“Inventor,” the chief pointed to Faso this time, who had astonishment plastered across his eyebrows. “Speak!”
“This is absolute nonsense,” Faso said. “At least tell us what the dragonheats you want.”
The tribal chief lowered his head and shook it, as if in shame. He walked up to Faso and prodded a finger in his chest. Faso scoffed and batted this away, and the leader backflipped away from him, almost kicking the inventor in the chin. The chief turned to the surrounding tribespeople. “Inventor no good,” he said. “Hoooiiieeeeoooo.”
And out echoed again, cries of, “Hoooiiieeeeoooo.” Honestly, I almost wanted to join in the cries myself.
“Soldier better,” he pointed to Lieutenant Wiggea. “Soldier speak!”
Wiggea nodded and stepped forward. He kept his posture straight despite his limp, and his head high. “On behalf of Gerhaun Forsi, and all the men and dragons who serve her in the Southlands, I want to extend my warm greetings.”
If only I’d thought of that one, because it sent the chief backflipping and cartwheeling all around the circle in an elaborate dance. “Hoooieee, soldier best. Soldier best. Hoooieee.” And whatever else he said was drowned out by the high-pitched chanting of the tribespeople.
After the commotion had finished, Faso stepped forwards. He just didn’t look the same without having Ratter standing on his shoulders. It was as if not having the automaton around sapped out some of his confidence. But then part of this is because he was wearing a tribal robe instead of his usual sharply pressed pinstripe suit.
Faso seemed to want to speak to represent the three of us, even if he was the worst diplomat among us. “What the dragonheats do you want? Speak yourself and tell us what you’re going to do with us.”
He spoke loudly and slowly as if doing so would make him more comprehensible. But clearly none of the tribespeople understood, not even the chief. The man walked up to Faso, crouched slightly and squinted up at the inventor. “Give potion soldier, dragonseer. No potion inventor.” He cartwheeled towards the edge of the ring, which opened out as he approached. The chief exited the circle, and the crowd closed back in as the sea would into a channel of sand. From the other side of the circle, several tribespeople approached with spears. They took hold of Faso by his shoulders and jostled him away.
“What are you doing?” Faso said. “Unhand me at once.” But either they didn’t want to listen, or they didn’t understand, and probably the latter.
The ring parted to let Faso and his escorts out and then closed back in again. Then the chief came back in and examined me. He started to pad my muscles, then he ran his hands down my hips, though not in a sexual way at all. It was more as if he was testing me for something.
“Dragonseer strong,” he said.
Then he moved over to Wiggea and did the same. Squeezing his biceps, pressing his hand over Wiggea’s chest, running his finger along the squareness of Wiggea’s jaw. “Soldier stronger,” he said. It seemed that whoever had taught the chief Towese had also been kind enough to teach him comparatives.
The tribal chief came back to me, then he crouched down on one knee, almost as if proposing. He craned his neck to look up at me. I wished I could see his face, but I could only barely make out his eyes through that strange panther-dragon mask. They looked glazed as if the chief had been on drugs all his life and the irises were so dark they were almost black.
I remember Sukina had looked similar when she’d taken the Exalmpora in Cini’s palace. I must have looked much the same way back then, although I don’t recall examining myself in the mirror around that time.
“What do you want with us?” I asked. But it wasn’t any use, because the man didn’t seem to understand. Instead, he backflipped back again and cartwheeled around the whole circle. “Hoooieeee,” he called. “Hooooooaaaaaaiiieeeeandallllay!”
He stopped just in front of one side of the ring, facing away from us. Then he bent over and waggled his bare-cheeked bottom at us, a feather poking out at the top. He cackled out a laugh, before standing up and motioning outwards with his arms.
The crowd parted on his instruction, revealing a flattened path leading through the grass. “Come. I show important things.”
Then he turned to the men at back. “Punish inventor. Then bring back. We drink, yes.”
Two bare chested women came forward from the crowd at the back, still wearing the same colourful masks. They had spears in their hands, with the tips pointed towards the sky. I decided it was better to let them take me where they wanted me to go, just in case things got violent.
