The Wings of Dragons: Book One of the Dragoon Saga (22 page)

“
Enough, Ulto,” an
authoritative female voice sounded from behind the cage. “Leave him
alone.” The boy chortled and trotted off. A moment later, a female
Kodama, this one fully grown, appeared before him.

She looked about the same age as Minawë when
they’d first met, but Iren knew he couldn’t trust appearances. This
woman could be twenty, two hundred, or two thousand and still look
the same. Still, something about her made him think that she was
very old. Unlike the boy guard or Minawë, this Kodama exuded
formality. In contrast to Minawë’s loose tousled hair, this woman
tied hers in a tight bun atop her head. Her dress, made of
intricately interwoven silks and dyed a brilliant green that
matched her hair, made Lodia’s most ornate clothing look plain. On
the whole, the woman transfixed Iren. He found her at once
beautiful yet, in a way he couldn’t place, terrifying.

With a sweep of her hand, the wooden poles
of his prison fell aside. The Kodama gestured for Iren to emerge.
He stretched his three unbroken limbs, ignoring his sore muscles as
he reveled in his ability to stand. Recalling an earlier
conversation with Minawë, he took the index and middle fingers of
his right hand and placed them vertically over his chest in the
Kodaman sign of friendship.

The woman looked surprised that Iren knew
their custom, and she only haltingly returned the gesture. At
length she spoke, every word calm and regal, “I apologize for the
prison, but we take no chances here. We have not welcomed outsiders
into Ziorsecth in a thousand years, and we have not welcomed
Maantecs for far longer. My name is Aletas, Queen of the
Kodamas.”

Iren told Aletas his name, and when she
winced, he quickly added, “I’m sorry. I know about Iren Saito, the
man who cursed you, and I have no connection to him. Minawë told me
about his horrible deeds.” Shock struck. “Wait! Minawë! What
happened to her? Did she . . .”

The Kodaman queen adopted an inscrutable
expression. “You should see for yourself. Come with me.” She walked
to the base of a huge maple some hundred feet away. Gingerly, Iren
tried a few steps, and when he found his legs could support him, he
followed after her.

“
Minawë’s in my house at
the moment.” She gestured at the tree’s enormous trunk, which
easily measured thirty feet across.

Iren cocked an eyebrow. “Queen Aletas,” he
said, “forgive me, but what do you mean ‘your house?’ That’s just a
tree, albeit a big one.”

The Kodama shook her head. “You Maantecs
never did understand how we live. Let me show you.” She waved her
hand again, and to Iren’s amazement, a line appeared in the trunk.
It arched from the ground, up seven feet high, and then came back
down. Giving it a light push, Aletas forced the wooden plug inward.
It rotated on hidden joints, and Iren gaped as it swung aside.

The interior of the tree had been hollowed
into a grand living space, leaving the outer two feet of wood to
form thick walls. “Most of the inside of a tree is dead,” Aletas
explained as they stepped through the threshold. “All the vessels
that transport water and nutrients are along the outer edge, just
below the bark. Leaving this outer ring provides both structural
support and allows the tree to continue growing. Our homes are
truly one with the forest. We have no buildings, which makes for
perfect camouflage. No one can find our villages unless, like us,
they already know where they are. Your prison sat in the middle of
Yuushingaral, our capital. You couldn’t see us, but everyone in the
village could see you.”

Iren walked around the carved-out room with
an expression of amazement. Even though the tree had no windows,
the chamber was well lit, thanks to a round, white orb floating
near the ceiling. “We light our homes with magic,” Aletas answered
when she caught him staring at the strange glowing ball. “It
produces neither flame nor smoke, so it does not betray our
presence. From the outside, you would never know this tree made
such a comfortable home.”

The room’s all-wooden furniture impressed
Iren as much as the magical lighting. Rather than separate pieces,
all the décor, including a long sofa, six chairs, and two low-slung
tables, melded into the wooden floor. Combined with their elegant,
curved lines, the pieces looked truly organic, almost still
growing. Aletas said, “We carve everything at the same time we
hollow the tree, shaping it into whatever pattern suits us. This
way.” The queen motioned to the back end of the room, and Iren
noticed a set of narrow wooden stairs winding their way up and
around the trunk.

