The Hearts of Dragons

by Josh VanBrakle

  He was certain his blow would land, but then Hana sidestepped to her left and avoided it. She cut horizontally, and Iren felt pain in his right arm as the wooden sword connected. Hana stepped back and made a show of pretending to sheathe her weapon.

  “Hana wins,” Melwar said.

  Iren seethed at the mundane way the Maantec lord stated the obvious. “How?” he demanded of Hana. “I thought you didn’t care about defense.”

  “Only a fool doesn’t care about defense,” she said. “If you’re judging me by the fights we shared in Lodia, that’s a poor decision. I didn’t bother with defense back then because we never faced an opponent that warranted defending myself against.”

  “One more time then,” Iren grunted. “I won’t take you lightly again.”

  Hana shrugged. “If you want.” She readied her wooden sword.

  “No,” Melwar interrupted, “one attempt per day. You both will meet me here at dawn each morning and duel. That is all we have time for. After all, Iren, this is only the first part of your training regimen.”

  The way Melwar said “regimen” made Iren gulp.

  “Hana, that will be all for today,” Melwar continued. “We will see you tomorrow.” Hana bowed low and left the garden.

  When Melwar and Iren were alone, the Maantec lord said, “Last night when I attacked you, you saw that I prefer shadow magic. You should consider my selection fortunate. Had I chosen any other, you would have no chance of using magic again.”

  “How so?” Iren asked.

  Melwar folded his arms and scowled. At first Iren had no idea why the annoying Maantec was dallying, but then he realized his mistake. “Please explain, Lord Melwar,” he said, cursing mentally. This etiquette stuff was going to be the end of him.

  His apology appeared to satisfy Melwar. The Maantec lord answered, “There are nine types of magic, and each has its opposite: fire and ice, water and air, earth and life, light and shadow. Lightning is its own opposite; it has positive and negative charges. These energies are at constant war with each other as they strive for balance. For that reason, although they oppose, they also attract one another.”

  Melwar paused and pointed at Iren. “You are the Holy Dragon Knight. To break your barrier, we must build up enough shadow magic in your body so that the attraction between it and your trapped light magic is stronger than your body’s wall. When that happens, your barrier will break as the magics collide with each other. Unfortunately, the pain of enduring all that energy inside you would kill you in a second. To have a hope of surviving a breach of your body’s wall, you need to increase your pain threshold.”

  Iren blanched.

  “The second part of your training regimen will be an endurance trial,” Melwar pressed on, ignoring Iren’s discomfort. “I will attack you with shadow magic, and you will try to stay conscious. Simple, right?”

  “Yeah, real simple,” Iren spat before he could stop himself.

  “Under normal circumstances, I would be within my rights to attack you for showing me such a callous attitude,” Melwar warned. “However,” he added with a sly grin, “I think you are in for enough punishment as it is. Prepare yourself.”

  Iren retrieved the Muryozaki and held it before him. “I’m ready, Lord Melwar,” he said, though he knew it was a lie.

  Melwar raised a single hand. The shadows in the garden deepened, shifting much faster than they should to mark the passage of the sun. They enveloped Iren and grasped at him like hands.

  Then as one they stabbed into him. It was like a hundred knives driving into his flesh from every direction. He screamed at the pain that seemed to last for all eternity, and he blacked out.

  * * *

  Iren woke in his room. He was on his futon and looking at the ceiling. His body ached. He tried to stand, but he could only raise his head a few inches.

  “Not bad,” a female voice said. “Lord Melwar thought you’d sleep until dawn.”

  Hana appeared above Iren, still dressed like a man. She dabbed a wet cloth on his forehead. The water was cool and refreshing.

  “What happened?” Iren asked. “What time is it?”

  “About two hours until sunrise.”

  “That doesn’t make sense,” Iren said. “It was just after dawn.”

  “Yes, you’ve been asleep almost a day.”

  Iren recalled the agony of Melwar’s attack. He felt over the parts of his body that he could reach. It took incredible effort to move his arm, but at least nothing was broken. He couldn’t even find the slightest cut or wound. “Did you heal me?” he asked.

