They awoke at dawn with the sun in their eyes. The cave’s entrance stood in the east, and the rays poured in upon them and their surroundings almost blindingly. Narky rose, blinking, and looked around.
Ever since he had lost his eye, distances had become very hard to judge. Even so, the cave seemed awfully big to him. It must extend halfway into the mountain, he thought.
“Well,” said Hunter with relief. “We survived the night.”
“Of course we did,” said Criton, his eyes glowing. “Now let’s find Salemis! If the Dragon Knight started and ended his quest here, he must have believed this was the most likely place to find the Dragons’ Prisoner.”
Criton’s face was overflowing with confidence, and Narky felt a little ashamed. What made Criton think that he could succeed where the famous Dragon Knight had failed? The prophecy, that was what. The one that Narky had suggested was about them. Now he worried that he had gotten Criton’s hopes up for nothing. Yes, it seemed the islanders had been a part of Ravennis’ plan – but so had been the judgment of Magor. Apparently, Ravennis had not been as powerful or all-knowing as Narky had thought.
“You think we can find a path to Salemis here in this cave?” Narky asked. “All we have to go on is that Phaedra thinks he’s in the fairy world. And I don’t know about you, but I don’t ever want to go there again.”
“There’s the knight’s tomb,” said Phaedra, pointing. “We should start there.”
Narky followed her finger with his eyes. Far ahead, deeper in the cave, stood a stone sarcophagus made of the same color rock as the rest of the place. It had blended in so well that Narky hadn’t even noticed it until Phaedra pointed it out. For that, Narky cursed his missing eye again. Even as he stared straight at it, the tomb seemed to disappear into the background.
“That’s strange,” Hunter said, as they approached. “I thought the Dragon Knight died with only that one friend beside him. There’s no way he made that sarcophagus all on his own.”
“He didn’t,” Phaedra assured him. “The assistant covered his body with stones, but the Dragon Touched later transferred the remains to this sarcophagus. Caruther described the Dragon Knight’s Tomb toward the end of his scroll. He wrote that the Ardisian Dragon Touched made copies of the knight’s journal, and then laid the original in the tomb with him. It’s too bad we can’t take a look inside.”
“Why we can’t look?” asked Bandu.
Phaedra opened her mouth to respond, then shut it again. In the meantime, Hunter walked slowly around the tomb, frowning. “Did the scroll say anything about people giving the knight tribute after his death?”
“No,” said Phaedra. “Why?”
“Because,” said Hunter, stooping behind the tomb, “there’s a cup of wine here.”
He rose and placed it on the tomb, a goblet of green blown glass, elaborately etched. “I thought I heard someone here last night.”
Narky ran his hand along the top of the sarcophagus. “There are some wax drippings on here,” he noted. “Someone was doing a whole ritual before we came by.”
Phaedra shivered. “Maybe they were trying to speak with the dead.”
“Or command them,” Narky suggested. “I wouldn’t put it past the Ardismen.”
“No,” said Phaedra, “not the Ardismen. Whoever it was wasn’t supposed to be here – otherwise, they wouldn’t have hidden from us. Maybe it was a wizard.”
Hunter looked surprised. “I thought Psander was supposed to be the only wizard left.”
“No,” Phaedra said, “she’s just the only academic left. Don’t you remember? She said that the other people who call themselves wizards these days are fools, and don’t know anything about magic theory.”
“No wizard could live out here,” said Criton. “The red priest of Ardis would catch them. He has the Wizard’s Sight. He was ready to kill me the moment he saw me.”
“Ardis is close,” answered Phaedra, “but it’s not as if this place is on the way from there to… well, to anywhere, really. I doubt that Bestillos visits the tomb very often. If the wizard goes into hiding whenever he hears someone coming, he could avoid the priest for years.”
Criton didn’t look particularly satisfied with that answer, but he let it go.
“Well,” said Narky, “whoever it was, he’s not here now. The important thing is to finish whatever it is we’re doing and leave before the priest finds out we’re here. So what’s the plan? Are we opening this coffin?”
The others all looked to Phaedra. “Wouldn’t that anger the Gods?” Hunter asked.
Phaedra hesitated. “I don’t know,” she said slowly. “I don’t think so. The only God who would care, I’d think, would be God Most High, and He’s supposed to be dormant. If He is, we should be perfectly safe. And even if He awakens, He might not mind so much as long as we don’t desecrate or rob the body. If what we’re trying to do is find and free Salemis His prophet, it’s probably all right for us to do everything within our means. We should make a sacrifice to Him afterwards though, if Criton can go back into town and buy us an animal.”
“All right,” said Criton. “Let’s do this then.”
