Zak felt his whole body tense. His first instinct was to shift back into dragonform. But there just wasn’t enough room down here. He’d be trapped. His other instinct was to bolt up the stairs.
Myrian’s grip tightened on his arm, and he stayed where he was. They were looking for dragons after all, weren’t they?
The red dragon began to shrink, transforming. As it did, Zak saw three more figures huddled behind it.
The dragon became a woman. She was beautiful, with long black hair and dark eyes. Her armor was red, with glints of yellow, and it swelled around her belly.
Behind her stood a man and woman, both clad in blue, who could easily have been twins. Both had light blond hair and eyes the color of ice chips. The man wore a white cape clasped to his shimmering blue armor. He had to be the Everfrost king. And the woman standing beside him wore a blue and silver dress over her own blue armor. His sister?
The last person was obviously an owl mage. The little old man with frayed white hair looked jarringly out of place next to the other three, who seemed like gods ready to dine at some mythical banquet.
The woman in red slumped a little, wrapping her hands around her large belly. The king put his arm around her. “Are you all right?” he asked.
“I’m fine,” she said, nodding and waving him off.
The ice blue eyes of the king turned to Zak, then to Myrian, where they sparked a look of recognition.
“You are the Moonglow princess,” he said. Then he furrowed his brow as if trying to remember something. “Lorian? That’s it, isn’t it?”
Myrian’s voice was low as she answered. “Lorian is my sister,” she said, and he could hear the sadness in her tone. She wasn’t even sure her sister was still alive. “I am Myrian.”
“I don’t know if you remember me or not,” he said. “I am Corban Everfrost.”
“A little,” Myrian said. “From the winter festival. That was years ago.”
“It was,” Corban said, his voice distant. It strengthened as he introduced the others. “This is Miranda, my wife,” he said, looking at the woman who had just burned through the ice wall as a giant red dragon. Then nodded to the blond woman. “This is Astra, my sister, and that is Wygard, my advisor.”
And that left only Zak to be introduced. He took a small step forward. “I’m Zak,” he said. Then realizing that probably wasn’t enough, he added, “Zakarai Nightshadow.”
Corban squinted at him. “A nephew or cousin of Sorian’s?”
“His son,” Zak said.
“I did not know he had one,” Corban said.
“Neither did I,” said Zak. “It’s a long story.”
“And I would like to hear it sometime,” Corban said. “But we’ve been down in this dungeon for what seems an eternity, and I would like to get my wife to her chamber.”
Zak and Myrian looked at each other, then Myrian answered the king. “I’m afraid there’s not much of the keep left up above.”
Corban and the others all looked at each other.
“We feared as much,” he said. “But I don't understand. Why are you here?”
“We need your help,” Zak said.
Then Miranda spoke for the first time, her eyes growing wide with understanding and fear. “The demon,” she said. “The owls want us to kill it.”
14
MYRIAN
They all went up the stairs to the cellar just above the dungeon. There, they arranged wooden crates and sat in a makeshift circle to talk.
Corban went first, telling the now-familiar tale of how the sun went black, along with the eyes of nearly everyone in the keep. Chaos ensued as everyone began to attack one another. There were too many to fight, and besides, they were his own kin and friends. He thought to flee, but Miranda was with child.
So he and Miranda had headed through the madness down to the dungeons, finding Astra and Wygard, unaffected by the sickness, along the way. They gathered enough food from the storeroom above to last for a month, then Corban and Astra had taken dragonform and sealed them in by making the thick wall of ice with their breath.
And there they had waited for over a day, the hideous sounds of battle and mayhem leaking down from above. The noise had finally subsided into silence, and so Miranda had taken on the duty of melting and breaking through the barrier to free them.
“I’m so sorry,” Myrian said as Corban finished.
“You say a demon did this?” Wygard asked, his wide eyes studying Myrian.
“Yes,” she said. “His name is Vish’Kazir.” She told them a shortened version of what had happened to Moonglow Castle, leaving out how Gisella had attacked her with a corkscrew. Then Zak spoke, recounting the death of Sorian at the hands of both the demon and Nevra. He spoke in a wooden way, as if still in shock, unable to understand what was happening. The others listened intently until he was done.
Then Corban looked at them, shaking his head. “I fear no enemy,” he said. “But the power this thing wields is strong enough to darken the sun and hold a dragonlord in his grasp without touching him. How would we fight such an enemy?”
Miranda put her hands over Corban’s. “Together,” she said.
He shook his head at her. “You are fighting no one,” he said. “I would not put you or our child in danger.”
Miranda squeezed his hand. “We already are.” Then she turned to Myrian. “What do you want us to do?”
“Magda showed us a scroll,” Myrian said. “A prophecy. She said we needed to form a group that was meant to confront the demon. A human woman and a dragon of each color, including gold.”
“Gold?” Astra said. “There are no gold dragons, except in story books.”
Myrian noticed Miranda move her hand up to the base of her throat. She wasn’t sure anyone else noticed. Perhaps the queen was still feeling the lingering effort of burning through the ice wall, but Myrian didn’t think so. She knew something, something she wasn’t willing to share.
