The Hearts of Dragons

by Josh VanBrakle

  “But if I’m not injured, is there any way to get my magic back?”

  The Maantec lord smiled, but it wasn’t a pleasant expression. “It is only a wall,” he said. “You can knock it down.”

  Melwar’s simple description made Iren’s heart skip. If this barrier was all that stood between him and his magic, he’d have Divinion back, become the Maantec emperor, and return to Lodia in a matter of days.

  Melwar must have seen his excitement, because the Maantec lord said, “Do not think it will be easy. Or safe. Your body created that barrier to protect you. It did not make it to be removed. You could die.”

  Iren set his jaw. “Just tell me what I need to do.”

  “Very well,” Melwar said. “Defend yourself.”

  “Wha—” Iren began, but then Melwar’s stance changed. Though he was unarmed, the Maantec lord’s hand went to his sash as though grasping at a hilt. A shadow grew at the spot, and from it Melwar pulled a long, black blade. It shifted and twisted as he held it aloft, as though it were as insubstantial as smoke.

  Iren had never seen a spell like that before, but something told him it was more dangerous than it appeared. He drew the Muryozaki. Whatever that bizarre sword was, Melwar’s touching it meant that he intended to attack.

  Hana’s hands went to her mouth, and in that instant of distraction, Melwar struck. He slashed horizontally, but his attack was slow. Iren raised the Muryozaki to block with plenty of time to spare.

  As their blades met, though, Melwar’s sword passed through Iren’s. Surprised, Iren panicked and ducked low to avoid Melwar’s attack. Even so, the cut caught the tip of Iren’s hair. Several strands fell to the floor.

  Iren retreated from Melwar and eyed the Maantec lord in shock. That shadow blade had passed through the Muryozaki, yet it had somehow become solid enough to nearly slice off Iren’s head.

  Though Iren didn’t know how such a technique could be possible, it was simple to counter. He couldn’t block Melwar’s sword, so he would have to avoid it. The next time the Maantec lord attacked, Iren sidestepped the vertical slice. As Melwar was still following through, Iren thrust. He didn’t want to wound Melwar, but the narrow miss earlier had forced him to think otherwise. This might be a fight to the death.

  Still, Iren didn’t want to kill Melwar if he didn’t have to. Rather than a lethal blow, he aimed for Melwar’s sword hand.

  The Maantec lord didn’t even attempt to block or dodge. Iren’s blade struck its target.

  Iren half-smiled in victory, but almost instantly, he knew something was wrong. His blade hadn’t met any resistance, and Melwar had neither cried in pain nor dropped his sword.

  Thrown off balance, Iren took another step forward. His momentum drove his sword through Melwar’s chest.

  “No!” he shouted, dropping his katana. If he had killed Melwar, then all hope of regaining his magic was gone forever. He rushed to cradle the dying lord in his arms, but instead of holding Melwar, Iren passed right through him. It was as though the Maantec lord were as insubstantial as his sword.

  Only then did Iren realize the Muryozaki had fallen to the floor. It had landed soundlessly on the straw mats. Melwar was unharmed.

  The next second, Iren felt a breeze and the slightest pain as Melwar’s blade cut a shallow line in Iren’s right cheek.

  The Maantec lord stepped away. His strange weapon vanished. He waited while Iren picked up the Muryozaki and sheathed it. Once he had, the Maantec lord said, “You are not ready yet. Hana, bring him to the garden tomorrow at dawn. We will begin his instruction.”

  Hana knelt and bowed so that her head touched the floor, and Iren recovered his wits enough to mimic her. The two of them left Melwar in his chamber and headed back to Iren’s room.

  “What on Raa just happened?” Iren demanded when they arrived.

  Hana laughed. “I think you just got yourself a new teacher.”

  Iren groaned.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Mountain Fire

  Rondel and Minawë galloped across southern Lodia. Ahead of them loomed the high peaks of the Eregos Mountains.

  As they rode, Minawë silently thanked Dirio for giving them the horses Hana and Iren had ridden to Veliaf. Crossing Lodia on foot had been dangerous enough. Crossing all of Raa that way seemed impossible.

