Draka Chapter 306: Did You Do It? (Patreon)

By the time we returned to the ruins of Malyon, night was falling.

Mother had wanted to return immediately, since it was easier to keep me safe from Behold Her there, but I insisted on visiting Lady’s Rest first. I needed to see for myself that Tam was all right, and though she hadn’t brought it up, I was sure that Herald wanted to see him and Val as well. The last time she’d seen them had been in the underground chamber where she and Tam had fallen unconscious; it seemed cruel not to take her to him when they were so close.

To my relief, Mother didn’t argue. She wasn’t happy about it, but she took to the sky to see if Behold Her was anywhere nearby, then returned to tell us the coast was clear.

Our reception at Lady’s Rest was one of silent awe. Even though Mother never landed she was often visible in the sky above the small village, and I was larger than I had been the last time I visited. Compared to the first time any of them had seen me the difference was even more stark. Then I had been about Herald’s height, counting from my claws to my horns; now I was half again as tall as her at the shoulder, and with my head held high I truly towered over the villagers.

And yet, the fear, while present, was muted. These were my people. They’d accepted my protection, and they trusted me to keep them safe. In a way that I couldn’t explain, I was completely sure that the fear I sensed was for what I was and what I could do, not because they truly felt threatened.

These were my people. I’d spared them after they attacked and almost killed Mak. I’d given them a place to settle. I’d avenged their dead, and helped them retrieve what they needed from the ruins of their old homes. I was terrifying, but they trusted me, and except for Jekrie not one of them was enthralled. Not one of them had a piece of my soul inside them forcing them to adore me. That was a wonderful thing to realize—one that lit a hope inside that maybe, just maybe, I could keep the humans I loved while still giving them a chance for freedom.

And yet, no matter how much I tried to keep it from my mind, another part of me remembered clearly what Herald had asked me. If I’d enthrall her again if she asked me to. And that part of me hoped above all else that once I’d removed my spark from Mak and Kira, they would beg me to put it back. That they’d be mine, by their own request, and my conscience would be clear.

How wonderful that would be. How seductive that hope was. It was perfect. And that was why I had to force it from my thoughts every time it came to mind.

Like I’d told Herald, I’d have to give them a couple of weeks away from me. Two. Maybe a month. I had to give them time to adjust to being free.

At my request, Val brought Tam out so we could speak. After Herald half hugged the life out of her brother we moved away from the village to where we could have some privacy, and Val set up a tent chair knelt for Tam to sit on, with Val supporting him. He couldn’t stand or sit for long on his own.

Tam looked far worse than he had in his dream; he was gaunt and pale, not having had the benefit of a trained healer since I brought him here. I was sure that he’d been given at least some amount of healing potion, but there was only so much that alchemy could do against such a long period of immobility and near starvation, and it would take time for him to recover. But he was still Tam. He still had that mix of irreverence, fire, and open-minded kindness that had made me like him almost from the start.

“So,” he said, looking between me and Herald. His voice was a little thinner than I was used to but still backed by a steel spine. “Did you do it?”

“Yeah,” I said.

“She did,” Herald confirmed, right after me.

“And how are you feeling?” he asked her. “Any different?”

“Terribly,” she said, a great confusion of emotions making her voice airy and tight. Talking to me about it in the safety of the mountain was one thing; telling Tam and Val here in the open was evidently very different. At Tam’s patient silence and Val’s gentle encouraging look she continued. “I am angry, and resentful, and so very, very confused. Because I still do not actually blame her.” She looked up at me, her conflicted eyes searching mine for answers I couldn’t give her. “I cannot make myself believe that you did these things to me, or Mak, or Kira, or even Ardek intentionally. And searching through my memories, I cannot find a single time you abused the power you had over me, except out of fear for my safety. And that would all be well and good, but how can I know that my perspective on those memories is unaffected by the power you had over me when they happened?”

She paused, as though expecting an answer, but I had no answers to give. It was Val who spoke up, and he put it much better than I ever could have.

“This is something that cannot be known,” he said with gentle certainty. “How can we ever be certain of the validity of our knowledge, if we can’t trust that we are seeing with clear eyes and an unclouded mind? We can’t. Draka says that she has removed what made you adore her. You say that you are angry, and resentful. It was impossible, last we spoke, for you to feel either toward her. We must then take that as a sign that your thoughts are your own, and your reason as pure as it has ever been. And if you fear that your lack of suspicion is because you are still compromised, well, then so am I. And so, I believe, is Tam.”

