The Silent Dragon: Children of The Dragon Nimbus #1 (11 page)

Beside her, P’pa stiffened and grimaced, then made himself relax. Why?

“Your Mama and Da know that the palace and Palace Isle are riddled with secret passages and forgotten rooms. I do not know if they have ever been through this one,” he replied.

Glenndon turned a tight circle, sniffing the air much like a cat or dog would, learning who had passed through here.

“You are both considered my heirs. You need to learn as many of the hidden paths as possible. I do not trust some of the lords to value your safety above their quest for power.” With that, P’pa turned sideways and took two long steps into the darkness. He disappeared as soon as his shoulders cleared the opening.

A heartbeat later, a torch flared, revealing him and a steep staircase of damp stone descending behind him.

Linda took a deep breath and followed. Fred had to push Glenndon into the passageway before closing the door behind them. She watched carefully, learning the stone that stood out from the others just a tiny bit. Fred pressed it hard, leaning most of his weight into it. He did not release his pressure on it until no light shone around the edges of the narrow door.

“If you ever need to reopen this door when it is mostly closed, you must wait until it closes fully, wait for the count of thirty, then press the latch again,” Fred explained. “Otherwise it will jam.”

The flickering torch created a small pool of light that separated them from the absolute nothingness beyond.

“Watch your steps, and learn them well. There may come a time when you have to move through here silently and without light. There are side passages that loop back, and others that end abruptly in deep pits, or narrow to the point where a grown man can become irretrievably wedged in an airless crawl space, as the roof changes height frequently and abruptly. These passages are for our safety. Make them a part of yourself and they will not betray you.” P’pa began the descent as he spoke.

“P’pa, why? How . . . ?”

“In my youth, when I first accepted the Coraurlia, others thought me unfit to wear the crown or lead Coronnan. They feared the dragons and their magic as much as they loved the idea of power and wealth. I had to run for my life and fight to the death more than once.”

Linda hurried after him rather than be left in darkness.

Fought to the death, more than once.
She shuddered with more than chill, suddenly not so easy with the privilege of being a princess. It came with a high price.

CHAPTER 15

G
LENNDON MOVED one foot forward cautiously. His boots slid on damp stone. He fought for balance. Cut off from sun and fresh air, with no landmarks, and no dragons to direct him, he lost connection with the magnetic south pole. His command of up and down, right and left deserted him. His very sense of self threatened to flee with the light they’d left behind. He needed to run back there, take off his boots and ground himself in the Kardia.

Fred grabbed his arm. “Breathe, boy.”

How could people breathe down here?

Fred slapped his back, forcing him to open his mouth. Rancid air filled his lungs. Enough. He’d survive a while, if not thrive.

Another cautious step, this one not quite so slick. His balance held but his head still whirled. A third step and he knew something was different about it. More than the absence of wet. The fourth step was absolutely dry.

He cast about him for an explanation. His eyes failed him. The torch gave him enough light to guide his steps but blinded him to anything beyond.

He needed to take his boots off to widen his senses through his feet. He would not touch the walls of this narrow tunnel with their layers of green slime. Boots should only be worn in the worst of weather to protect him from frostbite and snow.

Two more steps down, not quite so steep as the first half dozen. The light projected forward a bit further than before. He took one step down without looking at his feet. The stone dipped a bit in the center, cradling his foot. And it was warm.

In surprise he looked down, concentrating on the essence of stone. Hints of silvery blue light rimmed his foot.

A ley line? Da had taught him how to find and use the magic embedded in the land, along with lessons on how to gather dragon magic and hold it deep within him for a time. All magicians received basic lessons in both forms now. But using ley lines to power their talent took its toll on a man’s strength. It also limited his power to what he could dredge up through his own body. Alone. Dragon magic gathered from the air around them and held in reserve could be combined with the strength of other magicians in physical contact with each other. The strength of each spell grew exponentially with each magician added to the circle.

Ley lines should be reserved for emergencies when he had no dragon magic left, and no other magicians to draw upon.

He’d taught Valeria how to draw physical strength as well as magic from a ley line long before her tutors had. She seemed to need the lines to survive as much as she did to fuel her magic.

Greedily he drank in the power that beckoned him. Not much. The line was weak, not much more than a tendril. It would not travel far from the larger line it had branched from. It gave him enough
sight
to sense the dressed stones constructing this tunnel. The breaths of both Rosselinda and the king rasped in his ears. But not Fred’s.

