The Flames of Dragons Read online

  The farmhand set down his bowl. It was empty. Goro’s eyebrows rose a fraction. He’d barely eaten a quarter of his.

  “I should rest,” Katsu said. “Tomorrow will be a long day. Thank you for the meal.” He bowed so his head touched the floor, then stood and walked to the door.

  “Wait!” Chiyo said. “You don’t have to run off every evening. You’re among friends. Stay a while and share some stories.”

  “I’m sorry,” Katsu said. The man’s eyes drifted to his right as he added, “I don’t have any stories to share. I’d be a boring guest. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Then he was gone.

  Chiyo sighed. “He’s a hard worker, but I wish he’d open up a little. He seems sad.”

  Goro wasn’t so sure. “I hope we didn’t make a mistake taking him in.”

  “How can you say that?” Chiyo put her hands on her hips. Goro tensed; he was in for it now.

  “That man has done more on this farm in three weeks than you and I normally handle in three months,” Chiyo said. “He’s peaceful, humble, and hardworking, and Juusa blessed us the day he came here.”

  “But why did he come here?” Goro insisted. “He says he’s a wanderer. Well, why is he wandering? People don’t do that for no reason. He’s hiding something. Maybe he’s planning to rob us.”

  “Goro, if he wanted to rob us, he would have done it by now. We don’t have anything worth three weeks of farm labor to steal.”

  “Maybe he’s here to hide. Maybe he’s on the run from some noble in Hiabi. It wouldn’t be the first time a criminal tried to disappear in these mountains.”

  Chiyo glared at her husband. “You always think the worst, don’t you? Look, that man’s doing great things for this farm. With his help, the gardens and rice paddies are planted ahead of schedule. The wood’s cut. He even fixed up the shed. If he sticks around, we’ll have our best harvest in two hundred years. We might even be able to sell some of it. Wouldn’t that be nice? We might finally have enough money to add a nursery.”

  There it was. Goro sighed. He couldn’t argue with Chiyo about that. “All right,” he said, “I’m sorry. He can stay. I’ll ask no more questions.”

  All that night, though, Goro wondered about the farmhand. Maybe the man was a blessing, but there was still something off about him. Goro would keep his promise to Chiyo, but he’d find his answers somehow. This farm was all he had. He wouldn’t let anyone threaten it.

  * * *

  The man who called himself Katsu left the farmhouse at a brisk walk. He was already late, and he knew his partner would be waiting for him.

  Tracing one of the few dry paths through the terraced rice paddies, Katsu climbed into the hills above the farm. The fresh growth of early summer was evident even as twilight fell over the land.

  It made Katsu think of Lodia, his birthplace far to the north. It was on the other side of the continent, and the seasons were reversed there. It would be winter there now, the snow cold yet soft on the land. Katsu wondered whether he’d ever see it again. He had his doubts.

  The paddies gave way to a scraggly pine forest, but still Katsu hiked. Half an hour after leaving Goro and Chiyo’s farmhouse, he reached his destination: a small cavern concealed from view by a boulder as tall as he was. Channeling magic into his limbs, he pushed the rock aside without effort and entered the cave.

  Once inside, Katsu groped in the darkness a moment before he found the object of his search. A white katana lay on the ground, hidden behind a stone. Katsu picked it up and slid its sheath through his belt, a feeling of completeness settling on him. He felt naked without this sword.

  Katsu knelt on the cold rock of the cavern floor. He closed his eyes, even though it made no difference to his vision. The sun had set by now, and the blackness of the cave was absolute. All the same, it helped him focus.

  He drew his katana and held it in his lap. From deeper in the cave came the sound of dripping water. It had a steady pace, and Katsu found his breathing keeping time with it. He was ready to meet his partner. With a final exhalation, he opened his eyes.

  The cave around him had vanished. He stood on a seashore. A full moon hung in the east and cast its glow across the water. The waves lapped against the beach at the same speed that the cavern drips had fallen.

  Katsu took a deep breath of the salty air and shivered. He loved this scent, and he missed it in the mountains. If only this place were real.

