“Let’s go,” Petal said, breaking the silence.
Toli turned the sled with an ache in her chest. They would pass the rest of the night with their loved ones. The city of the dead waited.
Stay away from the pass.
—Spar
CHAPTER TWELVE
The statues of the dead grew against the horizon until it seemed as if the sled approached a crowd of people, backs turned, staring toward some shared dream.
Toli pulled to a stop at the outer edge of the Necropolis. The nearest statues were of those who had died most recently. They got older the farther out they stretched, those in each row becoming more worn and less recognizable. In the distance, the ancestors were rubbed to lumps, crumbling, their wind-scoured edges suggesting form and nothing more.
Ruby hissed.
Wix hadn’t said a word. His face was still, but thoughts flickered behind his hazel eyes like a storm. He got out of the sled and busied himself setting up the raised stonetree base and platform where they would build their small cooking fire.
As Petal made soup, Toli walked among the statues. Ruby had gone back to sleep across her shoulders, her stomach gurgling against Toli’s neck.
The statues, raised on blocks of ice, looked down on her as she passed. Many she recognized. There was Roxanne the hunter. She had fallen while running after a bison and hit her head on the ice. Lazar stood next to her—an old carver who had died in his bed several winters ago.
Halfway along the next row she paused, goose bumps rising over her arms. Mykala. The little girl was only six when she died of a cough that had wrapped her up and sealed her in.
Somewhere nearby, there would be a statue of the queen’s consort. Toli swallowed and moved away. She spoke to the permanent statue of her father in the Hunters’ Shrine in Gall all the time, but that was different. The Necropolis was made just for Nya, and each statue would wear and fade. Just the thought of him standing out here, among all the rest, made his life seem smaller somehow. Her throat tightened.
She would leave this remembrance of him to the Daughter Moon. She didn’t want to see it. Her heart couldn’t take any more loss.
Toli moved out several rows. Five years back now.
She hadn’t realized she was looking for Wix’s mother until she came to Roma’s statue. Roma had only been a little bit taller than Toli was now, but Toli remembered her as being taller. She wore her hair loose like Petal did, with every strand etched in loving memory. She held a bundle in her arms. A baby girl. They’d left the world that way—together.
It was, in every way, a masterpiece, as if Belgar Walerian, Wix’s father, had poured all of his life force into it. And he had.
She’d seen it.
Roma’s wide, kind face was so much like her, Toli instantly recalled the warmth of her laughter as she gave out handfuls of ice-worm fritters to the children—and the way her hands were always warm, no matter how cold the wind.
Toli startled as Wix appeared at her side.
He brushed away the snow that had gathered, sticking to his mother’s hair and the shadows of her face. “She was the best mother I could ever have asked for.”
Toli stilled, unsure of how to respond. Her hood grew lighter as Ruby slipped out. She let the dragon go. Toli glanced at Wix. His face was stormy. Say something, Toli, she thought, scrambling for words that would make him feel better. “Your mom made really good fritters,” she whispered at last, edging closer to him.
Wix’s mouth twitched. “Yeah. She did.”
The aurora streaked the sky as they stood, side by side, in the gleam of starlight. Ruby scampered up one statue after another, peering into each face, sniffing at them and fluffing out her ruff of feathers. She was like a streak of fire—a streak of life in the field of gray and silver memories.
When the cold bit too deep, they returned to the fire and ate Petal’s soup, which was much tastier than it had any right to be. Ruby wouldn’t eat any, though her stomach growled louder than it had before they stopped. She slipped back into Toli’s hood, curling up there with a low rattle. They huddled over the last bit of their fire.
Petal frowned. “I remember when I first heard about the sea. I was helping Rasca slice mushrooms for drying, and she told me that in the old tales—the really old ones—there were stories about the water that covered the world.” She huffed her breath. “I never really believed there could be such a thing, you know? Even though it’s spoken of in the Telling. Rasca said that in the old tales, the sea stretched beyond the mountains of Ire. She said it never lay flat and steady like the ice. She said it rolled.”
Wix laughed. “What do you mean, it rolled?”
