34

Bryna’s instructions on how they should proceed were not so much haphazard as incomplete. “You are asking me to condense five years of lessons into one midnight session.”

“Only because we must,” Dally said. She eased herself onto the pallet, glad for the chance to lie back down. Talking had never required so much energy. And her fear of what was to come had never been greater than now.

Bryna studied Dally in the glow of Connell’s wand. What she saw must have caused her very real concern. “Why now? Why tonight?”

“Because if we don’t,” Dally replied, “Hyam will die.”

“When, tonight?”

“No. I know because I asked. But very soon. That much was clear. Hyam’s end may come at any time.”

“And if we rush this, there is a very real chance that you might die!”

Connell called from his perch on the ridge, “Don’t take such risks, Dally. Not now, not ever.”

Bryna sighed. “He might as well bring his light in closer.”

Dally called, “Connell, please join us.”

Connell walked over, saying, “She’s right, you know. Give yourself time to heal and regain your strength.”

“And if Hyam dies, what then? Every image I saw without him led to defeat.”

Connell bowed to Bryna, then settled into his camp chair. “I still say you should wait. Rest. Prepare.”

Dally did not want to argue further. The temptation to give in was too great. The prospect of what was about to happen filled her with a dread so powerful she felt nauseous. So she asked Bryna, “What do I do?”

Bryna sighed again. “Close your eyes. Release yourself from your physical form. I will take us to your chosen destination. But before you do so, tell me again precisely where we are going.”

“First we need a translator.” Dally had no idea if she could even perform the task Bryna intended. Always before it had simply happened at the edge of wakefulness. All she could hope was that her weakness and fatigue might make it possible to do now, at this opposite side of sleep. “A desert trader whose heritage includes princely Elven blood was shown to me. His name is Jaffar.”

“I know of this one.” Bryna sighed a third time. “Very well. Let us begin.”

The desert merchant was not at all pleased when they invaded his slumber. He hovered there before them and demanded, “Is this a dream?”

Dally did not know how to respond. Bryna said, “In a way, yes.”

“In a way.” His expression was sour. “Are you real?”

“Yes.”

“I mean, beyond this partial dawn.”

“I know what you mean,” Bryna said. “The answer is the same.”

“You are Ashanta.”

“I am.”

“And yet you speak with me in the tongue of the human realm.”

“Taught to me by Joelle.”

“Ah. Joelle. She is gone, yes?”

“Her ashes now rest beside our offering stone.”

Jaffar gave that the pause it deserved. Then he addressed Dally. “You are human.”

“I am.”

“Allied to the Ashanta.”

Bryna replied, “She is. And hopefully my friend as well.”

“So you have brought this human friend to me and interrupted my few hours of rest in the process.”

“Actually, Dally brought me.”

“What kind of name is that? And what is a human doing taking an Ashanta anywhere?”

Dally replied, “Hyam is dying.”

The merchant’s grumpy mood deepened. “I feared as much. So it is not as the Elves claim, that he is merely weakened by his loss.”

“It is more than that,” Dally replied. “Much more.”

“What does he suffer from, then?”

“That is why we came,” Bryna replied.

Dally said, “We are hoping the dragon can tell us. And for that we need your help.”

The dragon was nothing like what Dally had expected. Right from the very first words he uttered in that staccato drumbeat of a language, he astonished her. “I was afraid you would not come.”

They met in a world of ice and rock. The sun was neither up nor set. The light was ethereal, the wind so fierce it shrieked in a thousand voices, turning every rock and icy crevice into a disharmonious pipe.

The three of them had traveled an impossible distance. They arrived in the endless twilight and stood there, overwhelmed by the brutal landscape.

Then a beast whirled down from the light-streaked clouds. Its wings held a diamond pattern designed to use the bleak world as a frame for its severe beauty. The dragon’s wingspan seemed as big as Dally’s village. He landed, gripped a rock with yellow talons, and uttered a single note. With that the wind was silenced, the world captivated by his presence.

This, Dally thought, was true magic.

The dragon’s speech was a series of great booming drumbeats. Dally thought if she had been there in true form, she would have been shattered by the power in each word.

Jaffar translated, “The king of his kind welcomes you to the land of ice and storm.”

Dally asked, “You have been expecting me?”

