“I know that you have made no mention of this to any on Wyrmspire, or else you would not be breathing,” said Blackscale. It sounded weirdly like a question.
“No, of course not,” I said. “I just want to understand. There’s things about your culture that are alien to us. I just want to know more about you.”
Sarah stepped quickly between the two of us as the others turned from the railing and moved closer, concern plain on their faces. “Please, forgive him. We know we’re not supposed to ask that. He’s still very, very young by human standards.”
“I’m not that young!” I said, trying to push past her.
Sarah whirled on me. “Shut up right now, Calvin,” she hissed. “We know how much we could upset them, talking about this. You’re putting our lives in danger.”
I looked helplessly at Blackscale over her head. His eyes were still fixed on mine.
He turned away. “Speak of this to no one. Put the thought from your mind. To pose the question shows you think of us as beasts of burden, mounts to serve you at your whim. The Schism was born of such thinking. The Schism is why so many of us would taste your blood today. You could throw yourself into no greater peril than to put this question to one of us.”
I gulped. “Okay,” I said. “I mean…I understand. I think. But, like, if I carry a kid piggy-back, it’s not like—”
Blackscale’s face whipped around to stare into mine. I shut up.
“Have you slaves?”
My eyes shot wide. “What? No, of course not. No one has slaves. That’s illegal.”
“Just so.” He turned away again.
I looked at Darren awkwardly. He shrugged, while his eyes begged me not to say anything else. I doubted I’d get a better answer.
“There are rules of conduct in any society. I know that some races hold them more loosely than others,” said Blackscale softly, as though speaking to himself. “But to us, they are everything. Even between one’s sworn enemies, they are paramount.”
“We understand,” said Sarah.
I remembered what Meridia was always telling Sarah and bowed low. “I am sorry for giving offense. I won’t mention it again.”
“See that you do not. It is one of the greatest crimes you could commit. It would invite death upon you.”
I gulped. “What are some other crimes? Just so I can make sure they’re not things I’d do normally.”
“For a lesser being to spill the blood of a dragon; that is forbidden,” intoned Blackscale. His voice sounded like a chant, like something he’d said many times before. “To slay another in spite, greed or envy; that is forbidden. To kill and eat beyond your fill; that is forbidden. To disobey the Council; that is forbidden. To speak an untruth; that is forbidden. To harm a hatchling—”
“Whoah, whoah, whoah,” I said quickly. “If you tell a lie, you get the death penalty?”
Blackscale looked at me again. “That is the law.”
“Wait, what are we talking about here?” said Raven. “Do we mean a lie that actually hurts people? Or, like, a little white lie?”
“The meaning of this phrase you use escapes me,” said Blackscale. “An untruth is an untruth. What that I say is unclear?”
“Um, okay,” said Miles, stepping forward. He had an angry look on his face. “I’ve got a perfect example for you. Last night, you said Longtooth had ordered that we weren’t to be harmed. Longtooth never said that. You said that to help save our lives, and I’m grateful. But forgive us for being a little confused when you say that any tiny lie we say is going to get us killed.”
Blackscale looked Miles dead in the eyes. “Longtooth said that you were to appear before the Council in two days. How could you appear before us if you were dead?”
Miles’ brow furrowed. “Okay, but that’s still not what he said. You’re just twisting the words around.”
“It was the truth,” said Blackscale. “I was carrying out Longtooth’s wishes.”
Miles turned away, still angry. “Whatever, man. I know wordplay when I hear it.”
Blackscale looked back to me. “To speak an untruth is to say that the listener cannot survive the truth. It is to say that the listener is incapable of telling the truth from lies. It is to say that the listener is of lower stature, that they are a fool for believing you. When an untruth is found—and they are all found eventually—the liar’s life is forfeit.”
Miles snorted. I met his eyes, knowing that mine had to be shining with fear. Miles had lied to save our lives last night. The dragons didn’t know that. I knew it, Miles knew it, and our Runegard knew it. And it would have to stay that way.
