Wings of Renewal: A Solarpunk Dragon Anthology (43 page)

Apple smiled at the nickname. “And the dragons made you
oratrice
?”

She nodded. “Eventually. The dragons had gone for a long time without a voice. Mother says they were waiting for me,” she added with a laugh.

“What happened to their old Speaker?”

Marigold hesitated. Her face got that far-off expression on it again. Leaf watched her carefully. He always wondered where her mind went, when it wandered away like this. At last she said, her voice barely more than a whisper, “She died. Some time ago.”

Apple frowned up at Marigold, his eyebrows furrowed. “But how?”

When Marigold didn't answer, Leaf said, “She married the king of Stalia Nova and spent many years in your homeland, little one. But they say she was poisoned by her daughter, and—”

“No!” Marigold snapped suddenly. “Not her daughter.”

Her voice echoed across the cavern. High above their heads, the dragons in their roosts fell silent, the glimmering colors of their words fading into nothingness. Leaf stared at Marigold in alarm, but she didn't look at him. Instead, she gazed up into the cavern's heights, to where Goldrute's roost was located. The gold-scaled dragon peered down at her in silence.

“Marigold?” Leaf said. “Are you okay?”

She squeezed her eyes shut. “I'm sorry. I'm just tired. Let's eat.”
 

Her lips drawn in a tight smile, she sat down beside Leaf and plunged her spoon into the bowl.

* * *

Days passed, Apple clinging to Marigold like moss to a tree trunk. The more time he spent with the dragons, the more talkative he became, though he always shied away whenever Leaf or Marigold tried to ask him about his parents or Stalia Nova. They wanted to find out where in Elvezia the family had been planning on going, to determine if Apple might have friends or relatives who would be able to care for him now; but whenever the subject came up, the boy would hunker down and clamp his mouth resolutely shut.

The morning of the fourth day, Leaf awoke to Marigold's walking staff jabbing into his side.

“Come on, wake up and help me,” she hissed. “We have to look for him.”

“Look for who?” Leaf grumbled.

“Apple! He's missing.”

Leaf sat bolt upright. “What? Where could he have gone?”

“I don't know, Leaf, but I'm terribly worried. He's so small, and so new. Come on, get a move on. He may have gone to the upper courtyard, and you know I can't get up there on my own.”

Leaf buckled his belt clumsily, his scabbard swinging back and forth as he moved. “Where's Dragonmother?”

“Out. The Dragon Knights came in the night with news of a Stalian advance on the southern Alpines. They've gone to head off the attack. Good grief, you can sleep through anything, can't you? Some watchdog you are.”

Leaf ignored her jab, hurrying after her down the corridor from the roosting hall to the lower courtyard. Despite her limp, she easily outpaced him; but when they reached the steep staircase to the upper courtyard, Marigold was frustratingly earthbound. The steps had been carved centuries before to allow the
oratrice
access to the upper level. The Drachenstadt citizens' council had offered to install a Skylyft for Marigold when she became Speaker, but she had stubbornly refused, asserting that there was no need to damage the sanctuary with metal and wires when she could fly with the wings of a dragon.

Now she'd have to settle for riding on the back of a knight. Leaf crouched and Marigold scrambled up, wrapping her arms around his neck while he hooked his elbows under her knees. He was out of breath by the time they reached the top of the stairs, though it was more from Marigold's impatient prodding than from her weight.

On the far side of the clearing, they saw the small blond boy speaking to two figures in cloaks.

“Apple!” Marigold cried, leaping off Leaf's back. She'd left her walking staff in the lower courtyard, but she limped forward nonetheless before Leaf stayed her, placing a hand on the hilt of his sword. “Who is that with you?”

Apple turned to face them. His already pale face was now white as bone, and his expression looked strained. His fingers were clutched around a coarse muslin sack. “
Oratrice,
Friend Leaf …” he stammered, “
i miei genitori …
!”

Leaf's jaw dropped involuntarily. One of the cloaked figures stepped forward and pulled back her hood, revealing straw-colored hair like Apple's. Her clothes were torn, her face filthy and bloodstained from a long gash on her forehead that had scabbed over.

“You,” Marigold breathed. “You're Apple's mother?” The
look
was back, and her knees wobbled slightly. Leaf put his hand to her elbow to steady her.

