The Dragons of Noor (30 page)

Light danced about their heads. Taunier put his hand behind the back of her neck and drew her closer to him. His lips tasted of salt and fresh rain on green leaves. His skin was cool as wind, but his mouth was warm. And there was fire there.

They were still lost in the kiss when a towering white tree loomed ahead. And as Arnun’s tendrils touched Kwen’s roots, a spear of brilliant light pierced the dark below. In Taunier’s embrace, Hanna watched the breaking dawn spreading golden light east to west. It seemed as if a great black cloth were being drawn back as mile on mile of luminescent colors washed over Oth. Mountains, meadows, and valleys appeared below. Hanna glanced to the left. Beyond the base of Mount Esseley, the Yannara
Sea shone copper bright and turquoise, the colors of dragon scales.

One by one the children wiped off their hands and stood, eyes wide. Hanna waited breathless as the rent between the worlds healed and the Outer Darkness died away to the birthing of the light. Across the lands below, the folk of Oth who had slept in darkness until the waking of the world would rise now from dreamless sleep to a new day.

Arnun’s long black roots entwined the great white tree. Taunier and Hanna’s fingers interlaced, and they were the first to step from Oth to Noor.

“Show me your heart, Kwen-Arnun.”
The song went on, though some dragons stopped their singing to thump their tails and cheer as the Kanameer and the Fire Herd crossed back into Noor in the place where the two worlds joined.

In Noor the ground trembled as the World Tree grew dizzily upward, breaking through earth and intertwining in the sunlit sky.

Black tree. White tree. Root to root. Stem to branch to trunk embracing. Oth and Noor together, fitting as two hands fit, as lovers fit. And all was yes and yes.

H
anna sang with the dragons encircling Kwen-Arnun, where the great World Tree branched high into the sky. Five or six hundred feet tall, the black-and-white-entwined trunk reached higher than any cathedral, growing beyond measure of any living thing she’d ever seen in either world. The mighty branches forked out to millions of smaller ones leafed in green and gold.

Beneath the World Tree, the ground swelled with life. Flowering grasses spread green over the parched desert land. There was beauty all around, but Hanna couldn’t take it in while Miles was still missing. In the hours since their return, they’d not let silence fall. Miles’s life
was held within the songs, and so they sang. Guided by Meer Eason’s ervay, children’s and dragons’ voices harmonized.

Hanna paused to sip from Taunier’s water pouch and let the healing coolness spill down her throat before passing it to Tymm. She looked at the children in their tattered clothes. Their hair was tangled, their faces smeared with dirt; still, their mouths were open wide as they sang. Without them, the worlds would not have been joined. She felt a sudden pang of gratitude.
I’ll bring each and every one of them home
, she thought.
We owe them that
.

Meer Eason leaned against a terrow. Even with all the help he was getting, it was clear the Music Meer couldn’t go on much longer.

Hanna left the circle to walk around the World Tree’s trunk, its girth like a castle; it would take time to pace all the way around. She’d gone only a little way when Thriss landed on her shoulder, and Taunier and Breal joined her.

“Miles,” she said as she walked beneath the boughs. “You awakened Kwen. The Wind-taken rebuilt Arnun, and we’ve rejoined the worlds. Why won’t you come out?”

She was talking as if her brother could hear her words right through the wood. If Miles could still hear Eason’s ervay, the children’s wavering choir, and the dragons’ rich, wild voices, then why would he not hear her?

Tears darkened her dusty leather boots as she rounded the tree. “Come back, Miles. Come back because I say so and because I can’t do without you.”

She ran her hand along the patterned bark. “Remember the way Enoch was caught inside the oak for fifty years? You don’t want to be imprisoned like that, do you?”

How long before Eason’s strength gave out? How long before they must all let go of the song, knowing at last that Miles could not return?

Hand in her pocket, she wrapped her fingers around the cool surface and drew out the small brown bottle of tears.
The Kanameer will know what to do with them …

The Kanameer will know
. “Enoch gave me this bottle,” she said hoarsely. She pulled out the cork stopper. “He sent this for you all the way from across the sea. All the way from home.”

