Eona: The Last Dragoneye e-2

by Alison Goodman

  “Once the beasts are separated from their pearls, they cannot reclaim them,” he explained. “It is Dragoneye lore that spirit beasts are immortal. But now your portent makes me think that the String of Pearls could destroy them.”

  “Then why would they ever give up their pearls?”

  “I don’t know.” With one wipe, he obliterated the sand circle. “Perhaps we will find out when Dillon arrives with the black folio.”

  Even if I believed what Ido said, he was probably not telling the whole truth. I had no doubt he wanted the power from the String of Pearls: he had already killed the other Dragoneyes in his quest for it. During the palace coup he had told me he was going to unite dragon power with the dragon throne, and I was the key to his ascension. He had wanted to rule both earth and the heavens. Did he still hold such grandiose plans? Perhaps his capture by Sethon had tempered his ambition. Or maybe the fires of suffering had branded it deeper into his heart. Whatever the case, I had the feeling that he, too, did not understand all the pieces of the puzzle.

  The black folio held the secret of a weapon that took all the dragons’ power, and the red held a portent that foretold the way to save that power. There was obviously some deeper connection between them, but I could not see it. I dug my fingers into the sand and raked my frustration through the grainy warmth. If felt as if every new bit of information curled back upon itself, seeming to get closer to the truth but in fact adding another veil of obscurity. Why was our Dragoneye power diminishing? And how could the Hua of All Men save the dragons? Did it have something to do with the String of Pearls? But if what Ido said was true, the String of Pearls was an agent of destruction — not an avenue of rescue.

  One thing I knew with certainty: I could never tear the Imperial Pearl from Kygo’s throat.

  A sudden tension in Ido’s body brought me back to myself. I followed his gaze to the seawall; the number of villagers behind it had doubled. Caido and his men had each taken a position on top of the stacked stones. Three men against fifty villagers, at least. And from the looks of it, not all of the men had gone out with the fishing boats.

  Ido frowned. “Do they think I am defenseless?”

  “We should go,” I said, rising.

  “No.” Ido grabbed my arm, pulling me back down to the sand. “We are Dragoneyes. We do not get run off by peasants. Don’t worry. What I am about to show you will keep them in check.”

  He pressed his palms — the gateways of energy — onto the sand and took a deep breath, tilting his head back. Almost immediately I saw the silver power slide through his eyes. Another breath swelled his broad chest. He released it and repeated the cycle in a smooth, regular rhythm. Then I saw the glory of communion strip the strain from his face. The joyous energy within him pulsed, its pleasure reaching me like a distant drum deep inside my body.

  His silvered eyes locked on mine. “You are feeling this too, aren’t you?” he said.

  I did not want to give him the satisfaction of an answer.

  Then his attention was elsewhere, beyond the physical world. Around us the air sang, building into a shriek that pushed the villagers back from the seawall in a wave of fear. Energy cracked and shivered across the sky. A long, pale jag of lightning split the dark clouds with a boom and flashed toward the sea. Then, as if a huge hand had grasped it, the bolt stopped. Slowly it turned, point aimed straight at the village, its power held suspended above us. I heard screams, but I was transfixed by the frozen flame of energy hanging in the air.

  “Shall I teach these villagers some respect?” Ido said. “There are more of them across the hill.”

  “No!”

  He gave a soft laugh. With it, the lightning was released. I flinched as it ripped through the air and slammed deep into the sand a few lengths from us with a heavy thud. The impact rippled under the surface like the track of a creature slithering below.

  “Holy Shola.” I scrabbled away from the shifting ground. A harsh smell burned the back of my nose and throat. Then all was quiet.

  With a dismissive glance at the villagers cowering behind the seawall, Ido stood and dusted the sand off his trousers. “Come.” He waved me over to the fused indentation in the sand where the lightning had struck. “This is the best part.”

  He crouched and carefully dug, clearing the sand away in two piles behind him. Cautiously, I crossed the short space and peered into the hole he had made.

  “There,” he said. Something white poked up from the sand. “Help me get it out.”

  “What is it?” I dropped to my knees and dug on the other side of the protrusion.

