Fate of Dragons

by Alisha Klapheke

  The units called out as Sansya swam back to her place. The drills began, led by each one hundred unit captains.

  Ryton, Grystark, and the quiet, but efficient Venu visited their brigadiers and then each captain’s hundred, giving suggestions on spells to cast over their spears to make them fly through the water more quickly or to use the weapons to throw spelled salt water through the air. Grystark was especially good at teaching the magic needed to use whirlpools, unusual currents, and eddies to raise the sea level.

  Ryton spent hours with the unit the Queen herself had trained to multiply the waters. Ryton repeated the spell, careful to use proper vibration in the lips and tongue so the magic would wake and turn sand to water. The unit shouted at the mounds of snail-dotted sand and the sound rushed around their heads before blasting into the sea floor to create a new wave of salt water.

  Ryton looked up, his sharp gaze on the distant surface of the sea. The ocean trembled with their efforts, the waves riotous.

  It was a storm without rain or wind, and Ryton was proud indeed of his army. These were his kynd, and he would always be loyal.

  For you, Selene, he said silently to himself. For you, I will see them all die.

  But his pleasure in a job well done was fleeting. Eventually, he had to talk to Grystark about Astraea’s desire to lure the dragons to Tidehame again. They had to come up with a suitable strategy that wouldn’t end with Grystark dead and Ryton mourning the last of a group of friends and the final stab to his already sorely wounded heart.

  He had lost them all, one by one, to dragons.

  But by the seas, he was not going to lose Grystark.

  Chapter Four

  Inside the Lapis mountain palace, a curved staircase of painted stone led up to the main library. The storm, called up by the Dragonfire ritual, had drifted away. Three arched windows spilled silvery moonlight across the ceiling and the nine dragon shapes burned into the rock high above Vahly’s head. Tails and claws, long necks, teeth, fire, and twisting wings formed a pattern not unlike the one scored into the short sword Vahly kept at her belt.

  These charred images lorded over a dizzying collection of scrolls housed on countless wooden shelves. The first Lapis had carved each shelf with art showing the rare finds they loved—lapis lazuli lined with golden pyrite, cliff owl feathers, the gold coins earth kynd used to bring to them, and stag antlers with twelve and fourteen points.

  The librarians had doused the oil lamps hanging from the ceiling and left, off to help move those dragons whose dens were on the lower levels into temporary living quarters. The library was empty.

  Or so Vahly thought.

  As she went around a stack of newer scrolls, footsteps interrupted the silence of the room.

  A dragon appeared on the first level, head bent to a partially open scroll she was reading by moonlight. Vahly didn’t know this dragon well. Only that her name was Lys and she kept to herself.

  Perhaps Lys would be so interested in her own research that she wouldn’t notice Vahly.

  Moving quickly, Vahly squinted in the weak light. Nix had told her the secret entrance to the restricted area—where the Lapis may have stored information about the now extinct elves—hid near a collection of unlabeled scrolls.

  Vahly slipped behind a rock wall of tightly wound scrolls. There didn't seem to be any labels in this area of the first floor. A violet wax seal closed each roll of parchment.

  The first one Vahly picked up had a seal with the shape of a mountain. She held the scroll up to the moonlight coming through the high windows and tried to see what information sat inside. Lines crossed and circles twined around what might have been lettering. One word showed clearly. Eneko. Ah. He was a noble dragon who lived in the far northeastern wing of the mountain palace, with lands extending alongside Maur’s. This scroll held a map of territories and holdings of the nobility then.

  The scroll scraped lightly on the shelf as Vahly slid it back into place. She held her breath, waiting to see if Lys noticed the noise. But no voice interrupted, so Vahly continued her search, moving past that series of shelves. The wax seals served as labels so it wasn’t the place Nix had discussed with her.

  Scouring the entire wall of shelves, Vahly read label after label. Dragonfire and Its Uses. The History of Our Matriarchs. Herbs A-C. Herbs D-F. And so on. She searched every shelf on the first floor, except those too close to Lys.

