by Lynette Noni
It might have been wishful thinking on her part, or perhaps just plain denial. But as she twirled with him around the room and their difficult conversation faded away, Alex decided she was happy enough to live in that bubble for the moment—especially if it meant she could enjoy the little time she had left with Aven as her friend and not as the raging future psychopath who wanted nothing more than to see her dead.
Thirty-Two
“Aeylia.”
“Aeylia, wake up.”
“Come on, Aeylia, open your eyes.”
A gentle shaking made Alex groan as the persistent voice kept calling to her, pulling her out of the deep sleep she so desperately needed.
It was two days since she’d danced with Aven, which meant it was two and a half days since Niyx had learned she would soon be leaving. With her festival duties considered complete once the distribution of outfits had been finalised, all Alex’s spare time had been spent continuing her training with the unrelenting Meyarin. True to his word, the sparring she’d done with Niyx in the last couple of days had been about fifty million times more challenging than anything she’d ever experienced before, and her body was paying a price that even her frequent ingestion of laendra was struggling to assist with. What she really needed was rest, yet it seemed that her middle-of-the-night visitor was determined to interrupt her favourite part of the day.
“Now s’not a good time, Aven,” she mumbled, recognising his voice but unwilling to open her eyes and relinquish her grip on sleep. “Come back never.”
He chuckled from overhead. “Don’t you mean, ‘come back later’?”
“Nope,” Alex said, hugging her pillow closer. “Never.” She nuzzled her face into the soft material. “Then I can”—she broke off to yawn—“sleep forever.”
A gentle tugging that became a firm yanking pried her pillow from her hands.
“I’ve been trying to catch you for days,” Aven said when she finally opened her eyes enough to squint up at him in a glare. “I can’t help wondering if you’ve been avoiding me.”
“So you decided to ambush me in the middle of the night—in my bedroom?” Alex said, every slurred word waking her up more and more, to her annoyance. “While I’m sleeping?”
“It’s the only place I knew you’d be,” he said, grinning unrepentantly.
Alex was too tired to call up any concern about his feelings towards her, despite the fact that she was in quite a vulnerable position, in bed as she was. She simply didn’t have it in her to worry about boundaries right now.
With a reluctant sigh, she pushed herself up to lean against the headboard, knowing that he wasn’t going to let her go back to sleep just yet. “Why are you here, Aven?”
His eyes brightened in the darkness as a boyish excitement overtook his features. “It’s Mahna ess L’randae.”
Alex blinked groggily at him. “Marna-who-a-what-ah?”
“Mahna ess L’randae,” he repeated with a flash of a smile. “It’s Tia Auran for—”
“The Giving of Life,” Alex said, her inner translator waking up enough for the words to not sound so much like gibberish.
“You’ve been studying,” Aven said with clear approval.
Alex chose not to enlighten him, and instead asked, “But what does it mean?”
In response, he held out a hand. “Come and you’ll see.”
Alex wasn’t sure what made her decide to go with him—whether it was the anticipation in his features or the fact that she doubted he’d leave her alone until she agreed, but either way, she rolled out of bed, careful not to take his hand so as to at least try and keep some emotional space between them.
Since she was now used to being woken up in the dead of the night by male Meyarins—mostly Niyx who, on the odd occasion, decided that dawn wasn’t early enough to begin her training and dragged her out of bed in the really mean hours of the morning—Alex had gotten into the habit of going to sleep fully clothed in gear appropriate for fighting. Because of that, all she had to do was grab a cloak and she was ready for whatever midnight escapade Aven had planned.
Following him out the door, he activated the Valispath and they soared out of the palace, shooting straight upwards. Alex was grateful that Niyx had drilled her so hard in the past week because her automatic setting was now constantly switched over to her Meyarin blood. If that hadn’t been the case, she would have gone sailing back into the boundary of the Valispath without her heightened reflexes helping her keep balance on the vertical climb. As it was, all she had to do was coolly adjust her footing, returning Aven’s surprised smile when he saw that she was much more graceful than any other time she’d travelled on the Path with him.
