So much was left unfinished. He wanted to learn how to control his passions and his power. And someday, if he proved himself worthy, he dreamed of being chosen to become the High Meer, one as famous as the founding meer of Othlore, the Mishtar. That was his secret, passionate wish.
He wanted all of it. To have the world and keep the world. Life’s end was now only a few breaths away. Tears streamed down his cheeks and were lost in the sea below. Water to water. Salt to salt.
The drumming grew louder.
Eason was humming the song “Quava-arii.” The Music Meer could not sing the words, gagged as he was; still, Miles knew the song and its meaning. Quava-arii—ever changing. Meer Eason was signaling him to shape-shift. He’d never shape-shifted with his hands tied. Think! Concentrate! He closed his eyes, tried to envision a great bird large enough to rescue his friends from …
Crack! A whip lashed his back. Miles tottered and fell into the ocean.
Water shot up his nose as he writhed against the ropes, sinking. The East Morrow Sea was warm here. He could survive in these waters if he could swim, but his hands were tied.
Miles thrashed wildly as he sank. He must kick his way to the surface, but where was it? He had to untie the ropes now! He pulled at the knots behind his back, wrenching hard, harder.
A loud splash. Another meer forced off the plank at sword point? No time to think of that. He was sinking!
A dark figure swimming above. Not a man or a woman. Breal had jumped in after him. He was swimming above, searching for him. The dog’s paddling legs told Miles where the surface was. He kicked his feet, but could not move upward fast enough with his hands tied. He needed air, or he would pass out! Change! Shift!
Quava-arii. In the dark water he imagined a seal’s slick skin. He stopped kicking and held his legs together. Panic overtook him as he sank farther down. Think. He held his heels close together and spread his feet outward: a strong seal’s tail; pressed his arms against his sides and flattened his hands: flippers. The ropes slipped away into the water.
Miles’s body grew long and broad and sleek, his neck thickened, his nose protruded to a point, seal whiskers grew on his upper lip.
Flipping about, he swam through the warm salt water, broke the surface with his nose, and took a deep, sweet breath. He snorted and filled his lungs again as the waves played around him. Relief!
Breal swam up and licked his cheek. His bearhound knew him even in his seal’s form; there was no disguising himself from his dog. “Breal,” Miles said in a croaking seal voice, “let’s go.” The guards on deck would not care for a dog that leaped in the sea after his master, nor would they mistake a seal for the boy they’d just pushed off the plank.
Miles dove underwater and tumbled round and round. Quava-arii—ever changing. Bless Meer Eason. Surfacing again, he and Breal skimmed across the choppy surface. A rectangular shape floated toward them. Miles swam closer. The Falconer’s trunk. He said a prayer of thanks that his first teacher on Enness had built it to be watertight. The books would be safe, and so would his precious ervay, which he’d tucked inside for safekeeping.
The trunk might be good for something else, for helping Meer Eason or Captain Kanoae float atop the water. Miles nosed it closer to the ship and swam beside the enormous hull. The vessel loomed over them like a floating fortress, its white sails gray in the slim starlight.
He and Breal would have to try to rescue Eason and Kanoae as they plunged into the sea with their wrists bound. Miles was fairly sure he could bring one meer up to the surface in his seal’s form, but two?
There was little time to think. High above them on the ship’s deck, he spotted Eason stepping onto the plank. He wanted to call out, but even in his sealskin, he didn’t dare. Breal seemed to understand the need to stay hidden from the crew above. He, too, was as black as the sea, and he was smart enough to tread water silently.
The drumroll sounded. No one sang for Meer Eason as he walked the plank and tumbled into the sea with a loud splash. Miles heard the crew laughing above as his teacher sank. He dove down, swimming deeper until he found the struggling old man and nosed him along. He had to get Eason to the surface in the shadow of the ship, out of the crew’s sight. He realized he couldn’t do this alone. As he swam with Eason under the inky surface, he called for help. Not in a human voice, but with the sonic sound of a seal.
The call traveled underwater as Miles pushed and pushed, bringing Eason up for air. He kept Meer Eason afloat as Breal nibbled the knots to free Eason’s bound wrists and tore the gag from his mouth.
