The Dragondain (19 page)

Ren released Newlin’s arm, taking a step back in horror. “A dread-knight! In the fens! Surely it’s living in Castle Fendragon. And it won’t be alone.”

“This changes nothing,” said Darce, her eyes darting to Falin and Grimm. “We’re just going for a look.”

“We’ll have to hike in through the city,” said Ren. “And while I’ll grant you the streets will be dark and abandoned, Castle Fendragon will not. It glows still. And if there
are
others, they’ll have a watch!”

“There would be no reason for a watch. They would have no reason to expect
anyone,”
countered Annora.

Castle Fendragon!
thought Lily. She had long imagined walking its halls and climbing its towers. But not empty of its generous populace and enlightened dragons, surrounded by reeking fens.

Ren took another backward step. “I don’t—this isn’t what I was expecting, Annora.”

“She doesn’t have to come,” said Bree to Annora. “She could take the horses back.”

“Not by herself, Bree,” said Annora.

“Nye could go with her,” offered Bree.

Annora thought hard. “I have a feeling we’re going to need Nye. But if Grimm or Falin were willing to take her, that would work. Grimm! Come here.”

Grimm set down his pole and moved to the center of the boat.

“Ren has changed her mind about coming. Would you be willing to take her and the horses back?”

“Just the two of us?” protested Grimm. “Don’t you think it would be better to stop at a closer homestead? We must have slipped past a dozen of them on our way here.”

“No. They’ll ask questions. They’ll know we’re not at old Pym’s homestead,” said Annora.

“They’re going to find out we’re not at Pym’s eventually,” said Prin. “That can’t be helped. But what will it matter? You’ll be well on your way by then. They won’t be able to stop you.”

Annora turned and looked out into the fens. “Damn,” she muttered softly. “That’ll be two less.”

“One less,” said Lily. “You weren’t expecting me to be here.”

Ren and Grimm walked to the edge of the boat and faced the shore.

“You really don’t mind?” asked Ren.

“No,” said Grimm.

Ren grabbed his arm. “You’re lying. I can tell, you know. You want to go with them.” Ren lowered her voice to a hush. “I want to go, too, but I’m scared.”

Grimm put his arms around Ren and gave her a reassuring hug. “There’s nothing wrong with being scared. If I had to guess, I’d say the only one here who isn’t a little scared is Darce. And that’s only because . . . well . . . she’s Darce.”

“You’re scared?” asked Ren. “How could you be scared? You charged a blackmage!”

“We had Ember with us. She did something to us. Before that, I’d been shaking so hard I couldn’t have stood.”

“She threw a powerful enthuzelus spell. She threw it on all of us.”

“Is that what that was? It made all the difference. Without it, that blackmage would have had no problem escaping.” Grimm swung a leg over the edge of the boat.

“Grimm,” said Ren quickly.

“It’s okay. It’s not deep here. Don’t worry, I’m not going to sink like a rock or anything.

“No. It’s not that.”

“What?”

“I know the enthuzelus spell. My father taught it to me. It wouldn’t be as good as Ember’s, but it
would
be helpful if we met up with a—.”

Grimm hesitated.

“I’m sure Annora and Bree know it too. We’ll be fine.”

“If you meet a blackmage, or a dread-knight, you’ll need Annora and Bree pulling spells out of their peerins that I’ve only dreamed about.
I
could be helpful at a time like that.”

Grimm took Ren gently by the arm. “Come on, now. You’re second-guessing yourself.

“No.” She twisted loose. “I’m staying. I’m needed.”

Grimm continued to sit with one leg over the edge of the boat. “Are you sure? I don’t mind, really. I know you think I do, but I don’t. I plan to have many adventures. I don’t mind missing this one.”

“You’re lying,” said Ren.

“I am not.”

“Yes, you are.”

Grimm swung his leg back into the boat. “How can you tell?”

Ren folded her arms. “Because I can.” Then she walked slowly back to the navigation boards.

“Okay, I’m in,” Ren said to Annora, who raised her eyebrows. “I still have questions, though.”

Newlin sighed, pausing once again with peg in midair.

“Couldn’t there be other holes—holes even
you
can’t see? And how do you know these are the very two pegs the blackmage used?”

