning to form scar tissue.

  “Father would be proud of you, old boy. Shuja too. You were wonderful.”

  He nodded and rumbled something in dragon speech, then added, “Maia: bi-g.” Exactly as if Keirr had coached him on the word. He cocked his head at me, then lowered it for a pat. I’d have hugged him but for the many lacerations. A kiss would have to suffice.

  Babies swarmed at my feet. I knelt down and let them brush against my fingers as they bounced and chased each other. Softly pebbled skin, like fine leather.

  “Maia,” said Tauman. “You know you shouldn’t touch—”

  “I want them to know me. I want them to remember me.”

  He nodded and said nothing.

  On the sixth day I smelled something different in the wind. Crisp and cold, blooming but not yet ripe. Familiar. Keirr and I sought Fren, feeling an unspeakable urgency. We found him on the clifftop, raking wood chips and sawdust into bins in preparation for Brood Day.

  “How’s your shadow doing, Fren?”

  He looked up in surprise. “My shadow is well. How is yours?”

  “It’s been almost a year since I caused your injuries, Fren.”

  “One year since the Summer Dragon,” he countered with a smile.

  The words constricted in my throat. “I don’t want to leave you.”

  He set aside his rake. “I understand. I have to go into hiding myself. But tell me what’s in your heart, young ma’am.”

  I hung my head, unsure how to reply, decided that direct was best. I looked him in the eye. “I don’t know how my shadow is doing. I’m confused. I have so much to learn, to understand. I don’t know what to believe, or where to begin.”

  He pursed his lips and puckered his brow for a moment. “Old Ashaani saying: ‘The things we hold in reverence reflect our own nature. Warlike people worship jealous gods and build their altars of steel. Those who love wealth build their altars of gold. Content people honor loving gods and build their altars of love.’”

  “You said that before, in the caves. But I don’t understand.”

  “Your religion is revealed in the way you live your life. It doesn’t matter what you claim to believe. You have to decide what your altar is made of.”

  I frowned. Walked up to him and put my arms around him. He embraced me. Gods, how I missed Father.

  “And what of my curse, Fren? Did Getig come to lift my curse, or to cast it in stone?”

  “What curse?”

  I shrugged and shook my head. “Darian knew about it. It’s hard to explain.”

  He stroked my hair. “There’s no such thing as a curse.”

  “That’s what Darian always said to me. But look around!”

  “You can’t think in those terms, daughter of my heart. Curse or blessing, we contend with it. Neither arrives without the other close behind. It’s all part of the Evertide.”

  In my mind’s eye I saw wheels inside of wheels, turning. “Why did the Summer Dragon choose me?”

  Fren thought for a moment. “Did he choose you? That’s not what I think. No, I suspect he was drawn to you, like the Edimmu was drawn to you.”

  “That’s even less comforting.”

  He smiled. “Your story will be told, Maia. I know you don’t want to be a story, but you saved the aeries from the Horrors. More than that, you saved the story of Getig from Addai. He lost, Maia. You beat him. If you’re cursed, then your curse was our blessing.”

  I closed my eyes. “Poritor will arrest you if you spread tales of Asha.”

  “I am but a ripple on a wave of sound. Poritor may think he can smother this story yet. But we’ve already heard its echoes.”

  The seventh day broke with fire, and we hustled into the yard to witness a Morningtide billowing up. A broad, roiling cliff face of cloud reflected the first light, climbing skyward. At the height of summer it shouldn’t happen, but it was tall and magnificent, and growing taller. The air was sweet and crisp.

  I’d felt it coming. “This is it, Jhem,” I said.

  She swallowed and nodded.

  We sprang into action. Tauman and I swung the saddle jib over Audax, with Jhem riding the saddle.

  Fren ran up to us. “Darid sighted dragons on the horizon, Miss Maia. Ajhe has gone to meet them, but it’s Poritor for certain. He’ll be here today.”

