by Walls, Devri
“That embarrasses you?”
“I do not feel worthy of such a title, and the responsibility weighs on me.”
The queen shifted. “I see. Your presence does explain the sudden activity of the Shadow.” She looked for a reaction from Kiora. “We may keep to ourselves, but we do monitor the state of things. That is what you have come to ask me about, I assume?”
“It might be. I…”
The queen’s eyes narrowed, her chest puffing as she started to rise to her feet. “You speak of honesty and yet you withhold from me?”
“No, Your Majesty.” Kiora’s words came out in a rush. “No! I suspect my question might be about the Shadow, but I do not know. That is what I have come to ask you. I have been having dreams, visions, and I don’t understand them. But I think you might.”
The queen settled herself back down, her eyes still narrowed. “Go on.”
“I have been having dreams that others tell me are not accurate. Dreams of a daughter of Nestor.” Kiora looked to the queen. “Dreams of a girl named Jasmine.”
The queen’s nostrils flared. “Nestor’s exception,” she breathed.
Kiora’s heart stuttered. “What does that mean?”
“It means you will go to battle against this Shadow. Many will be lost.”
No, Kiora thought. There has to be another way. “Possibly.”
“No,” the queen said with a decisive snap of her teeth. “Not ‘possibly’—it is guaranteed. And in the heat of the battle, how many will change sides? How many will realize the direness of the situation you have led them into and decide to side with the Shadow? How many of you will turn on your own in hopes of surviving at any cost? How many, in the heat of battle, will perform acts as deplorable as those you claim to fight?”
“I don’t know.” Kiora took a step backwards. “But I—”
“And when the battle has stretched out for days and you are tired and exhausted, when your mouth thirsts and your belly aches, will you choose to dine on those who have fallen, on dragon carcasses?” She stood to her full height, her chin raised imperiously, her wings flaring out behind her.
Kiora dropped to her knees at the image. Her hand flew to her chest, grasping the dragon scale that lay beneath her shirt. “I would never, never, eat a dragon. I would rather die!”
The queen leaned forward, head cocked to one side. “What is it you have there?”
Kiora breathed in through her nose, trying to soothe her heaving chest. “The other reason I came to visit you. I made a promise to a friend.” Kiora pulled the brown scale out, hoping the queen’s temper would not explode before Kiora could explain.
The queen’s eyes widened before stepping from the throne. Her movements were slow and deliberate, like that of an old man trying to move without giving away his weaknesses. She approached Kiora with a tense interest. Lowering her head, she eyed the scale. “Why is it brown?”
“His home was brown. I didn’t know there were any other colors of dragon until today.” She ran her thumb over the scale.
“Why did you bring it here?”
“When he died, he asked me to visit Toopai. And he asked me to take a scale and leave it in the place where dragons are remembered.”
“You came here to fulfill a promise to a dragon?”
“I did.” She looked up, trying not to shrink under the queen’s searching gaze.
“And if I will not answer your questions?”
“Then I will still have laid my friend to rest, and I will return home and figure it out on my own.”
The queen studied her for a moment. “Climb on.”
Kiora hesitated. The queen really did look somewhat frail standing there.
She pursed her lips. “I may be old, but the day I am too weak to carry a tiny human girl is the day I should die.” She moved her tail within Kiora’s reach.
Kiora obediently wrapped her arms around it and allowed herself to be deposited onto the queen’s back. Her scales were much smaller than the male dragons’ and were smooth underneath Kiora’s fingers. Although comfortable, they left less to hold on to. The queen headed toward the exit, jumping off the ledge and flying down. Kiora laid her body flat across the queen’s back and neck, squeezing with her arms and legs to keep herself aboard.
When Kiora had first arrived at the throne room, she thought they were nearly at the bottom of the mountain, but the queen took a sudden turn in the darkness, taking them through a perfectly rounded tunnel that headed farther into the earth. The heat increased as they descended, and the air had a smell that burned her nose and lungs differently than dragon sulfur.
“This dragon friend of yours,” the queen asked. “He was in Meros with you?”
“Yes.”
“Was he the only one?”
“No. There had once been many, from what I understand. Most were lost in a war a thousand years ago. In my lifetime, there were only a few left.”
“I see. And what was this friend’s name?”
“Morcant.”
There was a silence. “What of the other dragons? What were their names?”
“I only knew two of them—they fought alongside Dralazar. Soolan and Jarland.”
“Do they live?”
“No,” she whispered. “They’re all dead.”
“How did they die?”
“Jarland died in Meros while trying to kill me. Soolan was killed on this side of the mountains, with Dralazar. But not before he killed Morcant.”
“Soolan killed Morcant? One of his own?” the queen asked, disbelief and anger coloring her voice.
“Morcant threw himself between me and Soolan. He died defending me.” Kiora’s voice grew quieter, relaxing her grip on the queen now that she was flying level.
