Maybe it didn’t work like that. Maybe the Haroc could only be opened by a certain kind of person.
My brow furrowed as I thought about it. What if that was true? What if Atura’s story wasn’t entirely a lie? Could it be possible that the Saaasallla, or someone like him could have heard that prophecy about being saved by a dragon and manufactured a situation where his daughter was saved like that? Could it be possible to fulfill those prophecies artificially to make an outcome happen when it can only happen a certain way? To a certain person?
I opened up Hubric’s little book, wandering closer to the fire now, and as the others spoke quietly or wrestled together, I read it. I read it from beginning to end and though I was exhausted, when Nasataa came and curled up next to me, falling asleep with his head in my lap, I started to read it again.
“Are you a Lightbringer?” Samrin asked quietly. I hadn’t realized that he and Heron had finished being cool Dragon Riders together for long enough to pay attention to me.
“What?” That’s what Atura had accused Octon of.
“You read a Lightbringer book of prophecy. The Dominar carries hers with pride. It was her Lightbringer friend, Savette Leedris who saved us all according to prophecy when she died in a beam of light and power.”
“Oh.” I was surprised by that, but not as surprised as I would have been if I hadn’t read the book. “Hubric said some of these prophecies had already been fulfilled. Were they fulfilled by this Savette and the Dominar?”
“Some,” he smiled at my words. “I think that Captain Shardson probably chose me to guide you because I am also a Lightbringer. Would you like me to point out some of the prophecies that we wonder about? If Savette hadn’t understood hers so well, she may not have realized she would have to die.”
Heron gasped from beside the fire and when I looked to him, his face was alight with concern.
“But Seleska won’t have to die,” he said rebelliously.
Samrin didn’t answer that. He took the book from me gently, flipping through it as Heron drew in close, remembering that I existed again.
“I don’t care what it says, Seleska, it won’t come to that.”
“Heron,” I said gently but with a little irritation. “Don’t you realize that was always possible? What do you think Atura was going to do to me when she had me tied to a rock? What do you think they were trying to do when they chased us? They want us dead.”
“That’s different. That’s enemies. It’s not prophecy.” He seemed worried suddenly.
And his worry opened up my emotions like a floodgate. Frustration and fear spilled out. I didn’t want to wake Nasataa, but my whispers were harsh and I didn’t care who else heard me.
“Heron, this could end in my death. And Nasataa’s. I want to keep him safe. I want him to be okay. But the only hope for him is to open the Haroc and get the Troglodytes’ magic back! And to do that, I need to beat Atura to these keys. And that will require sacrifice. Vyvera died for this. Octon died for this. Hubric died for this. And it’s all my fault that they’re dead. And I don’t know how to make it all right and good. And yes, I might die, too. So, maybe you can be all excited about fancy new dragons to ride and shiny new friends, but I kind of have some things on my mind!”
He looked like I’d slapped him. “Sorry.”
But now I felt even worse. I’d just ground my best ally into the mud just because I was frustrated and angry and scared. I bit my lip and looked away.
“Don’t be angry, Sela,” Heron whispered. “I’m just trying to make the best of all this – like you always used to.”
Used to. I used to be bubbly and optimistic and now I was a worried old rag. That made it even worse! But what else was I supposed to do? I felt like a hot mess.
“Ah, here’s one,” Samrin said loudly, as if he was pretending he couldn’t hear our conflict. “Listen now: Only the pure in heart the secret keep. A key to open up the deep.
Only the strong in courage a mark will find. A symbol to both free and bind.
Only the one who gives it all, can bring the magic with the call.”
“That could be about anyone,” Heron protested.
“Sure,” Samrin said. “Most of the prophecies can be. But this is the one Captain Shardson told me to remember before he sent me to you. Look.” He handed me back the book. “Maybe it’s about you. Maybe it isn’t. But courage, a pure heart, and the willingness to give it all you have never hurt anyone, hmmm?”
“Thanks,” I said half-heartedly.
“Now. Get some sleep,” he admonished us. “You both seem like you could use it.”
I was still angry as I fell asleep. Angry at myself. Angry at Heron. Angry that no one could make any of this better.
I awoke to shouting.
Chapter Twelve
There was another scream and then a snarl.
I leapt up without even thinking, scrambling to find my staff. Where was it?
There!
I scooped it up, looking around me. The Silver dragon was hunched low like a cat about to pounce. Samrin was climbing on his back at the same moment that Heron sprang up from sleep, scrambling for Olfijum.
The center of the platform was a flurry of screams and shouts. Two Manticores roared from where they stood at the spire. One had a paw on a bleeding Red Dragon. His head lolled lifelessly, his eyes open but glazed. Beside him, his rider lay crumpled in a heap, his arms and legs at wrong angles.
I gasped, but there was no time for shock.
“Get behind me, Nasataa,” I said, leveling the staff.
Screaming Ilerioc’s ran down the bridge, clutching children and possessions as they fled. My heart skipped a beat as one of them fell off the edge of the land bridge, his possessions tumbling around him as he fell to his death.