Newlin gave her an approving look. “Well, you have a point. If there are more holes, and if we are only, say, midway through our return trip, then when we reach Perianth, these two holes may very well disappear.”

“So how would we get back?” said Ren.

“I wouldn’t know until it happened. But even if I couldn’t figure out how to make the holes reappear, we could easily sail and pole our way back. However, to answer your earlier question,
I
think there
are
more holes—we just haven’t mastered how to reveal them. It’s important, I think, that Beck and I go slowly in our learning. These dark peerins are a tricky business.” Bree slipped under Newlin’s arm and pressed her cheek against his chest, hugging him tight.

“A dangerous business, I’d say,” said Annora through gritted teeth.

Newlin touched his fingertips to his forehead, a look of worry clouding his features. “I can’t control him, Annora. I never could. We knew that going into this.”

“We shouldn’t have included him,” said Annora.

“I disagree. Beck has a talent for getting into places he doesn’t belong. I never would have gotten these boards open without his help.”

“He’s acting very strange, Newlin, even for Beck,” said Annora.

“I wonder
why?”
returned Newlin with a pointed look.

Annora studied her shoes. “That’s not my fault.”

Ren waved her hand between Annora and Newlin. “This isn’t the time.”

“Right you are,” said Newlin. He held up the destination peg once more. “Everyone! Hold fast.” And he sank the peg into the hole that marked Perianth.

The boat pitched larboard—to the left—with a jerk, the hull plowing through the water as they came about, propelled now by an unseen power. As the open fens came into view, the boat righted itself and picked up speed. Darce, Grimm, and the others stowed their poles and checked their weapons.

Darce soon began giving orders. To Byrne, she pointed out a small platform on the mast. It looked just large enough for someone to sit in. He scrambled up the mast, keeping his bow at the ready. Nye stood watch on the boat’s bow, while Grimm and Falin paced larboard and starboard.

“What is she doing?” Lily asked Annora.

“We’ll need to navigate through the flooded fields surrounding Perianth. Best to be ready. Just be thankful she doesn’t think we
all
fall under her direct command,” said Annora sourly.

“Don’t speak too soon.” said Newlin under his breath. “Here she comes.”

Darce posted herself at the navigation board, pushing Bree to one side. Bree detached herself and slunk back. “Are you ready for the
fetch lights
?”

Newlin laughed nervously. “You mean the merry moon dancers?” he said, making mock-spooky gestures with his arms and hands.

“Call them what you like,” cautioned Darce with deadly calm. “Do you have a plan of action for when or if we encounter one?”

Newlin shifted uneasily on his feet but couldn’t think of anything to say.

“Newlin, go to the bow and talk to Nye. He’s seen them before. Maybe you can learn something.”

Newlin glanced at Annora, obviously displeased that Darce’s good suggestion made him look weak.

When Newlin stepped away, Darce rounded on Annora and Bree. Bree shuffled behind her sister and began gnawing on a fingernail. Annora, however, advanced a step, meeting Darce head-on, eyes sparkling fiercely.

“What is it, Darce?” she asked.

“Do we have any way to hide this boat?”

“Father has always said that at this time of year the deep fens are as black as a darkward night.”

“We’re far from darkward, Annora.” Darce flung an arm up to the three moons hanging above them. “Just look at them. We’re clearly in the middling. All it would take is one unfortunate break in cover and we would stand out like a—”

“And be careful how far you push Newlin, Darce. He’s not one of yours. As to the fetch lights, there are dark wards in place all about this boat. The wards aren’t drawing off any of us, or Newlin. They seem to be drawing their power from . . . everywhere, which means they were put into place by someone very powerful. No fetch lights will easily cross these wards.”

Ren tugged on Lily’s arm, pulling her toward a shallow nook under the boat’s bow. When they were safely out of earshot, Ren said, “Darce knows that I can shoot a bow. I don’t want to end up sitting behind Byrne all night. Maybe we can pretend we’re doing something together.”

Lily nodded. “Sounds like a plan. So what will we be doing? And what are fetch lights? Are they like will-o’-the-wisps?”

“I’m going to be preparing a spell. I want to try and store it in my peerin, for later. And as to fetch lights, I’ve heard them called many things, elf-fire, fool’s fire, deadman’s candles, but never that will-o-thing you just said.”

“Deadman’s candles . . .” said Lily. “Like you’d see in a cemetery?”

