Rise of the Dragon Moon Page 6

  The Daughter Moon had sunk down beyond the horizon for the night. Only the thinnest sliver of her light remained, pale and wide, giving everything a cold, starlit glow. The leatherleaf walls and roofs of the little circular huts, in hues of gold, red, and brown, were laced with frost and lit by the gleam of a few hanging lanterns. Almost everyone was tucked away in their own small homes, warm as could be expected, for the long cold night.

  The only sound was the lonely song the wind sang through the bones and bells that hung at people’s doors.

  Toli closed her eyes and took a deep breath, opening them again to watch the massive white cloud of her breath float away in a gust of wind. She was about to try for an even bigger one when Rasca’s scream from the far side of the Great Hall froze her blood.

  Toli ran, scrambling down the narrow path toward the sound of wailing. Doors opened around her, alarmed faces gazing, first out, and then up toward the empty sky. Her feet brushed the ice, shallow as starlight, as she ran. She turned the corner, her feet skidding. Pendar appeared like a bison stampeding from around the opposite corner. Toli toppled toward him, almost colliding. Luca, right on his heels, reached out and yanked her upright. Toli caught sight of Rasca.

  She stood sobbing, pointing at the dark sky, where streaks of colored aurora light had begun to shine. More people poked their heads out the doors of their little round houses or stepped into the narrow roads from the workshops and outbuildings to see what was going on.

  Toli squinted, peering in the direction Rasca pointed. In the distance, growing smaller, she saw the glint of blue scales, and something else—something hanging from the dragon’s talons. Her stomach flipped. Not something. Someone.

  CHAPTER SIX

  “It came over the ridge,” Rasca panted, tears running down the creases of her face. “I saw the whole thing. Queen Una was up on the wall over there, looking out like she does. There was no warning—just a rush of air. It picked her right up. She didn’t even have time to yell for help. I just stood here,” the old woman wailed. “I just stood here.”

  Toli’s heart stopped.

  Behind her, Petal gasped and burst into tears.

  A middle-aged woman standing nearby turned ashen, her fingers gripping her young son’s shoulders like talons.

  Pendar’s eyes widened. “A dragon took the queen?”

  As if from far away, Toli could hear him telling people to get to the Hall. “Get everyone inside!”

  Petal grabbed her hand, but Toli shook it off, Pendar’s voice echoing in her head. People jostled past, crying, calling for their children—looking at the sky.

  Toli’s thoughts fell away as a curtain of red dropped in front of her eyes. Before Pendar’s words had stopped ringing in her ears, her legs were churning, carrying her forward. She heard Petal cry out, but it would have been easier to stop her heart than to stop her feet. Racing for the Southern Gate, her blood rushed in her ears like the beating of wings as she prayed for Nya to show her where the dragon had taken her mother.

  She registered the beating of footsteps behind her only a moment before Pendar wrapped his thick arms around her and slid forward, lifting her up off the ice.

  “Stop it. Stop it now, Princess. Getting yourself killed isn’t the answer.”

  Toli struggled, striking backward with her heel. She had the satisfaction of hearing his curse of pain, but he didn’t set her free.

  “Let go! Pendar, let go! I won’t let them take her! I won’t—”

  “She’s gone already, child. You can’t help her.”

  Toli let loose a roar as tears streamed down her cheeks. Still, Pendar held on. At last she stopped struggling. Her body went slack.

  Toli wept. “They take everything.”

  Pendar spun her around and crushed her in a hug. “I know. I know it, Princess, but listen now. They didn’t kill her. She’s not dead. They took her, alive. I don’t know what this is, but they took her alive.”

  “Why? Why would they do that?”

  “I don’t know, but Nya willing, we’ll figure it out.” He held her away from him. “Now come on. We need to get to the Hall.”

  Despair and rage competed to take hold of Toli’s thoughts as she and Pendar walked back. The hunters, well armed, had taken up positions around the outside of the long building. Toli stared at Luca as she passed, and the huntress met her eyes with a tight nod and cold fury. “I won’t let them through, Princess. If that dragon comes back, I’ll deal with it myself.”

