by Jada Fisher
She dug into her food immediately, wrapping it like a tube and taking a vicious bite. Yacrist watched her curiously, before tentatively trying the same thing. Eist made sure to watch his face carefully as he did, and she was not disappointed by his reaction. His eyes went wide, and a slow grin passed across his features.
“This is good,” he said almost worshipfully.
“You’re welcome.”
Alynbach let out several squawks, happily downing their own food as quickly as they could. Fior however always made an event of his, rolling around his piece of bread and picking up pieces only to throw them into the air and catch them.
At first, Eist had had to mash up this dish for him just like all his other food, but it was soft enough that now that he had a lot more practice eating, he could handle it on his own.
“So, how’d you find this place?”
“I knew his wife from when I was younger,” Eist answered around her mouthful of food. “She had a brilliant herb garden and would deliver things we needed for the soup I ate when I was recovering.”
“I notice you’re using past tense.”
Eist nodded. “Yeah, unfortunately. They were having their first baby together and, uh, neither of them made it.”
“That’s terrible,” Yacrist murmured. “Is that why you’re so uninterested in children?”
Eist swallowed and gave him a curious look. “What? That’s a bizarre statement.”
“I’m just saying, most of the girls at the academy at least daydream about getting married and having dragon brats. I’m sure you’ve seen them scrawl their names across their parchment with different houses depending on who they have a crush on.”
“And you think that I’m not like that because a family friend died in childbirth?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know, that’s why I’m asking. You’re different from everyone else, Eist. Both you and Dille are. And I can’t help but kind of want to…figure you out, I guess.”
“There’s nothing here to figure out,” she said, feeling strange. She knew that she was different than everyone else around her, but she had always assumed that was a bad thing. But the way that Yacrist said it made it seem kinda…not. “I’ve dedicated my entire life to being a dragon rider, and that’s all that matters.”
“Really? That’s all that matters?” he asked, looking at her with those sparkling blue eyes.
“For a long time, yeah. But now I have you and Dille, so I suppose friendship matters as well. But most of my heart belongs to Fior. Try not to be jealous.”
“How can I be jealous when you just admitted that I share your heart with only one other person?”
“Well, and my grandfather.”
“Fine, two other people.”
Eist laughed and shook her head. Yacrist certainly had his own strange way of looking at things. She took another bite of her food, finding comfort in the flavors. As complicated as life could be, at least food was always going to be a relief.
“Oh hey, you got some sauce on your chin.”
She reached her tongue down to lick it off, but before she could, Yacrist reached over to wipe her chin. His finger gently touched her face, whisking the bit of liquid away. Their eyes met once more as he did so, and it felt like lightning jolted through her. What was going on?
Yacrist’s face flushed and he sat right back down, moving the conversation on to the rumor going around school about a romance between two teachers that Eist couldn’t care less about. But as he talked, Eist couldn’t help but wonder if something was shifting between them.
She hoped not. She had too much to worry about as it was.
9
Beyond the Veil
“…then Vagimold the Terrible laid siege to the fiefdom of Malacast. Does anyone know what Gwendolyn and her brother did?”
Dille raised her hand and her dragon promptly stuffed her face into her armpit, waffling gently. That made her giggle, one of the few times she smiled in front of other people. She wasn’t alone in her lack of personal space. One day when the class was in one of their flying lessons, the teacher had explained that since the dragons imprinted on the riders, they were going to be particularly interested in their scent. It wouldn’t be surprising to find them in a drawer of underthings or sleeping in dirty clothing. Fior thankfully never tried to shove his face in Eist’s armpit, but she often had to ward him away from sniffing the backside of both herself and others every chance he could get.
Eventually Dille answered and the class marched on. Eist listened, scratching under Fior’s chin, but her mind was elsewhere.
And it remained elsewhere during the rest of her classes.
As tedious as it could be sitting in a class and struggling to catch every word of the teacher, she did enjoy them. Now that they were learning some of the things her grandfather hadn’t drilled into her, it was easier to pay attention and focus.
But her mind refused to settle, always drifting back to her grandfather. They were going into his third full month of being under the effects of the green dragon gas and the pit in her stomach just kept growing. The end of the year was quickly approaching, and they would have a break to help with the harvest and other seasonal duties that weren’t as prevalent in the winter, fall, and early spring months.
Eist heard that down by the coast, their harvest season was completely different, with the blazing months of summer being far too hot for planting young seeds and most of their harvesting being done towards the end of the heated season. Meanwhile, in Rothaiche M’or, they planted in the middle of summer and collected sometime in fall before the weather dipped.
However, since her grandfather worked in the academy, the break was usually a sort of time of celebration for the two of them. Sometimes they would take trips to the woods, hunting, camping, and fishing. Sometimes they would laze about the house and eat much more food than they should have. And of course, there was still training to be done.
