54. Chapter 48
Chapter 48
Tanead
I listened with rising glee to the stomping of guardsmen’s feet as Amon led his men away. The cell door remained open, the hall empty. Torchlight danced in the tunnels, but not all of the torches had been lit. Only those along a certain path were bright. Amon was leading me out—or into a trap. No matter. I wasn't following his path and I didn't need any torches. I retraced my steps back to Kutha's pit.
Come, hurry, so close now. The god’s eagerness could not be missed. He sounded hungry, like a starving dog slurping soup from a bowl in the desert.
I tried not to trip over my feet as I broke into a run.
The cavern was empty, but I felt a living presence when I stepped inside. There was life in the pulsing green light. Its brightness was abrasive to my eyes, like sand in a storm. I squinted and went to the wheel the guards had used to raise and lower my cage.
The rope that wound around the wheel was heavy and thick. It wasn’t an ideal climbing rope and I wasn’t sure what I’d do once its length ran out.
I can tie it to the wheel but I don’t think it’ll be long enough to reach you.
I am not so deep as I once was. Come.
I got to the edge and peered over. I kicked a few small pieces of rock and listened for the sound of their fall. As Kutha promised, they hit ground much sooner than I’d expected.
I thought such pits were very deep. I’d heard stories of my mother’s rescue of Asherah.
I have waited a long time. The Crust has moved to help me rise.
That was strange. It was said in legends that only the Father and Mother could control the Crust. For the dragons, it was a trap for their souls. Or a peaceful eternal resting place, depending on the tale. But I supposed the Crust could accidentally help a dragon be reborn, through centuries of movement.
I held the rope firmly and leaned over the edge. It was not going to be pleasant to climb a rope with a missing finger. When the rough strands rubbed the raw, recently cauterized skin, a burn began that surely would get much worse. But no matter. Such pain was nothing.
The anticipation of meeting Kutha was building. Would he be nothing but a far-away promise, a dragonet stone-cold inside his egg? I doubted it. He hadn’t told me what to expect, but he was too alive for that. I didn’t know how he’d gestated here, but I suspected he had. When I reached the bottom, I expected a soft egg, ready to hatch. I thrilled at the prospect of soon being a Rider.
The sides of the pit were smooth. It had been pierced by dragon pincer and few rocks were dislodged by my careful descent. I clutched the rope in both hands, planting my feet deliberately. I still wore the boots I had on when Caelan captured me, but the soles were worn from being dragged behind an alwashi on my way to the capital. I curled my toes for extra traction, hoping I wouldn’t slip.
Time had no meaning here, but I’d gotten used to that. Yes, I had. I hummed to myself and Kutha kept quiet, perhaps knowing I needed concentration more than encouragement.
My feet touched ground. I was so surprised that I let go of the rope and fell on my back. The walls of the pit rose around me like the defensive walls of a castle. The bottom of the pit, which I now stood on, was not smooth, but cracked like a pile of boulders. They couldn’t have fallen from above, I reasoned. They must have been shoved upward by the Crust’s movement over time.
It was not dark. In fact, the green light that pulsed in the cavern was so bright down here that I squinted my eyes to shield them from its intensity. When I closed them, the light invaded anyway. It was inescapable.
I opened my eyes and looked down. This helped in the desert, but it only made things worse here. The green light came not from above but below. And there was a golden light too, shining out from between each boulder. It was not as strong as the green light, but it felt hot. In fact, it was sweltering.
But where was the egg? At first, I couldn’t pick it out from the surrounding rocks. With my eyes mostly shut, I felt about with my hands. They caressed the smooth walls and explored the curves and edges of the jagged stones. I almost fell again when they found empty air where I’d expected stone. I crawled forward, patting the air, trying to find the wall, but I’d found what seemed like a tunnel. I crawled into it. The walls were earthen, not dragonstone.
Where does it lead?
Into the past, answered Kutha impatiently. You are so close now. Return.
Obediently, I backed out of the tunnel and resumed my explorations.
The egg was sandwiched between a boulder and the wall of the pit. My heart flew into my mouth when my hand touched the warm surface. It was leathery, ready to hatch. It pulsed with life, the heartbeat inside matching the pulsing of the light about me.
