Dragon Bone

by J. D. Cavalida

  "You could sit here with me. It doesn't really help, but I don't mind it." Snow lowered his eyes to the dragon's overlapping scales. "You might get cold, though."

  "I like the rain," Elstrin said, repeating Vel's (and many months ago, Kana's) words. He paused, feeling that typical nagging at the back of his mind, the precursor to asking a question he was sure only Snow could answer. "Snow, what was she talking about? Lilea. The… Sikitor, or however it's pronounced? What did she want from Rem in the first place?"

  Snow's jaw clenched the tiniest amount. "I'd prefer to not talk about that."

  Bittersweet amusement tugged the corner of Elstrin's mouth up. "No unnecessary questions? Again? You know I can't help myself." After a stretch of silence, he glanced at the headstone. Up close, he realised it was older than it looked: clean from the rain, but veined with small cracks, crisp edges eroded into bluntness over the years. The inscription simply read, It is not such a terrible thing, child. The damp flowers laid out at its foot were week-old white roses. It seemed more harmless to be curious about it, unlike the topic of the Laughing Widow. "Whose grave is this?"

  "I don't know. Rem put it here a long time ago, when this tree was just a sapling. What does the epitaph say?"

  "Huh? You can't read it?"

  "It changes from person to person."

  "Oh. It says, 'It is not such a terrible thing, child.'" It sounded strange when he read it out loud. Almost like someone was talking through him. He trembled minutely, and the sensation passed. "What does it say for you?"

  "It's blank."

  For some reason, that seemed to hurt Snow the most, seemed to hammer home his loneliness into the deepest parts of his being. Elstrin felt a sort of half-sympathy for him; he couldn't manage the proper thing, because he was certain that the lowest point he'd ever experienced was nothing compared to what Snow was going through right now. All he knew beyond a shadow of doubt was that he wanted it to stop. "I'm sorry, Snow. I really am. I—I wish you'll get better soon."

  Snow's hand twitched, and his thumb began a slow, circular sweep over Gille's forehead. The dragon half-closed its eye, letting out a content puff of breath. He frowned very slightly. "I'll have to, won't I?"

  "Well, I—I mean, don't rush yourself or anything," Elstrin stammered, afraid that he'd worded something wrong. "I just meant I hope everything works out in the end, however long it might take. Just—go at your own pace. As long as it works."

  "Of course I can't do that."

  "What?" Elstrin was taken aback and getting confused. Snow sounded… stern. A very familiar variety of sternness, the kind he used when Elstrin made the same mistake again and again on the training field because he wasn't paying attention to something obvious. "Why not?" Elstrin asked. Nearly demanded it.

  Snow's lips twitched up. Almost a smile. More than enough to stun Elstrin speechless and make sudden hope bloom in his chest. "Because you start firearms next week."

  Chapter 26

  Calidrius woke with a start. Shivers ran down his spine, strange sparks danced over his vision. His fingers were shaking and cool. He stayed where he was, stock-still, listening to the hammering of his heart. He waited. Counted the seconds. Then it came—pain, quick blinding stabs all across his body, pain that he knew wasn't really there but could do nothing to stop. His muscles locked, jaw clenching, struggling to breathe as his skull split apart slowly. Things lurched drunkenly and his memory faltered, came back. Cal forced words past his convulsing windpipe, his sluggish tongue. "Sen—wake up—"

  Luckily, the man lying next to him was already doing that, lulled from sleep by some amazing sixth-sense trouble radar. Sen mumbled, frowned, and all at once shot awake, scrambling off the bed with a yelp, clutching his shoulder where a burst of flame had singed him. "The fuck—" he started to accuse, but paused when he saw…whatever it was. Cal wasn't sure what it looked like: his eyes were clamped shut, an involuntary reaction to the mounting agony. "Cal?" Sen said, alarmed. "Cal, what the hell is—"

  "Don't touch me," Cal gasped. His arms and legs were numb, and the air tasted empty, and behind his eyelids he saw bright patterns of fire criss-crossing over everything. "Don't do anything. It's okay—I'm going away for a bit—I—" He arched up with a scream, bones grinding themselves up, the pain so pure it had a sound, a discordant squeal of metal and falling bombs. The world flashed white and took him away.

