The dragons across the gap let out a communal sigh. The challenging male huffed out smoke, yet he bowed his head in deference to the she-dragon. “Still, oh Damusaun, how can we be sure this other one is the Kanameer?”
The Damusaun’s talons extended like cat’s claws. “I am your queen. I say she is the one. Test her and see.”
Across the crevasse, a few dragons thwacked their long tails. The drumming grew louder as the rest joined in, slapping their tails against the floor and wall, chanting, “Test her. Test her. Test her. Test her.”
SIXTEEN
FIERCE, UNBENDING TRUTH
Dreamwalker, free the first ones taken.
From dark dreams let day awaken.
—DRAGONS’ SONG
There was no place to hide. Hanna stood on the very edge of the precipice with Taunier. The rock walls echoed with the sound of the dragons’ throaty voices. A fire had been lit across the divide, and she could see the gathered dragons clearly now. Blue-green and golden scales all winked in the firelight as they flicked their tails in unison, chanting, “Test her. Test her. Test her.”
Her throat went dry. She remembered the barn cat’s tail twitching like that as he considered the fun he was about to have with a mouse. Across the rift, a large male addressed the Damusaun in a raspy voice. “Throw her down the mouth. It is said the Kanameer can fly.”
Hanna peered into the deep crevasse and saw a dark pool very far below. Terror tightened her gut. She knew well enough what he meant by throw her down the mouth.
“Where does the prophecy say the Kanameer can fly?” insisted the Damusaun.
“Noor Winds bring to us the Dreamer,” he sang.
The rest joined in:
“Eye of earth and eye of sky,
Soaring on the wings of morning,
Come to us, O Pilgrim.”
The Damusaun was right. The lines didn’t have to mean the Kanameer could fly. But how could she convince them?
Dragon voices swept around her. She felt dizzy, but she also felt carried along by them as if she were swirling high above the land again. They were giving her a way to live within their words, if she was brave enough to grasp on.
“I came through the Whirl Storms,” she said. “They are the greatest of the Noor Winds.” Her knees shook, but she couldn’t let them see her fear. Standing up to them, she’d claim her own life and Taunier’s. They’d escape with Thriss. Find Tymm. Taunier stepped a little closer until they stood shoulder to shoulder.
She continued. “I am also sqyth-eyed. My green eye and my blue show I have kith in the earth and sky who will bring magic if I call.” She thought of her sky kith Wild Esper when she said this, though the wind woman was far away in the west.
Hanna’s answer barely carried through the enormous cave. A flimsy human voice, a bird twittering before a roaring waterfall, but her speech was heard.
A terrow pip flitted across the crevasse and hovered close to Hanna’s face, inspecting her eyes. Darting back across, he squeaked excitedly, “She is sqyth-eyed.”
The dragons talked in low voices, wings wavering at their sides.
“How can one so small dreamwalk for us?” she heard one asking. And this from a youngling, himself no larger than a newborn colt!
Tails curled. There was a low hiss.
Taunier gave her a “now what?” look. She clenched her teeth to keep her chin from quivering. She would die if she was thrown down the chasm, and if she died, he’d be next. All hope of finding Tymm, of helping the Waytrees here, would die with them. She couldn’t let that happen, but she couldn’t think of what to say or do next.
The hissing subsided as the dragons talked among themselves. Thriss crawled out from under Hanna’s cloak, nudged her cheek, and purred in her ear. Surrounded by her kin, the pip was too young to understand that she should be afraid, but her purring encouraged Hanna. Her skin still ran with dewy sweat, but her mind sharpened. She might not be the Kanameer they’d waited for, but she had come on the wind. She was sqyth-eyed. And all her life (until the empty nights on the Leena) she’d dreamwalked.
Could she dreamwalk still? She didn’t know, but she had to speak from strength, not from fear. Before the dragons added another challenge, she raised her chin and told the dragons about the unicorn dream she’d had long ago. There was magic in that dreamwalk, and dark portent. She’d foreseen two monsters slaying a sacred unicorn in the meadowlands of Oth where the great stone oak stood, the tree called Brodureth, the Oak King.
