Breath of Dragons (A Pandoran Novel) (15 page)

Now, why couldn't they have done that along the
outside
of the ramp?

Vera dropped her pack on the ground, pushed the hair from her face, and wiped wet hands on her cloak. Our cloaks had changed back to their original appearance, though it was hard to tell now that they were drenched.

We were so high up. Besides our tiny plot of earth, there was nothing. It was as though we were floating in the clouds on a platform, and the rock wall was our only sign we were still attached to the world. It reminded me of photos I'd seen in
Backpacker
magazine, back when I used to dream of trekking and adventuring and peril because my bucolic life in Fresno was no such thing. I'd see photos of climbers perched with their tents on the face of a sheer rock wall, wondering how on earth they'd climbed there, let alone turned that tiny lip of a ledge into camp for the night. But theirs was sport. Ours was survival. And there was a huge difference between the two.

I didn't near the ledge. Instead, I leaned my back against the rock wall, slumped to the ground, and closed my eyes, listening to the rain. A hot and sticky breeze found me even up here, slipping through my hair as if reminding me it was there. And I was so, so tired. What I wouldn't give for a full night's rest.

I couldn't see the sun, but it had to be low considering the darkening gray of the clouds. Vera had chosen a spot near the ledge. She dug through her pack, checked its contents, then pulled something out of it and started eating.

Alex muttered something to Vera, then came and sat down beside me. He left a few inches of space between us, but when he leaned over to hand me a large piece of dried meat, his knee brushed against my leg. "Thanks," I said and washed it down with a gulp of water from my canteen. "Have you ever been to Gesh before?"

He swallowed his own bite. "I came on business with my father once, but we ported on the western shore and only stayed for the night."

"How old were you?"

Water slopped around in his canteen as he took a swig. "Probably about twelve or thirteen."

Which meant I had been about ten or eleven. I was struck by a sudden thought and turned my head to look at him. "That journal you gave me…it was from here."

He didn't look at me as he fiddled with the lid of his canteen.

He had given me a journal on my birthday—it had been my eleventh birthday. I remembered because it had been one of my favorite presents. When Alex would come back from "family vacation," I'd always looked forward to what he'd bring back. It wasn't that I expected him to bring anything back, he just always did. Now that I thought about it, all of those gifts were probably from this world, like that journal.

I had loved that journal. The cover was stiff and composed of one large, green leaf. A web of veins had stretched through the leaf, and when it caught the light, tiny flecks of gold shone as though the leaf had been woven with hundreds of golden threads—the same leaf I'd seen on the jungle floor below.

That's why I recognized it.

It was the scent I'd loved so much. The cover smelled sweet, like honeysuckle and earth after a fresh rain, and the scent had never faded. Sometimes when it would storm outside, the scent would grow stronger, and when the seasons would change, the leaf would assume different hues of green. As though it had forgotten it was no longer attached to its plant.

I had been telling Alex I wanted a journal. You know, when you're eleven you have so many grand ideas and secrets, like the dimensions of the treehouse you're going to build and how cute your ju-jitsu instructor's nephew is. I looked at the adult Alex's handsome profile.

I'd been so clueless.

You spent most of your life clueless
,
actually
.

Also true.

"No wonder you made me hide your gifts from my dad," I said.

He pushed back his forelock, and his long, dark eyelashes dropped near his cheeks as he looked down. "That probably wasn't the smartest thing I've ever done, but… in a way, giving you things from this world helped me feel like I was being honest."

I put my hand on his arm. "Alex, you did what you had to do and I understand. I've already forgiven you."

He was quiet. "I'm sorry
he
was there." Alex's voice was so soft I almost didn't hear it. He glanced back into my eyes, and the look in them was disarming.

"Don't apologize for him," I said. "He isn't your responsibility." I paused. I remembered Thad and my chest tightened. "Thanks for stopping me."

Alex clenched and unclenched his jaw, then slid his gaze from mine to stare at the middle-distance.

