“At first I was thankful,” Ezraan continued. “I was glad to be alive, away from the vertaga, and in a bountiful, wonderful land. But once I was healed and had explored a bit, I realized that I was no longer in the kingdom. I was on some island somewhere, and a big one, with no idea how to get back. I wandered all the way around this island. And then I made a permanent camp on the plains and waited, hoping some ship would pass by or some way to get home would present itself.” He sighed. “But none came. I lost track of time, and believed that surely the Sthan Kingdom had fallen to vertaga and everyone I knew was dead.”
“Then, as I was layin’ by the river one clear night I had a dream. I used to have them often you know, when I was younger,” he added, glancing at Khollo. “But then, you may know that already. Anyway, I had this dream of a green valley with tropical trees, surrounded by mountains. In the morning I woke, looked around, and saw the mountains at the center of the island. So I packed up camp and went exploring. Took me weeks to find a way into this here valley, and weeks more to find what was so important about it.” His eyes sparkled at the memory. “A legacy of dragons and riders! Who would have thought it?”
“And you’ve been here ever since?” Khollo said.
“Well not here per se, I’ve been all over this valley finding places that the Keepers built. I saw you dug up part of the courtyard on my way in. Good find. West of the courtyard there’s a library, massive building, five stories, all slender arches and columns and curving passages. Built for humans, not dragons. More efficient that way, since the humans are the only ones doing any reading. And there’s a dozen outposts scattered across the mountains with accommodations for up to a dozen men and three or four dragons at each. Then there’s what I call the holds to the east, ranged in levels in this huge semicircle. Dragon houses, with living space for their Keeper attached. And, of course, I’ve found other buildings for the humans who lived here that weren’t Keepers – ”
“You never thought of trying to go back?” Khollo interrupted.
Ezraan licked his lips anxiously. “Well, see, I didn’t think there was anything to go back to. And I didn’t have a way to build a boat – ”
“Not even a raft?”
Ezraan shrugged uncertainly. “Well, no, a raft didn’t seem like a good idea. In fact, anything related to the sea at all seemed like a bad idea . . . still seems like a bad idea . . . ”
He is afraid, Kanin observed, snorting.
“You fear the sea?” Khollo asked.
“Yes,” Ezraan said finally, not meeting his eyes. “You would too, if you’d spent as long as I did driftin’ with no hope of rescue.” He licked his lips nervously.
“Not even your family was motivation enough to dare?” Khollo said quietly.
“I had no reason to believe that anyone was still alive,” Ezraan reminded him. His eyes gleamed hopefully for a moment. “I don’t suppose . . . ?”
Khollo shook his head. “My mother is dead. Until a few minutes ago, Janis was the only family I had.”
The spark of hope was quickly extinguished. “I had hoped . . . since you survived, perhaps . . .” Ezraan sighed. “If I could do it all over again, I would have dragged Janis away from Tamor. Maybe we could have stopped them somewhere else.”
“Like Ganned’s Gorge,” Khollo said. “Janis is a national hero for stopping the vertaga there.”
Ezraan cackled again. “Janis? A hero? Bah! He’s the reason we lost, the reason I fled across the sea.” Ezraan glowered at some far-off place. “He was full of pride, my brother. Being a hero probably suits him well.”
“Not really,” Khollo replied. “He’s been blaming himself for your death and my mother’s. He nearly drunk himself to death, then got reassigned to the West Bank.”
“Good,” Ezraan growled, baring his teeth. “He deserves it for what he did to me. To us.”
Khollo shook his head. No, he doesn’t, he thought. He made one mistake, but he’s been trying to make up for it ever since.
“Janis has been taking care of me for ten years,” Khollo said slowly. “He gave me a future, got me into the Academy, and helped me become an officer at the West Bank. He helped me learn to fight, to think, and to survive.”
Ezraan snorted. “Probably helped him feel less guilty about the whole thing,” he muttered.
Khollo rose. “Well, thanks for showing up,” he said. “I’m off. Kanin and I have lots of exploring to do.”
“What? No!” Ezraan shouted. “Where are you going?”
Khollo made no reply, merely climbed on Kanin’s back. The dragon spread his wings and bounded from the hall in a series of great leaps. Then, Kanin barreled out into the light and took flight, the valley dropping away behind them.
Khollo sat quietly on Kanin’s back, thinking, hardly registering the air rushing past his face, the ground flying past below. He was filled with an inner turmoil that dominated everything else. He had been betrayed, again, this time by his father.
For as long as he could remember, Khollo had thought of his dead father as a figure of strength. Then, when Janis had described him, a figure that any son could be proud of. Gentle, strong, fearless. Beloved by his soldiers.
And now this. Discovering that his father had lived, run, and hid rather than return home. Discovering that he was now an old madman, harboring a decade-long grudge against his brother. Discovering that his father was no longer anything like what Janis had
