CHAPTER 8
“You have the power to do good, Jerris. You have the power to change the world.”
He acted like I was somehow the worthier of us two. I glanced down the hallway where our mother was sleeping. She lay on a straw mattress in a makeshift room where Patriol silently cared for her night and day.
“As do you, brother. Binding or no, as do you.”
—Recounting from the private diary of Jerris, Dragonbound
SERAE
Midsummer, Jerrmon 1036
The moon shone bright overhead. I sat in the rich soil of the forest. It was night, and I was alone, but I felt no fear—only peace.
A breeze whipped through the trees, and the leaves chattered. They crooned and cried as their branches creaked. It was a noisy sort of music that tempered the quiet stillness of the night sky. I could sit here for hours. So, I did.
“I see you,” said a voice.
I turned my head. There was only the night.
“I see you, and I will know you.”
I did not reply because I did not have the words.
“Come find me. The time for sleeping has nearly passed.”
Her words stirred me. With a thought, I stood. Then, I walked toward the mountains.
“Remember.”
Inside the cave, I could smell the salty sulfur of the air. Sharp but not acrid. Something blessed hid in the scent, wrapping around me, filling me.
“Soon, we shall awake.”
I jolted off my pillow, casting my gaze around the room.
I was alone except for Gerta, asleep in the bed beside mine.
My heart pounded in my ears. Moonlight streamed in through the open window, the crisp air nipping at my neck.
Satisfied nothing was amiss, I fell back onto my pillow.
Already, the dream was slipping away. I could barely remember it as I drifted back to sleep.
“DANE AULDREN,” I squeaked as I ran headlong into his broad chest while rushing out of the training room. Kahvrah had advanced us to two new youth dowsae, a step up from the children’s dowsae we’d been learning, and I had a head swimming with patterns.
Dane stood unmoved while I bounced off his chest and stumbled backward. One of his long arms shot out and hooked my elbow just before I fell.
“Thank you, I mean—I’m so sorry, I mean—” I sighed and righted myself. My glasses had gone askew—something Kahvrah now loved to point out during drills. I checked my pocket to make sure my little journal was still there. “My apologies, Sire.”
He snickered.
“Do we have a lesson today?” Dane’s were the most enlightening, and I had filled half my journal with the things he’d taught me.
Most of it was too complex to encode, so only a few details about their ships and seafaring vessels made it into my letters.
But I had pages of diagrams, construction methods, and statistics on resistance.
“No, I came to tell you that Eldreth is delayed. He will not return this week as originally planned.”
“This—this week? You never said he’d—” I narrowed my eyes at him. “When exactly will he return?”
“Next week at best. Or else, the week after. Don’t worry, lass, he’ll be home soon.”
“And am I to actually meet him then?” I tried to keep the bitterness from my voice and failed. I leaned against the wall and rubbed my forehead.
Dane laughed. “I like when you’re full of spirit. This will help for your First Sun.”
“My what?”
“Your first morning as a Riht, after you pledge yourself to the clan during your Sun Trial.”
Fuck. My next trial. I put my hand out on the wall behind me for support.
Kahvrah had barely discussed it during dowsae training.
For Rihtlonders, it marks the passage from childhood to adulthood.
For me, it would decide whether they accepted or rejected me as a member of the Riht. I hadn’t expected it to arrive so soon.
“Has Kahvrah not—”
“This week, Dane.” Kahvrah appeared at his side, and I jumped. His hulking form had blocked her approach from view. “Serae has nearly mastered her the youth dowsae. The sun dowsa is next.”
Dane nodded. “I’ll not interfere with your method.” He nodded again and left.
THE SUN dowsa was nothing like the others we had learned. All dowsae involved controlled movement, balance, and flexibility, but the sun dowsa used snapping muscles, quick jabs, and far too many kicks.
“Tie up your skirt,” Kahvrah barked before beginning the lesson the following day. When I failed the correct tucking motions on the first try, she kicked out, hooking her foot into the loose fold and pulling me off balance.
I stumbled, my glasses slipping right off my nose. I caught them just before they hit the ground.
“This is why it must be right. Your skirt cannot be your weakness, only your aid.” She knelt and helped me through the motions of retying them correctly.
We repeated the complex motions for hours on end.
My muscles ached, yet we continued. Gerta and I had drained the entire pitcher in the corner, and still, we practiced.
