Eona: The Last Dragoneye

by Alison Goodman

  The searing rise of Ido’s power suddenly stopped. I looked over my shoulder, praying he had not fallen to a hunter. The Dragoneye was grappling with his guard, punching the man savagely in the ribs. The hunter broke away and drew a long knife from an ankle sheath. He lunged, but Ido caught his forearm and twisted it brutally against the elbow joint. The knife dropped.

  A wail split the air, the desolation within it chilling me. Dela’s heart cry. Two guards held her back from Ryko’s body. Her face was a fearsome mask—all howling mouth and wild eyes. She punched and clawed, lurching toward Ryko with the berserk rage of grief. Taking advantage of the diversion, Tozay rammed into his guard’s legs. The man dropped to his knees, his sword swinging upward. With ruthless precision, Tozay grabbed the sword hilt and slammed the edge of the grip into the man’s chin, knocking him senseless.

  “Lady Eona, do you need help?” he yelled, yanking the weapon from the man’s slack grasp.

  “No. Help Dela.”

  Raising the sword, he charged the two guards struggling to contain the Contraire.

  I spread both hands on Kygo’s chest, feeling for his heartbeat through the sticky wash of blood. His eyes were shut and an ominous pallor bleached his skin. Be alive, I prayed. Be alive. A slow thud flipped under my fingertips: a heartbeat.

  “Brother, get the black book,” Sethon yelled.

  High Lord Tuy rose from his seat beside the dais. I cursed; I should have picked up the book. Without it, the dragons could not be released.

  “Tozay!” I yelled. He broke away from his opponent and swung around. “Get the folio!”

  He nodded, ducking a wild punch.

  The flash of a blade drew my eyes back to Sethon. He had pulled Kinra’s other sword from the sheath slung on the back of the throne. Pausing for a moment to find his target, he leaped off the dais, straight for Ido. The pearl flapped obscenely at his throat, only half attached.

  “Ido!” I screamed. The Dragoneye rolled away from the limp hunter and scrabbled up onto his feet, the bloodied long-knife in his hand. I jabbed my finger at the oncoming danger. “Sethon!”

  He backed up, tensing to meet Sethon’s running attack.

  It was all I could do; I had to heal Kygo. His heart was barely beating.

  With a desperate breath, I plunged into the celestial plane. The platform around me convulsed into iridescent energy, the bright colors stretching and breaking in frantic, jagged patterns. Under the bright flow of Hua in my hands, Kygo’s meridians were dark and stagnant, only a flicker of silver in each point of power. The Mirror Dragon shrieked, her massive crimson body above the platform. The golden pearl at her throat thrummed with an ancient song of renewal, its luminous surface pulsing with runs of gold flame. Higher in the sky, the blue dragon circled, his own pearl alive with blue fire. The approach of the other ten dragons pressed around us like a terrible weight, thickening the air.

  I called the Mirror Dragon, and opened myself to her power, my heart’s plea joining her thrumming song. Heal him, please heal him. She shrieked again, the sound blending into the rushing power that roared through my pathways. Cinnamon flooded my mouth. Was this the last time I would taste the glorious spice of our union? The bittersweet thought rose through me and locked in my throat like a cry. She lowered her massive head, the great dragon eyes only lengths from mine. Their ancient gaze pulled me into the neverending cycle of life and death, sun and moon, chaos and balance. So old. Time to renew. Your pearl will be returned, I silently promised, and felt her soaring joy. Yet the loss to come dug darkness into my spirit.

  We sang together, knitting the earth’s Hua into Kygo’s slashed flesh, fanning the tiny flicker of his life-force into bright flowing energy and a strong, beating heart. Our beautiful harmony wove sweet healing into every wound and eased my own aching spirit with a gentle embrace of golden power. Under my hands, Kygo’s chest jerked, the sudden fill of air erupting into a hacking, gasping cough.

  A booming shock wave of hot, spicy air ripped me out of the energy world. Ten huge dragons burst onto the plain around the platform, a rainbow circle of gleaming hides, heavy muscle, and thick manes. Real flesh-and-blood bodies as big as palace temples. I gaped at the vivid orange Horse Dragon straight ahead of me, the luminous apricot pearl beneath his chin glowing and humming. Beside him, the Goat Dragon stretched his long neck, the silver scales rippling with reflections like sinuous water, his pearl singing, too. The warmth of his lemon breath scented the air. They were all on the earthly plane, visible to everyone. It was not meant to be possible, yet every man on the platform was frozen into stunned awe. Even Ido and Sethon had broken apart from their savage struggle. The only movement was Dela, rocking Ryko’s body against her chest.

