The Hearts of Dragons

by Josh VanBrakle

  He gulped. “What part is that?”

  Hana looked into his eyes. The same hunger from the garden earlier that day was back in her expression. “I think you already know.”

  Before Iren realized what Hana was doing, she had untied the sash holding her gown together. With a gentle shrug of her shoulders, the garment dropped to the floor. Iren opened his mouth to tell her to stop, to say that this had gone far enough.

  Then she put her lips against his, and all thought of resistance vanished.

  * * *

  The candles were out. Hana Akiyama lay awake in the darkness. Next to her, Iren Saitosan snored so loudly Hana would have had difficulty falling asleep even without old memories flooding her thoughts.

  There had been no choice. She kept telling herself that. Lord Melwar had given her specific instructions. This was all to gain Iren’s trust, and it had worked.

  At first Hana had taken pleasure in the idea of controlling him. Even now, she smiled with the knowledge that after tonight, Iren would trust her implicitly.

  Yet as she lay there, Hana couldn’t help but feel doubt. It was supposed to be impersonal, but from the moment Iren had defeated her in the garden, she had looked forward to tonight. Something about the way he’d moved resonated with her. Their contest today had more resembled a dance than sparring. No one had ever matched her so perfectly.

  Thus she doubted herself. She wondered if she could see her task through as Lord Melwar had intended. She hadn’t needed to fake her pleasure tonight the way she’d planned to do. More revolting, she was starting to pity the naïve man next to her. After all, it was a scene not so unlike what had happened this evening that had set Hana on the path to becoming Lord Melwar’s slave.

  The memories flashed through her. For twenty-five years she’d worked to forget them, but they never went away. Those worthless humans in Orcsthia had almost raped her, and Rondel had slain them.

  If only the old Maantec had taken Hana with her! How different her life would have been!

  But no. Rondel had walked into the rain, and it was barely a day later when Lord Melwar had found Hana and recruited her. She recalled his words to her, the ones that had shaped her into who she was.

  “You cannot blame Rondel for not taking you,” he’d said. “After all, she did not rescue you. That happened as a result of her actions, but it was never her purpose. She came to deliver Okthora’s Law to those fools. If she had arrived after they had finished with you, she would have killed them and moved on exactly as she did last night.”

  “How can someone be so heartless?” Hana had asked. Her innocence back then still sickened her.

  “It is not about heart,” Lord Melwar had explained. “People do not act out of charity. They are always looking out for themselves and their own benefit. Even when someone gives a gift to a friend or a coin to a beggar, it is because they are looking for something in return, some fleeting sense of rightness. If you want to be strong, stop looking for charity and start looking for those you can use to gain more power.”

  The way the man had looked at her then, Hana had known Lord Melwar was one of those people. She couldn’t have explained how she knew, but she had. “And what would you want of me,” she’d said, “if I came with you and used you for power?”

  He’d smiled at that. “Revenge.”

  That was all he’d said, yet the word had pulsed through Hana’s body like a wave. “Teach me then,” she’d told him. “Give me power, and I’ll give you vengeance.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  False Left

  Balear rose before dawn and headed for Veliaf’s exit. The night guards no longer tried to stop him when he asked to leave the village. They just opened the gate and let him out.

  Once he passed underneath Veliaf’s wall, Balear took off at a jog to warm up. It felt good to work his body. As his muscles adjusted to the motion, he sped up until he was sprinting as fast as he could. He then slowed to a more manageable pace and held it for an hour, running east from Veliaf.

  By the time he reached his destination, the first peaks of sun had appeared on the horizon. They cheered him. The past three days had been dreary with a maddening drizzle that couldn’t be called rain yet had soaked Balear more than a thunderstorm.

  As he had every day for the past month, Balear started with a long round of stretches. He’d performed these motions thousands of times during his tenure in the Castle Guard, yet each one felt different now. He unconsciously leaned to his right as a counter to the change in his center of weight. Several times he swayed like a raw recruit, and twice in a particularly deep stretch he lost his balance and fell.