  Hana shook her head. “You didn’t have any wounds. Even if you did, I don’t have any healing abilities.”

  “I see.” Iren figured he should rest, but there was no way he could sleep after lying unconscious all day.

  “Well, since you’re awake,” Hana said, rising and walking out of Iren’s field of vision, “I guess we may as well put the time to good use.”

  Iren didn’t know what she meant, and without intending it, the memory of the bath two days ago came to him. His heart raced. Part of him was terrified, but he was also curious. He’d never been romantically involved with a woman. In Lodia everyone had hated him, and when he’d lived with Minawë, they’d both been preoccupied. Now, with Hana having seemingly no other purpose but spending time with him, the idea filled his mind.

  Hana returned with the diary Iren had found at his parents’ house. “Let’s keep up our practice of Maantec,” she said. “You want to know what this book says, don’t you? Besides, Melwar and I are exceptions in Hiabi. If you want to communicate with other Maantecs, you should learn our language.”

  Iren shook his head to clear his thoughts. Of course Hana just wanted to continue his lessons. She didn’t feel anything for him.

  He did his best to concentrate on Hana’s instruction, but within a few minutes his head swam. He’d spent most of the day asleep, yet he still felt exhausted.

  A “training regimen,” Melwar had called it. A fresh wave of soreness washed over Iren. “Training death-march” sounded more accurate.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  The Tengu

  After more than a week in the mountains, Minawë didn’t feel like they were getting anywhere. The spires of Eregos rose as high as ever, and the horses had trouble negotiating the uneven paths. Minawë had taken to walking alongside hers to spare the beast her weight.

  The trail narrowed as Rondel and Minawë approached the next mountain pass. Sheer stone walls towered on either side of them. Eventually the cliffs became so close together that the pair needed to go single-file. Rondel took the lead, still on her horse.

  A crack of thunder echoed off the canyon walls. Minawë covered her ears at the reverberations. She wanted out of this place right away, but ahead of her, Rondel stopped.

  “What’s wrong?” Minawë asked.

  Rondel dismounted without answering. Minawë slid past Rondel’s horse so she could see what was going on.

  Blocking their path was the oddest creature Minawë had ever seen. It stood no taller than Rondel, yet its girth surpassed its height. In one hand it held a large gourd, and in the other it clutched a shepherd’s crook. Except for its chestnut face, the creature’s body was covered in white, downy feathers that made it look like an oversized baby bird. That appearance was all the more realized by the creature’s absurdly long nose, which measured the length of Minawë’s forearm.

  “What is that?” Minawë asked, though she had a good idea of the answer.

  Rondel didn’t shift her gaze from the creature. “It’s a Tengu.”

  The Tengu must have heard them, because it cocked its head sideways. It stared at them with huge brown eyes.

  Rondel hobbled forward, by all appearances a shuffling elder. “Please, Master Tengu, won’t you let us pass?”

  “Haruu hoo hoo,” the Tengu grunted in what Minawë guessed was laughter. The throaty sound caused the Tengu to shake all over. “This is a good place to pass
. That’s why they call it a pass.”

  “Indeed,” Rondel said, the patience in her voice forced, “so if you’ll step to one side, we’ll be on our way.”

  “And what way might that be?” The Tengu looked at Minawë. “Ah, I see. Little Kodama, have you brought your grandmother here to die? Will you leave her here with us?”

  Minawë didn’t know how to take that. She couldn’t think of a response.

  Rondel could. “I’m not her grandmother,” the old woman retorted, “and I’m not ready to die either. We’re on a journey.”

  “Granny is rude!” the Tengu laughed. “I wasn’t talking to her.”

  Rondel seethed. She opened her mouth, but Minawë put a hand on her shoulder. “Let me,” she said. “It seems interested in me.”

  She stepped around Rondel. “What the old hag says is true,” she told the Tengu.

  A grunt sounded from behind her. Minawë suppressed a smile. Iren used to call Rondel “old hag” to rile her. This Tengu delighted in teasing Rondel; maybe it would appreciate Minawë if she did the same.