It was only when Gerta swayed on her feet that Kahvrah called us to a halt.
She waved us across the hallway toward what I had affectionately dubbed the Relaxation Room.
It was probably my favorite room in the whole keep.
We plopped down on pillows that dotted the floor.
I pulled off my boots and dug my toes into the plush rug.
Tea was already set at the low floor table.
I studied the intricate tapestries lining the walls.
Each was woven, not stitched, a skill entirely foreign to me.
Tapestries just as detailed hung throughout the keep—in the rooms, the corridors, and the halls.
The ones here depicted a legend of the Great Dragon, though I hadn’t yet riddled out the whole story.
“The sun dowsa,” Kahvrah began, breaking me from my thoughts, “is unlike the simple dowsae you have learned. It is meant to be done with a partner. Therefore, you must be perfect. If you are not perfect, you will be hurt. Maybe your partner too, but most likely just you. If your skirt is not tied up correctly, or if you are distracted in any way, it will be your downfall.”
I cast aside my blue skirts and propped my feet on a nearby pillow. “Point taken. Enough with the doom and gloom.” I turned back to the walls.
Gerta chortled, but Kahvrah just kept eyeing me. Why were all Rihtlonders so sufferingly unreadable?
“You may look,” she said.
“Sorry?”
“No need for apologies. Go and look.” She waved a hand at the walls.
Despite feeling like a child caught ogling the sweets table, I hopped up and studied the nearest tapestry.
“I suspected as much,” Kahvrah added, and though her self-satisfied grin was aimed at the back of my head, I could still hear it in her voice. “Do you have an interest in weaving?”
“No.” I shook my head. “I mean, yes, I’d love to learn about it, but I’m more interested in the story here.”
“This is not a story. This is the truth of our past. It begins here—” She stood and walked to the far corner of the room, where four dragons swirled around a glowing orb at the tapestry’s center.
I trailed her. “—with all seven dragons working together to create Jaeda. The dragons of the four elements began first. The Earth Dragon and Water Dragon shaped the stones and seas. Then, the Fire Dragon”—she indicated the red dragon of the group—“built the hot lava that lives beneath the surface, while the white Air Dragon created the clouds and winds with its breath.
“Then came the Great Dragon, who breathed life across all of Jaeda.” She moved to the next tapestry, which depicted a massive green dragon flying over a rocky expanse, leaving lush greenery in her wake.
“Plants of all types sprouted from the deep soil. The dragons looked to each other, and in their unique genius, they conceived of all the animals that would fill their young world. The Great Dragon worked with her twin, the Spirit Dragon, to create these new forms of life.” The next tapestry on the wall showed the green alongside a smaller purple dragon mixing their fiery breaths over Jaeda.
“The world teemed with life, which thrived in its every corner. But there was no balance.”
Kahvrah walked to the third wall, where a shroud of black and gray shadowed the tapestry.
“The Dragon of Death took up his calling. When the lives of all creatures were well spent, he collected them into his fold. As time passed and humanity grew in wisdom and number, the Seven knew it was time for them to rest. Each dragon chose a champion, whose lifeforce they bound to their own.” The next tapestry showed seven dragon-like figures, each a different color, holding hands.
She paused before moving to the last wall and final tapestry.
“There was peace for a time, until humanity descended into greed. The Dragonbound became too powerful and took control of the world, dividing it into factions. The Dragons, angry by our failure to honor their great gifts, withdrew their bindings and let the Dragonbound fall.”
With a great sigh, Kahvrah returned to her cushion beside Gerta. “One day, it is said, when humanity has proven itself worthy again, the Dragonbound will return.”
I scrutinized the tapestries, committing all I could to memory. Father had not asked for information about their beliefs, but something told me this was critical to know.
“After you pass your Sun Trial, I will take you to a weaver. That is to say”—Kahvrah held up a finger—“if you pass.”
The truth was, as much as I hated the endless training, confusing language, and frustrating confinement, I wanted to pass this trial.
I hated failure, even over something as insane as trying to belong in a place I couldn’t wait to escape.
I had nothing to prove to them, but perhaps I still had something to prove to myself.
“What happens if I fail?”
“You cannot live in Drakh or be betrothed to our future high dane if you are not one of the Riht.”
“I’ll be sent home?”
She shrugged. “Do not fail, and we will not have to find out.”