  Toli shuddered.

  Petal stood by the doors, shivering. Wix had joined her, his normally cheerful face solemn. Toli tore off her cloak and wrapped it around her sister’s shoulders. “Go inside, Petal,” she whispered. “You’ll freeze.”

  Petal shook her head. “You need it, Toli. You’ll get cold.” She tried to hand back the cloak, but Toli crossed her arms.

  “I won’t, I’m too angry. Besides, you’re shaking so hard your teeth are going to fall out.”

  Her sister nodded, her eyes moving to stare at the place in the sky where their mother had disappeared. She pulled the cloak closed, but didn’t move to leave.

  Wix shifted his weight. “What … what can I do?”

  Toli met his expression of helplessness with one of her own. They all had the same question, but no answers.

  Petal grabbed Wix’s arm, her voice matter-of-fact. “I know. Broth.”

  “What?”

  “Broth. It’s strengthening and warm.”

  Toli blinked.

  “Don’t look at me like that.” Petal crossed her arms. “It’s what everyone needs, and it will give Rasca something to do.” Petal gave a determined nod. “You’ll see.” Her eyes sparked as she spun and walked through the doors of the Great Hall with determined steps.

  People streamed into the Hall. Toli caught a glimpse of Rasca through the open door, still weeping, as Petal took her by the arm and pulled her toward the fire.

  Spar appeared out of the fog and growled, “Is it true?”

  Toli couldn’t bear to look at her—she hadn’t been prepared. She had failed her father, and now she’d failed her mother too.

  Wix put out a hand as if to shield her, but Toli stepped around him.

  Pendar answered. “It’s true. A dragon took the queen.”

  Spar’s eyes flashed. “Ready our hunters to go after her.”

  Pendar’s mouth fell open. “Certainly not.”

  Confusion flew across Spar’s face, anger rising in the hunt master’s eyes. She stepped closer. “What do you mean, ‘certainly not’? Surely you aren’t suggesting—”

  Pendar stared down the hunt master, his face grim. “What I’m suggesting is that going after her now is stupid.”

  Spar sneered. “And you propose what? We let the dragons have her?”

  Pendar snorted. “Of course not. No.”

  As they fought, Toli noticed Petal handing out cups of steaming liquid to anyone still standing outside. Her body grew heavier. She wanted to close her eyes and make all of this go away.

  The sudden weight of Pendar’s hand on her back drew Toli’s attention back to their argument. “No. Listen. If they were after a quick meal or wanted her dead, they would have killed her. They could have done that, but they didn’t. I’m telling you, I don’t understand it, but they took her for a reason.”

  Spar’s jaw tightened. “You propose we bow to their will. You propose we lose what’s most precious to us.” Her amber eyes sparked like embers. “We need to strike now. Kill the Mother and get Queen Una back.”

  Toli moved closer to Spar, glaring at Pendar.

  Petal arrived with a trayful of steaming cups, her face falling as she took in the scene.

  Pendar gripped Spar’s arm, lowering his voice to a growl. “Don’t be a fool. If you want to get killed, do it by yourself.”

  Petal bit her lip, and Toli quickly reached for a cup, startling as Spar barked her name. Hot broth spilled on the ice at their feet.

  “Listen to me, Princ
ess,” the hunt master hissed. “Your mother has been taken. That makes you the acting queen. What do you say?” Spar’s eyes narrowed. “Do you want your mother back … or not?”

  Toli’s mouth went dry. “Of course I do,” she whispered.

  A smug smile grew on Spar’s face. “Then choose.”

  “Anatolia.” Pendar’s face fell. “Don’t do it. Listen! We’ll talk to them. We’ll get to the bottom of it—when we take them the tithe. We’ll reason with them.”

  The tithe. Toli squeezed her hands into fists at her side. She opened her mouth to tell Spar to get the sleds ready, but Petal spoke before she could, her voice soft as new snow. “You promised.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You know what. Your promise—to Mother.”

