Season of the Dragon, page 35
Quen feared the Rajani would force upon her another horrific vision, but she didn’t.
“The Dragos Sol’iberi revere the Winter Dragon. We carry out her will, what she asked of us nearly a thousand years ago. We have remained faithful servants of the Dragos. And in exchange for being her servants, she will allow us the control we’ve always had with dragon-kin. You saw the skull. Remember the hollow there.” Nevara pressed her fingers into Quen’s third eye. “In a living dragon, the dragon’s primal life essence fills that hollow. And we, the Dragos Sol’iberi, know how to command it.”
A knowing inside told Quen this was true. Ishna feared the Rajani’s ability to control her. That fear kept her hidden. But… there was something else. What did Nevara say in the library? Quen remembered Ishna’s skull, and Nevara’s words swirled in her mind. She’d told Quen how the Rajani—how she, Nevara—used the magical liquid they’d preserved from Ishna’s skull to… To create me.
Barely perceptible, but unmistakable. The phantom heartbeat, a fleeting flutter.
Nevara sensed it, too. The dark scowl of concern gave way to a twinkle of delight. “There. Our Dragos’Madi answers my call. She will tolerate your attempts at suffocation no longer.”
The Rajani Drago’Sorceri turned her back on Quen. “To honor the Winter Dragon, allow this Doj’Anira a few moments to say her goodbyes. Then bring them to the courtyard. The Winter Dragon is ready to be reborn.”
The two Rajani holding Quen pushed her forward. Quen’s knees gave out once they stopped bearing her up, and she fell at Aldewin’s feet.
He knelt, and though his wrists were bound, he helped her stand. “Oh, Quen. What have they done to you?” Aldewin kissed her forehead, and his lips came away tinged in her blood. He offered his hands for support. “I would heal you, but they’ve put me in a binding. I’m cut off from the Corners.”
“Healing would be a waste, anyway.”
He protested, but she interrupted. “Shh, love, we haven’t much time.” With trembling fingers, Quen untied the singed leather cord around her neck. The amber pendant, the last remnant of her family. She tied it around Aldewin’s neck. “If you survive, take this to Rhoji for me.”
Aldewin’s lower lip trembled, and red rimmed his eyes. “You will take it to him yourself. You—”
Quen kissed him. His lips were so full of life, she lingered, pulling warmth from him. The memory of his arms around her, the strength of Menauld beneath them, the Brothers overhead. Dreams of a future exploring the world together. If only we’d gone north to his homeland. Away from the Dynasty, the Dragos Sol’iberi, and even the Pillars. She was done with people trying to claim her as a prize—or worse, a weapon to be used in petty battles. All she wanted—all she’d ever wanted—was to be Quen. To wake each morning in the arms of someone who saw her and loved her for all she was. She wanted to run toward that dream.
You cannot run from yourself. The thought was Quen’s, not Ishna’s.
Quen sighed. “My end is inevitable.”
“No.” Aldewin shook his head. “You mustn’t say that. This can’t be—”
“How my story ends? Why not? Pahpi’s story didn’t end happily. Nor did Druvna’s.”
“Yes, but—”
“But…” Quen moved closer so only Aldewin could hear what she said. “I see a way—maybe. A possibility, anyway. But whatever happens, know this: I love you, Aldewin di Partha.”
He kissed her deeply and sighed. “If only we’d had more time. There’s so much I wanted to tell you.” He wiped his face on his shoulder. “So much to show you.”
She forced herself up on shaky legs to whisper in his ear. “I will not die, Aldewin. No matter what you see, know this. Ishna lived within me for twenty years. When she rises, I will remain within her. Together, the dragon and I will find a way to separate our souls. A way for me to, at long last, simply be Quen. Someday.” Quen withdrew her lips from his ear and laughed. “Remember when you said you’d love me even if I sprouted hairy spider legs?” She held up her talons. “Can you love a dragon?” She smiled.
He returned a wan smile. “I will love you, Quen Tomo Santu di Sulmére, until the day I go to Lumine’s arms.” His smile faded, and fresh tears welled.
Quen knelt and wrapped her arms around Nivi, burying her blood-caked face in his fur. “Stay with Aldewin, my friend. He will care for you until we meet again.”
