Around us, it was repeated a hundred times. Dragons fighting to save civilians. Oosquer even flying in awkward groups as their riders unleashed arrows on the Manticore fighters.
People fled homes and the city, though I couldn’t tell where they were going. There was too much smoke, too much chaos, too many screams.
They’re funneling refugees to the west of the city, trying to drop them off in a place at least a little safer. Tor commanded all dragons visiting the city to help. His own armies fight the Draven below.
I couldn’t even see down that far. There was too much smoke. Too much fire.
Be glad you don’t. They are being destroyed handily. And if you get too close, you can’t hear what’s happening.
Did he mean that it was just too chaotic? I shuddered.
That’s just what the dragons are saying – that you can’t hear if you get too close.
Was the place they were bringing the refugees fortified? How would they be kept safe after they were taken from here?
I don’t know. Tor assigned a group of oosquer to guard them – but the oosquer left those already saved to help ferry people out of the city. It’s not good, Seleska. The Red dragons tell me the city is lost. That those fighting are giving their lives in hope that some of the innocent will escape – but there isn’t much hope. He doesn’t expect he will live out the day.
There was agony in Olfijum’s thoughts. What would it be like to share the mind of someone who knew they would be dead in just a few hours?
It is painful, indeed. But there is so much honor in his sacrifice. And I will sacrifice, too – by getting all of you to safety.
What could we do to help? There had to be something! There had to be some way we could fight, too!
If they had magic, they might be able to fight off the Draven, but their magic is gone. If they had more dragons – maybe then. But there won’t be any help.
How did he know? I couldn’t stop crying. I had just seen an old woman shaken from a walkway she seemed to almost leap at the last moment before falling to where she clung to a tuft of turf on the side of the mountain. Could we at least save her?
We can’t save everyone. Olfijum said, but he dropped in the air, angling toward where the woman clung to the grass. He was going to try. There is a purple dragon here from the Dominion. He came with a message for the Ko’roi from the Dominion. The others passed the message on to me – we dragons keep few secrets from each other. The message is as follows:
Haz’drazen has fallen. Taoslil leads the dragons. They are overrun and those who live have fled to the Dominion. The Dominion is under assault on every side. Two skycities have been lost already, with three more in danger of being lost before this message reaches you. We fight a war on every side. Send help if you can.
But there was no help to send. There was no one to go.
I felt my heart plummeting with his as Olfijum leveled off beside the woman hanging from the tuft of grass.
“Grab my hand,” I said, offering it to her but my voice was dull and lifeless. I’d lost hope. If the Dominion had fallen, and Haz’drazen was dead, what hope was left for any of us? Ko’Torenth was falling before my eyes and they had no allies left to lend them aid.
The old woman reached out, but she couldn’t quite reach my hand. I stretched, but her hand slipped on the tuft. My heart froze. I couldn’t reach her. I couldn’t –
Strong arms, longer than mine, reached from behind me and caught her, dragging her up aboard Olfijum.
“Are you hurt?” Heron asked gravely, sounding so much like himself that it cut me to the quick.
“I’m not hurt,” the woman said. She had a satchel slung over her shoulder and she clung to it as Heron fitted the belts around her and settled her in the saddle behind him. Maybe he wasn’t on our side, but at least he’d snapped out of whatever trance had left him useless and confused for so long.
What do we do? Olfijum asked.
What do we do? Nasataa echoed.
And my heart ached and ripped because I had no answer.
Chapter Three
“When they roll over the mountains in fire and death, when they crush the rocks with their dark tide, when Ko’Torenth screams and Kav’ai wails, then look to the keys and to the Chosen One, look to the salvation of your souls,” the old woman said, her voice eerie.
“What good will the keys do when everyone is dead?” I muttered. This was not helping me with my decision.
The old woman tugged on my sleeve and I saw her leaning forward past Heron to speak to me. “Thanks for saving me, girl dear. You don’t look like a normal Purple Dragon Rider. They dress in leather. You have one of their scarves, but this dragon seems young and you all seem just a wee bit ... unofficial.”
“You‘re worried about unofficial in the middle of a battle?”
We have to make a decision fast. Atura is through the doorway. She and her wing of Manticores will be coming for us. I can’t carry any more people and I can’t fight with three on my back – or at least not well. And none of you have projectile weapons. I don’t think we can stay here, but we need to make a decision about which way to go.
“I’m not worried, girl dear. I’m trying to help. Judging by your testy tone, I’d say you’re talking to that dragon. Don’t give me that look! I know that secret already. I’m an old woman. Older than I look. It’s the magic that keeps these old bones from falling apart. But no, I need to focus. You’re both talking about where to go next. You need to go west. Flee this city.”
“There has to be some way to help,” I said. The manticores fighting below us hadn’t noticed us up here yet, but they would soon. Olfijum was right that we had to go, that we had no other option, but that didn’t mean I didn’t feel torn by guilt.
“You’re just one girl. And this dragon is overloaded. You need to flee to the north and you need to go fast.”
“The refugees are fleeing to the west.” I felt indecision filling me.
