Infinite (19 page)

The air held us. Acid Breath’s muscles flexed and moved, nothing at all like the smooth gait of a horse. His body twisted and bent, snakelike.

Then I couldn’t think about that discomfort, only the sharp rise and the way he was suddenly vertical. I slid on the blanket, toward Sam. His grip on my ribs tightened, and something—his chin or forehead—dug against my back. I couldn’t hear anything but the wings pounding on air.

We slid. Screaming, I reached forward, but my mittened hands glided along slick scales. No chance of holding on.

I had no clue how high we were, but with frigid air and snow stinging my eyes, stealing my breath, I easily imagined the terror of a free fall.

The blanket slid more. Faintly, I wondered if all the cloth wrapped around us would soften the blow when we hit the ground. Probably not.

Thunder and wind, my screams and Sam’s, the shrieking buzz of dragons’ communication: the sounds deafened me, and my ears popped and popped as we rose higher. My head felt ready to explode as the pressure changed, and I couldn’t breathe right. Thin, icy air rushed across my face, even when I ducked my head to let my hood take the brunt.

We hurtled into the sky, falling upward as fast as Acid Breath’s wings would carry us.

We slipped. Ropes gouged my waist and legs. Sam pressed harder against me. Any moment now, the ropes would snap and we’d fall.

Our ascent eased, and Acid Breath was horizontal again.

I didn’t know when I’d stopped screaming. Maybe whenever the air had stopped being heavy enough for proper breathing. Gasping, I waited for my heart to slow into a regular rhythm, and for my ears to stop aching. Sam shook against me; I trembled, too.

Acid Breath’s wings thundered, and sharp air rushed against our faces, but we were still on his back, and that was what I cared about.

Sam’s voice strained under the din of wings and air. “Are you okay?”

I tried to nod, but he wouldn’t see it. Instead, I released my useless death grip on the blanket and touched his hand still on my ribs. My head still throbbed from the pressure—or not enough pressure—and my whole body felt like I’d lost a round with Rangedge Lake, but I was okay. As long as we never did that again.

Sam’s grip relaxed as I sat up a little, letting my hood and our blanket cocoon hide the sight of wings, and the passage of blackness beneath and around us. I didn’t want to see after all.

Movement behind me. Tugging on my coat and shirts. Hot skin slid against my waist and ribs, and the weight of Sam’s head settled on my back. My heartbeat steadied with his palm on my skin. I couldn’t stop the panic whenever Acid Breath dipped or changed directions, but this tactile reminder of Sam’s presence helped.

We flew through snow clouds for hours, mostly gliding on a plane of air. The wind never ceased. For a while we listened to the dragons speak to one another, but the ringing in my ears was overwhelming, and the dragons seemed disinclined to converse much while we were on top of them. And with us around, in general. They seemed to fear we’d learn all their dragonish secrets.

I hoped Whit and Stef were faring better, but my thoughts shifted toward our inevitable descent, and what would happen when we finally reached Range.

The clouds moved northeast, away from us. Hours later, the sky turned indigo, and a brilliant line of gold light shot across the eastern horizon. The sun peeked from behind a ridge of mountains, illuminating the long curve of the earth. Mountains pierced the sky, all snow and ice and frozen beauty. And in the west, a bright glow drew my gaze: the temple in the city of Heart.

As light flooded the white land, pouring between mountains and into valleys like rivers and lakes of pure gold, I found the cavities in the ground left behind from hydrothermal eruptions. It was difficult to see them from our distance, but the fact that I could see them at all—that they existed—was enough to be terrifying.

Sam shouted from behind me, “Do you see Templedark Memorial?”

I peered north of the city, but if Templedark Memorial existed anymore, it was too far for me to see. I shook my head and ducked as Acid Breath banked eastward.

It was midmorning by the time buzzing flared in my thoughts.

Going down was just as terrible as going up. The descent made us dip forward, and the impact of landing jarred every bone in my body, but then everything grew deliciously still and I imagined going to sleep in a real bed. Showering with hot water. Not living in a tent.

