Keriya’s gaze snapped to the middle of the cave. Amid a forest of stalagmites was a flat, open space. A portion of the stone floor rose to form a hollow structure, like a large bowl.
“What is it?” Keriya breathed, walking closer.
“This is a scrying spring,” said Shivnath. “It contains liquid timemagic. It allows me to see the past, so I do not forget what once I had; it shows me the present, things that are happening anywhere across the world; and it gives me glimpses of the future, possibilities of things to come.”
The timemagic was fluid crystal. It swirled lazily in the rock basin. This close, Keriya could hear that it made a faint noise like wind chimes in a breeze. The basin reminded her of the structure in the Vale Room of the Imperial Palace, where Empress Aldelphia had tortured her in a vain attempt to draw out her magic.
“While I cannot help you with your current predicament, the scrying spring has no binding restrictions on its power,” Shivnath told her.
“What do you mean?” said Keriya.
“You may ask the spring one question.” Shivnath raised a massive forepaw over the pool. “When it is energized,” —she lowered her claw to touch the timemagic, causing it to swirl faster— “it will concentrate on a vision, presenting you with the answer you seek.”
Keriya watched the spring. Images began spiraling up from its depths, skimming across the surface before descending in a whirl of color, hundreds upon hundreds of them, so quickly that she couldn’t discern one from the next.
She looked at Shivnath. “What should I ask?”
After a long pause, Shivnath said, “Anything you wish.”
Keriya leaned over the side of the basin. She saw flashes of things reflected in the pool—visions of Fletcher and Roxanne appeared and vanished with dizzying speed.
Pursing her lips, she tried to think of a suitable inquiry. She knew she should ask how to get out of the dungeons—but now that she’d been given free rein, she dabbled with asking why Shivnath had chosen her for this mad quest. That thought was deliciously appealing, but it suddenly seemed too narrow a question. It wouldn’t change what had happened to Thorion, and it wouldn’t help her take the next step.
Thinking of Thorion made painful memories surge to the forefront of her brain. The timemagic reacted, and she caught cruel glimpses of her drackling’s final moments as he was engulfed in dark flames. Next she saw herself and Thorion standing on the ridge of the gorge, performing the exorcism. She saw Uhs. She saw the unicorn—whether her thoughts were leading the spring or vice versa, she was no longer sure—and she saw a fleeting image of Thorion, alive and well, smiling up at her from many moons ago.
She opened her mouth without thinking and said, “Why is a soul important?”
Instantly she regretted her words. The question had come upon her and seized her sensibilities; now that she’d spoken it aloud, it struck her as absurd. Of all the things, selfish or clever, she could have potentially asked, that must have been the least useful.
The water moved faster and the images ran together, colors and shapes swirling into a muddy blur. From the chaos, an image formed. It floated to the surface and everything around it dissolved. Keriya’s sight tapered until all she could see was the vision within the pool.
A newborn child lay in the snow, her pale skin aglow beneath the harsh winter moonlight. A black-eyed dragon stood watch over her, keeping a silent vigil.
The child suffered, cried, despaired, grew, hardened, and became a girl. She fled the land of her youth and journeyed to far-off realms, seeking that which she had never known. She was chased, persecuted, and ridiculed. And when she believed she had found what she sought, it was taken from her.
The girl was imprisoned, but she broke free. The flagstone wall of her dungeon crumbled in a violent blast, and she escaped into the world that had hurt her so deeply. She traveled east until the amber plains of the savannah gave way to the ashy wastes of Mount Arax. Above its peak there shone a thin, misty band shimmering with untold power. She summited the volcano and stood at the threshold between two worlds. She thought of all she had lost, and it gave her the courage to step through the Rift.
The girl fell through time and space, and when she reemerged, she had become a warrior. This was lucky, for she was to fight her nemesis, the one she hated above all others.
The warrior and her nemesis fought for minutes, hours, years. They circled each other, always at odds, neither able nor willing to end the battle.
