She took further advantage of the knight’s confusion by tying him to a tree, then went to help Zeph. The bolt came out in an operation lasting two hours, but Pam didn’t stir.
Evening was coming on, and they were lighting great bonfires to keep her warm, when Pam finally cracked open an eye and, in a wheezing voice, asked, “Is there anything tah’ eat?”
Beneath Purity’s relief, anger still boiled, as she stroked the dragon’s nose and said, “Only what’s in the pantry. Some bread, a little jerky. Do you want to eat him, instead?”
“She needs to eat if she’s going to live,” Zeph said, her eyes also on the knight.
He cleared his throat and said, “Perhaps we can start with my horse, which is tied up half a mile down the road.”
Purity stared at him. “Might not be enough.”
“If she’s still hungry afterward, then she can have me.” The knight drew a breath, eyes downcast. “Seems only fair.”
Pam snorted. “Hush yeh. Yer too wiry. But a wee bit a’ horse would really hit the spot.”
Purity spent her evening in a rather unexpected way: slaughtering a horse and hand-feeding little cubes of its ragged, bloody flesh to Pam.
“If I may ask,” the knight said, “why do you play this trick upon virtuous knights, and how have you come to tame a dragon?”
Pam started to laugh at that last question but had to stop when it caused a painful coughing fit. “These two, tame me? Laddy, yeh have it backwards.”
“We just borrow the place from her. We didn’t start the ‘princess in distress’ rumors, either. My Uncle Dundas did that. He poisoned my father and, when I fled here to keep from being married off, he spread that story in the hope some idiot knight would deliver me to him. We only play along because admitting the truth would raise too many questions.”
“Uncle Dundas?” The knight blinked his swollen eyes several times. “Purity?”
She blinked right back. “Have we met?”
“When we were children. I’m your cousin.”
“I don’t have a cousin named Raspy.”
“Ramsay. Sir Ramsay. Dundas is my father.”
“Oh shit!” Purity said. “You’re the little snot he wants to marry me to!”
Sir Ramsay slumped in his bonds. “He told me that if I rescued the ‘princess in the tower’ and brought her to him, I wouldn’t have to marry you. I think he was hoping I’d fall in love with you, before I realize what was going on. He knows I’m kind of a romantic.”
“What a right bastard,” Pam said.
“Yet such a poet with numbers,” the witch said, in far too admiring a tone for Purity’s taste.
“Ugh,” Purity said, as she cut Ramsay’s bonds.
He stood and worked the feeling back into his limbs. While he was still rubbing his arms, he said, “Don’t take this the wrong way, but... would you consider marrying me?”
“You’re joking, right? I must have hit you harder than I thought.”
“No, really. Think about it. My father was able to stifle your coronation when you were younger, but what can he do if you come back of age and already married to his own son? He’s planning to have you sent away after the coronation, of course, but he expects to already have you in his custody. If we return free, with a witch, a dragon, the truth about your father’s assassination, and his own son on your side, it will be a trivial matter to turn the tables on him. The castle guards like me better, anyway.”
The witch nodded along with every point, as if she had been thinking this, herself.
“The thing about it,” Purity said, “is I have no intention of ever sleeping in the same bed with you, or any other man, ever.”
Sir Ramsay’s eyes opened as wide as the swelling would allow. “Oh. I didn’t know.” He looked from her to the witch, and added, “So, you two are...”
Purity shook her head. “No. We were for a while, but we broke up a few years ago.”
“Oh,” he said again. “That must be awkward.”
“It’s fine. We’re better friends now than ever.” She flashed a sweet little smile at Zeph, who returned its mirror.
“So then,” Sir Ramsay said, after some consideration, “what are your thoughts on sham marriages?”
As she was pondering it, the witch whispered, “It’s a good compromise. Your uncle will be shamed and exposed, while the country will continue to prosper.”
“Okay, then,” Purity said. “But only if I get to torture him whenever I want. He killed my father, for heaven’s sake.”