  “She can be forgetful,” Minawë continued, shaking her head in mock exasperation, “but this time she was right. We’re headed south to find a lost friend of ours. He’s in Shikari.”

  The Tengu’s feathers fluffed at that. “Nice going,” Rondel grumbled, “the Tengu hate Maantecs, remember?”

  “Haruu hoo hoo!” the Tengu laughed. “That was mean of you to deceive me. I can’t let Maantecs through.”

  “You will let us through,” Minawë said. She removed the Chloryoblaka from her back. “I’m no Maantec. I’m a Kodama, and I’m the Forest Dragon Knight.”

  “Forest Dragon Knight?” The Tengu cocked its head sideways again. “If you’re a Dragon Knight, why don’t you just fly away? You don’t need to bother with me at all.”

  “Master Tengu, please, I can’t fly. That’s why we’re walking.”

  “Oh, you can’t fly! What a pathetic Dragon Knight you are! Even sparrows can fly. If you can’t do what a sparrow can, you must be a very stupid person!”

  They were the last words the Tengu spoke. Rondel gave no warning; Minawë felt only a rush of air as the Maantec rushed past her. The Liryometa flashed, and Rondel drove its round pommel into the Tengu’s skull. The creature dropped to the ground, breathing shallowly.

  Minawë ran to Rondel. “What did you do that for?” she cried.

  Rondel sheathed her broken weapon. “I got tired of waiting.”

  “That’s no reason to knock him out!”

  The old Maantec said nothing and returned to her horse. Minawë frowned. Something was wrong. Rondel wouldn’t attack someone just for trying her patience. There must have been another reason.

  Whatever it was, Rondel didn’t want to discuss it. She rode up to Minawë, glared down at her, and barked, “Hurry and get back on your horse. We don’t have much time. If there are other Tengu around, they’ll never let us leave these mountains now.”

  Minawë started to argue that that was why Rondel shouldn’t have struck the Tengu in the first place, but an unearthly shriek drowned out her words. She looked up and gasped. The cliff tops on either side of them swarmed with hundreds of Tengu, each armed with a horn bow.

  Leaping onto her horse, Minawë galloped down the narrow mountain pass. Rondel rode just ahead of her. The Tengu screeched in challenge and then, as one, shot their bows.

  There was no escape, and Minawë knew it. She and Rondel couldn’t maneuver in the tight space, and the arrows were so plentiful they were like a collapsing roof.

  Even so, Minawë and Rondel remained unharmed. The arrows rained down, but they passed through horses and riders alike without injury.

  Minawë grasped the situation at once. All the Tengu had fired simultaneously. That was impossible even for a trained militia. The Tengu were casting an illusion that made their bowmen and arrows appear far more numerous than they actually were.

  There must have been at least a few real ones, though, because an arrow struck Rondel in the left shoulder, and another grazed Minawë’s back. In the drowning barrage, Minawë couldn’t tell which arrows were real and which were fake. She would have to ride at full speed and hope to outdistance them.

  She thought she had escaped when she and Rondel reached the end of the mountain pass. The cliffs separated from each other and put space between them and the Tengu.

  But as Minawë glanced back, her optimism died. The horde of Tengu, real or imagined, poured over the cliffs. The creatures flapped their arms to slow their descent, like gigantic chicks dropped from the nest. Minawë would have laughed had the swarm not been so menacing.

  The arrows continued unabated. Then without warning, Minawë’s horse pitched forward and threw her from the saddle.

  As Minawë rolled to a stop, she saw that her steed had caught his foot in a hole and stumbled. She ran back toward him, but before she had covered half the distance, two real arrows pierced him. The horse cried a long, mournful neigh and then lay silent.

  Minawë stared in shock at the dead animal, and it took an arrow scratching her arm to pull her back to reality. She turned and ran, putting everything she had into her legs.

  Soon enough, though, she had to slow down. The ground was steeper here, and the many boulders and crevices threatened to snap her leg just as they had done to her horse.

  Eventually she caught up to Rondel, who had abandoned her own steed and was also making her way on foot. The old woman still had an arrow protruding from her left shoulder. Blood ran down her arm.