Following the queen, he asked, “How many
floors are in this place?”

“
We use as much of the tree
as possible. My home has four floors, each narrower than the
previous, until the trunk diverges into its canopy. Traditionally,
we use the first floor for gathering, hence all the seating. The
second floor is primarily for cooking and eating, and we devote the
higher floors to sleeping areas. Ah, here we are.” She left the
stairs at the third floor. Unlike the open floor plan of the entry
room, this level had walls in it to create separate rooms. Peering
into them, Iren saw more organically carved wooden furniture, this
time beds and dressers.

“
In here,” Aletas
motioned.

Iren had barely taken a step inside the room
when he was suddenly ambushed. A pair of slender arms wrapped
themselves around his neck so hard he could barely breathe.
Minawë’s face, even younger and more vibrant than the day he’d met
her in Akaku, appeared in front of him. In an exasperated tone she
cried, “You moron, what took you so long? I got tired of
waiting!”

For several seconds Iren struggled to form
words. At last he stammered, “How? Last time I saw you, you looked
as old as Rondel! How did you survive? How did you regain your
youth, when biological magic can’t be replaced?”

Minawë smiled and released him. “Kodaman
sentinels found us on Ziorsecth’s border a week ago and brought us
here to Yuushingaral. As for how I recovered, I just used this.”
She patted the wall of her room.

“
The tree?” Iren looked
doubtful.

“
Unique among all species,
Kodamas can restore their biological magic,” Aletas interjected.
“It comes at a terrible cost, though. The environmental magic we
regularly absorb from plants doesn’t harm them. But in desperate
need, we can restore our biological magic by directly siphoning it
from another life form. Doing this nearly always kills whatever we
use, but Ziorsecth has so much magic, we can draw from it with
impunity.”

“
Mother gave me enough of
her biological magic to bring me back to consciousness,” Minawë
motioned at the queen. “Then we both used the tree to restore our
younger forms.”

Iren was still digesting that Minawë had
survived, but her statement sent his head whipping to Aletas. “You
two are mother and daughter?”

The queen nodded, and Minawë blushed,
apparently embarrassed that she had identified her royal heritage.
Iren, however, only felt new respect for her. He had no idea she
was a princess, yet somehow, it felt appropriate. She had such
strength, such willpower, and such courage. She’d risked her life
to enter Lodia, though he had no idea why.

Now seemed as good a time as any to ask, so
he said, “Minawë, there’s something I’ve wanted to know ever since
I first met you. Why did you come to Lodia, when you knew it would
probably kill you?”

Now mother and daughter both looked
embarrassed, and neither answered for almost a minute. Finally,
Aletas, gripping herself tightly, murmured, “I made her go.”

Anger flew into Iren’s eyes. He roared,
“You? Her own mother? Why?”

Minawë put a soothing hand on his shoulder,
but he shrugged her off, waiting for Aletas’s reply.

The queen’s voice remained subdued. “For
information.”

“
Information?” Iren shouted
as loud as he could. “You Kodamas haven’t left your forest in a
thousand years! What information could matter so much
now?”

The queen sighed and sat on the bed. Minawë
joined her, putting an arm around her for support. They looked odd
together, their similar apparent ages making them seem more like
sisters than mother and daughter.

“
Several weeks ago,” Aletas
began, “the Heart of Ziorsecth gave me a vision. It showed me our
forest, our beautiful home, burning. A giant firebird descended
from the eastern sky and set it ablaze. The inferno consumed even
the Heart itself in an explosion that shook Raa to its core.
Something foul dwells in Lodia. I had to know what it was so we
could prepare. Whoever I sent would almost surely die. I could
command no one to do it, but Minawë volunteered.”

“
Why?” Iren turned to
Minawë. “Why would you do that? Why would you sacrifice yourself
for someone else?”

Minawë shrugged. “Why did you?”

Iren stopped short.

