by K. C. Julius
Maura dug her heels into the palfrey’s flanks, and they pounded up the northward trail. “Ilyria!” she cried, and her heart leapt when, at last, a bronze blur shot over the turrets of Drinnkastel, a stream of swirling air in the dragon’s wake.
Maura pulled hard on the reins, slipped from the palfrey’s back, and waved her arms above her head. “Here I am! Here, Ilyria!”
The horse shied as the dragon’s shadow fell over them, then with a frantic whinny it bolted away across the Tor.
Maura shielded her eyes to gaze up at the magnificent dragon, her scales glinting in the light. Despite her dread, Maura’s heart leapt at the sight of her after so long.
Ilyria shot toward her like an arrow loosed from a bow. For a heart-stopping moment, the memory of the first time the dragon dropped from the sky above Maura came rushing back, and she felt a flicker of misgiving.
A cannon boomed, then another, sending up a billow of smoke. The dragoness burst through the brume, diving toward her.
“Hurry!” Maura cried. “Oh, please don’t let them hurt you!”
A barrage of cannon fire burst behind her, as if the whole of Roth’s arsenal had been ignited. Ilyria suddenly swerved, hung suspended on the air…
… and with a roar of pain and fury, she began to cartwheel earthward.
“No!”
Maura scrambled over the rough terrain, desperate to reach the place where her beloved Ilyria must come crashing down. The cannons fell silent, but the sulfuric stink of black powder still burned her throat. She stumbled and fell to her knees, half-blinded by her tears, her eyes fastened on the falling dragon. You will not look away, she commanded herself. You will be with her until the end.
Ilyria tumbled toward her, and Maura braced for the moment when her beautiful dragon would crash to the ground.
But just before she struck the earth, Ilyria swooped into flight, shooting toward Maura at terrifying speed. With a choked cry, Maura levered herself to her feet. As Ilyria dipped her right wing, Maura grasped hold and flung herself onto the dragon’s back. Her breath was torn from her lungs by the speed of flight, but the familiar feel of the smooth, cool scales felt like home.
As Ilyria shot across the Tor, Maura felt a great weight fall away, a weight she’d born all these long months of separation. She was leaving Drinnkastel at last, and the greater the distance between her and the capital, the better. Her heart sang to be reunited with her dragon, and with each powerful beat of Ilyria’s wings, an accompanying refrain echoed in Maura’s thoughts: Never again shall we be parted.
Once they entered the clouds, she had no idea in which direction they were heading, and it didn’t matter. She felt a bubble of laughter well up at the dragon’s guile, which had enabled her to evade an entire army.
Never try to match wits with a dragon, she thought gleefully, as Ilyria soared onward across the sky.
* * *
They flew on for long hours, only emerging from the cold clouds after night fell. As they descended through the inky dark, Maura caught flashes of cresting waves and a dark isle rising from the sea.
Ilyria glided onto a stretch of beach bordered by the hulking shadows of bluffs. Maura slid from her back, but kept her hand on the dragon’s neck, reluctant to lose physical contact with her. They had been parted so long—too long.
When the dragon turned her golden gaze on her, Maura searched for words to express how very sorry she was for their protracted separation. She prepared herself for recriminations, but instead Ilyria merely said, “We must conceal you, and then I will feed.”
The dragon trundled up the beach, leaving Maura staring after her, until an impatient hiss spurred her to follow.
Running to the dragon’s side, she said, “I want to tell you how—”
Ilyria’s quelling look silenced her.
Maura swallowed hard and walked beside the dragon in contrite silence after that.
When Illyria disappeared into a hollow in the cliff face, Maura followed her into a large cavern illuminated by pale moonlight flooding through a gap high above. The cave’s rough walls glistened with sparkling flecks of crystal, as if the earth had captured stars from the heavens.
Maura let out a slow breath at its beauty. “Where are we?”
“Dogg Island. It has been centuries since I was last here.”
“You mean you’ve sheltered in this cavern before?”