The Manticores on the other end of the portal must have found the fleeing Ileriocs. They must have chased them through.
I gasped, horror filling me. If the portal stayed open, an entire army could pour through. But what about the refugees on the other side just waiting to get through? Would they be slaughtered? Was there any way to stop it?
A third Manticore appeared beside the spire.
“Close the portal!” Samrin screamed as his Silver dragon lunged forward. His dragon flamed at the same moment that the nearest Manticore swiped at him. He dodged to the side, spinning to attack again. “What happened to the guards on the other side?”
Dead. They must be dead.
From above the Manticores, one of the Dragon Riders who had been working the portal dove, his dragon flaming wildly. The Manticore beat his wings, sending a blast of magic that threw the dragon backward, tumbling through the air.
“Take my hand!” Heron called to me, reaching from the back of Olfijum. “You’ll be safer on his back!”
But I wouldn’t be. No one here had the magic to combat the Manticores.
No one, that is, but me. If I could push away all my frustration and anger and find gratitude in my heart.
What was I grateful for? That I at least wasn’t dead yet? That probably wouldn’t be enough.
“I’m the only one who can stop them,” I called to Heron. “Watch Nasataa!”
With a roar, I ran forward. The path was clear of both allies and innocent bystanders. Everyone between me and the Manticores was either dead or fleeing.
I raised the staff and hurried forward, fighting against waves of fear that battered me at the thought of facing a Manticore head-on. At least I had one way to combat them. That was something!
Gratitude filled me for that staff. Vyvera had given it to me – and she’d come so far, sacrificed so much to do that. Surely, her life must have been for something, right? If she’d died just to get this in my hands, then I needed to use it. I held on to that gratitude, pushing it out at the Manticores.
I was grateful – so grateful to have been gifted this. And I let that gratitude fill me.
I was almost to the Manticores. The nearest one snapped at me with
broken teeth, but he didn’t plan to bite me. Instead, he tried to blast me with his magic. I spun my staff, focusing on gratitude. The blast of magic reflected right back at him, sending him spinning through the air. I thought he was going to smack the portal, but he disappeared through it at the same moment that the second Manticore abandoned his pursuit of the fleeing Ilerioc refugees and rounded on me, growling low in his throat.
I was losing my sense of gratitude. I needed to think. I glanced back to where Heron was pulling Nasataa closer, admonishing him as they flew just a little higher. If I fell here, he would take care of the little dragon. It would be okay.
And that was something to be grateful for, too.
I closed my eyes and let that fill me. My problem before I went to sleep was that I’d forgotten. I’d forgotten that I wasn’t in this alone. From Heron to Ramariri, from Vyvera to Hubric, from my adoptive parents to Taoslil to Raolcan to Samrin – so many others were fighting, too. I’d let myself forget, and in forgetting, I’d been a fool.
I met Heron’s eyes and let myself really remember that. I was not alone. As I turned back, I saw Samrin dive on his Silver dragon toward the two remaining Manticores. He dipped down between us, blocking my sight for just a moment as his dragon flamed.
The Manticore roared in pain. The blast of air he sent toward us was more powerful than anything I’d felt before. I was rocked by it, but I didn’t let my mind go to that. I focused, concentrating on gratitude, on letting it fill me up. I wasn’t alone.
The blast reverberated back at him, knocking him backward into the other Manticore who hit the spire. It broke, shattering with a loud crack. Chunks of glowing stone fell, fanning out in every direction, their glow slowly fading now that they were detached from the main spire.
The Manticore flashed out of existence.
A chunk of rock shattered as it hit the ground beside me, breaking into small pieces that scored across my face and body, leaving little trails of pain behind them.
I gasped, clutching my free hand to my face.
“Close the portal!” Samrin’s voice was clear and so was the husky voice that answered it.
“I need more time!”
But I didn’t hear what came next. The last Manticore was bearing down on me. He knew better than to use magic, knew better than to risk it coming back at him. His broken teeth opened as he dove toward me.
One glance was all I needed before I turned and fled but there wasn’t much platform to run across before the great drop. I ran, still trying to flee in time, leaping over our fire and belongings as I went.
I was going to run out of ground before he caught me. And then what?
Terror filled me, strangling my voice and filling my mind with clouds of confusion.
The moment I cleared the fire, the Manticore’s teeth clamped around my foot. I screamed, howling into the dark as he scooped me up and then fell from the end of the platform, not even bothering to catch the wind with his wings.
The blackness swallowed us.
Chapter Thirteen
How far was he going to drop before he spread his wings and caught us? How far?
My heart was racing and I gripped my staff as hard as I could and willed myself not to have a heart attack. He was going to have to open his wings. He was going to have to save us. Right?
But what if he just dropped me?
Light flared above us. And then again. I couldn’t see anything by it. Not from the angle I was dangling at. The Manticore bucked and then something slapped my face and I flinched, screaming. Bright fire flared again – this time much closer. My leg felt like it was burning.
My scream grew louder and then the Manticore was screaming with me.
Oh no! As his mouth opened, I fell from his ragged jaws, the scream sticking in my throat now as I realized with horror that I was falling to my death.
