by S D Simper
The woman she loved was a hero. But Dauriel hadn’t been born into a life meant for heroics.
As Tallora cried within Sha’Demoni, she longed for the promise they’d made—
A promise Dauriel would not accept Tallora’s answer for until the betrayal was revealed. Tallora stopped, anguish stilling her tail as a sob shook her entire body. Damn Dauriel and her misguided honor.
Tallora cried in her hands, hardly cognizant to Harbinger’s presence. “I-I’m sorry. It’s just . . . we were going to be married. Now, I have nothing—I lost her, but I’ve also lost my home and my momma—”
Harbinger, her inexplicable, unexpected ally, stopped beside her and placed her stump around Tallora’s torso. The gesture, though startling, was not unappreciated. “All is not lost.”
Tallora smiled, daring to briefly lean into the odd affection.
The dragon awaited. When Harbinger pulled away, Tallora forced a smile, though genuine gratitude twisted it.
“I am not useless when it comes to magic,” Harbinger continued. “I know you are afraid to know your mother’s fate, but I can help.”
The statement wiped Tallora’s expression clean. “What do you mean?”
“Once we have awakened Yaleris, I have the means to scry for her. We will either find her body or what camp of refugees she hides with. A simple spell; I am happy to do it.”
Had they not just hugged, Tallora might’ve launched into her arms. “Harbinger, I can’t—” Hope filled her, fragile and tentative, but even the smallest light could illuminate the dark. “Thank you.”
“Dragon first. Come on.”
In better spirits, though her world fell apart, Tallora followed Harbinger through the water.
Perhaps it truly was hours, but it seemed like no time at all before Harbinger announced they neared.
When she grabbed Tallora’s arm, the familiar shifting of planes occurred, and Tallora was struck by the world of color. Her eyes blinked rapidly, trying to equate a land of greys to the gorgeous landscape.
A vast coral reef lay before them, filled with life, a rainbow of color spreading wide. Oblivious to the horror of Stelune, fish swam in little schools, snacking among the anemones, content in their beautiful forest beneath the sea.
The Canyon of the Great Mother awaited. Tallora and Harbinger swam on.
For not the first time, Tallora watched the beauty of the reef and its inhabitants and thought of Solvira and its gardens and vast array of animals—from sweet puppies to powerful horses. Tallora had loved the colorful insects, adored the fragile flowers growing from the earth and populating the bushes.
Tallora had loved it, even when home had shined brilliantly in her memory, even when she’d missed it with all her heart.
Yet she’d been willing to cast home aside for Dauriel. Tallora’s hand touched the rough coral, careful to keep her fragile tailfin away. All the world was in disarray; Tallora had never felt so confused and afraid.
The reef stopped at a steep slope, yet no darkness permeated the deep canyon. A smile came to her face unbidden; though she could not yet see the source, she knew.
Yaleris was near. Harbinger and Tallora swam downward.
In her youth, Tallora had seen Yaleris on a festival day, where the great dragon had come to greet her people, had shyly sat aside and watched their celebration of the Goddess of Stars and her constellations.
A new work of art had been scattered across the sky—a depiction of Tortalga, an homage to their god. They had celebrated, praised her name and his, and Yaleris had blessed it, all the while wielding the same sort of orb the Solvirans had killed his sister to claim.
As they dove down the sheets of rock, Harbinger said, “You speak to him. I cannot say how he will feel about the child of a leviathan, much less the Daughter of Yu’Khrall. But he likes merfolk.”
Tallora nodded, unwilling to argue, though she suspected Yaleris wouldn’t give any mind to her heritage. “He’s kind and gentle. But I suspect he can be fearsome too.”
They reached the base of the canyon. In the distance stood a massive cave entrance. With renewed vigor, they swam quickly to the rock formation, and Tallora soon floated before it.
It hardly held a candle to the size of Yu’Khrall’s prison. Not even close. The hope she’d kindled threatened to extinguish.
But Harbinger forged ahead; Tallora followed.
Light permeated the cave, illuminated by crystal-like structures upon the walls, ever shining. Tallora slowed her pace, basking in the mystical ambience, even as the cave became colder. When she brushed against one such crystal, it burned her skin—though not from heat.