“Yes, my lady,” the woman replied. Her Stalian accent was much lighter than little Apple's, barely audible. “We”—she coughed, a dry hacking sound—“we became separated in the avalanche. My husband was injured badly, and we thought for sure our son had been lost.” Behind her, the other cloaked figure was staring unblinkingly at Marigold with eyes as dark as Apple's. As dark, Leaf realized, as Marigold's. “But this morning we came across a Dragon Knight in a nearby village, who said he may have been brought here.”

“A Dragon Knight?” Leaf repeated. “Where is he now?”

“Still in the village, I expect.”

“He didn't bring you here himself?” Leaf was dubious.

“Well, you see, my lord …” The woman broke off in a fit of coughs.

Marigold broke away from Leaf's grip and moved forward once more. “Come on. You need some water, and food.”

“That won't be necessary, my lady,” the man spoke at last. At his voice, Marigold pulled up short, as if she'd hit a wall. “The villagers shared some of their food with us this morning. We just came to find our son. We won't trouble you any further.”

The Speaker said not a word. Her eyes were glazed over once more.
 

Leaf stepped forward in concern. “
Oratrice
…”

“I know you.” Her voice sounded distant, not of her own body.

The hooded man froze in his spot, eyeing Marigold warily.

The fair-haired woman looked back and forth between her husband and the Speaker. “I'm afraid that's impossible, my lady. We have never been to Elvezia before. Please, we mean you no trouble. We merely were looking for our son. We would just like to make this offering to you, as a thank you for caring for him, and we will be on our way.” She nudged the boy. “Go on, Fi—
Apple
. Give her our gift.”

Apple looked up at his mother. “No,” he said.

The woman's face colored. “Come along, son. There's no need for this.”

“No,” the boy said more loudly. “I won't do it.”

Leaf stepped forward, his grip tight on his sword. “What is this?”

The woman made a noise of exasperation. “Fine.” She ripped the muslin sack from Apple's hands and opened it. Inside was a perfect piece of golden fruit. “My lady, this is for you.”

Marigold's wild eyes focused on the fruit in the woman's outstretched hand. The sun glinted off its smooth skin. For one long moment, everything was still.

Then Marigold screamed, “
Murderer
!” and launched herself at Apple's mother.

Leaf darted forward, sword drawn. Apple shrieked in terror, the hooded man yelled; but their shouts were drowned out by a deafening roar over their heads. In a flash of bright light, a golden dragon swooped down on the upper courtyard. Dragonmother slammed her body into the man, knocking him flat on his back.
 

Marigold seemed unaware of their arrival. She was clawing at the woman's face, tearing at her hair with wild fingers. “Get her off me!” the woman cried.
 

Leaf grabbed Marigold around her waist, but she kicked him away with her strong left leg.
 

“I remember everything now!” she shouted. “She's a murderer! She killed Madre, she tried to kill me! They both did!
ANNERIA
!”

Leaf dropped his arms at that name. “Anneria? The queen of Stalia Nova? Marigold, you—”

The woman began to laugh then, wiping a trickle of blood from her mouth. “Of course. I should have known the Elvezians' precious new priestess could be none other than my superstitious, impossible-to-kill stepdaughter.”

Without warning, Marigold ripped the sword from Leaf's hands, pressing the tip into Anneria's throat. “Superstitious? And do you still not believe in dragons, even when they're all around you?”

Anneria swallowed. A small droplet of blood ran down the sword's blade.

“Marigold,” Leaf whispered.

“Drop the sword,” the man's voice interjected. Leaf whirled to see that he had somehow overpowered Goldrute. An electronic implement was pressed against her chest, and Albero Re held his thumb a mere inch above the detonation button. “Drop it now, or the dragon dies.”

Marigold turned her head, just a fraction. “Mother,” she cried. Her grip on the sword faltered, and Anneria took her chance. Before Leaf could react, Anneria wrested the sword from her hands and plunged it into Marigold's side.

The mountain shook with Goldrute's anguished howl. Rocks skittered down the slopes, crashing into the courtyard with a deafening thud. Apple had been cowering in the shadows, but he raced to Marigold's side now, sobbing, “
Signora
!”

Leaf lunged forward, his fist connecting hard with Anneria's jaw. The sword fell from her grip, but Leaf didn't move to retrieve it. He was going to kill this witch with his own two hands.