The dreamwalk had haunted her three times before it came to pass, before Hanna came face-to-face with the angry Sylth Queen, who’d loved the unicorn that was slain.
Taunier gave her a wide-eyed look as she spoke about Oth. She read surprise on his face and disappointment. She’d never told him about her journey to the Otherworld last year. He was hearing things about her now for the first time, in the company of dragons. She wished she could explain it all to him and change his hurt expression, but that would have to wait.
There was silence in the great red cave as she spoke and whispering among the dragons when she was done.
“I am Kaleet.” The largest dragon with the glaring leg wound held his head high. His golden chest shone in the low firelight burning across the deep rift. “You say you have been to Oth. How do we know this is true?”
One-eye at the queen’s side answered before Hanna could speak. “How else could a manling know the Oak King’s name? Who but the sylth folk would have spoken the name of Brodureth, the Waytree that was our ancient western bridge to Oth, may all honor fill his roots and branches.”
“All honor to Brodureth,” sang the dragons. “Our ancient dragons’ bridge.” Hanna sensed deep sadness in the chant.
The male called Kaleet shook his head, the scales across his cheekbones clattering. “Tell us how you reached the Otherworld,” he said. There was a sense of awe in his voice.
Hanna blinked. She was too overwhelmed at first to answer, but the dragons were impatient, and soon the thrumming sound began to grow again across the black ravine.
Hanna knew without being told that these ancient creatures would not tolerate any kind of lie. The dragons expected fierce, unbending truth, as the law of the Old Magic demanded. At last she said, “The deyas in the Waytrees called Wild Esper, the wind woman. She flew me to Attenlore in western Oth.”
Sweat trickled over her upper lip. She licked the salty drops and waited. The weaving of her words, the truth about herself and her past, all were forming an invisible safety net, which must be strong enough to catch her and Taunier.
Across the gap Kaleet raised his head and breathed blue fire. The others joined him until a burning dome dazzled above. It was brilliant blue as a summer sky, with smoke-white clouds drifting on the wind. Hanna watched, enthralled. The indigo sky was like the one she’d seen in Oth, where the vivid colors are sharper than any in this world. Taunier tipped his head back as they looked on with wonder.
“Kanameer,” sang a golden terrow at the edge of the crevasse.
“Kanameer, O Pilgrim,” another sang.
Soon all were singing, male and female, large and small, taberrell and terrow. Tails drumming in rhythm, they voiced the tune the Damusaun had sung to Hanna from the sea.
The voices resounded in the cave, the sounds doubled and tripled like rising sea winds. Hanna swayed as the song and drumming filled the air. Thriss tipped her head and sang, “Kanameer. Kanameer,” in a high, birdlike voice. The pip climbed up Hanna’s hair and coiled herself atop her head like a golden crown.
SEVENTEEN
BURNED
He lived like a man lost inside his own tent.
—A DESERT SAYING OF KANAYAR
Miles’s heart drummed in his ears, loud, louder, the sound of dragon wings beating the sky. He awoke and winced. Meer Eason was leaning over the cot, gently coating the burn on his left arm with salve. Gritting his teeth, he tried to sit up, groaned, and fell back on the blanket. The burn ran from elbow to wrist. “
How long have I been out?” he croaked.
“All night and half the morning.”
Breal’s head popped out from under the bunk like a furry jack-in-the-box. He panted and licked Miles’s hand. His tongue came close to the burn but did not touch it.
Miles vaguely remembered falling, returning to human shape while he struggled in the chill water, too weak to swim. Salt water had filled his mouth as he’d flailed, then Breal had leaped into the sea to rescue him. There’d been a sudden torturous sharp pain then. Breal must have accidentally clawed his burned arm with his toenails while paddling. Miles had blacked out after that.
He fingered the jagged tear in his shirt. Breal had probably torn it while dragging him through the water. It had seemed strange at first to find himself clothed again each time he returned to his body, his garments shifting in and out of animal form with him, but he’d gotten used to it.
Meer Eason capped the jar of salve and placed it on the small shelf.