“Thank you,” Eason sputtered. “I … I can’t swim,” he admitted. Miles swam him closer to the Falconer’s trunk. Eason put his arms across it. The trunk was no help. It sank under his weight. Eason let go in a panic and hurriedly clasped Breal as the trunk floated back up beside them.
Miles knew Breal could hold Eason up a short while, but the dog couldn’t swim far with a man on his back. He took Eason from Breal to give his dog a rest. They bobbed in the black water. High above them Kanoae walked the plank. If she, too, didn’t know how to swim, how could he hope to save them both? He was trying to quell his panic when a slick black head appeared, then two, then three. The seals had heard his sonic call.
Miles darted alongside the pod. There were six seals, seven including Miles, and all were taking turns carrying Eason and Kanoae on their backs. Even Breal needed their help after paddling three hours at sea. A seventh seal pushed the Falconer’s trunk along.
When it wasn’t Miles’s turn to help one of his friends, he dove into the rippling current to tumble, flip, and twirl. What a life seals had! Who needed fame or power or riches or any worldly thing when you had the ocean to play in and seal folk to play with. He came up for air and croaked a happy song. The seals all seemed to understand. They chorused back to him, their chaotic praise making the meers laugh.
Miles beat his tail harder and cut through the water. Swimming was like flying. The waves were like gusting wind. Never in his life had he been so happy. If this was what it was like to be a seal, why would he ever want to change back into a boy?
He slowed at the thought, remembering Meer Eason’s warning. Resonance. He already felt a part of him wanting to stay here, abandon all the cares of his former life.
“Miles,” he croaked. His name sounded ludicrous in his seal’s voice, but it was a reminder of who he was and what he was here for. He swam up to the seal bearing Meer Eason, offering to take a turn carrying the Music Master.
After hours of swimming through the warm, eastern sea, Meer Kanoae waved her arm and shouted, “Land ahead!”
Miles slipped through the silky water, poked his head up, and saw the distant shore.
NINETEEN
DRAGON’S DREAMWALK
I saw a girl with sqyth-eyes.
She was walking in a dream.
—THE HIGH MEER OF OTHLORE
The Damusaun tugged a shimmering cloth from a cell in the wall overhead. Winging down, she draped it across Hanna’s shoulders. Hanna fingered the silky golden cape, realizing it was made entirely of shed terrow scales.
The cape swished in the she-dragon’s warm breath. “Kanameer. We have waited for your coming. You will dreamwalk for us now.”
Hanna looked into her captor’s face. Dreamwalk? Now? She’d had no dreams at all since she’d left Enness Isle. And even when she could dream, she’d never been able to dreamwalk on command. The walks had a will of their own. They took her from her bed, walked her where they willed her to go, left her with confusing visions she often didn’t understand until much later, or sometimes not at all.
The Damusaun stared at Hanna, her unblinking eyes yellow gold as torches.
Hanna knew better than to admit she couldn’t dreamwalk. Say something. “I … I will need the Fire Herd to help me.” She was stalling for time, asking for Taunier.
Taunier leaned a little closer. “What now?” he whispered.
The dragons were waiting. Taunier was waiting.
Enormous as it was, the high, walled cave seemed suddenly too small.
How could she free herself from her own trap? She’d told them she was the Dreamwalker, their Dreamwalker, but it seemed her story had added only minutes to her life. If she could not do what the Damusaun commanded, they would surely throw her and Taunier down the crevasse. The edge of the toothless black mouth waited hungrily below.
“We are ready, Kanameer.” The Damusaun’s voice was firm. Hanna took that as a cue. She must act the part and make her own demands.
“I will wait until midnight,” she said. “I do not dreamwalk in the day.” This was true enough; her dreamwalks usually began around midnight. Only the very last one she’d had on Enness Isle had led her up Mount Shalem just before dawn.
“And,” added Taunier, “she will need a safe place to walk, so she does not fall. A beach would do.”
Hanna squeezed his arm. Asking for a beach would get them out of this cave. She was glad he’d thought of it.
