*Thee are
mine
, girl.*
Tefira cried out as his brother dissolved into red mist. “Shima! Shima!” he screamed.
A quick glance at the boy’s terror-stricken face told Raven that Tefira didn’t understand what was happening to his brother.
But he did. And he knew what it would mean if the spearhead—cold iron—should pierce that mist: Shima would be unmade.
He had only the instant of the soldier’s surprise and hesitation to do something. Raven snatched up a heavy stone and flung it even as that moment’s reprieve ended and the soldier’s arm went back once more to hurl the spear.
Raven forgot to breathe as the stone hurtled through the air. Had he aimed true?
Jhanun arrived at his compound in Rivasha as leader of a much smaller force of men than he’d hoped for. Many troops were away fighting the Zharmatians and their lightning raids. He left the men outside the city for now, and rode in with just a few trusted men as escort. Before he did anything, he wished to pray to the Phoenix for guidance.
But when he entered his family’s shrine, he found the altar draped in grey, the color of mourning, and the steward of the house burning incense in a bowl the same color.
“Who’s dead?” Jhanun demanded.
The steward whirled around, one hand clasped to his breast. “My lord! You startled me!” He bowed, then said, “Didn’t you know, my lord? Your niece, Nama, concubine to the late emperor, is dead, and her unborn child with her.”
Jhanun could only stare at the man, unable to face the fact that his second plan had crumbled to dust.
Mistaking stunned silence for grief, the steward hurried to say, “But the empress honored her, my lord! She was given the honors of a
noh,
and her ashes placed in the altar of the imperial family. And it’s said that, while she’s here, the empress burns incense for Nama in the—”
“Shei-Luin
noh
Jhi is here? In Rivasha?” Jhanun demanded.
The steward blinked. “Shei-Luin Ma Jhi, my lord,” he corrected in mild reproof. “Yes—she and her sons are here.”
Her sons … .
He would never get control of his niece’s child now, to set it up as a claimant for the throne. But—
Her sons … .
With the swiftness of a tiger, Jhanun spun around and ran from the shrine.
*Come closer, girl,*
the voice wheedled.
*Come closer, let me see thee.*
Maurynna clutched her head. The syrupy voice slid around her mind, carrying with it hints of blood and violence, desperation beyond measure, the taint of madness, and a sick delight in it all.
No,
she said,
I don’t trust you.
Yet go closer she must; how else to free him? She crept forward.
*Come closer, I promise that—*
Pirakos threw back his head and howled as he fought against his chains. The sound slammed into Maurynna as it boomed and echoed in the cavern. She went to her knees, crying out at the pain in her ears.
*I will eat thy liver!*
shrieked Pirakos in her mind.
*I will tear thee apart piece by piece and scatter the foul bits to rot, truehuman filth. I will kill all the truehumans,*
he raged as he hurled himself as far as his chains allowed. The shackles dug into the flesh festering beneath them. A sweet, sickening stench fill the air.
Maurynna vomited. Sick and shaking, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and huddled on the path as a maelstrom of thoughts and images and emotions raged through her mind.
… The caress of sunlight on her wings, the taste of the winds … .
Maurynna began crawling.
*I used to hunt rabbits when I was a youngling dragon, thee should know. I would catch them as they came out of their burrows.*
The voice slid around her mind, giggling insanely, poking at her, prying, howling in agony, carrying with it the seeds of madness. Most horrible of all was the mind she sensed within—the merest glimpses, but there—trapped and wailing in despair. She concentrated on moving opposite hand and knee, hand and knee, working her way along the path. Sharp slivers of rock cut her as she crawled; she welcomed the distraction from the mindvoice that babbled and bounced within her head.
*But now they hide inside—dotheeseethem—and I can’t get in anymore, and they wait for me. They wait and wait, their fangs fierce and long and dripping venom. Waiting to tear me apart as
—HATEHATEHATEHATE—
I will tear thee apart!*
He can’t reach you, she told herself over and over again, the chains won’t let him get out of the bowl, they’re too short. Get to the spell stones.
And when she shattered the enchantment? What then?
It didn’t matter. She couldn’t think about that; she would not think of anything save the ground just ahead of her and how to avoid the worst of the stones. It was the only way. She crawled along the path, inch by painful inch, while the ravening Pirakos flung himself against his chains, her mind closed to all but the burden of forcing her unwilling body forward.
The journey went on and on; then, so suddenly it startled her, Maurynna knelt by the first of the spell stones. It was the one that bound Pirakos’s right foreleg.
Golden light washed over her. She raised her face to its gentle warmth, remembering what it felt like to stand beneath the sun. Before she could wonder if she ever would again, Maurynna drew the short sword from its scabbard. Gripping the hilt as hard as she could lest it turn in her blood-slick hands, she drove it into the nimbus.
*It is time! Thee must throw down the Stones of Warding!*
Linden halted Shan, shocked. The strange voice that had warned them of Taren’s treachery was back in his head. He wondered if he’d imagined it. Or if he were going mad.
But no, that couldn’t be; Lleld and Jekkanadar had also stopped, and both wore the same startled expression. Otter, Dzeduin, and Yesuin, on the other hand, had obviously not heard anything. They rode on a few steps before bringing their mounts to a halt and looking back, surprised.
But Ghulla reined her horse in, and sat watching the Dragonlords, smiling slightly.
“What is it?” Otter asked.
“Who—” Jekkanadar began at the same time Lleld said, “That’s the voice that warned us, isn’t it?”
