“I take it you’re not mated,” I said, unable to keep from smiling despite my nerves.
He snorted. “Nor will I be, if I have a choice. Women are good for one thing only, and I don’t need a mate to get that.” “Evidently not.” The women clutched each other and giggled more, waving and calling to him, trying to tempt him over to them. I looked again at the shards, touching each one of them, hoping against hope that I would be able to do what needed to be done. “Well. Shall we get started? Do you have the words, Kostya?” “I have them,” Allesander said, pulling out a piece of battered parchment. He handed it to me, grimacing at the large blots on it. “I’m not very good at writing, but I took it down just as I heard it from Merca.” “It’s in Zilant,” I said, deciphering with some difficulty the handwriting on the parchment.
“Yes. You speak that, don’t you?”
“I’ve picked up a little over the last century.” I read silently for a moment. “All right, shall we try?” “I would prefer that you succeed rather than merely try,” Kostya said, his face grim. “There will be no black dragons left if we do not stop your mate.” Guilt weighed heavily on me. “I’ve tried to stop him, I truly have.” “This war is not your doing,” Drake said, his arms crossed over his chest as he knelt across from me. His eyes were almost like a cat’s, so brilliant were they.
“I did not start it, no, but it continues because…” I hesitated, wanting them to know the truth, but wary lest they use that information against Baltic somehow. Drake and Allesander said their respective septs desired peace, but could I trust that? The dragons had been warring for over a hundred years, and I was no longer sure whom I could trust.
“It continues because Constantine, Baltic, and Chuan Ren will not be happy until there are no dragons left but their own,” Kostya said bitterly, making a sharp gesture.
“That’s not true. Baltic does not desire the elimination of other septs… ” Their expressions told me it was useless to continue. I sighed and placed the shards before me. “The sooner we do this, the sooner we can have peace. Let us begin.” The Zilant words were unfamiliar on my tongue as I spoke them, awkward and jarring to the ear as I made an invocation to the dragon heart. The air grew thick and heavy over the shards as they started to vibrate, a hum coming from them that grew louder as I spoke. I watched them with some wariness, not sure what would happen when the heart re-formed, and wanting to be ready to wield it.
As the last word fell heavily from my lips, the hum from the shards ceased, and all was silent for two beats of my heart. We held our respective breaths as the shards seemed to emit a light that twirled and spun around itself, taking the phylacteries with it. It grew brighter and brighter until it blinded me. I turned my head to avoid looking at it, but was compelled to turn back when a face began to form in it, the face of a dragon, one who was as brilliant as the light itself. The dragon’s eyes were filled with the knowledge of all times, as old as the earth itself, the past, present, and future all mingling together in their depths. I knew without a doubt in my mind that I was looking at the First Dragon, he who formed the septs and weyr, the creator, the father of every dragon who lived, and who would ever live.
The First Dragon looked at me, searing a path straight down to my soul, his eyes closing slowly, but not before I saw a profound sadness in them that made me want to fling myself forward and weep until I had no more tears.
The spinning mass of shards exploded in a nova of blue-white light that seemed to pierce us, passing through our bodies and minds and souls until it was the only thing that existed, and we were no more.
Two hours later I stood at the inn and watched as the small band of five black dragons I had brought as guards saddled our horses. Kostya stood next to me, watching silently.
Female squeals of delight came from the inn. I glanced over my shoulder. Drake had his arms around the three women who had waited so patiently for him at the bog, escorting them upstairs to a room where he would no doubt partake of their wares. I had already bid him farewell, as I had Allesander.
“What would you like me to tell Baltic?” I asked Kostya, returning my gaze to the yard.
“About the shard?” He glanced at my chest.
I touched the spot about two inches below my breastbone where a small diamond mark now resided. Inside me, the shard that had once belonged to the First Dragon thrummed with a life of its own, the shard mourning with me for the future that I feared would come to pass. “No, although I don’t understand how you can be so sure that the shard’s rightful owner will not be distressed that I am now the phylactery for it. I would be happy to explain to whoever it is, if you give me the name—” “I told you the responsibility was mine,” he said, a flicker of something in his eyes causing me to wonder. “I will deal with the owner. You have no need to fear that she—” “She?” I asked as he bit off the word and looked suddenly furious. “By the rood! This shard belongs to Chuan Ren?” “Belonged,” he said, shooting me an annoyed glance before turning his glare onto the courtyard.
“Why would she give you both shards?” I asked, shaking my head.
His jaw worked for a few seconds; then he said, “She didn’t.” “The green dragons are renowned thieves,” I said, as a few facts slid into place. “Your brother is a green dragon. You had Drake steal the shards from Chuan Ren, didn’t you?” His shoulder twitched. “The Song Phylactery will be returned to her.” “But not the Choate Phylactery,” I pointed out, amused despite the situation. Chuan Ren would be livid when she found out. I would have to warn Baltic that she would likely wish to reclaim the shard.
“That can’t be helped.” Kostya took a deep breath and turned to me, his face hard and unyielding. “I wish things were different, Ysolde, but you must realize that I cannot stand alongside Baltic any longer. You must see that.” Sadness gripped me at his words. “You of all people know why he is continuing the war. You are his oldest friend, his most trusted guard. If we could reason with him together, if we could make him see that Constantine is not really a threat—” “But he is,” Kostya interrupted. “In that I wholeheartedly agree with Baltic. The silver dragons are a threat to every black dragon. They must return to us, or we will face an eternity of destruction.” “You said earlier today that Baltic was unduly perpetuating the war, and now you insist that he continue to do so? You don’t make any sense, Kostya.” “There is a difference between trying to retake what is ours, and attempting to control the entire weyr.” “You know full well that Baltic has no desire to take over all the septs,” I said, disgusted with his stubborn refusal to admit the truth.
“No?” He gave me a long look. “Ask yourself why he does not simply kill Constantine and bring the silver dragons back into the weyr.” “I will not argue about this anymore; we’ve both said everything there is to say.” I sighed. “My concern is for the immediate future. Are you sure you don’t wish to return with me? Surely peace would be worth trying to reason with Baltic again.” “He is past the point of listening to reason, and I will not have the last few black dragons slaughtered for no purpose. Ysolde—” He bit off what he was going to say, hesitating before finally saying, “You must be aware of what is in my heart. I loved Baltic as a brother, but I cannot let him destroy our world. Either he will stop, or I must stop him, by whatever means possible.” Fear gripped my stomach at the deadness in his eyes. “You would destroy us,” I said simply.