“I mean, the whole thing—all that water, filled with salt and dark as the sky. It was never still.” She paused, staring past Toli. “It was like you said in the Telling. The whole thing could heave up and swallow you. I’ve tried to imagine it, but I can’t see it.”
Wix pulled a face.
“Rasca told me that the surface would rise up, again and again, into these long, racing swells. They’d travel across the surface toward the land like an army.”
Toli shivered.
“She said the old stories talked about gigantic creatures deep under the water where the slosh and foam wouldn’t find them.” Petal looked up, her eyes wide. “Toli, what if that ocean is still there—still here—under the ice, waiting and watching?”
“It isn’t.” Toli shook her head. “It can’t be.”
“There’s water in the fishing holes.”
“That’s different.”
“Is it? I don’t know. And what do you think happened to the people who first told those stories of the sea—the descendants of those early Tellers? Some of them must have lived in Gall, but what about the rest? Did they die? What did they do when the ice came?”
“Hailfire,” Wix breathed. “When you think, you don’t mess around.”
Petal pulled something out of her pocket and held it out to Toli. “Look at this.”
“What is it?” Toli reached out her hand.
“Rasca gave it to me for my birthday last year. She told me it’s called Memory of the Sea.”
Toli’s breath caught as she took the shining object in her palm. It was a curling tube that wrapped around itself. Shaped almost like the moon, it glowed like the white scale of the Dragon-Mother but was made of something different altogether. It had a hollow entrance at the wide end, like the opening of an ice cave.
“I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Wix held out his hand. Petal dropped it into his palm. “Nice work,” he said, holding it close to his face. “Better than my dad’s, even.”
Toli shot Petal a look as she took Memory of the Sea from Wix’s hand. “Do you just carry it with you everywhere?”
“I like it.” Petal blushed. “I feel like it brings me luck. According to some of the oldest stories, there were creatures in the sea, before the ice came, that lived in homes something like this. I think it’s called a shell.” Petal’s smile widened. “Put it to your ear.”
Toli gave her a puzzled look but lifted the open end to her ear. Her mouth fell open. “The wind song! I hear the wind.”
“It’s not the wind. At least that’s what Rasca told me when I first lifted it to my ear. That is the sound of water—the rushing of the sea.”
Toli handed the shell to Wix as she turned to her sister. “How do you know so much?”
Petal shrugged, her star-blue eyes glued to Toli. “I pay attention, I guess.” She slipped the cunning carving back into whatever hidden pocket she had taken it from.
Dragon Mountain was a sharp, black shadow, closer now than Toli had ever seen it before. It began to take up the horizon in front of them.
Toli itched to leave the dead behind. A dark thought crawled through her mind, threatening to leave her helpless in its wake. If she didn’t reach the Mountain in time, her mother might soon have a statue here—watching Nya rise, but never seeing her light.
She looked out across the bitter ice. The howl of the night wind would only freeze their eyes and split the pads of the foxes’ paws. She had to be smarter than her heart wanted her to be.
They would wait. Strengthen themselves while they could. Toli lifted her chin. She remembered Spar’s lessons. She wouldn’t let her fears rush her into failure.
Together, they spread out the furs and leatherleaf tarp under the sled, lying down to get a few hours’ sleep huddled together—the kids and the foxes, and Ruby.
* * *
Toli awoke just as Nya’s first light began to gleam against the faces of the dead. Petal was already up and out. Ruby pulled herself out from under the furs to climb up to Toli’s shoulder, her golden eyes blinking awake.
Wix lay curled in the pile of fur and foxes, his face younger, somehow, in sleep. Instead of waking him, she grabbed a handful of jerky and dried tree conks and went to find her sister. It was time to go.
Toli called Petal’s name, searching for her as she moved through the glistening rows of statues. She stroked Ruby’s tail as she walked. The dragon gave a low rattle of satisfaction, and Toli couldn’t help wondering if she missed her Dragon-Mother the way Toli missed hers. Did it matter that they had never met? Would Ruby know her when they met?