  Toli’s shoulders slumped as she remembered the last words she’d spoken to her mother. She had promised, not just her mother, but her queen, that she would listen … to Pendar. To Pendar!

  Toli narrowed her eyes at Petal. “I thought you went inside.”

  The tray of cups began to shake in her sister’s hands. “Don’t change the subject. I heard you promise our mother. About listening—”

  Toli sent Spar an apologetic look as her heart sunk lower. Her mentor would hate her for this. Her voice was thick as she held back her tears. “Fine,” she mumbled. “Pendar, we’ll do it your way.”

  Spar’s face turned deep red, and Pendar looked flabbergasted.

  Toli went numb. Her thoughts spun out like thread unraveling, slipping away into nothing. She could hear her breath, but not her heart. It was as though it had forgotten how to beat.

  She seemed to float away from them, drifting through the doors of the Great Hall without any conscious choice.

  Crowds had gathered in small clusters. Some people wept. Some worried at one another with hushed whispers. The air in the room felt heavy, like a blanket of thick snow had been laid over the entire Hall. Toli, unable to stop shivering, hurried to the back of the Hall, and the long ladder that would take her up to her bedroom in the high reaches under the roof. All she wanted was to be alone.

  Wix caught up, jogging backward. “You okay?” He shook his head as she pressed her lips together. “’Course not. ’Course you’re not okay. Stupid question. The look on Spar’s face when you took Pendar’s side. Hailfire! Did you see—”

  A sob burst from Toli’s lips.

  “No! I didn’t mean that. Don’t listen to me. She looked great. That’s just her face. I—I’m sure she’s fine.” He banged into someone, then tripped over his own foot. Toli kept going.

  He caught up again, limping now.

  “Go. Away. Wix.”

  She strode past the hearths, past her mother’s throne where it sat in shadow.

  Wix cleared his throat. “Listen. Toli. About your mother—”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  They reached the bottom of the ladder.

  “No. I can see that.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Is there anything you need though? Water? Weapons, maybe?”

  Toli leaned in and his eyes widened. “I’m getting her back,” she said, willing him to believe her. “I don’t know how yet, but I’m getting her back.”

  There was a pause; then he cleared his throat. “Not tonight though. You hear the wind, right?”

  “I hear it,” she said through gritted teeth as she began climbing.

  She reached the platform outside the bedroom she shared with her sister.

  “You know you can count on me to help,” Wix called up.

  Toli paused, and then closed the door behind her.

  Her head ached. She should be down in the Hall, talking to people—reassuring them, but she didn’t have it in her. She couldn’t even reassure herself. The dragon must have taken her mother to the Mountain. Was she there now?

  The oblivion of sleep would be sweet, just to fall into darkness and pretend none of this had happened, but the still, quiet bedroom was too full with thoughts of her mother. She moved to look out the single tiny window. Its pane of thick ice, the size of her palm, gave her a view all the way over the deep ice wastes. What did the dragons want with the Strongarm queen? Pendar was right. They could have just killed her. Why hadn’t they? What did it mean?

  Below her, the shining roof of the Great Hall, tiled with dark dragon scales, glittered where its roof beams curved upward toward the sky. Farther out was the Southern Wall, and beyond that, the miles upon miles of empty ice that led to the mountains. On the horizon, the black silhouette of Dragon Mountain loomed. The Dragon-Mother was there, and whatever was going on, she was sure to be at the heart of it.

  She touched a warm finger to the pane of ice, watching as a single drip of meltwater formed and ran down the window. Toli was in charge now. Her mother was counting on her. She squeezed her hands into fists at her sides. “Get the peat bricks in,” she said under her breath. “Check the stores with Rasca.” What else would her mother want her to do?

  Toli wasn’t sure. She should have paid better attention. Her pulse throbbed behind her eyes, as if she’d been staring far out across the ice for too long. Maybe she had been.

  If she had just followed Spar’s lead, they might be on their way to get the queen right now. In her head, she had already packed the sled. She had fed and harnessed the foxes. She had stowed water and food and weapons.

