by Alison Baird
Firedrakes!
She leaped up, her own two sets of nacreous wings quivering as they spread to their full span, yet knowing even as she moved that there was nothing she could do, that her worst fears had come to pass. This was the price. The Valei had sent the firedrakes to revenge themselves upon her, and all those whom she had pledged her life to guard.
THROUGH THE SKIES OF MERA Auron flew, with his three human riders and Taleera. A thin crescent moon hung above him: as the blue of day surrounding it swiftly deepened into black its white smile began to shine more brilliantly. There were other dragons flying here in the upper limits of the atmosphere, gleaming in the light of moon and sun.
Ailia, sitting behind Auron’s head, greeted the celestial dragons by raising aloft the Star Stone. Its white radiance made the celestial orbs above her seem to fade. The dragons trumpeted in joy, and spoke to her in her mind also. One of them, she was pleased to learn, was Gallada, the young Imperial dragon from Temendri Alfaran. Highness! The dragon spun about and flew above them as an honor guard. We are glad you have returned at last.
As am I, Ailia replied. The people below have need of your help, Gallada. There are firedrakes at large over the land. She looked down at the dense cloud, and realized that their enemies could use it now as cover, through which firedrakes and sky ships could attack without first being spotted. There are many Nemerei down there also, and the enemy seeks to destroy them all. Please help them!
We will. Many Loänan are now on Numia awaiting your command, Gallada replied. We feared some of the enemy had slipped through our net. But Your Highness and your companions must go first to the moon, and bathe in the springs there to cleanse yourselves. Then on to Arainia! It too is in danger.
They flew into the Ether, through the luminous tunnel of a dragon-way, and out again. Ailia was glad to be amid the stars once more, though she knew their seeming serenity was an illusion. Wars were being waged amid these silent constellations even now. Archons of the stars, if you are truly still there, if you love the empire that you made, then come to its aid now, Ailia pleaded in her thoughts.
Numia was beneath them now, not above, and with the sun behind them it shone at the full. As they dropped toward its face it changed slowly from the familiar moon into a pale gleaming country. It was a desert, however, and nothing in it moved or lived.
“This was once a world,” said Auron. “It saddens me to see it. Where those dark sprawling patches are, little seas once rolled and shone in the sun; on those mountains and plains were forests teeming with life. And there were cities also.” They soared over a gray-white plain. Craters gaped below them, brimming with shadow. “The Disaster destroyed it all, and now Numia is barren and lifeless.”
Ailia felt anew the sense of desolation she had known when Auron brought her here after the adventure in Trynisia. On over the devastation wrought by the comets of the Disaster they went, and presently they came upon a strange sight: spots of bright color blooming amid the gray wastes. As they dropped lower Ailia saw these were great tents of gold and crimson: a war camp had been set up here on Numia. Many creatures moved in its midst and bathed in the springs that lay near. Auron alighted at the edge of the camp and the three humans jumped down from his neck. A strange motley crowd greeted them: human Nemerei, dragons, and cherubim. Two of the latter stood at attention on either side of a large flat-topped boulder, like guards: they both looked very much like Falaar, save that the one on the right had the talons of an eagle on its forefeet and no feathery crest between its pointed ears, while the one on the left sported a pair of curving horns like a he-goat’s. Upon the rock a third cherub sat as if enthroned, bolt upright on his haunches: Girian Vaulyn, king of the cherubim. His great head was leonine in shape, but it more closely resembled a statue of a heraldic lion than the true beast: broader in the face and shorter in the muzzle, with a solemn and regal intelligence no beast can show. The sockets of his eyes were deep and dark, but as she drew closer Ailia saw the glimmer of the ancient eyes within them. His mane was dressed in close curls, like the beards of kings in old Antipodean carvings; his folded wings, with their plumes the color of beaten bronze, rose high behind his shoulders and trailed down his back like a royal mantle; and on his head he wore a golden crown.