“All right, so, to be on the safe side, don’t say anything except the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth,” I said, hoping Darren and Melaine would get the message. “Got it.”
The air on the platform felt chilly, and it was only partially from the winds blowing around us. Things suddenly felt awkward again. To distract myself, I looked out over the edge of the platform again to the lands far below. My gaze wandered up and into the air every time a dragon swooped by.
How far were we from the peak, anyway? I turned to it, raising my eyes to its tip. That’s when I saw the black hole in the mountainside, about thirty feet from the top. It had to be at least a hundred feet above the top line of dragon homes. It looked small from here, but of course I couldn’t tell how big it actually was from this distance.
“What’s that?” I said. “That one home all the way at the top?”
Blackscale looked up. “That is no home,” he said. “That is the temple.”
“Temple?” I said. “Temple of what? You mean, like a church?”
“It is an ancient structure,” said Blackscale. “It sees little use now. So far as anyone knows, it has been there as long as Wyrmspire has stood.”
“Is it dragons-only?” I said. “Like, is it forbidden for humans or something?”
“No,” said Blackscale slowly. “But of course, only a dragon could reach it. To attempt the climb would be suicide.”
My eyes flicked over to Sarah. Her face was fixed on the temple high above. Then her face twitched. Her whole body jerked. She dropped her gaze to me, her mouth already opening to speak.
“Yahoo!” I screamed, and launched myself into the sky with Air. I rocketed up and away from the platform, Sarah’s furious screams dying away behind me.
I rocketed past dragon home after dragon home, laughing and shouting with delight. I hadn’t had the chance to fly since we’d jumped out of Meridia’s tower, and that felt like five lifetimes ago. Dragon heads shot out of their homes, their necks craning to follow me as I sped by. I swiftly acquired an audience, so I decided to perform. I flipped up and around to spin into a loop. I boosted myself up, then cut the jets of air under my limbs and curled my body into a ball. Then I tucked into a dive, jetting back down toward the platform. I only let myself fall for about fifty feet before I pulled out of it.
There was a familiar roar on the air, and then the sudden wave of a slipstream jarred me. I lost control for half a second, still flying upward, and bounced against the surface of the mountain. Then I righted myself and flew again.
That’s when I saw the source of the slipstream: Blackscale flying right beside me, his eyes on mine, his teeth bared in what I hoped was a grin, not a snarl. I glanced back down: Nightclaw was with the others on the platform. She’d showed up just in the nick of time. I suddenly realized that I’d flown off into the wild blue without any dragon bodyguard, on a mountain where half of the large, fanged inhabitants wanted to eat me.
But I couldn’t think about that for long. The air rushing around us was intoxicating. I jetted to the right, flipping myself over to Blackscale’s other side before looping back around close to the mountain. I flew around and around him like a corkscrew, a fly buzzing around the head of a bald eagle. Blackscale began to turn in air to match my spinning, the two of us whirling around each other like a tornado.
We reached the
temple, and I flung myself in through the entrance. I skidded to a stop on the dusty floor on one foot, one knee and one hand. It took me a second to get my bearings, but then I turned around to look back out the entrance.
I cocked my head in confusion. Blackscale was hovering outside. The entrance was way, way too small for his massive body. I thought he’d visited this place before. How was he going to get in? Maybe he hadn’t visited it in so long, he hadn’t realized that he’d outgrown the place. One thing was for sure: he couldn’t fit through that door.
He pushed away with his wings, flying away through the air. Then he turned and faced the doorway again, and powered forward with his wings. He flapped harder and harder, then harder still until he was barreling at the temple as fast as a train.
“Blackscale, stop!” I shouted. “You’re going to slam into the mountain!”
He’d either destroy the entrance, or destroy himself upon it. Then I realized that if he did destroy the entrance, I was about to be crushed under five hundred tons of dragon.