When Jaffar translated, the dragon responded by folding his wings and settling down upon his talons. “I called and called. You heard me. At long last. I can only hope there is still time.”

“To save Hyam,” Dally finished.

“No, child of the valley. To save your kind.”

Despite the grim tidings, Dally found it immensely comforting to know she had not been played like a puppet. “Am I human?”

“Hyam asked me the same question of himself. And he asked the mages. Then the Elves. And the Ashanta. Who am I? Over and over and over he asked. What benefit does the question grant him now?”

“The words of Mistress Edlyn leave me thinking the answer plays a role in my quest.”

“Ah. That is different.” The dragon extended his neck and leaned closer still, until all Dally could see was one gold-green eye. She wanted to ask if he was truly so big, where an eye was wider than she was tall. But for that instant she was held fast, the dragon’s force capable of snuffing out her breath, her will, her thoughts, her life, if he had that desire. Then the instant passed and he leaned back, the pressure eased. “You are human. But there is a trace of something . . . The Mistress who awakens in you this desire to know your true quest, tell her she has great insight.” He shifted around so that he could study her with his other eye. “You suffer from the same ailment as Hyam.”

“What is it?”

“A magic I have never seen before, and cannot even name. Which is a mystery inside a mystery. My knowledge of magic is almost as vast as my years, and I am very old indeed.”

“Every time I approach the Elven realm, I am assaulted by images.”

The dragon gave a ponderous nod. “These are part of your quest and crucial to the victory of your kind.”

“But each time I feel another part of my life is torn away.”

“This should not be. Weakened, yes. But not splintered.” He studied her anew, then said, “Ask the Elven rulers to share with you my tears. Hyam should be given the same.”

Jaffar traded staccato words, then said, “I have informed the king that Hyam has not taken any sustenance for days. The dragon says he must be forced to consume the tears. They should grant him and us more time.”

The dragon spoke again to Dally. “This journey you are making and our exchange will most likely impact you the same way. You may find it difficult to drink my gift. Nonetheless, you must.”

“I will do as you say,” Dally promised.

Bryna spoke for the first time. “This magic that has assaulted Hyam and my new friend. Is it Milantian?”

“Most certainly.” The dragon’s massive head shifted position. “I greet you, young Seer of the silent folk. And I thank you for your assistance.”

“I have heard of your kind for years, since I began my training,” Bryna replied. “My teacher spent her entire life yearning to meet you.”

“And now you have fulfilled her wish,” the beast replied. “You must make your leaders aware that others among your kind suffer from Hyam’s affliction. It forms much of the opposition you face in aiding your treaty allies. Tell them the dragon king says that their hour of need is yours as well.”

“I will do as you say, Majesty.”

The dragon’s gaze swiveled back. “What is your name?”

“Dally.”

“From Dahlrin, no doubt. The past speaks to us through your name. Most interesting. Wait here.” With that, the dragon stretched out his wings and disappeared.

She found it remarkable that such a massive beast as that could vanish and reappear without making a sound. He settled back upon his perch, tucked in the sail-like wings, and boomed the longest message of all. “You must traverse the Elven path once more. In this passage you will discover the next portion of your quest. Doing so will tax you to your very limit. Why you must be brought to the verge of your last breath, I cannot say. But it is so.”

“If you do not know the task I must perform, why did you seek contact?”

“Because of the urgency, young Dahlrin. And the partial answer.” He lifted his head and roared out his next message, a drumbeat that caused the neighboring hills to throw off their burden of ice and snow. “The Ancients spoke of a day of unity. It is upon us. Here. In this hour of direst need, you shall witness the realization of a promise forged in the time before time. The enemy seeks to divide you. But you must fight this.”

“Unity,” Dally repeated.

“Victory shall only be found through forging bonds stronger than the enemy’s fury. Refuse to allow fears and old scars to keep you apart. And when this challenge is complete and the enemy vanquished, I invite you to return, Lady Dahlrin. I will welcome you. We will talk. And perhaps you will discover the mystery behind your name.”

The dragon rose to full height. He blasted the sky with a stream of fire, then caused the earth to shudder as he beat the air with his diamond-patterned wings. He rose into the sky, his power defiant of the wind that once again shrieked about them. Despite the storm, still Dally heard the final drumbeat resonate through her being. A word that Jaffar did not translate because there was no need.

Unity.

The dragon blew flames a final time, and was gone.