The Hearts of Dragons (5 page)

The decades-old memory
floated unbidden into Rondel’s consciousness. She had forgotten it years ago,
but now it resurfaced as clearly as the night it had happened.

She’d been walking the
nighttime streets of Orcsthia, a grimy city filled with grimy humans. She had
gone there with a purpose, but the journey had proven a waste of time. The
object of her search was no longer there.

She would have left that
night had it not been for the rain. It had been pouring, and Rondel’s woolen
cloak had clung to her.

The nearest inn had been
a place called the Warm Hearth. The owners called it that because that was the
best anyone could say about it.

Rondel had just spotted
the inn’s sign when she saw the struggle. Under the building’s overhang, three
men surrounded a young woman with long black hair. The girl lashed at her
attackers, but she was no fighter. Two of the men held her against the wall,
and the third had his hands on her chest.

Rondel scowled. She
didn’t need this. She was already in a bad mood. Her left hand brushed her
dagger to check its position. Then she stepped under the overhang.

“Excuse me!” she said,
adopting a wide grin and staring stupidly at the men. “What are you all doing
there?”

When they ignored her,
Rondel flapped her cloak and made a loud show of brushing off the rain. “Some
storm,” she said. “I’d hate to be traveling unprotected in it. You never know
what you might run into.”

The man in front of the
girl shifted to face Rondel. His trousers were open. “Beat it,” he spat. “We’re
busy here.”

Rondel flicked her eyes
to the trapped woman. “It seems you are. Run along, little girl. These three
deserve a real woman like me.”

One of the men
restraining the girl laughed. “Like we’d want a shriveled old witch like you!”

“That was rude,” Rondel
said. Her grin vanished, and her voice dropped in pitch. “I’ll have to teach
you some manners. Let’s start with something even your simple brains can
understand: evil must be annihilated.”

The three men never had
time to scream.

Rondel wiped her blade
clean and stepped back into the rain. She would stay somewhere else.

She was almost out of
sight of the inn when a voice called, “Wait!”

Rondel turned. The young
woman was running through the downpour toward her.

“I wanted to thank you,”
the girl said when she caught up.

“It was coincidence,”
Rondel replied. “I didn’t do it for charity. Those men got what they deserved.
Even so, in the future, you shouldn’t wander alone.”

“In that case,” the girl
said, “can I come with you? Will you teach me to defend myself?”

That wasn’t what Rondel
had meant. She frowned and asked, “Why?”

“Because sometimes Lefts
like us need to wander alone.”

Rondel put her back to
the girl. “Not interested.”

She stormed off, but
she’d only gone four steps when she heard the words that froze her. “You’re
Rondel Thara, aren’t you?”

Rondel whipped around.
“How could you know that?”

“A strong, elderly woman
with a dagger she holds in her left hand? There’s no one else you could be. My
parents told me stories about you.”

“If your parents told
you stories about me,” Rondel said, “then you know what I did. I betrayed the
Maantecs. Your people are almost extinct thanks to me. Doesn’t that matter to
you?”

“Not really,” the girl
said with a shrug. “I’m only twenty. I don’t care about some war that happened
a thousand years ago. The way I see it, you’re the person who helped me. That’s
all.”

Rondel didn’t answer for
a long time. She stood in the rain, staring at the girl. At length she asked,
“What’s your name?”

The girl told her.

“Let me share a secret
with you,” Rondel said. “I hate Maantecs. I hate all of them. This world nearly
died because of our species, and you admit that you don’t care. That’s why I
hate Maantecs. You’re so arrogant that you think the only thing that matters in
this world is you. With that attitude, if you became stronger, you’d only
repeat the past. You’d only repeat the Kodama-Maantec War. So get lost.”

*   *   *

Rondel groaned as she
awoke. All of that had happened twenty-five years ago. Her eyes burned, and not
just because being in Serona had dehydrated her.

Her snapped dagger lay
beside her on the scorched earth. Rondel picked it up with her good hand and
looked it over. It was like cradling a dead friend. A broken hand she could
live with, but a broken Liryometa was a different matter. Not just any smith
could repair it. A true Ryokaiten had spells cast on it to keep the weapon from
rusting or dulling and to make it more durable in magic-enhanced combat.

The dagger was likely a
lost cause. All the Kodamas skilled in forging magical weapons had gone off to
war a thousand years ago and succumbed to Iren Saito’s curse. As for Maantecs,
assuming any of their smiths remained from back then, they would never help a
traitor like her.

