by Jekka Jones
Sri’Lanca’s eyes widened. “Why?”
“I don’t want the Seers to get their hands on it. Do you know what’ll happen if everyone finds out how the wizards got their magic? It will be a slaughterhouse of dragons and men. Sayre, Niklas, Darrin, and even power-thirsty scumbags like Kennin will start slaying dragons to get that power. It’ll be just like a thousand years ago but worse. We can’t let that happen no matter . . . no matter what.” He met Sri’Lanca’s eyes once more. “We tell my parents, maybe Liliana and Ti’Luthin, then decide from there.”
His words were met with absolute horror. Landon expected it, yet the shock of the emotion almost knocked him senseless.
“Landon,” said Sri’Lanca, “do you understand what you’re saying?”
“I do,” Landon said, trying to sound more confident than he felt. “We need to go home. We need to tell them.”
“But . . . but what if we’re caught?” Myra’s voice trembled.
“Pray to the Almighty and Balaam that doesn’t happen.”
“But what if?” Myra pressed. “Landon, we need to have a plan.”
Landon hesitated. He avoided Sri’Lanca’s eye, but the bond spoke for him. His dragon’s terror peaked to the point that it was beyond feeling. “Sri’Lanca, it’ll be okay,” he said, but the dragon was sobbing.
“No!” Sri’Lanca cried, his voice booming off the rocks. “I won’t let you destroy the Seal! It was horrible losing my tamer the first time. I don’t want to lose you!”
“Sri’Lanca, I won’t destroy it unless I have to,” Landon said.
“What do you mean, ‘unless I have to’?’” Sri’Lanca whimpered. He dug his claws into the earth as if he were trying to hold the ground together. Tears coursed from his yellow eyes in bright red rivulets.
“I will destroy the Seal only if we’re caught,” Landon explained, trying to put as much comfort into his voice as he could. Sri’Lanca shuddered, but Landon kept talking. “If it comes between a Seer and getting rid of the Seal, then I will choose the Seal. I . . . I don’t want a Seer using the power through me again, Sri’Lanca. I will not become their puppet, and that means destroying what they want. But that is the only situation, okay?”
Sri’Lanca didn’t answer. He shook his head, shaking with terror, and his face contorted with grief. Landon knew he sounded like Judan, threatening his own life to keep a secret, and he hated himself for it.
“Sri’Lanca . . . .” Landon crossed to Sri’Lanca and put a hand on his nose, rubbing the spot where the shed’s magic had burned the dragon. It felt like a festering blister, and he wished he could heal it. “I promise,” he continued, “I will only destroy the Wizard’s Seal if there is absolutely no other option. If we are cornered and there is no chance of escape, then I’ll destroy it.”
“But . . .” Sri’Lanca’s whole body trembled. “You’re my tamer!”
Landon stared into the wild terror that was so out of place in the dragon’s cat-like eyes. “And you’re my dragon. If worse comes to worse, bond with Myra. If it happened once before, it can happen again. I don’t care how, but just do it. Challenge her to make a four-course meal with nothing but cheese. She can do that.” He forced a smile.
Sri’Lanca’s slitted eyes flicked between Landon and Myra. His terror abated some, and he nodded. “All right. However, I pray it will not come to that. No offense, Myra.”
“None taken,” said Myra. Her face was pale. “You really think we should go home?”
Landon nodded.
Sri’Lanca snorted. “And here you threw a fit when I asked if we could go to Hondel.”
“Well, you were right about that,” Landon pointed out. “Even if it was a hundred times worse than we thought.”
“Balaam help us,” Sri’Lanca murmured.
“Amen.” Landon agreed. “And Sri’Lanca, I won’t use the Seal unless you say so. It’s the stolen life of your ancestors, and it’s not mine to use whenever I want. I won’t touch it unless you tell me to, okay?”
“Unless a Seer catches you,” said Sri’Lanca dejectedly. Before Landon could try to console him, the dragon rose and stretched. He spread his wings until the membranes snapped and looked around the cave. “I suppose we best pack up again.”
“No,” said Landon, “let’s rest here for a day. I’m tired.” He picked up the notebook and shoved it into one of the sacks. He hoped having it out of sight would help.