At last they reached a barren field where the dust of the earth was thick with carnage. The warrior had finally gained the upper hand. Her enemy lay on the ground, beaten and broken. She called on the strength of those who had come before her, and prayed for the end to be swift. She raised her sword arm, but it was not to strike him down. She offered him her hand, and he took it.
And with a blinding flash, both Keriya and Necrovar vanished.
Keriya became aware of herself and her surroundings as the colors of the image faded and ran together, receding into the scrying spring. The vision had ended.
She stared into the unfathomable depths of the pool for a long time, breathing hard. Her fingers were stiff from gripping the edges of the rock basin. Finally she looked at Shivnath. “Did you see everything I saw?”
“No,” said Shivnath.
“No?” Keriya repeated shrilly. She’d been counting on Shivnath to explain things.
“The magic of the spring is attuned to individuals. It will reveal its answer only to the one who asks.”
“It wasn’t much of an answer,” said Keriya. Shivnath smiled and shook her head. “I’m sorry, why is that funny?”
“It was a very human thing you asked,” said the dragon, “but humans can never know the answer. That, of course, is why they are so preoccupied with the question.”
“The spring ignored the question.” Keriya cleared her throat. Her voice was embarrassingly shaky. “I saw my past, but it was condensed, like I was seeing every moment of my life at once. And I think I saw my future. I saw myself breaking out of the dungeons—sort of. It was hazy and vague. I saw how to get to Mount Arax. I saw the Rift. I saw myself going into the Etherworld.”
“How did it end?” Shivnath inquired.
“I fought Necrovar, but then I offered him my hand. He took it and we both disappeared. What does that mean?”
Shivnath’s amethyst pupils thinned in distress, but her voice was flat as she replied, “It could mean any number of things.”
“You must have a theory.”
“I would expect it is symbolic,” the dragon said icily. “It may mean that whatever happens, your actions will restore balance between the magics.”
“That’s all well and fine, but I still don’t have a proper answer.” Though Keriya regretted what she’d chosen to ask, she now felt robbed.
“The spring is a physical manifestation of magic: it is condensed energy and nothing more. Timemagic can only show you what is, what was, and what will be. It cannot answer complex and theoretical questions with abstract ideas. It has no imagination. But you can trust it to be truthful, so you have been given a gift.”
“I’ve been given nothing,” Keriya said mulishly. “It cheated me. What it showed me wasn’t an answer to my question.”
“Was it not?” breathed Shivnath. The god’s dark eyes, usually the most frightening and unyielding part of her visage, proved the emerald dragon was alight with hidden passion. Her pupils danced as she stared across the cave, gazing on invisible, forgotten things.
Keriya pursed her lips and decided to let it go. The vision had been marginally helpful—at least, the part showing her how to get to Mount Arax had been—and this was a silly thing to fight over. She had to choose her battles with Shivnath carefully, and there was one more question she needed to ask.
“Shivnath, since I’m about to face Necrovar, do you think
. . . I mean, you gave me magic to fight him once. Since I have to try again, I was wondering if you could—”
“You know why I can’t simply give you magic, Keriya.” Shivnath didn’t sound angry, as Keriya had feared, yet the calm, unaffected tone was somehow just as bad.
“I actually don’t know. You did it before, why not now?”
“Those were different circumstances.”
“I don’t have magic and I’m not a dragon.” Keriya’s throat burned and her eyes stung with tears, but she forced the shameful words out: “I will fail if you don’t help me.”
Shivnath remained as impassive as a rock, but Keriya got the feeling she had upset the great dragon. She continued in a softer voice, “You are god and guardian of the Smarlands. You’re the patron saint of Aeria. I grew up worshiping and idolizing you. You can do anything. So why won’t you do this?”
“Magic—like science, like mathematics, like any sort of reasoning—has a specific and exacting set of rules to which it must adhere.”
Keriya scowled at her feet. “Then what good is it?”
