Infinite (15 page)

YESTERDAY THE DRAGONS had come in the morning. If I wanted to attract their attention, I needed to time everything perfectly.

Preferably
after
they’d found something to eat.

I tightened my backpack straps and tucked my flute case into my coat. A pile of rubble made a sort of stair; I scrambled up the steep incline, careful of slick spots and snow. When I reached a gap with too many loose rocks, I stretched for a low-hanging branch and climbed a spruce tree until I reached another decent section of the wall.

It took forever, and sylph kept stopping me so they could dry my way, but at last I reached the top of the wall.

Snow made the sky misty gray, but from up here, I could see everything. Trees encroached on the prison, pushing through piles of weather-smoothed stone broken off the wall. I stood above them, the pines and spruces and maples, for a moment feeling like the tallest person in the world.

There was the cliff I’d found yesterday. It seemed awfully far away now, though it was probably only an hour’s walk. I’d had to take the long way around, coming down the mountain in the dark.

Sam and the others would be waking soon, if they weren’t already. I tried not to imagine their reaction to my letter.

Cold wind streaked across the wall, but sylph huddled around me, warming the air and absorbing the force of the wind to keep it from hitting so hard. The wall was plenty wide, but I couldn’t risk falling. There were a few holes here and there; this wall—and the tower inside—didn’t have Janan keeping it intact. The stone was ice cold and crumbling, with no heartbeat inside.

When I had a clear view of the frost-crusted forest, I drew my flute from its case and blew hot air into the mouthpiece to warm the metal. I wanted to remove the case and my backpack, since they were heavy and awkward, but I couldn’t risk losing them. It seemed like if I put them down, they’d be gone. The sylph weren’t corporeal; they were useless for carrying things.

I hadn’t heard dragon thunder yet, but the gray clouds spat snow. A dragon could be hiding up there, easily.

My heart thudded against my ribs. What if they didn’t come? What if they
did
?

“I don’t know, Cris.” My voice shook as I lifted my flute. “This is seeming too big again.”

Cris hummed comfortingly, and shadows touched my hands, my cheeks.

Sylph formed a horseshoe around me, leaving everything ahead of me visible. I needed to be able to see and listen.

Wing beats cracked in the east, and I shivered.

Clouds rippled with serpentine bodies pushing closer. I breathed hot air into my flute, keeping the metal warm, getting my lungs used to the effort. I wouldn’t have time to warm up like normal. Not unless dragons were impressed by scales and rhythm exercises.

I knelt and held as still as I could, waiting as the dragon thunder grew closer. Talons scraped the bottoms of clouds, shredding the vapor into ribbons. Immense wings scooped air, swirling snow in flurries across the sky.

A trio of dragons swept toward the forest, silent as they slithered over white treetops. Only the wind of their passing and the occasional clap of their wings gave auditory evidence of their presence.

From my perch, surrounded by sylph whose chief desire was to protect me, I could almost appreciate the beauty of these dragons. Sam once told me that the first time they’d seen dragons, everyone had stopped what they were doing and looked up. They’d been entranced.

Until the attack came.

I waited, heart pounding in my ears. What if they hated music? What if that was why they always attacked Sam?

Part of me wished he were here, because even though we’d been fighting, the way I missed him was an ache in my soul.

But most of me was glad I’d come alone, because I needed to prove to everyone—myself included—that I was right and I could do this on my own, and because I couldn’t put Sam in this kind of danger. I almost had. It had nearly broken him.

“I can do this,” I whispered as a dragon swooped into the forest. Trees splintered as it surged through, a streak of gold in snow-covered evergreens. The dragon came up with what looked like a small bear, and then swallowed it whole. The other two dragons dove into the same area, each emerging with another bear. They didn’t even have a chance to roar before the dragons tossed them up and caught them, as though playing or showing off.

Was that it? Was that all they would eat? Dragons were huge. Surely they needed more. But they began moving eastward again, toward other hunting ground or home, I couldn’t be sure. I needed to start now.

As I stood, sylph coiled around me, so hot that sweat trickled down my spine.