  “What do we do?” Minawë asked. “We can’t run, and those Tengu aren’t slowing down.”

  Rondel looked behind her at the apparent army of foes rushing toward them. “The Tengu are built to survive in these mountains,” she said. “They know the safe paths. If we can’t speed up, we’ll have to slow them down.”

  “And your suggestion for that would be?”

  “Well, I did come up with one idea,” Rondel said with a grimace, “but it’ll probably get us killed.”

  An arrow pinged off a rock at Minawë’s feet. “Like we have a choice?”

  “My thoughts exactly.”

  Rondel drew the Liryometa as they continued their flight. The dagger shone blue in the grayness of the overcast evening.

  Thunder rumbled above them, and Minawë realized Rondel’s plan. Dry mountain grasses and scrub pine surrounded them. The memory of the charred valley flashed back to her.

  Minawë felt pressure on her right side, and she almost fell as Rondel shoved her. “Go that way!” the Maantec howled. “Don’t look back!”

  She obeyed, mostly. Minawë couldn’t help but peek over her shoulder to see what Rondel was doing. The old woman threw down her dagger. Then she leapt behind a boulder several feet away and covered her ears as best she could with a broken hand.

  The charge Rondel had built up inside the Liryometa was too much for the storm to resist. Even with Minawë’s lead, the lightning strike threw her to the ground.

  When she recovered, all Minawë could hear was ringing in her ears. Around the lightning’s impact site, the forest was already aflame.

  “Rondel!” Minawë shouted in vain as the fires obscured her vision. She couldn’t believe how quickly the wind spread the flames. It carried embers across the landscape. Soon a burning line sprouted that separated her from the Tengu. For the first time since the mountain pass, all the arrows, real and imaginary, ceased.

  But Rondel’s plan hadn’t saved Minawë. With the direction of the wind, the fire was coming straight for her.

  She fled, hoping Rondel was all right. The lightning bolt itself might have killed the old Maantec, but even if it hadn’t, she would have been in the middle of that blaze when it ignited.

  Minawë picked her way through the woods. The flames behind her closed in. Sweat poured off her. The heat was more intense than even what Feng had thrown off.

  She couldn’t outrun the fires. They were too fast. She’d have to f
ly to escape them.

  Fly? The thought struck her through the terror of the burning forest. She remembered the Tengu’s words: “Oh, you can’t fly! What a pathetic Dragon Knight you are!”

  Maybe the creature was right. Mother or Father could have figured a way out of this mess, but not her.

  She wouldn’t let herself believe that. Rondel had said the Tengu were tricksters. The one in the pass had seemed to be insulting her, but maybe, in its own weird way, it had meant something good by it.

  “Even sparrows can fly,” it had said. “If you can’t do what a sparrow can, you must be a very stupid person!”

  He made it sound so simple. Want to fly? Just be a sparrow.

  That was it. It was that simple. If she could change the form of plants using Dendryl’s magic, perhaps she could do the same to herself.

  Minawë channeled the Forest Dragon’s energy. As she did, she focused on the shape of the sparrows in Ziorsecth. She pictured her body changing, shrinking, and sprouting wings.

  The transformation was excruciating. Her bones crunched and popped as they rearranged themselves. Her muscles strained as parts of her changed at different speeds. All the while, the fires drew closer. They were behind and to either side of her now. Soon, even if her attempt worked, she would still die.

  At last her body felt normal again. The transformation had succeeded. With a flap of her wings, Minawë took flight. She soared above the burning mountainside. Her keen bird eyes swept the ground as she searched for Rondel. It took her two large circles, but she finally spotted a tiny two-legged form moving south away from the flames.

  As she swerved toward Rondel, Minawë saw the Tengu on the other side of the fire. They had given up the chase. They must have stopped their illusion too, because now there were only a dozen of them.

  Minawë was glad the Tengu had let Rondel go rather than risk the forest fire. Although they had nearly killed her, Minawë felt terrible for what had happened. The Tengu had been guarding their home. It was no different from the way the Kodamas protected Ziorsecth.