The Dragons of Noor

by Janet Lee Carey

  The woodland requiem began to change from songs of loss to something almost joyful. The exhaustion Miles had carried from the arduous sea voyage and long battles with the Cutters lightened.

  They were a small group here under the desert stars. Only two meers and a gathering of dragons, but they knew why they were here. They had not forgotten the great forests of old that once bound two worlds. Not yet.

  THIRTY-TWO

  THE VALLEY BELOW

  The Old Magic has awakened.

  —WILD ESPER

  Look!” Tymm pointed ahead. “Stars! Thousands of stars!”

  Hanna had expected blue daylight, but the opening at the far end of the passage was black. Still, the fresh night air washing over her face held a woodland scent. At last! They must have reached the Valley of All Souls!

  Hanna and Taunier raced toward the glittering stars, then came skidding to a sudden halt at the cavern’s broad mouth.

  “Stop, everyone!” warned Taunier. “Don’t push. We’re too high up.” Sliding his arm through Hanna’s, he peered down and gave a whistle. The moon hung nearly ripe over the valley floor a thousand feet below.

  Hanna inched out a little farther to inspect the cliff. It appeared to be sheer on all sides. No jutting rocks to climb down.

  A bat flitted past and flew down toward the valley floor.

  “Now what?” Taunier whispered.

  Hanna could feel the others waiting behind her. She didn’t want to turn around, didn’t want to meet their eyes.

  Trees dotted the valley far below. At the base of the mountain, dark smudges gathered in larger clumps, joining to become a vast forest. The left side was too dark to see, but moonlight spread across the evergreens high up on the right side of the mountain. Here was the valley and the forest of Oth they’d come so far to find. She could see the trees the deyas needed to survive, but there was no way to reach them.

  “We’ll rest awhile,” Hanna announced. Her throat ached with anger and disappointment. Behind her the deyas seated themselves on the dusty floor, and the children curled up in their laps in twos and threes like nestlings.

  Hanna crouched against the jagged rock wall by the opening. Thriss crawled from the rucksack, perched on her knees, and licked her scaly forearm with her long, orange tongue.

  “You shouldn’t have stowed away like that,” scolded Hanna a second time. “We’re right on the edge of Oth, and dragons aren’t allowed in.” The pip ignored her as usual and began to clean the scales beneath her wing.

  Hanna glanced at the weary company. Some deyas were singing the little ones to sleep, their own eyes drooping. One deya’s head hung low, her long hair tickling Cilla’s face. Cilla’s nose twitched in her sleep. Hanna sighed. She was in charge of them all, from pip to child to deya. What did it matter that Thriss had come along? Oth was a thousand feet below. Impossible to reach.

  Taunier squatted on his haunches and offered his water pouch. Hanna shook her head. There wasn’t much left, and the children would need to drink again soon. Instead, she slipped a pebble into her mouth and sucked it to hold back her thirst. Evver’s long-fingered hand lay across Tymm’s back. The deya’s garments were dirt-stained and his hair and beard tangled; even so, he had a kingly presence. I can’t let him die, she thought. There must be a way.

  “It’s all right, Hanna,” Taunier whispered beside her.

  “It’s not,” she whispered back. “I wanted to help the deyas. To rescue Tymm and bring him and the other children safely home.” It was hard to admit her failure aloud. She wished Taunier would put his arm about her. She wanted to feel his strength.

  Taunier didn’t hold her, but he did sit beside her, close enough for Thriss to playfully wrap her golden tail about his wrist. Close enough for Hanna to feel his breath tickle the hairs on her neck.

  “Do you think Tymm wanted to be rescued?” he asked.

  The question startled her. “What do you mean?”

  “We used your great-uncle Enoch’s boat to sail from Enness.”

  “So?”

  “So listen, will you?”

  “I’m listening,” she whispered, though she didn’t like his tone.

  “We had to run off together because your mother and da wouldn’t have let you come.”

  Hanna nodded. That was true enough, and she still felt some guilt over it.

  “Would you have wanted your parents to rescue you? To bring you safely back home before you made it to Jarrosh?”

  “No, of course not.”

  “It might be the same for Tymm and the others.”

