Dragon Fire

by Dina von Lowenkraft

  Rakan stared at T’eng Sten. His version was so different from his mother’s. And yet he could feel that T’eng Sten believed what he was saying.

  “Neither Kraal nor Paaliaq are here. Their history is over. But we need to live again, to move on, to breed. We’re dying on the Fragments, Rakan. We need to be able to come to Earth. No matter what happened in the past. It’s time to start a new life.”

  Rakan felt a wave of warmth and returned it. “Khotan says the same thing.”

  “Khotan is a great scholar and his gifts are being wasted. He should be teaching but we have no puppies for him to teach. We need to free Earth. If we grant Yarlung more time, it will be too late for many of the Old Dragons to breed.” Pain and anger erupted from the Kairök. “Or dead with Yarlung’s stupid inter-Cairn machinations.”

  The cell was flooded with sorrow. He leaned into the Old Dragon, comforting him. “How many did you lose?” The pain of those who died without their röks had been so overwhelming that he hadn’t felt who else had died.

  “Five,” said T’eng Sten, his voice flat. “Angalaan was one of them.”

  “No.” A new wave of pain filled him. Not Angalaan. He put his head in his hands.

  “She died courageously.”

  Rakan felt a flash of the fight and saw Angalaan throw herself between T’eng Sten and two of Yttresken’s kais. She had given her life to save his. “No,” Rakan moaned again.

  “She was one of my best,” said T’eng Sten. “And I would have given her the choice to become your kai the day you freed your rök.”

  Rakan stared at T’eng Sten.

  “Your rök is meant to hold others, Rakan’dzor. But you need to free it first. Angalaan would’ve helped you realize your potential. And you hers.” T’eng Sten’s voice dropped. “I loved her. But as a Kairök. It’s not the way I feel about Dvara. Dvara is different. And she must be going through hell right now.”

  Rakan felt a pang of guilt. “Yarlung wants to manipulate you,” he blurted out.

  “Of course. I wouldn’t expect anything else.” T’eng Sten nudged Rakan. “So what is it this time?”

  “To stop the trial if you pledge your vote,” Rakan said quietly. He didn’t want to imagine the outcome of the trial. “It’s supposed to be my idea.”

  T’eng Sten laughed. “She said that, did she?”

  “Why is that funny?” Rakan said, looking at the Kairök.

  T’eng Sten put a hand on Rakan’s shoulder. “The outcome of the trial doesn’t worry me.”

  “But the penalty is death.”

  “Only for me. And perhaps for Dvara,” said T’eng Sten solemnly. “But if Yarlung keeps Earth much longer it will be the death of the Draak.”

  Chapter 25

  Trials

  RAKAN FINALLY CAME OUT OF T’ENG Sten’s Hold. Yuli’s lime green armor changed back into her formal gown. “You okay?” she asked. He had been in there for several hours.

  Rakan shrugged. He had accepted T’eng Sten’s offer to stay with him in his cell if he needed some time alone. His mother’s lair crawled with her spies. And there was too much that he needed to think through. He had debated whether or not to talk to T’eng Sten about what had happened when he had chased Kariaksuq and turned into a water dragon. But as much as he was beginning to trust the Kairök, he hadn’t been able to bring it up. He wasn’t even completely sure himself about what had happened.

  “Don’t feel guilty,” said Yuli, misinterpreting his silence. “Yarlung didn’t expect it to be otherwise. She knows T’eng Sten would rather die than give in to her. She just wanted him to choose his own death.”

  “Then why did she send me to try?” snapped Rakan, tired of the games.

  “Why does Yarlung do anything? To keep you in her power by forcing you to make a choice and showing her where your allegiance lies.” Yuli placed a hand on Rakan’s chest. “She knows you have the potential to be more powerful than she is if you can find the way to unlock it.”

  Rakan forced down his fear of morphing into a water dragon. “I thought you said if I flew someone it would unlock my rök.” Rakan put his fingers on her temple in order to feel her reaction more clearly. “So why would she want me to fly you?”

  “Because you don’t love me, and your rök wouldn’t be freed. It would only have found a temporary relief.”

