Eon - 01 Eon

by Alison Goodman

  Dram thumped the table again, eager to celebrate, but my master held up his hand for silence.

  Slowly, he turned to face Lord Ido, the fan held in both hands like a fighting staff. And as the Co-Ascendant proxy, I also accept Lord Eon's duty of leading this Council alongside you, Lord Ido.'

  Around the room, everyone stilled. The two men stared over my head at one another, like dogs sizing each other up. Then Lord Ido laughed a harsh dismissal.

  'You may now be proxy, Brannon,' he said, 'but you are not Ascendant. Without a dragon's power you cannot claim leadership.' He stepped towards my master but my chair blocked his way 'I will not allow it.'

  'It is not for you to allow, Ido,' my master said sharply 'This is a Council. We decide by vote and precedent.'

  Lord Tyron stood up. 'Yes, we must vote on it,' he called.

  'Vote!' Lord Dram bellowed above the eruption of voices around the table. 'Let us vote.'

  I saw Lord Ido's eyes change. Not with the silver of his power, but with a madness that flared across the clear amber like dark fire.

  'This is my Council,' he roared through the surging noise. Both of his fists slammed onto the table, shaking it. 'There will be no vote.'

  'You cannot stop it, Ido,' my master said into the sudden silence. 'You have already lost.'

  Lord Ido's lunge was so fast that all I saw was his elbow coming at my face. I flinched, the blow catching me on my chest as he grabbed for my master. He grunted as his heavy body landed against mine, crushing me against the sharp edge of the armrest. I gasped, fighting for air through the suffocating blue silk, sucking in the stink of his rage. I pulled my head free of the cloth and heard a

  terrible wet rasping. Above me was my master's face, eyes wide as Ido's thumbs pressed deeper into his throat. I clawed at the air, connecting with Ido's scalp in a deep drag of nails.

  Across the room someone screamed 'Pull him off, and then hands were hauling back Ido's arms and shoulders. His weight moved then slammed against me again. From behind, Tyron wrapped his arm around the taller man's throat, brutally pulling with the crook of his elbow.

  Ido let go of my master to grab at the choking arm. His body lifted, arched, and was dragged back by Tyron and two other men.

  I hunched over in the chair, pain stabbing through me with each panting breath. Lord Dram kneeled in front of me. A large rip in the front of his orange robe exposed his bony chest. Are you all right, boy?'

  I nodded, shivering. At the other end of the room, Lord Ido was being held down in a chair by four of the largest apprentices, their combined strength barely restraining the Dragoneye's rage. He was shouting, ranting, that this was his Council. Behind him, Dillon stood with his back pressed against the wall, watching his master's struggle with a malicious smile.

  Dram turned to the man standing beside him. Ts Brannon all right?'

  I looked up for the answer. Lord Silvo, even paler than usual, nodded and patted my shoulder.

  I twisted in the chair to check and groaned at the sharp pain in the movement. My master was sitting on the floor rubbing the red fingermarks around his throat. An apprentice handed him a bowl of wine with shaking hands. He took a careful sip.

  'Under the circumstances,' he croaked, swallowing painfully, T think we will delay the vote until next meeting.'

  Although my master insisted he was well, by the time we entered the private living area of the Peony apartment the hollows of his face were shadowed with grey exhaustion. He did not resist when Rilia led him to the second sleeping chamber and, as I stood uncertainly at the doorway, I heard his small sigh as he eased himself onto the bed and sagged back against the pillows. He probed the damage to his throat with careful fingers, pain twitching across his haggard face. Something dangerous had been unleashed in that meeting room, and I was no longer certain my master could check it.

  He lifted his head off the pillow. 'Eon, go to your lesson.' He coughed over the words. 'There is nothing more important than you attending these classes. We will talk when you return.'

  'What will happen to Lord Ido?' I asked. 'Surely he will not lead the Council now'

  My master eyed me irritably 'Of course he will remain leader, he is the Ascendant Dragoneye.

  But his actions will guarantee me the votes for co-leadership.' He settled into the pillows.

  'Now, go.'

  I turned to leave, but was struck by a sudden thought. 'Did you mean this to happen? Was it part of your plan with Lord Tyron?'

  My master kept his eyes closed and did not answer.

