Rise of the Dragon Moon

by Gabrielle K. Byrne

  “Nowhere! I just … I was checking the caves for … for—”

  Spar’s eyes narrowed as she pointed up at the morning sky. “Do you see what time it is?”

  Toli lifted her face. Above them, blue and red streaks of light raced one another, weaving across the sky. Over the dark silhouette of Dragon Mountain in the distance, the green light of Father Moon’s rise cast a sickening pall over the ice.

  “Dragon time,” Toli whispered. All the dragons would be awake now. She shivered. Somewhere out there, her mother was fighting to stay alive. The lights gleamed back at her, streaking the sky.

  “Come with me.” Spar scowled. “We need to talk.”

  Toli didn’t move. She didn’t have time for this. She had to pack the sled and go—had to get across the ice before any more dragons went searching. Still, she thought, Spar knew the ice better than anyone. If she told the hunt master about what she’d found, maybe Spar would help her, maybe—

  “Still dreaming?” Spar spat. “Still thinking the dragons are just going to pop your mother back here like she’d been invited for tea?”

  “No! Spar, listen—”

  Spar leaned into Toli’s face. “If she’s alive, the queen is in the Mountain, with her.”

  “You mean the Dragon-Mother.”

  “Yes. And taking our queen—that’s a declaration of war.”

  Spar’s footsteps crunched on the packed snow as she strode away, expecting Toli to follow.

  “I—I can’t come with you right now.”

  “Why not?”

  “Toli!” Pendar’s voice cut through the frosty air. “Nya’s blessing, child, I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

  Spar’s jaw tightened, her eyes flashing.

  Toli backed away from both of them, her heart racing. Please, Nya, let the dragon stay asleep.

  “What do you want, Pendar?” Spar asked through gritted teeth.

  “I have a plan.”

  “You have a plan.”

  I have one too, Toli thought. And it starts with getting this dragon out of the Queendom. Still, Toli paused despite herself. If Pendar had a real plan, maybe she wouldn’t have to go. Maybe everything would be okay. “What is it?”

  Spar sneered. “Trust me, Princess, whatever it is isn’t worth your time. There is only one answer.”

  Pendar ignored her. “The Tithing is tomorrow at moonset. If the queen hasn’t been returned to us, Spar and I, and a few of the other hunters, will go to meet them. We’ll give them the tithe, as usual—to show our respect. Then we’ll demand answers.”

  Spar began to laugh, a high tight sound that put Toli on edge. She shook her head at Pendar, and began to edge away from them again. “Your plan is to … wait and ask them nicely?”

  Toli didn’t have time to wait two days. She didn’t have one day. Her mother needed help now.

  Pendar reached toward her. “Listen. We have no real information. We can’t make a decision until we do. Not with the Queendom at stake.”

  Toli had stopped listening. It would likely take at least two days to reach the Mountain. Pendar could have his chat. She’d be long gone.

  Spar’s black mood smoldered, dark as smoke and almost visible around her. Her burns seemed to glow in the cold, and her hair hung dark and lank across her shoulders. “Your plan is absurd,” she ground out. “I told you. There’s only one answer: We muster our best hunters. We go to the Mountain, and we kill the Dragon-Mother. We kill her, once and for all.” Spar’s words lurched Toli to a stop. She couldn’t be suggesting they go to war with the dragons.

  Pendar’s brown skin darkened with rage. “You’re insane,” he growled.

  Spar’s words had lurched Toli to a stop. She couldn’t be suggesting they go to war with the dragons. “We wouldn’t survive,” Toli whispered, her voice steadying. “It isn’t just her. There are hundreds of them, Spar! Maybe thousands!”

  Spar’s eyes flashed. “Then we die, Anatolia,” she hissed. “But we take that vile worm with us.”

  Toli’s mouth fell open. She met Pendar’s equally shocked gaze.

  He turned his back on Spar. “Toli, I’m so sorry, the truth is, Toli … anyone—anyone goes to the Mountain, the chances are they won’t come back alive. Listen to me. You and I will take the Tithing—”

  “No!” Toli and Spar said in unison.

  “We must think our actions through. We must learn more,” Pendar pleaded.

