Authors: James V. Viscosi
"It will soon be over," Orioke murmured, "and the dragon will come away with me."
Adaran glanced at the wizard, who stood not far to his right, beside Deliban's hulking, rocky mass, which had arisen from the earth to join them. Orioke's eyes, hard and glittering as the crystals themselves, were fixed on the dragon stones; Adaran thought the mage must be wondering if he could find a way to use them himself. Perhaps he would return someday, Deliban in tow, to drain the new lake and claim the deadly treasure hidden beneath the surface.
Well, that would be T'Sian's problem, wouldn't it? She had told the rest of them that the situation was no longer their concern, and that was fine with him.
He felt a tug on his tattered sleeve. Prehn, wanting to be picked up. He shook his head, showed her his bandages. "I can't lift you," he said. The little girl took one of his hands and inspected it, sniffing the bandage and making a face at the smell. Letting go, she seized his tunic and scaled him, hand over hand, as if he were a wall or a tree. In short order she had settled onto his shoulders, her knees locked around his neck to hold herself in place.
Ponn, observing this, said, "She hasn't forgotten what you did for her." Then, after a moment: "Nor have I."
Steadying himself on the stick he had been using as a cane, Adaran said: "But you're here now. Why didn't she climb you?"
"She tried, but I told her no, because of my shoulder. Besides, you're taller. You provide a better view."
Chuckling, Adaran turned his gaze back to the castle. The river had begun to lap against the nearest edge of the crystal dome; wisps of vapor rose from the point of contact. As the water drowned the glowing stones, the vapor became bubbles, which became smaller and smaller as the pond grew deeper.
Suddenly he noticed the dragon plunging down from the heights, coming straight toward them.
It was over.
Dunshandrin was dead, his castle destroyed, his line eradicated. The river was dammed, and Qalor's tainted crystals would be lost beneath the icy water, unable to harm unwary dragons.
All that remained were two small items of deferred revenge.
She would only have once chance at this. She had to strike quickly, before the wizard realized what she was doing; otherwise he would loose his elemental, would bring powers to bear against her. She could not deal with both of them at once; events in Astilan had most clearly demonstrated that. Nor could she take Orioke but leave Deliban. Freed from any constraint, the creature might rampage and harm the others. Not that she cared for the fate of a few humans; but she had given her word that they would not be harmed, and she would not have it bruited about that a dragon's promise was a meaningless thing.
She drifted nearer to where they stood, all her attention focused on the wizard, waiting for the right moment, for him to be distracted. That moment came when the water began to reach the large mass of crystals; he leaned forward, peering into the crater, his crafty little mind probably racing ahead to his plans for her once they were away from the others. The fool had such confidence in his powers of persuasion that it never occurred to him that she might have plans of her own.
She dove at them, claws outstretched, plummeting from the sky like a massive tephra hurled through the air by a volcanic explosion. But at the last moment before striking, she realized that Pyodor Ponn's daughter sat upon the shoulders of the one called Adaran. She could not take him without taking the little girl as well.
For a fraction of an instant, T'Sian hesitated; then she drew that claw back, out of the way.
One last gift to Pyodor Ponn, then.
Her other talon closed around Orioke's body like the iron bars of a prison; at the same time she whipped her tail at Deliban, snaring the earth creature around the midsection. Pulling it away from the ground was like uprooting an ancient and massive tree, but she had tremendous momentum behind her; she tore the elemental off the dam, bringing it with her, a clot of dirt and rubble held together by roots and willpower.
Laden with this burden, she flew toward the deep, cold lake.
Tolaria stared at the dragon as she flew sharply upward, Orioke wriggling in one claw, Deliban clutched in her long tail. Mud and stones fell from the creature's body like dirt shaking loose from the roots of a plant.
"T'Sian!" Ponn cried. "What are you doing?"
Adaran, ashen, whispered: "She was going to take me."
"T'Sian!" Ponn broke into a run, racing down the dam toward the village, even though there was little chance that she could hear him, and none at all that he could catch her.
Adaran turned to Tolaria and Diasa. "She was going to take me," he said again. "She wanted to carry me off, too."
"Of course she did," Diasa said. "She hates you."
He turned, looking off toward the lake, and the receding form of the dragon. "Why did she change her mind?"
"If I must guess?" Diasa pointed at Prehn. "But you can't carry Ponn's daughter around forever."
"He won't need to," Tolaria said. "I don't think T'Sian is planning to come back."
T'Sian beat her wings harder, gathering speed and altitude. Climbing was difficult with the extra weight of the earth creature; the thick muscles across her back began to ache as she rose higher and higher above the black waters of the lake.
The wizard struggled feebly in her claw. She had squeezed him very tightly, just the way Ponn had told her not to, keeping him from drawing enough breath to use his words against her. She wanted him alive and conscious, until the final moment, so that he could see his fate coming to meet him; but she did not want him casting any spells.
When she had achieved a sufficient height, she released Deliban, flinging the mass of dirt away from herself. It lost shape as it plummeted, becoming a rain of earth and rock. She had no idea if the creature's spirit was still contained within it, or if it had been left back by the dam when she pulled its body off the ground. Either way, she had done all she could to keep the others safe. Pivoting now, she turned her face down, toward the lake, and pulled in her wings.
She began to fall through the chill morning air. She drew up her legs, making herself smooth to lessen the resistance. The water raced up to meet her; at this velocity, the impact would be like crashing into solid stone.
Here came the lake. Now she could see the individual waves; now she could see the ripples, and the reflection of the rising sun on each, a field of small fires, like the extinguished light in the eyes of her young. They waited for her on the other side of that dark surface.
