Before She Ignites

by Jodi Meadows

  Tap, tap, tap. Like the quiet code.

  Tap, tap, tap. Like my father’s fingers against his desk.

  Tap, tap, tap. Like the weak motion of my heart.

  Everything grew sluggish. Thoughts. Movements. Awareness.

  Then the footsteps vanished.

  I was alone.

  Again.

  In the dark.

  As consciousness fluttered in and out—mostly out—the darkness crept toward me. Between the metal grille. Through Aaru’s hole. Across the floor.

  The darkness went on and on, until it devoured me.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  A LIST WITHOUT NUMBERS:

  Drops of water in Aaru’s cup.

  Too far away to reach.

  How did anyone make noorestones go dark?

  That wasn’t supposed to be possible.

  I wished I were a dragon.

  I’d burn everything.

  “MIRA?”

  It sounded like Aaru was here with me, but his voice came from a million leagues away.

  “Mira.” It was Gerel this time. Even farther. Why were they all so far away? Didn’t they know I couldn’t reach them, or move, or speak? Didn’t they know I’d give anything to answer except . . .

  I wished I were a dragon. I’d . . .

  The scrape of wood on stone caught my attention, like silk snagging on a nail. The sound was familiar. I’d been here before.

  “Mira.” That was definitely Aaru, or at least a convincing hallucination. Like the clanging. Like the dragon face. Like the footsteps. He wasn’t real.

  I wasn’t real.

  “Must drink.” A note of urgency filled Aaru’s voice. “Mira. Drink.”

  Drink. Oh, Damyan and Darina. I was so, so thirsty. But when I opened my mouth to say so, only a low groan emerged. My tongue was dry. Swollen. Scratchy. It hurt to move. I couldn’t even open my eyes because of the dryness. Like a desert. Some parts of Anahera were desert. I had visited the island three times, but never the desert part. Only one species of dragon lived in the sandy wasteland: the Drakontos sol, which was small and sand colored, and covered in scales that absorbed the sun’s light and converted it to fire energy. Most dragons couldn’t do that.

  “Cup,” Aaru whispered. “Take.”

  A cup? Of water?

  Through the smoke filling my mind, I recalled the cup in Aaru’s cell—how I’d been listening to it fill and straining to reach it, desperately thirsty. But the cup was still on the other side of the wall, wasn’t it? Sitting in the middle of Aaru’s cell, collecting water, taunting me.

  Or had it moved? I’d heard Aaru’s voice, but I’d heard footsteps before, too. It seemed unlikely he was truly here, but maybe. Maybe he’d come back and moved the cup for me. I needed only to pick it up and tip the water into my mouth.

  I had to try.

  My hand was too heavy to lift off my stomach, which felt too low, too hollow. I opened my mouth again, jaw popping in protest, and sucked in a shallow breath. Like maybe I could breathe in the water.

  Frustrated tapping sounded from beyond the hole. I just wanted to go to sleep again. If I couldn’t reach the water, sleep would help.

  “What’s happening over there?” Gerel almost sounded worried. This was definitely a hallucination. “Is she drinking yet?”

  Two taps: long and short. I knew that one. ::No.:: Then his voice came, too: “No.”

  “It’s been four days. Even if she rationed her water, she’s dehydrated. You’ll have to help her.”

  The cup hissed over the stone floor, so close to my face. Oh how I wanted that water.

  And then.

  Then cool skin brushed my jaw. Knuckles braced against my chin. “Open,” he whispered, and I did, and water trickled onto my face.

  I sputtered as liquid found its way up my nose and dribbled down my cheeks, but after a moment, a stream of water poured between my lips, filling my mouth. Wonderful, mineral-sharp ceiling water I could feel soaking into my parched skin.

  He stopped pouring too quickly, but that was for the best.

  I couldn’t swallow.

  My tongue was a dead weight in my mouth. Water flooded through my sinuses and suddenly I couldn’t breathe. Terror spiked. Abruptly, I was awake. Alert. And acutely aware that I was about to die.

  I gagged and coughed, struggling for air. It seemed so unfair that my first sip of water in four aeons would drown me.

