by Jodi Meadows
One of her guards pressed his shoulders down and didn’t quite hide a scowl, and I got the sense there was an old argument in there: he wanted to keep her as safe as possible, while she was strong-willed and the one who made the rules anyway.
But surely she would be safe in her own city. Even if she wasn’t, a cadre of mounted guards surrounded the carriage as we moved down the long flagstone drive, passing fountains and statues and huge monuments to imperial heroes and accomplishments. Our guide enthusiastically described battles and conquests, filling the interior of the carriage with stories of lives and adventures I’d never even considered.
How strange to think of history marching along here, at the same rate it had in the Fallen Isles, but so different from ours. And all this time, we’d been unaware. Not that people lived here—of course we’d known that—but of their lives and struggles and triumphs. Still, it didn’t affect us, at least not that we could discern, so most of us had never paused to consider all these lives lived and lost parallel to ours.
I listened to the guide speaking, my gaze fixed out the large window nearest me. Sigils were scratched into the glass, allowing us to see outside. But, when viewed from the other side, the glass seemed darker, almost opaque.
Not only did their history move along a different path than ours, intersecting only now, but even their magic was different. It was a wonder that our languages and writing had remained so similar after two thousand years.
Unless we hadn’t been all that separate.
As the carriage sped down the main avenue that ran out of the city, LaLa stayed perched on my knee, preening. Her teeth clicked against hard, smooth scales, drawing glances from the empress and her guards.
The way Apolla looked at LaLa, I could tell she wanted to hold her, but she was too polite to ask. And I wasn’t about to offer. Paorah had already sold seven dragons to the Algotti Empire, and I wouldn’t give them another, even for a moment.
I stroked down the ridge of scales along LaLa’s spine, earning a soft purr, and looked at the buildings we drove by. Close to the palace, everything was big and opulent, dripping wealth like raindrops suspended on a spiderweb. As we moved farther out, the buildings were not as lavish, but still impressive. Everything had a uniform style that suggested a city planned well in advance and built to last centuries.
“Why is the city called Sunder?”
Mekka stopped midsentence—I’d barely realized she’d been talking—and peered at me, as though she’d known I’d slipped into my own thoughts but she’d kept speaking because she didn’t want the empress to see her frustration. “The name of the city?” The guide frowned. “Well, that’s the eternal cycle. Beginnings and endings and beginnings again. Sunder is named for an ending. Stories of the actual events are vague, lost to time and poor record keeping.” She said the last part with a tone that suggested she felt personally slighted.
“We know dragons were involved,” said Apolla.
“Because of the skeleton in your throne room?” I lifted an eyebrow with practiced curiosity—not too much, but enough to seem genuine.
“Yes, most likely.” Mekka picked up the story, happy to have an interested audience at last. “Several other fragments were found along the coast, at least according to records inherited from the Sundered Lands’ previous occupants.”
“Where are those bones?” Ilina asked.
“In reliquaries and museums throughout the region, close to where they were first discovered. All Algotti emperors and empresses have understood the importance of territories retaining their history.”
Who was she trying to convince? Us? Or was she placating Apolla?
“And the obsidian dragons?” I asked. “The pair at the mouth of the river.”
Mekka nodded. “They, too, were present long before the empire came to the Sundered Lands.”
“Gods willing,” Apolla said, “they’ll be there long after.”
Now there was an interesting revelation. She didn’t think the empire would last forever.
I must have shown my surprise, because Apolla just smiled. “I’m no fool, Hopebearer. I know empires end. I can only hope the Algotti Empire endures beyond my reign, and that nothing I do causes it to fall.” Her gaze shifted to the street outside. “The eternal cycle gathers up everything in its path. Even, one day, my land.”
Sunder. The split between the old and the new world. I closed my eyes and remembered the dreams—the first dragon sweeping down over the land, shooting fire so hot the cliffs ran like liquid.
