A Shade of Dragon 3 (8 page)

P
arnassia returned
to her people after I had returned to mine. I slumbered beneath the morning sun, as our sojourn had kept me up most of the night. My mind then turned repeatedly to Penelope.

“We take what we’ve been given, and we forge what our heart needs in order to survive,” she told me, again and again in my dreams.

“But—” I felt myself thrash and twist at the idea that it was not the will of the gods which determined where every grain of sand fell. There had to be some other way. Some way to be happy, and to follow the path that had been laid out for me my entire life. “But what if we can change it?”

“Theon… Theon.” Her eyes were clear and bright with pain. I thought of the sky over The Hearthlands—now Everwinter. Luminous. Opaque. And so low. “What if we can’t?” she asked. “What if we can’t change it?”

When I awoke, I still couldn’t get the conversation out of my head. The sun over the ogres’ island was cheerful, the palm trees whispering in the breeze, the ocean roaring and rolling toward our camp. The ogres feared us too much to disturb us, and it was a pleasant place to have relocated.

But it wasn’t home.

“Theon.” My mother’s familiar voice interrupted my drift through half-sleep. “You were gone all the morning. No one could say where you were. It would have been easy to believe you were dead, you know.”

“I’m sorry,” I told her. “You know how I am.”

I didn’t have to see her to know that she was grimacing. “Yes,” she said. “I do.”

I liked to act in solitude. That was my way. I didn’t like to report to anyone as if they were a superior, even a member of my family. Altair was the same way. Perhaps raising us boys with such confidence and courage had, in some respects, backfired on Mother and Father.

“Should I even bother to ask where you went?” she prodded.

“Not yet,” I answered. “Mother… do you ever think that The Hearthlands are just lost? That it is simply not our land any longer, and that we should make peace with that?”

“Theon.” Her tone changed to that of discipline. That tone would precede a lashing when I was a boy. “The Hearthlands are our home. Not just our home—our destiny. Our rightful place. We will reclaim them. We must. It is in the stars.”

I sighed and tilted my head away from her, almost with shame. “But it’s not,” I said. “It’s not in the stars. If it was in the stars, we would know it. We would find it under our feet without any effort. And that’s not happening. Even Einhen—the last time we were out at night, in our country—said he could hardly see the stars, but he knew that they had changed position to no longer favor our advantage.”

“What are you suggesting, Theon? For the sake of the gods, speak plainly. What do you want? To relocate? Shall we just take over the ogres’ island, and deem it The New Hearthlands? Is that what you want? To give up?”

“No!” I lurched up from where I had been lying in the sand. Mother swung into view, eyes shining and mouth stern. “I just wonder if, perhaps, an unending faith and patience in the powers that be is the correct course, when it seems that the winds have changed and we are only being blown further and further from the island.”

“I’m open to any new ideas you want to propose,” Mother said.

“That’s not true. When I took men and ran reconnaissance on the city, you didn’t want me to go. You wanted to stay and wait in the shelter. And when we were driven from the shelter by the ice people, you didn’t want to stay on the land—”

“We couldn’t have! The weather changed!” Mother cried. “You know what the cold does to us. Though our fire continues to burn hot, our muscles and bones stiffen and slow. We become statues in such heavy storms!”

“We could have stayed and fought until the weather changed,” I reminded her. It wasn’t in me to truly fight with my mother, whom I loved so dearly, who was the last remaining piece of my family to whom I could cling, save Penelope. But we needed to talk about this. We needed to talk about the fire dragon way, and how it might not have been as productive in war as… the human way. “You flew with our survivors away from the island before the first snowflake even fell, when Nell and I alone forged into the city. Admit it, Mother. You do not want to fight. Why?”

“Because it is not our place to fight! We were the born leaders of that land. The natural leaders of that land! And it will be returned to us, just as it was during the insurgence of Emperor Bram—”

“An insurgency which took almost all our females,” I noted darkly. “It was not the tale of fated triumph you imagine. We relinquish something great every time we decide to let the tide take us where it will.” My thoughts turned to Nell. What might have happened to us if I had listened to Pythia? If I had fallen in love with Michelle? My heart turned cold at the fantasy of our separate futures.

Mother dropped her head into her hands, so that I could no longer see her eyes. I winced. Dear gods, I had made her cry. I was a terrible dragon. “I don’t want to lose any more of our men,” she confessed. “I’ve lost your father and your brother… and you disappeared again… you want to go back and fight again…”

I nodded. “Yes,” I said. “There must be sacrifice in a real fight. What are we willing to relinquish, Mother?” I stepped forward and braced her shoulders in my hands. Her face came up from her palms, two wet tracks down either cheek. “What are we willing to let go of?” I whispered.