  Vahly licked her dry lips, wishing libraries weren’t so opposed to having drinks around.

  It was time to ascend the steps to the second tier.

  Walking on the sides of her boots, heel to toe, she hurried along the iron railing. A square of moonlight illuminated her path.

  Vahly ran a hand over the nearest scrolls, eyes scanning the labeled shelves for one that remained unmarked. This particular section of the second tier featured information on simplebeasts—hawks, eagles, rabbits, that sort of thing.

  She crouched to look over the bottom row. But the dragons had labeled that one too.

  Maybe the scribes had changed the set up since Nix heard the stories about the hidden room. Vahly went over what Nix had said.

  Supposedly, the dragons who had designed the restricted area had attached a mechanism to a particular shelf, and when manipulated properly, said mechanism opened a small chamber that held writings on subjects the dragons weren’t too keen on. Subjects like matriarchs who had sullied their dragon honor by taking mate after mate with no regard for bonding. Stories about the Jades being the first dragons and how the Lapis truly evolved from them and not the other way around. And of course, elves.

  The reason dragons hated elves was still a mystery to Vahly.

  Yes, they were clever and arrogant. But so were dragons. Sure, the elves were secretive. Who cared?

  Vahly’s best guess was that their magic made dragons sweat. It wasn’t a straightforward magic like dragonfire, the only magic dragons possessed.

  Elven magic, the power of the air kynd, had blurred boundaries much like the power of the earth kynd—well, back when they’d still had earth magic. But the humans had met with the dragons, had worked with them. And the elves had kept to themselves. The elves’ blend of unpredictable power, exclusivity, and arrogance rubbed dragons—fire kynd—the wrong way.

  Dragons had their own huge egos, and elves didn’t bother to stroke them as the dragons thought they should have.

  Yes, Vahly thought, perhaps that along with the fear of their power was the reason any scrolls that mentioned them in earnest were held in the hidden, restricted chamber.

  Labels with full titles and subject lined the entire bottom row of shelves.

  Vahly stood and put her hands on her hips. “Where else to look…” she muttered.

  Lys appeared.

  Vahly jumped.

  “What are you doing?” Lys tucked her own scroll under her arm.

  Vahly’s heart skittered inside her ribs. “Research. On … stag beetles. I think my kynd once ate them and—”

  “Ugh.” The dragon held up a hand. “Enough. Fine. Do as you like. Put that candle out when you go, all right?” Lys jerked her head toward the one flickering lantern in the main room.

  “Will do.”

  “Thanks. Oh, and Vahly, welcome to the clan.” Lys still looked slightly disgusted at the stag beetle idea, but her smile was genuine.

  Guilt tried to breathe down Vahly’s neck, but she shook it off.

  The moment Lys left the library, Vahly took up her search, this time going to the end of the shelving. The structure was partially cut from the mountain itself, with wooden planks set into the spaces. Thousands of clawed fingertips, used gently and gracefully, had worn smooth the place where wood met stone. Vahly’s own unclawed hands grazed the surface, top to bottom.

  Next, she brushed a palm under the triangular slice of wood tucked into the corner between two shelving areas. The surface had served as a place to write or read as needed, complete with inkpot and quill. No luck.

  A shuffling so
unded from the corridor downstairs, outside the doorway to the main floor of the library. A head appeared. Lys again.

  “Maybe I can help you finish up, Vahly?” she called, her voice grating and too loud in the library’s quiet atmosphere.

  “No. No, I’m just fine.” Vahly grabbed a random scroll and waved it in the air. “I found one on the nutrients of a stag beetle’s innards. Finally.” She blew out a dramatic breath. “Really interesting stuff right here. In fact, I have an extra beetle here in my pocket. Want to taste?”

  Lys grimaced. “Uh, no. I’m quite full. Don’t stay all night, okay? Draes will have my tail if I leave that lantern lit.” She glanced over her wings as if the dragon himself might be on his way to the library.

  “Understood.”