  I spun around, trying to take in the huge circle of beasts: the green Tiger Dragon, the dawn pink Rabbit Dragon, the shimmering purple Ox Dragon. Then a gap: the domain of the Rat Dragon. And, in the east, another gap for the Mirror Dragon. They had not yet joined the circle. We still had time.

  Shrill, throbbing screams from the ground broke the awed silence. I looked down as the Ox Dragon shifted the coil of his massive tail, exposing scores and scores of mangled bodies beneath it, the muscular movement catching more shrieking men in its sweep. My stomach heaved at the mess. The ten beasts had materialized on top of Sethon’s army. Half of them were crushed under dragon flesh. The other half were running from the beasts. Among the fleeing figures, I saw resistance prisoners. Thank the gods, some of them had got away.

  Kygo lifted his head, taking in the great beasts around us. “Eona, what’s happening?”

  “The String of Pearls,” I whispered.

  “What?” He sat up, the sudden movement draining the new color from his face.

  I caught his arms, steadying him. He did not know the truth about the dragons or the pearl. Somehow, I had to make him understand. And, I hoped, help me.

  “Kygo, listen,” I said. “There is no bargain between us and the dragons. There never was a bargain. The Imperial Pearl is their egg. We stole it as ransom for their power. Now they need it back. They need to renew the land.”

  “No bargain? Why wasn’t I told?” He twisted around again, staring up at the Ox Dragon. The beast turned his massive horned head toward us, the shimmering purple scales of his arched neck and broad forehead softening into lavender around his long muzzle. Beneath the silky flow of mauve beard, his pearl thrummed with urgency, its surface alive with violet flame. “How do you know all this?” Kygo demanded.

  There was no time to explain Kinra’s memories and the black folio. I tightened my grip on his arms, trying to press the truth into him. “Kygo, trust me. If you love your land as much as you say, we need to give the pearl back to the dragons.”

  He stared at me. “It is the symbol of my power.”

  “It is also the symbol of our greed,” I said. “Kygo, I trusted you with the folio. Please, trust me with this!”

  He searched my face, his hesitation like a tight band around my heart. Then I saw it: a wondrous leap of faith in his eyes. “What do we need to do?”

  I bowed my head for a moment, overcome by relief. “We have to get the folio and the pearl before the dragon circle is closed.”

  His hand went to his throat. “This is the portent coming true, isn’t it? The Hua of All Men and the dark force.” His face tensed as he felt the smooth hollow between his collarbones. “You healed me!” His eyes darkened as he realized what that meant. For him. For us. “Eona, what have you done?”

  “You were dying,” I said. He pulled away from me but I caught his hand. “Kygo, if we give the pearl back, everything will change. I won’t have any power over you. I won’t have any power at all.” Even just saying the words opened a dark hole of loss into my heart. No dragon. No power. I looked around at the magnificent beasts that surrounded us.

  Make it right.

  He cupped my cheek. “You would give up your power?”

  A roar of fury broke us apart.

  “Is thi
s the String of Pearls?” Sethon yelled at Ido. “Did you do this?”

  He lunged at the Dragoneye, driving him back a few steps. The thrall across the platform was at an end. Behind us, the clang of steel rang out, pulling me around to face Tozay and Tuy. The two men were trading vicious blows, fighting for an opportunity to grab the folio on the ground between them.

  Two guards ran toward us, weapons raised. I snatched up Kinra’s sword, its blaze of anger driving me to my feet. Kygo dived for a fallen sword near Dela. He scooped it up and rolled into a crouch, the stiff lock of his spine registering the body in Dela’s arms.

  He turned to me, his face stricken. “Ryko’s dead?”

  “He gave me all his Hua,” I said. “To break free of Sethon.”

  For a brief moment, Kygo’s eyes closed. But there was no time for grief; the two guards were upon us.

  I swung Kinra’s sword at the stocky man coming at me. Our blades met, the impact resonating through all my joints. He had brute strength on his side. I disengaged and ducked to his left, managing a quick slash across his forearm on my way through. At least I was quicker. His companion sliced his sword at Kygo’s head. Caught in the crouch, Kygo smashed the blade aside, then surged to his feet, ready for the guard’s return. He was easily the better-trained man, but he wore no armor, not even a shirt that could catch a sword tip and afford a precious second.