  Unsettled, I made my way to the dressing room, where Rilla was waiting. She hurriedly stripped me of the sweat-damp Dragoneye robes and threw them over the wooden rack.

  'The guide is already outside,' she said, holding up a cream cotton exercise tunic. I pushed my arms into the wide sleeves. 'Tell me quickly, what happened in the Council?'

  I described the meeting and Ido's attack as she helped me into the cotton trousers and tied the drawstring.

  'I am afraid for the master's health,' she said, shaking her head as she worked the light slippers onto my feet. 'I'll try and persuade him to summon the physician. And what about you? Are you all right?'

  'I'm fine,' I said.

  But it was not the truth. As I followed the young palace guide through a series of vaulted passageways and large enclosed courtyards, I felt my bruised ribs press my breathing into tight painful gasps. Finally, I was forced to stop.

  'My lord, is something wrong?' the guide asked. 'Do you need assistance?'

  'Is it far?'

  How was I going to last through an afternoon of formal exercises if I could not even walk at a brisk pace?

  'No, my lord. The training grounds are just past the Pavilion of Autumnal Justice.'

  I waved him on. Perhaps I could claim illness and delay the lesson until another day The idea was tempting — it would give me more time to find my dragon's name and heal my hurts —but my master's urgency echoed in my head.

  Before long I heard the clack of wood hitting wood and the cracking roll of applause. The guide looked back at me, nodding encouragement, and we emerged from a dim passageway into sunlight and the glare of white sand.

  Ahead of us was a small fenced practice area. Around the edge, brightly clothed courtiers stood huddled under silk parasols and fanned themselves, calling and clapping at the action in the centre of the sand. Two figures fighting with long staffs flashed past a wide gap in the watching crowd, a twirling manoeuvre sending up a spray of sand. I shaded my eyes, pretending interest in the fight, and walked slowly over to the fence. A chance to stop and catch my breath.

  It was then that I recognised the taller combatant: Prince Kygo. He wore only cream cotton exercise trousers tied at the ankle. Out of the obscuring robes of his rank, his body had the shape and breadth of a man. The planes of his chest and stomach were flat and defined, and as he blocked a hit above his head, the stretch showed the width of his shoulders and the sharp cut of muscle in his arms. Sweat had gathered in the small of his back, and I found my gaze drawn down the glistening curve to the narrow flare of his hips. I looked away, aware of the sudden heat that radiated from the sand.

  He stepped backwards and swung his staff in a teasing arc as his sparring partner feinted and withdrew, seeking a break in his guard. The Prince rocked on the balls of his feet, readying himself for the next attack. His opponent, a young nobleman, judging by the elaborate gold woven through his topknot, lunged and jabbed the end of his staff at the Prince's head. The royal heir deftly deflected and followed through, spinning around and raising his staff for a blow to the noble's mid-section. But the man was already swinging his weapon. Too high. The Prince spun straight into a face attack that connected with a sickening thwack. His head snapped back, his staff falling from his hands. The crowd gasped, their horror holding them unnaturally still. It was forbidden to touch the body of a member of the royal family Even in sparring. The penalty was immediate death. The young noble dropped his staff a
s though it was hot iron and fell to the sand, his body crouched in a tense kowtow. The Prince was doubled over, the heel of his hand pressed into a bloody gash across his cheekbone.

  Your Highness, forgive me,' the young noble pleaded into the sudden silence. 'It was not intended. I did not...' He stopped as two Imperial guards positioned themselves on either side of him, their swords drawn.

  The Prince straightened and spat out the blood that had run into the corner of his mouth.

  Already his eye was swelling and the shadow of a bruise was darkening his skin.

  'A heavy blow for one that was not intended, Lord Brett,' he said quietly

  'I swear, Your Highness, it was a lucky strike,' the young noble said desperately 'You know I do not usually get past your defences.'

  Was the Prince going to kill him for an accident? I leaned forwards, following the same macabre press of the crowd around the barrier.

  The two guards were watching their royal master for instruction, their swords aimed at the young noble's head. The Prince picked up his staff.

  '(Jet back,' he ordered the guards.