  Balear considered it an improvement. Yesterday he’d fallen four times during these exercises, and his first day out, he’d spent more time on the ground than in stretches.

  When his body felt limber, he picked up the Auryozaki. Though the blade was weightless, Balear still found it cumbersome in his left hand. He swung a few times, but every cut was jerky and imprecise. He more closely resembled an apprentice butcher than a swordsman.

  His stance was off. It felt backwards. No, it didn’t feel backwards; it was backwards. He was used to holding a sword in his right hand and leading with his left foot. With the blade in his left hand, his feet were wrong. His hips were wrong. His torso was wrong. He tried to switch, to reverse everything, but his body fought him. After six years of intense training in the Castle Guard, every stance had become part of his muscle memory. He could drop into a flawless defensive posture in a heartbeat. At least, it would have been flawless had he a right hand to hold his sword.

  With a frustrated shout, Balear whipped his arm in a wide arc. The Auryozaki whooshed as it slashed through the air.

  Partway through the swing, the awkwardness of Balear’s stance made him lose his footing. He tripped, spun in a half-circle, and wound up on his back looking at the sky.

  Balear raised his head a few inches and then slammed it on the ground. He might be getting better at stretches, but his swordsmanship hadn’t improved at all. He’d come out here every day for a month and trained until the sun set. It was a brutal routine: wake up before dawn, eat a hasty breakfast, run an hour, train all day, run back to Veliaf in the dark, eat supper, and fall asleep.

  He shuddered as he realized he’d forgotten to include hygiene in that sequence. Back in Haldessa, Balear had always kept his uniform well-trimmed, his face clean-shaven, and his hair cropped short. Now he looked about as hairy as the Fubuki, and he smelled worse.

  Thinking of the Fubuki made Balear struggle into a seated position. He had to get better. He had to find a way to defeat that thing. Hana had wounded it, but she hadn’t killed it. It would recover. When it did, it would return.

  “Dad,” Balear whispered, “how would you have fought that beast?”

  The trouble, of course, was that adjusting to his injury wasn’t enough. He and Iren together couldn’t stop the Fubuki last time. Somehow, he needed to be better than the two of them combined, and he’d have to do it with his off hand.

  “Yo, Balear!” someone called from his right. Balear faced the voice and saw a man running toward him. It was Dirio.

  The miner-turned-mayor jogged up to Balear. When he stopped, he put his hands on his knees and took several deep breaths. “I haven’t run that much in years!” he panted. “I’m impressed you can do that twice every day.”

  Balear stood. “They’re just my warm-up and cool-down,” he said. “The real work happens out here, although it isn’t going well.”

  Dirio straightened himself. “I guessed that from talking to the gate guards yesterday. I think their exact words were, ‘He’s like a mad dog. Don’t get in the way of that one, sir.’” The mayor laughed. “Please don’t tell them I told you that.”

  Despite himself, Balear chuckled. “No, they’re probably right. But what brings you out here? It must be important if it couldn’t wait until I returned tonight.”

  “Actually, it’s related to wh
at the guards said,” Dirio replied. “I’m sorry, Balear, but I can’t have a mad dog in my village. With the civil war going on, we’re on a knife’s edge as it is.”

  All the feeling drained from Balear’s legs. “What are you saying?”

  The mayor looked Balear in the eye. “I’m saying that I’m here to help you.”

  “Help me?” Balear spat. “How does booting me from Veliaf help me?”

  Dirio lowered himself into a fighting stance. The position was unprofessional, but Balear recognized it from breaking up plenty of tavern fights over the years. “Prove to me that you can stay in Veliaf,” Dirio said. “Prove it to me with your fist.”

  Balear scowled. He might only have one arm, but he could handle a politician twice his age. He set down his sword and rushed Dirio.

  The fight ended before it started. Balear threw a kick, hoping to take advantage of Dirio’s shorter reach, but his body was used to moving with a right arm. As his empty shoulder instinctively twisted to provide counter-balance, the lack of weight made him slip. He hit the ground without Dirio throwing a punch.