The Damusaun and her two male companions beat their wings and flew across the crevasse to confer with the other taberrells and terrows in low tones, leaving Hanna and Taunier alone.
“I understand you need to play along and pretend you are the Kanameer,” Taunier whispered, touching the edge of her golden cape. “But what’s your next move? What have you got planned?”
“What?” she asked, shivering. “I’m not pretending about my travels to Oth or about my dreamwalks. I mean I do dreamwalk.” Only not on command, and I’m not sure if I can at all anymore, she thought wretchedly. “Oh, I need time to think!” Thriss climbed down to her shoulder and nuzzled her cheek.
“Think escape. We’ll have to—”
She should have heard him out, but she interrupted, “Wait. When we get to the beach, you can sneak away while I dreamwalk. The dragons will all be watching me.”
“I won’t go, Hanna. I’ll stay with you.”
“But you could find the deyas here and search for Tymm,” she whispered furiously. She wanted to scream. One of them had to get away and do what they’d come here to do.
He rested his hand on her shoulder. “I’m not leaving without you.”
Hanna glanced at his dark eyes, and felt herself falling into them, her heated anger from a moment ago cooling to gratitude and relief. He’d stay with her. She fought the sudden impulse to touch his jawline, tuck a strand of black hair behind his ear, or, even more boldly, go up on tiptoe to kiss him. But what if his protectiveness had nothing to do with the kind of love she was hoping for? Still, she hesitated, and the moment passed. How could she be so bold before the dragons only to melt before Taunier?
The Damusaun winged back over to the high stone terrace and settled beside them. Her cheek flaps swung as she turned her great head. “Your crown.” She lifted a silver circlet in the air for all to see. A sigh passed through the cave. The deep blue sapphire and emerald set in the forefront of the crown exactly matched the colors of Hanna’s sqyth-eyes.
Taunier looked bemused. The dragons watched with silent intensity as the Damusaun placed the crown on Hanna’s head. It was too large and slipped down, awkwardly resting on her ears so the jewels sat in the middle of her brow.
Hanna tried to adjust it, but it was no use. Taunier gave a half smile.
“Abathan, Kanameer,” sang the Damusaun.
“Abathan, Kanameer,” sang the dragons across the ravine.
Abathan, the Othic word for “peace.” Hanna hoped the dragons meant it—that she and Taunier wouldn’t be killed if she failed them. But her heart still beat wildly in her chest. What she wished for now was Mother’s kitchen and Taunier coming in with the milk pail. She wanted Da and Tymm out in the hills with the lambs, Miles exploring Shalem Wood with Breal, the simplicity of home. She’d give anything for that.
The Damusaun bowed her head, and all the dragons followed, red-throated males, purple-throated females.
Hanna held her breath.
“We will take you to the shore now,” said the Damusaun. “Climb up on my back.”
Midnight. The wind whistled down the rocky beach. At the base of the high cliffs, Hanna and Taunier faced the long row of dragons standing like sentinels before the rock wall.
Their captors had chosen the dreamwalking place with care. Lighting bonfires on the beach, they gathered between the sheer cliffs and the sea, where there would be no chance for escape.
“It’s time, Kanameer.” The Damusaun’s voice was rasping and wild, but Hanna was growing used to the sound. Now she heard a reverence in the she-dragon’s voice that startled her, telling her first that the dragons needed this dreamwalk, and second, that they hoped the Kanameer would give them some important knowledge.
The weight of the dragon’s desire intensified her fear. If only she knew what they were looking for. She dug her boot into the sand. She would try to do as they asked, and if a dreamwalk did not come, she would have to act one out and make the dragons believe. She thought this even though she feared she could not fool them.
The Damusaun leaned closer, her long sickle teeth gleaming yellow-white in the firelight. Hanna stared, eyes wide. How easily that long orange tongue could flick out, wrap around her waist, draw her into that great dark mouth. She shuddered.
Taunier gave her a gentle nudge. “You’d best get started, Hanna.”
