The Dragons of Noor (25 page)

“We have to reach the valley,” said Hanna. “Will you fly us down?”

He rode his cloud stallion closer to the cliffside. “If you want a ride, leap on now.”

Hanna peered at the valley, a quarter of a mile below. “Leap … now?”

Noorushh huffed at her indecision and tugged his silver reins to turn his storm steed about. There was no arguing with him. She had to leap now, show the others how to ride down, or lose her chance.

Don’t look down. Just go!
She wrenched forward. Taunier’s hands tightened around her waist.

“Let go of me!”

“I won’t.”

“I said let go! I have to jump. It’s the only way down.”

“I can’t let you do that.”

“Mortals!” Noorushh spat cold raindrops that splattered her face and chest as he began to pull away. He was leaving! She had to jump. She stomped on Taunier’s toes and elbowed him hard in the ribs. As he reeled back, sucking in air, she leaped for the racing cloud.

The sky billowed all around her as she tumbled down head over heels. She’d thrown herself off and missed! Where was Noorushh? The thick air jammed the screams back inside her mouth. Arms spread wide in the pummeling wind, she hurtled down, speeding closer and closer to the valley floor, then bright colors swept in from her left as Isparel caught her in her skirts and spun her round and round. Gasping wildly, heart in mouth, Hanna swam in the wind woman’s twirling skirts.

“Can you fly in lower and put me down?” puffed Hanna.

Isparel laughed. “Why not dance higher?” She tossed her upward. Hanna flailed, stomach clenching, her limbs jerking as earth and sky roiled all about her. She knew wind spirits were tricksters, but she was not a toy.

“Stop it, Isparel! Take me down!”

It was the wrong thing to say. Isparel sped for the valley in a fury, her gown darkening with storm as she dumped Hanna onto the grass. Hanna pitched forward and caught herself with her hands. Palms scraped, knees throbbing, she turned over, reeling from flight. “Th-Thank you, Isparel,” she stuttered, “for the wonderful dance.” She had to make it up to the wind woman; if she lost both spirits, the others would be trapped in the cave with no way down.

Isparel twirled overhead, hesitating. She sent another angry gust toward Hanna, then laughed. “You were a pitiful partner.”

Hanna stood dizzily. “I know. I’m sorry. Please, could you dance the others down? They would love to dance with you. I know they would.” Hanna knew the children and the deyas might well scream in their mad descent, but it was the only way to reach the valley.

Isparel flashed upward and blew singing toward the cliff. Not to be outdone, Noorushh thundered by, his stallion darkening brown with rain. Hanna held her breath. Would they fight to take the others down? What had she done?

“Taunier!” she screamed. “I’m here!” She waved her arms in the desperate hope that he could see her from the tunnel opening. “Come down! Bring the rest with you!” She pressed her nails into her palms as she watched first one wind spirit, then the other blow past the dark opening in the high cliff.

Get on. Ride down. Easy. Easy
.

At last Noorushh gusted down and gave a mighty shout as he came to a halt just above the floor of the valley. A handful of screaming children tumbled from his cloudy mount. Tymm and Cilla were the first to roll across the grass.

“Tymm!” Hanna rushed over to help him up. She was ready to comfort her little brother and was surprised to find his screams were not from fear. Wrenching away from her grasp, he took Cilla’s hand and joined a circle of children shrieking with delight. “Wind-riders! Wind-riders!” they chanted as they spun around. The children fell again, laughing, too dizzy to stand.

More children tumbled off the stallion with the deyas. A few of the youngest ones hadn’t enjoyed the ride. The two in Evver’s arms were bawling. He rocked them, saying, “It is all right now.” He lifted his head to admire
the broad valley, his roots undulating in the rich green grass.

Tymm bounded back to Hanna. “We’re going there for a drink,” he said, pointing to a stream at the edge of the wood. Tipping her head back, Hanna cupped her hands around her mouth. “Thank you, Noorushh.”

“The sea calls!” he shouted back. With a great gust, the wind spirit swept over the mountain forest toward the Othic Sea beyond. Hanna was thirsty, too, but she kept her place, head up, still waiting anxiously for the rest of her friends to land.