(Blood link,)
someone whispered.
(You feel your father and sister through your blood. The other you must learn to attune your senses to.)

Who spoke? Surely not a dragon, though the words carried the tone and pattern of dragon thoughts. If the Kardia sapped the dragon magic he’d gathered unconsciously through the day, how could a dragon thought penetrate the depth of dirt and stone that separated him from fresh air?

(You are never far from us. You are one of us.)

He pressed onward, eyes shifting up and down, back and forth. The tiny ley line ran straight and true down the center of the tunnel, then stopped abruptly. The wall curved to the right. Ley lines could not shift direction. They only appeared to when they interested another line, or branched off of a larger one.

Ah, there, the parent line ran through the center of this new direction. But not for long. Another twist of stone and another line, then another. The stone work followed the lines.

A side tunnel branched off to their left. No line there. Secretly he smiled. Now he knew how to navigate this tunnel, and probably all the tunnels and underground passages.

Another jog onto the path of an even larger line.

Where were they all coming from?

Ley lines formed a web around all the world of Kardia Hodos, and according to legend, they ran off into the skies to guide the Stargods to and from this planet, their refuge. To cover the entire world, the lines needed space between them, intersecting rarely. In some places on the mountain he’d traveled half a mile or more to find and memorize the next line.

Here, beneath Coronnan City, traversing the multiple islands in the river delta that made up the capital, the lines seemed to converge and knot together.

(The Well of Life.)
That strange voice in his head again.

The Well of Life.
Ley lines, the Tambootie trees, dragons, and magic were all linked. Indigo had told him so. And there was a magically protected archives beneath the palace.

So much to think about. So much to learn.

By the time they climbed upward from bedrock beneath the river, Glenndon had so many questions he didn’t have time to fear the weight of the Kardia above him, or the confrontations he knew must come when he met the king’s court. And his queen. The woman who would become his substitute mother. He didn’t like this at all.

Jaylor leaned heavily against a boulder on the edge of an ancient rock slide—which was rapidly becoming a mountain meadow as new grasses and low shrubs sprouted through the thick layer of gravel. Baamin had deposited him here before flying home to the dragon nest. He slid to the ground and rested his head against sun-warmed rock.

Where were the Krakatrices coming from? Everyday, magicians and dragons killed another. This one was older, more experienced, sought a damming spot on a stream higher in the mountains and away from murderous villagers. Jaylor’d had no help, or interference, this time. That didn’t make the expedition any easier.

“
S’murghit,
I wish I had a Tambootie tree near,” Jaylor muttered under his breath.

He wished he’d had another master magician with him to share the burden of throwing magic as well as sharp objects.

Robb had gone out this morning; Marcus tomorrow. Both young men usually returned more tired than they wanted to admit. No one else had the skills to go snake hunting.

But dragon magic was getting harder and harder to gather. Ley lines were sinking deeper into the Kardia, not releasing their power so easily.

“The magic is going away. Slowly but surely.” Maybe that was why the Krakatrice infested the land.

And the Circle of Masters were either too old or unskilled to do battle with diminishing magic and mundane weapons at the same time. He wondered if any of the journeymen could be trained . . . ?

He needed to seek out old references, find out where the ancient menace originated and then suddenly appeared where it had no business living.

A rustle in the underbrush brought him out of his drowsy musing. He didn’t want to face people right now. So he remained silent, hidden from the forest by the boulder.

“We have to hold hands to make this work,” Lillian said. Her voice was a tone deeper than her twin’s; physically more mature.

“I know that,” Valeria replied, her light soprano tones squeaking a bit back into childhood range.

“But we aren’t gathering dragon magic. Women can’t do that. It’s impossible,” Lillian said, less certain then before.

“I know,” Valeria added wearily. “I’ve listened to all of Da’s lectures as well as you.”

Probably better,
Jaylor thought. Valeria had more interest in magic and less in cooking and managing the kitchen garden.

“We’re drawing power from the Kardia. Just like Glenndon taught us,” Valeria said, sounding like she was instructing her sister.

He peeked around his boulder to see the girls perched upon another sun-warmed rock between him and the chuckling creek, attention on each other, not their surroundings.
Careless,
he thought.

Lillian nodded uncertainly. They sat, crossed-legged, facing each other on the big flat rock. They joined hands, like they always did, never far from each other, always touching, two halves of a whole.