But if he wasn’t awake by then, what would she do? Leave him there to rot within the empty halls of the healers with only workers to keep him company? Hardly. Would they let her stay? They might because he had been a part of the academy for so long, but she could see that easily being misconstrued as special treatment.
So naturally, she found herself in the library again when everyone else was enjoying their free time. Dille and Yacrist offered to join her, but she wasn’t quite ready to tell them why she was spending so much time among the ancient scrolls. Perhaps it was because she was embarrassed at her paranoia and didn’t want them to waste her time if she was wrong. Perhaps she was worried that they would discourage her just like the healer had.
Whatever the reason was, she ended up alone with only Fior’s company as he gnawed on a bit of a jerky chew she had bought for him in town. Finally, after weeks of mashing and beating food for him, the tiniest little teeth were just starting to push from his gums. Of course, this made him incredibly cranky and prone to chew on everything he could get his slobbering mouth on. She had been quite quick in buying him as many things as he needed so as not to destroy any of the furniture around the academy. Goodness, she had just quelled his hoarding habit, the last thing she needed was for him to pick up another, more destructive trait.
Still, he was a good boy, and nuzzled against her leg as she finished stacking books and tomes at her usual spot. Sitting down, she pulled a text to herself and started poring over the pages.
Words. Words. Words. So many words, and none of them were of any particular help to her. Not that she wasn’t learning as she went along, she now knew the procedure to stitch a wound, how to lance a boil, and all about removing toxins from a venomous bite. But nothing about green dragon gas over-exposure.
Just like all the other nights she did this, book after book and page after page flitted before her with none of it being what she needed. Sometimes, she feared she missed things in her quick scanning, but if she tried to read everything word for word, she would never get done.
On
ce more, she was onto her last book. She pulled it in front of her with her last dredges of energy. Her brain felt like mush, and the situation was just so hopeless. She hated being useless like this.
After four years of training ruthlessly for her goal of becoming a dragon rider, she wanted to tackle this issue with the same tenacity, but she was lost. Floundering in a world of technical phrases that she knew so little about.
Her fingers drifted over the leather cover, taking in the ornate stitching and decoration. There was something somber about the tome, as if someone had etched the melancholy of their tears into the hide.
Eist frowned at her own thoughts. That was a bit poetic for her tastes. She was probably hanging out with Yacrist a bit too much. The boy certainly had a penchant for flowery language and probably should write a tome of his own.
That made the smile leave her as she snickered at the thought of the handsome young man writing prose to some mystery woman or another. Goodness knew, enough of the students fancied him. The mental portrait gave her the extra energy boost she needed, and she opened the first page to see a warning.
Contained herein are ancient arts that were abandoned with reason.
We must remember these tokens of our past, but not repeat them.
This account is meant for warning and research, not to replicate.
Be wary of the practices within, do not open your heart to the ease of the dark.
Once our world teetered on the brink, so encompassed was it by the machination of evil. Should it ever come to such again, this knowledge could save all of us once more.
Learn herein to protect yourself, but never to practice
-Arwylln of Caster
That was certainly a heady warning, and nothing like anything Eist had read before. Cautiously, she turned the first page and her breath caught.
This wasn’t just a healer’s book. It was outright magic.
Sure, there were still fortune tellers and soothsayers who claimed to tap into the future or commune with those beyond, but largely that was dismissed as trickery. Magic was sacrilege against the Truth of the Three, and once had been punishable by death.
The thing was, however, if magic didn’t exist, then why had it once been such a crime? No one could answer that question in all of Eist’s years, and she found herself wondering if the ancient legends of old actually were true.
She turned from the first page, which was how to commune with the spirits of the forest to ask for a bountiful hunting season, and it moved right onto hexing an enemy. It was a complicated ritual that she dared not read the details of, but her eyes did gaze at the intricate illustrations as she turned the three pages it took up.
After that was a blessing for mothers to give birth. Then ensuring an heir was male. Then cursing a pregnancy. It was all rather intense and detailed, and even with Eist only quickly glancing at the pages, she still picked up quite a bit of information.
The deeper she went into the book, the more her stomach started to twist with apprehension. She really ought not to be doing this, she could feel it in her bones, but she also couldn’t stop. She kept turning pages, morbidly fascinated by the world that wasn’t supposed to exist.
Then she landed on it and her heart stopped. In fact, the entire world seemed to stop, even the breeze through the drafty library holding itself still as her eyes landed on the words she had been longing to find.
Breath of the Green Dragon
Spells, Curses, and Cures
It started off with how to properly collect it, a bit different than the methods she had read before and much more mystical, but nothing too surprising. Then how to distill it. Also, more ritualistic but not extreme. But then it came to the first spell.
Looking beyond the veil.
