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Authors: Josh Vanbrakle

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BOOK: The Hearts of Dragons
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CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Another Visitor

 

 

A week after Balear and
his companions had left, Arianna Platarch was still scrubbing away the stink.

Oh yes, her son’s friend
had hidden it well, but Ari was observant when it came to dinner. She’d noticed
the way the man called Iren held his spoon. Why her good boy was consorting
with a Left, though, she couldn’t begin to guess.

Whatever the reason, she
hoped Iren wasn’t rubbing off on Balear. When Ari had first seen her son’s
wanted poster, she hadn’t believed it. But another poster advertised a Left
named Iren who was also wanted for treason. Admittedly, that poster described a
much younger person. With Lefts, though, who knew? There couldn’t be that many
left-handed “Iren’s” running around the country.

Ari scrubbed the table
harder. This was the second time a Left had taken away someone important to
her. While most Lodians only knew Lefts as creatures in bedtime stories, Ari seemed
to have a knack for running into the devils. Like Iren, the Left who had come
to Tropos twenty-five years ago had seemed decent at first. Yet Ari had known even
before she learned he was a Left that he couldn’t be trusted—especially when he
started spending time with her sister-in-law.

Throwing her scrub brush
in the bucket, Ari cursed, something she almost never did. If she could have,
she would have replaced everything in the house, but the civil war had made
everyone too poor.

Lefts had probably
caused that too. They were at the root of everyone’s problems. If it weren’t
for that Left, Balio would still be alive.

Ari had warned her
husband not to let a Left around his sister, but the stubborn man had refused
to listen. Even when the girl wound up dead, Balio wouldn’t accept the truth.
In his grief he’d blamed not the Left but the people of Tropos.

“For anyone else, you
would have stood united against the killer,” he had screamed at Ari the night
she’d told him what had happened. “But for a Left and his wife? Of course not.”

After that Balio had
stormed out of the village. No one in Tropos ever heard from him again.

Ari stared into the
water of her bucket. It needed to be changed, to have the filth dumped away.
She carried the bucket outside and emptied it in some weeds far from her home.
Then she headed to the village well to refill for another round of scrubbing.

An old woman was already
there, hunched over the crank and trying with all her strength to turn it. She
wasn’t making any progress, though, because she could only use one arm. Her
left one was tied against her body in a sling.

Ari rushed to her.
“Here, let me help you,” she said. Together they pulled up the well’s laden
bucket.

The elder, barely five
feet tall, looked at Ari with grateful green eyes. “Thank you. Getting by with a
broken hand is hard for a woman my age.” She dipped her good hand in the bucket
and took a long drink. “That’s the nicest water I’ve had in years. They don’t
know what they’re missing in Terkou.”

“Terkou?” Ari asked. She
forced herself to keep her voice level. It was Terkouan marauders who had attacked
Tropos and conscripted the men. This old woman didn’t seem dangerous, but the
big cities could be scheming something. They loved to stomp on the little folk.

“Yeah,” the woman
replied, “I’ve wanted to get away from there ever since the war started. They
don’t know which end is up. Comes from living all on top of each other, I say.”

Ari nodded as she filled
her bucket. “I couldn’t agree with you more. Well, I’m glad you escaped. Can I
offer you a place to stay while you’re in town? I’m afraid you won’t find any
inns around here.”

“That would be kind of
you,” the woman said. “These old bones of mine aren’t meant for sleeping
outside. No, my camping days should be long behind me, if only those city fools
would leave well enough alone instead of starting wars.”

Ari led the way back to
the house. Inside, she offered the elder a seat by the fire and then started a
kettle boiling. “So,” she said, “what brings you to Tropos, of all places?”

The old woman smiled
sadly. “To be honest, I can’t say I wanted to end up here at all. I just did.
Wars don’t care much for plans.”

“No, they don’t,” Ari
reflected, her eyes drifting to Balio’s painting.

The elder followed her
gaze. “That’s a beautiful portrait,” she said. “Did you paint it?”

Ari shook her head. “It
was a gift to my husband a long time ago.”

The kettle whistled, and
Ari filled two clay mugs. She handed one to the woman and kept one for herself.
“I’m afraid I don’t have anything to put in it,” she admitted.

