The Yanti (20 page)

Stepping outside, Ra found the dragon speaking to Trae and Farble—the troll. Actually, Farble was probably not following much of the conversation. Trolls were not too bright. Yet Farble understood enough to know that Geea might have returned to the green world, and that she was in danger.

Drash gave Ra a quick update, but it contained no more information than what Paddy had told him, except that there were definitely dragons near the Crystal Palace.

“Do you think Geea’s there?” Ra asked Trae and Drash.

“Drash does not know,” the young dragon replied.

Trae spoke. “If Geea did manage to escape the hoard of dragons by using Tiena’s underground cavern, I don’t think she would have been foolish enough to try to hide in the Crystal Palace.”

“Could she be using Tiena’s cavern to reach Lake Mira?” Ra asked.

Trae nodded. “That would be my guess.”

“Do the dragons know that Tiena connects to the lake?” Ra asked.

“It’s not common knowledge, but a few would know,” Trae said.

“Drash saw no dragons at the lake,” Drash said.

Ra moved to climb on Drash’s back. Without a word the dragon stooped to accommodate him. Ra spoke again.

“Perhaps Ali created a diversion beneath Uleestar. She might be trying to reach here, without revealing our location. Drash and I will find out what we can.”

That did not go over well with the others. Naturally, they wanted to come. Trae pointed out that he knew the countryside better than anyone. Farble pounded his chest to indicate how strong he was. And Paddy jumped up and down and cried that he was not leaving his “Missy” to those “filthy dragons.”

In the end the troll and leprechaun came. The additional weight did not bother Drash, and when it came to a fight, Ra knew how handy Farble could be. Trae had to stay behind for practical reasons. With Ali gone, and Amma marked, he was the leader of the fairies and could not be risked. Trae gave Ra a gold bag filled with a fluffy blue powder before they departed.

“It’s Geea’s stardust,” he explained. “If you find her, and you’re in a bad spot, it might give her the extra strength she needs.” Trae took a step back and bowed. “Fly fast, Drash, and all of you, go with the blessings of the ice maidens!”

Ra sat directly behind the dragon’s head—Ali’s favorite spot—and with hardly a flap of his wings Drash lifted them into the air. Soon they were hurtling south, toward the lake. Yet Ra cautioned Drash to stay low, as near as possible to the
valleys and peaks. Drash was agreeable; he chose a twisting route through the mountains, almost hugging the rock and ice.

Since the dragon had only gotten his wings two days ago, Ra was impressed with his speed and control. Ra knew it was the dragon’s love for Geea—all of the elementals’ love for
their
Geea—that caused them to rush to her aid.

Ra would have raced through the sky alone, had he been a fairy.

But he was only a human being. Yet he wondered if that was the complete truth. As he had told Ali, since he was a child, he had been unusually strong, with eyes and ears far more acute than any other person he had ever met. His uncle had often remarked that Ra had abilities that were not of this world, but which came from the next. Since his uncle had spent a long time in the cave that led to the colored doors, Ra wondered if the man had entered the green world, and learned many of its secrets. It was a fact his uncle had been training Ra to be a
chimvi
—a shaman of the
Kutus
, his personal tribe—when the old man had been killed by dark fairies.

Even Drash, when they had first met, had talked to him as if he were an
elf
. The three-letter word held a resonance for Ra. The night he had stood guard outside Ali’s bedroom in the Crystal Palace, he had heard her awaken in the night shouting,
“Jira! Jira! Ra!”
Later, he had wanted to ask her about her nightmare, but he hadn’t wanted her to know he had been eavesdropping. But the way she switched the names—in midsentence—it was as if she was calling out
one
name.

And he had recognized
Jira
the instant he heard it.

The name felt as if it belonged to him.

As Ra stared out over the green world, atop Drash’s back, the whole land felt as if it was his own. At least it was familiar,
and he loved it so, more than Africa even, and he did not know why.

He had not asked Trae who Jira was.

Drash flew fast. It did not take them long to reach Lake Mira. They had come none too soon. Even from two miles away, Ra was able to see Ali floating adrift in a boat taken from Uleestar’s harbor. She was lying on her back, apparently unconscious, while around the edges of the water paced ravenous scaliis. The creatures had once been elementals, but had been attacked by scabs, that had fastened onto their heads, and eaten their brains, transforming them into mindless cannibals that consumed whoever crossed their paths.