  “But they’re only children,” she protested.

  “Some might call you a child.”

  “I’m fifteen. No one would say that.” She was irritated at Taunier, but part of her was intrigued with his idea. What if by rescuing Tymm and the other children, she was preventing them from accomplishing what they’d come here to do? It was strange to think of it that way, yet the children hadn’t seemed afraid once they’d fully awakened, seen Thriss pop out of the rucksack, and grown used to the deyas. While sleeping in Taproot Hollow, Tymm had somehow sent her the power to dreamwalk again when her own dreams had gone dark.

  She guessed he’d sent the magic through the webbed roots in Mount Olone to the roots of the azure sapling where the dragons made her seaweed bed. Since that last dreamwalk, she’d returned to her vivid dreams and had dreamwalked without aid when she’d gone up the slope to find Meer Zabith. But Tymm’s part in the adventure wasn’t over. All the Wind-taken had agreed they’d been blown across the eastern sea to bind the broken, whatever that meant.

  “If I didn’t come here to rescue Tymm and the others, or to help the deyas find new Waytrees after their azures fell, what did I come here to do?”

  “I can’t tell you that, Hanna.”

  She was tired of being in charge. She leaned her head against the rock wall, exhausted, needing sleep, too worried to drop off.

  Evver had said she let the Old Magic speak to her when she dreamwalked and when she listened closely to her heart. She’d felt a deep assurance when she’d left Enness with Taunier, after she’d dreamwalked for the dragons, and when she’d found Tymm and the others in the roots. Was that what Evver meant? It hadn’t been so much like listening to a voice as a kind of quiet knowing. Still, if she were the Kanameer, wouldn’t she have a clear, intelligent plan? A stronger sense of her own power?

  Outside, the night was waning. Dawn brushed the valley in pale vermilion, and the trees were dipped in fruited light.

  Taunier said, “If the dragons had come with us, they could have flown us down.”

  “You know they’re not allowed back into Oth until Breal’s Moon.”

  “I know.”

  Neither of them mentioned that Breal’s Moon would rise tonight.

  Taunier ran his finger down Thriss’s back. “With the azures gone, I wonder if the dragons can get back at all now.”

  Hanna had wondered that, too. And behind that thought another, darker one hid. If she couldn’t get the deyas to the trees in All Souls Wood, where Evver had promised to try and bridge the worlds from the Oth side, how could they bring the children home?

  Turn back down the tunnel now, and the deyas would surely die. Stay too long away from Noor, and they might all end up in Oth forever. “There’s no way out,” she whispered.

  Taunier leaned closer, his arm brushing against hers. “You’ll have to use your powers to get us down,” he whispered, “unless, of course, those deyas back there can fly.”

  Her powers … Hanna closed her eyes. There it was again. Was she supposed to dreamwalk them all down? Fly? She couldn’t fly, though she’d ridden with Wild Esper once or twice.

  An idea began to form. “Taunier.” She opened her eyes. “Come closer to the edge with me.”

  “Why? We’ve already looked down. There’s nothing to grab on to.”

  “Please. Just do it.”

  Hanna tucked Thriss into the rucksack. “Stay in here until
I say it’s safe to come out.” The hatchling gave a little hiss, but she crept back in.

  The mouth of the cave was toothless, with no jutting stones to hold on to. Hanna stepped out as far as she dared, the toes of her scuffed boots only inches from the edge. Taunier gripped her arm; still, her stomach flipped as she looked down. The wind spirits are my kith. I have the power to call upon the riders. Wild Esper would not come this far east, but there were other sky spirits she’d read about in the Falconer’s book that might come to her if she called.

  “Hold me tight.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Just hold me, Taunier.”

  Taunier wrapped his arms about her waist. Hanna held her breath a moment, feeling the warmth and strength flowing from his hands. She sighed, shivering a little at his touch, then spread her arms.

  “Noorushh, rider of the sea winds, I am sqyth-eyed. My blue eye shows my friendship with the sky and marks me as your kith. Friend who rides the wind, blow to this mountainside. I call you here. I ask you to come.”