  The mayor looked down at him. “I said ‘with your fist.’ Try again.”

  Balear climbed to his feet, his vision as red as his face. He wouldn’t let some bureaucrat humiliate him! He charged and swung his left arm at full strength. A few missing teeth would teach Dirio to toss him out.

  Dirio was ready. He shifted his head a few inches to his right, which put him outside Balear’s attack. At the same time, he brought his own left hand up and swept Balear’s arm across his body. The motion again put Balear off-balance, and Dirio took advantage to punch Balear’s exposed kidney.

  Balear dropped to his knees. Dirio thrust his right hand at Balear’s nose. He stopped an inch short.

  “I’m no soldier,” the mayor said, “but Veliaf’s not a soft town. If you want to lead here, you have to stand up to a few bullies. I’ve probably ended more brawls than you have, and I know that doing so sometimes requires more than force. Sometimes it requires restraint.”

  “Restraint?” Balear howled. “You want me to have restraint against that Fubuki? Do you think it will show restraint to you and your town when it comes back?”

  Dirio cocked an eyebrow. “Are you telling me you want to become the Fubuki?”

  Balear had his mouth open to rebuke the mayor. He shut it without a word.

  “If you stay in the village, that would be as bad for Veliaf as having the Fubuki there,” Dirio said. “It might not happen today. It might not happen a month from now. But I know that at some point, you would snap and lash out like you did just now. I asked you to prove your worth with your fist, and you did. You attacked with reckless abandon. I can’t have someone like that in my village, especially when that someone has a seven-foot sword and a dragon at his beck and call. So stay out here. I’ll have my men bring you a tent and some food. When you’ve put this madness behind you, you can come back. I hope that for all our sakes, that time comes soon.”

  Dirio spun on his heel and left.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  Spying Sparrow

  Minawë rose with the dawn and stretched. She loved it here.

  She’d spent three weeks in Aokigahara, and she now wondered if, once she rescued Iren, they might live here instead of Ziorsecth. The rainforest was so alive, and there were so many Kodamas. It was as if Saito’s curse had never happened.

  She walked to her wardrobe and rooted for something to wear. Her uncle had searched the village to find the best clothes to fit her. A month ago he hadn’t known she existed, yet he’d dropped everything to see to her happiness.

  At least, that’s how he’d behaved the first week. Since then they’d barely spoken, and that was only during the evenings. He always left before she woke up, and he usually didn’t come back until after dark.

  He was of course always friendly when he saw her, and his loud, winking laugh cheered her spirits. Still, Minawë had the impression that her uncle was being evasive about something. He asked a lot of questions about Ziorsecth and her parents, but he refused to divulge much of his own past.

  It wouldn’t have bothered Minawë, but Narunë was the only person around to talk to. Rondel was still in the hospital, and her uncle refused to let Minawë wander the village. He’d even stationed guards at the base of the lift to his tree house. He’d claimed that Minawë’s presence might provoke the other Kodamas.

  Minawë had believed her uncle at first, but as she’d thought about it more, his explanation made no sense. Why would her presence upset the Kodamas? She had been excited to learn that more of her race survived. Surely they would feel the same way.

  Whatever the reason was, Minawë couldn’t stay cooped up inside. The forest was too amazing. She had to see it.

  That was why, for the past week, she had adopted a different approach. This morning, as she did each day, she grabbed the Chloryoblaka, transformed into a sparrow, and flew out her bedroom window.

  Through her travels, Minawë had learned to spot her uncle from the air. No matter where she went, she kept an eye on him during her wanderings. That way, she knew he wouldn’t discover her missing.

  Minawë flew across the settlement toward the Kodamas’ hospital. Narunë went there daily, so Minawë had quickly figured out where it was. She couldn’t see inside it, but she would occasionally catch sight of Narunë and Rondel standing together out on the tree house’s deck. Sure enough, that’s where they were today.