Ra saw that these dozen scaliis had been created from trolls and elves. They were haunting the shore, afraid of the water, but also eager for Ali’s boat to drift closer, so they could feast on her.

Drash spotted them at the same time as Ra.

“Drash will burn them as we sweep over!” he called to Ra.

“No!” Ra shouted. “The flame might alert others in the area. Dragons might see us. Land behind them, on that rise there. I’ll take out a few with my bow and arrows. Farble can kill some, and you can crush the rest.”

“Kill for Geea!” Farble said proudly.

Drash obeyed Ra’s command, and the dragon brought them down on a low cliff not far from the lake. The scaliis saw them, of course—they had a single bulbous eye where their face used to be—and came toward them with surprising speed. Ra was only able to get off four shots—which killed the four scaliis he aimed at—before Drash was forced to jump between them and use his bulk to crush the monsters. To his credit, Farble managed to kill two of the scaliis, smashing their heads together. Once again he pounded his chest in pride.

Oddly enough it was Paddy who reached Ali first. Ignoring the scaliis, he swam through the icy water and climbed into her canoe, before paddling it back to shore. Ra did not need to see Paddy’s worried expression to know Ali was in bad shape. Her entire front, from head to toe, was ash—burnt clothes and flesh meshed together. Ra grimaced, his heart breaking. In some places steam still wafted off her stricken form. In her right hand she held the Yanti, but it was as if her fingers were melted around it. Ra couldn’t tell if she was alive or dead. She did not move. Her chest did not even rise and fall. As Paddy paddled the boat onto the icy shore, there were tears in his eyes.

“Is Missy dead?” he cried.

Quickly, Ra lifted her from the boat and carried her away from the water, to a place of sand instead of snow. There he laid her on a coat Paddy had provided, and swept his own coat over her. Fear constricting his throat, he checked for a pulse, found one at her neck. It was faint. He finally saw she was breathing; unfortunately, her inhalations and exhalations were slight.

Her face was badly scarred. She had bleeding fissures, with torn flesh, and skin that was as black from soot as it was red from blood. He hardly recognized her, and he had to struggle to control his panic, to remain strong in front of the others. She was not dead, but without a miracle, she soon would be.

He knelt by her side and took the hand that held the Yanti.

“Ali,” he called. “Can you hear me? It’s Ra. You’re safe now. Ali, please open your eyes. We’re here with you now, all your friends are here.” His voice cracked with emotion, as he added, “You have to come back to us, Ali. We love you.”

Ali opened her left eye. She could not use her right, for the burnt skin had melted it shut. It seemed as if she tried to smile, but on the right side of her face nothing moved. Ra suspected whatever had burned her had gone farther than skin-deep, and
had damaged her facial nerves. Besides the awful scarring, her expression was lopsided.

“I made a mistake,” she whispered, and Ra had to bend to hear her words. He continued to hold her hand, fearing to squeeze it. He spoke in an encouraging tone.

“That doesn’t matter, you’re safe now. We’ll take care of you.”

“Paddy will fix Missy,” the leprechaun said, kneeling across from Ra, on her left side. But Paddy’s eyes dripped such large tears; he, too, could barely speak. Behind him, Ra heard Farble moaning. Seeing their pain, perhaps attempting to put them at ease, Ali tried to smile again.

“Know now how Lucy felt,” she said softly.

“Who’s Lucy?”

“My sister.” A shudder went through the length of her body then, and it seemed she might have a seizure, or else slip into shock. Ra was anxious to get her out of the cold, back to Yom, but he feared to move her. She looked as frail as a dry autumn leaf that had been touched by a match.

“We have to get you to Yom,” Ra said. “The fairies there can help you.”

Ali shook her head. “No time. The invasion. Must go to the Isle of Greesh.”

“You’re not going anywhere. You need to rest, to heal.” It was then he recalled the stardust Trae had given him, in the gold pouch. He pulled it out. “I have this . . .”

Before he could finish what he was going to say, she sniffed the air, closed her one eye, and said, “Ah, stardust. Give me. Put . . . in my mouth.”

Ra took out the gold pouch. “How much?”

She did not even look, just opened her mouth. “All of it.”