“We cannot change the way the universe works because we wish it were different—no, not even gods.” Shivnath crouched and fixed Keriya with a piercing, unblinking look.
“I know your pain,” she whispered, her resonant voice thrumming with echoes of unspoken agony, “but I also know your power. I believe you will restore balance to our world with your actions. You may even find the answer to that question of yours.”
“Which one?” Keriya grumbled under her breath. Shivnath actually chuckled at that.
“You’ve already come so far. Will you finish what you started? Finish it for Thorion, for Allentria, for Selaras . . .” The dragon paused. “And for me.”
Keriya closed her eyes. Shivnath knew how to get under her skin. What kind of person would she be if she turned away now? Besides, she still had people to fight for, people who were depending on her.
“I just wish I didn’t have to face him alone,” she admitted in a small voice.
“The light of one is the light of all,” Shivnath stated sagely. “You are never alone.”
As was usually the case when speaking to Shivnath, Keriya was more confused now than when they’d started the conversation. She’d experienced a whirlwind of emotion since arriving in Argos Moor, but the god’s words had soothed old wounds. She was facing an unparalleled foe, but she had her sword for protection. She was taking on an impossible task, but Shivnath believed in her.
That meant the world to Keriya. She vowed she would do her utmost to be the person Shivnath believed she was.
Taking a breath to compose herself, she said, “I’m guessing this is a dream, isn’t it?”
Shivnath nodded.
“Okay. I’d like to wake up.” She attempted a smile. “I have a quest to finish.”
Her throat was burning again. It occurred to her that this might be the last time she ever saw Shivnath. On impulse, she rushed forward and snaked her thin arms around one of the dragon’s tree-trunk legs, hugging it close. She heard a hiss as the leg pulled away. Looking up, she found Shivnath staring down at her as if she’d never seen her before.
“Why did you do that?”
“To thank you,” said Keriya. To say goodbye.
Shivnath considered her for a long moment. Then her face softened, almost imperceptibly.
“Good luck, Keriya,” she whispered. “May your wanderings be blessed.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
“Prosperity gives us friends; adversity proves them.”
~ Badger Taivor, Second Age
Keriya shared her dream with Fletcher and Roxanne when she woke, and asked for their opinions. Neither knew what to make of the scrying spring’s vision, but both agreed it was long past time to be out of the dungeons.
The only question that remained was how to escape.
Roxanne was convinced the explosion in the vision was her doing, so she started practicing tiny, benign manipulation spells. She moved pebbles across the dungeon and grew weeds in the cracks in the flagstones, testing the limits of what the enchantment would allow.
“You’re wasting your time,” Keriya warned.
“The vision proves otherwise,” Roxanne replied in tones of utmost surety, stuffing a cinnamon loaf into her pillow. She and Fletcher had taken to squirreling food away, stowing provisions for the journey.
“Magical visions aren’t always true,” said Keriya.
“Says who?”
“Says . . .” Keriya faltered, remembering her conversation with Thorion. “Says Shivnath. She told me the spring only shows possibilities of what the future might hold.”
“Maybe it will only happen if we make it happen,” said Fletcher, stashing a desert pear beneath his blankets. “Maybe if we sit around doing nothing, the vision won’t come to pass. But if Roxanne prepares herself, maybe she’ll succeed in breaking the walls.”
“There you go,” said Roxanne, tucking a cluster of grapes beneath her mattress.
That night, Keriya tried to sleep. If she was planning to journey to Mount Arax, she needed strength. Her body welcomed the embrace of slumber, but her mind refused to shut down. She dreamed of Thorion. She saw him alive and she saw him dead. She saw an explosion of black fire. She saw him fall through the sky.
He twitched twice; then he was still.
“Keriya, wake up!”
As if her subconscious had been seeking a way to escape the nightmares, Keriya woke at once. The fire crystals in the hallway had gone out. It would have been completely dark had it not been for the glow leaking from her eyes.