Taunier and Zabith were the last to spin down with Isparel. Meer Zabith was old and frail, but it turned out theirs was a graceful landing. Taunier braced himself, somewhat unsteady on his feet. He made a princely bow to the wind woman and said, “Thank you for the dance, Isparel.”

Isparel swirled her skirts about him, covering him in rainbows.

Blood rushed to Hanna’s cheeks. How dare she caress him that way?

“You will dance with me again,” insisted Isparel.

“Another time,” said Taunier.

Laughing, the spirit mussed his dark hair before she spun away. Taunier turned, passed Hanna without a glance, and headed for the stream where the children were splashing and drinking.

He’s angry with me for kicking him away so I could jump
, she thought. She wanted to stay where she was and let her jealous heat simmer a little longer, but they didn’t have much time. Tonight was Breal’s Moon; she had only one day to find trees for the deyas and bring the children back home to Noor. At the brook she drank greedily from the bank. The deyas waded in, drinking through their rooted feet.

On the far side of the stream, slender birches and willows were leafed in autumnal gold. Farther up the mountain, Hanna spied a swath of evergreens. None looked large enough to house deyas. There must be an ancient grove somewhere in All Souls Wood.

Taunier splashed water on his face and stood, hands dripping.

Hanna cleared her throat. “Sorry for stomping on your foot and—”

“You really gouged me in the gut.” He rubbed just below his ribs.

“I had to. It was the only way to—”

Taunier turned from her, gazing over the valley. The cliff they’d flown down from looked so far away now, with the broad vale spreading out green before them. The back of his hand lightly brushed against hers, setting off small fireworks in her chest. She glanced at his profile, his slightly crooked nose, wide mouth, and high forehead. She knew every inch of his face. She’d absorbed it during innumerable stolen glances over the past year, drinking his features in small sips before looking away. She swiftly turned her head before he caught her.

Half the valley was still covered in predawn gloom. But where the morning sunlight touched the vale, she saw grasslands dotted with bushes and trees, and the creatures on the ground and in the air looked drenched in fairy light. The light here was so much brighter than any she’d ever seen in Noor. This was the Oth she remembered, a place brimming over with magic. The sun sweetened the air like honey, sharpened every wing, twig, and blade of grass. The air here thrummed with vibrant life.

“We must hurry.” Evver pointed to the edge of shadow still covering half the valley. “The waking wood is growing smaller.”

“Won’t that part of the forest be lit up as the sun gets higher?” Hanna asked.

“The sun is up,” said Taunier. “It must be something else causing the dark.”

“Come on, everyone,” Evver said. The brook looked deep in the middle. He scooped up Tymm and two other children to ford it. The deyas helped the rest of them across, and they made their way toward the patches of sunlight in All Souls Wood.

A mile farther on, they reached the foothills of the craggy mountain Hanna had seen from the cliff. The nameless shadow rising less than a hundred yards to the left of the trail disturbed Hanna. What was it? She tried to see inside, but couldn’t make out any shapes in the dark. Shivering, she paused to soak in the golden shafts of light falling through the white-barked birches on this part of the path, thankful for the warmth.

The trail grew steeper as they left the valley. There were some taller pines here, but none large or old enough to house deyas. Taunier took the lead, walking with a sure stride, and Hanna strained her muscles, trying to keep up with him. Why was he walking so fast? Did he want to be alone?

Her boots scuffed through maple and willow leaves. They were far ahead of the rest now. She could make out Tymm’s and Cilla’s chattering voices down below. Evver and the deyas had chosen to walk apace with Zabith and the children. Or were they too weak to move any faster? She stopped to glance back. How thin they seemed. Evver hadn’t told her how long they could live without their Waytrees. Was it because he didn’t want her to worry or feel responsible if she failed him?

She turned, heart pounding, just as Taunier disappeared around another bend. “Taunier,” she called, “could you slow down a little?”

Taunier paused near a mossy boulder and peered over the side of the trail. He appeared to be waiting for her to catch up, but she didn’t much like the place he’d chosen. The trail had veered left, and the deep shadow was fewer than twenty feet away.

Taunier raised his arm and snapped his fingers. A flame grew above his outstretched hand. He held it higher, leaned over, then suddenly pitched the fireball toward the blanket of dark to the left of the trail and scurried down between the trees.