  But then, my head was lifted up and gravity did its work. The water found its way toward my throat, soothing the raw places inside me: tongue and cheeks and through my chest. The cold traveled all the way into my stomach, spreading around. A strange, uncomfortable sensation. But water. Water. Glorious water. I opened my mouth for more.

  Aaru lowered my head and took up the cup once more. Of course. He could fit only one arm through the hole, and his range of movement was limited.

  He poured another mouthful of water into me, helped me swallow, and then withdrew. “Wait for more.”

  I didn’t want to wait. I was so, so thirsty. More thirsty than I’d been in my life. But he’d taken the cup and I could hardly move, so I didn’t have a choice but to do as he said.

  And if he wasn’t real, this was the best, most vivid hallucination I’d ever had. Water. Little streams of mineral-bitter water. Did Drakontos sols crave water this much?

  “Did she drink?” Gerel hissed from across the hall. “How is she? Tell me what’s happening.”

  “Yes,” he said. “Ill, but alive.” How strange. Suddenly, the silent boy was my voice.

  “Good.” Gerel almost sounded relieved, which was odd. I’d have thought she would classify almost dying of dehydration as a personal failing of mine. I should have had the good sense to draw water from the air.

  A few minutes later, Aaru gave me another sip, again pressing his arm through the hole to tip the cup, then to lift my head so I could swallow. It got easier every time, and with the water came renewed energy. I couldn’t talk yet—my tongue was still too swollen—but while Aaru was replacing the cup under the drip, I managed to move my hand toward the hole.

  Even that small movement was difficult, leaving me panting, but it was more than I’d been able to do an hour ago.

  When Aaru squeezed back under his bed, I forced my eyes open, groaning at the grit and sting and brightness. It was day—or what passed for day in the Pit—and the noorestones were lit. They’d always seemed so dim before, but after days in the darkness, even the distant light was too much. It felt as though my eyes would burn away.

  Some of the water Aaru had accidentally poured on my face had fallen into the corners of my eyes, though, which helped ease the pain. My time in the darkness had sucked away all my tears, too.

  “Don’t rush,” Aaru said.

  He was right. The harder I tried to push, the more damage I risked doing to myself. I let my eyes fall shut again, but pressed my hand toward the hole. Toward him.

  Raggedly, I tapped a message onto the floor: one long, a pause, a long, a short, and two more longs. ::Thank you.::

  Cool fingers pressed over the back of my hand. A short message fell on my knuckles, but I was asleep before he finished.

  THE NOORESTONES STILL glowed when I awakened.

  Maybe they glowed again, from a day passing, but it didn’t feel like an entire day had gone. I could taste the bite of ceiling water on my tongue. Aaru’s hand covered mine. On the far side of the cellblock, low voices discussed how much food they’d eat if they had an infinite amount. Everything was as it had been before, so I must have slept for less than an hour.

  I hated the steady light. Like the unchanging darkness, it offered no indication of how long I’d been out. But . . . light. I was grateful for the light. I wanted to bathe in it.

  My breathing must have changed, or my fingers twitched, because Aaru patted my knuckles—in comfort, not in code—and withdrew to fetch the cup.

  A moment later, more water fell inside me. I swallowed easily this time, drin
king until there was nothing left. When Aaru replaced the cup beneath the leak, the drops of water made short, flat plops.

  I wanted to thank him again, but I couldn’t force my mouth to make the words, and I couldn’t force myself to tap loudly enough for him to hear.

  But then his hand moved toward mine, his rough fingers floating across sensitive skin. From my fingertips to my knuckles to the back of my wrist. He settled there—over, not on—and tapped a quick message:

  ::You’re welcome.::

  Because I’d missed it before.

  I could hardly believe I remembered the code. Granted, he’d used the basic abbreviations he’d taught me, and he used my same crawling pace so that I could keep up, but I remembered. I understood. That was incredible.

  ::Where?:: I asked. I hoped he could fill in the missing words I didn’t have the energy to spell out.

  ::They came while you were in the bath.::

  Oh, the bath. I remembered that. Water. Feeling clean. Tirta inspecting my twists. That was a good memory: human touch.

