Authors: Joanne Bertin

Dragon and Phoenix (8 page)

BOOK: Dragon and Phoenix

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Behind her Maurynna felt Boreal shift, likely sensing her growing uncertainty. Swallowing hard, she took her courage into both hands and asked, “What do you mean, my lord?”

*These old eyes see thee here before me quite plainly.*
Morlen stretched out a forefoot capable of crushing a draft horse and touched her cheek with one claw tip, a touch as light as a child’s kiss.
*I can touch thee. But thee are not there when I look with just my mind. It is as if thee have a cloud wrapped around thee. But because I know thee are here, I may speak to thee.*

There was a hint of—fear? awe?—in the truedragon’s mindvoice. No, that couldn’t be right. Nothing as insignificant as she could inspire such feelings in one so huge and powerful and ancient. Still, Maurynna had the feeling that if he could have, Morlen would have wrinkled his brow in deep thought.

Talassaene, the dragon to Morlen’s right said,
*Grandsire, perhaps she is the one.*

Morlen swung his great head to face his amethyst-scaled companion. Their gazes locked; Maurynna made no move lest she disturb the silent communion. Then Morlen turned to her once more and said,
*So. Are thee, then, the newest Dragonlord? The one none of us sensed?*

“Yes,” Maurynna said. “I am Maurynna Kyrissaean.”

*Ahhhhhh.*

The exhalation surged like a wind through her mind. Behind it Maurynna thought she caught a glimmering of understanding. But of what?

*Little cousin,*
Morlen said,
*I must admit to a great deal of curiosity about thee and thy dragonsoul. I wish to speak with thy dragon half, Kyrissaean. Will thee allow this? There is no danger to thee, but I would not enter thy mind so deeply without thy permission.*

Maurynna smiled halfheartedly. “My lord Morlen, if you can get Kyrissaean to speak with you, then have at her!” she said with a wry laugh. Maybe this lord of truedragons could talk some sense into her idiot dragon half.

The great head tilted; Morlen looked puzzled. Then,
*Very well, little cousin. Perhaps it would be well if thee sat down; it is best if thee can relax.*

Maurynna had her doubts that she would be able to relax while someone she didn’t know went into her mind, but she was willing to try. She sat cross-legged in the long grass; at a grunt behind her she turned to see Boreal lowering himself to the ground, crosswise to her. “Thank you, Boreal,” she said as she leaned back against him and closed her eyes.

Morlen’s touch was gentle, like kitten’s whiskers tickling her mind. Maurynna nearly laughed. But in the next instant, agony blazed through both mind and body.

Kyrissaean shrieked in rage, lashing out at Morlen, at the other truedragons, at Maurynna. The breath froze in Maurynna’s lungs; she fell to the side, thrashing upon the ground, struggling for air. But the pain only grew worse and breathing impossible. The world turned grey.

Linden knocked on the door to Otter’s chambers. The voices inside broke off their conversation. Then came the crisp click of boot heels crossing the floor; a moment later the door swung open.

“Hello!” Otter said in surprise. “What are you doing here, boyo?” He stood aside.

As Linden entered, Raven paused in the doorway of one of the three sleeping chambers off the sitting room of Otter’s suite.

Oh, Gifnu’s hells
, Linden thought sourly.
He would have to be here now
.

“I’m looking for Maurynna,” he said. “Is she here?”

“No,” Otter said. Then, “Can’t you tell where she is? I thought soultwins always knew where each other were, what was happening, that sort of thing.”

Raven leaned against the door frame, arms crossed before his chest, listening. Every line of his body screamed insolence.

Linden pressed his lips together in annoyance before answering, “I tried searching for her before. But she’s angry with me and shut me out. Since she’s not here I’ll look to see if Boreal is in the stables; if he’s not, then I can guess where she went.” The next irked him no end to admit to before that smug grin. “I—Maurynna seems to be unusually aware of me,” Linden began.

“So I remember,” Otter said, a faraway look on his face. “Even before you two were joined she knew that something was wrong with you back in Casna.”

“Just so. For her it’s as if she looks through a spyglass; for me, it’s as if she’s hidden in a fog. Nothing is clear and sharp. I don’t understand why it’s like this. But … Damn it all, I’m feeling … nervous? Apprehensive? I think something’s worrying her but I don’t
know
, blast it.”

A satisfied light came into Raven’s eyes, and Linden knew the boy had some scathing comment ready. And if the young pain in the ass came out with it, Linden also knew this time he’d pin the boy’s ears back for him and make him eat those words. Maybe Maurynna was right. He took a deep breath, ready to cast restraint to the winds.

And found himself suffocating. He clutched at his chest.

