Eona: The Last Dragoneye

by Alison Goodman

  “He must be very precious to you.”

  “He is now a lieutenant in Sethon’s army.”

  I looked down at the soldier, my spine prickling. “Is he stationed in this area?”

  Yuso dug the Ji into the mud.

  “I don’t know where he is,” he said. He slung the saddlebag over his shoulder. “That is what this war will be: father against son, brother against brother.” He scanned the stark landscape, then pointed east and beckoned me onward. “It is our duty to restore peace as soon as possible at whatever cost—otherwise there will be no land to rule.” He glanced back, his lean face grim. “You will come to know that, my lady, and I am sorry for it.”

  We were climbing the other side of the gully when the ridge came down.

  It dropped in a crashing roar, the terrible sound bouncing off the rock faces around us in a rolling echo. We both stopped and watched the deadly churn of mud and debris slide across the valley below us. It smothered everything in its path and sent the stink of wet earth and decay into the air.

  I felt Yuso’s hand grip my shoulder in sympathy. “We can’t go back and look,” he said, answering my unspoken question. “It will be too dangerous—and whatever came down with that is already dead.”

  “We survived,” I said mutinously.

  “Let’s keep doing so,” he said, his grip shifting from compassion to command.

  Just before nightfall, Yuso grabbed my shoulder again.

  “Stop!” he whispered, the word barely audible under the screeching night calls of roosting birds.

  My last reserves of energy coiled into tense readiness. I scanned the spindly trees and tall bushes around us—all threatening in the half-light—and hooked my hand more securely around the saddlebag. It was not much of a weapon, but it could catch the end of a soldier’s Ji.

  As if formed from dusk shadows, the shapes of six men stepped from the dark undergrowth. Silently, they circled us, a mix of swords and axes raised. Yuso’s hand slid down the Ji, ready to thrust.

  “Who are you?” he demanded.

  A thin man with straggly, unbound hair shook his head. “Six against two.” His voice had a soft mountain accent. “I think the question is: Who are you?”

  “Captain Yuso, of the imperial guard.”

  His name sent a ripple of excitement around the circle of men. I felt their attention shift to me. I gripped the saddlebag even tighter.

  “Are you Lady Eona?” the thin man asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Thank the gods you are alive.” His teeth showed in a quick, relieved smile. The weapons around us lowered. “We are from the Chikara Mountain Resistance. I am Caido. It is an honor to be the ones to find you, Lady Dragoneye.”

  He bowed, the other five following his lead in a ragged wave.

  “Thank you,” I said, swaying from the sudden release of tension. “Have you found the emperor?”

  “Yes. He is alive, but deep in the shadow world. When we were last at our base, he had still not roused. We need to get you back there as fast as possible.”

  My gut clenched. At least he lived. “And the others, are they all right?”

  “Ryko has minor injuries. As does the woman, Vida. The young guard has—”

  “Tiron,” Yuso interjected.

  “Yes, sir, Tiron,” Caido said. “He’s broken a lot of bones and may not walk again. We have not found the other three of your party.”

  Dela, Dillon, Solly—missing.

  “So the boy has not been found?” Yuso demanded. “The one they call Dillon?”

  “No, sir. Not yet.”

  “He must be your priority now,” Yuso said. “He holds something vital to His Majesty’s cause.”

  “We can only search with the light, Captain.” There was a note of defense in Caido’s soft voice. “But we start again tomorrow at dawn. Are either of you hurt?”

  “Nothing serious,” Yuso said. “Did Ryko tell you about the troops in pursuit? Twenty-four. A full company.”

  Caido nodded. “We’ve accounted for nineteen, sir. Most of them drowned. Our best teams are hunting the last five.”

  Yuso nodded, satisfied.

  Caido gave another small bow, then turned to his men. A quick series of hand signals sent them into a diamond formation around us, except for one very large man, who stood stolidly behind Caido.

  “My lady, we need to move fast,” Caido said. “Would you allow Shiri to carry you on his back?” The large man dipped his head.

  Although my weariness was like a hundredweight hanging on each limb, I drew myself up. “I will not fall behind, Caido.”