This old human is more than she seems. And there’s something more you should know.
What?
“That’s the best way by foot and if you don’t know what I know,” the old woman was saying. “But we can get you there faster if we go north.”
“The doorways are all closed,” I said. That had to be her great idea – using a doorway like we had to get her. “They used too much magic and they need to wait for it to restore itself. That’s what the Ko’roi said would happen at least.”
She nodded serenely.
I can sense Heron’s mind again. His memories aren’t back but he seems different. I think ... I think her hold on him is gone.
That would be a relief if it was true.
And it would mean that she couldn’t track him.
“Am I right,” the old lady asked. “In assuming that you have the key from Ko’Torenth already? And with this dragon in tow, you must have already visited the Dominion.”
I gasped. And she met my wide eyes with shrewd eyes of her own.
“I thought so. Oh, don’t look at me like that. I’ve been a student of the prophecies for five times as long as you’ve been alive. That’s the good part about being old. You’ve had time to accumulate things. Old scraps of information. And sometimes they fit together in interesting ways. But there’s no time for that. I’ll tell you all of it on the way. For now, you need to trust me and flee to the north.”
What did Olfijum think?
“Don’t worry,” the old woman said. “I’m happy to wait while you ask the dragon.”
My mouth fell open.
Don’t let her see that she’s surprised you. She’ll only get worse. And yes, I think if she knows who you are and about the keys, then we should probably listen. What else would we do?
That was a good point. But didn’t it just seem a little coincidental that we found her right when we needed her?
Did you see her flung off the walkway? It almost seemed as if she jumped. As if she meant to hang from that turf.
“Do the pro
phecies say anything about old ladies being rescued from a clump of grass on the side of a mountain?” I asked her, eyes narrowing.
Her withered cheeks grew pink.
“Oh, that.”
“Well?”
“The Key Weaver is saved as the black tide rolls over the north, saved when she hangs from a clump of redweed over the lost city, saved by the ones she will save and chosen by the ones chosen.” She looked just a little chagrined when she said, “It was worth the risk, the hope that I could help with all this knowledge. I don’t think there’s anyone who knows more about the keys than I do.”
I don’t like coincidences. Crafty plans, on the other hand, are just my style.
“Fine,” I said. “We’ll head north. And on the way, you’re going to tell me everything.”
“That will take almost eighty years,” the woman protested.
“Let’s start with your name. That shouldn’t take all that long,” I said flippantly, but I was being flippant to try to avoid the wrenching feeling of being able to flee a battle where so many others were losing their lives. It felt wrong not to help, felt wrong not to fight, felt wring not to die with them.
But does it feel wrong that Nasataa will not die with them? Olfijum asked.
No, that part, at least, felt right.
Then it’s a plan. Let’s get that little dragon where he needs to be.
Chapter Four
It was shocking to me that no one followed us. Olfijum flew up, up, up gaining height over the battle and not a single dragon or Manticore followed. It shouldn’t have been so easy. I ached at the thought of that. Surely, we needed to spill some blood, too. When so many were suffering, so many were dying, it didn’t feel right to be flying away. We should be flying toward the danger.
And how would you protect Nasataa if you did that?
And that was exactly right. Because I wouldn’t be able to protect him and chase after that, too.
You can’t do everything.
And that meant that I shouldn’t ache over things I couldn’t change – but didn’t that ache make me more human? What was being human if it wasn’t aching over the pain of others, wishing you could help even when you had nothing to give, offering them your hopes when that was all you could offer.
“I’m Bareena La’fami,” the old woman said eventually as the battle drifted away from our sight and Olfijum settled into the air stream high above the clouds.
“I’m Seleska,” I said. “The baby dragon is Nasataa and the Purple is Olfijum and you are right, I am not his rider.”
“And I’m Heron,” Heron offered. and I felt my eyes go large. “I’m pleased to meet you.”
He sounded so much like his old self that my heart ached like a wound reopening.
I told you. No memories, but no more ties to her.
“You said you are an expert on the prophecies?” I prompted Bareena.
“And an expert of magic and the histories of Everturn.”
“Everturn? What is that?” Heron asked.
Bareena smiled smugly, “It’s the world we live in, dear boy. Everturn. And ancient place full of ancient secrets. The Troglodytes and Draven, for instance. Did you get a good look at the Draven? No? Horrible creatures – and once you see them you are guaranteed to die – or so they say. They do things to the senses ...
“But, like the Troglodytes, they are ancient creatures of the deeps. They live so far under the ground that you’d think nothing could survive. The Troglodyte’s homes are strange burrows carved over centuries. The Troglodytes feast on a mold that grows in those burrows. A ... secretion of the earth, you might say. It gives them the magic they offer to the dragons and to their humans. A magic from the bones of the earth itself – some say it’s left over from when the earth was born – just a fragment of the magic that had been needed to form all of Everturn at the dawn of time.”
“And the Draven?” I asked, suddenly curious.
“The Draven eat something else and get their magic also from what they eat.”
“Another kind of mold?” Heron asked. He might not remember anything, but he was quickly resuming his old, intelligent self.
