The Hearts of Dragons (6 page)

Three days after
escaping Orcsthia, Balear Platarch sat with Iren and Hana on the edge of a
thicket. He poked their campfire with a stick. He hadn’t wanted a fire; it
attracted attention. With the brisk spring night, though, they’d needed to risk
it.

Balear threw his stick
into the flames. He’d never imagined crossing Lodia would be like this. Three
days, and three attacks. Travel wasn’t this dangerous even when the Quodivar
were at their height. Lodia was falling apart, and so far, he’d managed to do
nothing about it.

Things would have been
different if his father had been here. Dad would have known what to do. At the
least, raiders would have thought twice about attacking them. Mom always said
all Dad ever needed to do was brandish his sword and enemies would flee.

But Dad was dead, at the
bottom of the ocean. Now Balear’s only hope for peace lay with Iren.

Across from Balear, the
Maantec stared into the fire as though lost in it. He’d been asking Balear
questions about Tropos ever since they’d left the farm outside Orcsthia. The
man was obsessed with the village and what he might find there.

Of all the places for
Iren to want to go. What did he think he would learn there, anyway? His parents
were dead, just like Dad.

“It won’t be enough
firewood,” Hana said, interrupting Balear’s thoughts with her confident tone
that left no room for argument. “Unless we want to freeze tonight, I’d better
get more.” She rose from the fire ring and headed into the thicket.

Balear watched Hana leave.
He couldn’t figure her out. She’d rescued them in Orcsthia, but then she’d
murdered those soldiers for no other reason than spite. It had been wrong. Their
deaths hadn’t been necessary. Too many Lodians were already dying these days.

He had to know more
about her. Otherwise, she was too dangerous to have with them. Balear stood.
“Will you be all right by yourself for a while?” he asked Iren. “Hana might
need help carrying all that wood.”

Iren looked up, his eyes
unfocused. “What?” he asked. “Oh, sure.” He went back to staring at the flames.

Balear sighed, hoping
Iren wouldn’t get killed while he was gone. He headed into the thicket. It took
him a few minutes, but he caught up to Hana. She had already gathered a decent
amount of wood, but she was piling it in one location to make it easier to
bring back.

“I’m not a little girl,
you know,” Hana said when Balear reached her. “I don’t need an escort.”

“All the same,” Balear
replied, “it sets my mind at ease to know that someone is protecting you.”

Hana laughed. “I recall
protecting you more often than the other way around.”

The former general
reddened. “Yes, well, this way at least I know I’ll be safe.”

“If you want to protect
someone,” Hana said with a frown, “you should have stayed with Iren. That man
doesn’t know which end is up.”

Balear was taken aback.
“Are you serious? Iren’s the reason I’m alive today. He defended Ziorsecth from
Lodia’s army, and he defeated Feng singlehandedly.”

“By becoming the
Dragoon,” Hana pointed out, “and as a consequence, he can’t use magic. Without
that, he’s more useless on the battlefield than you are. That’s saying
something since he’s a Maantec and you’re a human.”

“He’s faster than I am.
He’s stronger too.”

“Those things don’t
matter. At least, they don’t matter much. Skill matters. You’ve trained in
swordsmanship for years. Iren clearly hasn’t. Did horses raise him or
something?”

Balear scowled. “You
shouldn’t mock him. He probably wishes horses raised him. At least then
something would have cared for him. He had to live alone his entire childhood.
It was only last year that he found a home in Ziorsecth.” Balear paused and
shook his head. “I’m still shocked that he would leave that behind to return to
a country where he has so many bad memories.”

Hana added the armload
of firewood she was carrying to her pile. She dusted off her hands and said, “I
suppose I can’t fault a human for not understanding, since you don’t have
magic. Iren is the Holy Dragon Knight. Any Maantec would recognize that sword
of his. Not only that, he became the Dragoon, the first person ever to do so.
He knows what he could do with that power. He could end this war in a stroke.
What town would stand against one that had a Dragon Knight?”

Balear eyed her
shrewdly. “If what you say is true, then you could end the war as easily as
Iren could. All you’d have to do is kill him and take the Muryozaki. He can’t
use magic, and you say he’s useless with a blade.”

He’d meant to unbalance
her, to trick her into revealing her true personality. But Hana took his
suggestion in stride. “You’re crueler than I would have thought,” she said. “I
thought Iren was your friend.”

The former general
shrugged. “He is, but I’m a knight of Lodia first. If Iren’s death meant peace
for this country . . .”

Hana smirked. “You
wonder if I might kill him, but it sounds like you’re the more likely suspect.”