“Oh no.” Sam swore quietly, making me look up.

Menehem’s lab lay in ruins.

MOST OF THE building remained standing, though there were holes in the roof and a tree had fallen on it, leaving one end open to the elements. The cisterns were on the ground, a sheet of ice spreading around them. The solar panels had been damaged beyond repair, and unidentifiable bits of machinery spilled from the door.

“No,” I breathed. “No, no.” I fumbled for the straps of the harness, struggling to free myself from the ropes gouging into my midsection.

“Wait.” Sam grabbed my hands and held me still. “Just wait. I’ll get it.”

When he released my hands and began unbuckling the harness, I just stared at the ruins of my father’s lab and watched as sylph emerged from the forest. They gave a long, melancholy wail as they drifted through the ruins.

“Now.” The harness loosened around me and I shoved the ropes off my shoulders and stomach, shoved aside the blankets, too. Hardly realizing what I was doing, I hopped onto Acid Breath’s foreleg and slid down, then ran toward the wreckage.

Inside the building was even worse. There was the kitchen area where Sam and I had burned so many meals because we’d been kissing and lost track of time; now the contents of the cupboards lay scattered on the floor, crushed and spilling open.

There was the screen where I’d watched videos of my father experimenting on sylph; now it was cracked and hollowed out.

There was the sleeping area where Sam had sat next to me one afternoon and, for the first time, told me that he loved me; now the mattress was shredded, its foam and wool like snow on the floor.

In the back, the upper story had collapsed into the lab, crushing machines and crates filled with Menehem’s clothes and old gear. The cracked screen of a data console shimmered in morning light, which shone through holes in the roof and the open mouth of the rear door.

“Ana?” Sam’s voice made me turn to find him standing in the doorway, framed by light. “Are you okay?” He had our bags and my flute case, and behind him I could see Acid Breath peering suspiciously.

he muttered to one of the other dragons.

“Yeah. No.” I shook my head and tried to focus my thoughts around the exhaustion, the shock, and the constant ringing that came whenever dragons were near. “I wasn’t expecting this. But of course Deborl destroyed the lab. Of course.”

“There were earthquakes, too.”

I motioned at the springs ripped from the mattress, the whole thing sliced open like a prize waited inside. “Some of this was deliberate. And there were drones.”

Sam dropped our backpacks and laid the flute on top, his movements stiff under the dragon’s scrutiny. “It’s okay. Come back outside.”

Even as he spoke, the building gave a low groan and shuddered. He was right. It wasn’t safe to be in here, not after the earthquakes, too.

I trudged outside to find Stef and Whit off their dragon and removing the harnesses in silence. Buzzing filled my head as Acid Breath studied me.

“No.” I gazed north, toward the cave where I’d hidden the twenty canisters. “I’m going to check on it, but it should be safe. The ones who did this wouldn’t know where I hid the poison.”

Acid Breath huffed.

I gazed around the ruins, snow and ice and metal shining in the sunlight. “Here for a little bit, but not long. Maybe a night or two. Then we’ll return to the city. We can walk.”

“And if Deborl left someone to watch for us?” Stef asked.

“We’ll deal with them if it comes up.”

Sam nudged me. “The canisters. How will we carry them?”

With four people and twenty canisters as big as my torso, it would be impossible. I’d hoped to have more, though. Twenty . . . I couldn’t see how it would be enough.

Acid Breath narrowed his eyes.

That could work. “We’ll have to get them into the city somehow.”

Whit nodded. “And right now we don’t even know how we’ll get ourselves inside.”

Sam, Stef, Whit, and I glanced at one another. “When does Soul Night officially begin?” I asked.

“Sundown.” Sam’s voice was low and sober. “Soul Night begins as soon as the sun sets.”

Eleven more days.

Acid Breath asked.

I glanced at the others for suggestions, but when no one spoke, I said, “For now, put them in Templedark Memorial. The field of black obelisks.”

