I went cold, “Why did you bury it?”
“If people need a warning, all they have to do is raise their heads. But they don’t need a warning. The dragons won’t hurt you. They need people.”
My breath caught in my throat. This creature had killed my mother, my father, and my uncle. It had burned my people and their homes. I had paid with my blood for its crimes. I would have pulled my sword and run him through if Nanda hadn’t jumped between us.
“You are dTelfur then?” She faced him, her back to me.
He caught Nanda's eyes and froze. Then his hair fluttered in the dragon's next breath and he answered proudly. “Yes.”
I didn’t move. “How is that possible?”
“dTelfur live longer because dragons live longer. I was born forty-two frseason ago.”
“For real?” I could see Nanda doing the math.
“My mother has a hundred and thirty-three.”
Nanda tilted her head forward and looked at him through knit brows, “How old is your father?”
“My father’s Lander. He’s got sixty-four.”
Nanda’s ‘flight instinct’ as she calls it took over. She stared at Yenay for a few more seconds then turned around and marched right up to our sleeping dragon. She looked up at its lidded eyes as she reached out and put a hand on its side.
It didn’t move. She smiled. More importantly, she breathed. “It’s warm! And velvety,” she whisper-yelled to us, “like the inside of a living clam.” She ran her hand along the scale and up its edge. “The edge is more rough, like a kitten tongue and the hide is warmer under the scale.”
Yenay and I began edging our way towards her. I was still unnerved by the currents of warm air and visions of the waking dragon. Without warning, Nanda stepped on the folded leg of the dragon and used the top edge of a scale to pull herself up the side. While we watched, breathless, she clambered her ungraceful way up the dragon’s side. When she reached the top, she turned to us, sweat dripping down her nose, her eyes shining like a little kid’s. Her shoulders shook for half a second as she laughed in triumph before she sucked in a huge breath.
“Come on up!" she hollered. As soon as the noise came out of her mouth, she ducked a glance at the dragon’s eyes then spoke more quietly, “It looks like it’s easier from here.”
She looked glorious. She had scaled the dragon in her condition and she stood before a backdrop of gray and green dragonhides looking for all the world the very model of a queen. Then she bent over her knees and gasped for breath, ruining the image.
Yenay shook his head, “You know there are places where you can just walk up a tail.”
“Well you go find one and I’ll see you at the top.” She growled.
“The village isn’t at the top, my lady.”
She stamped her foot, getting far too comfortable with standing on a monster, “Then get your happy ass up here, old man, and lead the way.”
I don’t know how we managed that first climb. It was not what I expected. The dragon was warm. And the surface of the scales was softer than I thought it would be. It was like climbing up the side of a very large horse, except for the edges of the scales and the roughness actually helped us gain purchase on them. As we climbed higher the warm breath that bothered me was cut off by the sides and tails of dragons and more soil had settled, bringing along the miniscule life forms that go with it. The further up we climbed the thicker this soil layer grew until we began seeing small bushes and trees sprouting from the creatures.
We had gotten a pre-dawn start and Nanda and I were still recovering from our dip in the Sapproach river, plus thunderclouds were starting to gather again and I did not want Nanda wandering about in the rain in her condition. So a couple of hours into the hike, I suggested we set up a base camp that we could call home until we found the village.
We were experts at setting up camp. Nanda told Yenay to stand back and we set to our routine. Even though the dirt was thick enough to support some pretty impressive forestry, we both hesitated to pound in the stakes. We decided that since there hadn’t been much wind so far, blocked as it was by the varying heights of the other bodies and the trees we’d just poke them in lightly.
Once we had the tents up, Nanda told us to go on and find the place while she organized and fixed some kind of dinner. I know she really meant to sleep and I caught her fishing through the coolsac for milk as we turned back to wave before we passed behind a dragon neck.
∞
She barely sleeps here. And she’s nervous around me. She piles up the bags between us in the tent, as though we have two rooms. When we’re alone, which is most of the time, she either talks nonstop or says nothing. For most of the car ride she played music through an instrument called a radio. Fascinating sounds, but loud enough to wake the dead.
The dead.
I wanted to write about the Forte cellar.
∞
That last night in Forte was the first night I didn’t have the dream. I was afraid of how the dream would end if I went to sleep again. I couldn’t get the images out of my mind or the smell of rotting corpses. Instead of rats and maggots, I heard echoing through the castle, the pounding and the screams, the cries of those poor souls and the crackling of the fire that collapsed even more debris in their path. I think I almost fell asleep, but then I started up in bed coughing, thinking my room was filled with smoke. I threw on a robe and ran through the corridors gasping for air until I reached the main courtyard where I collapsed against the statue of the lovers. I leaned against it staring up through the burned out eaves at the stars glittering innocently on their journey about the world. I listened to my Forte-born father’s voice calling tales about all my cousins and uncles and his childhood friends, his teachers and his playmates. I heard once again about them all and I cried until my well ran dry and I leaned against the stone staring at the moons, shuddering helplessly.