  Hanna called again, “Isparel, sky friend, one who dances with the east wind, I call you. I am your kith as you are mine. Dance on the wind above the valley. I wait here with the deyas. I wait for you to come!”

  Hanna waved her arms up and down, as if already greeting the wind spirits. She had summoned both spirits, hoping at least one would blow to the high cave. The breeze picked up, whistling a stark tune as it swept up from the valley. Crisp air blew her hair and clothing back against Taunier, who was still holding her fast. Hanna caught the clean gusts and let them fill her.

  “Wake up,” she called to the deyas in the cave. “The great wind spirits are coming.”

  THIRTY-THREE

  WIND RIDERS

  I saw Noorushh, the great wind spirit of the sea,

  riding on a white cloud above the stormy water.

  —THE WAY BETWEEN WORLDS

  A giant wind rider galloped across the sky on his cloud stallion: the wind spirit Noorushh was racing straight for the mountainside.

  “You did it,” Taunier said, amazed.

  “Get ready,” Hanna shouted. She wanted to scream and scurry away from the opening, to hide from the powerful rider. But she spread her feet wider to brace herself. Taunier’s long-fingered hands held her steady above the sheer drop.

  “Look,” he cried over her shoulder. “There’s another one.”

  She saw a spray of colors flung across the morning sky: vibrant green, deep purple, burning orange. The swirl grew larger as Isparel the wind woman danced toward the cliff in her rainbow skirts.

  Hanna tried to press down her growing terror. She’d done it, summoned two spirits, hoping at least one would come. Now both were here, blowing much too close together. It took only two spirits to begin a wind war, but there was no time to send one back.

  “Come closer,” Hanna called.

  Noorushh swept up, his chalk-white hair and long beard blowing back from his stormy face. “I crossed land hearing your call, but I ride over the sea. I won’t stay long.”

  “We have to reach the valley,” said Hanna. “Will you fly us down?”

  He rode his cloud stallion closer to the cliffside. “If you want a ride, leap on now.”

  Hanna peered at the valley, a quarter of a mile below. “Leap … now?”

  Noorushh huffed at her indecision and tugged his silver reins to turn his storm steed about. There was no arguing with him. She had to leap now, show the others how to ride down, or lose her chance.

  Don’t look down. Just go! She wrenched forward. Taunier’s hands tightened around her waist.

  “Let go of me!”

  “I won’t.”

  “I said let go! I have to jump. It’s the only way down.”

  “I can’t let you do that.”

  “Mortals!” Noorushh spat cold raindrops that splattered her face and chest as he began to pull away. He was leaving! She had to jump. She stomped on Taunier’s toes and elbowed him hard in the ribs. As he reeled back, sucking in air, she leaped for the racing cloud.

  The sky billowed all around her as she tumbled down head over heels. She’d thrown herself off and missed! Where was Noorushh? The thick air jammed the screams back inside her mouth. Arms spread wide in the pummeling wind, she hurtled down, speeding closer and closer to the valley floor, then bright colors swept in from her left as Isparel caught her in her skirts and spun her round and round. Gasping wildly, heart in mouth, Hanna swam in the wind woman’s twirling skirts.

  “Can you fly in lower and put me down?” puffed Hanna.

  Isparel laughed. “Why not dance higher?” She tossed her upward. Hanna flailed, stomach clenching, her limbs jerking as earth and sky roiled all about her. She knew wind spirits were tricksters, but she was not a toy.

  “Stop it, Isparel! Take me down!”

  It was the wrong thing to say. Isparel sped for the valley in a fury, her gown darkening with storm as she dumped Hanna onto the grass. Hanna pitched forward and caught herself with her hands. Palms scraped, knees throbbing, she turned over, reeling from flight. “Th-Thank you, Isparel,” she stuttered, “for the wonderful dance.” She had to make it up to the wind woman; if she lost both spirits, the others would be trapped in the cave with no way down.

  Isparel twirled overhead, hesitating. She sent another angry gust toward Hanna, then laughed. “You were a pitiful partner.”

  Hanna stood dizzily. “I know. I’m sorry. Please, could you dance the others down? They would love to dance with you. I know they would.” Hanna knew the children and the deyas might well scream in their mad descent, but it was the only way to reach the valley.

