The Hearts of Dragons (22 page)

They filled the land. Nearly
all his Maantec forces had fallen; only a handful still moved amid the
destruction. More terrifying, though, not a single Kodama remained alive. They
all lay dead, their hair bone white in a sign that their biological magic had
left them.

Iren vomited over the
tower’s edge. This wasn’t supposed to happen. His spell wasn’t supposed to do
this. He remembered the biological magic flowing out of him. He’d intended to
create shields around the combatants—Maantec and Kodama alike—so they couldn’t
harm each other. He’d wanted to stop the fighting while he went to King Otunë
and negotiated a Maantec surrender. It would have been shameful, but at least
it would have saved the rest of his people.

Instead, something had
gone horribly wrong. His spell had somehow taken on a life of its own, knocking
him unconscious while it wreaked its gruesome work.

The Muryozaki lay on the
roof next to him. Iren trembled to look at it. Divinion had been his companion
for more than two hundred years. What would the Holy Dragon say when he saw
this massacre?

Iren couldn’t face the
dragon’s judgment. He picked up the katana. His finger brushed against its
blade. Blood flowed for a second before the wound healed itself. He would need
to be fast. He pointed the sword at his abdomen.

“Stop!”

The command echoed in
Iren’s head. He froze. He recognized that voice.

“Divinion?” he asked.
“How can you be here? You should be locked in the Holy Diamond.”

“Your spell used enough
magic to draw me forth. You cannot die here, Iren Saito.”

“I must!” Iren cried.
“Don’t you see what I’ve done? I’ve wiped out my people and the Kodamas as
well. I’m disgraced, more than any Maantec who has come before me. Death by
seppuku is the only proper punishment. I name it as Maantec emperor.”

“Fool,” Divinion spat,
“do you think death will bring back those butchered on your account? Can you
save them by killing yourself?”

“Then what do I do?”

“Live,” the dragon said.
“That is your punishment, Iren Saito. Live with the pain of what you have
done.”

Iren felt like Divinion
had stabbed him a thousand times. He fell on the roof of Edasuko Tower and wept
until his eyes ran dry.

Iren Saitosan pulled
himself from the ancient emperor’s memory. His body shook. He’d returned to the
seaside within his mind, but the waves were more disturbed than ever. The sky
was black as the new moon and full of clouds.

A light approached from
down the beach. It was Divinion, and he had shed his human form in favor of his
true reptilian shape.

Iren gulped. The god was
a gigantic white serpent with wings that seemed to extend to infinity. Blue
hairs grew down his spine, and one blue whisker thirty feet long extended off
either side of his muzzle.

“He survived,” Iren said
when the dragon reached him. “Iren Saito didn’t die a thousand years ago.”

“He lived in exile for a
thousand years,” Divinion growled, baring teeth that made the Muryozaki look
dull. “No one knew he had escaped death, so history recorded that he died in
that final battle, killed by his use of biological magic.”

Iren recalled the diary
he’d retrieved from his parents’ farmhouse. He’d set it aside weeks ago, but
now everything became clear. “My name is Iren Saito,” the book had begun.
Iren’s first impression of it had been right after all. It was his father’s
diary, and his father was Iren Saito, the man responsible for genocide against
both Kodamas and Maantecs.

Then a new realization
made Iren gasp. “Divinion, not everyone believed Saito was dead. Rondel knew.
She must have.”

The dragon’s eyes
narrowed. “What makes you say that?”

“My name. Rondel gave it
to me. Last year she said she named me ‘Iren Saitosan’ because I reminded her
of Saito. In a way I suppose that’s true, but as I think more about it, I don’t
think she meant to name me at all. She was surprised when Amroth showed me to
her. She played off her mistake as naming me, but in reality she just said what
I was: Iren Saito’s son.”

Divinion said nothing.
He set his piercing gaze over the stormy Yuushin. That look, more than the memories
Iren had seen, convinced him of the truth.

There was one problem
though. Rondel wasn’t there when his parents had died. Amroth had killed them.
How had she known who Iren was? Had she known Saito was living in that
farmhouse? They had been lovers before Rondel betrayed Saito during the Kodama-Maantec
War. A thousand years was a long time. Maybe they had made amends.

There was one way to
find out, but Iren didn’t know if he could handle it. Melwar’s caution about
viewing traumatic moments rang in Iren’s head. He could lose himself and become
trapped. If that happened, he would die.

He had no choice. He had
to put these questions about his past to rest. As long as they distracted him,
he could never achieve the focus needed to reach No Mind. He would never regain
his magic or become the Maantec emperor.

Iren stared up at
Divinion, his expression set. “You told me you needed a strong memory to
connect with me,” he said. “You used the night my parents were murdered, didn’t
you? That’s why you stopped it before I could see who their visitor was. I need
to see the rest. I need you to show me how they died.”