I wanted to ask him what was wrong. Clearly, something was bothering him, and ever since Myez Rader had mentioned Lord Commodus's proposal of marriage to his son, Alex had pulled back and had been acting…distant. I would have liked to have talked to him about this—about the fact that he had known and hadn't said a word—but I didn't feel comfortable with Vera sitting right there. And as if anticipating further questions, he abruptly leaned away from me, grabbed my pack and set it between us as though he had intended to create some sort of physical barrier. He then grabbed his own pack, lay his head down on it and turned, looking at me in his periphery. "Try to get some sleep, all right?"

I stared at him. He was ending our conversation just like that?

He folded his arms behind his head, shut his eyes, and didn't speak another word.

I glanced over at Vera, hoping she was asleep so that I could crawl over to Alex and make him explain what was going on with him, but her eyes were open.

With a sigh, I leaned my head back against the wall. It was covered in drawings and writing in a language I didn't know. Other people had passed through here—slept here, perhaps, like we were about to. I trailed my fingers over one word in particular: Farren. A name, maybe?

Vera adjusted her cloak beneath her head.

"Vera, do many people come this way?" I whispered.

She took so long to answer that I thought she'd fallen asleep. "Only hunters," she said at last.

"How far is Mosaque from here?"

"About six miles, and it should go quickly assuming the weather holds over the Shattered Plains."

I didn't remember seeing anything like shattered plains on our map. "What are the Shattered Plains?"

She adjusted her position once more, turning completely away from me. "We'll cross them in the morning, princess. Best pray to the spirits we aren't hunted."

"By what?" I asked, but she didn't say another word.

Chapter 8

The Shattered Plains

I
had the dream again.

The one where I stood in the heart of an endless desert, holding the small black box in my hands. Eris was there, too, just as he had been before, just as he had always been—smiling proudly at me as though he and I were together in this as equals. But this wasn't the dream that woke me. No, my dreams didn't end here with Eris, like they had so many times before, because this dream segued into something else entirely.

Something even worse.

The desert seamlessly transformed into a court full of pomp and wealth, where all the lords and ladies of the realm had gathered for a wedding.
My
wedding.

My dress was not white. It was red, and when Stefan led me down the silvery isle, my crimson gown trailed behind like a pool of blood. Each step shook and I squeezed Stefan's arm so tightly I was certain I'd cut off his circulation. His face, however, did not show pain. His eyes were dulled but his face was full of purpose. He led me against his will—against my will. He led me as a lamb to the slaughter. A perfect sacrifice for the preservation of the realm.

He led me straight to Danton.

Danton looked very handsome. He wore a black suit that complemented his lean yet muscular build, which had been further decorated by a velvety red cape that was slung over one shoulder—the colors of Orindor. His blond hair was combed back in a way that sharpened the aristocratic angles of his face, and his blue eyes were exuberant as they swept over me. He stood tall, white-gloved hands clasped before him. A pillar of pride. This was what he had always wanted, and we—Stefan and I—had finally surrendered.

The lords and ladies in the crowd watched in silent admiration and relief. This union would bring about peace for all of Gaia. United, the territories could stand against Eris. Otherwise, they would most certainly fail.

And I…I felt numb. Duty had strangled my desires and responsibility had slaughtered my hopes. Hopes for a man who was not here. No, he would not come to witness this monumental day. The day I sacrificed my heart upon an altar. He would not stand to see it, though it was this union that had saved his life. It was this union that allowed him to
be
. And it was this union that had withered my soul.

Even as I said the words "I do," my heart convulsed in my chest. People cheered as Danton lifted my veil, his blue eyes desirous and happy. So very happy. I belonged to him now. My insides writhed as he brought his mouth to my lips and sealed our vow. And then I heard a voice, echoing inside of my mind, a haunting voice I had heard before.

It will be done. There is no other way, for if you do not, you fate all those you love to death.

"I'm right here." Alex crouched beside me. I could just see his face in the lightening gray.