Her guest cradled the
hot water like it was Katailan wine. “It’s warm,” she said. “That’s what
matters.”

Ari smiled. She liked
this woman.

Sipping her water, the
elder stood and walked to Balio’s portrait. “Feidl,” she said. “Seems to me
I’ve heard that name before.”

Ari opened her mouth to
answer, but then the old woman stepped back and spluttered. “Are you all
right?” Ari cried.

The elder coughed again,
but then she recovered. “It went down the wrong way,” she said. “Say, do you
know if this picture is true to life? That sword seems much too large.”

“You know, my son came
home last week, and one of his friends asked me the same question.” Ari hoped
the bitterness stayed out of her voice.

“Did they now?” The old
woman looked thoughtful. She paced the room twice. Then she flashed a grin so
wide it took up more than half her face. “Well, this has been a splendid
visit,” she said, “but I’m afraid I must be off.”

“Are you sure?” Ari
asked. “You’ve only just arrived. I hope I haven’t offended you.”

“No, no, it’s just that
at my age you never know how much time you have left.” She handed over her mug
and walked to the door. As she opened it, she asked, “By the way, what’s your
son’s name?”

It seemed like an odd
question, but Ari said, “Balear.”

The woman nodded.
“Interesting.” Then she was gone.

 

*   *   *

 

Minawë approached Tropos
on foot. She strained to hear the voices of the plants and animals around her,
but she couldn’t focus. She was too distracted by what she’d found at the farm.
No one had been there, but inside the one building still standing, Minawë had
seen bare spots in the dust where several pairs of feet had recently walked.
She’d only missed Iren by a few days.

Those days might as well
be years. Minawë kicked a stone on the path and sent it into the brush. Iren’s
plan to come here had been their only clue. There was no way of knowing where
he would have gone next.

Minawë took a deep
breath and listened for the voices again. Ever since Rondel had explained what
they were, Minawë had spent every available minute observing them and trying to
communicate with them. She couldn’t speak their language, but her control with
images had improved.

At last she heard them,
just a whisper. Minawë concentrated on the weeds closest to the path. Under her
direction they flowered, even though it was a few weeks early for most of them.

Her magic fueled their
unnatural growth. It wasn’t hard now that she’d figured out how. Kodaman magic
derived from plants, so all she was doing was giving it back to them.

The flower-lined path
cheered Minawë. She managed a smile as she entered the village and caught
Rondel lounging by a well.

“How’d it go?” the old
Maantec asked. She sounded tense.

“Someone definitely
visited the farm,” Minawë said, “but they’re gone now. I have no idea where.”

Rondel nodded. “In that
case, my time here has been much more profitable. It’s good I suggested we
split up. I know where Iren went.”

Minawë grabbed Rondel by
the shoulders. “You do? Where?”

The old woman smirked.
“An appropriate place for a reunion.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Dropped

 

 

Balear wrinkled his nose
as he walked through Akaku Forest with Iren, Hana, and Dirio. Dismembered
corpses were strewn among the dense spruces, and broken trees lay beneath the
bodies. Most of the dead were human, but Balear noticed a few Yokai corpses as
well.

“I thought Amroth killed
them all in Haldessa,” he said, gesturing at one.

“Most of them,” Dirio
replied, “but they didn’t empty their lands. A few remain.”

Iren nodded. “Yokai
ambushed Minawë and me when we fled their stronghold last year. There were
dozens of them.”

Balear looked into the
trees, uneasy. Yokai could leap great distances and climb like spiders. He
wondered if they were out there now. A high-pitched cackling would be the only
warning, and screams would follow it within seconds.

Fortunately, no Yokai or
anything else disturbed them as they entered the clearing that had once been
the creatures’ fort. Last year, the Yokai leader had ignited a forest fire to
trap Iren and Rondel, so Balear expected to find a charred, lifeless husk.

What he saw instead
shocked him. The former battle scene was alive with new growth. Grass grew tall
in the open sunlight, and a few tree seedlings pushed through the soil.

Then Balear forgot
everything else in the clearing, because at that moment he spotted the sword
lying in the grass. He raced to it. There was no mistaking his father’s weapon.
The double-edged blade portion alone measured seven feet, and at its base the
steel was more than a foot wide and six inches thick. The hilt was so long
Balear couldn’t have covered it even if he’d had four hands.