“I know only what the High Owl told me,” Myrian said.
Astra turned to Corban. “You can’t agree to some mad suicidal quest,” she said. “Not based on a fairy tale.”
“The gilded line,” whispered the old owl-mage.
“What?” Myrian said.
“It may not be just a fairy tale,” Wygard said. “More than one prophecy speaks of the gold dragons and how they are meant to one day return.” He turned to Astra. “After what you have seen over the past day or two, would you still doubt that such a thing is possible?”
“I would not bet my life on it,” Astra said. “Nor my brother and his family.”
Corban looked from his sister to his wife, then at Myrian. “Has anyone else joined this alliance?”
“We came here first,” Myrian said.
“After we leave,” Zak said, “we mean to head west, to speak to the Wildfires. Then to the Emerald Isle.”
“I hope they have fared better than us,” Corban said. “Though if everything you say is true, I would doubt it.”
“If we did join,” Miranda said. “What would you have us do?”
“Magda said the demon is likely tired and in hiding right now,” Myrian said. “We have to come together as soon as possible, before he fully recovers. She asked that we all convene at The One Tree when we are ready.”
“It will take you a day’s travel to make it all the way to the Emerald Isle,” Wygard said. “And another back.”
“Yes,” Myrian said. “So in two days’ time we should all meet at the base of the great tree. Will you come?”
Corban took a deep breath, considering. Then he opened his mouth. But it was Miranda who spoke first.
“We’ll be there,” she said.
Corban looked at her, and Myrian saw in his eyes just how much love and respect he had for her. And though there was also the tinge of fear and worry he had spoken of, Myrian could also see he realized that once Miranda had made up her mind about something, he was not going to change it.
“We will,�
�� he said, letting out a small sigh. “In the meantime we need to survey the damage that has been done to our ancestral home, and see if anyone yet lives.”
“And we need to be on our way,” Myrian said. “Thank you.”
Corban stood. “Do not thank me yet,” he said. “We will meet you at the tree, but this still sounds like a fool’s errand to my ears. Still, I wish you luck with the others.”
Myrian nodded and got up, along with Zak.
They walked back up the stairs to the frozen ruins of Everfrost Keep. Once they were out of earshot, Zak spoke. “Do you think he’s right? Are we fools?”
“Maybe,” she said. “But we’d be even bigger fools if we did nothing, wouldn’t we?”
Zak looked up at the sun. It was already midday, and they had a long flight to the Wildfire stronghold, whatever might be left of it.
“I suppose you’re probably right,” he said.
Standing there, he looked a lot like she felt, like a lost teenager uncertain about everything. They knew what they were supposed to do next. But knowing what you were supposed to do and having the courage to do it were two different things.
He was right about her. She had grown up pampered and sheltered. She didn’t want to face whatever had wreaked havoc in her own homeland, especially after seeing what it had done here. She didn’t want to face any demon, and she certainly didn’t feel like a hero.
But Myrian remembered something else her father said. What was it? All it takes to be a hero is to do the right thing when nobody else will. She felt tears well up in her eyes. She wished she’d spent more time with him and paid more attention to the things he’d been trying to teach her. Now she wasn’t even sure if he were still alive.
“Myrian?” Zak said.
She turned away from him, not wanting him to see her cry. She took a deep, ragged breath. “We need to go,” she said. “The flight to the Sandstone Palace is not a short one.”
“Are you all right?” he asked. There was a softness in his voice, a genuine concern. In that moment, she had the craziest impulse, to run to him and let him put his arms around her and hug her tight. But that was stupid. That was the wish of a little girl. The world had grown dark and hard in a very short span, and she no longer had the luxury to indulge such thoughts.
She took a deep, ragged breath. “Magda said if we fly due west from Everfrost Keep, we can pick up the caravan trails once we reach the Burning Sands. Those will take us straight to where we need to go.”
She expected him to ask if she was sure she was all right, but he didn’t. He just said “Okay” and left it at that, which she was grateful for.
“Okay,” she echoed, leaning forward and shifting into dragonform. She heard the creak and pull of his scales and muscles as he followed suit.
When she was fully transformed, Myrian sat up on her haunches and flapped her wings, then launched herself into the sky. As she rose, she looked back to see how Zak was faring. He had only flown after falling from a high launching point. Taking off from the ground was more difficult, and she hadn’t offered to help.
She could see him beating his wings and trying to lift off. She saw him take a few bounding steps and jump, becoming temporarily airborne. But he didn’t make it very far, just over the broken outside wall of the keep before wobbling back down to the snowy ground.
Myrian stopped flying upwards, flapping her wings to hover in mid-air as she watched him. It was important that he take to the air on his own. She could fly down and help him, but then his pride would only be wounded. But more than that, Zak was having to learn how to be a dragon in a very short period of time.
Most dragonkin grew up knowing who they were and receiving guidance about how to transform, fly, and use their powers. She imagined it was very strange and difficult for Zak, having to learn everything as young man. But she couldn’t coddle him. There was too much at stake. If he couldn’t learn to launch himself into flight from the ground, what good was he going to be against a demon?