“Crud!” I screamed. I turned and began to book it toward the inner door as fast as I could, forgetting all about flight in my moment of panic. I risked a glance over my shoulder as I fled, and that’s when I saw what might have been the most incredible thing I’d seen since the day I first came to Midrealm.
Blackscale barreled toward the temple door at full speed. Then, just as I began to wince in anticipation of the impact, he tucked his wings against his body. They wrapped around him, folding in like the folds of a cloak. He bent his neck in to his body and pulled his legs in tight against his abdomen. His tail wrapped around him, and then his body turned into a twisting mass of blackness. I had a gut reaction of panic—it looked so much like the Shadows of Chaos. Then his form shrank, compressed, and finally fell to the temple floor.
Blackscale—or the figure who had been Blackscale—got to his feet. Two arms and two legs; humanoid, but definitely not human. For one thing, he was seven feet tall. Instead of skin he had the same dark green scales that he’d had as a dragon. There was the same pattern of black scales across his face. There was still a snout, but it was compressed, and the horns on top of his head were shorter. He wore a tattered green cloak over plain brown clothes. From underneath the cloak at his back poked the hilts of two swords.
“What…” I stammered. “What was…how did you…”
He chuckled. The voice was several registers higher, but it was still deep and booming.
“No human has seen an earthbound dragon since the Schism,” he said. “Your disbelief, though humorous, is not surprising.”
“Whoah, wait…” I said. “An earthbound dragon? So you’re not the only one who can do this, are you? This is something all dragons can do, isn’t it?”
Blackscale nodded.
Before I could open my mouth to say more, I heard a pounding from outside. It was faint, almost lost in the thin mountain air, but it was growing louder by the second. It sounded like rocks being crushed.
“What the heck is that?” I said, taking a few cautious steps toward the edge.
Just as I reached it, Sarah vaulted over the edge of the temple’s entrance, landing on hands and knees. She collapsed to the floor, panting for a moment, before glaring up at me with a fire in her eyes.
“Are you crazy?”
“Sarah!” I said, flabbergasted. “What the heck are you doing here? How did you even get up here?”
Just then, Sarah looked up and noticed Blackscale. She shot to her feet, eyes wide, and jumped in front of me. “Calvin, look out!” she cried.
Blackscale laughed, and I couldn’t stop myself—I joined in. Sarah looked back and forth between us, eyes wide. Then she stopped, staring hard at him.
“Wait a minute,” she said slowly. “Blackscale, is that you?”
“It is, Keeper of Earth,” said Blackscale, inclining his head.
“Dragons can do this,” I said, pointing at him and smiling proudly. “All dragons, not just him. Why don’t you guys do it more often?”
Blackscale cocked his head. “Why should we? Upon Wyrmspire, there is very little need. Our natural forms are more suited to life on the mountain. This form is a magical transformation, weaker than my own body and quite difficult to achieve.”
“So you only do it when you visit the temple,” I said, nodding slowly. “That makes sense. But wait…” My mind raced. A thousand things I’d seen and discounted flew together in my mind, all of them now aligned by new data.
“The golden chairs!” I screamed.
Sarah stared at me like I was crazy.
“The golden chairs!” I said. I was so excited, my limbs began to shake. “They’re yours! They’re for dragons! They don’t do anything when humans sit in them. And they can’t be destroyed, either. If we try, we hear this crazy roar in our minds. It’s the dragons! The chairs belong to you guys, for you to sit in when you’re in your earthbound form, and that’s why no one else can touch them!”
Blackscale nodded. “You have the truth of it. How did you know? How could humans have forgotten the Schism and remembered this?”
“Educated guess,” I said. “I saw the five chairs in your great hall. Why would those exist here, and five of them, when there’s only one in each of the Runeholds around the world? They must be a holdover from when you and the humans were still allies.”
I turned and began to pace back and forth. “You said they’re called the scrying chairs? That must mean they’re there for coordination and communication over long distances. Like Tess’ telestone. Greystone called that a scrying stone.”