It took all three of the men, struggling mightily, to lift the stone slab off the top of the sarcophagus and slide it onto the floor. It landed and tipped over with a terrifying crash that made Narky jump.
“Well,” he said, “if there’s anyone nearby, they won’t have missed that.”
The Dragon Knight’s bones lay still clad in his armor. The armor was made of interlocking bronze plates that were probably meant to resemble dragon scales. An enormous sword lay diagonally across the body, positioned that way so that it could fit into the sarcophagus. Narky gasped despite himself. Even so long after his death, the Dragon Knight made for an imposing figure.
Just as Phaedra had said, a leather-bound codex lay under the knight’s right hand. She stared at it there for a moment before raising her eyes to the cave’s ceiling.
“O God Most High,” she said. “O God of Dragons, we ask for Your patience, and lenience, and forgiveness for what we are about to do.”
She took a deep breath, and reached for the book. Slowly and carefully, she lifted one side of the volume. The bones slid off, clattering haphazardly against steel and stone. They didn’t really resemble a hand any more, Narky thought. He considered putting the bones back in order, but then thought better of it. It was probably best just to pretend they looked fine.
Phaedra stepped away from the sarcophagus and opened the book. “What does it say?” Narky asked her.
She waved him away. “It’ll take time to get through all this,” she said.
Narky sighed and turned away. He had expected the worst when they decided to come this close to Ardis, but he hadn’t expected to feel bored. He spent the morning sitting at the mouth of the cave while Criton went to buy a sacrificial animal and Hunter rode off to live up to his name. Bandu sat beside Narky for a while, but as neither of them felt like starting a conversation with the other, she soon left to start one with the horses.
Hunter returned first, then Criton. After eating, they sacrificed Criton’s goat on a makeshift altar, burning the entire carcass upon Phaedra’s suggestion. Narky didn’t argue, but he secretly wondered what difference it would make. What was the chance that a single improper sacrifice would wake a sleeping God?
Narky was still thinking about the likely pointlessness of their sacrifice when Phaedra suddenly said, “That’s her! It has to be. Hunter, this is amazing!”
They all turned to her in surprise, and she began to read aloud. “Again I asked, from whence came the Dragon Touched? How could humans, children of the Gods, ever have bred with creatures whose strength was enough to fell those who dwell in the heavens? It is impossible. The human frame is too weak. But now the answer seems clear to me: the Dragon Touched did not come from a union of dragon and man. They came from a union between dragon and God.
“Can there have been any greater crime than the coupling of a dragon and a Goddess? For I am now sure that this was the Prisoner’s crime. Why else would Gods and dragons come together to punish him?”
“Which Goddess was it?” asked Hunter.
“I’m getting there,” Phaedra answered.
“Well, get there faster,” said Narky.
“Fine,” she huffed. “I’ll skip ahead. Let’s see… all right. ‘The mention of Tarphae’s children in the Book of Awakenings suggests to me that the Goddess in question may have been Karassa.’”
“WHAT?” Criton exploded. “Karassa?”
Phaedra nodded vigorously. “Isn’t that amazing? Apparently this Book of Awakenings was an ancient dragon text, full of myths and prophecies. So he thinks that Karassa was Salemis’ lover! Do you realize what that means?”
“That the plague was meant to kill us after all,” said Narky. “If the other Gods suspected that a group of Tarphaeans would free Salemis, they would do their best to kill every last one of us.”
Phaedra looked taken aback. “I hadn’t even considered that,” she said. “What I meant was–”
“That the woman in the forest was Karassa,” said Hunter.
Phaedra nodded vigorously. “Exactly. She may always be depicted as green or gray, but a Goddess can appear however She likes. You met a Goddess, Hunter, not a fairy. If Karassa was the mother of the Dragon Touched, then all kinds of things start to make sense. For one thing, we know who Her lover is. And it sounds like She expects us to find him!”
Hunter looked confused. “But if Karassa is the mother of the Dragon Touched, how did they all end up in Ardis? Wouldn’t Tarphae be their ancestral home?”
“Not necessarily,” Phaedra said. “Salemis is the one who was punished, and his home is near Ardis. So maybe he was the one who took ownership of the Dragon Touched to begin with, and they lived near him. The Dragon Knight guessed that the Goddess was Karassa based on entirely different sources from those discussing Salemis’ crime. It’s possible even the Gods didn’t know which of them had created Criton’s people.”
“Really?” said Narky. “That doesn’t seem likely.”
“Why not?” she asked. “The Gods can shield people and information from each other. Otherwise, Ravennis could have squashed the red priest before he ever reached Laarna. If a God is protecting someone, it will take a lot to smite him anyway. That’s why They rely on people to kill each other most of the time.”