  Flash. Teal ocean filled with silver fish—no—jagged mountains of stone, shimmering with ice and minerals, little grey village nestled comfortably in their cloudy depths—no—rowdy downtown bar strip, drunken men and giggling prostitutes, sound of punches and spilt blood—no—quiet neighbourhood, a kid sleeping fitfully—no—dusty ashy burnt-out desert—no—grassland, empty of civilisation, eroded ruins and a big, still lake—no—no wait, yes, yes that was the place—he pulled around, spinning a million revolutions a second, a thousand limbs dragging along behind him in the liquid slipstream of time, skin rippling inside-out with the pearly hues of an oyster shell. His form came apart in a magnificent peacock fan of fire and wind. It sucked through the lush-green-ruins-lake window and folded up neatly again, a pillar of orange flame to char the grass and heat the soil beneath his bare feet.

  Cal landed, and the surprise of not falling over almost made him fall over anyway. Soft dirt between his toes. No shoes—where were his shoes? And pants. He was in boxers and a t-shirt. He took a while to gather his shaken-apart thoughts and memories. Sleeping. He'd been sleeping, next to Sen, and then this thing had yanked him straight here with a distress signal so strong he had no choice but to follow it. Oh, god. He felt queasy and drug-high and lazy and sad all at the same time. He sat down heavily with a huff, sliding his feet over the cool blades of grass, and took a minute to calm down. He hadn't travelled like that in a long, long time, and now he remembered why—the sheer weirdness of it wasn't really worth it. Even in emergencies, there were usually alternatives that wouldn't fry his brain like this.

  Usually. Cal shoved aside the emotions that didn't belong with an out-of-place laugh and a quick shudder, stood up again and looked around. Grass everywhere, healthy and knee-high, carpeting the land in an unbroken sea of green. Thick-leaved trees clustered around the side of a huge lake with a surface smooth enough to completely reflect the blue sky and fluffy clouds above. A scattered bunch of old stone ruins spilled into the lake and disappeared into the foliage. It was eerily silent apart from the sporadic splash of water or warble of an unseen bird or whisper of wind. Cal paced around the lake, towards the ruins. An annoying sense of quiet elation lingered in his blood, sent his heart jumping and his fingers twitching with eagerness.

  He stepped closer to the water and the feeling instantly scaled up several magnitudes, making him gasp and stop. He gaped at the lake, at the impossibly rich store of energy inside it, just sitting there, an oasis in plain sight. He could taste it, like the sharp crunch of honeysuckle and lemons, like the summery, drunken perfume of wildflowers heavy with pollen. If he wanted, he could swallow it, this whole unexpected treasure trove—it was power that felt old and friendly on a base level, power cast by one of his kind. Power he hadn't thought he'd ever encounter in such a staggering amount. Whoever put it here…

  Very cautiously, Cal edged to the water's rim and touched his palm to its clear skin. For a

  moment it just felt like water, cool and thin—then the energy rushed up at him, excited and keen and so overwhelmingly potent he nearly lost his balance. It had the happy enthusiasm of a hundred puppies, and he caught himself smiling widely, unable to help it. The energy swam about his being, scanning and accessing him. It was intelligent and quick, containing too many facets to count; its glittering consciousness was like the inside of a huge beehive, the uneven mirrors of its structure flashing questions and lightning-fast observations. Cal knelt there and let it. Behind the initial surge of joy, they were two wary animals circling around each other. Strangers, for the time being. Cal was certain he knew the power sweeping through hi
m. He'd felt it before, so long ago he'd forgotten, but some instinctive voice told him to stay respectful. Something much larger than him had visited this place and siphoned off part of its soul into the land, and he didn't think it was meant for him.