How interesting to learn the truths of the Sundering had been lost here. Then again, they had largely been lost in the Fallen Isles, too. Time eroded everything.
Apolla’s voice turned gentle. “Perhaps it’s insensitive to wonder aloud at the Algotti Empire’s unknown ending, considering everything you’re going through. Please forgive me.”
“It’s only natural to think about now,” I murmured, “when we are here because our world is ending. Of course you’ll think about yours, too.”
“Is there anything you can do to prevent it?” she asked. “Surely you must be able to find some way to appease your gods, persuade them to stay.”
My heart twisted, but I pushed aside my worries about the sacrifice; I couldn’t let them distract me here. “Dragons were meant to entreat the gods on our behalf. But our ancestors didn’t take care to ensure their survival, and so . . .”
Empress Apolla frowned thoughtfully, but she didn’t offer to let us take these dragons back to the Fallen Isles. Perhaps she knew these few would make no difference, or perhaps she simply didn’t want to let them go.
We drove the rest of the way in easier conversation. The empress inquired about Crystal’s body language, and Ilina answered gladly—it was easier than discussing the end of either of our worlds.
While they talked, I petted LaLa and let my mind wander down the threads already formed with the dragons waiting in the park. Now that we were getting closer, the shapeless horror of their illness grew stronger. I could feel the darkness of their thoughts, the empty weight of their limbs, the undefined boundaries of their bodies and minds.
It felt the same as the dragons back in the ruins above Flamecrest, but lonelier, if that was even possible.
The distance. It had to be the vast distance between this park the empress’s people had devised, and the dragons’ gods. Their families.
“I’d love to hear about the sanctuaries you built in the Fallen Isles,” Apolla was saying. “How do you persuade the dragons to come to them? How do you make them stay?”
“We don’t make them stay.” Somehow, Ilina managed to keep her tone light, but I could almost hear her internal scream. “They know they’re safe there. That is why they stay.”
Apolla nodded to herself. “I see.”
At last, we drove past the last of the fine, orderly buildings, and fields opened up, offering a view of a depthless blue sky and a wide, lazy stretch of the River Akron. Mountains stood sharp in the distance.
Then we arrived.
The dragon park was similar to the sanctuaries at home, but with a decorative wall rather than the imposing structure that stood between public and sanctuary lands. These low walls wouldn’t keep even children out.
We took a path into the park, driving by yet more imperial guards, and finally the carriage stopped. When the guards ensured the area was clear, we were allowed to exit.
I couldn’t imagine where anyone thought attackers would hide. The park was all flatland with only a few unfamiliar trees pushing up through the ground. The river splashed in the distance, and aside from that, the only interesting features were a small (guarded, obviously) building and the path of glowing white flagstones.
And the dragons.
The seven of them were tangled together, their bodies twisted and lying on top of one another, as though they’d pulled close for comfort and then just never had the energy to move apart. If not for the different colors of their scales, it would have been i
mpossible to tell where one dragon ended and the other began.
“Oh, seven gods,” Ilina breathed.
“Can you help them?” The empress looked from Ilina to me. “Others have tried, but without success. I did send a message to ensure their chains were removed.”
“They were chained?” Horror tinged Ilina’s tone black, but she’d known already; I’d told her last night. “How long have they been like this?”
The empress shook her head. “Decans. They were carried aboard one of our own ships, fast enough to bring them here with minimal time in a closed space. The Anaherans said the dragons had been sedated and would awaken within a few days, so my people took them up the river to this park, which was prepared solely for them. True to the Anaherans’ word, the dragons awakened, but they were wild. They breathed fire and nearly killed a man; they were chained down for safety.”
My stomach turned over. I wanted to be sick.
Had Paorah explained nothing to her? Had she believed these dragons—living dragons—would be as docile as the skeleton in her throne room?
“They did calm after that, but they crawled into a heap and refused to move.”
