It was obvious that this place had a great deal of reverence for its dragon partners, as everywhere we were led, I found dusty paintings on the walls, hanging embroideries, or statues of famous dragons and their human counterparts. But it was just as clear that it was a long time since this place had been busy and joyous.
Because the dragons are leaving, taking the Western Track, I remembered.
Many of the halls of the Dragon Academy were clearly unused, and there were only signs of occupation from the remaining Dragon Riders who lived here – through leather tack and harnesses, or the clash of pots from the kitchens – in just a few of the places.
“This way,” Master Johannes said, leading us downwards, taking winding steps with one hand on his staff and the other holding a flickering lantern aloft, until we came to a large, thick wooden door.
“The Library of the Dragon Riders…” Montfre said in hushed awe, and I realized that this place was a sacred site to the young Mage.
Books. Scrolls. Paper and dust, I found myself thinking as the master unlocked the door with a large iron key from his belt, and we were hit by the moldering-books smell of vanilla and time. How can you learn the ways of dragons in books? I thought, and felt an appreciative tail-slap from Ymmen, somewhere in the Dragon Crater.
The library was dark, but I could see the gigantic shape of the wooden shelves all around me, filled with hide-bound tomes, heavy with the weight of the words that they contained. We moved in a small sphere of the master’s dancing light as we moved past the shelves, like exploring a labyrinth. The hairs on the back of my neck started to prick up, as I could feel the hushed power of this place – but it was a power that I did not understand.
Give me the wind in my hair and the horizon in front of me as my teachers! I thought, my teeth grating a little in frustration.
I should be out there, talking to the dragons themselves about what they knew of the Old Queen Delia and Fargal – not down here amidst dusty shelves!
“Here now, let me see…” Johannes muttered as he brought us to a cleared space in the middle of the shelves, where a long wooden table sat beside benches. He set the lantern down on the table and moved along the shelves, running his freed hand against the spines of the books as if he knew them all personally. Maybe he does, I thought.
“The Tales of Rigar and Veen!?” I heard Montfre gasp, “I used to be read these as a child!” as he slid a slim volume out from its place. I had no idea who Rigar and Veen were, but they seemed to excite Montfre a lot.
“Original printing. The print was set down straight from their written scrolls—” Johannes called out over his shoulder, without even turning from his search.
“Aha!” He pulled out a heavy tome – one which was almost as large as his entire chest – and set it down on the table with a dull thump. Carefully, he opened the heavy, bound-wooden cover to read from the title page. “Being the History and Account of the Glorious Reign of the High Queen Delia,” the old man said, and looked around at us with a pleased expression upon his face. “We should find record here of the Stone Crown now, shouldn’t we?” he said, and turned the page to run his finger down the black inked index.
Words and words and words! I felt out of place, and bothered, and, looking up, I saw that Tamin had joined the Master Johannes at the tome, and there was only me and Abioye left standing there.
“You okay?” The tall young lordling moved a little closer to me, his voice serious but kind.
“I’m fine,” I said, although I felt exhausted, and my head was still ringing slightly with the effect of the Stone Crown.
“We’ll find something,” he assured me, although his smile was weak with uncertainty. I could tell that he wanted to make things better and easier for me, but it was hard to feel what, if anything, we could find in these dry and dust-bound books that would help.
“Abioye…” I murmured, moving a little to the edge of the table and keeping my voice low as I dared while the others talked and read aloud and searched the book. I was thinking about Fargal. The Sister to Zaxx the Gold, who was waking up. “There’s something else…” I whispered, as Abioye leaned against the table beside me and his shoulder pressed lightly against mine, his arm grazing mine. His warmth – his nearness – raised goosebumps all over my arms. It was a good feeling, though, and gave me strength to continue.
“The Stone Crown…” I tried to find the words to describe what I had felt. “It allows me to command dragons, to take over their minds,” I explained. “But also, to connect with them.”
Abioye nodded gravely that he understood. This was, after all, not new information for him.
“I have started to sense another dragon,” I said, my voice as low as a whisper. “A truly ancient being, as old as the Stone Crown, and of everything around us here…”
“Okay…” Abioye’s face was shadowed in the soft light, but his voice was filled with confusion.
“Ymmen tells me that this dragon is going to be powerful, and that she is coming out of hibernation. I am scared that the Stone Crown is waking her up.” I thought about Ymmen’s worries over Fargal’s eventual intentions. She was sister of the greatest dragon-tyrant that the world had ever known, after all. Would she still be angry with humanity for defeating her brother? Had this Fargal been an ally of Delia – even a devotee?
“Well – is that a bad thing?” Abioye asked, completely misunderstanding my fears. “Maybe this dragon could help us understand the Stone Crown!” he ended, his voice lifting to a cheerier note.
I grimaced. “Or, she might hate the fact that I am wearing it…” I pointed out.
Abioye was silent for a moment and then tapped his chin speculatively. “Hmm. But then, I guess – if this ancient dragon is a problem for us – then you could use the Stone Crown to calm it?”
No! I thought immediately, and somehow my thoughts were melded and echoed with Ymmen’s, somewhere far away from me.
“No, Abioye – you cannot let me use the Stone Crown again! I almost lost myself to it last time, in the Pass…” And I don’t know who, or what I would be when – or if – I came back, I thought darkly, remembering the savage passion for control and cruelty that this terrible artifact awakened in me.
“Then we find another way,” Abioye said in a measured manner, resting his hand atop mine and giving the lightest of squeezes. His words – and his gesture – were so encouraging that they almost made me cry. “I cannot say that I know anything about your Stone Crown, but if you think that you don’t want to use it, then I support you,” he said, although he sounded considerably less confident about everything when he said it. He knows that we have very little chance against Inyene without the Dragon Riders at our side – or without the Stone Crown, I knew.
“Tamin and the Master Johannes will find something,” Abioye said, although I knew that it was a hollow promise. It left me feeling guilty and bad for not being strong enough to control the Stone Crown! Maybe I SHOULD use it to contact this Fargal, I wondered, although there was a distant snort of disapproval from the Ymmen in my mind.