  Spar fisted her hands. “No tithe this year.” The hunt master moved past Pendar, reaching out as if to take Toli’s arm.

  Toli drew away as the weight in her hood shifted. Her pulse fluttered in her neck and she bit down on the urge to cover it with her hand. She had to get out of there.

  “Listen to me,” Spar said, moving with her as she backed up. “The moment they took Queen Una, our decision was made for us.” Spar held out her hands to her, imploring. “You are the acting queen now, Anatolia. I don’t care what promises you made to your mother. Some promises are made to be broken.”

  “No,” Pendar said, his voice soft as new snow.

  Toli moved toward the Hall, turned half toward Spar and Pendar as they followed behind.

  “You can’t allow it, Anatolia,” Pendar continued. “It will be your death. The death of us all. You promised your mother you would listen to me.” He turned to Spar. “Hunt master—please. You’re … something’s wrong with you. You’re ill. You’re not making sense.”

  “I have to go,” Toli whispered as the snow creaked under her feet. The dragon shifted again, sending a bolt of adrenaline through her. She had to get out of there before they saw the baby.

  “Fools!” Spar ground out. “There are no more promises!” She pointed a calloused finger at Toli, and the embers of her amber gaze pinned Toli to the spot. “I’ll do what I can to keep you safe,” she snarled. “But wear your cloak—at all times. Don’t take it off. The scales will protect you from their fire. Did you know that?”

  “I—”

  “They will. Though Nya knows I hope you never need it.” She sucked in a sharp breath, lifting one hand to her forehead.

  Toli noticed the hunt master’s hands were shaking.

  She knew she couldn’t help her mentor. She needed to go. The dragon could wake at any moment. But worry for Spar crowded out her thoughts. “Is it … is it your burns?” she stammered.

  Pendar’s face darkened. “Are you in pain, hunt master?”

  Toli stepped closer, placing a hand on Spar’s arm. It was like stone. A heartbeat passed before Spar shook her off. “When does the ice forgive?”

  “The ice never forgives,” Toli whispered, wishing she knew how to make things better.

  “When does the ice forget?”

  “The ice never forgets.” She intoned the words the hunt master had taught her, but her thoughts spun away. If she didn’t leave soon, she’d be stuck on the ice through the night. And if the dragon woke now—

  “Will you bend the ice’s will?”

  “It cannot bend. You will break trying.”

  Spar’s hand reached up to touch the scars on her face. “Good. Then you’ll understand.”

  Pendar huffed. “Understand what?”

  Spar didn’t answer. The huntress stared into the distance, toward the sharp silhouette of Dragon Mountain. Her eyes glittered like ice in her scorched skin as she turned her head to study Toli. “If you won’t kill that creature, it will have to be me.” Spar paused. “It should be me.”

  Toli’s voice stuck in her throat. “Wh-who? The dragon that took Mother?” She’d never seen Spar like this. Pendar was right. Something was wrong with her. The pain of her burns, and of all that had happened, had affected her mind. “We … we can’t just kill her. How will you even know which one it is?”

  Spar grinned, her eyes fever-bright. “Perhaps we’ll end them all.”

  Toli shook her head numbly. Hating the dragons was one thing. Protecting her people from them—saving her mother—all those she could def
end, and would, and in doing so, find some measure of justice for her father.

  But attacking a mountain full of dragons, young and old, and trying to what? Wipe them from the face of Ire? It wasn’t just murder. It was a death wish for every man, woman, and child in Gall.

  Her knuckles tightened on her bow. She had to get away from here. The weight of the dragon pulled at her. Given the chance, Spar would kill her, and Toli would lose whatever small power having it gave her. She looked at the two of them, and the truth hit her like the snap of a cord breaking. She might never see them again.

  She took in Spar—with her shoulders thrown back, confident—and Pendar’s gentle eyes. She spun without a word, unable to look at either of them any longer. Her feet pounded the ice like drums as she ran for the Great Hall. They both meant well, but she was done lying to herself—done listening to ridiculous threats and unacceptable promises. Saving her mother was up to her. She was on her own.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Toli hurried toward the Great Hall. She would slip up to her bedroom and get what she needed for the journey across the ice while the dragon was still asleep. In her head, Toli made a list of everything she would need as she ran. Extra clothes, food and water, of course, and some of the leatherleaf bags hunters took out on the deep ice. Waxed over with animal fat, they would protect what they held against dampness and frost. Peat bricks. What else? Weapons. The sleds were all stocked with beaters and spears, but she’d bring her bow too, and a good knife. She’d need strong embers.

