I roared my frustration as I ran to the door and beat it with my fists. How could I have been so slow?
“You can’t keep me here!” I yelled, knowing it was futile. “I’m a soldier in the high king’s army!”
Silence met me.
I paced, the cramped room adding to my agitation. There had to be some way to break the door down. I took stock—dagger, sword, bare fists. None of them would be useful. I scanned the room for something heavy and sharp, but I only found a willow broom and a feather duster.
We are a peaceful commune, she had said. Clearly.
“Nuaga, I’m trapped.”
Move away from the door.
Her words were forceful—jarring. I backed away, bumping into the table and moving around it as the door began to shudder. I watched, half excited, half terrified, as the door crackled, then ignited, then burst into flames, the heat forcing me back against the far wall.
Run, Rain!
I had no idea where to run, but I soon saw that the door had been completely incinerated, its remains reduced to glowing embers scattered on the earth floor. I grabbed my copy of the new verses and shoved it into my pocket as I ran through the smoldering doorway.
Screams pierced my ears as I took the steps two by two. When I reached the top, Nuaga stood there in all her magnificence. The warmth of her breath reached me as she lowered her face and met my gaze with an expression of joy so fierce that I almost laughed out loud. I swung my leg around her neck as though I had done it a thousand times. As I found my balance, she took off, all muscle and sinew and fathomless strength. She wove through the commune, then took a soaring leap over the wall, landing as lightly on the other side as though she weighed no more than a handful of pebbles.
I closed my eyes and hung on, with no idea where she was taking me. When she came to a stop some minutes later, I released my white-fisted hold and slid from her neck, landing lightly on the ground.
She’d brought me to some sort of hollow, with trees that grew above its sloped walls like a canopy. Though it was dark, her eyes were glowing, and I could see her face clearly.
“Well?”
“Why did they lock me in?” I asked.
“Either because they feared you, or because they coveted the magic inside you. Perhaps both.” She watched me, waiting.
“I have the missing verses.” I dug the parchment from my pocket and read, the words tingling on my tongue.
Nuaga closed her eyes, soaking in the words like a lullaby. When I finished, she opened her eyes.
“You have half of what you need. Words to wake them by.”
“S’danta lo ylanda. What does it mean?”
“‘Release the power of the dragons.’”
Just as Dalen had said—our very kingdom was named for the dragons.
“S’danta lo ylanda,” I whispered.
“Yes.”
“And … the other half?”
“Your sacrifice, Rain L’nahn. Selfless and timely, like T’Gonnen’s. You will know when the time comes. And so will I.”
I wanted to ask her how it was possible to give my life before waking the dragons, but I swallowed the question, figuring it was better to know as little about my own death as possible.
She moved nearer. “It’s time.”
I rolled the parchment—slowly. Even more slowly, I tucked it back into my pocket. Then I met her gaze.
She waited. She would not bestow the pain without my consent.
“Nuaga…”
Flesh-melting breath. The mark of a dragon. My heart withered inside me.
She dipped her face near mine. “Trust that you are worthy, Rain L’nahn.”
I’d spent a lifetime feeling unworthy. Could I now believe otherwise?
My breaths came fast and shallow; every muscle in my body tensed, begging me to run away. Why was it easier to face death in combat than it was to face voluntary pain?
Great God, help me.
“Choose the place of your marking,” Nuaga said.
Terror rushed through me like a cold wind. Which part of my body could I willingly sacrifice? I didn’t want to offer my hands, which I would need to fight, or my face, for fear that the breath would blind me.
In the quiet of the hollow, I slipped, shivering, from my cloak and shirt, and unwound the strips that bound me. Then I turned around and offered my bare back to Nuaga.
At least I wouldn’t have to watch.
“I’m ready.” I closed my eyes, a million tremors quaking through me as I braced myself for the pain.
It came not as a blast, but as a subtle, intense heat that, at first, felt comforting. In mere seconds, though, Nuaga’s breath became so hot that the pain was exquisite. Unbearable.
I threw back my head and yelled, falling to my knees as wordless agony engulfed me. Instinctively, I folded into myself, clawing the dirt with impotent fingers, screaming until my voice was stripped of sound.
Screaming, until everything went blissfully black.