The path wound around a few thick-stumped trees before opening out again into a clearing. There was a firepit set up in the centre of this, surrounded by a ring of what looked like salt in a thick pile, then a ring of stones on the inner side. A pot stood over the fire, although I couldn’t yet see what was within.
It was at that point I remembered Velos. He had to be somewhere nearby and I needed to know he was safe. But I couldn’t sense him right now which meant either he was sleeping, unconscious, or dead. So, just as the tribal chief turned towards me, I thought I’d try and find out if he knew anything. I stretched my arms out wide to indicate a dragon’s wings, and I pushed out my front teeth. Then I let out a growl from the centre of my stomach, which probably didn’t sound anything like Velos in my overtly feminine voice. I let off an obvious shrug, then I pointed around to ask where the dragon might be.
But I hadn’t done a very good job, because the leader just mirrored my actions. He let out a roar much like my own, but in a much deeper and I have to admit, scarier voice. Then he clutched his hands to his belly and rolled about on the floor laughing, kicking at the ground like a madman.
The tribe had now assembled in a line, and they joined in with the tribal chief’s laughter. Soon enough, more shrill cries came out from them in unison. “Hoooiiieeee, hoooiiieeee, hoooiiieee.”
My heart sank for a moment and I felt a sudden wave of anxiety inside me. We really didn’t have time for all this. I needed to get away from these madmen and find Velos, then we could fly into the sky, deal with Colas, and get Taka back.
But part of me wondered what the dragonheats was going on down here. Why exactly had Colas wanted us to meet these people? Maybe the old man was about to appear out of the blue and give us an anthropology lesson. I had no idea.
Then I caught a whiff of what was cooking in the pot. It had the faint eggy tang of secicao coupled with a familiar ferric smell. I recognised this immediately and found myself drawn towards the pot. It had Exalmpora within, and I wanted it.
Still, I had to show restraint. There seemed to be a ritual to whatever the tribespeople were doing, and I should try and respect that. Even though I longed for the taste of a dragon queen’s blood on my tongue once more.
The leader pointed to a member of the crowd and then over to the fire pit. This was a woman, who jumped up, as if in glee, then she stepped forwards, and sat down cross legged on the ground. The chief then pointed to another woman, and also beckoned her forward towards the firepit. She displayed her appreciation with a similar gesture of glee and bounded over. The leader selected two men from the crowd in this fashion, who also pushed forwards enthusiastically. Then the ring opened, and Faso was jostled through as well.
“Unhand me,” he said. “And tell me what you’ve done with Ratter. What is this nonsense? Don’t tell me you’re going to make me drink this stuff.” He pointed at the green boiling liquid.
And, given he wasn’t being so cooperative, his escorts had to push him down onto the floor, one of them keeping his hands secured over his shoulders while the other stood vigil with the spear in case Faso made any sudden movements.
“Come,” the chief was standing beside the firepit now. The heat coming off it was almost searing and added unpleasantly to the stifling humidity. I approached cautiously and sat myself down cross-legged on the dusty ground. Wiggea did the same, although he kept an eye on the tribespeople standing near Fa
so as he approached.
The leader let off one last cry of, “Hoooooiiiieeeeee,” before he sat down on the ground.
“What the dragonheats, is this stuff,” Faso complained, “and why do you want me to drink it?”
And I looked gleefully into the solution I’d secretly craved for so long. Exalmpora, the drug that could control dragonseers. The same drug that had changed the physiology of Alsie, Charth and Francoiso and allowed them to talk to a dead empress.
“No, this can’t be happening. I have to resist.” I told myself. Two years ago, Sukina had helped me find clarity of mind despite the effects this drug had had on me. But she wasn’t here to help me now.
And I didn’t have the strength to resist it. I stared at the boiling solution, wide-eyed, and salivating. There seemed to be two streams dancing through the liquid as it boiled over the flames – one green and the other red.
