by NS Dolkart
There was a warm wind tonight, unusually warm for the season. Criton nodded his head in sleepy agreement. “As long as Bestillos doesn’t catch wind of us, we’re all right. When we get closer to the sisters’ village, I’ll disguise myself and bring the children there alone.”
He yawned. “If I can, I’ll leave them all there while we explore the Dragon Knight’s Tomb. No sense in having them underfoot.”
They finished with the tent, and Bandu lay down underneath the canvas. The warm weather was making her drowsy. Even Goodweather did not awaken, despite her lack of motion. Good. She needed some sleep.
The men did not even build a fire that night. The travelers all joined Bandu in the tent and lay their weary heads on the moss and grass and dried guardian tree spines. Go to sleep, the wind seemed to whisper to them. You’re all tired. Go to sleep.
Bandu startled for a moment, already beginning to dream. Something was not right. Was it her imagination, or had the grass been stroking her hair on purpose? For a moment she hung between sleep and wakefulness, unsure where reality ended and her dreams began. But the air felt so warm, and her young so peaceful and still, that she soon closed her eyes again. Bandu drifted off to sleep, and doubted no more.
51
Hunter
The woods were calling to him in a lady’s voice. Hunter, they murmured. I am here. Come to me.
He rose dreamily to his feet, looking down for a moment without comprehension at the sword and armor that still lay on the ground. Leave them there, whispered the voice. You won’t need them. Come and find me.
He did as she asked, picking his way over his sleeping companions and stepping out into the cool woods. The warmth of the night had subsided, though the chill was not enough to bother him. He followed the lady’s voice to a little stream, where he saw the moon reflected in a thousand ripples. Just a little farther, said the voice. I am here.
Hunter took off his ragged shoes and stepped barefoot through the shallow waters, crossing over to the other side. He walked as far as the treeline, guardian tree spines sticking to his feet. The night grew darker and darker. When he looked up, the moon had disappeared.
There was a splash from behind him. Hunter spun around, tripping over his feet in the dark, and fell to his knees. A woman was standing in the brook, her skin and her robe shining such a brilliant white that for a moment Hunter thought the moon had come to earth.
“You are Hunter,” the woman said. Her voice rippled in the air, and he heard her as much with his skin as with his ears.
“I am,” he responded, his voice sounding faint and distant in comparison.
“You may rise,” she said, turning her palm upward in a regal gesture. He stood, compelled.
“Come back to the water,” she said, beckoning.
Hunter did as he was told. When he stepped into it this time, the water had grown strangely cold. “Why am I here?” he asked.
“You are delivering something for me,” the woman said.
Hunter nodded, his throat dry. “What?” he croaked.
The shining lady took Hunter’s wrist in her left hand, twisting outward so that his fingers uncurled themselves. When he blinked, her right hand held a flower. She placed it in his palm.
“This is for my love,” she said. “Take it to him, that he may not forget his promise. I have not forgotten mine.”
“Where do I find him?” Hunter asked. “What is his promise?”
“Take it to him,” the woman repeated.
Hunter awoke with Criton pulling him out of the stream.
“Hunter!” cried Phaedra. “He’s alive!”
“Where is she?” Hunter sputtered. “Where did she go?”
“It’s a miracle you fell face up,” Criton told him. “What were you doing out here?”
He sat Hunter down on the water’s edge, and the others all gathered round. Even the children were there. Hunter wondered why that surprised him. He supposed he’d forgotten they existed.
“There was a lady,” Hunter told them. “She glowed white.”
The others looked at each other in alarm. “A fairy,” said Narky. “There are supposed to be water fairies too, you know. They drown people.”
“She gave me a flower,” said Hunter, looking down at his hands. His right hand still held the white rose.
“Give it here,” commanded Criton. “If a fairy gave it to you, it’s probably dangerous.”
“I don’t think she was a fairy,” he protested, still holding on tight. The lady had given it to him. Only he was meant to carry it. “She didn’t feel like a fairy. And she didn’t try to kill me or anything.”