Ice. Impossibly rare here in the south, yet when Tallora touched it again, she could not deny it. “How strange,” she whispered, and the deeper they swam, the more ice coated the walls. It floated in the water, frost clinging to her hair and skin. Tallora had been affectionately teased her papa that her hair was like snowfall, frost upon a glacier, and as the flakes clung to her hair, she saw the truth in it and smiled.
The icicle structures became larger, more jagged. Tallora and Harbinger dodged the jutting, glowing collections of ice, and she wondered how the rest of the water did not simply freeze beside it.
When the chill became unbearable, the cave opened into a massive outcropping. Centered, fast asleep, was Yaleris.
His scales bore the same texture of ice, glittering in blues and subtle rainbow hues. Yet, his wings were more akin to fins than the wings of a bird, though Tallora knew he was capable of flight. When he exhaled his deep, sleepy breaths, the water around his nostrils froze and then dissolved, like a small cloud beneath the sea.
No, he was not so large as Yu’Khrall, but he was still many times larger than she and Harbinger, impossibly so. As Tallora approached the great behemoth, she contemplated what to say to a sleeping dragon.
She stole a stabilizing breath. “Hello?” she said aloud, but the dragon merely snored. Resisting the urge to giggle at so majestic a creature doing something so silly as snoring, Tallora tried again. “Yaleris! Hello?”
Nothing. He looked as content as a clown fish in an anemone. She turned to Harbinger. “Any ideas?”
The Onian approached cautiously. “This creature is older than the Convergence. Staggering to consider. They say dragons were created by the Old Gods, did you know?”
Tallora shook her head. “I don’t know much of uplander religion.”
“‘Children of Chaos,’ some call them, but only because of their creator.” Harbinger swam toward the dragon’s tail. “Keep away from his mouth.”
Tallora obeyed, watching as Harbinger touched the tip of Yaleris’ tail—
And suddenly, Tallora faced a great, sleepy eye—cerulean blue, glowing, and nearly her height. It blinked, the double-lidded eyelids moving a half-second apart. It opened its great mouth, its yawn more akin to a roar as it revealed massive fangs and a forked tongue.
He could have snapped Tallora up in a single bite, yet she felt no fear. When he finished, he rubbed his clawed hand—Paw? Fin?—against his eye and slowly sat up, keeping his gaze on Tallora all the while.
“Good morning.” Yaleris said, and his scaled mouth pulled into a smile, revealing teeth as large as Tallora. The depth of his voice was from sheer volume—he spoke in a beautiful tenor. “I am confused but not unhappy to have company. I hope it was not too much trouble to get here.”
Tallora resisted the urge to laugh at the odd words—what a darling thing! “It was no trouble at all. My name is Tallora, and Harbinger is by your tail.”
Yaleris turned, visibly cautious as he sought Harbinger. “I so rarely see Onians,” he said, and kindness shone in his words; Harbinger looked baffled. “You are welcome here, Harbinger.” He returned his attention to Tallora. “Forgive me for being forward, but you must have come with a purpose.”
“We did,” Tallora replied, her smile faltering. “A great evil has come and threatens the seas—Yu’Khrall, Son of Onias.” Recognitio
n shone in the dragon’s aged face. “He’s destroyed Stelune. We’re all refugees.”
“By the Mother’s Grace,” he said, and perhaps it was a whisper, though it echoed across the icy walls. As he stood tall, Tallora saw, embedded in his scaled chest, a radiant blue orb, perfectly sized for her own palm. “I regret that I slept through Yu’Khrall’s first rampage across the Tortalgan Sea. I presume you wish for my help?”
Tallora nodded. “You may be our only hope.” Harbinger joined her, floating with absolute wonder on her face.
Yaleris offered a clawed hand, far larger than she or Harbinger. “I shall go. I shall also not abandon you in my home. You said you were refugees—where are the rest?”
“The queen has taken shelter with a number of us in the village of Iids,” Tallora replied, wary of the gigantic, clawed appendage.
“You will have to direct me, but I will take you there.”
