The Dragons of Noor (24 page)

Miles frowned. He was about to say that she was as brave as a man, but he caught himself. The Damusaun was female, and she was the most courageous being he’d ever met. Like Kanoae, he’d been proud to fight alongside her and the other dragons, even though they’d met defeat.

“We lost everything,” he said. “Kanoae’s dead. The azures are gone.”

Firelight bronzed Eason’s thoughtful face. “It’s true the battle is over,” he said. “But eOwey’s song is not over yet. We still have our parts to play.”

Miles deepened the sandy rut around the fish bones. “What is my part?”

“It is not mine to say. But listen, and you will know when to join in.”

“How can you still hold on to your belief now?”

“What else is there to hold on to?”

Anger
, Miles thought.
Revenge
. But they wouldn’t fix things, either. He knew the Damusaun felt the same
when he’d witnessed her fiery scream, yet she wasn’t giving in to it. What good was anger now? Where would it get them?

He tasted Eason’s words. It was one thing to speak of eOwey’s great song, another to live in this broken world. The earthquakes had come, as the High Meer warned they would near the end. Taunier and the deyas were somewhere in this world or in the other, following Hanna, looking for Tymm and the other children to bring them back before the worlds split completely.

Across the shooting flames, the Damusaun was eyeing him, her pupils glittering like black diamonds. He would ask her now to help him find Oth. There must still be a way.

But she spoke first. “The newest meer will help us now that the meal is done,” she ordered. “Play your ervay to ease our company before I begin our council.”

Miles stood unsteadily, feeling for his leather pouch. “It’s been a while since I’ve played.”

The Damusaun shook her head and snapped her teeth. She did not like to be kept waiting. Meer Eason gave him an encouraging nudge. The thought of playing before the Dragon Queen sent a jolt of fear down Miles’s
spine. No one but the great Mishtar himself had ever played before dragons.

Miles raised his ervay. The queen had promised to call the council soon. If his song pleased her, he could approach her again with confidence. His hands were stiff and awkward, and he felt like a beginner.

The ervay was cool against his fingertips as he began
“Avoun Darri.”
He’d hummed it flying here with Kaleet, but it was a difficult piece to play. The opening notes were not as perfect as he wanted them to be, but he kept going. He went on to play the sweet, deep melodies he’d heard in Othlore Wood. He’d thought the tunes were his own, composed on woodland walks during his first year as an apprentice, but he knew as he played them now that the melodies belonged to the ancient Waytrees on Othlore, to the deya spirits in the wood. He’d heard them from the singing boughs, the murmuring leaves, and translated them note by note.

The stone pillars, towering as high as Waytrees, cast long moonlit shadows across the ground. The tune spread out like invisible waters, encircling all, connecting everyone. The dragons joined in, singing, tails drumming on the sand.

The woodland requiem began to change from songs of loss to something almost joyful. The exhaustion Miles had carried from the arduous sea voyage and long battles with the Cutters lightened.

They were a small group here under the desert stars. Only two meers and a gathering of dragons, but they knew why they were here. They had not forgotten the great forests of old that once bound two worlds. Not yet.

L
ook!” Tymm pointed ahead. “Stars! Thousands of stars!”

Hanna had expected blue daylight, but the opening at the far end of the passage was black. Still, the fresh night air washing over her face held a woodland scent. At last! They must have reached the Valley of All Souls!

Hanna and Taunier raced toward the glittering stars, then came skidding to a sudden halt at the cavern’s broad mouth.

“Stop, everyone!” warned Taunier. “Don’t push. We’re too high up.” Sliding his arm through Hanna’s, he peered down and gave a whistle. The moon hung nearly ripe over the valley floor a thousand feet below.

Hanna inched out a little farther to inspect the cliff. It appeared to be sheer on all sides. No jutting rocks to climb down.

A bat flitted past and flew down toward the valley floor.

“Now what?” Taunier whispered.

Hanna could feel the others waiting behind her. She didn’t want to turn around, didn’t want to meet their eyes.