My heart pounded, and it felt like someone had set a very large and heavy rock on top of my chest. I had just dreamt about marrying Danton. In a red dress. But it had been so real and the circumstances so…
plausible
, and that voice! I suddenly took back every theory I'd had about my dreams being glimpses of the future. This
future
wasn't going to happen. It wasn't possible. There was no way I would hand myself over to Danton. The voice had lied. There
had
to be another way.

A hot breeze slipped over my sweaty forehead.

What if there is not?

No. I refused to believe that.

You may not have a choice, Daria.

I always have a choice!

Even if the repercussions of that choice take the life of the man you love?

"Same dream?" Alex asked quietly beside me. He looked concerned.

I shut my eyes and nodded. I had dreamt of Eris, but I was not telling him about Danton. I couldn't. It had been the mention of a marriage proposal to Danton that had made him shut off his emotions from me in the first place. I wasn't about to tell Alex that I'd dreamt about marrying the guy.

"We might as well leave," Vera said. "Sun will be up in the next half hour."

I groaned inwardly. I didn't feel like I'd slept at all, and as my heart slowly calmed, the pain in my body carved its way to the forefront. I hurt
everywhere
, and the ache in my shoulder throbbed like someone had shoved the arrow back in it.

"Let me change her bandage first," Alex said.

I didn't argue; I knew it was infected. Vera grumbled her annoyance, but she waited. I shifted a little so that Alex could access my shoulder, and when he peeled back the bandage, I heard his sharp intake of air.

I looked back. The wound was oozing yellow pus and the skin around the puncture had turned black. I swallowed and looked away. Even Vera was quiet.

Alex set to work, but this time there was no cooling effect. Our time was almost up; I needed a healer soon or I would die. It was that simple. He bandaged me up fast and helped me to my feet. I swayed and he caught me. This was going to be a long morning. If I even made it to Mosaque.

We continued along the wooden ramp, but this time Alex tied a small rope to my belt and held on to it as he walked behind me. I wasn't sure how long we walked on that ramp, but it eventually ended, the fog cleared, and the temperature dropped. Now puffy, bruised clouds filled the sky.

A broad, green plain spread out before us, or perhaps it had been one plain at some time. Now it was a cluster of giant mesas, where time helped the rivers erode webs of soil, cutting deeper and deeper into its flesh, slowly turning one landmass into dozens. I thought that if I were to look down upon it, it might look like a giant green puzzle whose pieces were spaced a few millimeters apart, as though this plain was a sheet of shattered green glass.

The Shattered Plains.

But how would we possibly cross here? The gaps between mesas were much too wide to jump across. Then I saw a bridge. It was a little rickety thing, made of rope and wood, suspended between our mesa and the next, and as I looked out, I noticed more of them. A network of connections all the way to the white caps of a mountain range beyond. The mountains blurred even as I looked at them.

Up here, the wind was a free creature, chilled and fierce, and it ripped through the air with a torrent. Or perhaps it was a symptom of the mass of dark blue and purple clouds conflagrating above, churning and frothing in the sky.

"Which way from here?" I asked, holding my hair back with my good hand.

"The southernmost of the Minarets," Vera said. "There's a watchtower there. It is the only point of entry on this side of Mosaque."

The mountains were jagged spires in the sky, as if someone had used a dull hacksaw to carve teeth out of rock. The largest of them—the southernmost tip Vera had motioned toward—was by far the tallest. It was more bulbous than its razor-sharp companions, and as I looked at it, I couldn't help but be reminded of
Night on Bald Mountain
. At any second, the peak's apex would unfurl enormous bat-like wings, revealing the red-eyed demon within.

Vera hastily tied back her hair with a strip of leather, making a ponytail nub, secured her cloak, and started forward on a rocky trail.

Seeing as how my hair wouldn't stay out of my face, I decided to do the same. Alex had already taken out a strip of leather from my pack, which was still secured at his belt. I took it from him and tied my hair back. The wind clawed some of it free, but most of it held. I was glad, too, because it was hard enough walking without having my vision blocked by my cloud of hair.