From the earthquakes. Yes. “I know. Put the canisters there, anyway. Can you do it at night so no one spots you?”

“You can be quick, can’t you?”

Acid Breath’s voice grated in my head.

“Then you’ll be fine. The darkness is so they won’t see what you’re doing. Most people in the city
want
Janan to ascend. They don’t want us to use the poison against him, because they’re afraid. They’re terrified of the unknown—what happens if Janan
doesn’t
ascend.”

“They don’t know what happens if he does, though,” Whit said.

I nodded. “But someone they trust—Deborl—told them it will be good.”

The dragon blinked slowly, and the other two swung their heads around to look at me.

“Maybe.” Or maybe they’d be too busy with Janan and whatever the cage was for.

“That’s what I’d prefer.” Though if he wanted to drown Deborl in a glob of acid, I wouldn’t mind.

The dragon’s grumble vibrated the ground.

I closed my eyes and thought about what places might be clear, what places would be easy for dragons to reach, while difficult for Deborl and his guards. “The Councilhouse roof. We can get into the temple from there, release the poison, and duck away quickly.”

“And we’ll fly onto the roof?” Whit asked. “Magically?”

“I’m sure Stef will come up with something.”

Stef sighed and nodded. “Of course I will.”

I motioned at Sam and the others to stay behind; they could start setting up camp. A handful of sylph came with us, melting snow and ice from our path.

“We can’t just ride dragons up to the city,” I muttered.

Besides, I wouldn’t subject Sam to another dragon ride if I didn’t have to. It seemed like we were safest if Sam and the dragons stayed far away from one another.

“Be careful with the canisters,” I cautioned. “If they open before we’re ready, we’ve lost. There’s only one chance.”

The dragons decided to wait until evening to take the canisters, but they stayed far out of our way the entire time they were in the area. We only heard them from a distance, crashing through trees and rumbling. Even the buzzing din of their dialogue was far away, allowing us to pick through the wreckage of the lab for a few hours in peace.

Little was salvageable. Stef found a few things she wanted to keep, and I found the canister that had been filling when we left the lab. There was nothing in it now—the poison had dispersed long ago—and there were no others lying around. So the lab had been destroyed shortly after we left.

I called Sarit to update her, and as evening fell, dragon thunder cracked the sky. We all went outside to watch Acid Breath and his friends take off, our hope clasped in their teeth and talons. Their bodies slithered through the air, scales reflecting the last rays of sunlight as they climbed higher and higher.

When they were out of sight, Sam’s posture relaxed, and we both retreated into the tent where sylph warmed our sleeping bags and heated a pot of soup.

-Animals are leaving Range.- Cris’s song was low, worried. The others hummed their concern, too.

They curled around us, closer than our own shadows, and in the heat I saw flashes of snow-choked forest with deer trails but no deer, trees with bird nests but no birds, and hollows with small animal dens but no small animals. Dry riverbeds, drained ponds with fish rotting in the bottom, and watering holes with prints stamped into the cracked mud. Hot springs were gone. Mud pools had hardened. Geysers hissed steam and nothing more.

-Range is falling apart. There will be little to eat until we reach Heart.-

And then there’d be whatever was in warehouses, no doubt closely rationed by Deborl. Sarit hadn’t mentioned she was going hungry, so I hoped she was doing all right. Water, we could at least get in the form of melted snow.

“Thanks, Cris.” Sam dropped to our sleeping bags and massaged his temples. Lines of weariness crossed his face, and circles darkened under his eyes. He needed a shower and shave. I couldn’t imagine I looked much better. “I’m so glad the dragons are gone.”

I sat next to him and rested my hand on his knee. “Me too. Though I’m relieved they’re helping, even if it’s because they’re trying to get rid of you.”

He winced. “It’s hard to accept that for the last five thousand years, they’ve been coming to Heart to find out whether I’m still alive, and then kill me.”

“Not just kill you, but destroy the place where your reincarnation happens. How do they
know
that?”

“I wish I knew.”