Now, if I drank it, I could become strong again. I could fly into the sky as a dragonwoman, hunt down Alsie and tear out her throat. I could avenge Sukina and become the most powerful creature on the planet. Then, I could teach Taka how to be strong too. And I could control an army of my own minions and help the secicao blight spread across the earth, making this a better land. But this wasn’t me thinking such thoughts. It was as if someone else existed in my head.
The tribal chief looked at me, standing stock still as he leaned against his spear and observed me for a moment. “Dragonseer. You know potion.”
I nodded. Wiggea sat next to me, looking kind of anxious about something. Perhaps Sukina or Gerhaun had told him about Exalmpora. Maybe he already knew of its dangers and why I felt so drawn to it. But somehow, I doubted it.
“We all drink,” the chief said. “Including you, inventor.”
I turned to see Faso’s blanched expression and the sheer look of disgust on his face. “Why the dragonheats would I want to drink that?” he asked and put his hand over his nose as soon as he caught a whiff of it.
“Hooooiiieee,” the chief said, and he did another backflip, which resulted in much laughter from the crowd. “Tree blood. Earth blood. People blood. It good.”
The tribal captain reached down to just next to the fire and took hold of a roughly textured wooden cup. He dipped this into the liquid and took out a good cupful, while avoiding touching the boiling solution with his hand. He raised the cup to his lips and took a sip. “It good,” he said again. Then he pushed the cup out to Faso. “Inventor. Drink.”
Faso looked down at the cup, then he glanced over at the spear that one of the tribespeople now held with the tip pointed at him. “It better not be poison,” he said. And he cautiously took a sip. His expression lightened a bit, and he licked his lips. “Actually, it’s not so bad…”
“Hooooiiiieee. More. Drink more.”
Faso shrugged, then he tipped back his head and let the solution fall down his throat. He paused a while and looked down at the firepit. His eyes became glazed over. “I feel good. Stronger. But dizzy. What is this stuff?” And he let out a light giggle. “I haven’t felt like this for years.”
Exalmpora affecting non-dragonseers. Impossible. And while thinking this, I was also getting increasingly thirsty. Still, I decided to patiently wait my turn, sitting on my hands to stop myself snatching the cup off the tribal chief and taking down the whole amount of the liquid in one. He seemed to want us all to share, and I respected that.
The chief tipped the few remaining drops in the cup onto the floor. The liquid sizzled slightly as it hit the ground, and the man rubbed this into the soil with his wooden soles. He then took a cup from the liquid, handed it to Wiggea. “Soldier, drink.”
Wiggea lifted an eyebrow and turned to look at me. “Dragonseer Wells,” he said. “I’d rather have my head about you to protect you. I don’t think this is appropriate.”
I shook my head. “I don’t think we have a choice, Lieutenant.”
“But…”
“Just drink it Wiggea. We need to get through this.”
His eyes widened in surprise. I’m sure he hadn’t expected me to snap like that all of a sudden, and I felt a pang of guilt about my response. But I just as well wanted him to hurry up so my turn to have a drink would come around quicker. I was all for following etiquette and all that, as long as everyone else here did as well.
“Very well, Maam,” he said. “And he tipped the cup to his lips and took the liquid down in one slow and steady stream.” His eyes slowly gazed over and he entered a more relaxed slump.
“Hoooooiiiieeee,” the leader said. “Soldier strong. Soldier drink.” Then there came another backflip, and the chief cartwheeled around the ring once again. He returned to his place by the firepit.
“Now all drink. Dragonseer wait.”
The other tribespeople who’d been selected to take part in the ritual, also moved towards the firepit and in turn dipped the wooden cup into the liquid and took down the solution in a huge gulp. The chief watched them, then he stepped forwards, this time with little ceremony and he took down a cup himself. After everyone but me had sampled the solution, he reached down, picked up another cup and lifted out the final dregs of the solution.
When he’d finished there was hardly any of it left. It was as if it had been measured out perfectly for the ceremony. And what was still in there evaporated out pretty quickly. I watched the cup with wide eyes as the funny-masked man approached with it.
“Dragonseer. Drink.” He gave me the cup and I took it eagerly with both hands.
“Ready?” he said.
I nodded, and I could feel the sweat pooling in my hands. “Ready.”