Ilina reached for me, and I took her hand. On our shoulders, LaLa and Crystal clucked and worried, but they didn’t try to lift off. Maybe they’d understood the part about chains.
“I’ll—” I shook my head. “I’ll try to comfort them a little.” I looked at Ilina. “Perhaps you should speak with the keepers.”
Faint hope filled her eyes as she passed Crystal’s leash to me. “Good idea. Hristo?”
“I’ll stay here,” he said. “Where I can see both of you.”
Ilina walked toward the building, both hands pressed against her stomach. She hesitated in front of the opening door and then rushed to meet her father, who appeared in the doorway. I watched for a moment, allowing myself a breath of relief and happiness for her.
Then I turned toward the pile of dragons.
The rise and fall of breathing was almost imperceptible; I could feel it through our connection more than I could see it. Scales ground against scales, horrible and painful in the back of my head; LaLa whined and shifted from side to side.
I looked at the empress. “It isn’t normal for big dragons to form piles like this. It isn’t normal for them to want to be anywhere near one another. Dragons this size are lone predators, and territorial. With the exception of visiting mates, they rarely meet. That’s why sanctuaries are so big—to allow them to avoid seeing another dragon for decans at a time.”
“Then why . . .” The empress didn’t finish her question.
She already knew the answer.
I shifted both leashes into one hand as Crystal perched on my arm, while LaLa lorded over her from my shoulder. “You should wait here,” I told the empress.
A surprised frown crossed her face, but it vanished quickly. She wanted an explanation, but I wasn’t going to offer one. Hristo could, if he wanted.
I headed toward the dragons; they needed my care more than anyone else here.
My boots crushed soft grass, then scorched soil. LaLa clucked by my ear, and when I followed her gaze, I saw tracks of bent grass where the chains had been dragged away. Sickness writhed in my stomach.
Finally, I reached the nearest dragon: a Drakontos mimikus, colored blue like the softest of skies. I walked around the mound, finding two ignituses, a maior, a maximus, and a rex.
Only six.
Then I found the seventh, completely covered by the others: Drakontos titanus. Like they’d come to him—the biggest of all—for protection.
My heart broke to see their scales dulled, missing in some places where the shackles had rubbed those first days, before the dragons had stopped moving. Their talons were yellowed and cracked, and—when I held my palm toward the closest dragon—their bodies felt cool.
Along the threads that connected me to them, I felt only an expanding darkness. Silence. Nothing.
My throat closed up and tears stung my eyes. They were so, so sick. Worse than the dragons in the ruins. That darkness in their minds was death, and they were only a breath away from it.
“What is Mira doing?” The voice belonged to Ilina’s father, Viktor. “It isn’t safe so close to the dragons.”
“Trust her,” Ilina said. “She can help them.”
I pressed my free hand against the maior’s left flank. She might have been a statue.
“I’ve done everything I can,” Viktor said. “But no medicine or magic will help them. They’re going to die.”
They were going to die.
The words turned over in my head, sickening. The high magistrate had not only given away seven dragons, but he was killing them, too. Murdering them. Hastening the Great Abandonment.
Had these poor dragons even felt Idris rise? What about the second? Or the island last night?
Did they know their world was falling apart?
I listed toward the dragons until the front of my body pressed against cool scales; the edge of a scale scraped over my scar. Crystal and LaLa readjusted themselves, clicking as they rubbed their noses on the bigger dragons’ sides, doing their best to offer comfort.
“Aren’t you worried about Crystal and LaLa?” Ilina’s father asked. “What if they catch the same illness as the others?”
“They won’t,” Ilina said. “It hasn’t spread to the smaller species yet, although . . .” She didn’t have to finish the sentence. It was worrying to see the mimikus and ignituses in here, just as sick as the larger species. How long before the smaller species were vulnerable, too? “They won’t catch it.” Ilina’s voice was hard. “Being with Mira protects them.”
Oh, how I hoped that was true.