They flew in silence the rest of the way.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Laid to Rest
WHEN THE TUBE OPENED, fumes swirled around them like thick paste. Kiora coughed against the queen’s back as the smell seared her throat and lungs and made her eyes water.
“This air is not good for you.” The queen put her tail up for Kiora to grab. “Perhaps I should take you back.”
As soon as her feet hit the ground, Kiora placed her arm over her mouth, trying to breathe through the fabric. She shook her head fiercely. “No. Please let me do what I promised.”
Kiora thought she saw respect reflected in the queen’s eyes. “Very well. What you seek is over there.”
Kiora walked to the lip of the ledge and looked down. Far below them spun liquid red and orange, a black crust twisting on its surface. Fumes drifted upwards in dizzying clouds. On the sides of the mountain, sloping into the liquid rock, were thousands upon thousands of dragon scales, covering every inch. As Kiora looked closer, she saw there were many more scales swirling in the red and yellow below her. A dragon graveyard.
“The scales.” Kiora coughed. “The heat does not destroy them?”
“No. Our scales are impervious to heat. Throw that one in the middle,” she instructed.
Kiora took one moment to look at the scale. The fumes were getting to her and her thoughts were becoming muddled, but she couldn’t leave—not yet. This had to be done. “Good-bye, Morcant. I will never forget you.” Kiora pressed the scale against her lips. “If I succeed, it is because of you. You will always be one of my dearest friends. You are home now.” Kiora threw the last reminder she had of Morcant over the side and watched it fall amongst his dead brethren, the only brown scale in a sea of red, orange, and yellow.
The world suddenly tipped to the side and black closed in. She stumbled, thinking for a moment that it might be a vision, but it wasn’t. She collapsed to the floor.
***
KIORA WOKE ON THE warm stone floor of the queen’s chamber. Her head was pounding and her limbs felt like they had been filled with lead. A sudden onslaught of gut-wrenching coughing racked her body and Kiora pulled herself into a ball, retching up blood and black mucous.
“I am sorry we d
o not have healers available for you. I was worried you were not going to make it.”
Kiora launched into another fit of coughing before she could sit up. “What happened?” she moaned, pressing her palm against her forehead.
“I told you, that air was not good for you.” The queen tsked. “I forget how fragile some of you beings are.”
Kiora smiled wearily. “Morcant called it the ‘frailties of man.’ He said we could have accomplished so much more if we weren’t so fragile.” She tried to laugh, but another coughing fit took over.
The queen looked to be hiding a smile. “You were quite fond of him, weren’t you?”
“I was. He was one of the bravest creatures I have ever met. And he taught me to listen to my heart no matter what.” Kiora tried to stand, but fell back to her knees.
“Lay down. Rest,” the queen commanded. “You nearly died.”
Kiora nodded gratefully, pressing her palm back to her temple.
“What do you wish to know?”
Kiora’s heart leaped. “You will help me?”
“I will help you with as many truths as I can—that is all I can promise. Despite my age, I don’t know everything. If I knew how to find what you need, I would have sent my captains after it myself.”
“What do I need?”
“The same thing the Shadow is searching for—the one and only exception to her power.”
Kiora’s head cleared a little with the promise of hope. “There is an exception—I knew it! But who is the Shadow? Is it Jasmine?” she asked anxiously, leaning forward.
“I think it would be better if we started at the beginning.” The queen settled in, leaning her body against the back of the throne. “The Creators made a choice to give up their immortality for those that live here. That we might have better lives.”
“But Nestor didn’t know that when he did that, it would cost him the immortality of his daughter as well,” Kiora interjected.
“Indeed.” The queen’s yellow eyebrows rose. “I am surprised you know that. Jasmine went to great lengths to hide it.”
“I started having visions shortly after I arrived.”
“And yet, you are alive.”
“Just barely.” Kiora curled her legs beneath her. “We escaped.”
“You escaped the Shadow?”
Kiora nodded, trying to ignore the horrible taste in her mouth. “The first time Jasmine sent her people, we were able to bubble and leave before they found us. The second time, she came herself. We hid underwater.”
The queen leaned in closer, her neck stretching out. “And what made you think of that?”
Kiora shrugged. “I don’t know. It was just a feeling, and I followed it. The last time we outran her, barely.”
“You have escaped the Shadow three times? That is a feat unequaled.”
“Why do you call her the Shadow, if you know who it is?”
The queen relaxed back on her throne. “You must understand—I knew Jasmine once. This Shadow, and what she does, is not the Jasmine I knew.”
“You loved her?” Kiora asked, a little befuddled by the tone in the queen’s voice.
“Little Jasmine was a beautiful and happy child who used to ride upon my back. The day her father stole her immortality planted a seed of hate within her that flourished and grew like a disease.” The queen’s head drooped. “I watched her deteriorate, watched it eat her from the inside out. By the time she began to take the Lights, Jasmine was merely a shell of the girl I had known.” She shook her head. “Unfortunately, there were others who were not as aware of the change as I was.”
