Heart of the Dragon King

by J Boothby

  Xyr sighs, and glances around us. She's watching for something.

  Over her shoulder, in the distance, is what might be the main trunk of the tree. It stretches high into the air above us, and then spirals down below us too.

  Only there is no ground. And no sky, either.

  It's a world full of tree.

  And mirrors.

  There aren't any leaves on the branches of this tree, but all around us are mirrors. They hang from all of the branches.

  There must be thousands of them that I can see, of all shapes and sizes.

  They're tied with thick silver cords that shine with their own light.

  And they all hang perfectly still, except for the one I just stepped through, which spins very slowly now.

  It's like a giant Christmas tree, I think, all decorated with mirrors. A Christmas tree that never ends.

  “You will get used to the air,” Xyr says. “But it may take a little time.”

  “It's not the air,” I say. I take another deep breath. I feel like I've just run a marathon. “It's the height. Are we in the Elhyra?”

  She shakes her head. “We are in a place between places. And there is danger here, Kylie Walker. Can you stand?”

  I think so. I give it a shot.

  I don't look down.

  I hear what sounds like a roar in the distance. A cry of something large.

  Not just large, massive. It reverberates in the pit of my stomach.

  It sounds strangely familiar.

  “Follow me, quickly!” Xyr says. She strides up the branch, toward the immense trunk, and then jumps onto an intersecting limb of the tree. I follow. The branches sway with our movements, and the mirrors start to spin gently as we pass them.

  She changes limbs a few more times, gliding fast, and amazingly agile for someone who I thought was a lot older. I have to run to keep up, which is hard when I can’t breathe. Then she jumps down a few feet onto a large burl that has grown off the side of a branch. She grabs part of the burl's bark and yanks it upward.

  It swings open like a trap door.

  I hear another roar. This one sounds closer.

  A lot closer.

  “Get inside. Fast.”

  I don't argue. Xyr follows, and then pulls the bark shut behind her.

  Breathe, I tell myself. I still feel like I'm gasping.

  It's a small, dark space. Xyr moves around a little, slides something across the floor, and then lights a candle. She sets it into what looks like an indentation worn into the top of a small wooden chest she has slid between us. The chest looks very old. The wood is bound in a silvery metal that's worn smooth from use. It's covered in old wax from earlier candles, like it gets used a lot.

  She sits, cross-legged, with her cane across her knees.

  “You should not have opened the mirror, Kylie,” she says. “The orrex are very old, very close, and they are very hungry. They can smell the war. Every mirror that is opened draws them closer.”

  I open my mouth to say something, but there's another roar outside, very near this time. She holds her finger over her lips. “If you value your life, do not make a sound,” she whispers.

  There's a rumbling, and then I hear what sounds like a truck passing by on a highway outside. Or a long freight train.

  Something rushes by us. Something very large and very close.

  It takes a long time to pass.

  There's another roar, a little farther away. It's answered by a third one in the distance.

  I take a deep breath. It's still not enough. “I'm sorry,” I say. “But I really don't know what you're talking about. We were in your family's house? My roommate and I—she works for the resettlement service. We were there to gather things your family might have left behind. I lifted your mirror off the floor. All I did was touch it?”

  She frowns. “You have never been to the Whisperlands?”

  “Is that what you call it? Not that I know of.”

  “It has many names. Strange,” she says, cocking her head to one side to listen. More roaring, just not as close as before. “The orrex seem to know you.”

  “I don't think I want to know them. Why did you bring me here? What is this?” I gesture around the tiny space we're in.

  “There are safe houses all through the Whisperlands. They were placed by those who came before us. You opened the way, Kylie—why did you take my hand?”

  “It's not every day someone sticks their hand out of a mirror at me.”

  She sits back and appraises me with her shining eyes. “You are surprising, Kylie Walker. You are not at all what I expected.”

  “I get that a lot more than you might think.” I sit back and try and get comfortable. It's pretty cramped in here, like it was made for smaller people, so that's not really going to happen. I lean back and try and take slow, steady breaths. I still feel like I need more air, but I can make this work.

  Something occurs to me. “Wait,” I say. “Did I actually ever tell you my last name?”

  She slowly shows me her teeth in what I think is a grin.

  She shakes her head. “You did not.”

  “How did you know it?”

  She looks at me, thoughtfully. “How exactly did you open the mirror, Kylie?”

  “I just touched the glass.”

  “No ritual? You must have an artifact, then.”

  “I have this,” I say. I reach into the neck of my shirt and pull out my uncle's key.

  She nods. “Of course. Where did you get it?”

  “My uncle left it for me. He told me to keep it secret.”

  “And so you should. Uriah is a smart man, though you would think he might have told you something about using it. That key is very rare, and very valuable. There are very few of them left.”

  “So… you know my uncle?”

  Her eyes glitter. “Yes.”

  “And the rest of my family too?”

  Xyr reaches forward and takes some of my red hair between her fingers, then leans back and makes a strange gesture with her hand in the air between us. “Your mother was a wonderful woman,” she says. “I am sorry you did not have the chance to know her. What do you know about your family?

