by Terry Brooks
The dragon, watching intently until now, suddenly dropped his head so that his nose was only inches from Phryne’s outstretched hand. He could hear the rough sound of his breathing, then a sharp snuffle and a grunt that came from deep inside his belly.
“Do you see, Pan? Do you see how he’s reacting? He senses the Elfstones! He smells their magic! That’s what drew him to us! I knew it!”
Certainly, something had brought the dragon to them, Pan thought. He had flown a long enough distance to reach them, flying so straight to where they crossed the foothills that backed up against the mountains and passes leading into their valley home that he couldn’t possibly have arrived by chance alone. Phryne had just finished using the magic to reveal the details of the battle they had heard raging in the distance, and moments later the dragon had appeared.
“What does he want with the magic?” he pressed.
She shook her head. “I don’t know. He wants something, though.” She shifted her focus back to the dragon. “Oh, you lovely, wonderful creature, tell me what it is!”
The dragon lifted and dipped his head again, almost as if acknowledging her question. He positioned his nose just above the Elfstones, waiting to see what she would do. The yellow eyes lidded to slits and his long, black tongue licked out.
Impulsively, Phryne opened her clenched fist, palm up, to reveal the Stones cradled in her fingers.
The dragon shifted his head so that he could better see what she was doing, and when he caught sight of the Elfstones, he emitted a sudden violent sound that fell somewhere between a cough and a bellow. This caused the girl to flinch, but she held her ground as he sniffed into the cup of her palm, and then shook his head as if to acknowledge what she had done.
“It’s the magic that drew you to us, isn’t it?” she whispered. “What is it that you want with it? Do you want me to call it up for you? Is that what you want? Is that what made you come? To see how the magic is made?”
“Phryne …”
Panterra spoke her name softly, wanting to warn her that summoning the magic might have exactly the wrong effect on the creature. He might react in an entirely different way than she expected. If he thought the magic dangerous, a threat to his safety, he could end her life with one snap of his great jaws.
But Phryne was no longer paying attention to him. She was focused exclusively on the dragon, staring into his eyes, watching the way he reacted to her every move. She was enraptured with him, compelled by him. There was a bond between them, Pan realized, one that had begun to form the moment she had revealed the Elfstones and now held them fast.
Then Phryne closed her eyes and went down inside herself in the way she had learned to do when summoning the magic. Pan felt a shock of dismay go through him at the realization that she intended to do exactly what he had feared she might. She was responding to what she believed the dragon wanted of her, but by doing so she was taking a terrible risk.
The magic flared to life, the blue light leaking through the cracks between her fingers, sharp and clear. Instantly the dragon responded, making strange sounds deep in his throat, his eyes no longer lidded but wide open, his nostrils flaring. He snapped his long tail, causing Pan to jump back in spite of his resolve, clouds of dust and clots of earth flying as the spikes raked the ground. Phryne’s eyes snapped open at the sounds of the dragon’s agitation, and she let a little more of the magic escape her fingers. The dragon gave a deep growl, almost a wail, and bobbed his head toward her fist.
“Look, Pan! He wants the magic! He’s entranced!” She was so excited that she was almost hopping as she watched the dragon’s movements, a huge smile spreading across her face. “Oh, he’s so wonderful, isn’t he? He’s perfect!”
She released a short burst of the blue light—just a momentary flash. The dragon lunged toward it, tongue licking out, as if trying to taste it. He snapped at the light as Phryne moved it around experimentally, fascinated with its elusiveness.
“Phryne! Stop playing with him!” Pan was beside himself. “He’s going to get angry!”
She actually laughed then, not in a derisive way, but gleefully. “No, he likes this! He likes being teased! Look at him! He’s having such fun!”
Indeed, it seemed that way. The dragon was shifting this way and that, yellow eyes following the movement of the light, trying to keep up with its quickness. He huffed and snorted and sometimes actually whined like a house pet.
But finally Phryne closed off the light, bringing the magic back inside, and the Elfstones went dark again.
The dragon went very still, waiting. When nothing happened, when the light failed to reappear, he began casting about, searching for it. When that failed to produce results, he looked at Phryne and then spread his great wings and rose into the sky. He soared away, spiraling across the vast blue, and for a moment Pan thought he might be leaving. But then down he came anew, settling right back into the space he had occupied earlier.
Phryne looked over her shoulder at Pan, who was still standing rooted in place, not certain what to do. “You see? He wants to play some more! He wants the light!”
Panterra wasn’t sure about that. The dragon might not be thinking that way. Who knew how dragons thought? But Phryne wasn’t about to listen. She’d captivated the beast, and now she was looking to do something more. Already, she was advancing on him, fearless and confident, holding out the hand with the Elfstones, the light dimmed but the scent of the magic clearly recognizable to the dragon. He sniffed the air, and then as Phryne stopped while still a dozen feet away, the great beast lowered himself to the ground and dropped his head until it was resting against the earth with his horned snout almost touching her.
She walked forward once more, stopping when she was right in front of him. Reaching out the hand that held the Elfstones, she caressed the scales of his great muzzle. Immediately, the dragon lidded his eyes and went very still.