  In spite of the improved travel conditions, Minawë despised every second. This journey shouldn’t be necessary. They had been in the same village as Iren. Had they arrived a few minutes sooner, they might have caught up to him before Hana ensnared him.

  It didn’t help Minawë’s mood that Rondel had ridden in brooding silence ever since they’d left Veliaf. Minawë had tried to engage her in conversation the first day out, but the old Maantec had worn such a frightening expression that Minawë had given up the effort.

  She wanted to dismiss Rondel’s sullenness as mere frustration at having missed Iren. Yet something told her there was more to it than that. She had suspected that Rondel had been keeping a secret ever since Ziorsecth. Now Minawë was certain of it. There was more to this mission than rescuing Iren. Whatever it was, Rondel knew it and didn’t intend to share.

  After four days of travel, though, the old woman’s attitude eased a little. She still hadn’t spoken, but she didn’t seem furious at the world anymore.

  Minawë decided to risk it. She couldn’t handle the silent travel much longer. “How’s your hand?” she asked.

  Rondel shook her head and blinked several times. “I’m sorry, what?”

  “I asked about your hand,” Minawë laughed. She rolled her eyes. “Hey, are you daydreaming over there? That’s more like Iren than you.”

  The old Maantec chuckled, and Minawë felt the tension between them drop. “I guess so,” Rondel said. “As for my hand, I wish I had better news. It isn’t infected; I can thank Serona’s heat for that. Unfortunately, it didn’t set right. I don’t think I’ll ever use it again.”

  Minawë recalled Balear lying on his bed in Veliaf, missing an arm. At the time, she had wondered why Rondel would go to such lengths to comfort him. Now she understood.

  “Slow down,” Rondel called, interrupting Minawë’s thoughts. The terrain around them had changed. It sloped up and was littered with large rocks. Caught by surprise, Minawë swayed in her saddle.

  “And here you were making fun of me for not focusing,” Rondel said with a smirk.

  Minawë shot the woman a dirty look, but secretly she was glad Rondel was making sarcastic comments again. It meant the old woman was back to normal.

  “Does this mean we’ve crossed into Eregos?” Minawë asked.

  Rondel’s horse trotted up beside hers. “I’m not sure where the border is, but for all practical purposes, yes. There are only a few small Lodian towns at the base of the mountains, and we’ll avoid them. We’ve gotten caught up enough in their war.”

  Minawë had to agree with her. They’d seen more devastation crossing Lodia than Minawë had witnessed in her life. It made the damage Feng had caused to Ziorsecth last year seem minor.

  As they rode higher into the foothills, Minawë’s pulse quickened. Despite her frustrations, a sense of adventure was growing on her. Eregos’s peaks awed her. They seemed to stretch forever, and more than a few speared the clouds. “Will we have to climb them?” she asked, entranced and afraid at the same time.

  “Thankfully, we won’t,” Rondel said. “There are a few passes between the mountains. It’ll be rough going for the horses, but nothing they can’t manage. I’m more concerned about the Tengu.”

  “Tengu?” Minawë had heard them mentioned a few times, but she knew nothing about them.

  “Mountain men,” Rondel explained. “They’re mostly livestock herders, especially goats.”

  Minawë breathed a sigh of relief. “So they aren’t dangerous.”

  “No! They’re quite dangerous. They’re the reason Yokai no longer live in these mountains. And during the Kodama-Maantec War, the Maantecs would have conquered Lo
dia had the Tengu not sided with the humans and Kodamas fighting there.”

  “What makes them so dangerous?” Minawë asked. “Are they strong?”

  Rondel shook her head. “Compared with Kodamas and Maantecs, the Tengu have little magical talent. For the unwary, though, they can be the deadliest of opponents. They excel at illusion and trickery.”

  Minawë gulped. “I hope we don’t see any.”

  “Even if we do, they’re peaceful enough that as long as we don’t threaten them, we should be safe. Still, I’d feel more comfortable if Lodia weren’t in the middle of a civil war.”

  “What does that have to do with the Tengu?”

  “Take a look around: scrubby pine trees, dry earth, steep slopes, and rocky soils. This isn’t farmland. The Tengu rely on trade with Lodia to supplement the meat and dairy from their livestock. But Amroth’s drafting of an army and the civil war will have vastly reduced Lodian agriculture. The Tengu may be growing desperate. They might fear an invasion, or worse,” Rondel’s expression turned grim, “they might be planning one.”

