Heartless (27 page)

“Have you a name?” the yellow-eyed stranger asked.

“No,” she answered.

“Neither have I,” he said. “Come with me. I’ll show you home.”

She followed, led by the hand. They made slow progress, for he seemed to understand her weariness and adjusted his stride to hers. Like her, he avoided the sunlight where he could. But sometimes there was no choice but to pass through a beam, and she then glimpsed a pale young man not much older than herself, all angles and edges, with a greenish cast to his skin.

“Where are we going?” she asked at length.

“To the Village,” he said.

“How long have you lived there?”

“I forget. Long and not long.” He was silent a moment, and their feet gritted in the sand.

“No one understood me before, you see,” he said. “Tried to control me. But I showed them.”

She did not answer.

“Here they understand,” he said. “No chains, no obligations. That’s what I like.”

She remained silent.

He squeezed her hand almost encouragingly. “And you?” he asked.

“Forgotten,” she said.

“They always forget us at first,” he said. “But they won’t later. He will show us how to make them remember.”

Again she did not answer. But strangely, part of her understood what he said.

They came to the mouth of the tunnel, and she found herself looking down into a vast, dimly lit cavern. Red fires smoldered here and there, but no sun infiltrated these black walls. In the darkness arching above, she could almost discern signs of elegant architecture long left to decay, as though once upon a time this cavern had been a feasting hall of extravagance beyond anything she had ever seen. But that may have been no more than a trick of the light, and this cave nothing more than a natural cavern torn into the desert rocks.

In the dimness and smoke she could see many shadowy forms moving about. Some were upright but moved heavily. Some were bent double and seemed to be carrying invisible burdens. Some, like her companion, skittered here and there between the fires, swift as young snakes. She saw rickety buildings of wood and more solid structures of stone, but not many of either.

“Welcome to the Village,” her slit-eyed companion said. “Come. Come down with me.”

She followed him, still holding his hand, down a narrow path from the mouth of the tunnel to the cavern floor below. She felt ill at ease, stepping out of the closeness of the tunnel into that great, dark openness. Soon they were surrounded on all sides by shadowy figures hurrying hither and yon in the dark, though she could not tell where they hurried or why. Simultaneous sensations of heat and cold emanating from them overwhelmed her senses, and she was uncertain whether she was hot or cold herself. She clung to the hand of the stranger who led her but found no comfort there.

A heavy shoulder knocked into her, and she stumbled up behind the yellow-eyed boy. “Hey, watch your step,” he growled, but not at her.

The person who had jostled her stopped and turned. Man or woman, it was impossible to tell in the dark, but the frame was huge and the voice deep and rocklike.

“What have you there?” the giant asked the yellow-eyed boy.

“A new sister, just arrived. She is forgotten.”

“Ha!” the giant snorted. “They’ll always forget you, small one, no matter how pretty your little pale face may be. They’ll always forget you. Unless you
make
them remember. But then . . . Ah, then they do not forget so soon!”

The giant laughed from deep in her gut, and the sound sent ripples of fear through the dragon girl’s veins. She gasped in relief when her guide tugged and led her swiftly on.

“She was a queen once, long ago,” he said when they were well away.

“She?”

“Yes. And all this – ” he extended his arms as though to take in the cavern – “all this that you see and beyond, all this desert that we call our home, this was once her kingdom. But for a chest full of rubies, her lover betrayed her to her enemy. Long she languished in the dungeons of her own palace, waiting to be executed. Then our king found her. She was willing enough, and her fire was so great that the whole palace and everyone inside burned to nothing within the hour. Then she set upon the land itself. Many no longer believe the vast kingdom of Corrilond ever existed, she wasted it so beyond recognition or recall.”

“Corrilond?” She shook her head. “The Bane of Corrilond? But that is a legend five hundred years old!”

He did not seem to hear but continued speaking in a low voice, nearly a whisper. “Nothing but charred ruins. Great cities, shining Destan, luminous Aysel, and the magnificent Queen’s City of Nadire Tansu . . .

all gone. Now there is nothing but desert as far as the eye can see.”

He paused then and whispered, “I saw it, the Queen’s City, before it was destroyed. When I was young I traveled there with my uncle, and it was more beautiful even than the halls of Iubdan Rudiobus! And I saw it destroyed, and smelled the stench of burning death.” He turned to her. “Although her name has been forgotten, the last queen of –Corrilond never will be. Would you like to see the rubies, the dirty treasure for which her lover sold her?”

She did not respond, but he led her across the cavern to a still darker cave on the far side. He grabbed a red torch on the way, and it threw their shadows weirdly on the stone walls. Her dragon arms, gnarled and hideous, seemed to cast darker shadows than the rest of her.

