The Hearts of Dragons (14 page)

As their blades met,
though, Melwar’s sword passed through Iren’s. Surprised, Iren panicked and
ducked low to avoid Melwar’s attack. Even so, the cut caught the tip of Iren’s
hair. Several strands fell to the floor.

Iren retreated from
Melwar and eyed the Maantec lord in shock. That shadow blade had passed through
the Muryozaki, yet it had somehow become solid enough to nearly slice off
Iren’s head.

Though Iren didn’t know
how such a technique could be possible, it was simple to counter. He couldn’t
block Melwar’s sword, so he would have to avoid it. The next time the Maantec
lord attacked, Iren sidestepped the vertical slice. As Melwar was still
following through, Iren thrust. He didn’t want to wound Melwar, but the narrow
miss earlier had forced him to think otherwise. This might be a fight to the
death.

Still, Iren didn’t want
to kill Melwar if he didn’t have to. Rather than a lethal blow, he aimed for
Melwar’s sword hand.

The Maantec lord didn’t
even attempt to block or dodge. Iren’s blade struck its target.

Iren half-smiled in
victory, but almost instantly, he knew something was wrong. His blade hadn’t
met any resistance, and Melwar had neither cried in pain nor dropped his sword.

Thrown off balance, Iren
took another step forward. His momentum drove his sword through Melwar’s chest.

“No!” he shouted,
dropping his katana. If he had killed Melwar, then all hope of regaining his
magic was gone forever. He rushed to cradle the dying lord in his arms, but
instead of holding Melwar, Iren passed right through him. It was as though the
Maantec lord were as insubstantial as his sword.

Only then did Iren
realize the Muryozaki had fallen to the floor. It had landed soundlessly on the
straw mats. Melwar was unharmed.

The next second, Iren
felt a breeze and the slightest pain as Melwar’s blade cut a shallow line in Iren’s
right cheek.

The Maantec lord stepped
away. His strange weapon vanished. He waited while Iren picked up the Muryozaki
and sheathed it. Once he had, the Maantec lord said, “You are not ready yet.
Hana, bring him to the garden tomorrow at dawn. We will begin his instruction.”

Hana knelt and bowed so
that her head touched the floor, and Iren recovered his wits enough to mimic
her. The two of them left Melwar in his chamber and headed back to Iren’s room.

“What on Raa just
happened?” Iren demanded when they arrived.

Hana laughed. “I think
you just got yourself a new teacher.”

Iren groaned.

Rondel and Minawë
galloped across southern Lodia. Ahead of them loomed the high peaks of the
Eregos Mountains.

As they rode, Minawë
silently thanked Dirio for giving them the horses Hana and Iren had ridden to
Veliaf. Crossing Lodia on foot had been dangerous enough. Crossing all of Raa that
way seemed impossible.

In spite of the improved
travel conditions, Minawë despised every second. This journey shouldn’t be
necessary. They had been in the same village as Iren. Had they arrived a few
minutes sooner, they might have caught up to him before Hana ensnared him.

It didn’t help Minawë’s mood
that Rondel had ridden in brooding silence ever since they’d left Veliaf.
Minawë had tried to engage her in conversation the first day out, but the old
Maantec had worn such a frightening expression that Minawë had given up the
effort.

She wanted to dismiss
Rondel’s sullenness as mere frustration at having missed Iren. Yet something
told her there was more to it than that. She had suspected that Rondel had been
keeping a secret ever since Ziorsecth. Now Minawë was certain of it. There was
more to this mission than rescuing Iren. Whatever it was, Rondel knew it and
didn’t intend to share.

After four days of
travel, though, the old woman’s attitude eased a little. She still hadn’t
spoken, but she didn’t seem furious at the world anymore.

Minawë decided to risk
it. She couldn’t handle the silent travel much longer. “How’s your hand?” she
asked.

Rondel shook her head
and blinked several times. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I asked about your
hand,” Minawë laughed. She rolled her eyes. “Hey, are you daydreaming over there?
That’s more like Iren than you.”

The old Maantec
chuckled, and Minawë felt the tension between them drop. “I guess so,” Rondel
said. “As for my hand, I wish I had better news. It isn’t infected; I can thank
Serona’s heat for that. Unfortunately, it didn’t set right. I don’t think I’ll
ever use it again.”