Sri’Lanca nodded. “I’m going to go find myself an elk or bear. I’m hungry.”
“Be careful,” said Landon.
Sri’Lanca winked at him. “I’m always careful.” He took a running start and leapt into the sky, kicking up dirt and leaves into Landon and Myra’s faces.
“Will he be okay?” asked Myra, brushing leaves from her shirt. She looked like she wanted to say something comforting, but couldn’t find the words.
“If we can get out of this without killing me, then yes, he will,” Landon replied softly.
Myra nodded and helped herself to the stew. Landon stayed where he was, watching Sri’Lanca shrink into a dark speck. His dragon’s fear wasn’t as strong as before, but it was there, simmering beneath the surface.
“Gods above, save us.”
Chapter 27
Landon thought he would be able to fall asleep. After being awake all night and most of the morning, he was beyond exhausted. But his thoughts were in so much turmoil that he couldn’t relax. He tried talking to Myra about Christovan’s letter, but his mouth had trouble saying what he was thinking. Words came out wrong or didn’t come out at all.
“Lan, you need to sleep,” said Myra, exasperated.
“I’m fine, Myra. It’s just one of those dames,” he complained.
Myra raised an eyebrow.
Landon winced. “Days—I meant days.”
“You were originally going to say ‘times’ weren’t you?” Myra smirked. “I bet if you lie down you would be out in an instant.”
Landon glowered at her. “I couldn’t sleep if I tried, Myra. Sri’Lanca’s emotions are all over the place.” As he said it, the dragon’s feelings flipped from discouragement to rage, and back to discouragement faster than a swallow changing direction. Landon rubbed his temples, trying to dispel a headache that was taking root.
“By the angels, that’s enough.” Myra grabbed Landon’s elbow and pushed him towards the pile of blankets that made up a bed. “Go sleep. I’ll nudge you when Sri’Lanca gets back.”
Landon tried to argue, but in the end he sank into the pile of blankets and allowed his mind to drift.
His dreams were jumbled and chaotic. He dreamt his mother and father were dancing and then began fighting each other. It switched to Landon standing at an altar with Sayre by his side. Judan stood before them, blood trickling from his ears as he declared them brother and sister. Eli ran around the building, screaming about fire and dragons. Then Landon was inside the burning shack, but he couldn’t get out. He pounded on the walls and screamed with all his might to no avail. The flames started to get hot, scorching his skin, then became icy cold. In his panic, Landon kicked the messenger case. The letter flew out of it and into Landon’s face, causing him to stumble and trip over a sword. Landon fell, and it felt so real that he jerked awake.
Myra was lying beside him with Sri’Lanca curled around the bed. The setting sun shone directly into Landon’s eyes. Thirsty, he slid from the bed, crept around Sri’Lanca’s feet and tail and went to the stream. He scooped the water with his hands and drank. Satisfied, he sat on a rock and stared at the sunset, thinking.
Dragon-slaying, wizards, destroying the Seal—it was all too difficult to take in. For one second, he thought it had to be a hoax, some prank by a Seer to give Landon a false hope. Yet he knew that wasn’t the case. Darrin had no idea of the significance of his vision. If he had even the tiniest suspicions of what the burning shack meant, he would’ve killed Landon on sight.
Darrin, Sayre, Niklas . . . Landon wondered what new visions the Se
ers had, or if he had fulfilled any others. He had fulfilled Darrin’s that was for sure. He had entered a burning room, unharmed, and didn’t hold the Seal until he left. He felt like he was running from the inevitable, trying to escape the storm when it was coming in from all sides. The only way out was to destroy the Seal, but he couldn’t do that. The thought of becoming something akin to a rogue dragon terrified him.
A distant dragon cry drew his attention. Landon squinted at hundreds of black specks flying above the Menrian peaks, heading southeast to Nircana. The sun was gone from view, but the sky was still light enough to see. A few of the dragons flew towards Landon, spreading out in a last effort to find their quarry. Not wanting to be spotted, Landon returned to the cave and eased his body onto the bed. Myra stirred but didn’t wake. Sri’Lanca remained motionless, snoring away without a care in the world.
