SpringFire (21 page)

“It’s something that … that blocks your power, keeps you from using it.”

“This is what he used on you before?” he asked in an astonished voice.

I nodded.

He shook his head in disgust. “I’ll have it destroyed. But I fear all this will delay your departure.”

“No!” I exclaimed. All I wanted now was to go home.

“My dear, surely you see that we must attend to these new injuries.”

“No,” I said again. “I’m strong enough to go home. Just a sprained wrist and a small cut.” I didn’t mention the growing ache in my mid-section where Kelben’s tail had struck me.

Breyard ran up just then. “What happened?” he gasped looking down at me in horror. “Why did you leave and not tell anyone where you were going? Where—”

“Where is the girl?”
A deep voice rang out, drowning out all other sound. Everyone looked around, trying to determine the source of the voice. Everyone, that is, except Botellin. With an awestruck look on his face, he stared at the stump. A net of magic spread out all around us.
“Answer me.”

It was the voice of Etos! I recognized it now. I reached up a hand to my brother, and he helped me to rise to my feet.

“I am here, Lord,” I said, trying not to sound frightened.

“Come to me.”

Botellin caught my eye, and I shrugged. What did Etos want me to do? The sage looked as confused as I felt.

“Come!”

Botellin gestured toward the stump, and I took the two steps needed to bring me right next to it.

“Touch me,”
Etos instructed.

Not knowing what else he could possibly mean, I held out my shaking right hand and placed it on the ancient wood. A thrill passed through me.

“Do not fear me,” Ethos said, and now I heard his voice in my head. “No, the others do not hear what I say now,” he replied in answer to my unasked question. “When we danced together in the ether, I tasted your mettle, and I approve you. Now I have tasted your blood, too.”

“My blood? How?”

“It splashed my skin.”

I looked down and saw that the basin in which Rennirt had been collecting my blood had indeed overturned and some of it now stained the base of the stump.

“You are hurt, else your blood could not have touched me,” Etos continued. “By your leave, I shall heal you now.”

“Heal me? Just like that?” I had heard of such things, of course, but mostly as a matter of legend. The power needed for that sort of thing had long gone out of the world.

“I have the power,” Etos said.

A strange sensation passed through my body, like the disturbance of a lightning storm inside my skin. It started at my toes and worked its way upward, making me feel both warm and cold, weak and strong. I felt like laughing and weeping, singing and dancing, and standing quiet and still, all at the same time.

When the sensation had passed, I stood next to Etos, my hand still pressed to his skin. For Etos was the tree and the tree was Etos. And now I was completely whole again, strong, and vital, and brimming with power, power that would be more than sufficient for the task at hand.

“Take a piece of me,” Etos said. “To remember.”

As if I could ever forget, I thought as I broke off a piece of wood.

I turned to the crowd of watching sages and dragons, and proclaimed, “It is time to go home.”

What is life?

What causes sap to flow and trees to soar skyward, flowers to bloom and fruit to burst forth, green things to grow again in Spring after Winter’s death?

What allows fish to thrive below water and birds to wing through the skies?

What is it that makes a heart to beat? That makes a newborn baby to cry? That makes one to fall in love with another?

What sustains life?

Air, food, and water, to be sure. Yet these things mixed together do not create new life.

There is a spark of which few have knowledge. Seek this wisdom.

~from
The Esoterica of Mysteries

Something in my manner convinced Botellin immediately. He looked deep into my eyes, then nodded. “As you say.” He placed a hand on my head. “Go in safety and in wisdom,” he said. “May our last danse together be mighty.”

“What?” That surprised me. “What last danse?”

“The one we do now—the one that will send the dragons back with you.”

My jaw dropped and I stared at him, speechless.

“Did you not guess?” he asked, his smile faltering a little. “Our experiment. Mixing the magics.”

I nodded, still not quite following him.

“You will lend your power, won’t you?” Botellin asked me.

“Well, of course. But why? I thought the dragons could transfer between the worlds at will.”

“Oh, aye, they can. The timing is the problem.” I frowned in confusion. Botellin continued. “When you return with Xyla, you’ll go back to the instant you left your world.”