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  “So that you stop holding yourself back and you go chase the one you are keeping yourself from.” Yuli paused. “I can’t be free. But you can.”

  Rakan took his fingers away from Yuli’s face and bowed his head. “Thank you.”

  “Until you can set your rök free, you should flirt with me.” She looked away. “It’ll keep Yarlung from probing you too far for now.”

  “What do you mean until?” She was hinting at something but he wasn’t getting it.

  Yuli took a deep breath. “Some of Yttresken’s kais didn’t accept T’eng Sten’s offer to become their Kairök.”

  Rakan looked at Yuli carefully. Yarlung had always said that when two Kairöks battle, the winner automatically takes the kais. Was it yet another of his mother’s manipulations, or was it just T’eng Sten who had preferred to give them the choice, breaking once again with tradition?

  Yuli touched his chest. “Kariaksuq was one of those.” Before he could answer, Yuli shifted them back into Yarlung’s reception room. It was teeming with dragons.

  Rakan’s arms jerked around Yuli, his heart pounding against hers. “Where is she?” he whispered into her neck, not daring to mind-speak lest his emotions come out too clearly. His need to kill Kariaksuq made his rök feel like a volcano about to explode.

  Yuli twisted playfully out of his arms, her hair slipping gently around her shoulders. “Patience, little puppy, patience.”

  Rakan watched her fix her hair as she glided to a group of recently arrived dragons and begin her political dancing. Yuli knew where Kariaksuq was. He felt his mother’s attention linger on him until he turned to face her. She turned away with a satisfied half smile on her face. Yuli was right. He needed to let his mother think he was chasing her.

  * * *

  “Anna?” Red sounded surprised over the phone. “Are you okay?”

  “No.” She stared at her bedroom wall. “I need to see you. Now.” Some things she couldn’t say on the phone.

  “But I’m not in Tromso.”

  “That didn’t stop you the other night.”

  Red was silent.

  “I don’t know how you do it and I don’t care. Come. Now,” she said and hung up. She sat on her bed and waited, wondering if he’d come or not. She reached out with her mind but felt nothing. She paced around her room until her special stone caught her eye. The trigger. She stopped and picked it up, her hands trembling. What if everything Lysa had told her was true? Her Firemark pulsed. It felt like Pemba and she felt sick. Was it all her fault? Red, where are you?

  “What’s wrong?” said Red behind her.

  Anna flung herself into his arms, still gripping the now-dead stone. She wished life would go back to being simple. “Why did you make Ulf think I tried to kill myself?” she blurted out, instead of asking about Pemba. “He’s constantly hovering all the time now. He doesn’t even want to go out anymore.”

  “Because I thought he’d feel guilty. And he’d leave.”

  “It didn’t work.”

  “Do you want me to change it?”

  “What? Of course not. You’d have to change my mom’s memories too.” Anna scrutinized her cousin’s face. “Don’t you think it’s wrong to manipulate people’s minds?”

  Red shrugged. “I don’t know. People make themselves believe all kinds of things all the time. What’s the difference?”

  “Choice.” Anna rubbed her Firemark. “And freedom.” But maybe there wasn’t always a lot of freedom in that choice. “Why did Pemba come to Tromso?”

  Red didn’t answer right away. “I think you know the answer to that.”


  “He can’t want to kill June.” Her voice caught. “He can’t.”

  “It’s not your fight, Anna. It’s ours.”

  “But you’re my cousin.”

  “Yes,” he said, narrowing his eyes. “And?”

  “So it’s my fight as much as it’s yours,” she said, using the same logic that Pemba and Dawa had used.

  “I won’t let you get involved.”

  “It’s too late for that, isn’t it? I’m already involved.” She had found the trigger and set it off by touching June with it. And now she’d have to find a way to stop it.

  * * *

  The reception hall carved into the sacred mountain crackled with tension and clanking armor. Rakan had never liked crowds, and this was worse. All the Kairöks were here. Some had elaborate, but impractical, body armor. Worn only for show. Others, like T’eng Sten, who had been let out of the Hold for the Meet, could throw themselves directly into a fight. But they all had the same vambraces on their forearms. They were intricately patterned with the Five Elements, symbolizing the five gifts of shielding, transforming, building triggers, strategic planning and trailing. It also allowed them to speak mentally to each other.

