Dragons of Siberia (The Dashkova Memoirs Book 7)

by Thomas K. Carpenter

  Chapter Twenty

  The village beneath the ice was alive with purpose after the meeting in the khan's hall. Old women like the one who'd spit on my doorstep were put to work doing something I was not allowed to see. The tribe's warriors spent their days drilling in the deepest part of the lake bottom, returning each evening dirt smudged and worn-out, but pleased with themselves as if they had accomplished something meaningful.

  Meal portions were doubled, which signaled Anton's commitment to the task. If we didn't succeed on our assault, then the remaining tribe would starve to death before winter turned to spring.

  This did not diminish their work ethic, but seemed to enhance it, like a captain burning the ships on foreign shores. Having a sense of purpose gave them life. Sitting around and drinking the days away had only drained them to husks. Strange how filling oneself up could actually do the opposite.

  I, however, did not share their buoyant mood. Though I was free to come and go, I had express orders not to witness preparations, or risk a prophecy that could change our fortunes, which left me much as a prisoner.

  I said nothing about my feelings, as the village was working around the clock to meet the khan's deadline. The winter storms usually started in early December and would make the assault more difficult, so he'd given them until the end of November to complete their tasks.

  What I wanted to do was return to the hut and review the library within for clues to how to complete my task of slaying a dragon. Was it as simple as combat between two parties, claw versus pistol? Or did the creature possess some supernatural abilities that would make it impervious to my efforts?

  What I knew of dragons was paltry in comparison to my other studies. I'd never thought such creatures real, even with all the other evidence I possessed. There was also a general lack of reading material about them. What existed usually involved the curious parties being eaten by the scaly wurms, which might have indicated why information was scarce.

  I tried asking Rowan, but she claimed to possess no additional knowledge beyond the typical myths: talons, teeth, wings, fiery breath, great size, and a penchant for gold. Koryak was no help either as the links between him and his grandfather had been severed by the splitting of the tribes.

  Which left only one possible resource available. A resource that I wanted to address without interference, for other reasons than the questions I wanted to ask it.

  So when the old women had finished their duties for the night and returned to their homes—long after the khan and his warriors had eaten and gone to sleep—rather than stay up drinking and reveling, I crept into the hall wearing soft boots and a hooded fur cloak to cover my face.

  I had not been inside in weeks, and the layout had changed considerably. A massive object the size of a steam carriage lay in the back, mostly hidden by the shadows. It was filled with wrinkles and folds of scraped furs. A bucket filled with candles sat on a nearby table, along with another filled with knives. The room had a strange burnt hair smell to it that made my nose wrinkle.

  The stairs into the earth were sopping, pulling at my soft boots. I pulled a torch out of its sconce and held it high. Flame licked against the dirt, burning a black trail against the rooty ceiling as I made my way to the iron door.

  I could have opened the rusty lock with a blunt knife. The hinges screamed upon closing, making my teeth hurt.

  The Uthlaylaa hung on the wall in the same spot it'd been before when Ana brought me, except this time it was looking directly at me as if it'd been waiting for me.

  The creature's round mouth pulled back against its jagged teeth, exposing bloody gums, while a gray tongue darted out. It exuded a smell of rotting oranges, which brought back the memories of all the times I'd encountered these creatures before.

  "Katerina," it hissed, shocking me into dropping the torch, which sputtered on the damp earthen floor. I quickly picked it up and put it in the wall sconce.

  It had been waiting for me.

  "What is your name?" I asked.

  Its mouth dilated wider. A clucking noise formed in its throat. Its weak neck seemed to struggle to hold up its head. Scapula bones looked like knives sticking out of its shoulders.

  I realized it was thirsty. I brought out my pouch and stepped near, keeping a wary distance as I tipped water into its waiting mouth.

  The Uthlaylaa drank like a baby bird, thin neck bulging at each gulp, exhausted gasps filling the space between as if each were its last.

