Where are you now?
Gin, please, stop asking me questions and answer mine. Do you know how to travel through the bond? You said that your people traveled that way before they were permitted through the Void with magic.
He could see in her mind that she was trying to recall what was written in the Draoch’s journals, calling up images of the pages, but they were written in Elvish that was influenced by the ancient language of the druids—a language that Sath could not read.
I can see the pages, but what do they say?
I think what you do is concentrate on me, Sath. Concentrate on our minds being together—our souls being together as they are in the bond. Then you just will your body to follow your mind and soul.
I just will my body—Gin, do you know how crazy that sounds?
Sath, I am currently talking directly into your mind. You want to talk about crazy? Seriously?
Good point. Let me try it.
I will send you all my strength to help you.
The low hum grew louder. Sath focused his mind on Gin—he could see her smile in his mind’s eye, the freckles on her nose just under her light blue eyes. He called up a memory of her laugh and then could feel her fingers winding into his fur that was so real he brushed his arm with his hand, expecting to feel her hand there.
Now, Sath. Command your body to join your mind, here with me. I cannot come to you—I don’t know why, but I feel that it is to do with the Mother Dragon’s magic.
On my way. You just sit tight.
If Sath thought that transport magic was uncomfortable and the spell that sent them to the Void was unsettling, this manner of magical travel was indescribable. One moment he was outdoors, salt air in his nose and a light breeze lifting his fur, and the next, he was up against a wall in a small room. He turned around to survey the room and was hit in the chest by Gin’s body, slamming into his as she jumped into his arms. He crushed her to him as though she would fade away if he let go for even a moment, and then held her at arms’ length so that he could see her face.
“Is there ANYTHING you can’t do, Qatu?” Gin’s voice was breathless and pinched as she gazed up at him in wonder.
“I can’t keep you out of trouble, it seems.” Sath chuckled and inhaled deeply. Sunflowers. This was his Gin. The transport had worked. “Now, how do we get out of here?” He surveyed the area now and was surprised to find it an actual room instead of the cell he had expected. “She isn’t keeping you in a dungeon?”
“Apparently, the dragons have higher standards.” Gin wiggled out of his arms and walked over to the wooden door. She tried to open it, but nothing happened. “See? Locked. I haven’t been here that long, so I don’t know if the lock can be picked, but Sath, I have seen her.” Gin paled as she wrapped her arms around her waist. “The Mother Dragon, Sath. She is alive.”
“I know. Kaerinth intruded on our bond when I was on the beach.”
“Is that who that was? Interesting, she intruded -” Her face lit up for a moment. “OH, that must be what the Draoch meant, he said that for the dragons and dragonkind, the bond does not have to be taught, it is innate. It is how they communicate if they are not speaking aloud in Eldyr.” Gin screwed up her face as she thought. “I only know a very little Eldyr without the Guardians behind me to help translate, so I’m not sure what she was saying to me when she was here.” Sath looked down at his feet. “Did she tell you why she took me?”
“She said it was because of Taanyth. You killed her mate, Gin.”
Gin sucked in her breath, but Sath sensed annoyance from her rather than fear—a notable change. “So you’re telling me that she brought me here, she broke the treaty with the Guardians, because her mate went insane and deserved EXACTLY what he got?”
“Sssh, Gin, remember that this is the Mother Dragon we are talking about. She’s not exactly sane, either!” Gin glowered at him but nodded. Footsteps outside of the door startled them both. “What now?”
“I don’t know, but if I had to guess, I’d say that is one of her dragonkind minions. They brought me from her to this room, but that’s all I know.” She looked back at the door as Sath held out his hand, expecting his staff, but nothing happened. “Did she take your things too?”
“How did I not notice that until now?” Sath roared in frustration, and immediately the footsteps returned to the door. He shot an apologetic look at Gin, who shrugged and then waved him toward the door.