Minawë recalled Balear
lying on his bed in Veliaf, missing an arm. At the time, she had wondered why
Rondel would go to such lengths to comfort him. Now she understood.

“Slow down,” Rondel
called, interrupting Minawë’s thoughts. The terrain around them had changed. It
sloped up and was littered with large rocks. Caught by surprise, Minawë swayed
in her saddle.

“And here you were
making fun of me for not focusing,” Rondel said with a smirk.

Minawë shot the woman a
dirty look, but secretly she was glad Rondel was making sarcastic comments
again. It meant the old woman was back to normal.

“Does this mean we’ve
crossed into Eregos?” Minawë asked.

Rondel’s horse trotted
up beside hers. “I’m not sure where the border is, but for all practical
purposes, yes. There are only a few small Lodian towns at the base of the
mountains, and we’ll avoid them. We’ve gotten caught up enough in their war.”

Minawë had to agree with
her. They’d seen more devastation crossing Lodia than Minawë had witnessed in
her life. It made the damage Feng had caused to Ziorsecth last year seem minor.

As they rode higher into
the foothills, Minawë’s pulse quickened. Despite her frustrations, a sense of
adventure was growing on her. Eregos’s peaks awed her. They seemed to stretch
forever, and more than a few speared the clouds. “Will we have to climb them?”
she asked, entranced and afraid at the same time.

“Thankfully, we won’t,”
Rondel said. “There are a few passes between the mountains. It’ll be rough
going for the horses, but nothing they can’t manage. I’m more concerned about
the Tengu.”

“Tengu?” Minawë had
heard them mentioned a few times, but she knew nothing about them.

“Mountain men,” Rondel
explained. “They’re mostly livestock herders, especially goats.”

Minawë breathed a sigh
of relief. “So they aren’t dangerous.”

“No! They’re quite
dangerous. They’re the reason Yokai no longer live in these mountains. And
during the Kodama-Maantec War, the Maantecs would have conquered Lodia had the
Tengu not sided with the humans and Kodamas fighting there.”

“What makes them so
dangerous?” Minawë asked. “Are they strong?”

Rondel shook her head.
“Compared with Kodamas and Maantecs, the Tengu have little magical talent. For
the unwary, though, they can be the deadliest of opponents. They excel at
illusion and trickery.”

Minawë gulped. “I hope
we don’t see any.”

“Even if we do, they’re
peaceful enough that as long as we don’t threaten them, we should be safe.
Still, I’d feel more comfortable if Lodia weren’t in the middle of a civil
war.”

“What does that have to
do with the Tengu?”

“Take a look around:
scrubby pine trees, dry earth, steep slopes, and rocky soils. This isn’t farmland.
The Tengu rely on trade with Lodia to supplement the meat and dairy from their
livestock. But Amroth’s drafting of an army and the civil war will have vastly
reduced Lodian agriculture. The Tengu may be growing desperate. They might fear
an invasion, or worse,” Rondel’s expression turned grim, “they might be
planning one.”

After that, Rondel
suggested they ride in silence to avoid attracting attention. They traveled
through the afternoon, stopping only to refill their water skins at a spring.

Minawë had no idea how
long the journey through the mountains would take, but she hoped it would be
over quickly. Her earlier adventurousness was eroding at the reality of what
they faced. The rocky trail didn’t allow the horses to go faster than a walk,
and each step echoed off the surrounding cliffs. Rondel’s idea of riding
quietly was impossible. They’d be better off sneaking through here with a
troupe of drunken bards.

She was about to ask
Rondel what they should do about the noise when they crested a ridge. The
moment they did, all Minawë’s thoughts of their journey fled as she beheld the
valley below them.

Everything in it was
scorched black. From the ridge where they stood to the far valley wall, no
vegetation survived. A few husks of old pine trees remained, but they didn’t
have a single needle on them. An acrid smell filled the air, and smoke still
rose from several areas.

Rondel dismounted and
took a few steps into the charred valley. Kneeling, she picked up a clump of
burned soil and rubbed it in her fingers.

Panic rose in Minawë’s
throat. This was why Hana had taken the Burning Ruby from Rondel. She had
reforged the Karyozaki and created a new Fire Dragon Knight.