  Isparel flashed upward and blew singing toward the cliff. Not to be outdone, Noorushh thundered by, his stallion darkening brown with rain. Hanna held her breath. Would they fight to take the others down? What had she done?

  “Taunier!” she screamed. “I’m here!” She waved her arms in the desperate hope that he could see her from the tunnel opening. “Come down! Bring the rest with you!” She pressed her nails into her palms as she watched first one wind spirit, then the other blow past the dark opening in the high cliff.

  Get on. Ride down. Easy. Easy.

  At last Noorushh gusted down and gave a mighty shout as he came to a halt just above the floor of the valley. A handful of screaming children tumbled from his cloudy mount. Tymm and Cilla were the first to roll across the grass.

  “Tymm!” Hanna rushed over to help him up. She was ready to comfort her little brother and was surprised to find his screams were not from fear. Wrenching away from her grasp, he took Cilla’s hand and joined a circle of children shrieking with delight. “Wind-riders! Wind-riders!” they chanted as they spun around. The children fell again, laughing, too dizzy to stand.

  More children tumbled off the stallion with the deyas. A few of the youngest ones hadn’t enjoyed the ride. The two in Evver’s arms were bawling. He rocked them, saying, “It is all right now.” He lifted his head to admire the broad valley, his roots undulating in the rich green grass.

  Tymm bounded back to Hanna. “We’re going there for a drink,” he said, pointing to a stream at the edge of the wood. Tipping her head back, Hanna cupped her hands around her mouth. “Thank you, Noorushh.”

  “The sea calls!” he shouted back. With a great gust, the wind spirit swept over the mountain forest toward the Othic Sea beyond. Hanna was thirsty, too, but she kept her place, head up, still waiting anxiously for the rest of her friends to land.

  Taunier and Zabith were the last to spin down with Isparel. Meer Zabith was old and frail, but it turned out theirs was a graceful landing. Taunier braced himself, somewhat unsteady on his feet. He made a princely bow to the wind woman and said, “Thank you for the dance, Isparel.”

  Isparel swirled her skirts about him, covering him in rainbows.

  Blood rushed to Hanna’s cheeks. How dare she caress him that way?

  “You will dance with me again,” insisted Isparel.<
br />
  “Another time,” said Taunier.

  Laughing, the spirit mussed his dark hair before she spun away. Taunier turned, passed Hanna without a glance, and headed for the stream where the children were splashing and drinking.

  He’s angry with me for kicking him away so I could jump, she thought. She wanted to stay where she was and let her jealous heat simmer a little longer, but they didn’t have much time. Tonight was Breal’s Moon; she had only one day to find trees for the deyas and bring the children back home to Noor. At the brook she drank greedily from the bank. The deyas waded in, drinking through their rooted feet.

  On the far side of the stream, slender birches and willows were leafed in autumnal gold. Farther up the mountain, Hanna spied a swath of evergreens. None looked large enough to house deyas. There must be an ancient grove somewhere in All Souls Wood.

  Taunier splashed water on his face and stood, hands dripping.

  Hanna cleared her throat. “Sorry for stomping on your foot and—”

  “You really gouged me in the gut.” He rubbed just below his ribs.

  “I had to. It was the only way to—”

  Taunier turned from her, gazing over the valley. The cliff they’d flown down from looked so far away now, with the broad vale spreading out green before them. The back of his hand lightly brushed against hers, setting off small fireworks in her chest. She glanced at his profile, his slightly crooked nose, wide mouth, and high forehead. She knew every inch of his face. She’d absorbed it during innumerable stolen glances over the past year, drinking his features in small sips before looking away. She swiftly turned her head before he caught her.

  Half the valley was still covered in predawn gloom. But where the morning sunlight touched the vale, she saw grasslands dotted with bushes and trees, and the creatures on the ground and in the air looked drenched in fairy light. The light here was so much brighter than any she’d ever seen in Noor. This was the Oth she remembered, a place brimming over with magic. The sun sweetened the air like honey, sharpened every wing, twig, and blade of grass. The air here thrummed with vibrant life.