“It opens inward, and I can’t make you invisible.” Sath nodded and stood just to her side so that when the door opened, it would conceal him behind it. “No heroics, Rajah,” she said in Qatunari just as they heard the click of a key in the lock. She felt his agreement in the bond as the door swung open, and a female dragonkind stood in the doorway. She cocked her head to one side, and Gin couldn’t help but marvel as the deep aubergine scales that made up the skin framing her face moved and settled as she moved her neck. She was about the same height as the elves from Alyntalos, and her cream-colored skin seemed to darken as it spread across her face and became scales. Her eyes were a midnight purple in color and shaped like an egg set up on one end, and she stared down at Gin with a mixture of curiosity and annoyance.
“I heard voices,” the female said, her Elvish highly accented. “Mother commands that I make sure you are kept safe. Do you require assistance?” Gin was reasonably sure that Sath could understand her, but she translated what the female was saying in the bond. His answering rumble bolstered her confidence.
“No, I am fine. I am alone here, you must have misheard. What is your name—if I may ask?”
“I am Ysil, daughter of Zelyth. You are Ginolwenye of the Trees, descendant of Draoch of the Trees, the Nature Walker.” She continued looking down at Gin, as though awaiting another question. Gin mouthed the name, intrigued by the buzz behind the Z sound. Zil.
“That is correct. Ysil is a lovely name. How do you speak my language so well?”
“My grandparents were of the elven citadel of Alynatalos. My mother spoke your language and taught it to my sister and me as we grew up.”
“Ysil, why does the Mother Dragon keep me here? Am I a prisoner?”
“I do not understand this word, prisoner.”
“Do you speak any other languages other than Elvish?” The dragonkind considered Gin’s question for a moment and then looked deeply into Gin’s eyes. Gin could feel the tingle as the female tried to initiate the bond with her, and she allowed it after tamping down on the screaming coming from Sath in the very back of her mind.
Ah, now I see what that word means, Ginolwenye of the Trees. Yes, that is what you are, a prisoner. You have done an evil thing. You killed our Great Father, Taanyth.
Your Great Father held me prisoner just as I am held now, let his pet wizard hurt me, and then tried to hurt me himself, all because I am a Guardian. I was defending myself.
Who is in the room with you, Ginolwenye of the Trees? I see your lie about being alone now that we are in the bond.
Do you know what a Qatu is, Ysil?
I do. The Qatu are the pets of the Mother Dragon, and she allows them to live on their tiny island.
Gin felt Sath’s roar before she heard it, and she pushed the door open wider, pinning him against the wall. She would hear about that one later, for sure. She turned her attention back to Ysil.
I have such a pet. That is what you heard.
It talks to you? I was not aware that their language was intelligible to anyone but others of their kind and the Mother Dragon.
I hope it will be all right for me to keep him with me?
A moment, please. Gin felt Ysil withdraw in her mind, and after a moment, the dragonkind pulled the door shut and locked it. Her footsteps could be heard walking down the hall. Gin turned to face Sath slowly, anticipating the anger that was indeed written all over his face. She held up her hands.
“Sath, before you say anything, I had to tell her something. She heard you.”
“Your pet? I’m your pe
t?” She met his stare and fought the tug of the corners of her mouth. “Fine. Just this once.” The footsteps returned, and Gin was ready at the door, this time with Sath at her side. “Just don’t make me sit or stay, all right?” Soon Ysil opened the door and gestured for Sath to come forward. She was holding an iron collar in her hands.
Mother Dragon insists that your pet wear this while here. Please do not fight her on this, it will only make things harder for you. She feels that your pet is very dangerous, and this collar will stop him from harming anyone.
I thank you for your advice, Ysil, and I will do as the Mother Dragon asks.
Sath roared, and Ysil jumped backward despite herself.
Do not let him scare you, Ysil. He is more sound than fury.
Gin took the collar, and Ysil could not get out of the room fast enough. The door slammed behind her and locked, and Gin turned back to Sath with the collar. He took a step backward. “Gin, please don’t.”