I wasn’t ready for it to end!
I sucked in a long breath, willing myself not to scream, trying not to cry.
Something slammed into my waist. Had I hit something? The breath was knocked out of my lungs, the pain of it searing through my torso – and then I felt like I was flying upward.
I gasped, letting the tears come. What was the point of holding them back when I was just going to die anyway?
There was another flare of light off to the side of me. It grew, suddenly, as if it had caught something alight. The Manticore – the one that had been holding me just moments ago – was completely ablaze. Fire licked across his fur, burning up his wings in a horrific blaze. Through his screams, I thought I heard a dragon hiss and then the flames grew so bright that I could see his attackers as we rose above them – a great Silver dragon and a little Blue one.
Nasataa! He shouldn’t be there! It was too dangerous! I wanted to scream, but with my breath gone, I couldn’t make a sound.
We rose up, out of the depths, up to the platform. I could tell I was being held by something, but I couldn’t twist to see what it was.
I didn’t have to. He laid me gently on the ground by the fire and as I caught a glimpse of purple, someone leapt down beside me, a bundle in his hands.
“Little honey, oh little honey, I thought I lost you.”
It was Heron. He froze over me as if afraid to touch me and I tried to sit up but fell back with a strangled cry. There was something wrong with my leg. It felt like it was still on fire.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he was saying as he poured water from his waterskin onto what looked like a blanket, using it to bathe my face. The blanket came away red and sticky. Was I bleeding that much?
“I shouldn’t have fought with you,” he said, his eyes frantic as he worked. “I shouldn’t have been so happy about Olfijum and so relieved to find help with Samrin and Tharrac.” Was that Samrin’s dragon’s name? “I should have realized how much all of this was taking out of you. I should have realized how much more it was going to take. I don’t want you to die, Seleska. I don’t want you to die. Please, hold on.”
I tried to answer, but I couldn’t suck in a full breath.
“Your leg,” he said, aghast. “It’s ... it’s bad.”
He worked over it, cleaning, bandaging and hissing between his teeth as I tried to fight waves of pain that washed over me. I was waiting for something. And I didn’t even know what I was waiting for until I saw his little face, unscathed, almost joyful looking.
Nasataa licked my nose with his little blue tongue and as if that was a signal to my body that it was okay to collapse, I drifted into blackness once more.
Chapter Fourteen
Their song filled my ears like a lullaby. A song I hadn’t heard in so long that I thought that I was dreaming.
I opened my eyes – or I tried to. They felt thick and crusty. I rubbed them with a hand until I could open them to take a bleary look around me. My eyesight wavered for a moment and then the pain hit me, washing over everything so that the bright sunlight over white sand and flashing blue sea was all intermingled with startling pain.
I moaned, but the song, the song flooded over me, easing my pain. I knew this song. I knew this call. It was the call of the Blue Dragons, the song they sang to me whenever I was near the sea.
Beside me, Nasataa whined. I sat up carefully and he pushed me from one side with his head.
“Hey, little buddy,” I said weakly. My leg felt like it was still on fire. I hissed at the pain, trying to keep from crying out as tears leaked from my eyes. Everything was a blur, but little flashbacks were coming back to me.
“The Spire’s broken,” someone had said as Samrin cursed. “You’ll have to take her to another one – nearby but not directly there.”
And then I’d faded again. After that, I recalled snatches of journeying. Of Heron looking concerned. Of him begging me to hold on. Of darkness and jostling and pain, so much pain.
And now this. I looked to either side of me, trying to be careful not to move too much and jostle my leg. Was it infected, too, or only badly burned? The
pain seemed to flare up from it as far as my chest, as if the Manticore still had his teeth in me and was trying to eat me alive from the inside.
I choked on the pain, pulling in a long steadying breath as I tried to take in my surroundings. To one side of me, Samrin lay nestled against his dragon, Tharrrac. To the other side, Heron lay slumped against Olfijum. The flush in his face told me he was alive. They must both be exhausted, though. How many days had we traveled like this?
The dawning sun was barely over the horizon behind us, spreading long shadows over the bright blue sea rolling before me. I didn’t recognize this sea. A strange thing to think – how could one sea look different than another? But it did. It was not the sea of my home or the sea of the Rock Eaters. It was another one, just as blue, just as beautiful, but foreign to me.
Come to us.
I heard the musical cry from the water at the same time that a fin crested the waves ahead of me. I smiled – a tiny pain-filled smile.
I had work I had to do first. And I was in no condition to enter the water.
Come to us. Now.
I clenched my jaw. It was impossible. Nasataa slid out from under my arm and danced to the water silently, slipping beneath the waves.
Come to us, Guardian. Come.
I didn’t want to wake Heron or Samrin. Not when they were still fast asleep. But I also didn’t want to crawl across the beach with my leg in so much agonizing pain. Water had healing properties, though, didn’t it? Maybe bathing it in the saltwater would clear whatever this infection was.
Come.
I’d just have to take it on faith that they knew what they were talking about. Besides, I was worried about Nasataa. I’d lost sight of him as he slipped below the waves.
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