12. Empty Spaces
Astra forms a plan to rescue Traz...
The Lost City continues the journey of Astra, respected Head Librarian of the Tiered Library in the renown monastery Qordashi deep in the Balashilar mountains, after an attack on her home destroyed everything she knew and took the lives of people she loved. Her childhood companion, Traz, has returned after 25 years for mysterious reasons, and along with the Am’Ayat warrior Xavai they are on the run from the attackers: snow dragons and the dreaded tribe of Yosoi warriors.
Previously: Astra looked a dragon in the eye...
Astra was uncertain of how long she sat there, holding Xavai’s hand, staring up at the sky. The dragon had hurt her brother and then stolen him, but its last words suggested it would return. Would it bring Traz back? Would he even be alive by then? If they presented her with his body, what would she do?
She was brought out of her panicked loop of thoughts by Xavai groaning and rolling over, awkwardly trying to get on his hands and knees. He pulled his hand free as he did so and she quickly put her hand on the back of his neck. She regretted it the next moment when he heaved and vomited spectacularly. He groaned and clutched at his rib cage even as he was emptying the contents of his stomach. The smell and the sounds of it were foul and Astra scrunched up her nose, trying not to breathe.
He pushed her away as he rolled down and flopped over on his side, clutching his ribs. Sighing, she got up and walked around, away from the mess he made, and sat down next to him, her thigh resting along his back. She placed one hand on his forehead. He glanced at her in confusion.
“I am dying, I drank too much jaki. Are you Saint Shuhar, here to relieve me of suffering?” He gave her a watery smile. His eyes were heavily dilated, and Astra feared he was not fully present.
“Xavai? It’s me, Astra. Ah, that is, Grav Astra.”
He frowned, smacking his lips. “You are no idolatrous witch, pretty thing!”
Astra sucked in a hard breath at the understanding of what he had been calling her since he found out she was a necromancer. “I…I think you are not well.”
He tried to move, then flinched and held his ribs again. “Did I fight when I was drunk? Cohum is the fighter, did he throw me into one of his brawls? Ugh, my mouth. Do you have water, pretty thing?”
With a sigh, Astra dropped her travel pack off her shoulders and dug through it, keeping the hand of the arm she was using to hold the bundled Grail against his neck. He hummed appreciatively.
“Here.” She gave him the flask of water she had. He first rinsed his mouth out and spit, before taking a deep swallow.
“I hope this stays down. I am truthful in the claim that I feel beat to Hell.”
“None of the six hells would welcome you in this state anyway,” she said, shoving the flask back into her pack.
“The six hells?” He blinked and really looked at her, as best he could. “Who are you?”
“Grav Astra.”
He blinked again and stared at her for a while. Then, as she watched, he seemed to age in front of her as his memories came back. It was as clear as the sound of fourth bell in the morning: his expression went from a wide open, innocent smile to a dour and doubtful glare.
“There you are,” Astra sighed. “No, no, stay down. You were thrown against a tree, I’m surprised it did not crack your spine.”
“Feels like it,” he grumbled, curling up into himself. He looked over at her sharply, dangerous even in his vulnerable pose. “What happened? Where are the dragons?”
“They left.” She sighed. “They took Traz with them.”
He startled a little at that, horrified. “No.”
She nodded.
“How did you get the spell to work?”
“The Grail did it. It the soul dust of the dragon whose talon this is was enough to replenish the spell’s power.” She gazed at the bundle, which made the Grail look like it was swaddled.
“We should have thought to try that,” he said, then closed his eyes and curled into himself with a grimace. Astra assumed it was his body trying to make him vomit again, and she was glad he was trying to fight it off.
When he relaxed under her touch, she settled up against him. “The dragons will be back. I heard…I think I heard it talking. Or thinking. I don’t know. But it said it would meet again? I do not know your word for reconvene. But that is what it told me.”
He glanced at her in confusion, then moved very slowly to a sitting position. They ended up holding hands again, facing slightly different directions. His legs were bent but not crossed and his other hand was pressing against his ribs.
“What do you mean, that is what it told you?”
“What I meant when I said it,” she snapped. “And yes, I know dragons cannot ‘talk’ but that is what it told me.” She nodded at the Grail. “I think it is the Grail. I’ve never touched it or been close to it except for one time, and then only for a couple of moments. It’s the soul dust’s magic giving me the power to understand the sounds they make. I’m sure of it. It understood me in turn.”
He nodded slowly, obviously not convinced but unable to think of an argument. After taking a deep, painful breath, he squeezed her hand and pulled free. She reached forward to latch onto him again, but he put a finger over his lips to signal for silence.
They sat there in silence for a while, but no dragons appeared. The dowser was not someone they were attuned to, Astra guessed.
“I cannot see you. I know you are there, but the space where you are is empty.” He tilted his head, then held out his hand. As soon as she grabbed it, his eyes went wide and he nodded. “There you are.”
“Call me ‘pretty thing’ again and I will slap you,” she muttered.
He blushed a little, or his ears went red at least, and he looked away. “My apologies for being forward.”
She shrugged. “That is quite honestly the least of our concerns right now.” She looked up at the blue sky through the hole in the canopy.