“Here,” her yellow-eyed guide said. He blew on the torch. It flamed more brightly, and her eyes were filled suddenly with the glitter of innumerable jewels, mountains of gold and silver, crowns and coronets, goblets and platters, ropes upon ropes of pearls, and gilded mirrors. She could not breathe, for the air was heavy with the weight of riches.

Her companion let go her hand and stepped over to a nearby chest. He plunged his hand inside and lifted up a fistful of rubies, which cascaded and clinked between his fingers. But with each jewel that fell, she heard a scream, sometimes high, sometimes low, all filled with terror, so faint and far away that she almost missed them.

“What is this place?” she whispered when the last ruby had fallen and the last scream faded to nothing.

“The Hoard,” he replied. “This is where we gather our offerings for our Father. Whenever we venture out, we bring back something for his pleasure. Sometimes we bring him meat. Mostly we bring him gold.”

She shuddered and backed away. “Those screams . . .”

“Eh? Oh, that.” He shrugged. “You’ll not notice them before long. Most of us don’t. Unless we want to. Some of us enjoy them.” He smiled, and his slit-eyes glinted. “Come. I must show you one more place.”

She did not want to take his hand again, but he grabbed her and all but dragged her from the Hoard’s cave back into the cavern. Weaving his way through the shadowy figures, her guide led her to the very center of the cavern. There sat a giant stone throne.

It was covered in blood.

“This is his throne,” the yellow-eyed boy said. “This is where we worship him, our lord, our master. Here he sits and judges us. And if he deems us worthy, we live. But if we have failed him in any command, he devours us.”

The dragon girl felt a shiver run through the boy’s arm. “Devours you?” she whispered.

“
Us
, sister. Yes, such is his right, for he is our Father. Sooner or later, we all fail and give our blood to him.”

She stared at the yellow-eyed boy in horror. “Why do you not flee this place?”

He turned slowly to look at her, his slitted eyes boring into her face.

“There is no other way for us,” he said. “We are his children.”

“But you said there were no chains here!”

“Only those I have chosen for myself,” he replied, setting his jaw. “I choose to give him my blood when he demands it. It may be a hundred years from now. Perhaps it will be tomorrow. Meanwhile, I live free.”

She stared at the throne, and the smell of dried blood filled her nostrils until she gagged.

The yellow-eyed boy watched her, a smile on his face. “Now you know your end, little sister. You stand at your beginning. We shall see how long until the two meet. In the meantime, let your fire burn and you’ll not long be forgotten in the outside world.”

She pulled her hand free and ran through the darkness, through the shadow people, away from that awful throne. She ran until she hit a wall and fell back on the floor, stunned. There she wrapped her dragon arms over her head and curled into a tight ball.

Realm of dragons.

My home
.

29

At midafternoon, Prince Lionheart stood beside his father’s throne to hear the news of his kingdom. Court was held in a small assembly hall, as the great throne room of the Eldest’s House had been burned to the ground by the Dragon. King Hawkeye, aged and shriveled by too much exposure to dragon smoke, still ruled Southlands, but more and more he deferred to his son’s opinion on matters.

It was known among the court of the Eldest that the Council of Barons watched Prince Lionheart with a wary eye, uncertain whether or not they could trust his leadership after his five-year absence. But Hawkeye, by his deference to his son, made as clear as he could his desire that Southlands trust Lionheart. Soon, it was rumored, Hawkeye would step down from the throne altogether and pass the crown to his son.

This cold afternoon in midwinter, Prince Lionheart listened to reports from various landowners. Much of the land surrounding the Eldest’s City was still wasted after the Dragon’s invasion. Few fields had been left unspoiled. This made all the more important in the coming year a good crop yield in other portions of the kingdom.

He stood in deep contemplation of the report one of his barons had just finished making when the herald announced, “Prince Aethelbald of Farthestshore.”

Lionheart looked up and saw a man he recognized approaching from the doorway. Aethelbald – he had met him at Oriana Palace. He winced as he always did when reminded of that place.

“Greetings, Prince,” King Hawkeye said as Aethelbald neared the throne. “You have journeyed far, have you not? Farthestshore! I cannot remember the last time I beheld a man from Farthestshore.”

Aethelbald bowed low before the king. “Long life to Your Majesty,” he said. “Yes, I have journeyed far.” He straightened, and his gaze locked with Lionheart’s. “Greetings, Prince Lionheart,” he said.

Lionheart nodded. “Strange that we had no word of your coming, Prince Aethelbald.”

“Not so strange,” Aethelbald said. “Few would know the paths I take.”

“Do you travel with a large company?”

“I travel alone.”

At that, the courtiers of Southlands turned and whispered to each other. A prince, traveling alone? And where did he say he was from?

Farthestshore, of all places! Surely this was some sort of hoax.

Lionheart spoke loudly to drown out the murmur. “Do you seek lodging? Allow us to treat you to the hospitality of Southlands.”