Just before slamming into water, she thrust her arm forward, the one that held tight the wizard. His eyes were wide, his mouth open in a scream that was lost in the rushing wind. The dragon felt an instant of pain as her outstretched limb struck the lake, but it was worth it, to see the wizard smashed to jelly before her eyes.
Then came the water, and the cold, and the darkness.
T'Sian's impact threw up a tremendous splash, so high it seemed like a geyser erupting; Ponn could see it from the bridge north of the village. He stopped then, panting, hands on his knees. There was no reason to keep running now.
By the time Ponn rejoined the others on the dam, the spot where the dragon had slammed into the water was calm again, a large field of fizzing bubbles the only sign of her impact. Those would surely dissipate soon, as the stones inside T'Sian's body cooled and her fires went out forever.
He felt a hand on his shoulder. Diasa. "I'm sorry, Ponn."
"Sorry?" He looked at her. "There's no reason to be sorry. It's not as if she was my friend."
"No, of course not," Diasa said. "You went charging down the hill because you wanted a better view as she crashed into the lake; and the wetness about your eyes is merely spray from the splash."
Ponn said nothing.
"And obviously she cared nothing for you," Diasa said. "That she intended to take Adaran as well, but spared him because he had your little girl on his shoulders, signifies nothing."
Ponn looked at the footpad. "Really?"
"She had her claw out and ready," Adaran said; he still sounded shaken. "I saw it coming right at me, but at the last second she pulled it back."
"So you see, despite what you claim to believe, the dragon
was
your friend," Diasa said. "And you were hers. If you don't believe it, just ask the oracle."
"No, don't ask the oracle," Tolaria said. "For once, just be satisfied with the evidence of your own eyes."
The five of them returned to the ruined village, Ponn carrying Prehn, Tolaria and Diasa on either side of Adaran to help him walk. None of them spoke as they made their way along the scorched cobbles and cracked, dried mud, past buildings that still leached smoke into the air. T'Sian was gone, but the legacy of her final hours lay all around them.
This was the work of just
one
dragon. Diasa imagined the destruction of whatever kingdom had preceded the Salt Flats, the sky squirming with dragons, raining lethal fire over every square inch of land, laying waste to everything, every green plant, every creature that walked upon the earth or crawled beneath it. If Orioke had spoken the truth, that had happened many centuries ago, but even now nothing grew there, nothing dwelt in those ruined lands, except for ghosts, and a few stubborn miners, and, once upon a time, a school.
They eventually found their way to the lake. The structures along the waterfront had suffered major tsunami damage, the docks largely in splinters; there were a few boats left, though, bobbing in the gentle waves. A high water mark slowly dried in the weak autumn sun, showing the size of the wave that had come ashore after the dragon plunged into the lake. It had been easily as tall as a man, and looked to have smashed some of the smaller vessels and the shoddy lake-front shops. Even in her final moments, the dragon had been an impressive force for destruction.
They stood a while, looking out across the water that had become T'Sian's grave. Eventually, Diasa noticed people moving along the shore, not approaching the town just yet, but edging in that direction. Locals, probably, who hadn't fled as far as most, and had seen the dragon's plunge, and were working up the nerve to come home.
Home. Where was that, anyway?
Finally, Tolaria said: "So now what do we do? How do we get back to where we belong?"
Ponn gestured toward a small sailing vessel that floated nearby, attached to a crooked, ruined dock by a frayed length of rope. "A journey begins when you release your moorings," he said. "Are you ready?"
"
I
am," Diasa said. "Let's get out of this forsaken town."
FIRST EPILOGUE
Tolaria, Diasa in tow, climbed the hill to the Crosswaters in a hard, cold rain, just like the storm on the day she had left. It seemed a lifetime since she had first made this trip, a novice seer unsure of what lay ahead, and another lifetime since she had been sent on a fool's errand to give advice and counsel to Lord Dunshandrin's sons.
As she approached the outer walls of the Crosswaters, she began to smell the odor of burned wood, intensified by the precipitation and the moisture. The main gates hung open, giving a view into the grounds and the ruins of the central temple
She glanced at Diasa. The woman had insisted on escorting her back to the temple; her job was to protect the students and oracles of Flaurent, she'd said, and Tolaria was the closest thing left to one of her charges. Also, Tolaria suspected, she had wanted to see the destruction for herself, as if she needed another reason to hate Dunshandrin.
They paused a while at the ruined entrance, where guards had once inquired after the business of those who sought entry to the Crosswaters. Beyond, the grounds showed signs of widespread conflagration; at least the walls had contained the flames, preventing them from spreading to the surrounding meadow or to the village at the base of the hill.
Tolaria moved into the compound, where the smell of old fire became stronger. She first went up the wide gravel track that led to the main sanctuary. It had been devastated, blown out from within and reduced to a jumble of blackened walls and beams. She wondered if the bodies of the other oracles were still inside; finding that out would be a task for another day.
"You were right. This wasn't just a fire," Diasa said. "It was a trial run. Dunshandrin tested out Qalor's devices here."
"Does that mean there will be crystals growing inside?"
"I doubt it. Qalor told me that as part of the reaction, the stones destroyed each other."
"But what if the destruction was incomplete, and there was a little bit left? What then?"
Diasa thought for a moment, then said: "Well, if you intend to stay here, perhaps you should check the ruins for crystals from time to time."
Not reassured by this, Tolaria proceeded along a narrow side path that eventually arrived at the small, mean hut to which Klem had banished her. It came into view as they circled the temple. Separate from the main building, it had somehow survived the fire that had obliterated the sanctuary; the southerly winds, common this time of year, would have helped to keep the flames at bay. Only a few spots on the roof showed scorch marks.