*Thee must come at once!*

The words exploded in Linden’s mind. He staggered under their force; only instinct made him put a hand out, catch himself on a wall before he fell. The world went grey before his eyes and he knew he was about to black out. Then suddenly he could breathe once more. He gasped for air, grateful for the sweet feel of it in his lungs.

“Gods help us! Linden, what’s wrong?” Otter cried as he ran to support Linden. Even Raven, eyes wide and frightened now, came to help.

Linden shook his head. “I don’t know. It’s—” Unable to continue, he tapped his forehead with the two middle fingers of one hand.

“Ah. I see. Not now, Raven.” The bard waved his great-nephew to sputtering silence.

Who? What?
Linden said to the presence he still felt in his mind.

*Morlen the Seer,* the voice said. *Thy soultwin is ill, perhaps dying; we do not know what is wrong with her. Come quickly
!
*
The fear in the truedragon’s mindvoice was sharper than an eagle’s talons.

Linden thought his heart would turn to ice.
Where are you?
he made himself ask with a calmness he didn’t feel.

*A mountain meadow. It is shaped like a bowl and filled with wild flowers.*

He knew at once where Maurynna was. Now to get to her as fast as possible. He staggered for the door, only to fetch up against the wall once more, his legs shaking. He cursed. Dear gods, it would take too long to get to the landing site on the cliffs—especially like this. Then he remembered where in Dragonskeep Otter’s chambers were located.

A deep breath and the worst of the weakness passed. Linden pushed off from the wall, knocking both truehumans aside. “Something’s wrong with Maurynna,” he said, desperately recalling the layout of Otter’s rooms. A moment later he ran for the sleeping chamber Raven had come from.

Fear beat at Linden as he raced through the small room. He threw the mullioned window open and jumped onto the wide ledge.

The cliff here dropped straight down as if it had been sliced with a knife. The wind whipped his hair into his eyes; he shook it free. Far, far below his sharp eyes caught the glitter of a stream like a thread.

Behind him he heard Otter yell, “No, Linden, you can’t! You’ve said yourself that’s too dangerous!”

Gathering himself, Linden gave a mighty leap straight out. His only chance was to get far enough away from the cliff so that the wind wouldn’t blow him into the sheer rock wall.

He fell like a stone through the crisp mountain air.

Eight

Xiane’s special treat was yet
another troupe of entertainers. At least this time she was spared the female wrestlers, though these might be worse, she thought; they were entertainers from the northern lands, hideous to look upon with their pale, fish-belly skins, and hair ranging in color from yellow to brown like animal pelts. When the trained pony finished his counting tricks, and before the rope could be set up for the ropewalkers, Shei-Luin took Xahnu from Tsiaa and walked off with him. Such a thing was never done, she knew, by the noble ladies of the court. Even children who were not imperial heirs were usually given over to maids and servants to raise until such time as they had manners and wit enough to hold a conversation with. But Shei-Luin cared nothing for what the meek court ladies did. She had been a woman of the Plains—as Xiane’s own mother had been.

And that, she knew, was a large part of her fascination for Xiane. For he was obsessed with all things Zharmatian; she was grateful for that even as she used it to her advantage. It meant he treated Yesuin as an honored guest, not as a prisoner. It also meant that, if she were careful not to go too far, she could pressure Xiane in ways that no proper Jehangli woman would even dare to think of. Even as she twisted him around her finger, he begged for more.

Only Murohshei followed, for he was her shadow. Shei-Luin took herself deeper into the garden. From time to time, she paused to listen. Xahnu snuggled against her; she nuzzled him lovingly. He was such a good child.

“Listen,” she said, and kissed him, “and I will tell you a story, little phoenix. Hear now the tale of the lady we honor today. I will tell it to you just as it was told to me.

“Long, long ago Lady Riya-Akono, wife of the cruel Dragon Emperor, fled to the moon and rained silver arrows down upon her husband so that she might save the people of Jehanglan. But the Dragon Emperor survived her arrows. Hot for vengeance, he raced along the magical bridge that she had used to reach the moon, seeking to kill his empress.”

She paused. Nothing—yet. So she went on with her tale because Xahnu seemed to enjoy it.

“Waiting until the Dragon Emperor was nearly to her, Riya-Akono slashed the bridge with her father’s old sword, knowing what it meant. For though the Dragon Emperor tumbled to his death, thus ending his cruelties, Riya-Akono had marooned herself upon the moon. But even knowing what would be her fate, the empress had not hesitated. And that is why the throne of the empress is known as the Throne of Riya-Akono.

“Therefore, upon this day and no other, the temple choruses sing the praises of the Lady of the Moon. On no other day is the moon mentioned, only the Phoenix of the Sun.”