  When it was finished, it closed its eyes and settled against the chains. The gray flesh around the manacles was cracked and swollen.

  It hissed under its breath, the words rattling around in my brain before I understood them.

  "Kill me," it said.

  My fingers brushed the dagger at my hip. The iron pommel was cold to the touch.

  "Not yet," I said. "First you must answer my questions."

  It bared its jagged, worm-round teeth briefly, but the defiance was overcome with exhaustion.

  "Tell me what you know of dragons," I said.

  The creature shifted as if what it knew was an itch it couldn't scratch.

  "Tell me, and I might free you from this agony," I said.

  "Dragons," it said, the word like a whistling wind.

  "Dragons."

  The Uthlaylaa's chest rose and fell. I worried that its chest bones would snap from the simple action.

  "Dragons do not travel," it said breathlessly.

  "Do not travel? What do you mean?" I asked, but the creature made no motion to speak. "As in the multiverse? Are they natives of this realm?"

  The Uthlaylaa nodded slowly.

  "What do they want?" I asked.

  It took a while for it to answer. "Dragons want...what dragons want."

  "That's no help. I need to understand them. The multiverse might depend on me killing a dragon," I said.

  Its lips rippled and a choking noise came out of its throat. I think it was laughing at me.

  "Can they be killed with magic?" I asked.

  "No," it said, pleased.

  "Can they be killed?" I asked.

  The creature hissed softly.

  "I don't understand," I said.

  "Dragons want..."

  "Yeah, I get it. They want what they want. That's your way of saying you don't know. I thought you Archivists were supposed to know everything. What's the point of collecting all that knowledge if you don't know what dragons want? You'd think that'd be a critical thing to know," I said, frustration flowing across my lips.

  But it wasn't just frustration. I wanted to goad it into answering, assuming that it was withholding information.

  The Uthlaylaa didn't say anything, which meant it probably didn't know anything. But part of me didn't believe that. They knew more about the Shard than they did about dragons. Especially since this universe was a keystone, which meant the dragons had some central purpose. Was that was why they couldn't be killed?

  My heartbeat sped up. I was on to something, but I couldn't figure it out.

  "Has the Library spoken to a dragon?" I asked.

  "Yes," it hissed, almost mockingly. "Many."

  "Why this universe? And for that matter, this world? We know the universe is filled with stars and planets. So why would dragons come here unless they were important? And who created them for that matter?"

  "No one knows," said the Uthlaylaa.

  I turned on it. "Are you sure there's no way to kill a dragon with magic? If it flew into the sun would it survive? I doubt I could kill one, but I'm sure it can be done."

  The Uthlaylaa didn't answer.

  "What about these two dragons? Has the Library spoken to them?" I asked.

  "Yes," it said, then a moment later, "No."

  "You have? But just one of them? Which one did you speak to? The earth dragon?" I asked.

  "No."

  "The sky dragon?" I asked.

  "Yes."

  I was getting somewhere. I just didn't know what it meant.

/>   "Did you talk to sky dragon?" I asked.

  "Yes."

  "What did you learn?" I asked.

  It paused. "Nothing."

  "Nothing? You're lying to me. I'll let you rot here if you're not going to be truthful," I said.

  "Nothing," it repeated.

  "Nothing?"

  "Nothing."

  I sighed and turned away. The Uthlaylaa made another choking noise that I interpreted as its laughter. It was playing a game with me. So far it'd been honest about everything I'd asked it, but it wasn't volunteering anything, which meant I was asking the wrong questions.

  "Wait," I said, suddenly realizing how I'd worded an earlier question. "Is the earth dragon a dragon at all?"

  The Uthlaylaa shrunk against my question. "No."

  I was about to ask another question when Koryak came in through the open door. With his greasy black hair and lips faded gray, he looked like a drowned rat.

  "You cannot be here," he said.

  "What you are doing is an abomination," I said, putting a hand on my dagger for Koryak to see.