“Phryne?” Pan kept his voice quiet. “What are you doing?”
“Testing a theory,” she answered, not looking at him. “Finding out if something is possible, something … wonderful. Can you hand me your cloak?”
“What?”
“Your cloak. Can you hand it to me?”
He didn’t argue. He removed his travel cloak, folded it over his arm, and walked up beside her. He could see one of the dragon’s eyes fix on him, opening slightly, sharp and baleful. Without looking away from the dragon, he handed Phryne his cloak.
“Step back,” she said quietly. “You’re making him nervous.”
He almost laughed. He was making the dragon nervous? But he did as he was told, backing away slowly, trying not to show how frightened he was, determined not to do anything that would antagonize the beast. Phryne held her ground. It seemed that she felt no fear, that nothing of this business troubled her in the least. Rather, with her face glowing and her smile bright, she seemed eager and excited.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this!” he heard her whisper. “Pan, stay where you are. Don’t move.”
He watched as she moved around to stand right in front of the dragon’s left eye, where he could see her clearly. Stripping off her own cloak, she bound it to Pan’s using the clasps that fastened each about the neck of the wearer. Then she walked to a place just behind the great head, to where the dragon could still see what she was doing, and carefully flipped the joined cloaks across the beast’s neck where it joined to his head and the spikes separated to form a narrow …
He froze with the word on his lips.
Saddle.
“No, Phryne!” he cried out, starting forward.
Instantly the dragon’s head lifted and swung toward him, his jaws parting, and Pan got a very clear and unobstructed view of rows of jagged teeth starting at the tip of the snout and running all the way back into the darkness of the throat. The dragon’s tongue licked out, and he hissed in warning.
Phryne whirled on him. “Stay still, Pan, or he will kill you! You don’t command the magic he craves. I
do. He will do what I say. I can feel it. But I can’t protect you!”
“You can’t protect yourself!” Pan snapped back.
“That remains to be seen. That’s what we’re going to find out!” She was moving toward the makeshift saddle, the hand with the Elfstones held out toward the dragon, holding his attention. She had summoned the magic anew, and it was flaring within her fist, shards of it clearly discernible. The dragon watched her carefully.
“Don’t do this!” he said, angry now and afraid. “You can’t ride a dragon!”
“I think I can. I think I’ve found my way back to the Elves. I think this is how I can reach them and how I can help them.” She was standing right next to the dragon, looking up at the layer of cloaks, unable to reach them from the ground. She looked back at him. “Will you help me up?”
He shook his head. “I can’t do that.”
“Can’t or won’t, Pan?”
“Either one. This is crazy!”
“Please!”
“Phryne, forget this.”
“No. I won’t do that. I know I’m right.” She saw what was in his eyes. “You don’t believe me? Then, watch this.”
She must have known in her heart, in some way he would never understand, what would happen when she let the blue light escape in a thin stream that spilled to the ground right beneath the dragon’s jaws. At once the great head lowered, eyes fixing on the light. When she lifted the light skyward, the dragon looked up, head leaving its resting place, wings beginning to spread.
Quickly, she canted the Elfstone magic down again. “I can control him with the light. I can make him move the way I want. I can guide him.”
“You can’t know what will happen once you get up in the air!” Pan was frantic, trying to find a way to make her rethink what she was about to do. “How will you even hold on once you’re flying?”
“Help me up, and I’ll show you.”
She looked at him, waiting. For a moment, they faced each other in silence, and he saw her remarkable features clearly—the upsweep of her eyebrows and ears; the lean, narrow face with its delicate bones; the eyes that could be blue one moment and hazel the next; the honey-colored hair, tousled and lank from their travels; and the sleek, beautiful shape of her body.
“Pan,” she said, “my people are dying. I have to try to help them. I can’t reach them in time to do anything that matters if I can’t get the dragon to fly me there. I think he came to me for that reason. Not intentionally, but because of fate or chance or something beyond what we understand. He’s a gift. Please, let me use him.”
Pan took a quick breath and exhaled. Without a word—so deeply in love in that moment he could barely stand it—he walked over to her. He formed a cup with his hands and bent to offer her a foothold. She leaned down and kissed him on the face, then put her foot in his clasped hands and boosted herself onto the dragon’s neck.
Pan stepped back. The dragon did not react to the sudden change in weight. He stayed where he was, watching the play of the Elfstone magic against the earth in front of him. He seemed almost oblivious to the presence of his rider.
“Now tie the ends of the cloaks together beneath his neck,” she said.
Again, Pan did what was asked, his efforts painstakingly cautious, the heat of the dragon’s breath raw and sharp against his skin as the beast bent close to watch.
“Let me go with you,” he said.
But Phryne Amarantyne shook her head. “He won’t allow it. He won’t permit anyone to ride him but me. I can sense it, Pan. This gift is mine and mine alone. I have to do this by myself. You have to let me.”
He started to protest and then stopped himself. He knew it was useless, that she wouldn’t relent.
“Take the staff and go back to Glensk Wood and Prue,” she told him. “Find out what has happened there. You have to help your people, too.”
Her hands stripped off the belt she was wearing, and she hooked it to a cluster of knobs and horns directly in front of her, cinching it tight. She placed her free hand on the belt, securing her grip.