“Not at all!” Balear
stammered. This wasn’t going the way he’d intended. “Even if I became the Holy
Dragon Knight, it would be wasted on me. Iren has a better chance of regaining
his magic than I do of getting some in the first place. That’s why I’m helping
him. Iren is Lodia’s best hope to end this civil war.”

“I get it. You help him,
and he’ll owe you a debt. Tit-for-tat.”

“That’s how you see it?
Iren would aid Lodia regardless. But if I help him, he might get his magic back
sooner. I might save him from death at the hands of raiders. It’s not about
owing people favors. It’s about doing what’s right.”

Hana folded her arms.
“That’s a fine sentiment,” she said, “but it isn’t true. There’s no such thing
as altruism in this world. Everyone has something they want out of it. Iren
wants his magic back because of the power and freedom it offers. You’re helping
him because you want him to end the war for you, and you want the war to end so
you can rest your conscience about betraying your fellow Lodians.”

“If that’s how you feel,
then that’s a sad way to look at the world,” Balear said. “Still, I don’t think
you believe what you just said. After all, even if Iren and I have something to
gain from helping each other, what about you? Why did you rescue us in
Orcsthia? Why are you helping us now? What are you gaining?”

The corners of Hana’s
mouth crinkled upward. “Honestly? I’m not sure yet. But I’m traveling with the
former general of the First Army of Lodia and the first person to become the
Dragoon. Whatever I get, I’m sure it will be good.”

She reached down and
loaded her arms with wood. “This should be enough. Grab as much as you can
carry.”

By the time Balear
picked up his load, Hana had already left. He’d hoped to learn more about why
the girl had come with them, but he’d ended up with more questions than
answers. He wondered if she truly believed that people only looked out for
themselves. If so, what could have happened to her to make her feel that way?

It made him pity her.
She was so beautiful, so strong, so intelligent, yet so distant and jaded.

Balear made up his mind.
He couldn’t change whatever had happened to Hana in the past, but he could
influence the present. He could show her that there was such a thing as
altruism.

Hana had said she didn’t
know what she would gain from helping them. If it could be up to Balear, he
knew what he would give her. He would give her faith.

Minawë couldn’t see or
move, but she could hear voices. They spoke in her mind, their language like
nothing she’d ever heard. It wasn’t Kodaman, or Lodian, or even Maantec, what
little she knew of that.

Since she couldn’t do
anything else, Minawë listened. At first she could only hear a few voices, but
the more she relaxed, the more she heard. Soon they surrounded her until she
feared she would drown in the cacophony. She panicked, and at once the voices
disappeared.

After an eternity of
silence, Minawë calmed herself. The voices slowly came back. Focusing now, she
tried to isolate one of them, to understand it and why it was inside her head.

The best she could
manage was a pair of voices that seemed intertwined. Their languages weren’t
made of words or even thoughts. They were more like emotions, and not all of
them were pleasant. There was joy and celebration, yet there was also fear and
pain.

Then, with a cry of
agony, one of the voices stopped. The shock sent Minawë sitting bolt upright.

The rapid motion
nauseated her. Minawë fell backward and lay for a moment with her eyes shut as
she waited for the world to stop spinning.

“Welcome back, lazy,” a
voice said from somewhere nearby.

Minawë smiled. “Thanks,
Iren.”

There was a hesitant
sigh, then, “Not exactly.”

Minawë opened her eyes.
Rondel sat in a chair next to her. “Sorry about that,” Minawë said. The old
woman brushed it off, but on closer inspection, Minawë could tell Rondel had
been crying.

When Rondel caught
Minawë staring at her, she stood and walked to the door. “How do you feel?” she
asked, her back turned.

Minawë sat up carefully.
She and Rondel were in a bedroom of a Kodaman tree home. “Dizzy,” she said.
“What happened to me?”

“You passed Dendryl’s
test,” Rondel replied. She gestured to her right. The Chloryoblaka leaned against
the wall. “I have to admit that I didn’t know if you would survive it. You’ve
been asleep for four days.”

“You should have more confidence
in your friends,” Minawë said with a smile. “Iren slept for a week after he
helped me get to Ziorsecth, and I never gave up believing that he would come
back to me.”

Rondel faced Minawë, and
though the old woman’s eyes still looked puffy, her grin was genuine. “It
cheers me to hear you say that,” she said. “I’m sure Iren will come back this
time too. But just to be safe, why don’t we go to him?”

A flash of memory came
to Minawë. Rondel’s injured hand was in a fresh sling, a reminder that the
Stone Dragon Knight was searching for Iren. They had to reach him first! Minawë
leapt to her feet, but she felt so wobbly she had to sit back down.