Cautiously, Tallora swam to his claw, where a gentle, cool embrace engulfed her. Yaleris cradled both of them to his massive chest, and the ice before him parted as he swam to the smaller cave, the icy walls diminishing at his approach. He moved slowly, mindful of the two mortals held to his scaled body, and Tallora thought he might be the most magnificent creature in the realm.
She recalled Rulira, a corpse strung up in the Solviran Library, a dragon slain for Solvira’s glory. The thought saddened her, that anyone might think there was glory to be found in murdering so majestic a being.
The ice receded as he swam, until Yaleris escaped the narrow cavern—narrow to him, at least. He looked down at his mortal wards. “Brace yourselves. Do not try to look ahead, lest you hurt your eyes. I know most of the way; I shall tell you when I need your expertise.”
His gaze was so sweet for a reptilian creature of magic. Tallora obeyed and braced her head against his icy chest, the glittering scales each as large as her hand. She felt him stiffen.
He launched.
Water parted in a vortex, their speed impossible. Bubbles passed her peripheral. Tallora tucked her face away, content to let the dragon lead.
* * *
It must have been hours, of Yaleris travelling at the speed of Sha’Demoni.
When he slowed. Tallora felt her skin cease to press against his scales. The motions stopped, her stomach lurching. “Stretch, Tallora and Harbinger,” Yaleris said, his hold releasing.
When Tallora looked about, the scenery held familiarity—these were the plants of home. She glanced back at the gigantic dragon serenely floating before them. In gentle strokes, his wings kept him stable. “Thank you,” Tallora said, her tail grateful for the chance to move about.
Harbinger, however, rested against the sandy floor, her tentacles stretching every direction. “Agreed.” Her curt word was punctuated with a groan.
Tallora swam to the dragon’s head, facing an eye nearly as large as she. “What is the plan, Yaleris? Is there a way we can help?”
“I shall bring you two to safety first. I will then meet with the queen and express my goodwill. Hope is the most powerful force in the world, you know.” So expressive, this reptilian creature; Yaleris’ large eyes held visible regret. “I know the pain of loss, and I am so sorry for yours, Tallora. To lose your home must weigh heavily on your heart.”
“I’ve heard you lost someone too.” Tallora hesitated to speak the name, yet the peace in Yaleris’ patient countenance never faded. She thought of the skeleton in the Hall of Relics. “Rulira?”
“We all felt her death, my brothers and sisters and I. I mourn her still.”
“I lost my father as a little girl,” Tallora replied, the pain of it never quite ebbing away. “And now I may have lost my mother; I don’t know.”
“I, too, lost my parents—my Mother and Father.”
The Old Gods, Tallora realized.
“Losing a parent leaves a hollow that cannot be filled,” Yaleris continued, sadness in is visage, “I don’t know if the sorrow ever truly fades—I still miss them dearly.”
Tallora’s smile threatened to bring tears, but she felt she could unburden herself to this dragon without shame. “Thank you. I’ve lost everything these past few days.”
“There is nothing that cannot be found again,” he said, assurance in his ancient voice, “even if that nothing is something new. Though we lost my Mother and Father, the New Gods have shown that they care for humanity just as well. And look at you—you are alive, and there is nothing more beautiful than that.” Though his smile showed large teeth, Tallora found it sweet. “Now, forgive me for moving this along, but I would like you to direct me to Iids.”
“We aren’t far, I think,” Tallora said. “If you’ll take me to the surface, I can read the stars and tell you.”
Yaleris looked pleased, something soft in his gargantuan eyes. “Then let us go.”
He gently took she and Harbinger in his claws and floated toward the surface, keeping an easy pace lest their necks be broken.
When they breached the surface, night air prickled against Tallora’s face, though the dragon’s chill was far icier. Yaleris released them—
Then he leapt from the water, the air causing tumultuous waves to slosh them around in the open sea. He flew across the night sky, stretching his wings, scales glittering in the moon’s light.
Tallora saw the stars and their path, the way north visibly clear in the cloudless night. The sight brought her comfort, the stars and dragon both. “Goddess Staella,” she whispered, uncaring if Harbinger heard, “bless Yaleris. Guide his hand. He is our hope for survival.”
She swore the stars twinkled just a bit brighter.
