6. Not What They Expected
Astra breaks the news to Zochur...
Escape from Ice Mountain marks the start of an epic tale, one where a middle-aged fish-out-of-water librarian (and necromancer!) navigates love, betrayal, and the complexities of power as she struggles to embrace her destiny and uncover the mysteries of her own origins. Yes, there are dragons too! And also magical dogs. It’s gonna be awesome!
“The dragon has my fire horn?” She looked at him incredulously.
“It carries all of our travel supplies!” He answered, sweeping his hands up and down his own body. “Does it look like I’m carrying a fire horn? Camping supplies? Anything?”
“I thought you had set up camp or something!” She only knew about how to travel from all the travelogues she had read over the years, but it had been impressed on her that “camping” was a big part of it.
“We just got here!” Traz almost yelled. The dragon flapped its wings in agitation or imitation or sympathy. There was no telling.
She paused to scrutinize him. “Wait. Wait! Were you just going to show me a dragon, hand over my fire horn, say goodbye, and then leave?”
He blinked at her. “Well, yeah.”
She took to rubbing her temples again. “Traz. Traz! What the fuck!”
“What now?” He crossed his arms. “I can’t stay here, Astra. I ran away from Qordashi. If I’m found near it, then I’ll just get chased off by the outliers. With arrows.”
There were few rangers assigned to live permanently outside of the walls of Qordashi, since the reverse of the normal ranger’s bond meant they could never set foot inside of the grounds again without the supreme superior’s blessing, but the ones who had taken up that oath were pretty fierce about it.
“But what do you expect me to say to Zochur?” She held her arms out at her side.
“I…what?”
“Do you honestly believe I would not tell them?”
He grimaced and looked away, lips tight.
“Traz!”
He huffed at her. “I suppose not.”
“How did you make it that far north and back alive? You stupid ox!”
He was quiet for a long time, long enough for the chill of the ground to seep up through Astra’s boots. She finally heard him move, but instead of walking back to the dragon, he put a hand on her shoulder.
“It’s been… it’s been so long, Astra. I never wanted to come back here and just make trouble again. You got enough push back just being friends with me.”
She sniffed, ignoring the prickly feeling behind her eyes. “Us orphans have to stick together. Didn’t we promise that?”
“Sure. When we were eight years old.” He laughed softly. “That was a while ago, if you haven’t noticed.”
“The winds never cease,” she nodded, smiling softly. She turned around, causing him to drop his hand from where it had been resting. “But you’re here, Traz. You must let Zochur see you.”
He took a deep breath, then nodded and stared up at the clear night sky for a moment before focusing on her again. “We can’t camp too close.” He paused, then nodded again. “The Gate of Tears.”
“What?”
“Tomorrow. Bring Zochur out with you to the Gate of Tears. No one patrols that area from what I can tell.”
She frowned at him.
He shook a finger at her. “I’m not giving you the fire horn unless you both show up!”
“It's nearly a half day's walk from here! Outside of the monastery!” She pointed in the general direction of the old ruins. She did not mention that mere minutes ago, he had been planning to flee in the night without spending time with either her or Zochur. Perhaps he was right and it would be better for him and his pet dragon to slink away in the dark of night. But when it came down to it, Astra knew she was selfish. She had missed him, had lived with the empty space next to her for so many years where he was supposed to be. Binding him close again, even if for only a day, was not something she could turn away from.
He grinned, sensing an easy victory. “A day for us to spend together! Just like we used to when we ran away from Naboch as children. Remember? Remember how we'd run all the way down to Buqoai and beg for candy with Zochur running after us, yelling the whole way?” He tugged at the sleeve of her cloak, calling up memories of the times they sped down the mountain to the small town at the base of the monastery, just two naïve children looking for sweets.
“I do want to see Zochur. I just thought I probably shouldn’t.”
Astra sighed and shook her head, mostly at herself. “Zochur will yell at both of us. I regret this so much already.”