  After that, Rondel suggested they ride in silence to avoid attracting attention. They traveled through the afternoon, stopping only to refill their water skins at a spring.

  Minawë had no idea how long the journey through the mountains would take, but she hoped it would be over quickly. Her earlier adventurousness was eroding at the reality of what they faced. The rocky trail didn’t allow the horses to go faster than a walk, and each step echoed off the surrounding cliffs. Rondel’s idea of riding quietly was impossible. They’d be better off sneaking through here with a troupe of drunken bards.

  She was about to ask Rondel what they should do about the noise when they crested a ridge. The moment they did, all Minawë’s thoughts of their journey fled as she beheld the valley below them.

  Everything in it was scorched black. From the ridge where they stood to the far valley wall, no vegetation survived. A few husks of old pine trees remained, but they didn’t have a single needle on them. An acrid smell filled the air, and smoke still rose from several areas.

  Rondel dismounted and took a few steps into the charred valley. Kneeling, she picked up a clump of burned soil and rubbed it in her fingers.

  Panic rose in Minawë’s throat. This was why Hana had taken the Burning Ruby from Rondel. She had reforged the Karyozaki and created a new Fire Dragon Knight.

  Minawë drew her bow and nocked an arrow. The flames that had destroyed this valley couldn’t have gone out more than a couple days ago. If the Fire Dragon Knight was still here, they were dead. Rondel couldn’t fight, and Minawë wasn’t ready to face any Dragon Knight yet, certainly not one of the same ilk that had slain Mother.

  Rondel paused in her examination of the soil. She cocked an eyebrow. “What has you so worried?”

  Minawë couldn’t believe the woman’s nonchalance. “What has me so worried?” she cried. “The Fire Dragon Knight is here! He’ll kill us!”

  The old Maantec stared at Minawë for a long moment. Then the old woman burst out laughing. “You think the Fire Dragon Knight caused this?”

  “Of course! Look at this destruction! This valley must be hundreds, maybe thousands of acres in size.”

  “You’re right,” Rondel said with a nod. “It is small, now that you mention it.”

  “Small?”

  Rondel made her way back to the ridgeline. “Minawë, this is no dragon-caused disaster. We’re coming into summer, and the mountains here get little rain. Combine the two, and this region is rife with wildfire.”

  Minawë was shocked. “You’re saying this devastation is natural?”

  “As natural as we are. It doesn’t take much to set off a blaze like what caused this. A careless Tengu with a campfire or a bolt of heat lightning would be all that’s required.”

  Minawë dismounted and entered the valley. She heard no voices here. “If what you say is true,” she said, “then how can anything survive in these mountains?”

  Rondel walked to the husk of a pine. “Take a close look at this tree,” she said. “The plants here are adapted to fire. This one has extremely thick bark. It may look charred, but it’s doing fine.”

  Minawë put a hand on the tree, and to her amazement discovered that Rondel was right. It was still alive. In fact, it felt more than alive. The tree’s voice conveyed sheer delight.

  “It doesn’t make sense,” Minawë said. “This tree is overjoyed about the fire. How can that be? What does it have to be happy about?”

  Rondel grinned. “That’s why I was checking the soil. Grab some yourself, and you’ll see.”

  Minawë didn’t know what Rondel was driving at, but she obliged. Picking up a handful of dirt, she sifted it through her fingers. At first she didn’t sense anything. Then she heard tiny voices from the soil.

  “These trees have serotinous cones,” Rondel explained. “Your father taught me about them after I joined his side in the Kodama-Maantec War. The cones can withstand intense heat, and it’s only after such heat that they open and release their seeds.”

  Sweeping her gaze over the blackened landscape, Minawë understood. “Of course,” she said. “There are no other plants to compete with the seeds. If they’re released only after a fire, then they can grow unrestrained.”

  “That’s why the tree’s so happy,” Rondel said. “It knows that while it has suffered, its sacrifice has given its children the best chance for success.”

  Minawë thought back to the pair of graves at the Heart of Ziorsecth. Mother and Father had given their lives so she could survive. She wondered if they had felt the same elation as this tree at the moments of their deaths.