  I must look pretty confused. “Not much,” I say. “I suspect my uncle and my mother might have helped open the way between earth and the Elhyra for the first time. I think I also might have spent some time in the Elhyra as a child.”

  “All of this is true,” she says. “Is that all?”

  “I have...abilities.” I hold out my arms, to show my tattoos. “And I'm marked every time I use them.”

  She nods. “You were touched by the Elhyra in the womb. This does not surprise me. Smaug have lived and breathed the aether—what you call the lei—for centuries. We have evolved within it. Humans have not. It makes sense that you will grow into it too.”

  “Can smaug do what I do?”

  “No longer. Only the Narrow King and the oldmothers. And the oldmothers all slumber.”

  “What about this Sparrow that you mentioned?”

  Xyr shakes her head. “He’s a good man and a strong leader, but he is not a harbinger like you.”

  “So you’re on his side, then. The Sparrow’s. Against the Narrow King?”

  She leans back against the wall of the burl. “We are. It may not be the smart choice, but it is the right one.”

  There's a roar off in the distance again. Both of us jump.

  Xyr curses to herself and snuffs out the candle with two fingers. I hear her moving in the dark.

  “What are the orrex, exactly?”

  “Pray you don't find out,” she says. “Come, we must get you home. You of all people are not safe here. We can speak of all of these things at another time.”

  “Wait,” I say. “You have to tell me. How did you know so much about my family and me?”

  “We all knew of the first humans to stay with the Narrow King,” she says. “And of the first human children born in the Elhyra.” In the dark
, her eyes glow violet. “If you will permit me? Take my hand.”

  I reach out and feel for her hand. When our fingers meet, another spark jumps between us.

  Just like it had the first time we met.

  It's like the spark has entered my blood somehow. I can feel it crawling up my arm.

  “What did you do?”

  “This should help you remember,” she says.

  There's another roar, this one closer and off to my left. It's followed by a second one from somewhere below us.

  Xyr curses again. “Quickly,” she says. “They're starting to swarm.”

  She moves the candle and opens the wooden chest. Inside is an ancient loaf of hard bread, something that might be really old cheese, and two long daggers in plain leather sheaths.

  She picks up the knives and hands me one. “Have you had any training?”

  I nod. “Some. Every day after school. My uncle insisted.” I tuck the sheath into my waistband.

  “A smart man, whatever else might be said of him. These are ancient weapons, placed here for emergencies—use it with care. Return it when you can.”

  There's another roar—this one sounds like a dinosaur right in my ear. Something slams into the burl and sends us both sprawling.

  “Whatever happens,” Xyr whispers, gripping the handle of her own knife tight. “Don't stop. Do you remember the path we took to get here?”

  “I think so.” I can see Xyr is counting now under her breath.

  “We are going to retrace it to get you back. If that doesn't work, any other mirror nearby should get you close.”

  “Do all the mirrors lead somewhere, then?”

  “They do. Though not all of them can be traveled.”

  “Does every mirror lead here?”

  “Every one I have ever seen,” Xyr says. “Fortunately, most never open.”

  She finishes counting. “Hold on!”

  There's another hit. We're flung up against the other side of the burl.

  Xyr reaches up and throws the trap door open. “Go!” she yells.

  We leap out of the burl and run.

  I look back over my shoulder.

  Imagine a gigantic snake, the size of a skyscraper, flying through the air at fifty miles an hour.

  Add a massive, cave-like mouth, with about a million shark teeth, some creepy waving tongues, and a whole lot of tentacles around its neck.

  Oh, and about ten thousand eyes, all of which are staring back at us.

  “Knives?” I yell. “Really? How about a rocket launcher next time?”

  Xyr shrugs. “Good idea,” she says. “Next time, bring one. Now, run!”

  We race along the thick branch, in toward the trunk of the tree.

  There's another orrex far off to our right, and a roar from somewhere above us too.

  I look up. This one is coming in fast.

  Another roar, this one from the left.

  I want to curl up in a ball. There's no time.

  Instead, I jump.

  I'm just barely in time. The orrex crashes through the tree where I just was. Limbs break away, branches go flying, mirrors shatter.

  The whole tree rocks with the impact.

  I'm falling.

  I grab for a branch, miss it.

  I slam into another and manage to get a grip for a second, but then it's gone.

  I land hard on another thick limb. My leg clips a big mirror, sending it spinning.

  “Get up!” Xyr calls down. “Climb!” She's thirty feet above me now. “There's no time. I have never seen so many!” she shouts.

  I look around. Orrex are swarming through the air, blasting through the branches, twirling and roaring and clashing their huge teeth together.

  A few of them are heading toward Xyr.

  Most of them are heading for me.

  There must be fifty of them now.

  Xyr draws her dagger, and a blast of sound and bright light explodes from it as it leaves the sheath. She throws her cane at one orrex, and spins on another that is about to swallow her.

  She leaps over its enormous mouth, lands on the top of its skull, and drives the dagger down into it. Lightning crackles out from the point of impact and wraps around the orrex's body. The beast lets out a great roar and shakes her off.

  She flies through the air and lands awkwardly on another branch.

