Rise of the Dragon Moon

by Gabrielle K. Byrne

“Did we pass the Necropolis? I tried to peek out of the blankets, but—”

  Toli shook her head. “Can’t be much farther now though.” The thought made her shiver. A vast field of the dead carved in ice was hard to fathom. She didn’t want to stop at all, but she especially didn’t want to stop there. Her heart might not survive seeing her father’s relic.

  Wix tilted his head back, watching the lights dance over the bowl of the sky. He pointed to where four stars brightened, just to the west of where Nya sank below the horizon. “Nya’s bear-cat.” He turned and pointed in the other direction. “And I can just make out the Harvester. The Necropolis is just east of the Harvester, and as long as we don’t get any closer to the bear-cat, we should be making straight for the Necropolis.”

  Petal shot an astonished look at Toli.

  She shrugged. “Carver’s wisdom,” she explained.

  Wix smirked. “What can I say? I’m good to have around.” Then, as if he could hear what Toli had been worrying about, he asked, “Nya will be down soon. Should we stop for the night?”

  She shook her head, motioning for them to sit down. “The wind’s calm.” She tossed the bag of dried meat and mushrooms back to her sister and slapped the reins. “Not yet. We’re not stopping until we have to.”

  Father Moon hung just under the cloud layer, watching over the Mountain and the ice. The foxes raced forward, their breath coming in clouds as they pulled the sled across the barrens. They were farther now than any of them had ever been before.

  Toli tried to remember everything she’d been told about traveling on the ice. Listen closely so it can tell you where danger lies. If you can’t see, wait out the storm under a sled—or risk finding yourself miles away from where you want to be. Keep moving. Stopping for too long is death.

  It was meager advice, and she raked her thoughts for more as the cold burned her cheeks.

  When does the ice forgive?

  The ice never forgives.

  She tightened the hood of her white cloak around her shoulders, making sure it covered Ruby too. Had it really been only two days since Spar had given it to her? It felt like a lifetime had passed. Despite Toli’s fears about where her mentor might have gone, and what she might be doing, the weight of the soft cloak around her shoulders gave her comfort.

  Wix scooted up to sit beside her at the front, leaving Petal curled under furs at the back of the sled. He nudged her with his elbow. “You know,” he said in a voice pitched just over a whisper. “You could give your sister a compliment now and then.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, it’s just—you say some kind of mean stuff.”

  Toli stared at him. “I do not!”

  Wix arched an eyebrow at her.

  Petal’s hurt expression flashed in Toli’s mind and her shoulders slumped. “I’m not trying to be mean. I’m just trying to keep her safe. You know that!”

  He bumped her gently. “Okay, but whatever your reasons are, it doesn’t change how it feels, you know?”

  “But if I say nice stuff, it will just encourage her!”

  Wix looked at her, waiting for what she had said to sink in.

  “Oh,” Toli said.

  Something sharp hit her cheek.

  In the back, Petal yelped as something struck her hand. She glanced up. “Hail.” Her eyes widened. “Should we stop?”

  Toli shook her head. “No.” She looked at the sky. “If we keep going, maybe we can stay ahead of the weather, at least as far as the Necropolis. If we can make it there, we should be a little more protected. We’ll shelter there.”

  They were way out past the farthest hunting grounds. Spar had been out here, she knew, but Toli had never been this far. Other than the hunt master, only those the queen charged with placing the statues of that year’s dead at the Necropolis had been out this far. It was their final resting place, a tribute to their ancestors. The statues were brought to the ice to bring Nya joy, and placing them there was an honor, as well as a burden.

  It couldn’t be too much farther.

  The sled began to bump underneath them, tiny ridges and lumps pocking the icy landscape. An uneasy feeling crawled over her skin. Ruby crept out of Toli’s hood, her body tense, as though she sensed it too. Above them, behind the clouds, streaks of color meandered, denying any urgency.

  It started as a kind of rattling buzz. Toli turned and her eyes met Wix’s. His brows knit together as he gave her a solemn nod. They both knew the sound of ice beetles under the surface, not from experience, but by reputation. It was one of the few things Spar had lots to say about.