“You drink. You see…”
And without thinking about what he might have meant by that, I put the cup to my lips and poured it down my throat. All of a sudden, memories flooded back to me. Of the wedding with Francoiso. Throwing off my calico dress and revealing the blood red dress underneath. Then standing in Francoiso’s bedchamber ready to consummate the marriage, passion thrumming through me. How much I’d wanted him then. How much I’d wanted his power and to feel the scales tear through me. How much I’d wanted to complete my transformation into a dragonwoman, an agent of Finesia.
And that had been taken away from me. Charth had knocked me to the floor and Francoiso had pinned me down and poured the antidote down my throat to wash the effects of the Exalmpora away. All that power, just evaporating into nothingness. And all that remained was my sworn duty as a dragonseer and the chance to watch Sukina die with my own eyes.
I had no control over any of it. My destiny had been handed to me on a plate.
“You know what you want, Dragonseer Wells,” a voice came in my head. It was the voice of an empress. The voice of Finesia.
“No, Pontopa. You must resist. Don’t let the Exalmpora close off your mind.” The second voice in my head was Sukina’s. A remnant of the past resonating somewhere in the collective unconscious.
“Oh, but Exalmpora can give you everything you’ve ever wanted,” the first voice said. “You can become an immortal and gain the spirit of a creature you’ve always admired. You will never have to worry about being better than anyone else again…”
I grinned as I thought through what this could mean.
“Hooooiiieeee,” the tribal chief shouted. “Now, it’s time to start the ritual. Hooooiiieeee.”
I found myself joining in his call in elation. Surprisingly, I didn’t find myself alarmed by the fact he could now suddenly speak my language a lot more fluently. In fact, at the time it seemed the most natural thing in the world.
He turned to the outer ring and beckoned one of the tribespeople forward, this time a man slightly broader the rest of the tribe. He carried with him a wooden stake, some kind of pipe cut in half down the cross section, and a rough clay bowl. The leader beckoned another man forward who brought with him large gourd containing what I knew to be Exalmpora and a ceramic bottle, of which I couldn’t see the contents.
“Dragonseer, your blood w
ill reveal the truth.” The tribal chief said.
And I didn’t even think to resist, nor did Wiggea, or Faso for that matter try to stop me. The larger man came forward with the wooden stake and pushed it into my upper arm. From it, blood started to flow, slightly blacker than my blood would be normally. It dripped down my elbow, where the man placed the wooden tube. Each drip he caught with utmost accuracy. The blood then proceeded to roll down the tube into the bowl that the man held in the other hand.
Meanwhile, the other tribespeople had poured Exalmpora and a green solution, which I presumed to be some kind of secicao oil, into the pot above the firepit. The liquid boiled in there pretty quickly and I felt myself drawn towards it once again. I leaned forward to look inside but the tribal chief put out his hand to stop me.
“Wait Dragonseer. We must share your blood.”
“But I want the power.”
“And you shall have it. More power than you’ve ever imagined.” It was if the chief’s voice wasn’t his own, but that of another. The voice of an empress, of a goddess.
The larger man had now taken enough blood, it seemed, for the ritual. He took hold of a hemp cloth and wrapped it around my arm, squeezing it tight there to staunch the flow. He then stepped forward and handed the cup over to the chief with both hands. The chief accepted and poured the blood into the pot.
A plume of smoke arose from the solution, erupting like a volcano. I saw an image there, a woman roving a barren land with red soil. She turned to look at me, before the smoke dissipated.
“It’s ready,” the chief said.
The tribespeople who had been selected for the ritual then stood up and crept towards the boiling solution. This time, they took more cups from beside the firepit and handed them out so all eight of us had one, including myself. We all then waited patiently for the tribal chief to give the call, even though I wanted from the pit of my stomach what cooked inside the pot.
He had his hand held up high in the sky and he watched the firepit with intent as he waited for the last remaining drop of solution to evaporate from the pot. Then he lowered his hand as if signalling the start of the race and we all took the cup to our lips and I took the solution down in one gulp.
Dragonseers and Airships Page 43
