Chapter 72 Kailin
KAILIN
"Still the mind, and the world will whisper, dissolving the boundary between dream and reality."
—Shaman Saphir Fatewever
The auroras' light filtered through the gap in the curtains, providing dim illumination across our joined beds. I lay awake and watched Alar as he slept beside me, his face relaxed in a way it rarely was during waking hours, his arm draped over my waist.
I traced his features with my gaze, admiring the strong line of his jaw, the curve of his lips, the dark sweep of his eyelashes against his cheeks.
After a month at the academy, with its brutal conditioning regimen and constant physical demands, he looked like he belonged on the ceiling of an Elurian art museum mural rather than in a cadet's narrow bed.
We'd fallen into a comfortable routine over the past few weeks—pushing Shovia's bed and mine together each night, then separating them again each morning.
It was a bit tedious, but I didn't mind.
There was something rather enjoyable about watching Alar lift the bed and move it almost effortlessly, his muscles bunching beneath his shirt.
Those muscles had become even more defined as time went by. We'd all changed physically, becoming leaner, stronger, our bodies adapting to the demands placed upon them.
Even flying, which I'd initially imagined as simply sitting atop a dragon while it did all the work, turned out to be physically taxing.
The constant need to balance, to shift with the dragon's movements, to withstand the pressure of high-speed flight—it all required strength and endurance, which we had all been gradually building.
Carefully, I extricated myself from Alar's embrace, moving slowly to avoid waking him. He stirred slightly, mumbling something unintelligible before settling back into sleep.
I padded quietly to my desk, where I'd left the glass of tea I'd brewed at dinner.
The herbal mixture Saphir had provided had a distinctive scent—earthy with hints of something sweeter beneath.
I wasn't particularly fond of the taste, but the shaman had been insistent that I drink it each night before going to sleep.
It was supposed to help the medallion do its thing, and I was to record the resulting dreams in the journal he'd given me.
I suspected that the tea did all the heavy lifting, and the medallion wasn't doing much, but in either case, I didn't like the unsettling dreams that the tea brought about.
I'd never had such dreams before drinking it, so I knew it was the culprit.
I seemed to see through the eyes of nocturnal creatures—owls, bats, foxes, and others—watching as they went about their nightly activities.
Hunting. Killing. Feeding.
The dreams were vivid, intense, and strangely coherent.
It was disturbing to feel so intimately connected to these predatory moments.
To experience the rush of the hunt and the satisfaction of a successful kill, even from a removed perspective.
Sometimes I could still taste the blood on my lips in the morning.
I'd faithfully recorded these dreams in the leather-bound journal, even adding a number of sketches illustrating some of the more vivid visuals.
I was beginning to dread the nightly ritual, but I'd promised Saphir I would follow his instructions, and relegating my duty was not an option unless Saphir released me from the obligation.
With a sigh, I drank the tea and reached for the silver medallion that rested on the desk beside the glass.
The medallion settled against my chest, its weight familiar after weeks of wearing it.
The effigy of Elu seemed to shimmer in the faint light, and the symbols etched on the perimeter of the circle swirled in front of my eyes, probably because of how tired I was or maybe because the tea was starting to take effect.
I got back in bed, careful not to disturb Alar as I slipped beneath the covers. He shifted in his sleep, one arm automatically reaching for me and pulling me close against his chest. I nestled against him, feeling the steady beat of his heart and the warmth of his skin against mine.
My eyelids grew heavy, the tea's effects already beginning to take hold, and as I drifted to sleep, I prayed to Elu that tonight's visions would be less disturbing than those of previous nights.
Butterflies fluttering from flower to flower in a sunny meadow would be nice or some gentle herbivore peacefully grazing beneath the auroras.
My last conscious thought was of the meeting I had scheduled with Saphir in a week's time.
I would ask him then if I could stop with the tea.
The dreams didn't seem to be contributing anything meaningful to my training, and they were beginning to affect my mood during waking hours.
Surely he could think of other ways to develop whatever ability he was trying to nurture.