  Toli knew adult ice beetles were big, some as long as her forearm, and the edges of their iridescent wings could cut flesh to the bone. Their fist-sized heads hid in the shadow of enormous pincers. Bright reflective paddles flashed from the center of each leg. Beautiful to look at, and in a few months’ time, harmless—once their pincers dropped and they affixed themselves to the bark of the stonetrees using their double rows of serrated teeth. Once a year, the stonetree forest sparkled with them.

  Out here on the ice it was a different story. The giant insects were territorial and aggressive. There were stories of them forming swarms in the hundreds—or even thousands.

  Spar had told her about sheltering under her sled once while on a hunt. The hunt master had watched as a bison bull wandered into the ice beetles’ breeding ground, injured and bleeding from a fight. The way Spar told it, once the beetles had surrounded the doomed animal, it took twelve seconds before there was nothing left but bones.

  The buzzing under the ice grew louder. A snarl stirred in the depths of Ruby’s throat, low and questioning. The foxes whined.

  Wix gave Toli a stiff nod, his eyebrows furrowing as he reached down to grab a beater. The beetles couldn’t be shot with arrows. The weapons rarely killed them, and according to Spar, the beetles’ carapaces just shattered in explosions of sharp shell pieces that rained down on the unfortunate shooter. Instead, sleds were equipped with long paddlelike clubs.

  Wix handed Toli the other beater. She stretched to grasp the long pole of etched bone, slowing the sled to a stop.

  Petal looked from one to the other. “What’s happening?”

  “Petal, I need you to do exactly as I say.” Toli saw a flash of fear in her sister’s eyes.

  “Um. Okay.”

  The rasping buzz under the ice was a rare enough sound, heard only on the long hunts, but Toli and Wix both knew from the stories that once you heard it, it was too late to run. If there weren’t too many ice beetles, they could fight their way through. Otherwise, they’d have to hide and wait out the beetles. That could take hours, or, if Nya’s will was against them, the beetles might swarm for more than a day.

  Her mother needed her now.

  Toli reached under the bench seat at the front of the sled where she and Wix sat and handed him her spare dragon-scale hood and arm shields. He strapped them on without comment. Together, they unhitched the foxes and moved to unload the sled and tip it over. Working fast, Toli slid underneath and jammed layers of fur and leatherleaf in the gaps where the crescent shape rested higher. Then she crawled out and, just before setting the lip of the sled down, Toli turned to her sister. “Get in,” she said.

  Petal looked perplexed. “Under the sled? But—”

  Toli began to push her toward the gap under the sled. “Just do it, Petal. I don’t have time to explain.”

  “Okay! Don’t push. Nya’s promise, Toli, I’m going!”

  Toli called the foxes in underneath with Petal, where they would be safe—as long as either she or Wix were alive to bring them all out again.

  “If anything happens to Wix and me, hitch up the foxes and go back to the Queendom as fast as you can,” Toli called into the darkness under the sled.

  “But—”

  She lowered the edge of the sled to the ice and turned to frown at Wix. “No. Tighten up your hood, and make sure the flaps cover your whole neck. And keep your elbows low
to protect your middle.” She watched as he made the adjustments, then gave him a stiff nod. “Now you’re ready.”

  Toli looked around. There were bumps in the ice as far as she could see. There was no telling how large this swarm was—or how active. Pale, translucent wings sparkled under the surface of the ice.

  Ruby gave another warning rattle and crouched low, her pupils narrowing as she watched the ice. Toli gave the dragon a grim look and widened her stance, stepping a few feet forward, away from Wix, so she could swing the beater wide. He followed her lead.

  The first beetle flew out of the ice. Then another joined it, and another.

  Ruby let out a long, low hiss as Wix squirmed.

  “Now?”

  Toli shook her head. “Wait.”

  A sharp clacking sound filled the air—the stuttering beat of pincers as the air vibrated with swarms of wings. Beetles streamed from the tunnels.

  Ruby let out a shriek and rose into the air, her wings beating furiously.

  “Now!” Toli cried, swinging her beater to knock a beetle out of the air. She swung again. Her arm gave a painful throb as the beater connected with another giant insect. Two down.