“I can do this.” My breath wafted over the flute mouthpiece, making small hissing sounds. Sylph fluttered and began a deep, resonant hum. A chord, as though they were my accompaniment.

A high-pitched, terrified giggle escaped me. Then I set my mouth, pulled in a breath, and began to play.

Four notes. One, two, three climbing lower. Four jumped above, long and high and bittersweet. The first notes I’d ever played on a piano. The notes that began my waltz.

As one, the dragons veered off their course, turning back. Thunder cracked as they flapped their wings, but they made no other sound, gave no indication how they’d communicated.

Instincts urged me to run, hide. My backpack weighed me down, making my shoulders ache as I tried to hold my flute up at a right angle; Sam always made fun of the way I let my flute sag, reminding me I’d get a better sound if I held it up.

I moved away from playing the waltz, choosing something simpler instead: my minuet. It was the first thing I’d ever composed, a haunting little melody of my fears.

Music poured from my flute like silver silk, and the shadows around me caught on quickly, adjusting their voices to become the bass and countermelody. They lifted my flute’s sound high above the treetops, carrying it eastward. My shadow orchestra. They listened to me, watched how I moved and where I sped and slowed, adjusting their songs to mine.

Thunder cracked again as the dragons grew nearer. Their wings seemed to dominate the sky, blocking the mountains and forest as they glided toward me. Their eyes were huge and bright and blue, and suddenly I felt very, very small. Like prey. Soon they would be upon me, able to gulp me down like one of those bears, or that deer yesterday.

When the minuet came to an end, I didn’t stop playing. I repeated it, and the sylph continued their songs, though now they stretched out around me, wide and tall and just as terrifying as they’d been the night of my eighteenth birthday. As we spiraled through the music again, the sylph’s voices grew louder, more intense.

Heavy wind pushed from the dragon wings. One of the sylph cut in front of me, absorbing most of the chill and rush, though my face ached with sudden cold and my flute’s sound seemed sucked back into it for a breath.

The lead dragon opened its jaws wide, revealing four long fangs and a row of teeth, still wet with blood and matted brown fur. The stink of raw meat rolled across the wall, nearly choking me as I gasped for another breath to finish my minuet.

As I hit the last note again, the lead dragon reached me, its mouth wide open—

The sylph raised themselves in front of me, a wall of shadows burning phoenix-hot. Heat blasted my face, dry and ashy, and the dragon snatched itself away from me at the last second. It had been so close I could have touched its face. Only the stubborn need to appear strong kept me from staggering backward, away from the dragon and sylph.

Dragons roared in frustration, so loud and close my ears ached.

They wheeled around and snapped several more times, but the sylph continued to thwart them. Dark flames writhed around me, singing, blocking the worst of the wind from smothering me. They darted out to burn the dragons any time they approached too close.

“Dragons!” I shouted. “Can you understand me?”

I felt very foolish standing there, flute clutched to my chest, backpack weighing me down. My head throbbed with the rush of wind and noise, and blood and adrenaline racing through me. My whole body shook with fear and cold, but I held my ground.

One of the dragons spit a gob of acid. I started to run, but a sylph stretched up and the green fluid fizzled away, burning up like snow.

“Dragons!” I called again, trying desperately to ignore the volleys of acid they spit at me, and a sudden sharp ringing in my ears, from both the noise and the pressure headache building up. “Hey, acid breath!”

One of the sylph twitched like laughter as it burned away another glob of acid.

“Your scales are dull and your wings look like a moth-eaten blanket!”

The shrill ring in my ears stabbed so hard I almost doubled over, but I forced myself upright. All the research I’d ever seen on dragons indicated they respected power. If I fell over, I’d look weak. Like prey. I had to prove I wasn’t.

“Your tails are stubby and your teeth are half-rotted. I’ve seen tadpoles scarier than you!”

Dragons swarmed around me, snapping and spitting, roaring as sylph foiled every attack.

I scooped up a fist-sized rock and hurled it at the nearest dragon as hard as I could. It dropped into the trees. “See this rock?” I threw another one, which followed a similar path. “This rock flies better than you!”