Sarah was frozen stock still, staring at me. Then her eyebrows drew together, and she threw her arms up into the air. “Can we ask Anna and Briggs to do a DNA check or something when we get back? Because there is no way the two of us are related.”
I burst out laughing and leapt into the air, firing a jet of air into my back to flip over her head. “Oh my God, this is the coolest thing ever! I love this world!”
Blackscale’s reptile eyes dilated slightly as he watched me fly around. “You are easily the most excitable human I have ever met,” he said.
“Yeah, that’s Calvin,” said Sarah with a sigh.
“Do you still hold interest in the temple?” said Blackscale. “Or would you perhaps like to return to Nightclaw’s nest and take a nap?”
I shot him a look. “Was that a joke?”
Blackscale’s lips drew back over his teeth, which still looked very sharp.
I laughed. “Better and better. Come on, then. Show us this temple.”
Sarah glanced over the lip of the temple’s entrance, straining to see the others far below us. “Calvin, I think maybe we should head back to the others.”
“Oh, come on,” I said. “We’re supposed to be building an alliance here. How can we do that without learning more about the dragons? This is a part of their culture.”
She rolled her eyes. “Sure, it has nothing to do with the fact that you want to take a field trip.”
I shrugged. “Potato, po-tah-toe.”
“Then follow close,” said Blackscale. “And I will show you the temple. I hope that you will find it enlightening.”
I leapt eagerly to follow him, while Sarah followed behind more reluctantly. At the doorway leading from our platform to the temple proper, she gave one last glance over her shoulder before following us inside.
We found ourselves in a big room, like a cathedral but without any pews. The ceiling was high, high above, with a wide circular hole in the top to let the sunlight in. The walls were lined with shards of broken crystal. The crystal caught the light and shone it all around us in a thousand different colors, providing a sort of warm generic glow throughout the whole room.
“This reminds me of the Giant’s gate,” I said. “With the mirrors on the walls.”
“Our legends speak of the Giants’ tunnels,” said Blackscale. “Though I cannot say whether they learned this art from us, or we from them.”
“It’s very beautiful,” said Sarah, her voice hushed and respectful. I understood; the place was a little over-awing.
The chamber had doors all around the outside, each leading in a different direction. Blackscale took us through the first door on the left. It had the same hole in the roof, the same crystals in the walls to keep everything well-lit. The first room had a huge statue—though nowhere close to life-sized—of a dragon in its natural form, and in earthbound form. The statue lay directly under the hole in the roof.
“How do you keep everything from getting wet or snowy in the winter?” said Sarah. “I mean, the place is practically open to the elements.”
Blackscale shrugged. “What would be the reason? This is a place of stone, formed of the bones of the earth. Water cannot rust it. Wind cannot topple it. Snow will not chill it. It is eternal; a part of the world, not something to hide away from it.”
“Who’s the statue of?” I said. “Is that one of your gods or something?” I gave him a quick glance. “Sorry, that’s not offensive, is it?”
Blackscale looked at me strangely. “Your enchantment gives me a strange word. I do not entirely understand what you mean. But this is the nameless dragon, the first among us, the one who tamed Wyrmspire and claimed it as our own.”
“It was a volcano!” said Sarah. “When it erupted, he summoned so much Air to defeat it that the mountain cooled forever. That’s when he made it the home of the dragons.”
I stared at her, speechless.
Blackscale’s lips drew back over his teeth again. “To hear this story from the tongue of a human fills me with wonder. Whence came you by this knowledge?”
Sarah gave an embarrassed smile and studied her feet. “Greystone told me. Our Watcher. When he first gave me the mission to find Wyrmspire and get the dragons’ help.”
“He is a learned human indeed if he knows the story of the nameless one,” said Blackscale. “Even our own young often dismiss the story, seeing it as only a fable.”
I cocked an eyebrow at Sarah. “And you say we aren’t related?”
Wyrmspire (Realm Keepers Book 2) Page 55
