7. Such an Odd Thing
Astra has a revelation...
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!
Just as the mid-morning chimes marked sixth bell, Astra walked out of the Northern Ward completely. She pulled her red cloak tightly around her to ward off the morning’s chill as she marched straight out of the massive front gate of Qordashi, deftly avoiding pilgrims lining the road like it was something she did every day, as opposed to “never.” One of the outlier rangers gave her a hard look, but Astra waved him off imperiously and he bowed slightly before moving off, to her great relief. There was no way she could explain why she was headed to the Silver Lake at that time of year. Ice skating was more fun in the summer when there wasn’t a risk of frostbite just from losing a glove.
Silver Lake was perpetually frozen, even during the height of summer, and had been frozen for centuries. Astra thought that the rumor of a snow dragon freezing their enemy deep in the depths of the lake was probably true, since there was no mundane reason for the lake to never melt. It had to be magic. It was used primarily as a playground for very young postulants to come and slide all over on soft boots during the spring and summer, burning off the energy that only children had to spare. Astra remembered going there with Traz and the other children of their cohort, and it was one of the few truly joyous memories of her youth from her early years in Qordashi.
She quickly saw the well-worn path branching off the main road and realized that her childhood memories were shaped by the size she had been back then: everything had taken forever and everything was bigger, simply because she had been small. The path was clear, but narrower than she remembered, and, of course, showed signs of being left to languish during the winter months since few people wanted to visit Silver Lake when it was deathly cold out.
As she rounded the last hill, she caught sight of Zochur sitting primly on a flat rock, holding a large basket in their lap. They sat strong and alert, waiting for Astra, who paused by the rock and looked out at the lake. In the light of the just rising-sun, it reflected pink and gold more than silver, and was a gorgeous sight.
“It's been a long time since I was here,” Astra admitted, feeling wistful.
“Still frozen,” Zochur remarked, glancing at the lake.
“You don't want to chase me over it anymore?”
“Your evil plots to make me fall down ass-over-kettle won't work.” Zochur sniffed in feigned affront.
“Her's won't, but mine will!” Traz cried out, swooping out from behind a boulder and jogging for Zochur, who stood up and gently set the basket on the rock before swinging a hand back, intending to slap Traz right across his face. He caught Zochur's wrist and laughed before pulling them into a tight hug.
“Sibling nun! I missed you!” He said, sounding choked.
Zochur hugged him back silently. Traz was now of a height with the tall nun, and Astra supposed if it weren't for how unalike they were in skin and hair, they could have been related. Or, perhaps, she was just being sentimental.
Traz finally let go, holding on to Zochur's shoulders. “I'm sorry I left without saying goodbye.”
Zochur smacked his cheek softly. “It was cruel.”
Traz slumped down. “I know.”
In what was surely a sign of just how much Zochur had missed him, they pulled Traz in for another hug.
“I thought you were going to meet us at the Gate?” Astra said, hands on her hip. “You’re close enough here to be spotted by an outlier.”
“Worth the risk!” He said with a broad grin, finally drawing himself out of Zochur’s hold, and tried to wipe at his eyes surreptitiously. He was wearing the plain heavy tunic and pants of a peasant, but wore a brightly woven fringed sash around his waist. From it hung small boxes and bags and, most notably, a short sword in a finely decorated scabbard. He had not been wearing it the last time they met, and it made Astra wonder more about his far-reaching journeys under the compass of heaven.
Zochur shook a finger in his face. “Astreakur says you are going north again.”
He took a deep breath, reaching out to hold her upper arms gently. “Did she tell you why?”
“Something about a dragon,” Zochur said with a disapproving sniff.
He looked toward a large tumble of boulders, most bigger than houses. Astra assumed the dragon was hiding there. “Something about a dragon, indeed.” He wore a soft smile as he looked Zochur over. “You look majestic as always, sibling nun.”
“Pah.” Zochur shoved him off and went to grab the picnic basket. “I expect a full accounting, you brat!”
Astra shook her head as Traz laughed.
“I’ll try, Zochur, but even I can’t explain the ways of dragons. It goes where I go, so I have to go where it is supposed to be.”
“Hm,” Zochur said, eyeing him with suspicion. “It might take you years to get to Firestate, boy, and that would only be if you make it out of the Balashilala without being caught.”
“Can't the dragon make a home in one of the mountains off the Gilded Plateau? Who would even look for it there?” Astra tried, offering up the only solution she had managed to think of, which came from some reading she had been doing that mentioned reclusive, isolated snow dragons who lived on remote, uninhabited mountains in the elevated ranges northeast of Ice Mountain.
He rubbed his neck. “I’d have to go live there first, for it to follow me, and I don't want to live by myself and get sky sickness on some distant rock.”
“Why is it following you?” Zochur asked.
“Because I saved it? Because it likes me? I don't know.” Traz huffed in frustration.
“I’m surprised it was even willing to come this far into snow dragon territory,” Astra admitted as they carefully walked along the trail around the edges of the lake.
“I hoped for a while that the snow dragons will take it in.”
Zochur tutted. “In exchange for what?”
Traz nodded. “Exactly. The snow dragons I’ve seen have kept their distance, anyway. They don’t seem to be interested in it at all.”
“Mn.” Zochur nodded slowly, thoughtfully, as they carefully placed their steps on the rocky, narrow trail.