∞
The moon was full our first night here in Denver and as we puttered up the steep incline of the road, the cliff falling away on our right to a river far below, I felt as if we were driving up into the sky. We set up camp much more slowly than I was used to with her and she crashed. I watched her sleep for a while. Her skin, washed of color by the moonlight, was like a statue’s and I was tempted to crawl over and kiss her marble lips. But she rolled over and I left to sit on a large boulder and watch the solo moon set.
In the morning she began her ritual disappearing act. Her master, Faite, sent her home that night with a job for me. Sight unseen, he wanted me to watch his four-year old ward, Kelly, while he was working or away. The only condition was that she approve of me and that could be settled the day after next if we would be willing to watch her while he drove out to a Shakes fest. Nanda wanted to go with him, but he insisted that she spend the day with me and Kelly because he had three tickets to the zoo that would otherwise go to waste.
The zoo was a fabulous place. There were so many unusual creatures there and Nanda knew little tales about all of them because her father had worked at a zoo. Kelly loved the dolphins while I was more taken with the giraffes. After lunch, bread wrapped meat on a stick which we ate sitting on individual flexible benches which could swing back and forth to nauseating heights, we got front row seats at a private show.
When we found the barn Nanda, with a rare smile on her lips, grabbed Kelly’s other hand and took the lead racing up to see the cows and the goats. The word sounded familiar and I stared at the goats for a few minutes, wondering where their horns were when I remembered that Nanda had called the Forte unicorns goats. They were very similar except for the missing horn and the coloring. Also, these dull boys didn’t seem quite as intelligent as unicorns.
Nanda and Kelly had skipped ahead, abandoning me, and I had to dodge by some strange animals to try and catch up. I would have passed them but I heard Kelly’s distinctive squeal and noticed a wooden arrow pointing to the chicken hut. Inside, a uniformed zoo worker was crouched with the two of them in front
of a little glass window. Kelly giggled and smiled at me quickly, then turned those sparkling green eyes back to the window as I snuck up and peeked over their shoulders.
The tiny space inside contained a nest with three mottled eggs. As I snuck up, one of the eggs rocked and Kelly squealed again. She was standing in the V of Nanda’s legs, one hand on Nanda’s knee, the other held up, poised to reach forward, but held back by the zoo lady’s reminders to not touch the glass. Kelly bounced back onto Nanda’s chest knocking her off balance. Nanda kept one hand around Kelly’s waist but slipped the other hand to the ground behind her. She was grinning and glanced at the entrance with a thought, I hope, for me.
I put a hand on her shoulder and with a startled laugh she turned back to the window just in time to see the first crack appear in the shell. She and Kelly both jumped. I edged back a little and watched them watch the baby chicken peck its wet way out of the shell, tears in my eyes with the memory of our moon in the Dormounts.
Kelly heartily approved of me, but I didn’t get to meet her guardian. He showed up at Pete’s Kitchen and whisked her away while I was out rummaging through the car for her ‘Rainforest Protector’ badge. Nanda relayed the message that I was approved and that he’d let me know when he needed me.
I hope he needs me soon. Kelly made me smile. Left alone here in the mountains, I'm useless, trapped. I feel just as I did near the end of our stay in Forte.
∞
I started sleeping poorly. I’d have trouble falling asleep and would wake up with the sun. I was getting restless, feeling guilty. Then the dreams came.
When I finally fell asleep, I would immediately find myself above everything. I would see the world through a sapet’s eyes, first over happy Kahago, horses prancing with festival anticipation, my childhood friends running for the castle entrance. Then we’d fly away over the countryside, where I could see all sorts of people. Some I knew. Some I knew I should know but didn’t. And all of them, the adults too, were children. The clearest image I can remember was a view of the red wagon caravan I lived with for almost a frseason early on in my journey rolling calmly over the edge of a dragonbed. Before the wagons could fall though, we’d flown on. My guide always led me eventually into the forest and then vanished. I would be alone, flying through the dark wood, dodging trees and heading further into the darkness. Some nights, this blind, headlong flight would continue eternally and even when I woke, it would be as if a part of me remained flying through that wood. Other nights the forest would burst into flame and then, one by one, the trees would disappear till they were all stumps except the apple tree which burned fiercely, fruit exploding into golden seeds. Then, without transition, I would be a kid in a crowded, lively Forte surrounded by feasting adults. My father was the only other kid there and we raced through the sea of legs. We wanted to get outside to greet someone, but we didn’t run towards the gate. We’d run forever through the passageways of the castle, never getting anywhere.
After a halfmoon of this, I was exhausted. I couldn’t keep my eyes open at sword drills with Nanda but I couldn’t shut them in bed. One night after dinner I drifted off as Nanda played for me. Her voice was soothing and the fire was warm. My body was satisfied with good food and fine wine. Outside a light drizzle worked itself up into a steady downpour and I was soon sound asleep at her feet on the cozy bear rug.
Instantly I swooped through the woods and this time, when I was running through Forte with my father, I let him lead. He took us to the traveler’s anteroom where the stairwell to the little courtyard begins. He walked up to the tapestry that showed the field of Battlescar, looked back at me with Mobious’ eyes, then opened the door and walked through. I woke up screaming for him.
