by Devri Walls
As they flew inside, it took Kiora a moment to understand what she was seeing. It looked like a long stone ramp that hung precariously out over open air. Flanking the ramp were giant carved columns of solid crystal in alternating colors sparkling in the sunlight that poured in the doorway behind them. Reds, yellows, and oranges bounced off each other, sending color spinning out through the mountain.
Arturo gracefully landed next to Silan. Eyes wide, Kiora exhaled in wonder. What is this?
The great crystal hall of the dragons. The volcano left behind deposits of crystal, and back when the world got along, the Shifters carved them into pillars. The extra material is used throughout the mountain.
That is why the dragons are so bright? Kiora clarified. Because of the crystals?
Yes. Their bodies have matched their surroundings.
Silan marched forward, looking over his shoulder to make sure Kiora and Arturo were still behind him.
Poor Morcant. To go from this to his hole in the ground.
The mountain loomed above them, hollowed out. An oculus at the top let in more light, allowing the pillars to dance and sing with color. Silan stopped at the end of the ramp, looking out. The mountain was uncomfortably warm and ribbons of sweat trickled between her shoulder blades. The familiar smell of dragon’s sulfur burned her nose.
Peering over the edge of the stone ramp, Kiora saw an amazing sight. Natural stone shelves extended out like levels in a building, dropping deep into the mountain. Crystal pillars lined most of them and dragons walked, sat, and flew among them. Some were Morcant’s size while others were much smaller, daintier. Female, Kiora realized with a jolt. She had never seen a female dragon before.
Most of the dragons came to a stop when they saw her. They stood at the edge of the shelves to look up at the strange duo that had entered their home.
“This is as far as the Pegasus goes,” Silan said without looking at them. “If you want to see the queen, you will come with me.”
Kiora looked nervously down, realizing the acute danger she was in. Fending off twenty dragons with a water shield would be child’s play compared with getting out of this mountain if the dragons decided they had other plans.
“May I ask why Arturo is not welcome?”
Kiora felt Arturo’s displeasure with her question.
Silan’s eyes narrowed and he extended his neck to within inches of Kiora. Apparently a lack of personal space was not just a Morcant trait after all.
“Because the queen will want to know that your thoughts and words are your own.”
“Of course.” She lowered her eyes respectfully. “Where will we be going?”
“Straight down.”
“How would you like me to get there?”
He grimaced, exposing his teeth. “You may ride.”
“Thank you. May Arturo help me on?”
“He may, but then he must leave.” Silan faced forward, waiting.
Arturo rose, flying her over the top of Silan where she slid gently onto the dragon’s back. Morcant had been bad enough to ride, but Silan’s scales were larger, more uncomfortable to sit on, and harder to grip.
Remember your manners, Kiora, and you will be fine. Trust your instincts. I will be outside.
Silan jumped off the edge with little regard for Kiora. He pulled his wings tightly to his side, dropping into a dive straight down. It was a blur of red, orange, and yellow from both the crystal structures and the dragons themselves. Kiora clenched her fingers around the scales, pulling her knees in so tight, they were shaking. The deeper they went, the hotter it became, and Kiora’s lungs burned with each ragged gasp. Sweat ran down her back and stray hairs stuck to the side of her face. She grunted, trying to readjust her right hand.
“Silan?” she asked. “Why did you decide to take me to your queen?”
“I find you curious.”
She smiled despite herself. Morcant had said the same thing.
As they neared what looked to be the bottom of the mountain, Silan leveled out, landing on a rather large ledge. Relaxing her hold, Kiora sat up, stretching her fingers. Before them stood what Kiora assumed was the work of the Shifters. The crystal on this level had been carved into two dragons’ wings. They arched in the same shape as the Wings of Arian, only larger, framing out a red-and-orange doorway. Folding his wings neatly back, Silan walked through the door.
The chamber inside was more magnificent than she could have dreamed. The walls were crystal. The same type of pillars she admired earlier stood to the left and right of them, marking a pathway down the center of the room. The pillars were carved so precisely, they looked like smoky tendrils stretching upwards from the back of the throne nearly to the ceiling. At the end of the room was a wide throne. A dragon lay across it.
