I filled my saucepan with the last of the water from my waterskin. While it heated, I went to a nearby stream where melted snow from the mountaintops made its bubbling, sparkling way to the valley far below.
And the stream was right where it should be. That made me feel a little more grounded. Xyla must be wrong. We couldn’t be anywhere but back home. Two different places simply couldn’t be identical. Could they?
I shook these thoughts out of my mind. Several splashes of the cold water onto my face made me feel more awake and clearheaded. Whatever happened had just muddled all of our thinking, even Xyla’s. Poor thing. If she’d been hit by lightning, no wonder she was disoriented.
When I got back to the cave, Traz stood there holding four rabbits, but with a worried expression on his face. When he saw me, it dissolved into relief.
“Where’d you go?” he demanded. “I got back and no one was here … ” His voice trailed off. So, I thought, he was unsettled, too.
“Just filling my waterskin.” I held it up. “Hey, good catch!”
He shrugged. “Where’s Grey?”
“Went to find some wood to make a new bow. You’re not going to be able to keep a dragon fed, even if you are the deadliest shot in the world.”
“I could bring down an elk as good as Grey can,” he said with an indignant look.
“Yes, yes,” I said quickly, “I’m sure you can. And Grey will be able to use your help.”
“Use his help with what?” Grey came striding in carrying a long, curved branch.
“With the hunting. Traz has already caught us a good meal.”
Traz raised the rabbits so Grey could see, then went outside to skin them. I hoped he’d hurry so we could get them roasting quickly.
“I don’t need his help,” Grey said, a bit bad-temperedly as he sat down near the fire and started fiddling with the branch, turning it this way and that and testing its flex. “I can’t believe I just dropped my best bow like that. This one won’t even come close.”
After awhile Traz came back in with the rabbits ready to cook. He’d made a spit, which he tended with great care. He’d been a kitchen boy at Roylinn Academy, where my brother Breyard and I had studied magic before we’d been caught up with Xyla and the mages, and he was a much better cook than I was. Soon, the delicious odor of roasting meat filled the air, making me feel light-headed with hunger.
Without warning, Grey snapped, “When is that meat going to be ready?” By now, he’d started working on the branch with one of his knives, and a pile of wood shavings lay in front of him.
“Be patient,” Traz said, just as testily. “It takes awhile to cook it to a proper succulence.”
“I don’t care about succulence!” The vehemence in Grey’s tone surprised me. I’d never seen him lose patience with anyone or anything before.
“Fine,” said Traz, reaching for one of the sticks holding a rabbit. He removed it from the spit, being careful not to let the others drop into the fire. He held the stick out to Grey, who took it a little hesitantly. “Don’t complain to me if it’s undercooked. You want yours now, too, Donavah?”
I glanced from one to the other, the tension thick between them. “Uh, no, that’s all right. I’ll wait.”
Grey set the partly whittled branch on the ground and went outside. I took a step to follow him, but then Traz made an impatient sound and said, “Jerk. He always ruins everything.”
“He does not! He’s just hungry.”
“And we’re not?”
“Who’s being surly now? Look, Traz, we’re all hungry and tired and confused. Can’t you hurry those rabbits up a bit? We’ll feel better once we’ve eaten.”
With a sigh, he turned back to the fire.
After Traz and I had finished eating, I went outside to talk to Grey but couldn’t find him. Wondering where he’d gone—and why—I went back inside where it was warmer. I took my meditation kit out of my pack and went deeper into the cave. It was too dark to tell what colors the candles were until I lit them, when I found that I’d somehow picked two that were the same: ivory for peace. Using a matched pair, although the tradition among magicians, wasn’t the most powerful use of magic, so I blew one out and selected another: lavender for clarity.
It was hard to clear my mind, harder than ever before. I could feel the rhythm of life, but couldn’t seem to align myself to it. I concentrated harder, thinking that if I could only catch the beat, I would be able to proceed with the meditation routine.
Cacophony pressed in on me. For a moment, I thought I would go mad from the disruption of my spirit. The sound tugged me in opposite directions, threatening to rip my sanity to pieces.
Lights of red, green, and blue spiraled around me, driving me to distraction without providing illumination.
Then the gentlest of touches on my psyche. I focused on it, willing myself not to lose contact. I didn’t question what it was. It had a sweet taste and sensuous odor that drew me toward it.
Bit by bit, my spirit moved through the ether, nudging itself into rhythm with this world. With each passing moment, I felt more and more at one, once again, with nature around me.
Then, with a psychic jolt, my soul fell into the proper rhythm, and the world blossomed around me. Overcome with the richness of it all, my senses momentarily closed up and everything went black.
And quiet. And still.
I floated on the nothingness.
Then a whisper of wind formed into melodious words.
“Ah. What have we here? Who are you?”
I said nothing.
“Such power. Power that is raw and young and beautiful. Such power as I crave. Where are you?”
And still I said nothing.
“You refuse to answer? I have tasted you. I shall find you.”
Tentacles of thought exploded the blackness. My spirit recoiled, and my body crashed to the floor.