“Then it’s agreed.” Sir Ramsay got down on one knee in front of Purity, retrieved a dazzling sapphire ring from a pouch at his waist, and said, “Princess Purity Vesta Phantasos, will you sham marry me?”
She patted him affectionately on the head and said, “I suppose so. Whatever. Sure.”
Pam sniffed and made a show of wiping a nonexistent tear from her slitted eye. “It’s like I always told yeh, Lass. Look long enough, and yeh’ll find true happiness, forever after.”
~***~
Robyn Bennis was born one day prior to the signing of the SALT II nuclear arms reduction treaty, a historic achievement she would later take full credit for. A biologist by training (and misfortune,) she has done research and development involving human gene expression, neural connectomics, cancer diagnostics, rapid flu testing, gene synthesis, genome sequencing, being so preoccupied with whether she could that she never stopped to think if she should, and systems integration.
She is the author of the Signal Airship Series from Tor Books and wrote her debut novel, The Guns Above, within sight of the historic Hangar One at Moffett Airfield.
Robyn currently lives in Madison, WI, where she has one cat, two careers, and an apartment full of dreams.
ASHNA'S HEART
ROBERT J. MCCARTER
Kyla’s cheeks flushed hot as Masters Oster and Wesfro laughed at her, the six other robed masters in their chairs of stone looking surprised or just looking away. The eight men sat in the large volcanic cavern that served as the council’s chamber with Kyla standing before the semi-circle of elders. The forever-lights that hung from the cavern ceiling flickered now and then, a symbol of her people’s waning grasp of magic.
“A woman like you got us into this predicament,” Wesfro said once he had stopped laughing, his big hand smacking his thigh for emphasis.
“I am not Ria,” Kyla said, clasping her hands tightly, hoping they did not see that she was quaking just like the volcano beneath them was beginning to. She felt responsible for Ria’s treachery, but she didn’t know why. She had her best red robe on and her curly black hair demurely pulled back, trying to look respectable and responsible.
“She trained you,” Oster shot, his thin face angry. “She was your mistress. How can you, who are barely a woman, not even a priestess yet, stop her?”
The chamber was hot, not its usual warm and she felt sweat trickling down her back.
She was young, yes, and her power was not yet in its full blossom, but she remembered other lives when it had been, when the power of fire was hers to wield. She remembered the old days when the great fire mages could take on the form of a dragon.
In their contentment, her people had let magic slip from an everyday nomadic necessity to a rarity, left to the realm of the priestess. They believed less and less in magic and the old ways as she believed more and more.
She was so close, she could feel the ancient magic in her, she could feel her destiny calling, she could feel the dragon wanting to come out. That would be power enough to snatch Ashna’s Heart back from Ria, return it to the heart of the volcano, and save her home.
She smelled the sulfurous breath of the volcano and wished she had worn lighter robes. “What have you to lose?” she asked. “All I need is a ship and a crew.”
Master Oster shook his head, his hand going to his short grey hair. “No! We must leave this island, we need every ship. It will take years even if we devote all our resources to it.”
Kyla knew the priestesses would eventually fail no matter how hard they tried. It took the power of Ashna’s Heart to keep the volcano at bay. Ria, the greatest among them, had betrayed them when she stole it and thrown the remaining priestesses into disorder. Kyla had tried talking to them, but her training was not yet complete, her vows not yet taken, they didn’t listen either.
As the council argued, there was no talk of going after Ria, of returning Ashna’s Heart, and they gave no more thought to the apprentice priestess in front of them.
What could she do?
She felt the dragon within waking just as the volcano was. If only someone would believe her.
Her thoughts went to Li, the handsome foreigner she loved. He would believe in her. He would help her. He would be able to find a ship and lead the quest.
She slipped away while the argument raged.
