The dragon closed his claw just slightly, and Beramun felt her ribs creak. Breath gushed from her body, and her vision faded.
“Where were you going?” the dragon hissed. “If you had escaped the forest, where would you have gone?”
Though her body spasmed with the effort of drawing breath, she found her lack of sight a blessing.
“Home,” she said, her voice little more than a sigh.
“No,” said Sthenn, flicking his black tongue against her face. She jerked her head back violently at its touch. “Yala-tene, rodent. Yala-tene is where you want to go.”
“Yala-tene?” She’d heard that name before.
“A collection of humans in the mountains far to the northwest. You want to go to Yala-tene,” Sthenn said in a bizarrely soothing, sing-song tone.
“Can’t.” Beramun’s voice was nearly soundless. Her head felt swollen and pounded with pent-up blood. She was only moments from blacking out. “Can’t escape.”
“Yes, you can.”
Sthenn opened his claw. The sudden release of pressure let Beramun breathe again, but she immediately swooned, her head falling back over his talons. The green dragon parted her shift with a single nail, exposing her left shoulder. Holding the same nail to his mouth, he breathed on it until it began to glow a dull cyan. He then pressed the glowing nail tip hard against Beramun’s flesh. She moaned but did not wake. When Sthenn took his claw away, an iridescent green triangle, slightly larger than a human thumbprint, appeared above her heart.
The dragon’s mouth stretched wide as he admired his handiwork. A wheezing giggle emanated from his chest, sounding like the working of an ancient, rotted bellows. Spreading his scar-etched wings, Sthenn took off and flapped lazily across the water. Alighting on the high shoreline on the northeast side of the lake, he laid the unconscious Beramun on the ground. He reared up on his hind legs to stare down at her, tiny and supine at his feet.
His voice again taking on the strange sing-song quality, Sthenn said, “Remember, little rodent — Yala-tene. Go to Yala-tene. Go to Yala-tene.”
As in a dream, Beramun frowned and rolled onto her side. “Yala-tene,” she sighed.
Sthenn took off, circled once, then flew back to Almurk. He had no fear the girl would be harmed, even in her dazed and helpless condition. There was no creature in the forest at the Edge of the World who would dare harm one who bore the green dragon’s mark.
Chapter 7
Though Amero had hoped to question Miteera for more clues about Nianki, the old centaur proved true to his word. He departed with his entire herd before sunrise, long before the Arkuden awoke at Lyopi’s house.
Amero sent children running through Yala-tene with orders to summon the village elders. Before the morning frost had melted off the cliffs, he told the elders about the elves’ attack on the centaurs and exhorted them to finish the village wall as soon as possible. There was some grumbling over his proposal to let the very old and very young tend to fields and stock while the rest labored on the wall, but most of the villagers saw the necessity. None wanted their best defense left unfinished if there was the slightest possibility the Silvanesti might attack.
Amero left the elders debating around the council fire. Only Konza followed him. The elderly Sensarku caught up with Amero before the latter reached the basket of the hoist to Duranix’s cave.
“Arkuden, a word,” said the old man, and Amero paused. “Did the centaurs by chance see any sign of my son?”
Amero looked abashed. “The news of Balif made me forget. Yes. Miteera met Tiphan and the two acolytes in the mountains. The old chief lent them one of his warriors to guard them. Why did Tiphan go, Konza?”
The elder Sensarku looked annoyed. “He doesn’t tell me where his mind is. He thinks I’m too old and foolish.”
Amero placed a hand on Konza’s shoulder. “I’ll ask Duranix to keep an eye out for your son. There can’t be more than one band of three humans and a centaur roaming the mountains together.”
The old man thanked him profusely then departed. Amero climbed into the hoist and set the counterweights in motion. It had been three days since he’d last been to the dragon’s cave. Amero found the cavern cold and dark. With no frail human to complain, Duranix hadn’t bothered to light a fire.
“Duranix!” Amero called. “Duranix, are you awake?”
There was no answer. He got out a flint and some tinder and knelt by the firepit. Hot sparks soon had the fire blazing. As he prepared to call again, the firelight showed him that the dragon was quite close by — just on the other side of the hearth, in fact. The unexpected nearness of the vast creature startled Amero. He let out a yell and fell backward.
“Thunder and lightning!” he said, borrowing one of Duranix’s favorite phrases. “Why are you lurking in the dark?”
The dragon’s burnished scales glowed red in the firelight. “I am listening,” he rumbled.
“To what?”
“I’m not certain. There is a sound in the air that is not a sound, a smell of something that has no smell.”
Amero was instantly concerned. Duranix was not given to fancies or vague feelings. “Is it dangerous?” he asked.
“Anything unknown can be dangerous.”
Amero explained about the Silvanesti threat and the mission he hoped the dragon would perform. “Could it be Balif and the elves you sense?” he asked.
Duranix shook his horned head decisively. “Not elves.” Amero looked at him inquiringly, and the dragon added, “It’s from the other direction, from the west.”
Duranix went to the lower cave opening and sniffed the night air. His dorsal spikes stood up. “There’s a storm coming.” He looked at his human friend and said, “I shall go east as you wish.”
“What more should we do? Are we in danger from the west?”
“There is time yet,” the dragon said. With a spring of his hind legs, Duranix hopped up to the largest of the cave openings. “Watch the setting sun. The storm will come from there.” He shook himself, as if dispelling the unsettling sensations. “I shall return soon.”
“Keep well,” Amero called. “Beware of Balif and his host.”
“Ah, I fear no blades, even in their thousands.” Duranix’s forked tongue flicked out. “I will be like the hawk — watching, keeping out of reach, and striking only if it suits me.”
He entered the plummeting wall of water quietly, almost wafting through. It was completely unlike his usual exuberant exit, and it troubled Amero as much as Duranix’s cryptic farewell.
For seven days Tiphan and his little band tramped eastward, following the mysterious marks on the scrap of Silvanesti parchment. Elu maintained an impassive silence, but the acolytes lent ready ears to Tiphan’s vision of the future. He dreamed of many new villages, each with its own Offertory, spreading across the plains. At the center of this growing realm would be Yala-tene, and the heart of Yala-tene would be the grand new Offertory Tiphan planned to build one day.
“Does the Arkuden agree with your plans?” Mara asked.
“He will see the wisdom of our ideas,” Tiphan replied. “Just as the great Protector brought peace and comfort to one village, so shall we bring it to every part of the land.”
Mara’s head swam with the magnificence of the Tosen’s vision. She tried to imagine many Yala-tenes dotting the plain, each with a whitewashed sanctuary and loyal Sensarku, sending their smoky offerings aloft to please the great dragon. The vastness of the concept left her dizzy — or perhaps the dizziness was the result of their pace. They’d been walking since sunup, and it was well past midday.
She wobbled from side to side in the tall grass. Tiphan, walking ahead of her, continued to talk, spinning his dreams of the future. Before she fell, a strong, rough arm went round her waist, bracing her up. She shook off her dizziness and looked up. With a surprised cry, she pulled free of Elu’s gentle grasp.