“That sounds right,” said Ren. “But fetch lights are more likely to draw you to your death, rather than mark it.”

“Lovely.”

Lily and Ren crossed their legs and sat facing each other. Just above their heads, they could hear Nye and Newlin talking on the bow, but the meaning of their words was lost to wind and wave. Ren placed her hands together, elbows out, palm touching palm. Pulling them apart, she formed her peerin. Lily watched with great interest.

Lily placed her own palms together, just as she had done at Raewyn’s. “So . . . how does a peerin work? How do you learn to make one?”

“If I’d thought to bring my teaching mask, I’d try and show you. But without one, it’s impossible to teach even the basics.”

“What’s a teaching mask?” asked Lily. Cora had said nothing about a teaching mask.

Ren spoke something into her peerin that the moon coin couldn’t translate.

“I’m bothering you, aren’t I? I’m sorry. I’ll be quiet.”

“No . . . it’s okay. . . . Besides, if we don’t talk, Darce will think we’re goofing around. We’ve got plenty of time on our hands, and . . . by the ninth moon!”

“What?”

“I’ve never—.”

“What!”

“Well, it appears I’m sitting across from a lodestone of unimaginable proportions.” Ren gazed at Lily in wonderment. “Know anything about that?”

Lily touched a hand to the reassuring lump of the moon coin under her vest. “It’s not me. It’s the pendant on my necklace. It does a lot of things I don’t understand.” Lily placed her palms together. “So . . . the teaching mask.”

“Right. We first learn about lunamancy using a teaching mask. Any accomplished lunamancer can make one, but it takes time. It can look like any kind of mask, as long as it has eyes cut in it. When a lunamancer makes a teaching mask, it’s attuned to
her,
to her knowledge, to her peerin. Say I wanted to teach you something. . . . You would put on
my
teaching mask, and I would form my peerin. You would then form your peerin, but instead of seeing very little, or nothing, since you’d be new at this, you’d see what’s in my peerin, only it would look, through the eyes of the teaching mask, like it was in
your
peerin. If I then did something in my peerin, you would see the change reflected in yours.”

“How would I work what I saw?”

“You can’t. You can only watch. Only I can affect what’s in my peerin. You would just be . . . observing.”

“And learning.”

“Right! It’s very difficult to learn things in the beginning. But after you have the basics down, after four or five years—”

“Years!” said Lily, dropping her hands into her lap.

“Well,” laughed Ren, “I told you it wasn’t easy. But once you get the hang of it, you can start building things, simple spells mostly. Harmless stuff. After about eight years—”

“Eight! When did you all start?”

Ren laughed again good-naturedly. “Well, Bree formed her first peerin when she was fourteen months old. But that’s really unusual. Most people form their first peerins when they’re three or four. I formed mine at two,” she said proudly.

Lily placed her hands together again. “So if I were to form my first peerin it would be—”

“Blank.”

Lily pulled her hands apart, but nothing happened. “Is there something I should concentrate on?”

Ren shrugged her shoulders. “It just kinda happened for me. Mama says I’d been trying for months. I remember being really happy!”

“You were two! How do you remember that?”

“Wait, have you tried to form a peerin before?”

Suddenly Lily was sitting side-by-side with Jasper and across from her uncle. “
Like this, Uncle?”
said the four-year-old Lily, pulling her hands apart. “
Just like that,”
said her uncle, beaming. “
Someday, you’ll be a most impressive Lunamancer, I’ll wager,”
he said. “
What about me?”
asked Jasper. “
And you too, Jasper.”
Ebb smiled his crooked smile and raised his hand up like he was suddenly in great danger
. “Now be careful where you point those things, you two.”
And then they all laughed.

“You mean a real one?”

Ren looked up from her peerin with an odd look on her face. “What other kind of peerin is there?”

“I tried to form my first one earlier today.”
My first real try.
“This will be my second attempt.”

Ren laughed so hard she lost control of her peerin, and it disappeared with a small crackling “pop.” “Oh no!” she said, laughing louder. “Now I’ll have to start all over again!”

“What’s so funny?”

“I don’t know. I guess it was the look on your face.”

Lily chuckled. “Well, come on! I didn’t know it would take
that
long!”