“Sath, I don’t want to, but this will keep you safe.” He didn’t move at first, but after a few minutes of hemming and hawing, he knelt and lowered his head, and Gin fastened the collar around his neck. Sath seemed to deflate a bit with the collar on, and no matter how much reassurance she tried to send him through the bond, he would not meet her eye. “Sath, I…”
“Don’t. It’s fine.” He met her gaze finally, and she saw more anger there than pain. “I will do what I need to do to keep you safe.”
“I know it’s humiliating, Sath but -”
“You don’t know, but you should.” She felt him stirring in the bond and looked up at him questioningly. “Let me tell you why this bothers me—you want to understand me better, yes?” She nodded. “How do I—do you just—will you just know if I call up the memory?” Gin nodded, and once he sat down, she sat down next to him, and he took her hands in his. She closed her eyes and immediately was whisked back, through his memories, to a very young Crown Prince Sathlir in the palace of Qatu’anari.
Thirteen
Into Sath’s Memories
Sath sat in the corner of the Royal Nursery, watching his younger sister Kazhmere toddle around with her constant companion, a similarly aged cub called Annilanshi. He wasn’t supposed to be in the nursery anymore because he was too old, but he found himself unable to leave his baby sister alone there. A seemingly permanent scowl crossed his features and knotted his brow as he kept his attention focused on the wobbly female cub across the room. He was so angry all the time, mostly because of his father’s resistance to claiming Kazhmere.
“Sathlir,” his mother said from where she was standing in the doorway to the nursery, watching him, “what are you doing in here? You have lessons that need finishing, my son.”
“I’m finished with the important parts, Mama,” he replied, scowling. “I’m just making sure that Kazhi is okay.”
“Of course she’s okay,” First Wife Savdhi said as she crossed the room to him and ruffled his hair. “I have made sure that the nannies that care for her are the best we have and…”
“Why don’t you take care of her?” Sath said suddenly, standing up and towering over his mother. She took a cautious step back from him. “Oh, that’s right, she’s not yours, is she because... your cub died at birth?” He glared at his mother, but she did not look away from him.
“Don’t you ever say that in public again, Sathlir,” she hissed. “We are here in this house at your father’s pleasure, and we must take care to follow his rules. He does what he thinks is best for the whole of the Qatu, you know that and -”
“Not anymore,” Sath replied, pushing past her. “It’s time that Papa and I had a talk.” He stalked down the hall, cracking his knuckles as his mother ran to catch up with him.
“Sathlir, no!” She grabbed his arm, but he threw her off and kept walking. “Please! Come back!” Her cries became a constant wail that he summarily ignored.
Sath nodded at the Sahi Kalah that stood guard outside the throne room where his father was working and threw open the doors, striding into the room with his head held high. “Father? I would have a word with you.” Rajah Qa Kahzlir, the ruler of Qatu’anari, sat at his desk, pouring over requests from his citizens. His posture and lack of attention to his son indicated that the day’s supplicants had been particularly difficult. After a few minutes, he looked up and smiled at his son.
“That’s awfully formal of you, Sath,” he growled. “Papa is busy right now. You need to come back later.” He resumed his work, looking up only when one of Sath’s hands landed flat on the page that he was reading. “Do not test me, son of mine,” the Rajah warned. Sath did not move, and the Rajah sighed loudly. “Clearly, there is something on your mind. Out with it, so you can leave me be.” Sath leaned forward, placing his other hand on his father’s desk. “Well? Out with it!”
“Kazhi is my sister,” Sath whispered slowly and clearly.
Immediately Kahzlir dismissed the Sahi Kalah that were at the four corners of the room, indicating that they should leave and shut the massive door behind them. “You will NEVER repeat those words within earshot of anyone outside of our family again, cub!” Kahzlir bellowed at Sath, standing up so that he and his son were eye to eye. “Do you understand me?”
“She deserves to know,” Sath responded, hissing the words as he stared deeply into his father’s eyes, the mirror image of his own. “Qatu’anari deserves to know! Did you not notice the Qatu mourning at the thought that the cub my Mama bore was dead? Mama deserves to be able to raise her daughter.”
“I know what is best for you and for your Mama, and for the citizens of Qatu’anari!” Kahzlir roared. “You, a mere cub yourself, think that you know better than I, your Rajah? Have I made a mistake naming you my heir?”