  Correct, the energy chuckled, and Cal started at the clarity of the voice, jerking back. His hand left the water. The energy swished around once more with a laugh before retreating back into the lake. Shaken, Cal watched its surface shiver and ripple with strands of light. They linked together like a basket weaving itself, under and over the water, until a tall, humanoid figure stood upon the lake. Water flowed up to cocoon its bright frame, like transparent muscles snaking up a circulatory system made of sunlight.

  Finally with something tangible to talk to, Cal said, "Don't do that again, please. Speaking in my head. I don't like the feeling."

  The person walked closer, a glassy statue shot through with refracted rainbow splinters, moving with a solid, heavy grace, its feet melding into the lake with every step. It paused when it was several paces from Cal and inclined its head. "My apologies," it said, multilayered voice gleeful as a child's and sombre enough for a funeral. "Hello, Calidrius."

  "Hello. I'm afraid I don't remember you." Cal studied the gleaming, shifting scribble of energy encased in the water. It pulsed with gold-blue-pink-green hues. Familiar. He just couldn't place it.

  "Oh, a shame," it sighed. "You may call me Telum."

  "Telum," Cal repeated. The name sounded ancient; part of something else. "Did you call me here?"

  "No."

  "Then who did?"

  "The one you and I must help. He shall arrive shortly."

  "Oh. Okay. I'm always up for helping people," Cal shrugged. He glanced at the empty line of the horizon. "Where am I?"

  "Five thousand kilometres from the Mernot Army Base Headquarters."

  "Mernot…." Cal frowned, his memories still jumbled, then it clicked. "Rem!"

  Telum nodded.

  "What happened? What's he done? A few months ago some kid barged into his safe room—but I didn't think it was anything too terrible. Why is he…oh, shit, did he cut himself?"

  "I am afraid so," Telum said solemnly.

  "But—" Cal spluttered. Fucking hell. Rem was too sick for something like that. He knew that. "God, I need to find him. Where is he now?"

  "He shall arrive shortly."

  "Yeah, but where—" He jumped as a dense, prickly wave of power washed over him, a metallic touch of cold oil and dry ice. Cal spun around, scanned the grassland again—there. A fragile cloud of gathering light hanging in the air some fifty metres away, almost lost against the glare of the sky. He sprinted towards it as it sputtered and started to fade. Cursing, Cal dredged up a burst of energy from the tight coil inside him, ripped it free—painful, but he didn't care—and forced it out into the physical world, a ball of flame cupped in his hands. He lobbed it at the pale blue light. For a terrible moment it seemed the impact would simply smash the weak energy apart, but with a shudder and a deep buzz, the fire turned indigo and melted into the fragmented shards. Cal felt a peculiar, sudden emptiness as his power was absorbed, as if part of the air in his lungs had disappeared.

  The swirling portal gave a final throb and whooshed away to reveal Rem. Cal skid to a stop right

  as he crumpled, managed to catch him before he hit the ground. He was shaking and cold and white, apart from the startlingly red blood that dripped from his mouth as he rasped and choked. Cal cradled his head and fed him a steady stream of energy, alarmed by the strange, diseased blocks of shadow floating in the almost-drained space that was Rem's soul. Even brushing against them made Cal cringe, made his skin crawl. Rem coughed and whimpered, pushing weakly at Cal's chest, trying to get away. They weren't very compatible, and the line of fire Cal was forcing into him must've hurt, but Cal would have none of his struggling. He combed his fingers through Rem's sweat-damp hair and hummed a soft tune from his childhood, a measurelessly old melody only he knew. Funny how he could remember that and not the thing that Telum came from.

  It calmed Rem by small increments, stilled his frantic gasping and struggling. These things often did: private little secrets that they all somehow knew about, snatches of meaningless history from times they hadn't shared but felt familiar with all the same. Eventually, Rem blinked slowly against his shirt, fingers curling into the fabric, his face still stained with red but not so deathly pale anymore. His eyes were a lighter shade of blue-grey than the last time Cal had seen him, two hundred years ago. Washed-out and exhausted.

  "Hi," Rem whispered.

  Cal brushed stray locks of white hair from Rem's face, feeling like he was halfway in a dream.