Rondel sighed and
returned the broken blade to its sheath on her hip. For now, she would just
have to hold on to the weapon and hope that a solution came to her.

Of course, even if she
could repair the rondel, it wouldn’t solve her problem. The Stone Dragon
Knight’s words rang in her head: “Give my greetings to Iren Saito, and in
exchange, I’ll give yours to Iren Saitosan.”

Rondel shook her head.
She had hoped that she’d seen the last of Iren. He had a way of making her life
miserable, as he was proving at this moment. Rondel had no idea what connected
her attacker, Iren, and the Burning Ruby, but she doubted it was anything
pleasant.

She might as well get
moving then. Rondel leapt to her feet and dashed across the hot expanse of
Serona, heading east for Ziorsecth.

As she ran, the name of
the girl she’d met outside the Warm Hearth—the same woman who had attacked her
here in Serona—filled her mind. Rondel knitted her brow and muttered, “What are
you planning, Hana?”

Iren’s brow lowered.
“You don’t really expect this to work, do you?”

“Of course,” Hana said.
“Men are so predictable it’s embarrassing.”

“You don’t even have
armor. They’ll gut you in a second.”

“They couldn’t hurt me
if they tried.”

Iren put up his hands.
It was useless to argue with her. Besides, it was her idea.

Still, he was nervous
about using Hana as bait. Something about her made his skin tingle. He’d seen
those brown eyes and that long, straight, black hair before. Her bubbly enthusiasm
and confidence matched as well. It was possible. Hana could be the woman Iren
kept seeing in his recurring dream—the one holding his child.

“Here they come,” Hana
said, pulling Iren from his thoughts. “Go inside the barn and get into
position.”

Balear looked ill at
leaving Hana unprotected, but Iren grabbed him by the arm and dragged him back
to the barn. If Hana’s crazy scheme was to have a chance of working, they had
to play their parts too.

Iren and Balear climbed
to the lofts on opposite sides of the barn doors. A triangular ventilation hole
provided a small window, but the angle was wrong for Iren to see what was
happening outside. He held his breath and hoped Hana was all right.

The minutes passed, and
there was no sound. Iren glanced across at Balear. The soldier dripped with
sweat. His grip on the sword Hana had stolen was so tight Iren doubted the man
could wield it.

Just as Iren had given
up and decided to go see what was happening outside, the barn doors swung open.
Hana stumbled in backward, giggling like a child. She looked unhurt, though one
sleeve of her top had fallen from her shoulder and now hung around her upper
arm.

“Please, boys, there’s
no need to rush,” she said. “There’s plenty of me for all three of you.”

Hana fell into the straw
and spread her legs. “One at a time, please.”

The three Orcsthian
soldiers strode into the barn, and Balear’s sword hand gripped even harder. A
trickle of blood flowed down the hilt and dripped onto the wooden slats below
him.

One of the soldiers
loosened his trousers. When he was within a yard of Hana, he let them drop.

Hana winked at the
ceiling. That was the signal. Iren and Balear struck.

With a yell they leapt
down, each taking one of the men behind the fool in front. Iren knocked out his
foe with the back of the Muryozaki. Balear, his sword arm too tense, used his
left hand to punch his enemy in the face. The Orcsthian crumpled to the ground.

The half-naked soldier
looked around in a panic as he realized the trap he and his fellows had fallen
into. Hana stood and smiled. She struck the soldier in the gut with her
forearm. The man folded in half, then flew backward under the force of the
blow. He smashed through the wall of the barn.

Iren and Balear gaped.
“How did you do that?” Iren asked. Even with his Maantec abilities, he doubted
he could have sent a man flying.

“If you want to survive
in this world,” Hana said, “you need to be strong.”

Iren blinked twice.
Hana’s words reminded him of someone. With a sideways glance at Balear, he
could tell the Lodian had the same feeling.

They sounded like
something Amroth would say.

Hana stepped over to the
man Balear had knocked out. The Orcsthian’s breath came with a sound like
bubbles; Balear had broken the man’s nose. Hana hefted the soldier to his feet
and held him up with her right hand.

“What are you doing?”
Balear asked. “He’s defeated. Let’s take their horses and supplies and go, like
we planned.”

Hana ignored him and
cocked her left fist. “No!” Iren cried.

He was too late. Hana
plowed her hand into the Orcsthian’s chest. A horrendous popping followed as
her blow snapped ribs. Then, like the other soldier Hana had attacked, the man shot
out of the barn.