“It’s just—since this is your second attempt—it could be months before—”

Lily pulled apart her palms and formed her first peerin.

“By the moons!” Ren gasped. “Not so fast! Hold it together! Keep your fingers and thumbs together. Don’t let them come apart! Try and keep the opening as much like a rectangle as you can. Spread your other fingers a little more. That’s it! Lily, you’ve done it! You’ve formed your first peerin!”

Lily peered into the open rectangle outlined by her thumbs and index fingers. With the exception of the slim ring on her finger, which had begun to blaze with a fierce light through its one small stone, everything seemed normal. “What do I look for?”

“Lily, it’s your first peerin. You won’t see a thing.”

As Lily continued to stare, small points of light began to form. They seemed far away, first dozens, then hundreds, then a sea of them. They were rising, as though from deep below. “I’m seeing . . . points of light.”

“Points?” said Ren. “If anything, you should start by seeing a couple simple lines of power, all in pale blue.”

“It’s like a big swarm of fireflies coming closer. I can feel . . . them.”

Ren ran her fingers through her hair. “Lily . . . try and concentrate on just one of them, even just part of one of them. See if you can get an understanding of what it’s connected to.”

Lily tried to pick out one of the closer ones. “There are so many. They’re . . . sad? No. Not sad. They . . . Oh God! . . . They’re dead! Oh God! They’re all dead!”

“Fetch lights!” breathed Ren. “We’re over the fields of the dead! They’re rising from the floor of the fens. Don’t look at them, Lily, collapse your peerin! Push your hands back together—it’s easier than pulling them apart!”

Lily pushed her palms back over themselves and closed her peerin. Ren jumped up and pulled Lily to her feet. They were standing on eye level with Newlin’s and Nye’s shins. Both of them had their peerins drawn, their knees bending as they balanced on the rising and falling bow. Byrne stood on the short platform, bow drawn. Darce, Grimm, and Falin had their swords out. Annora and Bree stood to either side of the navigation boards, peerins formed before them. All around the boat were hundreds of flickering lights, swirling and bubbling just below the surface of the water. Lily felt a shudder course through the wooden timbers beneath her feet. The boat was slowing; the wind dying; the water that had surged at the bow was going slack.

“What’s going on?” Darce yelled to Annora.

“I don’t know,” said Annora. Then she turned to face the bow. “Newlin! Nye!”

Just then one of the flickering lights surfaced and shot toward the bow of the boat, wailing, and smashed into something. Following a loud crack, the light burst into a tall plume of fire. Lily thought she could almost make out the form of a body, in the flames, screaming and writhing. A second later it exploded, dispersing a fan of green fire in all directions.

“That was the ward’s doing, Annora,” reported Newlin.

“What do they want?” she shouted.

“I don’t know. I never heard of them attacking, or massing in numbers. Normally, you only hear about them luring someone away. It’s like they’re being drawn to something.”

“You mean like moths?” asked Bree. But before Newlin could answer, Bree said, “Byrne, are there more of them one place than another?”

Byrne uncocked his arrow and swung about the mast. “There are more near the bow.”

A second light shot toward the bow and smashed into the side, erupting into a screaming pillar of flames.

Newlin and Nye staggered as the bow pitched violently. They managed to keep their footing, but Newlin came very close to stepping off the bow before recovering—all the while miraculously keeping his dark peerin intact.

“Lily!” screamed Bree. “Come here!”

As the boat pitched upward, Lily ran to Bree, picking her steps on the wet deck as best she could.

“Bree!” yelled Byrne. “They’re shifting toward the mast now.”

Bree grabbed Lily’s arm to steady her. “You’re attracting them, Lily. They’re trying to pass the wards to get to you, but the wards are destroying them.”

“What do you want me to do?” yelled Lily.

“I was hoping you wouldn’t say that,” said Bree tensely.

“I don’t know anything about them.” The boat dipped, and Lily brought a hand up to steady herself. The light coming from the ring caught her eye. From far away, even over all the noise and screaming, Lily thought she could hear someone softly humming a tune.

Bree tried to steady Lily. “Annora, we need to shield her somehow.”

Ren made her way over to them then, just as another fetch light blew apart. Then three more slammed into the side all at once. The boat pitched violently and the girls fell to the deck. Lily regained her footing, glanced to the bow, and saw only water pouring over it.