Landon slept better. He slept long after the sun had risen and the birds had stopped their morning song. Myra was awake and sat by a small fire, cutting thin slices of cheese, which she laid on slices of bread. The scent of cheese and toasted bread clung to the air, and Sri’Lanca stirred, his third eyelid lifting sleepily.
“Cheese toast?” he grumbled.
Myra smiled. “Good morning, sleepy bears. Breakfast is ready.”
Both Landon and Sri’Lanca stood, stretched, and lumbered to Myra’s side. Besides toasted cheese bread, Myra had sliced several pears for them to share. They ate in silence, smacking their lips and wiping pear juice off their mouths.
“As I was hunting last night,” Sri’Lanca began, licking pear juice off a claw, “I was thinking about how we’ll travel to Nircana.”
Landon looked at him. “And?”
Amusement fluttered through the bond. Sri’Lanca took a deep breath and spoke. “First off, it’s too dangerous to fly directly to Nircana, since the Dragon Guard will be flying that way. Therefore, the best route for us will be to head east along the Caborcan-Maisan border until we reach Tsuregi. Then we’ll head south, overshoot the Rillis Mountains, and double back. We’ll approach the camps from the south, away from our enemies.”
“How long will that take?” Landon asked. He tried to sound nonchalant about the thought of flying across the continent.
“Four days, and that’s with stopping for meals and rest. I could cover that distance in two, but I do not want to exhaust myself in case we run into the Guard.” His eyes drifted to Landon, and a dragon’s grin crept across his face. “Unless you want a day to walk. Take a break from flying . . .”
Landon didn’t dare speak his opinion. Four days of having nothing but miles of air between himself and the earth made his stomach churn. He forced a smile and said, “We should get going then. We’re burning daylight.”
“If you say so,” Myra replied, with a conspiratorial wink at Sri’Lanca.
They loaded the supplies onto Sri’Lanca’s back and began the long journey to Nircana. They flew all day, only landing for a couple hours to eat, and slept in Caborca and Tsuregi. As they flew, Myra tried striking up conversations with Landon, pointing out landforms far below them or commenting on the clouds. Landon ignored her, gripping his spike and wishing there were a faster way to get to Nircana without flying.
It was the late afternoon on the fourth day when they reached the Rillis Mountains. Sri’Lanca kept to the east, giving the slopes a wide berth. Landon chanced a look at the earth far below, squinting at the base of the distant mountains. “Is it just me, or do the armies seem larger?” he yelled.
“It appears so,” Sri’Lanca replied. “They must have sent for reinforcements.” Hope surged through the bond. “Our people are holding strong. I’m going to stay high to avoid being seen and then I will descend close to our previous camp.” He flapped twice and rose into a low cloud.
Landon kept his eyes on the armies until they disappeared. A couple hours later, Sri’Lanca began a steep descent, making a hard turn to the north. After a half hour of flying, Sri’Lanca landed on the southernmost side of the slopes surrounding the waterfall valley. Landon and Myra slid off the dragon’s back, and they climbed the slope. They moved as quietly as they could, straining their ears for potential enemy sounds.
The moment they began their descent into the valley, Landon knew something was wrong. There were no sounds of people. He heard birds and insects, but that was it. He glanced at Myra and she him, worried. The bond was a whirlwind of anxiety, but Sri’Lanca said nothing. The dragon’s emotions doubled as they crossed the small valley, stepping around or over fallen trees. There were more fallen trees than Landon remembered, and the faint smell of dragon fire clung to the air.
They reached the outskirts of the camp, and Landon’s stomach tightened into a cold ball of fear.
“What happened?” Myra gasped.
The camp was in shambles. Tents, lean-tos, and catapults were torn and broken, and various objects were scattered everywhere. The ground was a churned mess of footprints, which depicted people running every which way. Some tracks went right through the ashen remains of fire pits. Scorch marks littered the ground and stained wooden beams and nearby trees. Arrows, bows, staves, and axes lay strewn about.
“It looks like they were attacked,” Landon said. He bent down and picked up a broken axe, examining the blade. His stomach flipped as he realized the brown splatters were blood. “It’s been at least a week, maybe more.” He showed Myra the axe head.
