Dragon Blood

I turned back to say something to Kellen, but he was crouched in a corner as far from the broken wall as he could get. I looked at Oreg, but he shook his head and gestured for me.

My old stable master had never liked keeping horses in stalls for longer than a day or two. He told me once of a horse he'd seen who'd been kept in its stall from the moment it was born until it was ready to be trained for riding. It had taken four men to drag the horse out of its stall.

The rockfall had been loud; someone was bound to come here soon to check on Kellen.

There wasn't time to coax Kellen out. I remembered how unsettling I'd found the darkness below Oreg's wings, and I used my knife to rip a strip from the bottom of my shirt.

"Shh," I said, wrapping my makeshift blindfold around Kellen's eyes. "It's just the shock of it. Let my dragon and me get you out of here to safety and you'll be fine."

Oreg took his cue and shifted into dragon form. I heard the noises of guards in the hallways, doubtless drawn there by the sound of falling stones.

As it did with horses, the blindfold steadied Kellen. He didn't say anything when I told him of the dragon. I think he was concentrating too hard on surviving his rescue to be concerned about legendary creatures.

With my guidance, Kellen scrambled onto Oreg's back. I sat behind him to hold him on. Oreg shuffled awkwardly to the edge of the room and launched.

I thought we were going to have to land, but three quick wing-strokes had us aloft.

As we neared Menogue, I said, "Oreg, can you take us somewhere for Kellen to recover a bit before we meet with the others?"

Oreg dipped his wings in answer. He took us to the far side of Menogue and landed in a small clearing where long-ago people had encased a small pond in stone. The clearing was surrounded by trees and lit by the full moon.

I took the blindfold off Kellen and slid down Oreg's shoulder to the ground. After a brief hesitation, Kellen followed. When we were safely dismounted, Oreg curled up and laid his great head on the ground, looking as harmless as he could.

"So Hurog has dragons," Kellen said. He was stiff with stress, but was clinging with his fingertips to sanity—I knew how that felt.

"One," I agreed.

"Where is your mage?"

I gestured to the dragon. "He is not full-blooded dragon. He tells me he's equally comfortable in either guise."

Kellen nodded slowly and gestured to the pond. "Is it safe to wash in this?"

"Yes," said the Tamerlain from the opposite side of the pool. "Welcome to Menogue, Kellen Tallven."

Kellen looked at her, then at the dragon, and abruptly laughed.

"I'm no dream," she said, catching the edge of hysteria in his merriment. "I have been here serving the kings of Tallven for a long time. The world has changed since you were bound in stone, Tallven, though most people don't know it yet. Dragons fly, the old gods stir, and mages grow in power because an old wrong has been righted."

The expression on Kellen's face was oddly blank, despite his earlier laughter.

"Go away, Tamerlain," I said, staring worriedly at Kellen. "Time enough for this later." The Tamerlain shot me an amused look and disappeared with a needlessly theatrical crack of sound. "Let's wash the stink of that place off our skins and eat before we start thinking further ahead. Oreg?"

The dragon head lifted and Oreg looked at me mildly.

"Go tell the others Kellen is safe and bring his man here—only his man—with clean clothes, please. Take enough time for us to bathe." If Kellen felt like I had, it would take a while before he felt clean. I'd only been in the building for a few minutes this time, but I felt as though the smell of that place clung to me.

Oreg stood up, yawned, and shook himself before resuming his human form. "Sounds like a good idea." He bowed his head to Kellen once, a gesture of respect he didn't make often, and retired into the trees.

Kellen made no move to go into the water, just stood staring at me as if he didn't know what to do. Or as if he didn't trust me. I don't suppose being locked in a cell by my own brother would have made me very trusting, either.

"Rosem's coming soon," I said. "You can wait for him if you want—but I'm not." I pulled off my clothes and walked into the pool.

It was not cold, as the water in such a pool should have been, but lukewarm. I felt no particular welling of magic here, so it must have been fed by underground hot springs. In the dark it was hard to tell how deep it was going to be, but I needn't have worried, for the drop-off was gentle when it came. I swam away from Kellen, letting him decide to follow or not. After a few minutes there was a splash from that end of the pool, so I supposed he had.

When I heard nothing more I swam back to Kellen.

He stood waist-deep in the warm water and trembled.

"Do you know," he said, watching his shaking fingers, "I hated Aethervon as much as ever I hated my brother for locking me away in the Asylum. If it hadn't been for the vision Aethervon gifted Jakoven's mage with, my brother would have just killed me."

He was ready to break, and maybe he needed to pour out what he was feeling to someone. But if he broke now, he might not be able to put himself back together again. Wait, I wanted to urge him, wait until a little time has made you something more than a boy who has no more past than a cell in the dark. I wished for Beckram's clever tongue, but had to make do with my own.

"I'm pretty ambivalent on Aethervon, myself," I said, ignoring the agitated state Kellen was in. "Last time I was here, he took over my sister without so much as a by-your-leave or 'excuse me, and used her to babble prophecy that was not even very helpful."

"If I had told you more, you wouldn't have done as you were needed to," said a soft, sexless voice.

I looked around and noticed the old woman who was one of Aethervon's people, sitting on a rock—but I had no doubt that the voice belonged to a god rather than an old woman.

"So why did you say anything at all?" I asked.

"Because my prophecy was not unsought." As before, the voice changed from moment to moment. "I am sworn, so long as mankind seek me here, to tell them somewhat of the future."

"Who sought prophecy and gave you a chance to meddle in my business?" I asked.

The old woman's mouth smiled, though her eyes remained blank. "Meddle? I suppose that is as good a word as any." The sound of the young girl's voice in the old woman's mouth made the hair on the back of my neck rise. "Your dragon worried that you were not as he believed. He asked for my wisdom and then flinched at the cost. I gave you the opportunity to break through the barriers that had been placed between you and your magic."

I was Shavigborn and served no gods but Siphern, He whose justice ruled the Northlands. Though Aethervon was being helpful now, I didn't like Him.

My lip curled. "You used Oreg's wishes to punish him. He asked for reassurance and you took my sister, whom he was sworn to protect, forcing him to endure the pain of his broken oath. Oreg had enough pain, you didn't need to give him more."

"It reminded him who he was—your slave and not your master."

"Oreg belongs to no one," I snapped. "And never should have."

The god's voice was a deep rumble, larger than the old woman. He sounded irritated. "Oreg is yours as much as Hurog is yours. If he had not been reminded of it, your will would have bowed before his as the sapling bows before an ancient wind, and the evil that twisted the world would yet remain."

"You play games with people's lives," I said, remembering my sister's eyes, blank like the old woman's, and Oreg writhing on the ground at the base of the stone wall she'd stood upon. "You forget that they are fragile."

The god laughed, soft as thistledown in the night, and answered me with the rich velvet of a whore's trained voice. "Fragile does not describe you, Guardian of the Dragon. Thrice forged in fire you are and the stronger for it—as is the king who shall be. As the boy he was, he had no chance of outfacing his brother. But with the strength of his forging at Jakoven's hands, he shall carve a path through the bodies of his foes—or shatter like a blade that has been hardened too much."