The dragon appeared to be asleep. She was much smaller than Silan and was colored in a most unique fashion. All the other dragons were either red, yellow, or orange. This dragon, whom Kiora had to assume was the queen, was all three colors. Her eyes were framed in yellow scales while her face and neck were solid red. From there, her scales faded gently from red to orange, leaving the tip of her tail wrapped in solid yellow. She was beautiful, but thin, with faded and frail wings. As they approached, the dragon’s eyes flickered open. Her pupils were more gray than black, aging her otherwise beautiful face.
“Your Majesty,” Silan said, bowing his head until it lay flat on the ground. Kiora slid off Silan’s back before following suit, bowing her head until her chin rested on her chest. “We found her approaching the island on a Pegasus. She has asked to speak with you.”
The queen shifted, wrapping her tail around her. “Thank you, Silan.”
Kiora felt herself relax. The queen’s voice was musical indeed. Where the male dragons were all tenor and bass and very loud, the queen’s voice was higher, softer, and had a pleasant lilt to it.
Silan did not move, his head still on the ground.
“You may go now, Silan,” the queen said.
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
The queen was silent as Silan lumbered out. His thread was far away before she spoke. “You must have made quite an impression on him,” she said, evaluating Kiora with an inquisitive eye.
Kiora kept her head down. “It is an honor to meet you, Your Majesty.”
“What is your name, child?”
“Kiora.”
“Please look up, Kiora.”
Kiora cautiously brought her eyes up to meet the queen’s.
She was still lying down but her head was up, eyes alert, and her wings were folded neatly across her back. She tilted her head to the side. “You have piqued my curiosity. Why have you come?”
Kiora took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. Should she just tell her about the dreams, or was there a socially proper preamble she should offer first? Her questions bound her tongue and she stood there silent, her thoughts jumping from one scenario to the next. Many of them ended with the queen engulfing her in flames.
“You are human,” the queen said suddenly.
The air went out of Kiora. “How did you know that?”
The queen smiled. “I have been alive a long time, Kiora. I have seen all there is to see.” Her wings fluttered on her back before she folded them flat again. “A human is something I have not seen in many years. Where do you hail from?”
“A land called Meros. We have lived in magical isolation for thousands of years. No one could come in, nor could we leave.”
“I see. And who was the author of this magical isolation?”
“Dralazar.”
“Truly?” Her lips pursed. “Interesting. And now you are here and are nervous to tell me why.”
“I need help,” Kiora finally managed.
The queen chuckled. “Help. That is all anyone ever wants. And yet, who will help us?” Her eyes narrowed slightly. “No one. They turn on us, try to take our home, and kill our children. My kind have been massacred and we are forced to all reside in one place, for there is
safety in numbers.” She scratched her claws across the bottom of her throne. “You are either brave, desperate, or stupid to ask us for help.”
“Desperate.” Kiora hung her head. “I am desperate. And I don’t need any help from the dragons. I only need help from you. I need to ask you some questions.”
The queen raised her eyes. “Questions are the most dangerous things, child. Truths can build up or destroy. Answers cannot be taken back, nor undone.” She shook her head, clicking her tongue. “Yes, questions are most dangerous.”
“But sometimes wrongs can only be righted with truth.”
“Ah, and you are trying to right a wrong, are you?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Many have come to us under the guise of righting wrongs and then have perpetuated their own wrongs in the name of truth.”
“Yes, Your Majesty, they have.” Kiora’s hands fisted at her sides. “But I am different. I only…”
The queen threw her head back and laughed. The crystal walls hummed with the vibration. “As they all say. I have seen many creatures over my years. No one is different. All are weak, corruptible.” She pronounced “corruptible” carefully, her lips curling around the word.
“Your Majesty, in Meros, we were not just isolated from the outside world—we were isolated from everything. Evil, as well as magic. My people lived in peace for a thousand years.”
The queen leaned forward, eyes intense.
“I knew no lies, and I knew no hurt at the hand of another. This year, Dralazar returned, and everything changed.”
The queen’s nostrils flared at the mention of Dralazar’s name.
“I was called as the Solus for Meros. I had to watch evil in the Wings of Arian for the first time. It was one of the most painful days of my life. I ran, hoping to make it go away. But there was no going back.” Kiora paused, trying to calm her breathing, which was racing out of control. “Your Majesty, because of how I lived, I am different. Evil pains me in a way I cannot explain. Taking lives, even when they are seeking to take mine—it is horrific.”
The queen’s silence permeated the room. “You say you are the Solus for your people. Are you more than that?”
“Yes, I am the Solus of prophecy.” She flushed.
“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 l
evel.
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.