Divinion kept his huge
eyes looking across the waves. “I do not want to show you that memory, but I
know I can’t dissuade you. Please remember this, though: your father’s memories
aren’t the only ones that matter. That’s all.”

*   *   *

The world darkened a
moment before it filled in with the warm glow of a nearby hearth. Iren Saito
rocked in a simple chair, one he’d fashioned himself. His wife sat in its twin
next to him. Her head rested on his bicep, and she cradled their child in her
arms.

“He will be hated,”
Saito warned her, “just as I am hated.”

His wife looked at him
with bold determination. “He will be loved, just as you are loved.”

Saito sighed. She didn’t
understand. There was no way his child could grow up to be loved.

But he couldn’t tell her
the truth of his past. Instead he smiled, kissed her on the forehead, and said,
“I don’t deserve you.”

“You’re tired, Iren,”
she said. “Go and lie down. I’ll be in shortly. Our little man’s almost
asleep.”

Saito rose, but as he
walked to the bedroom, a knock came at the door. His head whipped to face it.
It was hours past dark; no one should be here this late. He wondered if the
townsfolk had come for them again, but no, it was too quiet for there to be a
mob outside. With a glance toward the dusty Muryozaki above the fireplace, he
approached the door and swung it open.

There was no one there.

Saito closed the door
and faced his wife and son. They were so innocent. They didn’t deserve to be
wrapped up in this. They didn’t deserve to die.

Maybe he could still
save them. Saito smiled at his wife for the last time. He kissed her on the
lips. He would never taste them again.

When they separated, he
put a hand on his child’s head. “Stay in the house.”

His wife watched as
Saito retrieved the Muryozaki and slid it into his belt. “What do you mean?”
she asked. “What’s going on?”

Saito rounded on her.
“Just stay in the house!”

Her eyes bulged. In the
five years they’d known each other, Saito had never raised his voice to her.

He walked to the door.
“I’m sorry,” he said.

He knew they were last
words.

There was still no one
at the door when Saito opened it a second time. He’d expected that. Far off in
his field, though, he thought he could see them—the two orbs of blue light that
marked tonight’s visitor.

Saito stepped outside
and shut the door. He drew a small amount of magic and directed it to his eyes.
It changed them so they could detect more light.

The instant the spell
began, he saw her. Trying to appear more confident than he felt, he strode into
the long grass.

“I’ve finally found
you,” the woman said when he reached her.

“I knew you would,
Rondel.”

“Do you plan to run away
from me again?” she asked.

Saito resisted the
temptation to look back at the house. Rondel had confronted him like this more
times than he cared to remember in the thousand years since the Kodama-Maantec
War’s end. He’d always fled, but now he had people to protect. He wouldn’t let
her hurt them. “No,” he said, “it’s time we finish this.”

Rondel didn’t smile,
even though it was the answer Saito knew she wanted. She drew her Liryometa,
cold in the night. The sparking blue of Lightning Sight was equally frosty.

Saito shivered. “Is
there any way we could avoid this?” he asked. “It seems another life, yet I
still—”

“Okthora’s Law is
absolute,” Rondel interrupted. “You know that as well as I do. Evil must be
annihilated. You sentenced yourself to this fate a thousand years ago.”

With a sigh, Saito
unsheathed his katana. It felt strange in his hands. He hadn’t used it in
combat since the war.

They started slowly, a
dance meant to feel out each other’s strengths and weaknesses. Saito mostly
defended. Each time he swung his blade, he saw Rondel as he once knew her:
vibrant, intelligent, and beautiful. She was everything he could have ever
desired.

As their battle
intensified, tears streamed down Saito’s face. He didn’t want this, but he knew
that if he surrendered, if he gave himself to Rondel’s blade, it wouldn’t
satisfy her. She had waited a thousand years for this revenge. She needed to
feel like she’d earned it.

Then Saito heard a sound
that made his blood curdle. The grasses behind him rustled. As the battle
brought the sound’s origin into view, Saito saw his wife standing there. She
carried their son in her arms.

Saito fought with
renewed fervor. Lightning Sight saw everything. Rondel must know they were
there. If he didn’t stop her, if he didn’t kill her, she would kill them.

Rondel’s abilities astounded
him. Even though she’d lost almost all her biological magic, she was still as
precise as she’d been during the war.

By contrast, Saito’s
arms felt like he’d strapped boulders to them. Even the Muryozaki felt clumsy. It
was all he could do to defend himself. Two minutes had gone by since he’d last
counterattacked.

He couldn’t win. No
matter his desire to protect his family, his old strength had abandoned him
after a thousand years of inaction.

There was only one thing
left to do. If he could hold out a little longer, maybe he would have enough
time to cast one last spell.

Saito poured magic into
the technique. He didn’t know if it would work, if it was even possible, yet he
had to try.

