Embers at Galdrilene

by Audra Trosper

  Anevay stood with Serena and Gideon on the inner terrace. She looked at the silver-gray draclet standing patiently in front of them. Although she really didn’t see the young dragon, she was too focused on the stain and how it attached to the draclet.

  Serena narrowed her eyes, a small frown of concentration on her face. “I can see where it’s attached, but I’m not sure how to get it loose.”

  Anevay saw it too. It clung weakly to the draclet’s soul. It shouldn’t be hard to dislodge once they knew how. “There has to be something in the scrolls or the Ka’ti.” She couldn’t believe the book with the golden Di’shan star was back. Such a beautiful treasure, full of magic and history.

  Gideon nodded. “Let’s look again. Perhaps we have missed something.”

  Serena shook her head slightly. “I’m not sure there is anything to miss. There are no records of this. How can there be a weave for something that has never happened?”

  Anevay took a deep breath. Of course. They were searching the past for something that wasn’t there. However, all of the weaves in the scrolls and the Ka’ti were created by people. At one time they didn’t exist either. “Paki, you can go. Thank you so much for your patience.”

  Gideon and Serena stared at her. Serena was the first to speak, “Why did you send her away? How can we reason out which weave will work if we aren’t looking at the problem?”

  Anevay started for the records room. “We’re looking at it wrong. We don’t need a weave from the past. We need a new weave.”

  Gideon hurried after her. “What do you mean a new weave?”

  “I mean that we aren’t going to find it in the scrolls or the Ka’ti. This has never happened before so there can’t be a weave made for it already.”

  Anevay made quick strides through the hold until she reached the records room. She stopped in the middle of the room, her eyes raking the shelves. She needed a few things for this. After pulling several scrolls from their holders she opened the Ka’ti. The heavy wooden cover thumped against the table. No wonder Loki couldn’t get both books. If the Kor’ti was half as big as the Ka’ti, it would’ve taken two people to carry them out. Uncertain where everything in the massive tomb was located, she worked through the book slowly. Only eight days since it returned; not nearly enough time to know everything in it. She stopped and used a quill dipped in ink to make quick, neat notes on a small piece of parchment.

  Serena came to stand next to her as she turned pages and made notes. “What are you thinking to do?”

  Anevay stopped. How to explain it? She took a deep breath. “The Ka’ti and these scrolls are more than just history and weaves. They are recipes. Each weave contains the ingredients to make it. We need a new weave, but we don’t need new ingredients. We just need to mix them up in a different way. So I’m working through the different ingredients we might need.” She couldn’t help the excitement welling up in her at the challenge that making a new weave presented. “Each symbol represents something. Each line in a symbol tells which ingredient should be laid next to which to get the result you want. If you use everything it tells you, yet put a single thread out of place, you will end up with something different than what you intended.”

  Serena stared at her. Gideon rubbed his goatee thoughtfully. He nodded in approval. “I’m impressed. How will you know if you have the weave right?”

  Anevay faltered. “I’m not sure other than trying it.”

  “Can I help?”

  Anevay looked up to see Taela standing in the doorway. “Of course. I think we can use any help possible.” Her initial flush of disappointment had been washed away after meeting Taela. The woman was sweet natured and fair. Anevay had kind of hoped there might someday be more between herself and Kellinar, but to his credit he had never offered anything more than friendship and she couldn’t begrudge him such a lovely bondmate.

  Taela strode toward her. “Did I hear you right? You’re going to try creating a new weave?”

  Anevay nodded. “We have to, there is nothing for this situation.”

  Serena sighed. “It might work. How do we test it? I mean, I really don’t want to start throwing things at Paki without knowing what it will do. What if it hurts her or worse?”

  Taela scanned the scrolls Anevay had laid out. “I think I can help with that.”

  Intrigued, Anevay turned her full attention on Kellinar’s bondmate. “How?

  “Did you forget I spent a week in the Kormai? I had no choice except to learn what they wanted me to. I had to pretend to be one of them to protect Paki. I’ve also seen several of the weaves in the Kor’ti, this book’s opposite. I remember everything I read. I didn’t have time to learn much, but I know enough that I can lay a weave on an inanimate object. Then we can try removing it.”