“We found you in the river,” Narky pointed out. “I don’t think we can assume she meant you no harm.”
“Did she say anything to you?” asked Phaedra.
Hunter nodded. “She said the flower was for her lover, and she said something about a promise. I think I’ll hold onto it until we find him.”
Bandu knelt to inspect the flower. “You know where he is? Who is he?”
Hunter shook his head. “I don’t know. I did ask where he was, but then I woke up here.”
“Is he all right?” asked Rakon.
“Yes,” said Phaedra. “Yes, he’s fine.” She didn’t sound convinced. “We should take watches when we sleep. This shouldn’t happen again.”
Narky glanced about, searching for something. “Where are your shoes?”
Hunter looked down at his bare feet in mild surprise. “I don’t know,” he said. “They must have been washed downstream.”
“Not need shoes,” said Bandu. “Need to go. This is not a safe place.”
“I’ll walk this time,” Criton offered. “You ride.”
When they broke from the treeline later that day, they found the Calardian range much closer than Hunter expected. The mountains rose halfway into the sky, and Hunter could even see Ardis at their base when he squinted. The army’s trail wound toward the city, its track of mud and litter visible for miles.
There was no way to avoid being seen, traveling as they were through vineyards and farmland. The best they could do was to stay as far as they could from the shepherds and the farmers along the way, hoping in vain not to stand out too much. It was no good: a band of islanders and continental children all riding together were bound to turn heads. But Hunter’s armor still glinted in the sunlight, and for now, nobody stopped them.
It took them a full day’s travel to reach Adla and Temena’s village. “All right,” Criton said, when they were perhaps a mile away. “You all wait here, and I’ll take the children the rest of the way. Hopefully the girls’ parents won’t mind watching the other three while we go to the tomb.”
His skin and hair transformed themselves as he spoke. By the time he took Caldra and Temena’s hands and began to walk toward the village, he looked as blond and northern as they did.
They waited tensely for Criton’s return, growing more nervous with each passing minute. What could be delaying him so long? Perhaps the red priest had been awaiting him in the village. Or had word not yet reached the Temple of Magor that a group of islanders had been seen traipsing about with a crowd of continental children in tow? How long would it take before the riders came upon them, or before some enterprising farmers decided to capture the Tarphaeans by themselves?
And still Criton did not come. Hunter nervously loosened his sword in its sheath, his eyes scanning the horizon. No soldiers yet. Wait, what were those spots in the distance? Riders? Oh, no, never mind. On second glance, they looked more like sheep.
At long last Criton appeared. “What took you so long?” Narky nearly shouted at him when he arrived.
“I’m sorry,” said Criton. “When I brought Adla and Temena to their parents, the girls’ father said his sister was barren, and maybe she and her husband would want to raise the other three as their own; but she was out at market, and her husband was off digging a well with his brother, so… right, that’s not really important. The poin
t is, we don’t have to pick them up again when we come back. They’ve been adopted! That’s worth waiting for, isn’t it?
“And,” he went on enthusiastically, “I got directions to the Dragon Knight’s Tomb. Adla’s father said we could reach it by nightfall if we rode hard.”
“Right,” said Hunter. “Climb on.”
They rode for the mountains, but fast as they went, the sun set well before they arrived.
“Hold on,” said Criton. “I’ve practiced this.” He held out his palm, and a small pinkish light appeared there. He blew on it gently, as if reviving an ember, and it brightened before their eyes.
“That should do,” he said. “Hopefully we’ll be there soon.”
It didn’t take long after that. They reached the mountain where Salemis had lived just as the moon became visible over the mountains. They rode up as far as they could, then dismounted and led their horses the rest of the way. When they reached the cave mouth, they tied their mounts to a few saplings and entered in the dark.
The cavern was large and their footfalls echoed loudly and unevenly. For a moment, Hunter was sure he heard someone else moving up ahead. He peered into the darkness, but it was no good: Criton’s light had grown weaker, and it only shone brightly enough for them to avoid stumbling on the rough floor. There were deep gouges in the stone where perhaps a dragon’s claws had once dug in, and the cave floor had a slight downward slope. After some mostly aimless wandering, they found an area of even ground on which to lay their blankets.