  Like he'd tripped over and fell down all wrong and had a long, wacky hallucination and now he was waking up to resume what he vividly remembered doing two hundred years ago—stroking Rem's hair and praying he'd be okay. The only times Cal had ever prayed. Not that it did any good.

  "Rem," he greeted softly. "You stupid kid."

  "I didn't know…" Rem coughed and dragged a hand across his lips, smearing blood over his wrist. He stared at it, blearily amazed. "I didn't think it would get that bad. I'm sorry. I panicked."

  "Good thing you did, then, 'cause I just saved you," Cal said dryly. "It would've been really embarrassing if you keeled over and died five feet from your destination."

  Rem made a small approximation of a laugh, then frowned. "Oh? I'm here?"

  "Can't you feel it?"

  "I feel…something bright and golden and too good to touch. Isn't that you? And…I feel pain."

  "Sorry, I'm the pain part. You never could stand me for more than a couple of seconds."

  "I wish I could," Rem murmured. His eyes threatened to drift closed, and Cal shook him a little. "Mm. I'm awake."

  "Can you walk? You could go meet this too-good-to-touch person. Apparently it's called Telum.

  I'm not sure who put it there, but it's really, really pretty. Come on, Rem. It's not far," Cal coaxed.

  Rem groaned and slumped when Cal eased him upright. His legs visibly shook; he was fighting for breath again, palm pressed against his temple. He took one step forward and almost fell. Cal steadied him. He looked at the lake. Telum stood there like a sentinel, watching their jerky progress silently.

  "Ah…yes. I feel it," Rem said, eyes narrowed, teeth bared and bloodied but expression suddenly fierce. His next step was smoother, and the next, until he only clutched Cal's arm instead of leaning against him.

  "That's great—" Cal started to say, but then a pair of phantom hands snatched at his ankle and swiped underneath his back, tossing him through the air like a rag doll before he could even yell out. He landed hard on his side, spluttered away grass in his mouth, and shouted indignantly, "I told you—don't touch me!"

  Rem stared with wide, alarmed eyes. "What—"

  Cal held up a finger. "Wait for it. He'll realise any second now that shifting my passive body when I'm in two places at once is a bad, bad idea, especially when I'm so far away, and—fuck!" Another yank, back the way he'd come, so he sprawled ungracefully by Rem's feet. It was his turn to groan at the ungentle landing. "Ow. Fucking hell."

  "Are you all right?" Rem asked timidly.

  "Yes. Just a little sore." Cal stood up and dusted himself off, irritated. He pointed at Telum. "See that lovely ball of energy by the lake? It's all yours, Rem. It's been waiting for you for however long. You go on ahead and do what you need to do. I have to head back and deliver some dire warnings to my housemate about a situation like this."

  "What? You're leaving already?" Rem clutched at his sleeve. "Don't go, Cal, please. I'm scared. That—that power. It's too bright."

  "I'll be gone an hour at most. I don't think there's much of a time stretch between here and Vein, considering the pause between the…flinging just now. Just sit on the edge and take in bits and pieces if you can't break down the whole thing, okay? We'll figure something out when I come back."

  "I…okay,"
Rem said, letting go reluctantly. "Promise you'll be quick?"

  "Promise," Cal said solemnly, pressing a kiss to Rem's forehead. He plucked a piece of grass

  from the ground and incinerated it, licking the smudge of bitter ash from his fingers. Hm. Clean. He recalled the sensation of coming apart earlier and let it flood through him, a net of fire that scooped him up and away. He tumbled into the confusing void of illusionary space, a place born from the paradox of thinking and seeing and making decisions without any actual time passing. He unfolded, an infinitely layered chrysanthemum shedding a wake of thought-thin petals, fingers and toes stretching miles-long, skin crackling apart to reveal a mass of glowing cherry-red wires. Windows before him, whizzing past swifter than sound, flashing with colours and temperatures and smells.

  Flash-flash-flash. A huge purple storm hiding a battle in the air—no—little white cat curled up on