My aim was off. Way off. The ringing in my head made me sway, made my vision snap and sparkle around the edges. I staggered as I reached for another rock to lob at them, and now that I thought about it, if I was trying to make friends with the dragons, maybe I shouldn’t throw rocks. I didn’t like it when people threw rocks at me.

The roar and whine of dragons and sylph collided in my ears. My head felt filled with smoke, and the noxious fumes of burning acid poured inside me like poison.

My flute dripped from my fingers, just a silver smear in my vision. I stumbled as the cacophony of sylph and dragons faded, leaving only the shrill ring in my thoughts.

Lightning flared in my head, and the ringing coalesced into a voice.

I AWOKE LYING at an uncomfortable angle over my backpack. Sunlight filtered through a sylph who leaned over me like a parasol. Warmth pressed around me, smelling faintly of ash and burned flesh.

Groaning, I pushed myself up onto my elbows and assessed my situation. It had stopped snowing, and the clouds had lifted. I was still on the wall. Sylph huddled around me. My flute lay next to my leg. Though it hadn’t vanished, the ringing in my ears had subsided, taking my headache with it.

So far so good.

Low growling made the stone vibrate beneath me. The sylph heated, but didn’t do anything to make me think I was in immediate danger. Nevertheless, it seemed likely there was a dragon behind me. I peeked and caught a glimpse of gold scales.

Great.

-They don’t like you.- Cris sang quietly beside me, sending tendrils of shadow around me, as though he wanted to help me sit all the way up, but the shadow passed right through me. A small, frustrated keen pulled around him, but he smothered it quickly.

How often did he forget he wasn’t corporeal anymore? I sat up and leaned toward him, missing the sharp-featured boy I’d met outside of Purple Rose Cottage, the way his smiles sometimes looked like a grimace, and the enthusiasm he’d shown when taking me around his greenhouse. He couldn’t grow roses anymore. Not real ones.

I struggled to bring myself back to the present, and to the dragon behind me. The sylph made me feel safe, though. As long as I didn’t pass out again. “I guess I deserve their dislike.” I rubbed the side of my head where I’d hit the wall. A bruise pulsed under my skin, but I could see straight and focus on the way the wall stood white against the evergreens. The day was so clear and crisp after the snowfall. “I did throw rocks at the dragons and call them names.”

-And you insulted their teeth, wings, tails. . . .- Cris wavered, and I could imagine him frowning at me.

“I know.” Was the dragon behind me listening to our conversation? Could it understand us? “I got carried away. They were trying to kill me.” At least I hadn’t pulled out my laser pistol.

-That’s not how you make friends.-

I snorted. “I’ve never been very good at making friends.” I picked up my flute and checked it for damage—it was fine—before I climbed to my feet. I wanted to be standing when I faced the dragon.

The ring of sylph around me parted as I found my footing, revealing deep blue eyes as big as my splayed hands. Its face was mostly jaws, topped by round nostrils, hung with fangs as long as my forearm. The dragon was stretched out, lying along the wall like a snake. It blocked my way down—unless I wanted to jump. Its huge wings were folded flat against the serpentine body, while one of its forelegs hung off the side of the wall, shredding a spruce tree as though it were fidgeting.

The other two dragons waited in the forest below, coiled around trees and rubble from the deteriorating wall. The woods were horribly silent. Nothing dared make a sound with dragons so nearby.

I met the lead dragon’s eyes—one of its eyes, since they were so big and far apart—and decided to start with an apology. “I’m sorry I made fun of you and threw rocks at you.”

Another low rumble carried through the stone beneath my boots.

“I really am sorry. I came here to talk to you.”

The dragon only stared. Wind hissed through the trees, and my sylph huddled closer to me, buzzing with some conversation they kept to themselves. I focused on the dragon in front of me. Its giant teeth. The eyes that didn’t blink. It kept staring at me, the others too, as though waiting for something. Could they even understand me?

Suddenly I remembered a voice, a growled thought just before I passed out. I’d forgotten about it when I woke up, but now the words pressed on me.
They break so easily.