At first she took a small, perverse satisfaction at watching him try and crash back to the ground. But then she realized she needed him. Or rather, this so-called alliance needed him. What was she going to do? Leave him here?
So when she saw him struggle to his feet and shake the snow off his body, she chided herself for taking any kind of pleasure in watching him fail. And as he began to flap his wings and prepare to take off again, she found herself silently rooting for him.
15
ZAK
He’d made it over the crumbling wall of the keep, only to fall back to the ground with another crash. It wasn’t nearly as bad as the spill he’d taken when landing, but now he was even more acutely aware of his failure and of Myrian floating above him, watching everything he did.
Zak climbed back to his feet and shook off the snow. The last and only time he had flown, he had dropped from somewhere high, giving him the time to use his wings to stabilize in the air. He’d never launched himself from the ground before. He’d just seen Myrian do it, heaving herself up and drifting upwards as if it were the easiest thing in the world. But he didn’t think he could do it the way she had, at least not yet.
But as he looked around, there were only the snow-capped firs and the ruined façade of the keep. There was nothing like The One Tree to provide a nice launching pad high up in the air. If he was going to do this, he would have to be completely under his own power. And of course, the sands were slipping through the hourglass, the demon growing stronger with every wasted second.
Zak took a deep breath. You can do this, he thought. He wasn’t really sure that was true. He definitely hadn’t gotten much support for anything in his life in the swamps. Pa had taught him things, of course, like how to mend a fishing net or peel a crawfish. But such lessons were much more likely to come with a smack on the back of the head rather than a word of encouragement. Every once in a long, long while, the man he had thought of as his father would compliment his work or say a kind word. But those moments were so few and far between that Zak sometimes wondered if they had really happened at all.
Now he was on his own, entirely on his own. The people he thought were his family simply weren’t. And the people who were his family were either dead or aligned with the most deadly threat this world had ever seen. So if he was going to learn to what he needed to, it would have to come from within him. And he wasn’t sure he was up to the task.
Myrian had helped, in a way. But she certainly wasn’t helping now. Part of him felt a bitterness at that, but another part of him realized that she was probably right not to help. He needed to do this, and he needed to do it on his own. If he couldn’t, he wasn’t going to be much good to anyone.
But the desire to show Myrian that he could do it was almost more powerful than all the prophecy and soothsaying in the world. He wanted her to respect him. Maybe he even wanted more than that. So in that way, he supposed she actually was helping him.
Zak remembered how he had learned to shift into a dragon in the first place. He had tried so hard. Sometimes you just had to just stop thinking about how you wanted to do something and just let it happen.
He leaned back on his rear feet and began to beat his wings. He realized he’d been so intent on thinking about how heavy he was and how much force he would need to generate that he’d basically been talking himself out of being able to fly at all. He just need to imagine himself flying and let his new body do the rest.
Zak let his wings move all on their own and was a little surprised at how easily they took over. Then he pounced forward into the snow, vaulting once, then twice, then a third time before pushing upwards with his rear legs.
Like the first time he had successfully flown, he let his legs and tail go slack, imaging himself like an arrow shot up into the air. He let his wings do all the work, trying not to consciously think about what he needed to do to fly.
He just flew.
And as he did, the ground fell beneath him. He defied the pull of the wor
ld, rising higher and higher until he found himself next to Myrian.
He tried to steady himself in mid-air, hovering just as she was, but he had a hard time staying in one place. She seemed to be suspended, perfectly still except for the motion of her wings, while he bobbed around in the air unsteadily.
But at least he was flying. He looked into her serene silver dragon eyes, trying to find some hint of approval or possibly attraction, anything that indicated she thought he was more than a floundering fool. He couldn’t read her at all. He’d have to be satisfied with his own sense of accomplishment.
“Are you ready?” was all she said.
He tried to nod, but realized his jerky movements probably masked the gesture.
“Yes,” he said, his voice as unsteady as his takeoff.
She beat her wings harder and turned to fly. The sun had already passed directly overhead and was headed for the west. She flew in that direction, and Zak flapped his wings harder to follow.
He didn’t think he was ready to face anyone in a fight yet. The idea that such a conflict might only be days away was terrifying. But his confidence was growing, and he was beginning to feel more and more comfortable in the body of a dragon.
He fell in alongside Myrian, just as he had for the trip north to the Icelands. Now they were headed for the deserts of the Burning Sands. They had secured the promise of the Everfrosts to meet them at The One Tree. But he wasn’t sure he completely understood the directions of the High Owl.
The parchment had shown a dragon of each color, including gold. If the Everfrost king represented blue and his wife Miranda red, then what need did they have for Kal Wildfire? That would make two red dragons, when they only needed one. Actually, they could use all the help they could get, but the prophecy only foretold one red dragon.
Perhaps Miranda Everfrost wasn’t meant to be part of the pact. She was with child, after all. Perhaps she was not meant to fight, even though she had pledged herself to the cause.
Dragon Black, Dragon White Page 9