  A thrill of excitement ran through Anevay. “Really?” A sobering thought doused the excitement. “Will weaving dark magic hurt you?”

  “It will be painful, yes, but worth it for Paki’s future.”

  Anevay smiled. Yes, this woman was definitely worthy of her friend.

  Kellinar paced back and forth in the records room while Taela worked to make a dark weave. Pain beat at her, he felt it pounding in her head. He stopped close, watching to see if it became too much. This was her third weave as she tried to emulate the stain.

  He watched the silver statue of a horse Taela worked on. It shimmered and rippled, alternating between silver and gray. Tears streaked down her face, yet she never faltered in her efforts. Concern fluttered in his chest. “Taela, you’re going to have to stop.” How in the name of the Fates had he come to care about her so much in the eight days since their return to Galdrilene?

  She shook her head and took a ragged breath. “I can’t. I have to do this for Paki. As long as she is willing to endure the pain, I am willing to work to help her.”

  Kellinar turned to Serena and Anevay. They both watched Taela with worry in their eyes. Anevay’s dark eyes met his. She took a step toward Taela. “Maybe you should stop and rest for a little bit.”

  Taela didn’t answer, her eyes glued to the statue. Kellinar looked at it again. The shimmering slowed and the silver gleam dulled to gray. The pain rolling off his bondmate intensified. He wished he could pull away some of it, but it didn’t work with pain caused by her own magic.

  “It’s too much. She needs to stop,” came Shryden’s sending. Kellinar felt the worry in the dragon.

  “She refuses as long as Paki is willing.”

  “They are both far too stubborn. Paki is too young to bear such pain. This can be done later when she is older if it has to be done.”

  Kellinar agreed with the dragon.

  Moments crept by. More tears coursed down Taela’s cheeks. Her hands trembled. She sucked in a breath and swayed. Blood trickled from her nose as she sank to her knees. Kellinar knelt on one knee beside her. “That’s enough for now.” He grabbed her face in his hands and forced her to look at him. “Enough!”

  A sob broke past her lips and she sagged into him. He wrapped his arms around her trembling body. “I did it,” she said through her tears.

  Kellinar looked at the horse. It stood iron gray in the light. He tightened his arms. Yes, she’d done it. He admired her determination, but the admiration warred with fear. He glanced down at her face. Blood still spilled in a stream past her lips. It had nearly been too much. What if it had somehow killed her? His chest tightened at the thought.

  Anevay and Serena rushed to them. He released Taela as both women reached for her. The bleeding stopped within seconds. Anevay fixed her eyes on Taela’s. “You won’t do that again. We will work with this. If it’s not enough then Paki will remain gray. We’ve become very good friends over the past several days and Kellinar and I already great friends. I won’t take part in you harming yourself.”

  Taela nodded. “We will have to be careful with what we throw at this one. I don’t want to ruin it. Especially if I can’t make more.”

  Serena stood. “Anevay can
work on it from here. You helped with the making of the possible weaves, but you can’t work Healing magic. Go rest, visit with Maleena, watch the dragons swim–something.”

  Taela sighed as Kellinar helped her stand. “Are you sure? I can stay in case–”

  Anevay narrowed her eyes. “In case what? You aren’t making another dark weave.”

  “Maybe if Maleena and I link it won’t be so bad.”

  Kellinar couldn’t help laughing. “Mckale wouldn’t let her even if he had to throw her over his shoulder and carry her out of here. He came too close to losing her. And there is no way she would put him through the worry right now.”

  Taela turned her deep blue eyes on him. “I’m sorry, Kellinar. I know this wasn’t easy on you either.” She took a deep breath. “No more dark weaves.”

  Ten days later, the Healing mages gathered in a circle around Paki. Led by Serena, Anevay and Gideon they worked to remove the taint of shadow from the draclet. Kellinar leaned against Shryden and watched both Paki and Taela. He felt the happiness and worry that warred within Taela. She stood in front of him watching Paki intently. She was so tense he sensed knots forming in her shoulders.

