The Dragon's Eye

by Sarwat Chadda

  The Wildcat’s Claw bit into the wood, an inch from Conor’s skull. If he’d been a moment too slow … And yet he knew the blow would come. Just as he seemed to know more and more of what was to come. And who would eventually win this fight.

  “Break!” screamed Cordelia, heaving her whole weight behind the sword. “Why won’t you break?”

  Yet Conor’s crook held fast, despite the steel edge and the flames. He’d seen that sword slice through stone as if it were nothing, but the old wood held.

  They fought on, each landing blows that would have crippled a normal person. Briggan’s near limitless endurance kept Conor standing, despite the bleeding cuts across his limbs and torso, and Cordelia’s sword gave her the fury and swiftness of the legendary wildcat.

  But Conor needed this fight to be over soon. Something terrible was coming. He felt it like a flood rushing over him.

  Cordelia’s armor protected her from the worst of the blows, but he had no such protection. Cordelia knew it. She was smiling. “Your legs starting to feel a bit wobbly, boy? That’s the blood loss. All my little scratches, they add up in the end.”

  Conor wasn’t interested in wasting time on talk. A dark shape was filling his vision. A great and all-consuming wave. He could see it clearly. Too clearly. It was the same wave from his dreams, and it was headed toward …

  Huge waves battered the cliffs. Conor watched a chunk of rock crack. It tumbled away to crash into the sea.

  “Song’s using the Dragon’s Eye,” said Cordelia. She chuckled. “She took to it quickly. It’s powerful, boy, especially when combined with her water dragon. Soon she’ll be sending a tidal wave all the way across the sea. It’ll build, mile by mile, and when it hits Greenhaven? Your Greencloak friends won’t be getting any trial.”

  Conor saw it all. How could he have missed it before? The future was laid out to him, as clear as Cordelia’s burning eyes.

  But no future was totally certain.

  “Your mistress isn’t the first to try and destroy the Greencloaks,” he said. “And she won’t be the last.”

  “Either way, you won’t be around to find out.”

  Cordelia jabbed, then reversed her blow, catching Conor’s staff and knocking it out of his hands. It flipped ten feet away.

  Unarmed, Conor felt Briggan’s strength suddenly drain from him. His second sight cut away abruptly, leaving Conor feeling momentarily blind. He could barely hold Cordelia back. A deep cut across his ribs had him gasping; another along his thigh brought him to one knee.

  But the wolf in him wouldn’t, couldn’t, give up. Even as Cordelia raised her sword to finish him off, he leaped forward, grabbing her wrists.

  “Let go!” she yelled.

  He couldn’t hold on for long. Conor’s head swam. Cordelia, seeing his injured side, rammed her knee into the heavily bleeding wound, laughing as she did it again and again.

  Conor fought against the pain and weariness threatening to bring him down. He grabbed at the sword in Cordelia’s hand.

  They struggled and slipped. The rain had made the rocky, bare edge of the cliffs treacherous underfoot. Barefoot, Conor’s feet suddenly burned with pain, but he found easy purchase on the stone. Cordelia still wore the heavy, stiff armored boots she’d fallen in the sea with during their last fight.

  She twisted the sword from his weakening grip, and Conor stumbled back.

  Smiling, Cordelia pulled the sword past her shoulder and swung.

  Conor ducked.

  Cordelia spun on the spot, carried away by the force of her swing. She screamed as it carried her over the edge.

  Conor ran to the side of the cliff.

  Cordelia hung a few feet below, her fingers clenched around the section of rock. She still held the Wildcat’s Claw in the other hand.

  Conor cursed. The temptation of leaving her to fall was powerful. But he flattened himself on the ground and reached out. “Take my hand.”

  Cordelia glared at him.

  “Drop the sword and take my hand,” ordered Conor. “It’s the only way.”

  “No! The Claw is mine!”

  “Don’t be a fool, Cordelia!”

  Cordelia screamed as she thrust the sword tip at him in a desperate lunge. But the tip struck against the rock, a jarring blow that shook Cordelia loose.

  Their eyes met. The rage in hers faltered as her fingers came away from the rock. She began tilting away from the cliff face.