~*~
From the stern of the ship, Kyla hugged her cloak close and stared back at her island home as it slowly slid towards the horizon. Jagno was dominated by a massive, green speckled cinder cone thrusting up from the Nuran Sea, the very top of it frosted in snow. The land flared out from the volcano to relative flatlands along the coast that were dotted with villages and cities.
The wind ruffled Kyla’s wiry black hair and brought the scent of the sea tinged with smoke and sulfur. The black smoke was only a thin tendril as it rose up from the once extinct volcano. She couldn’t be smelling it—maybe it was a memory from a long-ago life or still stuck in her nose from the council’s chamber. The smoke warned of what was to come, the signal that sent her stealing forth with her beloved Li and their friends to find the only thing that could quiet the volcano. Ashna’s Heart.
The dawn light made it clear that there was no pursuit. Li had secured this small ship, assembled the party, done everything she’d asked without questioning her. She felt unsure, no one had manifested the dragon in centuries, nor had she in any lifetime she could remember, but her heart told her it would be necessary, so she must find a way.
She heard the scuff of a boot on the wooden deck and Li was there, his strong arms around her.
“We will find it,” he said, his words colored with his foreigner’s accent.
She nodded but did not speak, leaning into his embrace. She felt guilty about that smoke, as if she were the cause, as if she had woken the volcano. The smell slid down her throat and tasted like ash.
She closed her eyes, trying to banish the scent by focusing on what she could hear. The waves against the hull of the ship, the cry of a seagull, the groan of taut ropes, the sharp snapping of sails. Behind her, she could hear the chatter of her companions. Anden going on about the paramour he had just left while Wicks thumped his hammer on the deck. Theanne and Ivan speaking softly of their love. And Shu, Li’s sister, chanting, the soprano lilting of her prayer a comfort.
“I fear I will not see my home again with these eyes,” Kyla whispered, looking at Li’s face. His skin was light, his straight jet-black hair hanging around his face, the breeze playing with it like she wished she was. His brown eyes, though, were what always drew her in. They were kind, but with a wariness of one who has seen much. “I just found you.” She looked back to the island and the smoke.
“We will find each other...” he began.
Kyla did not say her part. She did not have the heart to say, “No matter how many lifetimes it takes.” She had the gift of life-knowing and could remember her soul’s journey ten lives past and knew that her soul had been living for much longer, for millennia. But of all those lives, this was the first time she had found Li.
“We will catch Ria,” he said, his voice fierce. “We will return the heart. We will save your...our people.”
Kyla nodded.
“Your magic is strong. We have Anden’s bow, Wicks’s hammer, Ivan’s sword, Theanne’s sight, Shu’s prayers. We will prevail.”
She smiled at her beloved and nodded, although in her heart she did not believe it.
~*~
The months flew by like an old man’s days—with speed, leaving little memory of them in their wake. Guided by Theanne’s visions, they followed Ria from island to island, through the archipelago, ever to the north, always behind, Ashna’s Heart just out of reach.
Eventually, they followed Ria to Untor, an island on the edge of the Nuran sea. It was dominated by Mount Denton, a huge, extinct volcano.
The party set out in the cool of spring on the bottom of the island and ascended into a fierce snowstorm.
“Tell me again,” Anden said through gritted teeth as they walked up the narrow trail, the wind driving stinging snow into their faces. “I need to know why I’m doing this.”
Kyla sighed, her hands pausing in their dance, the air suddenly becoming cold.
“Don’t stop!” Anden said, his teeth chattering, his slim face peeking out from his grey cloak, his quiver peaking over his shoulder. He was reed thin, a creature of the sun, not the ice.
She chuckled, resumed her mudras, and the warmth returned, making the cold bearable. “Ashna lived thousands of years ago. She came to our little island when the volcano still erupted and fell in love with our nomadic people. She was a fire mage, the greatest that ever lived. She danced and quieted the mighty volcano and our land became verdant and prosperous. It is said that when she died, she followed hidden passages deep into the depths of the volcano and laid herself down. She summoned her mightiest spell, gave up any hope of future lifetimes, and became one with the volcano, forever calming it. When her attendants reached the cavern, they found a ruby-red heart where the woman had once been. It is said that it contains Ashna’s power and her soul.”