  The other riders and their dragons looked on. Maleena leaned back into Mckale as he stood with his arms around her. Emallya, wan though on the mend, sat on the inner terrace with Bardeck and Mernoth. Kirynn lounged against Syrakynn. Vaddoc stood next to Namir. Miya, her yellow scales reflecting the sun, stood behind Serena lending her both her strength and the reassurance of her physical presence.

  Time dragged on. Kellinar couldn’t see what they were doing of course, but he wished he could. What was taking so long? As he began to worry it wouldn’t work, the dim veil fell away from Paki and she glittered clear silver in the sunlight. Serena slumped against Miya and several of the mages had to sit down.

  Serena looked at Taela. “It wasn’t easy, however, your Paki is clean of the taint now. She is truly a silver draclet of the Guardians.”

  A cheer went up and Bardeck stood and announced, “We will have the Welcoming Ceremony tomorrow where you, Taela, will receive your pendant and you will both be introduced formally to all of Galdrilene.”

  Kellinar felt pure elation rolling off Taela and Paki and even Shryden. He looked fondly up at the big blue. “I think we are going to have to rethink our lair location soon, my friend.”

  “There are plenty of double lairs open,” Shryden sent back.

  The next day Kellinar, Shryden, and the other Guardians arranged themselves around the outer terrace and on the massive stone steps of the stairway as Taela stood in front of Emallya as the older woman’s voice rang out, “You are no longer Taela Shamira, first daughter of the King of Haraban. You are relieved of your old life and the duties that went with it so you can take your place as a Dragon Rider.”

  She lifted the silver chain over Taela’s neck and the pendant caught the sunlight as it settled above her breasts. “You are now Di’shan Taela Shamira, bonded to the Silver dragon, Paki, and a Guardian of Galdrilene where the rose blooms eternal. May peace favor you and your dragon all the days of your lives.”

  Taela turned away from Emallya and with Paki glittering silver beside her, walked to stand on the stairs before the cheering people of Galdrilene. The adult dragons raised their voices in a thunderous roar.

  Kalila staggered as exhaustion swept through her. The soles of her bare feet burned, leaving little smears of blood with each step. She stumbled to a stop, eyes sweeping the endless grass waving in the cold wind. A shiver racked her body as the wind whipped her hair into her face and tore at the ragged dress she wore. She pushed the dirty, golden strands away and ran her tongue over her dry lips.

  Kalila sucked a cold breath down her parched throat. Where was she? Was she still going west, or wandering in circles? Everything looked the same. She turned around, searching for something–anything–to use as a landmark. Kalila couldn’t even tell the position of the sun through the thick blanket of clouds.

  Everywhere, the tall grass waved like a green ocean. The newly formed seed heads bobbed up and down. Telling her to go forward, or mocking her?

  Cold moisture landed on her cheek. Kalila looked up as more drops fell, driving into her face with the strength of the wind behind them. She closed her eyes and opened her mouth, letting the cold drops soak her tongue and lips. Thirst burned in her throat like a fire.

  Kalila opened her eyes and looked around again. There had to be something to catch the water in. A drink. Oh, the desperate need for a drink! She’d gained her freedom, was a drink so much more to ask? If she never got another thing in life; if she died here on this empty ocean of grass that was okay–if she could just a have one drink first.

  There was nothing to collect water in, just as there was nothing else in this wretched grassland. At least she’d finally left the desert behind. That had to mean something. Even in the desert there were things with water in them. With this much grass there had to be water somewhere. Didn’t there?

  Her teeth chattered as she started to walk again, only dimly aware of the throbbing in her feet. She had to keep moving or she would freeze to death. A ragged laugh burst past her lips. Already dying of thirst now she was worrying about freezing to death.

  As Kalila walked, one painful step after another, she contemplated which would be worse, freezing to death or dying of thirst. She already knew the agony of thirst and had heard stories of people freezing. It was said they fell asleep and never woke. Was it really that easy?