  Her eyes widened, first in shock, then in fear. Still she held on to the precious sword.

  Cordelia opened her mouth, but if she screamed Conor didn’t hear it over the thunder of the waves. They seemed to reach up for her as she fell. Cordelia was there, and then she was not.

  Conor groaned and sank into the ground.

  It wasn’t the pain from his cuts. Those felt distant and vague. It was the weariness. Conor couldn’t move; his entire body lay there, like lifeless stone.

  He tingled, suddenly chilly. Then he didn’t feel much at all as a strange, peaceful numbness spread over him.

  Briggan sat down beside him, pressing his warm furry body against his own. The wolf panted, his eyes bright and concerned. He licked Conor’s face. Conor laughed, but his chest ached.

  “Conor!” Suddenly, Meilin was beside him. She turned him over and he saw shock spread across her face. “Oh, no. Oh, please …”

  He wanted to tell her he was fine, but moving his lips was too much effort. So was keeping his eyes open.

  “No, you don’t,” she said. Meilin put her hands upon the wide tear across his side.

  The feeling of heaviness … lifted.

  The numbness fell away as he warmed. A fresh, pulsing energy ran through him. Conor heard his heart pounding with new strength.

  He opened his eyes. “I knew you would save me,” Conor said. “I saw it.”

  Meilin smiled, looking puzzled. “How are you feeling?”

  Conor sat up. The wound on his ribs had gone. There wasn’t even a scar. “I feel … like new.”

  “Good.” Meilin helped him to his feet. “Because we now need to stop that.”

  Waves, fifty feet high at least, pounded the cliffs, sending tremors through the rocks and into Conor’s bones. The sky was thick with swirling storm clouds, and lightning blistered the blackness.

  Down on the beach, among the crashing waves, Song stood alone. She held the Dragon’s Eye aloft and it glowed with power.

  Out in the swirling waves, Conor saw her water dragon. He watched him glide, row upon row of spiky scales cutting through the surface. Finally the tail pounded the surface, driving the creature under. It was easily as tall and as broad as an oak trunk.

  The Dragon’s Eye had transformed the small water dragon into a gargantuan monster.

  “How’s Kana?” Conor asked, collecting the shepherd’s crook from the ground. As soon as it was in his hands he felt stronger. His heart beat again with the blood of the wolf.

  “She’ll live,” Meilin said. She pointed behind him. Conor turned to find Kana sitting up beside Jhi. The burns had been reduced to a faint reddening of her skin. Her arms were wrapped around herself. Toey, her chameleon, was nestled on her shoulder. The Oathbound captain had tears running down her face. She suddenly looked very young.

  “Please,” Kana said, her voice cracking. “You have to stop Song.”

  MEILIN COULD BARELY STAND AS THE WIND REACHED hurricane proportions. Zhong’s coast was vulnerable to such winds, but not this time of year, and never so swiftly.

  The waves beat against the cliffs with terrifying fury. It was as if the sea had a mind, but one consumed with unquenchable rage.

  She stared down at the ships in the docks. One had been ripped free and was even now being pummeled by the rising sea. Another, also torn from its holding, was wrecked against the rocks that embraced the quayside. She saw men floundering in the churning waters.

  And the cliffs themselves shook, unable to withstand the onslaught.

  Apart from the wreckage
now littering the beach down below, there was just one figure. Her loose hair fanned out in the wild winds. Her elegant green robes billowed around her. The Dragon’s Eye, held aloft, shone with a brilliant rainbow of colors.

  “Song,” muttered Conor. He was breathing hard and his torso was splashed with blood, but the fire in his eyes burned with feral intensity. “We need to get down there.”

  Out in the dark, deep sea, Meilin saw how the waves were building. Each rose a few feet higher than the last. Song stood balanced on a huge boulder, but Meilin didn’t think it would be long before the beach was submerged. Didn’t she realize that?

  Abeke joined them at the cliff’s edge. She pointed to the narrow path leading down. “We need to take the Dragon’s Eye from her.”

  Rollan glided down out of the storm, accompanied by Essix. His cloak fluttered around his shoulders, the tips still dancing in the breeze. “I’ll fly down there and distract her.”