“Nothing,” she replied.

My jaw clenched. “Then your only option is to wait for the wind and the tide to change of their own choice. But I am willing to sacrifice a dream of perfection for the reality of happiness that I know with her.”

Mother frowned up at me. “With her?” she asked.

I winced. “I… We found out that Penelope is infertile.”

Mother touched my cheek tenderly. “Oh, son,” she said, her voice low and warm with compassion. “We always hoped that you would fall deeply enough in love one day to marry—but Erisard and I were unsure it would ever happen. Your standards were so high, your dreams so lofty; you hardly seemed to notice the lack of eligible females until much later in life. Although it is, of course, part of a dynasty to propagate an heir… You are happy with her, and what dynasty are we now? Don’t live for a kingdom you can’t even enter. What sense does that—” Mother blinked hard as she spoke. “What purpose is a perfection you cannot touch, a dream? We may lose… some things… but happiness… happiness, we must take back. We can start simple. Forget the grandeur of the castle. Start simple. Just the land. The land itself. That’s all we need. Somewhere to start. Somewhere to build.”

“Everyone!” I hollered to all the dragons on the beach. Those who were currently in our settlement roused from their activities at the sound of my voice. “Gather around! We are taking up a collection of ideas. Nothing is too big or too small!”

For the next few hours, we gathered close and conversed. Many ideas needed to be dismissed. Conventional warfare was not an option for us. We could not manage a battle on foot with the same ease as the ice dragons; we would only decimate our own population. “But you flew in the snow,” Einhen reminded me. “Some of us are large enough, strong enough, to manage. And I—I can read the skies. Tonight, I will consult them again, and may determine the temperamental patterns of Everwinter’s sky.”

“Do not use that name!” Mother commanded. “It is not Everwinter. They are The Hearthlands! Forever!”

I put my arm around her shoulder, but reminded her, “As long as the people of that palace call the island Everwinter… that is its name. If we want to change that—we mustn’t pretend anything. We must take it back and change its name ourselves.”

Mother pursed her lips.

“And we can all walk in the cold… for a while,” Charis added, drawing the discussion back toward a plan.

“That’s right,” I said.

We went on to consider weaponry. Much of our store had been depleted when the shelter was ransacked.

“What good is the wind to a fire dragon?” an older dragon demanded to know.

“We do always have our fire,” I said, expelling one single flame into the air before me. But, as the gods would have it, the warm breeze off the sea carried the flame away, landing the little twinkle of light amid some dry reeds which had been used to buffer a lean-to on our camp. I jolted with alarm as the spark caught, and the fire spread quickly—too quickly for the saltwater to be of any aid—to consume the simple shack and leave one of our number homeless… again. Of course, we were homeless at the moment, too, so what did these trifling buildings matter?

“Still, let’s put it out,” Mother said, glumly approaching with a large pot of ocean water. “If it spreads, we’ll lose the entire camp.”

And, just like that, another spark was ignited. But this little twinkle of light was not on the wind. It was in my mind.

“Of course,” I breathed. “Our fire. And the city itself.”

No one understood what the enigmatic phrases, side by side, could have meant. “What are you talking about?” Mother asked.

“We cannot move in the cold, but fire can move in the cold. Fire can burn in the cold, as long as it doesn’t get wet. We would need to time it right. But, Einhen, you said you would consult the skies tonight?”

“I grabbed up my equipment when we fled the shelter,” Einhen agreed. “It hasn’t been unpacked yet, but yes, of course. I’ve been meaning to return to the stars for more answers. It just… seemed so hopeless for a while.”

“You will be able to see the patterns of the clouds,” I said. “You could ascertain the window of a storm. They come and go, don’t they? The snowfall is not constant.”

“That’s right,” Einhen said. “We traveled in it ourselves. There are sometimes entire nights without—”

“How will the fire move in the cold without us?” Mother asked, sensing the direction in which I was taking our group. “Does our element no longer require us to control its destructive powers?”

“But it really doesn’t, you know,” I said. “It never did. Fire has a mind of its own. You saw what it just did to that lean-to. I didn’t command that.”

Mother’s face shifted into such a glower that she resembled a woman of wintry lineage. “You’re not suggesting that we abandon our flames in the city to do what they will?”

“Some ice dragons will stay, certainly, and fight,” I confessed, “but you know that ice dragons are by and large creatures of comfort, creatures of leisure. Many of them will abandon the fiery city for the Obran peninsula. And those who stay—well—for what do they stay? For the charred shell of a once great city?”