Minawë drew her bow and
nocked an arrow. The flames that had destroyed this valley couldn’t have gone
out more than a couple days ago. If the Fire Dragon Knight was still here, they
were dead. Rondel couldn’t fight, and Minawë wasn’t ready to face any Dragon
Knight yet, certainly not one of the same ilk that had slain Mother.

Rondel paused in her
examination of the soil. She cocked an eyebrow. “What has you so worried?”

Minawë couldn’t believe
the woman’s nonchalance. “What has me so worried?” she cried. “The Fire Dragon
Knight is here! He’ll kill us!”

The old Maantec stared
at Minawë for a long moment. Then the old woman burst out laughing. “You think
the Fire Dragon Knight caused this?”

“Of course! Look at this
destruction! This valley must be hundreds, maybe thousands of acres in size.”

“You’re right,” Rondel
said with a nod. “It is small, now that you mention it.”

“Small?”

Rondel made her way back
to the ridgeline. “Minawë, this is no dragon-caused disaster. We’re coming into
summer, and the mountains here get little rain. Combine the two, and this
region is rife with wildfire.”

Minawë was shocked.
“You’re saying this devastation is natural?”

“As natural as we are.
It doesn’t take much to set off a blaze like what caused this. A careless Tengu
with a campfire or a bolt of heat lightning would be all that’s required.”

Minawë dismounted and
entered the valley. She heard no voices here. “If what you say is true,” she
said, “then how can anything survive in these mountains?”

Rondel walked to the
husk of a pine. “Take a close look at this tree,” she said. “The plants here
are adapted to fire. This one has extremely thick bark. It may look charred,
but it’s doing fine.”

Minawë put a hand on the
tree, and to her amazement discovered that Rondel was right. It was still
alive. In fact, it felt more than alive. The tree’s voice conveyed sheer delight.

“It doesn’t make sense,”
Minawë said. “This tree is overjoyed about the fire. How can that be? What does
it have to be happy about?”

Rondel grinned. “That’s
why I was checking the soil. Grab some yourself, and you’ll see.”

Minawë didn’t know what
Rondel was driving at, but she obliged. Picking up a handful of dirt, she
sifted it through her fingers. At first she didn’t sense anything. Then she
heard tiny voices from the soil.

“These trees have
serotinous cones,” Rondel explained. “Your father taught me about them after I
joined his side in the Kodama-Maantec War. The cones can withstand intense
heat, and it’s only after such heat that they open and release their seeds.”

Sweeping her gaze over
the blackened landscape, Minawë understood. “Of course,” she said. “There are
no other plants to compete with the seeds. If they’re released only after a
fire, then they can grow unrestrained.”

“That’s why the tree’s
so happy,” Rondel said. “It knows that while it has suffered, its sacrifice has
given its children the best chance for success.”

Minawë thought back to
the pair of graves at the Heart of Ziorsecth. Mother and Father had given their
lives so she could survive. She wondered if they had felt the same elation as
this tree at the moments of their deaths.

“We shouldn’t linger,”
Rondel said. “Night’s falling, and we don’t want to be out and exposed either
in this valley or on the ridge. We’ll backtrack a little and find a place to
camp.”

Minawë walked a few
steps toward the ridge, but then she halted. She placed both hands on the ground,
her Chloryoblaka clutched between them. Closing her eyes, she reached out to
the seeds around her. She could only touch those within about thirty feet, but
it was enough. She let her magic flow into them and willed them to grow.

When Minawë opened her
eyes again, a circle of seedlings had sprouted, their blackened parent at its
center. “What do you think?” she asked.

For a long time Rondel
didn’t answer. Finally she smiled. “It’s wonderful.”

When Hana woke Iren at
dawn, he had no desire to get up. The thick mattress—Hana called it a futon—and
cylindrical pillow she’d pulled from the closet last night were by far the most
comfortable bedding Iren had ever slept in. But Hana insisted, and after she
lifted one side of the futon and rolled Iren onto the floor, he got the
message.

A servant entered
bearing a tray with a teapot and a pair of cups for them. Hana sipped hers, but
Iren sucked his down, grateful for the heat and invigoration it provided.

