The Dragons of Noor (8 page)

Her brother was too busy glaring at Taunier to answer her. They were the same age, but Taunier was taller and broader shouldered; still, Miles looked poised to start a fight. “Just what were you thinking, taking my sister to sea?”

Taunier narrowed his dark eyes. “I didn’t take her to sea. She was leaving on her own, so I—”

“He’s right.” Hanna wedged her way between them. “I was going to leave Enness anyway. Taunier came along to help, so I wouldn’t sail east alone.”

“Mother and Da are worried sick,” snapped Miles, pacing, his face angry in the candle’s glow.

The ship tilted, and the pans hanging from the ceiling clanged together. Hanna spread her feet to keep her balance. “I knew they would be upset, but I left a note telling them why I—”

“You should have stayed home, Hanna. Mother and Da were already frightened enough after what happened to Tymm.”

Her brother’s words stung, and Hanna blinked back sudden tears. “It was because of Tymm I had to go. You know that!”

Tymm’s name had been invoked but twice. Still, Hanna felt it floating in the air between them like a spell. And it seemed that the table, the hanging pots, and the spice bundles grew dim with the sound of it.

Miles wiped his nose on his sleeve. “Da told me you were with Tymm when … when it happened.”

Hanna sat on a bench and wrapped her arm about Breal’s thick neck. He panted and licked her cheek. “We were out by Garth Lake when the wind came. I tried to catch Tymm as he was swept away, but I couldn’t reach him.” She hugged Breal harder. “I tried, Miles; I really
did.” She was crying now, wiping her cheeks with her rough, damp cloak.

Miles said, “I know.”

“How can you know? You weren’t even there!”

“The same thing happened to me on Othlore.”

“What?” Hanna looked up at her brother.

“It’s happening everywhere,” Miles said. “The Waytrees in the old forests all across Noor are falling. And everywhere the trees die, children are Wind-taken.”

Taunier crossed his arms and leaned against the counter. “But why?”

“We don’t know why for sure, but the High Meer thinks there is a connection between the two. He said the children might have been taken to help the Waytrees in the east. We’re heading there now to find out.”

“Who would do that?” Hanna blurted. “It’s horrible. And anyway, how could Tymm or Cilla or any of them be of help?”

Miles looked startled. “Cilla was taken, too? Mave’s little girl who weaves so well?”

Hanna nodded. “She and some others were stolen from the market in Brim. Taunier and I were there when it happened.” She realized Mother and Da must have
been too overwrought about Tymm to tell Miles about Cilla. The pot boiled, and she removed it from the stove.

Miles said, “When the tempest came to Othlore, the boy beside me was taken up. I tried to keep hold of his ankle, but the gust smashed me against a wall and tore him from my grasp.” He heaved a sigh. “As they spun higher I heard him and the others calling out in DragonTongue.”

“What did they say?” asked Taunier.

“Words you wouldn’t understand.” Miles said this a bit too proudly, Hanna thought.

“But I’ve studied some DragonTongue myself,” Miles added.

“Out with it,” demanded Taunier. Hanna knew Taunier didn’t like to be bettered any more than Miles did.

Miles pulled back his shoulders. “They called out
‘Tesha yoven.’
It’s a binding spell.”

Hanna dropped the rag she’d been drying her hands on. “Tymm said that before he was taken.”

Miles leaned forward. “Are you sure?”

She nodded.

“It doesn’t make sense. How would Tymm know those words?”

Hanna picked up the fallen rag and shook it out.

“He might have seen them in the Falconer’s book,” said Taunier.

“I’ve kept it locked away in the trunk. I’m sure Tymm never got a chance to read it.” She turned to Miles. “What does it mean?”

“Bind the broken.” He crossed his arms. “We use the spell in Restoration Magic class to mend broken pitchers or furniture or—”

“Like Tymm,” said Taunier.

“Not like Tymm. He was … is,” he corrected himself, “clever-handed, but we don’t use glue pots at the meer’s school.”

“Bind the broken.” Hanna tasted the words like a new flavor. This was what the Waytrees and the deyas inside them did. Bind the places where the worlds were breaking in two.