She sang what she could remember of the hymn to the Lady of the Moon. Xahnu squealed in delight. She laughed softly at him. “Remember—she was of the West, as are we.”

At last she heard what she had waited for: a voice softly humming a Zharmatian love song. She stopped in a little grotto formed by jasmine bushes. Their sweet scent welcomed her; she plucked a flower and teased Xahnu with it. The child gurgled with delight as he snatched at it. Murohshei stood guard at the entrance, his powerful bulk between her and the world.

Moments later, he stepped aside without a glance at the man who slipped past him. Shei-Luin handed Xahnu into the arms that reached for him.

Yesuin cradled the boy against his chest; Xahnu looked up into his father’s face and cooed.

“He knows,” said Shei-Luin.

“I know you had sent me word that he looked like me, but …” His voice broke. Then, recovering himself, “We’re lucky, you know, that Xiane took after his mother. Else …”

He shook his head. For a time he was silent; Shei-Luin watched him as he lost himself in the wonder that was their son. Her heart brimmed with love for these two.

Then Yesuin said, “My love, I thank you for this most precious of gifts, but … We cannot go on.”

Shei-Luin’s heart turned to ice. “What do you mean?” she demanded.

“Betraying Xiane this way … . Shei, he’s been good to me. He’s become my friend. To trick him like—”

“You’ll abandon me to him?” Shei-Luin blazed. “Leave me to a man with no idea what a woman wants or needs, a man clumsy as an ox, who falls upon me as if he were the village bull forcing himself upon a cow? A man I despise to the depths of the earth! The coward is afraid of a tiny insect!”

Yesuin bit his lip, then said, “Shei, he has good reason. But I can’t—”

She cut him off. “A friend Xiane may be to you—and for that alone, I make certain he receives as much pleasure as I have to give him—but I’m the one you love. Will you never dare the tunnels to see me again?”

Oh, Phoenix; if she lost Yesuin …

For a moment she thought he would say the unspeakable. But then she saw in his eyes that she’d won as she was certain she would. She leaned toward him.

“Lady,” Murohshei said in an urgent whisper. “Someone comes this way.”

They must not be caught together! Shei-Luin snatched Xahnu from Yesuin’s arms and hurried from the jasmine bower.

She was not quick enough. Even as she left the shelter of the bushes, Lord Jhanun appeared in the path before her.

He said nothing. Yet she saw his eyes go from her son’s face to beyond her shoulder where Yesuin still stood among the jasmine, then back to Xahnu. A slight smile twisted his mouth.

Then he bowed and turned away, still without a word.

But Shei-Luin had seen the light of an idea dawn in those cold eyes and wondered.

“Think you he’ll betray us?” Yesuin said as he joined her. His hand reached protectively for her.

“No. For he tried to turn Xiane against me once before and was nearly banished,” Shei-Luin said. “Nor will he cause another to do it for him. Nothing would come of it. Jhanun has no proof, and knows well that Xiane will never put me aside without a compelling reason. Bah—Xiane would have to stumble upon us himself before he would believe such a thing. No, Jhanun will say no word of this, for should a certain message come to light, Xiane
would
banish him for certain. But then what … ? Go; we must not take any more chances.”

She wondered, as she returned to the main part of the Garden, what did run through Jhanun’s treacherous mind.

Ican’tbreatheIcan’tbreatheIcan’tbreathe!
Maurynna’s mind screamed. She lay on her back, fighting for air, barely seeing Morlen’s and Boreal’s heads hovering anxiously over her as her vision faded in and out. Then the world exploded in pain.

I’m dying
was her final thought as she spiraled into darkness.

This was insanity. But he’d had no choice; Maurynna might be dying. The air rushed past Linden as he tumbled through emptiness. Gods help him if the wind that always blew here smashed him into the cliff … .

Linden forced himself to empty his mind of fear, ignore that he might well fall to his death even if he completed Change. For one long, terrifying moment nothing happened. He couldn’t Change.

Then he felt his flesh dissolving, turning into mist. As always, Change itself was frightening; but this was an old terror, welcome in its familiarity. And with it came an end to his falling.

But the reprieve was short-lived. One heartbeat he was a red fog hanging in the air; the next, a dragon and plunging down once more. He spread his wings open. For a moment he thought the sudden jerk he felt as the unceasing wind caught them would snap them like kindling; they were wrenched back until he was certain they would be torn from their sockets.

He fought to extend his wings again—if he could. As his muscles screamed in protest, he forced his wings open once more, frantically angling himself away from the cliff.