I opened my eyes to the deep gray of predawn. I lay on the grass, my shirt draped over me as though someone had thoughtfully covered me.
“Nuaga?”
I sat up, memories of the pain surfacing like an explosion in my mind. Cautiously, I rolled first one shoulder, then the other. Nothing hurt. I reached my right hand over the opposite shoulder and brushed my fingertips across my back. It felt marked and uneven, but it was smooth and dry, as though the wound had occurred weeks ago. When I stood and twisted at the waist to test it, I felt some tingling and soreness.
But that was all.
Dazed, I rewrapped my bindings and dressed quickly. I felt certain that Nuaga was nearby, watching. Our connection felt deeper, more intimate.
“Where are you?” I whispered.
She appeared not far away and came to my side in a fluid move that added to her majesty. “I felt you awaken.”
Of course she had. “Nuaga, the man in the Archives wore an amulet. It glowed orange when he touched me.”
“Dragon blood,” Nuaga said. “It heats to burning in the presence of dragon power.”
So Dalen was right—Kendel’s amulet really did contain dragon blood. The physical contact we’d made during Neshu rounds must have been too brief to ignite it.
“I have to get back to camp.” Already the sky was lighter than I had hoped.
“Has your body rested enough?”
“Yes.” I felt surprisingly refreshed.
“Then let us leave this place.”
I mounted her easily. Her power thrummed through me, uniting and resonating with the magic of T’Gonnen in my veins. Like water in a stream, she bore me across the miles, and when we reached the outskirts of camp, she folded her legs so I could slide easily down. I landed, and she swung her head around to face me.
“The dragons will know you now, and will awaken at your voice.”
It was as though a new heart beat within me—the heart of a dragon. I felt large and mighty, buzzing with the magic of T’Gonnen. In a rush, I wanted nothing more than to go with Nuaga and wake the dragons. To ride her into the midst of the enemy and feel the weight of her feet crushing them.
“Let’s go now,” I whispered.
She regarded me for what felt like eternity. “You are one with our clan now. But is your loyalty complete?”
“Yes,” I said, and the fire of dragons burned within me.
“Yet love for a man is embedded in your heart. Perhaps he will be your downfall when your time comes.”
I sucked in a breath. “It’s nothing.”
“His name swims through your dreams. His face is always in your thoughts.”
“He’s betrothed to my sister,” I said. “And that’s the end of it.”
Nuaga nodded her head slowly, like a ship riding the swell and dip of the sea. “Time is short. It will be better spent if I run ahead while your men march north. I can travel unseen when I bear no rider, and I will scout faster and farther than any man ever could. I will find Tan Vey’s army and determine our safest route to the dragons.”
“You would hide from them?” I couldn’t imagine it.
“One dragon cannot take on an entire army,” Nuaga said.
“I want to go with you.” Desperation welled up in me. Or perhaps it was the passion of T’Gonnen, roaring through the dragon magic in my blood.
“Take this time to teach the others to trust me.”
I laid my hand on her neck, unwilling to part from her. “S’da.”
“As long as the power of T’Gonnen flows within you, you will hear my voice. When you call, I will answer.”
She brushed my face with her mighty ear before speeding away, swift as a gale. I watched her for a breath or two, longing to wrap my arms once again around her neck. Then I turned and jogged the short distance back to camp.
Almost immediately, I saw Jasper and the others, less than a hundred paces away, standing as though made of stone.
Staring.
At first, I thought they were staring at me. But I as drew near, I saw that their gazes went beyond me. I looked over my shoulder in time to see Nuaga disappear into the morning mist.
They had seen her.
Dalen spoke first. “Nuaga.”
The terror of the men around me was palpable. I focused on Jasper, waiting for him to speak. He finally tore his gaze from the horizon and fixed it on me.
“What were you doing that far from camp?”
I glanced at Forest, but he wasn’t looking at me. “I … wasn’t deserting, sir.”
“I didn’t suggest you were.”
Heat flooded my cheeks. Jasper once again lifted his gaze across the grove, searching. I turned, a mixture of hope and dread sifting through me. But Nuaga was gone.
“It was right behind you.” Rock’s voice cut through my reverie. “Didn’t you hear anything?”
