by C. M. Hayden
“Where are you taking us?” Taro asked as they ascended the ramps.
“To Lady Sivion,” Arangathras said, stone-faced.
Lokír looked stunned by the mention of the brood queen, and made what could only be described as a praying motion. Fenn gave Arangathras a crooked glare as he hurried to keep pace with the hulking dragon.
“Just like that?” Fenn asked.
Arangathras glanced back at him like he was an insect. “In fact, the queen sent me to collect you. She is with your friends as we speak.”
Taro gave a breathless chuckle. “It was a bluff,” he said, shaking his head.
“Indeed. Our treaty with your people demands that we not keep a member of the Magisterium imprisoned without charges. You’ve committed no crime.” He gestured at the Deeplight sword. “But this, and the company you brought, begs many questions.”
“Believe it or not,” Taro said, “we came in good faith. We fully intended to explain it all. Praxis claims to oppose Vexis, he wants to help—”
“They’ve already explained their position. And your stories match. But there are several questions that haven’t been answered to our satisfaction.”
After thirty minutes of walking, they reached the surface of Castiana. They were on top of one of several high plateaus overlooking the city proper.
Castiana was divided into three rings, each one on higher ground than the last, and each connected by murky waterfalls. What Taro had first thought was hot mist, he could now see was coming from enormous iron vents running along the outer edge of the city. The second ring was where most of the dragons lived, and from this distance they looked like a great swarm of insects, flying from brood tower to brood tower.
There was much more variety to the species than Taro had ever known. There was an uncountable number of colors and hues, and different bone structures. Some tails were spiked, some were smooth, some were barbed. Some dragons were as large as whales, some were as small as a horse. Some had horns, others were smooth and sleek.
The only thing they all shared in common were their eyes. Eyes like pure amber, each glowing with their own light.
Their numbers were beyond counting, and it was clear that the city was horrifically overpopulated to the point of being unlivable. Every crumbling tower held a dozen dragons, each crammed along the balconies, or perched on the foundations. Many just remained in the air, swarming like a flock of birds.
The foundations of the towers were built directly into mountains and cliffs, and many had partially (or entirely) collapsed into rubble. Nature had begun to reclaim parts of the city, and trees and vines crept through in alarming numbers.
It didn’t feel like a city. It felt like a graveyard.
There was only one exception: the tower in the inner ring, at the heart of it all. While it showed its age, it was by no means ruined, and it was the only place the dragons dared not fly near. It was colored with bright pigments of red and gold, and covered in openings displaying various brood insignias.
“Lady Sivion awaits us,” Arangathras said, gesturing at the tower.
Fenn peered down the mountainside cautiously, looking down the sheer thousand-foot drop. “How exactly are we supposed to get there?”
Arangathras moved a safe distance from Taro, Fenn, and Lokír. All at once, his body was enveloped by light. His limbs stretched, and his face and teeth transformed, and he stood before them, looking as large as a mountain. Taro had seen Arangathras’ dragon form before, of course, but that didn’t make it any less spectacular. He still bore the scars and marks from his captivity, something that stayed with him regardless of what form he was in.
Fenn and Lokír’s reactions were marvelous, containing even mixtures of awe and fear.
Arangathras lowered his head to be level with them, and reared his mouthful of razor-sharp teeth. Fenn looked ready to run, and Lokír dropped to his hands and knees, muttering a prayer under his breath. Despite the Northmen living on the dragons’ lands, this might’ve been the first time Lokír had actually ever seen a dragon.
Arangathras didn’t seem amused by their reactions, and angrily ordered them to climb onto his back. He lowered his shoulder to make it easier for them to step up. Taro did it quickly, ushering Fenn to follow. Fenn stepped gingerly, as if he were afraid that stepping on the wrong spot might get him eaten.
Lokír didn’t budge. He spoke with his face touching the ground. “You are marvelous, great one.”
Arangathras addressed him directly, his booming voice sending ripples through the trees and grass around them. “You are one of the Nuren?”
Lokír glanced up, a tear streaking down his cheek. “Yes, my lord.”
“You have nothing to fear from me. Stand.” The dragon motioned with his head. “I will bear you.”
Lokír stood, as if taking Arangathras’ word as a command. With trepidation, he eventually climbed up with Taro and Fenn.
Arangathras was enormous—even larger than Antherion—and was easily able to carry all three of them. His claws crushed parts of the plateau rim as he found a perch to jump from. When he did, Taro held on for dear life as Arangathras glided out into the open air.
Chapter Twenty-six
The Chamber of the Seers
Arangathras landed in the courtyard just outside the brood tower, the ground shaking against his immense weight. Taro and the others climbed down from his back, more than a bit shaken from the flight.
The vines present in the cell they’d just left were here too, in vast amounts; they crept and climbed the tower, emitting a steady light similar to a firefly.
Arangathras returned to his human form, and led them through the twilight courtyard, past rusted iron statues, toward the grand entrance. There were few doors in Castiana, and, with the obvious exception of prison cells, every entrance was unobstructed by any barrier.