Ailia addressed him with respect, as one ruler to another. “Majesty, there is great need in Mera for your aid. I thank your warriors for their efforts on our behalf, but I implore you to send some of them to help the people there.” She looked up at the western continent of that world, plainly visible as it slipped toward the vast shadow of night. “If the city of Raimar falls, so will Maurainia.”
“I will send as many as I can. But most are still engaged in fighting the enemy out among the comets,” replied King Girian. Even in the thin air of Numia his voice sounded deep and resonant as a temple bell. “The firedrakes are more numerous than we had thought. And thou knowest what will befall that world, should the comets reach it.”
Ailia glanced up at the terrible missiles with their long white tails. If even one struck that fair, fragile blue globe, it would cause destruction beyond imagining. She lowered her gaze to the dry, dusty ground and rocks that surrounded her, and she trembled. “The enemy is everywhere. But innocent people are already dying in Mera; even the most valiant deeds of the Wingwatch here will be of no use to them, if they are abandoned now to goblins and firedrakes.”
“Be assured, we will do all that we can, Trynel.” Girian Vaulyn turned his kingly head and roared a command at his people. Several cherubim took wing at once, rising up into the black sky, eager as hounds to the hunt.
She bowed her head to him, and then turned as a familiar voice called her name. Her father had stepped out of one of the silken tents, and was hastening toward her. “At last! I was so afraid for you!” Tiron exclaimed, as he took her in his arms.
“Forgive me, Father,” said Ailia, clinging to him. “I didn’t mean to make you anxious, but I fell ill and even lost my memory for a time. I have recovered; and I won’t ever leave you again.”
“There, my dear, do not reproach yourself. I am only glad that you are safe.” He took her by the hand, and led her away to the tent.
Lorelyn and Jomar went meanwhile and sat with a few of the Nemerei, watching the dragons and cherubim bathe their many burns and wounds in the steaming waters of the springs. Some were too badly hurt even for the healing waters to restore, and the anguish of the cherubim who could not return to the battle was pitiful to see. The Archons themselves had made these creatures to defend the worlds from harm, and for them to be prevented from carrying out this noblest of duties was a blow worse than any hurt.
Lorelyn said presently, “The enemy will attack Mera again—and Maurainia too. Our allies can’t be everywhere. And poor Ailia can’t do everything either. We need flying ships of our own!”
A Magus replied, “Flying ships would need salamander scales, and wool and silk, to protect them from firedrakes.”
“And our soldiers on the ground need protection from drake-fire too,” Jomar said.
“But the supply of fire-resisting wool and silk and scales is exhausted everywhere in Talmirennia. The salamanders, unlike the other children of the Elementals, never left this sun-system. They exist nowhere else in the Empire.”
“But there are still salamanders living in Arkurion? Couldn’t we go there, and ask them?” Lorelyn addressed these questions to Auron, who had come padding up behind them in his dragon-form. The Loänan considered a moment, his great golden head cocked at a thoughtful angle.
I have not projected my image there in many an age, he said. They do not communicate much with outsiders now. And it may be that the enemy has spoken with them and corrupted them. I would be surprised if that were not the case. Yet, I will project to them—and you should too, Lorelyn, for you can give testimony of the suffering of your world. Ailia is too weary to use her power, but as her close friend you can speak on her behalf.
Can we not go there in person?
she asked, curious. Then Jo could come too. And I have always wanted to visit Arkurion.
I am afraid not: for even my power could not long protect us in that world. Only the salamanders can live there. Any other creature that entered it without sorcerous protections would die a speedy death.
IN HER FATHER’S TENT, AILIA sat on a pile of embroidered cushions near a warm brazier. “You must rest, daughter,” Tiron said.
“I’ve no time for it,” said Ailia. “The prophecy said that I must lead the celestial armies into Mera.”
“You have done that already.”
“I have?” she asked, puzzled. “What do you mean, Father?”
“You went to Mera, and the host of the Wingwatch and the Arainian army followed after you. It is a much larger army this time, and aided by the fighting dragons and cherubim who will no longer hold back from battle. They will meet the Valei there, and deliver that world.” He sat down beside her and put his arm about her shoulders. “Your role is fulfilled. You had but to inspire them, and lead the way.”