  "You have no room to judge me. I've heard the stories about you and your empress," he sneered.

  I thought about plunging the dagger into the Uthlaylaa to give it release and to spite Koryak, but I felt it might still be useful, which I realized made me no better than Koryak. Disgusted with myself, I marched past him, brushing him roughly with my shoulder.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The assault on the Aerie began three days after the incident with Koryak. I'd tried to sneak back a second time, but Koryak had posted a guard at the top of the stairs. I thought about appealing to his logic to allow me to continue my questioning of the Uthlaylaa, but we left for the raid before I had the chance.

  I was given a pack of gear to haul without knowing what was in it. I knew the outline of the plan: we would travel the mountains around the Aerie during the night and sleep during the day. Once we reached the cliffs, Franklin promised he would explain my role.

  A party of fifty warriors was too difficult to hide, even traveling at night. The snow trails left behind would be obvious to an airship. So we left in groups of five to ten, each taking a different route. That way, the Nenets might think our movements to be elk or caribou. My group was Ben Franklin, Haida, Brassy, Rowan, and Ana.

  I was surprised by Harvest's absence from his mistress' side, but she said he had an important role that could not be performed by anyone else.

  The weather had worsened during the few months I'd spent beneath the earth in Ice Lake. Even the thick furs didn't completely protect from the biting cold, and traveling during the night only made it worse. Over the next few days, my nose would become a frozen red ball of ache on my face.

  Haida took the lead, though the only reason I knew it was her was because of the few strands of braided hair that stuck out from her hood. We used hooded lanterns to light the trail and to keep us from stumbling off any cliffs.

  The first two nights we trudged through the snow like automatons—lift leg, set down in footprint from person in front, repeat with other boot. The dim light reflected on the snow turned my world into varying shades of gray with a hint of orange. I couldn't smell anything as my nose was stuffed up and my head thick from breathing through scarves.

  We camped beneath the pines, two to a tent. I stayed with my daughter. In the downtime before sleeping, I shared stories about my life in Philadelphia as a printer, while she told me about the early days in Siberia. I felt like a stranger to my daughter.

  Ben and Haida stayed in their own tent, and I was glad for the heavy winds during the day, so I couldn't hear their lovemaking. It was so like Ben to find time for such human endeavors in the middle of a raid. He would probably claim he was following his Virtues if I confronted him about it. But mostly I was jealous of the intimacy—not that I had wished to have it with Ben, but that I had my own. Back in Philadelphia, Simon had been a pleasing prospect, but now he was tied up in government as the Vice President. I hoped he didn't curse my name for sticking him with that job.

  On the third day, we reached the mountains that led to the Aerie. As the elevation increased, we tied a rope between us around our waists. Travel slowed as we had to backtrack at times to find the better path or avoid dangerous slopes that could turn to an avalanche.

  Towards morning time, we heard the booming crash of wet snow tumbling down a mountain side. We froze in our little line, heads tilted towards the sound. I knew everyone was hoping that one of other groups hadn't gotten caught in it.

  Haida led us up a ridge, hugging a rock wall face above a good slope that went down a hundred meters. A few pines hung at odd angles above us, indicating the earth had fallen away in recent times. I held my lantern up to get a better look at the path before me. A dead branch hung down, and I would have to move it away to slip past it.

  I reached forward, which shifted my weight, causing my boot to slip, tumbling me down the slope. I flew down the field of scree, my elbow smacking against the hard earth. Haida shouted and the rope snapped tight. The lantern disappeared beneath me into the darkness.

  "Can you climb back up to us?" asked Haida once I had recovered.

  I couldn't really see them. I'd lost my light and fallen a few meters before the rope caught me. If they lost their grips, we'd tumble into the abyss together.

  I scraped at the scree. "There's nothing to grab onto."

  "We'll pull you up," said Haida.