“If only,” Bareena said. “They eat Troglodyes, stealing their young by burrowing up under them.”
I shivered.
“Oh yes, girl dear, it’s as bad as that. And that is where life force magic first originated. For the Draven were the first to discover that magic can be stolen as well as given and while the Troglodytes waited with arms open and mouths wide for the generosity of Everturn to provide for their needs, the Draven were hard at work learning how to suck that same gift out of the Troglodytes. And over the millennia, both ancient underground races have become very good at their different types of magic. It was in these days, before the creation of dragons and Manticores that the Troglodytes first feared what might happen, were the Draven to destroy all the earth. They traveled up to a fissure in the earth where the warmth of the inner world escaped into a great rift in the sea above. And it was there that they built the Haroc.”
“Where?” I gasped.
Bareena shrugged. “I do not know that. If I could walk under water, trust me, I would have gone looking for it, but no mere human could ever find it. No, but they built it. A throne of sorts, perhaps, but also a key in itself. A key that can tap into the power at the very center of the earth. A key that can tap the magic that fed the Troglodytes, that created the glowing mold they feast on, that eventually created the dragons.”
“And humans?” Heron asked.
Bareena shook her head. “We are not creations of either of them. And where we come from has not been my area of study. I have focused my life exclusively on the prophecies and on this.
“If the Troglodytes had this Haroc then why is there a battle at all?” I asked. “Can’t they stop the Draven?”
“Ah,” Bareena said with a smile. “You are no fool, girl dear, a pleasing thing in an ally. The Troglodytes feared opening the full force of the earth. They feared that if it were opened, then all the magic that governed the shifting of rock plates, the dance of iron drawing iron, the rhythm of the tides, and many more mysteries set by the magic of the center of the earth – that these things could be destroyed. And so, they used the Haroc as a defense, to keep the core safe and untouched. But as the Draven grew more powerful, they found themselves vulnerable. They are a peaceful race. And not equipped for physical battle. And so, they accessed the Haroc and used it to create for themselves protectors.”
“Dragons?” I breathed. And I could feel Olfijum and Nasataa listening closely, hanging on her words.
“Yes,” she said with a smile. “Dragons. Just two, at first, but soon they multiplied, and they were true defenders of the Troglodytes and warriors of good.”
I felt Olfijum puff up at the thought. Of course, we are great. I don’t need an old human woman to tell me that.
“But the Draven grew frustrated. Their food source was becoming harder to touch. Their power was waning. So, they attacked and stole as much magic as they could, eating both Troglodytes and dragons indiscriminately. And from their flesh and bones, they stole the power of their victims and used it to create their own servants – creatures as twisted and single-minded as they could devise. Manticores.”
I shivered. “And the Haroc?”
“The Troglodytes realized their problem first. Whatever magic they used, could be stolen. The more they received, the more the Draven could take. So, they filled the Haroc as full as they could and then they sealed the Haroc – locked it – and placed keys all over this side of the world. And they set up tests – ways to be sure that the keys only got into the right hands. And for a time, this was enough. The dragons and the Manticores battled and Haz’drazen fled those lands and made a long slow journey through the lands of men where she and her kind were hunted and attacked daily. But she set her home in the volcano lands. And she made an ally of Haz and his Dominion. And for a while, all seemed well.”
I swallowed, looking at the mountains below us. Snow capped them and my light cloak was not keeping me warm enough in this frosty weather. Was Nasataa okay?
I am warm enough. I am a dragon, he said proudly. I could see him puffing out his chest from where he followed us.
I’ll move lower. Perhaps it will be warmer farther down, Olfijum offered. I forget how delicate humans are and I’m distracted by Bareena’s story.
“But the Draven,” Bareena continued, “were not satisfied. They sent constant threats – enemies and conspiracies – at Haz’drazen and her allies so they could never rest and rebuild the dragon dominance. And they destroyed so many of the dragons on the other side of the world that travelers from there claim they are rare now, hiding in caves and crags of the mountains, and rarely showing themselves. More than that, the Draven began to find men to serve them. Humans with twisted hearts and a love for power. Humans willing to do anything to find the power they sought. They gave these humans their secret – the secret of life force magic – the ability to suck the soul out of a person and use it as fuel for magic the same way that the Draven consumed the life of the Troglodytes to survive.”
“The Rock Eaters,” I breathed. “They kill thousands of their own to do that, and they’ve been doing it to others now, too.”
“Yes,” Bareena said. “The Saaasallla was an early adopter of the practice. Not the current Saaasallla, of course, but the one who came before his father. The Rock Eaters have made an art of this evil. And an art of breeding just the right number of humans so that they can cull their own population frequently to keep their magic ever-flowing.”
I shivered and the stone in my belly burned with the truth of her words. Octon’s soul resonated to the horror we all shared at what had been done to his people for so long.
“Worse,” Bareena continued. “The practice spread. Here in my beloved land of Ko’Torenth a man named Apeq A’kona rose up and with help from Dominion allies applied a variation of life force magic to suck the souls out of people and dragons and use them to power rods and golems.”
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