It hadn’t been a sylph song. There’d been no music in the words, no
idea
of words. Just thoughts that weren’t mine.

Along with a mind-crushing headache.

“You said I break easily.”

The dragon’s eyes narrowed.

“I heard you. And”—I steeled myself—“I think you can understand me, too.”

My ears rang, like the world suddenly gone silent, but I could still hear the wind and something far off, like animals chattering in the distance. I didn’t look away from the dragon, though.

“I know you don’t like humans.” My voice trembled, no matter how I willed myself to be strong. I tried to tell myself it was no different from talking to a bird or squirrel in the woods. My childhood had been filled with attempted animal communication, since humans wouldn’t talk to me. “Dragons have been flying to Heart for millennia, trying to break open the tower in the middle of the city.”

The dragon growled again, and a word crackled in the back of my head.

I nodded. “Last year, you did break it. The tower cracked.” I couldn’t ignore the tower looming to my left. From here, I could see where trees were overcoming the stone, not as quickly and devastatingly as they had in the jungle Cris once told me about. Nevertheless, the structure would eventually topple.

I resisted the urge to look at my sylph and think about which one might have been imprisoned here five thousand years ago.

And the reason why.

They were on my side now, and they yearned for redemption.

I returned my attention to the dragon. “You may be asking yourself what was different about last year. Why you were able to affect the tower after trying unsuccessfully so long.” Maybe saying their efforts had been futile before wasn’t the best idea, but the dragon didn’t react. “The answer is a type of poison. You see, there’s a man who made himself part of the tower. He’s been controlling it for the last five thousand years, along with the rest of the city. . . .”

The dragon yawned, its breath reeking of acid and dead bear.

Oh. Okay. I glanced at Cris for help, but he and the other sylph were distracted. I checked the forest but saw nothing unusual. Just lots of snow and trees and brilliant blue sky. Everything shimmered in the noon light. My stomach tightened, reminding me I’d had nothing but a skinny pigeon in what seemed like forever.

Acid Breath rumbled again, vibrating the wall so hard I staggered. The other two dragons peered at me, their eyes slitted as though they wanted to doze.

“Anyway.” My voice came out high and panicky as the dragon shifted its head, so a long fang stood out right in front of me, bone white against shimmering gold scales. “It seems to me you’re not much of a fan of the tower.” Though they didn’t seem to mind the one in their domain. “And I thought I’d let you know that I have the same poison that was used last year, and I’m going to use the poison again on the spring equinox.”

The dragon lifted its head.

Ah. At last.

I bit my cheeks to avoid smiling while I put together the next words. “Because that night, the man living inside the walls is going to ascend. He wants to be immortal. He’s going to break free of the walls that have caged him for five thousand years. Already it’s beginning. The earth is shifting.”

The dragon lowered its head.

“You should.” I stepped forward, sylph fanning around me. “Because when it happens, the earth will crack open and fire will spit out. There’s an enormous volcano under the city, powerful enough to make the surrounding lands boil. You’re far away from the volcano, but not
that
far. Not far enough. Ash will rain all over your hunting grounds, smothering the plants and animals. This frozen land will be even colder and deadlier.”

Acid Breath angled his face at me so that one of his eyes was an arm’s length away, and the ringing in my ears intensified.

“I—I don’t hate you.” Though I certainly hated whatever dragons had killed Sam in previous generations. And maybe some of the dragons from Templedark, but several of those were dead. “I came because I thought you would like another chance to destroy the temple.” And how did one bring up a mysterious weapon?

Acid Breath settled back onto the wall, jaw propped on one forefoot.

This couldn’t be it. I couldn’t have come all this way, actually succeeded in speaking to dragons, only to be turned down.

An idea sparked in my mind. “What happens when Janan begins hunting dragons?”

Acid Breath rumbled, as did the others.

I nodded. “When Janan ascends, he’s going to be immortal. Maybe unkillable. He stole a phoenix’s magic and made himself like this. But before, five thousand years ago, he was the leader of a group of people—the people who live in the city right now. And considering how many times they’ve been killed by dragons, I’m sure Janan will want some kind of revenge.”