Trees dotted the valley far below. At the base of the mountain, dark smudges gathered in larger clumps, joining to become a vast forest. The left side was too dark to see, but moonlight spread across the evergreens high up on the right side of the mountain. Here was the valley and the forest of Oth they’d come so far to find. She could see the trees the deyas needed to survive, but there was no way to reach them.

“We’ll rest awhile,” Hanna announced. Her throat ached with anger and disappointment. Behind her the deyas seated themselves on the dusty floor, and the children curled up in their laps in twos and threes like nestlings.

Hanna crouched against the jagged rock wall by the opening. Thriss crawled from the rucksack, perched on
her knees, and licked her scaly forearm with her long, orange tongue.

“You shouldn’t have stowed away like that,” scolded Hanna a second time. “We’re right on the edge of Oth, and dragons aren’t allowed in.” The pip ignored her as usual and began to clean the scales beneath her wing.

Hanna glanced at the weary company. Some deyas were singing the little ones to sleep, their own eyes drooping. One deya’s head hung low, her long hair tickling Cilla’s face. Cilla’s nose twitched in her sleep. Hanna sighed. She was in charge of them all, from pip to child to deya. What did it matter that Thriss had come along? Oth was a thousand feet below. Impossible to reach.

Taunier squatted on his haunches and offered his water pouch. Hanna shook her head. There wasn’t much left, and the children would need to drink again soon. Instead, she slipped a pebble into her mouth and sucked it to hold back her thirst. Evver’s long-fingered hand lay across Tymm’s back. The deya’s garments were dirt-stained and his hair and beard tangled; even so, he had a kingly presence.
I can’t let him die
, she thought.
There must be a way
.

“It’s all right, Hanna,” Taunier whispered beside her.

“It’s not,” she whispered back. “I wanted to help the deyas. To rescue Tymm and bring him and the other children safely home.” It was hard to admit her failure aloud. She wished Taunier would put his arm about her. She wanted to feel his strength.

Taunier didn’t hold her, but he did sit beside her, close enough for Thriss to playfully wrap her golden tail about his wrist. Close enough for Hanna to feel his breath tickle the hairs on her neck.

“Do you think Tymm wanted to be rescued?” he asked.

The question startled her. “What do you mean?”

“We used your great-uncle Enoch’s boat to sail from Enness.”

“So?”

“So listen, will you?”

“I’m listening,” she whispered, though she didn’t like his tone.

“We had to run off together because your mother and da wouldn’t have let you come.”

Hanna nodded. That was true enough, and she still felt some guilt over it.

“Would you have wanted your parents to rescue you?
To bring you safely back home before you made it to Jarrosh?”

“No, of course not.”

“It might be the same for Tymm and the others.”

“But they’re only children,” she protested.

“Some might call you a child.”

“I’m fifteen. No one would say that.” She was irritated at Taunier, but part of her was intrigued with his idea. What if by rescuing Tymm and the other children, she was preventing them from accomplishing what they’d come here to do? It was strange to think of it that way, yet the children hadn’t seemed afraid once they’d fully awakened, seen Thriss pop out of the rucksack, and grown used to the deyas. While sleeping in Taproot Hollow, Tymm had somehow sent her the power to dreamwalk again when her own dreams had gone dark.

She guessed he’d sent the magic through the webbed roots in Mount Olone to the roots of the azure sapling where the dragons made her seaweed bed. Since that last dreamwalk, she’d returned to her vivid dreams and had dreamwalked without aid when she’d gone up the slope to find Meer Zabith. But Tymm’s part in the adventure wasn’t over. All the Wind-taken had agreed they’d been
blown across the eastern sea to bind the broken, whatever that meant.

“If I didn’t come here to rescue Tymm and the others, or to help the deyas find new Waytrees after their azures fell, what did I come here to do?”

“I can’t tell you that, Hanna.”

She was tired of being in charge. She leaned her head against the rock wall, exhausted, needing sleep, too worried to drop off.

Evver had said she let the Old Magic speak to her when she dreamwalked and when she listened closely to her heart. She’d felt a deep assurance when she’d left Enness with Taunier, after she’d dreamwalked for the dragons, and when she’d found Tymm and the others in the roots. Was that what Evver meant? It hadn’t been so much like listening to a voice as a kind of quiet knowing. Still, if she were the Kanameer, wouldn’t she have a clear, intelligent plan? A stronger sense of her own power?