  “We shouldn’t linger,” Rondel said. “Night’s falling, and we don’t want to be out and exposed either in this valley or on the ridge. We’ll backtrack a little and find a place to camp.”

  Minawë walked a few steps toward the ridge, but then she halted. She placed both hands on the ground, her Chloryoblaka clutched between them. Closing her eyes, she reached out to the seeds around her. She could only touch those within about thirty feet, but it was enough. She let her magic flow into them and willed them to grow.

  When Minawë opened her eyes again, a circle of seedlings had sprouted, their blackened parent at its center. “What do you think?” she asked.

  For a long time Rondel didn’t answer. Finally she smiled. “It’s wonderful.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Training Regimen

  When Hana woke Iren at dawn, he had no desire to get up. The thick mattress—Hana called it a futon—and cylindrical pillow she’d pulled from the closet last night were by far the most comfortable bedding Iren had ever slept in. But Hana insisted, and after she lifted one side of the futon and rolled Iren onto the floor, he got the message.

  A servant entered bearing a tray with a teapot and a pair of cups for them. Hana sipped hers, but Iren sucked his down, grateful for the heat and invigoration it provided.

  Once Hana finished her tea, she helped Iren pick suitable clothes. She chose a less ostentatious outfit than she had the previous night, a simple tan shirt with the same baggy, pleated trousers.

  The clothing matched Hana’s. She had dressed like a Maantec man and tied her long black hair in a ponytail.

  Still groggy, Iren let Hana guide him through the castle keep, down several flights of stairs, and outside into a large central garden. Ringed by the keep, the garden was simple yet elegant. Small trees, bare in winter’s chill, lined a maze of stone walkways.

  The garden’s middle, however, had no plants at all. Instead, sand filled a square area about the size of Iren’s bedroom.

  Following Hana’s lead, Iren removed his socks and stepped onto the sand. It was frigid, not far above freezing, and he shivered. Even so, he dug his toes into it, savoring its therapeutic crunch. He breathed deeply. Though plaster and stone ringed him, in the distance Iren could hear the ocean waves crash on the shores that surrounded Hiabi on three sides. The m
orning breeze showed his breath, but it also brought the sea’s salty tang. That air woke him more than any tea ever could.

  “I thought you might like it,” a male voice said from behind him. Iren turned and bowed. Hana did the same beside him.

  “Lord Melwar,” Iren said.

  “Rise,” Melwar replied. “We have work to do.”

  Iren lifted his head to look at Melwar. The Maantec lord had dressed the same way he had the previous night. In each hand he held a wooden sword shaped like the Muryozaki. He tossed one to Iren. “We will start with these.”

  Iren fingered the wooden katana doubtfully. “How is this supposed to help me use magic again?”

  “You think you can survive breaking your body’s magic wall with your strength as pitiful as it is? Hit me first.”

  Setting the Muryozaki on the ground, Iren held out his new wooden sword in challenge. Melwar half-smiled. He snapped his fingers, and Hana stepped between them.

  “Before you may face me,” Melwar said, “you must prove that you can defeat someone of your own rank. Win against Hana, and then we will fight.” He handed the Maantec woman his second wooden sword and stepped back.

  “The rules are simple,” Melwar continued as Hana squared off against Iren. “Do not leave the sand. You may use the wooden sword and your body, but magic is forbidden. The winner is the one who lands the first blow with his or her sword.”

  Iren gritted his teeth. The lord’s exercise was a waste of time. Still, Melwar was in charge here. He’d just have to go along with this nonsense for now.

  Fortunately, he wouldn’t have to go along with it for long. After observing Hana’s fights in Lodia, Iren knew he could win. Hana was an aggressive fighter. She never worried about blocking, because her Stone Dragon Knight abilities gave her armor that swords couldn’t pierce. In a match where magic wasn’t allowed, that inexperience with defense would make her vulnerable.

  True to expectations, Hana made the first move, attacking with a vertical slash at Iren’s head. It was fast and hard, with no thought to the stomach she’d left exposed in the process. Iren blocked her strike, redirected the force off to his right side, and countered with a thrust at Hana’s abdomen.