Hanna let two droplets fall on Kwen-Arnun’s roots.

“These are Enoch’s tears.”

She kept walking as she tipped the bottle, sprinkling
a drop here and there along the base of the tree. “He gathered them the day you and Gurty and I freed him from the oak.”

She was partway around the trunk now, still sprinkling drops in twos and threes. “Some would say they’re only salt water and worth nothing at all. But they were hard-won tears. You were with me when Enoch came out. We saw him laugh and cry and dance all at the same time. He was like a wild man. Do you remember?”

White roots and black drank in every drop, songs for the listening, tears for the drinking. “Enoch told me to tell you these tears are sorrow and joy, all in a little brown bottle.”

The bottle was nearly empty. She poured the last few drops on her hand and tossed them into the branches. Sunlight caught the droplets clinging to the twigs. Golden leaves rustled.

Empty. She knelt down with Taunier and Breal, placed the small brown bottle snugly between Kwen-Arnun’s roots, and added her tears to Enoch’s.

Taunier put his hand on her shoulder. She thought of Granda and the Falconer who died last year, of the dragons who were shot down, of Kanoae, who’d never
return to the meer’s school on Othlore.
But not Miles
, she thought.
Please not my brother
.

Meer Eason leaned against a terrow’s side. The ervay’s song was fading. Hanna stilled her body. There was a growing silence beyond the tune, a hushed breeze in the leaves, a wave breaking a long way from shore, the far-off steps of a loved one walking mile upon mile to the place where the other waits. The silence was in the wind, the waves, the steps not heard by the ear, but felt in the heart and breath. Hanna held her breath, listening.

The silence was broken by a little thud. A small, round fruit fell from the World Tree and rolled up to Hanna’s boot. It was silver, about the size of a juicy plum.

“Catch!”

Hanna leaped up with Taunier just in time to see another small globe hurtling down. She caught it, laughing, and gave it to Taunier. Both drew farther back, shielding their eyes against the sunlight. High up in Kwen-Arnun’s branches, half obscured by leaves, Miles sat swinging his legs.

“Try the fruit, Taunier! It’s delicious!”

Taunier took a huge bite and chewed appreciatively. He rolled his eyes and smacked his lips.

“Come down here before you fall,” Hanna shouted cheerfully. She spun around and around just to fling the joy outward. It was too much to keep hold of otherwise.

“Just a minute.” Miles climbed even higher. “There’s more fruit up here.”

“Toss me one,” shouted Tymm.

“And me.” Cilla waved her arms. More children crowded under the branches, jumping up and down.

“I want some.”

“Me, too.”

“Give me some.”

Miles laughed. “All right. There’s plenty for everyone. Heads up.”

B
real’s Moon rose above Yaniff, full and round and silver as Arnun’s fruit. Beneath Kwen-Arnun’s branches, Miles joined the gathering for the dragons’ crossing.

Taberrells and terrows smacked their tails against the ground. He felt the pounding in his feet, the drumming deep as the earth’s heartbeat. Thriss crouched on Hanna’s shoulder, flicked her tail against Hanna’s back in rhythm with the others. And on Miles’s right, Meer Eason stood tall with Taunier, resting his hand on Tymm’s shoulder.

Miles fingered the pearly Arnun seeds in his pocket. Sweet, luscious, life-giving, the silver fruit had restored
Meer Eason’s strength. “They taste like peaches,” he’d said.

“Not at all,” Zabith argued. “They’re more like papayas.” Whether they were more like one or the other didn’t matter in the end, for everyone agreed they were the finest fruit in all of Noor and likely Oth as well. As the sun rode across the sky, they’d gorged themselves on the fruit, washed their sticky hands in the river, and saved thousands of pearly Arnun seeds for future planting.

Now, in the bright moonlight, Miles could see more fruit twinkling high in Kwen-Arnun’s branches. His mouth watered. He couldn’t get enough of it. Before the towering tree, he felt the spreading branches like a splitting in his chest. He lifted his hands and spread his arms wide. Hanna, Zabith, Taunier, and Eason followed the gesture. Meers greet touching their foreheads, but this was the way to honor the great tree.

