10. Cycles Ago.
Cycles Ago...
T he thief was not a thief at all, but a grave-robber who sought to bring the dead back to life. She crept through the tunnels of the crypt. Her hands ran along the smooth stone. Her eyes were closed; light would only distract her. The Sight given to her by the old gods provided all the light she needed. She followed the green Threads that pulsed weakly along the face of the dragonstone as if they illuminated her dreams.
No one else could see those, either. While visions of a dragon with glorious aqua scales haunted her sleep, all her father could talk about was loss. The Tajawl family had fallen far and the few who were left could not imagine getting up again. All except Ead, who could not imagine staying down. She would rise into the sky on the back of a dragon. It would be the invader emperor who would kneel to her.
It was said that some born Touched, with eyes of emerald like Ead, could see the future along with the Threads of the present. Ead was never sure if she had such a gift or if the visions that came to her were just dreams. All she knew was that she must follow them.
Now she followed them down through the corpse of the goddess Asherah. She had not been easy to find. It was only Ead's visions that guided her to the deep tunnel in northern Los where Asherah's buried mouth offered her entrance. She navigated the dragon's innards blindly. From ancient books, she knew she must go down until she could go no further. There, she would find a narrow pit that descended towards the Crust, and at the bottom, her treasure.
If she focused very hard, closing her emerald eyes, she fancied she could already see the pit and the shape of her treasure at the bottom. But she had never stretched her Sight so far and this, too, might only be a dream. She might die down here in the dark, lost in the narrow twisting tunnels and suffocating on the stagnant, ancient air. It was very thin down here. A lesser girl might have panicked. But Ead Tajawl was nothing if not brave.
Her father preferred the word 'reckless.'
Her fingers were bloodied by sharp extrusions in the stone that tore her skin. She cared nothing for this, happy to shed blood. A small price to pay.
When the tunnel finally opened up into a cavern, the tight walls pulling suddenly away, Ead fell hard on her knees. The Threadlight was so dim down here, she could barely see. It was as if even the Threads had almost lost hope.
Ead stood up. "We will be each other's salvation," she promised Asherah as she walked forward with her hands held out. She did not think of crawling, for it was not in her to kneel. Instead she stepped forward, boldly but cautiously, until her seeking foot found emptiness instead of stone.
Ead tipped forward, nearly falling in. Gasping, she righted himself, arms spinning, core engaged. She rebalanced on one foot, then put her other down and took a step back.
Now she must get on her hands and knees to feel for the rounded edge of the pit. She must go into her bag of supplies and retrieve her anchor and rope.
Ead’s heart raced. She doubted neither her strength nor her cleverness. It was in her blood and her destiny to do this. She flew on the thrill of success that had not yet come. She luxuriated in the upcoming challenge and rejoiced in the dream she was making real. Her father would finally believe in her and every sad, beaten-down demon in Los would believe again in their own greatness. But it would be only her on the dragon's back.
It was a beautiful dream and it only grew larger as she anchored the rope and descended into the pit.
None of the books said how deep it would be. A thousand cycles this body had waited here for discovery, and she, Ead, was the one to discover it.
I will bring about the Rebirth.
The thought filled her with pride, and the sort of determination one can only have for a goal one sets as a young child. All her life Ead had wished for this.
Now that she was inside the pit, she could see the green Threads that all ran straight down, like arrows, towards her treasure. The walls were smooth and straight, evidence of the pincer that had punctured this hole in the Crust.
There were few holds for her hands and feet, so Ead had to rely on her rope. She’d not thought of gloves and her hands were raw meat long before she reached the bottom.
Time had no meaning. It seemed to have stopped. The air was a thousand cycles old; Ead could barely breathe it. Her head grew dizzy. Her eyes strained to see shapes in the dark and she began to go insane from the nothingness. She laughed aloud and the sound echoed up the walls of the pit; it took on a life of its own, becoming a creature that was down here with her, mocking her, like the voice of the long-dead god whose bowels she traveled through.