“She can be a cold-blooded bitch,” Tam said easily, “but yeah. I don’t for a moment think that she did any of this because she meant to. Not to her friends, anyway. I mean, you would’ve grabbed the two of us too in that case, wouldn’t you?” he asked, looking up at me.

“I’ve been tempted to,” I admitted.

“Right. But you haven’t, because if you had, why waste time on all this? I mean, I don’t know for sure how deep your influence over Mak goes, but I know she does what you say and she’s happy about it. I imagine I would be, too. So there wouldn’t be any point in pretending, would there? Same goes for you, Kitten. Do you think you’d be so confused if our big, winged sister hasn’t done what she says she has?”

“Perhaps not,” Herald conceded. She didn’t seem at all certain.

After that we just talked for a little while, catching them up properly on what had been going on since I brought them here. Neither was terribly enthused about me giving territory to two young, hungry dragons who had until just recently been my rivals. They pointed out, fairly, that we didn’t know for certain that they could be trusted or that they wouldn’t abuse the humans of the island, Karakani or Happaran. All we had to go on was their oath. At the same time, I didn’t think they understood just how powerful of an oath that was. I wouldn’t say that it was magically binding, or anything, but when I’d sworn on my own hoard I’d felt the gravity of it, and with how my elders had spoken of it to me I knew that it was the same for them. So even if I wasn’t entirely certain, I felt significantly more secure in my belief that Unquenchable and Quake would stick to our agreement, than I worried that they wouldn’t.

They seemed less concerned about Grace and Presence, who’d been far more diplomatic and reasonable than the younger dragons. Diplomatic and reasonable by dragon standards, at least.

There might have been some bias at play as well. Who could say?

As Val and Tam prepared to return so Tam could get some rest, I decided that there was one last thing I had to tell them. Or Val, specifically. I’d waffled over it, worried about how he might react, but in the end I decided it wouldn’t be fair to him to stay silent.

“Um, Val?” I said. “There’s something you should know. I wouldn’t tell you, except I know how much you loved it, and I don’t think you would thank me for keeping it from you. The shrine to my father, with all the murals. It’s gone.”

Val froze, confused before his face sagged into a mask of stunned pain. “Gone?” he asked, his voice small and thin.

“Behold Her And Know That All Things Must End, the big ruby dragon, she destroyed it. And she did so out of spite, because she knew it was important to me and my mother, and because she failed to kill me and our friends. It’s a pile of rubble. Maybe parts of the mural can be salvaged if we’re careful. I don’t know.”

“This is a monstrous crime,” he said, his lip curling in anger before he sighed heavily, and his face relaxed as he accepted that there was nothing he could do. “Sorrows damn her. It is fortunate I took the time to sketch each of the panels. I attempted to copy the inscriptions as well, to the best of my ability. Much detail will have been lost, and there are of course no colors, but at least the story may be preserved.”

“You copied them?” I asked, suddenly finding it hard to speak.

“I tried to. It was a fair attempt, I think, with the tools I had available.”

“I love you, Val,” I said, and in that moment I felt it in my bones. “I don’t know if I’ve ever told you that before, but I do. In my heart you’re no less my brother than Tam is.”

“It is kind of you to say so,” he murmured, smiling through his sadness. “I admit to having developed a great fondness for you as well.” Then he sighed and looked down. “Perhaps we can find some illustrations in the library.”

*

As we flew back north, I may have held on to Herald tighter than I otherwise would have. She didn’t complain. But neither did she relax as completely, as she had on the way down. She didn’t sleep. The absolute faith she’d had in me was gone, the belief that I’d never drop her full stop replaced with a much more reasonable knowledge that I’d never do so intentionally.

I had to assume that we were both equally upset by that, because we each did our part in keeping a conversation going for pretty much the full three hours it took to reach Malyon. At least we had that; her dragon rider Advancement, as I’d come to think of it, still worked in that regard. Whether the actual riding part still worked remained to be seen, but it gave me hope that freeing Mak might not rob her of her most powerful Advancement. We spoke of inconsequential things and about our hopes for the future, once the war was won; neither of us wanted to dwell on what we’d lost so that Herald might gain her independence.