  With Lys gone, Vahly put her hands on her hips and looked over the whole area. She’d searched the entirety of the section, down to the underside of the tables.

  Where could this legendary restricted section be hiding?

  Shaking her head, she noticed the moonlight catching on a spot between the last two shelves. Hurrying over, she bent to examine the knee-level space between wood and stone. She hadn’t even realized this shelf was actually two shelves. The sides fit together so neatly. All except this one space. The scrolls beside it were labeled, but the ink was far darker than the labels around it. Nix had said the shelf near the secret entrance was unlabeled.

  But this label was new. Perhaps someone had realized the scrolls were not categorized and fixed the problem.

  Or there was a dragon who specifically didn’t want this room found.

  Vahly wiggled her first finger into the space. The stone tore at her nail bed as she pushed her finger further in. The way her day had gone so far, she’d be all stumps by sunset.

  Something cold, and possibly metallic, hit the end of her finger.

  Voices trickled from the corridor and into the library. Lys and Draes.

  Sweating, Vahly pushed harder. Her skin ripped. The pain of the deep scrape burned like fire, and she blinked watery eyes.

  She had to hurry. If she were caught doing this, breaking into this restricted area, she would be flogged in front of the entire clan. Brought low. It was the punishment for any Lapis who broke a rule. The dragons normally flogged a dragon’s wings with a leather strap, sometimes grounding them for a day or more. With Vahly, they would most likely strip her vest and shirt off and come within inches of accidentally killing her. Well, this little slug wasn’t saying hello to a strap anytime soon.

  Shuddering, she gave the metal knob one more poke.

  The floor under her feet moved.

  She leaped backward as a half circle opened up.

  A spiral staircase led into the wall, then dropped behind and below the shelving of the second tier. The steps ended on the same ground as the first floor, but the walls kept the whole thing from view. Completely tucked away inside the walls of the library, the hidden chamber released the scent of dust.

  Vahly wasted no time rushing back to the first floor to blow out the lantern. Then, she hurried back up the stairs to the second tier, walked onto the spiral steps, closed the secret door behind her, and pattered down, into the darkness.

  Fumbling in the dark, Vahly reached into one of the bags on her belt and pulled out a handful of distura feathers. The finger-length glowing plumes came from the birds that lived near the Fire Marshes beyond Nix’s cider house. Vahly had found these on the ground where a fox had obviously enjoyed two of the creatures for dinner. She held them up and tried to get her eyes to adjust to the low light. The glow of the feathers wouldn’t last long, but it was bright enough.

  She rotated slowly, studying the small chamber. Floor to ceiling shelves covered the walls, but they differed greatly from the ones in the main library. These were made of, what was it? Vahly walked over to one and gripped its edge, holding the distura feathers up.

  They were made entirely of lapis lazuli. Vahly blinked. The shelves were worth a fortune, and here they were, hidden away where no one would ever see them. Shaking off the puzzle of why an ancient dragon had decided to waste the beautiful stone on a room no one saw, she counted the scrolls. She gave up at one hundred nine.

  None of these writings were labeled, but they were each enclosed in a leather case with a symbol burned into the bottom end. Perhaps the symbols indicated what was inside?

  Vahly started with a set of scrolls closest to the stairs so she could keep an ear out for Lys and Draes. The first of the set of four had a case that boasted a sunburst symbol.

  Setting the feathers on the step that was head-high, she slid the scroll from its case and set the container on the ground by her boots. She opened the scroll slowly, careful not to crack or tear the vellum.

  Faded writing started in the center of the piece and spiraled out. It was written in the dragon language and spoke of a battle against the elves. There were place names—Birne, Typeth, and Grigain—that she’d never heard of.

  This one was no help although it did offer an explanation about why dragons hated elves. They’d been at war ages ago. Though the battles weren’t recent, many dragons made it to four hundred years of age, or more, and their memories were long.

  She went through the rest of that set, only to find more detailed accounts of battles with sea folk, but no more mention of elves or anything about ritual practices. So most likely, the sunburst symbol indicated battle history.