  Kalila shook her head. Stupid thoughts to have. She’d made it this far. Two hot tears leaked down her cheeks. Where had the moisture for those come from? It didn’t matter. Her sister hadn’t broken her and Fates be damned if she’d let these grasslands break her either.

  Her soaked dress clung to her legs, making it difficult to walk. Kalila stopped and looked down at the torn skirt. It was wet. So wet it dripped. Oh! It dripped. Almost sobbing with relief she yanked the dress off, sending the tiny buttons scattering into the grass. She didn’t care.

  She tipped her head back and twisted the cloth above her mouth. Water trickled over her tongue. It tasted of dirt and fabric that had been worn too long. It was wonderful. Nothing had ever tasted so good. Her dry throat rejoiced at the moisture. She moved her hands to another area and squeezed more water from the rank material.

  Shivers racked her soaked body as the wind lashed rain at her as if to punish her for thinking she could pass through this land unscathed. She stood in it, accepted it, shifting to new wet areas of the dress to wring the precious liquid into her mouth until her legs gave out, too weak to hold her up any longer.

  Thirst still nagged at her, but it was quieter now, partially sated. Her eyes closed against the cold storm and she burrowed into the grass. She wasn’t shivering anymore; that probably wasn’t good. It was okay, though. Kalila had made her pact. She’d gained her freedom and a drink. The Fates had been kind. If they wished her to die here now, she couldn’t complain. She sighed quietly as darkness settled over her.

  Warmth wrapped around her and lifted her from the cold, wet grass. Her eyes drifted open. A dark sky full of stars stretched overhead. Voices calling out tried to rouse her from her stupor. She couldn’t summon the strength to answer. Bright torchlight swam across her vision and the sharp brown eyes of a woman searched her face.

  “Place her in my vardo, quickly,” the woman said, her voice strong despite her age.

  “Yes, Shamam,” a male voice answered.

  The night began to move again. Campfires and torches lit up the darkness. The light sent little needles into her eyes and she closed them. Rough hands laid her on something soft. The strong voice of the woman flowed around her. Floating in the twilight on the edge of consciousness, Kalila couldn’t quite understand what was said, but they sounded like orders. The softness under her rocked slightly and then warm hands were on her head. Something thick wrapped her in a cocoon.

  She drifted in and out of sleep. As
her body slowly warmed, she began to feel the pain in her feet again. Her fingers and toes felt like they were on fire. A moan escaped her lips. Why were they trying to set her on fire?

  “Shh. It is best if you stay still.”

  Kalila opened her eyes. A woman pulled away the thick blankets and replaced them with warm ones. The heat felt lovely, but it seemed to increase the stabbing and burning going on in her toes. She tried to raise her arm, but the woman held it with surprising strength.

  “I said to hold still.”

  With effort, Kalila found her voice though it was little more than a whisper. “Who are you? Where am I?”

  “We are Traders. One of our young men found you and brought you to me. You are in my vardo. I am their Shamam, their healer. My name is Madeir. There is some damage to your toes and fingers from the cold.” Her brown eyes searched Kalila’s. “Who are you and how did you come to be laying naked and nearly frozen on the Ash Plains?”

  The Ash Plains. So she was somewhere between Shadereen and Calladar. She couldn’t have wandered into a more empty area. “I escaped. I was trying to get home.”

  A furrow appeared between the woman’s eyes. “Escaped from where? Where is home?”

  “Markene is home. I escaped…” How did she explain where she escaped from. Who would believe her? There were dragons again. Evil black dragons and multi-colored dragons she didn’t think were evil like the blacks. How could she say that several weeks travel by foot to the east a mountain housed unspeakable evil? This healer would think she was crazy. But she had to try. She had to warn them.

  “I escaped from a place called the Kormai–”

  Madeir’s sudden, sharp intake of breath stopped her. The healer leaned close, her eyes wide. “The Kormai?” The woman drew back briefly, fear flickering in her eyes. “What is your name? How do you know of the–” she paused and looked around as if afraid someone might be listening. Her voice lowered to a whisper. “How do you know of the Kormai?”