Balear scowled. “That
was unnecessary.”

Hana returned his look
with a fiercer one. “He was the one who did this to me,” she said, pointing at
her shifted top. “Humans don’t deserve to touch me.”

The Lodian took two
steps back and raised his palms before him.

Iren stepped between
them. “Well, let’s get out of here before anyone realizes these three are
missing,” he said. “Hana, are their horses outside?” When she nodded, he
continued, “Then come on. We have a long road to Tropos, and the sun’s already
setting.”

The trio left the barn
without another word. As they mounted their stolen horses, Iren couldn’t help
but notice that his companions’ faces were different from before the battle. A grim
look replaced Hana’s exuberant smile, and Balear’s infatuated eyes had changed
into ones filled with worry.

Iren sympathized with
Balear. Granted, Hana’s fighting abilities would help them cross the dangerous
landscape that Lodia had become. Even so, as they rode, Iren wondered what they’d
found in this strange Maantec woman.

Rondel charged through
the twilight of Ziorsecth Forest’s understory. The news she’d received was bad.
She’d gone to the Kodaman capital of Yuushingaral, but the Kodamas had said
that neither Iren nor Minawë had visited for six months. At last report, Minawë
was still at the Heart of Ziorsecth.

That by itself was distressing
enough. More disturbing was the rumor about Iren. Scouts had spotted him
heading east toward Lodia—alone.

The old Maantec arrived
at the Heart of Ziorsecth. Minawë knelt amid the graves, wearing the green silk
dress that marked her status as the Kodaman queen. It looked big on Minawë, or
perhaps more accurately, Minawë looked small in it.

Rondel took a few
tentative steps. Minawë didn’t look like she wanted to be disturbed, yet Rondel
knew she had to speak with her.

A twig ended Rondel’s
preparations. Not paying attention to where she walked, the old Maantec stepped
on it, and it snapped beneath her boot.

Minawë turned. Rondel
inhaled sharply at the sight of the Kodama’s tear-filled emerald eyes.

“Rondel?” Minawë called.

Rondel did her best to
create her false grin. “You look surprised, Minawë. Is it so shocking that I
would pay you a visit?”

“I thought you’d gone to
wander Raa. I didn’t expect to see you again. I don’t think Iren did ei—” she
broke off.

The Kodama’s agonized
expression told Rondel everything she needed to know. “So it’s true,” she said.
Her smile faded. “Iren left.”

Minawë nodded. “Several
days ago.”

Rondel cursed. She
needed to find Iren before Hana did! “Where did he go?” she demanded. “Why
would he leave?”

The way Minawë reacted
made Rondel regret how she’d spoken. The Kodaman queen put a hand on her
forehead. “It’s because of me,” she moaned. “He left because of me.”

“That’s silly,” Rondel
said, uncertain how to take Minawë’s outpouring of emotion. “Iren cares for
you. He wouldn’t abandon you like that.”

The look that Minawë
shot Rondel made the old Maantec again wish she’d kept her mouth shut. Rondel
raised her unbroken right palm in a placating gesture. “All right, all right.
Tell me what happened.”

Minawë recounted Iren’s
departure. When she finished, Rondel sighed and put a hand on Minawë’s shoulder
in a vain effort to comfort her. “I feared this would happen,” the old woman
admitted. “When I left six months ago, I wanted to believe Iren could be happy
living here with you. Deep down, though, I knew it wouldn’t be enough for him.”

“He said it was like
being crippled,” Minawë said. “He couldn’t live in a world of magic when he
couldn’t use it, so he went searching for a way to heal himself.”

“That’s why he went to
Lodia?” Rondel asked. “That makes no sense. There’s nothing in Lodia that can
help him.”

“He wanted to visit his
parents’ farm. He thought he might find something there.”

Rondel stiffened. Iren
wouldn’t find anything there but grief.

Minawë shifted back to
the pair of wooden grave markers before her. She grasped the one bearing the
name “Aletas” with both hands. “Mother,” she whimpered, “why did you leave me
alone?”

A sad nostalgia filled
Rondel. Six months ago, she had stood behind this same woman, who had knelt
before these same graves. It was as though nothing had happened, as though no
time had passed.

But time had passed.
Rondel glanced past Minawë to the crater where the Heart of Ziorsecth had once
towered. Its replacement had grown a lot in half a year, even though much of
that time had been during the winter. The seedling drew strength from all the
stems of Ziorsecth, so it far outpaced an ordinary tree.