“
Ziorsecth is my home,”
Minawë explained. “My only family dwells here. If I lost them,
where else could I go? I would gladly die if the information I
gathered helped them live. I learned little, though. Originally,
I’d planned to go from Ziorsecth to Akaku, passing through Caardit
along the way. The distance between the two forests is small in
that region, and I thought I could make it before the curse
attacked me. Unfortunately, I lost consciousness almost immediately
after leaving Ziorsecth. A group of Quodivar must have found me and
taken me to their base in Akaku. When I awoke there, Zuberi
tortured me for information. When it became clear I would reveal
nothing about my home, he grew frustrated and knocked me out.
That’s when you found me. In the end, I made a worthless journey. I
know I didn’t see any giant firebirds.” She crossed her arms and
glared at the floor.

Iren looked at Minawë as though seeing her
for the first time. She’d wanted so desperately to get back to
Ziorsecth, and at last he understood why. He’d thought she simply
wanted to live, but she didn’t care about that at all. All she
wanted was the chance to pass on the little she had learned in
Lodia to her fellow Kodamas. Still, it was hard not to see her
mission as a failure.

But maybe it didn’t have to be. Minawë might
not know much about Lodia, but Iren did. At least, he knew more
than any Kodama. “Queen Aletas,” he said, “I can tell you what’s
going on in Lodia.”

The queen rose from the bed, regal even in
that simple gesture. “Actually, Maantec child, you can’t.”

He snorted indignantly, mostly because she
called him “Maantec child.” Sharply, he asked her, “Oh, and why
not?”

She swept gracefully past him to the bedroom
door, her silk dress flowing behind her. “Because you don’t
understand a thing about what’s happening in Lodia.”

“
And you do, I
suppose?”

“
Well, better than you,
anyway. Follow me; I’ll show you my source. Minawë, you should come
too.”

Iren thought the queen would lead them back
downstairs to the foyer, but Aletas went up instead, leading them
to the top floor.

“
I have only one chamber on
this level, the guest room,” she explained as she pushed open the
door a crack. “I suppose I should offer it to you while you stay in
Yuushingaral, but regrettably, it’s already occupied.”

Aletas opened the door the rest of the way
and walked in. Curious who could give the Kodamas information, Iren
hurried up the last couple steps and entered. As he did, a
sarcastic voice said, “Hey, long time.”

Iren’s jaw dropped. Sitting in a carved
wooden chair, wearing Kodaman robes, calmly reading a book, and
sipping a drink, was Rondel.

Iren stood frozen in the doorway, fists
clenched, face livid, caught somewhere between relief that the
double-crossing witch was alive and fury at the depth of her
betrayal.

In absolutely no hurry whatsoever, Rondel
set down her book on the end table beside her and rose. “Care for a
drink?” she offered, holding out her wooden cup. “Kodaman brandy,
made from distilled maple sugar.”

“
I’m not thirsty,” Iren
growled.

“
No? A shame. The taste is
distinctive, though admittedly it always reminds me a bit too much
of breakfast. Well, if you change your mind, I’m sure Aletas must
have a bottle or two still hidden somewhere in this tree, the
squirrel.”

Aletas folded her arms but said nothing.

“
Can’t you look a little
more excited, Iren?” Rondel prattled on, her familiar dumb smirk
filling her face. “I did come all the way from Haldessa just to see
you.”

Iren flared and lunged forward. With his
unbroken arm he grabbed the diminutive Rondel by the lapels of her
robe, bodily lifting the old woman and driving her against the far
wall. He pinned her there with her feet dangling. Her cup crashed
to the floor, spilling its contents. The pungent maple smell hit
Iren’s nostrils, but he ignored it as he yelled, “How dare you talk
about Haldessa! Let me guess; you left it burning in ruins?”

If Iren’s reaction took Minawë, Aletas, or
even Rondel aback, they didn’t show it. The two Kodamas simply
watched passively, silent observers leaning against the wall by the
room’s entrance. Rondel maintained her grin, apparently
unthreatened.

The traitorous hag’s smile only incensed
Iren further. “Stop that ridiculous look! I know it’s false! You
can’t fool me anymore, Rondel. I know the truth now. Balear found
your letter and showed it to me. I still have it, too, right here
in my shirt pocket.” He glanced down, but then his expression
flattened. In his anger, he had forgotten. He’d cast away his
shirt, and the letter implicating the crone, during his flight with
Minawë. The only evidence of Rondel’s guilt must surely be shredded
beyond recognition on the Lodian plain.