“You think?” Abioye said, and his tone was sharp enough to make me look across to see him regarding me seriously.
“What?” I felt a flash of annoyance.
“I think it’s the Stone Crown,” Abioye said in a steady voice. I saw his eyes flicker above mine, to where he must surely be able to see the pocked and pitted whitish gray of the crown.
It’s MY crown! I thought in a flash of temper as the buzzing in my ears rose just a little higher.
“Ever since it sealed itself to your head – things have been different,” I could hear Abioye saying, although my thoughts were filled with a buzzing sort of anger.
“You slept for two days – and then said that you were in pain, and, that morning when you first woke up after the battle?” Abioye was saying, and the concern in his voice was only making me angrier and angrier. What’s he trying to tell me? That all of this has been for nothing? That we just shouldn’t have bothered going for the Stone Crown and let his insane sister have it? I found it hard to come to terms with how sensitive he was being – especially as the distant horizon still held the deeper, blacker palls of smoke from the burning villages of my people.
That morning. My anger focused on that strange time before hearing about the Daza attacks. I had fought myself awake, only to see everyone looking as me as if I had grown scales and sprouted wings!
“What about that morning, Abioye?” I said in a small and tight voice.
“You – you didn’t sound like yourself,” he said, and when I flashed my eyes towards him I could see that he was once again looking at me as if I were something dangerous and strange.
How dare he!? I thought. After everything that I had been through – the incarceration, the four branding marks on my arms, given to me by his sister? The beatings from the chief slavemaster Dagan Mar? Finding out that my own mother had gone mad and walked into the Plains, abandoning her Imanu-ship to Naroba of all people!?
“Narissea – I can see that you are hurt, I didn’t mean—” Abioye was saying hurriedly, but the buzzing in my ears was reaching a crescendo pitch and brought with it a woozy sort of headache.
“Just shut up!” I said, and for a moment I could feel all of the fire and force behind my words as I pushed out at him with all the noise and pain that was in my head. I kneed my steed a little sharply so that I would speed forward, joining the forward Daza Scouts who wouldn’t seek to upset and undermine me.
The last thing that I wanted right now was to look up and see Abioye looking at me with those same, hurt-dog eyes.
“Skreyargh!” From somewhere far ahead of us, I could hear the mournful cry of a black dragon, as if he were lost.
“Dragon sign!” I heard the call loud and clear from Tiana up ahead – even though she was just a small figure on the ridge of land ahead of us. She’d picked her calling spot well, I could see, as had the other Scouts that had roamed almost a full league ahead and around us. This was the Daza way, I thought with a little pride.
But not mechanical dragons? I recognized briefly. Tiana had used the traditional call for the rare dragons that we Daza might see out here on the Plains after all, not danger! or Take Cover! or Flee!
No, wild dragons it had to be then, I thought as I waved my hand in the air to signal that I had received her message, then turned to send the call down to the rest of the party behind us, containing Naroba, Abioye, Montfre, and Tamin as well as almost a hundred assorted Daza, ex-Mine guards, and a few Red Hounds.
“Dragons!” I hollered, knowing that the few mounted Daza between me and the rest of the party would do just the same thing that I had, and pass the call on.
I scanned the horizon, but still could see no sign of what Tiana could, far ahead. But I had other ways to find out about these dragons, didn’t I? I thought, reaching out to Ymmen with my mind—
To hear the burn of noise and chattering, exactly like the buzzing in my ears. What? “Ymmen?” I whispered, as my head throbbed in pain and I tried once again to feel the shape of my dragon-brother who lived alongside – and entwined with – my mind.
Skreee! Skreee! The noise rose again in my mind like the whine and buzz of a hundred thousand bees, or the screech as a whole army drew their swords.
“Please – stop it!” I whispered out loud, feeling as though my very brain would burst if I spent one more second in this maelstrom—
“Please – just shut up!” This time I shouted the words, and somehow, for some reason – all of the buzzing decreased to the lowest murmur in my ears.
“Skreeyargh!” There was once again the mournful cry of the black dragon, my brother, and this time I saw his small shape over the horizon, winging towards us. The black dragon was in a hurry – and what was worse, I couldn’t feel his thoughts in my mind.
What was happening!? I thought, having completely paused where I sat on the horse, as the sweat of panic broke over my entire body. I don’t think I could think of one time since I had understood this bond that I had with Ymmen that I couldn’t feel him there in my mind. I hadn’t realized how close we had grown until this point – as even when angry, fighting, or asleep, I think that there was still some sense of that coal-smoke and frankincense—
“Ymmen!” I called out in alarm, as there was the sound of thundering ponies behind me.
“Narissea!” It was Montfre, and bringing with him Abioye, both of them looking appalled and alarmed.
“Montfre?” I looked at him with tears in my eyes. How could I explain what was happening? How could I explain how bereft I felt at not being able to reach out to my dragon partner?
As it turned out, I didn’t have to explain at all. Montfre urged his pony towards me, his face in a steady and serious line. “Narissea – sometimes, I can hear Ymmen,” he said, which I nodded to through my tears. I knew that in some way, and for some reason – maybe because of his magical training at the distant Torvald Academy, where they trained both Dragon Riders and Dragon Mages – that Ymmen had the ability to send his thoughts towards Montfre as well as me. I’d never delved deep into that, but knew that it was something to do with the magic that connected the dragon and the young mage…
“And he’s upset. Angry. He can’t speak to you…” Montfre was saying, just as there was a louder roar as Ymmen swooped down to the ground with a heavy thud. I turned to look at him as he stepped briskly towards us, his head looming over our forms as lines of smoke trickled from his mouth.
“Ymmen?” I looked up at him, reaching out with my hand. I saw the giant black dragon’s gold and ruby eyes looking at me with what felt like a deep, infinite sadness, before he lowered his snout just a little towards me, and our flesh met.
Just feeling the warmth of his scales was soothing to me a little, but I no longer felt that instant, psychic connection and the sense-impressions of fires and warmth and smoke. “No, Ymmen!” I couldn’t help but sob. “Please talk to me!”
“Gladly, Little Sister.” As soon as I had uttered my heartfelt words, the connection between us swam back into life, and brought with it all of those feelings of fire and comfort. It felt like I was being held again – but his affection and relief were also tempered by a severe and deep agitation.