On Fire’s Wings (27 page)

“Arukan will fall!” came the cry, uttered with fervor from several thousand male voices. Another chorus of cheers welled up, and the Emperor, looking down at the sea of men in armor from his perch higher on the mountains they were all about to cross, smiled slightly and waved.

The advisor's gray eyes flickered from the Emperor to the animal huddled at the stallion's feet. The ki-lyn's golden chain, so thin and yet apparently so unbreakable, went around its slender neck and arced upward to the Emperor's waist, where it was securely fastened.

As he regarded it, it craned its neck to look up at its master. Its blue eyes welled with tears and it sighed, deeply.

And as the tears rolled down the soft, golden-brown fur of its face, they turned to diamonds in the sand.

K
evla did not sleep after her encounter with Tahmu. The violence of Halid's killing, justified as it was, combined with the revelations that the
khashim
was her father and that Jashemi had been her half brother, kept her awake. The
sa'abah
curled up next to her, seeking her warmth and wheezing softly, and she tried to take what comfort she could from another living being.

She did not weep. She wondered if she would ever do so again. She felt desiccated and empty, only her mind alive, gnawing like a starving dog on a dry bone.

She made a decision. Both the heat and the cold were hard on her mount, but it seemed most affected by the chilly desert nights.
Sa'abahs
were herd animals, and no doubt at night they curled up together to keep one another warm. She would ride at night and sleep during the day; the exertion would keep her mount more comfortable. Clucking her tongue, she roused the sleepy
sa'abah
, mounted, and rode.

The days and nights blended into one another until Kevla lost count of how long she had been on this, her final journey. The hard ride and lack of food and water were starting to take their toll on the
sa'abah.
The path would not get easier, either. Few made the pilgrimage to Mount Bari itself, preferring instead to erect local shrines and altars to the Great Dragon as the Clan of Four Waters had done.

Compassion for the mute creature flooded her. The next settlement she came to, she traded the beast for a sack of dried fruit and meat and as many filled waterskins as she could carry. She was not challenged; either the greedy clansmen did not recognize her or else, more likely, Tahmu had called off the hunt for her. The
khashim
had gotten a bargain, for a young, healthy
sa'abah
was usually an expensive acquisition.

Kevla patted its long neck, kissed its soft nose, and continued on.

Her bare feet hardened to the task, and with each day the pack on her back grew lighter. She walked and slept as the desire took her, regardless of the time of day, and slowly the massive shape of Mount Bari, jagged and forbidding, drew closer.

From time to time, she rested and conjured fire. She had no need of it for warmth or cooking purposes, nor did she have any desire to see her father.

“Show me the Great Dragon,” she asked, but the fire never complied. She felt certain, though, when the time was right, she would see in the flames the enormous, terrifying creature that until so recently had haunted her dreams.

She also was aware that she was falling into a pattern that offered its own sort of comfort. She ate much less now than she had when she was at the House. A thin strip of dried meat and a handful of dried fruit seemed to be enough to get her through an entire day. Even though she was walking out in the desert, under an unforgiving sun, she seemed to need very little water as well.

She realized she was slowly detaching herself from the world of the living. She was not walking toward anything of this life; she was walking toward death. Bit by bit, she was deliberately pulling back, shedding things that kept her in this existence. To her shock, she sometimes felt a stab of happiness as she strode steadily along and the wind tousled her hair. The pain and the guilt were still there, but there was a lightness to her being that increased with each day that brought her closer to Mount Bari.

Gradually, Kevla worked her way through her supplies. She felt a brief stab of worry as she squeezed the last few drops of water into her mouth, washing down the last bite of dried fruit, then calmed herself. She knew she was on the right path. Whatever the Dragon decreed to be her end, she would accept.

She fell into an exhausted, dreamless slumber and awoke to a smell teasing her nostrils; a crisp, citrus scent that made her mouth water. She slowly opened her eyes, then started upright when she saw a plate of
paraah
spread before her. Four of her waterskins had been refilled.