“But if all the Tarphaeans are dead except for us and maybe the king, and Criton is the last of the Dragon Touched, then why hasn’t some God gone and killed Karassa yet? The plague cut off all her fingers, didn’t it?”
“Not if Katinaras was right,” said Phaedra. “If Karassa is the major eastern Sea Goddess, Tarphae may mean little to Her. She could have lost a battle at Tarphae without being completely overwhelmed.”
“Did the Dragon Knight have any thoughts about how to find Salemis?” Criton asked.
“Nothing we didn’t already know about. I still think our best bet is the fairy world, if we could only get there somehow. But if your scroll on numerology was right, then the barrier between the worlds will be unbreakable by now. We’ve missed the window.”
“I don’t know,” said Narky. “I don’t trust that scroll. It said that the barrier only opened every eleven years at the earliest, right? We know it was wrong about that. We managed to get back out after only eleven days. Bandu, how long were you in the fairies’ world the first time before you got away?”
“Eleven months and eleven days before Goodweather says run.”
Criton visibly shuddered. “I don’t think I’ll ever think of that number the same way again. It bothers me every time.”
“Right,” said Narky, “but my point is, these elevens seem to show up much more often than that scroll said they would. Let’s face it: the scroll was wrong. That barrier isn’t as strong as everyone thinks.”
“Or maybe,” suggested Hunter, “it’s been getting weaker lately.”
“Oh, Gods!” moaned Phaedra. “Don’t even say things like that!”
“It’s possible,” he insisted grimly.
“It is,” Criton agreed. “But again, that doesn’t help us find Salemis unless we can actually tear the mesh. Bandu, did you ever figure out how to break through?”
Bandu shook her head sadly. “No. I am not strong enough. The elves do it, when they take the nets. Needs strong magic. Speak magic.”
“Great,” said Narky. “So we’re stuck, then.”
“There has to be a way!” Criton cried in frustration.
Phaedra looked depressed. “If there were, wouldn’t the Dragon Knight have found it? He was one of the greatest wizards of his age, and that was before the purge of the academics!”
“There has to be a way,” Criton repeated, sounding deflated.
They lapsed into a sullen silence, and Narky’s eye was drawn back to the cave. He wondered what made people like Criton keep trying and trying, so long after he had given up on things. He supposed it was his coward’s upbringing that kept him from being so optimistic. Still, better not to be like Criton, torturing himself over things outside of his control. Whatever Criton’s successes, he would never be happy or content.
Then again, would Narky? He couldn’t say he’d ever been happy yet. So what advantage had his fatalism ever really given him?
“Karassa’s flower,” said Hunter suddenly, pulling it from where he had tucked it in under his belt. The rose had not wilted at all since Narky had first seen it.
“She gave it to me because She knew we were looking for Salemis,” Hunter said. “It has to be more than just a flower.”
They looked at it in wonder. It was like some key, a key to the heavens. “How do we use it?” asked Criton, looking downright greedy.
“I don’t know,” said Hunter, “but She wouldn’t have given it to me unless it was useful.”
“Give it to me,” said Bandu. She reached out her hand.
Hunter gave it to her. Bandu sniffed it, then knelt down and ran her hand along the ground. “Not good here,” she said. “Dirt is bad here.”
She turned, squinting at the mouth of the cave. She pointed upward. “There is better.” She put the rose between her teeth and began marching up the slope.
They followed her lead, climbing up the mountainside until Bandu stopped, taking the flower from her mouth and panting heavily. They were standing on the edge of a precipice, right above the cave. Narky could see their horses cropping the scraggly mountain weeds far below.
Bandu knelt again, only inches away from the cliff’s edge, and began to dig with her hands.
“Careful,” warned Criton. “If you dig too much, it could collapse.”
Bandu ignored him. She planted the flower in the rocky ground, propping it upright among the dirt and stones. Then she stepped back.
Nothing happened. “Need something else,” said Bandu. “Dirt is right here, dirt is good, but need something else.”
“Dragon magic,” suggested Phaedra. “If it took a conspiracy between the Gods and the dragons to imprison Salemis, it’ll probably take something similar to get him out again.”
“So what do I do?” asked Criton. “I don’t think I should burn it, should I?”
“Try bleeding on it,” Narky suggested. “It seems like the kind of weird thing Psander might have you do.”
Criton frowned and looked back to Phaedra, but she only nodded in agreement. He sighed. Wincing, he dug a clawed finger into his left arm. Blood welled up where he had pierced the skin and slowly trickled toward his hand.
“I don’t think you scratched deep enough,” said Narky. “That’s all going to dry up before it even reaches your fingers. Why didn’t you start at the wrist?”
“Shut up,” said Criton. “You’re not the one who has to cut himself.”