“And to what do we return?” Mother shrilled.

“To what do we return now?” I shouted back. “Is there any return for us at all without sacrifice? You said it yourself. What purpose is a perfection we cannot touch? Start small, you said. All we need is somewhere to start. A place to rebuild. And the island can be ours again!”

“You are talking about the destruction of the centuries. You are talking about the forfeit of our history, Theon. The sacrifice of our traditions.”

“You are talking about the past, which is gone,” I retorted, “and the future, which is made of air. I am the only one of us still talking about now. Today. Tonight.”

P
er my agreement with Parnassia
—whatever “agreement” a man can ever come to with a harpy, anyway—she and her companions traveled through the portal over Everwinter to join us on the ogres’ beach. Only three of them could come, as I had broken the wing of the other auburn bird some time ago. It didn’t seem that long ago… and at the same time, it seemed like another life. In those days, my biggest concern had been winning Penelope O’Hara’s heart. I hadn’t even understood the attacks of the winged women, much less the condition of my homeland. To think, whilst I had been wrapping my arms around Nell, tilting her face up to mine, my family had been shunted off to a shelter, sealed beneath inches of ice and snow.

And now…

Now Penelope O’Hara was my wife. The future queen. And a slave in my former palace, laboring directly beneath her own former best friend. My mother was the last of the family to remain. My younger brother had been missing and likely dead for at least a month. My father… beheaded on the very steps of the castle where he had raised us.

As the three shadows of harpies approached in the sky, and my mother cast a glance in my direction. She had acquiesced to my plot, particularly because I was technically the new king of The Hearthlands, and deep down, she knew that. Deep down, she also wanted to trust me, I was sure. I was her own son, after all.

“Business with harpies is never good business, son.”

“That’s fine. I do not employ their services for good,” I answered her.

“But they always want something in return,” she went on. I glanced at her with sympathy. This war had changed her; it had made the strong and brave woman who had raised Altair and I into a former queen who only was willing to cower. But I supposed war had changed us all. I had lost my gentle touch, perhaps forever. I regretted the easy trust I had bestowed on acquaintances, even on ice dragons themselves. “What will they take from us?” Mother breathed.

“They want nothing from us because we want the same thing; it’s a collaboration, not an exchange,” I reminded her. “We both want revenge.” The word felt heavy, twisted, and satisfying in my mouth. “We both want the ice dragons ousted from the territory.”

Mother’s eyes were cloudy; she clearly had more to say, but could not, as the harpies were too near. All three women were massive: Parnassia, the auburn and chestnut, mottled creature, muscular and trim as a field hand; the coal-black, sleek one, whose body was cut into narrow lines, with almost no breasts or hips of which to speak; and the snowy white one, whose figure was round, both soft and strong, like a farmer’s wife. All women had deceptively beautiful faces: arched cheekbones, full lips, and large, black eyes. There was something missing from them, though: that element of humanity even some ice dragons possessed. Some.

“Theon,” Parnassia greeted sharply. “And Lady Aena.” Her head slightly bowed. “These are my sisters of Thundercliff. Ispa, the black-hearted. She was born without remorse.” The raven-looking one bowed slightly. The women were not used to showing respect to anyone or anything. That much was obvious. “And Keke, eater of the wicked and thief of their children.” The dove-looking one bowed slightly, her pretty face hard and unshifting. “Though we all exist to punish the wicked.”

“I was not wicked,” I blurted. “Nell was not wicked. You tried to kill us both. And certainly the children of the wicked are not—”

“Well,” Parnassia drawled, “although we are punishers, snatchers, we have a will toward destruction which can be… sometimes whimsical.”

Ispa and Keke tittered behind her.

“At times, we do make mistakes,” Parnassia went on, ignoring them. “Particularly for prizes which draw our eye away from our missions. But in these events, I think you’ll agree that you have benefited from our weakness of will.”

I acquiesced to this point. “Granted. I never would have imagined that a harpy and a fire dragon would share a vision—but then I also never imagined that the ice dragons would destroy The Hearthlands as they have.” I glanced at Mother and then back to Parnassia. Upon the loss of her sister—though they were all sisters, but with no true family allegiance—it seemed that she was given deference by the other two. “We have agreed on a plot to send them from the territory, though it is admittedly rash, and almost as spiteful as it is destructive. We will, when our seer divines that the storms move in our favor, send agents of flame to burn the city, pushing the ice dragons from the castle walls and into the wilderness again. We hope that they will abandon our ruined structures and return to the Obran peninsula, allowing us to rebuild.”