Ilyria regarded her steadily. “Child, I am an ancient creature. We were not always confined to the cold, cruel north. Once, dragons ranged over every part of the Known World, and over the Vast Sea to the Beyond as well. There are few, if any, places I have not seen.” Her golden eyes held a look of remembrance. “I bore my last clutch in this cavern.”
Maura had never considered the possibility that her dragoness was a mother. “You have children, Ilyria?”
Ilyria turned her gaze away and looked out toward the hidden sea. “Had. They all perished in the Purge.”
“I—I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine how terrible that must have been for you.”
“I mourn them still.”
Maura understood, for her own sadness over Dal’s death would remain with her always, and she had witnessed how Cormac’s grief had shrouded him in a mantle of torment.
The dragon stretched like a great cat, exhaling a thin stream of smoke. “It comforts me to return here, and to remember happier days.” Seeing Maura’s expression, she asked, “Does this surprise you? Dragons experience all the same emotions as humans do; we just have a different way of expressing them.”
“Yes, of course I know you have feelings!” Maura felt her face flush. “I expect you must have been so disappointed in me… when I didn’t come back to Mithralyn with Leif. I didn’t mean to hurt you, but I was confused at the time… about what was the right thing to do. I know now it was foolish to ignore Master Morgan’s summons.”
She looked down at her hands, fearing what she would see in the dragon’s eyes. But when a low rumble rose in Ilyria’s throat, Maura lifted her head sharply.
“Are you laughing?”
“A little. Did you expect me to chastise you?”
“A little,” Maura confessed, although what she’d really expected was anger of dragon-sized proportions.
“I am reminded that you are newly dragonfast, and have much to learn of what this means.”
“That’s very true. But I want to assure you how precious our binding is to me. I haven’t done a very good job of demonstrating this up until now, but I promise you I won’t ever leave—”
The dragon snorted. “You mistake me, child. Being bound does not mean we must be literally yoked together for the term of your life. There have been bindlings who went years without an encounter with their dragons. Dragonfastness is not like a love affair that needs its flames stoked with pretty words or tokens of affection to keep it viable. It does not require vigilant attendance. It runs deeper than this. It’s something we’ve become, something more—something greater—than you or me. A binding such as we share will always stand the test of time, even if we are long apart.”
“But I missed you so!” Maura blurted out. “In Drinnkastel, for months after I left you, I longed to be with you so much it made me ill. Didn’t you miss me at all?”
The rumbling this time was of a different nature. “Of course I did! But you were following your life’s path, as we all must do. I could not hold your absence against you.”
The stiffness of this last comment made Maura wonder if the dragon was telling her the whole truth. But she was so relieved not to have to face Ilyria’s censure, she accepted her words at face value. “I wished I’d known that. And I’m glad you didn’t suffer as I did. But then, what made you decide to come for me now? Was it because of Leif? Or because the other dragons have left Belestar? What has happened to—”
The dragon rose. “I must hunt and find yo
u something to eat as well. After we rest, you shall learn all that I know.”
Ilyria’s abruptness worried Maura, but she knew there was no use in pressing her to speak until she was ready. “You needn’t bother about food for me,” she said. During the flight, she had discovered a folded cloth in the pocket of her cloak, containing a wedge of cheese, a crust of bread, and a small flask of cider. She produced it now. “That’s odd. I broke off a hunk of the cheese earlier, but it looks perfectly whole now.”
Ilyria sniffed at the cloak. “Where did you get this garment?”
Maura told her how Llwella had transported her out of the castle walls wrapped within the cloak, then left her with it. As she spoke, she idly returned her hand to her pocket, then gasped. “Look at this!” she cried, drawing forth a furred fruit. “I was just thinking how much I’d like a peach!”
Ilyria looked wary. “The dark faeries used to weave such garments. I advise you to exercise caution with this one. Its offerings do not usually come without a price.”
Maura took a moment to digest this, recalling all the faerie stories she’d heard about the perils that befell foolish folk who dabbled in magic. It seemed incredible that Llwella would have relinquished such a precious thing to her.