And I knew. I remembered Da telling me about the family entrance to Forte. Outside the castle proper, there had been bridges crossing the drainage moat and a wooden walk along the outer wall. In summer, arches would be formed by removing certain stones from the wall, giving easy access to the fort. In winter, or ostensibly in times of danger, the stones would be reaffixed and the only entrances would be over the outer wall by way of special ladders or through an underground passage known only to residents of Forte. That was our way out! We didn’t have to clamber over the walls in full view of whoever might be on guard. We could sneak away underground. And my father had shown me where the entrance was.
I grabbed Nanda, who was on her knees at my side ready to slap me awake, and dragged her with me through the corridors, up and down stairs, through the dark passage bereft of its tapestry and into the traveler’s antechamber. We lit torches in the room from a small lantern she’d grabbed from the fire. I was impatient and waited only for one to be lit from which she could light the others before taking the lantern from her. I practically danced with joy when I pulled aside the rug with the ‘door’ to Battlescar and found behind it was a real door. Or at least a large patch of rocky cement that I was certain sealed off a door.
Nanda was stunned. “Did you dream this?”
“I've been dreaming it for moons. I just didn't understand."
I ran back out through the castle to the hall Nanda had dubbed the janitorial closet to find some tools we could use to break through to the door and when I came back she had taken the tapestry down from its place and was looking behind the other woven doorways.
“There’s only one other doorway and that isn’t sealed.” She walked over to stand with me as I began pounding the chisel into the bottom of the patch. “Maybe we should explore that one first.”
“This is the one in my dream.”
Good enough for her, she grabbed another chisel and went to work on the right side with the little ball-peen. The stone broke easily. It disintegrated into dust as it fell and we were soon covered in the stuff, dodging away to breathe out in the hall for a moment or two before going at it again. Nanda slipped away after she’d cleared most of the right hand side of the doorway. She brought back a stool and two wine mugs with a bottle of Emjae, 2nd Chelor.
“Quitting already?”
She smiled, pouring out two glasses, “Not before you do. The dust was starting to get to me and I much prefer a good Emjae going to my head.”
She handed me a filled mug and set the stool in front of the door. Before I could sit, she jumped up on it and started chiseling from the top. As the doorway cleared we drank and sang and chattered to keep our spirits up against the dust and the musty stale atmosphere that was entering the room from beyond the door. Once we destroyed the cement seal, we found that the wooden doorway had been itself sealed around the edges with the same cheap mixture and we had to chip that away before we could pry open the hinge-weary door.
Without most of a bottle of good Emjae, I don’t know how we would have had the guts to enter the passageway we found upon opening the door. The air was stale and thick with a frightening stench. It made the hair stand up on the back of my neck. But it had been my dream, so I stepped inside with my chisel at the ready and ascended the stairs. Poor Nanda who had had no father speak to her from the grave followed me. The conviction of our courage was tested when we hadn’t climbed ten greg and the passage turned sharply on itself to descend four steps before turning again into a straight passage which was completely devoid of light. We had to retreat to the antechamber to grab torches.
Our second assault was not so inspired as the first had been and Nanda stood meekly holding her torch at the foot of the stairs waiting for me to start up again. As we climbed, our flames reached back grabbing at the plentiful oxygen in the receding chamber and if I were superstitious I may have heeded that omen and turned back. Where flame fears to tread, man should not go.
∞
The very first dead body I ever saw was my cousin Kierri’s mother, Zera. She was laid out on a traditional bier, a dragonstone at her feet and an eagle feather at her head. The smell of lavender and pine dominated the air around her and each person who stopped at the table added some petals or fragrant leaves of their own. The blue blo
odcloth laid under her covered the litter that lay between Zera and the cold limestone table that raised her to the view of the masses. The cloth would be folded over her after the ceremony to protect her in the next life. Three of its four corners dangling from the table were tied in knots each holding its charm of wisdom, strength, and love. As her youngest acquaintance, I was to tie a token of innocence into the fourth corner of the cloth. I had been told to choose something to help her on a journey and I was to tell no one what it was.
I didn’t understand that she was dead. She was my weapons tutor. I’d never seen her sit still before much less lie down so when Da led me up in our turn I thought the body was some sculpture to be dedicated before she left.
I looked up and asked, “Where’s Zera?”
Da lifted me into his arms and from this grand new height I could see the fragrant petals strewn over and around the body, but I wrinkled my nose at the rotten smell of decay that came with my better view. Zera’s right hand rested on her kaaat, her best weapon. Her left hand cupped the side of her neck where she had been wounded. Her eyes were closed and she was very pale.
“This is Zera’s body.” Da held me close and murmured in my ear. “Zera’s self has gone on to a new journey that won’t include us anymore.”
Then it was time for me to give Zera her token of innocence. I had thought long and hard about what I had that would be most useful on a journey and had finally decided to give her the little tin whistle I was to blow if I ever got lost. I tied that into the fourth corner of the bloodcloth and trotted off to the feast confident that Zera could take care of herself.
It took me many moons to realize that she was on an unfathomably long journey and then I cried. Because I missed her.
Geoffrey's Queen: A Mobious' Quest Novel Page 13