“I know we’ve never called a dragon before. But we really need to do this. Glenndon is in trouble,” Valeria reassured her sister. “I know how to do this.”

“For Glenndon,” Lillian repeated. She closed her eyes and drew a tune out of the air.

Valeria picked up the music. She could follow any tune, but when it came time to begin a song she could never find one. Or those she did find were wrong for the spell.

“Listen to Mama,” Lillian said. “Her music keeps her in contact with Shayla and the Kardia. All the time. For a dragon summoning song just listen to Mama.”

That made sense; Jaylor chuckled to himself, learning something obvious from his own daughters.

Jaylor closed his eyes and listened. Sure enough, lilting notes danced on the wind. He couldn’t imagine Brevelan without a song teasing her mouth and her eyes.

Then Lillian began singing in a voice reminiscent of her mother. Valeria picked up the words and the tune half a beat behind her sister.

Come to me,

Indigo,

Purple and blue,

Both in the glow.

Not much of a song but it would have to do. Intent was more important than the words.

The girls repeated the song, letting it fill the meadow, themselves, and Jaylor. He let himself vibrate in rhythm. Suddenly he felt better. Still tired and hungry, but no longer discouraged and aching with bone-deep fatigue.

The ground beneath his rump vibrated as the girls coaxed power from the Kardia to climb upward through their bodies, quicken with the music and grow and grow until they could contain the music no longer.

Simultaneously she and Lillian opened their mouths to release the music and the spell.

Jaylor needed to add his baritone to their music but refrained. This was their spell. They needed to complete it on their own. He needed to stay silent and observe to make sure they made no mistakes.

The music flowed out and out in visible tendrils of purple and blue and rust and yellow-tinged green entwined, sometimes in an organized braid, partly in knotted chaos. And they sang.

Valeria pulled more and more magic from the Kardia through her body. And when her strength flagged, Lillian took up the chore, her voice rising in a magnificent soprano full of depth and lyrical lilt. Together they told the story in harmony of their need for Indigo to come to them.

Jaylor felt how Valeria strained to maintain her part of the spell. White dots began to mar the growing perfection of the colored braid of magic. But still she sang.

Wind buffeted them. Valeria sagged and wavered. She leaned closer to Lillian, using her stronger body as a windbreak to keep her from tumbling into the creek. Or away from the creek.

A last long high note that symbolized a dragon calling across the void cracked in Valeria’s throat. It splintered the magic. The spell dropped back into the Kardia, bright dust, rapidly fading. Rich green saber ferns and moss along the creek absorbed it until there was no trace. It might never have been.

Tiredly, she coughed, and coughed again.

Jaylor half stood, ready to come to her aid.

Before he could move, Lillian dropped their clammy handclasp and pounded upon Valeria’s back. “You did it again! You promised you wouldn’t push yourself to exhaustion. How am I going to explain this to Mama?” she wailed.

So that’s what happened to weaken Valeria, she actually carried the spells with her stronger talent, and Lillian gave meager support.

Something to think about.

“Did we succeed?” Valeria croaked. She rested her head on her sister’s chest, breathing raggedly.

(Yes. You succeeded.)
Then on a brighter note, almost as an afterthought,
(Indigo here.)

Jaylor held his finger to his lips to signal that the dragon should not acknowledge him.

Indigo winked back, youthful humor across his face and rippling along his spines.

Jaylor knew the dragon would include him in any telepathic communication with the girls.

Sunlight bounced off his crystal fur that still held faint traces of juvenile silver. Soon, each strand of hair would reflect all light, forcing the eye of an observer to slide away, making him nearly invisible. Except for his horns, wingtips, and wing veins, so dark a blue it looked almost purple, or black, depending on the angle of the light. He shook spray from his outstretched wings and folded them neatly against his sides, hiding the outline of color. Only the horns dancing from his forehead down his spine to his barbed tail revealed his length, and therefore the breadth of chest needed to support him.

“Hello, Indigo,” Lillian returned the greeting for both of them.

(Little one,)
Indigo sounded concerned. He dipped his head so that his spiral head horn prodded Valeria’s shoulder in query.
(I heard your first note as if you were another dragon calling me. You need not have spent so much of yourself to complete the spell.)

“A spell must be completed and grounded. Otherwise stray magic will wander around uncontrolled seeking mischief,” Valeria parroted an early lesson.