Parnassia, Ispa, and Keke seemed to consider this amongst themselves.

“Destructive, rash, and spiteful, yes,” Parnassia agreed. “It will do little to ensure that the self-appointed rulers of the domain do not return, exactly as you have. Ice dragons are not known for their… emotional maturity. I would not be at all surprised to find the lot of you squabbling over a ruined city for another few years, as occurred on the same land some half a century ago.”

At her words, Ispa cackled. Fire leaped in Mother’s eyes, and her thighs shifted and twitched, as if on the verge of a lunge. I held out my hand to still her before we lost our new—however shady—allies in the fight for our home country.

“Yes, they’ll be back,” Ispa predicted. “Just you wait and see. Give them another twenty years… right after you poor asses rebuild.”

“Forgive me, your majesties,” Parnassia snarled, “but what exactly does this have to do with our revenge? So far, I have heard nothing to relieve my mounting anger with the ice dragons. Their queen! Augh! Have you met their queen?”

“Once or twice,” Mother answered dryly, shifting a glance in my direction.

My cheeks darkened.

“Yes, we know the woman of whom you speak,” I agreed. “She is human—”

“Human!” Keke cried. “Humans are the worst! So much worse than any harpy could ever dream of being. Our madness at least knows reason. Our cruelty knows boundary!”

“My point,” Parnassia went on, “is that your plan does nothing to satisfy our own needs. We must humiliate and deface the frauds and liars of the royal ice court, as they used our services, changed their terms, and dishonorably discarded us.”

“And what do you have to offer by way of manpower, if you’ll forgive the phrase?” I asked her. “What of weaponry? We have precious few men to sacrifice for your wounded ego, Parnassia. Precious few resources to squander in multiple battles.”

“We do not want to fight them,” Ispa snapped. “Fighting is honorable and fair; it is the kind of thing a damned fire dragon would do. We have no interest in honor. We have no interest in fairness. Our only interest is in torment.” My nose curled as her gnarled, withered hands, otherwise useless, petted each other as she spoke, as if this scheming brought her great pleasure. “We have not used the portal in Beggar’s Lake to exact our revenge for over a hundred years. But now… I feel it is time, sisters.”

“Beggar’s Lake,” I murmured.

“Beggar’s Lake houses a unique portal which, due to the force of the vortex atop it, is impossible to escape from,” Ispa went on. “It has become a dimension of torment and loss. Perhaps there exists some creature strong enough to battle up from the whirlpool and back into the world known as Earth, but if such a creature exists, we have yet to see it. Even we would be trapped if we descended into those depths, strong as we are.” She smirked.

“What’s down there?” I asked.

“The ghouls,” Ispa answered with great relish. “The ghouls are down there.”

My eyes bulged. I gulped and nodded.

The realm of the ghouls was almost a fate too horrific to wish upon the soldiers of the ice people. They were ethereal beings, almost fleshless, entirely monstrous. Their blood was as black as pitch, made thick with the entrails and ichor that were their regular diet. They could drive a person mad, and then disappear before your very eyes. I knew of them, of course, but I had somehow never imagined that one of the many portals might lead to their home. I couldn’t even imagine what such a place might look like. And to send living creatures there… just for revenge…

But then I thought of my father’s face, hanging on his skull like a flag of surrender, white as ash and bruised, tattered. Thought of how they’d left him shackled for weeks, until he couldn’t walk anymore, couldn’t use his arms anymore, and had begun to starve. Were they truly so much better than the ghouls? Perhaps it was the ghouls I should have pitied.

“I like it. But how will we get them to go into the portal?”

“We have relations with the royal court,” Parnassia reminded me. “We’ll invite them to Thundercliff, under the guise of a meeting to discuss territories. Certainly, Maine is the closest province in keeping with their climate. It’s only one portal away. They would be interested in discussing the possibility of inhabiting the land.”

I recoiled at the thought, though it was all nothing but a plot, a ploy. To think that the ice dragons wouldn’t just infiltrate the homes of honest, hard-working fire dragons—but move on to the homes of honest, hard-working humans… not to mention helpless…

“Still,” I said, “you mentioned a vortex which creates such force, the portal is inescapable. How could you, relations or no, convince one of them—or any of them—all of them—to go through?”

Parnassia smiled softly. “How could we, you mean,” she corrected me. “How could we convince them to go through?”

My mind turned over the question a few times before a light flared on. “There is something for which any ice dragon would dive,” I said. “But you’ll have to wait for us to retake the castle.”