“We’ll go after him soon
enough,” Rondel said. “Give yourself a minute to recover.”

While Minawë waited for
her head to clear, she asked, “Where are we?”

“In Yuushingaral, in
your room in the queen’s tree. I carried you here after you passed out at the
crater. Are you hungry?”

“Now that you mention
it, I’m starving.”

“I made some food. Can
you manage, or should I bring it to you?”

Minawë’s brow furrowed.
There was no way Rondel could have known when Minawë would wake. Had the old
Maantec been cooking all this time just so some food would be ready when Minawë
revived?

At this point Minawë was
too hungry to think about it. She stood again, and this time she kept her feet.
“I’m all right now,” she said. “I’ll come with you.”

They left the room and
headed to the tree house’s second floor, which contained the kitchen and eating
area. Rondel had assembled a forest feast: smoked trout, shiitake mushrooms,
and an assortment of roots and tubers. She’d even located a wooden bottle of
the Kodamas’ maple brandy that Mother had liked to hide for special occasions.
It didn’t surprise Minawë that Rondel would know where to find it.

Minawë attacked the
food. She devoured her trout fillet and didn’t hesitate when Rondel offered up
her portion. The old Maantec smiled. “I was going to ask how my cooking is,”
she said, “but I think I know the answer.”

A sheepish grin sprouted
on Minawë’s face. She had crumbs and grease all over her. She wiped her mouth,
doing a poor job of playing the regal queen she was supposed to be. “It’s
delicious,” she said. “Thank you.”

When they’d both
finished, Minawë rose. “We should head out. Iren isn’t getting any closer.”

Rondel pursed her lips.
“Are you sure you feel all right? You just woke up. Dendryl’s test is no simple
task. You can rest another day if you need to.”

Minawë’s eyes narrowed.
Ever since she’d awoken, she’d felt something odd from Rondel. The mysterious
timing of the food, the warm smiles, and the kind words were nothing like the
sarcastic, slave-driving Rondel that Iren had told her horror stories about.

Now Minawë had figured
it out. “You’re coddling me,” she said. “Why?”

Rondel looked insulted.
“I’m watching out for your safety.”

“I’m fine,” Minawë said.
“You were in such a hurry at the Heart of Ziorsecth. Now you’re dilly-dallying
like a worrisome doe with her fawn. If you want to look out for my safety, then
do it the way you did for Iren. Toughen me up. I’m the one you’re counting on
to defeat the Stone Dragon Knight, remember?”

Rondel licked her lips.
Finally, she rose. “All right, we’ll do it your way,” she said. “Let’s gather
some supplies and leave. But unfortunately, I can’t train you the way I trained
Iren. With him, we had time to stop and work as we traveled. You and I don’t
have that luxury.”

“Then how will I learn?”

“You’ll have to pick
things up as we go. Pay attention when I speak, and practice on the road.”

Minawë tried to look
more confident than she felt. Still, she wouldn’t run away now.

The pair spent most of
the day filling packs with food, rope, and other supplies they might need for
the journey. Minawë cast aside her queen’s dress for the sturdy leather boots,
leggings, and jerkin she’d worn on her previous trek to Lodia. Last of all, she
donned a long leather cap so she could conceal her green hair.

Evening had arrived by
the time they finished preparations. Rondel recommended they set off the next
morning, but Minawë gave her such a firm expression that she relented
immediately. Even so, the old woman showed a bit of the Rondel that Minawë
remembered when she grumbled, “You can barely see in this accursed forest in
the daytime. You’re as bad as Iren. I’m going to trip on a root and twist my
ankle, if not worse. If I break my other hand out here, I swear . . .”

Minawë laughed, clear
and pure. The sound itself made her happy; it was the first time she’d laughed
in months. Despite the weight of her pack, quiver, and Chloryoblaka, she felt
lighter than she had since Mother’s death.

They’d barely left
Yuushingaral when they came across the corpse. It was a deer, and it couldn’t
have been dead more than a day. Minawë guessed from the layer of branches
partially covering the body that a cougar had killed it and then stashed it
here to eat more later.

Rondel wrinkled her nose
at the smell, but Minawë stopped and looked at the carcass. Though the Kodamas
ate venison, something about this deer unsettled her.

“What’s the matter?”
Rondel asked.

Minawë shook her head.
“No, it’s nothing.”

Yet as they continued
their journey, Minawë couldn’t help but look over her shoulder at the corpse.
In her heart she grieved for it, and for its voice forever silenced.