Upward and upward they climbed, the direction telling Alex exactly where they were headed. It was one thing to travel so high with a winged beast under her, it was another entirely to be travelling on an invisible rollercoaster that made it seem like there was nothing beneath their feet.
“Why are we going to Draekora?” she called over the howl of the wind. Other than her volcano visit with Niyx, she hadn’t been to the floating islands since Xiraxus had taken her to the glowing flower field the night Roka discovered her secret. As far as she was aware, it was almost considered taboo for anyone other than a draekon to spend much time in the sky lands. Zaronia herself had told Alex that the Draekorans valued their privacy, so she wondered what reason Aven could possibly have for taking her there.
“Mahna ess L’randae happens twice a year,” he called before frowning and reaching out to press his hand to the barrier around them until it sheltered them from the elements.
“Once every six months the draekons welcome Meya to their lands to receive an offering from the Ter’a Ora Vorren,” Aven continued, his voice at a normal level now.
Alex furrowed her brow. “Ter’a Ora Vorren? Why do I know that name?”
“Your draekon probably mentioned it,” Aven said. “What’s his name again?”
“Xiraxus,” Alex answered, distracted because she didn’t think Aven’s presumption was correct. But then she remembered it was actually Zaronia who had used the phrase. “Are you talking about the Pool of Tears?”
He nodded, his eyes glowing with starlight as they continued upwards. “You know it?”
“I just heard it in passing. What is it? And what’s the offering given to Meya?”
Before Aven could answer, the Valispath began to slow as Draekora opened up in front of them, the islands bathed in what looked like blue powder under the light of the moon.
“Tonight is a sacred ceremony,” Aven told her as they zoomed towards the middle of the floating lands. “Only Meyarins of the royal family or the council are permitted to be here; it’s forbidden for anyone else to watch the ceremony.”
“Uh, newsflash,” Alex said, pointing to herself with raised eyebrows.
“That’s why I’m sneaking you in,” Aven said. “Believe me, tonight is a night you won’t want to miss. Now please, keep quiet for a moment while I figure out the best place to hide.”
Sighing, Alex thought it might be wise to send out a quick call to Xiraxus. How much trouble would I be in if, hypothetically, I was to witness Mahna ess L’randae?
She followed up by sending a mental image of her current position, soaring with Aven towards the same rocky, open-aired amphitheatre she had been taken to for her trial before the Kyvalon on her first day in the past. The glossy black traesos was resplendent in the moonlight, as if the crystalline surface actively repelled the light. It almost looked like a barrier of pure darkness surrounded the jagged edges of the variously sized outcroppings. Outcroppings that, just like last time, were acting as viewing platforms for the hulking winged beasts. But this time there weren’t just a few draekons in attendance; the entire amphitheatre was full of the multi-coloured creatures.
Please tell me you’re dreaming and you’re not really here, Xiraxus replied after a moment’s pause.
I could do that if it’ll make you feel better, A
lex offered.
The draekon made a noise that emphasised just how bad on the not-good scale her being there was. Just make sure you stay out of sight. I want to live past tonight, thank you very much.
His response validated her misgivings, so Alex promised she’d do her best before focusing back on Aven as he guided them towards a smaller outcropping at the side of the amphitheatre, slightly away from where the bulk of the draekons were. Quite frankly, Alex didn’t think they were fooling anyone with their attempted stealth, but if their presence was noted, none of the draekons called attention to it. She could have sworn she saw Zaronia glance over from her raised platform though, which was proven true when Alex heard the leader’s resigned-sounding mental voice saying, I should have known. Alex, in turn, sent her a sheepish wave before Aven yanked her behind a boulder of traesos and out of sight.
“The Draekorans might accept you being here since you’re almost considered one of them thanks to your bond with their heir, but our people won’t be as forgiving,” Aven told her. “Please help me out here and at least try to avoid being seen by anyone from Meya.”