  I mmediately they stepped away The Prince gripped the end of the wooden weapon and swung it with all of his strength across the back of the young lord. The crack of the blow rebounded around the silent courtyard. He threw the staff down and walked towards his trainer standing at the edge of the sand. Every move was decisive, unyielding and royal.

  'The Prince is merciful,' a familiar voice said at my shoulder.

  My body jolted as though I had been caught naked. I clutched at the fence and turned to see Dillon bowing beside me.

  'By the gods, Dillon! You made me jump.' I smiled shakily, remembering how we would try and sneak up on each other at training.

  'My apologies, Lord Eon,' he said formally, but I saw the flicker of an answering smile.

  'Master Tellon sent me to bring you into the practice hall.'

  I sucked in a breath. My energy felt all upside down. What was wrong with me?

  'Am I that late?'

  He nodded. 'He doesn't seem too upset, but we should hurry' Some warmth had returned to his voice. I followed him a few paces then stopped; I had forgotten my guide. I waved the boy over.

  'Apprentice Dillon will accompany me. You may go.'

  'My lord.' He bowed to me then turned to Dillon. 'Honoured Apprentice.'

  We both watched him hurry towards the dark arch of the passageway.

  'I'm still not used to people bowing to me,' I said.

  'Me either.' Dillon grinned. 'My lord.'

  ' Honoured Apprentice,' I said, matching his pompous tone and crossing my eyes.

  He giggled, the familiar sound like a balm to my nerves. He pointed to a large hall in the far corner of the square and started

  ¦

  walking towards it. I looked back at the practice sand for another glimpse of the Prince. But the crowd had closed the gaps along the fence, blocking my view. I caught up with Dillon and tried to shrug off the taut energy singing through my body.

  'You seem...better now,' I said hesitantly, not wanting to break our fragile harmony Dillon's face tightened. 'What do you mean?'

  I held up my hands. 'You seemed ill this morning.'

  He sighed and massaged his forehead. 'It's just this pain in my head. I'm all right. At least I am now that Lord Ido has gone.' He looked over his shoulder then leaned closer. 'I think he's insane. Look what he did to your master...I mean Lord Brannon.'

  I nodded, but I was focused on something more important. 'Where's he gone? For how long?'

  A few days. He's gone to meet High Lord Sethon and ride in with him.'

  So, the High Lord was returning to the city. No doubt my master would be interested in that piece of news.

  'How come you didn't go too?' I asked.

  Dillon stopped, drawing me near with a tug on my sleeve. 'He wants me to watch you. He wants me to tell him what you're doing in our lessons.'

  Did Lord Ido suspect something?

  'Why?'

  Dillon shrugged. 'He just tells me what to do. Not why I'm doing it.' He looked out across the square, his narrow shoulders twisting in a tiny shiver. 'He has this way of making me do what he says.' He paused; the strange, quick anger shadowed his eyes again. 'But I am not his slave.

  He may think I don't have the courage or strength to stand against him, but he's wrong.'

  I saw my chance in his rebellion. 'Tell me, Dillon, have you seen him with a red leather folio bound with black pearls?'

  I le shook his head. 'He doesn't let me go into the library. He keeps it locked and no one goes near it. Why do you ask?'

  'I just thought he might have it.' I looked away from Dillon's curiosity We started walking again. If Lord Ido kept the library locked then it must hold something important. And now he was gone for a few days. The beginning of a bold plan was taking shape.

  'Dragon piss,' Dillon cursed, quickening his pace. 'Master Tellon has come out to look for us.'

  Up ahead, a tall man in a baggy exercise tunic stood at the doorway of the training hall, watching us approach. I tried to hurry but my battered ribs and hip would not let me move any faster. I climbed the few steps onto the low veranda, Master Tellon's scrutiny making me feel even more awkward than usual.

  'You have too much Moon energy' he said, moving aside to allow me passage to the open doorway

  I stiffened, aghast at such quick insight.

  'But of course, you are Moon Shadow,' he said, nodding to himself.

  Dillon's face narrowed with anger. 'How dare you speak of Lord Eon's sacrifice.'

  Tellon stared down at him. And you have too much Sun,' he said calmly 1 )illon stepped back, the shock of his own rudeness draining the heat from him. I swallowed the hard pit of panic in my throat. My master had warned me that Tellon had keen eyes. I would need to press home my Shadow status at every chance and hope it answered his sharp observations.