  “Careful. It’s brittle.”

  We dug down, clearing the cooler sand away. Finally, he gently withdrew a jagged white rod, as long as the stretch of my arms and encrusted with sand. It was no wider than my wrist, and hollow, like a length of bamboo.

  “Listen.” He gently flicked his fingernail against the top, causing a sharp, ringing chink.

  “That sounds like glass.”

  “It is.” He held it out to me. “Glass lightning.” His head bent in a small bow. “A gift, Lady Dragoneye.”

  He placed it in my outstretched hands. It was very light and delicate, the rough, sandy surface edged with long ridges. I turned it on end; inside, it was a lustrous milky color, with tiny bubbles caught in pools of translucent glass. I smiled at its beauty. And its promise of power.

  “Can I make one of these, too?”

  “Of course,” Ido said. “This is how I was taught to separate energy. Lightning is concentrated and has a definite form as it comes to earth, so it is easier to recognize and catch.”

  “How do you do it?”

  “It is always about balance. Lightning is hot energy, so you catch it with cold.” He flicked the captured lightning again, making the glass ring. “You will see when we are in the energy world. I’ll block the ten dragons while you practice.”

  I flexed my hands. The desire to commune with my dragon and finally use my true power was overwhelming, but so was my mistrust of Ido. What if he did not hold back the other dragons?

  “You don’t trust me,” he said. “It is written plain on your face.”

  “Why should I?”

  “True,” he said. “Never rely on trust. Rely on the fact that neither of us wants to lose our power. And we cannot save it without each other.”

  “Mutual survival,” I whispered. It was my original pledge to Kygo. The echo brought an ache to my throat.

  Ido’s keen eyes watched me. “Exactly.”

  I placed the glass lightning on the sand between us. “Show me how to make one of these.”

  “Take your sandals off and press your feet into the earth’s energy, as well as your hands,” Ido ordered. “Use the gateways.”

  I settled opposite him and dug my soles and palms past the warmth of the top sand to the cooler depths.

  Ido gave a nod of approval and did the same. “Wait until I have united with my dragon, then follow.” He gave a knowing half-smile. “I believe you can now feel that moment within me.”

  I stared down at the sand, bristling at his snort of amusement.

  His breathing smoothed into the rhythm of mind-sight as silver flooded his eyes again. Then, deep within my body, I felt his joy as he called the Rat Dragon.

  My turn.

  Trying to ignore the sensual link to him, I focused on my own pathways of Hua. The air I drew in was warm and salty, the acrid remnants from the lightning strike lingering at its edges.

  I held each breath in my Axis as Ido had taught me, the swell of energy slowly easing the tension in my body and opening the way into the celestial plane. Around me the beach shivered and folded into the streaming colors of the energy world: the surging silver of the water, the rainbow swirls of the earth and air, and the tiny specks of bright Hua that were the brief burn of circling flies.

  “Good,” Ido said.

  I watched the flow of Hua through the long meridians of his transparent body, spinning the seven
points of power into dense vitality. Yet the dark gap still cut into the purple glow of his crown. Beyond him the villagers watched, their energy bodies bright against the dull backdrop of their cottages.

  Above, the Rat Dragon circled the glory of my Mirror Dragon. The blue brilliance of his scales was like flowing water around the fiery crimson of her sinuous body. I could not tell if their power was diminished in any way — they were both magnificent. As if suddenly aware of my attention, the Rat Dragon turned, his white beard half covering the iridescent blue pearl tucked beneath his chin.

  But I was already lost in the depthless spirit eyes of my dragon. She lowered the immense wedge of her head to me, and I saw the golden glow of the pearl at her throat. I called our shared name, my joy leaping to meet the rush of her answer. Golden power, warmed with deep, woody notes of cinnamon, filled my senses.

  My mind-sight split between earth and heaven. Ido’s Hua body sat before my own on the warm sand of the beach. At the same time, I was high above the cove and village, watching the swirl of energy colors and ancient pulsing ley lines through my dragon’s eyes. Together, she and I looked inland, noting the Hua of many bodies moving toward the endless flux of the silvered sea. Around us the blue one circled, weaving power that blocked the relentless need of the other ten.