She stopped, surrounded by the dead. How many rows were there, she wondered. Had anyone counted? She was ten years back now, where most of the statues had lost the sharpness of their features. Their faces were worn. Some had piles of ice at their feet where a piece had crumbled away. She called her sister again. Where was she?
And then, in an instant, she knew where to find Petal. Her stomach sank as she turned, walking back toward the newest row of statues.
The sound of Petal crying caught on the wind, and Toli hurried toward the noise, past the statue of a woman hunter who she did not recognize, then around the bulky form of Pushku Damsin, who had been a good friend of Rasca’s and had helped her in the kitchen for a time. She spotted her sister and stiffened, her heart lurching into her throat.
Petal stood, high on their father’s frozen feet, sobbing against his icy shoulder. A painful ache filled Toli’s chest as she stood watching her stroke his cheek, her black hair draped across his arm.
The sudden heaviness in her chest made it hard to breathe.
Their father’s gentle face, unmoved and unmoving, stared into the distance at Nya’s growing light.
A ping of hail hit the ice. “Petal?” Toli reached out.
Petal turned, tears streaking her cheeks. She dropped to the ground. More hail fell to the ice as Toli tried to think of something to say.
Ruby’s hiss was their only warning. “Sisssster,” the little dragon snarled as a heavy whoosh of wind drove them sideways, washing them in the sharp smell of electricity.
Toli recognized the sound of wings and was moving before she could think. She grabbed Petal’s shoulders. “Hide!”
Petal ducked behind the statue, her eyes wide, as Toli raced toward the open ice where Wix slept beneath the sled.
My bow, she thought as a burst of flame blasted above her. It melted the hailstones into puffs of steam that hung in the air and clung to her clothes. Under the sled, the foxes gave terrified yips.
As Krala touched down, Ruby burst upward with a cry.
Wix appeared at Toli’s side, two bows in his hands. He handed her one.
Deep, breathy laughter echoed through the air. The huge black dragon shimmered in the morning glow of the aurora lights. Above them, Ruby hovered, baring her teeth.
Toli’s hair stood on end as she turned to face the enormous dragon. Wix, his face pale, stepped closer to her.
Krala’s talons gripped the ice as she shook her wings in a sleek disturbance of blue-black feathers. Unlike her brother, and Ruby, she had no ruff. As Krala lifted her neck into a graceful arch, Toli noticed for the first time the two narrow black horns that crested her head.
“So you do have her,” Krala hissed, her slit pupils narrowing. “You lied to me, Firstborn.”
The dragon moved toward them, her talons clicking on the ice. Hail bounced off her iridescent scales with tiny pings. Ruby blew a scorch of fire, moving to block Krala’s path.
Toli lifted her chin. Bright static crackled in the air as Krala’s long snout split in a toothy grin. She opened her jaws with a roar, snapping at the young dragon.
“Ruby!” Toli cried, reaching out.
Ruby beat her wings, skating backward in the air, just out of reach of Krala’s jaws.
Krala snarled, then inhaled deeply, eyeing Ruby. “What a delightful scent. It reminds me of my seethe.” She paused, leaning slowly closer, her nostrils flaring. “And somewhat of dinner.”
“Out running errands for your Dragon-Mother?” Toli shouted up at her. They hadn’t had time to turn the sled over again, and hail pounded the underside like an army of drums. “What do you want?” she called, standing tall and refusing to flinch under the sharp onslaught of the falling ice.
Krala chuckled. “Bold words for a bone bag. The Mother still seeks her special little stone. I am not alone in the search.”
Toli spoke through clenched teeth. “And you don’t really want to find her—do you?”
Krala ignored her, her gaze falling on Ruby. “But of all the brethren, I alone found you. I alone know where the Mother’s frostborn child is now.”
“You can’t have her,” Petal cried, stepping out from behind a statue. A chunk of ice flew over Toli’s head, pelting Krala in the chest. The dragon startled, coughing a burst of steam.
“You were never looking for a stone! Get out of here, liar!” Petal shouted, throwing another fist-sized block. “Go away!”
Toli gasped. “Petal, stop! Go back!”
Krala burst into a delighted snarl of laughter and blew a blast of flame over their heads toward Petal.
“Petal!” Toli screamed.