  It bothered Minawë to see them like that. Whenever she asked her uncle about Rondel, he insisted that she was healing but not well enough to receive visitors. Minawë knew Narunë and Rondel were old friends, but that was no excuse for her uncle to lie to her.

  Something else was going on. Minawë was certain that Rondel hadn’t told her everything about their mission to rescue Iren. Perhaps whatever the old Maantec’s secret was, Narunë was in on it.

  Minawë’s curiosity got the better of her. She fluttered to a branch within earshot of the hospital’s deck. Several leaves overhung where she stood, so it was easy to see what Rondel and Narunë were doing without them noticing her.

  “—looking a lot better,” Narunë was saying. “Is your hand back to normal?”

  “Yes, I think so,” Rondel replied. She flexed her fingers. “Remind me not to punch any more rocks.”

  “As if you’d take my advice!”

  “Well, maybe just this once.” Rondel smiled briefly, but then she became serious again. “By the way, thanks. I didn’t think I’d ever use my left hand again.”

  “Not at all,” Narunë said. “Now that you’re healed, you’re free to go after Azar whenever you like. He shouldn’t be hard to find; Fire Dragon Knights tend to be conspicuous.”

  Minawë jumped on her branch. Fire Dragon Knight? So Hana and Melwar had reforged the Karyozaki after all. Minawë had no idea who this Azar was, but based on her uncle’s tone, he wasn’t anyone pleasant.

  “How’s the work on my Liryometa going?” Rondel asked. “I should have it before I hunt for Azar.”

  Narunë sighed. “I wish I had better news. My smith is one of the best, but so far your weapon’s stumped him.”

  “In that case, you know there’s a good chance I won’t come back,” Rondel said. “What will you do then?”

  It took Narunë a long moment to respond. His fingers clutched the deck’s railing. “I don’t know,” he said at last. “I had all but lost hope for my people when you showed up. If you can’t defeat that monster, it will only be a matter of time before he kills us all.”

  Rondel frowned. “That’s what I thought. In that case, can you promise me something? If Azar comes, make sure Minawë gets out of this forest alive.”

  Narunë set his jaw. “Even if I have to drag her to the cliff at Eregos, I’ll make sure she escapes.”

  From her listening spot, Minawë felt her sparrow lungs breathing faster and faster. What were Rondel and her uncle talking about? Rondel sounded like she w
as going off to die. If there was a Fire Dragon Knight out there, why would the old Maantec face it alone? Minawë was the Forest Dragon Knight. She could help.

  She was about to fly down there, transform, and tell them that when Rondel said, “By the way, whether I come back or not, it doesn’t change our agreement. You still can’t tell Minawë.”

  Minawë stopped, her wings open. Couldn’t tell her what?

  Narunë held up both hands in a placating gesture. “Please, Rondel, I have more tact than that. You’ve held up your end of the bargain; I’ll keep mine too.”

  “That’s good to hear,” Rondel replied. Lightning Sight sparked in her eyes, and she pointed to them with her thumb. “If I do come back and find out that she knows, you’ll have these to answer to. I won’t show you any mercy.”

  “I wouldn’t expect it!” Narunë said, bellowing his laugh.

  Rondel glared at him for several more seconds. Finally, though, she ended her spell and headed for the door that led inside the hospital.

  She had almost reached it when Narunë said, “By the way, while I won’t reveal your secret, I do think you should tell Minawë. She deserves to know.”

  The old woman shook her head and smiled sadly. “She deserves to be happy.”

  Narunë cocked an eyebrow. “Aren’t those the same?”

  Rondel paused as though considering. For a moment she looked like she might respond, but then she opened the door and stepped inside.

  Minawë was certain the strange conversation was over, but then Narunë said, “Actually, I’m surprised she hasn’t figured it out. Even if I didn’t know about you and Otunë, it was obvious when you two were standing together the morning you arrived. She has Otunë’s height, but she has her mother’s good looks, not to mention her eyes.”