They’d brought her to the dungeons, kicking and screaming. She’d been determined to fight their horrific plan to the end. But now she knew. Ishna is the answer. The dragon was the only way she would survive—and her only hope of protecting Aldewin, Nivi, Lumina, and all whom she loved. She allowed the Rajani to lead her through the twisting labyrinth of Volenex back to the courtyard.
Again, surrounded by the Dragos Sol’iberi. Vahgrin’s voice quivered in her hollow belly. Neck muscles weak, her head bobbed, causing the scene to bounce.
Above her, the Brothers, their warmth a balm to her soul. Dampness receded, heat on her scraped and battered face, restoring a bit of strength as her shivering ceased.
The blood rushing in her ears muted Tilvani’s droning, and she warbled as if speaking underwater. Quen was glad Tilvani’s words were unintelligible. I’ve had enough of the woman’s shrill pronouncements. I don’t need to listen to know what they intend for me.
Quen ignored the Rajani and tuned out Vahgrin. She turned inward and searched for Ishna. Though she’d fought against the Nixan her whole life, now the dragon was the only hope for saving her beloveds.
Ishna, I know you remain with me. I’ve felt your heart.
Silence.
I will die. I see that now. I wasn’t meant to survive this.
Quen’s eyes were like hot cinders, her throat tight with emotion, choking pain. Rajani sisters, flanked by several Atyro, shuttled Aldewin and Nivi into the courtyard. To witness my end? How kind of our Dragos Sol’iberi hosts. Tears shone on Aldewin’s cheeks, his mouth set in a pained grimace, his eyes red. Nivi kneeling, paws covering his ears, a low whimper of agony.
Urgency rising. We have no choice, Ishna. If you die, then not only will you cease to exist, but my family… Everyone I love will perish. Quen didn’t bother wiping her tears. You can protect them. You must save them.
A flutter in her chest. The familiar tharump of her phantom heart. Faint and slow, it was unlikely to draw the attention of the frenzied Rajani. But it’s there. Is it horrible that I’m glad to feel you once again?
I understand now why you fear them. Quen glimpsed Vahgrin, a Rajani handler straddling his back. Two additional Rajani crooned at his side, their red mouths open, but singing in a pitch inaudible to human ears.
I will fill the hollow, Ishna. They will not control you—us.
The phantom heartbeat, clearer. The ridge on her neck burning, tingling. Quen wept with joy. The sensation she’d hated, evidence of her shameful truth, now welcomed like an old friend.
The internal voice, felt but not heard. Like a memory or dream. Fill the hollow.
Quen’s skull buzzed, and blinding pain shot like an arrow behind her eyes. A vision came to her, floating like a feather wafted on a breeze.
Ishna’s skull. The one Nevara had shown her. Between the eyes, an odd hollow space in the bone. The space Quen must occupy. But I don’t know how.
“Together as one,” Ishna thought. “Our family—humans and dragons—will survive. Trust in me, Quen. Fill the hollow.”
Quen’s neck felt like it had split in two. Searing heat.
Aldewin screamed, “No! Quen, you mustn’t. They’ll control two dragons. They’ll end our world.”
Rajani voices sang an eerie chant, intoning Ishna forth. Some shifted to their Nixan form, wings flapping, churning the air.
But it was not Dragos Sol’iberi chanted prayers that urged Ishna forth. The Winter Dragon would not bend to their will. Ishna would be born anew to protect love, not fuel Dragos Sol’iberi ambition.
Occupy the space, Quen. Fill the hollow. You will survive. We will rise together.
Quen wasn’t sure how to fill the hollow, but she concentrated on a single thought. Together.
Fear and pain receded. Her talons lengthened, and her spine undulated. Quen’s nightmare of horns sprouting at her temples coming true. Her eyes burning, teeth falling out. Plink, plink, plink on the stone.
Nivi howled. The sound of Aldewin’s tears splashing on stone. His eyelids blink, the flutter of his eyelashes like the breeze of a bee’s wings. The amber pendant at his neck, twinkling in the midday light of the Brothers.
Quen’s last words were strained and primal. “Go to Rhoji. Give him the amber. Tell him the story of what I’ve become.” A guttural scream, her vocal cords changing, soon unable to speak with a human voice. “Goodbye, sol’dishi.”
“No.” His only word was both a plea and a regret. It would echo forever in Quen’s heart, now the phantom beat within Ishna.
