Alison Goodman - Eon - Dragoneye Reborn

Snake coils to strike.

I rolled over then scrabbled onto my knees. Ranne had already recovered and was bearing down on me. His swords were twilling in a tight crossover. The Dog Third. No more pretence of keeping to the sequences. He was going for the Dog's

punishing hits and withdrawals. I hauled myself to my feet, swords up, watching for the break.

My first block was clumsy, the blunt of my sword bouncing back too close to my face. The secbnd was at the wrong angle, the jarring hit making my hand convulse against the grip. The deep knowledge was gone. I gulped for air. His third attack forced me to block with a back-twisted grip. The heavy down stroke hammered my weakened hold, bending my wrist back until it was useless. For a moment Ranne was a dark blur in a grey haze of pain. Then I felt him flick the end of his blade, sending my left sword spinning across the sand. The crowd's gasp soughed across the arena.

I staggered back, pressing my wrist against my chest. At least it wasn't my right hand. Ranne was closing in, one sword raised, the other with the hilt held ready for the Second Tiger attack

— a series of fast cuffs using the heavy butt as a cudgel. I squinted, trying to focus through the pain. One sword — one block. He'd attack high. I raised my sword, ready to protect my head.

Rabbit kicks out.

My body tensed. Even as my mind fought to stay upright, I was dropping to the ground and swinging my good leg towards his knees. My shin connected. I felt him fold, hit the sand. He looked across at me, his eyes bulging with fury

Dragon Whips Tail.

No!

Ranne lunged over the sand with a sword, just missing my foot. I back-pedalled away from his reach, the drag of my own sword sending up a spray of grit.

Dragon Whips Tail.

No!

My hip —

Ranne dug a sword into the ground and pulled himself upright. He lowered his head and charged at me, holding his blades out either side. He wasn't using the forms. He was just fighting. I struggled onto my knees, caught between two possibilities: conduit or cripple.

I was a cripple.

Before I could raise my sword, Ranne swung at my head. I jerked backwards, feeling the stir of air a moment before his blade vibrated past my face. I was off-balance. Nowhere to go. I saw a blur of hand. A flash of metal angled at my head. Then a sickening wave of agony crashed over the light and I was falling through black air.

I opened my eyes. Everything was white glare, pressing more pain into my head. I squeezed my eyes shut again, a warm itch of tears running over my nose and cheek into the rough sand.

'Eon?'

It was a distant voice, too far away I licked my lips. Dust and salt.

'Eon. 'A weight on my shoulder, shaking me.

I blinked, letting the piercing bright push its way into my eyes again. I was lying under the Emperor's mirror behind the two lines of candidates.

'Master?'

His face came into focus. Frowning.

I had failed him.

'You need to get up, Eon.'

I lifted my head. The movement shuddered through me. I retched, heaving sour water into the sand.

'Surely you don't expect him to make the final bow?'

It was another voice. An elderly official kneeling next to my master. I saw the glint of his pin: diamond rank.

'He recognised me,' my master said. 'He still has his senses.'

'I doubt he will be able to stand,' the official said. 'It is a difficult situation. You are within your rights to demand Ranne's removal.'

'Ranne is just the servant. It is Lord Ido who should be removed,' my master said.

'You could make a formal complaint against him.' The official was trying to keep his voice measured, but I heard the eagerness in it.

My master gave a sharp laugh. 'Sacrifice myself for the good of the Council? I don't think so.'

'Someone has to curtail Ido's ambition.'

'That was your duty and you've failed. The opportunity to contain him is well past.'

The official crossed his arms. 'What could we do? He has High Lord Sethon's support.'

' I think it is the other way around,' my master murmured. They looked at one another in silence.

'So, you are not withdrawing your boy, then?' the official finally asked. 'He will make the bow?'

'He will.'

'Then you should get him onto his feet. The tenth candidate has already been called. It won't be long now' He rose awkwardly from the banked sand and bowed to my master. 'Good fortune, Heuris Brannon.'

My master nodded then turned back to me.

'I am sorry, Master.' My voice was a dry croak.

'I [ere, take some water.' He pushed a cup against my lips. I gulped a mouthful, letting it wash down my raw throat.'

'I know it will hurt, but you must get up,' he said. 'You must make the final bow to the Rat Dragon.'

'But I didn't finish the sequence. He won't choose me.'

My master snorted. 'That was no sequence. That was an ambush.' He tipped the cup again. I took another sip. 'No one

knows how a dragon chooses. We will see this through to the end.'

He curled his arm around my shoulders and lifted me up into a sitting position. I felt his hand smooth back my hair then rest at the nape of my neck. The arena swirled and rocked, filling my gut with roiling sickness. I deepened my breathing until it settled, although my vision separated now and again into blurred doubles. It looked as though there were two Barets fighting two Rannes in the centre. I squinted, trying to bring the doubles back to one image.

Baret was doing well. Not surprising — Ranne was using the forms in the ascendance sequence we had all learned. Soon Baret would be a Dragoneye apprentice. And I would be a runaway.

I moved out of my master's hold, but he kept a hand on my arm.

'Go slow, Eon. You still have a little time before the final bow'

The applause for Baret's performance was laced with shouts of abuse for Ranne. I closed my eyes, gingerly touching my swollen temple. As though from a far distance, I heard the herald call Dillon and Jin-pa. My injury seemed to be shallow, but I slowly traced my Hua through the seventh centre of power. The damage was like a kink in my energy line, but the flow was not broken. Not dangerous. I opened my eyes, the arena separating into two. I blinked them back together.

And then I saw the dragons.

Crouched on the top of their mirrors, staring down at Dillon and Jin-pa fighting on the sand.

The beasts had no solid form or colour — just a disturbance in the air that spoke of shape and weight and line. Only their eyes seemed to have substance: a concentration of darkness as though holes had been ripped in the fabric of the world. The crowd was oblivious to their presence. Even the Dragoneyes stared through them. Why couldn't they see their own dragons?

An eruption of cheers and calls announced the end of the sequence. I let the noise and heat wash over me as Dillon bowed to

the mirror. The Rat Dragon ducked his shimmering head to study him. For a moment, Dillon seemed to stiffen as he rose from the deep courtesy — was he aware of the huge eyes only an arm's-length away? I watched him as he returned to the line, but he just seemed exhausted.

The next candidate was called. I closed my eyes, seeking relief from the relentless glare. The noise of the crowd dropped into a distant murmur as a velvety ease settled over the pain.

A hand shook me back into the aching light. The arena burst around me into full volume.

'Eon. Stay awake,' my master said. 'The last candidate is up. It's almost time for the final bow'

I squinted against all the colour and noise, scanning the arena. The dragons were gone. At least from my sight. My master pulled me up by my arm.

'Get back in line. I must return to my seat.'

It took me the whole of the final candidate's sequence to make my way across the short length of sand to iny position, each step making me lurch with dizziness. I dropped to my knees behind Quon just as the herald ran out and formed their octagon. The sound of their gongs cut through the crowd's rumbling excitement. The herald waited until an expectant quiet had gathered like the calm that comes before a monsoon.