  At home, few people touched me. Not Mother and Father. Nor Zara. Why should they? Strangers certainly were not allowed. Hristo, as my personal guard, felt it unprofessional unless he was saving my life. Ilina could, but rarely did, now that we were older. Krasimir did, because it was her job. She was always efficient and careful as she worked. And kind, too, of course.

  But Tirta hadn’t checked my hair because it was her job. She’d done it because she wanted to help. Otherwise, in the Pit, there’d been Altan and Sarannai and other guards. I didn’t want to think about those.

  And now there was Aaru. Efficient, like Krasimir. Thoughtful, like Tirta. It must have been horribly dull for him to tap the code so slowly, but I hadn’t been up to his speed even before the lights went out. Now, half-dead from dehydration . . . definitely not.

  But then, I recalled my skin: paper dry and falling apart. I couldn’t be sure how much of that had been real, but days without water must have had some effect. And he was touching me. Feeling my awful skin. He must have been so disgusted. What I wouldn’t give for a handful of coconut oil or shea butter. My skin thirsted just as much as my throat.

  At home, Mother had jars and jars of lotions of every scent. Jasmine, lavender, orange blossom, apple, rose, ginger . . . others, too. I wished I had them now. With a little more effort, I could imagine spreading the smooth cream on my arms and legs and face. Glorious, sweet-scented moisture.

  Aaru gave no indication that he minded my rough skin, though. He continued with his tapped message like he didn’t notice. Still, this was the first time he’d ever touched me. I wished I could have been soft.

  I hated Altan a little more for destroying the only things anyone liked about me.

  ::Some didn’t want to go,:: Aaru said, oblivious to my whirlpool of distress. ::They’ve been here so long. But no one had a choice. Those who resisted were dragged out in chains.::

  Who had resisted? Aaru? Gerel? Hurrok or Kumas?

  ::We were taken to a different cellblock. Brighter. Better. Guards said it was to encourage us to behave and take jobs.::

  Given the questions Altan had asked me before darkening the noorestones, I doubted simple encouragement was the real reason for their removal.

  No, I was being punished, but I didn’t have the energy to explain. Already, my thoughts were sluggish. I wanted to sleep, but even more, I wanted to keep this connection as long as possible. Just because he hadn’t let go of me before didn’t mean he wouldn’t if I drifted off again. I’d been alone for days. I never wanted to repeat that.

  ::Did it work?:: I asked.

  His forefinger was motionless on my knuckles for five heartbeats. Ten. Twelve.

  Then he said, ::Two meals a day. More water. Bigger cells with real beds. It was better there. Three stayed.::

  ::But you did not.::

  He closed his hand over mine and squeezed. “I did not,” he whispered.

  Chills swept through my heart, carrying a fantasy that he’d returned to the first level because of me. Because he wouldn’t leave me behind. But that was foolish, of course. This strange and fluttery feeling was simply a result of his kindness and I was starving for human contact.

  ::They all lie.:: Aaru tapped my knuckles again. ::I will not give them what they want. I will not abandon my ally.::

  When he pulled away, deeper into his cell, my hand was cold and empty. My fingertips fell still and silent on the floor, my code-voice removed as simply as his withdrawal. As for my throat-voice, it was useless right now, but I tried, anyway, to bring him back.

  “Ah—” The pathetic sound ground upward from my throat, across my tongue, and died on the floor beside me.

  Aaru reappeared at the hole. “Checked cup.”

  Oh. Relief trickled through me.

  He squeezed his hand through the hole and rested it over mine. His skin smelled sour, like the prison, but somewhere under the filth, I caught notes of open fields and rainstorms and lightning-shot skies. “Still empty,” he whispered.

  Of course. Since I’d just drunk all the water. All of Aaru’s water. Again. Same as the day of my arrival.

  He had so little. He gave so much.

  Before I could respond, heavy footfalls slammed through the hall, and I recognized the cadence of Altan’s stride. Six, seven, eight . . . He was coming closer, from the direction of the mess hall, not the bath. And there was someone with him—someone larger, who took two steps for every three of Altan’s.