On both sides of the main entrance were full-form dragons clad in intricate steel armor. It was light, only covering certain vital areas, and served to make them look even more intimidating. Their yellow eyes fell on Taro and the others as they followed Arangathras, but they made no motion to stop them.
The inside of the brood tower was dark, damp, and covered in foliage that crept through every hall and room. The hallways were enormous, leaving plenty of room for the many full-form dragons that resided in the tower. Most were asleep in various alcoves, or perched high up on balconies. Many had plants growing over them, having not moved in so long that they were becoming a part of the tower itself.
A few stirred, their eyes cracked opened, and they peered down at the humans who’d entered their domain.
After several minutes of climbing, Arangathras informed Taro that they were nearing what he called the ‘Chamber of the Seers,’ and began to rattle off advice.
“This is not like our visit to Endra Edûn,” he said to Taro. “Here, Sivion is a goddess. You are not to speak to her, unless she demands it. You may speak to the others on the Brood Council, when absolutely necessary, or to me.”
“I understand,” Taro said, sensing that Arangathras expected a response.
“Gotcha,” Fenn said.
“And do not speak a falsehood in her presence. They will know.”
“Who will know?” Taro asked.
“The Seers.”
Before Taro could ask exactly what that meant, they’d arrived. The chamber was unlike anything Taro had ever seen. It was dark, with the only light coming from a hazy fountain of blue ethereal mist in the center. In rows around this fountain were sleeping dragons, each covered from head to tail in vines and leaves. None of their eyes were open, but Taro could feel something coming from each of them, as if, even in their slumber, they were inspecting him.
There was complete silence in the chamber as they approached the fountain dais. “Fountain” seemed to be
an apt word for it, but it didn’t have any water in it, and the mist flowing off the sides was not vapor, but had a static quality, as if it were raw magic.
Sivion was in her sleek, elegant dragon form, beside several other dragons huddled around her in a tangle. Standing before them was Kyra and Praxis, the latter of whom had shackles latched around his hands.
Arangathras took his side at Sivion, and they exchanged words in Draconic while Taro, Fenn, and Lokír caught up with Kyra. Kyra pulled Taro into a hug.
“You’re okay!” she said, squeezing him and Fenn tight. “I was so worried.”
“Not as worried as we were,” Taro said, exasperated. “I didn’t think we’d ever get out of that cell.”
“They locked you in a cell?”
“Unfortunately.”
“We met an old friend of ours,” Fenn said. “Kurian.”
Kyra’s expression brightened, but didn’t last long. “Kurian? But why—” she stopped herself. “Never mind. We’ll talk about that later. Sivion wanted to see you, Taro.”
Taro turned his attention to the dragons lying before him. Sivion raised her head, and her eyes bore into him.
When she was done looking him over, she glanced down at Arangathras. “You’re quite certain?” she asked.
“My Midsight is clear,” Arangathras said.
What followed was a chorus of voices coming from the unmoving dragons that lined the sides of the chamber. None of them opened their eyes, but one by one, they spoke in perfect synchronization. Their tones were sharp and accusatory.
“Incorrect.”
“Ill-advised.”
“He’s allowed his personal experience to cloud his judgement.”
“The boy’s future will lead us to ruin.”
“Lead all to ruin.”
“You’ve made a mistake.”
“Vexis will destroy all that we’ve created.”
The chamber was momentarily silent. These must’ve been the seers Arangathras mentioned. Arangathras knelt before Sivion, his voice resolute. “I thought so, too, my lady. The futures we saw before were all wrong. They can be wrong again.”
The chorus of seers returned:
“Illogical.”
“Unacceptable.”
“Foolish.”
“We cannot doubt the Overlight in such a crucial moment.”
“If we’re to avoid the catastrophic futures before us, we must navigate them with care and precision.”
“Your way is reckless.”
Arangathras looked irked by their words, and addressed them directly. “Every future we’ve seen ends the same way, is that not the case? If every future ends in loss, we have to try to make them all incorrect.”
The chorus answered:
“Your emotions cloud your judgement.”
“More time is needed.”
“More meditation.”
“There are no second chances.”
“To rush will lead us to our doom.”
When the seers were silent, Taro spoke to Arangathras. “I don’t understand. I thought no future was set in stone, it was all just…probability.”
Arangathras nodded. “That’s true. But there are thousands, millions of possible futures that could come to pass. As I said, sometimes more likely ones boil to the surface. It’s too much for one individual to sift through.”
The chorus of dragons addressed Taro:
“We seers work together.”
“In unison.”
“In harmony.”
“We sort through the infinite darkness of time.”
“And find patterns in the chaos.”
“We have looked into the future, and seen the destruction of the Arkos.”
“The desolation of our people.”
“The ruin of ages.”
“We must take no action.”
“Until we discover the proper route to avoiding it.”
Praxis came to stand near Taro, glaring at the seers. Some hard emotion crept into his voice. “You don’t need Midsight to see that what Vexis is doing will lead Arkos to ruin. If she breaks into Nir Daras and gets the Deeplight, she’ll use it to control not just Craetos, but eventually to raise an army of dragons. She’ll overrun this city.”
