When I’d been in the kingdom, I’d formed a cycle with a dozen or more dragons, all of them flowing through me with a power that connected us. I was never truly alone. I’d come to rely upon the cycle, using that power and sending it flowing through me and the dragons to keep us bonded together. Having learned that the cycle was somehow separated from me—though not severed yet—made me wonder if perhaps there was another way of latching on to power that would help me help my people. Without doing that, how could I save the kingdom from murtar?
The Servant continued to watch me, and I tried to understand the expression in his eyes, but I couldn’t make it out. I turned away, heading back toward the village.
“Are you done with understanding Affellah?” the Servant said.
“Have I learned to reach that power?”
The Servant regarded me, a hint of a smile curling his lips. “Have you?”
It seemed as if he alluded to something more, or if he knew something more, but he wasn’t going to say it. I could tell that from him. I had to find this on my own.
Affellah was fire.
The dragons were fire.
And I was connected to the dragons—at least, currently, to my dragon.
I flicked my gaze to the sky. I was distantly aware of the dragon circling around overhead and I tried to stay connected to him.
“Your dragon is going to be of no help in this case,” the Servant said.
“Are you so certain the dragons are not connected to Affellah? Perhaps the dragons are Affellah.”
“The dragons do not even serve Affellah. They are not what you seek.”
I turned to the lava flow running down the side of the mountain. Heat radiated up from it, and it gusted toward me, as if to burn me. The feeling of heat and energy made me hesitate to breathe in anything.
“Are you frustrated?”
“Yes,” I admitted.
“Why?” The Vard Servant took a step toward me. Despite the heat and energy he radiated, I never saw him working the lines of power the way I did when I was working with the dragons.
I didn’t feel any cycle from him, though I had not attempted to tap into that, as I figured it was dangerous to do so.
In my lands, tapping into someone’s cycle meant drawing them into your own, which would be a permanent change. That was not something I dared to do. I didn’t want to draw one of the Vard into my cycle, even if it would enable me to know them better.
“You should release your frustration,” the Servant said.
“It’s not only my frustration. Some of it comes from the dragon,” I said, looking back to the mountain. The volcano sloped gradually upward, a vast and massive peak that rose above everything else, looming high into the sky and giving off energy. It glowed at nighttime, though not nearly as much as it did when seen from above. When we had first come to these lands, the Servant had allowed me to travel with the dragon. We had circled above Affellah, and I had seen the strength of the energy within the volcano. “I can feel the dragon’s frustration,” I said softly. It came through our cycle.
The green dragon and myself had been bonded the longest. He had shown me the power of the dragons from the very beginning, and it was because of him that I had learned about the power I could access. If not for this dragon, I might never have learned about my potential. He had helped me appreciate the power I possess.
“Then perhaps you should speak to him,” the Servant said.
“I speak to him all the time,” I said. There was no harm in telling him that.
“What does the dragon say?” The Servant had almost spat angrily when he said the word “dragon.”
“He doesn’t speak to me, but he shows me what he’s feeling,” I said.
“That is what Affellah does,” the Servant said.
I frowned at him, looking over and shaking my head. There had to be a connection between the dragons and what the Vard referred to as Affellah. That power seemed far too similar to be anything else. I might not be exactly the same, but it was close enough that I suspected that I could find a connection—if I had a chance to understand Affellah as well as I understood the dragons.
“A dragon is more than a volcano.”
“Is it?”
He started away, and I knew from past experience that I was to follow him.
We strode across the land, and I didn’t say anything for a while. The sun shone down, beating on my back. The Vard clothing was no cooler than the clothing I had left the kingdom in before. It seemed to absorb the heat more, and the rough fabric continued to irritate my skin.
Find answers. Understand the Vard.
None within the kingdom had understood the motivations behind my desire. Natalie certainly hadn’t. She’d been angry with me for making this journey in the first place. I doubted Thomas would understand. He wanted to destroy the Vard, not learn from them.
What of the dragon? I couldn’t tell if he understood, but it was possible he could learn. He came with me, willingly, but I still didn’t know if he was angry with my decision.
“Why won’t you let me bring the dragon with me?”
“Is it your journey or the dragon’s journey?”
“Can’t it be both?”
The Servant looked at me and smiled tightly. “No.”
“The dragon and I are connected, so my journey is his journey. What if I need the dragon to reach for Affellah?” I stared at the lava flow, power lingering within it.
He smiled at me again, and it left his leathery face looking twisted. His skin seemed turned and tightened, and something seemed to slither beneath it, as if his skin were rippling, as if the power he possessed held him together.
Asanley moved ahead of us. She hadn’t turned back to visit with either of us during our walk, suggesting all of this was meant to be my journey. The Servant arriving suggested he was here for that purpose as well. And the journey guided me along the lava flow. Somehow.
We walked farther, neither of us speaking, then he stopped, pulling a waterskin out from underneath his robes. He carried two—one for him, and one for me. I hadn’t adjusted to the lack of water in these lands, and found myself constantly thirsty, constantly licking my lips and trying to moisten them. As a result, they had cracked and burned and become painful.