  Tellon bowed to me, the movement loose and fluid. 'Forgive me, Lord Eon. I meant no disrespect. Nor to you, Apprentice. I am an old man and tend to speak my mind.'

  'No offence taken, Master Tellon,' I said quickly. 'I am indeed Moon Shadow; there is no fault in stating the truth. And it is I who must apologise for my lateness.'

  I stepped out of my slippers and crossed the raised threshold to stop any further discussion.

  Inside, the hall was a large expanse

  of polished parquetry floor marked with old scuffs and indentations. A series of small windows let in the bright sunlight, but were set so high that no one could look in or out of them. Perhaps to guard the secrets of the Staminata.

  Master Tellon shut the heavy door and waved us over to the middle of the room. 'Come, sit,'

  he said. 'We will talk first then start learning the form.'

  Dillon quickly seated himself on the hard floor, his legs crossed loosely. As I settled next to him, I studied his sprawling posture and quickly copied it. I had thought four years of careful self-study had stopped me from moving in the neat, closed way of a girl. Now I was not so sure, and I could not afford to raise any questions in Tellon's mind.

  He kneeled opposite us, his movements smooth and supple. Tellon had been the Dog Dragoneye in the cycle before my master's, yet he moved with more ease than Dillon. He had lost his hair across the crown of his head, but what was left still had as much black as it did silver, and was tied back into a thick braid that hung to his waist.

  'I do not hold with those teachers who think a student should sit like a lump of rock and just listen,' he said. 'You may ask questions. In fact, I expect them.'

  Dillon's gaze slid to mine. None of our other masters had ever welcomed questions.

  'You have both been chosen to commune with an energy dragon,' he said, smiling his congratulations. 'But it will be a long and arduous journey to learn how to control the power you have at your call. And you, Lord Eon...'

  I tensed. Had he already guessed I could not call my dragon?

 
; 'Your journey will be even more difficult because you must travel its paths without an incumbent Dragoneye to accompany you.'

  I bowed my head to hide my relief. 'Yes, Master.'

  He patted my arm. 'Don't worry, you are not alone.' He straightened. 'You are both here to learn the Staminata, the

  ancient way to regulate the flow of Hua. It will help you withstand the energy drain of working with a dragon.' He brought his hands together in a loud clap and rubbed them vigorously. 'Now, I know that a lot of rumours fly around about the dragons and their power.

  So, let's get the donkey's wallop out of the way' He pointed at Dillon. 'What do you want to know?'

  Dillon blinked at the sudden demand.

  'Is it true that a Dragoneye gives up his Hua to his dragon?' he finally asked.

  Tellon nodded. 'It's true. A Dragoneye uses his life force to control the elemental energy of his dragon, and in doing so gives up some of it to the dragon. But the Staminata slows down the loss of Hua and promotes its flow' He pointed at me. 'Lord Eon?'

  I thought of the moment in the bath when the Rat Dragon reared above me and threw me against the wall. And the fireball of energy that had rushed through me.

  'Does a dragon always deplete Hua?' I asked hesitantly. 'Can he not give back energy too?'

  He shook his head. 'No. Except at communion, of course.'

  The answer resonated through me like the toll of a death bell. Did that mean the Rat Dragon had communed with me? Surely that was not possible.

  Tellon's finger jabbed the air. 'Next question.'

  Dillon leaned forwards. 'Master, is it true that you can kill someone just by disrupting their Hua?'

  'I can,' Tellon said calmly

  Dillon's eyes widened. 'Do we get to learn how to do it too?'

  'No.'

  Dillon sat back, disappointed. I looked down at the tiny wood tiles on the floor set in the shape of a plump chrysanthemum, considering my next question. It was risky and needed to be phrased with care.

  'I've heard that it's possible for a Dragoneye to take another dragon's power,' I said.

  Tellon laughed. 'That rumour does the rounds every year. It's not true — one dragon, one Dragoneye.' Fie beckoned us closer, lowering his voice. 'But there is a legend about harnessing the power of all the dragons. It says that if a Dragoneye kills all of the other Dragoneyes and their apprentices, then the energy of the twelve dragons will funnel though him, giving him the power of a god...just before it rips him apart.'