by Richard Due
Darce showed Lily her back, and Falin stood down. “Grimm,” said Lily quietly. “What happened next?”
“Tavin got off one swing, and one swing only,” continued Grimm, “but with it he deprived Badru of his right arm from the elbow down. The force of the blow flung his sword loose. Never thought I’d see the day when Tavin dropped his sword. Funny thing, Badru didn’t want to leave without the bit of arm Tavin had cut loose. But Tavin had it by the other end. They were having a tug of war with it when Ember stepped out and cast something. She said, “Rise, Dragondain!” And that horrible dread vanished like it had never been. I’d never felt stronger or more confident.
“Everything was suddenly very clear. Byrne stood up first, cocked bow in hand, and struck Badru dead in the chest. Badru stumbled back, intending to flee to his horse, but we were all upon him before he could get ten steps. There are advantages to wearing no armor, speed being the biggest,” Grimm commented drily.
“Byrne got him twice more, both in the back of the same knee. How he got in those shots and missed all of us, I have no idea. Badru was limping badly, and I reached him first. I ran him through his heart, then twice more for good measure before he fell.”
The courtyard was silent.
“So you saved him?” asked Lily. “You saved Tavin? He’s alive?”
Ren shifted in her seat. “When Badru was struck down, the black thing stuck in Cora’s side weakened considerably. She became all golden again except for right around the wound. Ridley and I continued to pick away at it, but Cora pushed us off. She and Ember moved to Tavin’s side and posted themselves there. Fellbard regained control of his Dragondain. He wanted both Badru’s dead body and Tavin taken to the Palace straight away.”
“What did you do?”
“There wasn’t much to do,” explained Grimm. “As quickly as we could, Falin and I hitched the litter to Badru’s horse. We hoisted Ember and Cora into the saddle, and off they went. I don’t think Cora wanted to leave. Of course, at the time, I didn’t even know it was Cora I was hoisting into the saddle. Only Ridley and Ren had seen her face, and everything was happening so fast.
“I tried to search Badru’s body, but Fellbard ordered one of the Dragondain to strike me down. I took a pommel to the back of my head. It got ugly fast after that. There was a lot of pushing and shouting between us and Fellbard’s Dragondain. In the end, they left with Badru’s body, arm and all.”
Darce quickened her pacing, her hands clenching and unclenching. “We shouldn’t have let them take the body.”
“How could we have stopped them?” demanded Falin. “We were outnumbered, and they were in full armor!”
“We could have . . . done something! Badru might have had something that could’ve helped. Something Raewyn could have used. A spell book, or an amulet. Something!”
Falin shook his head. “Darce, you’re not thinking straight.”
“We should have tried to hold them off while one of us searched Badru,” yelled Darce.
Grimm’s fists were tight in his lap. “Then why didn’t you suggest it at the time?”
Darce stopped pacing and raked her fingers through her short hair. “I—I—I just didn’t think of it until it was too late.”
“We did the best we could,” said Andra.
“We failed Tavin is what we did,” said Darce, her voice breaking.
“Stop it, Darce,” said Ren. “None of this is helping. And Andra’s right. You did the best you could. You’re not Dragondain, Darce, not yet anyway. None of you are.”
“So Tavin is at Raewyn’s?” asked Lily. “Being healed?”
Ren cast her eyes to the floor. They all did. “Tavin’s at Raewyn’s all right—dying.” Ren looked up bravely. “Cora’s going out there today,” she said quietly, “to say goodbye.”
The door to the courtyard opened. Meeri, Min, and Jin came running in and climbed into Grimm’s lap. Grimm, their favorite, was so used to them that he barely noticed their scrabbling onto his thick legs. Lily watched Meeri cup her hand to Grimm’s ear and whisper something. He nodded. Then Cora appeared in the doorway.
“Time to go,” she announced. They all filed out of the courtyard and began collecting the many baskets from the kitchen table.
A small dilapidated wagon awaited them outside Cora’s front door. The animal attached to the front of it could hardly have been called a horse. After much rearranging of feet, knees, and elbows, eventually everyone found a place to sit.