“Do it now!” Anneria screamed as the two struggled against one another. “The Speaker is dead! The dragons can be killed!”

Albero pressed the button.

Nothing happened.

Goldrute reared back, slamming Albero's body against the cliff side.

“Impossible,” Anneria snarled. “Dragons without a Speaker are supposed to be mortal!”

Leaf laughed almost hysterically. Goldrute roared again, her wrathful voice filling the courtyard with blinding light. “What makes you think the dragons are without a Speaker, Queen?” His dark hands moved with a skill he'd never known, adding shimmers of silver and gold to the light of Goldrute's voice. The magic of the dragons flowed through him now, strong and fierce and pure.

Anneria staggered backward, eyes wide with fear as the ferocious gold dragon thundered towards her.

“You should have listened to my words, Anneria,” Goldrute snarled through Leaf. “My 'old-fashioned mountain superstitions.' You'd know, then. Nothing can kill a dragon. And nothing can kill me.”

Anneria stepped back again, dangerously close to the crumbling edge of the courtyard. “Flora,” she whispered. She reached to steady herself on the balustrade, but it had long since given way. There was nothing but open air beneath her.
 

Her scream echoed across the mountains. And then it was silent.

* * *

 
“Why didn't you tell me before, Madre,” Biancarosa asked, “how dragons are born?”

Flora Regina smiled, running her fingers soothingly through her daughter's dark hair. “It's our oldest secret, Rosalina. Our most sacred. One that must not be repeated.”

Biancarosa smiled, too, and closed her eyes. “Then I am to be a dragon now?”

“In time. The humans have some need for you yet.”

Biancarosa sighed. “I am never going to get my wings.”

Her mother laughed out loud. “Always impatient, aren't you, my budling? You know if you want to fly, all you have to do is ask.”

“It's not quite the same, is it?” She opened her eyes and grinned up at her. “But I suppose it will be all right, if you are there.”

“Always and forever,” Flora Regina said. She leaned over and kissed her daughter's forehead.

And Biancarosa woke up.

* * *

Marigold opened her eyes and immediately closed them again. The hospital room was bright, blinding—she didn't want to face that much white.

But then she heard a tiny voice cry, “Leaf, she opened her eyes! I know she did, I saw her!”

She opened them once more, slowly this time. Gradually her vision adjusted to the light, and she saw little Apple sitting on the edge of her hospital bed, Leaf peering down at her over his shoulder.

“Marigold,” Leaf said, his voice shaking. “Are you awake?”

“Apparently,” she chuckled. Her voice was hoarse with lack of use.

“How do you feel?”

“I'd tell you, but I don't think it's appropriate for this one to hear.” She reached up weakly to ruffle Apple's hair. “What are you doing here, little one? Shouldn't the prince of Stalia Nova be back among his people?”

“King, actually. Quercia Fiele the First,” Leaf corrected. “There was a bit of a misunderstanding between the old king and the dragons.”

Marigold struggled up onto her elbows. “What?!” So her father was dead, then. She supposed she should feel sorrow, but all that came was relief.

“It's all right,” Leaf said quickly. “The, uh, acting Speaker sorted it out. The war … it's over, Marigold. Stalia Nova and Elvezia have made peace. The Stalians accepted our offer of a unified statehood, and the dragons extended their protection and wisdom to both lands.”

“And I am
not
king,” Apple interjected. “I am not Fiele anymore, either. I abstated.”

Leaf nudged him with a grin. “Abdicated.”

“Right.”

She stared at the two of them, then let out a long breath. “How long was I asleep, anyway?”

“Months,” Apple cried, climbing up on her chest and wrapping his arms around her neck. “I thought you would never wake up,
sorella
.”

Sister
. She supposed she was, wasn't she? Marigold didn't respond. She couldn't. She merely squeezed her burning eyes closed, swallowed the lump in her throat, and hugged the little boy tightly.

“So what are we going to do with you,
bambino
? Now that you've 'abstated'?”

Apple grinned shyly. “Well, I was thinking …” He leaned forward and whispered something in her ear.

She ruffled his hair again. “I wouldn't have it any other way.” She looked up at Leaf. “We're going to have to build an addition to the roosting hall. This one wants to be with his Dragonmother. Where is Madre, anyway?”