“Here,” she said. “Take Thriss, will you?” She held the pip out to Taunier. “She doesn’t bite most of the time.” Taunier set the hatchling on his shoulder. Thriss wrapped her tail around his neck and hissed at Hanna. “Don’t worry, little one,” Hanna said, then she turned to the Dragon Queen. “I need a soft place to lie down.” She was still stalling, but the Damusaun directed the four younglings to make a bed of seaweed under a leafy sapling near the base of the cliff.
The pips dragged the seaweed into place and patted it down with their tails. One yawned before drawing back, as if he would have liked to try the bed himself.
Hanna stepped into the green nest, lay down, and spoke to Taunier as he knelt beside her.
“When I sit up, you need to take my hand and help me stand. Let me walk the way I want to go. Don’t disturb me or shake me awake.”
“I’ve followed your dreamwalks before,” he reminded her. “I know not to startle you awake.”
“Even if I scream,” she said earnestly.
“Even if you scream.”
She was still uncertain that she would be able to fall asleep, let alone dreamwalk, with so many anxious beasts glaring down at her. She wriggled in the weeds, and made some adjustments to cover the lumpy places where the sapling’s roots snaked out of the ground.
Taunier drew the edges of her golden cape across her front. “I’ll do it just as you say. I hope you find something for them, Hanna,” he added with a worried look.
Hanna wanted to say, How can I find something when I don’t know what they’re looking for?
“Try and sleep now,” he said, before pulling back.
Hanna blinked up at the stars glittering between the sapling’s leaves. She was very tired, and she missed her dreams. It had been over a month since the ancient trees on Enness fell. The first week she’d paced with Mother, both of them too upset over Tymm to go to bed, then there was the wakeful time on Great-Uncle Enoch’s boat, and later the long, stormy voyage on the Leena when she’d been too seasick to sleep much at all—too ill to dream—at least she hoped that was why her nights aboard the Leena had been completely dreamless.
The Dragon Queen hovered in very close, so Hanna could see hundreds of jagged bronze lines etched across her chest. The battle wounds looked like scrawls cut deep in tree bark, though this tree was a living dragon. The rest of the dragons shuffled in to watch. The great heads lowered. Heated breath poured across her body.
Hanna closed her eyes, reached in her pocket, and gripped Great-Uncle Enoch’s vial of tears. The Kanameer will know what to do with them. Where was this Kanameer she was pretending to be?
Waves pounded the
shore. Eyes still closed, she imagined the sound was the dragons’ heartbeats as they glared at her, snouts down.
Hanna let go of the small brown bottle and sat up. “Please, can you back away a little?” she begged.
The Damusaun huffed out smoke, then ordered the others to step away, though she did not move very far back herself.
Hanna tried again. She shut her eyes. eOwey, help me sleep, help me dreamwalk. She’d never asked for her power, but the Falconer had said she’d been born with the gift for a reason. If that were so, she needed her power back. Breathing deep, she tried to relax. She thought of Tymm, his contagious laugh as he repaired broken fences in the sheep pen for Da, his deep concentration as he pieced together broken dishes in Mother’s kitchen. When nothing needed mending, Tymm’s swift hands were usually making something new, weaving mouse cages or crafting little wooden toys with his friend Cilla.
She thought of the Othic words he’d said before he was Wind-taken. Tesha yoven. Bind the broken. Her eyes were full of Tymm running through the hills, his blond head bobbing above the tall grass. Tesha yoven: Tymm’s words, the chant the High Meer had asked Miles to say in meditation. Breathe in Tesha. Breathe out Yoven. She did this five times, six. Breathe in Tesha, breathe out …
Roses, red and yellow, growing on a green hill. She was flying over a garden with the wind spirit, Wild Esper. Hanna looked down. Wild Esper’s scales flashed as she pumped her wings. Not Wild Esper. She was on the Damusaun’s back. They circled the roses that were wavering, growing higher. Taunier, on a dragon’s back beside her, was shouting, waving his arms.
They flew closer in. Not roses. Fire! Islands of red and yellow fire, like the ones she’d seen floating on the sea. Not a green hill, but a mountain filled with towering blue-needled azure trees. People running below screaming, shouting. Some with bows, some with axes.