Alex peeked out around the corner and said, “I can only see draekons out there.”
“They’ll be here any minute now,” Aven replied, moving closer to glance over her shoulder, his front brushing lightly against her back.
Alex attempted to subtly wiggle away from him, but there wasn’t enough room to put any more space between them, so she resigned herself to their close proximity—at least for the moment.
“So what’s this Pool of Tears thing?” she asked again, since she hadn’t received an answer earlier. “And what’s the ceremony for?”
“It’s said that when our people were banished from Tia Auras long ago, a small number of them were bonded to draekons who also inhabited the world beyond the stars,” Aven said. “Not wanting to part with each other, those draekons and a few others left their race behind and followed the ancient Meyarins to Medora, knowing that, having lost everything, our people would need help to survive and thrive in this new place.”
“Not to mention, those draekons would have ceased living if their bonded Meyarins failed to adapt on their own,” Alex pointed out dryly, and Aven made a sound of agreement.
“Self-serving or not,” he said, “the Draekorans contributed their most sacred offering to our people—something they call the Z’ao. They taught us how to mould it into architecture to strengthen the foundation of our city, sharpen it into weapons worthy of our best warriors, refine it to combustible dust that requires no fuel to burn and guided us in many other ways to utilise it to ensure the continued evolution of our race.”
Alex craned her neck around to look up at him in shock. “Are you—You’re not talking about Myrox, are you?”
Aven nodded. “That’s what we call the Z’ao, yes.”
Struggling to wrap her head around the fact that Meyarin steel actually originated from draekons, Alex asked, “And myraes, too? The multi-coloured fire?”
“Myraes is powdered Myrox,” Aven told her, “crushed after the Z’ao has solidified but before it has been tempered.”
“I can’t believe this,” Alex whispered, feeling strangely disappointed, like she was discovering that Santa’s reindeer were actually buffalo, or that the North Pole was really situated in the middle of the Sahara Desert. She felt a little bit like the immortal race she held in such high esteem had been lying to her, even though they’d done nothing of the sort—it was her race who had slapped the ‘Made in Meya’ label on Myrox.
“Twice a year we’re permitted to come and draw the Z’ao from Ter’a Ora Vorren to replenish our stores,” Aven continued his explanation. “It’s a power source for Meya, helping us to continue thriving as a race, even providing us with the energy to create the protective wards we use sparingly around the city. Without the Z’ao, those wards would fail. We would also have no materials of quality high enough to create new weapons, raise new buildings or even light our paths and hearths. We rely on the Draekorans’ continued blessing—the Giving of Life ceremony—for allowing our people to flourish in this new world.”
That must be why he pulled me to the future.
The unexpected words caught Alex off-guard. Xira? She looked around but couldn’t see him anywhere. What are you talking about?
Haven’t you wondered what possessed him to pull me through to your time? Xiraxus asked.
Of course I have, she replied. But I’m no closer to knowing the answer.
There are no draekons in your future, Alex, Xiraxus said, causing the air to rush out of her in a quiet sound of disbelief. When the Golden One—the Aven Dalmarta of your time—pulled me through the abrassa, before I was caught in his snare I saw a dead sea of islands above the clouds. Your Draekora was abandoned long ago. I could sense not even a distant trace of my race in your world. That’s when I panicked and fell out of the sky, allowing him to get close enough to attempt my capture.
Alex watched as Xiraxus showed her a mental picture of the Draekora in the future—the images he had skipped over in blurred flashes during his replay for the Kyvalon weeks ago. His memories revealed a desolate wasteland of islands resting atop the clouds, nothing at all like the vibrant assortment surrounding them now.
But… That means… She focused her thoughts and asked, What about you, Xira? The future you?
I don’t know, Alex. I can’t tell you what happened to your Draekora, he said. But I’m guessing your Aven pulled me through because he needed a draekon to give him an advantage over the rest of the Meyarins.