  A loud rumble turned their attention away from the beach to the palace.

  A tower swayed as the ground beneath it cracked. It tilted this way and that, not quite falling, as more and more cracks broke along its marble surface. Then it leaned over the cliff and first the uppermost level broke away, disintegrating into smaller clunks as the pieces shattered upon the granite cliffs. The rest of the tower soon followed, breaking apart into countless white stones. They burst upon the black rocks below and were instantly swallowed by the sea.

  “It’s all coming down,” Meilin said with horror. “The whole cliff’s collapsing, and the palace is going with it.”

  Even from where they stood, they could see people fleeing—servants, soldiers, and other nobles. Walls ripped apart and roofs caved in. The tall, elegant windows along the palace façade shattered.

  Meilin turned to Jhi. “Go to the palace. Help the injured as best you can.”

  The big panda hesitated.

  Meilin touched the hairpin. “With this, I’ll always have you with me. Go. Let me deal with Song.”

  The panda wrapped her paws around Meilin, and Meilin felt a surge of warm, supportive strength pass into her. Then the panda ran, in her own funny way, off to the collapsing palace.

  Down on the beach, Song didn’t so much as turn her head toward her crumbling palace. She was focused on the rising tsunami.

  And the creature stirring within the battling waves.

  Scales rippled just under the surface. A tail, as long and as thick as any column, flicked from side to side.

  Conor frowned. “Song’s water dragon has grown a bit since we last saw him.”

  Lightning cracked in the tumultuous black clouds. Rain lashed down, sharp and stinging and hard. The raindrops were thrown horizontal by the howling winds.

  Meilin looked to her friends, poised on the edge of the cliff top. Conor grinned, then raised his head and howled. It was a challenge, it seemed to her: a cry of defiance at nature itself. He stretched out his arms, eyes closed, relishing the elemental attack. Then he gritted his teeth and bounded along the crumbling cliff path with Briggan beside him.

  It was a long way down. Meilin hated the way the pebbles broke off the edge of the path with every tremor. But she needed to stop Song.

  How big was Seaspray now? When they’d arrived, Meilin could have carried him in her arms. But now? Even his tail seemed to go on forever.

  He turned and turned, churning the sea, creating waves that grew as they spread away from the center. Those crashing against these cliffs were forty or fifty feet high. But the waves being carried toward Greenhaven—how high would they grow?

  Enough to drown the island, unless they stopped Song.

  Step lightly, and step fast.

  Could the path take her weight? Many of the steps had already cracked. Meilin moved on tiptoe, jumping from one ledge to another, never pausing lest the ground beneath her give way.

  The cliff shook, and she curled up as rocks tumbled down, showering her with grit and earth.

  “Meilin!”

  Abeke grabbed her arm and hauled her away as a boulder crashed down the cliff, taking more rock with it.

  Any one of those could have turned me to bloody pulp.

  Heart in her throat, she could only nod her thanks. Abeke winked. “I’ll see you down there.” Then she squatted down and leaped, clearing a dozen feet and seemingly running over the path without touching it.

  Uraza stopped beside her, tail twitching.

  Meilin looked down at her. “I’ll be fine. You go.”

  The leopard didn’t wait for her to change her mind. She pounced from one boulder to another after Abeke.

  A wave struck, throwing Meilin against the cliff. She gulped down a rush of freezing seawater. The weight of it pushed her hard into the stone surface. Meilin panicked, sure that the water would crush her, but then it surged away just as her air ran out. Meilin stood, shivering, bedraggled, and gasping on the uneven path. Looking down, she saw that she was still fifty feet above the beach.

  And within the madness there was Song. The empress stepped up onto a higher rock, holding the Dragon’s Eye aloft. She was still raising the sea to greater, more monstrous heights.

  “Song!” Meilin yelled, her voice battling against the winds. “You have to stop! You’re going to destroy everything!”

  Song turned. Somehow she had heard Meilin over the thunder and the crashing waves. But Song just laughed, scornful of Meilin’s desperate plea.

  The Eye was smashing everything around it, but Song didn’t care. She’d been granted unimaginable power, and she wanted to use it. The price didn’t matter.