There was more to the legend, but she couldn’t bring herself to speak it. The part about Ashna’s jealous sister who cast a seed of doubt among the priestesses of Ashna, that seed having finally taken root in Ria and her theft of the heart.
Kyla stopped and looked up. Ages ago, part of the volcano had blown off, leaving a nearly sheer cliff thousands of feet tall. She was no seer like Theanne, but she could feel power. Ashna’s Heart was close.
She quickened her steps, signaling to her tired companions to continue.
~*~
As she fell from the heights of Mount Denton, Kyla did not worry about dying, for she knew that her essence would return—even if it was as a humble bee or ant. She tried not focus on their quest and what it would mean to her people if she failed. She fought back the bitter thoughts of the ambush Ria had sprung on them at the top of Mount Denton’s massive cliff. She tried not to grieve for Theanne and Ivan, fallen in the battle. And she swallowed down the bitter taste of spite knowing that Ria, once her mentor, was now her enemy and had so easily met Kyla’s fire with water, sweeping Kyla off the cliff.
She did not have time for regret or doubt or weakness. She cultivated one thought, and one thought only.
I am now the dragon.
The wind whipped around her body, the sound of clashing arms having faded, her ears now filled with the noise of her flapping traveling cloak, her nose still filled with the iron scent of blood. She was wet, the air icy, and her cloak sodden, but she was not cold because of the fire that burned in her. She was mage and had mastered the element of fire lifetime after lifetime. She had been raised and trained by the priestesses of Ashna. She must not fail.
As the valley below rushed up, she chanted, her dancing hands forming the correct mudras, fighting back her doubts, her guilt, as her body tumbled, and her curly black hair whipped crazily around her. Only a dragon would do to save her life and defeat her enemies.
I am now the dragon.
Her power came from her center, from her heart, from the flame there that was so bright. First,
it warmed her, and then she grew hot, steam rising from her clothing. The spell took hold and she began to change. Her limbs shortening into her elongating body, scales forming, an iridescent shade of red, her skull elongating and her teeth growing into the sharpest of fangs. Wings sprouted from her back, tearing through her clothes.
I am now the dragon.
But she was too late. She had the power, she had the knowledge, but not the time. Her half-woman, half-dragon body slammed into the ground. She died as the battle raged on far above.
In her last moment, she knew she had failed her people and took that pain with her into death.
~*~
The dragonfly was large for its kind, with a wingspan as wide as a man’s hand is long. It was ruby-red and lived near a pond on the edge of the Ganden Forest on the island of Thenos. Its life had been unremarkable, first as a nymph in the brackish little pond eating and avoiding being eaten, and then as that lovely red dragonfly.
But something was different about this dragonfly. It was not just the need for food and the desire for survival that drove it. There was something else. It often left the pond and its abundant food supply to explore the surrounding forest and the road that humans with their horses and contraptions traveled on.
It was a beautiful place, an old forest filled with secrets, and the ruby-red dragonfly saw it all, ever seeking. Its tiny insect brain did not know what it sought, until one day she found it.
On that trail, through the dense forest came a group of humans riding horses. A tall, proud man with dark hair and prominent cheekbones rode in front, followed by two other male humans and one female.
She zoomed close, her four wings beating out a precise path until she was right in front the man, flying backwards.
She saw his dark, hooded eyes, a pink, still-healing scar on his cheek, his set jaw and tight lips. These things didn’t mean all that much to her, as a dragonfly, but she felt something. She felt a longing she didn’t understand and something else she had never felt in this life: guilt. She knew somehow, she had caused that hooded look on his face, she could have prevented that wound on his cheek, she was responsible for the missing humans that should have been in the company.
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