  My opponent pulled his bloodied hand away from the shallow cut. His eyes narrowed, his small mouth bunching as if he’d sucked a pickled plum. I smiled: not such an easy mark, after all. He sidestepped away from the blows ringing between Kygo and his comrade. I tracked his movement, watching for a sign he was about to attack. The flicker in his eye gave him away. He lunged into a volley of high, hard cuts—classic Monkey Dragon Third. I swung my blade into Ox Dragon First, the circling blocks holding back his hammering blows. His strength and anger pushed me backward, but he couldn’t break through. With a hiss of frustration, he disengaged.

  At the periphery of my vision, I caught the feinting, lunging figures of Ido and Sethon. And another figure, edging toward them. I chanced a look; it was Yuso, his fist curled around the hilt of a small curved knife—a physician’s tool. Before I could scream a warning to Ido, the guard in front of me swung his sword into a vicious arc. I braced, recognizing the punishing form of Third Horse. He was going to batter me into submission. Kinra’s quick reaction angled my blade and deflected the heavy blow, but the weight behind it made me stagger. I was off-balance, and the soldier knew it. Desperately, I twisted around to meet him. Not fast enough. He had turned the sword, all of his momentum swinging the edge of the hilt at my head. My body tensed for the blow.

  It didn’t come. I stumbled back a step and saw his face frozen in surprise. His hand spasmed, the sword clattering to the ground between us. He toppled slowly forward. Behind him, Dela jerked a sword free of his falling body. The blade was half sheathed in blood.

  We both looked down at the fallen man.

  “What do you need me to do?” Dela said. The grief in her face had hardened into deadly focus.

  “Help Kygo and Tozay get the black folio.”

  With a nod, she picked up the dead man’s sword, and whirled to help Kygo subdue the other guard. As I caught my breath, Yuso suddenly broke into a run toward Ido and Sethon. The Dragoneye could not hold out against both of them. I pushed everything I had into a desperate sprint across the platform. Sethon and Ido had caught each other’s weapon hands and stood nose to nose, each straining simultaneously to break the other’s grip and plunge his own blade home.

  “Ido, look out,” I screamed.

  Too late. With a harsh battle cry, Yuso charged into the center of the grapple. The collision knocked the two men apart. Sethon reeled backward. Ido crashed onto his hands and knees, his broad back unprotected. I forced one last spurt of speed into my burning muscles, but Yuso was already lunging into his attack.

  Straight past Ido.

  For a moment, it didn’t make sense. Then Yuso hooked his arm around Sethon’s neck and drove his blade into the man’s bare chest. Yuso wasn’t after Ido; he was trying to kill Sethon. With a physician’s knife.

  Sethon swung Yuso off balance. Both men fell to the ground, Kinra’s sword flying out of Sethon’s hand and sliding across the boards. Ido rolled away from their thrashing bodies and hauled himself to his feet. Straight into my path. With no time to pull up, I slammed into his chest, the impact driving out all my air. With a grunt, he staggered back a step and caught me. I doubled over and gasped for breath.

  “Were you coming to help me or kill me?” he said, halflifting half-dragging me farther away from the vicious fight on the ground.

  I struggled out of his grasp. “Where’s the pearl?” I managed.

  “Sethon still has it.”

  I caught a flash of metal as Yuso plunged the tiny knife down again. It must have found its mark, because Sethon roared with pain and punched the captain in the side of the head, loosening his grip.

  I finally drew in a full breath. “Can we use the lightning? Like the beach?”

  “No,” Ido said. Around us, the shrieking thrum of the dragons was like the song of a thousand cicadas. “I don’t know what would happen if we called our beasts in the middle of this circle. And we’d risk destroying the pearl.”

  We would have to get the Imperial Pearl the hard way. I tightened my hand around my sword and looked for an opening in the struggle before us.

  Sethon slammed his elbow into Yuso’s face, then dived for his sword. Yuso slashed wildly, the too-small knife slicing across Sethon’s bare back in a crimson arc. He pulled back just as Sethon flipped over and swung Kinra’s sword at him, missing his chest by a hair’s breadth. Both men drew up into wary crouches. Breathing hard, they stood and faced one another, my position in their sightlines. I had lost my chance.