Ishna’s spine was limber, undulating like a snake. Her silvery-white scales shimmering reflected shades of teal, glacial blue, and sea green. She unhinged her mighty jaw and showed two rows of razor-sharp teeth to the Rajani. She rose on strong limbs, talons digging into the rock and a long serpent tail whipping behind.
Their shouts of joy were deafening, and their keening enough to rattle the bones. Within the Rajani lament, merely annoying to Quen, a high-pitched tone beyond human ears. This sound, perfected by Rajani dragomancers, quivered in the hollow space between the eyes of a Primal dragon. This empty cavity in a Primal dragon’s skull, filled with magical fluid allowing them to create new dragon-kin. The ‘Rend,’ as the Dragos Sol’iberi called it, caused a Primal dragon such agony it became docile just to end the Rajani torture.
Ishna’s rumble was low and deep, echoing off the caldera’s stone walls. She took to the sky, her long white mane whipping in the wind. Spiraling upward, testing her new skin and wings. The magic of creation, rippling through the fabric of the æther. Primal Dragons were both tied to and fueled by Menauld’s ancient magic. Without access to primal Menaris, the magic of creation, humans must use the intermediary forces of spirits and gods to access magic. A pale copy of the Menaris known to Primal Dragons, such as Ishna and Vahgrin. And our two other Primal dragon-kin.
Ishna undulated her lithe form, lean and swift. Hunger pained the hollows of her stomach, but the Rajani Rend didn’t cause her to fold. Quen occupied the space in the dragon skull just as she’d said she would. A human teaching this old dragos new tricks.
The Dragos Sol’iberi had made two errors, and Ishna smiled at their mistakes. To grow a dragon soul within Quen, the cult had used the magical liquid that normally filled the hollow in Ishna’s skull. Without it, their Rend held no sway over Ishna. And they hadn’t counted on Quen’s soul filling that cavity, pushing back against their Rend. Their second error, though, was even more significant. They hadn’t counted on a father’s unconditional love or the strength of the human, Quen Tomo Santu.
And yes, Quen was with her, entwined within every fiber of her blood, skin, and bone. Filling the hollow in her skull. Like Ishna had been the whole of Quen’s life, Quen lived in Ishna’s periphery. Not in control, but enmeshed with her. She—Quen—filled the hollow, and together, they were immune to the dragomancer Rend.
Though her human life had been brief, Quen had learned much. And now, all Quen knew, Ishna carried. Ishna had lived thousands of years, but she had learned much from her human life. But it was more than knowledge. Quen’s greatest gift to Ishna was the love she’d known.
Quen’s love remained, and it was part of Ishna now. To be alive—gloriously alive—after a thousand-year sleep! Ishna roared and shook the foundations of Volenex.
Vahgrin, her brother, was bound by the Rajani keening their Rend song at him. They jangled him into submission. It was no excuse for what he’d done to Quen. And Ishna still harbored resentment, a thousand years in the making, for his role in her original death. After all, it was Vahgrin who led Indrasian to her mountain lair. Without Vahgrin as his guide, the human warrior, Indrasian, could have never found her.
I should ice-burn Vahgrin’s traitorous scaly hide until he’s nothing but snowy powder.
Quen’s voice, deep within but alive. The heart of Vaya di Solis is forgiveness. Especially for our kin.
Oh, Sulmére Sister, Vahgrin is unworthy of exoneration. You know not what havoc he has wrought in my world and your own. I promise you this, Quen. His reckoning will come, but not this day.
Vahgrin was one of the original Primal Dragons. Ishna needed him to complete the primal circle. And we need to produce one more. A deed for another day. Leaving him in Rajani hands is punishment enough—for now.
Ishna turned downward, her long white whiskers sleeked by the rush of air. Hunger in the pit of her scaly belly drove her down, spiraling. The woman known as Tilvani, her voice grating like the slow drip of water.
Clutching with her great talons, scooping, teeth tearing into the old woman’s thin flesh. Warm blood. Waters of Life. The dragon’s thirst and hunger was slaked, and Quen’s need for revenge returned. The engine of her power roiling.
Rajani loudly keening, attempting with all their might to Rend Ishna. Fear unfurled from them like an oily film. Gauzy white neophytes running, frightened. From the air, they looked like unsheared drey.
Ishna bellowed, cold misty steam turning their bodies to ice. Frozen in space, their eyes forever wide with fright, their hearts stopped by the sudden freeze. Ishna flew close to the ground, scooping up several frozen Dragos Sol’iberi to fuel her insatiable hunger.