“Maybe,” he said with a smirk. She punched him on the shoulder because he deserved it. He staggered theatrically before standing up straight. “Come on, let me get you back to your sleep.”
They left the dragon behind, or maybe it just decided not to follow, and it once again became another large boulder in the field as Astra followed Traz back to the monastery wall. She tugged at his arm as they crept up to it.
“I can find my way from here. It’s not worth the risk for you to come back inside.”
He nodded grimly, then grabbed her by her upper arms. “We’ll have a fun time, tomorrow, I promise. Just like old times.” If his eyes glittered with unshed tears, Astra was feeling generous enough not to point it out.
She nodded back at him, her stomach swooping with anticipation. A whole day spent outside her library, with her beloved friends, combined with the fact that she had never actually been to the Gate of Tears in person, made it felt like an illicit and daring expedition.
None of which she could admit. Instead, she poked his stomach. “Do you even have food?”
“I do, but why bother when Zochur is coming?” He protected his abdomen with his hands, wincing theatrically as if she had whacked him with a long pole.
She rolled her eyes and for a moment felt like a young woman again, jibing him in between classes while their erstwhile peers skittered around them cautiously.
He grinned and pulled her into a fierce hug. She clung to him, too overwhelmed by the thought of getting him back, only to lose him again. She tried not to sniffle as she let go and stepped away. He squinted into the darkness where they were pressed up against the massive outer wall, listening for something, then nodded and pointed, giving her the 'all clear' signal. She scurried into the monastery through the passageway set between two buildings, back to the home where she belonged.
She drifted like a ghost through the quiet ward toward the barracks compound, hiding in the night shadows and avoiding the rangers out of long habit. They would only demand to escort her back to her room, but as a rule they were inveterate gossips and every temple rat would know by fifth bell that she had been out wandering around in the deep, dark night. She was less concerned about her reputation than her doyen supreme finding out and quizzing her.
She snuck through a small garden patio that had an old alley off of it which ran straight to one of her barrack compound's older, lesser used entrances, but stopped cold in the middle of it. Naboch's two temple dogs sat there, coming up nearly to Astra's shoulder height, their black fur soaking up the feeble light of the moon that slanted down the alleyway. Their heads were more rectangular than a wolf's, their ears too floppy as well, and their bodies were boxy instead of sleek. What they lacked in mortal fierceness they made up for with their otherworldly bearing and the stench of sulfur and saltpeter that hung over them. They looked too awkward to run, but Astra knew better; she had seen a temple dog fight a copper demon once, long ago, during a Black Earth ceremony, when a gate to the otherworlds was opened. Both dog and demon dispersed as they died, but not before the dog had practically flown across the entire temple yard and fatally attacked the demon with the speed of a raptor.
Astra stared at them, waiting. If Naboch had sent them, it was to fetch her or end her, and there was nothing Astra could do about it either way.
But the dogs simply got up, circled her closely a couple of times while sniffing around her neck and feet, respectively. One stopped and stared at her, its head tilted, and Astra could have sworn she saw a red flame flickering deep in its black eyes, but then it blinked and turned away. They meandered off with their swaying, heavy gait.
Astra stayed very still until she was sure the dogs had moved on. She finally made a dash for her cell, and it was mostly by the luck of Bu she got there without being observed or questioned by anyone other than the dogs.
In the morning she got up and attended prayers at half past third bell as usual. The night before felt like a dream, but she had woken up with the amber bracelet still on her wrist, where Traz had put it. She was morally obligated by her vows to take it off and put it away, but it felt like a talisman, there to reminder her of what had happened and what she had agreed to do, so instead she wore one of her older dresses that had slightly stretched out sleeves so they draped over the bracelet, hiding it from view and muffling the sound.
The slipped out of the temple after prayers and instead of going to her library, headed towards Zochur's kitchen for the second day in a row. Without any doubt, the older nun would find it suspicious of her to show up so soon, and so early in the day, so Astra braced herself.