I read the faces of the soldiers around me and knew they weren’t ready to hear my story. How could I convince them to trust Nuaga in the wake of such fear?
“No,” I said.
The silence that followed pressed against me with a weight that stole my breath. Even Dalen and Kendel, who believed in the dragons, looked at me warily.
Jasper was the first to break the spell. “We don’t have time to debate this. It’s time to march.”
“But, sir, it was to the north, directly in our path,” Flint said.
“It could still be close by,” Cedar said.
“It may have been a trick of the enemy,” Jasper said. “We have to press on.”
Everyone began to go about their business, slowly at first, and then more naturally. Dalen caught my eye, his expression a mixture of awe and worry.
“I’m sure it was Nuaga,” he said in an undertone. “Didn’t you notice her at all?”
I pressed my mouth shut and offered a short nod. Dalen looked like he wanted to say more, but I frowned and shook my head. Now was definitely not the time to discuss Nuaga’s return.
Light rain stung my face as I struck my tent and loaded it into the wagon where the others had already piled theirs. I hurried to join them in a loose formation in front of the wagon, which Flint had won the coin toss for driving for the day. My fur-lined cloak hung extra long over my shoulders, accentuating my short stature.
Nuaga, I mind-spoke. They fear you.
I rolled my head from side to side, stretching out the night’s stiffness. For the first time since riding to the Archives, my thoughts turned to our army and the fact that no messenger had arrived, though we’d kept our fire burning late in case someone needed to find his way in the dark.
No one spoke of what the silence might mean, just as no one spoke of Nuaga. Fear stilled everyone’s tongue and hung like a vapor among us as we set off.
We marched all day, stopping only once for a quarter of an hour to rest and drink some water. No one spoke of the dragon. And no one but Dalen seemed willing to exchange more than half a dozen words with me. Including Forest.
But he had other reasons as well.
Nuaga stayed out of sight, but I felt her within me, a tangible presence that knotted me with the desire to call her forth and bathe in her majesty. To press my cheek into the warmth of her pelt.
To go with her to wake the dragons.
As night began to fall, we made camp on a wide expanse with thickly treed hillocks to the west. I stood behind Forest in the line by the provisions wagon that held the tents and blankets. These were community possessions now, and I forced myself to let go of the idea of having my own things in my own sleeping space.
Forest pulled a tent from the wagon and handed it to me, his eyes still not quite meeting mine. “Here you go.”
My stomach folded in on itself. Clearly he meant to continue sharing a tent with Jasper. When he took two blankets and promptly dropped them, both of us bent to pick them up, and our heads cracked together.
“Dragon’s blood, I can do it myself!” He grabbed the blankets and walked away without a backward glance.
The ache in my heart hurt worse than the throbbing of my head. I took my own blankets from the wagon and made sure no one saw the tears that clouded my vision.
We worked quickly to pitch our tents. Light rain tickled my face and hands, and as soon as the tent was secure, I tossed the blankets and my cloak inside to keep them dry. When I turned around, Jasper stood there, arms folded.
“A word,” he said.
We walked a distance away from the others. Jasper looked over his shoulder before stopping to face me.
“What were you doing that far from camp this morning?”
I’d had all day to come up with an answer, but still the words teetered uncertainly on my lips. “I didn’t desert, sir,” I said.
“I asked what you were doing.”
It was hard to hold his gaze. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t realize how far I’d walked. I was up earlier than everyone else, and…” I raised my hands and let them fall.
“And you didn’t see the dragon? Or hear anything?”
For a moment, I wanted to open my heart and tell him everything—about Nuaga and dragonbreath and the heart-wrenching story of T’Gonnen’s sacrifice. Even as I stood there, the fiery strength of T’Gonnen rose up within me, and I could barely contain the words that clambered for release.
“I thought I saw something, yes,” I said.
“A dragon?”
“It might’ve been.” I bit my lip. “Do you believe it was a trick of the enemy?”
Jasper folded his arms. “It doesn’t matter what I believe. Whatever it was brought with it the kind of fear that can paralyze men who need to pick up their weapons and fight.”
“What if it really was a dragon?” I offered. “And what if she’s loyal to Ylanda, just like the Lament says?”
“It’s more likely to be a ploy of the enemy than a dragon coming to rescue us.”
