Rise of the Valiant (19 page)

His trip to see
his father had come to an abrupt end.

Kyra tumbled end
over end in the gushing rapids of the River Tanis, trying to catch her breath
as the icy water pierced her bones. It was the coldest water of her life—yet it
was not the cold that bothered her, or even the pain as she slammed into rocks,
bouncing off them like a twig. Nor was it fear for her own well-being. What
upset her most was her regret over Andor, leaving him behind, being able to
reach him, to save him—while he made a heroic stand against those hornhogs,
while sacrificing his own life for hers. She had never encountered an animal
more noble, more fearless. The idea of abandoning him while he fought her
battles was too much for her. Even while tumbling, she fought against the
current with all she had, desperate to make it back to him.

But she just
could not. The current gushed and carried her downriver with a tremendous
force, and she could barely stay afloat, much less swim backwards. She knew,
with a pain in her heart, that Andor was gone forever.

Kyra suddenly
slammed against a rock and this time, weakened, reeling from the pain, she felt
herself begin to submerge. She felt herself sinking lower and lower, dragged
down by the currents, and unable to stop it. She looked up and saw the sunlight
from the surface becoming more faint, and a part of her, overcome with remorse,
did not want to go on. The quest to Ur felt insurmountable, so many obstacles
at every turn, a land so filled with cruelty and inhospitality—and Ur still so
far away.

Yet as Kyra
looked up she saw shadows, saw the outline of her raft, and she remembered Leo
and Dierdre. If she let herself die here, those two would be left alone,
floating away into danger themselves—and she could not allow that to happen.
She had to live, if not for herself, then for them. And for her father, and for
Aidan. For all those who cared about her. Regret was a terrible thing, but life
had to go on. She could simply not allow herself to be swallowed by guilt and
remorse. It was selfish. Other people needed her.

Kyra snapped out
of it, and with one great kick she swam back up, towards the surface,
overcoming her pain, her exhaustion, the biting cold. She kicked again and
again, fought back against the currents, clawing at the icy water with her
hands. She felt as if her lungs were going to burst, each kick bringing her
closer and yet each taking an effort she did not know if she had.

Finally, with
her last ounce of strength, Kyra broke through the surface. She gasped as she
flailed in the currents, pushed downriver, but this time, managed to stay
afloat as she tread water.

“Kyra!” cried a
voice.

Kyra looked over
to see the raft floating toward her, Dierdre holding out a hand and Leo barking
at its edge. Kyra swam for it, kicking, and as the current spun the raft in her
direction, she reached out and just managed to grab Dierdre’s hand. Dierdre’s
hand was surprisingly strong for a frail girl, clearly determined to save her
friend, and with one big yank, Kyra found herself back on board, lying on her
stomach, wet and shivering.

Kyra rolled onto
her stomach and spit out water, gasping for breath, shaking from the cold,
numb. Leo licked her, and she got to her hands and knees and she turned and
looked back upriver, searching for Andor on the horizon.

But, she was
dismayed to see, the river had twisted and turned and she could no longer see
beyond the bends of the river. Andor was nowhere in sight.

Kyra closed her
eyes and tried not to picture those hornhogs encircling her friend and tearing
him to pieces. She felt pained at the thought.

Kyra felt
another lick on her face, and she turned to see Leo, whining, nudging his face
up against hers, and she hugged and kissed him back. She looked up and clasped Dierdre’s
hand, pulling herself to a sitting position.

“Thank you,” she
said to Dierdre, meaning it.

Kyra brushed
water from her eyes and felt a warmth around her shoulders, and she looked over
to see Dierdre had taken off her own furs and draped them over her shoulders.

“I can’t take
this from you,” Kyra said, trying to remove them.

Dierdre shook
her head.

“You need it
more than I do.”

Kyra clutched
the furs, shaking, desperate for its warmth, and she slowly felt herself drying
off, returning to normal. The currents calmed, now bringing them downriver at a
slow and gentle drift, and the Tanis widened here, too, finally free of boulders.
Kyra looked out before her, saw smooth waters ahead as far as she could see,
and finally she took a deep breath and relaxed.

“The Tanis winds
toward Ur,” Dierdre said. “It won’t bring us all the way, but within a day’s
hike. We can make the final leg on land.”

“How do we know
when to get off?” Kyra asked.

“Don’t worry,”
Dierdre said. “I’ll know. I am from here, remember? It’s not for a while,
anyway—we must still cross much of Escalon. You can rest easy now—the worst
stretch is behind us.”

Kyra did not
need to be told twice. She was too exhausted to ponder it. She knew she should
think about their provisions, should take stock of what weapons she had, should
examine everyone’s wounds. But she was just too tired.

Kyra leaned
back, wrapped in her furs, and lay her head on the raft, just for a moment. She
looked up at the sky, and high up she saw passing scarlet clouds, drifting by.
She heard the trickling beneath her—and it was all deeply relaxing.

Kyra, eyes
heavy, told herself she’d only close her eyes for a moment—but before she knew
it, overcome with exhaustion, she felt her eyes closing on her, and moments
later she found herself, drifting downriver, fast asleep.

*

Kyra stared into
the glowing, yellow eyes of a dragon, each as large as her, and was completely
hypnotized. It flew down from the sky and swooped right for her, its wings
spread wide, its ancient, scarlet scales aglow, its talons hanging low as if to
pick her up. She lay there, immobile, on her raft, floating downriver, watching
it descend.

Theos
, she called out
in her mind, recognizing him, so relieved to see him again.
Where did you
go? Why did you leave me? Why did you come back?

Kyra heard his
response, his ancient voice reverberating in her mind, shaking her entire
world.

I’ve come for my
child.

Kyra could
hardly believe his words. His child? What could that mean?