Ra fed it to her slowly, lest she choke, and twice sent Paddy to get her a cup of water from the lake. Well, it was actually
Paddy’s liquor flask they used, but Paddy was more than happy to empty his whiskey to help his Missy. Ali sipped the water gratefully as she absorbed the magical powder.

And magic it was, for before Ra’s very eyes, he saw the worst of her wounds close, the bleeding stop. Ten minutes after ingesting the last of the stardust, she was able to sit up and stretch her legs and arms.

Yet her right eye remained sealed, and the scars had not gone away, nor had their hideous colors faded. Ali was still not recognizable. She had no hair—her skull was a mass of gray and purple lumps. The fingers of her left hand were fused. However, she had regained the use of her right hand. She was still able to hold the Yanti.

Time went by. As the sun rose higher in the sky, she steadily gained strength, and told them of her battle with Kashar. Drash sat close to her, and it was an emotional time for the young dragon. Ra could not decide what was worse for him: his shame or his pain. For, from the start, it was obvious that Ali had killed Kashar.

Yet when she came to the part of how she misused the Yanti, Ali grew vague, and Ra knew she was hesitant to divulge any dangerous secrets.

But she made it clear that she had been a fool to use the Yanti as a weapon, even though it had worked. It had killed Kashar, but it had almost killed her. She said it was a wonder, when their battle was done, that she was able to retrieve the Yanti, and collapse into a boat, and take what was left of Tiena north. With all the miles of stone she had dropped on the dragons, it was clear the river was never again going to flow into Lake Mira.

An hour after digesting the stardust, Ali was strong enough to stand, with a little help from Ra. She told Drash to take
them back to Yom, but made it clear that she was then going on to the Isle of Greesh. It was essential she go to the island, she repeated, but admitted she was too weak to fly that far. Of course Ra told her they were coming with her.

“We’re your friends,” he said. “We rescued you today, and you might need our help on the island. You’re not leaving without us.”

“Aye, Missy is hurt and needs to rest,” Paddy put in. “Greesh is evil—no place for a queen to visit, especially when she’s feeling poorly. Missy must not go there.”

“The Shaktra came from the Isle of Greesh,” Drash added.

Ali motioned Ra aside, spoke to him by the water. With no lips, her voice came out sounding awkward. The former were mere mounds of red and purple flesh, and Ra had to struggle not to show his horror at her appearance. Still, she sensed it, and tried to give him a reassuring hug.

Unfortunately, she had to pull back. It was too painful to embrace.

“Don’t feel sorry for me, I caused this,” she said.

“Ali . . .”

“I did. And in a strange way, I think it was meant to be. I had to go through what Doren did.”

“Who’s Doren?”

“In this world, she’s my sister.” Ali added, “She’s also the Shaktra.”

Ra recoiled in shock. “That’s impossible!”

Ali nodded weakly. “Trust me, it was not a pleasant discovery. But it’s the truth—one I’ve had to struggle to accept. Whatever changed her into such a monster—it all started on the Isle of Greesh. That’s why I must go there. But I can only go alone, with Drash. Believe me, you of all people can’t go.”

The way she applied the restriction especially to him gave
Ra more reason to doubt her decision. Yet, he had not told Ali this before, but every time he had heard the words, “The Isle of Greesh,” he had felt cold inside. Even now, as they spoke of going there, he trembled.

It was as if he was connected to the place . . . somehow.

He tried to ask Ali if that was true, but she turned away.

“I’m not sure,” she said sadly.

Ra hesitated. “Did something happen to Jira there?”

She stared at him with her one eye. It was still green and piercing, and there was still power behind it. The girl was her
own
miracle. Burn her nearly to ash, and the next minute she was back on her feet, ready to do battle. But all of a sudden, a tear came from her eye.

“Yes,” she said. “You know him?”

Ra shrugged. “I’ve heard the name.”

“From whom?”

He met her gaze. “You. In your sleep.”

Ali lowered her head, appeared to speak to herself. “I guess it’s possible, but I never hoped . . . I never knew for certain.”

“What?”

Ali wiped at her tear; another replaced it. “He was my friend. My best friend. And that island . . . it did something to him. Something terrible to his mind.”

“So it harmed him, I’m not him.” He added, “I’ll be fine.”