  Tauman and I ran to the parapet to see for ourselves. A cloud of bright glints sparkled where the breaking sun skimmed over a multitude of wings.

  “What timing they have,” I said. “I guess they get a show, then.”

  “What do they think they’re protecting?” Tauman asked. “The aeries are all but ruined.”

  I looked at him sideways. “The community, Tauman. That’s the real heart of the aeries. Father understood that even if you never did.”

  “What do you mean?” He glared at me.

  “Any two bonded dragons can make babies. Even Addai knew that. Yes, you have to know how to care for them, and you want your broodparents to be well matched. But the system that supports them—the network of farms and craftsmen and wilderness. That’s still here. That’s what we saved.”

  He frowned and hung his head. Jhem called us back to the saddle-jib. She climbed into the seat, and Tauman returned to help her with the straps and buckles.

  They finished in silence, then he reached up and grabbed her hand. “I wish you could lie to them. Tell them what they want to hear. And stay.”

  “You know that won’t work.”

  “I should go with you then. You’re my wife.”

  She bent down and laid her head on their joined hands. “You know I can’t let her go alone, and you know you can’t leave. You’re the broodmaster until Father returns or Poritor says otherwise.”

  “I know.”

  “You have to hold this together. You’re Magha’s son.”

  His chin bunched up. “I’ve treated you so poorly,” he said. Then he climbed onto the harness so he could kiss her. They clung to each other’s necks for a long time.

  “We’ll be back when we’ve found Darian and Father,” I said. It sounded like a daunting task after so much time. A fool’s mission at best. It was more pretense than plan. But Tauman agreed with a simple nod.

  We saddled Keirr quickly. She and Audax danced on their nerves, sensing something different as Tauman, Fren, Jhem, and I hugged and held each other by turns.

  Then I climbed into the saddle and strapped in. Jhem’s
eyes held mine, and she raised her chin. We had our weapons. We had food. We had gold and silver. We had our bondmates and each other.

  “Hai!” I shouted, and Keirr launched into the rising dawn. Jhem shouted Audax into the air behind us.

  We lifted on the Morningtide without effort. The spire of the aeries stood out of swirling mist that hid all but the tallest rooftops in the village below. The Roaring tumbled into a gray oblivion. I couldn’t see the Temple at all.

  Jhem rose behind me, called to me, looking to the east and pointing. Four or five dragon shapes broke off from the main mass to flap in our direction. I took note of them, but I wasn’t worried.

  I removed the three paper packages from my satchel, each about the size of a melon and tied with string. I held them close, remembering the day I collected them from Tulo. “I prepared these in the old ways,” he said, “with herbs to confer our blessings on the departed and seeds to encourage the next cycle of life.”

  I untied each of the packages in turn and lifted them into the currents. The gentle maelstrom drew out their contents of herbs and seed and ash, dispersing them into the sky.

  “It’s not much, but it’s what I had,” Tulo had explained.

  “For Mabir: sage and pine, for wisdom and humility; hyssop for sacrifice and cleansing.

  “For Cairek: white jasmine for innocent love, mint for virtue, sweet willim for gallantry.

  “For Bellua: willow for sadness, coriander for hidden worth.”

  “Who taught you this?” I asked him, stunned.

  “Mabir. A long time ago. It’s of the old ways, of the Ashaani.”

  I’d been unable to speak, touched by his thoughtfulness. Finally, I said, “Thank you, Tulo. Keep the drawings safe.”

  “I wish they could do some good.”

  “Someday. But right now they would only get you in trouble. Keep them hidden.”

  His voice cracked. “I wish you could stay.”

  I’d found myself wanting desperately to explain to him why I couldn’t. I’d become exactly what Bellua and Addai and even my mother said I would: A curse. A weight. A hindrance at best. If I stayed, Riat would only suffer more. The Rasaal or the Edimmu or something worse would come, seeking me. I knew that. Or was I merely damaged by self-doubt? Scarred by invasions into my head?