“What about Hanna and Taunier?” Miles asked.
“We’re chasing the dragons east. But they’re swifter than the Leena.”
Sweat pooled at the back of his neck. “Why did they take them? What will they do with them?”
Meer Eason wiped his hands on the towel. The strong ointment smell still pervaded the little room. “Who can know the ways of dragons? Their thoughts are shielded from us. But,” he said, “the dragons’ visit stripped secrets from all three of you.” His dark face hovered over Miles like an eclipse, the light from the porthole making a thin glowing line about his curly hair.
Miles breathed unsteadily.
Eason continued. “Did you know your sister had a dragon pip?”
“No.” He was still upset about that. How could she have hidden it from him? They used to share everything to do with magic. He frowned. “And I didn’t know Taunier had power over fire.”
“Another secret revealed,” Eason said. “The power to herd fire is a rare gift. The ancient kings of Kanayar once knew how, but the way was lost to the royal line long ago. Yet this boy—” He paused, thinking.
“And then there’s the matter of your secret.” He poured Miles a cup of water, steadying himself against the table as the ship rolled. “Tell me what happened back there.”
“What happened?”
Their eyes locked. “Who taught you shape-shifting power? You’ve known since you came to Othlore that the art was banned from the school years and years ago.”
“I did not learn it at school, sir.”
“Where then?”
Miles was silent.
“We haven’t much chance of finding Hanna if we hold back from one another, Miles. There’s hidden strength in truth. Without it …” Meer Eason let his unfinished sentence move through the dim air between them, as if the unsaid words were small ships set adrift.
Miles took the cup of water, its coolness cleansing his parched throat. “I’ll tell you,” he said at last. He knew he had to shift again to find Hanna and Taunier.
“Do you know of the beast called the Shriker?” It was a long story. As they headed east in the wake of the dragons, he left no part of his tale unsaid; there was no point now.
Meer Eason leaned in closer as Miles told of the magic shape-shifting power the Sylth Queen gave him, how he’d used it to shape-shift into the Shriker’s form to protect Hanna from the beast. He spoke of tracking the Shriker into the Shadow Realm of Oth and their bloody battles there.
“Hanna crossed into Oth to find me,” said Miles. “Without her I would have stayed inside the Shriker’s form.” He shuddered.
“So both of you have crossed over before.” Meer Eason’s voice was low, but it held a tone of respect. Few meers knew how to use the Waytrees to cross world to world these days. Though there had been many Waytrees in Othlore Wood, the mysterious passage, what some called the dragons’ bridge, moved about, tree to tree, deya to deya, and even the High Meer admitted he’d been unable to find a woodland passage to Oth in these past few years.
Meer Eason’s face hardened. “You hid too much from us, Miles.”
Miles felt the boat rocking in the water, its instability mirroring his own confusion. “I didn’t mean any disrespect for the school or toward you, sir. After I came out of the Shriker’s form, I promised Hanna and myself I wouldn’t shape-shift again. Not until I had more control over the power.”
“Did you keep that promise until this shift?”
“Knowing it was against the school rules made it easier not to shift on Othlore.” Now that the truth was out, he wanted to say more, to explain. Maybe then he’d understand it all a little better himself. Grunting from the pain in his arm, he managed to sit up in his bunk.
“I knew I had to strengthen my understanding of magic, so I studied hard and waited. I would have been happy enough to be blue-palmed at the end of this year, to learn a deal more before I ever tried to shift again.” He gazed down at his left hand. It still saddened him that he’d had to leave Othlore before being given his true meer sign. He wondered now if he would ever have an Othic symbol emblazoned on his palm. But there was something else he wanted to say.
“When I shifted into the Shriker’s form, something was missing from my magic.”
“What do you mean?”
Miles frowned. “I don’t know.”
Meer Eason looked doubtful.
Miles tried harder. He’d feared shifting since his experience last year. If he could better understand what happened back then, he’d be less afraid to use his power now. “I was taken into a dark, animal place by my Shriker’s shift. I can’t explain it better than that, but I didn’t have control over the shape-shift, or not very much, anyway. It overpowered me.”