Once Hana finished her
tea, she helped Iren pick suitable clothes. She chose a less ostentatious
outfit than she had the previous night, a simple tan shirt with the same baggy,
pleated trousers.

The clothing matched
Hana’s. She had dressed like a Maantec man and tied her long black hair in a
ponytail.

Still groggy, Iren let
Hana guide him through the castle keep, down several flights of stairs, and
outside into a large central garden. Ringed by the keep, the garden was simple
yet elegant. Small trees, bare in winter’s chill, lined a maze of stone
walkways.

The garden’s middle,
however, had no plants at all. Instead, sand filled a square area about the
size of Iren’s bedroom.

Following Hana’s lead,
Iren removed his socks and stepped onto the sand. It was frigid, not far above
freezing, and he shivered. Even so, he dug his toes into it, savoring its
therapeutic crunch. He breathed deeply. Though plaster and stone ringed him, in
the distance Iren could hear the ocean waves crash on the shores that
surrounded Hiabi on three sides. The morning breeze showed his breath, but it
also brought the sea’s salty tang. That air woke him more than any tea ever
could.

“I thought you might
like it,” a male voice said from behind him. Iren turned and bowed. Hana did
the same beside him.

“Lord Melwar,” Iren
said.

“Rise,” Melwar replied.
“We have work to do.”

Iren lifted his head to
look at Melwar. The Maantec lord had dressed the same way he had the previous
night. In each hand he held a wooden sword shaped like the Muryozaki. He tossed
one to Iren. “We will start with these.”

Iren fingered the wooden
katana doubtfully. “How is this supposed to help me use magic again?”

“You think you can
survive breaking your body’s magic wall with your strength as pitiful as it is?
Hit me first.”

Setting the Muryozaki on
the ground, Iren held out his new wooden sword in challenge. Melwar half-smiled.
He snapped his fingers, and Hana stepped between them.

“Before you may face
me,” Melwar said, “you must prove that you can defeat someone of your own rank.
Win against Hana, and then we will fight.” He handed the Maantec woman his
second wooden sword and stepped back.

“The rules are simple,”
Melwar continued as Hana squared off against Iren. “Do not leave the sand. You
may use the wooden sword and your body, but magic is forbidden. The winner is
the one who lands the first blow with his or her sword.”

Iren gritted his teeth.
The lord’s exercise was a waste of time. Still, Melwar was in charge here. He’d
just have to go along with this nonsense for now.

Fortunately, he wouldn’t
have to go along with it for long. After observing Hana’s fights in Lodia, Iren
knew he could win. Hana was an aggressive fighter. She never worried about
blocking, because her Stone Dragon Knight abilities gave her armor that swords
couldn’t pierce. In a match where magic wasn’t allowed, that inexperience with
defense would make her vulnerable.

True to expectations,
Hana made the first move, attacking with a vertical slash at Iren’s head. It
was fast and hard, with no thought to the stomach she’d left exposed in the
process. Iren blocked her strike, redirected the force off to his right side,
and countered with a thrust at Hana’s abdomen.

He was certain his blow
would land, but then Hana sidestepped to her left and avoided it. She cut
horizontally, and Iren felt pain in his right arm as the wooden sword
connected. Hana stepped back and made a show of pretending to sheathe her
weapon.

“Hana wins,” Melwar said.

Iren seethed at the
mundane way the Maantec lord stated the obvious. “How?” he demanded of Hana. “I
thought you didn’t care about defense.”

“Only a fool doesn’t care
about defense,” she said. “If you’re judging me by the fights we shared in
Lodia, that’s a poor decision. I didn’t bother with defense back then because
we never faced an opponent that warranted defending myself against.”

“One more time then,”
Iren grunted. “I won’t take you lightly again.”

Hana shrugged. “If you
want.” She readied her wooden sword.

“No,” Melwar interrupted,
“one attempt per day. You both will meet me here at dawn each morning and duel.
That is all we have time for. After all, Iren, this is only the first part of
your training regimen.”

The way Melwar said
“regimen” made Iren gulp.

“Hana, that will be all
for today,” Melwar continued. “We will see you tomorrow.” Hana bowed low and
left the garden.

When Melwar and Iren
were alone, the Maantec lord said, “Last night when I attacked you, you saw
that I prefer shadow magic. You should consider my selection fortunate. Had I
chosen any other, you would have no chance of using magic again.”