Outside, the night was waning. Dawn brushed the valley in pale vermilion, and the trees were dipped in fruited light.

Taunier said, “If the dragons had come with us, they could have flown us down.”

“You know they’re not allowed back into Oth until Breal’s Moon.”

“I know.”

Neither of them mentioned that Breal’s Moon would rise tonight.

Taunier ran his finger down Thriss’s back. “With the azures gone, I wonder if the dragons can get back at all now.”

Hanna had wondered that, too. And behind that thought another, darker one hid. If she couldn’t get the deyas to the trees in All Souls Wood, where Evver had promised to try and bridge the worlds from the Oth side, how could they bring the children home?

Turn back down the tunnel now, and the deyas would surely die. Stay too long away from Noor, and they might all end up in Oth forever. “There’s no way out,” she whispered.

Taunier leaned closer, his arm brushing against hers. “You’ll have to use your powers to get us down,” he whispered, “unless, of course, those deyas back there can fly.”

Her powers … Hanna closed her eyes. There it was again. Was she supposed to dreamwalk them all down?
Fly? She couldn’t fly, though she’d ridden with Wild Esper once or twice.

An idea began to form. “Taunier.” She opened her eyes. “Come closer to the edge with me.”

“Why? We’ve already looked down. There’s nothing to grab on to.”

“Please. Just do it.”

Hanna tucked Thriss into the rucksack. “Stay in here until I say it’s safe to come out.” The hatchling gave a little hiss, but she crept back in.

The mouth of the cave was toothless, with no jutting stones to hold on to. Hanna stepped out as far as she dared, the toes of her scuffed boots only inches from the edge. Taunier gripped her arm; still, her stomach flipped as she looked down.
The wind spirits are my kith. I have the power to call upon the riders
. Wild Esper would not come this far east, but there were other sky spirits she’d read about in the Falconer’s book that might come to her if she called.

“Hold me tight.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Just hold me, Taunier.”

Taunier wrapped his arms about her waist. Hanna held her breath a moment, feeling the warmth and
strength flowing from his hands. She sighed, shivering a little at his touch, then spread her arms.

“Noorushh, rider of the sea winds, I am sqyth-eyed. My blue eye shows my friendship with the sky and marks me as your kith. Friend who rides the wind, blow to this mountainside. I call you here. I ask you to come.”

Hanna called again, “Isparel, sky friend, one who dances with the east wind, I call you. I am your kith as you are mine. Dance on the wind above the valley. I wait here with the deyas. I wait for you to come!”

Hanna waved her arms up and down, as if already greeting the wind spirits. She had summoned both spirits, hoping at least one would blow to the high cave. The breeze picked up, whistling a stark tune as it swept up from the valley. Crisp air blew her hair and clothing back against Taunier, who was still holding her fast. Hanna caught the clean gusts and let them fill her.

“Wake up,” she called to the deyas in the cave. “The great wind spirits are coming.”

A
giant wind rider galloped across the sky on his cloud stallion: the wind spirit Noorushh was racing straight for the mountainside.

“You did it,” Taunier said, amazed.

“Get ready,” Hanna shouted. She wanted to scream and scurry away from the opening, to hide from the powerful rider. But she spread her feet wider to brace herself. Taunier’s long-fingered hands held her steady above the sheer drop.

“Look,” he cried over her shoulder. “There’s another one.”

She saw a spray of colors flung across the morning sky: vibrant green, deep purple, burning orange. The swirl
grew larger as Isparel the wind woman danced toward the cliff in her rainbow skirts.

Hanna tried to press down her growing terror. She’d done it, summoned two spirits, hoping at least one would come. Now both were here, blowing much too close together. It took only two spirits to begin a wind war, but there was no time to send one back.

“Come closer,” Hanna called.

Noorushh swept up, his chalk-white hair and long beard blowing back from his stormy face. “I crossed land hearing your call, but I ride over the sea. I won’t stay long.”