  “No, my lady,” he said, and bowed.

  He waved us forward.

  An hour later, I was perched on Shiri’s back. The man smelled of old sweat, greasy hair, and sour spillings, but I did not care. His back was broad, his arms were hooked securely around me, and I could finally rest my exhausted body. I tried to stay awake as we climbed through the last of the scrubby terrain into a thicker growth of forest, but the rocking motion of Shiri’s long stride lulled me. As I slipped into the shadows of uneasy sleep, I once again felt the intent hold of Kygo’s eyes as he brushed my cheek, and the strange heat of the pearl beneath my fingers.

  “My lady?” A firm shake on my arm woke me. I squinted. The half-moon night had reduced Caido’s face to a series of sharp planes. “You must walk the last section,” he said quietly. “Only one person can pass through this entrance at a time.”

  Shiri released his hold and lowered me gently to the rocky ground. The forest was now well below us.

  “Thank you,” I murmured.

  The big man dipped into a bow. “My honor, Lady Eona,” he said, backing away. “My honor.”

  “He will tell his grandchildren about the time he carried the Mirror Dragoneye,” Yuso said, close to my ear.

  “How long did I sleep?” I stared up at an immense moon- silvered cliff that rose before us. Were we going to climb it? Even after my rest on Shiri’s back, I doubted I would make it.

  “We’ve been walking for about four bells,” Yuso said, every step of them in his rough voice.

  Caido pointed up to a dark crack in the rock face. “We are nearly there,” he said. “That is the way into our camp.”

  As we drew nearer to the cliff, the dark crack became a fissure large enough for a man the size of Shiri. With a reassuring smile, Caido slipped into it. I followed him, the warm night air instantly cooling as I stepped into a narrow stone passage. A slit of sky was still visible above us, although very little moonlight made it to where we stood.

  “My lady, please hold on to my shoulder,” Caido said. “It will be safer and quicker.”

  We shuffled in a hand-to-shoulder line as Caido called the news of our rescue to watchmen stationed on high ledges. I caught sight of two guards craning over to catch a glimpse of us as we passed, the tips of their mechanical bows outlined in the dim light. It would be a deadly trap for an approaching enemy.

  “This is one of four passages into the crater,” Caido said. “Of course, it is not the most accessible, but it was the closest and will give you a good view of our camp.” His voice was quick with pride.

  Ahead, I could see the other end, gray with light. Kygo was somewhere in this camp, hurt. And Ryko and Vida. My toes clipped Caido’s heels. I stumbled.

  “I’m sorry, my lady,” Caido said. “Are you all right?”

  “I am just eager to see His Majesty,” I said.

  The end of the passage was twice the size of its entrance, the night sky visible through the wide opening. Two silhouetted figures moved into view, the moonlight catching a flash of silver hair on the taller of them. I hoped they were there to take us straight to the emperor.

  “My lady, after you,” Caido said.

  As I stepped out onto a broad natural ledge of stone, the silver-haired man moved forward, but my attention was caught by the sight below me—a huge bowl of a crater, its floor studded with flickers of firelight that cas
t a glow on multitudes of tents and rough-builds. Along the steep sides, more campfires lit the shapes of caves. Gathered below the ledge were the shifting figures of hundreds and hundreds of people watching our arrival. I had not given much thought to what the resistance would look like, but I knew that I had not expected such a large camp.

  “Lady Eona?” the silver-haired man said, in obviously a second or third attempt.

  “I am sorry. It is so …” I finally looked at him and faltered. The gray in his hair was not from age; he could be no more than twenty-five. Perhaps it was from the burden of command or the effect of some great tragedy. There was certainly a hint of melancholy in his intelligent face.

  He smiled. “Yes, it is breathtaking. A natural fortress.” He bowed. “I am Viktor, leader of the Chikara Mountain Resistance.” He gestured to his companion. “This is my lieutenant, Sanni. We are relieved to have found you, my lady. And you, Captain Yuso.”

  “Thank you,” I said. “Where is His Majesty?”