“No,” Aethelbald responded. “I seek a word with you, Prince Lionheart. In private, if I may.”

Lionheart felt a heavy stone drop in his stomach. He knew of what the Prince wished to speak with him. Had Aethelbald not been one of Una’s suitors? He hid a grimace by coughing but in that extra moment could think of no excuse to deny Aethelbald his request. “Very well,” he said. He bowed to his father. “If you will excuse me, Father?”

Hawkeye nodded, and Lionheart withdrew, beckoning for Aethelbald to follow him. Two of Lionheart’s attendants stepped into line behind them, but as Lionheart opened the door to a smaller audience room, he bade them to stay outside. He made room for Aethelbald to precede him into the room, walked in behind him, and shut the door. They stood in an antechamber of impressive size, with various maps adorning the walls and heavy curtains on the windows. They were new curtains; the old ones had reeked of dragon smoke.

Lionheart took a seat on a large chair, almost a small throne, on the far side of the room. He did not offer a seat to Aethelbald. “At your pleasure,” he said.

Aethelbald stood in the middle of the floor, his arms crossed over his chest, not in a hostile manner but as though he didn’t know what else to do with them. The effect was almost awkward, but he looked Lionheart steadily in the eye. “Have you seen Princess Una?”

Lionheart gulped. Something in him did not like the directness of the question, and he did not wish to answer. Perhaps it was Aethelbald’s quiet tone, firm and nonthreatening, that set his teeth on edge. “Princess Una of Parumvir?”

“The same.”

He shrugged and kept his gaze steady against Aethelbald’s. “What makes you think I would have seen her?”

“You have heard of the situation in Parumvir?”

“Yes. Dragon-ridden. And the capital is controlled by the Duke of Ship-pening now, is that right? A great pity. I liked King Fidel. He was kind to me during my . . . my exile.” Lionheart drew a long breath. “But that is all far from here, and I have much to occupy my mind in my own kingdom.”

“Una is missing.”

Lionheart raised an eyebrow. Even mention of the girl’s name made his heart beat uncomfortably. His hands and part of his face still burned from his encounter with her. “So I understand,” he said.

“She fell in love with you.” Aethelbald hardly moved as he spoke, and his gaze did not shift.

Lionheart found himself wanting very badly to look away. “What makes you think that?” he answered, trying to look incredulous.

“I guessed.”

“Well, if it bothers you, I have no intention of – ”

“Answer my question,” Aethelbald said. “Have you seen Princess Una?”

Lionheart could not hold his gaze a moment longer. He looked down at his fist resting on the arm of the chair. “Yes, I have. She came here not even a week ago, alone.”

Aethelbald was silent.

Lionheart fought the urge to squirm in his chair and managed to maintain his cool tone. “At first I wondered how she had come here by herself. But . . . she explained in no uncertain terms.”

“She came to you as a woman?”

“Yes. But I saw the change.”

Aethelbald did not reply. The silence was so long that Lionheart at last looked up and saw that the Prince was turned away, his head bent.

“See here,” Lionheart said, clenching and unclenching his fist. “I am sorry about what became of her. I am. But there isn’t a solitary thing I can do about it now, is there?”

Aethelbald did not speak.

“A lot of things happened during my exile.” Lionheart grimaced. “Most of them I wish to forget. Una was kind to me when I needed a friend, and . . . and I appreciated her kindness. Perhaps I implied more than I felt, but that is hardly – ”

“Did you?” Aethelbald asked.

Lionheart took in a deep breath. No reproach lurked in the Prince’s tone; he merely asked the question. Lionheart thought for a moment that he hated the Prince of Farthestshore.

“There was too much . . . simply too much to do when I came back,” Lionheart said. “I couldn’t very well leave, could I, when my people needed me here? Not all of us are free to go chasing across the countryside after dreams or monsters, Prince Aethelbald. Some of us have responsibilities that must come before our own desires.”

“And there was your bargain to consider,” Aethelbald said, nodding. Lionheart opened his mouth, then shut it again. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he muttered at last.

“But you do, Prince Lionheart,” Aethelbald said. To Lionheart’s deep disgust, the expression on his face was not condemning but pitying. “I know the Dragon better than you think. I know the game he plays and the bargains he drives.”

Lionheart stood and crossed his arms over his chest. “That’s none of your concern, Prince Aethelbald.”

“In that case, let me bid you good day,” Aethelbald said and started to turn away.

“What do you propose to do now?”

Aethelbald paused. “I journey to the Red Desert.”

“Are you mad?” Lionheart shook his head, then took another look at Aethelbald’s face. “You are mad, but I see that you’re serious.” He sighed. “Do not think that I am unconcerned about all of this, Prince Aethelbald. If there is anything I can do to aid you in your quest, please accept my help.”

Aethelbald’s eyes narrowed as he looked at Lionheart. “Come with me,” he said.

“What?”