While Cora removed the poor beast’s feed bag, Jin climbed into Lily’s lap, smiled, and whispered in her ear, “He’s here again.”
Lily looked about, but the narrow alleyway was otherwise empty.
“What are you talking about?” Lily whispered.
Jin pointed down the alleyway to a narrow, dark crack that Lily now realized was an even narrower alleyway, one just wide enough for a single person to walk down. But with the angle of the sun and the pitch of the rooftops, the narrow space was black with impenetrable shadow.
Jin looked up at Lily expectantly. “See him? Standing there?” Jin pointed to the dark crack.
Lily didn’t like the idea of being watched by someone who didn’t want to show himself. She lowered Jin’s pointing hand as nonchalantly as possible and pivoted in her seat, angling Jin away from the crack.
“Who is it, Jin?” whispered Lily. “Who do you see?”
Jin craned her neck and twisted in Lily’s lap to get a better look.
“It’s Beck,” she said, and then, as though she had caught someone’s eye, Jin began to wave excitedly toward the shadows.
“Beck?” Lily repeated softly. She knew the name. She’d written it down in one of the little books in her pocket. “Beck,” Lily said softly, half hoping that hearing it might help her place him.
“They’ve been hanging around for days now. They take turns. Newlin comes most nights, all dressed in black. He watches the doors and windows. I think he’s sad.”
Then Lily placed the names: the Lintel twins, the ones who had fought and lost to Annora and Bree. She lunged for Jin’s waving hand and pulled it down. “Jin, I’m not sure Beck is very friendly right now.”
The wagon lurched. The sudden movement caught Lily by surprise, and she pitched forward. As she straightened up, something from the alleyway caught her eye. Beck’s hand emerged from the darkness and gave a little finger wave before vanishing back into the shadows.
Jin giggled. “Bye-bye,” she said, squirming in Lily’s lap.
Lily clasped Jin’s two little hands, pulled them down, and held them tightly in her own.
“Shh,” hushed Lily.
Chapter Eleven
Tavin’s Last Stand
The wagon ride through the narrow streets of Bairne was a slow one. Not wanting to be out in the open, Cora kept them within the city for as long as possible before entering the valley. As a result, Grimm and Falin spent their time walking in front of the wagon, clearing the crowded alleyways and streets. Riding through the poorest areas, where the inhabitants worked in the outermost fields, Lily was astonished to see mostly women and children, many with no more than rags for clothing, and not a shoe in sight. Could these really be the proud and valiant people of Dain Uncle Ebb talked about? Whatever had become of their dragon friends of old, with their mighty wings and intelligent minds? And why was Bairne bereft of perches? How had the dragons ever lived here without their tall towers to land on and take off from? How were they fed and cared for without the families who lived in the towers keeping the storerooms stocked, the grooming tools sharp, the cisterns full?
Finally they passed the last tumbledown shack, rolling over the last vestiges of wall with nary a bump. Once they cleared the haze and stink of Bairne, a band of sky opened between the sheer valley walls, revealing Taw. Filling a third of the visible
sky, the moon stared down at them like a great green eye with half its forested surface lit in bright sunlight and half hidden in creeping shadow. As Lily watched the drifting shadow, she wondered what moon of the realm was responsible for it: was it Dain’s shadow, or was it cast by some other moon she couldn’t see?
Peeking around Taw was the only other moon presently visible: a smaller, partial disc of bright blue, which Lily assumed was the ocean moon Dik Dek, where the merfolk swam in their terraced, undersea cities. Back home, in Ebb’s house, there were paintings of the twin cities Pearl and Shell hanging side by side in Mr. Phixit’s twilit room. The underwater nighttime scenes were painted with luminescent pigments, so the light spilling from the many windowed balconies appeared eerily realistic and liquid. The tiny magic pearls that lit the underwater street lamps actually seemed to glow, casting their pools of trapped sunlight on the murky kelp-lined streets.