The sun was setting in the western sea as we arrived at Malyon. One benefit of the city being at the northern end of the island was that the mountains didn’t hide either sunrise or sunset; at Herald’s request and with Mother’s permission I remained in the air until the sun was gone, and the colors were fading in the sky.

“I love seeing the true sunset,” she told me softly as we descended toward the palace grounds. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” I answered. “Any time.”

“It made me think about the first time, on the mountain. I will always be grateful for that. The way you took me up there to touch my first snow and see my first sunset. If I ever doubt that I have true cause to love you, all I need to do is to remember that.”

“I don’t know if I love or hate that you can even consider doubting that,” I admitted. “Conscience tells me that I should be celebrating—”

Too right! the headmate in question said emphatically.

“—but I’m too selfish for that.”

“That is all right,” she said. “If I were anyone else I would want me to love me unconditionally, too.”

When we landed, the humans were all waiting for us, as was Sandstorm. Sarina and Marvan practically charged us, fussing over an increasingly uncomfortable Herald until Maglan rescued her, shooing them off to give her some space. We hadn’t really talked about the people she’d enthralled; gods only knew if she’d ever be able to free them, or if her sudden independence made her want to do so at all. If her clear and open discomfort was anything to go by, she might. That, or she was terribly conflicted over not wanting to.

I should probably talk to her about that. But not quite yet. First I had my remaining humans to see to.

“Mak worried,” Kira said by way of explanation for the married couple’s behavior. “We feared something had happened.”

“Something did, in a way,” I told her and the others who’d by now gathered around me in the light of a lightstone. “And there’s something important I need to talk to you all about. But not tonight. Tonight I want to know what you’ve all been up to, and not think about anything terribly serious.”

“We went to see The Sun Need Not Rise In His Presence!” Sandstorm declared with a frankly incomprehensible amount of pride. “The Winds Weep To See His Grace was there too. He is… direct.”

“He is, isn’t he?” I replied, looking down at Kira, who looked like she’d been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. “How did that happen?”

“I wondered about him,” my sweet, compassionate little healer said, not looking at me. “We never went to heal him again, and I was worried his pain could be back.”

“So I went to ask!” Sandstorm continued, oblivious to Kira’s embarrassment. “And it was! So I took Kira and Mak to him, and then we went looking for Rifts. Did you know they can each consume a whole one? I did not know humans could do that!”

“I did know that, yeah.” I looked at Mak, who fidgeted slightly, then back to Kira, who still wasn’t looking at me. “Kira,” I said. “Look at me, please.”

She did. Of course she did, even if I tacked on a please. And she looked like she actually expected a scolding, a misunderstanding which I rushed to correct. “You don’t need permission to be kind,” I told her. “I’m… a little uncomfortable with you going to see them with only Sandstorm to protect you, but I’m so proud of you for thinking of Presence and his pain in all of this. That goes for you as well, Mak. Well done, both of you. And thank you, Sandstorm, for looking after them.”

“It was fun!” the dragonette declared. “The Sun Need Not Rise In His Presence is pleasant, but he looks terrible.”

“Grace let you down there?” I asked, not bothering to mask my surprise.

“He said that he would tear my neck from my body if I got too close,” she replied. “But I would not let Kira and Makanna go down alone. That would be terribly foolish. They would have no chance of defending themselves at all!”

“Right. Well, thank you for thinking about that. I think I’ll take the humans below now, if you don’t mind.”

“Oh,” Sandstorm said. “That is probably for the best. I have not eaten for…”

“You ate yesterday morning,” Kira supplied.

“Since then! I am quite hungry. Good bye!”

And with that she simply left, leaping into the air and flying away across the harbor. I followed her until she vanished beyond the trees, then took the humans below, as I’d said.

Mak gushed about her new teeth and nails the whole way down. Apparently they could now double as daggers—or chisels, if she wanted to cut stone or steel. She was almost frighteningly excited to see what they could do in a fight. Little dragon, indeed.

I desperately hoped she wouldn’t lose them when I freed her.

I still fit in the dormitory, which was a relief, but it was a near thing. Despite having slept for as long as I had, I still curled up with Mak, Kira, and Ardek, and when Herald decided to join us my heart just about melted with gratitude.

Tomorrow I would take some of them aside and tell them about what I’d discovered, what I’d done, and what I’d decided. That I was going to free them once they were somewhere safe. But that was for tomorrow. Tonight I could still enjoy their unconditional adoration.

I barely slept at all.