Kevla's heart raced. She glanced around, trying to see who had done this for her. She saw no one, only the vast expanse of sand to the south and the ring of mountains on all other sides. No clan lived here, not even the nomadic ones. Who, then had—

She smiled, softly. “Thank you, Dragon,” she said as she reached for the fruit. He had provided, as she had trusted he would.

Her steps that day were sure and strong. The food and water strengthened and sustained her, and her purpose guided her. Food continued to appear each morning. Every time she stopped now, she tried to see the Dragon in the flames. Just as dusk was approaching one night, she realized that her steps were gradually going uphill. She was now at the foothills of Mount Bari.

Her mouth went dry. Dropping her pack, she quickly conjured fire. Her heart was beating wildly. She stared into the flames for a long moment, dreading and craving what she knew she was about to see.

Licking dry lips, she whispered, “Show me the Great Dragon.”

And he was there, his massive, reptilian face no larger than her palm, but every bit as frightening as it had been in her dreams. Kevla gasped. As she looked into his eyes, she knew he was looking back at her.

For you, Jashemi. My brother. My love.

She shook so badly that she almost fell as she stumbled to her feet. She wanted to stride boldly into the fire, but for a moment, she couldn't move.

Coward!
she thought.
This is your fate, Kevla. Accept it!

Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, Kevla stepped forward into the circle of flame.

She emerged on a rock ledge. Kevla was confused. Before, when she had stepped from her fire into Tahmu's encampment, it had been from her fire to his fire pit. Where, then, were the flames?

It was only then that she realized that she was surrounded by flickering sheets of orange and red. She took a step forward. Her foot stepped onto nothing. Kevla flailed to regain her balance, leaning back and clutching the sheer rock behind her. The ledge upon which she stood was only about as wide as her extended arm. It dropped off several feet into a liquid pool of fire.

Fascinated and terrified at the same time, Kevla gazed into the bubbling orange pool. Heat blasted her, and though she did not feel it on her skin, she felt the fabric of her clothing begin to burn and catch fire, as it had done when she stood on the pyre in the courtyard of the Great House. Feeling no shame, she plucked off what clothing remained and stood naked in the heart of Mount Bari.

As the moments passed, Kevla's fear abated somewhat. The narrow ledge, the pool of molten rock, the dancing flames that formed a circle and cast grotesque shadows—all were frightening. But the one thing she had most hoped and feared to find here had not appeared.

Where was the Great Dragon?

She shifted position on the ledge. A small pebble tumbled into the orange-yellow pool.

“Dragon!” she called. She tried to sound brave, but her voice quivered and she could barely hear it in her own ears. “Dragon, I have come! Where are you?”

There was no response.

Then, the pool beneath Kevla began to churn. Slowly, something forced its way through, swimming upward like the monsters of the river. The Great Dragon's head broke the surface of the viscous, liquid rock. Orange rolled down its long, scaly neck as it rose upward. Mammoth shoulders appeared next, and Kevla instinctively cried out and shielded her face as leathery wings beat and scattered molten droplets.

Kevla fell hard to her knees, lowering her arms from her head and wrapping them around her body. She shook so badly she feared she would topple forward into the pool of fire. It kept coming, a gargantuan creature birthed from flame. Its head towered over her. Kevla could not tear her gaze from it. All was unfolding as it had a thousand times and more, in dream after dream after dream….

Its sinuous neck twisted and the Dragon lowered its head down to her. She stared into the glowing depths of eyes that were as broad as her hand, mesmerized, the bird before the snake.

Its mouth opened, exposing sharp, white teeth the size and sharpness of daggers. Kevla stared into its maw. A forked tongue flickered in and out. She waited, breathless, terrified, for the question.

“DO YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE?”

She opened her mouth, and found it dry. No words came forth. Her gut clenched in horror. She had expected that at this moment, she would know the answer to this question, but she was as ignorant and frightened now as when she first dreamed this.