At the rough table, Taunier reached out and caught the candle’s drip on his forefinger. Clear as rain at first falling, it hardened white on his fingertip. Hanna felt a flutter in her belly as he lifted the wax from his finger, formed a tiny boat, and put it on the table. This was the second time she’d seen his friendly way with fire, though the first time he’d moved flame.

Hanna found the thool can in the cupboard and stirred the brown powder into the pot. She needed to busy herself, to do something with her hands as she tried to take it all in.

Miles told them of another meer who’d sailed east early in the year. “She’s a seer named Zabith who lived deep in Othlore Wood. She knew something was amiss before the rest of us. We hope to meet up with her, though we don’t know if she reached Jarrosh.”

Taunier spun the wax boat on the table. “If you meant to head east all along, why take the time to sail west to Enness?”

Waves beat against the hull. Hanna steadied herself and poured the thool for all of them. Miles stirred the hot drink in his mug. “The High Meer saw a face in the scrying stone,” he said at last.

Taunier stopped spinning. “Whose face?” he asked, his voice faintly quavering.

Hanna looked at him. Was he wondering if the High Meer had seen him? Singled him out in his scrying stone for his power over fire?

“Hanna’s.”

Hanna’s head felt suddenly light, as if she’d swallowed
the candle’s glow.
The High Meer of Othlore sent them to Enness to find me!
She felt herself smiling. To be seen in a magical scrying stone. To be wanted …

Hiding her expression, she peered over the rim of her mug at Taunier. What did he think? Was he happy for her? Taunier met her gaze with silence. His head was tilted slightly, as if seeing her for the first time. She glanced away, suddenly uncomfortable.

Miles finished his thool in four gulps. “The High Meer said we were to bring the Dreamwalker with us.” He wiped his mouth. “You know about her dreamwalks by now, don’t you?” he asked Taunier.

“I know. I’ve followed her more than once to bring her home.”

“Stop it,” said Hanna, suddenly fuming. “Both of you are talking about me as if I’m not here.”

“Sorry, sis.” Miles put his empty mug in the washtub.

“Hanna?” Taunier scooted the wax boat across the table to her.

She picked it up. It felt warm. Weightless. The High Meer had sent them after her, a Dreamwalker. She’d not spoken to anyone about the things she’d seen in her latest dreamwalk. She was still trying to puzzle it out.

The door burst open. Meer Eason poked his head in. “We have brought your things aboard. Captain Kanoae said you are to bunk with her, Hanna. We slid your trunk under your berth.” He seemed to catch the tension in the room. “Well, I have to get back on deck. Miles, will you show them to their quarters when you’re done here?”

“I will, sir.”

M
iles hurried them down the narrow passage to the captain’s quarters, lit the oil lamp, and shut the door. Hanna sat on the bed, not seeming to want to look at him or Taunier. She tugged her fingers through her tangled hair. Taunier leaned against Captain Kanoae’s map-covered table.

“Have you dreamwalked since Shalem Wood was destroyed?” Miles asked cautiously.

“Why do you want to know?” Hanna looked irritated. Or was that fear he was seeing?

“Something else the High Meer said. Wherever forests are falling, people are forgetting how to dream. We’ve seen a kind of hollow look on people’s faces ever
since we left Othlore, in places like Reon, and we saw it again in Brim.”

“I know what you mean,” Taunier said with interest. “The other morning when I came through Brim looking for Hanna, the townsfolk were acting strangely. Their faces had a grayish color, and the children just stood about. None of them were playing like they usually do.”

Miles tried not to show the anxiety he was feeling. Losing dreams was a part of this all somehow, though he didn’t know the connection yet. He’d been overjoyed to find Hanna safe tonight, but he couldn’t forget the reason the meers had gone out of their way to find her. What good would it do to bring her east, where they’d be facing certain danger, if she could no longer dream?

Hanna went to the porthole window. “I dreamwalked after Tymm was stolen,” she said. “A week after, if you want to know precisely when. All the elder trees in Shalem Wood had fallen by then.” She peered outside at the lifting mist as she described the dreamwalk, the great black tree she’d seen, and the children climbing its branches.

“Tymm?” Miles asked, his mouth dry. “You saw him?”

Hanna nodded.

“A strange dream, for sure,” said Taunier. “What do you think it means?”

“I don’t know.” She paced the tiny room, hugging her elbows. “I just remember what it was like seeing Tymm. I thought I’d found him, you know?” She stared at the uneven lamp’s glow and shook her head. “Then I woke up, and he was gone again.”