  I heard a discussion. They were deciding how to hold on and pull me up at the same time. After a few minutes, the rope yanked on my midsection. I tried to scramble up, but the small, scattered rocks made traction impossible.

  Eventually, the slope flattened enough and Ben helped me to my feet. They'd tied themselves to the angled pines to keep from falling as they pulled me up. I thanked them, and we continued the journey.

  On the fifth day, we reached the cliffs at the base of the Aerie. We were the third group to reach the rendezvous point, which was a small cave around the bend from the lift, about a kilometer away. None of Anton's lieutenants, or Anton himself, had made it yet, which left everyone in a sour mood.

  A fourth and fifth group arrived before morning, neither containing the khan, and even with their numbers we were only twenty-five strong, so we'd have to wait until the next night. We cut our rations in half, but we were already extended by two days.

  The cave didn't go back very far, and we couldn't venture into the daylight or risk being discovered, so the waiting was rather claustrophobic. The airship came and went a few times during the day, the rumbling of its steam engines echoing through the valley.

  Hearing the noises it made up-close, I found it hard to believe that we'd thought it a dragon, except that perceptions often tainted reality.

  I barely slept that day as the cave floor and the presence of so many made resting difficult. We also heard a few more avalanches, which left us concerned that the others had been caught in one.

  That evening when night fell, everyone's gazes kept glancing to the entrance, expecting the next group to arrive. It wasn't until midnight that the next group stumbled in. It was Anton and two others, looking haggard and exhausted.

  Ana ran up to the khan, peering over his shoulder as if to ask where the others of his group were at. Anton shook his head as he knocked the snow off his furs.

  "The whole ridge fell away," he said, his eyes glassy. "Seven men went tumbling down the mountain."

  "How did you survive? Weren't you tied together?" asked Haida.

  Anton's jaw rippled with the memory. "I had nothing to grab onto, so I cut the rope before it pulled me down, too."

  Everyone stared silently at the cave wall or into the darkness outside, but no one recriminated him for what he'd done. After a moment, he looked around.

  "Where are the rest?" he asked.

  "This is it," said Ana.

  His face broke with the realization that so many hadn't made it.

  "More migh
t still make it," offered Brassy optimistically.

  "But we didn't bring enough food," he said. "We can't wait much longer. The wet snows slowed us down. I expected to be here with the full raiding party two days ago."

  "We won't be doing anything unless Harvest shows up," said Franklin.

  Rowan's face rippled with annoyance. "He'll be here. He must have had delays."

  "Are you sure?" asked Ben.

  "He'll be here," she said.

  "We need to prepare to climb the cliffs without him. We brought gear in case of this emergency," said Anton.

  "Even if you start now, you won't make it to the top until morning. If they send the airship out early, you'll be discovered," said Ben.

  "Getting cold feet?" taunted Anton.

  The accusation stiffened Ben's spine. "I'm prepared to climb if that's what needs to happen. I just want to make sure we're not rushing into foolishness."

  Anton squared his shoulders. He had a dangerous glint to his eyes. "We camped on a ridge yesterday, beneath a copse of pines. With all the avalanches, I didn't want to get caught in one, so we stayed high. The ridge gave me a nice view of a storm system rolling in from the east. It's moving slow, but when it hits sometime during the day, it'll trap us in this valley. So we're either successful in our assault or we don't go back, ever."

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Anton's news was like a hammer blow to everyone's chest. The khan gave everyone a few minutes to discuss potential options. I grabbed Franklin, Rowan, Brassy, and Ana.

  "You have to tell me the plan," I said. "I feel like I'm sewing in the dark, hoping not to impale my fingers."

  Ben and Rowan shared glances.

  "No point in withholding the information now. I think the plan is broken," said Ben. "Harvest is pulling a sled with our way up the mountain on it. We constructed a hot-air balloon, which we were going to use to ferry us up the cliff during the night. It would give us a way past the canyon, then using shaman magic, they'd sneak you back to the dragon to do battle with it."