  Above her, Ruby let loose a swath of flame. Black beetles fell to the ice.

  Still, more swarmed out behind the sled—all around them.

  Petal cried out from under the sled. Toli heard growls, and then a clunking sound.

  “Petal?” she called.

  “I’m okay,” Petal called back, her voice quavering. A beetle must have emerged underneath the sled, but it sounded like the foxes were dealing with it. Toli swung her beater, just missing a huge one.

  Another burst of flame and falling beetles. From the corner of her eye, through the flickering pulse of wings, she could see Wix swinging his beater, knocking one after another to the ice. Moments later, he grunted, as pincers nicked his side. A small patch of darkness spread on his tunic.

  Hailfire. They would smell Wix’s blood.

  The swarm thickened around him.

  Ruby dived toward him, flame bursting from her mouth. The beetles fell, and as the dragon got close, she snapped her jaws, grabbing one out of the air and swallowing it in two bites.

  But there were too many.

  Toli ran to the sled and lifted one edge. “Wix! Here!”

  He turned, grunting as a second beetle caught his upper arm and sliced. He didn’t wait to be told what to do. Two long leaps and he slid across the ice and under the sled.

  “Ruby!” Toli shouted, following behind. She held the edge of the sled up as Ruby zipped in, then dropped it behind them.

  “What happened?” Petal whispered from the darkness.

  Toli felt for Wix’s arm. “Are you okay?” she asked into the shadows as Ruby slipped back into her hood.

  “I … I think so.”

  “Twice, they got you. I saw it happen. I … I’m so sorry, Wix. I couldn’t get to you.”

  Wix scoffed. “Of course you couldn’t. You were crawling with them.”

  “But you’re hurt. We should have just hidden. We shouldn’t have tried to fight.”

  Toli could sense Petal’s hand feeling for hers. “You didn’t know what would happen, Toli. You were just doing what would get us to the Mountain the fastest.”

  Toli put her head down on her knees, her breath hot against her face. I made the wrong call. If Wix was killed, it would have been my fault.

  Wix spoke suddenly, almost reverent. “I admit—I didn’t expect your dragon to save me.”

  “I guess she did.” Toli answered, her voice soft. The thought grew, taking up space between them.

  They all sat together in the long, low space under the sled, listening to the panting of the foxes and the rasping of beetle wings until they were stiff with cold.

  Toli must have dozed off, because she caught the image of her father turned, eyes wide, yelling for her to get back. It was this season, a year ago, when she and Petal had lost him forever. Toli pushed everything out of her head and focused on keeping her breath steady.

  At last it grew cold enough that the beetles began to return to their tunnels. The thunking of their bodies against the bottom of the sled slowed, and then stopped. Toli wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but when they crept out, it was into the stillness of night. Ruby slept across the back of Toli’s neck, her tail wrapped so that it rested against Toli’s pulse, as if for reassurance. Nya had set. The star-filled sky was streaked with colored light, Father Moon’s green stain the only constant.

  As they turned the sled upright to load everything back in, Toli glimpsed a patch of wetness along Wix’s side and rushed to press her fingers to his tunic.

  He cringed.

  “You’re still bleeding!”

  “I—no, I’m fine.”

  “You’re not fine! You’re bleeding. Give me your arm. Is the other slice still bleeding? I thought it had stopped. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Toli—”

  “How long has it been? How long were we under the sled?” She started to shake as she wrapped an arm around Wix, pressing one hand to his side. She led him to the edge of the sled and forced him to take a seat.

  “Toli,” Petal said, reaching out to take her arm.

  Toli shook her off. “Think. Think about it. Nya’s set now, but she was still visible when we first heard the beetles.” She spun to face them, a wail building inside her chest. “Hours!”

  Wix’s mouth fell open. “Toli, I—I’m fine.”

  Petal appeared at Toli’s side, blinking in the gloom. “He’ll be okay,” she said, her voice like snowfall. “I can sew it.”

  “What?” Wix stood up, backing up. “No you can’t.” He took another step.