The green gas steals the mind away and puts subjects into a deep sleep. This slumber is not akin to any other, whether thine head be on bed or floor.
At most instances, the subject awakens and perceives nothing amiss. However, should a subject stay within the unnatural rest long enough, they will be able to look through the Veil.
Not quite alive, and certainly not dead, they can commune with those who have passed, and more importantly be a conduit to those beyond. Should they sleep long enough, they can even be used as a portal to call on the powers beyond the veil that shears us from the NetherRealm.
This practice is forbidden now, the Three condemning it as an abomination. The veil is there to protect us, to keep those that have passed on separate from those who live here. Yes, loved ones are on the other side, and we will join them soon in the protective embrace of the Three, but there is great evil there as well.
Be careful, when walking among the dead. Often the brightest of lights are the most evil, and they will do anything to come back to this side.
Eist’s blood ran cold as her eyes roved over the pages. She knew it! There was something incredibly dangerous about letting her grandfather stay under so long. She just needed to take this book to the healer and then—
She paused as her eyes continued, skipping down to the next passage.
A word of warning.
In the greatest furor of our war, green dragon gas began to be used beyond piercing the veil and setting opponents to their sleep.
It has a far more insidious, lingering use that still shakes me to my very core.
Eist turned the page and there was a large drawing on the other side. On one half it showed hundreds of soldiers as they tried to battle, but a great mass of ink had been spilled across the page, blotting many of them out, gobbling them up like a hungry maw.
The Blight would purposefully expose targets to gas, building it up in their system over time until they began to crave it. Slack jawed and endlessly thirsting for what they can’t have, these victims become shambling soldiers who would stop at nothing to receive the green curse again.
I have seen these wretched folk chew off their own hand to free themselves from a bond, and crush the head of a loved one to prove their loyalty to their lord. For the rest of my life, I could live without seeing their hollowed-out eyes and empty souls.
I pray for them. I pray for everyone who has ever touched one. I pray for all of us.
Finally, Eist let the book fall back to the table with a thump, not even realizing that she had brought it so close to her face. How had she never heard of this Arwylln was beyond her. Obviously, the woman had been around during the first war with the Blight, back when the Dragon Council was just being founded. Her research and testament should have been basic learning. And yet it wasn’t.
She turned the page again, wondering if there were even more terrible things to learn. She found another full page illustration, intricately designed and emanating a sort of power that Eist couldn’t begin to understand.
Caution, scholars and knowledge seekers alike. Even writing its runes or speaking its name can give the Blight the power it so seeks. Seal such thoughts away with blessings and the power of the Three and everything that came before.
There is no over estimating the Blight. It is a dark and insidious ancient evil born out of hate and jealousy. It will not stop until everything is either destroyed or under its thumb.
Fear it, as one might fear the ocean in a gale, or a bear in the wood, but do not give it power over you. You must be strong.
They say that the Blight is gone, but it will return again. It always does. As long as greed and hate still linger in so many hearts, it will always have a foothold in this realm.
And then it moved right on to the next spell, using the green gas to induce visions of the future. Eist finally tore her eyes away and tried to fit everything into the world as she knew it.
Perhaps this wasn’t a historical tome. Perhaps it was the mad ramblings of someone with far too much time and money. But if that were so, why was it here? Why was it so lovingly bound and placed in the upper shelves at the back end of the library? It was like it was important, but not meant for her eyes.
Or anyone’s f
or that matter.
Peculiar, but she didn’t have much time to ponder it. She was on her feet in an instant, running back toward the healers’ hall with the book tucked under her arm. Fior followed her, chirping happily that he was getting to play so late into the night. But she stopped about halfway there, the practical side of her mind kicking in now that the elation had waned a bit.
The book said that prolonged exposure of green dragon glass was done to commune with the dead. If a healer in the academy was doing such a thing, then she would definitely be in trouble. Perhaps even jailed. If she was going to accuse a woman who dedicated her whole life to the healing arts of secretly harming her grandfather, then Eist needed to be one hundred percent sure of what she was talking about.
Slowly, she started to walk again, willing her footsteps to be silent as she padded through the halls. Maybe this was somehow all a mistake and the healer was just concerned about pain and her grandfather’s age. Eist would just slip into her infirmary, look through her desk, and if she couldn’t find anything, she’d think of another way to confront her. One that didn’t accuse her of using powerful magics to commit sacrilege.
She reached the healers’ hall and peeked inside to see that it was late enough that only two workers were present, and they were tending to patients on the far side of the hall. People at the academy weren’t injured often enough to demand the staff they had, but often the worst cases from the city were brought in for treatment as well.
Carefully, she crept to the same desk she’d seen the woman sitting at when they had last argued. Glancing carefully to the workers at the end of the hall, she wondered if she was really going to violate some woman’s privacy to confirm a suspicion she had been nursing for weeks.