“Taunier? What are you doing?” She raced after him.
The ground leveled again below the trail. In the darkness, he stood among the logs holding his burning light aloft, his skin pale orange from its glow.

Taunier moved his hand and guided the light across the ground. No trees grew in this gloom, only dead logs lying every which way, like the devastated Noor forests they’d left behind.

“Why did you come down here?” Hanna demanded. The air tasted thick, as if they’d entered a pool of stagnant water. Taunier pointed. As her eyes adjusted to the dim light, she saw that just three feet away, a faun lay beside a fox. As Taunier moved the light she saw more bodies; sylth fairies still as stone, wolves, two bearded trolls with their knees bent, as if they’d fallen midstride. There were snakes draped belly up over logs, a family of great horned elk, and everywhere the ground was littered with sprites and birds, hundreds of them, all on their backs, their wings spread wide.

Hanna hugged herself, shivering.

Taunier knelt beside a sylth, whose yellow hair spread across the dark ground. He touched her cheek. “She’s asleep.” He began to shake her gently.

They’d awakened the children in the roots. Could
they bring these Oth folk out of their deep sleep? It would be cruel to leave them this way, cruel not to try to help them. Stepping cautiously around a troll, Hanna chose a young sylth who looked about Tymm’s age. The boy’s smooth face was lost in dream. She bent to shake his shoulder. He didn’t awaken, even when she shook him harder. The fine dust that coated the boy’s soft bark jerkin came off on her hand. She stood with effort, suddenly overcome with exhaustion.

“What’s … wrong … with … them?” Her words came slowly, as the dark pressed down on her. Her body felt as if invisible weights hung from her shoulders. Alarmed, she looked at Taunier, who was struggling to walk toward her.

A booming voice came somewhere from her right.

“Eldessur kimbardaa!”
Evver’s warning voice rolled through the dark. “You are called. Come out before it is too late.”

Hanna saw the deya in a spill of light on the trail above. A red-haired sylth in a sparkling gown stood on Evver’s left. More sylths, some fauns, and a large bedraggled troll had joined them on the trail. The troll held Tymm by the collar.

“Let me go!” Tymm was shouting, arms flailing.

The troll held on. “I said stay back, boy. Ye can’t go in there! Would ye end up like them?” He pointed to the bodies sprawled on the woodland floor.

Evver extended his hand, his long fingers going dark as they dipped in the thick shadow. “Taunier,” he said, “Hannalyn, come out.”

She lifted her foot, tried to move. Her legs were too heavy. She just needed to lie down and rest a moment before she went on. She crumbled to her knees.

Taunier’s light burned out as he lunged forward to catch her. He wrapped his arm about her and slowly pulled her to a stand.

“Don’t give in to it,” he said.

Leaning closer to the edge, Evver sang:

The deyas, sylths, and troll joined in. Streaming voices met and harmonized into a river. The song drifted over
the fallen trees and sleeping bodies, sending a fresh current through the dead air. Hanna felt the stirring against her cheek, cool as water, warm as breath.

“Come on.” Taunier took her arm, and together they pushed their way through the thickened air.

Tymm wrestled free from the Troll.

The troll reached out. “I’m warnin’ ye!”

“Here.” Tymm loosened his belt, unfurled his grass rope, and tossed one end into the dark. He handed the other end to Evver. Trailing from Evver’s large hand, the rope fluttered like a thin green flag in the warm wind of the song. Hanna and Taunier reached for it.

M
iles awoke at dawn. Last night’s bonfires were red coals. Meer Eason slept with his head on Breal’s side. The rest of the dragons were curled snout to tail and snoring, but the Damusaun was missing.

The queen had begun the Dragon Council late last night. Miles had tried to stay awake, but exhaustion had won out, and he’d drifted off by the fire. He stood and scanned the desert, furious with himself. What vital plans had he missed? Had they talked about Hanna and Taunier and Tymm? Did the Damusaun still think there would be a way to bring her clan home? Sleep had stolen him when he’d most needed to be awake.

Miles searched the sand, found the Damusaun’s tail
marks, and followed them into the desert. She’d disappeared again to some solitary place. He drank from the river, shook the droplets from his head, and continued trailing the serpentine patterns.