  Sethon spun Kinra’s sword in his grip. “You’ve just killed your son,” he said. “And yourself.”

  Yuso’s hand flexed around the knife hilt. “I am already dead.” He looked at me. “Lady Eona, this buys my son’s safety.”

  I felt my whole body tense into expectation.

  Yuso ran at Sethon, the short knife raised, his whole body open to attack. Sethon plunged Kinra’s sword into the captain’s chest. The thrust was so hard that I saw the tip emerge between Yuso’s shoulder blades and heard the thump of the hilt spring back against his breastbone. Yuso dropped his knife and grabbed the grip over Sethon’s hand, holding the sword and Sethon against his body. With a deep guttural groan, he swung Sethon around until the man’s back faced us. Sethon jerked at the hilt, trying to withdraw the blade.

  “Do it,” Yuso gasped.

  Ido sprang forward and drove his long knife up into Sethon’s sacral point, all of his strength behind the strike. Sethon screamed, his body arching, the shock to his Hua locking him against the knife. Ido twisted the blade upward.

  “Shall we explore that pain?” he said against Sethon’s ear.

  My innards froze; the words and tone were a perfect imitation of Sethon’s torture.

  Ido jerked the blade again, forcing a moan from Sethon. “Exhilarating, isn’t it.”

  He wrenched Sethon’s weight away from Yuso. Without the brace of the High Lord’s body, Yuso slowly folded to the platform and pitched to one side. The moonstone and jade hilt in his chest hit the wood, sending a shiver of pain through him.

  With ruthless efficiency, Ido lowered Sethon to the ground, then rolled him onto his back. He scooped up Yuso’s fallen knife, pressed his foot across Sethon’s wrist, then drove the small blade through the man’s palm, staking him to the wood. I winced as Sethon broke into a long scream, his fingers spasming.

  As though Sethon’s yell had roused him, Yuso lifted his head toward me, the effort cording the veins in his neck.

  “Maylon,” he gasped. “His name is Maylon. ”

  I kneeled beside him. “You betrayed us, Yuso. This is all your fault. Do you expect me to forgi
ve you?”

  His eyes focused blearily on Ido. The Dragoneye had pinned Sethon’s free arm with one knee. Sethon strained upward, but Ido punched him in the face with the hilt of the long knife, the impact slamming his head against the boards.

  “Ido thinks you are like him,” Yuso said slowly. He coughed, spraying blood. “But you still have mercy in you, don’t you?” His breath sighed out into stillness.

  Did I still have mercy? I felt no softness within my heart, and—may the gods help me—I understood the smile of enjoyment on Ido’s face. I rose and placed my foot on Yuso’s rib cage, wrenching Kinra’s sword from his dead body. The burn of her anger whispered its need. Take the pearl. I circled both swords up into readiness, the return of their full fury and strength like a homecoming.

  I watched as the Dragoneye flipped the knife in his hand and leaned over Sethon. “What shall I carve into your chest?” His voice still mimicked the High Lord’s caressing tone. “‘Traitor’? ‘Bastard’? How about ‘Always a second son’?”

  Sethon tried to pull away from the knife hovering above his breastbone. With an admonishing click of his tongue, Ido pressed the tip of the blade into Sethon’s flesh, dragging it downward in a wash of blood. Sethon screamed again, his head thrashing with pain.

  With grim resolution, I walked over to the two men. Take the pearl. With every shuddering heave of Sethon’s chest, the gem rolled across the bloodied hollow between his collarbones, dangling from its four rough stitches. I could carve it from his throat. Feel him writhe and scream; revenge for Kygo’s agony.

  “Get back!” I said to Ido.

  I raised my sword.

  “Wait,” Ido said.

  He drove the long knife through Sethon’s other palm, forcing a sobbing scream from the man. Ido looked up at me. His smile was vicious and cruel and held the intimacy of a lover. “Enjoy.”

  Sethon’s pain-filled eyes met mine as he strained to rip his hands free of the knives. For a moment, I held the sword tip over his throat. His lips drew back into the snarl of a cornered animal. He deserved the slowest death possible. He deserved pain and fear. But I could not do it. Yuso was right: I still had mercy. With a roar, I plunged both blades through his mutilated chest instead, the resistance of skin and bone jarring my hands.