Astra was still not convinced he was giving them the whole story, but she was not exactly in a place to argue with him about any of it.
Traz noticed her face was doing something and rolled his eyes at her before pointing to a little-used path through a craggy outcrop of rocks. “Come on. If we stay out in the open any longer we risk being spotted by an outlier.” He grabbed Zochur’s smock and started to pull them off the trail. Zochur sighed heavily and yanked their smock out of his hand, but followed along after him.
“Astra!” Traz called out, walking backwards.
“Fine, fine, I’m coming.”
“How long does it take to get to there?” She called out.
“Not quite a bell’s time. We’ll get there a bit before the eights strike.” Traz shouted back.
“Good thing I brought lunch with us, then,” Zochur said primly, handing off the picnic basket to Astra and walking fast to catch up with Traz.
“Always a pleasure to be your beast of burden, Sibling Nun,” Astra replied just as primly.
Zochur ignored her sass, by long-standing tradition. “Trazkhor! Do we get to meet this dragon?”
“Probably. It’s hiding right now—” He glanced over at a rise of boulders, but none of them had moved that Astra could see. “It can be fickle.”
“I do not blame the beast for being cautious, if it had once been imprisoned and tortured,” Zochur said, their voice heavy with compassion. “But I’d like to see it, all the same.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” Traz replied with a laugh.
They walked mostly in silence. Despite the cold, Astra warmed up as they hiked. The trail they were on just barely existed, little used even in better weather. She knew that some pilgrims journeyed to the Gate of Tears first, before circling around to visit Qordashi proper, but not many. Despite the mythology surrounding the gate, which claimed that it had been the first location of the monastery thousands of years ago, it was not considered very important anymore. Astra was raised in the monastery and steeped in the legends of the gods of the Four Winds, but had never once been taken to see the gate as a child. After she took oaths and became fully dedicated, it seemed the opportunity had passed.
Part of her could barely believe she was actually outside of the grounds at all. She had not expected to leave until her time came to walk the sky fields. She greedily took in the views they got of the landscape, Qordashi itself already hidden behind the rocky hills that made up the terrain. It was overall a beautiful day, the sky clear and a deep, bright blue that made her think of Bu’s raiments.
She figured they were more than halfway to the gate when Traz stopped and looked to the side. There was a soft whistling noise off to their left, where a group of boulders piled up on each other to make their own hill.
Traz turned to the boulders and whistled back, although the notes varied and it sounded like a song to Astra. The dragon trundled out from nowhere, its wings folded up against its back. Its front legs were less like legs than arms used for walking too, and its head swayed from side to side atop its long neck.
Zochur gasped and clutched at their skirts when the dragon appeared, but they did not move or run away.
Unlike the last time Astra saw it, there was a pack looped over its neck and across its chest, which was much larger than any normal travel bag but still looked small on the animal's enormous frame. What caught Astra's attention, though, was the large black horn lashed to the bag.
“Oh!” She jogged toward the dragon, forgetting in her excitement that it was, actually, a dragon — something she remembered with shock when it hissed at her. She froze in front of it with her hand reaching for the horn. They both stood still for a moment, but Astra decided that if it was going to hurt her, it would have done so already.
She shuffled forward a little and took hold of the horn with both hands, just holding it, feeling the flood of memories wash over her. She reverently traced the delicate veins of red that ran through it. For the first time, though, she also sensed a haunting buzz of energy which was all that remained of the beast it had once belonged to.
She realized with near horror that she had not touched the horn since had come into her cursed powers at the age of twelve. Dzrezor had sold it off before then.
The horn felt warm, as she remembered. It had not carried fire in generations, but she had always assumed that the magic of its purpose was strong and reached out to her.
She stood there in a daze, completely awed by just how wrong she had been.
The dragon flinched and skipped backwards, making her rock unsteadily on her feet as the ground trembled from the impact. For a scant moment, she thought that it looked at her with intelligent eyes, as if it understood her sudden insight. She bit her tongue to keep from saying anything, and it went doe-eyed and blank again.
“Such an odd thing,” Zochur said, watching them. “Not unlike you.”
Astra forced a smile despite herself, biting back the truth of what had just happened. She would get the horn soon enough, and be able to hide it away forever in the heart of Ice Mountain, burying it under tons of rock.
“Father always said it was from a bull that belonged to the same god that made the fire dragons, and was given to humans so that we could always carry our power with us.”
“The myths of your people are strange and disturbingly full of fire,” Zochur said dryly, a familiar refrain.
“I always assumed it meant that my homeland is near Firestate,” Astra said quietly, studying the horn as the dragon meandered away.
Zochur stared at her doubtfully. “I suppose anything is possible.” They moved their piercing gaze to Traz. “I am glad you found it for her, and came to return it. You still retain your honor.”
He huffed at them, ready for the conversation to be over. “Are we going to the gate or not? We’re here to enjoy a day as tourists together!” He smirked, and motioned his arm like a museum guide taking them for a tour of one of the old temples.
“Yes, of course. I have to make you feel your guilt for leaving us, every step of the way.” Zochur nodded and picked up their skirts to start walking again.
Traz chuckled ruefully. “Of course!”
Astra said nothing, her eyes still following the dragon as it carried the powerful, mysterious fire horn slung over its shoulders as if it were a bag of radishes.