Hunter’s ears strained to hear those other footfalls, but he heard nothing. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He was imagining things. Just because they were close to Ardis did not mean that the High Priest of Magor was around every corner.
It was odd, though – once they had all settled themselves on the floor, he thought he could hear someone’s shallow breathing coming from a little further into the cave. But when he sat up, he didn’t hear it anymore. He stayed there, listening silently, until his sleepy mind began to wander and his eyes started to shut of their own accord. As a last precaution, he leaned forward and laid his armor out on the ground before him. If anyone approached in the night to kill them in their sleep, maybe the sound of the murderer stumbling over the armor would awaken him. It was the best he could do, for now. He fell asleep with sword in hand.
52
Narky
They awoke at dawn with the sun in their eyes. The cave’s entrance stood in the east, and the rays poured in upon them and their surroundings almost blindingly. Narky rose, blinking, and looked around.
Ever since he had lost his eye, distances had become very hard to judge. Even so, the cave seemed awfully big to him. It must extend halfway into the mountain, he thought.
“Well,” said Hunter with relief. “We survived the night.”
“Of course we did,” said Criton, his eyes glowing. “Now let’s find Salemis! If the Dragon Knight started and ended his quest here, he must have believed this was the most likely place to find the Dragons’ Prisoner.”
Criton’s face was overflowing with confidence, and Narky felt a little ashamed. What made Criton think that he could succeed where the famous Dragon Knight had failed? The prophecy, that was what. The one that Narky had suggested was about them. Now he worried that he had gotten Criton’s hopes up for nothing. Yes, it seemed the islanders had been a part of Ravennis’ plan – but so had been the judgment of Magor. Apparently, Ravennis had not been as powerful or all-knowing as Narky had thought.
“You think we can find a path to Salemis here in this cave?” Narky asked. “All we have to go on is that Phaedra thinks he’s in the fairy world. And I don’t know about you, but I don’t ever want to go there again.”
“There’s the knight’s tomb,” said Phaedra, pointing. “We should start there.”
Narky followed her finger with his eyes. Far ahead, deeper in the cave, stood a stone sarcophagus made of the same color rock as the rest of the place. It had blended in so well that Narky hadn’t even noticed it until Phaedra pointed it out. For that, Narky cursed his missing eye again. Even as he stared straight at it, the tomb seemed to disappear into the background.
“That’s strange,” Hunter said, as they approached. “I thought the Dragon Knight died with only that one friend beside him. There’s no way he made that sarcophagus all on his own.”
“He didn’t,” Phaedra assured him. “The assistant covered his body with stones, but the Dragon Touched later transferred the remains to this sarcophagus. Caruther described the Dragon Knight’s Tomb toward the end of his scroll. He wrote that the Ardisian Dragon Touched made copies of the knight’s journal, and then laid the original in the tomb with him. It’s too bad we can’t take a look inside.”
“Why we can’t look?” asked Bandu.
Phaedra opened her mouth to respond, then shut it again. In the meantime, Hunter walked slowly around the tomb, frowning. “Did the scroll say anything about people giving the knight tribute after his death?”
“No,” said Phaedra. “Why?”
“Because,” said Hunter, stooping behind the tomb, “there’s a cup of wine here.”
He rose and placed it on the tomb, a goblet of green blown glass, elaborately etched. “I thought I heard someone here last night.”
Narky ran his hand along the top of the sarcophagus. “There are some wax drippings on here,” he noted. “Someone was doing a whole ritual before we came by.”
Phaedra shivered. “Maybe they were trying to speak with the dead.”
“Or command them,” Narky suggested. “I wouldn’t put it past the Ardismen.”
“No,” said Phaedra, “not the Ardismen. Whoever it was wasn’t supposed to be here – otherwise, they wouldn’t have hidden from us. Maybe it was a wizard.”