“They did not take Turaz far,” he said, his voice low and soothing.
It took her a moment to realize that he had tried to say her brother’s name for once, instead of ‘thief.’ She appreciated the gesture. “They can fly. I suspect their concept of distance is not ours,” she said carefully.
He frowned, then nodded.
Astra looked up again. “And he was hurt. Badly. I fear—”
“They will come back for the Grail. They must know he is their bargaining chip.”
She nodded for lack of anything else to do.
They continued to sit there, Xavai very clearly not able to do more than that. Astra thought it would be good to bind his ribs soon, and was glad she still had some of the remnants of her nun’s habit in her pack. She had given the dress to Zochur when they had parted, but kept the linen petticoat, rolling it tight and stashing it in the small pack she carried.
“Those damn dogs,” Xavai growled.
Astra turned to look and, indeed, the temple dogs were slinking into the ad-hoc clearing. Their ink black coats looked odd in the bright sunlight pouring through the massive hole in the canopy, and their eyes were so black they almost looked like empty sockets. But they were not empty, and the dogs’ eyes focused unerringly on Astra.
“They can see us,” Xavai hissed, shifting uncomfortably.
Astra nodded, because the dogs obviously could see them. They approached slowly though, huffing and snorting, their long legs moving one step at a time. Astra braced the grail in her lap and held out her hand, wondering if they would approach. Ruby had taken to sitting next to Astra on occasion, and allowing petting. Emerald was not as willing to be familiar, but had still sat near Astra during some rests in their travels.
As they passed where the dragon had stood, its footprints still clear on the forest floor, they growled and snarled, poking their noses at the imprint and then raising their heads to sniff the air. Ruby quickly broke away to trot over to Astra, shoving her wet nose in Astra’s hand. Xavai’s hand twitched in her other hand, but he remained still. The dogs both took to sniffing at the shawl and the Grail, investigating them thoroughly before sitting back on their rumps, lifting their heads, and howling.
Astra and Xavai startled at that, scooting closer together.
“What if they call the snow dragons back?” Xavai growled.
Astra shook her head. She had no idea what they were doing, but she was sure they would not do that, at least.
There was a wild crashing noise deep in the forest and Astra rolled her eyes heavenward. “The fire dragon,” she said with a huff. Xavai groaned, his head tipping forward.
The dragon hopped into the clearing and plodded over to the dogs, batting at them with its wings. They snapped playfully at it then turned and ran in a circle around Astra and Xavai. The dragon looked around but did not appear to see them. It chuffed out a small, sulfurous stream of smoke and turned in a circle, scanning the forest floor.
“It’s looking for us,” Astra observed as the dogs ran in a circle around her again. She stood up, letting go of Xavai’s hand and stepping clear of him.
“Astra!” Xavai called out in frustration. The dragon spun around with a cry and stared at Xavai accusingly. Astra was very uncertain about approaching it directly, but she felt that it needed to know what was going on. She walked with one hand clutching the large, heavy and unwieldy bundle close to her chest and the other hand stretched out in front of her. She felt the dogs come up on either side of her, bracketing her between them. The dragon looked down at them suspiciously, although its gaze slid over Astra. She finally got close enough to touch the edge of a wing. The dragon was remaining still, probably sensing something important from the temple dogs’ behavior, and so Astra easily put her hand against its hot, leathery hide.
It gave a little shriek and a shudder but then its head swooped down and stared at her, eye to eye. It looked at the Grail then back at her, and after a long, quiet moment it gently fluttered its wing out from her touch. It blinked and then pushed the wing back into Astra’s hand.
“It understands,” she called out for Xavai’s sake.
“I assume you are standing between the dogs?” Xavai said. His words were followed by a pained groan as he very slowly went about trying to stand up. He was not very successful at it.
“Can you find my brother?” She called out.
Xavai grunted as he finally made it to fully vertical. “If you need me to, you have to ask.”
So he could only seek out the things or people he was asked to find. That made sense, she thought.
She let go of the dragon and made quick work of untying the leather stopper and then shoving the shawl inside the empty talon. It was a weird sensation, to be replaying the same thing she had done when she was six, unknowing of what was waiting for her in the heart of the night. Back then, she had shoved mittens and scarves and socks into the horn, uncaring of propriety. This time she knew exactly what she was doing, though, and re-wrapped the leather stopper before working to untangle the harness. Traz had reconfigured it when he was the one it was strapped to, but it was easy for Astra to see how to change the lashings.
When it was ready she reached out and put her hand on the edge of the dragon’s wing again. This time it was not shocked by her reappearance, instead blinking at her with suspicion again. She held up the harness, and for the first time the beast had a look of real intelligence about it. It shuffled forward gently and picked up its front claws, then worked at the lashings to pull them over its head in a criss-cross pattern. Astra made sure to keep one hand on the grail and one on the dragon’s wing, but after a moment she was able to buckle the harness in place, the grail resting against the beast’s breast bone. It took a deep breath and let out a gust of smoke and fire, its head tilted upwards.
Astra let go and stepped away. The dragon and its precious cargo disappeared from her vision like steam out of a kettle.
NEXT: Pointing the Way
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