  “Song! Please! You have to stop!”

  Another wave crashed against the cliff, but Meilin was ready. Taking a huge breath, she dove into the sea.

  The churning black waters tossed her over and over. Meilin covered her head, in case she was smashed back against the cliff.

  She couldn’t fight such power. She could only be carried by it. Her father had trained her in martial arts from an early age, so Meilin knew how to deal with opponents bigger and stronger than her.

  She relaxed, allowing herself to be rolled, then carried out in the backwash.

  Now she beat her arms and legs as hard as she could, finally breaking the surface.

  The beach was almost fully submerged. Nothing remained of the ships or docks but shattered splinters and ragged sails. Whole sections of the cliff had sheared away, forming a jagged, uneven range of peaks and plinths. The slanted stone was slick with seawater and clumps of earth.

  Meilin gritted her teeth and headed to one of the largest stones, the one where Song stood.

  Where were the others?

  Abeke leaped from rock to rock, but could not yet reach Song. An enormous whirlpool had formed between them, spinning madly. Uraza prowled along the water’s edge, roaring in frustration.

  Rollan rode the winds, but the air was buffeting him back. The churning sea exploded at him with fists of water.

  Conor battled against the monstrous water dragon out among the waves. Briggan rode the gigantic lizard’s back, clawing at his scales, looking for an opening. Seaspray lashed out and snapped his jaws, which were big enough to break a ship apart. But Conor seemed to know where the dragon’s chaotic bites would fall before even he did. As Seaspray smashed into a recently abandoned rock, Conor jumped on the lizard’s back, high up between his shoulder blades. Seaspray roared and shook, tossing Briggan into the water, but Conor held on, having found a spot the water dragon couldn’t reach.

  They couldn’t beat the water dragon, but they kept him distracted enough.

  Meilin’s whole body ached from her swim, but Song’s rock was a few yards away. She needed to push just a little bit harder.

  The sudden surge slammed her against the rock, winding her. Meilin hooked herself onto the slippery stone as the water receded. She hung there, gasping.

  She flicked her hair from her face and stood up. “Song. Stop it. Now.”

  The princess spun around
, startled. Then she smiled and laughed mockingly. “Meilin! Look at you! The pretty general’s daughter resembles a drowned rat.”

  Meilin didn’t even have enough strength to stand up straight. She slouched, her legs wobbling from sheer exhaustion. The swim hadn’t been far, but it felt as if she’d fought the entire sea to get here.

  Song held out the Dragon’s Eye. “Here. Take it. If you can.”

  “This isn’t a game. Thousands will die if you go any further.”

  Song smiled. “Take it.”

  Meilin shot out her hand, but Song’s blow was lightning fast, a heel palm strike that almost knocked Meilin back into the sea. She tottered on the edge, arms flailing, while Song laughed.

  “Come now, Meilin. Is that the best you can do? I had heard your father trained you to be a great warrior. Well, I trained, too, you see, far from the eyes of my father. All in preparation for the day I would kill him.”

  Meilin shook the last of the fuzziness from her head. She planted her feet firmly on the water-slick rock and flexed her fingers.

  Song shifted her weight from one foot to another, keeping high on the balls of her feet. She needed to be wary of—

  Song’s first kick flicked out low. Meilin blocked, but the blow had barely touched her before Song spun and smacked her other heel right into Meilin’s jaw.

  This time she fell.

  “Poor Meilin,” muttered Song. “That feint is the oldest trick in the book.”

  It was, and she’d fallen for it.

  Meilin got back up. She glared at the princess.

  Song’s gaze darkened. “I thought you of all people would understand. You truly are pathetic, Meilin. Happy to stand in the shadows of lesser folk, allowing them to take charge and rule your life. I would pity you if I wasn’t so disgusted.”

  Meilin shook her head. “Well, I do pity you, Song. What have you achieved? Death and destruction. You’ll find the throne room a lonely place. Even if all the kingdoms of Erdas bow down before you, it will be an empty victory. No one will trust you. No one will admire you. They’ll fear and hate you. Just as you feared and hated your father.” She held out her hand. “There’s still time to turn back, Song. Kana is waiting for you up at the palace.”