Taro spoke next. “What if there is no ‘proper route’? Or what if there is, but while you’re waiting for it to be shown to you, the moment is passing?”
“I agree with the boy,” Arangathras said. “We cannot trust to the seers in this, my queen. We have to act. In these last few years, the seers have been wrong more than in the previous thousand years combined. We can’t trust to visions anymore. This boy showed me that. If my own visions can be wrong, we must proceed with them all being suspect.”
Lokír seemed to have been overwhelmed by his surroundings, but had the wherewithal to speak. “I beg your pardon, great ones,” he said, his huge body trembling. “Why have the visions been wrong?”
Sivion then spoke, surprising everyone assembled. Everyone went quiet as her cool, crisp voice filled the air. “The Lights of Creation shaped our cosmos, young Nuren. One light cannot supplant another. When the Arclight or Netherlight is used to shape an event, it adds chaos to all. The Overlight seeks order from the river of time, but the other lights act like large stones tossed into it. The flow, which was once clear, becomes erratic.”
Praxis sneered. “If that’s the case, then this is an exercise in futility. Why even sit here trying to pick through prophecies and futures if you know they’ll be inherently wrong?” He was speaking directly to Sivion, which caused Arangathras to move between them.
“You have not earned the right to address the brood-mother,” Arangathras said.
“I don’t really care. I’m not here to grovel, I’m here to bargain. I have information you need if you’re going to stop my sister.”
Arangathras moved close and set his enormous hand on Praxis’ shoulder. “If you speak again to Sivion with such disrespect, I’ll relieve your spine from your body.” He said this with such certitude that Taro didn’t doubt for a moment that his threat was completely sincere.
For a moment, Praxis stood defiant, staring down Arangathras. His lips moved, as if he’d speak, but he must’ve seen the same thing in the dragon’s eyes that Taro did. His threat wasn’t meant to scare Praxis. It was simply a statement of fact.
Praxis backed down. “Apologies,” he said magnanimously, smoothing out his slick hair. “I was out of line.”
“Damn it,” Fenn whispered to Kyra. “I really wanted to see that.”
Sivion’s cool voice called to Arangathras, and he immediately settled down. “Jätun hänet naet pocana, Arangathras. Saat tirvota hinä,” she said.
“Mido haluaish monen tekevä, äote?” Arangathras asked her, bowing his head reverantly.
There was a slight pause before Sivion spoke. “Seuraamme ihmisten suunnitelmia. Tarvitsemme tietoa.”
Whatever Sivion said did not sit well with the seers. There was a clamour of rustles and sifting dust as the eyes of every dragon opened wide. The amber glow of their gazes speckled against the dark room like a smattering of stars against the night sky.
“You would take their counsel over ours?” one seer asked.
“You would leave the fate of the Arkos to chance?” asked another.
“Be silent,” Sivion ordered. Her command was obeyed, but there was definite reproach in the seers. Some stirred, and shook out of the decades of overgrowth that had crept onto their scales.
Sivion was enveloped by light, and assumed her human form. She was, in a word, a beautiful creation: long, flowing hair that touched her shoulders; she had a slender body, and wide wings that grazed the ground when she walked. She seemed somewhat less humanlike in this
setting, and moved like gently flowing water. She approached Praxis, ushering Arangathras and her guards to remain where they were when they tried to follow her.
“What is it you propose?” she asked Praxis.
Praxis stepped forward, clearing his throat. “Vexis needs the Deeplight to control Craetos. She knows where the Deeplight is hidden, deep beneath Nir Daras. She’ll be there at midnight, thirty-seven days from now.”
“Why exactly that day?” Taro asked.
“The day of the Twin Moons,” Praxis said, pointing upward. “Both moons will pass in front of the sun on that day.”
“A double eclipse,” Fenn mused.
“Precisely,” Praxis said. “It’s quite simple, really. Some of you magnificent beasts can fly to Nir Daras, and incinerate Vexis. Quick. Clean. Easy.”
Sivion’s expression dropped. “Flying will not be possible.”
“Why not?” Taro asked, then answered his own question. “Because of Craetos?”
Sivion made a gentle gesture toward Kyra. “She says that Craetos destroyed your ship, that he continues to fly through our lands. If one of my children were caught…”
“All of your children will die if you don’t stop her!” Taro said, not believing her answer. He looked around at the Seers. “Every last one of you will burn. I saw Craetos’ power with my own eyes. If Vexis gets control of him, it’s all over.”
“Please,” Kyra said. “One of you has to be willing to help us. We can’t do this alone.”
Sivion placed her hand on Kyra’s shoulder. “My dear, if I could go myself, I would. What you must understand is that if I pass, my entire species passes with me. There will be no more brood-mothers after me.”
Kyra glanced sideways. “There…there are no other female dragons? Anywhere?”
Sivion shook her head. “Our immortality has kept us alive thus far, but we have no way to replenish our numbers. Every dragon that falls in battle is one more of our race that can never be replaced.”
“There has to be someone,” Taro said. He looked to Arangathras. “You?”