“You’re not my Rajah right now,” Sath said, a rumbly growl behind his words. “You’re just my Papa, and you’re Kazhi’s Papa too, and in this matter, you are wrong!” Kahzlir punched Sath squarely in the chest, sending his son flying across the room. Sath, though breathing heavily from the force of the blow, was immediately back on his feet and running at his father, who deflected each assault that Sath tried to land.
“Stop this, son, or I will call in my guard,” Kahzlir warned, panting as he tried to continue fending off Sath. He was as fit as he had ever been, but was trying not to hurt his son too severely. “Kazhi is well cared for and safe and….stop it! The guards will not be kind to one attacking the Rajah!”
“Call them! What do I care? They will not touch the Crown Prince of Qatu’anari!” Sath shouted back as he continued to throw punches and kick his father.
Kahzlir would have been impressed by his son’s melee prowess had it not been directed at him. Soon he began to tire and knew that he had to do something to put a stop to this. “GUARDS!” The doors flew open, and Sahi Kalah streamed into the room, shoulder to shoulder, and snatched Sath up off his feet to haul him away from the Rajah. “Take him…to the cells…” Kahzlir ordered, trying to catch his breath after a few of Sath’s strikes hit home on his windpipe. “I will…deal with him…”
Terror suddenly overtook Sath’s reason. He could feel the claws of the Sahi Kalah digging into his arms and legs as they carried him down what felt like an unending staircase. He could smell the dank air of the dungeon and hear the other prisoners moaning for someone to bring them food or water. He tried to separate out the distinct scents of the guards carrying him but found he could not recognize them through his own haze of dread. The Sahi Kalah ordered Sath into one of the holding cells, slamming the iron-barred door behind him with a loud clang. Sath ran for the door, but all he found were iron bars too thick for him to bend. He cried out in frustration and then sank down to the floor, sobbing.
It was a long night for Sath, spent curled up on the hard stone floor of the cell. There were no windows, and the only light came from the desk where one unfortunate Sahi Kalah sat all night, given the task to guard the prisoners in the cells. The soldier had looked at Sath curiously when he first
came on duty, recognizing him immediately. He had crept over and talked to Sath for a long time, and even snuck the Prince some food and water once he was sure the other prisoners were asleep.
“Wake up, cub,” Kahzlir said, kicking the underside of Sath’s boot to rouse him.
“Papa?” Sath squinted up into the light glaring like a halo around his father’s head. Kahzlir was an imposing silhouette standing over him, and he pulled back into the corner of the cell. “I’m sorry, Papa, please don’t make me stay down here anymore.”
“Oh, you’re not going to stay here, cub,” Kahzlir hissed, his voice low and menacing. “Not in this cell and not in the Royal House. I have had a long night to think about this, and there is only one reasonable answer to all of your threats concerning the female called Kazhmere: You will be exiled. I cannot run the risk that you will make her identity known for the safety of all in the House of Clawsharp. You are on your own now, Sathlir. I will either find a suitable consort for your sister Maera or sort out an heir to the throne with another of my wives if your mother is unable to. . .”
“No, Papa, please!” Sath sprang to his feet and threw his arms around his father’s waist as he had done when he was but a tiny cub in the Royal Nursery. Kahzlir pulled his son’s arms free and threw him to the floor. “Papa?”
“You will address me as Rajah,” Kahzlir snarled. “You know the proper position, do you not, cub?” Sath looked up at his father, his wide teal eyes heavy with tears. “You dare to look at me without permission?” The Rajah grabbed the back of Sath’s neck and forced him down to the ground, his forehead pressed into the stone floor and hissed into his ear. “I cannot risk the safety of my house on your ability to keep secrets any longer. You will leave my house immediately.” Kahzlir stood, turned on his heel, and left the cell. Sath didn’t dare move from his position on the floor until he heard his father’s boots continuing up the stairs. The guard came over to him, periodically glancing over his shoulder in case the Rajah came back.
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