  She threw open the doors to the Hall, surprised at how quiet and peaceful it was inside. The fires crackled, merry and unaware. Everyone was out fulfilling the tasks of the morning.

  Rasca had begun setting out bowls of beetle eggs on the long tables so people could have food in their stomachs during the day. With only a few hours of moderate moonlight each day, there was no time to be wasted.

  Toli wondered how long dragons slept as she hurried toward the ladder to her room, pausing only to pop a beetle egg into her mouth with a sigh. The dragon rattled deep inside her hood. She froze. Go back to sleep, she thought. Go back to sleep.

  The dragon shifted. Of course. Now it was awake and probably hungry. Toli feared she was never going to get out of here! She looked around. Did dragons eat eggs? She had no idea.

  Rasca shuffled by with another bowlful of hard-boiled beetle eggs. When the woman’s back was turned, Toli picked up a handful of the pearly beetle eggs and dropped them into her hood. She hoped it was enough to keep the dragon distracted.

  Toli hurried toward the back of the hall, but the dragon shifted again with a hiss, pulling Toli two steps sideways as she gobbled the eggs.

  Wix came through a side door ahead of her, blocking her path with the barrow load of peat bricks he’d brought in to fill the fuel boxes at the back of the Hall. Toli let out a groan and stepped into the shadow of a pillar.

  Petal followed behind him, wearing one of her favorite dresses, soft leather embellished with bright dragon feathers and scales she’d collected herself from the ice after the dragons returned to molt last year.

  As they came closer, Toli tucked herself tightly against the pillar. Once they had passed, she’d make a dash past them and climb the ladder to her bedroom.

  The dragon turned a circle in Toli’s hood, shifting her weight again, forcing Toli back a step. Toli twisted around and caught a glimpse of red scales as the dragon climbed up the tall post into the rafters.

  Her heart pulsed. No, no, no, no, no. Where is she going? “Get back here,” she hissed upward, glancing over at her sister and Wix, who stood by the fire. “We have to go!”

  They hadn’t noticed her yet, but any second now they would. Toli held her breath, peering upward, and found the dragon’s golden eyes peering back at her. “Come back,” she mouthed, pointing toward the ground.

  With a flick of her tail, the little red dragon slipped across the rafters like a breeze, zipping down a pole halfway across the room, on the far side of Petal and Wix. Her taloned toes reached out, grasping eggs out of one of the bowls. She shoved them into her mouth. Bits of egg flew everywhere. Rasca was going to have a fit when she saw the floor.

  Toli gritted her teeth, and tried to catch the dragon’s eye again.

  “Toli!” Wix shouted, catching sight of her. “What are you doing here? I figured you’d be out training with Spar while you still can.”

  “Spar’s not … feeling like herself.” From the corner of her eye, she saw the dragon wrap herself up another post, this time coming down directly behind Wix. She shot Toli a wide-eyed blink and emptied another bowl of eggs into her scaled cheeks.

  Next to Wix, Petal frowned. “I’d say Spar is more herself every day.”

  “No. I mean, she’s off somehow.”

  “Yes.” Petal nodded. “That’s what I mean too. She’s off.”

  Toli spotted a flash of red scales right behind Petal. She reached out, then startled, dropping her arm quickly as Wix narrowed his eyes at her. The dragon was gone again.

  Hailfire! She tried to strike a casual pose.

  “Anyway, I’m glad you’re here,” Petal said. “Did you hear? Pendar’s going to talk to them—to the dragons—at the Tithing. He’s going to ask about Mother. And I think you can help settle our argument.” She glanced at Wix meaningfully.

  Toli grunted. She wanted to tell them about her plan, but she couldn’t. For one thing, they’d only try to stop her, and for another, finding the blasted dragon in the rafters was taking every ounce of her attention. So she said nothing.