I was small, my body compact and vibrating with nervous energy. The world appeared enormous around me, the scents and sounds overwhelming in their intensity. My tail twitched as I scampered across a fallen log, pausing to sit up on my hind legs, paws clutching a large seed.
A squirrel. I was a squirrel. A terrified one.
Something felt wrong. The ground beneath me vibrated, a subtle tremor that sent alarm racing through my small body.
I dropped the seed, whiskers twitching as I tried to determine the source of the disturbance.
This wasn't the footfalls of large animals or the distant rumble of thunder.
This was something else—continuous, directional, and unsettling.
The vibrations intensified, and suddenly I was no longer a squirrel, I was Kailin, who understood that what I was feeling was the seismic activity created by the burrowing of a giant worm, the massive invertebrate that the Shedun used to dig their attack tunnels, allowing them to penetrate Elucia's otherwise impenetrable mountains.
Danger. The instinct pulsed through the squirrel's mind and mine simultaneously.
Abruptly, the perspective shifted, and I was soaring, powerful wings carrying me through the night air. Sharp eyes penetrated the darkness below, picking out details no human eye could discern.
An owl, I realized.
From this vantage point, I could see the ground bulging, earth and rock pushed upward by something massive moving beneath the surface.
Then, with a shower of dirt and stone, the tunneling worm broke through, its enormous, segmented body writhing as it created an opening large enough for its masters to emerge.
And emerge they did, Shedun warriors pouring from the tunnel like a plague.
They wore the distinctive dark clothing of their sect, faces painted with black tar and decorated with symbols of Elusitor in red.
They carried the curved blades they favored, along with rifles and ammunition.
Some even carried explosive throwers, the long pipes sticking from the backpacks strapped to their shoulders over the black capes they wore.
The owl and I banked, circling higher, our gaze now taking in a sleeping city spread out below—Podana, the capital of Elucia, its buildings nestled against the mountainside, its people unaware of the approaching danger.
My consciousness shifted again, this time to another bird—a raven, perhaps, its call a harsh warning as it witnessed another worm breaking through at a different location. More Shedun emerged, spreading out like a disease.
The perspective continued to shift, jumping from creature to creature, each offering glimpses of the unfolding invasion.
A fox watching from the shadows as Shedun emerged at yet another location.
A bat detecting the vibrations as another worm burst out of the ground, a mountain cat observing as the invaders began moving toward the city.
With each shift in perspective, the picture became clearer and more terrifying: Podana was under a massive, coordinated attack, and the defenders were still unaware of the danger literally beneath their feet.
Why were the seismic activity detectors not working?
Where were the night patrols?
Was it just a horrible nightmare, or was this invasion happening right now?
Panic surged through me, not the instinctual animal panic of my hosts, but my own very human fear. I had to do something to warn everyone.
Desperately, I reached out with my mind, calling to every dragon I'd ever communicated with. Onyx. Xathsia. Veridia. All of them.
“Danger! Podana is under attack! The Shedun are coming through tunnels all around the city! Wake the riders! Defend the city!”
I pushed the images I'd seen through my hosts' eyes, showing them to the dragons. The worms breaking through. The Shedun warrior hordes emerging. The sleeping, vulnerable city.
Over and over, I sent the message, my mental voice growing more urgent as my panic grew with each passing moment. “Please! You must respond! Podana is under attack! Thousands will die! You must defend the people!”
Silence.
Then, finally, a familiar presence touched my mind.
"Little Warrior?" Onyx's voice was groggy with sleep. "What is it?"
I showed him everything, the images flowing from my mind to his in a torrent of fear and urgency.
"I see it," he said, his mental voice now sharp and alert. "I will wake Ravel. Continue calling the others. Try to reach Nyxath. She can get all the others."
I'd heard her in my mind once, when she'd called me to come forward in the ceremony. I might be able to communicate with her.
In the meantime, other dragons began to respond, and then finally, I got her clear presence in my mind.
"I hear you, Kailin. I will wake Saphir, and we will defend Podana."
I nearly cried with relief.
Hearing a chorus of dragon voices reverberating through my mind should have been overwhelming, but somehow, I managed to contain them.