She shook her head mutely. The Great Dragon shook its own scaly head, opened its mouth again and then suddenly Kevla was engulfed in fire. She screamed in agony and curled in on herself. Surely this was its judgment, its punishment for lying with Jashemi, her own blood—

The fire was gone. Shaking, she opened her eyes to see the Dragon still staring at her with its horrible, yellow, implacable gaze.

“DO YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE?”

Kevla had thought she would never again weep, but felt her eyes burn with tears as she answered, tentatively, “I—I am Kevla Bai-sha.”

And she screamed as the wave of fire from the Dragon's mouth washed over her again, causing no injury but terrible pain. She clapped her hands over her ears, sobbing, trying not to hear the question; perhaps if she didn't hear it she wouldn't have to respond to it—

“DO YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE?”

She couldn't look at the Dragon. Curled on the ledge, she whispered, “I am the daughter of Tahmu-kha-Rakyn.”

A third time the fire enveloped her, and she almost lost consciousness. But the merciful blackness only teased her, and again came the question.

And again, and again. Each time, she tried to say something, anything, that might satisfy the fearful creature. Each time, she failed.

Sister of Jashemi. Daughter of Keishla. Servant of the House of Four Waters.
Nothing was right, nothing appeased the horrible monster, and Kevla wished that her father had cut her throat when he had the chance.

“DO YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE?”

Kevla was not even looking at it now. She was lost in agony and fear, her mind dancing on the brink of madness. She was nothing without her name, her beloved brother, her work, her identity in this world. She wondered if the pain she was enduring each time the Dragon breathed a sheet of flame upon her naked skin was anything like what Jashemi had felt when she had unwittingly killed him, unleashing the full force of her passion upon the one person in the world she cherished most.

She heard his voice again, the last words Jashemi-kha-Tahmu had uttered before she had reduced his beautiful body to a handful of ash, as he arched above and inside her—

My love, you are fire!

Kevla's breath caught. She blinked and wiped her hair, salty and stiff with dried sweat, from her face. The words echoed again, almost as if he were here with her, speaking them to her.

Oh, Jashemi….

My love, you are Fire!

“DO YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE?”

Her lips barely moving, terrified of giving the wrong answer yet again, Kevla whispered, “I am Fire.”

The silence was absolute. Kevla could hear her ragged breathing, her own heart thundering in her ears.

Slowly, fearfully, she lifted her head, and gazed into the face of the Great Dragon. She sensed that he waited, that she needed to say this again, to claim it, to believe it.

Slightly louder, she said, “I am Fire!”

And then the Dragon opened its jaws and she cringed, bracing herself for the inevitable assault of flame. Instead, the Dragon roared, its tail splashing the liquid fire, its wings beating and sending a powerful wind that lifted Kevla's hair. The sound assaulted her ears, penetrated to her bones, and Kevla opened her mouth in a soundless cry.

The ledge beneath her crumbled and she fell. Her body limp, she plunged into the liquid fire without struggling. She had expected the scalding heat of the Dragon's flame, but instead the thick fluid wrapped her like a blanket. She floated in its depths, eyes closed, feeling the liquid slowly flow into her mouth and ears, muffling sound, silencing speech. She was drowning in fire, but there was no fear, no struggle. She felt like she had come home.

Then something solid and hotter than the lava of the volcano's heart positioned itself beneath her, and she felt herself lifted out of the molten fire and pressed tightly to a scaly surface.

The Dragon held her in his forepaws as if it cradled an infant. Somehow, in her dazed state, she felt it probing at her mind. It nuzzled her thoughts like the
sa'abah
had nuzzled her face, tentatively asking admittance.

Euphoric, almost unconscious, Kevla permitted it inside.

 

The darkness was physical, calming, and soothing. Out of the blackness appeared a small light. It flickered, a tiny flame, then it grew until the light filled her field of vision. When it dimmed slightly, Kevla found herself standing on a mountainside. The sun blazed and the sky was a brilliant blue. A breeze blew, ruffling her clothes.