“Turning more and more into the creature one changes into has always been the danger for any shape-shifter. And you stayed a long while within the beast, as you said. It can also be a matter of resonance.”
“Resonance?”
“How shall I put this?” Meer Eason paused a moment. “If there are similar tendencies between the shifter and the creature he shifts into, that is resonance. Let’s say the shape-shifter has a great love for the sea, he or she might turn into a fish, stay too long in the shift, and remain a sea creature from then on.”
Miles said nothing, understanding this better than he wanted to admit. The Shriker’s raw rage had felt far too familiar. All his life, Miles had hated the villagers down in Brim who’d shunned him and his family. They’d turned their backs on the Sheen family, because it was a Sheen who’d brought the Shriker to Enness Isle long ago, when Rory Sheen offered his bearhound to Death in exchange for his own life. Seeing Rory betray his loyal companion, Death had cursed Rory and turned his dog into the Shriker. Rory’s dog had done nothing to deserve such treatment from his master, but on that night, man’s best friend became his worst enemy. After that, the Shriker appeared in the shape of an enormous demon hound, hunting and killing folk on Enness Isle.
Since the time of the curse, the Shriker was driven by hunger for revenge. Miles knew that hunger, and he’d wanted to punish those who’d belittled him, to taste revenge himself.
Resonance, he thought, shuddering. His anger and the Shriker’s anger had become one. Taken into the beast’s power, he’d wanted to stay there and use it for his own revenge. This was the reason he’d been afraid to shift again.
Meer Eason asked, “What happened to the Shriker when you fought him in Oth? Did you manage to kill him?”
Breal stepped closer and laid his soft head on Miles’s lap, looking up at him with his big brown eyes. There was a secret between them, one he could not tell even now. “The Shriker’s gone.”
Miles shifted his weight on the hard bunk, his heart beating fast. “I have to shift again, sir. Fly after Hanna and Taunier, or we might never find them.”
Meer Eason didn’t answer him directly. Instead, he began to pace the length of the room. “Where might the dragons take them?” he mused.
Miles wa
ited anxiously. Did his teacher agree? Did he want him to shift? He stood up and steadied himself on the tilting floorboards. But just as Eason turned, mouth open, to make a pronouncement, Kanoae burst through the door. “The boundary guards have spotted us.”
Eason spun around. “Can we outrun them?”
“Their ships are larger and faster,” puffed Kanoae. “They’re gaining on us.”
EIGHTEEN
SEA CHANGE
Enter generously into the song.
—A MEER’S MUSIC
Hands tied behind his back, Miles stared down at the turbulent black mouth of the East Morrow Sea. Two steps more, and he’d reach the end of the plank. Behind him drummers pounded. Meers Eason and Kanoae would be next to walk the plank.
The boundary guards had searched the Leena, tossing everything but food, ale, and valuables into the sea.
“We’re not your enemies,” Miles had argued hotly. “The High Meer sent us here.”
This had made things only worse. “Black magic,” one shouted.
“You can’t trust meers,” called another. “Tie them up and gag them before they cast a spell on us.”
Their “trial” had lasted less than an hour. They’d crossed the Boundary Waters without permission and broken the King of Kanayar’s law. The ship’s captain pronounced them “filthy wizards sneaking past the boundary to join the dragons of Jarrosh.”
“Hurry up!” The crewman prodded his back with his sword. Miles flinched. He’d already been flogged in front of everyone, a punishment for screaming through his gag to protest the sentence. As they saw it, he was trying to cast spells. The whipping had left his back raw and blistered, and his burned arm still stung.
He took another step. Three inches of plank left. If he didn’t jump soon, the guard would run him through. He was overwhelmed by sorrow, anger, fear. His hands were tied behind him, so he could not swim. In a moment’s time the dark water would swallow him; he’d sink along with the Falconer’s trunk, which had been tossed from the Leena like so much trash. His life would go down, together with his longing to find Hanna, to rescue Tymm, to save the Waytrees that held the worlds together.
The Dragons of Noor Page 10