“And furthermore, how do they identify you every lifetime? Acid Breath made it sound like he could see the song in you, but what does it look like? How does he know? And is he the only one?”

Sam opened his mouth, but I wasn’t finished.

“He said they don’t reincarnate, but do they live longer than humans? Why are they so afraid of the phoenix song? They’ve made your death a
priority
for thousands of years, and not only is that rude, it’s just so
focused
. I just don’t understand. And you know, if they didn’t spend so much time trying to kill you, we might never have figured out that you have the phoenix song.”

He gave a soft snort. “I can give you a few answers, but there’s a lot we don’t know about dragons, and probably never will.

“I hate not knowing the truth.”

“That’s one of the things I love most about you. Your endless quest for the truth.” Sam wrapped his arm around my waist and hugged me close. “Well, they do live longer than humans. It appears that they’re effectively immortal—until they’re killed. There are a few we think are as old as Heart. Maybe older.”

“Maybe that’s why they’re so afraid of the phoenix song.” I glanced toward my flute case. “It seems to me those who think they’ll never die are the most afraid of death.”

“In some cases.” He brushed a strand of hair off my face. “And sometimes we finally grow wise enough to understand life is a gift that can’t—shouldn’t—last forever.”

“And the phoenix song . . . ends life?”

Sam shrugged. “I don’t know. The translations from the book are all over the place. Builds and destroys. Life and death. Consumes. Or maybe it’s none of those things.”

Maybe it was all.

His mouth brushed my cheek, then he leaned forward to ladle bowls of soup for each of us. “You played your flute for the dragons twice. What did you play?”

“My songs.”

He shot me a look. “They’re not—”

“I know.” I gave him the most innocent smile I could muster.

He chuckled and shook his head. “And hold your flute up straight while you’re at it.”

I grinned and accepted a bowl. “First I played my minuet. Then I played the one from the demonstration on market day.”

“None of mine.” Mostly he looked curious, but there was a tinge of hurt in his voice. “Why?”

“I wanted to do it on my own. With my music.” It hadn’t been completely on my own. The sylph had been there, as well as Sam’s influence. “I just needed to do it myself, as much as I could.”

“I understand.” His mouth turned up in a half smile. “I was curious if they’d reacted to the music at all, if there was anything in it we could use to figure out the phoenix song.”

“Whatever it is, it’s not in my music. It’s not in any of the parts you helped me clean up.” I closed my eyes, remembering sitting at the piano with him, music resounding around the parlor until it overpowered all my senses and made my whole body vibrate with life. “I’ll do what I said I would before: listen to your music and read the scores. Make note of any trends.”

Stef and Whit came in while we were washing our faces. They both looked grim and exhausted.

“I’ve been intercepting a few messages from within Heart.” Stef held up her SED. “Three dragons were sighted just north of the city, landing in Templedark Memorial. No one has mentioned canisters, but if anyone goes out there . . .”

“Maybe Acid Breath will think to hide them.” My optimism sounded forced even to me.

“Maybe.” Stef checked her SED again as she sat in front of the soup. “Guards have been on alert since the dragons flew over yesterday. They’re worried about another attack. Usually it’s a small attack followed by a much larger one, but these have broken the pattern. The same three dragons have come by twice and not attacked either time, so as you can imagine, Deborl is telling people everything they’re afraid to hear.”

Whit nodded and filled bowls for both him and Stef. “Deborl is saying the dragons are coming because of Janan’s ascension—they want to stop him—but Janan will protect them.”

“By now, of course,” Stef went on, “everyone publicly opposed to Janan’s ascension has left or been thrown in prison. So everyone Deborl is talking to is happy to listen to him, or too afraid not to.”

How many people were opposed? Enough to be worth attempting to contact them? Or free them?

“Has there been any talk about what Deborl sent Merton to gather?” Sam asked.

Stef glanced at her SED and scowled. “Nothing about what it is, just that he’s obtained the item and is on his way back to Heart. We’ll be hearing more about whatever it is pretty soon, I assume.”