I screamed my elation, thrusting out my chest. The sound echoed up the chasm. I felt like a god.
I’d done it. I’d finally done it. I had an egg of my own. I sank to my knees. My hand shook as I pressed it to the egg.
I will blood myself to create the Bond. I lifted my hand to my mouth, my teeth ready to bite.
No need, my son. It is not your blood I need, but your horns. Pierce the shell that binds me. Release me.
An irritation scratched at the edge of my thoughts. Something not quite right. Kutha had called me “my son.” And he did not want my blood.
Why don’t you want my blood?
I don’t need it, my son. Help me hatch! His voice was deeper and louder down here. It filled up my head, leaving little space for my own thoughts. I tried to grasp onto them as they tried to skitter away.
How is it possible you are ready to hatch? I see no fire here to nurture you, only hardened stone.
The fires at the heart of the world have nurtured my renewal. Now hurry, my son. The booming voice was so eager.
But I’d never heard of a dragon needing a Rider to pierce his shell. I forced my eyes open so I could look properly at the egg before me.
It was much bigger than I’d expected. It was as broad as my arm was long, and nearly my height. It was the first egg I’d seen, though I’d spent my entire life keeping watch over the Mother’s Womb that housed the egg of Asherah and I knew that dragon eggs were usually small enough to be carried in an embrace.
The egg was filled with fire, or so it appeared, with lines of orange heat outlining the edges of the scales. The tip of a wing or a claw pressed outward as if it reached for me. It distorted the shape of the egg and filled me with passionate excitement.
You are so close. I see you moving inside. Why can you not pierce the shell yourself and emerge unassisted?
The answer boomed so loud inside my head that it hurt. I pressed my hands to my ears, though it was not through them that the sound came in.
You think you know so much, but you are a child with only stories of my kind to fill you. You know nothing! I have waited for Rebirth through endless cycles and you wonder that my egg has too firm a skin to crack. Will you make me wait longer? Have I chosen wrongly?
Panic seized me and denial spilled from my lips. I bent immediately at the waist and backed up a few steps, preparing to ram the egg with my horns. I worried I might damage the dragon within, but Kutha would brook no more delays, so I said nothing. I only launched forward, my horns aiming for the giant, pulsing egg.
The surface resisted me. I leaned my weight forward, growling with effort. It stretched until it was taut.
Yes, almost, almost, said Kutha’s excited voice.
But my body was weak from starvation and torture. I didn’t have the strength to pierce the thick leathery surface.
I backed away, breathing deeply. I will try again, I promised.
You will succeed.
A feeling of power and strength flooded my limbs. It was so sudden and intense that it nauseated me. I collapsed to my knees, retching, but nothing came up. I could feel my heartbeat in the tips of each of my remaining fingers. My muscles bulged and flexed of their own accord, but the power that filled me went beyond my physical body. I had a feeling that I could push my body until it was nothing but shreds of skin on a corpse of bone and still I would keep obeying the will of the god until it was done. It was not my organs that animated me now; it was the power that lay in wait inside that egg.
I’d never heard of such power being given to a Rider. Just as I’d never heard of a dragon that could speak to his Rider before hatching.
There was that irritation again, gnawing at the corners of my mind like a little mouse. Something was wrong here. But my body bent at the waist and pressed forward, animated by a different will than mine.
The leathery hide split beneath the pressure of my horn.
A cry of triumph flooded my mind, but my own elation didn’t accompany it. I felt sick.
The puppeteer dropped my body and I fell to the boulders, limp and shaky. I forced my eyes to stay open as a wing tip emerged from the split I’d created. A wing followed. Then a clawed foot stepped out. Another. And finally, the face and body of the dragon itself. The eggshell flaked into pieces, suddenly thin and feeble. They floated down and disappeared.
Newly hatched dragons were supposed to eat their shells, I knew, but this dragon hungered for a different meal.
You are not Kutha, I whispered.
I was sure now, beyond any doubt, for Kutha was a red dragon in every rebirth and the creature before me was as black as the dragonstone that surrounded us. He would be invisible to me if not for the green light that spilled from beneath every scale, lighting him up. His eyes, too, were green. They shined like dual suns.
A deep chuckle. Old and deep as the Crust itself.
Inside me, an answering despair screamed.