“Helkryvt’s blood,” she swore. “I thought the dungeon was supposed to keep us safe from shadowbeasts.”
“I think they’re outside,” said Fletcher. His brown face was pale in the eerie purple gloom. “I think there’s a battle.”
An ominous rumbling accompanied his words. A tremor shivered through the dungeon. Displaced dust filtered down from the ceiling.
“The enchantment should prevent them from getting in,” said Roxanne.
“That may be, but we need to get out.” Keriya turned to her. “Any luck wielding?”
“No. I tried something when I heard the fighting start and all I got was a headache from that bloody enchantment.”
“I stole a fork from my dinner tray,” said Fletcher. He dug in the pocket of his oversized coat and produced a silver utensil. “Maybe I can pick the—”
BOOM! An explosion knocked Keriya flat on the ground. She covered her head with her arms and curled into a defensive ball as pieces of rubble rained on her.
Coughing and squinting against a sudden brightness, Keriya looked around. Fletcher was safe in his cell, though coated with dirt from the blast. Roxanne lay on the floor of her prison, unmoving.
“Roxanne!” Keriya reached through the bars to shake her.
Roxanne moaned. There was a nasty gash on her temple. Something—Keriya didn’t know what—had collided with the outside of the annex, and it had ripped a hole in the wall.
“Can you stand?” Keriya asked, trying to help her sit up.
“I think so.” Roxanne wiped the blood from her forehead and stared at the wall. Red sunlight flooded through a hole large enough for three malnourished Aerians to fit through. The problem was, the hole didn’t align with their cells. The brunt of the collision had occurred three compartments down.
“It’s happening,” said Keriya, tension squeezing her chest. “The vision is coming true.”
“We still can’t get out.” Roxanne picked her way across the rubble-strewn floor and ran her hands along a thin crack that extended from the hole. “But maybe I can work with this.” She dug her fingers into the crack and tugged. A minuscule portion of the wall crumbled away.
“Watch out,” Fletcher shrieked. The light in the d
ungeon dimmed as a pitch-black figure appeared in the opening, limned against the ruby sky.
Roxanne retreated from the shadowman. Keriya drew her sword, glaring at the demon. His chilling, empty gaze met hers briefly before he vanished, wielding himself into nothingness.
“We need to hurry.” Roxanne hefted a piece of broken rock and hacked viciously at the split in the flagstones. “Hey, I think the enchantment’s gone! They must have woven it into the walls, and now that the walls are broken it doesn’t work. See? It doesn’t hurt when I try to escape.”
“Try wielding,” Keriya suggested. Roxanne raised her fists, then hesitated. “What’s wrong?”
“Head wound,” Roxanne muttered. Blood was leaking from her injury, matting her hair to her cheek. She might bleed out even from a minor injury like that if she wielded too much.
“That’s okay. We can do it without magic.” Keriya hurried to the wall, working the point of her grubby sword into the fissure to widen it. The sight of the shadowman had filled her with a reckless abandon. She wished the demon hadn’t gone. She itched to swing her blade at one of Necrovar’s minions.
“Someone’s coming!” Fletcher whispered.
Keriya looked at the corridor and saw a faint light in the spiral stairwell. Her grip tightened on the sword as a black-cloaked figure stepped into view. She motioned for Fletcher to hide, and he retreated into the shadows of his cell.
The figure hurried down the hall, illuminated by something glowing around his neck. Keriya positioned the blade so she could jab it through the bars of her prison.
Then the figure lifted his head and the glow spilled upwards onto his face. Keriya nearly dropped her weapon.
“Max?” she whispered, not daring to believe it.
“Thank Naero I reached you,” he said in an oddly strained voice. He leaned against the iron bars of her prison and reached for her. His other hand grasped his diamond amulet, which was glowing violently. “Tanthflame is attacking Fyrxav with the third regiment of the Imperial Army.”
Dragon Child Page 45