When he handed over the waterskin, I pulled off the top and took a slow sip.
I avoided taking a long drink, despite how thirsty I was. Those were only appropriate when the water source was nearby. Sometimes it was little more than a well, but other times it was a narrow stream, more often dirty than not. The water was hot, as it often was, more so now since it had been pressed up against his body, and the waterskin did nothing to filter its mineral taste.
The Servant didn’t seem to mind. He closed his eyes, sipping at the water, and the heat continued to radiate off him. I could feel the heat flaring as we walked and realized he intended for me to feel that. It was his way of demonstrating his control over the power he possessed, his way of reminding me he was filled with magic, whereas I was separated from my cycle and its power.
If I took away anything from my time in the Vard-controlled lands, it would be that. They had a way of tearing me from power. I had returned so I could learn about Affellah, and the Servant had shown me the volcano, the lava, and his land, but it was more than that. There was more to learn.
Every time he paused, I again noticed the heat radiating off him. I still wasn’t exactly sure what it was or why he was using it.
But then . . .
I had felt something from him when he had been attacked by the memory of the murtar. Perhaps learning of murtar—and how Affellah could overpower it—was what he was trying to show me, the answer he wanted me to see. I only had to open myself to it. Wasn’t that what he kept saying?
I had to open myself. I had to have a transformation.
The Servant moved ahead of me. It seemed as if he were shifting, as if the fire were changing him even as he walked. As I watched, I realized
I had been aware of his power and heat ever since he had brought me here. He had been connected to the land, the people, the volcano, and even the lava flowing here. All of it was the fire that burned within him.
Could that be Affellah?
I stopped, staring down at the lava flowing.
I had seen the power the Servants were able to summon when they had used it against the kingdom. It was that power I had come here to understand. Perhaps Affellah was nothing more than lava. When I had been in the kingdom, when we had believed that the Servant had attacked, the flowing of lava toward the capital had posed the greatest danger. If I could find some way of accessing Affellah, then perhaps I could use it, but so far, I was not sure what that would take.
Protect the kingdom.
That was what I wanted, wasn’t it?
The kingdom was my home.
Only . . . it wasn’t. Not really.
The plains were my home. The farm. Berestal, in a certain sense.
Not the forest, not the capital, and not the kingdom. I had never really felt a part of it.
But I did want to protect my family from the influence of the murtar. I did want to keep that from spreading into my lands, to my farm, to Berestal. And the only way to do that would be to find this power. To control it.
To use it.
I supposed in that regard, I had come for the very reason Asanley had claimed.
I had wanted to use her people.
But I had wanted to understand them as well. I still did.
If I could fully understand what had happened, then it might help me prevent the kingdom from further attacking the Vard. As I stared at the lava flowing past me, I opened myself in a way I hadn’t before. It was like using the cycle, only not. I felt heat, and at first, it was only the heat within the flow of lava, but the longer I stood in place, letting that energy flow through me, the more I began to really feel it. It flowed from here, through the land, toward the peak of Affellah, but extended outward.
Warmth filled me, surged within me.
It was different from anything I had ever felt before—similar to the power the dragons possessed, but not the same.
That power practically burned within me, working its way through me, as if scolding me. Up close like this, I couldn’t tell if it was from the Servant, the lava, or even the dragon, though the sense of him was distant enough that I didn’t think it was. I looked down at the lava, focusing on it, and began to form a cycle. Power flowed within me, seeming to come from some greater place.
I then sent that power out, cycling it as much as I could, and began to feel something.
The lava bubbled, and I twisted it into a weave, similar to what I used when working with the dragon magic, but more potent.
Affellah.
I looked over to the Servant, but it was Asanley’s glare that caught my attention.
She watched me, anger burning on her face.
And I understood it. In her mind, I had stolen the one thing that made her people unique.
Chapter Eighteen
The Servant led me away from the lava, moving me farther to the north. The sun baked down, and the farther we moved from the lava flow, the more I could feel some aspect of Affellah beginning to fade. Proximity mattered. At least it did for me. So much for Asanley’s concern that I might steal her people’s access to power.
“What now?”
“You have found a connection to Affellah,” the Servant finally said.
I couldn’t tell if he was surprised or disappointed.
“And then . . .”
I trailed off, noticing a pile of rocks in the distance, but I had detected something else—a strange pressure.
I started toward it, when the Servant caught up to me.
“We do not go there.”
“What is it?”
“We do not go there,” he repeated.
I frowned at him before ignoring him and hurrying past, reaching the pile of rocks.
Only it wasn’t a pile of rocks. It was bones—blackened bones, seemingly dozens of them. How many dragons had been destroyed here?
The pressure of the murtar lingered.
Even with the sunlight baking down, and the distant sense of Affellah, I couldn’t help but feel a chill wash over me.
“Can you feel murtar here?” I asked, looking over to the Servant.
“This place has never been purified,” he said, his voice soft. “We have tried.”