“Come with me, Prince Lionheart. Come to the Red Desert and help me rescue the princess.”

“You . . . you cannot seriously . . . ” Lionheart turned away. “You do realize, don’t you, that you cannot enter the desert and survive? Those who have crossed beyond sight of its borders have never returned. You will die there. I cannot abandon my father and my people for certain death, as you well know.”

“Then I bid you good day,” Aethelbald said. Lionheart heard his footsteps heading for the door.

“Wait,” Lionheart said. The footsteps stopped. “I will send men with you. I will select them myself – strong men, loyal.” He faced around, gazing at the back of Aethelbald’s head. “It is all I can give you.”

Aethelbald did not look back. “Thank you, Prince Lionheart,” he said and left the room.

The attendants in the hall put their heads in, but Lionheart waved them away. “Shut the door,” he said. When it clicked shut and he was alone, he slowly took a seat once more.

“I did what I had to do,” he said to the empty air before him. “What other choice could I make?” He sank his forehead into his hand and shut his eyes tight. “What other choice was there?”

–––––––

She felt as though she had always lived there. How long had it really been? Whether days, weeks, or mere hours, she could not guess. The dragon girl sat against the wall in the shadows for what seemed like an eternity, watching the vague figures drifting, shuffling, sometimes crawling between points of red fire. Now and then a new flame would flare, casting more weird shadows along the cavern floor and walls, or an old flame would flicker away and die. On the whole, the scene before her did not change except that eventually her eyes became more used to the gloom.

Finally she stood, still pressing her back to the wall. Long moments passed and she did not move, but none of the shadow figures took notice of her. Her hands against the rock for support, she started to slide along the wall, making her way slowly around the circumference of the cavern.

She met no one as she went, for none of them came near her.

She found at last the path leading its winding way up to the mouth of the tunnel above. She looked up uncertainly, somehow unable to take another step.

A figure skulked past her. She leapt back, cowering in the shadows, but the figure did not seem to notice her. It staggered up the path, falling against the wall as it went, stumbling to its hands and knees, crawling, rising, and stumbling again. Even as she watched, when it was halfway up the path, it burst into flame. A small dragon, trailing fire, rushed forward and vanished into the tunnel.

“Do you wish to burn?”

Drawing in her breath, she turned to find yellow eyes gleaming at her.

“Do you wish to burn?” the boy with the yellow eyes repeated. He came around and stood before her, leaning his shoulder against a boulder between her and the path. “I do.”

“I . . . I wish to leave,” she said, afraid what he might respond.

“You may,” he said. “We often go out from the Village. Last time, I traveled all the way to Parumvir at the command of our Father. I scorched a dozen soldiers, scorched them to cinders on the edge of a wood.” He tossed back his head and barked a short laugh. “What a fire that was! But I want bigger things next time.”

“Must you return here when the burning is over?” she asked.

Yellow eyes blinked at her. “Where else would we go? This is our Father’s Village.”

She looked beyond him to the tunnel. “Do you never walk in the towns of men?”

“I did a little at first,” the boy said, shrugging. “But men disgust me. At first I liked to go to towns – they did not provoke me so fast. But they recognize us soon, no matter what. Their hearts fear us even if they don’t know why. I hate their fear. Nothing incites my fire more. I find I can scarcely enter a town before the fire bursts out of me now. So I come here when I need quiet. Here among my family.”

She did not answer. Instead she slipped past him and started up the path, picking her steps.

“Wait.”

She paused but did not look back. The boy came up beside her and held something out. It was a hooded robe, black and made from some animal hide. The boy wore one just like it.

“Take this,” he said. “It’s dragon skin. Cover your white hide. We don’t like to see so much exposed humanity when we aren’t burning. It’s repulsive.”

She took the robe and slid it on, covering the tatters of her dress. The sleeves were long and hid her dragon arms. As the folds of hide settled on her sparse frame, she realized that she could not leave the Village. Where could she go?

She turned back and hurried down the path, away from the yellow-eyed boy, back into the smoke-filled cavern. Keeping to the outer fringes, away from her kinfolk, she found a boulder and slid behind it. Even then she did not feel hidden. She leaned her head back against the rock and wished she could cry.

Why don’t you come for me?

Her fire sputtered like coals newly stoked but did not flare to life. Instead a great heaviness pressed her down. She rocked herself back and forth, her eyes closed, and images came to her head, images of a bell-covered hat and a comical face smiling at her. She let herself slip into dreams.

–––––––

Captain Catspaw and his eleven men stood in the courtyard of the Eldest’s House beside their horses. Not half an hour ago, word had come for him and his men to prepare for a long journey.
“A journey where?”
he had demanded, but the messenger had shrugged without answer. Now Catspaw and his men waited as Prince Lionheart paced before them, his face stern and set. A strange man in rough, brown travel clothes stood off to one side.