“There are still so many places where I should be!” she said. “Back in Arainia, to reassure the people—and in Zimboura, to comfort the people there and help counter Mandrake’s following—and up in the void, helping the Loänan and cherubim to move the comets . . . The Great Powers should have sent a dozen Tryna Lias, not one!” She sprang up again from the cushions. “Father, is it true that there are many more of the enemy than we knew?”
“It appears so. The Morugei have been made to breed in great numbers, to provide fighters in their own civil wars. They have learned the craft of battle for centuries, and perfected it, by slaying one another. This did not reduce their numbers, but rather strengthened them as a race, for the strongest and fiercest survived to breed again. And now they no longer fight one another, but are united against us under their Avatar. The firedrakes too are greater in number than we had realized. This battle of the comets is but a skirmish in a larger war that has been long in the planning—so long that the roots of those plans go back to the Archons’ time. All of Talmirennia is now under siege. Firedrakes have assailed the sylphs’ world, and set fire to the cities of the dryads in the forests of Falnia.”
Ailia was appalled. The sylphs under attack! This was indeed a blow: and as for Falnia, most of the beings in that world were beast-folk, centaurs and satyrs and harpies, that lived out of doors; but the dwellings of the dryads were very wonderful. Because no dryad would fell a tree for its wood, they made their houses by inducing trees, through sorcery, to shape themselves into living halls and chambers, winding trunks and boughs together to make the roofs and walls. Some of these trees were of sequoia height and girth, and the edifices they formed comparable in size and grandeur to the temples and castles of humanity. It had taken hundreds or thousands of years to create these great houses, and would require as many years to replace them. “The sylphs and the Falnians look to us now for succor,” Tiron went on. “And in many other worlds the peoples that gave you aid and support are suffering in consequence. The kitsune ambassador, Hada, returned to his people to try and help them. But we hear now that he was slain, and many others with him.”
“Oh, no—no! Hada was a dear friend of Auron’s: he will be grieved to hear this. And Orbion is both wise and skilled in sorcery—if he could not face the Valei, but had to flee, then what hope have I?” She passed a hand over her eyes. “We need more armies, Father.”
“There are no more armies, and there is no time to train Talmirennia’s peoples to fight and kill. This war is not upon us; it is already well under way.”
“And I have been wasting what little time we have by wandering about in Mera,” said Ailia, distressed. “I so wanted Ana’s help and advice—I even persuaded myself that her spirit had somehow reached out to speak to me. I really have been a little mad these past few days. I am sorry.” She slumped down among the cushions again. “But I know what I need to do. I was not asked to fight whole armies, but only one person, whom I can defeat. If their Avatar is gone, then perhaps the Valei will lose their will to fight.” But will they? she wondered. Now that there are so many of them, and they are all filled with fear and hate?
“My dear child.” Tiron laid a gentle hand on her arm. “I would help you if I could. In the meantime, rest. There is a little travel pouch there by the brazier, with food and water—a little ambrosia too, though I am sure you don’t need it—”
Ailia took his hand in both of hers and held it tightly, then stood up again. Going over to the pouch, she lifted it by its shoulder strap. “Thank you, Father. But I would like to go for a walk instead. I need air, and quiet, and to be alone for a little. Perhaps things will seem a bit clearer to me then.”
She walked past the borders of the encampment, treading a flat stone surface that proved to be the remains of an ancient road. She followed it without knowing why, letting it take her down through the gray waste until, coming to the edge of a precipice, she saw it descend to the floor of a crater beyond, and run arrow-straight to a rocky hill at the center in the form of a causeway. And on that hill rose white walls and high needling towers that touched a chord of memory.
It is the same castle I flew over with Auron years ago, when he first brought me here, she thought. What was it like, I wonder, when Numia was a living world? She gazed in fascination at the Archonic structure: it seemed to draw her to it. From her travel pouch she drew out the small flask of ambrosia, removed its silver stopper, and put the flask to her lips. As she swallowed the liquor and replaced the vessel, her vision began to dim, and over the fading scene before her another was placed, like and yet not like, an image out of some bygone age.