She stared back,
her heart racing, desperate to know.

“Child?” she
asked.

But Theos did
not respond; instead, he flew lower and lower, his talons approaching as if
they might tear her to pieces.

As Kyra felt the
great wind of his approach, she did not brace herself—rather, she awaited it
eagerly. She wanted more than anything to be scooped up by him, to be carried
away, to understand who he was, to understand who
she
was.

But as quickly
as he had descended, Theos suddenly rose back up in the sky, just missing her,
flying higher and higher. She craned her neck and watched him go, flapping his
great wings as he disappeared into a cloud, screeching.

Kyra opened her
eyes with a start. She felt something cold and wet on her face, and she looked
over to see Leo lying by her side, licking her face, looking at her with his
soulful eyes—and she remembered.

Kyra sat up at
once, feeling the boat moving beneath her, swaying gently, and she looked
about, stroking Leo’s head. She craned her neck and searched the skies, looking
for a sign of Theos, listening for his cry, hoping it was not just a dream.

But she saw and
heard nothing.

Kyra was
confused. It had seemed so real. Was it just a dream? Or had it been something
more?

Kyra looked over
and saw Dierdre, sitting on the raft beside her, looking out at the waters of
the Tanis, steering them along, steady and smooth. She was surprised to realize
how much time had passed—it had been morning when she’d fallen asleep, and now
the sky was darker, aglow with amber and orange, clearly late in the day. She
sat there, rubbing her eyes, so disoriented, hardly believing she had slept
most of the day. She felt as if her dream of the dragon had transported her to
another realm.

“Have I slept
all this time?” she asked.

Dierdre turned
to her and smiled.

“You needed it.
You kept speaking in your sleep…something about a dragon. Something about an
egg.”

“An egg?” Kyra
asked, unable to recall.

Kyra looked up
at the late-afternoon sky, now streaked with purple and orange, and as she
looked around, she noticed how different the terrain was. They had emerged from
Whitewood, had left behind a landscape of snow and ice, and entered one of
grass and plains. She realized they must be much farther south, as it was
warmer here, too; she marveled at how much the climate had changed in such a
short distance. She removed Dierdre’s furs, remembering, and draped them back
over her friend’s shoulders.

“Thank you,”
Kyra said. “And sorry. I had no idea I had fallen asleep in them.”

Dierdre pulled
the furs tight, clearly pleased to have them back. She smiled.

“You needed them
more than I did.”

Kyra stood and
marveled at how quickly they moved, how much ground they were covering, and how
easily.

“Much smoother
than traveling by land,” she observed, studying the passing landscape. They had
covered so much distance, had crossed so much of Escalon, and had done so
without the danger of savage creatures or humans. She stroked Leo’s head and
turned and looked at Dierdre.

“Were you
sleeping all this time, too?” Kyra asked.

Dierdre shook
her head, studying the waters.

“Thinking,” she
replied.

“Of what?” Kyra
asked, curious. Yet she realized, the moment she asked it, that perhaps she
shouldn’t have inquired, given what Dierdre had just been through. She could
only imagine what dark thoughts were haunting her friend.

Dierdre paused,
staring out at the horizon, her eyes bloodshot, from exhaustion or crying, Kyra
could not tell. Kyra could see the lingering pain and sadness in her eyes,
could see she was trapped in memory.

“Of going home,”
Dierdre finally replied.

Kyra wondered.
She did not want to pry, but she couldn’t help herself.

“Do you have
anyone awaiting you there?”

Dierdre sighed.

“My father,” she
replied. “The man who gave me away.”

Kyra felt a pit
in her stomach, understanding how Dierdre felt.

“He did not
fight for me,” Dierdre continued. “None of them did. All of those brave
warriors, who put so much stock into chivalry, did nothing when one of their
own was taken away, right out from under them. Why? Because I was a woman. As
if that gave them the right not to care. Because they were following a law
written by men. If I was a boy, they would have fought to the death before I
was taken away. But because I was a girl, somehow it didn’t matter. It was men
whom I lost all respect for on that day—my father most of all. I trusted him.”

Kyra remained
silent, understanding all too well her feeling of betrayal.

“And yet you are
returning to them,” Kyra noted, confused.

Dierdre teared
up. She fell silent for a long time.

Finally, she
wiped away a tear and spoke with difficulty.

“He is still my
father,” she finally said. “I don’t know where else to go.” She took a deep
breath. “Besides, I want him to know. I want them all to know what they did. I
want them all to be ashamed. I want them to understand that the value of a girl
is as great as that of a boy. I want them to understand that their
actions—their lack of caring—had consequences. I don’t want to give them all
the chance to avoid me, to be able to forget what they did or what happened to
me. I want to be there, in their presence, a thorn in their side that they
cannot avoid—and be a living testament to their shame.”

Kyra felt a deep
sorrow as she pondered how her friend felt.

“And then?” Kyra
asked. “When you’re done shaming them?”

Dierdre slowly
shook her head, tears in her eyes.

“I don’t know
what is left for me,” she replied. “I feel washed up. As if my childhood was
taken from me. I used to dream of being taken away by a prince—yet I feel that
no one would want me now.”

Dierdre began to
cry, and Kyra leaned over and draped an arm around her shoulder, trying to calm
her, while Leo came over and laid his head in her lap.

“Don’t think
that way,” Kyra said. “Sometimes, life can be filled with horrible things. But
life goes on. It must go on. And sometimes, even years later, it can also be
filled with amazing things. You just need to hang in there, to give it time, to
give life a chance to be born again. If you can hang in there long enough, life
will give you a fresh slate. It will become brand new. The horrors of your past
will disappear, as if they never happened. Old memories will fade so much that
one day you won’t even be able to remember what it was that troubled you.”