I sat up, feeling a bit dizzy. When I scrunched my eyes closed, the whole world felt like it was spinning, but it wasn’t much better with them open.
I put out the candles and sat for a few minutes, waiting for everything to return to normal.
Then Grey was there. He placed a supportive hand on my back and said, “Are you all right?”
A different sort of confusion flooded through me. All of my attention focused on his touch.
“Donavah? Are you all right?” he repeated.
“Um, yeah,” I finally managed to say. “I think so.”
“Come to the fire where it’s warmer.” He stood up and reached a hand down to me. I took it and let him pull me to my feet. “Your hands are as cold as ice! Let me make you something warm to drink.”
I left the candles where they were and went with him, Grey still holding my hand in his.
Traz frowned at us from where he sat near the fire. He scowled without saying a word as Grey wrapped my cloak around my shoulders and helped me to sit down, then made me tea.
I was glad Grey didn’t ask again about my meditation session, because for now, I didn’t want to talk about it. Who did that voice belong to? It had been so soft and quiet I couldn’t even tell if it was male or female. And what did it mean, “I shall find you”? The whole idea of meeting a stranger’s spirit while meditating made me feel uneasy, as if someone had been poking around inside me.
Eventually, while Traz watched Grey working once again on his bow, I curled up next to the fire and went to sleep.
I woke up twice in the night. Once, the fire had burned down to embers, so I arose and stoked it up. The second time, just an hour or so before dawn, the fire was roaring and Grey was sitting up, working on his bow again. I pushed myself up onto one elbow. He glanced at me, then back at his work.
“The stars,” he said, his voice so quiet that I barely heard him.
&nbs
p; “What? What about the stars?”
“They’re all in the right places.”
I sat up and moved closer to him so we could talk without waking Traz up. “I’m not following you.”
“Xyla said we were on another world, this Stychs place, but all the stars are exactly where they should be for this place at this time of year.”
“Oh.” The enormity of that hit me. “Then what do you think she meant?”
He looked over at her, a frown furrowing his brow. “I don’t know. It’s not like Malk taught me any dragon lore.”
I yawned hugely.
“Sorry,” he said with a half-smile. “I didn’t mean to bore you.”
“No, no,” I said quickly. “Not bored. Just tired.”
“Go back to sleep, then. We can talk more in the morning.”
When I awoke, Xyla still lay exactly where she’d stopped the night before, no change in her condition. Her tail did give a tiny flick when I placed a hand on her neck, though, and I took that as an encouraging sign. Traz was nowhere to be seen, and I guessed he was hunting again. Grey was outside, taking some practice shots with the now-completed bow.
“I wouldn’t even use this to teach Traz to shoot,” he said, “but it’ll have to do for now. I’ll need to get a better one before long, if we can only find a settlement.”
“Does that mean that you will teach him to shoot?” I asked hopefully.
“I suppose I will. If I can. If I must.”
His eyes dared me to rise to the bait, but I didn’t. “And you’ll be able to bring down something big enough for Xyla to eat?”
Grey grimaced. “I hope so. I’ll go now and see what I can find.”
“Before breakfast? You have to eat something before you go.”
“Already did. Leftover rabbit. Well, wish me good hunting.”
And he disappeared into the woods.
I went back inside and made tea. Soon Traz returned with a pair of small birds, which we cooked up into a simple stew in my saucepan.
“We’re going to miss bread before long,” I observed.
“I already do.”
“Grey mentioned trying to find a settlement so he could get a new bow. We could get bread, too.”
“With what?” There was a hint of exasperation in his voice. “How much money do you have?”
I hadn’t thought of that. “I see what you mean. I haven’t any.”
“Neither do I. If we even find a settlement, which I doubt, we’ll have to work for anything we want to buy.”
Xyla’s weak voice interrupted. “Donavah?”
I ran over to her. “Xyla? Are you awake?”
“Hungry,” she said.
“I know. Grey is out hunting right now.” But when would he be back? It was Winter, and finding anything worthwhile to bring back could take all day. Or longer.
“You must find the other dragons,” she said, and somehow, her voice sounded a little stronger.
“What other dragons?”
“The other red dragons.”
“But Xyla, there are no other red dragons. You’re the only one.”
“That was on Hedra. Now we’re on Stychs.”
There it was again. “What do you mean, Stychs? We’re exactly where we were before, just everyone has gone.” That sounded stupid even to me.
“No. We are on Stychs.” There was a pause. “I cannot explain now. Perhaps later, when I am stronger.”
I sighed. I wanted to understand her, and I wished that maejic extended to reading minds, not only being able to converse with animals.
When she’d fallen asleep again, I got my cloak and went outside. Opening my senses, I could now feel the life of the forest. Last night’s meditation seemed to have done the trick.
I stepped into the woods and walked in among the trees. The slow life that pulsed through them felt much as it did at home, although there was a slightly different flavor that I couldn’t quite define.