I circled the dragon bones. So many were lost.
When the Servant had said they had known dragons before, I had understood, but now I think I really understood. They had slaughtered them.
Was that to be the fate of the dragons in the kingdom? If they were corrupted by murtar, would the Vard attack them in the same way? Or would I be compelled to do that?
I could feel the fluttering of power coming off the green dragon. It was faint, but he was pushing through, trying to connect to me, wanting to share the cycle, wanting to understand.
I started to cycle power from the dragon, but as I was still distantly aware of Affellah, I wanted something else.
I called on power, opened myself. I didn’t know if it would work this far away from the lava flow, nor did I know if I was even meant to harness that power, but I needed to know if the murtar could be destroyed.
I focused, letting that power fill me and cycle through me. I let the energy build, and as it did, I found the dragon working with me, pushing some part of himself into this. I could feel the buildup of energy working. It was immense power, and the more it flowed and built, the easier it was for me to detect what the Servant tried to show me.
I pushed upon the bones of the long dead dragons. The memory of the murtar.
There was some resistance, similar to what I had felt within the kingdom, but I felt both the power of the dragon and the strange burning heat of Affellah building within me, as if they both wanted this to happen. That power flowed out of me and into the bones, which then crumbled. The presence of the murtar faded.
I stood there, almost too shocked to do anything.
It had worked.
At least, it had worked against the memory of the murtar. I had no idea if it could work against active murtar, but I had some hope now. Maybe I could help the kingdom.
I turned to look at the Servant and realized Asanley had joined him. I hadn’t even noticed her arrival. She frowned at me with a look in her eyes I couldn’t quite decipher. Was it irritation? She had felt that way the entire time I had traveled with her, or perhaps it was anger that I would destroy the dragon bones in her land.
“We have never been able to remove this scar,” she said, her voice soft and still somehow hoarse.
The Servant nodded and strode forward, blazing with heat. “Affellah is powerful.”
“I’m not sure that it was just Affellah. Perhaps it was both Affellah and the dragon.”
The Servant watched me. “You do not need to return. You could stay here. You could continue to understand Affellah.”
“I could remain with the Vard?”
“You could remain with the people,” he said. “Affellah chose you.”
None of this had been done so I could stay with the Vard, and the Servant knew it, but I don’t think he had fully expected me to have connected to Affellah in any way. Perhaps he had thought it might be possible, but I questioned whether he had truly wanted me to succeed.
Regardless, I had a different reason for coming.
“Affellah wanted me to serve my people,” I said, looking over to the Servant, and for the first time since meeting him, feeling as if I could hold his gaze without flinching. “I don’t know Affellah in the same way you, Asanley, or any of the other Vard do, but I can’t stay here when my people need me.”
His face seemed to contort and he tipped his head. “It seems as if Affellah chose well. You may return.”
With that, he turned and started toward the slope, toward Affellah.
I watched him u
ntil I realized Asanley had not followed him. She was watching me, heat flowing from her—heat I felt almost connected to.
“You would abandon Affellah? You are an outsider, and you have been given a great gift. You should not turn away from it.”
“You’re taking your journey, and I don’t think I’ve finished with mine.”
I turned toward the dragon before changing my mind and heading over toward Asanley. I didn’t want to anger her. But I owed her something more. Not an apology—I wasn’t sure I could apologize for what I needed to do, where I needed to go, or the journey I needed to take—but I owed her something.
“You want to serve Affellah, and I understand. I appreciate all you did to try to help me understand Affellah as well,” I said.
“I should not have,” she said, holding my gaze, a steely determination in her eyes. She seemed angry still, but also passionate.
“Maybe not,” I said, “but you did. And because you did, I learned more about Affellah than I would’ve otherwise.”
“You should not have,” she muttered.
I smiled. “Thank you. You truly are a Servant of your people.”
“No,” she said, and started to move away.
“But you are,” I said, trying to catch her arm. She didn’t resist. “You helped me and answered questions for me, helping me understand why I might try to chase the power of Affellah. I have not been completely honest with you.” It was difficult for me to acknowledge that, but it wasn’t an intentional deception. “I did come here to use your people. Use the power of Affellah. I did it because I need to protect my land and stop the murtar. And I want you . . .”
“She must continue her journey,” the Servant said. “And she must go with you.”
She glanced over to the Servant, and she now flared the irritation she had shown me at him—only for a moment, but heat still built from her.
“You would have me travel with an outsider beyond our lands?”
“I would have you continue your journey. Affellah would have you continue your journey.”
He turned, heading away.
I focused on the green dragon, and he circled, little more than a shadow at first, before descending. I made my way toward him, and he lowered his head so I could climb on. When I reached his scaled side, I glanced back at Asanley. I had no idea if she would actually come with me. I didn’t really want her to, but perhaps having someone else with me who had a connection to Affellah would be beneficial. Maybe that was why the Servant wanted her to come.
The Summoned Dragon (Cycle of Dragons Book 4) Page 17