  She pressed her lips together. Of course, that was the one thing her mother had told her—the thing Petal wouldn’t let her forget. She’d said to listen to Pendar. And Toli had agreed.

  Her mother’s voice rang in her head. Steer clear of Spar for a while.

  So she would listen to Pendar. For now.

  A draft seeped up from the Great Hall through the cracks in the floorboards. She pulled a fur wrap from her bed and threw it around her shoulders, shifting the few steps back to their small stone hearth. They were lucky to have it. True rock was precious—rare, and difficult to dig from the frozen ground. The extra warmth it lent their small room was a welcome thing.

  Toli chewed at her lip and picked up a black peat brick to place on the fire. Was her mother cold? Toli pushed away the sick feeling that rose with the thought. “She’s alive,” she whispered aloud, willing herself to believe it. Pendar had said so. She had to be.

  Toli watched a streak of red light dance across the sky through the tiny window. She’d need to check the peat stock and make sure there were enough ice blocks cut to melt into water. They’d need extra of both to get through the coming weeks after the Tithing.

  The Tithing.

  She would play no part in honoring the dragons—this, at least, was her choice. Pendar could do as he pleased. Toli threw herself down on her bed, watching the fire glow. Their beds—hers and Petal’s—took up the far wall of the room. Built head-to-head, and made of stonetree that was cold to the touch and dense as rock. Each bed was enclosed to shield the girls from drafts. Only the side facing the fire was open to the room.

  As the fire crackled, the urge to take action boiled at the back of Toli’s mind, scorching her thoughts until they were dry, ungrateful things.

  She had spent many quiet nighttime hours lulling herself to sleep, staring at the drawings that Petal had made to cover the inside ceiling of her bed—a herd of white bison out on the ice fields, a dragon in the distance, a sky filled with stars. Worry rattled through her like wind through bare branches.

  She heard a gentle knock on the door before it opened and Petal slipped in. Petal leaned against the closed door, staring at Toli.

  Petal’s voice was tight. “Toli, what are we going to do?”

  “We’re not going to do anything. I’m going to figure out a way to get our mother back.”

  Petal slumped to the edge of Toli’s bed. “Can I stay with you?”

  Toli held out her arm, and her sister climbed up next to her, curling her knees to her chest. Petal’s dark hair spread like shadows between them.

  Toli’s voice softened.
“We’ll get her back. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

  “I want to help.”

  Toli didn’t answer. There was nothing Petal could do.

  Her little sister turned to face her, reaching out a hand to pick at Toli’s soft lined tunic. “Why didn’t they kill her?”

  Toli closed her eyes. “I don’t know.”

  Petal didn’t say anything, but Toli heard the sharp sniff that meant her sister was about to cry. Words spun through her head, but none of them seemed right. She pulled her sister close and held her, trying to offer her one thing that was certain and safe. After a while Petal quieted, draping one slender arm around Toli’s waist. Toli’s thoughts slowed, and she let herself fall into the silence of sleep.

  It was the wind that woke her, no longer raging, but sending up howls like a forlorn child.

  She lay there, eyes wide, remembering what had happened and itching to do something—anything. At last, she slipped out from under her sister’s arm. Petal looked so peaceful, and Toli felt a pang of regret that she couldn’t make it last.

  Outside, Nya-Daughter Moon was still below the horizon, and only a thin green glow—the promise of Father Moon’s arrival—edged the black shadows of Dragon Mountain.

  She’d take her sled out on the ice—not too far, just to clear her head. As long as she was back before Nya’s first light, no one would miss her, and if she was lucky, maybe the wind would bring her a plan.

  The lined tunic and leggings embraced Toli’s body as she swept her white cloak off the bed where Petal had draped it. She snapped her bow off the wall. Out on the ice, the aurora lights would be wrapping the world in the season’s first dance.

  Toli slid down the ladder to the Hall floor, walking quickly through the carved doors into the frost-stung air. Everything sparkled—the sky with stars, the ground and houses with thick webs of frost. Soon the lights would spread, and the sky would be on fire with dancing colors, their reflection mirrored on the ice fields below.