  “You! Stay put!” Toli pinned him with a look so wild, he froze instantly. Only Wix’s eyes shifted, sending a desperate, silent plea to Petal.

  Toli sucked in a deep breath of cold air. It settled in her chest, familiar—comforting as a lullaby. She considered her sister. “You can really do that? You can sew up the wounds?”

  Petal nodded. “I’ve done it before. Rasca showed me how.”

  Wix scowled. “Rasca’s a cook. What’d you do, sew up a roast?”

  Petal pressed her lips together, her cheeks flushing.

  Toli barked a laugh, then felt her eyes widen as Petal pulled something from her pocket that turned out to be a long bone needle wrapped in hide. She met Petal’s unflinching gaze. “Be careful with that! The last thing we need is you stabbing someone with that thing.”

  “That’s the idea,” Petal muttered. She held the needle up to the starlight, threading it with a strand of sinew.

  Toli’s heart tripped at the sight of the wet black stain across Wix’s side. Her dragon had saved him. Her dragon! Her best friend had gotten hurt—could have been killed—doing what she asked, and a dragon had rescued him. She reached up to touch Ruby’s soft scales. “Maybe you’re not like other dragons,” she whispered, but the dragon slept on, and her words fell like stones into the dark.

  Wix studied her face, trying to get ahead of her thoughts. His eyes slid to where Ruby’s head rested against her shoulder, and he shot Toli a wide smile. “She saved me from the beetles, so now it’s your turn to save me from your sister.”

  Petal moved closer, waiting for Toli’s instructions.

  Be nicer to Petal. That’s what he had told her, Toli remembered as she cocked her head at him. Her smile grew as his expression fell. “You should sew it right away, Petal. It’s a good idea.”

  “Oh no,” Wix took a step backward.

  “Petal—I encourage you.”

  He sighed.

  “We wanted to come.” Petal shrugged. “And we can’t have you bleeding everywhere, you know. Besides, if we don’t take care of it, it could get infected.” Toli lifted an eyebrow as Petal took Wix’s arm and led him back to the sled, perching him on the edge.

  “Come on,” Petal said. “I promise I’ll be gentle—and you’re supposed to
be a tough hunter, remember?”

  Wix grimaced at her as she made the first stitch.

  By the second stitch, Toli was standing behind them, watching. “Careful.” She gritted her teeth, leaning over Wix’s shoulder to see better.

  Petal sighed and drew the third stitch tight.

  Toli pointed. “Look. You don’t have to do those small stiches. You can do big ones, just—”

  “I’ve got this, Toli.”

  “Yeah, fine, but I’m just saying.”

  Wix grimaced as Petal’s deft fingers worked along the wound.

  “Petal”—Toli grumped—“you don’t have to go so fast. You can slow—”

  Her sister bent to peer at her work, answering through clenched teeth. “Speaking from your vast experience with sewing?”

  “There’s no need for sarcasm. I’m just telling you—”

  “Done,” Petal said, bending lower to bite through the sinew thread.

  “Oh.”

  Wix let out his breath, and as Petal drew back, Toli found herself a little shocked at the sight of the neat stitching. She offered her sister a small smile as Petal cleaned her needle. The wind was rising.

  The beetles and Wix’s wound had cost them precious time. They no longer had a choice. They would have to stop to pass the coldest part of the night under the sled.

  Wix must have been thinking the same thing. He was counting the peat bricks near the back of the sled.

  Toli cradled her forehead in her hand and closed her eyes. “We’ll build a fire and eat. Rest for a few hours. If we’re lucky, the wind will stay calm.”

  “Thank Nya. I’m exhausted,” Petal sighed, looking out toward the horizon. “Let’s rest there,” she said, and pointed. “The statues will help break the wind—a little.”

  Toli peered toward where she was pointing.

  Wix’s face fell. “It’s the Necropolis.”

  Toli knew what he was thinking, and struggled not to step closer to him, not to even look at him, giving him as much privacy as they could afford. He felt the same way about the Necropolis as she did. He and his father had worked for weeks on the statue of Wix’s mother. She would be out there now, among the other tributes to the dead, facing Nya’s rise, and the endless winds. Toli and Petal’s father was there too.