As Rondel looked at the
Heart, she caught a glimmer of something green next to it. She activated
Lightning Sight. The moment it began, Rondel could pierce the distance without
difficulty. She took a step back and ended her spell.

“Is that the
Chloryoblaka down there?” she asked.

The queen craned her
head around to look at Rondel. “Yes, why do you ask?”

“That isn’t a secure
place to leave your Ryokaiten.”

Minawë shrugged. “No one
knows it’s here. Besides, we stopped Amroth. Mother didn’t want that power, and
I want to respect her wishes. Since Ziorsecth is no longer under threat, I left
the bow there to help the Heart recover.”

Rondel tried to clench her
fists. Her broken hand sent pain through her as punishment for the attempt.
Doing her best to keep calm, she asked, “Then do I have it right that you never
touched the bow? You aren’t the Forest Dragon Knight?”

“That’s correct.”

Rondel’s eyes flared.
“Do you think Amroth was Ziorsecth’s only threat?” she shouted. “Do you have
any clue why I came to see you and Iren today?” She pulled back her cloak to
reveal her broken left hand. It was pressed against her chest in a crude sling
she had fashioned after entering Ziorsecth.

Minawë gasped. “How?
What happened to you?”

“Not what,” Rondel said,
“who. The Stone Dragon Knight did this to me. She took the Burning Ruby and
nearly killed me in the process. Worse still, well . . .”

She used her good hand
to draw the Liryometa from its sheath. When the rondel’s broken edge came free,
all the color vanished from Minawë’s face. “That’s why you came here,” she
breathed. “You wanted Iren’s help against the Stone Dragon Knight.”

Rondel shook her head.
“I did want to find Iren, but not to get his help. Without magic he wouldn’t
stand a chance against this foe. I needed another Dragon Knight, one with magic
better suited to fighting against rock than my lightning abilities are.”

She gestured with her
chin to the crater. “I wanted the Forest Dragon Knight. I wanted you.”

At that final word,
Minawë trembled. Still on her knees, she collapsed forward. Her fists clutched
at the dirt. “I . . .” she began, but she didn’t seem able to
say more.

“Minawë,” Rondel meant
to say the name gently, but it came out harsher than she expected, “when the
Stone Dragon Knight thought I was going to die, she told me she was looking for
Iren. I don’t know why, but I’m sure she wishes him harm. I can’t protect him
alone. We need to find him before she does.”

The queen shook her
head. “I can’t,” she said. “Mother tried to use the Chloryoblaka. Father did
too. Look what happened to them! I can’t. I’m not strong enough. I’m all alone.
Oh, Mother, why did you leave me alone? I can’t be the Forest Dragon Knight. I
can’t be the Queen of the Kodamas. I can’t do anything!”

Rondel vibrated with
rage. “What are you saying?” she yelled. “How can you just kneel there
paralyzed? You aren’t the Minawë I remember. What happened to your strong will?
What happened to the woman who risked her life to help her people? Will you now
hide in this forest and ignore your friend when his life is in danger?”

In a single lithe
motion, Minawë swung around and rose to her feet. As she did, she punched Rondel
across the face. The old woman sprawled in the dirt.

“What makes you think
you know anything about it?” Minawë cried. “You have no right to speak to me
that way!”

“You deny it so
quickly,” Rondel said as she wiped a trail of blood from her lip. “That proves
I’m right. You may not think you’re ready to face it, but you know what you
have to do.”

“You . . .”
Minawë tensed her body. “Get out of Ziorsecth!” she screamed. “As Queen of the
Kodamas, I command it. I never want to see your face again!” She ran away.

But escaping Rondel
wasn’t that easy. The old woman pushed to her feet with her good hand, then
used magic to accelerate herself. She got in front of Minawë in a flash.

The queen was running so
hard and had her eyes so tightly shut that she collided with Rondel at full
speed. Unlike with Minawë’s punch, though, this time Rondel didn’t budge.
Instead it was Minawë who fell. She landed hard on her back.

Rondel cast Lightning
Sight and stared down at Minawë. “When I came here,” the old woman said, “I
felt as if time had stopped. Now I know why. You did let time stop. You let it
stop seven months ago when Aletas died. Let it start again! You’ve been asleep
for half a year, dreaming so you wouldn’t have to confront the real world.
Well, now you must confront it. Minawë, before it’s too late, you need to wake
up!”

The woman on the ground
cried. Rondel felt a stab of pity. She continued more gently, “Do you know why
Aletas took up the Chloryoblaka, even though she didn’t want to?”