Maybe this was why Riders often went insane. The books said it was because the mind of Rider and god merged when the Bond was formed, and most mortals were too weak-minded to contain the vastness of a god's consciousness alongside their own. Demons went mad less often than men, and Tajawls the least often of all—though it was said that was because they were a little bit mad to start out with. Ead didn't feel mad when she started her climb, but by the end, she wondered.
As for Touched, there were no stories in the books of Touched who Bonded dragons. Those born with that gift were servants of all the gods, even Anu, the evil Father who created the dragon-gods and then helped Calathan the Conqueror kill them. It was considered rude among the gods to Bond a Touched, thus taking them all for oneself. But who cared what was rude when all the gods were dead? Maybe Ead would be the very first Touched to Ride.
The ground surprised her, scraping her boot. She let go of the rope and collapsed in a ball, her shaking legs too tired to hold her. Her hands had gone beyond pain into numbness. They were soaked in blood; perhaps it contributed to her dizziness. She would not make it back up with her hands this way, but she was not concerned about that now.
Ead unfurled. She threw her arms out and rolled across the stone like a child in a field of flowers, joyous at the touch of it on her skin after so much nothingness. Thank Archeon for something other than air. The stone floor was like a blanket under her, and she slept.
When she woke, her mind was clearer. At least she thought it was. The blackness was still complete, and she felt unsteady. She could not find her own separateness in such an empty world.
But the egg was here. She could see its dim outline sketched in green. It was smaller than she’d thought it would be.
She was not above crawling now, not down here in this sacred space. She was too tired to stand, and her treasure was only half a body away from where she’d slept. She crawled to it and touched it with bloody, reverent hands.
She saw the green Threads pulse–once, twice, three times–and then subside. They were brighter than before, but only slightly. The magic in the egg had nearly ebbed away in the many, many cycles it had waited. Her blood alone was not enough to begin the gestation that would turn dragonstone into living god. For that, the egg also needed heat. But with the touch of her blood, Ead claimed this dragon as her own. No matter how long Asherah took to hatch, no matter how far from her Ead was when she did, Asherah would come to her. She would not Bond another. Not while Ead lived. Not unless Ead proved unworthy, and Ead was confident this would not be the case.
Ead caressed the scale pattern on the stone with her ruined fingertips, every curving line a thrilling fever dream. The egg was heavy, and she hadn’t thought of that. She’d brought a pack, but it would surely strain her to carry it up. No matter. It would fit in her pack, and that was all that mattered.
“Asherah,” she whispered. Ead cuddled her arms around the egg and slept again.
She dreamed she was the dragon’s mother. She dreamed the warmth of the blood she’d smeared on it was enough to begin the incubation. When she woke, she imagined the egg glowed brighter.
Ead did not climb back up right away. She sensed that she was not strong enough, and so she waited in the deep of the Crust with the egg. She ate the supplies she’d brought and drank the water. She cut her clothes and wrapped her hands.
There was no time, no night and no day. Ead knew only that she’d entered the pit with supplies for five days, and she left when she ran out. The only thing left in her pack was the egg.
Ead climbed. It seemed to take much longer than her descent, and she had no water left. But she was filled with joy. The tiniest increase in light was like the rising suns to her senses, and she whooped and laughed as she began to see again. She retrieved the egg to study it in the light. It only looked black, black as stone. She touched her hand to it and it wasn’t even warm. It might as well have been a rock with a pretty pattern carved into it. But Ead knew better. When she closed her eyes, its dim green Threads were filled with promise.
It wasn’t until her tired arms finally pulled her over the edge of the pit and she collapsed heavily on the stone of the cavern she'd entered long ago—it felt like so long ago—that she allowed herself to think of what came next. The egg must incubate inside the Mother’s Womb, but the mountain had long ago closed her opening. How would Ead get to the fire that must still roil deep inside? It must , because she had her dream.
Her back spasmed as she stood. She stumbled, shaking and weak, through the tunnels that would lead her into the light. She was a broken woman and she was stronger than she’d ever been, unshatterable in her conviction.
She, Ead Tajawl, would bring about the Rebirth.
She, Ead Tajwal, would Ride a dragon like her ancestors. She would be the Rider of Asherah.
Together, they would make the world burn.