  A few feet in front of him sat his partner, Divinion. The massive white serpentine dragon was coiled around himself, his scales glowing with inner light. Blue hairs ran down the length of his spine, and even in rest his wings seemed to stretch to the heavens. His legs were tucked up beneath him, but Katsu knew that they each carried talons that made his katana dull by comparison.

  The dragon did not turn around. He must have noticed Katsu’s arrival though, because he growled, “You’re late.”

  “I’m still not used to them calling me ‘Katsu.’ Goro had to come looking for me.”

  The dragon uncurled and stretched his body. His square head rose thirty feet in the air, one blue whisker undulating off either side of his muzzle. The sky blue of his eyes pierced Katsu’s heart and froze him in place. “When you must conceal who you are from those who care about you, it’s time to rethink your position in life,” the dragon said. “Wouldn’t you agree, Iren Saitosan?”

  Iren shivered at his real name. He’d gone by “Katsu” ever since he’d arrived on Goro’s farm. He couldn’t tell them his actual name, not given who it connected him to.

  “Telling them who and what I am would put them in danger,” Iren said. “I’m looking out for their safety.”

  “Your mere presence jeopardizes their safety, whether they know the truth or not. Melwar and Hana might still be hunting you. You can’t harm the farmers by revealing your identity. But then, perhaps you have another reason?”

  Iren threw himself back on the beach, face up. He grabbed a handful of sand and let it slip through his fingers. It was amazing how real it felt considering this seaside only existed in his mind. It was a construct that allowed him to meet with the Holy Dragon, who was otherwise imprisoned inside the katana Iren held.

  Divinion stood over him. The dragon’s eyes were unrelenting.

  Iren sighed. There was no point in hiding something from Divinion. The dragon knew everything about Iren; he just wanted to see if Iren would have the courage to admit the truth. “I want them to think of me as a farmer,” he said. “That’s all. It’s been on my mind ever since I arrived here. If Mother and Father had lived, I think I could have been happy on their farm with them, never knowing about magic or dragons. No offense, but I never wanted to be the Holy Dragon Knight. I never wanted to get swept into a thousand-year-old vendetta.” He loosed a long breath and murmured, “I never wanted to hate someone.”

  “So don’t,” Divinion said. “There’s no reason for you to. Don’t let the past destroy you. Let it become the load that makes you stronger.”

  “I wish it were that easy, but I can’t let it go. The past has made me who I am.” He stood. “Rondel killed my parents, and I will avenge them. Now train me.”

  Divinion’s lips curled back, revealing rows of teeth longer than Iren was tall. “If that’s what you want.” He stepped back and changed shape. He shrank, and his scales melted into wrinkled skin and brown linen clothes. At his waist a belt appeared, and on that belt hung a dagger.

  The most important change, though, was to his eyes. They shifted from blue to green, and within them sparks danced.

  Iren raised his left hand, and his katana, the Muryozaki, appeared in it. He faced the apparition of Rondel that Divinion had become. “Let’s begin.”

  They started slowly, dancing to a melody only they could hear as each sought to find the other’s weaknesses. Iren knew Divinion could sense his every move, but that was the point. It meant that, at least when fighting Iren, the Holy Dragon had the same instantaneous reflexes as the old Maantec.
It made Divinion the perfect sparring partner.

  After two minutes, Divinion accelerated. Iren’s body could match the dragon’s pace, but his eyes couldn’t. The apparition of Rondel became a blur, and its dagger struck home. It stabbed Iren in the gut and forced itself up into his lungs.

  Had the fight been real, Iren would have died. Just like he would have died every night since he and Divinion had started this routine three weeks ago. He was no closer to figuring out a way to kill Rondel than he’d been the night he’d left her and Minawë behind.

  As the battle was only in his head, all Iren felt was a punch to his stomach to let him know the dagger had hit him. He and Divinion separated, and the dragon resumed his former shape.

  The pair said nothing for a long time. They stared together over the churning waves of Iren’s mind.