Nevara called to Vahgrin. “Zhijnatu, Vahgrin.”
Ishna laughed. To human ears, it was a burst of low rumbles. She spoke to Vahgrin in the dragon tongue. “You heard your master, brother. Be still and obey.”
Vahgrin’s voice, a low thrum in her chest, speaking in the language only four souls understood. Five, as Quen now joins our fold. “I killed you once, Sister. I will kill you again.” Eons-old jealousy fueled his anger, unabated after all these years. Vahgrin spewed fire at Ishna.
Nevara cursed at him in the Rajani tongue. Two dragomancers in tow, they mounted his back and keened madly, Rending him into submission.
Panic made Nevara’s voice shrill. “Don’t kill her, Vahgrin. We need her, you fool.”
Ishna laughed. The Dragos Sol’iberi unaware of the irony of their words. They’d believed they could control the Winter Dragon. The idea, once worrisome to Ishna, now laughable. That her brother could best her, more comical still. He’d never won a battle against her in over three thousand years. But these foolish Rajani don’t know that. They arrogantly think themselves privy to ancient knowledge. Ishna laughed, and the entire foundation of Volenex rumbled.
They believe Vatra fires the strongest because Vatra is the Pillar of war. Have they never seen a wave swallow a city or a glacier gobble a mountain?
Ishna hurled an icy volley at Vahgrin, a small showing of what more followed for him if he chased after her. Her freezing breath burned the flesh of his thigh, opening a gash that would pain him but not maim him.
A Drago’Sorceri screamed, “Why is our Rend not working on her?”
Nevara shook her head. “Sing higher.”
Another added, “Or lower.”
They set about modulating their pitch. The cumulative sound like a tumult of broken bells thrown down a well, sickly pinging.
Ishna laughed, and the deep, robust sound shook Menauld. She spoke then in the Rajani language. “Dear Nevara, Rend in every pitch you can muster. You cannot control me. You wanted the Winter Dragon? Here I am.”
She spiraled downward, claws outstretched. Ishna snatched Nevara from Vahgrin’s back. He shouted a protest and spewed fire at her, but Ishna swiftly swerved, dodging his assault.
Nevara wriggled and screamed. Gone was her commanding demeanor. She smelled of urine and acrid sweat. Of rotten fish and wet feathers.
The vengeance was Quen’s to take, and Ishna searched her feelings for how her human sister wished for justice to be served. Visions flooded Ishna’s mind, some of Quen’s memories, others of Ishna’s own knowing. Memories of a woman posing as a Bruxia, coaxing a desperate Consular’s wife to sip a potion filled with the distillate of Ishna’s magical soul. A small child—Rhoji—flopped over his dead mother’s body, sobbing the silent tears of a loss so great, he wanted to lie on the pyre with her as she burned. A woman posing as a Kovatha, arguing with Quen’s father and offering a grim prophecy. Nevara atop Vahgrin’s back, laying waste to Solia and ending the life of Quen’s beloved Pahpi. From deep within, Quen’s anger and hurt fueled Ishna’s ire and answered how to mete out justice to the woman who had callously disregarded the lives of so many.
Ishna soared above the caldera’s edge.
The calm demeanor of an esteemed sorcerer gone, Nevara begged. “Please, Dragos’Madi. I brought you back to life.” Her voice trembled with fear. High in the sky now, the remaining Dragos Sol’iberi below were like specks of bird shite. “I live only to serve you, great dragon. Please spare me, and I will be your humble servant.”
Ishna spoke to Nevara in the Rajani tongue. “Quen wants you to know this is justice served for killing her Pahpi.”
Nevara whimpered as Ishna flung her into the air. Nevara’s face was pale as winter’s coldest snow, her expression absolute terror. The woman hung in the sky before descending.
“Nothing burns like the cold.” Ishna’s icy breath came from deep in her belly and up through her throat. Ishna hurled a torrent of frosty breath on the tumbling Rajani, freezing her into a Nevara icicle.
The solid ice block of Rajani gathered speed as it fell to the courtyard’s black stones. The remaining women at first craned to see what was happening above. Once they saw frozen Nevara barreling toward them, the women scattered like black rats jumping from a burning ship.
Nevara struck the ground and shattered, her body now shards of frozen glass reflecting the loving light of the Brothers. In the space between Ishna’s eyes, the hollow within the bone, a deep satisfaction.