“Two days in a row? It’s barely dawn! What is wrong?” Zochur studied Astra's face from where they stood on the ladder looking up at her, confirming Astra's expectations.
“We need to talk,” Astra said, leaning over and gathering her skirts. Zochur's expression narrowed, but they nodded, moving out of the way for Astra to climb down.
The kitchen windows were open, looking out over the drop off to the buildings several stories beneath them, the brightly orange and green shutters framing the breathtaking view of the sweep of the monastery down the side of the mountain.
“Why aren't you locked in your library, reading tall tales about snow dragons?” Zochur asked, turning to pound away on some bread dough. They had removed their short smock and wore only the dress, although the skirt was once again tied back to keep from getting too dirty or too close to the ovens.
“Trazkhor is back,” she blurted out, all her carefully constructed explanations gone in the wind of her impatience.
Zochur dropped the dough, which made a sticky “splat” sound as it fell onto the kneading board. “What?” Their expression was stricken to the core.
Astra stared at the person who was in so many ways like an older sibling to her not just in name but in fact. They were the one nun other than Naboch herself who had not been terrified by the way Astra was brought to the mountain, who did not consider her magic a curse or, worse, an omen. This person was another one whom Traz had hurt as much as he had broken her own heart, and it felt right to admit what had happened the night before.
“He snuck into my cell last night.”
“What? Why? I—I don't understand, Ashtrakur.” Zochur wrung their hands.
“I don't either. I think he's running from something,” she sighed, realizing the truth of her words only as she spoke them. “But he claims to be on a mission to return a…a fire dragon.” She squinted, realizing as she spoke that nothing made much sense out of context.
“Stop speaking in riddles! Where is he? I need to yell at him,” Zochur stood with their floured hands on their hips, getting wet dough everywhere. It was a sign of how rattled they were that they apparently didn't care.
“He's hiding in the boulders, among the shepherd's pastures and trails.”
“Why? He can freeze to death just as well here on the grounds. In fact, it would be a pleasure to lock him in a retreat above the tree line.”
“Zochur,” Astra chided.
The nun sighed heavily but shrugged away the reproof. “He ran away twenty-five years ago. He should feel lucky that is the worst I would do to him.”
“Understandable,” Astra admitted. They looked at each other in shared commiseration for a few moments. “He does want to see you.”
Zochur waved their hands around in frustration. “Then where is he now?”
“It’s not that simple,” Astra sighed, but before she could continue, Zochur slapped their hands on the dough they had been working on.
“Yes it is!”
“No, it’s not. Zochur, stop, stop. Listen to me.”
They stopped beating up the poor loaf of dough and looked up at her quizzically.
“I meant what I said about the dragon. He has one with him, a young fire dragon.”
It was a rather dramatic statement, Asta thought, and Zochur gasped obligingly.
“But it's injured, though, and cannot fly. So they are traveling together since it is following him wherever he goes.”
If anything, Zochur looked even more surprised. “That…that was not what I expected.”
“Me neither.” Astra agreed.
Zochur sucked some air through their teeth. “And this dragon, you saw it?”
Astra nodded. “Yes. It breathed smoke and everything, just like in all the books.”
“How is it injured?” Zochur scrunched up their face.
“It's wings—they are perforated, like a sieve.” She nodded towards where one of the kitchen's sieves sat, holding greens.
Zochur looked as horrified as Astra had felt to see it. “How?”
“Traz found it that way, and dragons don't talk. But it’s pretty clear that it was probably done on purpose, to keep it trapped.”
“Trapped?”
“Traz found it locked up by some mountain lord. He freed it, and they’ve been on the run ever since.”
Zochur sighed. “This is all bad.”
Astra nodded. “It is, but also, that’s not all of it.”
Zochur heaved another great sigh and gestured for her to continue.
“He found my fire horn, and that’s the reason he came here at all. To return it to me.” She left out the ‘he stole it’ part, feeling generous.