  It was Iren who broke the silence. “I can’t defeat her, can I?”

  Divinion shook his head. “Not as you are now.”

  “What should I do?”

  “Reconcile with her. She is not your enemy.”

  Iren scowled. “She murdered my parents. I can’t forgive that.”

  “Then Melwar has already won.”

  “Melwar?” Iren asked. “What does he have to do with this?”

  “Are you that blind?” The dragon rounded on him. “Do you think his ambitions are over just because you decided not to be his puppet emperor? He will move forward with or without you. Together you and Rondel could stop him. Instead, you’re wasting your time trying to kill each other.”

  “In that case, what about you?” Iren demanded. “If you feel so strongly that I shouldn’t fight Rondel, why help me train to defeat her?”

  The anger in Divinion’s face fell away, and a deep sadness replaced it. “Because I don’t want you to die,” he said. “You are the only hope for this world. If Rondel kills you, there won’t be another like you. Melwar will conquer Raa.”

  Iren dropped his eyes. “You don’t have to say it like that. There would be other Holy Dragon Knights.”

  “Not like you. You are Iren Saito’s son and the last of his clan. You became the Dragoon. You have magic beyond what most Maantecs can imagine. Even if by some miracle I found another like you, I could never train that person to match Melwar in time to stop him. So yes, I disagree with your pursuit of revenge. I think it’s foolish and short-sighted and puts the world at risk. But if my aid means you’ll survive and ultimately refocus on Melwar, then I will bury my misgivings and help you. The sooner you put your revenge to rest, the better for Raa.”

  The dragon snarled deep in his throat. “We’re wasting time. Our training method isn’t working. I will give some thought to what we should do next. Until tomorrow.”

  He flicked his wings to their widest shape. With a single flap he was airborne.

  Floating in midair, Divinion fixed his piercing gaze on Iren one last time. Iren met the dragon’s eyes a moment, but then he could look upon the god no longer.

  Divinion flapped his wings again and flew high into the sky. As he vanished into the night, he called out the words he told Iren at the end of all their sessions. They echoed out of the past:

  “Commit to what’s most important.”

  Iren knew what Divinion wanted him to answer, but the Holy Dragon didn’t understand. He didn’t know what it was like to have those he trusted most betray him. He couldn’t comprehend how it felt to know that his teacher had killed his mother and father, that his allies had manipulated him, and that his best friend had chosen his parents’ murderer over him.

  The seaside vanished, and Iren was back in the cave. The Muryozaki still rested in his lap. Iren sheathed it, then felt along the cavern floor until he found the straw padding he used for a bed.

  “What’s most important?” he asked the cave, the same question he asked it every night.

  Just like every other night, as he fell asleep, Iren told himself he knew the answer.

  Revenge.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Twilight Meeting

  They should have come back by now.

  Prince Narunë stared out from the southern border of Aokigahara Rainforest. He wiped the sweat from his face, not that the action did any lasting good. More just dripped in his eyes.

  But he needed them clear. He couldn’t afford to miss even the smallest sign.

  A month had passed since Minawë and Rondel had left the forest and entered enemy territory. Shikari wasn’t that big. With the speeds those two could travel, they should have needed only a couple days to cross it and reach Hiabi. At most, they should have been gone a week.

  They should have come back by now.

  Narunë studied Shikari’s cracked, karst topography, his position putting him inches away from death. The tip of his nose almost broke the final band of leaves between the rainforest and the bleak land beyond. If he took even a single step forward, he would leave the forest. In that moment, the curse Iren Saito had cast on Narunë’s people would claim his life.

  He had no choice. He had to be this close in order to see anything. Aokigahara had dense plants at every level. In most places visibility was only a few feet.

  At least Shikari wasn’t like that. As long as Narunë could see past the rainforest’s boundary, he could observe miles of territory. Shikari was desolate, a sharp land of craggy peaks, deep crevasses, and scrubby plants. A trio of people approaching would be visible for miles.

  That made it all the more frustrating that no such trio had yet appeared.

  They should have come back by now.