  Yuli shimmied up to him. Rakan stiffened as she slid her hands up his chest. Even if he knew it was for the best that they pretend to be more involved than they were, he hated it. Her hands circled his biceps, and he felt armbands snap into place. “We’ll need these to speak,” she said.

  Rakan looked at the double strands of coral and lime green metal that Yuli had made for their armbands. They were twisted together like two long water dragons mating.

  “I’m not a water dragon,” he growled. And he’d just as soon not be one of Yarlung’s bodyguards for the Meet either. It was an honor he could do without.

  “No more than I am, but Yarlung is. Besides, they wrapped better this way.”

  “It is time,” said Yarlung. Her voice echoed through the hall and she stamped her ceremonial lance five times.

  “The Eld have not yet arrived,” countered T’eng Sten. He looked more fierce than majestic. His indigo and platinum chest armor was by the far the most practical of any of the Kairöks. Even the ceremonial strip of indigo cloth that hung from his waist was made to rip off in a fight. “And they are our ultimate rulers.”

  “They’ve never come to our Meets here on Earth. We can decide these matters on our own. Enter,” she said to the waiting Kairöks. “Let the Meet begin.”

  Around the edges of the rotunda five glowing tunnels appeared, one each for the five possible colors of dragon crests. They corresponded to the five sacred metals: gold for the shielders; platinum for the transformers; pure black kor for the triggerers; iron for the planners and copper for the trailers. They were each lined with a double row of Draak dressed in ceremonial breastplates the color of their Kairöks, holding a curved sword above their head, ready to strike. It looked like entering the mouth of a giant serpent.

  Silently, the Kairöks entered the tunnels that corresponded to their gift, one by one. Rakan heard the clash of metal against metal from the platinum Tunnel of Transformers and stiffened. T’eng Sten. A guard, gripping his side, was shifted into the hall.

  “Fool,” spat the dark blue clad Kairök Tetherys. “He should have killed you. How could Kairök Japetus let you attack T’eng Sten here? Choose your time correctly.” Two of Yarlung’s kais came and shifted the bleeding guard elsewhere.

  Rakan watched as Kairök Tetherys, limping from an old injury, hobbled up the steel grey tunnel of the Planners. Although she didn’t look like much, her trail was clear and intense. She should have become a Master in a Training Arena, but there weren’t any more. And even if there had been, there were no more young.

  Rakan looked at the various trails. Each Kairök had a different way of ‘holding’ the röks of their kais. He looked back at Tetherys’ trail. It was as if she had wrapped her rök around those of her kais, and Rakan wasn’t sure if it would feel like being smothered or being kept safe.

  “We can go in now,” said Yuli, interrupting his thoughts. “You’ll be okay. I won’t be far.”

  “Don’t worry,” he answered, blocking her out. “I’ll be fine.”

  “Probably. Keep alert anyhow.” She turned and walked to the golden Tunnel of Shielders.

  The hall had nearly emptied and Rakan glanced around the room. None of the other dragons were trailers. He was the last one. He entered the mouth of the copper Tunnel of Trailers. The heat increased as he walked up through the eight pairs of kais. It turned into near furnace-like heat as sparks of tension crackled up and down the tunnel. The tense immobility of the kais made Rakan slow down. He scanned each one before passing. One of T’eng Sten’s new kais twitched and Rakan barely had time to react before the long curved sword came flying down, aimed at his leg. Rakan jumped lithely in the air and landed silently on the pulsing copper sand.

  “You are neither Kairök nor kai,” said the kai. “You have no right to pass.” The kai stood in the middle of the tunnel, blocking the way. No one else had moved. The only sound in the tunnel was the kai’s labored breathing as he struggled against Kairök T’eng Sten’s wishes.

  Rakan pulled the sword from the sand and examined its green patina. “Had it been up to either one of us, I wouldn’t be here.” Rakan handed the sword back, hilt first. “At least we have that in common.” They locked eyes and Rakan wondered how far T’eng Sten had been able to integrate his new kais into his Cairn while he had been in the Hold. The kai melted back to his position, but his hatred clawed at Rakan’s back as he passed.