“I think maybe—”
“I can’t afford to have my soldiers wandering off. If I find you’ve done so again, I’ll consider it a desertion.”
My mouth was sand. “Yes, sir.”
Jasper clapped me on the shoulder. “I need you, Storm. Don’t go soft on me.”
“Never, sir. I’ll never go soft.”
He nodded and dropped his hand. I walked away feeling as though I had told a thousand lies, and made my way to the water barrel to quench my dust-coated mouth. How did Nuaga expect me to teach them to trust her? She had wooed me, dream by dream, visit by visit, until I knew her. Even then, I had feared her for many days. Now I had brought that fear upon my entire unit—and I didn’t know how to undo it.
Water ran down my chin as I gulped, wishing I had an answer.
The rain that had been teasing us all day came and went as we built a fire and huddled around it, eating twisted ropes of dried meat and drinking the last of the ale. The wary glances and stilted conversation tossed my way told me what no one was actually saying—that many thought that somehow my disappearance from camp had something to do with the dragon. Forest sat by me, as he usually did, but his conversation was mostly directed at others. After a while, I decided to crawl into my tent and let the rest of them speak freely about the dragon.
Probably that was what they needed to do. I couldn’t blame them.
“I’ll say good night,” I said to no one in particular.
The night felt extra dark as I turned away from the bright flames and headed toward my tent. I ducked inside and felt for the small leather pouch that hung from my belt. My bag of dragon powder filled the pouch almost halfway, leaving little room for much besides the few coins beneath it and the writing things that lay on top. I’d had to break my writing pen in half so it would fit.
The powder was bitter as always beneath my tongue, but I had grown so accustomed to it that I didn’t flinch. Mostly I was afraid of running out of powder too soon. Meaning, before I died.
I shuddered as I tried once again to embrace the prospect of my own death. Mostly I wondered if it would come swiftly, or if I would linger in pain while my lifeblood drained from a gaping wound.
Great God. It was better not to think of it. I could at least find comfort in knowing that I’d take my last breath saving the lives of everyone I loved.
The evening’s ale sloshed inside me, so I ventured out again to make a final trip to the trees, thankful for the campfire that helped me find my way in the rain-misted night. I had just finished my business and stepped from behind my chosen tree when Sedge’s stocky form emerged from the darkness to my left, his face deeply shadowed.
I didn’t want a confrontation. I nodded curtly and started to walk around him, but he cut in front of me, blocking my path.
“Why are you snooping around in the dark, midget?” he said.
“I was taking a piss.”
“That so?” He stepped closer. “You sure you’re not out here looking for dragons?”
I stiffened. “You afraid of dragons, Sedge?”
“I’m not afraid of anything.” But a slight catch in his voice told me otherwise. “And I’m not the one dreaming about dragons.”
My stomach dropped. “What are you talking about?”
“It’s no secret,” Sedge said.
“My dreams are none of your business.” I tried to go around him again, but he stopped me with his arm.
“So, you admit it? You dreamed about the dragon and sneaked out to find it?” A note of fear in his words stole their accusatory edge.
His vulnerability caught me off guard. “That’s ridiculous.”
“Were you dragon hunting or not?”
“If you’re looking for someone to blame your own fear on, you’re looking at the wrong person.”
“I have no fear. It can’t touch me.”
I remembered his visit to Madam S’dora’s and stepped closer, weighing words on my tongue before I spoke them. “And where did you get this freedom from fear? How much did you pay for it?”
His jaw tightened as he stepped back. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. Stay away from me.”
He disappeared quickly among the tents, and I stood in the dark allowing my heaving breaths to quiet. Dalen’s betrayal shredded my spirit as if it were Mama’s cabbage salad.
I’d been prepared to talk with Dalen about Nuaga—perhaps enlist his help in convincing Jasper and the others that we could trust her. But clearly, I couldn’t trust Dalen to keep my words to himself. And any rumors that wove their way through our unit would be worse than my simply telling Jasper everything outright.
Oh, Nuaga. How can I make them trust you?
It seemed a long time before she responded. You cannot make them. You can only model your own trust in me.
I sighed. That didn’t seem much easier.
The rain fell harder as I slipped into my tent and tied the flap behind me.