You are Anu, the Father. Murdered by the other gods for your evil. Yet here you are in the pit meant for Kutha’s soul. How?
There is no need for you to understand such things. You need only to serve.
So desperate I’d been to Ride, so clueless about the dragons my ancestors knew in their very bones, that I’d helped Anu return to mortal form. Shame seized me. I wanted to die. But such a mistake creates responsibility. I could not die now.
I have served you well so far, I think.
You have, my son.
But you do not want me as your Chosen.
No. I am destined for another.
This betrayal, at least, was a relief. Whoever was Chosen to Bond Anu would go mad. Their body would cease to be their own. I’d gotten a taste of their fate when Anu animated my body and it was more than enough, thanks very much.
Good. I will not serve my gods’ great enemy.
A chuckle. Strangely, the hatchling before me seemed to have no connection to the voice in my mind. He was not looking at me. He behaved like any other newly hatched creature might. He tipped forwards and back, weak on shaky new legs.
It occurred to me that this moment might be the best time to send Anu back to the Crust. It might be the only moment.
I studied the dragon anew. Could my horns penetrate his hide? Perhaps a wing, where scales had not grown yet. I had no other weapons, so I’d have to try it.
Reconsider. I can offer you everything you’ve ever wanted.
You cannot.
Vengeance. The word reverberated around my mind. The chasm shook as it was uttered. Along with it came a flood of hatred so fierce, I thought I might be sick with it. It was the rage of a being who’d simmered in resentment for millennia.
I have been patient, Anu said. So have you, Rider. You seek vengeance for the death of your mother. You seek vengeance against the Havards. I will bring you what you seek.
I took a shaky breath. The god’s power still flooded me. His influence tugged at me. But I remained rigid, my back close to the wall. My eyes on the thin fabric of Anu’s wing.
You allied with the Havards. You gave them the power they needed to kill all the dragons.
The dragons executed me! the voice thundered. Ageless anguish filled every word. But I can forgive. I will allow the dragons to rise again alongside me. I will tell you how to resurrect them. You may Bond with any you wish, Rider. I can give you power.
Yes, he could. Some of it flooded into me again and made me feel strong.
It’s just a taste, Anu promised.
But Anu had killed my gods and my ancestors. He was responsible for the rise of the Slayers. I knew what kind of world Anu would bring back if he came.
Beyond that, I knew what happened to those who Bonded Anu. They went mad. To a man. He was called Consumer of Threads because no mind had ever survived him. Even the minds of his servants—those who were held in his thrall without even the privilege of being his Bonded—became nothing but drooling bodies who executed his will.
I rose to my feet. My weakness had left me. Anu’s strength filled me. I would use it to kill him.
Thanks for the offer, but I’m not that crazy. I hurtled forward, horns down, aiming for the delicate wing the hatchling held open to dry.
Anu’s roar reverberated in my mind. His power left me as suddenly as it had come. My limbs were weak as a newborn's, but my heart was still strong. I tried to keep going but a force yanked on my spine and threw me back against the wall. I heard a sharp cracking sound before nerve pain—agony, agony—flooded me, obliterating all else.
The pain was in my horns. My hands flew to them, desperate fingers dancing. Hopes, wishes, prayers.
No.
One of my horns had snapped off. Tears streaming down my face, I felt about on the ground for the tip. It must’ve fallen between the cracks in the boulders.
The god’s fury crashed about my mind. You will regret this choice, Tanead Tajawl. You can drown in fire, too, if it’s hot enough. But you won’t live long enough to die that way.
The hatchling turned to me. He licked his lips and I remembered that dragons are always born hungry.
I was too weak to climb out of the pit.
So I went the only way I could go. I crawled to the tunnel I'd found as fast as I could.
It might lead nowhere. It might bury me alive. The dragon might follow me in and eat me in here. But there were no choices before me but this.
I ran from the god as fervently as I’d gone to him. The green light followed me, though it weakened as I went. I thought of how that light—the psychic touch of Anu—lit the caverns above already. He had infected the palace. Were the Slayers so mad because of Anu’s presence here? His touch must be in their blood by now.
I looked back over and over, but the god didn’t follow. Only his voice did.
I will meet you again in the fire, Tanead Tajawl.