The smaller branches of the trees seemed to bend a little toward me, as if in greeting. I smiled as I raised my hands high above my head, touching the leaves I could reach. A ripple of gladness flowed out across the forest, and a tide of welcome returned.
Then a wave of hunger that had nothing to do with my own appetite washed over me. A mind-bending hunger that bordered on starvation. The scent of blood and flesh and bone. I put a hand to my head in a vain effort to dispel the feeling. Instead, it grew stronger.
I stumbled back to the cave, wondering what was wrong with me. Xyla stood half in, half out, and I caught her sense of anticipation. A moment later, with a dragging, almost crashing sound, Grey came out of the woods, pulling the carcass of a huge animal that I didn’t recognize. I didn’t mind Xyla eating, of course, but I didn’t like to watch it, either, so I went into the cave. Grey followed, leaving Xyla to her meal, and I made some tea for him.
“That was fast,” I said. “I didn’t expect to see you back until this afternoon.”
“I know. It was uncanny. There was no sign of any prey at all, much less something big enough for a dragon. Then, all of a sudden, there it was. Almost like magic.”
“Or maybe maejic?” I laughed, then stopped abruptly at that thought.
He gave me a gentle smile. “Maybe.”
“This is good. Is there more?” Xyla asked in a plaintive tone.
Grey rose to his feet. “No rest for the weary, I see. Hope I get that lucky again. This bow isn’t up to any real hunting.”
By evening, Xyla was sleeping soundly, having eaten the first beast plus two more that Grey brought back. She still seemed weak, and she spoke very little, but there was at least some improvement.
Traz had returned near nightfall with enough meat for supper. I asked him what he’d been doing all day, but he just made a vague, meaningless noise and turned back to tending the meal as it cooked.
I watched him closely and saw that he kept stroking the stones we’d used to make a ring around the fire, as if trying to memorize their shapes or their texture. I almost asked him about it, but he sat with hunched shoulders, suggesting that he wished to be left alone.
Then, not long after we’d finished eating supper, we all heard footsteps approaching the cave.
We turn our attention now to the most enduring of the creation myths, that of Etos.
It is said that his was the first power, the first life, the first being, and all power, life, and being sprang from him.
Before Etos, the world was black and void. He filled the world with his presence, and thereby filled it with color. Color covered the face of the earth, then reached into its soul and brought forth sound. Color and sound danced, and brought forth scent. Color, sound, and scent meditated and brought forth taste. These four laughed and brought forth touch.
And Etos was well-pleased.
And he sang of his pleasure.
And brought forth life.
And when he was finished, he settled deep into the ether to watch his creation live and dance and meditate and laugh and die and return to the earth from whence it sprang.
~from the lecture notes of Tandor
“H’lo? Who’s there?”
Grey was on his feet, knife in hand, in a flash. He stalked to the mouth of the cave, staying in the shadows.
A figure took a step inside. “H’lo?” the voice said again. “I know you’re there.”
I could understand the words, but they were spoken with a strange, unfamiliar accent.
Grey took advantage of the pause to pounce. He grabbed the person from behind, one arm across their chest and the other hand holding a knife to their throat.
I gasped in surprise; I’d never seen Grey like this—dangerous, lethal even, toward another person. The air tightened with tension, b
ut Xyla slept on, oblivious to it.
“Ya! Let go! I haven’t done anything to you.”
“Move,” Grey growled. “Toward the fire. But don’t try anything.”
They both came into the firelight, and I got a good look at the person.
A very dark-skinned young woman just a few years older than I stood there, her eyes sparkling with anger. She had long hair that was brown or black, I couldn’t tell for sure in the firelight, and was braided into many tiny braids. She was dressed much as we were, in buckskin trousers and tunic though she wore a jacket instead of a cloak. Like Grey, she had a knife hanging from her belt, giving her a dangerous air.
“I’m going to let you go now,” he said, still speaking in a low, threatening voice, “but if you make a false move or try to get away, I’ll kill you.” And I believed he would.
“Why would I leave? I was trying to find you, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
Grey let her go, and she brushed off her clothes and rearranged them a bit. His eyes glittered as her hand strayed to her hip. She looked down and found the knife sheath empty, and when she looked back at Grey, he pulled a hand from behind his back and held up a wicked-looking knife.
With a shriek of outrage, she leapt at him, reaching for the weapon. Grey flicked it away, far out of her reach, but she didn’t pay attention to that as she closed on him, fists flying.
His sardonic grin changed to a look of surprise at the ferocity of her attack. She landed one blow in his stomach and another on his chin before he quite realized what was happening.
Traz and I exchanged glances. He wore a delighted smile, just as one would expect from a boy watching a fight. I grabbed his shoulder.
“You’re staying out of it,” I hissed, not trusting him enough to let him go. He tried to shrug out of my grip, but I held on tighter. I knew Grey would win this fight, but I didn’t want Traz to get hurt in the process.
By now, Grey had grasped the young woman’s left wrist and was holding it over her head. But despite her awkward stance, she was still managing to keep her right arm free and get in a few more punches.
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