A roar suddenly ripped across the night sky. From Yaleris’ throat tore a vicious cry, and from his mouth came a cloud of frost, dissipating in the air and gently floating down as snow.
She smiled. Hope was not lost. As Yaleris descended, Tallora heard a joyous laugh. “I forget what fun the air can be.” He plopped rather ungracefully into the ocean, waves rippling all about, causing even Tallora to tumble. “Sorry,” she heard, and a clawed hand plucked her from the waves. She was lifted into the air, held to his face above the water. “Did you find your directions?”
“I did.”
Yaleris held Harbinger up beside them, who looked rather uneasy in the air. “Then lead on, Tallora. Your knowledge of the stars is truly a gift.”
He carefully sunk back down, and Tallora bid him to swim west. Yaleris obeyed, keeping she and Harbinger safe in his claws. He swam slowly this time—slow for the great dragon, rather—and Tallora directed him as the landscape passed.
Soon, Iids appeared.
A day had passed, and though night had since fallen, the sight of a great dragon approaching roused the populace. Yaleris stopped just outside the village, careful to test the terrain before plopping his gargantuan self down. He released Tallora and Harbinger, then looked to the villagers and refugees. “Hello,” he said, a certain shyness in his tone. “I’ve been told of the tragedy that’s befallen your people. I would like to help.”
Tallora saw Queen Fauln break from the crowd, disbelief in her regal face. She placed a hand to her mouth as she gazed up, then swam toward his face. “Great Yaleris,” she said, loud enough for Tallora to hear, “your presence is a wonderful omen.”
Something touched Tallora’s shoulder; Harbinger beckoned for her to follow. She looked to Yaleris and Fauln, locked in a conversation she realized wouldn’t need her input, and followed Harbinger away.
She noticed, beyond, the eyes following them. Most of the populace gazed transfixed upon the dragon and his splendor, but a select few looked warily at Harbinger.
They swam away from the crowd, into the fields of kelp beyond. “What’s going on?” Tallora asked, and Harbinger paused, contemplation visible in her expressive face.
“I will not stay here much longer. But I promised I would scry for your mother. We need a safe location.”
Though invigorated by the renewed promise of Harbinger’s help, the word
s felt like a knife—though not one meant for her. “You were instrumental in finding Yaleris. I’d speak for you. They would accept . . .”
When Harbinger shook her head, Tallora’s words faded. They entered the field of kelp. “I gave up trying to integrate with merfolk a thousand years ago.”
Tallora longed to argue, yet realized she’d stumbled onto something far deeper than mere politics or even kind sentiment. “For what it’s worth,” she replied softly, surprised when Harbinger stopped to face her, “I trust you.”
A simple quirk of her lip, and Harbinger’s morose dissipated by small degrees. “That is a very foolish thing to do. Now, have a seat.”
Confused, Tallora watched as Harbinger sat herself down, buried entirely in kelp. She landed beside her, bringing the bend of her tail to her chest for balance.
“It will not cost you anything,” Harbinger said, her tentacles floating idly, “but I will need to sift through your memories to feel your mother. I have not met her, so I need to know her as you did.”
When Harbinger offered her one hand, Tallora accepted, her joy fading—now was the moment of truth. “Do whatever you need to do.”
“Close your eyes. Do not fight; just breathe.”
Tallora shut her eyes. Whatever cover the kelp provided, she swore the world behind her eyelids darkened. Harbinger’s voice filled her head, yet they were foreign words, the same Demoni tongue she’d chanted at her home, when Kal was still free and Tallora’s broken heart was merely cracked instead of shattered.
A strange coldness seeped against her skin, penetrating through to her blood and bones. She dared to peek, and nearly pulled away for the horror before her.
Harbinger’s eye was wide open, yet it absorbed all light, a perfect, consuming black. Where she held Tallora’s hand, black ichor stuck them together, slowly creeping in tendrils as it crawled up Tallora’s body. It held her arms captive, and the cold crept to cover her shoulder, her neck—
She shut her eyes, a whimper escaping her lips as that same icy sensation coated her face.
And she saw . . . memories of joy. Of bittersweet moments. Of love.