The sun and stars still blazed together in the sky, but it was no longer so black, nor was the land so sere and gray. It was filled with vivid colors, with forests of emerald, indigo, and heliotrope. Only the cliffs were pale, plunging to the crater below. But a dark gleaming lake, reflecting sun and stars, covered its floor. The islet in the center glowed like a jewel upon black velvet, with greens and vermilions, and on its summit was the pearl-white palace.
She descended the winding cliff path and crossed the causeway, looking up at the white towers that were now ablaze with light against the dark sky. The great doors were flung wide, and the vast space within filled with a soft, pearly radiance. Many people stood before the palace, tall people arrayed in glorious many-colored cloaks that seemed to Ailia’s wondering eyes to be all woven of feathers: scarlet, green, saffron, and violet, no two alike. Then one woman spread wide her arms and Ailia saw that her cloak was attached to her elbows and wrists, and fashioned in the likeness of two great bird wings. As she stared, the woman leaped into the air, followed by one or two others; and to Ailia’s amazement their pinions held the wind and lifted them on high, so that they glided with the grace of swallows over the trees and across the lake.
A figure appeared in the doorway, some sibyl of the moon-folk it must be; not only her robe was white but also her winged cloak, and her hair flowed silver down her back. She stood gazing serenely into the night, and following her gaze Ailia saw the planet Mera, with her vast disc all blue and mottled with clouds, even as it appeared in Ailia’s own time.
Then the sibyl spoke. “Welcome to the fane of Elnumia,” she said in a clear mellifluous voice. She was addressing not Ailia, whom she could not see, but the winged pilgrims.
Elnumia—goddess of the moon. So this was where the Archon of Numia had made her dwelling! It was the moon palace out of the old tales, radiant as the little world in which it lay. The beauty and the wonder of it filled Ailia with delight. But this quickly turned to sorrow. The day would come when its light would be put out, and the groves and gardens on its islet be replaced with gray dust, and the crater-lake drained dry as an emptied goblet. And the moon-people too would be all gone from Numia, perished or fled.
Ailia moved past the sibyl at the doorway, and entered the palace.
It was as bright within as without, its main hall f
aced like its exterior with blue-white venudor, gleaming like a cave of ice. Great columns held up the roof, shining with their own pale light, and among these walked the moon-folk in little groups. Their soft footfalls—on the moon one did not tread so heavily as on the larger worlds—and their hushed voices were the only sounds to be heard. On a dais at the far end a great marble throne—too large to have been made for any human ruler—sat empty. But beside it Ailia saw, drifting transparent on the air, an ethereal figure. It had the likeness of a woman, unnaturally thin and tall, her ghostly body swathed in trailing white garments. Her shrouded head was bowed in an attitude of mourning. None of the mortal beings within the hall seemed able to see the apparition; at any rate they paid it no heed. But as Ailia approached the dais, the woman-form raised its veiled face and spoke to her.
“Thou art welcome,” the figure said in a whispering voice. “I see thee, Tryna Lia, visitor from the future age. I too am not truly here, but am outside of time.”
“I saw you once before!” Ailia exclaimed. Whose was this projected image?
“Yes. I can show myself only unto thee.”
“Please—who are you?” Ailia asked.
“I am she who reigned here long ago. When my world was as thou seest it here, full of life and color. Thou knowest what those that dwell herein do not. Thou hast seen what will come.” The faceless figure gestured to the throne. “Seat thyself.”
“Lady, that seat is thine,” Ailia replied.
“But for this time I give it thee, for so it pleaseth me. I pray thee, be seated.”
Ailia complied with some difficulty, for the throne was tall and deep, and she felt like a child clambering up into its elder’s chair. Looking along the length of the great hall to the open door she saw Mera blue and radiant in the dark sky. And as she sat there, all of a sudden she recalled the prophecy that the Tryna Lia would be throned upon the moon.