“Oh.” Zochur blinked in surprise.
“Yeah.”
Zochur took a moment to stare out of the windows. Astra plucked a winter plum out of the basket in front of her and started peeling off its leathery shell.
“So why come here to tell me at all?”
“Oh! Right. I convinced him to stay overnight so we could both go out and see him.” She waved a hand between them.
“When?” Zochur cried out in alarm.
“Today! Now! We’re supposed to meet him at the Gate of Tears.” She pointed at the bread dough resting on the board. “I think he was hoping you would bring a picnic.”
“Ai!” Zochur swooped back to the table and began pounding the dough again. “I need time to pack something.”
“I plan on leaving at the top of the sixth bell. I can get a pass from Naboch's secretary, it’s my next stop, but it will still draw attention. If you come with me, it will be hard to explain what we are doing.”
“Please, I was sneaking out of this monastery before you were born. I do not need a pass.” Zochur rolled their eyes. “I’ll meet you at the Silver Pond at a quarter past sixth bell. It will be a good hike to the Gate, so no later!”
Astra thought about that for a moment. “Have you been to the Gate of Tears before?”
They stopped, frozen in place the way they did sometimes when talk about the Yosai came up. “I’ve been there a few times, in fact. A long, long time ago.”
And that was all they were going to say about it, Astra could tell. “I admit I’m excited to see them.”
“And Traz,” Zochur said with a smirk.
“We were kids, of course I had a crush on him!” Astra huffed defensively.
“Is he still handsome?” Zochur asked, badly feigning disinterest.
Astra popped the peeled plum into her mouth. “Why should I spoil the surprise for you?”
“Brat!”
“Anyway, you’ll be more amazed by the dragon. It’s black, with bright yellow highlights on its scales. And it is not very big, no bigger than a loaded hay cart in the valley.”
Zochur looked up. “A galespring dragon?”
“That’s my guess as well. Easier to catch than dragging a full-grown one out of Firestate.”
Zochur shuddered. “A fire dragon in the Balashilar. It’s unnatural.”
Astra could only nod in agreement, then stood up. “I still have to go lie to Naboch’s steward to swindle a grounds pass.”
Zochur chuckled. “Not like you, to break the rules.”
“I have!” Astra said, feeling her hackles rise, but then calmed herself. It was a ridiculous thing to argue over, and in fact, Zochur was not too far wrong. Astra had always been the rule-abiding one between the three of them, even if it was more of a survival tactic than her natural inclination.
“You have. But not like this, and not lately. But I understand why.” Zochur waved her off. “Go on. I will see you tomorrow at the Silver Pond.”
Astra climbed out of the kitchen as fast as her skirts would let her.
As she assumed, the harried and pious steward who administered the day-to-day functions of the west ward on Doyen Superior Naboch’s behalf was not interested in Astra's explanations about a book merchant down in Buqoai and did not even question why she wasn’t getting a pass from her own ward’s steward. The privilege of being a chief librarian was that she was simply too high up in the hierarchy to be casually questioned, but she could not shake the feeling of being a misbehaving junior nun. Some things never changed, she thought ruefully as the steward scratched his mark on a red wooden tag that he hung around her neck. She thanked him and hurried back to her library, tucking the pass into a pocket to avoid suspicion.
The rest of her morning moved slowly, especially since she was busy tasking a junior librarian on what to do while she was gone. He blinked owlishly at her, clearly surprised that she would be gone at all. The only unusual moment came when she was gathering her things to leave and got another strange visit from Naboch's temple dogs. They did not stay and did not herd her away with them, just appeared, stared at her with their unblinking, black eyes then returned to the shadows. Some nuns saw them, some didn't, but no one seemed to connect their appearances to Astra herself. There were enough temple dogs at the monastery that two wandering up from the western ward toward the high-altitude retreats of the northern ward would not be remarked upon.
Astra found it disquieting, though, and wondered if they were a portent of things to come.