Balear’s breath caught.
Sure enough, that hilt bore the same circular markings that adorned Iren’s
katana.

Iren caught up to Balear
and looked over the gigantic sword. “So it is a Ryokaiten,” he murmured.

Balear stretched an arm
toward it, but Iren grabbed his wrist. “Don’t do that,” he said, “unless you
want to die.”

Hana and Dirio had
arrived by now. “I warned you yesterday,” Dirio said. “That sword made all the
corpses we saw on our way here. It is evil.”

“Not evil,” Iren
replied, “the dragons simply are. That said, it is dangerous. We should take it
to Veliaf and hide it so people can’t touch it. I’ll carry it. I’m already a
Dragon Knight, so it can’t test me.”

“If it won’t harm you,
that sounds like a good plan,” Dirio said. “There’s a vault in my house. We can
store it there.”

Balear’s eyes flicked
from the sword to Dirio, then to Iren, and finally back to the sword. He’d come
all this way. This was Dad’s weapon! He had wielded it, and so had Zuberi.
Neither of them were Kodamas or Maantecs. They didn’t have magic. They were
humans like he was.

Of course, that didn’t
mean he was their equal. Balear had never met Zuberi, but he knew the man
surpassed him. The giant Tacumsahen had murdered Dad, and he’d almost killed
Iren.

While Balear warred with
himself, Iren grasped the sword with both hands and pulled. His face reddened.
His muscles bulged.

Iren fell backward on
his rump. “I can’t,” he heaved. “That sword must be solid steel. It won’t
budge.”

“We could bury it,” Hana
suggested. “It can lie underground for all eternity.”

Dirio and Iren nodded,
but at Hana’s words, Balear shouted, “Wait!” He didn’t know why, but he
couldn’t let them entomb this weapon. It deserved better. It deserved to
breathe the air.

Balear reached for the
blade. Iren rushed to restrain him, but the Maantec was off balance from his
fall. Balear’s hand closed around the weapon’s hilt.

Everything went black. A
presence brushed against Balear’s mind. In a snarling voice it said, “What,
another worthless human?” Stabbing pain shot through his head, like an eagle’s
talons were ripping out his brain piece by piece.

The pain vanished as
quickly as it had arrived. “So you’re a Platarch,” the voice said. “I thought I
was rid of your family. I won’t have it said of Ariok that I have a weakness
for some misbegotten lineage. I’ll test you like all the rest.”

The darkness fled
Balear’s eyes, and he gazed around in awe. Surrounding him was the brightest,
bluest sky he’d ever seen. A few clouds drifted beneath him.

At first he thought he
was just disoriented. Surely the clouds must be above him. Then he saw the tiny
green needles—the spire-like conifers of Akaku Forest—far, far below him.

“Where on Raa am I?” he
shouted, but the wind ripped the words from his mouth. His pulse quickened, and
he became lightheaded. Breathing up here seemed to do no good.

“The other dragons have
complicated tests,” Ariok said. “Mine is simple.”

Balear gulped. He had a
good idea what that test was, but he couldn’t stop himself from asking, “What
must I do?”

Inside his brain, Balear
could sense the dragon smile. “Live.”

Like a puppeteer cutting
his doll’s strings, the force holding Balear in midair vanished. He fell.

End over end he tumbled.
Soon he couldn’t tell which way was up. Mist soaked him as he passed through a
cloud. Balear screamed, but he couldn’t hear himself over the rushing air.

He was going to die.
There was no question about it. Once as a child he’d fallen climbing a tree and
broken his leg. It had healed well and never given him any trouble, but that
was a fall from just a few feet. He recalled the bodies strewn across the
forest. Now he knew how they’d ended up that way.

Even as his terror grew,
though, his soldier’s mind ordered him to focus. “Concentrate!” he yelled to
himself. “Slow yourself down!” He shifted his body in different positions and
found that spreading out as much as possible helped.

But it wasn’t enough. At
this speed the impact would shred him.

Balear pulled off his
shirt and stretched it between his arms. He hoped the extra area would catch
the wind and slow his fall. The force was too great, though, and the shirt
ripped from his arms.

He was running out of
time. The packed spruces of Akaku had gone from looking like a verdant field to
a spiked pit.

