Roger Parkinson - Summon Your Dragons

Finally their eyes discerned a dull light ahead. It grew as they approached until, quite suddenly, they came to the end of the stairs. With a sigh of weariness they passed through the first arch and climbed off the ledge onto the shelly floor of the first tunnel. From there they stumbled out onto the beach where Shelim and the boat waited.

Azkun collapsed on the beach and Althak sat beside him. It was almost sunset, they had spent nearly the whole day going up and down the stairway. The beach was wider now, for the tide was out. Althak massaged his aching legs.

“M’Lords!” cried Shelim, hurrying over from the boat where he had waited. “What happened?” he asked, seeing their blackened faces.

“Get some water, Shelim. Mine's all but gone.”

Shelim was back in an instant with a skin bottle of water. Althak took it and bathed Azkun’s arm again. He splashed some on his own face and Azkun’s to clean the dragon smoke from them. Before he could attend to her Tenari stood up and wandered away. She did not seem so badly hurt after all, and Althak assumed she had fallen flat on the ground before the dragon flame had caught her.

No one had ever returned from the Dragon Isle. Althak thought he knew why now.

“Shelim,” he said carefully, not knowing how the sailor would react. “They attacked us and killed Thalissa. We can't stay here. You have fennel in your hat.”

“Yes, M’Lord. There is a lot of it growing here. I wear it for the dragons.”

“Throw it away. We don't wish to see any more dragons.”

“You offended them somehow?” he asked.

“No… I don't know. They were like… never mind. They just attacked us.” He forced a smile. “We always knew they were dangerous, eh?”

He turned to Azkun.

“How are you now?”

“Numb,” he replied hollowly. “I cannot feel my arm and I dare not think my thoughts.”

“We'll sail when it's dark.”

“Yes.”

Tenari returned at that moment. Her hair was wet and her face cleaned. She had arranged Althak’s cloak around herself better than he had been able to.

“We can find our way back,” he said to Azkun. “Perhaps we'll reach Menish in time to help with the war.”

“How can I return empty-handed? I promised them dragons, but I have nothing.” He raised his injured arm. “I am not even proof against fire.”

Althak sighed. He was too weary to comfort him. “I too return empty-handed.”

Shelim had found a tiny stream at one end of the beach and filled their water casks from it. He brought Althak more fresh water and some food. Azkun still refused it and Tenari still ignored it. By the time Althak had eaten the sun had set and it was time to sail. Althak missed Thalissa now, for she had helped him tie the sails and Azkun was no use at such things. He helped push the boat away from the rocks, though, and Althak felt that it was good for him to have something to do rather than sit and grieve. He set him to stacking the casks of water in the hold. It was an unpleasant job because of the smell, but it kept him busy. Tenari, as always, watched him blankly, offering no help.

Shelim set a course by the stars. He had watched their direction carefully while the dolphin led them and now he knew the way home. He had only to sail westwards to find the lands of men. Every Vorthenki knew the trick of using a small plank with a hole bored in it and a piece of string to find their north-south position, so he knew with some precision how far north they were of Atonir. Of course, he knew they had sailed eastwards for almost forty days with a fair wind. It was not enough to find Kishalkuz again in the vast ocean, but it was enough to find their way straight home.

At last, when their boat had caught the wind and the sails were taut, Althak curled up on the deck for sleep, trying not to dream of dragons and trying not to think of what he would say to Menish if ever they met again. Instead he shed tears for Thalissa, something he never had expected to do.

Azkun was afraid, desperately afraid. Until today there had been the dragons. Dragons to provide guidance and hope. Dragons to work wonders in the name of. Dragons to hide him from the dread of Gashan.

And now it was all a lie. He had promised them: Menish, Vorish and Althak. He had told the Vorthenki not to sacrifice but to wait for the dragons. He had promised himself that the dragons would purge him from that evil spectre that lurked in his mind and secretly delighted in murder; that tiny part of Gashan that had entered him.

So he went from day to day. Althak set him mundane tasks to do, to try and prevent him from brooding. But Azkun’s hands fumbled in despair. He had to find an answer. Desperation rose like a shriek in his mind. They were sailing to their doom and there was nothing he could do.

His injured arm was a constant reminder. Although the burn scabbed over cleanly enough, the pain of it as it healed was a constant testament to his broken promises.

He had lost count of the days when the only possible answer came to him. Power was the key. His own power was unpredictable. If he tried to use it against the Gashans they would simply possess him. He needed a way to resist them; to think his own thoughts, not theirs. He needed to destroy them and still weep at their deaths, not gibber with glee, though the thought of such destruction made him cringe with horror. To do that he needed power.

If he had not been as desperate as he was he would never have thought of it. But the horror they sailed towards drove him to resourcefulness.

His answer was Kelerish.

Gilish had gone there seeking power and he had found it. He had also found his own death. Azkun was terrified of death, but he was more terrified of Gashan and the murders he would be forced to commit. Kelerish was the only way. He announced his intention to the others, and asked if Shelim could take their boat to Lianar.

“Are you mad?” said Althak.

“On the wall of the stairs to the dragons’ lair, did you see it? An Eye like the Duzral Eye, but with many eyes not one. That is the answer. There is another Eye in the Vaults of Duzagen. I will go to Kelerish and fetch it.”

“But the Vaults drove Gilish mad and killed him. It's an evil place. We Vorthenki say the spirits of the evil dead lurk there and howl in the wind. It smells of death.”

“I was born there. It holds no fear for me.” That was not true, but the fear he felt for Kelerish was a fear of the numbness he remembered. The numbness was akin to oblivion. It was not as terrifying as murder. Even his own death was preferable to the horror of Gashan.

“Azkun, this is foolish. I can't let you kill yourself. You have your own magic. Use that against the Gashans.”

“No, you do not understand. They would possess me. They would make me use it against our own folk. They would make me delight in murder. I must go there. I am afraid to do anything else.”

“And you think that following in the footsteps of Gilish would bring you power over them?”

“Althak, do you not see my torment? I do not wish to die. I do not wish to climb raving mad from the Chasm and wreak havoc on my friends before I destroy myself. But the murder of the Gashan haunts my dreams.” He shuddered. “The slaughter of the pig still haunts me. Althak, I have to stop the Gashans. I have to stop them possessing me.”

“I begin to see. But you don't need to do this. Hide yourself away. Don't take part in the battle.”

“Menish will lose. You know that. That is why you came with me.”

Althak nodded. “Yes, that's true.”

“And I promised them help. I promised. The dragons are no more than beasts, but that does not mean I have become like them. I promised in the name of dragons, but now the promise must be met in my own name.”