  “The bereft dragons. They can’t feel us!” I said.

  “We are shielding your presence from them,” Ido said. “We can’t hold it for long. Show your dragon what you want in your mind, then use your dragon sight to find the lightning.”

  With a thrill of excitement, I pictured Ido’s frozen flame of energy, then opened myself to the dizzying shift into full dragon sight, my earthly body dropping away from my senses.

  Below us, the world separated into walking, crawling, flying, surging Hua. We felt the ebb and flow of energy through us and gloried in the delicate balance. We turned our ancient eyes to the dark clouds, tasting the molten energy that snapped across the cooler heights of the above-world. We watched the tiny rips in the cold Hua, each one birthing a streak of forked heat.

  Find it. The voice was barely a whisper, deep within me. Find it. Below.

  The soft insistence broke through my concentration, pulling me back into my body.

  “Did you say something?” Yet it did not feel like Ido’s mindvoice. Nor did it have the strength and pull of Kinra’s need.

  “No.” Ido said. His silvery Hua leaped into a quicker flow through his meridians. “Is it the ten? Are they coming?”

  “No!” I did not want to lose this chance to use my power. “It’s not them. It’s nothing.”

  I clenched my teeth and pictured the lightning again, straining to hold the image as I called the Mirror Dragon. She was there, waiting, the embrace of her power once again raising me above my earthbound body and narrow senses. We spiraled into the bright energy world. Power flowed in and out of us, the exchange strong and smooth, beating a rhythm of balance and harmony. Our ancient eyes searched the sky, waiting for the—

  Find it, the voice whispered. Below. Find it.

  Below? Our attention switched to the ground. Hundreds of points of Hua had gathered in a neat fan on the hill above the village. Ranks of them. Slowly moving down toward the sea. Toward us.

  Ranks?

  “Ido, those are soldiers!” The sudden understanding wrenched me out of the energy world. I squinted in the harsh sunlight and pitched forward, reeling from the abrupt loss of my dragon connection. “Soldiers, not villagers!”

  Ido’s hands caught me. “I know. I should have realized sooner.” His eyes were clear amber: no silver threaded through them.

  “We have to warn the others,” I said. “I have to find Kygo.” I hauled myself upright, lurching to one side on the soft sand. My senses were still half caught in the energy world.

  Ido stood, blocking my way. “It’s too late, Eona. There is no way they’ll hold back that many soldiers. You and I will have to stop them.”

  His words pulled me up. “With our power? Like you did at the palace?” I shook my head, as much to stop the sickening memory of burning, screaming soldiers as to refuse. “I can’t do that.”

  “You saw what’s coming over the hill. We are totally outnumbered.”

  He was right. I looked up at the quiet village, spread around the crescent cove. In a few minutes it would be a battleground.

  “I can’t kill people with my power.” I could barely carry the weight of the thirty-six who had already died at my hands.

  “Not even to save your friends? Your beloved emperor?” He cocked his head. “Not even to save yourself, Eona?”

  I looked back up at the village, my heart pounding. The dragons were for harmony, for life. Not killing. Not war.

  “We can do it together,” Ido said. “I’ll hold off the ten dragons and you can use the lightn—”

  I saw him register the same soft zing in the air as I did, a moment before the dull, wet thump of impact. He spun to the left and staggered a step, then crashed to his knees, eyes wide. An arrowhead protruded through his chest, blood seeping bright red into the dun cloth of his tunic. With an agonized gasp, he collapsed.

  Yells erupted from behind the seawall as the villagers scattered. I dropped to the sand, instinct overriding shock. The arrow had come from high in the west cliffs. The closest cover was the upturned boat. I scrabbled to Ido on my hands and knees. He was on his side, hands pressed around the arrow shaft, panting. All color had drained from his face, and a soft sucking sound came from around the long metal arrowhead as blood welled between his fingers. The arrow had punctured his air. I had seen such wounds before: always fatal. I had to heal him. Fast.