I nodded. “Yes, that’s what Xyla told me.”

“Well, the other dragons, if they were to transfer naturally, would transfer to
this
point in time—almost two months after the time to which you return.”

“So, the magic you want to work, it’s to … ” My words trailed off as the enormity of what Botellin was suggesting struck me.

“To bend time and let the dragons return with you.”

“But … but what will happen if it doesn’t work?”

His eyes looked deep into mine. “We must make it work.”

I took a deep breath and let it out with a solemn nod. “I will join my maejic to your danse.”

The danse master smiled. “I knew you would. Together, our power will make right the ancient wrong. The red dragons will return to their place of power in your world—their world.”

I straightened my shoulders and stood taller. “Just tell me what to do.”

“Down here, we will danse. You will, of course, ride aloft. The dragons’ flight will be its own kind of danse. You need only bring your own power to bear, let it infuse our movements and resonate through the dragons. When sufficient power has been generated, Xyla will effect the transfer.”

“You make it sound simple.”

Botellin shook his head. “No, it is not simple. But I have tasted your power, as you have tasted mine, and I believe in my soul that we can accomplish this thing.”

Traz and Lini walked up just then. Botellin took Lini’s hands in his, and, without speaking aloud, they just looked into one another’s eyes. Their unspoken farewells floated on the air.

Breyard put his hands on my shoulders. “Goodbye for now,” he said. “Until we see one another again.”

I hugged him tight. When we pulled apart for what might, for all I knew, be the last time, I spoke the words I’d never said before. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he replied, a smile lighting his face.

He boosted me up Xyla’s side while Traz reached down his staff for me to grab onto. I took my place in front. Then they helped Lini up, and she sat between Traz and Grey. We waved and shouted our final farewells, and Xyla launched herself into the air. The other dragons followed.

My heart hammered in my chest. If I didn’t calm down, I wasn’t going to be able to make this happen. I closed my eyes and placed my hands on Xyla’s neck.

Clear my thoughts. Breathe deeply. Find my calm center. Open my inner senses. Absorb the power of the earth, the air, the life all around.

Through my link with Xyla, I began to perceive the pattern of the dragons’ flight. As Botellin had said, it was like a danse. The sages dansed below, and I felt a growing surge of their power. With a quick downward glance, I saw a solid block of red cloaks in the clearing far below.

I absorbed that power, focused it in my soul, and thrust it to the heavens. It shot from me like a rainbow, sending colors swirling through the universe. I felt lighter than air as my spirit dansed amongst the stars.

I knew every dragon’s name. And every sage’s. I sang their names in unison with the danse, making them into a song of hope and glory.

I was barely conscious of Xyla calling, “Now!”

Daylight disappeared and everything went black. Pinpoints of light in every color filled my vision. As they streaked across the sky, my eyes could somehow follow each one. My body flashed hot and cold, cold and hot, yet it didn’t hurt. At the same time, musical chords blasted through the air in a cacophony of brilliant music. I wasn’t flying on a dragon; I was flying on my own!

Then, with a painful rush, the sky burst into life again.

Green lightning shot up from the ground. With a scream, Xyla swerved to avoid it. I grabbed hold of Xyla tighter, in terror of falling off.

And then I saw a wondrous sight. Several hundred red dragons descended in formation toward the ground, all spewing fire.

There were only a few more lightning bolts after that, and the dragons charged down to where the sources were on the ground. Soon, a number of dragons skimmed the treetops, chasing those below.

I barely had time to see all this, however, as Xyla wheeled round and flew straight for the cave—and her babies.

As we drew near, though, more lightning—red this time—arced toward us from the trees. With a deafening roar, Xyla’s breath ignited. The lightning shot past, making the air crackle and my hair stand on end. Xyla plunged down to where the lightning had come from. All four of us riding her screamed. I was terrified she’d forgotten we were riding on her. Surely we would all slide off and fall to our deaths. The flames of her breath licked at us, though somehow it didn’t burn.

A figure in a black robe stepped clear of the trees, arms raised overhead and hands pointing at the dragon bearing down on him.