Narky rolled his eyes. “I’d rather do it right the first time than have to cut myself twice.”
Instead of answering, Criton crouched down over the flower and tried to brush it against his arm. It was a clumsy, awkward-looking motion, but he did at least manage to smear a red mark onto the white petals. “There,” he said. “What now?”
Phaedra shrugged a little. “I guess we might need something from the fairy side too, if they were in on the conspiracy. Bandu? Can you think of any–”
Without a moment’s warning, Bandu squatted by the flower and hiked up her dress. Narky looked away as soon as he could, but he still ended up seeing more than he ever wanted to. When Bandu was done urinating she stood up, looking pleased with herself.
“That’s what you have for the fairy side?” said Phaedra, shocked. “Bandu, a Goddess gave us that flower! That’s the most disgusting, irreverent…”
She trailed off, and her eyes widened. The flower was steaming. Vapors billowed up from it and the rose itself seemed to dissolve into the haze. Within minutes, the cloud of steam was so dense and so wide that it hid the mountains from view.
Narky laughed. “I can’t believe that worked! Bandu and her magical piss!”
“I think that’s a tunnel up there,” Criton said.
“Where the cliff was?” asked Hunter.
“Yeah, Criton, you go first,” Narky suggested.
“All right,” Criton answered, without a trace of humor. “That makes sense. If I fall, I can catch myself and fly back up to join you.”
There were no objections. Criton took a couple of small steps forward, obviously trying to muster enough courage to step off the cliff’s edge.
“Go ahead,” Narky heard him mutter to himself. “Just get this over with.”
The fog was so thick now that Narky could hardly even see him as he took his final steps over the edge. He didn’t need to. Criton gave a sudden startled cry, immediately followed by a loud thud.
“There’s no cliff here,” he groaned. “I just tripped on something, that’s all. Damn. You’d better watch your step.”
Carefully, Narky followed. It was dark in the tunnel, and he found Criton more by feel than by sight. When he did find him, he crouched and helped him to his feet.
“It smells just like Illweather in here,” Narky said, sniffing the air. “I hope we don’t end up staying long.”
“Let’s see,” said Criton, his pinkish light springing up in his palm.
The tunnel was made entirely of gnarled tree roots. Narky couldn’t even see any dirt, though the air was so moist and dank here that dark patches of mildew were visible on every surface.
“Let’s go find a dragon,” said Narky.
Criton stared at him blankly for a moment. Then, inexplicably, he laughed. “For a moment there,” he said, “I thought I was dreaming.”
The tunnel stretched endlessly into the distance, fading out of view past the range of Criton’s light. When the others had joined them they set off, climbing for hours – or at least it felt that way – over, under, and above the giant tree roots that sometimes appeared right in the middle of the passage. Finally, Hunter held up a hand to stop them.
“Do you hear that?” he asked.
They stopped climbing and listened. At first, Narky could hear nothing. Then he finally noticed the low, rhythmic rumble just at the edge of his hearing.
“What is that?”
“It sounds like breathing,” said Phaedra. “Salemis must be close.”
Narky felt a chill coming over him. “You’re sure he won’t eat us, right?”
“He won’t eat us,” said Criton. “Keep going.”
The rumbling grew louder as they continued on, like an approaching thunderstorm. With each step Criton became visibly more excited, while Narky only grew more nervous. It had actually been quite comforting to him to think that the giant fire-breathing serpents of yore were extinct.
“I wish my mother could see me,” Criton burst out.
Narky only managed a ‘huh’ in response. The breaths from up ahead were growing ever louder, and for once Narky wished the Gods could see them here. They could use some divine protection right about now.
The tunnel ended abruptly, blocked by a wall of golden scales, each the size of Hunter’s lost shield. Narky winced. With each booming breath from above, the scales intermittently strained against the roots, creaking horribly.
“What part of him are we even looking at?” Narky asked.
“I don’t know,” said Criton. “I’m… what if we can’t even wake him?”
“Talk to him,” Bandu suggested. “He only listens if you talk.”
Criton shook his head, though it seemed more in wonderment than disagreement. “Um,” he said, cautiously approaching the heaving wall of scales, “my name is Criton. It’s an honor to meet you. I’m one of your… I’m one of the Dragon Touched. A descendant. My mother’s name was Galanea–”
“No, no,” said Bandu. “Like this.” She walked up to the wall and pressed her palm against one of the scales. “We are here,” she said. “Wake up. We are here to help you.”
Even Narky could feel her magic this time, rippling out through her hand and pouring from her mouth, filling all the air with its current. Gods, but that was strong. Psander must have been right about pregnancies and magic. Narky made a note to himself not to cross Bandu if he could help it.
With a terrible groan from the passage walls, the dragon stirred.