It could happen. Maybe.

“Are you sure?” Everything inside me twisted, numb from what I was about to say. In spite of what they’d done, I didn’t want to hurt my sylph. It was the same as with Sam and all my other friends. They’d made a decision or followed orders, yes, but that was
five thousand years ago
. It hadn’t been just another lifetime, it had been another world. They’d all changed. Their decisions from then didn’t affect my love for them now. “Because five thousand years ago, Janan and his warriors trapped a phoenix.”

The sylph shivered and whined.

“They can.” I made my voice hard. “They can and they have been. You may think Janan won’t or can’t come after you, but if humans had menaced dragons for the last five thousand years, wouldn’t you want revenge?”

Acid Breath lifted his head and looked at the others, and the ringing in my ears intensified. I couldn’t understand what they said to one another, but there was definitely something going on. Wings tensed. Words crackled around the edges of my thoughts, but the dialogue—what I could hear of it—didn’t seem complete. There was something in the way they moved that added to the conversation—something I couldn’t quite understand.

But the fragments I could hear—they were interesting.

Finally, the lead dragon turned back to me and settled on the wall.

“What?” I needed to ask them about the weapon the temple books had mentioned, and whether they could use it to fight Janan. But they were interested in a song?

The dragon growled, its anger rippling across the forest.

“Play my flute?” My words came out like squeaks as I lifted my flute, making the sylph stir with anticipation.

-Will the dragons help?- Cris asked me.

I stepped backward and held my flute to my chin.

The others began with a low hum that rolled across me, through me. I shifted my shoulders to readjust my backpack, still weighing me down, then played a few scales and arpeggios to warm up. The dragons grew still, watchful.

I had a few pieces memorized, having played them enough for my muscles to remember the melodies, so I let my fingers rest over the keys for only a moment before I decided on the music I’d played during the market day demonstration, right before I’d been captured and locked inside the temple. It was the music I’d written like a diary, keeping it to myself for months until I finally had the courage to show it to Sam.

The music started out slowly, melancholy. Sylph pooled their songs around it, matching the longing I played, the need for the unknown. Everything around me faded as the music took over, the sylph warmed me, and I pushed my heart into it. Gasping with a kiss. Awe at a fire-sky sunset. The amazing and humbling feeling of receiving love. My flute’s sound soared across the valley, sweet and silver and filled with life.

Playing with sylph was nothing like playing with Sam. Both sylph and Sam understood music in a way I could only dream of, but where Sam played with immeasurable skill and deliberateness, sylph were free and wild. When they sang, they danced, and they burned with passion and joy.

Sound swirled through us, making my heart pound with fear and loneliness and exhaustion when I reached the section I’d written after learning of newsouls’ fate. And then hope and desire when Sam took me home and revealed the parlor filled with roses, just because he’d wanted to see me smile.

As we pushed toward the end, I opened my eyes to find the dragons all looking . . . peaceful. Oddly happy, if one could assign a facial expression to dragons.

And as my gaze swept over the valley, I caught motion on the cliff where I’d stood yesterday. Three human-shaped figures and a dozen sylph, the latter of which echoed my music.

I dropped my flute to my side, banging it on my thigh. They hadn’t left. They were still here. Sam was here.

And the dragons.

As the sylph finished singing, confused about why I’d stopped, I faced Acid Breath.

I unzipped my coat enough to slide my flute into its case, still strapped diagonally across my chest. “Are you going to destroy the tower? Will you use your weapon to fight Janan?” Now that I’d seen the others across the valley, I itched to return to them, to tell them what I’d done. I also wanted to somehow put myself between the dragons and Sam, but they’d see around me. Over me. Maybe I could lure them away, or . . . I had no clue. “Tell me you’re going to destroy the tower on the spring equinox, and I’ll play all you like.”

One of the other dragons lifted its head and looked toward the cliff, and buzzing in the back of my thoughts indicated they were discussing what had caught my attention. They knew why I’d stopped.