Minawë nodded. “To
protect Ziorsecth and the Kodamas.”

“No, they were a bonus.
The real reason,” Rondel pointed at Minawë, “was to protect you, the person she
cared about most. She knew she might die in that battle. She fought anyway,
because she wanted you to live.”

Minawë clutched at her
heart.

“So the only question
now,” Rondel pressed on, “is how best to honor her sacrifice.”

For a long time Minawë
didn’t move. She didn’t speak. Her eyes grew so distant that Rondel was certain
the woman was reliving those last terrible moments of the Battle of Ziorsecth.

At length Minawë stood
and returned to the burial ground. She knelt at Aletas’s grave, then stepped
past it and into the crater. When she reached the Chloryoblaka, she hesitated
only a second before she grasped the bow.

The ground shuddered. A
barrage of vines, each thicker than Rondel’s forearm, burst from the soil. With
incredible speed one wrapped itself around each of Minawë’s arms and legs. The
four vines lifted her into the air in a spread-eagle position. She screamed.
The vines were wrenching away from her body.

Seeing that Minawë was
about to be drawn and quartered, Rondel drew her broken dagger and slashed at
the nearest vine. Her efforts were futile. The edge by the hilt wasn’t nearly
as sharp as the one at the tip had been.

Then Rondel felt a
pressure against her legs. Two vines had ensnared her and rooted her to the
ground. A third wrapped itself around Rondel’s unbroken hand. The plants didn’t
tug on her, but whenever she tried to move, they resisted with such strength
that it was clear they could rip her apart.

Restrained and helpless,
Rondel watched as the vines raised Minawë higher. “Fight it!” Rondel called.
She hoped her shout would reach Minawë over the queen’s screams. “This is
Dendryl’s test.”

Rondel’s vision grayed as
fear brought her to the brink of passing out. The price of failing a dragon’s
test was death.

“Don’t give up, Minawë! I
believe—” Rondel’s words were cut off as a new vine wrapped itself over her
mouth.

Minawë’s screaming
stopped. She spoke, but the voice, while female, was not Minawë’s. “Is this
it?” it mocked. “Is this all the resolve you have?”

Minawë screamed again,
this time in her own voice. The other speaker, whom Rondel guessed was Dendryl,
the Forest Dragon, cut in, “Are you so afraid of death? My knight commands life
and death. Can a spirit as feeble as yours be trusted with such power? You must
not fear! To become my Dragon Knight, you must be willing to die. So tell me: will
you die to become the Forest Dragon Knight?”

Rondel cursed through the
vine sealing her mouth. She knew the game Dendryl was playing. The Forest
Dragon could see Minawë’s memories. It knew exactly how to hurt her.

“No answer?” Dendryl
asked. “I expected more of you. Your father Otunë was willing to die as the
Forest Dragon Knight. Aletas was too. I thought you would have their strength,
but you’re nothing but a remnant, a failure.”

The vines tugged on
Minawë’s limbs again. This time she didn’t scream. Her head hung limply. It was
over.

Then Rondel heard a
voice, low and quiet, yet firm.

“Dendryl,” Minawë said,
“I’m not willing to die to become your Dragon Knight.”

“Because you’re weak!”

“No. I’m not willing to
die, because I can’t let myself die. I have you and Rondel to thank for
reminding me of that. You were right when you said Mother and Father were
willing to die, but you don’t understand the reason. They did it so I would
survive. Do you understand? I have to live, because they died for me!”

The vines tugged on
Minawë again, but she resisted. With a roar she pulled in her arms and legs,
straining against the plants. Finally the tension was too great. The vines
snapped.

Minawë landed hard, but
she climbed to her feet. Her face contorted into a smile, and Dendryl spoke one
last time, “You answered correctly. As I said, the Forest Dragon Knight
commands life and death. Only those who can hold life sacred deserve to be my
knight. I yield to you.”

The vines retracted into
the earth. Rondel raced to where Minawë stood.

“You did it,” the old
Maantec said.

Minawë stood there, still
smiling, but she didn’t respond. She teetered as though she were drunk. Then
she fell sideways. She landed on the dirt and sent up a cloud of dust.

“Minawë!” Rondel
shouted. She leaned down and felt for a pulse. It was there, albeit faint.
Bruises covered Minawë’s arms and legs.

The sight of those
wounds broke Rondel. “Minawë,” she murmured, “I’m sorry.”