I pressed my palms against the big dragon’s side and whispered a prayer. “Give them peace. Give them grace. Give them enough hope in their hearts.” Here, so far away from Darina and Damyan, the words didn’t bring a rush of warmth or comfort. They were just words, spoken to gods who couldn’t hear me.
Haltingly, I pulled back, giving LaLa and Crystal time to readjust themselves. Then I reached into the satchel at my hip and pulled out the two noorestones we’d been keeping in the raptuses’ basket.
The little dragons poked and nudged at the noorestones in my hand, whining faintly like they wanted to play.
“They’re not much,” I murmured, “but maybe they’ll help.”
LaLa looked up at me questioningly.
“These dragons need the noorestone fire more than we do.”
My tiny dragon trilled and turned her golden gaze to the larger dragons, and warm agreement flickered through me. She knew what I intended to do, and she agreed.
It was hard to say how long before the giant noorestones arrived. A decan, at least. Impossible to say if these dragons would live until then.
I moved Crystal to my free shoulder, then clipped her and LaLa’s leashes to my belt. With a deep breath, I let myself sink into the noorestones.
A hot calm passed through me, like standing under the noonday sun while waves crashed around my feet. I held on to it for a heartbeat, letting it burn through the dark buzz of anxiety, and then I released the fire into the closest dragon.
Just a trickle.
A breath.
A gossamer thread of relief.
These dragons were so big, and their pain so deep, I didn’t want to risk not having enough for everyone.
I moved around the mound of dragons, letting my hands slide across their cool, still bodies. Scales rasped against my skin, and someone—an ignitus—drew a shuddering breath. It was the most they’d moved since I’d come.
When I shifted sideways into the connection already spun with these seven dragons, I saw darkness—pure, uncompromising darkness. But when the noorestone fire brushed past them, stars appeared. Suggestions of stars that might have been imagination, but even if they weren’t real, it was more than there’d been before. It was hope.
“It’s working,” someone mutte
red behind me. “Seven gods, they’re moving.”
The dragons groaned under my fingers; I could feel their voices more than hear them. Still, it was beyond anything I had dared hope for.
“May I go see them now?” The empress kept her voice soft.
“That’s not a good idea,” Ilina said. “If they do wake, they’ll be . . . unhappy probably isn’t strong enough.”
Now the empress’s voice was small, but I could still hear it, amplified by the power racing through my veins. “Will they hate me?”
Ilina was silent a moment, weighing the wisdom of confirming that to an empress. These dragons would never love her: she was their captor. But at last, Ilina said, “These keepers Paorah sent have done everything in their power to care for these dragons, given the facilities here. But they need more. I hope you’ll allow us to offer some advice on building a proper sanctuary—away from the city, away from public traffic. The mountains, perhaps.”
“Of course. Whatever they need, it will be done.”
Noorestone fire spun through me, out my hands, and worked through the dragons—filling them up like water. LaLa and Crystal clicked and chirped, bouncing on my shoulders as the bigger dragons gasped and rolled off the titanus, leaving me space to reach in and press fire back into him, too.
Their relief was yawning, desperate, depthless. The fire from these two noorestones was but a mere spark of what the dragons needed, but it burned through them, awakening—
The last of the fire slipped through my fingers, like strands of silk falling away.
I shuddered and stepped back, touching LaLa and Crystal to reorient myself.
“Mira, are you all right?” Hristo was at my side, one hand on my back.
“Fine.” Mostly. Not really. I pulled the noorestones from my pouch. They were dark. Slowly, I unclipped the raptuses’ leashes from my belt and handed them to Hristo. Both dragons sprang toward him with eager squawks, and I returned to where the empress, Ilina, and her father stood. Two guards and the guide waited in the background.
“You helped them.” A note of awe touched the empress’s voice.
I dropped the darkened noorestones into her hands. “These bought the dragons a few more days of life. They’re still trapped in endless misery. They’re still going to die, unless—”