  The cool air of the upper rotunda made Rakan’s hair stand on end. It was directly above the reception hall, and only slightly smaller. The sixteen Kairöks were seated in a circle on raised stone thrones. The seventeenth was empty. An arched passageway curved along the edge of the rotunda and gave access to seventeen alcoves that looked out from above. Most of the alcoves were filled with a dozen kais, grouped by Cairn. The swathes of colored cloth hanging from the carved balustrades corresponded to the Kairök below.

  The last of the bodyguards were walking across the black sand made of the precious metal kor to join their Kairöks. Rakan clenched his jaw and headed towards his mother. She sat regally in her turquoise ceremonial armor with Yuli just behind her to the right. Yarlung’s increasingly white hair, even covered in part by her crown-like headgear, was an anomaly amongst the black-haired Draak.

  T’eng Sten sat like an indigo clad statue on the throne to Yarlung’s left. Rakan took his place just behind his mother, next to the kai that had replaced Angalaan. He faced forward but his attention was riveted on Mnemozyne. She had been one of Yttresken’s inner circle. Rakan’s rök howled. Angalaan shouldn’t have died. And she shouldn’t have been replaced by the forest green water dragon.

  Yarlung lifted her lance. The enormous gong that hung in midair resounded. The Meet had started. The middle of the rotunda shimmered in a mirage of gold, steel grey, black, platinum and copper. A murmur of surprise echoed around the rotunda as the billowing cloud of particles condensed into five sparkling pillars.

  Rakan felt his mother’s anger flash momentarily and then recede into nothingness as she suppressed it. The pillars morphed into the five Eld, the five Oldest Dragons who had veto power over the Kairöks – should they choose to use it. Each one faced a different direction, arms stretched to the side with their palms up, making a pentagon. The Eld were dressed in pure black and their identical body armor shimmered like hematite. Rakan felt a mix of fear and awe as they moved slowly forward, expanding the size of their pentagon. Their silver shoulder-length hair flowed freely – male and female alike. The only distinguishing element was the inner lining of their cloaks that flashed the color of their gift. Except some of the colors were wrong. The gold of the Shield Eld and the platinum of the Transformer Eld were as they should be. But the copper of the Trailer Eld and the iron grey of the Mind Eld shimmered between their natural and oxidized states: t
he Trailer Eld’s inner lining was alternately copper and green and the Transformer Eld’s was alternately iron and rust. But it was the Trigger Eld’s cloak that made Rakan hiss. It was there and not there – and Rakan could alternately see through the cloak and not. It existed and didn’t exist at the same time.

  He felt the copper-eyed Trailer Eld examine him. Or rather his trail. And he knew that she could see the double twisted strand of his rök. “You will come to me,” she said, her voice echoing like a prophecy. “Your place is with us. Not with the human.” Rakan stiffened. How did she know about Anna?

  The Eld turned and faced each other. “The Meet will now begin,” said all five voices in unison. They dissipated, filling the rotunda with a metallic light. Rakan stifled the urge to morph, they were there. He could feel them. But he couldn’t see them.

  The gong sounded again and a dark brown dragon with the copper crest of a trailer materialized. Haakaramanoth. Flames shot from his open mouth. His black claws were out-stretched to attack. T’eng Sten growled and morphed, lunging for Haakaramonth’s throat.

  “Enough,” commanded the Eld in unison, freezing both dragons on the black sand.

  There was a stunned silence as T’eng Sten morphed back to his human form and bowed to the circle of Eld that had re-materialized around the two dragons. “My apologies, your Eld. But he has no business being here.”

  “That is not for you to decide,” said the Eld. “Return to your place.”

  T’eng Sten’s energy shimmered in anger, but he bowed and returned to his throne. Everyone watched the dark brown dragon in an uneasy silence. He bowed his head and morphed to human within the ring of the Eld. Haakon. Rakan growled and tensed to attack, but Yuli froze him in place. “No,” she hissed. “Let the Eld deal with this.”