  It didn’t matter anyway. Whatever Pendar intended, she was going to the Mountain. There would be no more waiting. She tried to smile at Wix but caught sight of the dragon, so it came out more like a grimace. When Toli looked behind him again, she was gone.

  Where had that blasted creature gone?

  Petal was looking at her earnestly. “We want Wix to go to the Tithing too, so you have to tell him I’m right. He would look older if we changed his outfit. At least mended all the tears in his tunic.”

  Wix lifted his chin and patted his curls and braids. “Forget it. I don’t care how bossy you get. You’re not touching my fashion.”

  Toli barked a laugh, despite herself.

  Petal scowled. “Fashion isn’t funny. Anyway, you have to be there so you can come back and tell me what happens.” She cast Toli an apologetic look. “Toli won’t go, and sending you is the only way we can be sure we’re getting the whole story. If you want the hunters to take you seriously when you ask to go, we should make you look older. I have a bowl of black scale. With one of Father’s old tunics, I could—”

  “I don’t need to look older. I just need to look tough. All the scuffs and tears on my clothes are from training and hunting and—”

  “Yeah,” Petal said. “I know you’ve got a look, Wix, but—”

  A hiss from the rafters spun Toli around. A flash of scale. There—behind the throne. The dragon scrambled across the floor. Toli moved to intercept it. Trying to look casual, she threw a peat brick on the fire as she passed. Just as she was almost close enough to reach out and grab her, the dragon caught sight of another bowl of eggs—the last one—and veered away. She had the sense to look ashamed as she poured them into her gullet, then shimmied up another pillar.

  Toli glared as the dragon came down behind Petal, pausing to let out a belch that shot flame across the edge of Petal’s dress. The dragon slipped under the nearest bench as Petal spun around, screaming, “My dress!”

  Wix gaped as Toli raced to the water barrel. Sparks shot up the spines of the long feathers, filling the air with putrid smoke. Toli filled the scoop, running to toss all of the water at her sister.

  Petal stood, dripping cold water and glaring at Toli.

  “You were on fire,” Toli explained, though she couldn’t see why Petal would need this explanation.

  Wix scratched his head and frowned, rattling a poker around in the peat embers. “It must have been a sp
ark.” He paused. “But it’s such a small fire. And did either of you hear that noise?”

  Toli shook her head.

  Petal just sighed as she looked down at her scorched dress, the feathers singed black and crumbling. Dark circles stained the skin under Petal’s eyes. “Guess I’ll change,” she grumped. “You,” she added, pointing at Wix. “Wait here. I’m not done with you.”

  Wix gave her a solemn nod, apparently resigned to Petal’s efforts.

  Toli wanted to say something, but instead, she bit down a yelp as the dragon zipped up her leg and under her cloak, slipping back into the hood. The weight pulled her off-balance, and she threw out one arm, catching hold of Wix to steady herself.

  His hazel eyes widened. “Toli, what’s going on? Are you okay?”

  Toli nodded, blowing out a deep breath. “I’m fine,” she said, forcing a smile. “I’ve got a … a lot on my shoulders, that’s all. I—I just—I have to go.” Wix watched with a hurt expression as she backed slowly out of the room, turning away just in time to catch a glimpse of Rasca’s perplexed stare as she shuffled in and saw egg on the floor, and all the empty bowls.

  * * *

  Toli waited for her sister to finish changing and leave to find Wix before returning to their bedroom. Sated, the dragon slept again, still and warm, curled behind the crook of Toli’s neck. Toli packed as fast as she could, moving quickly to run supplies out to the sled without being seen.

  It took her most of the remaining hours of Nya’s light to finish. At last, she stocked the bowl of coals from the little hearth in her room. In normal circumstances, she wouldn’t dream of leaving in a sled so close to nightfall, but these weren’t normal circumstances.

  Toli paused to take a look around before she shut the door behind her for the last time. This was it. She was going to try to accomplish the impossible—cross the ice and make a bargain with the Dragon-Mother.

  She might die. The ice might kill her, and if it didn’t, the dragons probably would. She bit her lip. She didn’t want to leave Petal, or Wix, and she certainly wasn’t interested in dying. Maybe you should wait, a voice at the back of her head tried to persuade her. What if Pendar really can find out something important at the Tithing? What if they just give her back?