She stared at the peach, wondering if it was safe to eat. The cheese she’d nibbled hadn’t done her any harm. You are dragonfast, she reminded herself. Be bold.
She bit into the fruit, and its sweet juice filled her mouth.
* * *
Maura woke to the sound of barking. Bright sunlight streamed into the cave. She was alone, and she had no idea whether Ilyria had been gone all night, or had returned from her feed and left again.
The barking grew louder and more urgent. Maura wondered if there were actual wild dogs on Dogg Island, perhaps abandoned by sailors who’d come ashore to forage, or washed up from a shipwreck against the reef. Then it occurred to her that what she heard could be dogs with masters—hunting dogs, seeking a mixed-blood maiden wanted by the High King across the Erolin Sea.
It was possible. She wouldn’t put it past Roth to put a price on her head for stealing away on the dragon he’d vowed to slay. But it was unlikely anyone would come all the way to Dogg Island to look for them—and certainly not so soon.
She ran her hands through her disheveled curls, then grinned when she felt in the pocket of her cloak and found a comb. She did her best to tame her hair and weave it into a loose braid before pulling her cloak close and stepping out into the crisp morning air.
Prior to becoming dragonfast, Maura had never seen the sea, but on her flights with Ilyria, she’d grown to love its capricious nature. This morning the tide was low, the beach littered with long spirals of wrack. Seabirds hopped across the sand between slick dark boulders or bobbed like miniature boats on the turning tide. Gulls hovered, diving into the waves in search of their breakfast. There was no sign of dogs, but she could still hear the strange single-note barking, occasionally punctuated by low belching sounds.
Her hand crept to her pocket to find the blade she’d envisioned. Feeling more confident with it in her grasp, she walked toward the shoreline, seeking the source of the clamor.
She sensed Ilyria was near, and looked up to see the dragon skimming over the bay toward her. The barking surged to a frenzy as the dark boulders at the water’s edge heaved to life and lurched into the shallows on wide, wedged feet. Maura’s startled cry turned to laughter when she realized they were sea lions.
Ilyria must have already fed well, for she ignored the fleeing creatures and glided to a landing, greeting Maura with a warm breath on her face.
“You look rested,” the dragoness said approvingly.
“I slept better than I have in months. I’m ready for whatever the day may bring.”
“More travel, I fear, and we must leave here shortly. But first, we will speak. I would feel better if we did so closer to the cave.”
When they were settled at the mouth of the cavern, Ilyria proceeded. “I promised to tell you what I know and why I came for you. I’m not sure if you’re aware that when Leif returned to Mithralyn, he and Rhiandra decided to go north to Belestar to urge my siblings to reveal their existence and bind again.”
Maura nodded. “Master Morgan told me.” Her pulse quickened at Ilyria’s solemn expression.
“You should prepare yourself for the likelihood that something terrible occurred in Belestar after Leif and Rhiandra arrived.” Her jeweled eyes glittered with pain, and Maura felt its echo in her heart. “Something so terrible that it has turned my siblings against me.” The dragoness’s breath darkened. “I am being hunted by them. And so are you.”
“Hunted?” Maura gasped. “But… you always said the bonds between you and your siblings are unassailable—that this is what has kept your kind from dying out! What could Leif and Rhiandra possibly have done to change this? Master Morgan said they went to plead with the dragons to make bindings. Surely this can’t have angered your sisters and brothers so!”
“I believed nothing could ever break these bonds until I saw a vision in the fire: my brothers, making their way south to Mithralyn. If it had just been Aed and Gryffyn, I might have lingered there to learn their intentions, but once I saw Zal, there was no need. He had sworn that when he left Belestar it would be for one reason only: to settle old scores. And since none of my sisters were with the drakes, this can mean only one of three things: my brothers departed Belestar without the others’ knowledge, or a rift beyond repair has occurred between these three and the rest.”
“That is only two. Why else would they be coming for you, Ilyria?”