Miles looked into her eyes, one green and one blue. “We’ll find him, Hanna. We have to find him.” He was reassuring her, though his stomach churned, and it wasn’t from seasickness. Before he’d left for the meer school, Tymm had helped him mend the fence with his small, clever hands. They’d laughed together, drinking from the water pouch, spitting arcs of silver water at the sheep on the far side of the fence. He clenched his jaw at the memory. “I’ve never seen nor heard of any black trees like you described in your dream.”

“I hadn’t, either. But before I left Enness, I searched through the Falconer’s book and found something about a tree like that.”

“Where’s the book now?”

Hanna pointed to the trunk. Miles bent down and pulled it out.

“Let me,” said Hanna. Opening the lid, she set the
heavy tome on the bunk and leafed through it until she reached a page about Kwen-Arnun.

“Listen.” She traced her finger along the text and read the description: “ ‘In the beginning when eOwey sang everything into being, Kwen-Arnun, the World Tree, held the world of NoorOth together. Kwen, white-barked and strong, embraced his tree-wife, Arnun, her branches black and shining. Male and female under the NoorOth sun, trunks and branches intertwining, together they were one.’ ”

She read the rest of the passage describing the great quake that shook NoorOth in the second age, breaking the worlds, splitting the World Tree in two, Kwen tumbling into Noor, Arnun crashing in the otherworld of Oth.

“ ‘Storms blew over Oth, where Kwen’s tree-wife, Arnun, was shattered on the ground. Her shining black trunk lay in pieces. Tempests swept through Noor, where Kwen fell, his branches twisted, his broken heart turning slowly to stone.’ ”

She looked up from the page. “Do you see?”

“Wait, look at this part.” Miles read aloud the passage on the next page, part of the tale he’d never seen before: “ ‘Some say that Kwen and Arnun died when they parted long ago, and Kwen’s remains are buried in the
eastern lands of Noor. But the great Mishtar, who fought alongside the dragons to protect the Waytrees, held that one day the heart of the World Tree might still be awakened, and Kwen and Arnun be rejoined.’ ”

Miles ran his hands along the script. In all the books he’d read at school, he didn’t remember anything about the World Tree rejoining again someday.

Taunier said. “What does it have to do with the tree you saw in your dreamwalk?” Miles wasn’t sure, either.

Hanna glared at them both. “Don’t you understand?” she asked. “Tymm was in an enormous tree. It grew from the earth like a towering fortress, larger than any tree you can imagine. It was black and shining, too, and it says right here”—she jabbed the page with her finger—“that Kwen’s tree-wife, Arnun, had black and shining branches.”

Miles drew back. “But the female half of the World Tree is good, isn’t she? She wouldn’t take young children. Arnun wouldn’t call an evil wind to steal our Tymm!”

“I’m not saying the World Tree is evil,” Hanna argued. “Only that the tree is like the one I saw in my dream. It’s the only mention of a black tree that size that I found in the book!”

“There must be other massive black-barked trees like that!”

“Nowhere in Noor that I know of.”

“In Oth, then!”

Taunier put out his hand. “Stop it, both of you. Arguing like this won’t help us at all.”

Miles stood. “What do you say then, Taunier? Is there any sense in what she’s saying?” He was sure Taunier would side with him.

Instead, Taunier looked from one to the other. “I say you’re both missing something. There’s a clue here that neither one of you seems to see.”

“Aye? And what’s that?” Miles asked, not even trying to hide his irritation.

Taunier read aloud: “ ‘As NoorOth loosened into the seen and unseen worlds of Noor and Oth, the rift tore a black hole in the heart of the Old Magic, and a Wild Wind awakened with the breaking of the worlds.’ ”

“Wild Wind,” Miles whispered. The boat creaked, and the acrid scent of burning lamp oil filled his nostrils.

“It’s clear this wind has come again,” said Taunier. “And this time it’s sweeping up children.”

A
lone in the cabin, Hanna pulled on her nightdress. The small room had darkened when Miles and Taunier left with the oil lamp, but she did not want to light a candle when she had another light to read by. The stone she’d taken into Oth last year still glowed when she warmed it in her palm. Hanna pulled the lightstone from the trunk.