Hunter looked surprised. “I thought Psander was supposed to be the only wizard left.”
“No,” Phaedra said, “she’s just the only academic left. Don’t you remember? She said that the other people who call themselves wizards these days are fools, and don’t know anything about magic theory.”
“No wizard could live out here,” said Criton. “The red priest of Ardis would catch them. He has the Wizard’s Sight. He was ready to kill me the moment he saw me.”
“Ardis is close,” answered Phaedra, “but it’s not as if this place is on the way from there to… well, to anywhere, really. I doubt that Bestillos visits the tomb very often. If the wizard goes into hiding whenever he hears someone coming, he could avoid the priest for years.”
Criton didn’t look particularly satisfied with that answer, but he let it go.
“Well,” said Narky, “whoever it was, he’s not here now. The important thing is to finish whatever it is we’re doing and leave before the priest finds out we’re here. So what’s the plan? Are we opening this coffin?”
The others all looked to Phaedra. “Wouldn’t that anger the Gods?” Hunter asked.
Phaedra hesitated. “I don’t know,” she said slowly. “I don’t think so. The only God who would care, I’d think, would be God Most High, and He’s supposed to be dormant. If He is, we should be perfectly safe. And even if He awakens, He might not mind so much as long as we don’t desecrate or rob the body. If what we’re trying to do is find and free Salemis His prophet, it’s probably all right for us to do everything within our means. We should make a sacrifice to Him afterwards though, if Criton can go back into town and buy us an animal.”
“All right,” said Criton. “Let’s do this then.”
It took all three of the men, struggling mightily, to lift the stone slab off the top of the sarcophagus and slide it onto the floor. It landed and tipped over with a terrifying crash that made Narky jump.
“Well,” he said, “if there’s anyone nearby, they won’t have missed that.”
The Dragon Knight’s bones lay still clad in his armor. The armor was made of interlocking bronze plates that were probably meant to resemble dragon scales. An enormous
sword lay diagonally across the body, positioned that way so that it could fit into the sarcophagus. Narky gasped despite himself. Even so long after his death, the Dragon Knight made for an imposing figure.
Just as Phaedra had said, a leather-bound codex lay under the knight’s right hand. She stared at it there for a moment before raising her eyes to the cave’s ceiling.
“O God Most High,” she said. “O God of Dragons, we ask for Your patience, and lenience, and forgiveness for what we are about to do.”
She took a deep breath, and reached for the book. Slowly and carefully, she lifted one side of the volume. The bones slid off, clattering haphazardly against steel and stone. They didn’t really resemble a hand any more, Narky thought. He considered putting the bones back in order, but then thought better of it. It was probably best just to pretend they looked fine.
Phaedra stepped away from the sarcophagus and opened the book. “What does it say?” Narky asked her.
She waved him away. “It’ll take time to get through all this,” she said.
Narky sighed and turned away. He had expected the worst when they decided to come this close to Ardis, but he hadn’t expected to feel bored. He spent the morning sitting at the mouth of the cave while Criton went to buy a sacrificial animal and Hunter rode off to live up to his name. Bandu sat beside Narky for a while, but as neither of them felt like starting a conversation with the other, she soon left to start one with the horses.
Hunter returned first, then Criton. After eating, they sacrificed Criton’s goat on a makeshift altar, burning the entire carcass upon Phaedra’s suggestion. Narky didn’t argue, but he secretly wondered what difference it would make. What was the chance that a single improper sacrifice would wake a sleeping God?
Narky was still thinking about the likely pointlessness of their sacrifice when Phaedra suddenly said, “That’s her! It has to be. Hunter, this is amazing!”
They all turned to her in surprise, and she began to read aloud. “Again I asked, from whence came the Dragon Touched? How could humans, children of the Gods, ever have bred with creatures whose strength was enough to fell those who dwell in the heavens? It is impossible. The human frame is too weak. But now the answer seems clear to me: the Dragon Touched did not come from a union of dragon and man. They came from a union between dragon and God.