I braced myself for the lighting that must come any second. But Xyla folded back her wings for that last drop. A mighty swoop and roar, and her breath ignited the dragonmaster’s robe and the trees nearest to him. I didn’t look down as we regained altitude, trying only to focus on keeping my balance and to force my lungs to breathe despite my whole body being paralyzed with fear.

We leveled off and circled round. Once I regained my equilibrium, I looked down. Far below, several other dragons flew over a place where flames and smoke rose into the sky. We were too high to see any real detail on the ground, and I was glad of that.

When Xyla descended again, it was at a much gentler angle. She landed in the clearing before the cave and charged in without letting us dismount. Once inside, she came to a stop and we slipped to the ground.

I dashed straight outside again, wanting to see all the dragons again with my own eyes. Yes, they were there. We had done it!

Back inside, Xyla lay in her wallow surrounded by her babies. Everything looked exactly as it had when we’d left. It was strange to think that it was only this morning by Hedra time that we’d gone, though it seemed ages ago for the three of us.

A moment later, Yallick came running into the cave, his clothes dirty and his long hair disheveled. He skidded to a halt when he saw us.

“There you are, safe.” His gravelley voice sounded wonderful to me, my first clue that I’d actually missed him. “An amazing thing has happened, a wondrous and an exciting thing. Have you seen?”

“The dragons?” I asked. So many things had happened to me in what for him had been an instant; it would take some time to catch up with one another.

“Yes!” exclaimed Yallick, throwing his hands into the air in a very uncharacteristic way. “Hundreds of them! Red, fire-breathing dragons, just like the legends say.” He paused and looked closely at me, as if noticing something for the first time. “You do not seem surprised,” he observed.

“No,” I said, and I could hear the weariness in my own voice. “There is a long story to tell, but it will have to wait a bit. Suffice to say, we’ve been to Stychs and brought the dragons back with us.”

“Been … to … Stychs?” Yallick fell into a chair that was luckily not far away.

He didn’t say any more while I filled the kettle from a waterskin and put it on the fire. Despite my deep weariness, I felt pleased to have finally left my teacher speechless.

When I handed him his tea, Yallick sprang to his feet.
“What has happened to you?”
he roared, startling me and making me take a step back. He took my chin in his hand, gently but firmly, and turned my face so he could better see my cheek.

I felt my face go hot with embarrassment. Taking slow steady breaths, I willed myself calm. When he released me, though fire blazed in his icy blue-green eyes, his words were calm. “I see you have much to tell.”

“We do,” I said softly.

Yallick cleared his throat. “All right. With the understanding that you will tell me everything later, I will tell you what has happened here.” He gestured to the cave mouth, and we went outside.

“As you have probably guessed, the dragonmasters have attacked again. I am at a loss to know how they found us.”

I interrupted him. “Anazian.”

Yallick eyes went wide with shock, then he sighed. “Yes, of course. How did I not think of that? You are surely right.”

“I wish I’d killed him,” I said.

Yallick’s eyebrows shot up.

“Don’t look at me like that,” I said. “If I had, none of this would’ve happened.”

Yallick took one of my hands in both of his. “And neither would the red dragons be here in fulfillment of the prophecy.”

“No, I suppose not,” I said.

I walked over to the mouth of the cave and looked up into the sky. Dragons flew overhead in a sparse pattern. There weren’t nearly as many as had come, and I wondered where the others had gone.

Xyla’s voice spoke inside my head. “To the desert. They can live there in obscurity until we sort things out here.”

“Sort what things out?”

She chuckled. “You do not think that the sole purpose of them coming was to save me from the dragonmasters, do you? No, little one, there is much yet to be done to reestablish us in our proper place.”

More of that prophecy. I shook my head.

Yallick stood next to me and put a hand on my shoulder. “There is another reason that it is well you did not kill Anazian. Taking the life of another affects us the rest of our lives. It is not a thing to wish to be done if one can avoid it. You did well in not killing him.”

“Never really had the chance,” I muttered.

“Then the wishing is immaterial.” He sighed. “I will not pester you to tell me your tale, though I warn you, I burn with curiosity.”

I turned to him with a small smile. “I promise I won’t make you wait long.”