Antebellum Awakening (29 page)

The stab of a rock in the middle of my foot wrenched my next step, jolting me back into reality. My strides stumbled but didn’t stop. I leapt a boulder and dodged a low-hanging vine. The memory faded, replaced by another one.

Mama appeared ahead of me on the trail again, her arms spread wide, her hair streaming around her shoulders like banners.

You’re back!
she called, laughing.
I missed you. Did you have fun with Papa?

I miss you, Mama,
my heart replied.

The little girl laughed and ran past me on the trail, throwing her wispy body into Mama’s arms. A sob lingered in my throat as the two ghosts of my past twirled around, so happy together. I’d never see that smile on Mama’s face in real life again, outside this vague world of ghosts and shadows.

Oh, how I miss you, Mama!

Despite the lurking dangers of the early morning forest, I lost myself in the motions of running with disregard. The only way to endure the sorrow of missing Mama would be to find a greater pain, so I ran until my lungs burned. My knees ached. My heart beat so hard it threatened to crack my ribs.

I remember,
my heart wept.
I remember!

The grief opened up, flooding me with spikes and barbs and wretched sorrow. I let out a cry and slowed my pace. It was the first time since Mama’s death that I’d given the grief any kind of respect, and it threatened to rupture me. My legs gave out. I lowered to my knees.

“Mama,” I sobbed, pressing my face into my hands. “Mama!”

Like the mourners in the West, I wailed my torment. The cries came from deep in my belly. I held nothing back. All my ugly heart scars opened and I bled. I cried for minutes; it could have been hours. My eyes had almost swollen shut when I heard her voice again.

It’s going to be okay, Bianca, Everything will work out.

I looked up to find Mama standing a few paces away, her eyes focused on a spot in the distance. She looked calm and lovely in the white mourning dress she’d worn to Grandmother’s funeral. It had been the last time I’d really seen or spoken to her. The words came again, but from farther away this time.

Everything will work out.

Mama began to fade, first from her feet and then her hands. The ethereal substance trickled away, born on a gentle wind. She gazed down on me and smiled. The last thing I saw was her gray, gentle eyes.

I love you, Bianca.

Mama was gone.

“I love you, Mama,” I whispered, but she had already disappeared. The words choked in my throat. “Always.”

Something new clicked inside me, filling me with warmth. I felt spirited and strong. I lifted a hand and pressed it to my heart.

The magic.

It moved inside me with calm, languorous waves now, settling next to the swollen part of my heart that still mourned Mama. The magic and I were enemies no more. Startled by the swift change, I stood. It moved through my body, strengthening the muscles and sinews. I started to run and the magic ran with me.

It felt wonderful moving along the trail without struggle. I reached out to a dead, overhanging tree branch and let a little of the magic go. A shot of light spiraled through the dead mass. The wood trembled, shifting from the deep, dead gray to the same vibrant brown as the surrounding forest. I pressed my palm to the branches blackened from a dragon’s breath. They sprang back to life, jolly and green again.

“Yes,” I whispered with a smile. “Yes!”

I took off again, springing up hills, dodging low branches. I would have run forever, reveling in the magic, if a narrow pair of yellow eyes hadn’t startled me. My foot caught on a root and I pitched forward, rolling down a hill until I crashed into a pair of gleaming claws the length of my arm.

When I looked up, I gazed into the eyes of five towering forest dragons.

Really Quite Simple

“B
lessed be,” I whispered, my chest heaving.

The dragons loomed so far above me that I had to crane my head back to see them. Their scales glittered with marbled veins of sapphire, crimson, emerald, and a deep mauve, seeming both colorful and dark. Heat radiating from their bodies flooded over me.

I crept to my feet, keeping my eyes trained on them until I had finally straightened, unable to determine if they meant me harm.

The smallest dragon, one with longer wings and mauve scales, leaned toward me, his nostrils flaring. He stomped and shuffled a second step closer. His great head came within an arm’s reach of me, nearly obstructing my view of his body. Beneath his mighty claws, the ground gave a little shudder. He suddenly backed away as if I’d touched him with something hot, then roared, sending a spray of fire into the trees directly in front of him.

A dark feeling spread from my heels up through my spine.

Let’s not frolic with the dragons tonight, Bianca,
I thought.
They don’t play nice.

I dodged a stomping claw and ran a few steps, but the long tail of a dragon hidden in the trees whipped around to block my escape. When I changed direction, another claw landed a few paces away. It didn’t take long to realize they had me hedged in, each dragon taking their turn sniffing at me and roaring to the treetops. The ground shuddered as two dragons barked, attacking each other with teeth bared. Their spastic movements catapulted me onto the end of a stray tail. The heat of the warm scales nearly sizzled my sweaty palm. I jerked away with a cry.

A new pair of sunburnt orange eyes and pulsing nostrils lowered right next to me. This dragon had a red tinge running through his scales like little flecks of blood, turning the ebony into a dark, seething black, like a breathing chunk of coal. I froze, unable to look away. Three of the other dragons screamed, fire bursting from their nostrils, while the red dragon and I continued to stare at each other.

Just when I thought this surly forest dragon would be the last creature I’d ever see, a shout broke into my thoughts.

“Lay off, you rotten lizard! She’s no harm to you. Bianca, stay behind me.” It was Sanna hobbling over, yelling in a surprisingly calm voice. “They are quite agitated tonight, the dirty rotten—”

“Sanna?” I gasped.

“Yes. Who else did you expect? Isadora? I told you, she’s a wimp. Do as I say. Unless you want your bowels hanging out.”

I preferred my bowels where they were.

The red dragon threw his head back and let out a scream, setting the leaves above us on fire. I ducked behind Sanna’s hunched form, feeling like a coward for putting a blind old woman between myself and danger.

“Are they planning on eating us?”