  The next set also showed sunbursts, so Vahly moved past them to the third collection, stowed on a lower shelf. The image of stag antlers marked the end of the first two scroll cases and an acorn showed on the smallest of the bunch. Vahly read through the first two. They were dry accounts of hunting grounds and who owned what. Lord Maur was mentioned in these, but she wondered if the writing was actually talking about another dragon with the name. Maybe an ancestor of his?

  The final scroll didn’t look like much before she unrolled it. Tattered edges. Small. Reeking of decay.

  But when Vahly spread the vellum, she had to stifle a gasp.

  Braids and leaves in gold powder ink framed the faded writing. Small illustrations decorated the left side. A rabbit danced with a frog. A gryphon, thought to be extinct, flew over a trio of mountain peaks. Humans with several different skin tones laughed and raised toasts in large mugs as simplebeasts—a small bear, two wolves, and a rather fat beaver—gathered in peace around their legs.

  Under the weakening light of the glowing feathers, she tried to read the minuscule lettering. Many phrases were so worn, they were completely illegible.

  But two words caught Vahly’s eye.

  Earth Queen.

  She read as much as she could, murmuring to herself. The scroll detailed a meeting between an Earth Queen and the Matriarch that had come three generations before Amona.

  Vahly mumbled the words to herself as she scanned the parchment. “… under the Sacred Oak…”

  The next section had faded into nothing. Then, later it read, “… to lay out negotiations between Jade and Lapis concerning hunting grounds made fertile by earth kynd and air kynd…”

  So the humans—earth kynd—and elves—air kynd—had worked together?

  That was new.

  The scroll under Vahly’s bunched fist had one last paragraph. Controlling her frustration, she read on. There had to be something here.

  “Because the land in question is the birthplace of an earth kynd, it must be protected. Hunting should be limited to…”

  Why would the birthplace of a human need to be protected?

  Another set of lines ran along the bottom of the scroll.

  They were written in elven language, brighter than the brown, inked letters on the rest of the scroll, as if the elven had been added later. Beside them, an illustration of a woman with pointed ears and a pair of vicious-looking throwing knives rose a few feet above a field of brazenberry bushes.

  Vahly cursed herself. Why hadn’t she taken the time to learn the elven language? Did Nix
know any?

  There was a bump outside the room.

  Someone was coming.

  Pulse ticking, faster and faster in her neck, Vahly rolled the vellum and tucked it into its leather case. But they would notice if she attached the case to her belt or held it in her hands.

  Eyeing the various hiding places on her person, she took the scroll back out of the case, set the case back into its place on the shelf, then loosened the front ties of her vest to make room for the scroll between her shirt and the leather.

  Squeezing her eyes shut, she hoped with all she had that her actions wouldn’t completely demolish the beautiful scroll or its potentially key information. She hurried up the steps, just then realizing she’d let the feathers drop.

  A rumbling voice Vahly was almost sure belonged to Draes echoed through the library, followed by something Lys said. Vahly heard her own name.

  The glowing feathers lay in a scattered heap near the base of the stairs. But there was no time.

  Well, she had to make time or the next dragon in here would know someone had been in the room.

  Holding her breath, she leaped down the steps, then shoved the feathers down her shirt. Pulse racing, Vahly vaulted up the last three steps, then reached across the opening to push the mechanism that would seal the chamber.

  Draes and Lys were coming up the main stairs from the first floor.

  Vahly was trapped on the second tier.

  She grabbed the nearest scroll, sat abruptly, and threw the writing open on her lap. Lys and Draes would find it incredibly odd that she was reading by moonlight, but that was fine by Vahly. Odd worked. Breaking into highly prized and restricted scrolls did not. One ended with a shaking head or an eye roll, the other concluded with a whipping.

  But then another voice joined Draes’ baritone and Lys’s alto.

  “If it’s her, I will deal with her infringement. I am here on the authority of our Matriarch.”

  It was the deep bass of Lord Maur.