  I can't believe how agile she is—like a character out of a kung-fu anime.

  I draw my dagger. It's hot in my grip. It flies out of the sheath with a crack of thunder and a blast of white light, which I admit is all pretty cool, but then I see three orrex heading straight for me.

  Teeth out.

  Tentacles reaching.

  Tongues waving.

  There's no time.

  I grab the spinning mirror next to me, and place my hand on the glass.

  It ripples.

  Where does it lead? I have no idea.

  A cold breeze hits me in the face. And then a feeling of aether. A whole lot of aether.

  Good enough. I dive through the mirror, head first.

  20

  It’s snowing here, and there’s a cold wind blowing.

  I’m standing on the top of a ridge of sharp mountains. It’s dark, too, but the sky is full of stars—more stars than I have ever seen before, and many of them are really close and really bright. They shine through fast-moving clouds.

  There’s no moon, but a vast ring of spinning asteroids cuts the sky in half.

  It’s beautiful, but where the hell am I?

  And how can I breathe here? Who cares. The air is cold and damp and feels thin, sure, but not nearly as bad as the Whisperlands.

  Oxygen. Sweet oxygen.

  I shiver. I’m wearing my usual jeans and t-shirt; they’re great for fall in Richmond, Virginia, but not here. A foot of snow blankets the ridge, and more is falling rapidly. The flakes are fat and heavy.

  I call up some fire to stay warm, and it comes in fast. These mountains are on a considerable lei line of some sort. I’m warm in less than a minute.

  I turn around to the mirror I’ve just stepped through.

  It leans awkwardly up against a boulder. The frame is tarnished and dented, the lower part buried in dirt and rubble. The glass is shattered. It’s still all in the frame, but spidery cracks coat the entire surface.

  My broken reflection stares back at me. Was it always this way, and I was able to come through it anyway?

  I put my hand on the glass and try to open it.

  Nothing happens. I sheathe the hot knife, grab the key with one hand, and touch the mirror again.

  Nothing.

  Did the orrex shatter the mirror from the other end? No way to know, but I can guess. I saw how fast those things were coming on.

  Am I stuck here now? I’ll have to find out.

  The mountains drop down to deep valleys on either side, cloaked in shadow.

  There’s a pulsing glow some ways ahead of me, violet and blue, coming from a spot along the ridgeline.

  I realize all of the lei line energy is flowing from that direction, too.

  So it looks like I can wait here at the broken mirror, in case Xyr comes through after me, or take a walk. Neither of those seems like a great option.

  Could Xyr get through a broken mirror?

  Was Xyr even still alive, after the orrex?

  I can’t believe how badass she was, fighting them, but I can’t think someone could stand up against that many of those things at once.

  Why were they all after me? Maybe with me gone, they will leave her alone?

  They looked pretty hungry, though.

  What made me so delicious to giant, flying snakes?

  I’m restless. Waiting seems like a bad idea. I decide to investigate the glow.

  My heavy Doc Maarten’s leave deep footprints in the snow.

  It takes a little while—distances seem tricky here, and it’s farther away than I thought.

  Parts of the ridge get really narrow, and
I know that if I slip and fall down one of those steep sides, I won’t be coming back again. The wind picks up and blows more clouds that pile up against the ridge to my left and spill over into the valley at the right. I have to lean into it to keep from getting pushed around.

  Between the clouds, I can see the ring of asteroids actually moving across the sky. If I didn’t think I might be stuck here for the rest of my life, this would all be stunningly beautiful. As I walk, I think things over. Why did my uncle leave me a key to the Whisperlands? What did he think I’d do with it, or did he think I’d do anything at all?

  Why was there a big mirror buried in the basement of Poe’s? It had to have been there a long time.

  Was were my mother and uncle actually doing in the Elhyra?

  What else does Xyr know that I don’t?

  Back home, why did a giant wolf save my life?

  Too many questions. I shake my head and wrap my arms around my chest. I need some answers. And I have no idea how I’m going to get them.

  I feel strange. That spark from Xyr’s hand still seems to be doing something inside me. I can feel it in the back of my shoulders, in my neck, up the back of my head now. I shiver, even though I’m not actually cold.

  Out of nowhere, I’m hit with another memory. I’m standing at a big window, holding someone’s hand. Her hand is warm and it’s someone I care about, though it’s not my mother. We’re staring out the window at a giant spinning vortex in the sky. It’s bright and colorful, with swirls of violet and reds and blues. It looks like some artist’s rendition of a black hole might look if the artist didn’t actually know anything about a real black hole.

  In the memory, I reach up with my other hand and press something against the window.

  It’s a small blue dog. My favorite toy as a kid, and one thing I have always remembered. I never knew what happened to it.

  I look up at the woman and say something, something about the dog.

  The woman looks back at me and smiles, kindly.

  She’s a smaug. Each of her slit-pupiled eyes is a different color—one violet and one blue.

  The memory fades, even though I try and hang on to it.

  I shake my head. I used to draw pictures of that vortex as a kid in school. The teachers would say how imaginative I was. Now I’m thinking that imagination had nothing to do with it.