“How so?” Iren asked.

Melwar folded his arms
and scowled. At first Iren had no idea why the annoying Maantec was dallying,
but then he realized his mistake. “Please explain, Lord Melwar,” he said,
cursing mentally. This etiquette stuff was going to be the end of him.

His apology appeared to
satisfy Melwar. The Maantec lord answered, “There are nine types of magic, and
each has its opposite: fire and ice, water and air, earth and life, light and
shadow. Lightning is its own opposite; it has positive and negative charges.
These energies are at constant war with each other as they strive for balance.
For that reason, although they oppose, they also attract one another.”

Melwar paused and
pointed at Iren. “You are the Holy Dragon Knight. To break your barrier, we
must build up enough shadow magic in your body so that the attraction between
it and your trapped light magic is stronger than your body’s wall. When that
happens, your barrier will break as the magics collide with each other.
Unfortunately, the pain of enduring all that energy inside you would kill you
in a second. To have a hope of surviving a breach of your body’s wall, you need
to increase your pain threshold.”

Iren blanched.

“The second part of your
training regimen will be an endurance trial,” Melwar pressed on, ignoring
Iren’s discomfort. “I will attack you with shadow magic, and you will try to
stay conscious. Simple, right?”

“Yeah, real simple,”
Iren spat before he could stop himself.

“Under normal
circumstances, I would be within my rights to attack you for showing me such a
callous attitude,” Melwar warned. “However,” he added with a sly grin, “I think
you are in for enough punishment as it is. Prepare yourself.”

Iren retrieved the
Muryozaki and held it before him. “I’m ready, Lord Melwar,” he said, though he
knew it was a lie.

Melwar raised a single
hand. The shadows in the garden deepened, shifting much faster than they should
to mark the passage of the sun. They enveloped Iren and grasped at him like
hands.

Then as one they stabbed
into him. It was like a hundred knives driving into his flesh from every
direction. He screamed at the pain that seemed to last for all eternity, and he
blacked out.

*   *   *

Iren woke in his room.
He was on his futon and looking at the ceiling. His body ached. He tried to
stand, but he could only raise his head a few inches.

“Not bad,” a female
voice said. “Lord Melwar thought you’d sleep until dawn.”

Hana appeared above
Iren, still dressed like a man. She dabbed a wet cloth on his forehead. The
water was cool and refreshing.

“What happened?” Iren
asked. “What time is it?”

“About two hours until
sunrise.”

“That doesn’t make
sense,” Iren said. “It was just after dawn.”

“Yes, you’ve been asleep
almost a day.”

Iren recalled the agony
of Melwar’s attack. He felt over the parts of his body that he could reach. It
took incredible effort to move his arm, but at least nothing was broken. He
couldn’t even find the slightest cut or wound. “Did you heal me?” he asked.

Hana shook her head.
“You didn’t have any wounds. Even if you did, I don’t have any healing
abilities.”

“I see.” Iren figured he
should rest, but there was no way he could sleep after lying unconscious all
day.

“Well, since you’re
awake,” Hana said, rising and walking out of Iren’s field of vision, “I guess
we may as well put the time to good use.”

Iren didn’t know what
she meant, and without intending it, the memory of the bath two days ago came
to him. His heart raced. Part of him was terrified, but he was also curious.
He’d never been romantically involved with a woman. In Lodia everyone had hated
him, and when he’d lived with Minawë, they’d both been preoccupied. Now, with
Hana having seemingly no other purpose but spending time with him, the idea
filled his mind.

Hana returned with the
diary Iren had found at his parents’ house. “Let’s keep up our practice of
Maantec,” she said. “You want to know what this book says, don’t you? Besides,
Melwar and I are exceptions in Hiabi. If you want to communicate with other
Maantecs, you should learn our language.”

Iren shook his head to
clear his thoughts. Of course Hana just wanted to continue his lessons. She
didn’t feel anything for him.

He did his best to
concentrate on Hana’s instruction, but within a few minutes his head swam. He’d
spent most of the day asleep, yet he still felt exhausted.

A “training regimen,”
Melwar had called it. A fresh wave of soreness washed over Iren. “Training
death-march” sounded more accurate.