There had to be a way to
survive. There had to be! He needed to think. Dad had survived this. How had he
done it?

Maybe that was the
problem. Dad could survive it because he was the best. Balear was no Balio.

Not that he hadn’t
tried. He’d left his mother’s side a boy and joined the Castle Guard to become
a man. There were other recruits with more talent, but he’d overcome them with
effort. He’d trained three times harder than anyone else. When someone beat him
in a sparring match, he’d practiced all the more so he could win the next time.

Had all that work been
for this? To perish falling from the sky?

No! He wouldn’t allow it.
The Castle Guard was gone. He was the only one left. Lodia was still at war. He
had a duty to protect it and restore it to peace.

There was no way he
would let some dragon and its devil magic interfere with that!

Although Balear had no
idea what he was doing, he faced the ground. He was no longer screaming. Instead,
his face scrunched with determination. He clapped his hands together, then
pushed them away from his body, palms down.

The air responded to his
gesture. He slowed a fraction, but he continued to plummet.

Balear put all his focus
into his hands. To his amazement, the air bent around them. It swirled in a
vortex, growing stronger until the only wind he felt came from his palms.

Just before he reached
the trees, the air surged down. It shot toward the forest with such ferocity
that the spruces beneath him cracked.

He had almost landed
when his strength ebbed. His concentration faltered, and in that second, the
wind around his hands ceased. He dropped to the ground with a crash.

 

*   *   *

 

Iren rushed through the
claustrophobic Akaku Forest, heedless of the branches that whipped at him.
Seconds ago he’d heard the snapping of trees, and he knew what must have caused
it.

As feared, Iren reached
an area of woods that had been smashed to tinder by an impact from above. At
least an acre was flattened, and in its center lay Balear.

“Balear!” Iren shouted.
He climbed through the mess of broken logs to his friend.

The Lodian groaned, “Oh,
hell.”

Iren’s jaw dropped. “You
survived?”

Balear pushed against
the logs with his arms. Slowly, he got to his knees, then to his feet. “Seems
that way,” he said. He did a few stretches. “I don’t think anything’s broken.
All the same, I wouldn’t want to go through that again.”

“Does this mean you
passed the dragon’s test?”

“I guess so. He called
himself Ariok.”

“That’s the Sky Dragon,”
Hana said from behind them. “His sword is the Auryozaki. He tests would-be
knights on bravery.”

Iren eyed her as she
crossed the devastation. “You’re well informed.”

“Any Maantec could tell
you that,” she said with a shrug before facing Balear. “Not bad. It takes guts
even for a Maantec to touch a Ryokaiten. Speaking of which, let’s go get it.
Now that it’s yours, you’ll need to practice your push-ups if you want to lift
that monster, let alone wield it in battle.”

They clambered out of
the log pile and met up with Dirio before returning to the Auryozaki’s resting
place. When they arrived, Balear knelt before the enormous blade, clearly
hesitant to touch it after what had happened the last time.

Iren frowned. Whether or
not Balear had passed Ariok’s test made little difference. Iren knew how heavy
that weapon was. If he couldn’t lift it, there was no way Balear could.

Balear grasped the hilt
with both hands. The muscles on his arms tensed. Then, with casual ease, he
picked up the sword.

Everyone around Balear
gaped, and the Lodian looked at the giant sword with disbelief. “It’s so
light,” he said. “It’s like it’s weightless.” As though to confirm his
suspicions, he let go of the sword with his left hand and swung it several
times using only his right arm.

“How can that be?” Iren
demanded. “That sword is gigantic! Here, let me try holding it again.” He reached
out, and Balear reluctantly handed over the Auryozaki. For a moment Iren held
it there, but when Balear let go of the hilt, the sword plummeted. It dragged
Iren with it, and his face bounced off the ground.

Iren spat out dirt and
spruce needles. He shook his head and pulled on the sword with all his might.
He couldn’t raise it an inch. “You keep it,” he said. “I’ll stick to my katana.”

He stalked away from the
others. Behind him, he heard Hana and Dirio exclaim as Balear picked up the
Auryozaki again and swung it. Iren could feel the wind off the slash. He
cursed. Now even a human like Balear could become a Dragon Knight and use
magic.

But not him.

BOOK: The Hearts of Dragons
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