How would having you in captivity help him? she asked.
It was then that a hush fell over the draekon assemblage, pulling Alex from her inner conversation to look at what was happening. She threw a stealthy glance up at Aven who was still leaning in close and peering over her shoulder, relieved to find that he was too busy watching the draekons to have noticed her mental check-out.
“What’s happening?” she whispered, barely moving her lips in the silence.
“Our people are coming,” Aven whispered back.
Sure enough, Alex’s Meyarin eyes picked them up the moment he’d said it, watching as they soared in on nearly invisible Valispaths, the seven council representatives landing one after the other in the traesos amphitheatre. They all wore identical hooded robes glowing with the familiar shine of Myrox threaded into the fabric, the brightness standing out in stark contrast against the crystallised blackness surrounding them.
“Here comes the best part,” Aven whispered into Alex’s ear, causing goose bumps to rise on her skin.
“Denizens of Meya,” Zaronia called out in the Meyarin tongue, her voice echoing loudly across the space to Alex’s heightened hearing. “Tonight you join with all of Draekora to honour those who have been lost beyond the stars.”
As if reciting from a script they’d all memorised, in one voice the Meyarins said, “May the light shine always upon on the lost.”
Alex was more than a little creeped out, and it only became worse when Zaronia stretched out her wings and flew down from her raised perch until she came to a rest on the ground in front of the Meyarins. In between them was what looked like a large basin forged into the traesos, but instead of it being entirely black like the rest of the rock, it had veins of glowing Myrox webbed throughout.
“Light for life,” Zaronia said like some kind of pledge—this time not in Meyarin, but in the scratchy, rumbling language of the draekons—as she ducked her head over the basin. As Alex watched, a massive silvery tear fell from her eye and dropped into the bowl.
One by one the draekons flew to the ground, offering the same ‘Light for life’ declaration before releasing their tears into the steadily growing pool and then flying off into the dark of the night.
I didn’t realise Ter’a Ora Vorren was a literal description, Alex called to Xiraxus. It really is a Pool of Tears.
The Z’ao provides the foundation for most of the Meyarins’ necessities in l
ife, he responded, repeating what Aven had said as he spoke of what Alex now knew was Myrox in its liquid form—the tears of draekons.
And if there are no draekons in my future… Alex said, jumping back to their earlier conversation.
Then the Meyarins of your world would have no new Z’ao available to them, he answered. And without access to something so vital to their foundation, for their continued thriving existence, they would, essentially, be slowly devolving. Slowly dying as a race as their stores run out.
Alex suddenly remembered jokingly asking the Kyia of her time if she could take some myraes home with her.
‘Unfortunately, there’s very little myraes available to us these days,’ Kyia had said. ‘It’s a rare commodity amongst our race.’
Alex shared the memory with Xiraxus and followed up by saying, You think Aven pulled you to the future so you could, uh, cry for him?
I believe he wanted the tears of a draekon, yes, Xiraxus said. With a steady supply of Z’ao he would be able to provide weapons for his growing Garseth; he’d be able to barter the worth of our tears with any of the other races across Medora and receive anything he wanted in return; he’d even perhaps be able to tempt others in Meya and sway them into his favour, if he was able to offer them something of such significant worth that they’d been living without for so long. People will do anything if they’re desperate enough. They will follow anyone, support any cause.
Alex shuddered as an image of Aven storming the palace came to mind. A few gifted humans and a small handful of faithful Garseth, while not good, didn’t present much of a threat to the crown. But with the backing of an entire city of desperate Meyarins willing to rise up against their rulers if it meant access to the luxuries denied to them for so long, then Roka and Astophe’s lives would be in much more danger. Not even the elite guard could take on a whole city of revolutionists. Aven would barely have to lift a finger to kill his brother and father before claiming the throne as his.
Trembling at the visual, there was still something that Alex didn’t understand. Why you, Xira? Why not some other draekon? And how did he even pull you through the abrassa to begin with?