They saw no other moons until they exited the valley and rolled onto the moors. Here the sky opened wide, and Barreth, with its deep oranges and blues, as well as the white-misted Rel’ Kah, joined their sisters. Lily wanted to know what other moons might be hiding behind them. She wondered now who might be plotting their strange gyrations, and for what purposes. Surely, the Rinn lunamancer Mowra was, among other things, a lunarithmatist. Was she currently toiling away in the tower Clawforge, rapidly attempting to plot the time and place of Darwyth’s next crossover? The Rinn had great need of that knowledge; was the royal court of Dain just as curious? Obviously, Wrengfoul retained his own experts, who plotted and refigured every unexpected dip and shift, always attempting to predict when the next crossover would occur, and with which moon.
The moors ran all along the mountain range that sheltered the valley leading to Bairne. The road they rolled along was smooth and ancient. Lily had traveled this same way in the opposite direction with Dubb and Tavin, only at night. Now she could see the lay of the land, where the moors gave way to grassland peppered with clumps of woods. And where, at the horizon, the unwholesome waters of the fens lay, under thick banks of gray clouds.
As they left the moors, their vantage point above the land diminished, and in time they could see no farther than the next hillside. While riding through the trees, Lily observed the gurgling stream gaining strength.
At midday they left the old road for two ruts, which twisted deeper into the clumps of tall wood. They halted for a time there, feeding themselves and the horse, but they did not rest for long. On the road once more, Jin pointed out to Lily hidden homesteads. Time dragged on in the wagon, and the children remained unnaturally quiet.
Finally they reached old Pym’s homestead. Everyone grabbed a basket of goods, nodding quiet goodbyes to Cora—everyone except Lily.
Darce was the first one to notice. “You need some help?” she said to Lily, holding out a hand. As always, Darce seemed somewhat peeved, even as she was trying to be helpful.
Lily turned to face Cora.
“Come on, Lily,” prompted Darce, “jump down. Cora doesn’t have all day.”
Lily glanced at Darce, then back to Cora. “I’m not going with them, am I?” she asked.
Cora gazed steadily back. An air of expectation hung in the air. “That’s your decision,” she said firmly.
Lily looked at Darce again, not sure what to say.
“Fine. Suit yourself,” said Darce. She turned away from the wagon and stalked off.
Lily secured the remaining baskets, then climbed from the back of the wagon to where Cora sat with the reins.
“You know Rinnjinn!” Lily said, as soon as they were safely rolling again.
Cora gave her a sideways glance. “Rinnjinn?” She shook her head.
“But you’re Illume!” Lily protested.
Cora laughed lightly. “Not exactly. It’s more like . . . I become Illume. It isn’t something fully under my control.”
“What do you mean?” asked Lily.
“I get a feeling, when I know I can become her. I’ve only experienced it a few times. The first time—”
“—was at the Gate of Olamar.”
A shadow passed over Cora’s face. “Yes,” she said, “that was the first.”
“And the second time?” asked Lily.
“The second time . . .” Cora’s attention turned to the road. “Each time it’s happened, it’s taken me by complete surprise.”
“So, no Rinnjinn,” said Lily despairingly.
“No, I’m afraid not.”
Lily bowed her head, unhappy that yet another trail to Ebb’s bedtime tales had gone cold.
They rode in silence for a time, through grassy fields, winding around sporadic clumps of tall trees.
“You’re worried,” said Cora.
“Yes.”
“About Tavin?”
“No,” said Lily, and she was a bit surprised to realize this was true.
“Curse?” asked Cora.
“Yes. It tried to kill me.”
Cora smiled. “Don’t think yourself special on that account, but I’m glad you understand who your enemy really is. I’ve known Tavin almost all my life. Curse has been wearing on him for a very long time, but somehow he’s always prevailed.”
“It’s different now, though, isn’t it?”
Cora pursed her lips and contemplated. “Curse’s suppression of Tavin’s memories, its talking through his mouth—those things—yes. But whether talking through Tavin’s mouth or the steel of his sword, it’s always had the ability to affect Tavin’s free will when drawn. The difference, now, I fear, is Tavin.”