“Yes. You agree, then, that it’s a dragon?” he said. He’d been certain of it, the other time he’d heard it, but what if it were a trick of the priestmages?
Lleld nodded. “Oh, yes; it’s definitely draconic—at least, I think it is,” she said with an uncertainty utterly foreign to her.
So she’d had the same thoughts of trickery.
Jekkanadar said, “What, discretion at last, Lady Mayhem? Now I’ve seen everything.” His smile was wry. “But I agree. We can’t be certain.”
Lleld didn’t favor him with a glance. “But what does it mean by the ‘Stones of Warding?’” She looked over to Ghulla. “Do you know?”
The Seer nodded, still smiling slightly. “They’re an abomination, part of the enchantment that keeps the Phoenix prisoner against the natural order of things.
“There are stones, surrounded by temples, at three of the four quarters. They help anchor the power that keeps the Phoenix in Mount Rivasha. The focus is the northern dragon, held under Mount Kajhenral. That’s the place that only your soultwin may enter, Linden Rathan. But the others are important as well; unless all are cast down, the Phoenix may not be able to break free. It’s possible that the priestmages could summon enough power to hold the prison in place if one falls. They might be able to hold the Phoenix for a time even if three anchors of power were destroyed. Yet I think it would be for only a short time. All their power could not hold the Phoenix long once all the foundations of its prison were swept away.”
*Hurry! Thee must hurry! Thee endanger Maurynna Kyrissaean with thy delays. It will take time for each of thee to reach the Stones—time that she does not have to waste.*
The golden light exploded, hurling her back. Her head struck the ground so hard that stars swam before Maurynna’s eyes.
It was Pirakos’s roar that brought her back to herself. The truedragon threw himself against his chains with renewed fury. For one heart-stopping moment, Maurynna thought the links would give. But they held, tribute to the long-dead smiths who had worked them. She took a moment to thank them.
Then she was running along the hewn path to the next spell stone.
He—He was solid once more! Yet what had happened to him? Shima shook his head, then stopped, dizzy; his neck was far too—
In one blinding instant he understood; the answer was in the terrified faces before him. Roaring, Shima lashed out with a clawed forefoot. The Jehangli soldiers flew through the air like the pebbles the children threw at the crows to keep them from the young maize. Nor did they move again.
Shima reared up in the hot sunlight, his wings spread wide, overwhelmed by what had happened to him, the wonder of this moment. He stared down at what had been his arms. The light glinted on black scales.
A blur of motion caught his eye. Shima dropped to all fours once more and swung his long neck around, ready for battle.
But it was Tefira and Raven who scrambled down the slope to him. The Yerrin bent and picked up a spear lying on the ground. As if from years ago, Shima remembered that same weapon pointing at him. His mother’s tales came back to him, and he understood how close he’d come, not just to death, but to annihilation.
And he knew who had saved him.
Thank you,
he said to Raven. He stopped, startled at using his mind to speak. How had he known … ?
There was much to learn, he decided, about being a Dragonlord.
“You’re welcome,” Raven said. He leaned on the spear. “Now what? And where’s Rynna? Why did you leave her?” he demanded.
She ordered me to help you. Dragonlord’s orders, she said,
Shima replied.
The Yerrin threw back his head and whooped. “To another Dragonlord? Oh, I like that!” Then he sobered. “But we have to find her.”
Yes. But, Shima thought, where?
Haoro lay prone before the image of the Phoenix while the choir chanted. Though the tile below him was cold, he hardly noticed. Soon he would rise and they would lay the feathered mantle about his shoulders. Soon he would be the
nira,
second only to the emperor in power—and that emperor would be Jhanun.
He smiled, his cheek pressed against smooth tile, while around him the power grew.
Linden reeled in the saddle. The voice rang in his head like a Jehangli temple gong. It was angry and frantic and … very, very young, somehow. Close to tears, even, if a dragon could cry.
Danger to Maurynna … . Trick or no, he couldn’t take the chance. He had to Change—now.
He swung a leg over Shan’s neck and slid out of the saddle. “Room!” he yelled.
Shan spun on his haunches and raced off. Miki, Hillel and Nightsong followed, ignoring their riders, and herding the Zharmatians’ horses with them.
“Linden, wait!” Lleld yelled as Miki bore her to a safe distance. “You don’t know—”
“I’ll take that chance.” He threw his head back and let himself dissolve into mist. From somewhere far away he heard terrified yells; Yesuin and Dzeduin, he thought. Nothing would surprise Ghulla.
A heartbeat later he stood, solid once more, claws digging into the earth, wings half unfurled, his hindlegs tensed for the leap that would take him into the sky. He swung his long neck around to face Lleld and Jekkanadar.
I’m going,
he said to them.
Are you with me?
For answer, they both swung down from their saddles and moved a safe distance from the horses and each other.
We are
echoed in his mind as they flowed into Change. A small red dragon and a larger black one faced him moments later.
Where?
Linden asked of the voice he could still feel in the back of his mind. Images blossomed: temples, open in the center, ringing glowing stones vibrating with a power that repelled him.
No, wait;
he
was not the one repelled. It was the one—the
dragon—
who spoke to him. He knew it now beyond all doubt.
And with the images came the knowledge of
where.
Linden hurled himself into the air.
You’re the fastest,
Lleld said in his mind as he climbed.
Take the tower beyond the city. We’ll take the other two.
Lleld and Jekkanadar made their leaps into flight.
Linden wheeled against the sky and raced south.