“You see, Pan?” She smiled. “I won’t fall off.”
She raised the blue light to eye level, and the dragon’s head swept up. The huge body shifted and the beast came to his feet, wings spread wide. Pan moved back, giving him more space, his eyes still on Phryne. But she wasn’t looking at him anymore, her gaze shifting between the dragon and the distant north.
Then she swept the Elfstone light skyward in a blaze of bright azure, and the dragon lifted away, his great wings flapping, his body stretching out, and his spiked tail whipping sideways.
“Good-bye, Pan!” Phryne called back to him.
Unable to take his eyes away, helpless to prevent what was happening, Panterra Qu watched as she dwindled to a tiny speck. He could not believe she had done this. Impulsive, unpredictable, and even selfish, she was nevertheless intelligent enough to know when she was placing herself in danger, and yet she seemed not to have realized that here. In a single rash and impulsive act, she had thrown away all caution and placed herself in the hands of a fate that could easily betray her.
And she had abandoned him.
He stood there, stunned and hurt. He watched until she had disappeared into the aether, and then he knew he had lost her.
PHRYNE AMARANTYNE WAS CRYING, TEARS STREAMING down her cheeks, blurring her vision.
It might have been the heartbreak she was feeling at having left Panterra Qu, who had risked his life for her, had come to save her when no one else could, and whom she had now abandoned, choosing instead to go to her people.
It might have been the joy that flooded through her as she flew astride the dragon, soaring into the blue, becoming one with clouds and mist and distant places that maybe no one else would ever see, free and filled with wonder and a deep, abiding sense of pleasure.
Or it might simply have been the wind, whipping past her face, chilly and raw and stinging.
But she wouldn’t have traded her blurry, damp eyes and discomfort for anything in those moments. She had never felt anything like this—never even imagined it was possible. In truth, though driven to ride the dragon, though convinced she could, she had doubted herself. Dragons, after all, did not exist. Riding a dragon was a dream. But now she was living that dream, doing the impossible, and the exhilaration she was experiencing was overwhelming.
Her discomfort and tears did not last. Even after only a short time, she felt as if she had been doing this all her life. The dragon’s huge body undulated as it flew, and soon she was anticipating its rhythm. She began to feel comfortable with the steady motion. Her hands explored the huge scales just in front of where she sat, her fingers tracing their rough surfaces. They felt like flat stones, but they were warm to the touch. She could hear them creaking as they rubbed against one another. Her perch began to feel safe and secure, and the fears she’d had at the beginning that she might lose her balance and fall disappeared.
North, the first shadings of twilight crept into the heights of the mountains that ringed her valley home, spilling over the rocky cliff edges to begin their downward slide toward the foothills and the mouth of Aphalion Pass. She could neither see nor hear the battle being fought there, but she knew from the vision shown her by the Elfstones that its outcome hung in the balance. She urged the dragon on by force of will, the pressure of her legs against its scaly neck, and judicious use of the Elfstone magic that directed her toward her destination. Torn between emotions, riddled with guilt and need, she knew one thing and one thing only.
She had to reach the Elves in time to save them.
She had to fulfill the task she had set herself so that all she had gone through and all she had risked would mean something.
The dragon flew on, his efforts swift and steady, and the mountains began to come into sharper focus. Phryne worried that the beast would lose interest in chasing after the Elfstone magic, and to prevent that from happening she shifted the blue light just enough to make sure she
was keeping his attention. Once or twice, she even maneuvered the light close enough for the long tongue to lick out and touch it. Maybe that helped, or maybe the dragon just liked the idea of the pursuit. Whatever the case, he showed no signs of becoming distracted. Nothing else seemed to be competing for his attention. He was content just to sail along, tracking what amounted to little more than colored air.
Still, she reminded herself, it was Elven magic; it would have properties of its own, ones that Phryne could neither see nor understand, yet perhaps the dragon could.
She thought of Panterra often, remembering the night she had given herself to him. Why had she done that? It was a spur-of-the-moment decision, made when her emotional pain demanded that comfort of some sort be found. It was difficult to explain. She didn’t love him. Or maybe she did love him, in her own way; certainly he was in love with her. But what was the point? Even if she had wanted something more with him, she couldn’t have it. Everything prevented it: from her father’s murder and Isoeld’s treachery to the invading Drouj and their efforts to overcome the Elven defenses to the possibility that she might soon become Queen of the Elves. And Pan’s own situation was no less difficult. Pursued by a demon, saddled with the responsibilities of a black staff bearer, searching once again for Prue, and trying to help keep Glensk Wood and its people safe from the Drouj—it all stood in the way of anything that either Pan or she might wish would happen.
She felt herself growing tired, the energy and excitement she had felt earlier sapped by time’s passage and her emotional and physical exhaustion. She wondered how long she had been flying. She wondered how much farther she had to go.
Once, she found herself falling asleep, rocked by the motion of the dragon’s body, lulled into a dangerous drowsiness, and she jerked awake just in time to keep from sliding off the dragon’s neck. It scared her enough that she vowed angrily she wouldn’t allow it to happen again.