“Because he’s weakened?” asked Lily.
“Because he’s dying. Of course, it’s a miracle he’s survived this long.”
Lily looked at Cora questioningly.
“Before meeting Tavin, Curse was quite happy traveling through the ages, moving from hand to hand, bringing death to its hapless victims almost as though it was eager to meet the next one.”
“Why hasn’t it killed Tavin?”
“That’s a very good question. In the beginning, we felt certain it would. Tavin began making mistakes . . . with his sword . . . can you imagine it?” Lily shook her head. “One day, he nearly took his own foot off. But, somehow, Tavin learned to manage it.”
“Like a cat with nine lives.”
“Make that a couple thousand; I’ve seen him shed a dozen in just one day’s battles.”
“How did Curse come to be? Who made it?”
“Impossible to know for certain. Curse is a curious thing, and quite beyond me. I do know that it’s very old. In fact, I suspect it’s the oldest thing I’ve ever met. And I can assure you that I’ve met a lot of very old things. But whatever it is, and however it came to be, I no longer believe it is what was intended. I’m not even entirely sure it was meant to be wicked. I think it’s become twisted from its original purpose.
“Curse has seen many things—things I’m sure it would prefer to keep hidden for all time. More than once, I’ve tried to reveal them, but it is far too strong for me. Tavin, however, has survived with it far longer than anyone. Much longer, I believe, than Curse would like. At times, Tavin sees things that I’m sure Curse would rather keep hidden.”
“You mean like memories?”
“Memories . . . or thoughts. Tavin can feel its fear of him—and of you.”
“Me?!”
“After you left, but before Tavin was bedridden, he asked me to sit and listen to a conversation between him and Curse. A most unpleasant undertaking, I assure you. It didn’t take long for Tavin to uncover its malevolence towards you. He talked to it for a long time, trying to understand the reason, but in the end we learned nothing.” Cora looked away, suddenly lost in thought, as though she were trying to remember something.
“What if Tavin is sti
ll alive because Curse wants him alive?”
Cora laughed. “And why would it want that?”
“Perhaps Tavin and it struck a bargain,” said Lily.
Cora stopped laughing. “A bargain,” she murmured.
“And why would it fear me? I don’t know anything about it!”
“If we knew why Curse feared you—well, that would be revealing. It might give us something we could use to our advantage. However, lacking that knowledge, we have nothing more than a bluff.” Cora looked at Lily pointedly. “Never bluff with something more powerful than you, Lily. Things more powerful than yourself can feel when your bluff is nothing more than a hollow threat, and they will make it your undoing.”
“Why are you telling me all this?”
“There is power in you—I can feel it.” Lily felt for the reassuring lump of the moon coin under her shirt. “You must be on your guard at all times.”
“Cora—” Lily tugged on the necklace and drew forth the pendant that contained the moon coin, “this is the only power I have, this moon coin. And I barely know how to use it.”
Cora gave Lily an odd look. “Well, then, keep it close. And as for Curse, respect it, fear its designs, but keep your eyes and ears open.”
“Open for what?”
Cora smiled. “For whatever presents itself.”
“Really, Cora, why are you—” Then Lily realized what Cora was thinking. “You think Curse is going to want to talk to me today.”
Cora said nothing.
“But Tavin’s on Raewyn’s ground. Won’t that give him strength? Protect him or something?”
“Tavin’s dying, Lily. And strangely, Curse is unhappy about that.”
“But, if Tavin dies, won’t Curse be free of him? I mean, you’re making it sound like Curse has become somehow bound to Tavin.”
“A keen observation, if true.”
“Do you really think Tavin will die?”
Cora’s face became solemn. “I swear I have seen him die—many, many times. I’ve felt the suddenness of my breath drawing in, knowing I’d just seen his last moment on this mortal world, only to realize my eyes had somehow deceived me. Were he to hold the luck of a thousand men, he yet would be dead.”