It worked. The wind spun him away from the rock. But before he could heave a sigh of relief, the treacherous wind gusted once more, sending him tumbling straight for the cliff wall. Once again he snapped his wings shut lest they be crushed against the rock face.

Falling once more, he twisted in midair, gaining a little more room. And now he had no choice; he must either fly—if he could—or fall to his death in the valley below. Yet he wasn’t quite far enough from the cliff … .

When he came out of the garden paths, Lord Jhanun beckoned one of his servants to him. When the man reached him, the Jehangli lord whispered, “Send for my niece, Nama, who lives in Yalunreh.”

The man blinked in surprise but would not ask any awkward questions, Jhanun knew, though a thousand of them danced in his eyes.

“At once, my lord.” The man bowed and withdrew.

Jhanun paused to study a particularly exquisite chrysanthemum. He stroked the white petals in appreciation of its beauty and wondered, as he often did, how fared his Baisha and, therefore, his other plan.

Then he remembered the words of the rogue Oracle and took pleasure in them.

Linden spread his wings once more.

One wing tip scraped along the cliff, leaving a streak of blood on the pale granite, that pain lost amid the greater of his wrenched muscles. Linden angled into a glide, caught the wind that such a short time before had nearly killed him, and swooped up, away from the valley floor that was now dangerously close.

Well enough; he was no longer falling. But could he move his wings to fly, or could he only glide? Nothing for it but to try. Linden clenched his jaw, his long fangs grinding as he forced his aching wings into first one downstroke, then another and another.

He climbed into the sky, slowly, painfully, concentrating so hard on keeping his protesting wings in motion that he hardly noticed the two white-faced men in the window. Bit by bit, Linden gained altitude. The moment he was clear
of the plateau, he pushed his abused wings to take him as fast as possible to the meadow. He ignored the blood dripping from the injured wing tip. All that mattered was reaching Maurynna in time.

Otter and Raven crowded together on the wide ledge of the window, watching in horror as Linden plunged toward the ground. Just when Otter was certain it was too late, Linden dissolved into the familiar red mist that flowed into the ghostly form of a dragon. Before he could blink, the mist solidified.

“Gods help us!” Raven yelped as a dragon the wine red color of Linden’s birthmark appeared below them.

A tiny part of Otter’s mind chuckled in amused sympathy; he remembered the first time he’d seen Linden Change from man to dragon. The rest of him prayed that Linden’s wings didn’t snap.

For one long, horror-stricken moment he thought it had happened; the great wings shot out to their full extension and were immediately wrenched back. Then, more slowly than Otter wanted to see, the wings inched out once more.

Otter breathed, “Thank the—No!” He watched in fear as the wind caught Linden and nearly smashed him into the cliff. The next few moments were pure hell as Otter watched Linden tumbling through the air.

Then the great wings spread once more. It looked to Otter as if one wing tip struck the cliff, but he couldn’t be certain.

Linden glided a short way. Otter remembered to breathe again. Then the powerful wings began a stiff, heavy pumping. The red dragon lurched in the air but stayed aloft.

“He must have wrenched them badly to be flying like that,” Otter said, limp with relief. “Still, he’s lucky. He’s so very lucky.”

They watched the red dragon climb and disappear over the edge of the plateau.

“What do you mean?” Raven asked. His voice was subdued and there was none of his earlier hostility.

Otter put a hand up, found he was sweating profusely. He wiped his forehead. “While it’s not their favored method of beginning a flight, a Dragonlord can leap from a high enough place and Change midway. It’s only truly safe, though, if the air is calm. Yet even a wind isn’t bad if it’s steady and mild, and blowing in the right direction.

“But the wind at this end of the plateau never stops. Worse yet, it shifts with the blink of an eye. It’s enough to blow a Dragonlord into the cliff wall. That’s what nearly happened to Linden. And if it had …” Otter couldn’t complete the sentence. He sagged against the wall, trying not to think about what would have come next.

“Oh,” Raven said. Then, after a short silence where it looked to the bard as
if the younger man argued with himself, Raven continued, “He did that only because of Maurynna, didn’t he?”

“Yes. I think he was afraid it would take too long to reach an open spot—the landing cliff, say—where he could Change and launch himself safely.” Otter wanted to ask,
Would you have taken such a risk?
but decided that would be too heavy-handed. Leave such blatant idiocies to the boy’s father. He had faith that Raven could read the writing on this wall—now that his nose was shoved into it.

“What’s wrong with her?” Raven asked.

“I’ve no more idea than you, lad,” said Otter. “We’ll just have to wait and find out.”

“Couldn’t he have told us? Gods damn it all, but I’ll go mad wondering,” Raven said with quiet, heartfelt fury.

BOOK: Dragon and Phoenix

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