  “In our main cave, my lady. The Beseechers have been praying since he arrived, but we have been waiting for your arrival to physick him.”

  “Waiting for me?” Ryko must have told them about the fisher village. Guilt and shame prickled across my scalp. They were waiting for me, the mighty Dragoneye, to heal the emperor. But I could not risk it again; I did not want to kill any more innocent people. And I certainly did not want power over the emperor’s will.

  “I cannot heal him,” I said. “You must understand; I cannot heal him.”

  “No, of course not, my lady. We do not expect you to have a physician’s skill,” Viktor said, frowning. “The girl Vida told us that you are now His Majesty’s Naiso. Is that not true?”

  “Yes, it is true.”

  “Then you are the only one who can touch his sacred body. Our physician must work through you.”

  I bit my lip. They only wanted me to help examine him. I could do that.

  “Let us go to him, then,” I said.

  Viktor ushered me toward steps cut into the steep slope. “My men have already trespassed upon His Majesty’s sanctity by carrying him back here. They are good, dutiful men, my lady, and their deaths would serve no purpose. I beg you to pardon them.”

  His words sent a twinge of unease through me. The rank of Naiso brought unexpected responsibilities. “They are pardoned,” I said quickly.

  He ducked his head. “Thank you, my lady.”

  Every part of me wanted to run to the cave and help Kygo, but the press of cheering people that lined the pathway around the crater limited us to a quick walk. At first I moved away from the excited, wondering faces and the hands that reached out to touch me. They had never seen a Dragoneye in the flesh, let alone a female Dragoneye. Yuso tried to insert his body between me and their reaching need, his rough warnings lost in the chant of my name. Then a deep voice rose above the others. “Let the gods protect Lady Eona. Let the gods protect His Majesty.” I found the caller across the sea of heads—a middleaged man with tears in his eyes—and I finally understood.

  I was their symbol of hope, their guarantee that the gods had not abandoned them. Although I was not worthy of such reverence or faith, I had to be what they needed. “Stand back,” I told Yuso. Reluctantly, he stepped behind me. I straightened my shoulders and walked on, brushing my fingers across the hands that strained to touch hope and salvation.

  We finally reached the main cave. An altar had been built to one side, and two Beseechers kneeled before it, their swinging lanterns throwing patterns on the dark rock face. Two large brass incense burners stood like sentinels on either side of the entrance, their wisps of white smoke spreading the peppery cleanse of clove through the air. The cheers and calls quieted as we passed the altar. I caught sight of a circlet of bloodstones arranged in front of the prayer candles, and a ceremonial sword. The shrine was in honor of Bross, the god of battle. A good choice. As we entered the cave, I sent my own silent plea to the war god for Kygo’s recovery.

  I paused for a moment, trying to take in the size of the cavern. It was at least as big as a large hall, but the true dimensions were lost in the dim light, the high, shadowy ceiling, and the sheer number of people milling around. The murmur of anxious voices echoed around the stone walls. Only one area was clear—a far corner partitioned off by a large, five-paneled screen. It was painted in the beautiful Shoko style—Blossom Women on a rich gold background—but large sections had peeled away, and one panel was split. Its ruined opulence was out of place among the plain wooden benches and tables that lined the cave walls. Even without the two guards that stood before it, I would have known that the screen hid the emperor from view. It was a poor people’s offering to their stricken king.

  “My lady! Captain Yuso!” I turned to see Vida break away from a group of people clustered around a large brazier. She was clean and clothed in a fresh gown, the long scratches on her face the only outward sign of our ordeal. “Are you all right?” she asked me, bowing low. “I am so glad to see you.”

  I caught her hand, the warmth in her voice bringing a sting of tears to my eyes. Behind her, Ryko rose slowly from a bench along the wall. He was also clean and clothed, but he held his body as if nursing broken ribs. Our eyes met just before he bowed. His pain went much deeper than bones and blood.

  Vida’s grip tightened. “Have they told you?”

  I nodded.

  “His Majesty has still not woken?” Yuso asked.