“I’m okay,” her sister called from behind a dripping mass of ice that had been a person’s likeness moments before.
“Stay where you are, Petal,” Wix called.
“Your insult means nothing, puny bite,” Krala said, rattling as she turned to Toli. “It is you who are the liar, Princess. And I see you’ve been … busy,” she added, flicking her eyes toward Wix. The dragon’s pupils dilated as she spotted the dried blood on his shirt. A thin strand of drool dripped from the corner of her mouth. “I see you met with beetles. They do love their snacks, don’t they?”
Toli’s throat went dry.
“What can we do for you?” Wix called up. He couldn’t hide the shake in his voice.
“So polite! Very nice. Very nice manners … and in such bad weather.” Krala huffed. “I did not think any of your people would be foolish enough to be out here … in the open … where anyone could spot you easily. I see I gave you too much credit. I confess, I thought the youngling lost, nor did I expect to find you here, Firstborn.
“But now I see you do have her, as my brother suspected, and so I wonder … I wonder. What is it that you think you’re doing, Princess?” The dragon was perhaps two hundred yards away, but now she edged closer, her voice dropping to a hiss. “Tell me. Why are you out on the ice, when your people are at home by the fire?”
From the corner of her eye, Toli saw a muscle in Wix’s jaw tighten, his knuckles taut where he gripped his bow. Toli’s heart raced as Krala’s face split in a wide grin, blowing another burst of flame over their heads. The dragon chuckled as the hail turned to steam, drifting down to soak their clothes.
The dragon lowered her gaze to meet Toli’s. “Return her to me. I will give you food.”
Toli glanced up to where Ruby hovered. “We don’t want your food.”
Krala’s eyes widened. “Yes, of course you want food, stupid creature.” She shot forward, cutting the distance between them in half. “It doesn’t do to be rude to one’s betters, you know.” Krala paused. “Or so I’m told.”
Toli felt the blood drain from her cheeks.
“Very well, Firstborn. No food. Still, you will return the youngling to me.”
Ruby hissed, dropping down onto Toli’s shoulder. Toli reached up to stroke the little dragon’s head. “I don’t think she wants to go.” She paused. If Krala had taken Ruby’s chrysalis—if she did want Ruby dead—would she admit it? “Besides,” she added, “there’s no need.”
Krala rattled a warning. “And why is that, Firstborn? Why is there … no need?”
Toli lifted her chin. “Because we’re taking her to the Dragon-Mother ourselves.”
Krala grew still. “Is that so?” Her nostrils flared. “The puny bite who so bravely hurled ice and insults is your brethren, I think. A sister, perhaps? I wonder—would a secondborn taste different from a first?”
“Leave her alone!”
Krala gave a deep rattle, and though Toli’s knees quivered, she stepped forward, looking up into the dragon’s face. She lifted one hand for Wix to stay where he was as her damp clothes froze in the wind. A shiver raced over her shoulders.
“Poor things. My little joke made your clothes wet, didn’t it? And in this terrible cold.” The dragon leaned down. “Shall I … warm you?”
Toli cringed as Ruby clutched at her shoulder.
Krala took a deep breath, closing her eyes. She snickered. “Tell me, Firstborn, did the youngling, by chance, eat any of those beetles that attacked you?”
Ruby tried to rattle, but all that came out was a series of halfhearted clicks.
Toli stilled. “What if she did?”
Krala tipped her face to the sky, bursting into a full-throated laugh. “Oh, very good. Oh, that’s perfect. I expect that will be quite … surprising for you both.”
“What do you mean?” Wix stepped up to Toli’s side, casting a worried look at her. Krala’s long scaled tail undulated across the ice. “They are poison to us. She will likely die before you reach the Mountain.”
“No,” Toli whispered.
“Yessss,” Krala hissed.
A stab of alarm and adrenaline raced through Toli’s veins. She studied Krala’s face for any sign that she was lying, but found none—at least no sign Toli could see. Then again, Spar said lying came as easily to dragons as breathing. “You’re lying,” she ground out. “Dragons lie.”
Rise of the Dragon Moon Page 13