  The panic spiked. My hand shook, knocking Aaru’s away. He released a sharp, quiet cry as his knuckles bashed against the edge of the wall hole.

  Adrenaline flooded my whole body, making my face and throat and chest heat.

  No, no, no. I couldn’t have an attack now. Not when I was already so weak. But I couldn’t stop it. All the breathing exercises and calming thoughts Doctor Chilikoba had ever taught me were burning up in the fire of terror. Useless.

  Breath huffed out of me in jagged gasps and all my thoughts jumbled into a giant nothing. I was falling apart. Falling to pieces. Floating away.

  My cell door screeched and Altan and his companion came inside. The panic overtook me, a storm I could not outrun.

  As unconsciousness seized me, the last thing my mind registered was the numbers. Always numbers.

  ::Strength through silence,:: Aaru was banging on the wall of his cell. ::Strength through silence.::

  When Altan and his friend dragged me from under the bed, those words became my last thought:

  Strength through silence.

  BEFORE

  Sarai 15, 2204 FG

  “LEX COULD BE HURT.” ILINA STARED INTO THE mouth of the cave.

  My heart jumped. I’d never been in a dragon cave before. Mother had forbidden it, because it was too dangerous. And, as with the drakarium, it was generally considered rude to go tromping into a dragon’s home. But I didn’t want to tell Ilina no; not when I desperately wanted to go in myself. To help. And because I’d always wanted to see the inside.

  Ilina fished the calm-whistle from her pocket, then motioned at her backpack. “Get a noorestone, will you?”

  Hristo felt around the bag until he found an elongated noorestone, shining bright white-blue. Crystal, momentarily distracted from the scent of a larger dragon, stretched her neck as long as it would go and gave the noorestone a small trill of approval.

  “Ready?” Ilina’s voice trembled.

  “This is a terrible idea,” Hristo said, but not in a tone that discouraged.

  He wasn’t wrong. If Lex was hurt, she could lash out. We could be cooked inside the dragon cave. Even the sweet tone of the calm-whistle wouldn’t do much to save us from a frightened Drakontos rex.

  A tendril of dread wove through our group. No one expected to actually find Lex.

  Hristo held the noorestone high as we stepped inside the cave. The walls were dark, more melted stone, but some of the faces were polished enough to reflect the noorestone light.r />
  It was another world in here. Five steps. Ten. Stone crunched under our boots, and I was grateful for the thick soles. People without the proper protective gear usually ended up with shredded feet when they came into the sanctuary, or any place where big dragons lived.

  Fifty paces in, we came to a huge central chamber, with fifteen delicate columns to brace the ceiling, and molted scales scattered across the floor like red coins. Evidence of an absent dragon. Three other tunnels branched off into darkness.

  Piles of noorestones shimmered along the walls, illuminating the vast space like clusters of fallen stars.

  This felt intrusive, coming into Lex’s home. This was her private space, and these were her possessions. She hadn’t invited us here.

  “Look.” Hristo’s mutter echoed off the walls as he jabbed his noorestone toward the center. “Do you see it?”

  Now that he pointed it out, I saw a pair of long depressions in the rock and dirt littering the floor, and—

  “Are those wheel tracks?” The words felt heavy and unreal.

  Hristo crept closer to the wide gashes in the debris. “Yes.” His deep voice echoed across the cavern. “Someone was here.”

  With a cart. And a load that carved deep tracks into the dirt.

  They hadn’t left anything, or taken anything . . . except.

  “Someone took Lex,” I breathed. How could someone just take an enormous dragon?

  Tears shimmered down Ilina’s cheeks. “Who?” The word seemed to choke out of her.

  I reached for her hand, but I didn’t have a good answer. Poachers, maybe? That was a horrible thought.

  “We’ll have to tell someone,” I said. “Your parents, first.” But we’d take it all the way to the Luminary Council if necessary. Dragons were protected. This was an insult to the Mira Treaty, and worse—an insult to the Fallen Gods themselves.

  “Did you see tracks in Astrid’s cave last night?” Hristo searched farther into the room, pausing at the first slender column of black rock. He picked up a shed scale, which glittered ruby in the light of his noorestone.