  “No,” she said. “And Solly and Lady Dela have not been found. There was so much water, so much mud—”

  “It’s all right,” I said, although it was not. “How is Tiron?”

  A shadow passed across her face. “In much pain, but he is being well looked after.”

  “My lady, this way.” Viktor gestured urgently toward the screen.

  I squeezed Vida’s hand. “Yuso is injured,” I said, waving away the captain’s protest. “Look to him. We will speak later.”

  I crossed the cave with the resistance leader. Groups of people shifted out of our way to create a pathway to the screen. Soft blessings followed us as we passed, but dread settled over me. I looked down at my hands, suddenly aware that I was grinding my fist into my palm.

  The guards saluted as we paused at the edge of the first panel.

  “The physician is waiting for you at His Majesty’s bedside, Lady Eona,” Viktor said. “He has been with him for over seven bells. I will stay here and await his report.”

  With both fists clenched, I rounded the screen.

  An older man slumped on a stool beside a raised pallet immediately looked up. Under his flat physician’s cap, his expression shifted from weariness to relief. “Lady Dragoneye?”

  He bowed, but all of my attention was on the still shape beneath the blanket. Although Kygo’s face was smeared with mud, I could see the stark pallor of his skin. His eyes were closed, but there were no flutterings of dream or nightmare. At some point he had bitten through his lower lip; the swelling was still high. The blanket was pulled up around his neck—I could not see any part of the Imperial Pearl or its stitching— but the edge of a dark bruise extended from his jaw line under the woven blanket edge. The rise and fall of his chest was smooth and regular, yet I could not look away from one breath to the next.

  The sharp hiss of water on coals broke my stare.

  The physician stood over a large brazier, swirling liquid in a pan. “Shall we proceed, my lady?” he said, fresh energy in his voice.

  “How is he?”

  “From observation, I would say his Hua is keeping him from returning from the shadow world until he has sufficient strength.” He set the pan on the brazier and joined me beside the pallet. “I have never attended anyone of royal blood before, my lady. Nor have I ever examined a patient without touching him.”

  “And I have never been a physician’s instrument before,” I said, meeting his anxious smile with my own. “How should we start?’

  “I am of the Meridian school, my l
ady.” Seeing my obvious ignorance, he added, “My diagnosis is through the pulse and the energy lines. Do you know if His Majesty leads with the sun side or the moon side?”

  I tried to picture Kygo fighting; in which hand did he hold his primary sword? Unbidden, the image turned into his right hand softly touching my face. “He is sun,” I said abruptly.

  “Of course,” the physician murmured. “The Heavenly Master would naturally be allied with sun energy.” He beckoned me along the side of the pallet. It was stacked on four rougher straw mattresses. “Now, my lady, take his wrist and find his pulse between the tendons.”

  I carefully lifted the blanket, exposing Kygo’s muscular abdomen and the lean length of his thigh. Only a scrap of material lay in between. Heat rushed to my face. “He is only wearing undershorts,” I said tightly, focusing fiercely on the cave ceiling. Yet the image of his strong body stayed clear in my vision.

  “That is how he arrived,” the physician said. “Either he discarded his clothes to avoid drowning, or the force of the water ripped them from him.” He leaned closer. “Is that bruising? Please let me see his chest and ribs.”

  I pulled the blanket down and quickly dropped it over his lower body. Still, I caught sight of the deep line of muscle that distinguished flat belly from hipbone. Such strength. And such frailty.

  The physician bent down, studying Kygo’s ribs. The width of his chest was marred by a long gash, and deep blue-black bruising flowered across his right side. My gaze slid over the Imperial Pearl, its glowing beauty like a gentle pressure at the base of my skull.

  “My lady, would you please—very gently—press through the swelling to the bones beneath the bruises and tell me what you feel?”

  “Won’t that hurt him?”

  He looked up at me, surprised. “A good question. Does a patient in the shadow world register pain—or anything else for that matter? It is hotly debated across the schools. Let us say that, if he does feel it, he won’t remember his pique when he awakens.” He smiled, but there was steel beneath it. “My lady, I need to know if his ribs are broken and threaten his breathing.”