They had little to wear to mark the occasion, so Hanna loaned Taunier her terrow-scale cloak. The cloak flailed in the breeze as, one by one, he lit the children’s torches. Hanna’s slender crown caught the torchlight, and her face shone in the flitting gold.
She is changed
, Miles thought. He couldn’t name the change, but he could see it in the
confident way she held her head, the way she returned his glance, gazing straight into his eyes with ease. He read love and sorrow there. The dragons were leaving.

“We will begin,” said the Damusaun.

In her claw, the Dragon Queen held the wing bone of a long dead warrior, retrieved from the cave of bones. He knew the bone had belonged to her brother, Therros, the Wanderer. She’d sung at the entrance of the cave and again when she took it from the rocky shelf.
I will take you to rest in Shangor Mountain, where the foothills meet the sea. Where the waves speak
.

Miles fingered the ervay at his side, remembering the queen’s haunting song. He would learn to play it if he could. It was a private song from sister to brother, but he would find the notes. The Damusaun had kept the promise she’d made her brother when he’d died in the dragon wars. She would bring the inner branch of his wing bone to rest in Oth.

After he’d left the cave with the Damusaun, he’d seen more elder dragons entering to gather wing bones. All the warriors, the living and the dead, would enter Oth tonight.

Tails drummed the earth louder as two terrows
marched down the long line. They gave a last look at Noor, the world they’d known all their lives, and turned to Kwen-Arnun. The taberrells and terrows behind them breathed bright blue flames as the Damusaun chanted,
“Eldessur kimbardaa
. You are called. Come home to yourself.”

The terrows addressed Kwen-Arnun. “Dragon Bridge,
Vessa kemun dey
. Open the way for us.”

The World Tree sighed, and its branches lowered, touching the earth at the terrows’ feet. They climbed onto the boughs one after the other, their golden scales shining amid the leaves in starlight, torch, and dragon fire.

The younglings stepped up next, accompanied by Kaleet. Their parting took longer, for the smallest of them was afraid of the great tree. Still, they spoke to Kwen-Arnun, asking for passage, and they went. More stepped up, all turning before they parted, but none choosing to stay behind.

The Damusaun was last to approach the World Tree. No dragons were left to drum their tails for her or send their warm blue fire, but the moon and stars glowed over Yaniff, and the children who had bound Arnun with their hands held their torches high to light her way.

The queen turned to look back at Noor as the rest
had done. Miles’s eyes burned. He wanted to say,
Don’t go
, but he couldn’t ask her to stay.

“I see you share your terrow cloak with the Fire Herd, Kanameer,” she said bemusedly. “It’s only right. You both did all that was asked of you and more.”

“Will you ever come back to Noor?” Miles hadn’t meant to ask her that, but he couldn’t bear the thought that he might never see her again.

The Damusaun tipped her head, the gesture neither a
yes
nor a
no
, but a
we shall see
.

She lowered her long neck. “Thriss,” she said gently. “Come now.”

Thriss flicked out her tongue, hesitating.

Hanna’s voice was hoarse. “She’s right, Thriss. It’s time for you to go.”

The queen added, “You will have lots of pips to play with in your new home, little one.”

Miles thought of the egg the Dragon Queen carried. Soon Thriss would have an infant queen to frolic with.

“Go on, now.” Hanna gave her pip a push, though her eyes were brimming. The pip licked her cheek, wrapped her tail around a lock of hair, and swung herself over to the Damusaun.

“Ouch!” Hanna winced, then gave a quick, startled laugh. Thriss folded her wings and sat atop the Dragon Queen’s neck. Now that the Damusaun had the last pip, Miles thought she would call the bough down for entry, but she faced him, saying, “And now your gift for me.”

Miles hesitated, feeling her heated breath. Hanna had a terrow to send to Oth, but he had nothing in his hands or his pockets except for a handful of seeds and Enoch’s empty brown bottle: not a proper gift for the Damusaun.

“I have none.” Miles waited out the silence that followed, hoping it would pass quickly. It didn’t.

“You do not tell the truth,” said the Damusaun.

Was she calling him a liar? A jolt of anger shook his spine. He gulped a breath of crisp night air to quell the burning.