“Nah. They wouldn’t eat me. They’d eat you, yes. But not me. Not a bad way to go, though. You wouldn’t feel a thing.”

“Oh,” I muttered, staring at the long fangs dripping from the red dragon’s mouth. “I think I’d feel something.”

Sanna bellowed in a language I didn’t recognize. It sent the dragons into a stomping rage, and she chuckled. “They hate it when I say that.”

The emerald dragon snapped at the mauve one, her teeth dripping with pearly saliva. The mauve dragon was not amused, and screamed in response. I stumbled, but Sanna didn’t waver. She shouted something else, and the other dragons screeched.

“Can I transport out of here?”

“Sure,” she called. “Go to my house. I want to stay and see what happens. It’s been a while since I’ve seen this many in one spot.”

“Are you mad?” I cried. “They’ll trample you.”

She waved a hand through the air. “I’ll be fine.”

“But Sanna, you’re blind.”

She smirked, tapping her finger against the side of her head. “Not to everything. Go on. They’ll get pretty rough here soon.”

Grateful to escape, I transported away. The spell dropped me onto a familiar patch of forest near her gurgling stream. I rolled off a rock with a grimace, thinking that I really needed to work on my transportation skills, and slowly made my way up the path. Sanna appeared on her porch just as I arrived.

“That red one is fierce," she said with a little tutting sound. “Fierce, fierce. Those teeth? Jikes! One hell of a set, if you ask me. Well, come on already. No sense waiting out here.”

Sanna turned into the house, waving me in after her.

Despite the massive dragon talon on the wall, the rest of Sanna’s house was nondescript and tidy. She had a small table, a narrow bed, a fireplace, and a few pots hanging on the wall. She motioned for me to sit in a chair at her rickety table and I obeyed.

“Thank you for saving me from the dragons,” I said. She gave me a toothy smile, seeming quite pleased with herself. Tucked away in her little cottage, and more comfortable with monsters than with witches, I doubted she got into society much. “Can you explain what’s going on? Why are the dragons following me?”

“Your power,” she said, reaching for a teapot. I marveled that she didn’t just use magic to call all the things that she needed to her. “The dragons are drawn to it.”

“To my power? Why?”

Sanna poured a cup of tea into a nearby glass and took a sip.

“It’s really quite simple, Bianca,” she said in a long suffering tone. “Forest dragons love power. It calls to them.”

My hand covered my heart, which had begun galloping. “How do you know about my power?”

She scoffed with a gruff, scraping sound. “It doesn’t take a witch like Isadora to recognize strong magic. I’ve been around for a long time too. I sense it, and so do they.”

My eyebrows lifted halfway to my hairline.

“All these dragons coming out of Letum Wood are my fault?”

“Blessed be, no. Kind of an arrogant child, aren’t you?” she muttered. “One little girl like you couldn’t make the dragons this nervous. But the old powers are awakening. That’s what draws them out near the city. But once they’re closer to you, the power, which is quite strong, calls to them. It’s lucky for them that you’re also a lovely little snack. At least I think you are. I can’t see whether your face is lovely or not. You could be quite ugly.”

I brushed aside her snarky tone to pry at something that concerned me far more.

“What do you mean by
the old powers are awakening
?”

“The old powers, you know!” Sanna cried with a surly wave of her hand. “The dark magic is in Antebellum again. It’s all just beginning."

She reached up and rubbed one of the scales on her necklace and a tattoo on her wrist was visible for just a moment. It wasn’t a circlus like mine; Sanna’s wrist boasted the furled wing of a dragon, the sign of the Dragonmaster. It stretched across her wrist in a black, swooping design.

“Why is dark magic bringing them from the deep forest?” I asked, peeling my eyes away from her tattoo. “What part do they play besides protecting the castle?”

Sanna smiled. “Let me tell you a story,” she said, as she settled into a chair with her teacup floating beside her.

“It starts back in the days of the Mortal Wars, when the Almorran priests banished the humans from Antebellum and sent them across the ocean. Most of the forest dragons were allied with the Almorran priests in what is now the Western Network. Once we destroyed the Almorran race, and separated from each other into the Network system, each Network murdered the forest dragons living in their lands, just to be sure the evil was really gone. Each Network, that is, except for ours.”

A little twinkle appeared in her eye: she must appreciate the underhanded, rebellious spirit. She took another sip.

“A man named Damen, my distant ancestor, stepped forward and spoke for the dragons who hadn’t aligned with the Almorrans. He convinced Esmelda to spare them on the condition that they protect the castle, and her inhabitants, whenever they sensed the old powers. In years of peace, the dragons could live amongst the deep shadows of Letum Wood without disturbance. But when the old powers stirred, the forest dragons would be obligated to come out of their repose and protect the castle.”

My thoughts flew back to Miss Mabel and her partner. There was little doubt in my mind that they were somehow linked to the rising evil in Antebellum. I hoped the dragons didn’t sense part of Miss Mabel in me, like the gypsies had.

“The dragons are stirring because Chatham Castle is in danger.”

“Yes.” Sanna seemed a little too at ease with the conversation for my taste. She leaned forward with a conspiratorial whisper. “I’d not go into Letum Wood if I were you.”

“If they are bound to protect Chatham Castle, why did they mean me harm? Don’t they like witches?”

“No!” she spat, recoiling. “Most of them hate us. The dragons don’t appreciate their bondage. They may protect our castle, but they don’t have to like it. Some are lukewarm about humans, but not many.”

“I recognized one of them,” I said, scooting to the edge of my chair. “I saved him from some poachers awhile ago. The blue one.”

Sanna leaned back in her seat. The teacup set itself onto the table nearby.

“Yes, yes. He’s nice enough at times. A bit emotional, really. His attitude has always turned on a hat pin.”