Seconds passed. The
spell demanded more energy. He gave it some of his biological magic, and even
that wasn’t enough. Out of options, Saito slowed himself so he could add in the
magic he was using to keep up with Rondel.

The moment he did that,
though, Rondel caught him. Her blade pierced his arm. In a last desperate act,
Saito flung the Muryozaki toward his wife. He hoped he’d had enough time and
that she would pick up the sword.

Defeated, Saito knelt on
the hard earth. He looked into Rondel’s sparking eyes. “I love you,” he said.

She stabbed him through
the heart.

It hurt less than he’d
expected. As he crumpled to the ground, the last sound he heard was his wife,
his second wife, screaming in the night. His final sight was Rondel stalking
toward his unarmed family, and as he died, he despaired.

Everything went black
for a moment. Iren Saitosan had no idea what was happening. He thought he’d
been kicked out of the memory, or perhaps that he’d died along with his father.

Then the blackness
filled in. He was looking at a night sky from the ground. Beside him lay the
unsheathed Muryozaki. He couldn’t make sense of his thoughts. Whatever body he
was in, the person couldn’t think in words.

Then he realized what
memory he was viewing. It was his own, as an infant, just after his parents’
deaths.

Rondel appeared above
him, her Liryometa still streaked with his parents’ blood. Iren the baby didn’t
understand, so he didn’t cry. He just stared at her, looking into those
murderous eyes.

The old Maantec thrust
her dagger toward him, but inches from his face, she stopped. Lightning Sight’s
sparks disappeared, replaced by the deep green of Rondel’s true eyes. She
snarled, her body tense. Then, with a violent shake of her head, she stalked
away into the dark.

Iren lay in the grass
for a long time, unable to pull himself from the memory. He had seen the truth,
just as he’d wanted, but this was unbearable. In his mind he wailed, even as
the baby version of him cried for his mother.

While Iren struggled to
end the memory, a new person walked into the infant’s field of vision. He was
huge and barrel-chested. “Looks like whoever that was took care of our work,”
he said in a deep bass. “Could you get a good look at him, Amroth?”

A second man, by
appearance barely twenty and with flame-red hair, stepped into view. “No,
Captain Ortromp,” he said, “but I’m glad they showed up. Judging from the
sparks of their weapons, I’m not sure either of us could have killed that
Left.”

Iren stared in shock at
the man who would, in time, become king of Lodia and the Fire Dragon Knight. As
though Amroth could sense the baby gazing at him, he looked down at the infant
and the sword resting against him. Amroth’s eyes widened in recognition, and he
murmured, “The Muryozaki?”

Amroth shifted his gaze
to his companion. “Captain!” he shouted. “There’s something here!”

Ortromp came over. “A
Left child,” he said. “We have to kill it.”

“Kill it, sir?”

The captain walked out
of Iren’s line of sight. “See this man, Amroth?” he called. “See how his sheath
is on the right side? He’s a Left, a monster. If we let this kid grow, he’ll
become one too. Better to kill him now, while he’s helpless.”

Amroth looked down
again, and Iren the adult could see the Maantec-in-hiding work out a plan. “I’m
sorry, sir,” Amroth said at last. “I can’t. He’s a baby. I can’t kill an
innocent baby.”

Ortromp stormed back
into view. “Do it, soldier!” he roared. “That’s an order.”

“I refuse.”

“Then stay out of the
way!” Ortromp shoved Amroth, who fell to the ground. The captain drew his blade
and came for Iren.

As Ortromp raised his
weapon, though, Amroth regained his feet. With an easy motion, he unsheathed
his sword and stabbed his captain in the gut.

“You don’t understand,”
Amroth said. “I need this child. Someday he’s going to get me everything I
desire. I won’t allow a barbarous Right like you to interfere.”

Ortromp gasped as he
clutched at the blade piercing his abdomen. “You . . .” he
breathed, “you’re a Left!”

Amroth smiled as he
swung his weapon up and carved his former superior in half. He wiped the blade
clean, put it away, and hefted Iren onto his shoulder. “There, there, little
Holy Dragon Knight,” he sneered, “no harm will come to you. I need you to kill
the Fire Dragon Knight for me so I can take his place. I’m going to take good
care of you, my beautiful weapon.”

*   *   *

Iren shot from the
memory like a bolt from a crossbow. He didn’t return to the beach. Instead, he
found himself back in his room in Hiabi. He stumbled his way to the latrine and
threw up until nothing remained in his stomach but bile.

Amroth hadn’t killed his
parents. Rondel, his friend and former teacher, had.

Iren roamed the
corridors of Hiabi in a daze. He had no idea where he was going or why he was
going there.

At some point he ran
into a soft wall. It was Melwar. The Maantec lord took one look at Iren,
wrapped his arms around him, and said, “I am sorry, Iren. I am so sorry.”