  Narunë had long pictured their reunion in his mind. They would run up to him, and his niece would hug him the way she had when they’d parted.

  There were other Kodamas along the border watching for Minawë and her friends, but Narunë hoped he saw them first. He wanted to meet this Maantec boy Minawë had traveled across a continent to find.

  Today would be the day they returned. He was sure of it. Nothing had happened to them. Rondel Thara was the most powerful Maantec in a thousand years, and Minawë was stronger still. She didn’t know it, but she’d already surpassed her father Otunë.

  As the day wore on though, Minawë and Rondel didn’t appear. When Shikari darkened with sunset, Narunë gave up his vigil for the day. He stalked deeper into the rainforest and rejoined his companions to set up camp.

  The group looked as wild as the forest. Their green hair matched the jungle’s leaves, and their leather clothes matched its bark. Tattoos of rainforest animals adorned every exposed inch of skin. None wore swords, but each carried a bow on his back and a machete at his hip.

  They were Narunë’s finest scouts. He’d hand-picked them to accompany Minawë and Rondel to Shikari, and they’d all sworn they wouldn’t leave until the journeying pair returned.

  For the first week they’d been excited. They’d told fanciful stories and placed bets as to what might be happening in Shikari.

  That enthusiasm had vanished in recent days. Now, as Narunë and his squad passed around supper bowls, there was no conversation. The Kodamas ate in brooding silence. Narunë could guess what they were thinking. Oath or no oath, how much longer were they going to stay out here, waiting for people who might be dead?

  Narunë was halfway through his stew when a rustling behind him made him pause. He tensed, immediately on alert. Things in the jungle didn’t make noise without reason, not if they enjoyed living. The air was still and heavy. Not a trace of wind passed through the forest floor that could have made the sound.

  The Kodaman prince glanced around at his companions. They were all as focused as he was. Narunë stood and faced the sound, but he could see nothing. Between the dense brush, the darkness of evening, and the campfire that had ruined his night vision, he was blind.

  Fortunately, there was more than one way to see in the forest, at least for Narunë. He placed his palm against a nearby tree and connected his magic to it, feeling the forest around him through its roots.

  He onl
y needed to touch the tree’s smooth bark a few seconds before he figured out what had made the sound. He laughed aloud, a bellowing cry that made him wink his right eye when he did it.

  “Minawë!” he shouted. “Rondel! You’re back! We’re over here!”

  A rustling of leaves followed, and then a high-pitched female voice whined, “Make me sit in a cave for a month, then drag me back to the forest after dark. Honestly, children these days have no respect for their parents at all. I’m going to trip over a root and break my neck.”

  Narunë laughed again. That voice could only belong to Rondel. Better still, her complaining meant she was in a good mood.

  But as Rondel emerged into the circle of firelight, Narunë’s laughter died. The silver-haired Maantec glared at the Kodaman prince with cold eyes that sparked with Lightning Sight.

  Behind Rondel came Minawë. When Narunë saw his niece’s face, any lingering joy he might have felt at their reunion fled. Her emerald eyes bore just as frosty an expression as Rondel’s. Even though a month had passed since she’d seen her uncle, she didn’t say a word to him. She kept her gaze fixed on Rondel.

  Rondel walked up to Narunë. With her diminutive frame, the crone had to bend her neck back to look him in the face. “It’s been a long time,” she said. Her voice was friendly, but the blue sparks leaping across her irises told Narunë the tone was false. “I’m sure a lot’s happened to you since we left. Walk with me, and let’s swap stories. Minawë, we’ll be right back. Why don’t you stay here and warm yourself? It looks like they’re just sitting down to eat. You must be starving. I’m sure they’ll share with you.”

  Narunë caught the hint. “That’s a good idea, Minawë. We’ll catch up when Rondel and I return. Boys, make sure my niece is well fed. She is your queen after all. Give her your utmost care and attention.” He stressed the last word.

  Minawë cocked an eyebrow, but she shrugged and sat down in the fire ring. She refilled Narunë’s own bowl and ate like it was the first food she’d seen in days.