“They must be in the caves. You know there’s caverns large enough to house fifty people.” She made a beeline for the gaping hole in the mountain, the rocks as black as the interior. She pulled up short and stared at a large patch of freshly turned earth. Landon joined her, eyeing the soil. It made his skin crawl.
“This is where the graveyard was,” Myra whispered, “but where’re the markers?”
Before they left, there had been about fifty wooden crosses arranged in neat rows, and there was always a flower wreath laid at each base. The lack of memorial that accompanied every graveyard bothered him, and a heavy realization settled on his soul. He stepped back, nauseated.
Myra looked at him, confused. Landon swallowed, trying to find his voice. “It’s a mass grave.” He scanned the rest of the camp, seeing the broken weapons and brown splatters in a new light. “After our people ran for it, whichever nation attacked just threw all the . . . the bodies into a mass grave.”
“They didn’t flee,” said Sri’Lanca softly. His voice was cold as ice.
Both Landon and Myra looked at the dragon. He had stepped carefully through the camp to the edge of the valley. He stood amongst the shattered remains of the Nircanians’ war machines, wings rustling with shock and anger. Landon joined him and swore.
From Sri’Lanca’s back, the armies had looked like a black smudge with no definite lines. Now Landon could see why. The armies had converged together, enemies camping next to enemies, giving them the appearance of having doubled their numbers. They formed a large, crescent shape along the mountain range, the center being further north from where they stood. At the crescent’s center were hundreds of rectangular structures. Landon couldn’t make out details, but he saw enough to make out what they were: cages. They were arrayed in neat rows like a small army to itself. A few people moved around there, but a larger mass was spread along the base of the mountains like a swarm of drab brown ants.
Myra sank to her knees, too petrified to speak. Landon felt weak as well, but managed to keep his feet. He squinted, trying to make out what was going on. He strained with his ears and detected a faint clinking sound of picks and hammers. A few more minutes of study helped him pick out what looked like the beginnings of several large buildings. One appeared to have a level finished, with a second underway. The base of the mountains for at least a mile had been turned into a quarry, their slopes stripped of trees and the cave openings widened. Landon knew the caverns were being gutted of their gold, silver, and gems.
“They’re building a palace,” said Sri’Lanca, his voice calmer than what c
oursed through the bond, “and other buildings necessary for government. It appears the kings have established a monarchy in our land and have a slave force to do it.”
“Everyone is down there,” Myra whispered. “When did this happen?”
“Judging by the progress of the palace, shortly after we fled,” Sri’Lanca replied.
Landon turned to him, appalled. “That was weeks ago! How did it happen in the first place? The valleys were well protected! The only ones who could get to us were . . . Oh skies. . . .”
“The dragons,” said Sri’Lanca, grimly. “I expect the kings met and called a truce. They turned all their efforts on our people, and attacked with the Dragon Guard.” He growled. His rustling wings increased until he sounded like leaves being tossed by a strong breeze. “What concerns me is why the dragons were keeping quiet about it. When we captured the first few Nircanian settlements, we screamed about the news for days. Why keep it secret when it could draw us out?”
No one answered the question. Landon looked back at the mass grave, wondering how many bodies now lay in there and how many were fighting adults or children. He imagined the dragons coming out of the sky, backs laden with soldiers from every nation, and falling upon each of the valleys. He pictured the Nircanians trying to get the wounded, elderly, and children to safety as the dragons unleashed their fire. It made him sick.
“Whatever the reason,” Landon said at last, “The nations are all working together now.”
“Stupid Seers,” said Myra. “Stupid nobles and their stupid greed. I hope Darrin and the Drakshus got hell from the other nations.”
Landon nodded. “Let’s get closer,” he said. “I want to see what’s going on.”
He and Myra clambered onto Sri’Lanca’s back. Sri’Lanca doubled back to the small clearing they had first landed and stowed their supplies in a thick copse of bushes. Landon pulled out his new katana, and, to Sri’Lanca’s insistence, put the notebook and the Seal’s pouch in the medicine sack. He shoved it through the bandages and bags of herbs, wiggling it to the very bottom. He buckled on the katana and took his place on Sri’Lanca’s back. Myra, seeing Landon grab the sword, pulled out a hatchet and shoved that into the cord she used as a belt.