“Belen?” Kiora asked, trying to piece her dreams together.
Again the queen’s eyebrows rose. “My, your visions have been informative. No wonder Jasmine is so anxious to find you. Yes, Belen. Nestor was too powerful—Jasmine knew he would protect those Lights as long as he lived. So, she went after the one person capable of making what she needed.” The queen clicked her tongue sadly. “Jasmine seduced him. My friend Belen thought he was in love. He would have done anything she asked of him—and did, as it turns out.”
“What did he make? I couldn’t understand that part of my vision.”
“He made Jasmine a magical object that gave her a power none should have—the power to yield others’ magic unusable.”
“So she could take the Lights without a fight.”
The queen sighed wearily. “That proved useful later, yes. But that was not the original purpose for the piece.”
“Then what?” Kiora’s brows furrowed.
“Jasmine needed to gain power over Nestor, to kill the man she felt had ended her life. Belen realized her intentions as he finished the piece.”
“How could he not know what she wanted it for?”
“Ah, love is a blinding thing, is it not?” She smiled weakly. “After Belen realized what Jasmine intended to do, he went straight to Nestor.”
“But I don’t understand. Why wouldn’t Nestor stop her?”
A heavy sigh rose the already warm temperature in the room. “Nestor told Belen this was their one opportunity to provide an exception.”
Kiora’s eyes flickered back and forth across the floor, still trying to pull all the pieces together. “He knew she would kill him?”
“Yes, Nestor knew. He used the little time he had left to put his plans into place. He set Belen to building his exception, the antidote to Jasmine’s talisman. He sent the other Creators away, knowing Jasmine would go after them once he was gone.”
“The Creators left before Nestor was killed?”
“Yes. Nestor knew that once she had killed him, she would wipe away any memory of herself—he had foreseen it. That included eliminating those who remembered her. Of course, that did not stop Jasmine from finding some of the Creators anyway. Incidentally, she never found the Creator whose grandchildren made up your race.”
Kiora stared blankly. “Humans are descended from the Creators?” she finally stammered. “That makes no sense—we are non-magical.”
“Most of you are, yes. The Creator’s children are, as you know, the Ancient Ones. You also know some powerful grandchildren—Eleana and Dralazar. They were gifted with the power of their forefathers. One Creator, Myron, had many children, only one of whom had any magical ability. The rest were Witows. Myron took his family and hid. Your race was born and grew in secret for a very long time.”
“I had no idea.”
“Myron was the most opposed to Nestor’s plan to allow Jasmine to continue unmolested. It is only appropriate, I suppose, that it will be his descendant who will stop her.”
“You said there was an exception. What is it?” Kiora asked.
“Nestor had Belen make another piece to the talisman.”
“What does it do?” Kiora asked, her heart racing. She was so close to the truth.
The queen’s eyes closed as she breathed out slowly. “I do not know much. I know that when separated, it acts nearly identical to the original piece, the piece Jasmine possesses. I know that if united, it will void the magic from both pieces.”
Kiora’s heart was now hammering wildly around her chest. She had seen that already in her vision. “Where can I find it?”
“I have told you, child—if I knew where to find it, I would have retrieved it.”
“You must have some idea,” she prodded.
“No, I do not. The Shadow seems to think it is buried within the Creators’ mansion. She has been digging in search of it for years.”
“That hole we flew over,” Kiora mumbled.
“After Nestor evacuated the Creators, he waited until Belen had both pieces ready. He then waited for Jasmine under his favorite cherry blossom tree. I do not know what happened that day, but after she killed him, the mansion imploded, vanishing amidst a cloud of smoke and dust, the ground settling back over it as if nothing had ever been there. No matter how deep Jasmine digs, she never finds anything.”
“You think the talisman is under there?�
��
“No, Nestor wouldn’t be foolish enough to leave it there. Although his visions were not perfect, I am sure he would have foreseen a better place to conceal such a valuable part of his plan. But I do believe something is there. And I think it waits…for you.”
Kiora frowned in confusion. “What?”
“There may yet be one remaining record of Jasmine’s existence—I suspect the Wings of Nestor were buried with the mansion to prevent Jasmine from erasing them.”
Kiora sank, her shoulders hunching. “There is only a slim chance of getting to the Wings and making it out alive.”
“So little faith already?” The queen smiled. “You have survived the Shadow three times. You are the Solus. A way will be provided.”
Kiora rubbed absently at her shirt where a certain dragon’s scale used to hang. The motion did not go unnoticed by the queen, whose eyes softened at Kiora’s display of affection.
“Is there anything else I need to know?” Kiora asked.
The queen thought for a moment. “I do not know. But I do have a gift for you—you may call on me at any time.”
A flicker of hope lit within Kiora. “Will you fight with us then, when the time comes?”
“That I will not promise.”
Her shoulders sagged again.