The bronze lifted her gaze to scour the clouds. “Perhaps because they are all in accord with Zal and his thirst for vengeance, and the drakes are merely the forerunners. The rest of my siblings may only be waiting for Syrene’s clutch to hatch before they join in the search, which will not cease until they find us. After that, they will turn their fury on the rest of the Known World.”
“But what of Rhiandra?”
“If the last scenario is the true one, Rhiandra no longer lives.”
It was suddenly cold on this summer’s day. Maura pressed close to her dragon. “It can’t be. Oh, Ilyria, what has happened to my dear Leif?”
“I have sought them both in the fire, and can find no trace. I fear Leif too has departed this world.”
Maura felt a wave of despair. Master Morgan had tried to prepare her, she knew, but the thought of Leif dead was too much to bear. He deserved far better—a long and fabled life among the elves, and to see his old gran once more.
Ilyria’s tail curled around her. In silence, they watched the long white rill of surf roll away and return, echoing the sighing wind.
“I will not let them harm you.” The dragoness’s voice was both tender and gruff. “But there is no way back for us now. We must travel far from Drinnglennin if we are to ensure your safety.”
“Our safety, you mean.”
“I have seen what I must do in the fire,” the dragon replied darkly. “This time it is I who must leave you to follow my destiny.”
Maura shook her head. “No. Oh, please, no, Ilyria! I cannot bear to be parted again from you so soon!”
“It is for the best, child, you must believe me.”
“When must you leave me?”
“As soon as I’ve seen you safe from my wrathful brothers. I am taking you where they will not think to seek you.”
“And where is this?”
“To Mandana.” It sounded like a caress on the dragon’s tongue.
“I’ve never heard of it.”
“Not it. Her. Mandana was the bindling of Rust, my long-dead mate. If any of her family still lives, I know we can trust them to keep you safe.”
Ilyria had told Maura about the drake Rust, who had been slain before the dragons could abandon the continent a
nd flee to Belestar.
“His bindling? You mean there is someone else alive, besides Leif and me, who was once dragonfast?”
The dragon shook her great head. “Mandana died long ago. But after the Purge, she vowed that her children, and all the generations of her family to come, would pass down the promise to protect the dragonfast who had lost their dragons.”
“Do Mandana’s descendants possess some special magic? To make such a vow?”
“Magic of a most powerful sort.”
“Then perhaps they can use it to protect you too!”
Ilyria remained silent, and Maura seized on the hope that Mandana’s offspring might help them both. She rose to her feet and dusted the sand from her hands. “I’m ready when you are. How long will it take us to get where we’re going?”
“Longer than I’d like, for I must outwit my brothers—which will be no easy feat.” Ilyria gave an angry snort. “And since ignorance and superstition replaced reason on the continent centuries ago, none must see us pass. We’ll have to take a circuitous route east to—”
The last of her words were snatched away by the wind racing across the shoreline and sending spume high onto the beach.
Maura climbed onto the dragon’s back. “I didn’t hear you! Where in the east did you say we are going?”
The dragon spread her wings and launched herself into the air. “To the famed City of Seven Hills,” she called back. “We fly to Tell-Uyuk!”
Epilogue
Under the starlit heavens, Ilyria watched Maura sleep. It had been a long day’s flight over the desolate, windswept isles peppering the Helgrinian coast, then on to the mainland, where they’d flown low over the towering trees marching ahead for miles uncounted. Now the girl was deep in dreams, and from her low moans, the dragon sensed they were not pleasant ones.
Ilyria shifted closer to Maura, lending her warmth from the fire that burned ever in her ancient veins. Her bindling had this fire as well, ever since they’d mingled their blood. Still, it comforted Ilyria to lie near.
The dragoness was in need of comfort this night. Her heart ached terribly over the loss of the one constant in her long life—the trusted kinship of her siblings. That the last dragons had now come to this divided pass… in truth, she would never have believed it possible had she not seen it with her own eyes. That vision of Zal, Aed, and Gryffyn raging down from the north in a red blaze of fury had saved her from being trapped within Mithralyn’s borders—and had driven her south to Maura—but it had also shaken her to her core.