  “Ido, look at me.” His eyes were muddy, the skin around his lips already tinged with blue. “We’ve got to get behind the boat.”

  Protest tightened his pale face, but I grabbed him under his left arm and pulled. The slight movement forced a groan out of him, and barely shifted his body. He was so heavy.

  “Try,” I urged. “Try.”

  He gulped for air and pushed his heels into the sand as I pulled on his arm again, but it did not help.

  “Can’t,” he whispered. The effort to speak brought blood bubbling to the corner of his mouth.

  “Eona!”

  The frantic call jerked my head up. Two men were running across the sand toward us, swords drawn: Kygo, powering across the soft, sliding surface, and Caido, struggling to keep up with his emperor’s speed. Beyond the seawall, the other two guards were marshaling the villagers.

  “We are surrounded!” Kygo yelled.

  “Get down!” I screamed, torn between relief and fear. I pointed behind them. “Arrows.”

  Immediately, both men ducked and zigzagged, but kept running. Kygo arrived first, showering Ido and me with sand, Caido close behind.

  “Holy mother of Shola,” Kygo swore, taking in Ido’s injury. He grasped my arm. “Are you all right?”

  I nodded. “I have to heal him. We don’t have much time.”

  “You take one arm, I’ll take the other,” Kygo ordered Caido. “Get behind the boat, Eona.” He pushed me toward it.

  I heard Ido’s wet moan as they hauled him to his feet and dragged him across the sand after me. I scrambled behind the boat and pressed myself against its solid shield. Kygo and Caido rounded the prow at a lopsided run, Ido slumped between them. Caido dropped his sword and braced Ido against his chest. With a small grunt of effort, he eased the Dragoneye down next to me. Kygo crouched at the end of the boat and cautiously peered around the edge.

  “I’d say at least two companies, coming in from high ground,” he said. “And so far, only one arrow.” He looked back at Ido. “Straight for the main threat.”

  “We’ve been betrayed,” Caido said.

  “But is it one of the villagers?” Kygo returned to his tense watch. “Or one of our own?”

  I pressed my hands to Ido’s ashen face. Icy skin, but damp with sweat. He was close to the shadow world.

 
“Ido, stay awake. I need you to block the ten dragons when I heal you.”

  He widened his eyes, trying to focus on me through his shallow, labored breaths. “Again?” His smile was no more than a twitch of blue lips.

  “Will your healing power destroy the arrow?” Caido asked.

  I shook my head. “I don’t think so.”

  “Then we’ll have to get it out.” He touched the sleek feathered end protruding from Ido’s back. “That fletching has to come off before I can pull the shaft through his body,” he said. “Your Majesty, I’ll hold him still, if you cut.”

  Kygo nodded and shifted into position, sword raised. “That fletching is imperial,” he said.

  Caido nodded. “Short bolt for a mechanical bow.” He pulled Ido’s limp body against his chest, holding him in an iron grip. “Go,” he said.

  One downward slice of Kygo’s blade and the fletching dropped to the sand. It was a clean, fast cut, but it still pushed the remaining shaft farther into Ido’s body, ripping a muffled scream from him. I grabbed his clawed hands.

  The distant, unmistakable clash of metal against metal sent Kygo crawling back to the end of the boat. “The villagers have put up tuaga, but it’s not going to hold that many men back for long.” He looked around at us. “They are going to drive everyone onto the beach. No way back and no way forward. A death ground.” He picked up his sword. “Caido, guard Lady Eona.”

  “Kygo, what are you doing?”

  “They’ve broken through!” He launched himself into a low zigzagging run across the sand.

  I rose on my knees, enough to see over the boat. With sword raised, Kygo was heading for three soldiers advancing across the beach. Along the seawall, villagers were using hooks and poles to defend their barricade against a vicious attack from ten or so pikemen. Ryko and Dela had marshaled a group of men to hold back more troops who were slowly forcing their way through the maze of tuaga spread across the main road. A line of long-bow archers, some of them women, stood on the seawall, firing into the ranks caught in the bottleneck created by the bamboo spikes.

  I swallowed my fear and turned back to the task. “Caido, get that arrow out of Lord Ido.”